Seven Days with Mr Jones
Category: Nathan Barley
Pairing: Dan Ashcroft/Jones
Warning: Smut (graphic sex scenes)
Length: 1-5k words
Notes: Betaed by el_gardner
Seven Days with Mr Jones by crowson75
It feels like it’s the first time Dan’s considered it.
There was a moment, before Barley owned his bollocks, that he had thoughts of earning a million quid and then chucking himself off the Blackpool Tower. He’d leave all the money to Claire, hoping that it would seem like an altruistic gesture. He always knew though, that she would see it as the giant fuck-you that it so clearly was. It actually didn’t occur to him then that it was selfish or nasty to her.
Now, that one thought is the only thing that stops him. Standing on the station that morning, he lets his body be swayed by the breeze of the oncoming tube, willing himself to take one last step…
He’d planned; signed himself out of hospital first thing. The ID… he’d got it all. Then, he imagines his sister at his funeral, fucking hating him. Claire would, he knows, see it as typical Dan – giving up in the face of adversity. The last of the great cowards and, this time, he’s penniless. He can’t even leave her anything. He takes a step back from the edge of the platform. The moment has died.
He goes to Jones’s place. It’s getting dark when he gets there.
Of all the people that Dan had come to value, Jones was the one he’d never expected. Their common hatred of Barley keeps them together. Nathan had told Dan yesterday that he wanted Dan to stay at his flat when he got out of hospital. He could remind Dan how much trouble he was in, and how much Dan had turned into something like Barley even – something he despised. Not long after he’d left, Jones had arrived. He hadn’t talked very much, just held Dan’s hand and told him quietly that he hated Nathan. His conversation; film and secrets, underage sex and his parents – something about Nathan’s parents – it was all too much, too confusing. Dan couldn’t keep up; Jones knew it after a while.
“You haven’t heard a word have you?” he’d said, stroking the hair from Dan’s forehead. “I’ll take care of it,” he’d whispered, kissing Dan’s forehead. It had made Dan feel warm, just for a moment. “You know you can come home when you’re ready?”
Dan found himself nodding. He’d kissed back when Jones’s soft, fake-cherry-tasting lips touched his own. Jones had smiled.
Jones doesn’t say a word when Dan turns up on his doorstep, the tag from the hospital still around his wrist. Jones has his portable decks and his headphones round his neck, but he ushers Dan in, removes them, gives him a one-armed hug and leads him by the hand to what is now Dan’s room. It had been full of junk before; painting materials, records and old clothes. Whilst Dan was in hospital, Jones had cleared it out; given him a bed, a desk, a knackered old typewriter and shelves for the books Dan didn’t have. He stands there and looks at it, Jones looking at him, expecting a response. He doesn’t have the words. He wants to cry but he won’t.
“Get settled,” Jones says eventually. He squeezes Dan’s hand. “Go to sleep if you want.”
And then he leaves. Dan takes his advice and sleeps the fitful sleep of a man who knows that his arse is toast. It seems right that Jones had known Dan would come back here.
When Dan wakes up, Jones is fiddling around on a laptop. Dan doesn’t know whose it is, and he doesn’t care. He sits and eats cornflakes doused in whiskey. Or at least he tries to, until Jones catches him and throws them and the whiskey out of the window. He gives him cornflakes with milk instead and Dan eats them in silence.
Claire comes round. Dan doesn’t know the time; he can’t remember what day it is either. She tells him off and kicks him under the table, then picks up the empty cornflake bowl and washes it. She tells him it won’t be all that bad, that Barley has a good side. Dan can hear Jones laughing in the living room. Claire leaves.
Sometime later, Jones orders pizza and pulls Dan into the living room to watch a film about the Manchester music scene. Dan wonders if he should have tried being Tony Wilson instead of a writer. Jones waves his hand in front Dan’s face when the film has finished and Dan hasn’t said a word. Then Jones leads him back to his room, undresses him and tells him to go to sleep.
