Upgrade U. (do it if ya bad)

[mockturtletale]

Pairing: Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth. (All Time Low)
Rating: R? NC-17? H for handjob?
Word Count: 5,200.
Disclaimer: UND DIE LIES.
Notes: For Becky, because she is the best and her love for/knowledge of ATL and willingness to share that with me constantly improves my life. (special tks to Taelor for the ridiculous title & handholding)


When Alex jerks off, it's to random ideas. He doesn't fixate on faces because who he has sex with is irrelevant, once they're relatively hot in proportion to the ratio of legal girls in the vicinity, all systems are go. Names, faces, motives - getting off is getting off. Alex isn't an asshole, he almost always makes sure they get off too, he is a considerate and gracious lover, seriously. But sex just isn't a long term thing for him. Feelings have no place in the bedroom or bathroom or back lounge as the case may be. Friends - music - sex - alcohol. Alex has a very specific, tried and tested system of priorities and experience has taught him to keep them all as seperate as he can.

Which would explain why accidentally jerking off to thoughts of his best friend quickly becomes problematic.

He's holed up in the tiny en-suite in that night's venue, nervous excitement about the show has somehow pooled into that slow dirty itch beneath his skin and playing music doesn't usually have this effect on Alex, but it's been a couple days since he's hooked up so he'll let this one slide.

The rest of the guys are doing some interview - Alex scored a pass for 'vocal rest' which is mostly bullshit, but his groan is just a little rough when he shoves his jeans down to his knees and gets a hand inside his boxers. He's not thinking about anything in particular, just the sweet fucking relief of finally touching himself. The band of his boxers is seriously hindering his wrist action, so he tugs those down too, freeing his dick. The cool air and the smooth tile at his back make him seem impossibly harder, hotter to the touch. He's just getting back into the swing of things, slumping back against the wall to drop his other hand to cup his balls, twisting his wrist to slide the palm of his hand over the head of his dick, thinking about nothing more detailed than how fucking great it would be to actually be getting laid right now, when he hears a noise out in the dressing room. He doesn't stop, just bites his lip to remind himself to be quiet and slows down a little, timing the slide of his hand to coincide with the rush of blood in his ears. It's probably just a roadie anyway. He doesn't hear anything else for a couple minutes, so he assumes it's okay to get back down to business. He grunts and his knees buckle a little.

Sometimes Alex thinks his hand is the only constant source AND receptor of love in his life.

He's drawing it out, keeping one hand tight on the base of his cock while he fingers around the head, drags his thumb across the slit. Pre-come is slicking his palm, but Alex always prefers it a little dry. He's thinking about the last girl he fucked, some model-hot chick that definitely didn't like his band but had hopefully found him attractive nonetheless. Alex doesn't really give a shit, in heels she'd been just a little bit taller than him, with a dark pixie cut hairstyle that fell into her eyes while she was sucking him off. He'd fucked her from behind, keeping his hands on the jut of her hipbones and the boyish stretch of her waist. He's thinking about how good her ass had felt pushing back against his hips, how he'd wound his fingers into the short hair at the back of her head and pushed her face to the door so he could watch the long line of her back, the way her shoulders shook as he pushed up into her. His hand is a poor substitute but the relief alone is getting him off. He's so hard it's almost painful and this close to the final whistle when the door thuds against his back.

"Uhh .. uhh .. harder Alex! HARDER!" Jack is literally humping the door, he can feel the vibrations across his back and what the fuck? Maybe if he stays quiet he'll go away ... but no. Jack's voice just drops five octaves and gets suddenly closer, the fucker is actually groaning at Alex through the door.

"Alex ... Alex ... Oh Alex! Right there!!" Even Jack can't sustain it, he trails off into a chuckle but he's still right outside the fucking door and Alex is going to strangle him. Just as soon as he gets off because there's no sense in wasting a perfectly good boner. Thankfully Jack must get bored of getting no reaction out of Alex whatsoever, because the noises stop and dressing room door creaks open and shut again. Thank fuck.

