[oneshot] First Time (or: 아무것도 몰라요)
Title: First Time (or: 아무것도 몰라요)
Group: GOT7
Pairing: Jackson/Jr.
Rating: R
Length: 7,762 words
Warnings: ~Toys~, dick-to-face contact, abuse of parenthesis
Summary: At the club, Jackson picks a nice cute guy to lose his gay virginity with, but it turns out he really shouldn't have judged that particular book by its cover.
A/N: lo and behold, i now write got7 fic too
Jackson knows for a fact that he’s hot.
Of course, there are days he forgets; days he feels more lukewarm than hot, hair all up like a crow’s wings and face swollen in arbitrary places, but for the most of the time, he’s not half bad. When he’s all styled up like this, then? Hot. H-O-T, he affirms to himself as he catches sight of his own face in a closed shop’s show window.
“Hehe,” he chuckles to himself, pointlessly styling his hair before resuming his walk. “Nice! Yes!”
Indeed nice! He looks nice in black. He also looks nice in faux leather tank tops and baggy hip-hop pants (his “swaggy pants” as he likes to call them). He has somehow managed to tame his slightly unruly hair (he needs to get it cut…) and his bracelets compliment his muscular forearms. Doesn’t he look pretty good? He knows that many girls have been attracted to his style in the past, and he hopes that, today, it’ll work the same way for the boys.
Yes, you’ve read it right! Tonight, Jackson Wang is not seeking the attention of women. Upon entering adulthood, and thus starting to mature properly, Jackson start to slip further and further into homosexuality; first it was a ‘that dude has nice muscles’ at the gym, then a ‘that dude is pretty hot’ when watching TV, then ‘what’d be like kissing a dude’ on a certain Sunday afternoon, and downwards from there. Honestly, he’s okay with it. Despite his profuse usage of the words ‘dude’, ‘bro’, and ‘swag’, Jackson is not That sort of (supposedly) straight guy. He’s cool with all that.
Well, all that except one thing: he has yet to do the thing with a guy.
No, wait, not The Thing. Just, the general thing. (So not to say he has zero gay experience, he did kiss a male friend on the lips back in high school, and touched a few dicks. You know, high school boy stuff. Who even understands?) Like, flirting, seducing, serious kissing, serious dick-touching, then The Thing. He has done none of those. So, today, he’s chasing time. His heart is thrumming with excitement when he walks down the last block separating him from the nearest gay club (the only gay club according to some, the best according to others), and ah, he’s ready. He’s so ready.
There’s a line. Jackson scans the line. There are guys in the line. Jackson has to swallow his own excitement, which results in a mildly weird face. The bouncer stares, a bit alarmed. Jackson gets in line. Jackson waits…
Then, he’s in, and he’s thrice as thrilled as before, but he’s also - (heartbeat sound) - nervous. The bar is to his left, an ample counter with each one of its stools occupied, and the dance floor is to his right, not yet that packed, but promising to be so soon. Azaelia Banks is playing, and shit, he loves that song! He gotta go fast get his liquid courage fix before the song ends, so he rushes to the chips boot, landing rather luckily at the beginning of an already forming line.
“HELLO!” He greets the cashier with unnecessary loudness, startling the poor lady. To apologize, he smiles brilliantly, and silently offers a bill for her to exchange in chips. It works, and now the cashier is amused, smiling to herself as she gives him an (almost) literal fuckton of white paper chips. “Next!” she calls, and Jackson flees.
A minute later, there Jackson Wang is, cranking it up on the dance floor with a chilly cuba libre in hands. The barman went kinda heavy with the rum in this one, but Jackson does not care, as he is here to have a good time, no matter how much rum it might take. Around him, he doesn’t fail to notice, there are some cute guys dancing - some timidly, some unabashedly, some really turning it up with them moves - but most of them seem to be with someone already, or immersed in dancing with their friends, and Jackson might be shameless, but not to the point of barging into a crew to flirt. He’d have to wait, but Jackson is not a fan of waiting. Why is Jackson like this? I, myself, don’t know.
“Oh shit yes!” He yells when the first notes of Rihanna’s S&M echo through the speakers, and his voice is so loud that some guys actually turn around to look at him, either amused or surprised. Jackson misses the glances though, just concentrating in enjoying the song - Jesus, he loves that bass. It makes him want to move his hips till they fall off his body. And so he does.
He dances, he dances, he does body-waves and hip-thrusts and whatnot, not caring whether someone’s watching or not. Eventually, he needs a quick breath - not even athletes in top shape like himself can endure so much dance so suddenly - and, when he does, he turns around by chance, catching a glimpse of the bar.
There, he sees him.
It’s a blurry picture what he sees. He is far away in the comfort of a bar stool, sitting with his legs elegantly crossed, and it’s too dark for Jackson to make out any details, but he does see something and, honestly? He likes what he sees. Short black hair, light-colored capri pants, short-sleeve button-up shirt, a fancy drink in his hand. He looks… how can you say it? Dandy-esque. Elegant. There’s something delicate about his posture, and that’s one of Jackson’s ancient, fatal weaknesses.
I gotta talk to him, is what Jackson thinks. And then, as if by some kind of magic, the man’s gaze, once distractedly directed to his side, turns to the dance floor - and locks onto Jackson’s own stare.
Jackson feels the bass in his heart. God, he’s nervous. His palms are sweating. He’s staring. He keeps staring, so to show interest, but… now, what…?
The guy smiles.
He brings his fancy, fancy drink to his lips, smiling - smirking - to Jackson as he takes a sip. Jackson grins in response, biting his lip, body still moving unconsciously to Rihanna’s addictive hit song. He watches as the man drinks, tipping his head back as he slowly downs the cocktail, and then coming back forward just as slowly, staring at Jackson with the empty glass in his hands. The message is as clear as water.
Jackson wastes no time.
“Hi,” he greets as he hastily arrives at the man’s side, perhaps looking a little desperate, or eager, depending on the angle you’re looking from. “Can I get you a drink?”
From up close, the man is even prettier, shockingly so even. His face matches his general aura, with sharp eyes, but cute protruding ears and an adorable kittenish grin. Jackson’s heart leaps in general excitement.
“If you insist,” the man agrees coquettishly, finger tracing the rim of his empty glass absentmindedly. Oh man, his teeth are cute too… Jackson summons the barman immediately.
“What would you like?” He asks as the barman comes, hoping to God he’s speaking correctly because Korean is not his first language and he can’t really concentrate right now. Despite the apparent fierceness of the man’s eyes, they widen rather cutely when he looks at Jackson analytically, as if studying Jackson’s face now that he can see it more clearly.
“Four tequila shots,” He answers, and Jackson blinks in startle. “Two for me, two for you.”
Holy shit? Nevertheless, he passes the order forward. “Four tequila shots, please,” he yells a little, leaning over the counter to make sure the barman understands him. When he turns around to look at his beautiful stranger a little more, he’s chuckling. “Why are you laughing…?”
“You’re interesting,” he replies, propping his chin on his hand as he keeps eye contact. Ugh, he’s so cute. And hot. Cuhot? Hocu? Just sexy. “What’s your name?”
“Oh!! I’m Jackson Wang!” Jackson jumps up to greet him properly, offering him a hand to shake. His hand is amazingly soft and warm ugh. “And-and yours?”
“I’m Jinyoung,” he replies briefly, and his eyes transpire innocence, but his grin is… a little naughty to Jackson’s eyes. “Nice to meet you.” Their shots are ready.
It all goes downwards from there.
I didn’t mean to say they drink much, though. Sure enough, two shots of tequila can mess someone up a tad, but, as soon as they drink it up, Jackson invites Jinyoung to dance to the sound of Jennifer Lopez’ Booty, and Jinyoung, to Jackson’s delight, accepts a bit timidly. He’s not much of a dancer, as it is apparent, but he’s not at all bad; his hips move nicely. Very nicely. Oh man… Jackson’s teeth almost pierce through his lip as he pulls Jinyoung closer to himself, careful not to go too fast and fuck it all up.
Jinyoung laughs. His hands land on Jackson’s shoulders, as if holding him in place, and the smirk he shoots Jackson as they dance…
It’s not long before he’s There. My God, Jackson can feel the moment happening. They’re about to kiss. His own eyes are locked on Jinyoung’s lips, his pink, plush, soft-looking lips… he has to make the move. Jinyoung looks too reserved to do this kind of thing, and, well, Jackson got a fame of being pretty wild when it comes to this… he has to do it. He wants to do it.
So he does it.
When their lips make contact, Jackson’s heart leaps out of his chest - he’s been imagining this for a year or so now, how it’d feel to kiss another man, and he can’t think of a better way to have that first experience than with such a cute, nice boy as Jinyoung. When he licks Jinyoung’s lips, he tastes chapstick and alcohol; when their tongues make contact as the kiss deepens, he tastes heat.
Now, it doesn’t matter what song is playing anymore. Whatever plays, Jackson’s hips move in the rhythm of the beat, and Jinyoung follows his lead, their hips connected in constant grinding motions. Jackson’s hands are on Jinyoungs hips, and his naughty fingers find themselves just under the hem of Jinyoung’s shirt, touching, fleetingly, the soft skin underneath. One of Jinyoung’s hands stays on Jackson’s shoulder; the other one wanders, up Jackson’s neck, down Jackson’s chest, a finger tracing Jackson’s jaw and the same traveling down his stomach…
Despite being “in the lead” - they kiss and move at his pace - Jackson can’t help but notice… something about their situation.
And it’s more than just his slowly (but steadily) swelling cock.
“Jackson-sshi,” Jinyoung mewls after a particularly long, wet, horny kiss. “What do you say about us changing locations?” He looks almost reluctant to say that, looking up at Jackson with big, uncertain eyes. “Would you mind?”
“No,” Jackson strangles out almost instantly, heart once again drumming incessantly against his ribcage. This Is It. “Uh-where?”
“You get to decide,” Jinyoung tilts his head to the side, smiling, and Jackson senses something different about him. “My place or yours?”
Jackson thinks. He thinks of the convenience of going to his place… but he also thinks of the mess. Of the smallness of his studio-style flat. Did he remember to make his bed before leaving to the club…? … He can’t possibly take Jinyoung there.
“Yours,” Jackson declares, nodding, and he hopes this won’t sound rude because doesn’t it sound a little rude to you? But well, it doesn’t to Jinyoung, who merely grins in delight.
“Awesome.” As if by a magic trick, Jinyoung pulls out car keys from his back pocket. “I’ll drive.”
