Fic: Three Times is a Pattern (Stiles/Jackson)
Title: Three Times is a Pattern
Characters/Pairings: Stiles/Jackson
Rating: Adult
Summary: This is the third time Jackson has approached Stiles in the shower. Once is chance, twice is coincidence, but three times is a pattern. Obviously, Stiles has to ask what exactly is happening between them.
Word Count: 2840
Warnings: Alternate Universe
Author’s Notes: Written for Foxerica based on the prompt: Stiles/Jackson + "I know you said you're not gay, but dude, this is the third blow job in a week. I think we should talk."
The tile is damp from the steamy water spraying overheard. Stiles can feel his fingers sliding over the smooth surface, trying to get purchase but failing. There’s nothing to grab onto or to hold, and he’s having trouble standing up the further gone he gets. When he feels his back start to slide, he reaches in front of him to grip short hair and broad shoulders so he can keep his balance. A low rumble reminds him he’s not supposed to touch, but he doesn’t really like the idea of getting his dick bit off, either, so he ignores it.
Fortunately, Jackson keeps sucking, even though Stiles broke the ‘no touching’ rule, so it’s all good. He can feel the muscles beneath his fingertips, tense and strong, hard. Stiles arches his hips off the tile wall, burying more of his dick into Jackson’s mouth. There’s gagging and a gulp before he feels Jackson pull off. He looks down into bright blue eyes that are narrowed in warning, but neither of them say anything. That’s another rule. No talking.
Stiles shifts his weight, watching his erection bob around and brush against Jackson’s face, leaving a trail of pre-come glistening on the curve of his jaw. There’s a deep noise that sounds almost like a growl before Jackson attacks, sucking it back into his mouth, going even deeper. Stiles is so close, has been since his shower was interrupted and his disk was sucked down before he could even figure out what was going on. Jackson’s really good at this, knows exactly how much suction makes Stiles whine, knows how to knead his balls and how to use just enough teeth to drive him wild. It’s not Stiles’ fault that he’s a teenage boy who can’t really control himself when faced with a hot guy like Jackson sucking his cock.
When Jackson actually manages to take his entire length, nose brushing against wiry pubic hair, Stiles gasps. It’s so tight and warm, better than anything he’s felt yet in his life, and he bucks forward, feeling his orgasm hit him quickly. Jackson pulls back as soon as the first shot of come enters in his mouth, and he jerks Stiles, staring at his cock as ropes of come spill onto his face and hand. He licks it clean, tongue swirling over the head, stroking until he’s totally spent. Stiles feels like his knees are jelly, so it’s not fair that Jackson can stand so gracefully, seemingly unaffected by what they’ve just done.
It’s not a surprise when Jackson leans close, jacking his cock hard, biting at Stiles’ shoulder like he’s a chew toy. It only takes a half dozen strokes before he’s coming, whining against Stiles’ neck as sticky wet seed spills onto his belly and dick. Stiles is actually bigger, thicker around and slightly longer, but Jackson comes more, ropes and drops of come covering his hand. When he’s done, he brings his hand up between them. Stiles sucks on his thumb while Jackson licks knuckles. The taste of them mixed together is surprisingly enjoyable, and Stiles licks at his palm to get more, which makes Jackson whimper.
It’s over just as fast as it began.
Jackson seems to snap out of it so easily, stepping back and moving beneath the shower spray like he wasn’t just on his knees sucking cock. It takes Stiles longer. He’s still horny, hello teenage boy, and Jackson might be a total douchebag, but he’s a hot douchebag with a nice cock that Stiles would like to suck one day. It’s only fair to reciprocate, right?
With that in mind, he breaks the main rule. “Jackson, what exactly is this?”
“Don’t talk, Stilinski.” Jackson tilts his head back under the spray and Stiles is distracted for a moment by the cheekbones and water dripping.
“I know you said that first time that you’re not gay, but, dude, this is the third blow job in a week. I think we should talk,” he says, stepping forward to share the spray. They’ve both been at lacrosse practice, after all, and he’s pretty rank from that, not to mention the come now drying on his skin. “Once is chance, twice is a coincidence, but three times? That’s a pattern.”
“What part of don’t talk is so difficult for you to understand?” Jackson glares at him when he steps closer. “You’re going to ruin this.”
