Hands-On Experience

~400 words :: Jason Isaacs/Tom Felton :: 12/25/05
“I’m only doing this course because my mum insisted. I wanted to study Fishery Management, but she said there’s no future in that…erm, okay, actually this isn’t about the course at all,” he blurts out.


Jason tries to ignore the way Tom’s shirt rides up as he stretches. It doesn’t help that even when he’s done stretching, Tom keeps his arms slung behind his head. Gaze firmly on the papers he’s stuffing in his bag and not on the pale strip of belly above Tom’s boxers (and especially not on the trail of hair leading down into them), Jason says, “What did you want to see me about?”

“Well, it’s about the course,” Tom says vaguely, and now that Jason’s papers are all sorted, he needs something else to look at, something that’s not Tom’s canted hips or the bulge visible even in his baggy jeans.

He’s seventeen, you pervert, he chides himself. Not even half your age.

Tom is staring at him, waiting for an answer, obviously. Jason clears this throat, keeps his eyes on Tom’s face. “Of course. Of course it is…” Mind out of the gutter, Isaacs. “You’re doing fine. Nothing to worry about, really.”

“Oh, I know that, it’s just…” And with that, Tom plops himself down on Jason’s desk, all gangly arms and legs and altogether too close for comfort. “I’m only doing this course because my mum insisted. I wanted to study Fishery Management, but she said there’s no future in that…erm, okay, actually this isn’t about the course at all,” he blurts out.

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s erm.” Suddenly Tom looks just as flustered as Jason feels. “I…look, uh. I think, I think I might be gay and, and I wanted-”

No, nonononono, Jason’s brain is saying, but his cock is saying, yes, yesyesyes! Now, please! “I don’t think-”

“I wanted to talk to someone, and I thought.” A flush spreads across Tom’s cheeks. “Uh, if you’re not, then don’t- I mean, I don’t know why I, I just thought maybe you-”

He just wants to talk. Jason breathes a sigh of relief, shoves the disappointment to the back of his mind. Of course he does. Probably sees me as a father figure, for Christ’s sake.

“Well, I am, but I don’t know if I’m really the right person to-” And then Tom’s hand is on his shoulder, Tom’s lips are on his, tentative at first, then demanding as what little is left of Jason’s resistance crumbles.

Eventually Tom breaks the kiss, pulling back all breathless and unfocussed eyes, and Jason blinks up at him. “I, er… I thought you wanted to talk…”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, I do.” Tom grins, leans down to kiss Jason again. “I just thought some hands-on experience might help me figure things out faster.”