Work Text:
Eric saunters into the room casually. Too casually.
Jack is immediately wary of what's to come out of this conversation, because Eric has that look on his face that he gets when he's thinking up a scheme. Usually an idiotic scheme, at that.
Eric paces around the room, stopping to examine each magnet on the fridge as carefully as possible, then opening each drawer, poking around a little bit, and closing it again.
Jack is trying really hard not to give in and look at him, instead just keeping his eyes glued to the last word so far on the anthropology paper he's writing. He hasn't typed anything since Eric walked in.
Jack can't help but sigh when Eric starts pretending to inspect the silverware. He can't take it anymore.
"Eric," Jack warns, silently asking him to just spit it out.
"Mm," Eric acknowledges dismissively, running his fingers along the ridge of a butter knife.
Jack rolls his eyes and looks back at his paper. Back on track, Hunter, come on.
Eric "wanders" (very clearly walks with purpose) to the couch, where Jack is lounging with his notebook. He sits down by Jack's feet, then crosses and uncrosses his legs, then stands back up. Jack is about to lose it.
"Jack?" Eric asks. He sounds almost timid, and a prickle of anxiety runs down Jack's spine.
"Yes, Eric?" Jack responds tentatively. He knows if he's too abrasive, Eric will lock up and tip-toe around the apartment for days. He doesn't think he can survive a repeat of the 'Eric-hiding-a-ferret' incident.
Jack had raised his voice while Eric to just tell him what was wrong, and Eric scurried off into the laundry room to reflect. For the next week, Eric communicated in airy "hm"s and "huh"s, and Jack even thought he'd stopped showering because of how gross the apartment was starting to smell.
They didn't work it out until Jack found a living, breathing, ball of fur in his bed at five in the morning and screamed so loudly that the whole building woke up, and suddenly the weird smell and Eric keeping something from him made sense.
"Jackie," Eric starts, sitting down again. He threads his fingers together, placing them under his chin and raising a brow. "Do you know what a prostate is?"
"Dude, what the hell?" Jack huffs out a shocked laugh, not having expected that. He really thought it was gonna be some big issue.
"Answer the question!!"
"Uh, I guess so? Like, generally?"
Eric nods, worrying at his lip. He says nothing, so Jack continues. He doesn't look embarrassed, per se, just pensive. "Why, um.. Why do you ask?"
"I dunno. I'm kind of curious about it," Eric says, shrugging.
"How curious?" Jack asks. "Like, find a-book-about-it curious?"
This seems to render Eric a little bashful. "Well, no. More like, actually-find-it curious."
"Oh." Jack's face flushes. He hadn't been expecting that, for some reason. He and Eric just don't really talk about this kind of stuff. Maybe, once in a while, one of them will mention a girl they slept with, but it's certainly never detailed. He then adds, hesitantly, "You're gonna ask some girl to shove something up there?"
Eric scoffs, a sheepish smile lighting up his face. "Something? I'm not at that point, Jack. Fingers will work just fine."
Jack should really just let this conversation end. He should just keep quiet, just go back to his work, and live silently with the knowledge that his best friend in the whole world wants to get fingered.
But he can't leave well enough alone, because of course he can't. "Well, the point stands. You're gonna ask some girl you hook-up with to, like.. put her fingers inside of you?? It's usually the other way around."
"Nah, that's too much work," Eric replies nonchalantly, his posture finally realizing as he leans back into the sofa. "I'm just gonna do it myself."
And, okay, that's maybe a little worse, because Jack's ears are burning more at the thought of Eric fingering himself in their shared apartment than at the thought of some random co-ed do it to him in a closet at a party.
"I- when?"
Eric fixes him with an amused look. "Dude, when? You think I just.. plan out when I'm gonna jack off?"
"I don't know!!" Jack exclaims, levels of mortification skyrocketing. He sits up abruptly. "That kind of thing takes preparation!! And you live with other people!!! What if you're too busy sticking your fingers everywhere to realize the time, and then Shawn or I opens the door to find something we'll never unsee?!"
