DARK SWISS CHOC'LATE

Pairing: Jack/Ennis

Genre: Canon. One shot in 2 parts.

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. No rent is sought from it, I'm just sharing with the likeminded crowd.

A/N: This piece was written for the Chocolate Challenge on brokebackslash last year. Just thought I'd repost here.

Huge thanks to my beta bbm_citygirl.


PART 1

Ennis Del Mar had never known that he liked dark choc'late until Jack proved it to him on one of their fishing trips. Happened a couple a years after their reunion in '67. And the choc'late was some fancy Swiss type no less.

Jack brought it with him from the trade fair in Houston that he had just attended. From there he had driven the whole night to add one more day to their short trip together. He fished them out of the pocket of his blue parka after their dinner by the campfire, offered them to Ennis.

"Wanna some choc'late for dessert, Ennis?"

Looking suspiciously at five little square pieces in shiny black wrapping, gold letterings catching light from the fire, Ennis shrugged dismissively.

"'M not some fuckin' gal for you to sweeten up, Twist." He grumbled, gave Jack a dirty look.

Jack rolled his eyes and sighed. "C'mon, Ennis, jus' try it. T'is here dark Swiss choc'late, 's bitter. A man's kinda thing. They take 'em with whiskey, you know."

Seeing as Ennis was not convinced he unwrapped one piece, brought it to his mouth and licked it. Then again. Then put it on his tongue demonstratively and made a sucking sound.

"Mmmm, 's real good, friend, you don't know whatcha missin'…" Jack licked his lips, leaving a trace of dark brown in the left corner of his mouth…

…Same color as the li'l spot on the left side of Jack's upper lip, like a tiny choc'late flake on the honey-hued skin.

If asked Ennis would not have admitted it in million years, but, truth was, he secretly thought that the mole over Jack's lip was downright… sexy. Sexy, huh?... He cringed inside at these two concepts together – Jack and… umm… sexy. It should not have applied to a man like Jack, a bull rider, strong 'n rough 'n all. But somehow it did and Ennis couldn't shake the notion out of his mind.

Yet, he never mentioned it to Jack, so as not to offend him. Might take it that Ennis was thinkin' on him like on a sexy li'l gal. Which was not true a course: Jack wasn't a darn girl, whichever way you look… Anyways, at times he wanted to taste that li'l spot so much it drove him crazy with want. But he didn't dare. Was afraid that Jack would somehow know what Ennis thinkin' and it would really piss him off. He didn't wanna piss Jack off. Never.

So, now looking at Jack with his choc'late stained lips, Ennis suddenly realized that he liked it, the choc'late. Loved it actually, goddammit. He leaned in quickly, murmuring "Give it to me", crashed onto Jack's mouth and traced his tongue over… all over and around Jack's lips.

The taste was so sweet 'n bitter 'n so… so fine, it got Ennis giddy and hard in five seconds.

"Wanna some more, cowboy?" Jack laughed quietly, recovering from the unexpected assault, breathless already.

"More!" Ennis growled and made Jack repeat the procedure, licking off all traces of choc'late from his mouth, while trying to rip the jeans off Jack with trembling hands.

They repeated it with the remaining pieces until both were shooting all over themselves with strangled cries of pleasure. And Ennis knew that it was the last flake of choc'late, the one on the left side over Jack's lips, that had shot him to the stars.

Later that night, curling around and wrapping Jack's strong body in his arms, Ennis thought that there's much sweeter things in life than the Swiss fuckin' choc'late. Ennis had his. He'd call it Twist Fuckin' Choc'late. But he'd have to keep it to hisself, seein' as he couldn't really tell Jack about it. Not without offendin' him. Couldn't he?...

After that trip, it became their private little ritual. Jack would bring a bar of dark Swiss choc'late on their fishin' trips and would let Ennis get a taste of it after their dinner on the first night. Or sometimes before the dinner, when Jack got too impatient to wait.

Ennis thought he loved it, the dark Swiss choc'late. D'never get 'nough. Until the day the postcard he had sent to Jack returned to him. And that was the end with the Swiss fuckin' choc'late.

Except for once.

One year to the day after the postcard, Ennis spent most of his meager weekly pay at a fancy candy shop down in Riverton on a bar of dark Swiss choc'late. He could barely wait to get back home, shaking with anticipation of what he was determined to do that night.

Back in his trailer, Ennis steeled himself into preparing a dinner – beans on toast and coffee –, setting up a table for two, Jack's blue denim shirt wrapped around the back of his only chair, the expensive choc'late bar in shinny back wrapping with gold letters laid out as the centerpiece. He almost choked a few times trying to swallow down his half cold dinner, soaked in unshed tears at the back of his throat, but stubbornly carried on. And only when he was done with the dinner and washed the dishes, both of them, did he proceed to unwrapping the candy bar. His hands shook violently.

He sat staring at the dark brown rectangle for a long while, saliva welling, tried to regain control of his breath, his heart about to rip through his chest. Then he broke a small piece off, carefully put it in his mouth and closed his eyes.

The taste was mostly bitter, with only a fleeting trace of sweet. As if the sweetness had almost all gone.

And it was then that the cold realization crashed on him like an avalanche. That it would never be the same. Nothing really would ever be the same… without Jack. And Ennis collapsed on his knees, forehead pressed into the dirty floorboards, sobbing and choking. And for the first time since he'd discovered that Jack was gone, he wished he could die - right there, right then. He just couldn't stand it anymore, not without Jack…

And he also wished that he had told Jack, just once, that it wasn't the fuckin' Swiss choc'late that he wanted, loved…


Music: Unbreak My Heart, Tony Braxton