“This being the pattern of you ninja sucking me off in the locker room after practice? Jackson, I want to suck your dick, eat your ass, maybe even fuck you until you can’t sit down without remembering my cock in your ass.” Stiles shrugs when Jackson blinks at him. “Can’t do that if you refuse to let me touch you and we can’t talk. Those are stupid rules anyway.”
“I told you before, I’m not gay.” Jackson stares at his mouth as he talks, so Stiles knows he’s totally thinking about feeding him his dick. “And you’ve got a filthy mouth. Not surprising, actually.”
“Neither am I. There are a ton of labels out there if you insist on using one, you know? You like to suck cock, so you’re not exactly Hetero Poster Boy,” he points out. “If I have to use a label, it’s pan. Anyway, your best friend is Danny, so stop making gay sound derogatory and beneath you, asshole. Oh, also, you totally love my filthy mouth, don’t even try lying.s”
“You’re such an annoying little shit. Why do you have to complicate things? I’m bi, okay? There’s no poster boy anywhere in this bathroom.” Jackson moves his gaze down Stiles. “I’ve wanted to suck your cock for three years now. Since we’re finally seniors, I figured why not?”
“Bit of a size queen, huh?” Stiles feels slightly smug that his cock is good enough to tempt Jackson Whittemore to his knees.
“See, this is why I said no talking. You talk and I want to pound you.”
“Sounds kinky but I’m down.”
“I didn’t mean…you are?”
“Sure. But only after I get your ass. I’ve been wanting to bury my face between those two firm cheeks since I realized I also liked guys. Why don’t you let me, Jackson?”
“What, now?” Jackson is looking at his mouth again, his dick starting to twitch between his legs, hardening as he imagines what Stiles is saying. The dumbass didn’t want talking, but that’s something that Stiles is really good at it, especially when it comes to dirty talk. He’s had enough experience watching porn to know just about everything. Even if his practical experience pretty much consists of three recent blow jobs from the king of Beacon Hills High.
“Sure. There’s no one else here. Coach is even gone, so no one will find us. Let me have your ass, baby.” Stiles deliberately licks his lips and moves his hand towards his mouth. Jackson seems to find his hands a turn on, so he’ll use every tool in his arsenal to get to Jackson’s ass.
“Not in the shower. The water will make my skin wrinkle.” Jackson sniffs and turns, walking out of the shower towards the lockers. Stiles turns off the faucet before quickly following. When they reach the locker area, Jackson looks around.
“Kneel on the bench. That’s a good place. You can hold on to the wood when it gets to be too much.”
“Cocky bastard.”
“In more ways than one.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
Jackson huffs what almost sounds like a laugh before he puts a towel on the bench. Then he kneels on it, ass in the air, and Stiles forgets to breathe for a moment. Looking over his shoulder, he arches a brow. “Well? Get on with it.”
Stiles drops his own towel and straddles the bench behind Jackson. “You’ve got such a nice ass,” he murmurs, stroking both cheeks and squeezing. “Has anyone ever done this to you?”
“No,” Jackson admits. “Danny and I have jerked off together, and there’ve been a couple of anonymous blow jobs at the Jungle, but no one messes with my ass but me.”
“You play with it?” Stiles groans as he keeps squeezing, his own dick hardening as he imagines it. “Do you use toys or your fingers? Do you fuck yourself thinking about having my big old cock inside you?”
“You wish.” Jackson wiggles. “All you do is talk and make big promises. I’m not seeing any follow through, Stiles.”
Stiles. Not Stilinski. That makes him smile as he moves his right hand slightly, dragging his index finger along the cleft between Jackson’s cheeks. “You probably fuck yourself thinking about this, being naked in the locker room, letting anyone at your ass who wants it. Captain servicing his team like a good boy. I bet you fuck your mattress, toy buried deep inside, as you think about being used like the little slut we both know you truly are. Too bad for them, though. You’re mine, and I’m a possessive bastard.”
“Oh fuck!” Jackson curses when Stiles drags his tongue over his hole. His fingers are almost white where they’re gripping both sides of the bench hard. Stiles hasn’t ever done this, but he uses all the memories he has from porn to make it so good Jackson will be addicted to his mouth. He licks the pucker, teasing glides of his tongue, adding pressure randomly so Jackson can’t get used to it. Jackson tastes like body wash from the shower and like something else, tangy and musky on his tongue as he presses the tip inside his hole.
