It's always the little whines that get him. High pitched, a breath that tapers out to be something more. He’s got this little blond straddling his thighs, lips candy pink, eyes dark and so fucking wide that Jack doesn’t need guessing to know that this little cherub is hopped up on something more than pure joie de vivre. If winning gets him prizes like this one, Jack will never fucking lose again, he thinks. With one heavy hand resting on a smooth and soft thigh and the other settling on his little prize’s hips he pulls him a little closer. It earns him a little giggle and two skinny arms that snake around his neck and Jack knows that he needs to make this kid whine again. Blondie looks up at him with his seductive little fuck-me-face, and Jack is at least halfway convinced that he’s practiced that in front of a mirror. No need for calling anyone out though, especially not when instead of kissing his waiting lips Jack could do something else instead.
He presses his lips to the juncture of his little cherub’s neck, an open-mouthed and greedy kiss that is a promise of so much more. The kid - what’s his fucking name again - gasps, tips back his head and rolls his hips. Greedy little thing, Jack thinks, and rewards him by scraping his teeth over his warm skin. It earns him another of those addictive little whines that very nearly gets swallowed up by the deafening thumping of the bass. Jack doesn’t pull back to watch how the strobe lights dance over blondie’s face, turning his blissed out expression into something otherworldly, something holy.
His hand is huge in comparison to the kid’s face when he grabs for his jaw, fingers digging in just so as he makes him turn his head. His pretty neck is bared and outstretched like an offering and Jack licks a long hot strip right up to his ear. He feels his fingers digging into his shoulders, flexing, wordlessly egging him on. He kisses behind his ear, scrapes his teeth over the tendons of his neck there too, just because he can. It earns him a shiver for his efforts, a rush of hot breath.
“Look at me.“
Jack’s fingers still dig into his jaw and he decides to loosen his grip just so - if only so he can push his ring and middle finger into his mouth. The reaction that earns is priceless. Blondie’s eyes snap open and he can feel his tongue pressing up against his digits, half-forming a word that comes out in a whimper instead. Good. His other hand tightens on his hip. For a second he simply enjoys the moment, enjoys having his prize on his lap, fingers in his mouth, a clever little tongue pressing up against them. He’s a good boy, this one. Jack smirks. Soulful, dark eyes stare up at him, pupils so fat and blown that it makes his eyes look almost entirely black. He pulls out his fingers now, slow, slow, slow, dragging them over his little cherub’s lower lip all messy with spit. There’s nothing quite like watching the little expression’s face change and flicker over his face. Surprise, something that looks oddly a lot like shyness, then mindless arousal as his eyebrows pitch together and he lets out another little puff of air, another little whine. Jack drags his hand lower then, grabs the kid by the throat and squeezes just so. It’s a power rush, to feel the way his throat works under his hand, to feel how he swallows. He pulls him in then, by his pretty little neck, kisses him like he plans on eating him alive.
Maybe he does.
He tastes sweet. Sweet like he’s been drinking cheap and sugary drinks that hide the taste of alcohol well, that make you feel like you’re real bad even though you can’t stand the bite of liquor. Jack licks in his mouth, and if thinking of the sweetness he tastes as innocence makes him a bad man, so be it.
“Oh gawd,“ Blondie gasps as they break apart, he’s all flushed and giggly and breathless.
“You doing alright there, doll?“
Oh he likes that. Jack watches with a sense of detached wonder as the kid bites down on his lip, flutters his lashes and nods.
Jack is going to ruin him.
Getting Blondie out of the club and back to his apartment doesn’t take much convincing. As he ushers him out with a firm hand on his lower back he catches Tater’s gaze who gives him a nasty grin that he answers in kind, lifting a hand to make it known that he’s going to be busy for the foreseeable future. In the car he turns the music all the way up, not wanting the kid to ruin his flow with nervous babbling and mindless chattering. When he puts his hand back where it belongs as he drives - on the kid’s thigh - he can feel him jumping under his touch.
Without the half dark and strobe lights Jack can see the smattering of freckles on the bridge of his little prize’s nose. It’s cute. All of this kid is cute, Jack thinks, and gives his chest a shove to send him sprawling back into his bed. He really needs to remember his name.
“You don’t mess around, do you?“
It really doesn’t sound like Blondie is all too upset with him, not with the way he’s sprawling there, ripe for the taking. Jack grabs him by a skinny ankle and pulls him close, then crawls over him.
There really isn’t much talking after that.
He really is a little angel, this one, petite and blond and all those things that make Jack hungry and wonder if all the hard checks have knocked something a little loose in his head. Jack is back on his neck, biting and sucking bruises there as he reaches for his hands, tangling their fingers before he pins his hands over his head. With a low groan Jack rocks down against him, grinning against his skin when he can feel how his little prize rolls up his hips to meet him, gasping out a breath. No matter how hungry and unhinged Jack is starting to feel, this is something he wants to savor for himself.