Sexually-charged drives are a pain to get through. Kissing at every red light is not enough. The heated looks are not enough. Jackson’s libido is on fire, burning to experience something new, and man, he just can’t wait to see a real life erection. (He has seen his own, and enough of the porn ones, and quite a number of limp penises in his locker-room experiences, but a hard one, all his to touch? Completely new.) Not to mention, Jinyoung’s ass. Oh my god Jinyoung’s ass what if he gets to touch it? Its naked flesh!? Sexually-charged drives really are horrible.
When they finally, finally! at last!!, reach Jinyoung’s apartment complex, Jackson is at half-mast, dying to touch, and completely ready.
“Oh wow,” Jinyoung yelps complimentary as Jackson pulls him closer first thing after climbing out of the car. “Now, aren’t you in a hurry?”
“Am I?” Jackson stills his movements, glancing at Jinyoung a bit anxiously. “Sorry.”
Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “I was joking, silly.” He holds Jackson by the chin and gives him a soft peck on the lips. “You’re so cute. Even if you do look like a straight boy,” he adds sardonically.
“Uh, I’m transitioning,” Jackson admits a bit shyly as Jinyoung guides him up the stairs. They tumble together down the hallway, a bit more tipsy than initially supposed, and Jinyoung frowns at him in questioningly. “I used to be straight. It’s, uh, with another man… it’s my first time actually…”
To Jackson’s own ears, admitting that makes him sound extremely foolish. Why did he say that!!
But then he looks at Jinyoung.
Jinyoung’s eyes…
“Oh my,” Jinyoung mutters, his face gleaming in delight. Delight? Hunger. Suddenly, Jinyoung doesn’t look all that demure anymore, and Jackson stares at him with wide eyes, sensing the atmosphere change, slightly scared of what he’s seeing. Key sounds. A lock clicks open. Jinyoung licks his lips. “Come in.”
Jackson blinks in slight confusion and takes a look around. There’s a door open right by his side. Oh! That’s probably Jinyoung’s apartment. Bowing slightly and muttering ‘excuse me’, Jackson does come in, slipping out of his high-tops with certain difficulty as he takes a look around. The place is sparsely furnished, and there’s a mattress in the living room instead of a proper couch, but he can’t find anything wrong with any of that. It sure looks way better than his own place.
“So, Jackson,” Jinyoung calls him from the hallway, and there’s something with how he says his name - mockingly? It sounds like he’s letting each syllable roll off his tongue leisurely. The ‘Jack-’ comes quickly, but the ‘-son’ melts and drips slowly from his lips. Jackson feels taunted. “Would you like something to drink? Maybe something to eat, or a shower?” Jinyoung leans on the kitchen counter, making an exaggerated, supposed-to-be-a-joke sexy pose. “Or would you like me?”
Jackson swallows. “Uh, some water would be nice? But, you,” he’s quick to clarify. He really doesn’t Jinyoung to misunderstand - he is top priority for Jackson at the moment.
To Jackson’s horror, Jinyoung cracks up in laughter. Oh no, has he fucked up? Has he ruined the mood? “Come here then,” Jinyoung beckons, puling Jackson by the front of his pants, and oh, he might not have ruined the mood after all… “I’ll get you what you want.”
Thirst quenched (the literal one, at least) and lips kissed swollen in the kitchen, Jackson is soon smoothly guided into a bedroom - Jinyoung’s, he suppose as he gets pushed onto a bed, and wait a minute, wasn’t he leading stuff just a while ago? Why is he being pushed around now? He pauses a little to think, and then notices Jinyoung hovering over him, and fuck, he looks like a literal apex predator.
“First time with a man…” Jinyoung recites in a murmur, hands working Jackson’s tank top up his chest and off his body. Jackson feels, well. Naked. More than usually. “Mm. Should I supposed you’ve never done anal, or…?”
Jackson sputters at the sudden question, feeling more and more naked by the second. He flushes a whole-face blush, and he can swear his chest is blushing too. “I, uh, like, I? No? I mean, not, like-”
“Have you been fucked before?, is what I mean,” Jinyoung clarifies with enviable coherence, hands on the waistband of Jackson’s pants, pulling down very, v e r y slowly. Now, Jackson can literally feel his thighs blush. Why is that even happening to him?
“No,” Jackson admits, not yet grasping the concept of what’s going on right now. He’s both so nervous and so turned on that he can’t help but just lying on bed a bit dazed, trying to recollect his thoughts. The delighted giggle Jinyoung emits makes it a little easier for him.
“A virgin,” Jinyoung coos, both mocking and celebratory, as he strips Jackson down to his boxer-briefs. “Donned in Calvin Klein, of all things. Feeling pretty lucky tonight.” Well, Jackson likes fancy underwear! So what! “I almost don’t want to take them off…” but he does take them off, and Jackson’s cock comes to a stand, turgid and veiny, in all of his glory. Jinyoung merely wraps his fingers around the shaft, but Jackson whimpers. He’s nervous. And eager.
“Why are you still dressed,” Jackson half-questions in his daze as he watches Jinyoung let go of his cock, get up from the bed, and walk to the nearest closet.
“Because I like these clothes,” Jinyoung chirps in response, and Jackson laughs a little at that. Jinyoung is a pretty fun person. (Both pretty fun and just pretty, he notices.) When he comes back onto the bed, where Jackson lies naked and expectant, he has a box in his hands. Jackson is… alarmed. “These are my toys,” Jinyoung declares innocently, and Jackson gasps.
His. Toys. Oh.
“Oh,” he echoes, and Jinyoung chuckles a little, pulling something out of the box: a… pair of handcuffs…? “I know these are scary-looking, specially since we just met,” Jinyoung reads his mind, cuffs dangling playfully from his finger, “but these are safe. You can easily slip out of them.” As a demonsration, Jinyoung clicks one cuff closed around his own wrists, and then removes it, still locked, by taking it off like a loop bracelet. The glance he shoots Jackson asks, see?, with the grace of a commercial spokesperson. “Wanna try?”
What are the chances this would end up with Jackson dead and gutted under Jinyoung’s mattress? Jackson is a fencing champion, and, honestly, modesty to hell, he’s in amazing shape. His hip’s strength is no joke. If all goes awry, he can probably kick Jinyoung unconscious… even if the idea does make him feel bad at the moment…
“Uh, sure,” he complies at last, and Jinyoung locks him up immediately, looking like a kid who just got to ride Santa’s sleigh. Well, at least now Jackson won’t have to worry with where to put his hands anymore…
“Let me tell you this,” Jinyoung starts, finally! at last!, unbuttoning his own shirt, and making a whole burlesque show out of it. Why is Jinyoung so! Calm! Patient! Slow! “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. Even if I think you’re just teasing me, I’ll stop, so don’t be scared. Okay?” Jackson nods, a bit flustered. That actually brings him some relief. Jinyoung is nice… “Well, even if I didn’t, you could just snap my neck broken with those thighs, couldn’t you?”
!! “I wouldn’t,” Jackson quickly assures him.
“Oh, but I almost want you to,” Jinyoung snickers maliciously, giving Jackson’s thigh a firm, appreciative slap, and Jackson groans. Shit, that kinda hurt, but… “Now,” after what feels like exactly ten years and six months, Jinyoung sheds off his shirt, revealing a smooth, slender torso, vulnerable-looking and nothing like the Jinyoung Jackson is seeing right now. “Let’s start working on you…”
What happens next happens too fast.
Jackson sees a bottle. He also sees condom, and hey, nice, safety first, but what he sees next sends a cold thrill straight to his crotch. Along with ‘hard dick other than my own’ in the list of things Jackson has seen enough in porn but never in real life is this.
A butt plug. A glass, transparent butt plug.
His eyes widen.
“I,” he starts the sentence, but can’t really get any words out. His mind is a mess. The languages are entangling. “I-this-”
“Don’t tell me it won’t fit,” Jinyoung commands, pouting slightly, but voice firm and unexpectedly domineeringly. “It’s not that big, Jackson-sshi. Look,” he lands the butt plug on Jackson’s crotch, putting it beside his dick for comparison. “It’s the same size as your dick. And if your dick can fit, and I assure you it can,” Jinyoung grins naughtily. “Then this can too.”
Jackson has no arguments. His dick pulsates. “Yeah,” he nods, at a loss of words. “Yeah. I, uh… be careful, please…”
Jinyoung makes an endeared expression at him, hands working on putting a condom over the plug. “I will,” Jinyoung assures him, bending over to plant a peck on Jackson’s cheek. Jackson, dizzy with nervousness and tequila, goes limp for a second, glancing half-heartedly at the ceiling as he hears strange sounds coming from where Jinyoung is. He’s ready. He has been ready for a while-
Something probes against his entrance, and he jumps.
“Shh,” Jinyoung appeases him with a hand on his inner thigh, giggling. “It’s just a finger.” Jackson feels strangely reassured by that, and tries to relax again, even if the sensation is, predictably, strange. “Did you clean up for me, Jackson-sshi?”
Jackson is a bit confused. Is Jinyoung asking him if he showered before leaving home? He did! Does he stink? Or is he asking about drugs or something like artificial food preservatives? He’s been on a lemon juice detox for two days now! (Even though he did break it by drinking at the club…)
“I… yeah?” Seems like Jackson’s current vocabulary is composed by ten words max. “Yes?”
Jinyoung’s finger slips further in. “Good boy,” Jinyoung mutters, a hint of excitement in his voice. “You’re so naughty, Jackson-sshi…” (Jackson is confused. Is he good or naughty? His Christmas present depends on this diagnosis. Regardless…)
“Feels… nice,” Jackson sighs as Jinyoung stretches him with one finger, inserting it all the way in, and then pulling out. “I’ve… I’ve done it with two. Two can fit.”
Jinyoung bursts in laughter. It’s a rather candid laugh, with his eyes wrinkling in a weird way, and Jackson is surprised to see this human ball of sexy suddenly laugh so honestly. “You sure are straightforward,” Jinyoung comments, laughter slowly fading. “So you’ve fingered yourself before. But you’re straight. If I catch you before you leave tomorrow morning, you’ll tell me everything.”
“Understood,” Jackson nods feverishly as Jinyoung works a second finger into him. The fit is tight - Jackson can feel the stretch very clearly, and it makes him float in a vague cloud of anxiousness a little, because he has wanted this for so long that he has started to desire the pain as well. Even if it scares him a little. “Ah, this feels good.”
“Does it?” Jinyoung asks rhetorically, licking his lips as he fingers Jackson absentmindedly. (His hands move so fluidly, so dexterously… how many times has Jinyoung done this? How many cherry boys like Jackson himself has Jinyoung fucked in his life?) “Good. You’re so tight, Jackson-sshi. I need to stretch you a little more,” pop!, the fingers are out. “May I?”