"Jackie, calm down," Eric soothes, placing a hand on Jack's knee. "I always just do that kinda stuff when the two of you are out or in class. You'll never even know, swear to God."
And if that doesn't put Jack further on edge, then nothing ever will.
Apparently Jack looks unconvinced, because Eric surges on. "Seriously, Jack! It will be like it never even happened. I mean, don't you just wait until Shawn and I are out of the apartment? Get all cozy in your bed and stuff? It's not like I can tell what you've been doing all day when I get home."
Jack just blinks at him. Obviously, Eric doesn't understand the actual problem: The recent development of some very confusing sexual feelings on Jack's part. About Eric.
"It's honestly no sweat, Jack," Eric reiterates, hopping up off of the couch and walking over to the door. He picks up his bag from where he discarded it on the floor and slings it over his shoulder.
"Why'd you even tell me?" Jack asks. Amazingly enough, he just keeps managing to prolong this conversation that he so desperately wants to be over with.
Eric laughs as if it's obvious. "We tell each other everything."
He slips out of the door with a wave and a "see ya later!", leaving Jack horrified and cursing out every god above.
.
Jack becomes obsessed with the fact that Eric could, at any given time when he's not with Jack, be fingering himself.
He can't shake the mental image of Eric on his bed, shirt riding up above his tummy, sweat gleaming on his skin as he hits that spot over and over and- Well.
It's distracting, truly. To the point where other people are starting to notice.
Mr. Feeny raises a brow at him when he spends half an hour sitting on the Matthews' back porch and staring at his hands, freaking internally.
Shawn looks at him, concerned, when he zones out thinking about Eric while making toast and nearly burns the house down.
Even Cory knows something is wrong, because he and Topanga visited the apartment, and when Eric said something conversationally about his fingers ("Give me a sec, Cor, I have Cheeto dust all over my fingers!"), Jack started choking on his glass of water. Eric's warm hand patting him on the back didn't help at all. When Eric said that something was "a pain in the butt", Jack straight-up spit out all the liquid in his mouth and retreated to his bed.
Topanga's knowing looks during all of their conversations makes Jack feel like she caught onto his weird reactions to Eric's words.
The situation is approaching such a great level of severity that Jack's grades are slipping. He can't get anything done, not while knowing that Eric will be doing that, or already has done that.
He's not sure why the idea bothers him so much, but it's fucking haunting him.
Eventually, he just can't take it anymore. Eric is lounging on the couch, reading a book (or, doing whatever he's doing, considering the book is upside-down), and Jack pads over to him. The apartment is warm in contrast to the freezing December air outside, and he's wearing his comfiest socks.
Jack takes a seat, and Eric doesn't even look up. Just continues looking at his book. Jack decides to use Eric's tactics, drumming on his knees distractedly, trying to ask something without asking. After Jack shifts for about the seventh time, Eric closes the book.
"Jack?" he asks, slightly turning his head. Clearly he understands the game that Jack is trying to play as his own, because hes being gentle and firm the way that Jack is whenever he knows Eric needs to tell him something.
What Eric doesn't know is that this situation is totally different, that he doesn't actually have to talk a certain way or act a certain way to get Jack to open up. Because Jack would never leave him. He doesnt think he'd be able to survive ignoring Eric until the problem was forcibly plied out of him.
But he'll play along, because he knows that Eric is having fun playing the role that Jack usually does.
"Eric," he replies. Airy, flippant. Just the way that Eric always does.
"Is there something you want to say?"
Eric places the book on the coffee table, raising an eyebrow in that theatrical way that he loves to do.
"Well, I guess- I just-" all the words that Jack planned to say just fall out of his brain. "I guess I was just wondering if you ever did that thing."
"What thing?" Eric asks. He's not acting confused just to humor Jack, he's actually trying to clarify. It's refreshing, an ounce of typical Eric, and Jack lets out a breath he's been holding for nearly a month.
