Thinking Straight
Pairing: JB/Jackson
Rating: NC-17
Genre: smut, pwsp (porn with some plot. is this a thing? i don’t think it's a thing)
Word Count: ~4.8k
Summary: When Jaebum’s around, Jackson can’t think straight.
a/n: i don't know what this is i don't know what i'm doing this is all sella's fault.
Jackson is obsessed with Jaebum’s dick. Okay, that sounds weird and maybe a little perverted to most people but most people have also never seen Jaebum’s dick. Jackson has though. He sees it every day in the showers after baseball practice. Not that he, like, stares at it or anything. That’d be, just…gay. And Jackson’s not gay. Really he’s not. Well okay, he will admit that Jaebum is good looking, maybe even hot, but so will the rest of the student body. It doesn’t mean anything, in the same way that it doesn’t mean anything when Jackson stares-looks-at Jaebum’s penis. It’s purely objective, completely observational, absolutely nothing sexual about it. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
It’s a week before their first game of the playoffs. Their coach ups their practices to twice a day, one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and each lasting about an hour and a half so that by the end of the day all Jackson really wants is a long, hot shower.
Today has been particularly grueling, with weight training in the morning and a scrimmage in the afternoon, so Jackson is particularly eager when practice lets out and he enters the locker room; stripping his clothing and stepping into the showers within a matter of seconds.
A quiet groan slips past his lips the moment the water hits his skin, head rolling back over his shoulders as the spray of the shower cascades down on him before he hangs his head and leans forward, bracing himself against the tile wall. Yes, he thinks, this is exactly what he needed.
He closes his eyes, enjoying the way the water pounds hard against his back when he hears the water from the showerhead next to him turn on. Curious, he turns his head, just enough so that one eye peeks open over his arm, and is unsurprised to find Jaebum; eyes shut, head thrown back, looking like he just stepped out of a Men’s Health magazine.
Jackson has seen him naked before-being teammates also means they’ve shared more than a few showers together-and yet even in the three years they’ve known each other, Jackson has never been able to stop himself from staring: at Jaebum’s rippling biceps, at his sculpted chest and torso, at the curve of his perky ass (God what a perky ass), not to mention the object of his recent obsession.
It’s hard to put into words just how breathtaking the sight of Jaebum’s penis is, but Jackson thinks that if there were a hall of fame for dicks, Jaebum’s would be in a shiny glass case, on some sort of pedestal with a rope around it that says Do Not Touch.
“Jackson?”
Jaebum’s voice pulls him from his reverie, drawing his attention to the fact that the other boy’s eyes are on him, studying him with a half smug, half quizzical look. “Are you staring at my dick?”
Jackson blanches, mortified. “What? No!”
Jaebum smirks. “Yes you were.”
“Shut up!” Jackson childishly fires back. “Why would I want to stare at your limp ass dick?”
“You want to see what it looks like hard then?”
Jackson knows what the appropriate response is: an indignant “No!” and a jab to the ribs. But something about the prospect of a fully erect Jaebum standing in front of him has his breaths coming out in short pants, his throat suddenly dry, and is that water or sweat that’s coating his palms?
“I bet it’s bigger than yours,” Jaebum taunts, and like that Jackson snaps out of it. Nobody insults his masculinity.
“You wish!” he retorts, earning a grin from Jaebum.
“Let’s find out then.”
Jackson doesn’t have time to respond, doesn’t even have time to figure out what the heck Jaebum means before the other reaches out and takes both their members into his hands.
Jackson could scream. Jackson should scream. The guy is touching his dick! But he doesn’t. He freezes, unformed words catching in his throat.
It’s shock, he tells himself. People freeze up all the time. It’s not like he wants this. It’s not like he’s enjoying himself. Well, okay, that last part was a lie. But it’s not like he can help it. Not when Jaebum’s hand is so warm and rough and perfect. Not with the way he so expertly slides his hand along his shaft.
Jackson can’t even begin to fathom how many different levels of wrong this is. Jaebum is his teammate. Jaebum is his friend. Jaebum is a fucking dude. And Jackson should not be thinking about how sexy he looks when he’s touching himself. He should not be wanting so badly to claim his lips with his own, run his tongue along the shell of his ear, feel the smoothness of his skin beneath his fingertips, find out if he really does taste like bubblegum, and sunflower seeds, and that cherry chapstick he’s always smearing over his lips.
But he is. Jackson is thinking all of that. And yeah it’s fucked up. Yeah he wishes he could stop himself. But how is he supposed to think straight when Jaebum’s hand is wrapped around his cock? When Jaebum’s hair is wet and hanging in his eyes; when Jaebum’s lips are caught between his teeth; when Jaebum’s hardened dick is staring him straight in the face. How the fuck is he supposed to think straight?
“Ha!” Jaebum cries suddenly, removing his hands and stepping closer to Jackson so that they’re standing hip to hip. “Told ya mine was bigger.” He grins so wide it threatens to split his face in two and it takes Jackson a few seconds to figure out what he’s talking about before he glances down and confirms that yes. Jaebum’s is bigger. Bigger, thicker, prettier, hell it probably has magical fucking powers.
He lets out a groan, shoving the elder away. “Whatever,” he mumbles. “Size doesn’t matter anyway.”
Jaebum cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “I think your mom would beg to differ.”
“Fuck you dude!” Jackson socks him hard in the shoulder.
But Jaebum just laughs. And Jackson hates that he finds it so fucking sexy.
~
Jackson avoids Jaebum like the plague after that. Or at least he tries to. It’s much harder to avoid a person when said person is on the same team and in more than half the same classes as you. Even cutting class and skipping showering after practices doesn’t stop the problem of having to actually see him, which eventually leads to staring and inappropriate daydreaming, but at least it prevents him from blurting out something stupid in front of him like “yo man no homo but I’m kind of obsessed with your dick.”
The only problem is, he never took into consideration the possibility that Jaebum might actually seek him out. Like show up at his dorm room, pounding on the door, shouting his name loud enough for the entire hall to hear like he is right now. He has no Plan B, no means of escape except for maybe the five-story high window. But he’s not entirely insane and not nearly that desperate so he opts instead for begging his roommate Mark on his knees to pleeease tell him I’m not here.