The next day, Dan’s awoken by an argument. Jones is yelling at someone, telling them to leave. They tell Jones they’ll call the police and Jones lets them in. Dan can hear the arguing voices getting closer until, finally, his door opens.
“Look at him,” Jones says loudly. “Do you think he’s fucking capable?”
Barley walks in and begins to talk to Dan. Dan just lays there; he has nothing to say. After a while, Nathan gets fed up and leaves. He apologises to Jones on the way out. Jones runs back into Dan’s room and leans out the window. He slowly gobs onto the street below.
“Got ‘im,” he says turning to Dan.
Dan can’t help but smile. Jones scruffs up Dan’s hair and tells him to have a bath. Dan does as he is told.
Claire is there when Dan gets out of the bath. She’s asking Jones if she knows what Dan was up to overnight. She looks at Dan when he walks in and tells Jones to forget it. For the first time in a long time, she hugs him. Then she slaps him.
“Get over it you twat,” she says. There are tears in her eyes when she leaves.
Jones gives Dan Chinese for lunch. The crunch and sweetness of the chestnuts make a little part of him a bit giddy. It’s nighttime, bedtime, all too soon. Tonight, Jones kisses Dan softly when he tucks him in.
Pingu wakes Dan up the next day. He’s stuttering and talking so fast, it takes a while for Dan to realise who the fuck he is. He hugs Dan, tells him he’s going to get him a job. Claire’s written Dan’s CV. They’re working on something. He tells Dan he’s going to be okay. Then he leaves, seemingly disappointed in Dan’s lack of response. Jones only has to put his head round the door and Dan heads towards the shower.
He has eggs and bacon for breakfast, which he assumes Jones has made. Jones isn’t there; Dan figures he’s working. After breakfast, Dan washes up. He can’t actually remember the last time he’d washed up. The water makes his hands dry and he begins picking at his skin. He’s hungry and the kitchen is getting darker when he stops. He notices, for the first time, the laptop on the end of the table. He reaches out and presses a key. The message on the screen makes his heart leap. He’d rather forgotten it could do that.
Address Not Found
www.trashbat.co.ck could not be found. Please check the name and try again.
The browser could not find the host server for the provided address.
- Did you make a mistake when typing the domain? (e.g. “ww.mozilla.org” instead of “www.mozilla.org”)
- Are you certain this domain address exists? Its registration may have expired.
- Are you unable to browse other sites? Check your network connection and DNS server settings.
- Is your computer or network protected by a firewall or proxy? Incorrect settings can interfere with Web browsing.
Dan clicks on the “Try Again” button. The same message reappears. Dan doesn’t know what it means. He goes into the sitting room with a cup of tea to think. He’s asleep when Jones gets home. He awakes to find Jones on his knees in front of him, pulling off Dan’s trousers.
“You spilt your tea,” Jones says, noticing Dan’s eyes have opened. “Lucky for you it must have been cold. You’re not burned. But, until you’re better, I think you should drink your tea at the table, don’t you?”
Dan nods dumbly. “Trashbat?” he whispers.
“You can still talk then,” Jones remarks, drying Dan’s legs with a towel. “I was hoping ‘thank you’ might be the first…”
“You?” Dan asks, all confusion. Jones nods and, before Dan can think, he’s pounced and pushed Jones onto his back, kissing him fiercely. He has no idea why. When he’s finished, he looks at Jones below him, panting and blushing. “Thank you,” he whispers and rolls off Jones.
The younger man grins and wanders off, returning moments later with a pair of tracksuit bottoms. He pulls the price tag off; they must be brand new. He hands them to Dan. That’s when Dan realises he’s slightly hard. Not completely, but it’s noticeable.
“I don’t know why I kissed you,” Dan says, pulling the trousers on. “I’m sorry.”
Jones just smiles. “Anytime.” He wanders out of the room, then his voice filters back from the kitchen. “Indian okay for dinner?”
