Episode 17:A Quite Flame

The mid-February snow softened over Crestwood, the storm's fury waning into a gentle drift as evening settled over the town. Matt stood in his small kitchen, the air warm with the scent of garlic and rosemary, his glasses fogging slightly as he stirred a pot of creamy mushroom risotto. The apartment—tucked above a quiet bookstore—was a cozy haven, its walls lined with mismatched frames and shelves of dog-eared novels, a sanctuary from the chaos of Gary's murder, Elias's death, and the police scrutiny that had gripped their circle. Tonight, he'd pushed it all aside, craving simplicity, a pause with Jacks—his boyfriend, his steady light.Jacks leaned against the counter, his dark hair tousled from shoveling snow off the stoop, his broad shoulders relaxed in a navy sweater that hugged his frame. He sipped a glass of red wine, his hazel eyes glinting with a playful warmth as he watched Matt fuss over the stove. "Smells amazing," he said, his voice a low hum, stepping closer to brush a kiss against Matt's neck. "You're spoiling me."Matt grinned, a flush creeping up his cheeks, his glasses slipping as he tilted his head into the touch. "Good—you deserve it. Been a hell of a week."Jacks chuckled, his lips lingering, soft and teasing. "Understatement. Cops, knives, dream crap—give me risotto and you any day."They'd planned this date days ago—a quiet night in, no bar, no group, just them—before the world tilted further into madness. Matt turned off the burner, the risotto steaming in its pot, and faced Jacks, his hands finding the sweater's hem, tugging him closer. "Food's ready," he murmured, "but you're distracting.""Am I?" Jacks teased, his hands sliding to Matt's hips, pulling him flush against him. "Guess I'll behave—for now."Matt laughed, a light, easy sound, and kissed him—slow, sweet, a promise of the night ahead. Their lips moved together, familiar yet electric, the kitchen's warmth wrapping around them like a cocoon. Jacks tasted of wine and anticipation, his tongue brushing Matt's with a gentle insistence that sent a shiver down his spine.They pulled apart, breathless, and Matt grabbed plates, his glasses fogging again as he served the risotto, the creamy rice flecked with herbs. They settled at the small dining table, a candle flickering between them, its glow dancing on their faces. The meal was simple—risotto, a side of crusty bread, the wine flowing easy—and they talked over it, voices low, laughter soft. Jacks recounted a bookstore customer's absurd rant about alien cookbooks, and Matt shared a tale of his college days, spilling coffee on a professor's lap. It was mundane, silly, a balm—they avoided Gary, Elias, the dream world's hum, letting the night be theirs alone.After dinner, they cleared the table, hands brushing as they stacked dishes, the air charged with a quiet heat. Jacks poured more wine, his grin crooked, and tugged Matt toward the living room. "Dance with me," he said, setting his glass down, pulling Matt into his arms as a slow jazz tune crackled from the old record player.Matt laughed, his arms looping around Jacks's neck, their bodies swaying to the saxophone's lazy wail. "You're cheesy," he said, but his voice was fond, his glasses bumping Jacks's forehead as they pressed close."Romantic," Jacks corrected, his hands sliding down Matt's back, resting at the curve of his waist. "Big difference."They danced, the room a blur of candlelight and shadow, their steps unpracticed but sure. Jacks dipped Matt slightly, earning a startled giggle, then pulled him upright, kissing him again—deeper this time, a hungry edge to it. Matt melted into it, his fingers threading through Jacks's hair, the wine and warmth loosening his limbs."Bed?" Jacks murmured against his lips, his voice a husky whisper, his hazel eyes dark with want."Yeah," Matt breathed, his heart thudding, leading Jacks by the hand down the short hall to his bedroom—a snug space with a quilted bed, a single lamp casting a golden glow, snow tapping the window like a soft drum.They stumbled in, shedding coats and shoes, laughter fading into breaths as Jacks tugged Matt's sweater over his head, glasses tumbling to the nightstand. Matt's skin prickled in the cool air, his lean frame bare, and Jacks paused, his gaze tracing him—chest, shoulders, the faint freckles dusting his collarbone—with