Of course Jackson also failed to take into consideration the possibility that Mark might turn out to be a complete ass and instead tell him to come on in. Jackson’s in his room so he makes a mental note to dunk his toothbrush in the toilet later.
“Hey,” Jaebum says when he enters, eyes downcast and feet shuffling in the doorway. Jackson doesn’t think he’s ever seen him like this; nervous, unsure of himself. Jaebum was always so sure of himself. “Are you busy?”
“Um…” yeah, Jackson’s about to say until Mark shouts from the other room, “No! He’s just been playing Candy Crush on his phone.”
Jackson scowls. He is so dunking his toothbrush in the toilet later.
“So it’s okay if we talk for a bit?”
Jackson stares longingly at the window. He should’ve jumped when he had the chance. “Sure,” he says, shoulders sagging in defeat.
Jaebum takes it as an invitation to step further into the room, taking a seat at Jackson’s desk and wasting no time in getting right to the point. “You’ve been avoiding me.” His voice is like a punch to Jackson’s gut, the air from his lungs leaving him in one fell swoop.
“What?” Jackson makes a face that he hopes is both oblivious and confused. “No I haven’t.”
“Jackson,” Jaebum says, voice stern. “Yesterday when I asked if you wanted to go out for pizza you said you couldn’t come because you had to feed your dog. You don’t have a dog.”
“Oh. Did I say dog?” Jackson laughs. “I meant Mark.”
“I heard that!” Mark shouts from the other room.
Jaebum narrows his eyes. “Seriously Jackson. What’s going on? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”
Jackson could be mistaken but he thinks Jaebum sounds almost sad. He also thinks he’s probably the shittiest friend in the world.
“Dude,” he says. “It’s not even like that okay. I’ve just been busy. You know, exams and stuff.”
“And that would be a perfectly valid reason,” Jaebum says. “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re still using your textbooks as a TV stand.”
Jackson laughs, an attempt to disguise his embarrassment over being caught in a lie, and brings a hand to rub the back of his neck as he racks his brain for another excuse. “Umm…”
Shit. He’s got nothing. Nothing except the truth which had to be protected at all costs. But Jaebum is still waiting, eyes still narrowed, lips still pursed, and Jackson has to say something.
“Mark has a crush on Jinyoung!”
“What?!” Jaebum yells, shooting to his feet, precisely at the same moment Jackson hears a high pitched shriek from the other room followed by hurried footsteps.
It’s a matter of seconds before Mark appears in the doorway, face flushed and horrified, and panting as he attempts to speak. But he never gets a chance because just as quickly Jaebum has him backed against a wall, hand fisted in the collar of his shirt, demanding an explanation.
Jackson thinks it’s kind of hot, thinks maybe he’d like to be the one backed against a wall, trapped between Jaebum’s arms and solid chest, but then he takes stock of the situation and realizes he’s created the perfect chance to slip out of the room undetected.
~
In order to ensure that an incident such as the one at his dorm doesn’t happen again, Jackson decides to camp out in the library for the weekend. There’s plenty of places to hide, vending machines stocked with all his favorite snacks, even comfortable chairs to sleep in; also the fact that he’s never actually used it before makes it the perfect hiding place. No one will ever think to look for him here.
Or so he thought.
“Jackson?”
The voice startles him from his position, perched on the edge of a chair balanced on only its two hind legs, and with a yelp he crashes to the floor.
“Shh!” Whispers echo out like the hissing of snakes as Jackson reaches up to pull on the hem of the perpetrator’s-Mark’s-shirt, yanking him down to the floor with him.
“Were you followed?” he whispers conspiratorially, eyes darting back and forth to scan for any possible witnesses.
Mark’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Was I-what? No! Let go of my shirt!” He smacks at Jackson’s hands, whose grip only tightens as his voice grows more frantic.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me? Who sent you?”
“What the fuck are you on?” Mark whisper-shouts, finally succeeding in wrenching Jackson’s hands from his precious plaid shirt. “And what are you doing in the library of all places? I didn’t even think you knew where it was.”
Jackson scowls, standing to his feet. “I’m studying,” he says indignantly, gesturing with a sweeping motion of his hand to the notebook and pencils laid out across the table. “Obviously.”
Mark raises a brow, standing up to examine the notebook, and frowns. “There’s nothing written in this.”
“That’s because I haven’t started yet,” Jackson huffs, snapping the notebook closed and returning to his seat. “Besides it’s none of your business. So you can just go back to pining over Jinyoung or whatever it is you do in your room all day.”
Mark’s mouth drops open in a small o, color rising to his cheeks before he narrows his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says defiantly, dropping down into the seat across from Jackson. “Not until you tell me what’s going on between you and Jaebum.”
At the sound of Jaebum’s name, Jackson flinches. “I-nothing!” he declares. “There’s nothing going on between us. Who said there’s anything going on between us?”
“Jaebum,” Mark replies, not missing a beat. “After he finished grilling me for an hour because of what you told him-and by the way I’m so kicking your ass for that-he told me you’ve been avoiding him. And like honestly I normally couldn’t care less about your stupid lover’s quarrels but playoffs start next week and I really don’t want any unresolved sexual tension between you two fucking with our chances of winning.”
“Whoa whoa whoa wait,” Jackson cuts in. “‘Unresolved sexual tension?’ Who said anything about unresolved sexual tension?”
Mark rolls his eyes. “Oh please. Everyone knows you have a massive hard on for Jaebum.”
Jackson gasps. “I do not!”
“Really? Then how come you’re always staring at his ass during warmups?”
Jackson makes a noise like a scandalized shriek, mouth bobbing up and down as he struggles to speak before he lets his breath out in a despondent sigh. He groans, lowering his head to bury it in the crook of his arm. “This fucking sucks.”
“What fucking sucks?”
Out of nowhere, Jinyoung appears by Mark’s side, signature shit-eating grin plastered on his face, and plunks down into the seat next to him. Jackson wants to shrivel up and die. He hates Jinyoung.