It’s the plug. Jinyoung has the glass butt plug in his clean hand. Jackson is scared to death that his asshole will rip open, but he won’t bail out now. He definitely won’t. So he nods emphatically. “Yes,” he gasps, taking deep breaths to calm down. “Bring it on.”
Jinyoung snickers, and he starts to insert the plug into him.
The stretch… the stretch is… there’s no denying that there’s a little of pain to it. There’s pain, and discomfort at the very specific feeling of his anus being stretched by a foreign object, but… (perhaps Jackson is a pervert. He must be a pervert, because, just knowing what he’s doing - just knowing that he has a slick, transparent plug sliding into him, stretching him ready for a cock, is enough for him to forget how to breathe. Just knowing how he looks to Jinyoung’s eyes - like a straight-looking boy splayed on a mattress, ravished and handcuffed, desperate to have his ass pounded - is enough to make him arch his back and moan, even though it burns, even though it hurts… or maybe, because it burns, and because it hurts.)
“Oh my God,” he whimpers as the plug slides deeper and deeper into his ass, and he takes a huge gulp of air when he feels it go all the way in, his asshole swallowing it all, the base coming to rest between his buttocks. “Yes, oh yes.”
“You’re taking it so well, baby,” Jinyoung whispers, reaching for Jackson’s chin and kissing him. This time, they kiss at Jinyoung’s pace; dirty, at leisure, like a waltz under the moonlight (if people waltzed naked and touched each other sexually while doing it). Despite being slow, though, it’s not a gentle kiss, at all. Between the grazing teeth and the insistent pressing of lips, once they part, Jackson feels his lips swell even more. He’s gonna make a comment about it, about how he want another kiss, or how he doesn’t feel any pain anymore, but, just when he’s in the middle of choosing the words, Jinyoung starts pulling the plug out - and jams it back in.
“Fuck,” Jackson yelps, body contorting at the feeling, breath knocked out of his lungs. “Fuckuguhfmmm again please Jinyoung-ah once again…”
Jinyoung complies, chuckling to himself in great enjoyment. “Cute,” he comments, casually fucking Jackson with the plug, in and out, in and out, and watching Jackson twitch and pant. “I’ll call you just Jackson. Or should I call you hyung? How old are you?”
Jackson almost replies with ‘Hong Kong’. He catches his breath when Jinyoung slows down a little, gyrating the plug inside him while waiting for an answer. “Tw… twenty one. Or two? Aah, I don’t really know right now.”
Jinyoung smirks. “Sorry.” He slowly pulls the plug all the way out, and not-so-slowly pushes it back all the way in. “I’ll just call you whatever I want then.”
Honestly Jinyoung could call him David Guetta and Jackson would not mind one single bit at the moment. His cock is hard, and the wet noises made by the plug as it fucks his ass are driving him mad. He doesn’t care if he’s ready or not. He needs more. Now.
“Okay, okay, I,” he starts off, licking his lips with misplaced hesitation. “I’m ready. I don’t need it anymore.”
For the first time since their met, Jinyoung looks genuinely surprised. He doesn’t smile. “Really?” He blinks, eyes slightly wider. “I was supposed to go up a size…”
Shit, now what? The prospect of a bigger plug is quite tempting to Jackson… but if he doesn’t come anytime soon, he’s gonna go crazy (like, seriously), and when he left his house that night he was determined to have an orgasm with an actual cock inside of him. You don’t understand. Jackson is a man in a mission.
“I’m ready,” Jackson reassures him, feeling his arms start to go numb, but unwilling to slip out of the handcuff. “Please fuck me, Jinyoung. Please. Fuck me with your dick,” Jackson clarifies, since, well, using a dildo or a butt plug or whatever is still fucking…
Jinyoung sucks in a breath, popping the plug back in, leaving it there for the time being. “Patience, little one,” he mutters, finally, finally getting rid of his belt. “Or not so little one,” he adds, stirring his tongue playfully at Jackson as his thin fingers wrap around his hard, so far neglected cock. Jackson gapes. Oh God. “Poor baby. Have I been mean to you, Jackson-ah?” He asks as his hand pumps Jackson’s cock once, twice, thrice.
You’re being mean right now by asking me this, is what Jackson thinks, but he wouldn’t have a good enough grasp on the Korean language to say that coherently when sober, imagine right now. “Noooo,” he whines as Jinyoung’s palms rub the swollen head of his erection deftly. “Nnnnooooooooo, pleeeaseee,” coherence is long, long lost.
That, however, seems to be the correct answer. Jinyoung sighs, obvious pleased, and kneels up, hands letting go of Jackson’s cock (Jackson mewls quietly at the loss) to start working on the buttons of his pants. Jackson watches him, fingers slipping a little when undoing the first one, and, when he moves to the second (and last) one, Jackson decides to do something cute for him; he lifts a foot and rubs his toes on Jinyoung’s bulge, feeling the volume through the fabric. Jinyoung moans, tilting his head back.
“Mmm, yes,” he purrs, thrusting his hips forward slightly, and Jackson flushes a bit because wow that’s so… weird… but… Jackson spreads his toes, tracing the line of Jinyoung’s cock. Jinyoung chuckles, pleased and amused. “Oh, Jackson, you really are something.” He lowers a finger to Jackson’s bare foot, and, with the very tip of his fingernail, traces a line from his toe to his ankle, making Jackson shiver and twitch and gasp.
But then, at last, he grabs Jackson’s leg and lowers it to the mattress, at the same time that he zips his pants open. “You were good to me, baby,” Jinyoung compliments, slowly pulling the hem of his pants, and underwear, lower and lower. Jackson’s mouth waters. It’s time. It’s finally time. “I think you deserve a reward.”
Jackson is so ready he’s sweating. Literally.
Jinyoung does not perform a strip-tease for Jackson (which is both a relief and a disappointment) but, once again, Jackson is hung up on how expertly Jinyoung just shrugs out of his pants like he has done this, all of this, a billion of times. Like he has been in that exact position a billion of times. And, judging by how Jinyoung had played Jackson so flawlessly, from the moment they met in the club till this, he certainly has. (Jackson is guessing he’s got a stroke game crafted by the gods. He absolutely can’t wait to test it out.)
All thoughts are interrupted when Jinyoung comes down to lick Jackson’s abdomen - the hot tongue feels scorching against the sweaty skin, and the cooling saliva makes all of Jackson’s hairs stand on their ends. Jinyoung crawls forward like a panther, gaze locked with Jackson’s own, and he comes to kneel right in front of Jackson’s face, knees beside Jackson’s exposed armpits. A hand finds its place gently combing Jackson’s hair, but he barely register that.
What he does register is: Dick. Dick On His Face.
Oh my god, the dick is half-hard. It’s flushed, it’s long, it’s thick. Its head is glistening with the moisture of precum. Jackson wants to - oh God, what does he even want to do first? - putting his hands on it is impossible right not so… mouth? Cheeks? Whole face?
“Slap me,” Jackson begs before he can even process his own words, driven to senseless behavior by his lust for penises. “Jinyoung-ah, slap me with it.”
A pause. A small pause, and then Jinyoung laughs, and the laugh Jinyoung lets out is one of disbelief. “You nasty one, you!” He says it like both criticism and compliment as his hand takes a flimsy hold of his cock, holding the tip with all but two fingers, then he raises it up to his belly… and lets go, letting it fall heavily on Jackson’s cheek. It hurts. It’s moist. Jackson moans breathily, biting his lip. “Is that what you want, Jackson-ah? Aren’t you a bit slutty?”
“I’m a slut,” Jackson admits as Jinyoung rubs the slit along his jawline. What can he say? He’s a slut. A natural-born one, at that. He breathes heavily when Jinyoung’s cock taps him on the face several times, on the cheeks and chin, and, when the head of said cock comes up to trace his lips, he groans and immediately darts his tongue out to lick, to taste.
“Oh, Jackson…” Jinyoung moans, his eyes falling shut from the pleasure, and oh fuck, this is the most vulnerable Jinyoung has looked since they started making out, and this is incredibly hot. Jackson licks more enthusiastically, not discerning any tastes more than vaguely ‘hot flesh’ and ‘wet’, trying to coax more of the shaft into his mouth just to feel satisfied. As if reading his mind, Jinyoung thrusts forward, giving Jackson enough cock for him to choke and suck and play with for a while. “You really are a slut, baby, and I love it,” Jinyoung’s hand falls to Jackson’s hair, caressing it, subtly pushing Jackson’s head forward to meet the slight movement of his hips.
“Mmphm,” is how Jackson replies, saliva already threatening to spill from the sides of his stretched lips. Once he gets used to the invasion, though, he does not waste a single second.
Jackson has never practiced with a dildo, or a banana, or anything like that, but he has googled some stuff. He has read about one trick or two, and even though he doesn’t have the practice, he has the dedication. So he puts his tongue to work, licking the underside of Jinyoung’s cock when he bobs his head up and down (or as up and as down he can without his hands to give him leverage), pushing it in a piston motion as he hollows his cheeks around the flesh, pressing it flat on the underside of the shaft as Jinyoung lazily moves his hips back and forward… at a point, Jackson looks up, rather nervously, to see if Jinyoung is pleased at any of his tricks, only to find Jinyoung looking back at him with lust, then rolling his eyes and moaning.
“Fuck, look at you,” he curses, grabbing Jackson’s chin and pulling all of his cock out. “You’re telling me this is your first time with a guy, but you suck dick like you have it for your three meals a day. Did you lie to me, Jackson-ah? I promise I won’t be mad,” he adds with a wicked smile.
“This is really my first time!” Jackson assures in a loud voice, and it’s audible how his voice is slightly, very slightly scratchy now. “You like it?”
“I give you an A… A-minus, actually,” Jinyoung winks at him, touching himself, and Jackson frowns sadly. “I like to leave some room for improvement,” he adds, licking the corner of Jackson’s mouth kittenishly. (Jackson is confused, once again. So he likes it? Well, he’s hard as he can be right now, so he must like it…) “Now,” Jinyoung mutters, hopping off the bed, walking around it, and reassuming his initial position, between Jackson’s spread thighs. “I believe I left something here.”
Jackson feels something move inside of him, and he growls in surprise. The plug. It’s still inside him!! Well, for a short time at least; slowly and deliberately, Jinyoung pulls the plug out, leaving Jackson clenching at the loss, at the weird feeling of emptiness.
