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Jack/??? (Part 2)

"How much?" came a fatherly voice at his side.

Already staring intently out the windshield, Jack blinked slowly and tried not to let his inner-squirming show on his face. "Just enough for a bus ticket home," he said truthfully.

"I thought most of you boys were padding a habit," the voice said calmly. Not a first-timer then.

Jack shook his head. "Not me, man." He pointed toward a street up ahead on the right. "Dead end. Nobody goes down there--"

"I know," the driver said and made the turn.

In a hurry, too.

With a resigning sigh, Jack finally glanced toward the John. "Eighty bucks."

The man looked to be in his mid-forties with graying brown hair, kind eyes, and a wedding band--definitely someone's husband, probably someone's father. He gave Jack a gentle smile. "Where do you need to go, son?'

Jack swallowed a sudden knot in his throat. "Home," he repeated.

That got a sage nod.

The van slowed as they neared the end of the dead-end street. Jack flexed his nervous fingers into his dark denim jeans and took slow breaths as they parked. The John killed the headlights and the engine. There was one more click of the ignition and he reached above himself to press a button that started a motor to slide open the moon roof. A metallic click broke the silence and the sounds of a seat belt retracting followed.

Here we go...

Jack didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until warm un-calloused fingers grazed his ear. He let out a quiet gasp and his body tensed. Fingertips gently feathered their way into the messy locks at the base of his neck.

"What's your name?" the same fatherly voice, now made husky with lust asked. Jack shivered and his fingers bit down into the meat of his thighs.

"Jack," he replied, voice soft and shaky. Memories of a different pair of fatherly hands roaming his much, much younger and frailer body set his skin on edge and prickled his eyes. He bit back the involuntary tears and slowly nuzzled his head toward the touch.

Sounds of weight shifting across the leather seat. A second warm and gentle hand found his knee and gave it a loving squeeze. "Are you sure you want to do this, Jack?" prompted the fatherly voice.

Jack lips parted as an emotion-wrought exhale escaped. He peeled open his set of intense, sad eyes and met the John's calm stare. His fingers freed themselves from denim. Jack's lanky-form arched upward as he rolled his shoulders, easily shrugging out of his jacket and twisting his torso toward the other man.

Another hard swallow before a deep breath and never once breaking gaze. Jack wet his lips. The wary thoughts he suppressed by reminding himself how desperate he was to get home. The fingers in his hair tightened with the anticipation etched on the John's middle-aged face.

Jack put a hand to the dash and another to the back of the driver's seat, pulling himself forward. He pressed a sound kiss to the John's mouth before his tongue flicked out to press it's stud along the man's jawline as a tease.

"Come on," Jack murmured and fisted a handful of the John's polo shirt as he slid out of his seat, toward the bench immediately behind them.