“Nothing,” he mumbles in response, right around the same time Mark says, “Jackson’s gay for Jaebum.”
Jackson kicks him in the shin. Traitor.
“I’m not gay for Jaebum,” he amends. “I’m not gay for anyone. I’m not gay.”
“Sure you aren’t,” Jinyoung coos, lips pulled down in a pout. Jackson resists the urge to stab him with a pencil.
“Fine,” he says. “Hypothetically, let’s say I’m gay. And hypothetically, let’s say I like Jaebum. What am I supposed to do? I mean, what if he doesn’t like me back?”
“I think the fact that he’s willing to spend more than five minutes with you every day is a pretty strong indicator of how much he likes you,” Mark mutters offhandedly.
“I don’t know though,” Jinyoung adds, absentmindedly examining his nails. “You don’t really seem like his type.”
Jackson narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But either Jinyoung doesn’t hear him or he chooses to ignore him. “Come on Mark,” he says. “We’re going to be late for the movie.”
Jackson leaps to his feet. “What do you mean I’m not his type?”
But it’s as if he doesn’t exist; Mark spares him a pitying glance as he gets up from his seat, but it’s all the answer he gets before they round the corner and disappear.
~
One of the many things Jackson prides himself in (besides his hair, body, and overall swag) is his ability to let things roll off his back. He’s always been chill, easy going, never the one to get so worked up over things as trivial and unsubstantiated as rumors. And yet even days after their encounter in the library Jinyoung’s words continue to nag at him like an incurable itch.
You don’t really seem like his type.
Jackson tells himself it doesn’t mean anything. Jinyoung’s just messing with him, trying to get under his skin. But at night when he’s lying in bed; when it’s quiet and the lights are out, and it’s just him and his thoughts to keep him company, he starts to wonder.
What if he really isn’t Jaebum’s type? Did that mean Jaebum didn’t like him? That Jackson wasn’t good enough for him? But then wasn’t he handsome? Wasn’t he sensitive, clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming? Wasn’t he everything maidens could wish for? Or maybe that was the problem. Maybe that stuff only worked on girls. Maybe Jaebum, being a guy, wanted different things. Things that Jackson didn’t have. Things that Jackson couldn’t offer.
Then again why did he even care? It wasn’t his business who Jaebum chose to date. And it wasn’t like he ever cared before. Not when he started seeing that exchange student from Japan or the cheerleader from Biology. He’s never been jealous, not even of Jinyoung who clung to him like some lovesick puppy.
Or maybe it was just that he’d never felt threatened. Even when he’d dated those girls; even when it had been their hands that he held, their lips that he kissed, it was still Jackson who made him laugh. It was still Jackson who he told his deepest darkest secrets to. It was still Jackson that was there for him. That would always be there for him. In a way that he wasn’t for anyone else.
So maybe he lied. Maybe he did care. Maybe he cared a lot. Maybe the thought of Jaebum sharing that with anyone else hurt worse than if his heart had been ripped out, stomped on, and thrown in a blender. And maybe that was being greedy. Maybe that was selfish.
Or maybe he just had a crush on his best friend.
~
It’s just after midnight when Jackson shows up at Jaebum’s dorm. He knows it’s late, and Jaebum is the “early to bed, early to rise” type, but he also knows that if he waits any longer he’ll lose his nerve, forget the speech he’d so carefully planned out in his head, and besides he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up this charade. Sooner or later the truth would come out and Jackson preferred that Jaebum hear it straight from the source.
With a shaky breath he raises a fist to knock on the door. There’s a sound like the shuffling of footsteps, a muffled voice, and then the door swings open to reveal Jaebum wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue track pants hung low enough on his hips for Jackson to get a clear view of the waistband of his briefs. Calvin Klein. Classy.
Jackson averts his eyes, making it a point to stare anywhere but directly at his teammate. He has to stay focused. He can’t afford to be distracted by Jaebum’s flat, toned, glistening-
“Jackson?” Jaebum’s voice breaks through the flurry of his thoughts. “What’s going on? What are you doing here so late?” He sounds tired, his voice husky and thick with sleep, and even with his hair sticking up at odd angles, Jackson thinks it’s the sexiest he’s ever seen him.
He clears his throat. “We need to talk,” he says.
“Okay.” Jaebum steps aside, concern etched into the furrowing of his brows. “Is everything alright? Did something happen? Is this about what Mark said?”
“No,” Jackson answers, stepping past him. “I mean everything’s fine I just-wait.” He pauses in the middle of the doorway. “What did Mark say?”
Jaebum’s cheeks visibly redden. “Nothing I-you go first.”
Jackson gives him a suspicious glare, but continues on into the room, sinking down onto the edge of Jaebum’s bed where they’d spent many a night playing DOA until the sun came up (Jackson was always Leifang and Jaebum was always Hitomi. Even when they were fighting they had to be best friends).
“Am I your type?” Jackson blurts the moment Jaebum settles down next to him.
He looks taken aback. “What?”
“Jinyoung said I’m not your type,” Jackson rephrases. “Is that true?”
Jaebum frowns. “You really shouldn’t listen to what Jinyoung says.”
“But is it true?” Jackson hears the way his voice comes out frantic, like he’s desperate to get the words out, and judging from the way Jaebum winces he guesses he can hear it too.
“What’s got you so worked up over this?”
Jackson shrugs. “I just wanna know.” He thinks it sounds casual, but Jaebum must see through it. Because he reaches down to steady his hands with a gentle squeeze. Jackson didn’t even realize they were trembling. “I need to know that I’m not the only one that-feels this way,” he says, Jaebum’s touch slowly coaxing the truth out of him.
Jaebum shakes his head. “Feels what way? Jackson what are you talking about?”
“I like you.” The words spill unbidden from his mouth. “A lot. More than I probably should. And I’m sorry for lying to you and avoiding you and being such a shit friend but I didn’t know what else to do. I thought that if I ignored these feelings that they’d just…go away.”
“Jackson.” He hears Jaebum’s voice, but it sounds far off, dreamlike and not real so he continues on.
“But they didn’t. They won’t. And I know I screwed up and I’m such a dick and you probably hate me-”
“Jackson shut up.”