Dan blushes at his first thought; I’d prefer a blowjob. That was wrong. The hospital must have given him gay blood or something. He shouts yes and goes to the bathroom for a wank. He concentrates on nothing but the feeling; he doesn’t want to fantasise, just in case. He goes to bed after dinner and dreams through Jones’s cacophony.
Dan wakes up the next morning to find a silent, empty house waiting for him. There’s a note on the kitchen table and a box of cereal next to it. He makes himself tea and cereal before he reads the note. It makes him smile, then he tells himself he’s turning into a sap. He takes the money Jones has left for him and goes to buy himself some clothes. It appears that Jones thought his were only fit for cremation.
Claire’s at the house when he gets back. She grins and hugs him when she sees him.
“Sorry,” he tells her. She’s making coffee.
“What for? For Trashbat? S’okay. Pingu cleared the office before the police got there. He’s given me all Nathan’s equipment. How did you know about him?”
Dan blinks. He shakes his head.
“Fine, don’t tell me. It’s probably best I don’t know anyway.” She sits at Dan’s side and squeezes his hand. He takes a sip of coffee. It’s just the way he likes it. No one makes a better cup of coffee for him than his sister. “Did Pingu tell you we’re looking for a job for you?”
“It was Jones’s idea. Thought it might help you get back on your feet.” She smiles at Dan. “I think he’s got a crush on you.”
Dan’s blush makes her open her eyes wide.
“Really?” she asks, not expecting an answer.
“I had to wank a man for the magazine,” Dan says, hoping he’ll stop talking soon. It seems out of his control. “Never… wanted to. But the bloke came back here and Jones found him. Jones told me that if I’d asked, he would have let me do it to him instead.” He stops because Claire is giggling.
“Your hero,” she gasps between giggles.
“I dreamt about wanking Jones for weeks,” Dan says, looking down at his hands. The skin seems softer. He wonders if Jones puts cream on them whilst he is sleeping.
“Awwwww,” Claire says, still smiling. “He likes you. I wouldn’t be adverse to having him as a brother in law.”
Dan chokes on his coffee. It feels like he hasn’t recovered when she leaves. He goes to have a nap afterward, but he can’t sleep. He’s on the typewriter when Jones gets home. He chose it over the laptop because it makes him sound like a proper writer. The clacking of the keys is like having George Orwell in the house. Though he hears the door slam behind Jones, it takes him a while for Dan to become aware of Jones’s presence in his room. When he turns, Jones is grinning.
“‘Bout time you used that,” he says as he approaches. He rubs Dan’s shoulders, who stretches and unfurls like a cat. It feels wonderful; he can’t remember the last time anyone was so comfortable or familiar with him. “Fish and chips for dinner?”
Dan nods and then pauses. “Tomorrow… well, I can’t cook really, except for spag bol. I make a good spag bol. Maybe tomorrow?” Dan has never even cooked for a girl, so fuck knows why he wants to cook for Jones.
“Put your shoes on, we’ll go the supermarket and get the stuff,” Jones says, kissing Dan on the cheek. “Then we’ll get fish and chips on the way home.”
His own eagerness to act, surprises Dan.
He falls asleep after supper. Dan has done more today than he has all week. He’s laying on the sofa when he wakes and can hear the tinny sound of music through Jones’s headphones. The man in question is wriggling his hips, grooving round the living room. Dan watches long enough that he feels guilty for doing it. He looks away, but it’s too late; he’s been caught.
“Did I wake you?” Jones asks, turning the music off and lowering his headphones.
“No,” Dan replies, sitting up. “Maybe I should go to bed?” He doesn’t know why he’s asking Jones. His mouth seems dry; Jones is looking flushed and his shirt is stuck to his chest. Dan imagines he would look the same after sex; perhaps if he was bent over the kitchen table and…
“If you want,” Jones replies, reaching to pull his t-shirt over his head. Then he steps towards Dan and pushes him back against the sofa and straddles his lap. He leans forward and licks Dan’s neck. It makes him shiver with pleasure. He can feel his cock start to take interest and he tenses. “S’okay,” Jones whispers, crawling off him. “It’s a bit quick.” Before Dan can get his brain working enough to contradict him, Jones has gone. It doesn’t feel the same crawling into bed without Jones being there.
