The Dog Days (Have Just Begun) [for shrdmdnssftw]
For: shrdmdnssftw
Title: The Dog Days (Have Just Begun)
Pairing(s)/focus: Jackson/JB
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 6100
Warnings: Guardians of the Galaxy spoilers, (barebacking, mild comeplay, rough sex, sex with were-boy) highlight to read
Author's notes: Happy new year shrdmdnssftw! Thank you for the lovely prompts; though trust me to take the crackiest of all of them. I honestly have no idea what dogs are like (I have a cat ok) but I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did writing it!
Summary: Honestly, all he wanted to do was watch his pirated movie, and here he is now; half in love, half in denial with a dachshund.
▼o・ェ・o▼
Jackson has had a lot of weird things happen to him in the twenty years he’s been alive.
When he was thirteen, his parents decided to move to Korea, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the culture and language, from Hong Kong-his father had developed an unhealthy fascination with the k-dramas that always played on the TV and thought that Seoul would be a fantastic place to live out his own dramatic life. Jackson’s mother just rolled her eyes and told him he could do whatever he liked, as long as he found a house with a Jacuzzi.
When he was seventeen, his father had grown out of the obsession and moved onto a new one, deciding that he wanted to retire to Lima, Peru, where he could buy and keep all the alpacas he liked; he forgets to mention his plans to his only son until both he and his wife have already landed in their new home.
It’s only after receiving a photo message of his parents smiling on the back of a donkey, travelling through the Peruvian countryside with a short message of “we left u a credit card. mum says be good. dad will send u souvenirs after he makes bank xoxo” that a severely hungover Jackson realizes that his parents are fucking insane.
After that whole debacle, he finds that besides the stark increase in his takeaway and instant ramen intake, his life doesn’t change much. His parents were always flighty to begin with and he had been self sufficient for quite a while.
He goes about his daily life; studying moderately hard to become a veterinarian during the day, getting superbly drunk and singing terrible karaoke with his friends after class, and taking night shifts at his local dog shelter on the weekends. His mother had found him the job three years ago after she had gotten sick of Jackson moping around at home after his break-up with his previous boyfriend.
(“You get off your ass Wang Jackson and get down to the goddamn shelter right now.” She scolds him, pointing an accusing finger in his direction, face pinched in disgust at his unshowered state.
Jackson grunts and gives his mother the stink eye, hands lifting from the game controller for a second. “Make me.”
Poor choice of words.
His mother is more of a demon at the point, drawing herself to her full height of one hundred and seventy centimetres and looks down at the now cowering boy with a thunderous expression.
“You will have a shower. And then go down to the shelter and help those poor puppies, or I will make sure the next time you go to sleep your precious games will be broken beyond repair.”
Jackson knows better than to test his mother and with a childish huff and lifts himself up, throws a timid glare at the satisfied smile on her lips and stomps into his bathroom.
He’s down at the shelter listening to a very passionate speech about dog welfare in less than twenty minutes.)
It turns out that he enjoys the job much more than he assumed he would. He’s always had a soft spot for animals, and the reference would look fantastic on his resume after he finished his degree. He meets a lot of people who would eventually become his good friends, and gets to hang out and play with puppies all night long. The night shift is never as busy as the day shifts, and so Jackson’s nights are usually peaceful and filled with watching dramas on the small TV in the office, and occasionally giving the dogs a little company.
So he isn’t expecting much when he walks in for his Saturday shift. He gives a small salute to Yugyeom, the trainee vet who waves back enthusiastically and hands over the keys to the office and the cages.
“Someone’s just brought in a new stray,” he warns, patting Jackson on the back as he grabs his cap from the rack and saunters out of the door, “so you’re going to have to put him in a cage and make sure he’s alright.”
The Hong Kong boy groans loudly; he hates doing more than he has to. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Because,” he can barely hear Yugyeom’s voice even though the boy’s voice is much louder than appropriate at this hour of night, “I’ve got a hot date!”
“With your hand no doubt!” Jackson yells back, but he receives no reply and instead rests his forehead against the wall for a brief moment, cursing his luck: he’d finally gotten a pirated copy of Guardians of the Galaxy and he was planning to watch it on the tv with a large bowl of popcorn (and probably a hand down his pants because let’s be real here; Zoe Saldana is super freaking hot, with or without green skin). But with the new dog to catalogue, it’ll probably take out approximately an hour of his free time.
He sighs loudly and lifts his head back up, scrunching his nose as he takes resigned steps to the examination room where he sees a small cage on top of the stainless steel table.
Jackson peers inside the cage and makes a small cooing noise at the tiny dog inside. A small black dachshund blinks back at him, head cocked in a way only puppies can emulate and he can feel his heart melting at the cuteness.
“Hey boy, my name is Jackson.” he smiles gently; slowly lifting the latch of the cage and opening the cage door. The dog backs away slightly, looking at him almost warily, watching his hand suspiciously as it drew nearer to the frightened dog.
“Shhh, it’s alright, I won’t hurt you.” Jackson has been around enough dogs to know that he needs to establish a bond in order for them to be docile and trustful around him. He closes his fist and lets the little dog take in his scent, watching the dog relax and taking that as a sign for him to softly pat his head.
“That wasn’t too bad was it now?” He grins goofily and retracts his hand, waiting for the curious little dog to stick his head out of the open cage and take in his surroundings. He waddles out and Jackson gives the dachshund a little scratch under his chin, and he barks once sharply before lying down and rolling onto his belly.
If he wasn’t a fucking man, Jackson probably would’ve cried at the adorable action. Instead, his eyes only gleamed with unshed tears as he took the opportunity to give the dog the best fucking belly rub of his life. The two-hands-no-hold-backs-up-down-side-to-side kind of shit that made the dog pant happily and wriggle in happiness.
God, he loves happy dogs.
He figures he should take this time to put the collar with the identification details he needs to jot down on the dog, only to realize he’s left it back in the office and makes a loud sound of dismay that makes the dachshund lift his head in surprise and blink at him. Jackson just gives the dog one final rub and pulls away.
“I’ll be right back okay?” He assures the dog and shuts the door behind him, taking quick steps to the office and grabbing the collar, clipboard and camera from the office desk; he spares a single mournful look at the cd of his illegal movie next to the tv and slumps his shoulders, before realizing that he’s a professional and there’s a dog that needs his help and pushes all thoughts of the marvel blockbuster out of his head and heads back to the dog.
He doesn’t look up when he pushes open the door with his shoulder, too busy flipping the papers to the right page, starting to speak, “Okay boy, this is just going to-” He glances up from his papers to the dachshund and stops dead in his tracks.
There is not dachshund to speak of.
Instead, where Jackson swears he left the sweet little puppy is a man-no more a boy his age-a naked man. Naked as in I can see your dick dangling from between your legs please put it away before it hurts someone naked.
Said naked boy is busy staring at his fingers, nose scrunched in a cute -nopenopenope Jackson refuses to think of a fucking stranger sitting naked on the examination table as cute-way and wriggles his fingers just as he senses Jackson’s presence and looks up, blinking in an all too familiar way and cocking his head in an even more familiar way.
“Jackson. Hi.” His voice is deeper than Jackson’s, and a little gravelly and kind of hot-wait, he knew his name, how did he know his name?!
“How do you know my name?” Later, Jackson would deny that the question came out more as a squeak of terror than anything else. But right now, he is too fucking terrified and shocked and alarmed and gripping at his clipboard so tight he dimly hears a soft snap of plastic that makes the boy’s attention fall to his white knuckles before his lips curve up into an amused smile and cocks his head again.