“-but I only did it because-”
“I said shut up.” Suddenly, and with great force, Jaebum grabs him by the shirt and crushes their mouths together, teeth colliding in a way that isn’t entirely pleasant, but sends a pleasurable shiver down his spine just the same. Jaebum tastes exactly like he’d imagined, bubblegum, sunflower seeds, and that cherry chapstick he’s always smearing over his lips, only sweeter, and more perfect than he could’ve ever dreamed.
“So does this mean…?” Jackson pants when they come up for air. “You too?”
“Yeah.” Jaebum smiles and presses another kiss to his lips, this one gentler and chaste. “Me too.” And when Jackson smiles back, all teeth and gums, he pushes him down into the cushions of his bed and noses at his neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses that are sure to leave marks along the exposed skin of his shoulder.
“Jae?” Jackson chokes out between stifled moans.
“Hmm?” Jaebum hums against his skin.
“Does this mean-I’m your type?”
Jaebum lifts his head to look straight into Jackson’s eyes, conveying in them the sincerity behind his words. “Of course you’re my type,” he breathes against his lips, punctuating it with a kiss that leaves Jackson dizzy and chasing after him when he pulls away.
“But Jinyoung said-”
His words are swallowed up in a gasp when Jaebum licks along the shell of his ear and bites down, hard. “Fuck Jinyoung,” he snarls. “He’s an idiot. And a liar. And besides you really shouldn’t be saying another guy’s name when you’re in my bed.”
Jackson looks up at him with a smirk. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
Raising his hips, Jackson grinds roughly into Jaebum’s thigh. “How about you finish what you started?”
A grin stretches across Jaebum’s lips, and then it’s like they’re caught up in a whirlwind. One minute he’s on Jaebum’s bed, pinned beneath his strong body and gaze, and the next he’s completely disrobed, along with Jaebum, stepping into the spray of a hot shower.
His back hits the wall as Jaebum traps him there between his arms, and suddenly it’s like all of his dreams are coming true. To have Jaebum here, alone, with him; to see his lips red and swollen from kissing him, it’s hard to believe that any of it is actually happening. That this isn’t just another one of his dreams. But then he takes his hand and runs it up along the swell of Jaebum’s bicep, past his chest and the ridges of his abs, down to the shaft of his dick, and he knows. That this is real.
“Don’t,” Jaebum whispers when Jackson ghosts his fingers over his length, so softly that he hardly hears him against the running of the shower head.
Jackson blinks up at him, confused.
“I wanna do you first,” he says and wraps his hand around Jackson’s dick, gliding it easily along his length while he licks up the side of his neck and mouths at the underside of his jaw.
A sudden rush of déjà vu washes over him. He’s been here before. Not in this exact place but in this situation. Only then he’d been too embarrassed, too ashamed to really let himself go and enjoy the ministrations of Jaebum’s skilled hand and mouth. So this time he lets the pleasure take hold of him and the noises spill from his throat, every gasp, every groan, until he comes with a cry into Jaebum’s hand.
“That was fast,” Jaebum comments, more smug than teasing, and when Jackson pouts he sucks the protruding lower lip into his mouth.
Jackson parts his lips to allow their tongues to tangle in a sloppy kiss, but uses it as a distraction to get his hands up to Jaebum’s chest, spin them around, and switch their positions so that it’s Jaebum against the wall, and Jackson trapping him there between his arms.
“My turn,” he says with a wicked smirk, sinking down onto his knees, and sucking in a breath at the sight of Jaebum’s dick up close. It’s more glorious than ever before, standing proudly at attention, and had it not been for the impatient whine that Jaebum lets out he would’ve been content to just sit and stare.
“Come on Jackson.” Jaebum nudges him with his foot. “Don’t make me beg.”
It’s the wrong choice of words though because Jaebum begging is exactly the kind of thing that has the pit of his stomach burning with white hot heat. He kisses his way up Jaebum’s thigh, delighting in the way he quivers at the mere touch, and when he reaches the end he licks a fat stripe along the side of his cock.
“Please.”
Jackson grins. There it is.
“What was that?”
“Please,” Jaebum grinds out between clenched teeth, his hand in a vise-like grip on Jackson’s shoulder.
Appeased, Jackson smiles, and decides to reward him by coiling his tongue around the tip of his dick and swallowing him whole.
“Shit!” Jaebum cries, throwing his head back against the tiles. Jackson silences him with two fingers that he willingly sucks into his mouth.
Jackson concentrates on building a steady rhythm back and forth, timing it to meet Jaebum’s shallow thrusts, but when he hazards a glance up at his teammate and sees his lips wrapped around his fingers, his eyes hooded and dark hair matted with water and sweat he nearly chokes. That’s also when Jaebum yanks him off and pulls him to his feet, releasing the fingers from his mouth in favor of slotting their mouths together in a fierce kiss. He takes Jackson’s hand and drags it slowly down his stomach to the base of his dick where Jackson closes his fingers around it and with Jaebum’s guidance starts to slowly stroke him. Jackson busies his mouth with painting a canvas of bruises onto Jaebum’s neck, drawing out tiny gasps and delicious moans, but it’s only when he finds a spot behind his ear, just past the junction between his neck and jaw, that Jaebum finally comes undone.
It all washes down the drain along with the lies and misconceptions, and then it’s just Jackson and Jaebum. Together. Like they were always meant to be.
~
Later when they’ve dried themselves off and lay in Jaebum’s bed, Jackson, nestled snug in the elder’s arms, asks, “Jae?”
“Hmm?”
“What did Mark tell you?”
“Oh.” Jaebum grins. “That?” His chest quakes up and down as he laughs lightly. “He said you had a massive boner for me.”
Jackson slaps his arm, burying his face into the elder’s chest to hide the blush that starts to dust his cheeks. “I hate you,” he murmurs.
“You love me,” Jaebum corrects him with a smile, using his thumb and forefinger to lift the younger’s chin up so that their lips meet in a soft kiss.