"The.. finger thing."
Eric's face of realization is so emphasized that Jack can nearly see the lightbulb appear over his head.
"Oh! Yeah, I tried."
"And- and how was that?"
Eric shrugs. "Fine. It was supposed to feel super good, I think, but the angle was weird and it wasn't really comfortable. It kind of-" he hunkers down closer to Jack, lowering his voice. "It kind of hurt, honestly. I think it's easier when someone else is doing it."
"Oh," Jack says. Again, he's just at a loss for the words he wants to say. "So you're gonna ask some girl?"
"Maybe," Eric responds. His body language is totally relaxed, sinking further back into the couch, and Jack looks like a statue compared to him, cooped up in the corner of the couch, motionless and wide-eyed. "I don't know, Jackie. It's like, I'm really curious about this. But I don't want to ask someone to put her fingers in me, because what if she freaks out and tells her friends and suddenly I'm a campus panini?!"
"Pariah, Eric," Jack corrects, finally relaxing a bit. He slumps into the cushion.
"Campus parrot, whatever. It just seems a little risky. And it doesn't feel good to do it to myself, but I don't want to miss out on some unearthly astral projection type of pleasure, y'know??"
"I- not really?" Jack sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. "But I'm sorry that it hasn't worked out for you, man. What're you gonna do?"
"I'm not sure. That's kind of what I'm figuring out right now. Maybe I'll just leave the whole thing alone." Eric honestly seems unbothered.
"No!" Jack exclaims. Eric looks at him, perplexed. "Sorry, um- I just mean.. you seemed excited about it. You shouldn't drop the whole thing because you're worried about your reputation."
"What, so you're really suggesting I take a chance and ask someone to help me out?"
"Er, well-" Jack bites at his bottom lip, thinking, and then something must possess him, something positively nefarious, because Jack will forever swear that the words that come of his mouth next aren't his, "- I could help you."
Eric blinks at him. Once, twice. Then the moment of realization, and then the startled look that overtakes his face.
"I mean!! Like, not in a weird way! Like, if you want!!! Or not, man," Jack hastily adds. "Um, you know what, forget I said anything, I'm gonna go get some food, you want anything?" He rises from his dip in the couch, dusting off his pants even though there's nothing on them.
Eric remains quiet, mouth open like he wants to say something but can't get it out.
Jack, regretting ever being born, decides to just bolt for the door at this point. He wants to be as far away from Eric as possible, for maybe the first time since they've met.
"Jack, wait," Eric says abruptly, just as Jack is slipping out of the door. He almost sounds out of breath and has also stood up, abandoning the book. It's not important right now.
Jack pokes his head through the door, meekly. "Yeah?" He hates how hopeful he sounds.
"You don't have to leave, I just," Eric makes a hesitant sound from the back of his throat. "You just surprised me."
Jack stays put, feeling like a deer in headlights. Eric continues trying to coax him back in. "Jack, come on, sit down. Let's talk about this."
"No, I- no," Jack refuses, taking an uncertain step back into the apartment. "It's okay. We're all good."
"Jack," Eric repeats, taking another step forward. It's so soft that Jack nearly takes a step backward to re-establish the gap between them. "Were you serious? You would do that for me?"
It catches Jack off guard. "I mean, I guess so? Yeah. Yes. I would, Eric."
He tries to be bold, tries to communicate something that he doesn't even know how to explain. But clearly, Eric doesn't pick up on it, because the next words that come out of his mouth are:
"You're too good of a friend to me, man."
Jack doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, so instead he gives Eric a wistful smile, reflecting on how goddamn stupid the two of them are. "My offer stands."
"Okay," Eric replies, sounding decisive. It seems like he's talking more to himself than to Jack. "Alright. Yeah, that could work. We can try that sometime."
"Yeah?" Jack confirms, searching for affirmation.
"Yeah."
"Okay, well. I wasn't kidding about the food. What do you want?"