“You told me remember? Just before you said you’d be right back.” Jackson is about to retort that he’s never seen the boy before (let’s be real, if he did he’d remember a face like that and a dick like that) but he stops and pales substantially; all the blood rushing from his face as he remembers the last words he said before he left the examination room.
(“Hey boy, my name is Jackson.”
“I’ll be right back okay?”)
No way. No fucking way.
Now, Jackson isn’t a big believer in the supernatural, but he isn’t exactly the most rational mind in existence, and more likely than not he jumps to the most extreme assumption.
In this case, his brain has, very logically mind you, come to the conclusion that the cute little dachshund from before-the one who took his belly rub like a champ and had the cutest little blink in the whole entire world-has magically transformed into the hot naked boy that now sits before him.
Holy shit.
Yeah, he thinks absently as he tries to come to terms with this sudden revelation; weird shit has happened to him for as long as he’s been alive. But honestly? This probably takes the fucking cake.
Jackson’s never been one to react normally under pressure-there was once an incident concerning his friend, a knife, the police and a large uncooked steak but he doesn’t speak of it under pain of death-so the first thing to come out of his mouth doesn’t surprise him.
“You know; you’re pretty hot for a dog.” The dachshund (??) looks a little startled, clearly not expecting that response, but casually replies anyways.
“And you’re pretty hot for a vet?”
He’s pretty sure he’s in some sort of surreal parallel dimension: one where dogs turn into boys and said boys then call him attractive and he is actually super chuffed that they would call him attractive.
“Your words are kind,” he starts. Clearly they’ve reached some sort of level that they can mutually find the other hot and yeah this is weird, but Jackson’s entire life is weird and really, this shouldn’t even surprise him that much, “but I don’t know if I can take that sort of compliment from someone who was a dachshund five minutes ago.”
Stupid fucking brain of his.
“Fuck off.” The boy (dog? Were-dachshund???) suddenly scowls at the jibe; his ear is twitching and he can see him trying to resist the urge to scratch at it with his foot. “I didn’t ask to be turned into a motherfucking sausage dog okay?”
“…Yeah.” Jackson is inclined to agree. As shocked as he still is, it’s true. There are much cooler dogs out there he could’ve been. A husky maybe, or a great dane. Or a huge black mastiff would be super sick. But a sausage dog? His expression changes from freaked out to wow you must’ve had a hard life pity.
The scowl on the was-a-dog-is-now-an-attractive-human-boy’s face only gets deeper (and sadly, more attractive) as he gives in to temptation and pulls his foot up to his ear and scratches it, a small but very pornographic sound of relief escaping his lips.
Jackson refuses to think about how flexible he is; how long and lean his legs look, how they would feel wrapped around his waist or over his shoulders. He also refuses to think about how many more noises like that he could force out of his pretty pink lips. Or have said lips wrapped around his dick.
Instead he decides to focus on how grossly unhygienic it is.
“Ew.” He crinkles his nose in disgust and crosses his arms to convey how immensely grossed out he is and not convey just how disturbed he is to be even more turned on by this.
The boy ignores him and cranes his neck from left to right, curious eyes taking in the examination room he’s in, assessing all the equipment around him. He shrugs his shoulders and rolls them experimentally before crossing his legs over, effectively hiding his dick-Jackson’s not entirely sure why he feels so disappointed-and giving Jackson a pointed look.
“So,” he starts, voice slightly drawling and more than slightly seductive, “do you have any clothes I can wear or are you going to stare at me the entire night?”
Jackson blinks and realizes his eyes have been comically attached to the boy’s long legs and supple thighs and he gives an audible groan before turning on his heel, trying his best not to run out the door. He pretends he doesn’t hear the chuckle behind him before he slams the door of the office shut and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He leans against the closed door and goes over the facts. Dachshund is now a boy. Boy is fucking hot. Jackson wouldn’t mind bending said boy over that desk and-he doesn’t even know where his traitorous mind got the last one from, but he tries not to dwell on it and instead focuses on the main problem.
How the fuck is he going to explain this to his boss tomorrow morning without getting fired, he thinks woefully and sighs sadly. He really likes this job and all the perks that come with it. He doesn’t really know where in the guidelines it says about accidentally having dogs turn into boys but he doubts it’s going to end with him getting a promotion or a raise.
He sighs again.
There’s no point in getting sad about it, Jackson resolves, standing back up straight and grabbing a large leather jacket and some sweats he knows Yugyeom’s left behind. He’s already going to get fired and the dog is already a boy so there’s not really much he can do about it, other than make the best of the situation.
With new found determination, he strides back to the room with false bravado and swings open the door.
“I found you some clothes.” He articulates his words in a way that would make his highschool English teacher proud and tries to fix his gaze on anything but the boy in the middle of the room.
Said boy is leaning back on his hands, clenching and unclenching his toes in mild fascination. He looks up at the sound of Jackson’s voice and grins.
“Sweet! Thanks man.” He jumps up off the table onto slightly wobbling legs; he steadies himself and takes the jacket and pants, fingers nonchalantly brushing over Jackson’s own as he does so.
Jackson pretends he doesn’t feel a jolt of electricity running from his fingers to his groin.
He turns around to give the boy his privacy, though there’s not really any point since Jackson’s already spent five minutes staring at his dick and then ten minutes after that fantasizing about it. But it’s still good manners and he’s nothing if not a gentlemen. Most of the time.
He hears the rustle of leather and takes this cue to turn around. And immediately regrets that he did.
The leather jacket that sits comfortably on Yugyeom, who’s much bigger than the boy, is snug around his broad shoulders, but his waist and is ant sized so the tapered jacket hands loosely, unzipped and showing glimpses of tantalizingly lean and defined muscles. The sweat pants should look as shit on him as they do on Mino, but instead they sit right below his sharp hipbones, drooping dangerously low every time he shifts slightly.
It takes Jackson all of his willpower not to jump the boy right there and instead chooses to painfully ignore his growing bulge and cough loudly, crossing his arms to stop himself from sticking his hands down his own pants.
“You done?” He tries to keep the desperate want out of his voice, which is basically impossible at this point but Jackson is nothing but stubborn.
The boy smiles and nods, looking satisfied and a lot more comfortable now that he’s dressed.
“Yeah thanks so much for this.” He rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile and guilty eyes staring into Jackson’s soul. “Sorry for all the trouble. I didn’t mean to scare you before.”
“It’s fine.” And it really is. He’s essentially gotten over the fact that the boy of his wet dreams was once a dog, mostly, and now is concentrating on how to not come in his pants at the sight of him. “Happens all the time.” What a fucking lie.
“Of course.” The were-dog laughs- somewhere in the distance, Jackson swears he hears angels sing-and puts out his hand. “I’m Jaebum by the way.”
He takes his hand and shakes it, making a valiant attempt not to let the small whine out of his mouth at the contact with such beautiful soft skin help me Lord Jesus
“I’m Jackson,” he says weakly, “but you already knew that.”
Jaebum (such a beautiful name isn’t it?) laughs again and all at once, Jackson understands that there is no fucking way that he’s going to survive the night unscathed.
▼o・ェ・o▼
Jackson wonders how his life has turned out like this, but then as he looks at Jaebum sitting curled up by his side, blanket covering their laps and watching Guardians of the Galaxy, looking incredibly enthralled (and terribly cute) as the Guardian’s all escape from prison, he decides he really doesn’t mind that much.
