If he'd been on duty, he would've had to book himself because there was no way in hell missing the driveway and parking on the lawn as a convenient drive way constituted being in control in any shape or form. But that was the point, that was sure as hell the point, because he didn't want to be in control, he didn't want to be the person who could file away what had happened to that kid and just move on as if it didn't matter.
Maybe drinking was a crutch, in which case he had two broken legs but somehow that didn't matter because every moment his brain surfaced out of an alcoholic haze he became aware of a solid male body moving against him, the rasp of stubble from someone who had worked through more than a double shift against his skin, and lips tasting of the smoky taste of the cheap scotch they had been knocking back as their short cut to oblivion.
Yeah, that was good. That was, just enough to make it for thoughts to be hard to surface, just enough sensation to make his dick ache, because Gil was pulling at his button up shirt like it was supposed to have safety snap buttons that just went pop.
Who the hell cared anyway. It was all about the sex and he wanted him. Had wanted him for a long time but it was a spectacularly stupid idea to have sex with someone you worked with. It always fucked up one way or another. Words were a bit of a challenge. He didn't remember asking. He wasn't even sure how they got to be practically wrestling on the... carpet. Jesus, hadn't even made it to the bed... only that his hands were hunting clumsily for Gil's belt and was tugging with the coordination of a concussion victim.
He was half-sure that Gil was pushing his pants down, twisting out of his clothes, shoving Jim's fingers away before Jim found naked hot skin with his hands again, and then he felt Gil kissing him again, left of center, off kilter, but close enough to his mouth for government work.
Somehow his own clothes were at least half off and he didn't remember how that happened. Somehow he had broken all his personal rules and he wasn't sure how *that* had happened either and more to the point he didn't care because somehow lips coordinated to contact lips and maybe it was more luck that judgment but the two of them kissed like the world was coming to an end. Hot, sloppy and a sensation that obliterated the remainder of thought leaving only want and desire. He wanted to hold on forever, pushing hard against Gil, grappling for more of him, wanting heat and pressure on a visceral level.
He just kept moving, kept trying to get more contact, more sensation, and it wasn't really accidental. He knew what he wanted, and Gil was going along with it, and then Gil was naked and Jim felt the carpet digging into his knees while he tried to get one of Gil's legs up over his shoulder to try to fuck his ass.
Maybe he should be asking, maybe he should be doing a hell of a lot of things like... fuck, who cared. He needed to get inside of him, he needed it like a compulsion that drove him. He wasn't thinking overly of anything much aside from the need but he did remember a condom but the lube, hell if he knew where if came from or even what it was. It was slick enough but he was rough and desperate working fingers in there, but Gil wasn't fighting him on it.
Gil looked pretty into it, even if he was bleary, reaching for Jim's wrist to haul him in closer, while Jim pulled his fingers out and moved to get his dick in. He didn't need to think, didn't need to do anything but react and enjoy.
There was something animalistic about just fucking without inhibitions. It was all about the sensations, all about want, need, desire, satisfaction. The push into tight heat made him want to growl and moan and that was all he could manage as the urge to move swept over him and there was no reason to just start moving in a rather uncontrolled and haphazard matter until his instincts started driving and he was in the moment with nothing apart from heat and pressure, pleasure, compulsion all mixed up like a goddamn cocktail that burned all the way through his body and pulsed heat in his gut.
Then he just went for it, fucking hard, driving in, listening to Gil groan and moan underneath of him, while Jim just rode it on until he could feel that he was going to come and come hard. He just needed a little more traction.
It was a fucking miracle he could manage it at all with the amount they had drunk between them. Even more amazing when he felt the splash of surprisingly hot liquid against his stomach from Gil and the way his eyes practically rolled back in his head. It was enough to bring spasms that tightened and gripped him for his last push and the relief and pleasure of coming blotted out everything.
Panting, and disorientated he collapsed half on Gil, half off, stickiness between them and heat pouring from them both as they hit the cool down of post orgasm in an alcohol saturated heap.
Jim was only sure of one thing as he finally passed out. He wasn't going to remember a thing in the morning.