Eric just shrugs emphatically, grabbing his cardigan from where it was crammed behind him on the couch. "Dunno," he replies, pulling it on. "I'll just come with you, think about it on the way there."
Jack nods because, yeah, it makes sense. Nothing has really changed. They do this all the time. They go almost everywhere together. Now that almost everywhere will just happen to include the bedroom. Once. It's fine, it's all going to be fine.
Eric keeps him so busy with his prattling that Jack's head doesn't have time to spin until he's lying in bed at two in the morning (Eric kept him up to watch a movie) and reflecting on every choice he's ever made that led him to this point.
But, again. It's all going to be just fine.
-
They don't talk about it. Not really.
Jack finds a link to an article about something called "douching". It makes him cringe a little bit to read it, but he sends it to Eric regardless. Eric responds with a thumbs up and that's that.
-
Jack almost forgets about it. It's more of a little itch in the back of his head that he occasionally remembers. Like when you wake up and don't remember the dream you had until a random moment of the day reminds you of it.
So, when he opens the door and is immediately met with an antsy looking Eric, he doesn't think anything of it. He's always in motion, always radiating all kinds of contrasting energies that shift and twist and pull you in with them.
"Jack," Eric greets, like he's going to say something else, but then he falls flat. Just takes Jack's coat and drapes it across the back of the couch.
"Uh, hey, Eric," Jack replies, raising an eyebrow. Eric doesn't usually meet him right at the door. "How were your classes?"
"They were fine." Eric's classes on Thursdays are done by noon, and it's 2:00 now, so he's been home for a little while. Usually he has more to say about his day than just "fine".
"You turned in that paper alright?" Jack moves to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of water, absently noting that there's less than yesterday. He'll need to get some more from the store this weekend.
"Yeah, I- yeah," Eric confirms, and Jack realizes that Eric has followed him closely across the room. Very closely. When he turns around from the fridge, he almost bumps right into him.
That's when it finally registers that Eric is acting a little strange. Jack gives him a once-over, and then a twice-over, because he looks.. different.
His face is tinged pink, he's breathing raggedly, his pupils are blown wide, his hands are clasped in front of him, and there's an unrecognizable expression on his face.
Then, Jack recounts all of that information, remembers that he and Eric have an arrangement of sorts, and rakes his gaze over his friend one more time.
Oh.
Eric is, like, super turned on.
"Eric, you look-" Jack begins, unsure how to end. He's suddenly unsure what to do with all of the energy in the room, not sure how to move along further than just standing here, both of them wanting. Jack has gone from normal to on fire within a span of maybe ten seconds.
"You know that thing you said we were gonna do? It's totally cool if you wanna back out, but I was wondering if you would wanna do it now, because I'm- it just seems like the right time," Eric says all in one go. Then, at the stunned look on Jack's face, "-and stuff."
Jack laughs out of disbelief and nerves. Is this really happening? "Okay. Yeah, yes." Eric still looks nervous, and kind of ashamed. "You don't have to be embarrassed, Eric," Jack adds, bringing a hand to Eric's arm out of instinct. He doesn't want him to be uncomfortable. "Where should we go?"
"Could we-" Eric pauses, looking around, like he's scared of someone listening in. "Can we use your bed?"
Jack is surprised, having thought Eric would want to go to his own, but if that's where he's most comfortable, then, "Okay, uh. Yeah. Let's do that."
Jack's bed is unmade and basically a huge swamp of blankets. Back home, he just had a pillow and a comforter, but Eric's parents and family members didn't know anything about him for their first Christmas together, so they all just got him a ton of bedding. He's not complaining; he's been sleeping like a baby every night.
Eric sits down on the right, where Jack usually sleeps, still seeming on edge. Jack settles down beside him.
"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," Jack says, voice gentle.
"I really want this," Eric responds, with certainty that catches Jack off guard. "I'm just a little nervous. I mean, I trust you, Jack, I really do, but.. what if it hurts? I didn't do much before I gave up."
