Hell Above

Around midnight, Jack decides the pair should probably relocate to his bedroom, because although the couch they’re currently sprawled out on is one of the most expensive things in the man’s apartment, it’s by far not the comfiest. He goes for the ‘shove-the-shoulder approach,’ because Alex has never been one for easy wake ups. The man on his chest stirs, opening his eyes a few moments later when Jack continues pushing at his shoulders. “C’mon Lex, let’s go to bed.” Jack breathes out softly, as Alex opens one eye to gauge his surroundings.

A mumbled 'Don’t wanna' comes from the half conscious man, but Alex lifts himself sluggishly off of Jack’s chest nonetheless. Jack gets up, stretching until he hears a satisfying crack, and then dropping his arms back to his sides. He turns to see Alex still there, standing now, staring blankly at the TV. He smiles, placing gentle hands on his friend’s shoulders. Alex breaks his gaze of the television then, turning his head to look at Jack, honey eyes absent.

Jack doesn't say anything, just uses the grip he has on the other man’s shoulders to gently turn him around, towards his bedroom. Alex gets the message, apparently, shuffling off and mumbling under his breath the whole way. Jack bends to grab the remote as a yawn escapes his throat, and he simply clicks off the TV, silencing Jimmy Fallon midway through a joke, before turning and following Alex down the hallway and into the bedroom.

When he steps into the room, Jack expects to find Alex already tucked under the covers, but instead finds an empty bed, sheets untouched. He discovers the older man in front of his full – length bathroom mirror, slipping out of the jeans he’d been wearing. Jack simply leans against the door-frame, waiting for the blonde to finish changing so they can go to sleep. Alex seems to be taking his time, though, as he pushes the jeans to the ground and steps out of them. He pauses, looks at himself in the mirror, and runs a hand through his hair, disheveling it even more so than it had been from falling asleep on Jack’s chest.

He looks adorable, really, standing there in his boxer shorts and a simple navy v-neck, at least Jack thinks so. He knows what Alex is thinking though, knows the man is criticizing his reflection as Jack stands a mere few feet away admiring him. Both of them are aware of how Alex views himself, it’s a common dispute between the two, but it’s only at times like this, where Jack can see first-hand the way the blonde scowls at his reflection, that it really hurts.

Alex stops glaring at the mirror when Jack says his name quietly, and turns away from Jack to step over to the pile of clothes to the side of the mirror. He bends down, fingers latching onto a pair of old sweatpants. Jack watches Alex grab the sweatpants, smiling because he recognizes them as his own. The smile drops though, when he catches a glimpse of Alex’s lower back as he’s bent over, his shirt pulling up just slightly, and Jack sees something he wishes he hadn't.

Alex straightens back up, sweatpants in hand, and begins untangling the leg of the pants so he can put them on. Jack takes a step forward then, effectively catching the other man’s arm before he can pull the pant leg back through the right way. Alex stops, eyes flicking up to meet Jack’s, confusion written across his face. Jack can see how tired the shorter man is, can see the dark circles under his eyes, and the weariness in them too. “What happened?” Is the only way Jack can think to voice his question, and he sees the way Alex’s face changes instantly, knows that the blonde knows what he’s asking.

Still, Alex’s immediate response is of course “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pulls his arm from Jack’s grasp gently, finishes pulling the pant leg through, and then bends back down to slip them on. Jack doesn't stop him, just sighs before speaking again.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Blunt, yes, but the two men actually exchange these words more often than Jack would care to. Alex finishes pulling the sweatpants on, straightening up and turns to fully face Jack. He’s biting his lip now, and Jack can tell that Alex is thinking of a way to talk himself out of this. Jack doesn't give him the chance though, just reaches forward and grips the bottom of Alex’s shirt, before pulling it over the other man’s head. Alex glares at him, once the shirt is off, but Jack ignores it. He crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow at the man in front of him, and watches as Alex sighs in defeat, turning around slowly and revealing his bare back to Jack.

It’s worse than Jack expected, that’s for sure. He wasn't even sure what he expected this time, but the angry red marks across the older man’s tan skin were definitely not it. There are at least a dozen of them, scattered haphazardly across the man’s spine, right down to where his sweatpants settle on his hips. Jack wants to reach out and touch one, but resists, instead just turns and retrieves the rubbing alcohol from the bathroom cabinet. Alex is still stood there when he turns back, now facing Jack, looking anywhere but at the raven haired man.

He doesn't protest as Jack sits down on the bathroom floor, just sits down in front of him, turning so that he’s facing away from Jack. Jack places the rubbing alcohol next to him, reaching across the tile to pull a small towel out from inside the bathroom cabinet. The injured man stays quiet when Jack presses the towel against his back a moment later, the alcohol Jack had poured onto it burning into his wounds. It hurts, badly, but Alex is used to biting his tongue by now. It’s only when Jack’s palms press firmly against the towel, pushing it further against the cuts, that a small whimper escapes the blonde’s throat.

