[ god, that grin knocks the wind out of him. fortunately, it's followed by something that makes him laugh again, just like he has been all night. everything's easier here, with his team, with zack. he may overthink his role in their lives and pretty much any act that shifts their dynamics, but he knows they're all better together. ]
She would.
[ kick his ass. hell, kick anyone's ass. he gives zack's shoulder a squeeze before he sweeps both his hands in a gesture toward the ground. ]
After you. [ tipping his head. ] And really savour these next thirty seconds of comfort before I invade your space.
And yeah, I tremble in fear. [ of kimberley, maybe - or of jason invading his space.
zack's still grinning by the time he gets into the sleeping bag, making a point to spread all four limbs, to really fill out the bag - at least for a moment. then he pulls his arms and legs in and makes space for jason. he's grinning, but where he may have felt heavy and a little tired before, he feels charged now, energised by the anticipation curling in his chest.
they're getting to sleep. this is the opposite of helpful, but he can't help it. ]
[ at zack spreading out, he pulls a face. it's a little exaggerated, seeing as he's still leaning into the humour of all this, especially the ease of his rapport with zack. anything to avoid getting keyed up over, well, invading zack's space.
'course it doesn't stop his pulse from picking up, heart thudding through his skin. no, he's undeniably alert now, hyper-aware of the way he slots in next to zack. how he bumps an elbow into his friend's chest before brushing over the same spot with his hand, an instinctive comfort, and mumbling an apology. he shifts his hand off quickly enough, leaning away to capture the zip of the bag and pull it up until it hits his waist. just a little more.
it's the slightly-too-snug fit alongside zack that has him abandoning hope of fully closing the bag and rolling on his side instead, one arm pillowed under his head, which — okay, this is a new kind of too much. see, it's an intimate angle, looking at the slope of zack's shoulder, the sharp line of his jaw, near face to face, closer than jason has been to him than ever beyond brief hugs and fleeting fights.
he has thought about how they're the same height several times, when they've sparred in training or rough-housed on the long walks back from the pit, but until now, he's never thought it's nice or noticed how they fit together comfortably as a result. by now, his grin is more of soft smile. ]
My sleepovers don't normally get this cozy, for the record.
[ it comes out quieter than he intends, lacking the lilting cadence of his typical joke delivery. it's not quite intentional, though he thinks it's worth mentioning. maybe. ]
[ the words shouldn't come as a relief. this isn't anything, really - it's one sleeping bag and their legs touching, it's jason's jace close to his, jason's hand on his chest for just a moment. it's nothing beyond that. proximity, sure. if jason's regular sleepovers with the others were like that, it wouldn't be anything but proximity, either. they've all touched each other, sparred, thrown each other, caught each other.
and still - zack finds himself letting out a breath, soft, some sliver of tension leaving his shoulders.
jason's so close. he finds himself glancing at jason's lips for a moment, at the line of jason's jaw - softer than zack's own - at the dark eyebrows and his hair, floppier now even than usual at the end of the day, after their race. he shifts, one of his legs knocking against jason's. he doesn't pull it back. ]
So - big or little? [ he asks after a moment, though he's not sure he wants jason to choose at all. facing jason, watching him - they could stay like this, couldn't they? ]
[ jason could stay like this, breathing slowly and deeply, looking down to where zack's shirt just covers his collarbone, catching him looking back (there's nowhere else to look, he reminds himself, nowhere else for zack's leg to go, nowhere else for jason to sleep).
he thinks about waking up with their legs tangled together and his arm across zack's chest. not cursory, like it had been just now, but languid and comfortable. or zack curling an arm around him, bringing them flush against each other. he thinks about reaching out, closing the small gap between them, and he scoots closer) legs all but entwined with zack's own), lifting his hand —
— and he pushes his hair back, out of his face. naturally, the curl of it flops forward again. after a long pause, he finally replies (voice still low). ]
[ zack's agreement is even, casual - but he doesn't move. doesn't turn and pull jason's arm around him, doesn't shift closer and wrap his own arm around jason. doesn't let their legs tangle any more than they already are. he doesn't feel so casual right now, even if the energy from before seems more concentrated now, alertness instead of activity, a bright sliver of something pulsing in his chest.