Alex is using every trick he's got to get this over with before Jack or the others come back. His hand is so tight and slick and one more filthy reminder of his latest conquest will do the job. But when Alex finally comes, finally lets his head thunk back against the door and starts to fuck his hand in earnest, he's not thinking about that girl. Her dark hair has become a little longer, a lot messier than he remembers. Her hips pushed back against his ass are now even narrower. His fingers slip beneath the head of his dick when the image in his mind turns her head and has Jack's face, and he will swear he doesn't mean to - but Alex shoots his load to the thought of fucking his best friend. He's still coming down from it, waiting for his breathing to even out and all he can hear in his head is the replay of Jack groaning up against the door, and then he's thinking about making Jack groan up against THIS side of the door and his dick actually tries to get in on the action again and seriously this is so fucking wrong Alex has entered the twilight zone.

Jack is the best thing that's ever happened to him, and they definitely don't confine their friendship to the regular socially accepted personal boundaries, but seeing a dude naked as much as you see yourself naked is a far cry from jerking off to the idea of fucking him. This was totally just a freak occurance, completely down to Jack's interruption and nothing else. It doesn't mean anything. It's not a big deal.

Alex cleans up and tucks himself back into his pants. He washes his hands, splashes cold water in his face and stares at himself in the mirror. He can't quite meet his own eye.

And even though he does everything he can to pretend it never happened, Alex's mutinous mind is fighting him tooth and nail. Everyone around him knows how weird he can get, but even his band are starting to notice something is up. Except the ever oblivious Jack of course, who just continues on as normal. Doesn't bat an eyelid when Alex chokes on his cereal because Jack stumbled out from the bunks butt fucking naked. Just keeps humping Alex both on and offstage as usual, even though now Alex fumbles notes and trips over flat ground when it happens. Every time he jerks off now, it follows the same disastrous course -

Step One: Lubrication.
Step Two: Alex tries to think of hot stuff.
Step Three: Alex tries to stop thinking about Jack.
Step Four: No seriously, fucking stop it.
Step Five: Jesus christ.
Step Six: Alex blows his load thinking about Jack and feels a little nauseous but mostly just residully horny for the next hour.

The aftermath is the worst. Trying to sleep in the bunk across from Jack's with Jack's curtain long since pulled completely off and Alex's only closing up to waist high is the worst. He feels like a fucking perv, because even though he tries to look at the ceiling or the wall, he always ends up giving in and sticking his hand into his boxers while he watches Jack’s sleeping form, looks at the peaceful rise and fall of his chest and thinks about how he could speed it up, how he wishes he could make Jack’s whole body tremble like his does when he gives in like this.

So the nub and gist of the issue is that Alex can’t avoid Jack and it’s going to really suck when either his dick falls off or he finally goes blind because he’s jerking off so much that his right wrist aches and using his left hand only lends another foreign layer to the ‘what if this was Jack’ fantasy.

It comes to a head (pun in-fucking-tended) during a game of Spin the Bottle, as is want to happen amongst groups of 14 year old girls such as themselves. They’re wasted and giddy, played one of the best shows Alex can remember in a long time and their energy onstage was so much, so tight that it leaves little room for him to worry about his newfound need to bone his bff.

He’s more comfortable than he’s been in ages, lying across one of the sofas in the back lounge and laughing so hard at the image of Vinny trying to pull Zack’s hair into pigtails that he’d sit up for fear of puking all over himself if he could only bring himself to care. They’re not actually playing Spin The Bottle, but Jack is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor and decides to start a one man round with the Captain, tragically lost to the cruel mistress that is the sea of Jack's buzz. The bottle stops nowhere near Alex, pointing directly at Rian up front, but that doesn’t seem to factor into Jack’s plans when he lurches to his feet only to fall to his knees across Alex’s lap.

It’s testement to the glory that is wine that Alex doesn’t freak out at all like he’s taken to lately. He should definitely start worrying when Jack leans forward, letting his weight rest on Alex’s hips and dropping his head to bite his chin. But nope, Alex just laughs. Giggles like a fucking schoolgirl when Jack’s bangs fall into his eyes and tickle his face.

Somewhere between the laughing and the giggling and the tickling and the drinking Alex must have tipped his head back just a bit, or else Jack went in for the kill because their mouths are sealed together now and this is by no means the first or even most unexpected time this has happened, but no-one ever counts on Alex’s neurosis when push comes to making out.

Because not only is Alex drunk enough to not worry, he’s somehow managed to drink himself to the point of pure selfish want and complete disregard for things like social graces, relationship boundaries and bus rules.