“I wish you could see this,” Jinyoung looks up at him with a grin. “You’re gaping. It’s all stretched out,” he takes one last thing out of the box; another condom, which he’s quick to unwrap and put around himself. “All ready for me…” he muses, licking his lips as he glances down at Jackson’s hole, and then up to gaze into Jackson’s eyes. Jackson, despite himself, blushes. Jinyoung goes for the lube bottle one more time, coats himself quickly, and positions himself. (Jackson’s heart misses a beat. That’s it. It’s time. And he’s completely, absolutely ready.)
“You ready, pumpkin?” Jinyoung asks somewhat mockingly, and Jackson nods immediately, frantic, thirsty (metaphorically speaking. Maybe literally speaking too? But that’s for later). When the tip probes at the entrance, Jackson tenses up instinctively. “Sshh,” Jinyoung coos, running a hand up and down one of Jackson’s muscular thighs in what could be a comforting manner. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
That said, Jinyoung puts it all in, without waiting, without pausing, and Jackson cannot breathe anymore.
Holy fucking shit.
“Too fast?” Jinyoung cocks his head to the side, and he knows. He knows. “Sorry, love. You’re so slick that I didn’t think it’d hurt-”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Jackson interrupts him, and it does hurt. It does. The thing is: Jackson doesn’t mind. “It doesn’t hurt. Come on.” Oops, his English just slipped out. “Please, just-”
Jinyoung slams into him. He screams. Oh fuck. There. It. Is.
“So tight,” Jinyoung comments in bliss, pulling out slow, and then slamming in again. “How are you so tight, Jackson? Virgin boys are the best,” he bites his lips, swinging his hips back and forth, and Jackson allows himself a wrecked laugh. Jinyoung is a fucking pervert. (Look who’s talking.) Jinyoung suddenly pulls it all out, and leans forward, leading Jackson to momentarily wonder if he shouldn’t have laughed. However, instead of scolding or even slapping him (oh-la-la…) Jinyoung undoes the handcuffs that had been locking Jackson’s arms up his head. Blood rushes back to the limbs, but Jackson has no time to relish in that sensation.
“Flip over,” Jinyoung commands, and Jackson, with certain difficulty, does so. His cock presses against the mattress, hot, hard, heavy. “On your knees.” Jinyoung asks, Jinyoung has. That feels strangely erotic to Jackson, having his ass up in the air like he’s handing an offering to a deity. He feels hands on his buttocks, and whimpers. “Your ass looks delicious, Jackson-ah,” Jinyoung compliments as his cock slides back inside Jackson, pushing through the tight muscles, making Jackson twitch in pleasure. “I should’ve taken some time to eat you out.”
Oh my fucking god Jackson is gonna die. “Jinyoung-ah,” he moans, hand finding his own cock and pumping it at a steady rhythm.
“Hands off,” Jinyoung suddenly tears Jackson’s hands away from where it was, twisting Jackson’s arm and pining it behind Jackson’s back. “No touching.”
“But-Jinyoung,” Jackson pleads as Jinyoung fucks into him, hips rolling fluidly, driving him crazy.
“No buts.” Jackson is gonna cry. “No touching. Understood?”
“Yes.” Jackson does sound like he’s gonna cry, whiny, breathless, desperate. “Yes, please, I’m sorry.”
Jinyoung grinds. Jackson sobs. “Good boy.” (The suppositions about Jinyoung’s stroke were completely, utterly right. Oh. My God.)
Jinyoung’s pace is relentless; not the quickest, not the hardest, but constant, no pauses. He does long draws, quick ones, deep thrusts, and Jackson is honestly questioning why he took so long to come out, because fuck, if he had met a guy like Jinyoung and got fucked like this back then, he would want nothing but cock, cock, cock all day long. He gets off on the feeling of being stuffed, of having his hole stretched; it just turns him on, madly so even, and he needs nothing else but Jinyoung quickening his pace to make him feel like he’s floating.
“Oh my God,” he groans, and that was English, wasn’t that? Shit. “Fuck, fuck, please fuck me harder, please, I need to come.”
“Hghnn, fuck,” Jinyoung hisses, jamming it in particularly hard; when Jackson glances back to look at him, his eyes are half-lidded, dark with lust. “This-whatever you said, it’s so fucking hot. Say it again.”
Oh shit, so Jackson really has been speaking in tongues. What now? What had he said? He improvises. “You know how to fuck me hard, don’t you, Jinyoung,” he tries in Mandarin, feeling like a major idiot, but hey: anything that gets that look on Jinyoung’s face, and gets Jinyoung to fuck him harder, is worth the embarrassment. “I like your cock so much I wish I could bring it home with me. I’d fuck myself with it every day. Oh god, I sound like a tool right now, I can’t think straight.” He takes a breather, his cheeks warm and flushed, and turns to Jinyoung to ask, “You like it?”
“Yes,” Jinyoung replies elusively, but his voice, low and unstable, says everything for him. “Go on.”
“Fucking pervert. You’re so cute though,” it’s Cantonese now, and sweat starts to drip down Jackson’s neck. “You said you liked my ass, well. See this ass?” Propping himself on his shoulders, Jackson puts his hands on his buttocks and spreads them apart, and fuck he just heard Jinyoung moan rather loudly and divinely. “It’s all for you, baby. Fuck me in a way I won’t forget.”
“Fucking hell,” Jinyoung curses, leaning forward, pulling Jackson by the hair to kiss him - and, once their lips meet, he starts fucking Jackson like a beast. “You’re so hot, babe,” he compliments breathlessly once they part, letting go of Jackson’s hair to put a hand around his cock instead. Jackson lets out a drawn-out, high pitched moan, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck he’s so close fuck. “Shit, you’re gonna make me come…”
“Oh my God Jinyoung I-” Jackson has his own crisis to manage, his orgasm starting to show its colors inside him, words and moans and gasps spilling from his lips uncontrollably. And then, Jinyoung squeezes his cock, and strokes, once, twice, thrice. “Fuck, I’m coming, fuck, fuck!!”
Jackson comes like a volcano. All of his limbs quiver violently, threatening to rob him from his balance, and it’s like his lungs are being squeezed empty by his own ribcage. By the time that he’s riding his way down from the orgasm, sperm sprayed on the bed beneath his body in thick dollops, the very tip of his fingers feel cold. He has no idea why. And he just feels so satisfied, lazy even, with the way Jinyoung's pounding becomes harsher, irregular, and, with a low, long-drawn moan, slower and slower…
“God,” Jinyoung sighs when he finally pulls out, lying Jackson down on the bed a bit clumsily before busying himself with tying up the condom and throwing it away. “Welcome to sodomy, I guess,” he jokes once he falls to the bed, almost landing on top of Jackson as he lies down.
It’s the last thing Jackson hears before passing out. Symbolic.
When Jackson wakes up in the following morning, he’s slightly sore, a whole lot sticky, and extremely thirsty.
Conscience doesn’t come to him as quickly as it usually would; he slowly, sluggishly starts by acknowledging that he’s alive, that his name is Jackson and that he’s (most probably than not) an human being. He then opens his eyes, blinking as sunshine hits them a bit too brutally, and turns around to try to recognize his surroundings. A neat white room… a small closet… where is he?... then he turns to look at the other side, catches a glimpse of Jinyoung sleeping and it all clicks.
Right. Jinyoung. Sex. Okay, it all makes sense now.
Jinyoung looks cute when he’s sleeping, Jackson concludes upon a second glance at him. He looks like… a small child, perhaps, or a pet, with his eyes peacefully shut and his plush lips falling slightly open. Jackson shifts on the bed, with intentions of finding a better position to watch Jinyoung from, but, unfortunately, he moves a bit too much to the left or something, causing Jinyoung to stir awake.
Either Jinyoung is a light sleeper or Jackson is too clumsy. (Evidence points towards the latter). Regardless… it takes a few moments for Jinyoung to truly awaken, during which he stretches inelegantly and frowns a little. How can someone so cute be like that in bed?, is the only thing that Jackson The Sinner thinks as he watches, and waits, in a sense.
Jinyoung opens his eyes. He blinks. (His face is so swollen…) When his eyes finally focus and he recognizes Jackson’s face, his slips slowly, ssslllooowwwllly, curve into a grin.
“Hello,” he mutters, and for some reason Jackson’s heart does a thing. “Shower and breakfast?”
“Shower and breakfast!” Jackson almost pumps his fist up.
After brushing his teeth with a cotton swab (life hacks dot com), washing his face to try to get his handsome back on, and a shower that’s equal parts washing and chaste kissing (or not-so-chaste after all), Jackson finds himself sitting on Jinyoung’s kitchen counter, drinking some iced green tea and eyeing Jinyoung’s own breakfast - cold jjajangmyeon leftovers and lime soda - with both disgust and envy.
“So, Jackson,” Jinyoung calls ater a while of senseless chitchatting, during which Jackson had told him about being a fencing athlete, and he told Jackson about being an university student. “You said something about being an,” air quotes in action, “ex-straight guy. Or something like that. Didn’t you?”
“Ah, well,” Jackson scratches his forearm uneasily. Why is he uneasy though? “I used to date girls and all. But then… life? I don’t know. I decided to,” he makes a grand gesture with his hands. “Broaden my horizons.”
Jinyoung laughs. “Very well,” he nods, eating one more mouthful of the jjajangmyeon, which looks like it has been in the fridge for at least one whole week, but well… “How are your horizons now?” His mouth is full why is he talking… Jackson is a bit distracted. Jinyoung swallows. “Broad enough for you to give me your number, perhaps?”
Jackson is about to say something - he’s still deciding between ‘yes’ and ‘don’t speak with your mouth full!’ - when both of them hear a clinking sound of keys, and Jinyoung jumps.
“Shit, my roommate,” he curses, looking genuinely alarmed as he downs the rest of the food into his mouth. Amazing… a world record of how much one can store in their cheeks, really. “Scschhellhone,” Jinyoung makes grabby hands at Jackson, who, miraculously, understands, and passes him his cellphone. Beep beep beep, go Jinyoung’s fingers as he types something, and Jinyoung’s roommate must be really slow because it’s been a while that he’s been clinking the keys… Jinyoung swallows and passes Jackson his phone. “Okay, done. I’ll call you, okay?”
“Okay,” Jackson jumps off the counter, drinks the rest of the iced tea, throws the empty tea box out (almost missing the bin in the process) and he’s ready to go. He’s hesitant about what his next move should be, so he pulls Jinyoung in for a quick kiss. “See you?”
“See you,” Jinyoung winks, unlocking the kitchen door before Jackson can even see his hands. “Now bye.”
Out Jackson goes, rushed through the back door. (Is that considered a modality of the walk of shame? Probably not, since there’s no one watching…) The last thing he hears from Jinyoung that day is a distant ‘Jaebumie hyung! You’re home early!’, and then, with the taste of slightly stale jjajangmyeon on his lips, Jackson goes home as a changed man.
twitter askfm comission info
Group: GOT7
Pairing: Jackson/Jr.