jason's voice has no right to be that low.
when zack moves, it's to lift a hand and brush the flopped curl of hair from jason's forehead. ] Ever thought of cutting it? [ he asks, voice equally low. ]
[ his breath catches. he's buzzing, like he's waiting for the big game or dance or something, on the edge of this moment. ]
After that stupid article. [ there's no venom in his tone. it's only irritation now, his anger dulled after finding his new team (his new family). then, quickly — ] The nicer one, I guess. [ not the one with the photo of him hanging back, looking out on the field while his old teammates practiced, detailing their record low score and pinning it on jason's carelessness. no, he means the first one. star student hits the books and the field with the stupid photo of him kneeling on the stupid field with his stupid golden hair in a perfect curl. golden boy jason scott cares about his team — and his grades. total syrupy garbage. ] I thought about buzzing it all off.
[ maybe he would have looked less like a boy-next-door ken doll, then. it definitely would have pissed off his dad (much less than pranking the school, evading arrest, crashing his car, and busting his knee did, of course, but that's a high bar for disappointment). only he doesn't actually dislike his hair, or the way he looks at all. 'course he doesn't think he's hot shit or anything (never has, even after he started getting the peculiar amount of attention afforded to big fish in small ponds, or when the cheerleading captain kissed him at a tailgate party). he knows he's not unattractive. ]
well, it's pretty, but it's also part of jason. it's how zack knows him and he doesn't think anything would change if jason buzzed it off, but it's not like he's got something to prove here. it's superficial, yeah, but zack likes the hair.
he likes the way it draws his gaze down to jason's eyes.
right. right. he's crazy, but he's not crazy enough to throw away the team, to throw away the growing rapport beyond the team with jason on an uncertainty. not when he's only just found people to belong with, to belong to. ]
Big spoon, mh?
[ and with that, he turns. it doesn't feel like running, when he can feel jason's warmth at his back. it's just a temporary retreat. ]
[ it's simple, probably good advice, and it shouldn't make his chest tighten. odds are he would look like an idiot with a buzzcut, trying too hard to be an edgy kid, when he got arrested for dumb prank.
jason feels like he should say something charming or light back, but zack turns around before he musters a reply. a flicker of dejection passes over his features until zack continues talking. oh. ]
Yeah.
[ he swallows, steeling himself. don't overthink it, scott.
throwing an arm over and around zack is almost too easy. lazy, like he'd imagined. and bringing them flush together is a straightforward act. it's after, when he's done it, properly cozied up to one of his best friends (his only friends now, incidentally) that he feels vulnerable, half-expecting zack to shrug him off and laugh with a line like "now who's crazy?"
it's warm, as if the afterglow of the fire has suffused his skin everywhere it brushes against zack's, even through their clothing. zack smells more like the fire and the outdoors than anything else. maybe his shampoo, too, whatever it is. jason honestly tries not to let his thoughts wander, to avoid the phantom flex of his fingers as he considers tightening his hold on zack's chest, to stop his fidgeting when he's pressed against his friend's muscled back.
[ sometimes, mental clarity's not the most important thing. sometimes, you don't have to think, you just have to act. at least that's often been zack's mantra and while it hasn't always led him right, it hasn't often misguided him entirely. it's all worked out so far, somehow.
jason's arm is warm around him, heavy like a brand. zack drags in a breath and scoots back a little, slotting his body against jason's, his back against jason's chest. alignment. all in the name of limited space in the sleeping bag, of course, not because he wants to be closer, not because the thought of rolling his hips against jason's alone has his breath catch in his throat, making his stomach tighten with want and nerves in equal measure.
he doesn't move his hips - not closer, but not away, either.
like this, he has no hope of ever going to sleep. ]
[ zack brings them into alignment, and jason's utterly relieved, releasing the breath he was holding onto zack's neck. he pushes one leg between zack's — that's his bold, red move. it's kind of exhilarating, like throwing a ball and desperately hoping your target catches it. only it means he's wrapped around zack to the point of no return. with his crotch against zack's ass, boy, he feels like an idiot.