“You should see the way your hole is opening up for me, baby. Like you’re meant for this, bare assed naked on your knees ready to give me pleasure however I want.” As he talks, he uses his fingers, moving one in and out slowly, listening to the wrecked sounds that Jackson is making. He mouths at Jackson’s ass cheek, biting lightly as he adds a second finger. When Jackson is opened up enough, he moves his mouth back down there and fucks him with his tongue.
“Not your baby,” Jackson manages to stammer in between noises that make everything he’s ever heard in porn sound fake. Stiles eases a finger inside with his tongue, curling it and rubbing against his prostate until he’s whining shamelessly.
“I bet you could come like this. No one even touching your cock. Just my finger and tongue in your ass. You’re desperate for me, Jackson. Why didn’t you say anything before? We could have been doing this for years, asshole.”
“Please.” Jackson looks up at him, eyes glazed and lips swollen from where he’s been biting them. “Fuck me. Need you inside me, Stiles.”
“Really?” Stiles totally denies that he squeaks when Jackson takes the game and moves it to a level he doesn’t expect. “You’ve never…neither have I. You want to here?”
“Seriously? You’re questioning me now? I thought you wanted me to tell you what I want. I don’t need a hotel room and rose petals, do you, babe?”
“Nah, but I didn’t think I’d lose my virginity in the locker room so excuse me while I process this.” Stiles isn’t entirely sure that they wouldn’t regret it, and he hates that he’s actually taking time to think about this. “No regrets? And we get to keep doing this? Like all the time?”
“I’ve got a condom in my bag. Get it out and use it or so help me I’m going to kill you,” Jackson says, face flushing as he pushes his ass back against Stiles’ hand, taking his fingers even deeper.
“So demanding.” Stiles slaps his ass cheek, noting the reaction that is more positive than not and storing it away for a future day. “I’m too young to die, so I guess you’ll get your way.”
“Finally.” Jackson watches him walk to the bag and get the condom. “It’ll fit. It’s your size. I might have wanted to be prepared for this in case it happened some time.”
“You bought me condoms just to be prepared?” Stiles makes a cooing noise as he pets Jackson’s hair with the hand that hasn’t been in his ass. “You wanna be my boyfriend, don’t you?”
“Shut up and fuck me.” Jackson hmphs and wiggles his ass in the air.
Stiles pulls the condom on before getting behind Jackson. “On a more serious note, I’ve never done this, but I’ve watched a whole lot of porn for research purposes. If I do something wrong, I’m sure you’ll let me know.” He presses the head of his dick against Jackson’s hole and starts to push inside.
“Ow! Damn it, Stiles. You can’t go that fast so soon.” Jackson is clenching his ass, which makes it feel like the head of his cock is going to pop off.
“Sorry.” And he really is. It’s just so warm and tight that he got ahead of himself. He slows down and tries to remember that real life isn’t porn, thank God, because Jackson is hotter than any of the guys in those movies without a doubt. After enough time that Jackson gets impatient and finally pushes back, he’s completely inside. They’re both breathing hard, neither one moving, and Stiles is trying to think about horrible things in order to not embarrass himself by coming this soon.
“Move now.” Jackson is a pushy bottom, but Stiles doesn’t mind that much. He starts to move, listening to the noises that Jackson can’t keep quiet, and it’s better than he expected his first time to go even with the awkwardness. “Right there. Oh fuck. Keep moving like that.”
“Bossy,” he murmurs, but he keeps moving his hips that way, rolling them slightly. Jackson is pushing back against him, breathing harder, and Stiles reaches under him to stroke his cock. There’s a low whine and then cursing as Jackson gets closer and closer. Stiles can’t hold it off much longer, not when Jackson is so tight around him. When Jackson arches his back and whimpers, it’s just too much. Stiles starts thrusting his hips faster, jerking Jackson with a fumbling grip as he stops being able to think. It hits him hard, making him grunt as his body tenses before snapping forward, come spilling into the condom as he presses his sweaty face against Jackson’s neck.