Jack feels a pang in his chest at Eric's admission of trusting him. "Well, what did you do wrong last time?"
"I don't know, man, I just put my fingers in and it hurt like hell."
"Okay, so I'll be gentle," Jack says in reply. "I'm gonna make this good for you, okay? You want this, and you're my best friend, and I'm going to give it to you."
"Oh, you're gonna give it to me, Jackie?" Eric mocks, playful smile and tone returning.
"Shut up." His face is heating up. "How do you want to start this?"
"I don't know, I thought you would just kinda.. do it."
"Maybe that's the problem. Maybe we need to get you relaxed and kind of.. worked up, before we do the actual thing."
Eric looks kind of sheepish. "I'm already, like, halfway there."
"That's okay," Jack says. "How about you lay down? We'll just do some little, you know. Foreplay stuff."
"Okay," Eric agrees, hesitantly. Then, more certainly, "Okay." He shifts, putting his head down on the pillow and lying flat on his back.
"What do you like? Like, when you hook-up with people."
"Um," Eric starts, thinking. "I like it when they kiss my thighs and my neck and stuff."
Jack nods, trying not to feel in over his own head. "So you would like it if I did that?"
"Probably."
"Okay, cool. I'll, I'll do that. Do you want to stay dressed like this, or?"
Eric laughs. "Buy a guy a drink first. If I'm getting naked, you have to at least get into your underwear."
"Yeah, sure. Shirt on or off?"
"I'm taking mine off. Not really into the whole Pooh Bear look. You can do whatever you want, obviously."
"Shirts off it is," Jack decides. He shucks off his jeans and shirt, tossing them to the floor to pick up later, and when he looks back, Eric is completely naked.
He was technically expecting it, but nothing could've prepared him. Eric is laying on his side, completely exposed. Jack doesn't allow his eyes to drift where they want to yet.
"Okay, all set?" Jack asks gently, placing a hand on either one of Eric's thighs.
"Just one more thing," Eric says. He must see the look on Jack's face that's saying anything, literally anything, because he continues without further prompting. "Will you be nice to me?"
"Wh- is that not a given?" Jack questions, confused.
"No, like.. tell me I'm doing good, you know.. compliment me."
It clicks in Jack's brain. "You get off on that?"
Eric backtracks, thinking Jack is judging him. "I mean, you don't have to, if you don't want, it's just because earlier you asked-"
"It's no problem, man. Whatever I can do to make this as good as possible."
Eric smiles lopsidedly, still flushed, and Jack realizes that he's probably been waiting for this for a while, considering how revved up he looked when Jack got home.
Jack shifts even closer to Eric, trying to let the last of his nerves melt away. This is his friend, his Eric. It just so happens that he's about to have sex with him, and it just so happens that he's desperately attracted to him.
And then he's kissing Eric's neck. Scraping the skin lightly with his teeth, licking, sucking, repeating. Moving to a new spot, slowly going down and down until he's right above Eric's collarbone.
Eric is panting at this point, and Jack doesn't have to look down to know that he's turned on by this. Eric is radiating a ridiculous amount of body heat.
Jack continues to move downward, licking a line from Eric's sternum to a couple inches above his belly button. Eric's dick is on his stomach, leaking and red, and Jack can't help the noise that's ripped from the back of his throat at the mere sight.
His abdomen burns with desire, and he feels genuinely reawakened.
Jack moves along past that and onto Eric's thighs, kissing and licking every inch, taking what he can of the pale flesh without downright biting his friend.
Eric shudders, a hand coming down to card a hand through Jack's hair, presumably letting him know that he likes it.
"God, Jack," Eric grits out, squirming. "I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that, dude."
Jack finally resurfaces at this, eyes blown wide, hair in all directions, and chin shining with his own spit. "You can finish just from that?" he asks, interest peaked. Is that something they can do at some point?
Eric, bashful, doesn't reply to that, just changes the subject. "I think I'm ready for you to, uh. You know. There's some lube in the pocket of the hoodie I had on."