So although they’re in the lounge and not alone and also hi, best friends, Alex forgoes all of those notions to pretty much kiss the shit out of Jack. There are no niceties, no joking ‘gross’ licks or slurps, just Alex’s teeth tugging on Jack’s bottom lip as the only warning he’s going to get, and then his tongue pushing up into Jack’s mouth to taste Jack’s tongue, lick along the back of Jack’s teeth to drag across the inside of Jack’s lip, curl along the tip of his tongue again. At the same time, without thinking, he’s fisting his hands into the front of Jack’s shirt to pull him down, closer, their only point of contact being lips and teeth and alcohol sweet tongues not enough, never enough.

Alex has thought about this so much it’s almost surprising that kissing Jack with no preamble or context is even better than he’d been imagining. Jack is seemingly totally down with this, shoving his hands between Alex’s back and the couch, pushing the palms of his hands down and across Alex’s ribs and even through his own shirt Alex can feel the the calluses on Jack’s fingertips, the pressure enough to make him gasp. Jack stays true and uses the opportunity, flicking his tongue out in teasing little licks against Alex’s mouth, to drive Alex slowly out of his mind when all he wants is this NOW and he pushes his hips up to tell Jack just that when the sound of a loud smash finally manages to clear his head. And Jack’s, if the bug eyes are anything to go by.

Rian is standing at the fridge with a broken bottle of beer at his feet, looking half sheepish - half shocked - half confused and FUCK. Jack and Alex sometimes kiss when they’re drunk, but this is a whole ‘nother level and it was Alex’s doing, Alex’s stupid fucking selfish fault.

He bolts.

He shoves at Jack till his legs are free, hears nothing but white noise for the four steps it takes for him to reach his bunk and curls into the wall until his forehead is touching it and his headphones are loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

…………..

Matt wakes Alex at the crack of midday with a bottle of very cold, very strategically placed water and for a few blissful seconds all Alex has to worry about is possible infertility until his brain kicks in to register the itch beneath his skin, the faint memory of skin and denim and dark hair under his hands and the fact that unlike recently, it’s not just wishful thinking.

He crawls out of his bunk and skulks in the back lounge with his earbuds in and hood up till they reach whatever city they’re playing in today - somewhere in the mid-west he thinks; judging by the lack of everything - and Jack sleeps right through until the bus pulls up in front of their hotel, so Alex counts the situation as an overall win. The Awkward has been avoided for now.

But disaster soon strikes - as Zack and Rian decide to be assholes and call dibs on rooming together. This leaves Alex with Jack, and a whole fucking lot of explaining to do, the way he sees it.

They stand in the elevator in complete silence, Jack still sleep-doped but oddly terse too, like he sense danger but can’t see it. The corridor down to their room is approximately four hundred and eleven miles long and Alex’s stomach turns over with each step they take. Jack is still silent, trudging along a half step behind him. Once they’ve dumped their bags inside the door, Alex wanders over to look out the window, not seeing the view at all as he tries to steel his nerves for the shitstorm that’s about to go down.

He loves Jack. He has loved him since the day he met him, even if he didn’t know it at the time, and the thought that this stupid crazed phase he’s going through lately might threaten that … yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s going to throw up. Repeatedly. He sighs, takes one last deep breath and turns around to face the music.

Jack doesn’t really look all that much like he’s going to punch anyone though. He’s lying on his back on the bed next to the bathroom even though Alex always takes that one for optimum puke control proximity. His arms are folded up beneath his head and if Alex didn’t know better, he’d think Jack was just thinking about fantasy tours and beer as usual. He looks suspiciously zen.

“Jack … Jack-y …. Jack … dude .. look bro …” Man, Alex is killing it so far! But Jack doesn’t seem phased by his sudden bumbling idiot routine, he just sits up straight and sighs.

“Don’t even, Gaskarth. We made out. Which we’ve done before, and will hopefully do again. Rian just freaked because we were a little more enthusiastic than usual. We’re growing boys, beer and skin and kissing has that effect on us. It’s not our fault. Accept that, and move into the light already”.

Alex is both shocked, appalled and slightly delighted. He puts all that aside in favor of incredulity though, because what the fuck?

“What the FUCK? Jack. Are you … we can’t keep DOING this! It should never have happened in the first place, and it should DEFINITELY never have escalated to the point that it did last night and it’s not OKAY, I can’t just … I could’ve .. I might’ve … this …………...”

