Fic: ...And Atlas Slept
E-mail: violet147@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: There be porn, and it be of the boy on boy variety.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Pairings: Davey/Jade
Summary: Davey sees too much, and even with Jade in his bed, he still can't close his eyes.
Notes: The title is a play off Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. Go me.


He stares out the window, eyes set on nowhere, thinks to himself how grand and lovely it would be if he could be a nameless face, a silent ghost, nothing from nowhere. He puts his hand on the glass, as if to caress the reflections of the figures in the glass, and tries to hold on to the memory of the images in his mind. It’s so cluttered these days. There are too many thoughts, too many hypothesizes. He’s running out of room.

He’s running out of room in his own body, and no one knows, or dares to even ask. They attribute it to the art of being himself; they figure it’s just part of his personality. They don’t realize its part of something he didn’t ask to have, some sort of knowledge that was thrust upon him without his consent. They don’t know that their words haunt him, their actions seep into his skin, and he doesn’t know how to stop it, or how to let it go. How do you let go of something so powerful, it becomes you whether you wanted it to or not?

He sleeps but his dreams are not his own, and even his own words are starting to not make sense. He’s not even sure what to tell himself or anyone else anymore. Is he fine? What’s wrong? Will he be alright? He has no answers and only a mind begging for peace and quiet, two things he knows he’ll never be able to have. He hears everyone all the time, even when he’s not supposed to hear them and all he can think of is the weightlessness of their words. “Must suck, Davey,” Hunter told him once.

“What?”

“Being smarter than everyone else.”

And that, right there, was the entire point, he supposed. Whether he truly is smarter than everyone else is not really the heart of the matter; what’s real is that he has his eyes open, and he sees too much. A stubborn part of him refuses to close his eyes, even though he really wants to, if only to get some sleep. But he knows, he knows too much, and there’s no way he can shut that off, no way he can ignore it. He knows he’s not allowed to; it’s his burden.

He feels a hand, on top of his on the glass, and he would smile, if he wasn’t too weak to do so. It’s a bad night; it’s getting cold, which only means everything’s going to spiral down into the black hole it always spirals down. It’s a joke; everyone laughs and says, “Oh, Davey suffers from that seasonal disorder.” They do not realize how true it actually is, and how paralyzing it can actually be. They don’t realize a lot of things, how much he truly suffers, and how for twenty-seven years, he suffered alone.

Now it’s being offered to him, consolation for the pain, but he doesn’t know when it’ll be taken away. That’s why he never goes to Jade’s room. He would finally fade away for good if he were to go to Jade, and Jade turned him away. He waits to feel Jade’s hand on his, or on his hip, waits to feel Jade’s breath in his ear, waits and waits for a signal that Jade came on his accord, Jade came to save him again tonight.

“How bad is it?” Jade murmurs, arms snaking around his waist.

“I’m thinking again,” he answers.

“About what?”

The room is silent as he tries to find the words to convey the complexity of what’s in his head. This is the frustrating part; for someone who supposedly writes so well, he can’t even find the words to express what’s going on with him. He closes his eyes as he struggles, and he feels Jade’s fingers, stroking his hair. “Sssh,” Jade murmured. A soft kiss to his temple, and arms tighten around his waist. “How are your dreams?” Jade asks.

“Worse,” he answers. He leans his head back on Jade’s shoulder, turning his head to nuzzle the crook of Jade’s neck. “I haven’t slept in days,” he confesses.

Jade lets go and steps back, turning Davey around to face him, holding Davey’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says, but both of them know what he’s really apologizing for. He shouldn’t have to apologize; Davey knows Jade can’t be with him every hour of the day, knows it’s wrong to ask such a thing from Jade.

Yet he knows that’s what he really wants; he wants Jade to make it better, to make it all go away and make him a different person, make him believe, or even make all of this, his life, worthwhile. It’s not fair, he thinks, for them to have to play this card that can’t be played. It’ll never be worthwhile. Davey knows it can’t ever be, and Jade knows he can never make it so.

But they will try; they will try to crawl to such a fate. Jade is always extremely careful when he undresses Davey. Jade pulls Davey’s shirt over his head slowly, unbuttons his pants softly, holds his ankles like they’re glass when he pulls the socks and shoes off. Jade massages his calves a bit, smiling when he closes his eyes. “Your hands…” he murmurs, sighing in pleasure as Jade’s hands massage upward, up his calves to his thighs, squeezing the muscles gently.