he lets his head fall forward, forehead bumping lightly against zack as eyes flutter closed. maybe he'll banish thoughts over grinding against zack and actually fall asleep (unlikely). well, maybe zack will think he fell asleep and not read into his move or sudden stillness. maybe they'll both fall asleep and wake up without moving at all in the night. ]
[ jason's breath is hot against his neck and zack stays very still for a moment before he, too, remembers how to breathe, that he has to breathe - and then jason's leg slides between his and jason's crotch nestles against his ass and yeah. he's definitely not getting any sleep any time soon.
he wants jason to move his hand - to slide it underneath his shirt, to spread his fingers across zack's stomach, to move them lower. he wants to reach back and set a hand on jason's ass and pull him back, make him press more firmly against zack, feel him grow hard. he wants to turn around again and kiss jason. he wants and wants and wants and with the floodgate opened, each new thought and want and fantasy makes his cock twitch as it fills out, blood rushing south.
he doesn't think that's the only reason he's feeling lightheaded. ]
You good? [ he asks after a moment, voice heavy with roughness. ]
[ jason should roll over. he should make up an excuse to go off on his own and handily sort himself out before this becomes a problem. before zack's rough, absurdly attractive voice and muscled, uh, everything make him do the stupid thing (like he always does).
only he doesn't turn away. of course, he doesn't respond for a noticeable period, either, caught somewhere between his initial strategy of feigning sleep and his uncertainty regarding how to answer zack's question. it makes him fidget, needing to disperse some of the energy and tension building low in his chest — god, but that's worse in the end, with the minor friction from their entwined bodies sending sparks of arousal straight to his cock.
jason has been routinely ignoring his interest in zack for some time. maybe weeks. but it's easier to shut down thoughts of someone,when you're alone in your room, or when he's drenched in sunlight, shoulder to shoulder and a little somber, than it is while spooning on a starry night, for god's sake. he manages to swallow a hitch in his breath.
his hold on zack tightens slightly, even as he angles his hips away. anything to stop his semi from rubbing against the curve of zack's ass. he can't answer. no, he can't lie. ]
Not exactly. [ which could mean anything, although he expects there are enough clues to hypothesize why, at this point. jason has been caught staring at zack for too long, too many times, to think otherwise. ]
[ not exactly, jason says - and zack's not sure, but he's sure enough. he's done crazier things for worse reasons. this? there is nothing bad about this that he can imagine because it's jason. jason, who's still holding him tight, more so even than before, jason whose hips are angled away, jason who sounds a little out of it.
zack rolls his hips back, barely even under the guise of a stretch. rolls them back and finds jason half hard, his cock sliding against the curve of zack's ass. the sensation sends a thrill through him, but not nearly as much of a thrill as knowing that zack's affected, too, that it's not just him.
he reaches up, fingers finding jason's wrist, pulling his hand down down down his body - pressing them between his leg and letting out a broken breath at the contact, hips twitching forward and then back again against jason's. ]
Your lead.
[ always. but what he's really asking is do you want this? and tell me i'm not overstepping. ]
[ oh that does him in. a low noise escapes his throat, and he can't help but chase the contact. before he can do or say anything more substantial, zack has his wrist, not in a grip that steers him away but one that brings him closer. relief and arousal strike him simultaneously. he's not alone in this, not when it comes to being helplessly turned on by cuddling with one of his best friends. he applies a light pressure, palming zack through his clothes, and gives in to the urge to grind back slowly.
at zack's words, he lets out an abrupt breath of air, almost a laugh. your lead. ]
Always. [ jason's lead after his friends nudge him forward. typical. ] You don't have to do this. [ the statement lacks any uncertainty from jason. it's firm, almost warm, like all the reassurances he offers his team. zack doesn't have to do this because they're both here in the same sleeping bag, or because jason's the leader, or whatever other reason there could be besides simply wanting to do it.
after a moment, he leans forward to press a soft kiss to zack's neck. somehow, it feels more intimate (weightier, perhaps) than cupping zack's cock through his jeans. ]
[ jason lets out a low noise and it strips the last of what little self-restraint zack has ever possessed from him - so when jason palms him properly, applying pressure of his own accord and not only because zack's put his hand there, he moans. it's not loud, but it's low and unequivocally filthy. giving away far too much.
he doesn't bother confirming that he knows he doesn't have to, just tilts his hips into jason's touch and turns his head so that jason can see at least part of his expression - not nearly as wild as so often, just a smile, something glad more than anything else - though his eyes are dark with arousal. ]
Yeah.