Jack knows he’s hurting the other man, knows Alex wants him to say something, but is scared as well to know what Jack’s thinking. Jack knows all of this, they've done this so many times. He knows he should say something, anything, to reassure the older man, but is coming up blank as he presses his palm down again further down the man’s back this time. Alex doesn't make a sound this time, and that doesn't help to ease the growing ache in Jack’s chest. His mind is racing, so many things he wants to ask, but he doesn't want to upset the man in front of him anymore than he already is.

A few moments pass, silent and strained, as Jack presses the towel all the way down Alex’s back. He’s careful about it, but can tell he’s still hurting Alex by the way the blonde’s entire body tenses just slightly each time the towel pushes further into his wounds. Jack’s eyes are stinging, but he refuses to cry. He just pulls the towel away, ducks his head down and stands up, so he doesn't have to look at Alex’s back anymore. Alex remains sitting, head in his hands on the bathroom tile as Jack tosses the bloodied towel into the laundry pile and replaces the bottle of rubbing alcohol back under the sink.

He sighs, making his way to stand in front of the man on the floor, and then leans over and pulls him up by the arms. Alex doesn't fight it, just gets to his feet. It’s when he looks up to see Jack’s face, expression both apprehensive and concerned, that the tears that had been threatening to fall finally do, a sound between a whimper and a sob ripping through the tight atmosphere. Alex can bite his tongue well enough, through pain and insults, had been doing so his entire life, but he can’t handle seeing the emotion in his best friend’s eyes as Jack looks at him. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, raw and muffled because Jack has pulled him against his chest, arms still gripping Alex’s.

It hurts. The gashes across his back, the look in Jack’s eyes, everything, and Alex isn't going to try and mask the pain that he’s enduring right now. Jack doesn't say anything, just holds him tight, avoiding contact with his back. Alex sobs against his chest, and Jack simply rocks them softly side to side, knowing it will calm Alex down a bit. Jack is crying at this point too, not even trying to wipe the tears away as they fall steadily down his cheeks. He’s more concerned with Alex at the moment.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Alex pulls away, steps back out of Jack’s grasp and looks up. His face is blotchy from crying, eyes wet and red, and his voice is shaky when he speaks. “I didn't know, - didn't mean to. I’m sorry.” Jack wishes Alex would stop apologizing, because both of them know it’s not the blonde’s fault at all.

“What happened?” Is all he asks in reply, knowing Alex is going to get upset again, or just blatantly refuse to tell him. Alex sighs, shaky and anxious all in one breath. Jack just waits, watches as Alex composes himself enough to speak again.

Alex doesn't look up when he speaks, just keeps eye contact with the tile instead. “They weren't regulars, I didn't now, I mean –” He pauses, breathes in and out for a few moments, and then starts again. “I didn't know there would be more than one, I just – I don’t know. T-they had a belt, paid me extra to whip me.” He’s crying again at this point, angry tears streaming down his cheeks as he finally looks up to Jack again. Jack isn't sure how the man managed to keep this pent up until now, even earlier when Jack had unknowingly asked how he’d made the 3K, Alex was able to bite his tongue.

Jack swallows the knot in his throat, stepping forward again and pulling Alex to him. He lets the man cry it out, rubs his sides as the minutes slide by, until the blonde calms down again. Jack’s entire chest hurts from hearing the other man’s words, hearing what happened, but it’s nothing compared to the stinging of the gashes on Alex’s back. Alex pulls away from him, wiping furiously at his eyes after he’s done crying. Jack just grips his wrists gently, Alex meeting his eyes in return. Jack tries to smile, but can’t, instead opts to lean forward and press his lips to the blonde’s hairline, whispering “Go lie down.” gently against his friend’s flushed skin.

Alex complies, pulling away from Jack slowly and making his way out of the bathroom. Jack doesn't let himself look up as Alex leaves, doesn't want to see the other man’s back again. He just turns, leaning up against the counter-top and running water over his face from the sink faucet. He’s sort of shocked, and part of him just wants to sit down and sob, but he knows he can’t do that. Not with Alex in his bed an emotional mess, he can’t let himself breakdown while the other man needs him. He’s also angry though – mad at Alex because this happened. He can’t be though, not really, because the man is just doing what he knows how to to get by, even if that means letting filthy men hurt him. He’ll let himself be furious though, completely and utterly pissed at the men that did that to Alex, that took a belt to his best friend for their own sick desires.

He’s just so torn up about it, about the entire situation in general. Alex had been proud this afternoon, proud that he could afford to buy him and Jack dinner. He had boasted about earning a larger amount of money than he normally does, while those gashes lie across his back, no doubt causing him pain while he just bit his tongue and had laid silently against Jack’s chest. Jack felt sick to be honest, he wanted to just go to sleep, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to now that he knew what he did.