Jones has gone to work again when Dan wakes up. He notices that his hospital tag has been removed during the night. There’s a note on the kitchen table that says Jones won’t be home until tomorrow. Dan goes back to bed.
He wakes up for a while and goes for a walk. Claire calls him and buys him lunch in a cafe. He tells her that Jones isn’t home tonight and she laughs at his expression. He goes home and writes for a while. He doesn’t know what he’s written until he notices that he has a hard-on. He wanks in the shower and then after, sends Jones a text message. He tells him he’s making spag bol tomorrow, and Jones had better be there.
Jonatton turns up at Jones’s place whilst Dan is eating toast and watching the news. He asks him if he’d like to write something about Trashbat going down. Dan doesn’t think twice before he punches him. He regrets it later when his knuckles swell up and hurt like hell. He considers calling Claire. He goes to bed instead.
Dan wakes up at two in the morning dreaming of sucking Jones’s cock. It doesn’t seem that long ago that he was wearing gloves to wank off some bloke in a pub toilet. Now, he wants to suck someone off. He corrects himself. Not someone. Just Jones. He wanks thinking of himself sucking Jones’s dick. He comes when his brain decides to let Jones come all over his face.
It’s four-thirty when he wakes again. He goes to the laptop and, after some faffing, he manages to log in as a guest. He Googles Nathan Barley. He reads all the newspaper headlines and then all the articles. The much-repeated line “tipped off by email” makes Dan want to hack into Jones’s email. Then he decides that he should just ask. He sends Jones a text message and takes his mobile back to bed. He turns his text alarm right up, so Jones’s response will wake him.
It’s nine thirty.
“Tell you later”, the message says.
Dan throws his phone across the room and pulls the covers over his head.
Dinner is ready when Jones walks in. It’s good timing, though Dan will admit it is more luck than judgement. When Jones walks in, Dan realises he wants a cigarette. Then it occurs to him that he hasn’t smoked for a really long time. Jones sits down and Dan dishes up dinner. Rather embarrassingly, it’s really good. Dan feels like a housewife.
“I went to school with Nathan,” Jones tells Dan. “My old man was quite well-off, y’know? It’s the only reason I can live like this. But it’s okay. We’ve got a deal that when I get married I’ll go work for the family business, so to speak. Strange bugger, my dad. He stills thinks I will, even though he’s caught me sucking cock more than once.”
Dan wonders the best way to adjust his trousers discretely.
“I also know that Nathan is a complete fucking mummy’s boy,” Jones is talking slower now. He’s enjoying the meal. That fact makes Dan feel nauseously delighted. “And I knew all along who mummy was.”
Dan grins. Nathan’s parentage had added a beautiful twist to the tale.
“He’s a wanker,” Jones tells him. “You know that. But he’s a dangerous one too. I’ve been watching him for a while.”
“You’ve been watching him?” Dan’s heart starts to beat far too fast. If Jones has been watching Nathan, he would have seen what happened when he got injured. Jones’s knowing grin answers the question.
“My dad’s a copper,” Jones says softly. “Well, he’s not a bobby on the beat, he’s really important.” Jones blushes.
“Oh,” Dan responds. “Do the police know what I…”
“Sort of,” Jones replies. “Not really. Listen, this wasn’t about you, though I know it’s not going to do me any good to admit it.”
Dan can read the body language easily, in Jones’s movement to lounge back in his chair, his crotch pushed forward, almost aiming at Dan. He can’t help but smile.
“It was Mandy,” Jones tells him. “I’ve seen her around, fucked on cocame and so bloody fragile. And it was Pingu. It just stank the way Barley treated people. You know he told everyone he shagged Claire too, don’t you?”