Jackson sighs contentedly. Yeah, he thinks, I do.
this was supposed to be locker room smut but then it turned into this mushy pile of goo. ew. mad props if you can spot the Into the Woods reference.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: smut, pwsp (porn with some plot. is this a thing? i don’t think it's a thing)
Word Count: ~4.8k
Summary: When Jaebum’s around, Jackson can’t think straight.
a/n: i don't know what this is i don't know what i'm doing this is all sella's fault.
Jackson is obsessed with Jaebum’s dick. Okay, that sounds weird and maybe a little perverted to most people but most people have also never seen Jaebum’s dick. Jackson has though. He sees it every day in the showers after baseball practice. Not that he, like, stares at it or anything. That’d be, just…gay. And Jackson’s not gay. Really he’s not. Well okay, he will admit that Jaebum is good looking, maybe even hot, but so will the rest of the student body. It doesn’t mean anything, in the same way that it doesn’t mean anything when Jackson stares-looks-at Jaebum’s penis. It’s purely objective, completely observational, absolutely nothing sexual about it. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
It’s a week before their first game of the playoffs. Their coach ups their practices to twice a day, one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and each lasting about an hour and a half so that by the end of the day all Jackson really wants is a long, hot shower.
Today has been particularly grueling, with weight training in the morning and a scrimmage in the afternoon, so Jackson is particularly eager when practice lets out and he enters the locker room; stripping his clothing and stepping into the showers within a matter of seconds.
A quiet groan slips past his lips the moment the water hits his skin, head rolling back over his shoulders as the spray of the shower cascades down on him before he hangs his head and leans forward, bracing himself against the tile wall. Yes, he thinks, this is exactly what he needed.
He closes his eyes, enjoying the way the water pounds hard against his back when he hears the water from the showerhead next to him turn on. Curious, he turns his head, just enough so that one eye peeks open over his arm, and is unsurprised to find Jaebum; eyes shut, head thrown back, looking like he just stepped out of a Men’s Health magazine.
Jackson has seen him naked before-being teammates also means they’ve shared more than a few showers together-and yet even in the three years they’ve known each other, Jackson has never been able to stop himself from staring: at Jaebum’s rippling biceps, at his sculpted chest and torso, at the curve of his perky ass (God what a perky ass), not to mention the object of his recent obsession.
It’s hard to put into words just how breathtaking the sight of Jaebum’s penis is, but Jackson thinks that if there were a hall of fame for dicks, Jaebum’s would be in a shiny glass case, on some sort of pedestal with a rope around it that says Do Not Touch.
“Jackson?”
Jaebum’s voice pulls him from his reverie, drawing his attention to the fact that the other boy’s eyes are on him, studying him with a half smug, half quizzical look. “Are you staring at my dick?”
Jackson blanches, mortified. “What? No!”
Jaebum smirks. “Yes you were.”
“Shut up!” Jackson childishly fires back. “Why would I want to stare at your limp ass dick?”
“You want to see what it looks like hard then?”
Jackson knows what the appropriate response is: an indignant “No!” and a jab to the ribs. But something about the prospect of a fully erect Jaebum standing in front of him has his breaths coming out in short pants, his throat suddenly dry, and is that water or sweat that’s coating his palms?
“I bet it’s bigger than yours,” Jaebum taunts, and like that Jackson snaps out of it. Nobody insults his masculinity.
“You wish!” he retorts, earning a grin from Jaebum.
“Let’s find out then.”
Jackson doesn’t have time to respond, doesn’t even have time to figure out what the heck Jaebum means before the other reaches out and takes both their members into his hands.
Jackson could scream. Jackson should scream. The guy is touching his dick! But he doesn’t. He freezes, unformed words catching in his throat.
It’s shock, he tells himself. People freeze up all the time. It’s not like he wants this. It’s not like he’s enjoying himself. Well, okay, that last part was a lie. But it’s not like he can help it. Not when Jaebum’s hand is so warm and rough and perfect. Not with the way he so expertly slides his hand along his shaft.
Jackson can’t even begin to fathom how many different levels of wrong this is. Jaebum is his teammate. Jaebum is his friend. Jaebum is a fucking dude. And Jackson should not be thinking about how sexy he looks when he’s touching himself. He should not be wanting so badly to claim his lips with his own, run his tongue along the shell of his ear, feel the smoothness of his skin beneath his fingertips, find out if he really does taste like bubblegum, and sunflower seeds, and that cherry chapstick he’s always smearing over his lips.
But he is. Jackson is thinking all of that. And yeah it’s fucked up. Yeah he wishes he could stop himself. But how is he supposed to think straight when Jaebum’s hand is wrapped around his cock? When Jaebum’s hair is wet and hanging in his eyes; when Jaebum’s lips are caught between his teeth; when Jaebum’s hardened dick is staring him straight in the face. How the fuck is he supposed to think straight?
“Ha!” Jaebum cries suddenly, removing his hands and stepping closer to Jackson so that they’re standing hip to hip. “Told ya mine was bigger.” He grins so wide it threatens to split his face in two and it takes Jackson a few seconds to figure out what he’s talking about before he glances down and confirms that yes. Jaebum’s is bigger. Bigger, thicker, prettier, hell it probably has magical fucking powers.
He lets out a groan, shoving the elder away. “Whatever,” he mumbles. “Size doesn’t matter anyway.”
Jaebum cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “I think your mom would beg to differ.”
“Fuck you dude!” Jackson socks him hard in the shoulder.
But Jaebum just laughs. And Jackson hates that he finds it so fucking sexy.
~
Jackson avoids Jaebum like the plague after that. Or at least he tries to. It’s much harder to avoid a person when said person is on the same team and in more than half the same classes as you. Even cutting class and skipping showering after practices doesn’t stop the problem of having to actually see him, which eventually leads to staring and inappropriate daydreaming, but at least it prevents him from blurting out something stupid in front of him like “yo man no homo but I’m kind of obsessed with your dick.”
The only problem is, he never took into consideration the possibility that Jaebum might actually seek him out. Like show up at his dorm room, pounding on the door, shouting his name loud enough for the entire hall to hear like he is right now. He has no Plan B, no means of escape except for maybe the five-story high window. But he’s not entirely insane and not nearly that desperate so he opts instead for begging his roommate Mark on his knees to pleeease tell him I’m not here.