At some point, Jackson comes, too. Stiles can feel come dripping off his fingers, sticky and warm wet as he keeps lazily stroking and moving his hips. He’s happy to stay where he is, buried inside Jackson, but eventually Jackson starts muttering and pushing at him to get off. Stiles sighs and pulls out, careful to grab the condom so he can tie it off and toss it in the trash. He really really hopes that Matthew doesn’t actually look in the trash when he cleans the locker room later. He doesn’t want the janitor taking any evidence of naughty goings on to Coach or anything.
“Now we need another shower.” Jackson is sitting on the towel and watching him. Stiles grins as he walks back over there and offers his hand, biting his bottom lip when Jackson licks it clean without breaking eye contact.
“Lucky for us, there’s one right there.” Stiles motions towards the showers but doesn’t look away.
“I have a better one at my house,” Jackson says, a slight hint of bragging to his tone undermined by the way he’s staring. “We could use it instead.”
“You want to take me home with you?” Stiles can’t help but grin.
“Don’t let it go to your head. This was passable for a first time, but I know you could do better with proper motivation. My parents are out of town. We can order in pizza and try again.” Jackson gives him a challenging smirk. “If you think you’re up for the challenge.”
“Oh, I’m definitely up for it.” Stiles grabs his towel from the ground and wipes off so he’s not so sweaty and sex gross. “I can meet you there.”
Jackson has already finished wiping off and is putting his clothes back on. “We can ride together. I’ll bring you back to get that horrible Jeep of yours later.”
“Dude, if we’re going to be boyfriends, you need to be nicer to Roscoe. He’s a great Jeep.” Stiles pulls his t-shirt over his head before grabbing the flannel shirt from his locker.
“I hope you realize that I never agreed to us being boyfriends. That’s such a ridiculous label,” Jackson points out. “Head’s up.” Stiles looks over and barely has time to catch the keys that are tossed to him. “You can drive.”
“Your Porsche? You’re letting me drive your Porsche? The one no one can even touch without you getting pissy? Seriously?” Stiles gawks at him before slowly smiling. He grabs his bag and joins Jackson as they leave the locker room, bumping their shoulders together as he grins at him. “You can’t fool me, baby. We’re totally boyfriends.”
End
Characters/Pairings: Stiles/Jackson
Rating: Adult
Summary: This is the third time Jackson has approached Stiles in the shower. Once is chance, twice is coincidence, but three times is a pattern. Obviously, Stiles has to ask what exactly is happening between them.
Word Count: 2840
Warnings: Alternate Universe
Author’s Notes: Written for Foxerica based on the prompt: Stiles/Jackson + "I know you said you're not gay, but dude, this is the third blow job in a week. I think we should talk."
The tile is damp from the steamy water spraying overheard. Stiles can feel his fingers sliding over the smooth surface, trying to get purchase but failing. There’s nothing to grab onto or to hold, and he’s having trouble standing up the further gone he gets. When he feels his back start to slide, he reaches in front of him to grip short hair and broad shoulders so he can keep his balance. A low rumble reminds him he’s not supposed to touch, but he doesn’t really like the idea of getting his dick bit off, either, so he ignores it.
Fortunately, Jackson keeps sucking, even though Stiles broke the ‘no touching’ rule, so it’s all good. He can feel the muscles beneath his fingertips, tense and strong, hard. Stiles arches his hips off the tile wall, burying more of his dick into Jackson’s mouth. There’s gagging and a gulp before he feels Jackson pull off. He looks down into bright blue eyes that are narrowed in warning, but neither of them say anything. That’s another rule. No talking.
Stiles shifts his weight, watching his erection bob around and brush against Jackson’s face, leaving a trail of pre-come glistening on the curve of his jaw. There’s a deep noise that sounds almost like a growl before Jackson attacks, sucking it back into his mouth, going even deeper. Stiles is so close, has been since his shower was interrupted and his disk was sucked down before he could even figure out what was going on. Jackson’s really good at this, knows exactly how much suction makes Stiles whine, knows how to knead his balls and how to use just enough teeth to drive him wild. It’s not Stiles’ fault that he’s a teenage boy who can’t really control himself when faced with a hot guy like Jackson sucking his cock.