“It figures,” Dan responds, not wanting to admit that it was one of the reasons why he had tried to destroy Barley once and for all.
“All I did really was suggest someone looked at where the Trashbat money was from, did a bit of hacking,” Jones tells him. “So, no, the email wasn’t from me. Though, I might have nudged the sender in the right direction.” Jones looks up at Dan under his fringe. “Are you disappointed?”
Dan finds himself shaking his head long before his mouth catches up. “I just… I keep getting the credit for it.”
“S’fine,” Jones says. “No one would believe it was me anyway. Is there anymore spag bol left?”
Dan smiles and waves at the pan, telling Jones to help himself. Once he has, Dan sits and watches Jones eat for a while, wanting to say the right thing. He has no idea what to say to seduce a bloke. The only thing he can think of is… He pushes his chair aside and crawls under the table, managing to undo Jones’s jeans and expose him to the air before the younger man is aware of what’s going on. Dan ignores Jones’s wriggling and the protestations. His heart thunders until he tastes the pre-come on his tongue as he closes his lips over the tip of Jones’s cock. Then, for some reason, Dan calms down. Getting to this point seemed far scarier than being here now.
“Fuck, Dan,” Jones gasps, his fork dropping onto the floor. “This isn’t the way to start.” He’s still pushing his cock against Dan’s tongue, encouraging him to suck harder, saliva catching at the sides of his mouth. Dan has no idea what he’s doing and he’s sucking until his cheeks ache, then relaxing and letting Jones fuck his mouth, hoping that at some point, this will work. The salty taste on his tongue gets stronger and Dan decides that this too is a good sign. He shuffles so he can lean slightly against Jones’s chair, so he can bring a hand up to follow the movement of his mouth.
“Fucking hell,” Jones whimpers, slipping down in his chair. His knees are wrapped around Dan’s body. “Faster, please, faster.”
Dan responds, getting into a rhythm with his mouth and hand, sucking hard every so often because he likes the sound Jones makes when he does. He wants desperately to touch his own cock, which is throbbing in his jeans. The image he had last night, of Jones coming over his face is ever present. He doesn’t know if he dares to do that. Or perhaps he should swallow? He’s still trying to make the decision when Jones begins pulling his hair.
“Gonna come, Dan,” he whimpers. “Move, or I’ll come in your mouth.” Jones thrusts into Dan’s mouth a few times, apologising with mumbled “sorry”‘s as he does. “Fuck, please,” Jones screams, his hips lifting off the chair. His cock brushes the back of Dan’s throat and he tries hard not to gag. Dan pulls back, sucking, wanting the end; still not knowing. Then there’s a rush against his tongue and he swallows, then withdraws, teasing the last few drops of spunk out of Jones’s dick. He sticks his tongue out to try and catch the drops, licking stray ones from his chin. Watching Jones come makes his own cock throb even more. He would try and touch himself, but he has to stop and catch Jones, who’s sliding out of his chair and under the table with him. His arse hits the lino rather more gracefully than Dan expected. Dan lifts, letting Jones slip beneath him, rather enjoying the view. Then Jones opens his eyes.
“That was mean,” Jones gasps, lifting his head to lick Dan’s chin. “You missed a bit,” he says by way of explanation.
“Mean?” Dan asks, experimentally stroking his groin against Jones’s hip. “You didn’t enjoy it then?”
“It was fucking wonderful,” Jones replies. “It just wasn’t meant to be that way round. I was seducing you. I don’t know what to be now.” Jones looks down between their bodies. “You’re hard aren’t you?” he asks, moving his hand to the front of Dan’s trousers.
Dan moans as Jones’s fingers slip inside his zipper.
“Nice,” Jones comments, pulling Dan’s cock from his trousers. Dan grins. No woman he’s ever slept with told him his cock was nice.