The realization of how this could have gone down, how it might still play out, hits Alex like a fucking freight train, and he honestly doesn’t know how he even gets his legs to co-operate with the movement, but he moves for the door, he needs to get out of here, out of this room, away from Jack and his unconditional, blind, ever-unsuspecting acceptance of everything Alex does. Because this is not one of those times when Alex didn’t mean it, when he didn’t think it through. He’s thought it through till he’s blue in the balls.

They can’t do this, it won’t work, and he’s reaching for the handle of the door, ready to wrench it open and run as far away from this problem as he feasibly can when a hand on his shoulder stops him.

Jack grabs a handful of his collar and pulls him back, uses the hold to push Alex up against the wall and moves in to hold him there, his hands going to Alex’s biceps with a hold just tight enough to hurt. If the force of being thrown back against the wall hadn’t already knocked the wind from Alex’s lungs, being manhandled like this would and he has to bite back a groan at the unfairness, the utter wrongness of this entire situation.

But Jack just shakes him a little, forces him to stay still and meet his gaze and okay, okay Alex can do this. He can. Deep breaths. Focus. Jack, talk to Jack. Keep his hands off Jack. Keep his mind here, now, this. And above all fucking else - keep his hips and his traitorous dick as far from Jack as possible. This is a rescue mission and Alex will NOT fuck this up any further than he already has.

“I’m so … I’m just .. Sorry. Sorry, Jack I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen, I won’t let it happen again, I’m sorry, but I will .. I WON’T let this fuck with what we have”. Alex is shaking, fear and regret and want and confliction making him dizzy.

But Jack is right there as always, shushing him and holding him and touching him and this always kept him grounded, brought him back to what was important but now it’s just sending him further toward risking all of that for what he wants - this is so unproductive and Jack is pressing his forehead to the wall beside Alex, sliding a hand into the hair at the back of his neck and still shushing him, trying to calm and comfort him when he’d probably run a mile of he knew this very thing was the problem.

“Hey, hey. Listen. It’s okay. Whatever this is about, whatever you’re thinking right now - you’re being stupid. Everything is going to be okay - better than okay. We’re here, you and me, and nothing can change that.” Jack pulls him in for a hug, and Alex is so momentarily relieved that he just goes with it. He folds his arms around Jack and presses his face into his shoulder and sighs.

And then someone shifts, something changes, and Alex hears Jack’s sharp intake of breath when their hips knock together and he feels Alex hard against his leg. Everything just stops, and Alex is … still a fucking fruit salad of emotion right now, so he does the only thing he can think of and tightens his hold on Jack, keeps them crushed together - sealed at the shoulders and hips. He can’t deal with the look on Jack’s face just now, so he figured keeping it pressed to his shoulder would be one way of avoiding it. He hadn’t really banked on how he’s sort of clinging to Jack like a limpet now, rock hard and not breathing. Alex Gaskarth - life coach material, for sure.

“Uh .. Alex?”.

Right right, because he’s totally just been standing completely still instead of running far away or explaining or strangling himself with his own scarf - anything else productive like that.

“I said I was sorry didn’t I? I can’t … it’s just lately, it’s just right now, it’s not a thing, it’s not! I won’t … we’ll .. I’ll figure it out. I’ll stop being weird, I’ll get over it. Just … don’t .. I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry and”

Jack interrupts before he digs himself a grave big enough for the whole band, because he’s a good friend like that.

“Alex … what the fuck are you talking about” He sounds genuinely confused, not angry or pissed or murderous or anything.

The fact that they’re having this conversation like this, still sandwiched together so Alex feels Jack’s voice against his throat as much as he hears is, is both ridiculous and torturous.

“Dude. I mouth raped you last night. And my dick is currently trying to drill a hole in your leg. My thoughts have been a little ….. inappropriate lately. Surely even YOU have noticed this”.

“That’s what this is about? Oh for the love of of Andrew McMahon and all that is sacred!”

Jack wrenches himself from Alex’s confusion-lax grip and pulls back to look at Alex, who closes one eye - to hide from his shame but also keep an eye on Jack’s expression. He’s stealthy that way. But then suddenly entirely flummoxed, because while he was busy wondering if he looks like a pirate right now, Jack has moved in to kiss him.

They’re sober, it’s daylight, Alex has more or less just confessed to having a Big Dumb Crush on his Big Dumb Best Friend and said friend is currently digging his fingers into Alex’s sides so he can push him further into the wall and kiss him.