Jack gathers the kid’s wrists in one big hand, pinning him down a little harder now. He’s taking a moment to look down on him, his well kissed lips, the bruises mottled on his throat, his heaving chest, his cute cock already standing to attention and drooling at the tip.
“Look at you.“
It comes out a little rough around the edges, a growl creeping into his voice.
“Barely touched you and you’re already gagging for it.“
The words tumble out of his mouth before he can even think about what he’s saying, but Blondie doesn’t seem to mind. Blondie arches his back, presses against his grip with a delighted gasp. Alright then.
“Gonna fucking ruin you.“
Jack runs his free hand over his chest, thumbs at his gum drop pink little nipples, feeling like there is no fucking way in hell he should be allowed to touch something as perfect. His hand drags lower, over his flat belly, down, down, down to wrap around his cock. It fits nicely in the palm of his hand, and Jack is nearly overwhelmed with how perfectly small his little cherub is. It’s not hard to imagine him with a little halo sitting crooked on the mess of his blond hair.
Jack gives him a few slow tugs, coaxes sweet little moans from his throat. The friction can’t be nice, his hand is likely too dry, and still Blondie is eating up his attention. Jack pulls back his hand. He bullies the kid’s thighs further apart until he can kneel comfortably between them, reaches down to rub a dry finger over his hole.
„So fucking sweet, aren’t you?“
The answer is another little moan and fuck - there it is again.
Blondie is nodding, teeth digging into his pink lip. He’s got flush in his cheeks by now, and Jack catches himself wondering how much prettier he’d if he’d be crying.
Usually Jack is good at patience and discipline and all those boring things that are the making of a star athlete but right now he can’t be fucking bothered. He sits back on his haunches and grabs for the kid, flips him over like a rag doll. Doesn't bother with the surprised noise, presses back in instead, one hand firm on the back of his neck pinning him down, the other on his hip, pushing and pulling until the kid is getting the picture. Face down and ass up shouldn’t be this good of a look on anyone. “Stay,“ he instructs.
Greed is burning hot in his guts as he looks him over, with his perfect little ass, pink hole and freckle speckled skin. Following a sudden urge he leans in, sinks his teeth right into the juncture where thigh meets ass. Blondie whimpers. Jack lets out a little groan of himself, reaches down to give his own desperately hard cock a little much needed attention - just to get the edge off. This kid will ruin him, he knows, and he is determined to put him through his paces while he has the chance.
His ass, Jack learns soon enough, is so small that he could hold it in one fucking hand. His cock twitches at the thought and he ignores it in favor for spreading his perfect asscheeks. His hole looks pretty pink and perfect, and Jack spits down on it, loud and nasty, watches his spit trickle down over his tight little balls before he leans in to lick over it. The noise Blondie makes is nearly pained. He holds him tight then, holds him in place when he squirms and bucks in readily apparent desperation and eats him out like a man starved for it.
It’s messy and wet and obscene, and by the time Jack pulls back just a little bit his chin is covered with spit. He tries to catch a glimpse of how Blondie is doing - when he sees that the kid has pulled a pillow close to muffle his moans he can’t help but to grin. He’s just loose and wet enough to let a finger slip in right to the first knuckle. Jack is as patient as can be as he gives little thrust, coaxes him a little more open as he mouths at his balls. All of him is adorable, too adorable, really.
It doesn’t take long to get him open and ready, whining on every second exhale, rutting back on Jack’s fingers like he’s made for it. “Easy,“ Jack grins, fucks his fingers in deep, curls them against his prostate just because he can. And just because he can he does it again and again, leans into the thrusts, the strength of it enough to rock his entire body. Blondie moans, sounding so out of it and so pretty that Jack can’t help but to give him just a little more, just a little harder until he begins to sound helpless and keening. Jack pulls away entirely, groaning at the sight of him high strung and desperate, letting out a wail in protest.
“Be good now,“ he rasps, grabs his hips again and pulls him flush. He’s rutting his cock between his cheeks and against his spit shiny hole, and Blondie whimpers out an “Oh god.“
Fucking him is a revelation.
The tight heat is enough to make any man lose his mind, Jack thinks, digs his fingers harder into his hips, hard enough that he knows he’s leaving marks. The pace is as rough as it’s intense, the sound of their bodies slamming together, their ragged breathing and Blondie’s little whimpers deafeningly loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “Yes— oh god—please,“ the kid whines, voice pitched so high and needy it makes something molten roll in Jack’s belly. With a low growl he reaches out, let’s go off his little cherub’s hips just so he can reach for his neck instead. He wraps a large hand around his throat, pulls him back by it until the curve of his spine is so deliciously taunt that he looks like he might snap in half.