After the initial shock wore off and the overwhelming sense of lust and longing took over, Jackson tentatively to watch the pirated movie with the once-a-dog-now-a-boy; who enthusiastically agreed much to his delight.
Now they were snuggled up together-not by choice; ask him and Jackson will vehemently deny that he’s been creeping closer to Jaebum since I’m not in love started playing-on the little couch, doing what Jackson would’ve been doing thirty minutes ago by himself, except now he’s not alone and he is not jacking off to Gamora.
He’s still kind of hoping that Jaebum will jack him off for him.
He kind of pretends he didn’t just think that.
Lost in his conflicting thoughts, he jolts suddenly at a loud noise from the TV, whipping his head back to the screen just in time to see Drax laughing loudly and relishing in weird little lizard rats being eaten by a bigger lizard rat and needless to say, Jackson is mildly creeped out. But one look at Jaebum’s enraptured face and suddenly the movie is six hundred times better than it originally is.
He settles back down comfortably; arm having sneakily made it’s way onto the sofa’s edge just behind Jaebum’s back-not touching him of course, Jackson’s too chicken shit for that-half watching the movie and half watching Jaebum’s reactions.
“I’ve wanted to watch this movie for awhile.” Jaebum’s comment breaks through Dave Batista and Bradley Cooper’s voices and he turns his head at the wistful edge in his voice.
Jackson’s forehead crinkles and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
“Wait weren’t you a dog? How would you know about the movie if you were a dog?”
Jaebum just gives him a withering glare, clearly deciding against it as quickly as he does and schools his expression into something neutral but still simmering with underlying annoyance.
“I was only a dachshund for a few months. This time.” The last bit is muttered under his breath but Jackson catches it anyways.
“This time?”
“Yeah.” His answer is short and Jackson can tell that he doesn’t really want to talk anymore. But Jackson is also an idiot and doesn’t understand social cues.
“How long has this…. Were-dachshund thing-” The withering glare is back. Jackson ignores it. “-been going on for anyway?”
The other boy is silent; the sounds from the movie is suddenly deafening and rings in Jackson’s ears-Oh no, he thinks sadly. Now I’m never going to get laid-but he soon replies, hesitation and caution lacing his words.
“Since as long as I can remember really. Sometimes I’d be a dachshund for days, other times I’d be one for years and years only to wake up one day realizing I’d missed out on a huge chunk of my childhood. It.. It was hard yeah, but I did have friends.” His voice, his eyes, his face soften at the word; this time Jackson isn’t afraid to admit that his heart swells, “Friends who could help me. Friends who were like me. You know; were-dogs.” The look he sends Jackson makes him turn away wincing, red and shamefaced.
“I should probably think of a better name for that.”
“Yeah. You should.”
He turns back to the movie after that and so does Jackson. For once he doesn’t think about how good Jaebum would look underneath him, pinned to the couch; he feels sad, and sympathetic, and contemplative. He hadn’t realized the amount of shit Jaebum had to go through with his condition. Shifting. Thing.
Jackson had always thought that his life was crazy; with his insane parents who uprooted themselves so many times Jackson had lost count, and his friends who were bookworms by day and put more alcohol into their system than their doctors would advise by night. But he didn’t think anything could ever compare to having to lost years and years of your life by something you couldn’t control; having to wake up one day and figure out how long you missed and how many left your life when you did come back to consciousness. He’d never even thought about Jaebum as anything but some sort of weirdly super attractive boytoy were-dog (he winces again and swears to himself never to use that word again), but now he was totally and utterly fucking ashamed that he’d never even tried to see Jaebum as something more.
That’s it, he tells himself. He resolves to not think about Jaebum as anything but a friend and someone to help get back to his life. Sleeping with Jaebum would be great (absolutely fucking mind-blowingly fantastic actually) but it wouldn’t help anyone; not him, and definitely not Jaebum.
Yeah, that’s what he thinks.
Only, as soon as he makes that declaration he feels something on his upper thigh and looks down to see that the blankets fallen off his lap, and has been replaced with Jaebum’s hand.
Oh.
Oh shit.
The Hand is moving. Jaebum’s hand is slowly rubbing his thigh and Jackson is completely frozen. He doesn’t want to breathe. He doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t want to think about Jaebum’s hand on his thigh and getting dangerously close to his crotch fuck no penis don’t let me down don’t get hard don’t get hard-
Jackson looks up and he forgets how to breathe.
Jaebum is looking at him; all faux innocence and puppy dog eyes-oh, the irony-but Jackson can see the mischievous gleam masked underneath and the smirk that threatens to appear on his lips. His hand is now just about hovering above his bulge, fingers trailing feather like touches over his jeans in a way that makes his cock twitch.
“What’s the matter? Is something wrong?” His voice is concerned but the coy smile gives everything away and Jackson has never wanted someone more in his life than right now but it takes all of his will power and then some to scoot away from Jaebum (oh god, now he’s pouting) and his devilish Fingers of Evil.
“I. I-you.” He tries again, swallowing hard. “You don’t want this. I don’t want this.” The lie sounds fake to his ears as well.
Jaebum snorts loudly and sighs. Before Jackson can blink, he’s being straddled; long, lean legs on either side of his thighs, groins treacherously close to touching and his terrible awful wonderful fingers now tracing the muscles in his shoulders. He leans down and nuzzles at Jackson’s shoulder.
“Liar.” whispers Jaebum, voice caresses his ear and makes him shiver involuntarily. The once-dachshund-now-controller-of-Jackson’s-libido ignores the small whine that erupts from the back of his throat and lifts his head back up, meeting Jackson’s heated gaze with his own.
“I know you’ve wanted to fuck me for a while.” The matter-of-fact tone makes Jackson splutter in denial as Jaebum smiles at him knowingly. He leans down, nips at Jackson’s lower lip and murmurs against his skin.
“And I’ve wanted you to fuck me since I first laid eyes on you.”
Jackson can practically hear his brain short circuiting, but clearly his body still knows what to do; he grabs Jaebum’s muscled thighs and promptly stands up, holding the boy up with him and sitting him down on the office desk. The movie is still playing in the background but Jackson doesn’t care. All he cares about is how Jaebum gasps, head thrown back and arching his spine deliciously as Jackson grinds their erections together.
He takes the opportunity to bite at the juncture between Jaebum’s collarbone and relishes in the loud moan he’s rewarded with. His fingers are threaded in Jackson’s hair, tugging and stroking spontaneously as Jackson peppers his neck with bites and kisses and bruises that will (hopefully) last for days on end.
“Jackson. Stop.” Jaebum pulls his head up with a hiss and out of his shoulder, and Jackson swears he’s not pouting but he’s just getting started and he doesn’t underst-“We can save the foreplay for round two. Right now, I want you to fuck me.”
Well. He couldn’t really refuse him could he?
He can’t help leaning his forehead against Jaebum’s, leaning in for a gentle kiss against those soft pink lips. Jaebum returns the favour, keening and mumbling against him as Jackson’s hands give his ass a tight squeeze before they snake around to the front.
Jackson, very reluctantly, pulls away from Jaebum and looks down, instantly closing his eyes and groans. The sight of Jaebum’s dick tenting against the sweatpants, a growing wet patch staining the material with Jaebum’s precome is obscene. He bites the corner of his lips; eyes unwilling, and unable to look away as he impatiently lifts Jaebum onto his back and discards of the sweatpants somewhere behind him.