“What the !” Jack, super genius that he is, darts forward to stick his tongue in Alex’s still-talking mouth and okay, okay. They are making out against the wall of a hotel now, it seems. Alex can be down with that. Making out is totally kosher. Gay above the waist and all that. Except unless he’s very much mistaken, Jack seems to be sharing his little maybe-also-gay-below-the-waist issue, if this sudden, great friction is anything to go by.

Jack drops his forehead back to the wall behind Alex so he can talk low in his ear while he grinds forward, and fuck yes. Fuck no? Alex is still so conflicted. Making out good, humping good, other stuff bad? But man, other stuff good. He hates his life.

“Alex, alex, fuck. Pay attention bro, jesus. Talk to me. Tell me .. is this .. fuck. Is this what you’re talking about? This is what you want?”

And yeah. Jack’s mouth against his neck, his hands and hips and every point of contact shorting out his cells, Alex is officially SOLD. Consequences be damned.

“Fuck, yes. Yes. I’m sorry. Should I be sorry? I just .. want. You. I want you. Jack. Fuck.”

He feels Jack smile, and okay. Band not breaking up, best friend not bailing, Alex LOVES his life.

“Of course you do, I am hot shit. Have you been thinking about it? Me?”

Jack is looking at him now, smirking at him like a smug bastard. Alex leans forward, wanting to kiss the smirk off his mouth but definitely not above biting it off, but Jack - tease that he is, leans right back, almost entirely out of Alex’s space except for where his hands are bracketing his head against the wallpaper. Jack’s hands, fuck. Alex feels trapped and scrutinized and like prey in the best possible way. He squirms against the wall, still so fucking hard in his jeans he would not be surprised if he broke the zipper.

Fuck this though.

He wraps a fist in Jack’s tshirt and pulls him back in, kissing him deep and dirty while his other hand goes for Jack’s belt. Jack laughs against his mouth and tilts his hips back, away away and no not good. His teeth are dragging across Alex’s jaw though, and that is nice.

“Seriously, this is why you’ve been weird? You wanna bone me?” Alex just nods, he can barely breathe with how Jack is so close, everywhere around him, touching and letting him touch.

“Words, Gaskarth, you’re generally a fan of them” Jack is half teasing, he thinks. But the thought of telling Jack, explaining exactly how badly he wants to bone him, is kind of probably the hottest thing that’s ever occurred to him. Jack has somehow become the master of making everything hotter than it has any right to be when Alex wasn’t looking. Or was too busy thinking about banging him.

“That day … with the radio interview I bailed on, you came back to the dressing room before the others, remember?”

Jack’s hips stutter at this, and Alex likes that. Likes that even though Jack is doing a stellar job of turning him inside out with want right now, he isn’t unaffected by the situation either.

“You really were jerking off? I thought .. I didn’t think ..” But he’s thinking now, he’s picturing it, and Alex can see how it’s blowing his pupils out, feels the strain in his fingers when he pushes Alex’s shirt up to get at more skin. His hands sliding up Alex’s sides, dragging slowly across his ribs is too much, not enough. Alex pulls his shirt up over his head and doesn’t wait for permission or reaction to drop to his knees.

He’s thought about this so often, so much lately, it’s almost a relief but mostly just shockingly hot to find himself trapped between a wall and Jack’s dick. He’s never done this before, simply never wanted to, but Jack is apparently a game changer because his mouth is suddenly watering, he’s desperate for it. He keeps talking, pushing Jack’s shirt up to press his words into the hot skin across Jack’s stomach.

“I was thinking about banging that chick, the one with the Beatles haircut, and then you were at the door, you were moaning through the door and I was .. for once it wasn’t funny, it was just freakishly hot”.

“Dude I’m pretty sure you’re about to suck my dick, you can quit it with the the flattery. You’ve already scored.” Jack is clearly growing impatient, if the way he’s basically humping Alex’s head is anything to go by. Alex gets the hint and if his hands shake a little when he unzips Jack’s jeans and pulls them and his boxers down his thighs, Jack doesn’t notice.

“Hey, hey. Before you .. you know you don’t have to right? And that if you do, it doesn’t change anything.”

“You’ll still respect me in the morning?” Alex looks up at Jack from underneath his eyelashes, completely unashamed of how he leans in just enough to let his slick bottom lip brush against the head of Jack’s cock.