[ okay, so maybe he does bother confirming it. sometimes, jason needs to hear shit out loud. so: yeah, he knows. he doesn't have to do this. but oh, how he wants to. ]
[ for all his feigned confidence and pre-game pep talks, jason is vulnerable. zack showing him that smile — breathing a yeah after that unfair moan, it might be an overwhelming relief if it wasn't so galvanizing. he wants to see more, to see everything, to kiss zack on the mouth.
and they only have the one sleeping bag because of jason's goof, although it's not as a pressing concern as it should be, in his scattered brain. it's definitely listed after get a hand in zack's jeans, keep grinding up against his firm ass, kiss zack, get zack's shirt off, get a hand in zack's hair. he dips forward to kiss zack's neck again and then shifts to mouth at the shell of his ear. ]
[ zack doesn't want jason to be vulnerable - not in this, not with him, not ever. he doesn't want him to be because that means he can be hurt and he doesn't want jason hurt. thing is, he knows how childish that thought process is, how unrealistic.
(he never wanted his mother to be sick or anything less than infallible and invulnerable, either - but what he wants has no effect on that sort of thing.)
zack's tough, he's a badass - and he shivers at the ghost of jason's breath against his neck, the soft touch of lips there and then against his ear, moaning again. anticipation and tension make everything feel more, heightened, and he scrambles to get his hand down with jason's, to undo his jeans.
why the fuck are they even sleeping in jeans. why didn't they take them off before? they should have. he's very sure they should have. ]
[ this is all kind of sloppy and uncoordinated, isn't it? but it's hard to let go of zack, even if he wants to be doing this right (maybe right isn't the word — well is the term, perhaps, when jason's experience pretty much consists of girls in the back of his pick-up truck and some timely rendezvous through other's open windows). he gives up on helping zack to twist away momentarily, gaining confidence as he realises this is what they both want. ]
One sec.
[ jason tugs the zipper of the bag down, more room to maneuver that way. then he hastily turns back, sliding a hand along zack's waist, under the hem of his shirt, over the muscles of his abdomen. ]
[ zack doesn't ask what jason is planning. doesn't worry that jason's going to run off - he's pretty sure that jason's like him in this, if he's in, he's in. and yet, he lets out a disappointed noise, low in his throat, when jason twists away.
sue him, but he likes jason's warmth against his back (and jason's dick nestled against his ass).
it's worth it, though. of course it is, that's why jason's their leader, he's got good ideas. okay, so maybe that's not entirely the reason, but maybe it should be. zack tips his head back against jason's shoulder, arching his back a little to move into jason's touch. if it has the added advantage of slotting his ass against jason's crotch again, well. zack's not complaining. ]
[ every noise from zack hits jason in the chest, in the gut, everywhere. and zack keeps doing that thing, rolling back against him like he knows exactly what he's doing (and he probably does). jason's breath hitches again. the quick return to closeness heats his skin, and he has to close his eyes for a second. ]
You are — [ he swallows. ] — unfairly hot.
[ it's a thought he's had before, maybe as recently as their weekend sparring session, but not one he's ever vocalised. he dips his fingers into the opening of zack's pants, the waistband of his underwear. not quite hesitant, but slow. ]
[ zack doesn't think that jason can see his smile. it's dark, he's turned away from jason and the angle of his head against jason's shoulder doesn't really help. it's probably a good thing - it's too soft, too warm, a little too pleased. unfair.
zack knows what he looks like, of course, but - it's still good, hearing it from jason. ]
And you're -
[ he sighs a little, hips twitching forward and then back again. ] - driving me insane.
