“I’m sure, Ell. Don’t overthink it. This doesn’t have to be anything more than it is,” he said with more conviction than he felt. “I’m still going to destroy you in London. Especially if you don’t sort that ankle out.”
“I’ll show you, you know. In London, I’m going to ruin you.”
Jackson scoffed.
Elliot grinned up at him. “And then I’m going to take you home and fuck you so hard you see stars, all with the first-place medal around my neck.”
“Yeah,” Jackson whispered. “You want to fuck me, Owens?” It was the first indication that Elliot had given that this could extend beyond altitude camp. But Jackson wasn’t going to point that out to him, wasn’t going to risk quashing the little kernel of hope growing in his chest.
Elliot hummed in confirmation. “Yeah, Jennings. Want to watch you fall apart on my cock.”
“I want that,” Jackson groaned. “Fuck, Owens. I really want that.”
Bringing it back to sex seemed to settle something for Elliot, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and wandered naked towards the bathroom. “Get dressed, Jennings. I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes? Have you seen what you’ve done to my hair?” Jackson replied. “At least give me fifteen.”
Elliot laughed as Jackson rolled out of bed and searched around the room until he located his robe near the door. It was only now that he was realising he’d have to cross the hotelcorridor in just a dressing gown for the second time that day, and how much of a risk that was.
The corridor was mercifully empty except for a staff member who barely gave him a second glance as he hurried towards his door. Back in his own room, Jackson paced in front of the mirror. This thing with Elliot, whatever it was, was bringing up feelings he didn’t think he’d ever had before. He wanted Elliot. He wanted every part of him, and it was fucking terrifying.
This tentative dance between them was a delicate balance. He knew he was too invested already, and he had to keep some distance between them, because he was sure Ell would sprint in the other direction at the first hint of any investment on Jackson’s side. But there had been a moment between them when Elliot had collapsed against him, and Jackson had felt like he was his. He’d wanted to revel in the fact that this controlled, untouchable man belonged to him, even if just for a second, and then it had slipped away.
Jackson showered and dried his hair before throwing it into a loose bun, moving by rote until he stalled in front of his suitcase, frozen with indecision. He hadn’t brought any date-appropriate clothing with him, only athletic wear, for obvious reasons. And as much as he’d assured Elliot this wasn’t a date, Jackson definitely wanted it to be.
The best he could do was the slightly more tailored-looking navy joggers he’d thrown into his bag because a sponsor had sent them to him shortly before the trip. It was hardly the suavest look he’d ever pulled together, but coupled with a white T-shirt and a wool jumper, Jackson figured it was a decent outfit and hopefully wouldn’t make it look like he was trying too hard. He didn’t need Elliot to bolt on sight.
The lobby was teeming with people when Jackson entered. It was a Sunday night, so there was a lot of changeover happening as new athletes and tourists arrived, taking in their first eveningin the Swiss mountains. There was also more press around than there had been for the last few days, which sent Jackson’s mood plummeting. His eyes immediately found Elliot, who was leaning stiffly against the wall near the door. He was dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a blue waffle shirt that he somehow managed to make look like he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ. Jackson felt woefully underdressed, but it was too late to turn back now.
“Jennings,” Elliot said as he approached. “You’re almost on time, well done.”
“I’m never late when there’s food involved,” Jackson replied with an easy smile as he let his eyes drift over Elliot, greedily taking in every inch of him.
Elliot pushed off the wall and started walking. “Is that why Anders has started supplying you with sweets? Motivation to turn up on time?”
“There are other things that motivate me as well,” Jackson replied. He was certain Elliot could read the hunger in his eyes. He wanted to kiss him. Elliot kept distance between them, though, staying a few steps ahead of Jackson until they were well out of view of the hotel.
“It’s busy today,” he said as he finally slowed, allowing Jackson to fall into step with him.
“Yeah, lots of people about,” Jackson replied, jostling Elliot’s shoulder as they walked, just as an excuse to touch him. He understood well enough. Keep away, or else.
They walked close to each other as they made their way into the small town, hands brushing occasionally, hips bumping. The ever-present patches of lingering snow glimmered along the edges of the cobbled streets, but the air was surprisingly mild, the sun catching Jackson’s cheekbones. Every part of him wanted to reach out and take Elliot’s hand in his, but he held back. It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to—the war betweenthe strength of his own desire and the need to repress it. It made him jittery, and apparently overly talkative.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked Elliot, glancing at his ankle as if that wasn’t an incredibly sensitive topic in itself.
Elliot shrugged. “Alright, actually.”
Jackson hummed in response, something in him telling him it was a lie.
“A lot of gossip about Hewitt flying around. Apparently the selection committee might be swayed after all,” Elliot said. There was something in his tone. Worry.
“I mean, it makes sense,” Jackson replied.
Elliot huffed. “Anders would hate it, though.”
“Like you said before, it isn’t all his choice,” Jackson argued. “And you know as well as I do that Darius is the best we’ve got.”
“I know he’s fast, but Anders wants a team, not a star,” Elliot replied.