Of course Jackson also failed to take into consideration the possibility that Mark might turn out to be a complete ass and instead tell him to come on in. Jackson’s in his room so he makes a mental note to dunk his toothbrush in the toilet later.
“Hey,” Jaebum says when he enters, eyes downcast and feet shuffling in the doorway. Jackson doesn’t think he’s ever seen him like this; nervous, unsure of himself. Jaebum was always so sure of himself. “Are you busy?”
“Um…” yeah, Jackson’s about to say until Mark shouts from the other room, “No! He’s just been playing Candy Crush on his phone.”
Jackson scowls. He is so dunking his toothbrush in the toilet later.
“So it’s okay if we talk for a bit?”
Jackson stares longingly at the window. He should’ve jumped when he had the chance. “Sure,” he says, shoulders sagging in defeat.
Jaebum takes it as an invitation to step further into the room, taking a seat at Jackson’s desk and wasting no time in getting right to the point. “You’ve been avoiding me.” His voice is like a punch to Jackson’s gut, the air from his lungs leaving him in one fell swoop.
“What?” Jackson makes a face that he hopes is both oblivious and confused. “No I haven’t.”
“Jackson,” Jaebum says, voice stern. “Yesterday when I asked if you wanted to go out for pizza you said you couldn’t come because you had to feed your dog. You don’t have a dog.”
“Oh. Did I say dog?” Jackson laughs. “I meant Mark.”
“I heard that!” Mark shouts from the other room.
Jaebum narrows his eyes. “Seriously Jackson. What’s going on? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”
Jackson could be mistaken but he thinks Jaebum sounds almost sad. He also thinks he’s probably the shittiest friend in the world.
“Dude,” he says. “It’s not even like that okay. I’ve just been busy. You know, exams and stuff.”
“And that would be a perfectly valid reason,” Jaebum says. “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re still using your textbooks as a TV stand.”
Jackson laughs, an attempt to disguise his embarrassment over being caught in a lie, and brings a hand to rub the back of his neck as he racks his brain for another excuse. “Umm…”
Shit. He’s got nothing. Nothing except the truth which had to be protected at all costs. But Jaebum is still waiting, eyes still narrowed, lips still pursed, and Jackson has to say something.
“Mark has a crush on Jinyoung!”
“What?!” Jaebum yells, shooting to his feet, precisely at the same moment Jackson hears a high pitched shriek from the other room followed by hurried footsteps.
It’s a matter of seconds before Mark appears in the doorway, face flushed and horrified, and panting as he attempts to speak. But he never gets a chance because just as quickly Jaebum has him backed against a wall, hand fisted in the collar of his shirt, demanding an explanation.
Jackson thinks it’s kind of hot, thinks maybe he’d like to be the one backed against a wall, trapped between Jaebum’s arms and solid chest, but then he takes stock of the situation and realizes he’s created the perfect chance to slip out of the room undetected.
~
In order to ensure that an incident such as the one at his dorm doesn’t happen again, Jackson decides to camp out in the library for the weekend. There’s plenty of places to hide, vending machines stocked with all his favorite snacks, even comfortable chairs to sleep in; also the fact that he’s never actually used it before makes it the perfect hiding place. No one will ever think to look for him here.
Or so he thought.
“Jackson?”
The voice startles him from his position, perched on the edge of a chair balanced on only its two hind legs, and with a yelp he crashes to the floor.
“Shh!” Whispers echo out like the hissing of snakes as Jackson reaches up to pull on the hem of the perpetrator’s-Mark’s-shirt, yanking him down to the floor with him.
“Were you followed?” he whispers conspiratorially, eyes darting back and forth to scan for any possible witnesses.
Mark’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Was I-what? No! Let go of my shirt!” He smacks at Jackson’s hands, whose grip only tightens as his voice grows more frantic.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me? Who sent you?”
“What the fuck are you on?” Mark whisper-shouts, finally succeeding in wrenching Jackson’s hands from his precious plaid shirt. “And what are you doing in the library of all places? I didn’t even think you knew where it was.”
Jackson scowls, standing to his feet. “I’m studying,” he says indignantly, gesturing with a sweeping motion of his hand to the notebook and pencils laid out across the table. “Obviously.”
Mark raises a brow, standing up to examine the notebook, and frowns. “There’s nothing written in this.”
“That’s because I haven’t started yet,” Jackson huffs, snapping the notebook closed and returning to his seat. “Besides it’s none of your business. So you can just go back to pining over Jinyoung or whatever it is you do in your room all day.”
Mark’s mouth drops open in a small o, color rising to his cheeks before he narrows his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says defiantly, dropping down into the seat across from Jackson. “Not until you tell me what’s going on between you and Jaebum.”
At the sound of Jaebum’s name, Jackson flinches. “I-nothing!” he declares. “There’s nothing going on between us. Who said there’s anything going on between us?”
“Jaebum,” Mark replies, not missing a beat. “After he finished grilling me for an hour because of what you told him-and by the way I’m so kicking your ass for that-he told me you’ve been avoiding him. And like honestly I normally couldn’t care less about your stupid lover’s quarrels but playoffs start next week and I really don’t want any unresolved sexual tension between you two fucking with our chances of winning.”
“Whoa whoa whoa wait,” Jackson cuts in. “‘Unresolved sexual tension?’ Who said anything about unresolved sexual tension?”
Mark rolls his eyes. “Oh please. Everyone knows you have a massive hard on for Jaebum.”
Jackson gasps. “I do not!”
“Really? Then how come you’re always staring at his ass during warmups?”
Jackson makes a noise like a scandalized shriek, mouth bobbing up and down as he struggles to speak before he lets his breath out in a despondent sigh. He groans, lowering his head to bury it in the crook of his arm. “This fucking sucks.”
“What fucking sucks?”
Out of nowhere, Jinyoung appears by Mark’s side, signature shit-eating grin plastered on his face, and plunks down into the seat next to him. Jackson wants to shrivel up and die. He hates Jinyoung.
“Nothing,” he mumbles in response, right around the same time Mark says, “Jackson’s gay for Jaebum.”