“Oh fuck. I will respect you more. I will buy you a pony. I will respect that pony. Fuck, Alex”. He brushes Alex’s bangs out of his face and slides his hands back into his hair and holy shit, this is actually happening.

Alex quits teasing and gets to it, licking his palm to curl wetly around the Jack’s dick, and sucks the head into his mouth. Jack thrusts shallowly, just enough to make Alex feel a little out of control, a little slutty. Which you know, it turns out he is. For Jack.

“I think about it too, you know.” Jack pulls back, stills his cock heavy on Alex’s tongue and brings a hand down to swipe a thumb through the spit dripping from his shaft down Alex’s chin.

“I’ve thought about this for years. When I jerk off, it’s to thinking about what it’d be like to fuck your mouth like this, how you’d look on your knees for me. I gotta say, the view is far from a disappointment” .

Alex is going to choke on his own tongue. He swallows, closing his throat around the head of Jack’s dick and Jack groans, has to lean a hand on Alex’s shoulder to stay upright. He’s less careful now, sure that Alex can take it. He shuffles forward, his fingers under Alex’s chin tipping his head back against the wall.

He braces one hand against the wall and keeps the other along Alex’s jaw, pushing in deep and slow, letting Alex suck on the length of his cock and then pulling back just enough to feel Alex’s swollen lips close around the head and lick at the pre-come that’s slicking soft and bitter across Alex’s tongue.

He’s wanted this for far longer than Alex has and never really got around to that whole guilt issue, because Jack is a shameless human being and as such, has no qualms about fucking his best friends mouth with absolute abandon. Alex is a ridiculously attractive dude, and here he is on knees in front of Jack, sucking his dick like Jack is doing HIM a favour, moaning around his mouthful of cock like a ‘thanks’. He brings a hand up to cup Jack’s balls, and that’s that. Jack lets his own head fall foreward to the wall and cups the back of Alex’s neck in both hands, grunting out a warning that Alex intercepts and runs with - he takes Jack’s dick as deep as he can and swallows/moans around it, brushing a finger across the hyper sensitive skin above his balls and that’s it. Touchdown, game over. Jack comes down Alex’s throat so hard he literally blacks out for a second. He has gotten great head before, but jesus.

They both just pant quietly for a minute, coming down and staying up in Alex’s case. Oh, right!

Jack pulls his shirt over his head and cleans up Alex’s chin with it, pulls him to his feet and toes off his shoes and loses his jeans and boxers on the way to dragging Alex back to the bed. He pushes him down onto his back and wastes no time in climbing aboard the SS Gaskarth. Orgasms make him stupidly energetic and excited (surprise surprise) and he is more than prepared to give Alex the best handjob anyone in the world has ever received. He’s seen the way Alex looks at his hands, noted with interest how his breathing changed everytime they travelled south of the border and he is ready to rock this.

Alex feels like he’s been hard since about three weeks ago, so he mewls in a way that Jack will definitely give him shit for later when his jeans and boxers are pulled away and Jack finally, finally touches his dick. He doesn't tease, just jerks him off hard and fast and exactly as Alex would himself if he weren't currently checked out of his mind. Jack's hands, Jack's weight across his thighs, Jack leaning forward to lick his own taste out of Alex's mouth. He curls his hands up around Jack's shoulders and still can't quite believe that he gets to feel this, gets to feel like this with and because of Jack.

He's murmuring nonsense now, 'please's and curse words mixed up with animal noises and Jack's name and Alex has never felt anything like this before. This is friendship and sex and comfort and release and he's pretty sure he's never going to be able to go without this again. He must say something to this effect out loud, because Jack is pushing the hair out of his eyes, thumbing across the head of his dick and whispering the sweetest things against Alex's cheekbone.

"No, no. Don't. This is too good and I have too little self control. We are doing this every day for the rest of forever".

Alex's hips push up off the bed in celebration, and Jack falls forward to lick into his mouth, kiss him stupid as his hand speeds up around Alex's cock.

"Hey, can I fuck you later? You would look pretty great riding my dick" and yeah. Alex is ashamed and entirely unsurprised to admit that it is Jacks complete Jackness which finally pushes him to come all over himself.

Jack doesn't move, just sits there grinning down at Alex and tracing swirls through the mess on his stomach. Alex is kind of retardedly happy right now, and suspects it has little to do with orgasms.

"So that was a yes, right?".