“Sssh,” Jade whispers, reaching up and putting his hand on Davey’s neck. He kisses the space behind Davey’s ear, petting his hair, and they both take it in, the thrill that forms in their stomachs, when they can both hear the trembling sighs that escapes from their throats, caused by the nearness of the other. Jade kisses the hollow of Davey’s throat and pushes him down onto the bed, crawls next to Davey and lays down next to him. “Slow this time,” Jade tells him, instructing Davey, reminding him of the things he always forgets during these times.

For this is the part that Davey craves the most, the part that drives him with lust and frenzy. They are polar opposites; Jade knows to take his time, savoring every inch as it’s revealed to him, whereas Davey has no concept of time, gropes blindly, because he NEEDS to see and hear and feel, and needs to know that he is here, and Jade is here, and this is happening. He needs to know that he’s not dreaming someone else’s dreams; he has to know that here is his release, here is his moment, here is something that belongs only to him.

“Dave,” he whispers, and he reaches up and takes Davey’s shaking hands and puts them on his shirt. “Take your time. I’m here,” he says, and lets go of Davey’s hands, watching silently as Davey unbuttons his shirt, running his thumbs across Jade’s stomach, his fingers all over the place. He of course doesn’t look at Jade during this time; he’s fascinated by the smoothness of Jade’s skin, the warmth that exudes even though the windows are open and it’s just getting colder outside.

They’re both in their boxers now, and Jade sits up, ready to take control like he always does. They don’t talk about why it has to be this way, why Jade is the one always in control, making the first move, but they know it’s the way it has to be. Explanation is insufficient; it won’t satisfy the questions in Davey’s mind, and besides, the time was better spent like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, drowning themselves in each other’s emotions, seeping into each other’s skin.

Lovingly Jade pushes Davey down onto his back and lays on top of him, kissing his lips, his jaw, his ears, his neck, Jade’s hands caressing Davey’s hips slowly pushing the waistband of Davey’s boxers down, exposing hipbones and porcelain white flesh. Davey’s hips arch up to meet Jade’s as Jade’s hands touch him, and his boxers feel like much more rougher than they ever have before, like it’s torture just to keep them on.

He doesn’t have to worry for long; Jade is pushing his boxers down off his hips, down his thighs, to his ankles. He kicks them off and puts his hands on Jade’s hips, pushing Jade’s boxers down and off, and they land on the floor next to Davey’s, next to the rest of their clothes. Jade presses himself against Davey; both of them moan against each other’s mouths, creating a sound deeper than they could ever recreate again, a sound that will bore itself into Davey’s head until he takes a drill to his temple to get it out.

He tells himself not to think about it, tells himself to ignore the voices that are whispering madly in his head, tells himself to think of Jade, think of Jade’s mouth and Jade’s hands and Jade’s kisses. He looks up at Jade, and faintly sees the salvation that could be there, if only Davey could reach out and take it. He wonders for a moment, as Jade stops kissing him and reaches into the nightstand for lube, whether or not he’s just imagining things, if the supposed salvation is just another pipe dream he’s only allowed to see, never allowed to live. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to silence everything in his head, pleads for it to end somehow, some way, he doesn’t care anymore how it happens, as long it just does.

“Dave…” He opens his eyes and sees Jade above him, like a vision, looking at him with those dark eyes that he wishes he could lose himself in. “Are you ready?”

He nods his head, and he jumps when he feels Jade’s fingers, cool and wet, tries to force himself to relax. “Sssh, love, it’s alright,” Jade murmurs against his collarbone, placing ghost kisses all over his chest. They are silent for a few moment, as Jade works his fingers in, doing his best to be gentle, preparing Davey for the next time. Davey knows this cannot last, knows Jade can’t always be here to prepare him for the next day, but he’ll take it as it comes to him. Yet it will never last. Oh, he knows, he knows this too well.

“Are you ready?” Jade asks again. He has beautiful eyes.

“Yes,” Davey answers. He grits his teeth, but does not close his eyes as Jade removes his fingers and slowly, but surely, pushes himself inside of Davey. They stare each other straight in the eye as Jade lays still, letting Davey adjust to the feel, and they say nothing; words are spoken amongst each other when it is necessary to say them. Jade closes his eyes as Davey wraps his legs tighter around Jade’s waist, but neither of them moves their hips for a moment, they let it sink in that is happening, this is not a strange, fucked-up dream. It is real.