When Jackson actually manages to take his entire length, nose brushing against wiry pubic hair, Stiles gasps. It’s so tight and warm, better than anything he’s felt yet in his life, and he bucks forward, feeling his orgasm hit him quickly. Jackson pulls back as soon as the first shot of come enters in his mouth, and he jerks Stiles, staring at his cock as ropes of come spill onto his face and hand. He licks it clean, tongue swirling over the head, stroking until he’s totally spent. Stiles feels like his knees are jelly, so it’s not fair that Jackson can stand so gracefully, seemingly unaffected by what they’ve just done.
It’s not a surprise when Jackson leans close, jacking his cock hard, biting at Stiles’ shoulder like he’s a chew toy. It only takes a half dozen strokes before he’s coming, whining against Stiles’ neck as sticky wet seed spills onto his belly and dick. Stiles is actually bigger, thicker around and slightly longer, but Jackson comes more, ropes and drops of come covering his hand. When he’s done, he brings his hand up between them. Stiles sucks on his thumb while Jackson licks knuckles. The taste of them mixed together is surprisingly enjoyable, and Stiles licks at his palm to get more, which makes Jackson whimper.
It’s over just as fast as it began.
Jackson seems to snap out of it so easily, stepping back and moving beneath the shower spray like he wasn’t just on his knees sucking cock. It takes Stiles longer. He’s still horny, hello teenage boy, and Jackson might be a total douchebag, but he’s a hot douchebag with a nice cock that Stiles would like to suck one day. It’s only fair to reciprocate, right?
With that in mind, he breaks the main rule. “Jackson, what exactly is this?”
“Don’t talk, Stilinski.” Jackson tilts his head back under the spray and Stiles is distracted for a moment by the cheekbones and water dripping.
“I know you said that first time that you’re not gay, but, dude, this is the third blow job in a week. I think we should talk,” he says, stepping forward to share the spray. They’ve both been at lacrosse practice, after all, and he’s pretty rank from that, not to mention the come now drying on his skin. “Once is chance, twice is a coincidence, but three times? That’s a pattern.”
“What part of don’t talk is so difficult for you to understand?” Jackson glares at him when he steps closer. “You’re going to ruin this.”
“This being the pattern of you ninja sucking me off in the locker room after practice? Jackson, I want to suck your dick, eat your ass, maybe even fuck you until you can’t sit down without remembering my cock in your ass.” Stiles shrugs when Jackson blinks at him. “Can’t do that if you refuse to let me touch you and we can’t talk. Those are stupid rules anyway.”
“I told you before, I’m not gay.” Jackson stares at his mouth as he talks, so Stiles knows he’s totally thinking about feeding him his dick. “And you’ve got a filthy mouth. Not surprising, actually.”
“Neither am I. There are a ton of labels out there if you insist on using one, you know? You like to suck cock, so you’re not exactly Hetero Poster Boy,” he points out. “If I have to use a label, it’s pan. Anyway, your best friend is Danny, so stop making gay sound derogatory and beneath you, asshole. Oh, also, you totally love my filthy mouth, don’t even try lying.s”
“You’re such an annoying little shit. Why do you have to complicate things? I’m bi, okay? There’s no poster boy anywhere in this bathroom.” Jackson moves his gaze down Stiles. “I’ve wanted to suck your cock for three years now. Since we’re finally seniors, I figured why not?”
“Bit of a size queen, huh?” Stiles feels slightly smug that his cock is good enough to tempt Jackson Whittemore to his knees.
“See, this is why I said no talking. You talk and I want to pound you.”
“Sounds kinky but I’m down.”
“I didn’t mean…you are?”
“Sure. But only after I get your ass. I’ve been wanting to bury my face between those two firm cheeks since I realized I also liked guys. Why don’t you let me, Jackson?”
“What, now?” Jackson is looking at his mouth again, his dick starting to twitch between his legs, hardening as he imagines what Stiles is saying. The dumbass didn’t want talking, but that’s something that Stiles is really good at it, especially when it comes to dirty talk. He’s had enough experience watching porn to know just about everything. Even if his practical experience pretty much consists of three recent blow jobs from the king of Beacon Hills High.
“Sure. There’s no one else here. Coach is even gone, so no one will find us. Let me have your ass, baby.” Stiles deliberately licks his lips and moves his hand towards his mouth. Jackson seems to find his hands a turn on, so he’ll use every tool in his arsenal to get to Jackson’s ass.