Jack nods, reaching over to where Eric hung the hoodie by the hood on the bedpost to grab the lube. He uncaps it, putting a generous amount on his pointer and middle finger and rubbing it with his thumb, warming it up.
"Okay, now, just relax," Jack urges, inching closer to Eric. "I know it's nerve-wracking, but it will probably hurt more if you don't just let it happen."
Eric makes a faint noise, letting his head fall against Jack's. "What if it hurts?"
"Then we'll stop. I'm gonna start now, okay?"
"Okay."
Jack places the pad of his finger over the tense ring of muscle, rubbing in miniscule circles, trying to loosen Eric up a little bit. Eric breathes shallowly against his shoulder.
"I can't get anything in if your muscles are all tensed up, Eric," Jack says, frowning. No wonder this hurt Eric so badly last time.
"How do I relax?" Eric asks, voice broken. This whole thing is definitely affecting him already, in some capacity.
Jack thinks for a moment. "Can I kiss you?"
"Uh, sure," Eric replies, startled. Apparently that's not the response he was expecting.
Jack leans in, tilting his chin to slot he and Eric's mouths together. He resumes his small ministrations, just tiny little circles, not actually penetrating.
Eric sighs contentedly, tense abdominal muscles relaxing a bit. It's working.
Jack deepens the kiss, adding in a tiny bit of tongue, and Eric moans, caught off guard. He pulls back, panting, looking wrecked before going back in for more. Eric begins to kiss with fervor, he and Jack in some sort of fight for dominance.
When Eric seems totally immersed in the kissing, Jack slips his pointer finger in down to the knuckle. Eric yelps, tightens around Jack's finger, and then relaxes once more as Jack kisses him silly.
"Is it okay?" Jack asks, murmuring into Eric's mouth.
"Yeah, it-" Eric cuts himself off, catching his breath, "It's kind of weird. But it doesn't hurt."
"I can work with that."
Slowly but surely, Jack pumps the rest of his finger in, soon adding in the tip of another.
"Shit," Eric mutters, pulling away from the kiss to put his forehead on Jack's. "Jack, that kind of hurts."
"You're tensing up again, Eric. Just calm down, okay? I'm not going to hurt you." Then, to add a cherry on top, as they're about to kiss once more, "You're being so good for me."
Eric visibly flushes, red, spotty patches littering his cheeks and chest. His softening cock stands at attention once again.
Jack soon has two full fingers inside of Eric, making a small scissoring motion to try and relieve some of the tension that makes it sort of difficult for him to move his fingers around and find Eric's prostate. "Shit, Eric, you're so- Jesus. So tight." It's physically hot, and Jack feels the molten temperature seep from his fingers into the rest of his body.
Eric wriggles around, and Jack figures he's uncomfortable, so he pulls his fingers out enough so that he's just inside to the knuckle of each, pushing in and out slowly. He kisses Eric again, slow and sensual and wet.
"Fuck," Eric curses quietly, under his breath. He wiggles his hips, shifting impossibly closer to Jack. "Fuck, Jack, more. Go faster."
"I just want to make sure you're all ready before I start looking for your prostate," Jack responds worriedly. He doesn't want to progress this when Eric isn't 100% there with him.
"Please, Jack, I'm ready," Eric begs, still moving. Thats when Jack realizes that Eric is attempting to fuck himself on Jack's fingers, albeit slowly. It unleashes a seemingly insatiable need within him.
"Does it feel good now?"
"Yeah, it's- it's good. I want more."
"Alright, buddy. Here we go," Jack cautions. He pushes the rest of both fingers in, resuming the scissoring for a few moments until he feels that Eric is prepped enough.
He prods around using the pads of his fingers, aiming generally towards himself since he's pretty sure that's where the prostate gland was when he checked the anatomy chart in his textbook (he will never admit that he's been reading up for the occasion).
Eric preens and chokes out some small, punched-out moans when Jack touches particular spots, but none of them are the spot.