He takes the time to drink in the scene: elbows propping up his upper body, leather jacket still hanging off his broad shoulders; his long legs are spread, one foot resting on the edge of the desk, the other dangling uselessly. His eyes are hooded, eyelashes batting against sculpted cheekbones, dark with wicked promise; lips stained pink and parted like rose petals just shy of blooming.
Jaebum is the very picture of indecency and invitation-one that makes Jackson’s dick is never one to pass up on one as tempting as this.
He slides in between parted thighs, breathing in heavily at the long sigh that Jaebum releases. A leg wraps around his waist and brings him in closer, and Jackson doesn’t waste any time fumbling with his belt buckle and sliding his pants down.
Jaebum practically purrs at the sight of Jackson’s erection, pupils black with desire and fingers twitching as if he wants to hold it and never let go, and it takes a lot for Jackson not to let him come like that; devilish fingers curling around him and bringing him to orgasm.
But he knows that’s not what they both want so he calms himself a bit and waits before leaning down and opening the draws to look for lube and a condom.
Jaebum’s hand gripped around his wrist stops him. “Don’t bother. Just do it.”
“Wait what? Are you sure?” Because Jackson is super horny and ready to go but he doesn’t want to hurt Jaebum. Not in the slightest. Plus, as fucking hot as he is, Jackson doesn’t quite trust what he got up to as a dog and no thank you he’d rather not risk anything.
Jaebum rolls his eyes, fist still wrapped around Jackson’s wrist as he slowly guides it towards him. “I might have been a dog, but I’m still human enough to know not to stick my dick in other dogs. Plus,” Jackson’s breath hitches in his throat and eyes getting wider as he watches in shameless awe as Jaebum leads his hand towards his entrance, pushing two fingers into his warm tight-no, not that tight?-heat; his eyes crinkling slightly and smirking at Jackson’s overblown reaction.
“I’ve been fingering myself under the blanket this entire time.”
Fuck.
That’s all it takes for Jackson to growl and pull his fingers out, grabbing Jaebum by his free leg and pulling him tight up to his body. He carefully slides his dick into Jaebum and both simultaneously groan; Jaebum lying flat on his back and Jackson standing over him, putting his ankle over his shoulder, the other leg wrapped around his waist. He takes a moment to savour the hot slick feeling around his length, and it takes everything for him not to blow his load. He wants to make Jaebum pay for being a little shit to him all night.
“You. Fucking. Tease.” His voice gets deeper with every word, punctuated with a deep thrust that makes Jaebum cry out and he can practically hear his spine crack from the force of the arch he’s making.
But Jackson doesn’t stop. He doesn’t know quite how to.
He pounds deeper and deeper into Jaebum, almost punishing him with every snap of his hips. He’s relentless; never faltering in his thrusts, he fucks Jaebum with a brutal rhythm, spreading his legs wider and dragging him closer and closer to the edge of the desk until there’s not even space for air between them and nothing but the sound of Jaebum’s keens, Jackson’s harsh panting and his balls slapping against Jaebum’s ass.
He doesn’t know how much time passes; all he knows is that Jaebum looks so beautiful like this. Spread out and vulnerable, pornographic noises being ripped from his throat almost involuntarily. His eyes remain open though, unwavering from their gaze into Jackson’s own. Their eyes maintain their contact throughout the entirety of Jackson fucking into Jaebum in abandon, and it’s only broken when Jackson grunts loudly, leaning down to suck and bite more marks into Jaebum’s neck, chest, shoulders; anywhere and everywhere his mouth can reach.
“I’m going to come.” Jaebum breaks the silence with a quiet gasp of air, fingers wound tight in Jackson’s hair again, pulling violently at every thrust. Jackson nods-he doesn’t trust himself to say anything at the moment-and reaches down and tugs gently at Jaebum’s dick. It’s leaking in his hands as his agile thumb swipes over and over at the tip, making Jaebum, finally, close his eyes and groan long, loud and deep at he spills over Jackson’s hand.
His muscles clench almost painfully tight around Jackson and it makes him hiss loudly. He pulls himself out quickly and roughly jerks himself to completion, ropes of come staining Jaebum’s already dirtied stomach with a loud grunt of relief. Silence reigns once more, Jaebum’s soft breaths ringing in his ears as Jackson slides down, still holding the other boy’s ankle up above his shoulder. He leaves soft kisses down his calf, smiling into the inside of his knee and he hears Jaebum scoff and feels him squirm.
“Stop that it’s ticklish.” Jackson merely grins and bites down hard, making the other boy yelp.
“That’s for teasing me the entire time you’ve been here.” His mouth is smug, but Jaebum’s is more so, holding Jackson’s attention as he runs a finger along his stomach, gathering up a small line of come and brings the finger to his lips, sucking his finger clean with a small pop!
Jackson feels his groan before he hears it and smooshes his face into Jaebum’s thigh.
“You’re trying to make me hard again. I don’t want to go again.” He grumbles into the boy’s skin, completely ignoring his snicker.
“Please, like that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had.”
Well. Okay. Maybe it was.
Not that he’d ever tell him that.
“Fucking knew it.” What? Oh fuck he’d said it out loud. Jackson groans again-it was becoming a bit of a habit-and refuses to look anywhere near Jaebum.
“…It was alright.” He sniffs disdainfully. All traces of his sulking disappears though, as Jaebum pulls him by his collar (oh, he’d forgotten he’s still had his shirt on) down for a kiss; one Jackson is not proud to say he returns eagerly. He can taste himself as well as Jaebum on his tongue and if that’s not the hottest thing in the world, he doesn’t know what is.
As he comes up for air, he can see Jaebum smiling up at him, slivers of teeth showing and eyes crinkling into crescent moons. His stomach is a mess but somehow he managed not to get anything on Yugyeom’s jacket-which Jackson thanks the Gods for. Because he doesn’t really want to explain to him why he had to go get it drycleaned-, sitting up on the edge of the desk, looking at him with the same cock of his head as he had the first time he’d seen him.
And maybe, Jackson thinks as his heart swells for the umpteenth time tonight, he can indulge the little shit for a while longer.
▼o・ェ・o▼
There’s a loud crashing sound from beyond the walls of the office and Jackson turns his neck away from Jaebum insistent (see needy) lips to glare suspiciously at the door. He glances back at Jaebum, narrowing his eyes at the latter’s puzzled expression-he does not trust that face one bit-and grudgingly pulls himself away from his embrace to check out the noise.
He pushes opens the door to the room, and crouching casually in the cage where a large male dalmatian used to be is another good looking (and naked) boy, looking just as puzzled as Jaebum did the first time he shifted. He scratches at his light pink hair, staring in wonder at his fingers and wriggling them before he spots Jackson looking at him in something between shock and growing dread.
He feels a terrible sense of déjà vu washing over him.
“Um,” the boy starts, blinking once, twice; a few more times just in case, “I wish I could explain this but I’m not quite sure how to.”
He grins self-consciously and instantly perks up when he spots Jaebum peeking over Jackson’s shoulder curiously.
“Im Jaebum!” The pastel haired boy raises his hand in greeting and Jackson whips his head around to see Jaebum doing the same with a large grin at the stranger (and no, he is not jealous).
“Oh. Hey Mark. Fancy seeing you here.” The casual tone in his voice makes Jackson look from one shifter to the other before his mind catches up to him; he clutches at his hair and promptly freaks out. Again.
“I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING REFUSE TO FUCK ANY MORE WERE-DOGS.”
