Three Years On and the Game Still Plays
Author: tryslora
Title: Three Years On and the Game Still Plays
Rating: very hard R
Pairing/s: Jackson/Danny
Character/s: Jackson, Danny, OCs
Summary: It’s been three years since Jackson went to London, but the game hasn’t changed. Jackson will prove that Danny’s still his.
Warnings: references S3x01 notes about Jackson, Jackson is kind of an asshole (what else is new), public frotting
Word Count: 755
Prompt: #21 - Jealousy
Author's Notes: I was going to write something a lot lighter, then Jackson started this and well, I just went along with it. Jackson’s a bit of a force of nature sometimes. And an asshole. Also, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, I just like to take them out to play.
Jackson knows when Danny’s watching him. Mostly because Danny’s always watching him.
It’s part of the fun of playing wingman at the Jungle, knowing that he’ll get off, and Danny will be watching every move he makes, trying to pretend that he’s not jealous.
Yeah, Jackson’s an ass, even to his best friend, but he’s pretty sure Danny loves it. He keeps dragging Jackson out, after all.
Jackson’s on the dance floor with two guys-blokes-one grinding against his ass, the other in front of him. He grins and says something, anything really, just to use the accent he’s been practicing for the last three years in London. It’s his first time home since he left and it amuses him how people fall all over him just for the accent alone. Between that and losing his shirt, these two stay glued close to him.
He glances across the floor and catches Danny’s eye, tilts his head in invitation. Danny’s expression sours and he turns back to the dude he’s with, pulling him closer.
Jackson bites back a growl because that is not how things work at the Jungle.
It may have been years since he has been here, but he has come back to the States for Danny, not to be ignored. It seems like Danny has forgotten how the game is played.
Jackson wraps his arm around the one dude, shifting his hips as he fits them together. The guy grinds against him; Jackson loves the low moan. He loves to play people, loves to make them react. Loves to smell the arousal even when they’re trying not to be interested. Jackson has all the strength, all the power, and he uses it. They all want him.
Even Danny.
He can feel Danny’s gaze on him, and he listens for that familiar heartbeat, hears how it quickens when Jackson wedges his leg in between the guy’s legs and gives him something to rock against on the floor. Jackson drops his head, mouth wet on the guys throat, and the other dude presses in closer behind him, grinding hard against his ass.
Danny’s heart races, and when Jackson peeks, he sees Danny staring at him. At them. At the way Jackson’s hand is full of hot ass, at the way the guy’s head tips back, giving Jackson everything as he shivers on the edge. Jackson grins and Danny scowls.
He looks away. Again.
So he’s going to play it that way.
“Back room,” Jackson murmurs, and the three of them manage to wind their way off the dance floor. He knows Danny watches them go and he throws a grin at him just to tweak the green monster.
Jackson is surprised how long it takes before the door pushes open. He wraps an arm around Danny, pulling him against Jackson’s chest, fitting back to front. Jackson’s hand falls to Danny’s hip, toys with the edge of his jeans as he leans back against the door, blocking it closed.
Across the room, the other two men are completely involved in each other, performing for Jackson, and Jackson wants Danny to watch.
“You were jealous,” he whispers, teeth sharp against Danny’s shoulder.
“You’re not my type,” Danny responds, voice tight, body taut. Jackson knows different, his hand skating across to where the hard ridge is tight against Danny’s jeans. He has always known this, from the time they were teenagers, and he first teased Danny about wanting him after he came out.
“I’m everyone’s type.” Jackson’s teeth close over tender skin, tongue teasing at it as he presses the heel of his palm against Danny’s erection. “They’d do anything for me. And I’m going to do this for you.”
It doesn’t take long before Danny shudders, and Jackson laps up the scent of completion from his skin. It’s not the act Jackson craves, but the knowledge that even after three years of absence, he owns Danny, body and soul, and he always will. “Miss me?” he murmurs against Danny’s throat.
“Fuck you,” Danny retorts without heat.
Jackson’s smile quirks. “Clean up. I want to dance.”
Warmth suffuses to him when Danny does exactly what he says, and they head back out to the dance floor. Jackson only has a week to spend here, and he will play the game as often as he needs, as long as he gets what he wants: to always come first for Danny. No matter what, no matter who else is in their lives, Jackson needs to know Danny is his.