Jackson kicks him in the shin. Traitor.
“I’m not gay for Jaebum,” he amends. “I’m not gay for anyone. I’m not gay.”
“Sure you aren’t,” Jinyoung coos, lips pulled down in a pout. Jackson resists the urge to stab him with a pencil.
“Fine,” he says. “Hypothetically, let’s say I’m gay. And hypothetically, let’s say I like Jaebum. What am I supposed to do? I mean, what if he doesn’t like me back?”
“I think the fact that he’s willing to spend more than five minutes with you every day is a pretty strong indicator of how much he likes you,” Mark mutters offhandedly.
“I don’t know though,” Jinyoung adds, absentmindedly examining his nails. “You don’t really seem like his type.”
Jackson narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But either Jinyoung doesn’t hear him or he chooses to ignore him. “Come on Mark,” he says. “We’re going to be late for the movie.”
Jackson leaps to his feet. “What do you mean I’m not his type?”
But it’s as if he doesn’t exist; Mark spares him a pitying glance as he gets up from his seat, but it’s all the answer he gets before they round the corner and disappear.
~
One of the many things Jackson prides himself in (besides his hair, body, and overall swag) is his ability to let things roll off his back. He’s always been chill, easy going, never the one to get so worked up over things as trivial and unsubstantiated as rumors. And yet even days after their encounter in the library Jinyoung’s words continue to nag at him like an incurable itch.
You don’t really seem like his type.
Jackson tells himself it doesn’t mean anything. Jinyoung’s just messing with him, trying to get under his skin. But at night when he’s lying in bed; when it’s quiet and the lights are out, and it’s just him and his thoughts to keep him company, he starts to wonder.
What if he really isn’t Jaebum’s type? Did that mean Jaebum didn’t like him? That Jackson wasn’t good enough for him? But then wasn’t he handsome? Wasn’t he sensitive, clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming? Wasn’t he everything maidens could wish for? Or maybe that was the problem. Maybe that stuff only worked on girls. Maybe Jaebum, being a guy, wanted different things. Things that Jackson didn’t have. Things that Jackson couldn’t offer.
Then again why did he even care? It wasn’t his business who Jaebum chose to date. And it wasn’t like he ever cared before. Not when he started seeing that exchange student from Japan or the cheerleader from Biology. He’s never been jealous, not even of Jinyoung who clung to him like some lovesick puppy.
Or maybe it was just that he’d never felt threatened. Even when he’d dated those girls; even when it had been their hands that he held, their lips that he kissed, it was still Jackson who made him laugh. It was still Jackson who he told his deepest darkest secrets to. It was still Jackson that was there for him. That would always be there for him. In a way that he wasn’t for anyone else.
So maybe he lied. Maybe he did care. Maybe he cared a lot. Maybe the thought of Jaebum sharing that with anyone else hurt worse than if his heart had been ripped out, stomped on, and thrown in a blender. And maybe that was being greedy. Maybe that was selfish.
Or maybe he just had a crush on his best friend.
~
It’s just after midnight when Jackson shows up at Jaebum’s dorm. He knows it’s late, and Jaebum is the “early to bed, early to rise” type, but he also knows that if he waits any longer he’ll lose his nerve, forget the speech he’d so carefully planned out in his head, and besides he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up this charade. Sooner or later the truth would come out and Jackson preferred that Jaebum hear it straight from the source.
With a shaky breath he raises a fist to knock on the door. There’s a sound like the shuffling of footsteps, a muffled voice, and then the door swings open to reveal Jaebum wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue track pants hung low enough on his hips for Jackson to get a clear view of the waistband of his briefs. Calvin Klein. Classy.
Jackson averts his eyes, making it a point to stare anywhere but directly at his teammate. He has to stay focused. He can’t afford to be distracted by Jaebum’s flat, toned, glistening-
“Jackson?” Jaebum’s voice breaks through the flurry of his thoughts. “What’s going on? What are you doing here so late?” He sounds tired, his voice husky and thick with sleep, and even with his hair sticking up at odd angles, Jackson thinks it’s the sexiest he’s ever seen him.
He clears his throat. “We need to talk,” he says.
“Okay.” Jaebum steps aside, concern etched into the furrowing of his brows. “Is everything alright? Did something happen? Is this about what Mark said?”
“No,” Jackson answers, stepping past him. “I mean everything’s fine I just-wait.” He pauses in the middle of the doorway. “What did Mark say?”
Jaebum’s cheeks visibly redden. “Nothing I-you go first.”
Jackson gives him a suspicious glare, but continues on into the room, sinking down onto the edge of Jaebum’s bed where they’d spent many a night playing DOA until the sun came up (Jackson was always Leifang and Jaebum was always Hitomi. Even when they were fighting they had to be best friends).
“Am I your type?” Jackson blurts the moment Jaebum settles down next to him.
He looks taken aback. “What?”
“Jinyoung said I’m not your type,” Jackson rephrases. “Is that true?”
Jaebum frowns. “You really shouldn’t listen to what Jinyoung says.”
“But is it true?” Jackson hears the way his voice comes out frantic, like he’s desperate to get the words out, and judging from the way Jaebum winces he guesses he can hear it too.
“What’s got you so worked up over this?”
Jackson shrugs. “I just wanna know.” He thinks it sounds casual, but Jaebum must see through it. Because he reaches down to steady his hands with a gentle squeeze. Jackson didn’t even realize they were trembling. “I need to know that I’m not the only one that-feels this way,” he says, Jaebum’s touch slowly coaxing the truth out of him.
Jaebum shakes his head. “Feels what way? Jackson what are you talking about?”
“I like you.” The words spill unbidden from his mouth. “A lot. More than I probably should. And I’m sorry for lying to you and avoiding you and being such a shit friend but I didn’t know what else to do. I thought that if I ignored these feelings that they’d just…go away.”
“Jackson.” He hears Jaebum’s voice, but it sounds far off, dreamlike and not real so he continues on.
“But they didn’t. They won’t. And I know I screwed up and I’m such a dick and you probably hate me-”
“Jackson shut up.”