▼o・ェ・o▼
[readers, don't forget to leave a comment! anonymous is on if you're shy.]
Title: The Dog Days (Have Just Begun)
Pairing(s)/focus: Jackson/JB
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 6100
Warnings: Guardians of the Galaxy spoilers, (barebacking, mild comeplay, rough sex, sex with were-boy) highlight to read
Author's notes: Happy new year shrdmdnssftw! Thank you for the lovely prompts; though trust me to take the crackiest of all of them. I honestly have no idea what dogs are like (I have a cat ok) but I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did writing it!
Summary: Honestly, all he wanted to do was watch his pirated movie, and here he is now; half in love, half in denial with a dachshund.
▼o・ェ・o▼
Jackson has had a lot of weird things happen to him in the twenty years he’s been alive.
When he was thirteen, his parents decided to move to Korea, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the culture and language, from Hong Kong-his father had developed an unhealthy fascination with the k-dramas that always played on the TV and thought that Seoul would be a fantastic place to live out his own dramatic life. Jackson’s mother just rolled her eyes and told him he could do whatever he liked, as long as he found a house with a Jacuzzi.
When he was seventeen, his father had grown out of the obsession and moved onto a new one, deciding that he wanted to retire to Lima, Peru, where he could buy and keep all the alpacas he liked; he forgets to mention his plans to his only son until both he and his wife have already landed in their new home.
It’s only after receiving a photo message of his parents smiling on the back of a donkey, travelling through the Peruvian countryside with a short message of “we left u a credit card. mum says be good. dad will send u souvenirs after he makes bank xoxo” that a severely hungover Jackson realizes that his parents are fucking insane.
After that whole debacle, he finds that besides the stark increase in his takeaway and instant ramen intake, his life doesn’t change much. His parents were always flighty to begin with and he had been self sufficient for quite a while.
He goes about his daily life; studying moderately hard to become a veterinarian during the day, getting superbly drunk and singing terrible karaoke with his friends after class, and taking night shifts at his local dog shelter on the weekends. His mother had found him the job three years ago after she had gotten sick of Jackson moping around at home after his break-up with his previous boyfriend.
(“You get off your ass Wang Jackson and get down to the goddamn shelter right now.” She scolds him, pointing an accusing finger in his direction, face pinched in disgust at his unshowered state.
Jackson grunts and gives his mother the stink eye, hands lifting from the game controller for a second. “Make me.”
Poor choice of words.
His mother is more of a demon at the point, drawing herself to her full height of one hundred and seventy centimetres and looks down at the now cowering boy with a thunderous expression.
“You will have a shower. And then go down to the shelter and help those poor puppies, or I will make sure the next time you go to sleep your precious games will be broken beyond repair.”
Jackson knows better than to test his mother and with a childish huff and lifts himself up, throws a timid glare at the satisfied smile on her lips and stomps into his bathroom.
He’s down at the shelter listening to a very passionate speech about dog welfare in less than twenty minutes.)
It turns out that he enjoys the job much more than he assumed he would. He’s always had a soft spot for animals, and the reference would look fantastic on his resume after he finished his degree. He meets a lot of people who would eventually become his good friends, and gets to hang out and play with puppies all night long. The night shift is never as busy as the day shifts, and so Jackson’s nights are usually peaceful and filled with watching dramas on the small TV in the office, and occasionally giving the dogs a little company.
So he isn’t expecting much when he walks in for his Saturday shift. He gives a small salute to Yugyeom, the trainee vet who waves back enthusiastically and hands over the keys to the office and the cages.
“Someone’s just brought in a new stray,” he warns, patting Jackson on the back as he grabs his cap from the rack and saunters out of the door, “so you’re going to have to put him in a cage and make sure he’s alright.”
The Hong Kong boy groans loudly; he hates doing more than he has to. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Because,” he can barely hear Yugyeom’s voice even though the boy’s voice is much louder than appropriate at this hour of night, “I’ve got a hot date!”
“With your hand no doubt!” Jackson yells back, but he receives no reply and instead rests his forehead against the wall for a brief moment, cursing his luck: he’d finally gotten a pirated copy of Guardians of the Galaxy and he was planning to watch it on the tv with a large bowl of popcorn (and probably a hand down his pants because let’s be real here; Zoe Saldana is super freaking hot, with or without green skin). But with the new dog to catalogue, it’ll probably take out approximately an hour of his free time.
He sighs loudly and lifts his head back up, scrunching his nose as he takes resigned steps to the examination room where he sees a small cage on top of the stainless steel table.
Jackson peers inside the cage and makes a small cooing noise at the tiny dog inside. A small black dachshund blinks back at him, head cocked in a way only puppies can emulate and he can feel his heart melting at the cuteness.
“Hey boy, my name is Jackson.” he smiles gently; slowly lifting the latch of the cage and opening the cage door. The dog backs away slightly, looking at him almost warily, watching his hand suspiciously as it drew nearer to the frightened dog.
“Shhh, it’s alright, I won’t hurt you.” Jackson has been around enough dogs to know that he needs to establish a bond in order for them to be docile and trustful around him. He closes his fist and lets the little dog take in his scent, watching the dog relax and taking that as a sign for him to softly pat his head.
“That wasn’t too bad was it now?” He grins goofily and retracts his hand, waiting for the curious little dog to stick his head out of the open cage and take in his surroundings. He waddles out and Jackson gives the dachshund a little scratch under his chin, and he barks once sharply before lying down and rolling onto his belly.
If he wasn’t a fucking man, Jackson probably would’ve cried at the adorable action. Instead, his eyes only gleamed with unshed tears as he took the opportunity to give the dog the best fucking belly rub of his life. The two-hands-no-hold-backs-up-down-side-to-side kind of shit that made the dog pant happily and wriggle in happiness.
God, he loves happy dogs.
He figures he should take this time to put the collar with the identification details he needs to jot down on the dog, only to realize he’s left it back in the office and makes a loud sound of dismay that makes the dachshund lift his head in surprise and blink at him. Jackson just gives the dog one final rub and pulls away.
“I’ll be right back okay?” He assures the dog and shuts the door behind him, taking quick steps to the office and grabbing the collar, clipboard and camera from the office desk; he spares a single mournful look at the cd of his illegal movie next to the tv and slumps his shoulders, before realizing that he’s a professional and there’s a dog that needs his help and pushes all thoughts of the marvel blockbuster out of his head and heads back to the dog.
He doesn’t look up when he pushes open the door with his shoulder, too busy flipping the papers to the right page, starting to speak, “Okay boy, this is just going to-” He glances up from his papers to the dachshund and stops dead in his tracks.
There is not dachshund to speak of.
Instead, where Jackson swears he left the sweet little puppy is a man-no more a boy his age-a naked man. Naked as in I can see your dick dangling from between your legs please put it away before it hurts someone naked.
Said naked boy is busy staring at his fingers, nose scrunched in a cute -nopenopenope Jackson refuses to think of a fucking stranger sitting naked on the examination table as cute-way and wriggles his fingers just as he senses Jackson’s presence and looks up, blinking in an all too familiar way and cocking his head in an even more familiar way.
“Jackson. Hi.” His voice is deeper than Jackson’s, and a little gravelly and kind of hot-wait, he knew his name, how did he know his name?!
“How do you know my name?” Later, Jackson would deny that the question came out more as a squeak of terror than anything else. But right now, he is too fucking terrified and shocked and alarmed and gripping at his clipboard so tight he dimly hears a soft snap of plastic that makes the boy’s attention fall to his white knuckles before his lips curve up into an amused smile and cocks his head again.