Rating: R
Length: 7,762 words
Warnings: ~Toys~, dick-to-face contact, abuse of parenthesis
Summary: At the club, Jackson picks a nice cute guy to lose his gay virginity with, but it turns out he really shouldn't have judged that particular book by its cover.
A/N: lo and behold, i now write got7 fic too
Jackson knows for a fact that he’s hot.
Of course, there are days he forgets; days he feels more lukewarm than hot, hair all up like a crow’s wings and face swollen in arbitrary places, but for the most of the time, he’s not half bad. When he’s all styled up like this, then? Hot. H-O-T, he affirms to himself as he catches sight of his own face in a closed shop’s show window.
“Hehe,” he chuckles to himself, pointlessly styling his hair before resuming his walk. “Nice! Yes!”
Indeed nice! He looks nice in black. He also looks nice in faux leather tank tops and baggy hip-hop pants (his “swaggy pants” as he likes to call them). He has somehow managed to tame his slightly unruly hair (he needs to get it cut…) and his bracelets compliment his muscular forearms. Doesn’t he look pretty good? He knows that many girls have been attracted to his style in the past, and he hopes that, today, it’ll work the same way for the boys.
Yes, you’ve read it right! Tonight, Jackson Wang is not seeking the attention of women. Upon entering adulthood, and thus starting to mature properly, Jackson start to slip further and further into homosexuality; first it was a ‘that dude has nice muscles’ at the gym, then a ‘that dude is pretty hot’ when watching TV, then ‘what’d be like kissing a dude’ on a certain Sunday afternoon, and downwards from there. Honestly, he’s okay with it. Despite his profuse usage of the words ‘dude’, ‘bro’, and ‘swag’, Jackson is not That sort of (supposedly) straight guy. He’s cool with all that.
Well, all that except one thing: he has yet to do the thing with a guy.
No, wait, not The Thing. Just, the general thing. (So not to say he has zero gay experience, he did kiss a male friend on the lips back in high school, and touched a few dicks. You know, high school boy stuff. Who even understands?) Like, flirting, seducing, serious kissing, serious dick-touching, then The Thing. He has done none of those. So, today, he’s chasing time. His heart is thrumming with excitement when he walks down the last block separating him from the nearest gay club (the only gay club according to some, the best according to others), and ah, he’s ready. He’s so ready.
There’s a line. Jackson scans the line. There are guys in the line. Jackson has to swallow his own excitement, which results in a mildly weird face. The bouncer stares, a bit alarmed. Jackson gets in line. Jackson waits…
Then, he’s in, and he’s thrice as thrilled as before, but he’s also - (heartbeat sound) - nervous. The bar is to his left, an ample counter with each one of its stools occupied, and the dance floor is to his right, not yet that packed, but promising to be so soon. Azaelia Banks is playing, and shit, he loves that song! He gotta go fast get his liquid courage fix before the song ends, so he rushes to the chips boot, landing rather luckily at the beginning of an already forming line.
“HELLO!” He greets the cashier with unnecessary loudness, startling the poor lady. To apologize, he smiles brilliantly, and silently offers a bill for her to exchange in chips. It works, and now the cashier is amused, smiling to herself as she gives him an (almost) literal fuckton of white paper chips. “Next!” she calls, and Jackson flees.
A minute later, there Jackson Wang is, cranking it up on the dance floor with a chilly cuba libre in hands. The barman went kinda heavy with the rum in this one, but Jackson does not care, as he is here to have a good time, no matter how much rum it might take. Around him, he doesn’t fail to notice, there are some cute guys dancing - some timidly, some unabashedly, some really turning it up with them moves - but most of them seem to be with someone already, or immersed in dancing with their friends, and Jackson might be shameless, but not to the point of barging into a crew to flirt. He’d have to wait, but Jackson is not a fan of waiting. Why is Jackson like this? I, myself, don’t know.
“Oh shit yes!” He yells when the first notes of Rihanna’s S&M echo through the speakers, and his voice is so loud that some guys actually turn around to look at him, either amused or surprised. Jackson misses the glances though, just concentrating in enjoying the song - Jesus, he loves that bass. It makes him want to move his hips till they fall off his body. And so he does.
He dances, he dances, he does body-waves and hip-thrusts and whatnot, not caring whether someone’s watching or not. Eventually, he needs a quick breath - not even athletes in top shape like himself can endure so much dance so suddenly - and, when he does, he turns around by chance, catching a glimpse of the bar.
There, he sees him.
It’s a blurry picture what he sees. He is far away in the comfort of a bar stool, sitting with his legs elegantly crossed, and it’s too dark for Jackson to make out any details, but he does see something and, honestly? He likes what he sees. Short black hair, light-colored capri pants, short-sleeve button-up shirt, a fancy drink in his hand. He looks… how can you say it? Dandy-esque. Elegant. There’s something delicate about his posture, and that’s one of Jackson’s ancient, fatal weaknesses.
I gotta talk to him, is what Jackson thinks. And then, as if by some kind of magic, the man’s gaze, once distractedly directed to his side, turns to the dance floor - and locks onto Jackson’s own stare.
Jackson feels the bass in his heart. God, he’s nervous. His palms are sweating. He’s staring. He keeps staring, so to show interest, but… now, what…?
The guy smiles.
He brings his fancy, fancy drink to his lips, smiling - smirking - to Jackson as he takes a sip. Jackson grins in response, biting his lip, body still moving unconsciously to Rihanna’s addictive hit song. He watches as the man drinks, tipping his head back as he slowly downs the cocktail, and then coming back forward just as slowly, staring at Jackson with the empty glass in his hands. The message is as clear as water.
Jackson wastes no time.
“Hi,” he greets as he hastily arrives at the man’s side, perhaps looking a little desperate, or eager, depending on the angle you’re looking from. “Can I get you a drink?”
From up close, the man is even prettier, shockingly so even. His face matches his general aura, with sharp eyes, but cute protruding ears and an adorable kittenish grin. Jackson’s heart leaps in general excitement.
“If you insist,” the man agrees coquettishly, finger tracing the rim of his empty glass absentmindedly. Oh man, his teeth are cute too… Jackson summons the barman immediately.
“What would you like?” He asks as the barman comes, hoping to God he’s speaking correctly because Korean is not his first language and he can’t really concentrate right now. Despite the apparent fierceness of the man’s eyes, they widen rather cutely when he looks at Jackson analytically, as if studying Jackson’s face now that he can see it more clearly.
“Four tequila shots,” He answers, and Jackson blinks in startle. “Two for me, two for you.”
Holy shit? Nevertheless, he passes the order forward. “Four tequila shots, please,” he yells a little, leaning over the counter to make sure the barman understands him. When he turns around to look at his beautiful stranger a little more, he’s chuckling. “Why are you laughing…?”
“You’re interesting,” he replies, propping his chin on his hand as he keeps eye contact. Ugh, he’s so cute. And hot. Cuhot? Hocu? Just sexy. “What’s your name?”
“Oh!! I’m Jackson Wang!” Jackson jumps up to greet him properly, offering him a hand to shake. His hand is amazingly soft and warm ugh. “And-and yours?”
“I’m Jinyoung,” he replies briefly, and his eyes transpire innocence, but his grin is… a little naughty to Jackson’s eyes. “Nice to meet you.” Their shots are ready.
It all goes downwards from there.
I didn’t mean to say they drink much, though. Sure enough, two shots of tequila can mess someone up a tad, but, as soon as they drink it up, Jackson invites Jinyoung to dance to the sound of Jennifer Lopez’ Booty, and Jinyoung, to Jackson’s delight, accepts a bit timidly. He’s not much of a dancer, as it is apparent, but he’s not at all bad; his hips move nicely. Very nicely. Oh man… Jackson’s teeth almost pierce through his lip as he pulls Jinyoung closer to himself, careful not to go too fast and fuck it all up.
Jinyoung laughs. His hands land on Jackson’s shoulders, as if holding him in place, and the smirk he shoots Jackson as they dance…
It’s not long before he’s There. My God, Jackson can feel the moment happening. They’re about to kiss. His own eyes are locked on Jinyoung’s lips, his pink, plush, soft-looking lips… he has to make the move. Jinyoung looks too reserved to do this kind of thing, and, well, Jackson got a fame of being pretty wild when it comes to this… he has to do it. He wants to do it.
So he does it.
When their lips make contact, Jackson’s heart leaps out of his chest - he’s been imagining this for a year or so now, how it’d feel to kiss another man, and he can’t think of a better way to have that first experience than with such a cute, nice boy as Jinyoung. When he licks Jinyoung’s lips, he tastes chapstick and alcohol; when their tongues make contact as the kiss deepens, he tastes heat.
Now, it doesn’t matter what song is playing anymore. Whatever plays, Jackson’s hips move in the rhythm of the beat, and Jinyoung follows his lead, their hips connected in constant grinding motions. Jackson’s hands are on Jinyoungs hips, and his naughty fingers find themselves just under the hem of Jinyoung’s shirt, touching, fleetingly, the soft skin underneath. One of Jinyoung’s hands stays on Jackson’s shoulder; the other one wanders, up Jackson’s neck, down Jackson’s chest, a finger tracing Jackson’s jaw and the same traveling down his stomach…
Despite being “in the lead” - they kiss and move at his pace - Jackson can’t help but notice… something about their situation.
And it’s more than just his slowly (but steadily) swelling cock.
“Jackson-sshi,” Jinyoung mewls after a particularly long, wet, horny kiss. “What do you say about us changing locations?” He looks almost reluctant to say that, looking up at Jackson with big, uncertain eyes. “Would you mind?”
“No,” Jackson strangles out almost instantly, heart once again drumming incessantly against his ribcage. This Is It. “Uh-where?”
“You get to decide,” Jinyoung tilts his head to the side, smiling, and Jackson senses something different about him. “My place or yours?”
Jackson thinks. He thinks of the convenience of going to his place… but he also thinks of the mess. Of the smallness of his studio-style flat. Did he remember to make his bed before leaving to the club…? … He can’t possibly take Jinyoung there.
“Yours,” Jackson declares, nodding, and he hopes this won’t sound rude because doesn’t it sound a little rude to you? But well, it doesn’t to Jinyoung, who merely grins in delight.
“Awesome.” As if by a magic trick, Jinyoung pulls out car keys from his back pocket. “I’ll drive.”