“-but I only did it because-”
“I said shut up.” Suddenly, and with great force, Jaebum grabs him by the shirt and crushes their mouths together, teeth colliding in a way that isn’t entirely pleasant, but sends a pleasurable shiver down his spine just the same. Jaebum tastes exactly like he’d imagined, bubblegum, sunflower seeds, and that cherry chapstick he’s always smearing over his lips, only sweeter, and more perfect than he could’ve ever dreamed.
“So does this mean…?” Jackson pants when they come up for air. “You too?”
“Yeah.” Jaebum smiles and presses another kiss to his lips, this one gentler and chaste. “Me too.” And when Jackson smiles back, all teeth and gums, he pushes him down into the cushions of his bed and noses at his neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses that are sure to leave marks along the exposed skin of his shoulder.
“Jae?” Jackson chokes out between stifled moans.
“Hmm?” Jaebum hums against his skin.
“Does this mean-I’m your type?”
Jaebum lifts his head to look straight into Jackson’s eyes, conveying in them the sincerity behind his words. “Of course you’re my type,” he breathes against his lips, punctuating it with a kiss that leaves Jackson dizzy and chasing after him when he pulls away.
“But Jinyoung said-”
His words are swallowed up in a gasp when Jaebum licks along the shell of his ear and bites down, hard. “Fuck Jinyoung,” he snarls. “He’s an idiot. And a liar. And besides you really shouldn’t be saying another guy’s name when you’re in my bed.”
Jackson looks up at him with a smirk. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
Raising his hips, Jackson grinds roughly into Jaebum’s thigh. “How about you finish what you started?”
A grin stretches across Jaebum’s lips, and then it’s like they’re caught up in a whirlwind. One minute he’s on Jaebum’s bed, pinned beneath his strong body and gaze, and the next he’s completely disrobed, along with Jaebum, stepping into the spray of a hot shower.
His back hits the wall as Jaebum traps him there between his arms, and suddenly it’s like all of his dreams are coming true. To have Jaebum here, alone, with him; to see his lips red and swollen from kissing him, it’s hard to believe that any of it is actually happening. That this isn’t just another one of his dreams. But then he takes his hand and runs it up along the swell of Jaebum’s bicep, past his chest and the ridges of his abs, down to the shaft of his dick, and he knows. That this is real.
“Don’t,” Jaebum whispers when Jackson ghosts his fingers over his length, so softly that he hardly hears him against the running of the shower head.
Jackson blinks up at him, confused.
“I wanna do you first,” he says and wraps his hand around Jackson’s dick, gliding it easily along his length while he licks up the side of his neck and mouths at the underside of his jaw.
A sudden rush of déjà vu washes over him. He’s been here before. Not in this exact place but in this situation. Only then he’d been too embarrassed, too ashamed to really let himself go and enjoy the ministrations of Jaebum’s skilled hand and mouth. So this time he lets the pleasure take hold of him and the noises spill from his throat, every gasp, every groan, until he comes with a cry into Jaebum’s hand.
“That was fast,” Jaebum comments, more smug than teasing, and when Jackson pouts he sucks the protruding lower lip into his mouth.
Jackson parts his lips to allow their tongues to tangle in a sloppy kiss, but uses it as a distraction to get his hands up to Jaebum’s chest, spin them around, and switch their positions so that it’s Jaebum against the wall, and Jackson trapping him there between his arms.
“My turn,” he says with a wicked smirk, sinking down onto his knees, and sucking in a breath at the sight of Jaebum’s dick up close. It’s more glorious than ever before, standing proudly at attention, and had it not been for the impatient whine that Jaebum lets out he would’ve been content to just sit and stare.
“Come on Jackson.” Jaebum nudges him with his foot. “Don’t make me beg.”
It’s the wrong choice of words though because Jaebum begging is exactly the kind of thing that has the pit of his stomach burning with white hot heat. He kisses his way up Jaebum’s thigh, delighting in the way he quivers at the mere touch, and when he reaches the end he licks a fat stripe along the side of his cock.
“Please.”
Jackson grins. There it is.
“What was that?”
“Please,” Jaebum grinds out between clenched teeth, his hand in a vise-like grip on Jackson’s shoulder.
Appeased, Jackson smiles, and decides to reward him by coiling his tongue around the tip of his dick and swallowing him whole.
“Shit!” Jaebum cries, throwing his head back against the tiles. Jackson silences him with two fingers that he willingly sucks into his mouth.
Jackson concentrates on building a steady rhythm back and forth, timing it to meet Jaebum’s shallow thrusts, but when he hazards a glance up at his teammate and sees his lips wrapped around his fingers, his eyes hooded and dark hair matted with water and sweat he nearly chokes. That’s also when Jaebum yanks him off and pulls him to his feet, releasing the fingers from his mouth in favor of slotting their mouths together in a fierce kiss. He takes Jackson’s hand and drags it slowly down his stomach to the base of his dick where Jackson closes his fingers around it and with Jaebum’s guidance starts to slowly stroke him. Jackson busies his mouth with painting a canvas of bruises onto Jaebum’s neck, drawing out tiny gasps and delicious moans, but it’s only when he finds a spot behind his ear, just past the junction between his neck and jaw, that Jaebum finally comes undone.
It all washes down the drain along with the lies and misconceptions, and then it’s just Jackson and Jaebum. Together. Like they were always meant to be.
~
Later when they’ve dried themselves off and lay in Jaebum’s bed, Jackson, nestled snug in the elder’s arms, asks, “Jae?”
“Hmm?”
“What did Mark tell you?”
“Oh.” Jaebum grins. “That?” His chest quakes up and down as he laughs lightly. “He said you had a massive boner for me.”
Jackson slaps his arm, burying his face into the elder’s chest to hide the blush that starts to dust his cheeks. “I hate you,” he murmurs.
“You love me,” Jaebum corrects him with a smile, using his thumb and forefinger to lift the younger’s chin up so that their lips meet in a soft kiss.
Jackson sighs contentedly. Yeah, he thinks, I do.
this was supposed to be locker room smut but then it turned into this mushy pile of goo. ew. mad props if you can spot the Into the Woods reference.