[ he almost laughs at that, but jason ends up muffling a moan instead. god, jason wants to see all of zack, but this position is driving him insane. ]
Me.
[ utterly astonished, even if he is unhurried in his pace — maybe that qualifies as teasing. zack offers him another confirmation of this being exactly what he wants. and it's hard not to be flattered and turned on and a little flustered. jason finally brushes his fingers over where he was directed by zack's touch earlier, and wraps his hand around zack's cock, pumping the shaft and swiping his thumb over the head to spread precome. ]
Just say if you wanna move.
[ but he's comfortable with this, all warmth and taction. ]
[ that's as far as zack gets before jason finally, finally wraps his hand around his cock and oh. the rest of the sentence comes out as a moan instead, loud in the quiet of the night around them. his hips stutter forward again, muscles tensing.
it takes him a moment to get enough braincells together to finish the sentence after all: ] You know I do.
[ it's an easy admission. for all that he feels wired, impossibly close to the brink already just from anticipation and fantasy, from jason's bare hand on him, he knows that he's - safe, with jason. there's a calm in that he doesn't often feel, especially not in moments when he's tense like this, blood pumping. he doesn't think anyone else could make him feel the dichotomy. ]
[ you know i do. yeah, he does. recently, jason has felt like he gets zack. not entirely (never entirely) but enough. their connection is layered, building to this, yet obviously more than this alone.
for a short while, he keeps his hand moving, varying pressure and position, seeing what makes zack's hips twitch. every moan leaves him wanting, unable to witness zack's mouth fall open or see the way he arches up into the touch. 'course he can't keep it up, even with the friction from their closeness anchoring him to the spot. so, jason slows his touches and pulls off of zack enough to switch tactics. he considers apologising for leaving his partner wanting again, except it's a little bit of trip to do it. just a smidge, okay, and it'll be better soon anyway.
jason pushes at zack's shoulder, guiding him to lay back, so jason can climb on top of him and see everything at last. it means he isn't covered by the sleeping bag anymore, of course, which hardly seems like a problem when he's hot and rearing to keep going.
he grins first, nearly roguish, hovering over zack. it feels bold (exhilarating, even), though he suddenly hopes he judged zack's trust in him correctly — a flicker of uncertainty that hardly shows through the adrenaline, except in jason's sharp gaze that skips over every visible piece of skin in favour of zack's face. there. ]
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no subject
She would.
[ kick his ass. hell, kick anyone's ass. he gives zack's shoulder a squeeze before he sweeps both his hands in a gesture toward the ground. ]
After you. [ tipping his head. ] And really savour these next thirty seconds of comfort before I invade your space.
no subject
And yeah, I tremble in fear. [ of kimberley, maybe - or of jason invading his space.
zack's still grinning by the time he gets into the sleeping bag, making a point to spread all four limbs, to really fill out the bag - at least for a moment. then he pulls his arms and legs in and makes space for jason. he's grinning, but where he may have felt heavy and a little tired before, he feels charged now, energised by the anticipation curling in his chest.
they're getting to sleep. this is the opposite of helpful, but he can't help it. ]
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'course it doesn't stop his pulse from picking up, heart thudding through his skin. no, he's undeniably alert now, hyper-aware of the way he slots in next to zack. how he bumps an elbow into his friend's chest before brushing over the same spot with his hand, an instinctive comfort, and mumbling an apology. he shifts his hand off quickly enough, leaning away to capture the zip of the bag and pull it up until it hits his waist. just a little more.
it's the slightly-too-snug fit alongside zack that has him abandoning hope of fully closing the bag and rolling on his side instead, one arm pillowed under his head, which — okay, this is a new kind of too much. see, it's an intimate angle, looking at the slope of zack's shoulder, the sharp line of his jaw, near face to face, closer than jason has been to him than ever beyond brief hugs and fleeting fights.
he has thought about how they're the same height several times, when they've sparred in training or rough-housed on the long walks back from the pit, but until now, he's never thought it's nice or noticed how they fit together comfortably as a result. by now, his grin is more of soft smile. ]
My sleepovers don't normally get this cozy, for the record.