Sexually-charged drives are a pain to get through. Kissing at every red light is not enough. The heated looks are not enough. Jackson’s libido is on fire, burning to experience something new, and man, he just can’t wait to see a real life erection. (He has seen his own, and enough of the porn ones, and quite a number of limp penises in his locker-room experiences, but a hard one, all his to touch? Completely new.) Not to mention, Jinyoung’s ass. Oh my god Jinyoung’s ass what if he gets to touch it? Its naked flesh!? Sexually-charged drives really are horrible.
When they finally, finally! at last!!, reach Jinyoung’s apartment complex, Jackson is at half-mast, dying to touch, and completely ready.
“Oh wow,” Jinyoung yelps complimentary as Jackson pulls him closer first thing after climbing out of the car. “Now, aren’t you in a hurry?”
“Am I?” Jackson stills his movements, glancing at Jinyoung a bit anxiously. “Sorry.”
Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “I was joking, silly.” He holds Jackson by the chin and gives him a soft peck on the lips. “You’re so cute. Even if you do look like a straight boy,” he adds sardonically.
“Uh, I’m transitioning,” Jackson admits a bit shyly as Jinyoung guides him up the stairs. They tumble together down the hallway, a bit more tipsy than initially supposed, and Jinyoung frowns at him in questioningly. “I used to be straight. It’s, uh, with another man… it’s my first time actually…”
To Jackson’s own ears, admitting that makes him sound extremely foolish. Why did he say that!!
But then he looks at Jinyoung.
Jinyoung’s eyes…
“Oh my,” Jinyoung mutters, his face gleaming in delight. Delight? Hunger. Suddenly, Jinyoung doesn’t look all that demure anymore, and Jackson stares at him with wide eyes, sensing the atmosphere change, slightly scared of what he’s seeing. Key sounds. A lock clicks open. Jinyoung licks his lips. “Come in.”
Jackson blinks in slight confusion and takes a look around. There’s a door open right by his side. Oh! That’s probably Jinyoung’s apartment. Bowing slightly and muttering ‘excuse me’, Jackson does come in, slipping out of his high-tops with certain difficulty as he takes a look around. The place is sparsely furnished, and there’s a mattress in the living room instead of a proper couch, but he can’t find anything wrong with any of that. It sure looks way better than his own place.
“So, Jackson,” Jinyoung calls him from the hallway, and there’s something with how he says his name - mockingly? It sounds like he’s letting each syllable roll off his tongue leisurely. The ‘Jack-’ comes quickly, but the ‘-son’ melts and drips slowly from his lips. Jackson feels taunted. “Would you like something to drink? Maybe something to eat, or a shower?” Jinyoung leans on the kitchen counter, making an exaggerated, supposed-to-be-a-joke sexy pose. “Or would you like me?”
Jackson swallows. “Uh, some water would be nice? But, you,” he’s quick to clarify. He really doesn’t Jinyoung to misunderstand - he is top priority for Jackson at the moment.
To Jackson’s horror, Jinyoung cracks up in laughter. Oh no, has he fucked up? Has he ruined the mood? “Come here then,” Jinyoung beckons, puling Jackson by the front of his pants, and oh, he might not have ruined the mood after all… “I’ll get you what you want.”
Thirst quenched (the literal one, at least) and lips kissed swollen in the kitchen, Jackson is soon smoothly guided into a bedroom - Jinyoung’s, he suppose as he gets pushed onto a bed, and wait a minute, wasn’t he leading stuff just a while ago? Why is he being pushed around now? He pauses a little to think, and then notices Jinyoung hovering over him, and fuck, he looks like a literal apex predator.
“First time with a man…” Jinyoung recites in a murmur, hands working Jackson’s tank top up his chest and off his body. Jackson feels, well. Naked. More than usually. “Mm. Should I supposed you’ve never done anal, or…?”
Jackson sputters at the sudden question, feeling more and more naked by the second. He flushes a whole-face blush, and he can swear his chest is blushing too. “I, uh, like, I? No? I mean, not, like-”
“Have you been fucked before?, is what I mean,” Jinyoung clarifies with enviable coherence, hands on the waistband of Jackson’s pants, pulling down very, v e r y slowly. Now, Jackson can literally feel his thighs blush. Why is that even happening to him?
“No,” Jackson admits, not yet grasping the concept of what’s going on right now. He’s both so nervous and so turned on that he can’t help but just lying on bed a bit dazed, trying to recollect his thoughts. The delighted giggle Jinyoung emits makes it a little easier for him.
“A virgin,” Jinyoung coos, both mocking and celebratory, as he strips Jackson down to his boxer-briefs. “Donned in Calvin Klein, of all things. Feeling pretty lucky tonight.” Well, Jackson likes fancy underwear! So what! “I almost don’t want to take them off…” but he does take them off, and Jackson’s cock comes to a stand, turgid and veiny, in all of his glory. Jinyoung merely wraps his fingers around the shaft, but Jackson whimpers. He’s nervous. And eager.
“Why are you still dressed,” Jackson half-questions in his daze as he watches Jinyoung let go of his cock, get up from the bed, and walk to the nearest closet.
“Because I like these clothes,” Jinyoung chirps in response, and Jackson laughs a little at that. Jinyoung is a pretty fun person. (Both pretty fun and just pretty, he notices.) When he comes back onto the bed, where Jackson lies naked and expectant, he has a box in his hands. Jackson is… alarmed. “These are my toys,” Jinyoung declares innocently, and Jackson gasps.
His. Toys. Oh.
“Oh,” he echoes, and Jinyoung chuckles a little, pulling something out of the box: a… pair of handcuffs…? “I know these are scary-looking, specially since we just met,” Jinyoung reads his mind, cuffs dangling playfully from his finger, “but these are safe. You can easily slip out of them.” As a demonsration, Jinyoung clicks one cuff closed around his own wrists, and then removes it, still locked, by taking it off like a loop bracelet. The glance he shoots Jackson asks, see?, with the grace of a commercial spokesperson. “Wanna try?”
What are the chances this would end up with Jackson dead and gutted under Jinyoung’s mattress? Jackson is a fencing champion, and, honestly, modesty to hell, he’s in amazing shape. His hip’s strength is no joke. If all goes awry, he can probably kick Jinyoung unconscious… even if the idea does make him feel bad at the moment…
“Uh, sure,” he complies at last, and Jinyoung locks him up immediately, looking like a kid who just got to ride Santa’s sleigh. Well, at least now Jackson won’t have to worry with where to put his hands anymore…
“Let me tell you this,” Jinyoung starts, finally! at last!, unbuttoning his own shirt, and making a whole burlesque show out of it. Why is Jinyoung so! Calm! Patient! Slow! “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. Even if I think you’re just teasing me, I’ll stop, so don’t be scared. Okay?” Jackson nods, a bit flustered. That actually brings him some relief. Jinyoung is nice… “Well, even if I didn’t, you could just snap my neck broken with those thighs, couldn’t you?”
!! “I wouldn’t,” Jackson quickly assures him.
“Oh, but I almost want you to,” Jinyoung snickers maliciously, giving Jackson’s thigh a firm, appreciative slap, and Jackson groans. Shit, that kinda hurt, but… “Now,” after what feels like exactly ten years and six months, Jinyoung sheds off his shirt, revealing a smooth, slender torso, vulnerable-looking and nothing like the Jinyoung Jackson is seeing right now. “Let’s start working on you…”
What happens next happens too fast.
Jackson sees a bottle. He also sees condom, and hey, nice, safety first, but what he sees next sends a cold thrill straight to his crotch. Along with ‘hard dick other than my own’ in the list of things Jackson has seen enough in porn but never in real life is this.
A butt plug. A glass, transparent butt plug.
His eyes widen.
“I,” he starts the sentence, but can’t really get any words out. His mind is a mess. The languages are entangling. “I-this-”
“Don’t tell me it won’t fit,” Jinyoung commands, pouting slightly, but voice firm and unexpectedly domineeringly. “It’s not that big, Jackson-sshi. Look,” he lands the butt plug on Jackson’s crotch, putting it beside his dick for comparison. “It’s the same size as your dick. And if your dick can fit, and I assure you it can,” Jinyoung grins naughtily. “Then this can too.”
Jackson has no arguments. His dick pulsates. “Yeah,” he nods, at a loss of words. “Yeah. I, uh… be careful, please…”
Jinyoung makes an endeared expression at him, hands working on putting a condom over the plug. “I will,” Jinyoung assures him, bending over to plant a peck on Jackson’s cheek. Jackson, dizzy with nervousness and tequila, goes limp for a second, glancing half-heartedly at the ceiling as he hears strange sounds coming from where Jinyoung is. He’s ready. He has been ready for a while-
Something probes against his entrance, and he jumps.
“Shh,” Jinyoung appeases him with a hand on his inner thigh, giggling. “It’s just a finger.” Jackson feels strangely reassured by that, and tries to relax again, even if the sensation is, predictably, strange. “Did you clean up for me, Jackson-sshi?”
Jackson is a bit confused. Is Jinyoung asking him if he showered before leaving home? He did! Does he stink? Or is he asking about drugs or something like artificial food preservatives? He’s been on a lemon juice detox for two days now! (Even though he did break it by drinking at the club…)
“I… yeah?” Seems like Jackson’s current vocabulary is composed by ten words max. “Yes?”
Jinyoung’s finger slips further in. “Good boy,” Jinyoung mutters, a hint of excitement in his voice. “You’re so naughty, Jackson-sshi…” (Jackson is confused. Is he good or naughty? His Christmas present depends on this diagnosis. Regardless…)
“Feels… nice,” Jackson sighs as Jinyoung stretches him with one finger, inserting it all the way in, and then pulling out. “I’ve… I’ve done it with two. Two can fit.”
Jinyoung bursts in laughter. It’s a rather candid laugh, with his eyes wrinkling in a weird way, and Jackson is surprised to see this human ball of sexy suddenly laugh so honestly. “You sure are straightforward,” Jinyoung comments, laughter slowly fading. “So you’ve fingered yourself before. But you’re straight. If I catch you before you leave tomorrow morning, you’ll tell me everything.”
“Understood,” Jackson nods feverishly as Jinyoung works a second finger into him. The fit is tight - Jackson can feel the stretch very clearly, and it makes him float in a vague cloud of anxiousness a little, because he has wanted this for so long that he has started to desire the pain as well. Even if it scares him a little. “Ah, this feels good.”
“Does it?” Jinyoung asks rhetorically, licking his lips as he fingers Jackson absentmindedly. (His hands move so fluidly, so dexterously… how many times has Jinyoung done this? How many cherry boys like Jackson himself has Jinyoung fucked in his life?) “Good. You’re so tight, Jackson-sshi. I need to stretch you a little more,” pop!, the fingers are out. “May I?”