At some point he finds the sense to put both fingers away and make a come hither gesture, and Eric screams, clawing at Jack's back and pulling them together, skin to skin as Eric orgasms for what feels like eternity.
"What the fuck," Eric speaks first, out of breath, voice wavering. "Holy shit. I didn't know it would be that good. Fuck. Jesus."
Jack laughs, shocked and extremely aroused by what just happened.
"Sorry for going all koala bear on you. I didn't mean to finish so quickly, I just-"
"Can you do it again?" Jack asks, interrupting Eric.
"What, hug you like a koala?" Eric replies questioningly, brow furrowing.
"No- well, I wouldn't be opposed, but, can you- can you cum again?"
"I mean-? Probably?"
Jack crooks his fingers forward once again, reveling in the way Eric's eyes close, jaw dropping open with a silent moan.
He moves his fingers in tight circles again, rubbing the flat against Eric's prostate over and over again.
"Jack," Eric groans, prolonged and gravely after a little while. He's hard again now, nosing into the crook of Jack's neck and whimpering into the skin there. Jack's left hand is in his hair. "Jack, pull my hair."
Jack does. Eric moans filthily, from the back of his throat, rubbing his thighs against each other.
"There you go. Just taking my fingers so nicely like we planned," Jack whispers, trying to get Eric to the edge once more. "You're doing such a good job, Eric. Being such a good boy."
Eric whines and grinds his hips forward, desperate for friction. "Oh God," he wails, growing louder.
"Touch yourself, Eric, it's okay. I've got you, I'm right here."
And with all of this combined, Jack's thick, long fingers massaging over his prostate, whispering praises into his ear, furiously jerking himself off, and one last pull of his hair, right at the nape of his neck: Eric cums again. Hard.
It's just as good as the first one, if not better due to the anticipation that the first one lacked, the aftershocks lasting and causing him to rock back and forth into Jack's jutting hip bone.
When he's finally coming down, Jack pulls his fingers out, wiping his hand off with a tissue he had on his nightstand. "Was it good?" he asks shyly, and Eric realizes he hasn't said a thing other than stuttered groans and whimpers for the last few minutes.
"I can't believe you're asking that after I came all over your stomach," Eric replies, "Twice."
"I'll get you a washcloth in a second," Jack thinks out loud, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Eric's ear.
"What about you?"
"Wh- oh, it's fine, I can just-"
"Let me get you off, Jackie. It's the least I can do," Eric insists, breathing hotly into Jack's ear. Jack shivers nonetheless.
"Are you sure?" Jack asks, although there's nothing he wants more. Watching Eric squirm and enjoy himself and cum has hurdled him closer to the edge than he thought it would.
"Yeah, man. I want to help you out," Eric says, then pauses in consideration. "What do you like?"
Jack almost just tells Eric to do whatever he wants, but instead the truth slips out. "I like dirty talk."
"About what?" Eric asks, using a hand to push Jack from his side to his back.
"Just, like, whatever. It's the tone of voice, I think. The one you're using right now."
"Okay, and, what do you want me to do to you?" His voice is low and velvety, undeniably sexual.
"Fuck, I-" What does he want? "Let me fuck your thighs. Please, Eric."
"Sure," Eric whispers, lust seeping into his voice. "Yeah, let me just- how about you get on top of me?"
The suggestion alone is enough to metaphorically knock Jack on his ass, and he knows he's not going to last long the second that he has Eric under him, hair splayed on the pillow, looking up with such sincerity.
The insides of Eric's thighs are slick with lube and some misplaced cum, and when Jack experimentally pushes the tip of his dick between the soft skin, he nearly dies. It certainly feels like Heaven.
"Shit," he hisses, sensitive from being hard for so long.
"There we go," Eric says softly, right into Jack's ear, lips brushing the shell of it. "You gonna fuck me, Jackie? Gonna give it to me, take me?"