[ it comes out quieter than he intends, lacking the lilting cadence of his typical joke delivery. it's not quite intentional, though he thinks it's worth mentioning. maybe. ]
no subject
and still - zack finds himself letting out a breath, soft, some sliver of tension leaving his shoulders.
jason's so close. he finds himself glancing at jason's lips for a moment, at the line of jason's jaw - softer than zack's own - at the dark eyebrows and his hair, floppier now even than usual at the end of the day, after their race. he shifts, one of his legs knocking against jason's. he doesn't pull it back. ]
So - big or little? [ he asks after a moment, though he's not sure he wants jason to choose at all. facing jason, watching him - they could stay like this, couldn't they? ]
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he thinks about waking up with their legs tangled together and his arm across zack's chest. not cursory, like it had been just now, but languid and comfortable. or zack curling an arm around him, bringing them flush against each other. he thinks about reaching out, closing the small gap between them, and he scoots closer) legs all but entwined with zack's own), lifting his hand —
— and he pushes his hair back, out of his face. naturally, the curl of it flops forward again. after a long pause, he finally replies (voice still low). ]
Big.
no subject
[ zack's agreement is even, casual - but he doesn't move. doesn't turn and pull jason's arm around him, doesn't shift closer and wrap his own arm around jason. doesn't let their legs tangle any more than they already are. he doesn't feel so casual right now, even if the energy from before seems more concentrated now, alertness instead of activity, a bright sliver of something pulsing in his chest.
jason's voice has no right to be that low.
when zack moves, it's to lift a hand and brush the flopped curl of hair from jason's forehead. ] Ever thought of cutting it? [ he asks, voice equally low. ]
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After that stupid article. [ there's no venom in his tone. it's only irritation now, his anger dulled after finding his new team (his new family). then, quickly — ] The nicer one, I guess. [ not the one with the photo of him hanging back, looking out on the field while his old teammates practiced, detailing their record low score and pinning it on jason's carelessness. no, he means the first one. star student hits the books and the field with the stupid photo of him kneeling on the stupid field with his stupid golden hair in a perfect curl. golden boy jason scott cares about his team — and his grades. total syrupy garbage. ] I thought about buzzing it all off.
[ maybe he would have looked less like a boy-next-door ken doll, then. it definitely would have pissed off his dad (much less than pranking the school, evading arrest, crashing his car, and busting his knee did, of course, but that's a high bar for disappointment). only he doesn't actually dislike his hair, or the way he looks at all. 'course he doesn't think he's hot shit or anything (never has, even after he started getting the peculiar amount of attention afforded to big fish in small ponds, or when the cheerleading captain kissed him at a tailgate party). he knows he's not unattractive. ]
no subject
[ the hair's -
well, it's pretty, but it's also part of jason. it's how zack knows him and he doesn't think anything would change if jason buzzed it off, but it's not like he's got something to prove here. it's superficial, yeah, but zack likes the hair.
he likes the way it draws his gaze down to jason's eyes.
right. right. he's crazy, but he's not crazy enough to throw away the team, to throw away the growing rapport beyond the team with jason on an uncertainty. not when he's only just found people to belong with, to belong to. ]
Big spoon, mh?
[ and with that, he turns. it doesn't feel like running, when he can feel jason's warmth at his back. it's just a temporary retreat. ]
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jason feels like he should say something charming or light back, but zack turns around before he musters a reply. a flicker of dejection passes over his features until zack continues talking. oh. ]
Yeah.
