Seasick

Jamie knows Adam always gets nervous before they head out to sea; he can tell by the way the man walks, the slight tremor in his hands, the hitch in his breath. It’s not that Adam is afraid of the ocean, the man just desperately does not want to get sick. He wants to participate, to feel the satisfaction of seeing one of his builds not screw up for once. He wants to cheer alongside Jamie as the rig they worked on for months performs just as it’s supposed to, to hug the man when it’s over, to hear the whispered words of praise the other man wouldn’t be caught dead saying to anyone else.


Jamie knows all this because Adam tells him with over-bright eyes and hands wrung together, feet shifting on the hard cement of the workshop floor. The only response Jamie can muster in front of so many people and cameras is to hand Adam a plastic cylinder full of pills with the words, “Suck it up you baby.” Adam looks hurt for just a fraction of a second before shrugging and walking in the opposite direction. Jamie warns him later, in the privacy of his office, that they “have to keep up appearances” and feels like an ass afterward when Adam looks at him with betrayal in his eyes.


Even now, as the crew loads the boat, Jamie ignores Adam’s discomfort and instead chooses to talk to Tory about the upcoming experiment. He doesn’t pretend Tory is there to just “tag along” as the producer puts it; every single person on the boat knows Tory is Adam’s replacement in case the man gets too sick to continue, which is always. Afterward in a rare display of concern, Jamie asks Adam how he feels about it and all Adam does is shrug and pretend it doesn’t bother him. Jamie doesn’t believe him; Adam always had expressive eyes.


After everything is loaded, the Captain informs them that the seas are a little rougher than usual but once the weather warms and they get out past the bay it should be “smooth sailin’!” Jamie sees Adam is already green and not even a full half hour goes by before the man disappears below deck, no doubt flushing down what little breakfast he ate and most likely the recently ingested pills. Jamie follows him down a safe amount of time later and he finds Adam on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, bucket within arms reach, as he is too sick to make it to the toilet. An ache starts in Jamie’s chest at the feeble groan from behind shaking hands. He ignores Adam’s protest as he kneels and helps him up onto the couch. Adam leans forward, head bent and cradled in his arms.


“I hate being sick,” he mumbles. “I can’t even sleep, probably aspirate my own vomit if I could anyway.”


“That’s certainly a possibility,” Jamie replies and rubs what he hopes are soothing circles over a taut back. After a few seconds, when Adam does not relax, Jamie finally gives in and asks, “Is this helping at all?”


“Better than the floor,” Adam says with as much humor he can muster and Jamie chuckles. “You know,” he continues, “it wouldn’t be so bad if I had something to focus on without opening my eyes.”


Jamie tilts his head in question even though Adam isn’t looking at him. “Like what?”


The other man shrugs. “I dunno a massaging chair?” At Jamie’s outright laugh he shrugs the man’s hand off his back. “Something physical, at least, that’s not the same motion over and over.”


Silence grows as Jamie thinks and then he rises, leaving Adam alone and confused on the couch. He returns with a glass of water, a toothbrush and toothpaste, which he pushes into Adam’s hand. The man finally opens bloodshot eyes and glares in Jamie’s direction.


“This isn’t funny.”


“I know, but just do it. Two minutes.” Jamie even sets his watch and snatches the items away when the time is up.
“I don’t know what you meant by that but it didn’t help.”


Jamie, straight to the point as usual, takes Adam’s lips in between his own, coaxing his mouth open until their tongues meet. Feeling more than hearing Adam’s moan he continues, pressing the man back into the couch and running rough hands down to the waistband of well-worn jeans. Adam lifts his hips as Jamie makes short work of the button and zipper and slides the material off sun-starved legs.


Jamie smirks at Adam’s choice of underwear: plain white boxer briefs. He pulls away just enough to ask, “What, didn’t think you’d be getting lucky today?” Adam chuckles weakly, his eyes never leaving Jamie’s as the man sinks to his knees between slightly parted legs. “I’m too old for this,” he says when his knee pops sending a brief flare of pain through his hip.


“Mmm, but you are good at it though, even if you rarely do it.” Jamie ignores the obvious hint and pulls the undergarment down and off Adam’s legs, parting pale freckled thighs wider so he can lean forward and take the half erect-cock into his mouth.


Adam makes small inarticulate sounds that he muffles with the sleeve of his jacket but can’t stop the surprised groan when Jamie reaches down to roll his balls between warm agile fingers. Jamie takes his time, working his mouth down the shaft and back up again, pressing his tongue to the underside of the head, using his hands to stroke at the base. He moves up to focus his attention on the glans.


Adam’s hips jerk and Jamie tastes pre-come as it spreads across his tongue. He sucks harder and looks up to see Adam with his head resting on the back of the couch, muscles in his throat taught and working fiercely to stifle any sounds that would send unwanted visitors knocking on the door. The man isn’t only loud on television.


Jamie moves back down again and this time he hears an outright moan above him as he swallows Adam’s cock in one swift motion. He clenches the hand he has around the base, his fingers pulling slightly on red pubic hair and hears the distinctive whine in the back of Adam’s throat that warns he is almost there.


Jamie moves faster, sucks harder and Adam’s hips lift off the couch as he comes, face red, mouth slack. Jamie can almost hear the tension in his trembling thighs and then his mouth is flooded with the unmistakable taste of Adam.


When the last of the tremors cease, he lets the softening cock slip out of his mouth and promptly spits into a handful of tissues. Jamie most definitely does not swallow. He helps Adam back into his pants and goes to wash his hands and brush his teeth.


“Did that work?” Jamie can’t help but smirk a little at Adam’s glare.


“Shit, Jamie,” he says weakly and scrubs his face with his hand. He is still breathing heavily, unable to offer any other response.


“Seriously though,” Jamie says, suddenly down to business, “you should lie down for a little while. Maybe now you can sleep.”
“Ya think?” Adam retorts, but flattens himself face down on the couch, head pillowed in his arms. Jamie goes about straightening the cabin and when he finishes drops a kiss on the top of Adam’s head in an uncharacteristic show of affection. He pretends to ignore the smug smile in response.


“I’ll tell you when we reach our destination,” he starts, but shakes his head when he is interrupted by a loud snore. He reminds himself not to smile as he opens the cabin door and heads back up to the deck.