“Is it okay?”

“Yes.”

Jade begins to thrust, and while it still hurts, Davey moans anyway, because this is real, and he’s with Jade. He’s not alone, left to his thoughts and their consequences, but Jade is here, and being with Jade is better than any dream, any revelation, any brilliant thought he could ever possibly have.

It takes him a few moments for the discomfort to fade, but as it slowly does, he starts to move his own hips in rhythm with Jade’s. Jade is quietly groaning to himself; both of them know it will only get louder. He laces his arms with Jade’s and their chests press against each other, their heartbeats raising as each thrust becomes faster and deeper. There is no discomfort now…there is only pleasure, and Davey welcomes it. Of course, the regrets and the fears and the questions will come later, but right now, and he smiles to himself, for it’s the first joke he’s been able to tell in days, the only thing that matters right now is when he comes.

Jade sees the smile, and his face lights up. He leans down to kiss Davey, but stops just an inch away from his lips, as a moan escapes from his lips and a shudder invades his spine. It’s getting faster, but it’s still slow enough to be sweet, to be gentle. It’s never drive-by-fucking with Jade; it’s always with love, always. It’s so perfect, he thinks to himself, lying like this, feeling like this, filled by Jade. It’s the closest to happiness he thinks he’ll ever get.

It cannot last, and Davey knows this, and as he watches Jade’s eyes flutter open and closed, he knows that these moments of perfection are as fleeting as the climaxes they are both nearing, even if these moments last for hours, like they always do. He wishes he could shut his mind off; he wishes he could just feel this, and not see it and what is to come afterward. The problem that never ends…his inability to close his eyes and simply live. It hinders him, it blinds him, it closes him off to the moments that he needs to cherish, moments like this, where he is one with Jade, both in body and heart.

“Stay with me, Dave.” He looks up at Jade, whose eyes are now open. “Stay with me, look at me,” he pants. He’s getting close; as his hands move in time with his hips, Davey is too. Davey throws his head back, arching his back, pushing himself deeper into Jade’s hands. He moans, part in ecstasy, part in sorrow, and he sees Jade close his eyes, in sadness, in pleasure, he doesn’t know.

Davey’s eyes are open as Jade’s hips to start to buckle a bit; he’s ready. “Are you…” Jade trails off, flicking his wrist like he’s handling his guitar, and fuck, that’s it right there; Davey’s groan is so loud it can probably be heard two floors down. Neither care; their hips are moving wildly now, hands are working viciously, and moans are being released like they’re going out of style. This is it; here comes the end, Davey thinks to himself, it’s time for perfection to be over, time to go back to reality now.

Jade comes first; he lets out a soft cry and slumps forward, onto Davey. Davey’s about a minute behind him, but he too, cries out as he comes all over his and Jade’s stomachs. They lay together for a moment, listening to the sounds of their hearts, trying to let their breathing regulate. Finally Jade rolls off of Davey and lies next to him, putting an arm around Davey’s waist, pulling him closer. “I love you,” he murmurs against Davey’s cheek, leaning over and kissing him on the lips.

Davey kisses back but his head is so cluttered again, he can barely feel Jade’s lips. What he wouldn’t give for some sleep, what he wouldn’t give for this to go away. His eyes are wide open as he kisses Jade, and he feels a pain in his heart, for he knows that Jade cannot understand, despite their moments. He knows Jade cannot save him, he knows Jade will never be able to see. It is his responsibility, his alone, and all he can try to do, really, to deal with it, is sleep.

His limbs are weary, and he can feel his eyes fighting to close, but he knows he can’t. He wishes everything wasn’t so goddamn literal with him; he wishes he could simply be with the man he loved without thinking of his struggles and his pain and his loneliness. He wishes he were a lot of things; he wishes he could afford the luxury of sleep. He wishes he could sleep forever, and never have to deal with all of this ever again.

Ultimately, out of all the questions he asks himself, this is the question he must answer. Does he stay awake for all of this, for all of this? And even if he does have that choice, which he’s not sure if he does, he wonders what will then happen. If he falls asleep, will he ever be able to wake back up? Or will he be stuck in that place between consciousness and sleep, hearing and feeling things and wishing he were asleep?

“Sleep,” Jade whispers into his hair, fingers stroking the small of his back. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

Davey closes his eyes. It’s quiet.


The high-rolling cats wanna pay for that ass.
This ain't floating my boat!
Home, Jones!


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