a reverence that made Matt flush deeper."You're gorgeous," Jacks said, his voice low, pulling off his own sweater, revealing the broad planes of his chest, the dark hair trailing down to his jeans. He stepped closer, hands cupping Matt's face, kissing him—slow, deliberate, lips parting to taste the wine on his tongue.Matt's hands roamed Jacks's back, fingers digging into muscle as they sank onto the bed, the quilt soft beneath them. Jacks hovered over him, his weight a delicious press, and kissed down Matt's neck, nipping gently, drawing a soft gasp. "Love that sound," he murmured, his lips brushing Matt's collarbone, then lower, tracing a path across his chest."Jacks," Matt whispered, his voice hitching, arching into the touch as Jacks's hands slid to his jeans, unbuttoning them with a slow, teasing tug. The denim peeled away, leaving Matt in boxers, his breath quickening as Jacks shed his own jeans, the air between them electric.Jacks knelt between Matt's legs, his hands warm on Matt's thighs, sliding up to hook into the waistband, pulling the boxers Down with a gentle ease. Matt shivered, exposed, his arousal evident, and Jacks grinned—a wicked, loving curve—before leaning down to kiss his hip, then lower, lips brushing the sensitive skin until Matt moaned, his hands fisting the quilt."God, you're perfect," Jacks said, his voice rough, shifting to grab lube from the nightstand—a quiet clink in the stillness—coating his fingers as he returned. He kissed Matt again, deep and claiming, one hand guiding Matt's legs apart, the other slipping between them, a slick finger circling, then pressing in slow, deliberate.Matt gasped, his head tipping back, the stretch a sweet burn as Jacks worked him open, patient but firm, whispering against his ear, "Relax, babe—got you." A second finger joined, curling just right, and Matt's moan deepened, his hips rocking, pleasure coiling tight in his core."More," Matt begged, his voice a plea, and Jacks obliged, shedding his own boxers, his erection pressing against Matt's thigh as he grabbed a condom, rolling it on with a practiced flick. He slicked himself, positioning between Matt's legs, and leaned down, kissing him—soft, searing—as he pressed in, slow and steady, filling him inch by inch.Matt arched, a sharp cry escaping as Jacks bottomed out, the fullness overwhelming, exquisite. Jacks stilled, his breath ragged, hands gripping Matt's hips, giving him time to adjust, their foreheads pressed together. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice thick with restraint."Yeah," Matt panted, nodding, his legs wrapping around Jacks's waist, pulling him closer. "Move—please."Jacks did, a slow thrust at first, testing, then deeper, a rhythm building—steady, strong, his hips snapping forward as Matt rocked up to meet him. The bed creaked, the quilt bunching beneath them, sweat beading on their skin as pleasure surged. Matt's hands clawed at Jacks's back, nails digging in, his moans rising—sharp, needy—each thrust hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind his eyes."Fuck, Matt," Jacks groaned, his pace quickening, one hand slipping between them to stroke Matt in time, slick and firm. Matt's breath hitched, his body tightening, the edge rushing closer as Jacks drove into him—harder, faster, a perfect sync of want and love."Jacks—I'm—" Matt gasped, and it hit, a wave crashing over him, his release spilling hot over Jacks's hand, his cry loud, unguarded, his body shaking beneath the thrust. Jacks followed, a guttural moan tearing from him as he buried deep, pulsing inside, collapsing atop Matt in a tangle of limbs and breath.They lay there, panting, sweat-slick and sated, the room quiet save for the snow's soft tap and their slowing breaths. Jacks kissed Matt's temple, rolling to his side, pulling him close, their legs entwining under the quilt."Love you," Jacks murmured, his voice soft, nuzzling Matt's neck."Love you too," Matt replied, his glasses forgotten, a sleepy grin curving his lips as he nestled into Jacks's chest, the candlelight fading to a warm blur.The night stretched on, simple and sexy, a quiet flame against Crestwood's storm—Gary's murder, Elias's death, the dream world's hum—all held at bay by their love, their touch. Matt drifted to sleep, Jacks's arms a shield, the bar's chaos a distant echo in this tender reprieve.