#zimbits ficlet
“Jack. Isn’t this dangerous?”
Bitty angles his head to the side. Above him, Jack snaps another picture.
“I’m not going to put them online,” Jack says. “I’ll keep them on the camera, then delete them after.” After what? Bitty wants to ask, but he also kind of knows the answer.
He feels gorgeous, lying here nude against the blue sheets. Above him, Jack’s in jeans and socks and nothing else, the strap of the camera lying against his bare chest. Bitty wants him down here, but he also wants to keep feeling this way, like he’s a piece of art to be admired, even worshipped. Jack tilts his head, makes an approving noise, and snaps two or three shots. The camera’s click is like a touch, Like each time, Jack’s putting those big callused hands on him and saying don’t move, i want you just like this.
But Bitty can’t not move. He slides around on the sheets, finding different ways to drape his arms over the sheets and his stomach, turning his head to catch the radiant sunlight. Jack follows him with every move, kneeling over his legs, sometimes scrambling to the side or off the bed to get a shot. “Bits,” he says, and his voice is thick with want.
“Put the camera down,” Bitty coaxes, “and come here, sweetheart.” He knows what that tone of voice does to Jack, can see the evidence of it in the tent of his jeans. Jack breathes harder behind the camera, but he keeps shooting, as Bitty turns to his side and arches his back and stretches like a lazy cat.
He spreads his legs, and Jack takes the invitation, kneeling between them. He holds the camera in one hand, and places his other hand flat against Bitty’s stomach. The contact burns Bitty like a brand, and he arches up into it, letting out a little impatient sigh. Jack captures the sigh, looks at the image on his camera, and nods. “Make more noises like that,” he says.
“Make me make more noise,” Bitty challenges.
Jack grins, a wide, eager smile. He slides his hand down Bitty’s stomach and teases at the head of his cock.
An involuntary “ooh” comes out of Bitty’s mouth, and Jack snaps at that moment, making a throaty noise that’s half-pleased, half-yearning. “You should see these, Bits,” he says. “The way you look–”
“Jack…” Bitty thrusts his hips up. “Too much talking.” He shoots Jack a look that says, you know what to do.
And Jack does. His hand comes down to encircle Bitty’s cock, so much heat all of a sudden so much there and Bitty arches up as the sensation seizes him. His jaw opens, and he breathes heavy exhales as Jack snaps and snaps. Jack strokes him, one deep stroke from root to tip, and Bitty shudders, the pleasure zinging through his blood. He blinks up at Jack with big, pleading eyes.
Jack slides his hand down to Bitty’s balls and teases him there; Bitty keens at the intense sensation. Snap, snap sounds from somewhere above as Bitty tangles his hands in the sheets and balls up the fabric into fists. “J– Jack,” he starts, breath coming faster.
Snap. Snap. Jack’s hand back on his cock, stroking faster, the sounds of the camera echoing in Bitty’s ears. He pulls himself together and lifts a hand to Jack’s upper arm. “Jack,” he pants, “if you do not get down here within five seconds, I cannot guarantee the safety of that fancy camera of yours.”
And at last, at last, Jack sets the camera down on the bedside table and leans down to meet him.
