[ 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. ]
[ it all makes zack moan, pushing into the touch, small tremors in his muscles as he keeps himself from fucking jason's hand because - because it's jason's lead. if jason wants to take this slow, zack's going to let him, for all that he wants to come already, to have come already. for all that his stomach is tight with want and heat.
and then jason stops. ]
What - ?
[ but despite the question, zack lets jason turn him, hands coming out of the sleeping back - too hot anyway - to rest on jason's hips, to pull him closer. if jason moved forward just a little, zack thinks the pressure on his cock could be just enough to get him off.
instead, he finds himself grinning back, too wide, a little unhinged. he feels like he's flying or in free-fall. ]
Now are you going to kiss me? [ like he's been waiting. maybe he has, without quite realising it. ]
[ in some ways, jason's still the quarterback. a good old boy next door. of course he wants a proper kiss before he jacks his partner off.
there was a time, he knows, when zack would never have let him lead like this. now there are reassuring hands on his hips, paired with the same slightly manic grin that he faced in a van on the run from the cops (god, their lives are weird now). ]
You know I will.
[ and he does, closing the gap between them for a deep, insistent kiss, only closing his eyes at the last possible second. fucking finally. he should have done that on the school roof, or in front of everyone when zack rocked up to detention for the first time in weeks. ]
[ there was a time when zack wouldn't have let anyone lead. there was a time when he hadn't trusted anyone with his secret, that he hadn't believed anyone would look at him like he was more than crazy, more than trailer trash. (not that he isn't crazy, mind - but not nearly as crazy as he's sometimes seemed to be.)
there was a time when he was running a lot more than he is now, and with no one by his side.
but jason closes the gap between them. it's insistent, demanding - but zack thinks jason must know already that the demands will be met. he surges up, one hand coming to rest on jason's neck, to pull him closer. and maybe it's the kiss - but probably it's how jason's weight shifts on top of him, a moment's pressure and friction, and somehow, it's enough.
zack gasps into the kiss and comes, cock jerking where it's trapped between their bodies. ]
[ there's the kiss, zack pushing back as he always does, and then zack coming apart under him. jason rolls his hips, purposeful and quick pressure, a steady grind to help zack ride out his orgasm. he doesn't stop the kiss, swallowing zack's gasp and letting out a moan of his own. as if he could bring himself to pull away, when he can seize the lead.
in the end, it's messy and stupidly attractive at the same time. jason feels scatterbrained, cock flexing with the friction and zack's movements. he shifts back when he feels zack relax, just so he isn't causing any discomfort. it takes considerable resolve to break the kiss for long enough to look again.
unfairly hot still seems like the right description. ]
[ jason rolls his hips and zack moans again, messing up the kiss but unable to care beyond the pleasure coursing through his veins. at least he hasn't actually come in his pants - though he probably wouldn't be able to bring himself to care even about that. ]
Shit. [ he says when jason breaks the kiss, shifting back a little, the grin from before turned into a blissed-out smile now.
not so blissed out, though, that he doesn't still find himself wanting more. not so blissed out that his fingers aren't scrambling to push up jason's shirt, to undo the button of jason's pants. he wants to get his hands on jason, wants to replay the favour, wants to kiss him again and again and then again until they're both hard and breathless and rutting against each other. ]
[ god, that smile. not even worry over the team or concerns regarding the significance of this for their relationship can ruin it (which his leadership textbooks would call "progress" up until the boners; then reality and advice must diverge). ]
[ an immediate response. ] Yeah. [ funny how one word can sound so pleased, mouthed out of smile that'll tug at his mouth for days. ] Pretty good first kiss, huh?
[ decent enough to make a guy cream his pants (*with some assistance). he's just sayin'.
still, jason hardly gets the chance to savour the moment before zack's hands start maneuvering all over, going straight for his pants and the bulge evident within them. naturally, it's exactly what he wants (needs, maybe, if the current of want sizzling under his skin is to be acknowledged). ]
[ zack isn't thinking about the future right now - not about what this could mean for them, for the team, for the way they work together. he isn't thinking about any of that; instead, he's fully focused on the sensation still running through his body: lazy satisfaction, curiosity, the first sparks of heat against his spine again at jason's smile, at the feel of jason hard beneath his fingers when he gets those pants open, sinking one hand into them and wrapping his fingers around jason's cock. ]
Yeah.