Jack's mouth falls open with a broken moan, pushing his cock in a little bit more.
"You know something? I wanted to do this in your bed because it smells like you. I love the way you smell, Jack, I think about it all the time," Eric hums, voice rumbly and sincere.
"Really?" Jack asks, despite himself. Eric is obviously just trying to help Jack finish.
"Yeah, really." Eric pauses and Jack takes the deepest breaths he can, staying still. "Come on, Jack, you can move. It's all nice and wet for you, you know. I bought that lube just for you. Just for us."
"I can't move, I'll.." Jack trails off, voice high and choked.
"That's perfectly fine. Go ahead, move. Fuck my thighs. Fuck me, Jack."
Jack does his damn best. He rocks out and then cants his hips forward, slipping his dick between Eric's thighs and sort of under him, since they're so close together.
"Jesus, Eric, fuck," Jack is the one whimpering this time, shoving his face into Eric's neck. His hands grasp for purchase in the sheets, useless since they're tucked in so tightly, so Eric occupies them by holding both of them.
"Come on, Jack, go harder. I know you're holding back," Eric coaxes. Jack has given up on trying to pull out and in, just ruts into the mattress under Eric's thighs. The material is rough against his sensitive tip, and it doesn't really hurt, but it hurts just enough to feel really good. "Come on, cum for me, Jack. You've been so kind to me today, taking care of me, making me feel good. Cum between my thighs, I know you want to."
Jack feels like he's about to explode.
"I love you, Jack."
And then something in his gut snaps. His whole body stiffens and what feels like pools of cum spurt out of him. The combination of Eric's words and Eric's thighs and the fabric against his dick keeps him going, keeps him fucking forward until he's completely dried out.
He doesn't even realize how incoherently he was babbling until he's fallen silent, collapsing onto Eric and trying to even out his breathing.
"Fuck, Eric. That was- you- thank you," Jack manages to croak out, exhausted. "Did you say you love me?"
"Yeah, I did. But now that I'm thinking about it, we totally did all of this in the wrong order," Eric responds, still speaking in a hushed voice. "We've had sex, I've said I love you, we live together. I mean, we've never even gone on a date."
"How does this Saturday sound?" Jack asks.
Eric laughs, taken by surprise. "Still smooth after cumming your brains out, I see."
"Please, I've never been smooth. Maybe this improves my game."
"Well," Eric starts, sighing and holding Jack closer. "I've always liked you regardless."
-
They make dinner together after a brief nap, and they chit-chat about their days in detail, Eric reciting some fun anecdotes from his classes while Jack listens and grins.
Shawn comes home, not interrupting their chatter past a simple exchange of greetings, just grabs a bowl of the spaghetti they made and digs in, content to listen to their conversation.
Ten more minutes must pass by before Eric glances at Shawn and realizes that he's staring back, looking like he just saw a real, live alien.
"You okay, Shawn?" he asks. This turns Jack's attention to Shawn, as well.
"What's up, man?" Jack inquires, concerned.
"Eric," Shawn starts, breathing in deeply. "Either I'm hallucinating, or you have the biggest hickey I've ever seen right on your neck."
Eric turns to Jack for confirmation, who nods and begins apologizing profusely. This, of course, raises questions from Shawn.
Fifteen minutes and an awkward conversation later, Jack is settled with Eric on the left side of the couch, prodding at the hickey with a cold spoon, while Shawn wraps himself tighter into his favorite blanket on the other side.
"So no one knows?" Shawn asks, in disbelief.
"No, and it better stay that way," Jack threatens, momentarily removing the spoon from Eric's neck to point it at Shawn menacingly.
"And, Eric. Be honest. You actually like this guy?"
Eric doesn't have time to reply before Jack is turning to Shawn, telling him to fuck off, despite the grin on his face begging for the opposite.
-
Jack's grades are back up within the week. Even better than before, actually. It turns out being able to have sex whenever you want and no longer repressing your attraction and love for your best friend provides some really good mental clarity and focus.