Jack had been gone for a few days already, and Rhys could hardly take it.

It wasn’t that Jack had never gone away before, but for some reason Rhys was struggling with it in a way he hadn’t before. He couldn’t quite place his finger on why but the sense of longing and loneliness persisted, and all he wanted was Jack back at his side with his strong hands and clumsy kisses.

He tried to distract himself with chores around the penthouse. He and Jack’s laundry still sat combined in the huge hamper, stuck together and in need of a clean. He focused on that for now, carrying the load over to the laundry room and starting to sort it.

Most of the clothes at the top were his, so he sorted them into neat piles, differentiating between lights and colors. He soon dug through to Jack’s clothes, picking out the items he’d worn the day before he’d left on his trip.

He pulled out Jack’s unicorn boxers and pants, digging through his pockets for anything Jack had left behind. Once he’d nearly washed Jack’s jeans with a prototype grenade in the pocket, so now he made it a habit. This time, however, he found nothing but lint and a crushed piece of paper with some gun designs scribbled on it, so he folded the pants up and set them aside.

Rhys pulled out Jack’s sweater next, and as soon as he touched its soft, worn fabric a sense of need washed over him. He held it up in front of his face, eyes scanning over each wrinkle snd stain. It was one of the most well-loved of Jack’s Hyperion-branded clothes, what he wore whenever he had a rough day and wanted to be lazy. Jack’s smell was soaked deep into the fibers, and when Rhys brought it to his nose and inhaled he could almost pretend his boyfriend was sitting here besides him.

He groaned into the sweater, the overwhelming scent of Jack stuffing up his nose. He pressed it close over his face, the fabric shifting with the movement of his breathing. He kept it clamped over his face with one palm, the other drifting down as arousal swirled in his stomach. He felt a little ashamed as he slipped his hand into his boxers but he couldn’t help it, he missed Jack that much, and this was the closest he could get right now.

He pumped his cock as he sniffled and huffed into Jack’s sweater, the man’s lingering scent pushing his orgasm up to the breaking point in no time. With a few more desperate strokes he came into his palm, a couple errant drops staining into his underwear.

He panted as he slowly pulled the sweater away from his nose, cheeks colored bright red even though no one was around to witness. He tossed Jack’s sweater in the pile before sliding his boxers off of his legs, putting it with the rest of his soiled clothes.

At least he’d been right in the middle of doing laundry.  

Rhys had just meant to try on Jack’s boots for a moment.

He found them tucked away in the back of Jack’s closet while trying to organize his formalwear. They didn’t look half bad and felt made from authentic leather, so he’d decided to put them on and model them around the bedroom for a split second, just to see what they looked like on him.

Jack wasn’t supposed to walk in while he was mid-strut.

“Kitten…what are you doing in daddy’s boots?” Jack snickered from the doorframe, arm leaned up against it as he looked Rhys up and down. He paid special attention to the boots, which didn’t help Rhys’ embarrassment as he plopped down on the bed and struggled to take them off.

“Sorry, I, um—I don’t know what I was thinking, they look dumb on me anyways—“ He started to babble, only to pause as Jack pushed himself off the doorframe and strode on over, coming to kneel right where Rhys sat on the bed.

“Sure’s been awhile since I’ve seen these beauties…and they saw me through some rough times.” Jack trailed his finger down the shin of one of the boots, the pressure light but just enough that Rhys could still feel it. “You know, they don’t look half bad on you, pumpkin. Actually, you look pretty damn sexy wearing my shoes.”

“Huh? You…you think so?” Rhys replied, bewildered. He expected Jack to mock him until he finally wrenched the boots off his feet and threw them back into the closet, but Jack was acting…weirdly into it.

“Oh yeah, babe. Think I don’t like it when you wear your usual heels? Seeing something of mine on you just makes sit even better.” Jack cradled the heel of the boot with his other hand, before bringing the toe up to his lips in quick kiss. Followed by another, and another, until Jack’s mouth and tongue trailed lightly up the well-worn leather, leaving little damp patches in their wake.

Rhys’ heart leapt in his chest at the sight, suddenly a lot less interested in getting the boots off. Hell, maybe if things got a little hot and heavy, Jack would even let him keep them on

He liked the idea of that very much.