“You told me remember? Just before you said you’d be right back.” Jackson is about to retort that he’s never seen the boy before (let’s be real, if he did he’d remember a face like that and a dick like that) but he stops and pales substantially; all the blood rushing from his face as he remembers the last words he said before he left the examination room.
(“Hey boy, my name is Jackson.”
“I’ll be right back okay?”)
No way. No fucking way.
Now, Jackson isn’t a big believer in the supernatural, but he isn’t exactly the most rational mind in existence, and more likely than not he jumps to the most extreme assumption.
In this case, his brain has, very logically mind you, come to the conclusion that the cute little dachshund from before-the one who took his belly rub like a champ and had the cutest little blink in the whole entire world-has magically transformed into the hot naked boy that now sits before him.
Holy shit.
Yeah, he thinks absently as he tries to come to terms with this sudden revelation; weird shit has happened to him for as long as he’s been alive. But honestly? This probably takes the fucking cake.
Jackson’s never been one to react normally under pressure-there was once an incident concerning his friend, a knife, the police and a large uncooked steak but he doesn’t speak of it under pain of death-so the first thing to come out of his mouth doesn’t surprise him.
“You know; you’re pretty hot for a dog.” The dachshund (??) looks a little startled, clearly not expecting that response, but casually replies anyways.
“And you’re pretty hot for a vet?”
He’s pretty sure he’s in some sort of surreal parallel dimension: one where dogs turn into boys and said boys then call him attractive and he is actually super chuffed that they would call him attractive.
“Your words are kind,” he starts. Clearly they’ve reached some sort of level that they can mutually find the other hot and yeah this is weird, but Jackson’s entire life is weird and really, this shouldn’t even surprise him that much, “but I don’t know if I can take that sort of compliment from someone who was a dachshund five minutes ago.”
Stupid fucking brain of his.
“Fuck off.” The boy (dog? Were-dachshund???) suddenly scowls at the jibe; his ear is twitching and he can see him trying to resist the urge to scratch at it with his foot. “I didn’t ask to be turned into a motherfucking sausage dog okay?”
“…Yeah.” Jackson is inclined to agree. As shocked as he still is, it’s true. There are much cooler dogs out there he could’ve been. A husky maybe, or a great dane. Or a huge black mastiff would be super sick. But a sausage dog? His expression changes from freaked out to wow you must’ve had a hard life pity.
The scowl on the was-a-dog-is-now-an-attractive-human-boy’s face only gets deeper (and sadly, more attractive) as he gives in to temptation and pulls his foot up to his ear and scratches it, a small but very pornographic sound of relief escaping his lips.
Jackson refuses to think about how flexible he is; how long and lean his legs look, how they would feel wrapped around his waist or over his shoulders. He also refuses to think about how many more noises like that he could force out of his pretty pink lips. Or have said lips wrapped around his dick.
Instead he decides to focus on how grossly unhygienic it is.
“Ew.” He crinkles his nose in disgust and crosses his arms to convey how immensely grossed out he is and not convey just how disturbed he is to be even more turned on by this.
The boy ignores him and cranes his neck from left to right, curious eyes taking in the examination room he’s in, assessing all the equipment around him. He shrugs his shoulders and rolls them experimentally before crossing his legs over, effectively hiding his dick-Jackson’s not entirely sure why he feels so disappointed-and giving Jackson a pointed look.
“So,” he starts, voice slightly drawling and more than slightly seductive, “do you have any clothes I can wear or are you going to stare at me the entire night?”
Jackson blinks and realizes his eyes have been comically attached to the boy’s long legs and supple thighs and he gives an audible groan before turning on his heel, trying his best not to run out the door. He pretends he doesn’t hear the chuckle behind him before he slams the door of the office shut and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He leans against the closed door and goes over the facts. Dachshund is now a boy. Boy is fucking hot. Jackson wouldn’t mind bending said boy over that desk and-he doesn’t even know where his traitorous mind got the last one from, but he tries not to dwell on it and instead focuses on the main problem.
How the fuck is he going to explain this to his boss tomorrow morning without getting fired, he thinks woefully and sighs sadly. He really likes this job and all the perks that come with it. He doesn’t really know where in the guidelines it says about accidentally having dogs turn into boys but he doubts it’s going to end with him getting a promotion or a raise.
He sighs again.
There’s no point in getting sad about it, Jackson resolves, standing back up straight and grabbing a large leather jacket and some sweats he knows Yugyeom’s left behind. He’s already going to get fired and the dog is already a boy so there’s not really much he can do about it, other than make the best of the situation.
With new found determination, he strides back to the room with false bravado and swings open the door.
“I found you some clothes.” He articulates his words in a way that would make his highschool English teacher proud and tries to fix his gaze on anything but the boy in the middle of the room.
Said boy is leaning back on his hands, clenching and unclenching his toes in mild fascination. He looks up at the sound of Jackson’s voice and grins.
“Sweet! Thanks man.” He jumps up off the table onto slightly wobbling legs; he steadies himself and takes the jacket and pants, fingers nonchalantly brushing over Jackson’s own as he does so.
Jackson pretends he doesn’t feel a jolt of electricity running from his fingers to his groin.
He turns around to give the boy his privacy, though there’s not really any point since Jackson’s already spent five minutes staring at his dick and then ten minutes after that fantasizing about it. But it’s still good manners and he’s nothing if not a gentlemen. Most of the time.
He hears the rustle of leather and takes this cue to turn around. And immediately regrets that he did.
The leather jacket that sits comfortably on Yugyeom, who’s much bigger than the boy, is snug around his broad shoulders, but his waist and is ant sized so the tapered jacket hands loosely, unzipped and showing glimpses of tantalizingly lean and defined muscles. The sweat pants should look as shit on him as they do on Mino, but instead they sit right below his sharp hipbones, drooping dangerously low every time he shifts slightly.
It takes Jackson all of his willpower not to jump the boy right there and instead chooses to painfully ignore his growing bulge and cough loudly, crossing his arms to stop himself from sticking his hands down his own pants.
“You done?” He tries to keep the desperate want out of his voice, which is basically impossible at this point but Jackson is nothing but stubborn.
The boy smiles and nods, looking satisfied and a lot more comfortable now that he’s dressed.
“Yeah thanks so much for this.” He rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile and guilty eyes staring into Jackson’s soul. “Sorry for all the trouble. I didn’t mean to scare you before.”
“It’s fine.” And it really is. He’s essentially gotten over the fact that the boy of his wet dreams was once a dog, mostly, and now is concentrating on how to not come in his pants at the sight of him. “Happens all the time.” What a fucking lie.
“Of course.” The were-dog laughs- somewhere in the distance, Jackson swears he hears angels sing-and puts out his hand. “I’m Jaebum by the way.”
He takes his hand and shakes it, making a valiant attempt not to let the small whine out of his mouth at the contact with such beautiful soft skin help me Lord Jesus
“I’m Jackson,” he says weakly, “but you already knew that.”
Jaebum (such a beautiful name isn’t it?) laughs again and all at once, Jackson understands that there is no fucking way that he’s going to survive the night unscathed.
▼o・ェ・o▼
Jackson wonders how his life has turned out like this, but then as he looks at Jaebum sitting curled up by his side, blanket covering their laps and watching Guardians of the Galaxy, looking incredibly enthralled (and terribly cute) as the Guardian’s all escape from prison, he decides he really doesn’t mind that much.