[ "pretty good" is an understatement. he licks his lips, then leans up, neck straining as he goes for another kiss. it's just as messy as the last, wet and a little off-center because zack's not great at multitasking and a large part of his attention is taken up by the softness of jason's skin, the hardness underneath it. ]
[ to his detriment, jason thinks about everything — at least until he abruptly stops and acts impulsively. this is one of his better impulses: the best distraction ever created and much more than that, too. jason's mouth parts instinctively, a low moan sounding at zack's touch. his fingers curl in the fabric of the sleeping bag.
zack's lips look wet, almost like gloss. kissable is the word that comes to mind. without hesitation, jason tips forward to meet him. it leads to a good kiss, too, 'cause of the enthusiasm (and the handjob happening at the same time, honestly), but jason brings one hand to steady zack's chin, cupping his cheek and smoothing a rough thumb over his jaw. he's sure it helps the both of them when he's pouring little noises into zack's mouth. no need to slow down in the fourth quarter, after all. he's not going to last. ]
[ jason thinks about everything and zack hardly ever thinks about the future at all - tries to avoid it at all cost, in fact. right now, it doesn't seem so bad, but he's too busy revelling in those little noises jason keeps making, enjoying jason's hand steady on his chin. it's an accomplishment, that steadiness, when zack's settling into a a rhythm of pumping jason's dick and swiping his thumb over the head, rubbing the bundle of nerves on the underside of it on every downstroke.
c'mon he thinks, humming into the kiss, and fuck and jason and that's really the extent of it, his cock twitching in a valiant effort to grow hard again with each noise jason lets out. ]
[ there's at least one point where his mind goes blank, pleasantly whited out. his hand fumbles, slipping away as he teeters on the edge. then, jason comes quickly, thrusting into zack's hand and keening into his mouth. not quite coming in his pants, either, but damn well near enough.
a few more stutters of his hips, and he stills. he gently pulls away, a reluctant and slow break of the kiss, settling his weight on zack again to catch his breath (and to relive the thrill he gets every times his heavy gaze slots on zack beneath him — zack who could flip him over at any moment, no question). for a brief moment, he considers flopping on his back, but he doesn't want to separate their bodies, not entirely, not yet. a small, contented smile blooms on his face. ]
[ jason keens and if zack's cock wasn't entirely involved and interested in the proceedings before, still flagging, it certainly is now. that noise, jason coming all over his hand and both of their open jeans, over the mess zack's already left, shit. it's hot, that's all zack's got. ]
Hey. [ he says, a little dumbly, grinning wide. he wipes his hand on jason's jeans and then just - leaves it there, on jason's thigh, a little possessive maybe. thinking about leaving an imprint. it doesn't work like that, but he likes the thought. his hand on jason. ]
[ jason had been hesitant before. good? not exactly, no. now is different. the lingering hand on his thigh has his stomach fluttering, a little wave of interest striking him despite just coming all over himself and zack. jason's gaze darts from their come to zack's cock, and finally, his fantastic grin. memorising it all, perhaps, or wondering if it will ever happen again — how soon it can happen again. ]
Very. [ an easy reply, obvious in its warmth. ]
[ jason worries at the hem of his shirt before lifting it up and over his head, only getting a teensy bit stuck when it becomes twisted on his arms. fortunately, he's still hot in the afterglow. however, he doesn't toss it elsewhere, instead using it to wipe the worst (best? best) of their mess from zack's skin before it becomes uncomfortable. the action is gentle. careful. and if there's a light brush of fabric over zack's cock, well, jason's only being thorough (and teasing).
sacrificing one of his many basic t-shirts seems a fair trade for all of this, especially when he has a hoodie in his schoolbag. ]
[ it comes out more as go-oh-d because jason's shirt is brushing against his cock, a ghost of a touch that still has it rise up in the air before sinking back against his stomach, full in a way that doesn't feel immediately urgent but could tip into urgency at another touch, another moment.
instead of seeking that touch, he lifts his hand - the one not still on jason's thigh - to trace lines over jason's bared chest, from his collarbone to his abs and back again, circles, random patterns. ]
[ his reaction earns a full grin from jason, attention still transfixed by zack's responses. hey, they're still stupidly attractive and inviting.
he ends up chucking his shirt, like a ball seeking an invisible goal, but then zack's the one touching him. not like before. softer. the only problem is he keeps forgetting to breathe, with zack's hand wandering all over. it makes his stomach flip for different reasons. see, the unhurried movements are reassuring, languid in a way that saves jason from wondering if he should back off.
jason covers the hand on his thigh with his own light grip, fingers brushing over zack's knuckles. ]
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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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and then jason stops. ]
What - ?
[ but despite the question, zack lets jason turn him, hands coming out of the sleeping back - too hot anyway - to rest on jason's hips, to pull him closer. if jason moved forward just a little, zack thinks the pressure on his cock could be just enough to get him off.
instead, he finds himself grinning back, too wide, a little unhinged. he feels like he's flying or in free-fall. ]
Now are you going to kiss me? [ like he's been waiting. maybe he has, without quite realising it. ]
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there was a time, he knows, when zack would never have let him lead like this. now there are reassuring hands on his hips, paired with the same slightly manic grin that he faced in a van on the run from the cops (god, their lives are weird now). ]
You know I will.