Title: Three Years On and the Game Still Plays
Rating: very hard R
Pairing/s: Jackson/Danny
Character/s: Jackson, Danny, OCs
Summary: It’s been three years since Jackson went to London, but the game hasn’t changed. Jackson will prove that Danny’s still his.
Warnings: references S3x01 notes about Jackson, Jackson is kind of an asshole (what else is new), public frotting
Word Count: 755
Prompt: #21 - Jealousy
Author's Notes: I was going to write something a lot lighter, then Jackson started this and well, I just went along with it. Jackson’s a bit of a force of nature sometimes. And an asshole. Also, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, I just like to take them out to play.
Jackson knows when Danny’s watching him. Mostly because Danny’s always watching him.
It’s part of the fun of playing wingman at the Jungle, knowing that he’ll get off, and Danny will be watching every move he makes, trying to pretend that he’s not jealous.
Yeah, Jackson’s an ass, even to his best friend, but he’s pretty sure Danny loves it. He keeps dragging Jackson out, after all.
Jackson’s on the dance floor with two guys-blokes-one grinding against his ass, the other in front of him. He grins and says something, anything really, just to use the accent he’s been practicing for the last three years in London. It’s his first time home since he left and it amuses him how people fall all over him just for the accent alone. Between that and losing his shirt, these two stay glued close to him.
He glances across the floor and catches Danny’s eye, tilts his head in invitation. Danny’s expression sours and he turns back to the dude he’s with, pulling him closer.
Jackson bites back a growl because that is not how things work at the Jungle.
It may have been years since he has been here, but he has come back to the States for Danny, not to be ignored. It seems like Danny has forgotten how the game is played.
Jackson wraps his arm around the one dude, shifting his hips as he fits them together. The guy grinds against him; Jackson loves the low moan. He loves to play people, loves to make them react. Loves to smell the arousal even when they’re trying not to be interested. Jackson has all the strength, all the power, and he uses it. They all want him.
Even Danny.
He can feel Danny’s gaze on him, and he listens for that familiar heartbeat, hears how it quickens when Jackson wedges his leg in between the guy’s legs and gives him something to rock against on the floor. Jackson drops his head, mouth wet on the guys throat, and the other dude presses in closer behind him, grinding hard against his ass.
Danny’s heart races, and when Jackson peeks, he sees Danny staring at him. At them. At the way Jackson’s hand is full of hot ass, at the way the guy’s head tips back, giving Jackson everything as he shivers on the edge. Jackson grins and Danny scowls.
He looks away. Again.
So he’s going to play it that way.
“Back room,” Jackson murmurs, and the three of them manage to wind their way off the dance floor. He knows Danny watches them go and he throws a grin at him just to tweak the green monster.
Jackson is surprised how long it takes before the door pushes open. He wraps an arm around Danny, pulling him against Jackson’s chest, fitting back to front. Jackson’s hand falls to Danny’s hip, toys with the edge of his jeans as he leans back against the door, blocking it closed.
Across the room, the other two men are completely involved in each other, performing for Jackson, and Jackson wants Danny to watch.
“You were jealous,” he whispers, teeth sharp against Danny’s shoulder.
“You’re not my type,” Danny responds, voice tight, body taut. Jackson knows different, his hand skating across to where the hard ridge is tight against Danny’s jeans. He has always known this, from the time they were teenagers, and he first teased Danny about wanting him after he came out.
“I’m everyone’s type.” Jackson’s teeth close over tender skin, tongue teasing at it as he presses the heel of his palm against Danny’s erection. “They’d do anything for me. And I’m going to do this for you.”
It doesn’t take long before Danny shudders, and Jackson laps up the scent of completion from his skin. It’s not the act Jackson craves, but the knowledge that even after three years of absence, he owns Danny, body and soul, and he always will. “Miss me?” he murmurs against Danny’s throat.
“Fuck you,” Danny retorts without heat.
Jackson’s smile quirks. “Clean up. I want to dance.”
Warmth suffuses to him when Danny does exactly what he says, and they head back out to the dance floor. Jackson only has a week to spend here, and he will play the game as often as he needs, as long as he gets what he wants: to always come first for Danny. No matter what, no matter who else is in their lives, Jackson needs to know Danny is his.