[ he swallows, steeling himself. don't overthink it, scott.
throwing an arm over and around zack is almost too easy. lazy, like he'd imagined. and bringing them flush together is a straightforward act. it's after, when he's done it, properly cozied up to one of his best friends (his only friends now, incidentally) that he feels vulnerable, half-expecting zack to shrug him off and laugh with a line like "now who's crazy?"
it's warm, as if the afterglow of the fire has suffused his skin everywhere it brushes against zack's, even through their clothing. zack smells more like the fire and the outdoors than anything else. maybe his shampoo, too, whatever it is. jason honestly tries not to let his thoughts wander, to avoid the phantom flex of his fingers as he considers tightening his hold on zack's chest, to stop his fidgeting when he's pressed against his friend's muscled back.
he's the leader. his head should be clear. ]
no subject
jason's arm is warm around him, heavy like a brand. zack drags in a breath and scoots back a little, slotting his body against jason's, his back against jason's chest. alignment. all in the name of limited space in the sleeping bag, of course, not because he wants to be closer, not because the thought of rolling his hips against jason's alone has his breath catch in his throat, making his stomach tighten with want and nerves in equal measure.
he doesn't move his hips - not closer, but not away, either.
like this, he has no hope of ever going to sleep. ]
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he lets his head fall forward, forehead bumping lightly against zack as eyes flutter closed. maybe he'll banish thoughts over grinding against zack and actually fall asleep (unlikely). well, maybe zack will think he fell asleep and not read into his move or sudden stillness. maybe they'll both fall asleep and wake up without moving at all in the night. ]
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he wants jason to move his hand - to slide it underneath his shirt, to spread his fingers across zack's stomach, to move them lower. he wants to reach back and set a hand on jason's ass and pull him back, make him press more firmly against zack, feel him grow hard. he wants to turn around again and kiss jason. he wants and wants and wants and with the floodgate opened, each new thought and want and fantasy makes his cock twitch as it fills out, blood rushing south.
he doesn't think that's the only reason he's feeling lightheaded. ]
You good? [ he asks after a moment, voice heavy with roughness. ]
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only he doesn't turn away. of course, he doesn't respond for a noticeable period, either, caught somewhere between his initial strategy of feigning sleep and his uncertainty regarding how to answer zack's question. it makes him fidget, needing to disperse some of the energy and tension building low in his chest — god, but that's worse in the end, with the minor friction from their entwined bodies sending sparks of arousal straight to his cock.
jason has been routinely ignoring his interest in zack for some time. maybe weeks. but it's easier to shut down thoughts of someone,when you're alone in your room, or when he's drenched in sunlight, shoulder to shoulder and a little somber, than it is while spooning on a starry night, for god's sake. he manages to swallow a hitch in his breath.
his hold on zack tightens slightly, even as he angles his hips away. anything to stop his semi from rubbing against the curve of zack's ass. he can't answer. no, he can't lie. ]
Not exactly. [ which could mean anything, although he expects there are enough clues to hypothesize why, at this point. jason has been caught staring at zack for too long, too many times, to think otherwise. ]
no subject
zack rolls his hips back, barely even under the guise of a stretch. rolls them back and finds jason half hard, his cock sliding against the curve of zack's ass. the sensation sends a thrill through him, but not nearly as much of a thrill as knowing that zack's affected, too, that it's not just him.
he reaches up, fingers finding jason's wrist, pulling his hand down down down his body - pressing them between his leg and letting out a broken breath at the contact, hips twitching forward and then back again against jason's. ]
Your lead.
[ always. but what he's really asking is do you want this? and tell me i'm not overstepping. ]
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at zack's words, he lets out an abrupt breath of air, almost a laugh. your lead. ]
Always. [ jason's lead after his friends nudge him forward. typical. ] You don't have to do this. [ the statement lacks any uncertainty from jason. it's firm, almost warm, like all the reassurances he offers his team. zack doesn't have to do this because they're both here in the same sleeping bag, or because jason's the leader, or whatever other reason there could be besides simply wanting to do it.
after a moment, he leans forward to press a soft kiss to zack's neck. somehow, it feels more intimate (weightier, perhaps) than cupping zack's cock through his jeans. ]
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he doesn't bother confirming that he knows he doesn't have to, just tilts his hips into jason's touch and turns his head so that jason can see at least part of his expression - not nearly as wild as so often, just a smile, something glad more than anything else - though his eyes are dark with arousal. ]
Yeah.