“Not in the shower. The water will make my skin wrinkle.” Jackson sniffs and turns, walking out of the shower towards the lockers. Stiles turns off the faucet before quickly following. When they reach the locker area, Jackson looks around.
“Kneel on the bench. That’s a good place. You can hold on to the wood when it gets to be too much.”
“Cocky bastard.”
“In more ways than one.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
Jackson huffs what almost sounds like a laugh before he puts a towel on the bench. Then he kneels on it, ass in the air, and Stiles forgets to breathe for a moment. Looking over his shoulder, he arches a brow. “Well? Get on with it.”
Stiles drops his own towel and straddles the bench behind Jackson. “You’ve got such a nice ass,” he murmurs, stroking both cheeks and squeezing. “Has anyone ever done this to you?”
“No,” Jackson admits. “Danny and I have jerked off together, and there’ve been a couple of anonymous blow jobs at the Jungle, but no one messes with my ass but me.”
“You play with it?” Stiles groans as he keeps squeezing, his own dick hardening as he imagines it. “Do you use toys or your fingers? Do you fuck yourself thinking about having my big old cock inside you?”
“You wish.” Jackson wiggles. “All you do is talk and make big promises. I’m not seeing any follow through, Stiles.”
Stiles. Not Stilinski. That makes him smile as he moves his right hand slightly, dragging his index finger along the cleft between Jackson’s cheeks. “You probably fuck yourself thinking about this, being naked in the locker room, letting anyone at your ass who wants it. Captain servicing his team like a good boy. I bet you fuck your mattress, toy buried deep inside, as you think about being used like the little slut we both know you truly are. Too bad for them, though. You’re mine, and I’m a possessive bastard.”
“Oh fuck!” Jackson curses when Stiles drags his tongue over his hole. His fingers are almost white where they’re gripping both sides of the bench hard. Stiles hasn’t ever done this, but he uses all the memories he has from porn to make it so good Jackson will be addicted to his mouth. He licks the pucker, teasing glides of his tongue, adding pressure randomly so Jackson can’t get used to it. Jackson tastes like body wash from the shower and like something else, tangy and musky on his tongue as he presses the tip inside his hole.
“You should see the way your hole is opening up for me, baby. Like you’re meant for this, bare assed naked on your knees ready to give me pleasure however I want.” As he talks, he uses his fingers, moving one in and out slowly, listening to the wrecked sounds that Jackson is making. He mouths at Jackson’s ass cheek, biting lightly as he adds a second finger. When Jackson is opened up enough, he moves his mouth back down there and fucks him with his tongue.
“Not your baby,” Jackson manages to stammer in between noises that make everything he’s ever heard in porn sound fake. Stiles eases a finger inside with his tongue, curling it and rubbing against his prostate until he’s whining shamelessly.
“I bet you could come like this. No one even touching your cock. Just my finger and tongue in your ass. You’re desperate for me, Jackson. Why didn’t you say anything before? We could have been doing this for years, asshole.”
“Please.” Jackson looks up at him, eyes glazed and lips swollen from where he’s been biting them. “Fuck me. Need you inside me, Stiles.”
“Really?” Stiles totally denies that he squeaks when Jackson takes the game and moves it to a level he doesn’t expect. “You’ve never…neither have I. You want to here?”
“Seriously? You’re questioning me now? I thought you wanted me to tell you what I want. I don’t need a hotel room and rose petals, do you, babe?”
“Nah, but I didn’t think I’d lose my virginity in the locker room so excuse me while I process this.” Stiles isn’t entirely sure that they wouldn’t regret it, and he hates that he’s actually taking time to think about this. “No regrets? And we get to keep doing this? Like all the time?”
“I’ve got a condom in my bag. Get it out and use it or so help me I’m going to kill you,” Jackson says, face flushing as he pushes his ass back against Stiles’ hand, taking his fingers even deeper.
“So demanding.” Stiles slaps his ass cheek, noting the reaction that is more positive than not and storing it away for a future day. “I’m too young to die, so I guess you’ll get your way.”
“Finally.” Jackson watches him walk to the bag and get the condom. “It’ll fit. It’s your size. I might have wanted to be prepared for this in case it happened some time.”