It’s the plug. Jinyoung has the glass butt plug in his clean hand. Jackson is scared to death that his asshole will rip open, but he won’t bail out now. He definitely won’t. So he nods emphatically. “Yes,” he gasps, taking deep breaths to calm down. “Bring it on.”
Jinyoung snickers, and he starts to insert the plug into him.
The stretch… the stretch is… there’s no denying that there’s a little of pain to it. There’s pain, and discomfort at the very specific feeling of his anus being stretched by a foreign object, but… (perhaps Jackson is a pervert. He must be a pervert, because, just knowing what he’s doing - just knowing that he has a slick, transparent plug sliding into him, stretching him ready for a cock, is enough for him to forget how to breathe. Just knowing how he looks to Jinyoung’s eyes - like a straight-looking boy splayed on a mattress, ravished and handcuffed, desperate to have his ass pounded - is enough to make him arch his back and moan, even though it burns, even though it hurts… or maybe, because it burns, and because it hurts.)
“Oh my God,” he whimpers as the plug slides deeper and deeper into his ass, and he takes a huge gulp of air when he feels it go all the way in, his asshole swallowing it all, the base coming to rest between his buttocks. “Yes, oh yes.”
“You’re taking it so well, baby,” Jinyoung whispers, reaching for Jackson’s chin and kissing him. This time, they kiss at Jinyoung’s pace; dirty, at leisure, like a waltz under the moonlight (if people waltzed naked and touched each other sexually while doing it). Despite being slow, though, it’s not a gentle kiss, at all. Between the grazing teeth and the insistent pressing of lips, once they part, Jackson feels his lips swell even more. He’s gonna make a comment about it, about how he want another kiss, or how he doesn’t feel any pain anymore, but, just when he’s in the middle of choosing the words, Jinyoung starts pulling the plug out - and jams it back in.
“Fuck,” Jackson yelps, body contorting at the feeling, breath knocked out of his lungs. “Fuckuguhfmmm again please Jinyoung-ah once again…”
Jinyoung complies, chuckling to himself in great enjoyment. “Cute,” he comments, casually fucking Jackson with the plug, in and out, in and out, and watching Jackson twitch and pant. “I’ll call you just Jackson. Or should I call you hyung? How old are you?”
Jackson almost replies with ‘Hong Kong’. He catches his breath when Jinyoung slows down a little, gyrating the plug inside him while waiting for an answer. “Tw… twenty one. Or two? Aah, I don’t really know right now.”
Jinyoung smirks. “Sorry.” He slowly pulls the plug all the way out, and not-so-slowly pushes it back all the way in. “I’ll just call you whatever I want then.”
Honestly Jinyoung could call him David Guetta and Jackson would not mind one single bit at the moment. His cock is hard, and the wet noises made by the plug as it fucks his ass are driving him mad. He doesn’t care if he’s ready or not. He needs more. Now.
“Okay, okay, I,” he starts off, licking his lips with misplaced hesitation. “I’m ready. I don’t need it anymore.”
For the first time since their met, Jinyoung looks genuinely surprised. He doesn’t smile. “Really?” He blinks, eyes slightly wider. “I was supposed to go up a size…”
Shit, now what? The prospect of a bigger plug is quite tempting to Jackson… but if he doesn’t come anytime soon, he’s gonna go crazy (like, seriously), and when he left his house that night he was determined to have an orgasm with an actual cock inside of him. You don’t understand. Jackson is a man in a mission.
“I’m ready,” Jackson reassures him, feeling his arms start to go numb, but unwilling to slip out of the handcuff. “Please fuck me, Jinyoung. Please. Fuck me with your dick,” Jackson clarifies, since, well, using a dildo or a butt plug or whatever is still fucking…
Jinyoung sucks in a breath, popping the plug back in, leaving it there for the time being. “Patience, little one,” he mutters, finally, finally getting rid of his belt. “Or not so little one,” he adds, stirring his tongue playfully at Jackson as his thin fingers wrap around his hard, so far neglected cock. Jackson gapes. Oh God. “Poor baby. Have I been mean to you, Jackson-ah?” He asks as his hand pumps Jackson’s cock once, twice, thrice.
You’re being mean right now by asking me this, is what Jackson thinks, but he wouldn’t have a good enough grasp on the Korean language to say that coherently when sober, imagine right now. “Noooo,” he whines as Jinyoung’s palms rub the swollen head of his erection deftly. “Nnnnooooooooo, pleeeaseee,” coherence is long, long lost.
That, however, seems to be the correct answer. Jinyoung sighs, obvious pleased, and kneels up, hands letting go of Jackson’s cock (Jackson mewls quietly at the loss) to start working on the buttons of his pants. Jackson watches him, fingers slipping a little when undoing the first one, and, when he moves to the second (and last) one, Jackson decides to do something cute for him; he lifts a foot and rubs his toes on Jinyoung’s bulge, feeling the volume through the fabric. Jinyoung moans, tilting his head back.
“Mmm, yes,” he purrs, thrusting his hips forward slightly, and Jackson flushes a bit because wow that’s so… weird… but… Jackson spreads his toes, tracing the line of Jinyoung’s cock. Jinyoung chuckles, pleased and amused. “Oh, Jackson, you really are something.” He lowers a finger to Jackson’s bare foot, and, with the very tip of his fingernail, traces a line from his toe to his ankle, making Jackson shiver and twitch and gasp.
But then, at last, he grabs Jackson’s leg and lowers it to the mattress, at the same time that he zips his pants open. “You were good to me, baby,” Jinyoung compliments, slowly pulling the hem of his pants, and underwear, lower and lower. Jackson’s mouth waters. It’s time. It’s finally time. “I think you deserve a reward.”
Jackson is so ready he’s sweating. Literally.
Jinyoung does not perform a strip-tease for Jackson (which is both a relief and a disappointment) but, once again, Jackson is hung up on how expertly Jinyoung just shrugs out of his pants like he has done this, all of this, a billion of times. Like he has been in that exact position a billion of times. And, judging by how Jinyoung had played Jackson so flawlessly, from the moment they met in the club till this, he certainly has. (Jackson is guessing he’s got a stroke game crafted by the gods. He absolutely can’t wait to test it out.)
All thoughts are interrupted when Jinyoung comes down to lick Jackson’s abdomen - the hot tongue feels scorching against the sweaty skin, and the cooling saliva makes all of Jackson’s hairs stand on their ends. Jinyoung crawls forward like a panther, gaze locked with Jackson’s own, and he comes to kneel right in front of Jackson’s face, knees beside Jackson’s exposed armpits. A hand finds its place gently combing Jackson’s hair, but he barely register that.
What he does register is: Dick. Dick On His Face.
Oh my god, the dick is half-hard. It’s flushed, it’s long, it’s thick. Its head is glistening with the moisture of precum. Jackson wants to - oh God, what does he even want to do first? - putting his hands on it is impossible right not so… mouth? Cheeks? Whole face?
“Slap me,” Jackson begs before he can even process his own words, driven to senseless behavior by his lust for penises. “Jinyoung-ah, slap me with it.”
A pause. A small pause, and then Jinyoung laughs, and the laugh Jinyoung lets out is one of disbelief. “You nasty one, you!” He says it like both criticism and compliment as his hand takes a flimsy hold of his cock, holding the tip with all but two fingers, then he raises it up to his belly… and lets go, letting it fall heavily on Jackson’s cheek. It hurts. It’s moist. Jackson moans breathily, biting his lip. “Is that what you want, Jackson-ah? Aren’t you a bit slutty?”
“I’m a slut,” Jackson admits as Jinyoung rubs the slit along his jawline. What can he say? He’s a slut. A natural-born one, at that. He breathes heavily when Jinyoung’s cock taps him on the face several times, on the cheeks and chin, and, when the head of said cock comes up to trace his lips, he groans and immediately darts his tongue out to lick, to taste.
“Oh, Jackson…” Jinyoung moans, his eyes falling shut from the pleasure, and oh fuck, this is the most vulnerable Jinyoung has looked since they started making out, and this is incredibly hot. Jackson licks more enthusiastically, not discerning any tastes more than vaguely ‘hot flesh’ and ‘wet’, trying to coax more of the shaft into his mouth just to feel satisfied. As if reading his mind, Jinyoung thrusts forward, giving Jackson enough cock for him to choke and suck and play with for a while. “You really are a slut, baby, and I love it,” Jinyoung’s hand falls to Jackson’s hair, caressing it, subtly pushing Jackson’s head forward to meet the slight movement of his hips.
“Mmphm,” is how Jackson replies, saliva already threatening to spill from the sides of his stretched lips. Once he gets used to the invasion, though, he does not waste a single second.
Jackson has never practiced with a dildo, or a banana, or anything like that, but he has googled some stuff. He has read about one trick or two, and even though he doesn’t have the practice, he has the dedication. So he puts his tongue to work, licking the underside of Jinyoung’s cock when he bobs his head up and down (or as up and as down he can without his hands to give him leverage), pushing it in a piston motion as he hollows his cheeks around the flesh, pressing it flat on the underside of the shaft as Jinyoung lazily moves his hips back and forward… at a point, Jackson looks up, rather nervously, to see if Jinyoung is pleased at any of his tricks, only to find Jinyoung looking back at him with lust, then rolling his eyes and moaning.
“Fuck, look at you,” he curses, grabbing Jackson’s chin and pulling all of his cock out. “You’re telling me this is your first time with a guy, but you suck dick like you have it for your three meals a day. Did you lie to me, Jackson-ah? I promise I won’t be mad,” he adds with a wicked smile.
“This is really my first time!” Jackson assures in a loud voice, and it’s audible how his voice is slightly, very slightly scratchy now. “You like it?”
“I give you an A… A-minus, actually,” Jinyoung winks at him, touching himself, and Jackson frowns sadly. “I like to leave some room for improvement,” he adds, licking the corner of Jackson’s mouth kittenishly. (Jackson is confused, once again. So he likes it? Well, he’s hard as he can be right now, so he must like it…) “Now,” Jinyoung mutters, hopping off the bed, walking around it, and reassuming his initial position, between Jackson’s spread thighs. “I believe I left something here.”
Jackson feels something move inside of him, and he growls in surprise. The plug. It’s still inside him!! Well, for a short time at least; slowly and deliberately, Jinyoung pulls the plug out, leaving Jackson clenching at the loss, at the weird feeling of emptiness.
“I wish you could see this,” Jinyoung looks up at him with a grin. “You’re gaping. It’s all stretched out,” he takes one last thing out of the box; another condom, which he’s quick to unwrap and put around himself. “All ready for me…” he muses, licking his lips as he glances down at Jackson’s hole, and then up to gaze into Jackson’s eyes. Jackson, despite himself, blushes. Jinyoung goes for the lube bottle one more time, coats himself quickly, and positions himself. (Jackson’s heart misses a beat. That’s it. It’s time. And he’s completely, absolutely ready.)