Things go quick after that. Jack picks up the pace, fucking into his little prize with more and more abandon, chasing after the orgasm he can feel building low at the base of his spine. He’s grunting now, body moving with one singular goal in mind. His hand falls away from Blondie’s throat. He gives him just enough time to suck in a shaky breath before his hand is back at the back of his head, fingers twisting in his blond hair pushing him down until his face is buried in the mattress. Like this Jack is covering his back entirely, covering him in a way that’s speaking of the utter desire to possess, to take and command. Jack growls, panting wetly against his shoulder, hips moving quicker, balls slapping against Blondie’s ass with a lewd noise and fuck - finally - he’s coming.
It’s overwhelmingly good. The sensation crashes through his system, makes everything go fuzzy around the edges before coming sharp and too bright, and like a man possessed Jack keeps moving. His teeth sink into his shoulder, sensation almost painfully good as he spills deep inside of him.
His little cherub is not quite as lucky. While Jack pins him with the weight of his body he makes these addictively pathetic little noises, hips jerking like he’s trying to rut down against the mattress. Jack tries to get his brain back online, but it’s slow going when his orgasm still lingers, making his limbs move syrupy slow. Jack forces himself back into action, pulls out and revels in the sight of his cum dripping out of his pretty little hole. He looks filthy, completely fucked out and needy - and Jack has never seen anything as perfect.
Within moments he has Blondie flipped on his back. He’s red faced, hair a mess, and Jack can tell that his own dick is giving a very valiant effort of staying hard. Jack climbs off the bed. “Wha—“ the kid looks up at him, all big, betrayed eyes, confusion obvious. Poor thing, Jack thinks, to have so little clue of what’s going on. Before his little prize can even really begin to complain, Jack grabs his ankles, pulls him down towards the edge of the mattress. It’s easier like this.
Jack’s never been afraid to go down on his knees, now is not so different. The moan the kid gives when he swallows him down is almost worth the aching in his knees from kneeling on his hardwood floor. Jack can feel him twitching under his tongue, cock so impossibly hard, skin velvety soft. He bobs his head once, drags his tongue along the underside of his cock and suddenly there’s two little hands in his hair, tugging and holding on.
Jack hadn't thought it possible for his little cherub to sound even sweeter.
Grabbing him a little tighter Jack bobs his head again, suckles on his head until Blondie is trembling in his grip, voice all but gone. Jack redoubles his efforts and is rewarded with a wavering little moan and a mouthful of cum. The taste’s not for him, swallowing not really his thing either - but really, that was never the plan in the first place. Crawling back over Blondie he grabs his jaw with a strong hand. He digs his fingers in until realization sparks adorably behind the kids’s hazy eyes and he opens his mouth, pretty pink tongue sticking out in invitation.
Jack doesn’t pull away his hand, instead leans a little closer. He can see every little expression flickering over his face, surprise, humiliation and arousal as he lets his cum drip back onto his tongue. For several seconds it feels like they’re suspended in time. He makes such a pretty picture like this. Jack thinks he really should’ve gotten his camera ready. His little cherub exhales, breath tampering out into a whine and Jack pushes his mouth back shut with a single finger under his chin.
Blondie looks at him like he’s just pushed a knife in his guts and twisted it. He swallows.
Jack can’t bring himself to throw the kid out after, set him back out on the street with a pat on the ass and the threadbare promise to text him. He pulls him close, even smiles when Blondie burrows in his side and hides his face against his chest.
“Alright there, baby?“ He asks for the second time that night. He really needs to remember his fucking name. B- something. Benedict? Too long. Short, a little pretentious, he can remember that much. Beau? Might as well go with that.
“Uh huh,“ Beau(?) murmurs into his skin and then peeks up at him, and really, the innocent act shouldn’t work so well on anyone who was just fed their own cum.
Jack smoothes a hand down his spine up and down and again and again, giving a little grin. “All fucked out, eh?“ The kid has the audacity to blush, like this is any worse than what they just did.
“You really are somethin’ else, Mister.“
Jack laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh yeah?“ The kid - Beau - nods.
There’s a little southern twang in his words, and Jack can’t help but to find it adorable.
“Real cute, Beau,“ he tells him. “Real cute.“
Beau does not look amused. At all.
“My name is Bitty,“ he says all huffy and offended, pouting in a way that makes Jack want to grab him and kiss him all over again. Fuck. He chuckles and rubs a hand over his face, giving the barest of nods.
“Right, Bitty, my bad.”
Can anyone blame him for getting that name wrong? Sure as fuck not, Jack thinks. Bitty still looks a little too pouty for comfort, so Jack pulls him in for another kiss until the pout is gone, replaced with hazy eyes and flushed cheeks. That oughta do it.
“Let me make it up to you,” Jack murmurs, sensing another chance.
Bitty lets him.