After the initial shock wore off and the overwhelming sense of lust and longing took over, Jackson tentatively to watch the pirated movie with the once-a-dog-now-a-boy; who enthusiastically agreed much to his delight.
Now they were snuggled up together-not by choice; ask him and Jackson will vehemently deny that he’s been creeping closer to Jaebum since I’m not in love started playing-on the little couch, doing what Jackson would’ve been doing thirty minutes ago by himself, except now he’s not alone and he is not jacking off to Gamora.
He’s still kind of hoping that Jaebum will jack him off for him.
He kind of pretends he didn’t just think that.
Lost in his conflicting thoughts, he jolts suddenly at a loud noise from the TV, whipping his head back to the screen just in time to see Drax laughing loudly and relishing in weird little lizard rats being eaten by a bigger lizard rat and needless to say, Jackson is mildly creeped out. But one look at Jaebum’s enraptured face and suddenly the movie is six hundred times better than it originally is.
He settles back down comfortably; arm having sneakily made it’s way onto the sofa’s edge just behind Jaebum’s back-not touching him of course, Jackson’s too chicken shit for that-half watching the movie and half watching Jaebum’s reactions.
“I’ve wanted to watch this movie for awhile.” Jaebum’s comment breaks through Dave Batista and Bradley Cooper’s voices and he turns his head at the wistful edge in his voice.
Jackson’s forehead crinkles and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
“Wait weren’t you a dog? How would you know about the movie if you were a dog?”
Jaebum just gives him a withering glare, clearly deciding against it as quickly as he does and schools his expression into something neutral but still simmering with underlying annoyance.
“I was only a dachshund for a few months. This time.” The last bit is muttered under his breath but Jackson catches it anyways.
“This time?”
“Yeah.” His answer is short and Jackson can tell that he doesn’t really want to talk anymore. But Jackson is also an idiot and doesn’t understand social cues.
“How long has this…. Were-dachshund thing-” The withering glare is back. Jackson ignores it. “-been going on for anyway?”
The other boy is silent; the sounds from the movie is suddenly deafening and rings in Jackson’s ears-Oh no, he thinks sadly. Now I’m never going to get laid-but he soon replies, hesitation and caution lacing his words.
“Since as long as I can remember really. Sometimes I’d be a dachshund for days, other times I’d be one for years and years only to wake up one day realizing I’d missed out on a huge chunk of my childhood. It.. It was hard yeah, but I did have friends.” His voice, his eyes, his face soften at the word; this time Jackson isn’t afraid to admit that his heart swells, “Friends who could help me. Friends who were like me. You know; were-dogs.” The look he sends Jackson makes him turn away wincing, red and shamefaced.
“I should probably think of a better name for that.”
“Yeah. You should.”
He turns back to the movie after that and so does Jackson. For once he doesn’t think about how good Jaebum would look underneath him, pinned to the couch; he feels sad, and sympathetic, and contemplative. He hadn’t realized the amount of shit Jaebum had to go through with his condition. Shifting. Thing.
Jackson had always thought that his life was crazy; with his insane parents who uprooted themselves so many times Jackson had lost count, and his friends who were bookworms by day and put more alcohol into their system than their doctors would advise by night. But he didn’t think anything could ever compare to having to lost years and years of your life by something you couldn’t control; having to wake up one day and figure out how long you missed and how many left your life when you did come back to consciousness. He’d never even thought about Jaebum as anything but some sort of weirdly super attractive boytoy were-dog (he winces again and swears to himself never to use that word again), but now he was totally and utterly fucking ashamed that he’d never even tried to see Jaebum as something more.
That’s it, he tells himself. He resolves to not think about Jaebum as anything but a friend and someone to help get back to his life. Sleeping with Jaebum would be great (absolutely fucking mind-blowingly fantastic actually) but it wouldn’t help anyone; not him, and definitely not Jaebum.
Yeah, that’s what he thinks.
Only, as soon as he makes that declaration he feels something on his upper thigh and looks down to see that the blankets fallen off his lap, and has been replaced with Jaebum’s hand.
Oh.
Oh shit.
The Hand is moving. Jaebum’s hand is slowly rubbing his thigh and Jackson is completely frozen. He doesn’t want to breathe. He doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t want to think about Jaebum’s hand on his thigh and getting dangerously close to his crotch fuck no penis don’t let me down don’t get hard don’t get hard-
Jackson looks up and he forgets how to breathe.
Jaebum is looking at him; all faux innocence and puppy dog eyes-oh, the irony-but Jackson can see the mischievous gleam masked underneath and the smirk that threatens to appear on his lips. His hand is now just about hovering above his bulge, fingers trailing feather like touches over his jeans in a way that makes his cock twitch.
“What’s the matter? Is something wrong?” His voice is concerned but the coy smile gives everything away and Jackson has never wanted someone more in his life than right now but it takes all of his will power and then some to scoot away from Jaebum (oh god, now he’s pouting) and his devilish Fingers of Evil.
“I. I-you.” He tries again, swallowing hard. “You don’t want this. I don’t want this.” The lie sounds fake to his ears as well.
Jaebum snorts loudly and sighs. Before Jackson can blink, he’s being straddled; long, lean legs on either side of his thighs, groins treacherously close to touching and his terrible awful wonderful fingers now tracing the muscles in his shoulders. He leans down and nuzzles at Jackson’s shoulder.
“Liar.” whispers Jaebum, voice caresses his ear and makes him shiver involuntarily. The once-dachshund-now-controller-of-Jackson’s-libido ignores the small whine that erupts from the back of his throat and lifts his head back up, meeting Jackson’s heated gaze with his own.
“I know you’ve wanted to fuck me for a while.” The matter-of-fact tone makes Jackson splutter in denial as Jaebum smiles at him knowingly. He leans down, nips at Jackson’s lower lip and murmurs against his skin.
“And I’ve wanted you to fuck me since I first laid eyes on you.”
Jackson can practically hear his brain short circuiting, but clearly his body still knows what to do; he grabs Jaebum’s muscled thighs and promptly stands up, holding the boy up with him and sitting him down on the office desk. The movie is still playing in the background but Jackson doesn’t care. All he cares about is how Jaebum gasps, head thrown back and arching his spine deliciously as Jackson grinds their erections together.
He takes the opportunity to bite at the juncture between Jaebum’s collarbone and relishes in the loud moan he’s rewarded with. His fingers are threaded in Jackson’s hair, tugging and stroking spontaneously as Jackson peppers his neck with bites and kisses and bruises that will (hopefully) last for days on end.
“Jackson. Stop.” Jaebum pulls his head up with a hiss and out of his shoulder, and Jackson swears he’s not pouting but he’s just getting started and he doesn’t underst-“We can save the foreplay for round two. Right now, I want you to fuck me.”
Well. He couldn’t really refuse him could he?
He can’t help leaning his forehead against Jaebum’s, leaning in for a gentle kiss against those soft pink lips. Jaebum returns the favour, keening and mumbling against him as Jackson’s hands give his ass a tight squeeze before they snake around to the front.
Jackson, very reluctantly, pulls away from Jaebum and looks down, instantly closing his eyes and groans. The sight of Jaebum’s dick tenting against the sweatpants, a growing wet patch staining the material with Jaebum’s precome is obscene. He bites the corner of his lips; eyes unwilling, and unable to look away as he impatiently lifts Jaebum onto his back and discards of the sweatpants somewhere behind him.
