@ofmortems gets a starter!
Things Jack Samuels is not good at: respecting Meadow’s space. Honoring Harrison’s marriage. Being quiet while he’s getting fucked.
He practically lives at Harrison’s place these days. He’s not Harrison’s boyfriend--he’d die before he used that word. But they snuggle while they watch TV, sext when they’re bored, and complain about the general state of the world. He’s even let Harrison show him every Nicole Kidman movie in existence and, he has to admit, she’s got talent.
But not boyfriends. Definitely not that.
Meadow is like a ghost, constantly floating quietly around the house. She left for the day, Samuels thinks, but it’s hard to tell, the way she creeps around. Doesn’t stop him from backing up against Harrison and teasing the other man until he throws him against the bed, pins his arms back, and fucks the shit out of him.
Jack likes being helpless. Likes it when Harrison pounds him so hard he forgets his own goddamn name. They finish, unromantically, and Harrison goes to clean himself up. Jack pulls up his pants and goes downstairs. Considers making lunch or something--he’s feeling reinvigorated, alive, and famished. When he hits the bottom of the stairs, however, his feet come to a quick stop.
Great. Audrey. Sitting in one of the living room armchairs. How long had she been here? She might as well have been Meadow’s lawyer, for how often the woman hung around here.
Samuels feels his jaw tighten. He finished buckling his belt back into place and says, tone hard and flat: “What the fuck do you want?”