[ okay, so maybe he does bother confirming it. sometimes, jason needs to hear shit out loud. so: yeah, he knows. he doesn't have to do this. but oh, how he wants to. ]
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and they only have the one sleeping bag because of jason's goof, although it's not as a pressing concern as it should be, in his scattered brain. it's definitely listed after get a hand in zack's jeans, keep grinding up against his firm ass, kiss zack, get zack's shirt off, get a hand in zack's hair. he dips forward to kiss zack's neck again and then shifts to mouth at the shell of his ear. ]
Help me undo your jeans.
[ """leadership""" ]
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(he never wanted his mother to be sick or anything less than infallible and invulnerable, either - but what he wants has no effect on that sort of thing.)
zack's tough, he's a badass - and he shivers at the ghost of jason's breath against his neck, the soft touch of lips there and then against his ear, moaning again. anticipation and tension make everything feel more, heightened, and he scrambles to get his hand down with jason's, to undo his jeans.
why the fuck are they even sleeping in jeans. why didn't they take them off before? they should have. he's very sure they should have. ]
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One sec.
[ jason tugs the zipper of the bag down, more room to maneuver that way. then he hastily turns back, sliding a hand along zack's waist, under the hem of his shirt, over the muscles of his abdomen. ]
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sue him, but he likes jason's warmth against his back (and jason's dick nestled against his ass).
it's worth it, though. of course it is, that's why jason's their leader, he's got good ideas. okay, so maybe that's not entirely the reason, but maybe it should be. zack tips his head back against jason's shoulder, arching his back a little to move into jason's touch. if it has the added advantage of slotting his ass against jason's crotch again, well. zack's not complaining. ]
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You are — [ he swallows. ] — unfairly hot.
[ it's a thought he's had before, maybe as recently as their weekend sparring session, but not one he's ever vocalised. he dips his fingers into the opening of zack's pants, the waistband of his underwear. not quite hesitant, but slow. ]
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zack knows what he looks like, of course, but - it's still good, hearing it from jason. ]
And you're -
[ he sighs a little, hips twitching forward and then back again. ] - driving me insane.
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Me.
[ utterly astonished, even if he is unhurried in his pace — maybe that qualifies as teasing. zack offers him another confirmation of this being exactly what he wants. and it's hard not to be flattered and turned on and a little flustered. jason finally brushes his fingers over where he was directed by zack's touch earlier, and wraps his hand around zack's cock, pumping the shaft and swiping his thumb over the head to spread precome. ]
Just say if you wanna move.
[ but he's comfortable with this, all warmth and taction. ]
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[ that's as far as zack gets before jason finally, finally wraps his hand around his cock and oh. the rest of the sentence comes out as a moan instead, loud in the quiet of the night around them. his hips stutter forward again, muscles tensing.
it takes him a moment to get enough braincells together to finish the sentence after all: ] You know I do.
[ it's an easy admission. for all that he feels wired, impossibly close to the brink already just from anticipation and fantasy, from jason's bare hand on him, he knows that he's - safe, with jason. there's a calm in that he doesn't often feel, especially not in moments when he's tense like this, blood pumping. he doesn't think anyone else could make him feel the dichotomy. ]
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for a short while, he keeps his hand moving, varying pressure and position, seeing what makes zack's hips twitch. every moan leaves him wanting, unable to witness zack's mouth fall open or see the way he arches up into the touch. 'course he can't keep it up, even with the friction from their closeness anchoring him to the spot. so, jason slows his touches and pulls off of zack enough to switch tactics. he considers apologising for leaving his partner wanting again, except it's a little bit of trip to do it. just a smidge, okay, and it'll be better soon anyway.
jason pushes at zack's shoulder, guiding him to lay back, so jason can climb on top of him and see everything at last. it means he isn't covered by the sleeping bag anymore, of course, which hardly seems like a problem when he's hot and rearing to keep going.
he grins first, nearly roguish, hovering over zack. it feels bold (exhilarating, even), though he suddenly hopes he judged zack's trust in him correctly — a flicker of uncertainty that hardly shows through the adrenaline, except in jason's sharp gaze that skips over every visible piece of skin in favour of zack's face. there. ]
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