“Thanks,” Dan says, trying to sound like he’s even vaguely in control. It doesn’t work but it doesn’t matter, because Jones has his hand around him. He’s trying to do it slowly, bring Dan to a long drawn-out climax. “Just fucking do it,” Dan pleads, meeting Jones’s eye for an excruciating, devastating, sexually charged moment. “Make me come?” he asks, before he kisses Jones hard. He’s fucking the DJ’s hand, and his mouth, moving too fast to last for long. He doesn’t even want to think about the grunts he’s making, or the fact that he hasn’t felt this turned on in so long it almost hurts. Then Jones is pushing at him, letting him go and Dan is devastated.
“I want you to come all over me,” Jones says, pulling at his clothes. He’s wriggling, trying to get out of them, bashing his limbs against the legs of the table. In the end Dan wriggles out and pushes the table out of the way, then flops to one side of Jones, watching each bit of skin revealed. He tries to help, but tries harder not to touch his cock, which is unhappy at the delay. Jones’s cock is still quite hard and he’s tempted to put it back in his mouth. He thinks about suggesting it when Jones licks Dan’s palm wetly, leaving saliva trails that break halfway down Jones’s chin. “Get back on top of me,” Jones orders. Dan responds, straddling Jones’s stomach, leaving slick trails over the skin. He starts pumping his cock hard and fast. “You’re so fucking sexy like this,” Jones tells him, reaching down to stroke Dan’s thighs, his balls, waiting… waiting. “Wanted you for so fucking long. You’re going to come all over me and I’m going to love every fucking moment.”
Dan whimpers as his balls begin to tighten. He aims at the smooth skin of Jones’s chest, watching as his spunk leaves jagged trails over the man beneath him.
“More,” Jones begs, raising his hips against Dan’s body. His cock feels dangerous thick as it trails between the crevice of Dan’s buttocks. But the idea of fucking himself on Jones drags another looping jet of come from his dick. He wobbles and slides off Jones. He lays there for some moments, only his eyes moving, watching Jones rub Dan’s spunk into his chest. When he notices Dan watching, he lifts one of his messy fingers to his mouth and sucks it, winking. Dan smiles and lays back against the kitchen floor, the coolness rather refreshing against his shoulders.
“Don’t go to sleep,” Jones warns him, prodding at his sides with sharp fingers. He prods until Dan is up, then drags him into the shower. Jones still has a hard on, and Dan pulls Jones’s back against his chest and strokes him until he comes lazily over Dan’s swollen knuckles, his head leaning back against Dan’s shoulder. Dan is starting to freak out a little when Jones washes them both. By the time they’re out of the shower, and watching telly, he’s silently shrieking with panic. Jones deciding to slide between his knees, and suck him off better than any woman had, calms it just a little.
“I’ll make a deal with you.” Jones is leaning on Dan’s knees and licking his lips. It’s a bit obscene, that. Dan likes it. “You hang on here and give this a chance. You’ve got nowhere else to go, but, I reckon in a few weeks, Claire and Pingu will have found you a job. If you wanna go then, you can.”
“No apology,” Jones remarks. “You’re feeling better.” He takes Dan by the hand and leads him to his own, not Dan’s, bedroom. Jones strips, watches Dan do the same and crawls into bed.
Dan pauses. “I’m not good at relationships,” he finds himself saying, covering the cock Jones had in his mouth five minutes ago under his hands.
“Fine. Get into bed.” Jones waits for Dan to climb into bed behind him and curl around him, then turns the light off.
“Is that all you’re going to say?” Dan says, whispering loudly in the dark. “I’m trying to tell you that I could fuck this up. I don’t want to. I like you Jones, I really fucking do, but you’re a bloke. I don’t know what I’m doing and I really just… say something.” He can feel Jones shrugging in his arms.
“You’ve never been in a relationship with me before,” Jones says, and kisses Dan’s palm.
Dan blinks, trying to think of an argument.
Then, he sleeps.