“You bought me condoms just to be prepared?” Stiles makes a cooing noise as he pets Jackson’s hair with the hand that hasn’t been in his ass. “You wanna be my boyfriend, don’t you?”
“Shut up and fuck me.” Jackson hmphs and wiggles his ass in the air.
Stiles pulls the condom on before getting behind Jackson. “On a more serious note, I’ve never done this, but I’ve watched a whole lot of porn for research purposes. If I do something wrong, I’m sure you’ll let me know.” He presses the head of his dick against Jackson’s hole and starts to push inside.
“Ow! Damn it, Stiles. You can’t go that fast so soon.” Jackson is clenching his ass, which makes it feel like the head of his cock is going to pop off.
“Sorry.” And he really is. It’s just so warm and tight that he got ahead of himself. He slows down and tries to remember that real life isn’t porn, thank God, because Jackson is hotter than any of the guys in those movies without a doubt. After enough time that Jackson gets impatient and finally pushes back, he’s completely inside. They’re both breathing hard, neither one moving, and Stiles is trying to think about horrible things in order to not embarrass himself by coming this soon.
“Move now.” Jackson is a pushy bottom, but Stiles doesn’t mind that much. He starts to move, listening to the noises that Jackson can’t keep quiet, and it’s better than he expected his first time to go even with the awkwardness. “Right there. Oh fuck. Keep moving like that.”
“Bossy,” he murmurs, but he keeps moving his hips that way, rolling them slightly. Jackson is pushing back against him, breathing harder, and Stiles reaches under him to stroke his cock. There’s a low whine and then cursing as Jackson gets closer and closer. Stiles can’t hold it off much longer, not when Jackson is so tight around him. When Jackson arches his back and whimpers, it’s just too much. Stiles starts thrusting his hips faster, jerking Jackson with a fumbling grip as he stops being able to think. It hits him hard, making him grunt as his body tenses before snapping forward, come spilling into the condom as he presses his sweaty face against Jackson’s neck.
At some point, Jackson comes, too. Stiles can feel come dripping off his fingers, sticky and warm wet as he keeps lazily stroking and moving his hips. He’s happy to stay where he is, buried inside Jackson, but eventually Jackson starts muttering and pushing at him to get off. Stiles sighs and pulls out, careful to grab the condom so he can tie it off and toss it in the trash. He really really hopes that Matthew doesn’t actually look in the trash when he cleans the locker room later. He doesn’t want the janitor taking any evidence of naughty goings on to Coach or anything.
“Now we need another shower.” Jackson is sitting on the towel and watching him. Stiles grins as he walks back over there and offers his hand, biting his bottom lip when Jackson licks it clean without breaking eye contact.
“Lucky for us, there’s one right there.” Stiles motions towards the showers but doesn’t look away.
“I have a better one at my house,” Jackson says, a slight hint of bragging to his tone undermined by the way he’s staring. “We could use it instead.”
“You want to take me home with you?” Stiles can’t help but grin.
“Don’t let it go to your head. This was passable for a first time, but I know you could do better with proper motivation. My parents are out of town. We can order in pizza and try again.” Jackson gives him a challenging smirk. “If you think you’re up for the challenge.”
“Oh, I’m definitely up for it.” Stiles grabs his towel from the ground and wipes off so he’s not so sweaty and sex gross. “I can meet you there.”
Jackson has already finished wiping off and is putting his clothes back on. “We can ride together. I’ll bring you back to get that horrible Jeep of yours later.”
“Dude, if we’re going to be boyfriends, you need to be nicer to Roscoe. He’s a great Jeep.” Stiles pulls his t-shirt over his head before grabbing the flannel shirt from his locker.
“I hope you realize that I never agreed to us being boyfriends. That’s such a ridiculous label,” Jackson points out. “Head’s up.” Stiles looks over and barely has time to catch the keys that are tossed to him. “You can drive.”
“Your Porsche? You’re letting me drive your Porsche? The one no one can even touch without you getting pissy? Seriously?” Stiles gawks at him before slowly smiling. He grabs his bag and joins Jackson as they leave the locker room, bumping their shoulders together as he grins at him. “You can’t fool me, baby. We’re totally boyfriends.”
End