He takes the time to drink in the scene: elbows propping up his upper body, leather jacket still hanging off his broad shoulders; his long legs are spread, one foot resting on the edge of the desk, the other dangling uselessly. His eyes are hooded, eyelashes batting against sculpted cheekbones, dark with wicked promise; lips stained pink and parted like rose petals just shy of blooming.
Jaebum is the very picture of indecency and invitation-one that makes Jackson’s dick is never one to pass up on one as tempting as this.
He slides in between parted thighs, breathing in heavily at the long sigh that Jaebum releases. A leg wraps around his waist and brings him in closer, and Jackson doesn’t waste any time fumbling with his belt buckle and sliding his pants down.
Jaebum practically purrs at the sight of Jackson’s erection, pupils black with desire and fingers twitching as if he wants to hold it and never let go, and it takes a lot for Jackson not to let him come like that; devilish fingers curling around him and bringing him to orgasm.
But he knows that’s not what they both want so he calms himself a bit and waits before leaning down and opening the draws to look for lube and a condom.
Jaebum’s hand gripped around his wrist stops him. “Don’t bother. Just do it.”
“Wait what? Are you sure?” Because Jackson is super horny and ready to go but he doesn’t want to hurt Jaebum. Not in the slightest. Plus, as fucking hot as he is, Jackson doesn’t quite trust what he got up to as a dog and no thank you he’d rather not risk anything.
Jaebum rolls his eyes, fist still wrapped around Jackson’s wrist as he slowly guides it towards him. “I might have been a dog, but I’m still human enough to know not to stick my dick in other dogs. Plus,” Jackson’s breath hitches in his throat and eyes getting wider as he watches in shameless awe as Jaebum leads his hand towards his entrance, pushing two fingers into his warm tight-no, not that tight?-heat; his eyes crinkling slightly and smirking at Jackson’s overblown reaction.
“I’ve been fingering myself under the blanket this entire time.”
Fuck.
That’s all it takes for Jackson to growl and pull his fingers out, grabbing Jaebum by his free leg and pulling him tight up to his body. He carefully slides his dick into Jaebum and both simultaneously groan; Jaebum lying flat on his back and Jackson standing over him, putting his ankle over his shoulder, the other leg wrapped around his waist. He takes a moment to savour the hot slick feeling around his length, and it takes everything for him not to blow his load. He wants to make Jaebum pay for being a little shit to him all night.
“You. Fucking. Tease.” His voice gets deeper with every word, punctuated with a deep thrust that makes Jaebum cry out and he can practically hear his spine crack from the force of the arch he’s making.
But Jackson doesn’t stop. He doesn’t know quite how to.
He pounds deeper and deeper into Jaebum, almost punishing him with every snap of his hips. He’s relentless; never faltering in his thrusts, he fucks Jaebum with a brutal rhythm, spreading his legs wider and dragging him closer and closer to the edge of the desk until there’s not even space for air between them and nothing but the sound of Jaebum’s keens, Jackson’s harsh panting and his balls slapping against Jaebum’s ass.
He doesn’t know how much time passes; all he knows is that Jaebum looks so beautiful like this. Spread out and vulnerable, pornographic noises being ripped from his throat almost involuntarily. His eyes remain open though, unwavering from their gaze into Jackson’s own. Their eyes maintain their contact throughout the entirety of Jackson fucking into Jaebum in abandon, and it’s only broken when Jackson grunts loudly, leaning down to suck and bite more marks into Jaebum’s neck, chest, shoulders; anywhere and everywhere his mouth can reach.
“I’m going to come.” Jaebum breaks the silence with a quiet gasp of air, fingers wound tight in Jackson’s hair again, pulling violently at every thrust. Jackson nods-he doesn’t trust himself to say anything at the moment-and reaches down and tugs gently at Jaebum’s dick. It’s leaking in his hands as his agile thumb swipes over and over at the tip, making Jaebum, finally, close his eyes and groan long, loud and deep at he spills over Jackson’s hand.
His muscles clench almost painfully tight around Jackson and it makes him hiss loudly. He pulls himself out quickly and roughly jerks himself to completion, ropes of come staining Jaebum’s already dirtied stomach with a loud grunt of relief. Silence reigns once more, Jaebum’s soft breaths ringing in his ears as Jackson slides down, still holding the other boy’s ankle up above his shoulder. He leaves soft kisses down his calf, smiling into the inside of his knee and he hears Jaebum scoff and feels him squirm.
“Stop that it’s ticklish.” Jackson merely grins and bites down hard, making the other boy yelp.
“That’s for teasing me the entire time you’ve been here.” His mouth is smug, but Jaebum’s is more so, holding Jackson’s attention as he runs a finger along his stomach, gathering up a small line of come and brings the finger to his lips, sucking his finger clean with a small pop!
Jackson feels his groan before he hears it and smooshes his face into Jaebum’s thigh.
“You’re trying to make me hard again. I don’t want to go again.” He grumbles into the boy’s skin, completely ignoring his snicker.
“Please, like that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had.”
Well. Okay. Maybe it was.
Not that he’d ever tell him that.
“Fucking knew it.” What? Oh fuck he’d said it out loud. Jackson groans again-it was becoming a bit of a habit-and refuses to look anywhere near Jaebum.
“…It was alright.” He sniffs disdainfully. All traces of his sulking disappears though, as Jaebum pulls him by his collar (oh, he’d forgotten he’s still had his shirt on) down for a kiss; one Jackson is not proud to say he returns eagerly. He can taste himself as well as Jaebum on his tongue and if that’s not the hottest thing in the world, he doesn’t know what is.
As he comes up for air, he can see Jaebum smiling up at him, slivers of teeth showing and eyes crinkling into crescent moons. His stomach is a mess but somehow he managed not to get anything on Yugyeom’s jacket-which Jackson thanks the Gods for. Because he doesn’t really want to explain to him why he had to go get it drycleaned-, sitting up on the edge of the desk, looking at him with the same cock of his head as he had the first time he’d seen him.
And maybe, Jackson thinks as his heart swells for the umpteenth time tonight, he can indulge the little shit for a while longer.
▼o・ェ・o▼
There’s a loud crashing sound from beyond the walls of the office and Jackson turns his neck away from Jaebum insistent (see needy) lips to glare suspiciously at the door. He glances back at Jaebum, narrowing his eyes at the latter’s puzzled expression-he does not trust that face one bit-and grudgingly pulls himself away from his embrace to check out the noise.
He pushes opens the door to the room, and crouching casually in the cage where a large male dalmatian used to be is another good looking (and naked) boy, looking just as puzzled as Jaebum did the first time he shifted. He scratches at his light pink hair, staring in wonder at his fingers and wriggling them before he spots Jackson looking at him in something between shock and growing dread.
He feels a terrible sense of déjà vu washing over him.
“Um,” the boy starts, blinking once, twice; a few more times just in case, “I wish I could explain this but I’m not quite sure how to.”
He grins self-consciously and instantly perks up when he spots Jaebum peeking over Jackson’s shoulder curiously.
“Im Jaebum!” The pastel haired boy raises his hand in greeting and Jackson whips his head around to see Jaebum doing the same with a large grin at the stranger (and no, he is not jealous).
“Oh. Hey Mark. Fancy seeing you here.” The casual tone in his voice makes Jackson look from one shifter to the other before his mind catches up to him; he clutches at his hair and promptly freaks out. Again.
“I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING REFUSE TO FUCK ANY MORE WERE-DOGS.”
▼o・ェ・o▼
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