“You ready, pumpkin?” Jinyoung asks somewhat mockingly, and Jackson nods immediately, frantic, thirsty (metaphorically speaking. Maybe literally speaking too? But that’s for later). When the tip probes at the entrance, Jackson tenses up instinctively. “Sshh,” Jinyoung coos, running a hand up and down one of Jackson’s muscular thighs in what could be a comforting manner. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
That said, Jinyoung puts it all in, without waiting, without pausing, and Jackson cannot breathe anymore.
Holy fucking shit.
“Too fast?” Jinyoung cocks his head to the side, and he knows. He knows. “Sorry, love. You’re so slick that I didn’t think it’d hurt-”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Jackson interrupts him, and it does hurt. It does. The thing is: Jackson doesn’t mind. “It doesn’t hurt. Come on.” Oops, his English just slipped out. “Please, just-”
Jinyoung slams into him. He screams. Oh fuck. There. It. Is.
“So tight,” Jinyoung comments in bliss, pulling out slow, and then slamming in again. “How are you so tight, Jackson? Virgin boys are the best,” he bites his lips, swinging his hips back and forth, and Jackson allows himself a wrecked laugh. Jinyoung is a fucking pervert. (Look who’s talking.) Jinyoung suddenly pulls it all out, and leans forward, leading Jackson to momentarily wonder if he shouldn’t have laughed. However, instead of scolding or even slapping him (oh-la-la…) Jinyoung undoes the handcuffs that had been locking Jackson’s arms up his head. Blood rushes back to the limbs, but Jackson has no time to relish in that sensation.
“Flip over,” Jinyoung commands, and Jackson, with certain difficulty, does so. His cock presses against the mattress, hot, hard, heavy. “On your knees.” Jinyoung asks, Jinyoung has. That feels strangely erotic to Jackson, having his ass up in the air like he’s handing an offering to a deity. He feels hands on his buttocks, and whimpers. “Your ass looks delicious, Jackson-ah,” Jinyoung compliments as his cock slides back inside Jackson, pushing through the tight muscles, making Jackson twitch in pleasure. “I should’ve taken some time to eat you out.”
Oh my fucking god Jackson is gonna die. “Jinyoung-ah,” he moans, hand finding his own cock and pumping it at a steady rhythm.
“Hands off,” Jinyoung suddenly tears Jackson’s hands away from where it was, twisting Jackson’s arm and pining it behind Jackson’s back. “No touching.”
“But-Jinyoung,” Jackson pleads as Jinyoung fucks into him, hips rolling fluidly, driving him crazy.
“No buts.” Jackson is gonna cry. “No touching. Understood?”
“Yes.” Jackson does sound like he’s gonna cry, whiny, breathless, desperate. “Yes, please, I’m sorry.”
Jinyoung grinds. Jackson sobs. “Good boy.” (The suppositions about Jinyoung’s stroke were completely, utterly right. Oh. My God.)
Jinyoung’s pace is relentless; not the quickest, not the hardest, but constant, no pauses. He does long draws, quick ones, deep thrusts, and Jackson is honestly questioning why he took so long to come out, because fuck, if he had met a guy like Jinyoung and got fucked like this back then, he would want nothing but cock, cock, cock all day long. He gets off on the feeling of being stuffed, of having his hole stretched; it just turns him on, madly so even, and he needs nothing else but Jinyoung quickening his pace to make him feel like he’s floating.
“Oh my God,” he groans, and that was English, wasn’t that? Shit. “Fuck, fuck, please fuck me harder, please, I need to come.”
“Hghnn, fuck,” Jinyoung hisses, jamming it in particularly hard; when Jackson glances back to look at him, his eyes are half-lidded, dark with lust. “This-whatever you said, it’s so fucking hot. Say it again.”
Oh shit, so Jackson really has been speaking in tongues. What now? What had he said? He improvises. “You know how to fuck me hard, don’t you, Jinyoung,” he tries in Mandarin, feeling like a major idiot, but hey: anything that gets that look on Jinyoung’s face, and gets Jinyoung to fuck him harder, is worth the embarrassment. “I like your cock so much I wish I could bring it home with me. I’d fuck myself with it every day. Oh god, I sound like a tool right now, I can’t think straight.” He takes a breather, his cheeks warm and flushed, and turns to Jinyoung to ask, “You like it?”
“Yes,” Jinyoung replies elusively, but his voice, low and unstable, says everything for him. “Go on.”
“Fucking pervert. You’re so cute though,” it’s Cantonese now, and sweat starts to drip down Jackson’s neck. “You said you liked my ass, well. See this ass?” Propping himself on his shoulders, Jackson puts his hands on his buttocks and spreads them apart, and fuck he just heard Jinyoung moan rather loudly and divinely. “It’s all for you, baby. Fuck me in a way I won’t forget.”
“Fucking hell,” Jinyoung curses, leaning forward, pulling Jackson by the hair to kiss him - and, once their lips meet, he starts fucking Jackson like a beast. “You’re so hot, babe,” he compliments breathlessly once they part, letting go of Jackson’s hair to put a hand around his cock instead. Jackson lets out a drawn-out, high pitched moan, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck he’s so close fuck. “Shit, you’re gonna make me come…”
“Oh my God Jinyoung I-” Jackson has his own crisis to manage, his orgasm starting to show its colors inside him, words and moans and gasps spilling from his lips uncontrollably. And then, Jinyoung squeezes his cock, and strokes, once, twice, thrice. “Fuck, I’m coming, fuck, fuck!!”
Jackson comes like a volcano. All of his limbs quiver violently, threatening to rob him from his balance, and it’s like his lungs are being squeezed empty by his own ribcage. By the time that he’s riding his way down from the orgasm, sperm sprayed on the bed beneath his body in thick dollops, the very tip of his fingers feel cold. He has no idea why. And he just feels so satisfied, lazy even, with the way Jinyoung's pounding becomes harsher, irregular, and, with a low, long-drawn moan, slower and slower…
“God,” Jinyoung sighs when he finally pulls out, lying Jackson down on the bed a bit clumsily before busying himself with tying up the condom and throwing it away. “Welcome to sodomy, I guess,” he jokes once he falls to the bed, almost landing on top of Jackson as he lies down.
It’s the last thing Jackson hears before passing out. Symbolic.
When Jackson wakes up in the following morning, he’s slightly sore, a whole lot sticky, and extremely thirsty.
Conscience doesn’t come to him as quickly as it usually would; he slowly, sluggishly starts by acknowledging that he’s alive, that his name is Jackson and that he’s (most probably than not) an human being. He then opens his eyes, blinking as sunshine hits them a bit too brutally, and turns around to try to recognize his surroundings. A neat white room… a small closet… where is he?... then he turns to look at the other side, catches a glimpse of Jinyoung sleeping and it all clicks.
Right. Jinyoung. Sex. Okay, it all makes sense now.
Jinyoung looks cute when he’s sleeping, Jackson concludes upon a second glance at him. He looks like… a small child, perhaps, or a pet, with his eyes peacefully shut and his plush lips falling slightly open. Jackson shifts on the bed, with intentions of finding a better position to watch Jinyoung from, but, unfortunately, he moves a bit too much to the left or something, causing Jinyoung to stir awake.
Either Jinyoung is a light sleeper or Jackson is too clumsy. (Evidence points towards the latter). Regardless… it takes a few moments for Jinyoung to truly awaken, during which he stretches inelegantly and frowns a little. How can someone so cute be like that in bed?, is the only thing that Jackson The Sinner thinks as he watches, and waits, in a sense.
Jinyoung opens his eyes. He blinks. (His face is so swollen…) When his eyes finally focus and he recognizes Jackson’s face, his slips slowly, ssslllooowwwllly, curve into a grin.
“Hello,” he mutters, and for some reason Jackson’s heart does a thing. “Shower and breakfast?”
“Shower and breakfast!” Jackson almost pumps his fist up.
After brushing his teeth with a cotton swab (life hacks dot com), washing his face to try to get his handsome back on, and a shower that’s equal parts washing and chaste kissing (or not-so-chaste after all), Jackson finds himself sitting on Jinyoung’s kitchen counter, drinking some iced green tea and eyeing Jinyoung’s own breakfast - cold jjajangmyeon leftovers and lime soda - with both disgust and envy.
“So, Jackson,” Jinyoung calls ater a while of senseless chitchatting, during which Jackson had told him about being a fencing athlete, and he told Jackson about being an university student. “You said something about being an,” air quotes in action, “ex-straight guy. Or something like that. Didn’t you?”
“Ah, well,” Jackson scratches his forearm uneasily. Why is he uneasy though? “I used to date girls and all. But then… life? I don’t know. I decided to,” he makes a grand gesture with his hands. “Broaden my horizons.”
Jinyoung laughs. “Very well,” he nods, eating one more mouthful of the jjajangmyeon, which looks like it has been in the fridge for at least one whole week, but well… “How are your horizons now?” His mouth is full why is he talking… Jackson is a bit distracted. Jinyoung swallows. “Broad enough for you to give me your number, perhaps?”
Jackson is about to say something - he’s still deciding between ‘yes’ and ‘don’t speak with your mouth full!’ - when both of them hear a clinking sound of keys, and Jinyoung jumps.
“Shit, my roommate,” he curses, looking genuinely alarmed as he downs the rest of the food into his mouth. Amazing… a world record of how much one can store in their cheeks, really. “Scschhellhone,” Jinyoung makes grabby hands at Jackson, who, miraculously, understands, and passes him his cellphone. Beep beep beep, go Jinyoung’s fingers as he types something, and Jinyoung’s roommate must be really slow because it’s been a while that he’s been clinking the keys… Jinyoung swallows and passes Jackson his phone. “Okay, done. I’ll call you, okay?”
“Okay,” Jackson jumps off the counter, drinks the rest of the iced tea, throws the empty tea box out (almost missing the bin in the process) and he’s ready to go. He’s hesitant about what his next move should be, so he pulls Jinyoung in for a quick kiss. “See you?”
“See you,” Jinyoung winks, unlocking the kitchen door before Jackson can even see his hands. “Now bye.”
Out Jackson goes, rushed through the back door. (Is that considered a modality of the walk of shame? Probably not, since there’s no one watching…) The last thing he hears from Jinyoung that day is a distant ‘Jaebumie hyung! You’re home early!’, and then, with the taste of slightly stale jjajangmyeon on his lips, Jackson goes home as a changed man.
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