[ and he does, closing the gap between them for a deep, insistent kiss, only closing his eyes at the last possible second. fucking finally. he should have done that on the school roof, or in front of everyone when zack rocked up to detention for the first time in weeks. ]
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there was a time when he was running a lot more than he is now, and with no one by his side.
but jason closes the gap between them. it's insistent, demanding - but zack thinks jason must know already that the demands will be met. he surges up, one hand coming to rest on jason's neck, to pull him closer. and maybe it's the kiss - but probably it's how jason's weight shifts on top of him, a moment's pressure and friction, and somehow, it's enough.
zack gasps into the kiss and comes, cock jerking where it's trapped between their bodies. ]
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in the end, it's messy and stupidly attractive at the same time. jason feels scatterbrained, cock flexing with the friction and zack's movements. he shifts back when he feels zack relax, just so he isn't causing any discomfort. it takes considerable resolve to break the kiss for long enough to look again.
unfairly hot still seems like the right description. ]
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Shit. [ he says when jason breaks the kiss, shifting back a little, the grin from before turned into a blissed-out smile now.
not so blissed out, though, that he doesn't still find himself wanting more. not so blissed out that his fingers aren't scrambling to push up jason's shirt, to undo the button of jason's pants. he wants to get his hands on jason, wants to replay the favour, wants to kiss him again and again and then again until they're both hard and breathless and rutting against each other. ]
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[ an immediate response. ] Yeah. [ funny how one word can sound so pleased, mouthed out of smile that'll tug at his mouth for days. ] Pretty good first kiss, huh?
[ decent enough to make a guy cream his pants (*with some assistance). he's just sayin'.
still, jason hardly gets the chance to savour the moment before zack's hands start maneuvering all over, going straight for his pants and the bulge evident within them. naturally, it's exactly what he wants (needs, maybe, if the current of want sizzling under his skin is to be acknowledged). ]
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Yeah.
[ "pretty good" is an understatement. he licks his lips, then leans up, neck straining as he goes for another kiss. it's just as messy as the last, wet and a little off-center because zack's not great at multitasking and a large part of his attention is taken up by the softness of jason's skin, the hardness underneath it. ]
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zack's lips look wet, almost like gloss. kissable is the word that comes to mind. without hesitation, jason tips forward to meet him. it leads to a good kiss, too, 'cause of the enthusiasm (and the handjob happening at the same time, honestly), but jason brings one hand to steady zack's chin, cupping his cheek and smoothing a rough thumb over his jaw. he's sure it helps the both of them when he's pouring little noises into zack's mouth. no need to slow down in the fourth quarter, after all. he's not going to last. ]
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c'mon he thinks, humming into the kiss, and fuck and jason and that's really the extent of it, his cock twitching in a valiant effort to grow hard again with each noise jason lets out. ]
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a few more stutters of his hips, and he stills. he gently pulls away, a reluctant and slow break of the kiss, settling his weight on zack again to catch his breath (and to relive the thrill he gets every times his heavy gaze slots on zack beneath him — zack who could flip him over at any moment, no question). for a brief moment, he considers flopping on his back, but he doesn't want to separate their bodies, not entirely, not yet. a small, contented smile blooms on his face. ]
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Hey. [ he says, a little dumbly, grinning wide. he wipes his hand on jason's jeans and then just - leaves it there, on jason's thigh, a little possessive maybe. thinking about leaving an imprint. it doesn't work like that, but he likes the thought. his hand on jason. ]
You good? [ an echo of his earlier question. ]
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Very. [ an easy reply, obvious in its warmth. ]
[ jason worries at the hem of his shirt before lifting it up and over his head, only getting a teensy bit stuck when it becomes twisted on his arms. fortunately, he's still hot in the afterglow. however, he doesn't toss it elsewhere, instead using it to wipe the worst (best? best) of their mess from zack's skin before it becomes uncomfortable. the action is gentle. careful. and if there's a light brush of fabric over zack's cock, well, jason's only being thorough (and teasing).
sacrificing one of his many basic t-shirts seems a fair trade for all of this, especially when he has a hoodie in his schoolbag. ]
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[ it comes out more as go-oh-d because jason's shirt is brushing against his cock, a ghost of a touch that still has it rise up in the air before sinking back against his stomach, full in a way that doesn't feel immediately urgent but could tip into urgency at another touch, another moment.
instead of seeking that touch, he lifts his hand - the one not still on jason's thigh - to trace lines over jason's bared chest, from his collarbone to his abs and back again, circles, random patterns. ]
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he ends up chucking his shirt, like a ball seeking an invisible goal, but then zack's the one touching him. not like before. softer. the only problem is he keeps forgetting to breathe, with zack's hand wandering all over. it makes his stomach flip for different reasons. see, the unhurried movements are reassuring, languid in a way that saves jason from wondering if he should back off.
jason covers the hand on his thigh with his own light grip, fingers brushing over zack's knuckles. ]
[ mildly. ] Zack.
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