Sighing, he turns the faucet off, flicking the bathroom light off as he heads out into his bedroom. He sees Alex on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. He can feel Alex’s eyes on him as he makes his way over to his dresser, replacing his t-shirt with a looser one, and slipping out of his jeans. He doesn't bother putting on sweats, just walks over to the light switch and flips it off. The room goes black, aside from the glow from the city that Jack’s curtains just can’t block out. He can still make out Alex, perched at the side of the mattress, as he makes his way back over to the bed. He sits down, sliding the covers over and laying half under them before he reaches a hand out and mumbles out “C’mere.”

Alex shifts, turning and crawling over until he’s hovering above Jack, then lowers down until they’re chest to chest, Alex’s nose tucked into the younger’s neck. Jack sighs again, for the millionth time, and reaches up to trail his fingers down the blonde’s sides. He can feel Alex breathing against him, can feel his chest rising and his breath against his neck. It helps a lot, comforts him in the murky darkness of the room as Alex’s breathing slows against him. He’s calm now, running his fingers further down Alex’s sides, along the sharp bones that are Alex’s hips.

“You’re mad.” It’s mumbled against his neck, but Jack understands. His fingers continue across the man’s sides, down to his hips again, and then back up. Alex’s arms are bent, hands resting near Jack’s shoulders on the mattress.

Jack sighs again, “No.” Alex shifts slightly on top of him, pushing a leg down to rest between Jack’s and pressing his nose further against Jack’s neck. “I’m just frustrated, Lex. I – you have to know how much this kills me, seeing you like this.”

“Technically you can’t see me, it’s dark.” Is Alex’s reply, and Jack resists the urge to roll his eyes at the ceiling. The room is silent for a few moments once again, before the man on top of him breaks the quiet. “I can’t just stop. It’s the only thing I know. I've been doing this for six years, Jay. I – I don’t know how to do anything else.”

Jack knows this, of course he does. He doesn't like it, not one bit, but he knows how Alex feels about what he does. Knows that the other man feels secure in what he does because he can fend for himself well enough with the money he earns from his clients. And most nights, it’s safe. Alex has had a set list of clients for a year or so now, he knows what to expect and what is expected of him, and for what price. It’s when he takes on new clients, like the ones today, that things like this happen, that he gets hurt. Jack wants to say something, tell Alex that he doesn't have to do this. He doesn't need to go selling himself to disgusting men, because Jack can support both of them. But the other man already knows this, and Jack knows that repeating it will only cause an argument.

It’s not that Alex likes what he does, in fact he absolutely hates it. But the man is right when he says that it’s all he knows how to do, he’s never had a real job other than prostituting, doesn't even have a high school diploma. And he refuses to allow Jack to support him, refuses to rely on another person. Jack can’t argue with him, honestly. He sees where Alex is coming from, he just wishes that the man didn't have such a good point.

“Can I ask you something?” Jack doesn't want to talk about it anymore, not really. And he can tell by the way Alex is pressing further against him that neither does the other man, so he just lets it go for now. Alex hums against his neck, in reply, and Jack continues “When was the last time you enjoyed sex?” They had never really breached this topic, but Jack had always been curious. He figured now would be as good a time as ever to question his best friend on his sex life, the current situation aside.

He hears Alex sigh, feels it against his neck again. “I don’t know, honestly. Probably since I started this.” Jack knows what ‘this’ is, and thinks over the fact that the man on top of him hasn't actually had sex because he wanted to in over six years. He’s still running his fingers along Alex’s skin, slower now, but still steady against the man’s bare sides.

“Do you get turned on?”

Alex snorts at that. Jack doesn't have to see him to know that the older man is blushing against Jack’s neck. He feels Alex wind a hand into his hair against the pillow, and then the other man is mumbling out “I – not really, no.” against Jack’s skin.

Jack hums in response, sort of unsure if he’s allowed to ask another question. Alex saves him the trouble though, lips moving against Jack’s neck. “I do, sometimes. But I never really do anything, y’know, about it?” He laughs then, small and shaky, and Jack can tell he’s made the older man nervous. He contemplates this for a second, before deciding to go ahead and ask why.

Alex doesn't respond for a few minutes, and when he does his voice has shifted. It’s lower than before, exhaustion tinting it, and he doesn't sound nervous anymore. “Whenever I jack off, it just sort of, - I don’t know. I can’t find any real release, and if I do, the comedown just really sucks. I end up just feeling really disgusting afterwards, like wrong, somehow. So I just don’t do it.”

It makes sense, Jack thinks, as his fingers still against Alex’s ribs. He doesn't reply though, simply leaves his hands resting against Alex’s sides. Alex doesn't say anything else, either. His breathing eventually slows, after a couple of minutes, and Jack is pretty sure he’s fallen asleep. Jack just starts his fingers back up again, trailing them down the man’s sides lightly. He knows he won’t be able to find sleep tonight.