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Albert has had a long fucking day.
He irritates himself more and more the longer he screams at a monitor and convinces himself it’s the funniest he can be. He’s given himself a migraine already, and, honestly, he can finish the game a day late. Maybe people will theorize about his death again. Free advertising.
He rips his headphones out of his ears and hopes his nausea isn’t as visually apparent as it feels, dragging heavy feet along the cold ground that will eventually lead him to the neon and glaring catalyst that is the boy in his bedroom.
Albert’s fingers wrap around the door handle and he immediately becomes weightless. As the door swings open, the smell of vanilla beckons him like a siren in the water and he wants to breathe it all in. He lays eyes on Jake, laid out on his side, scrolling his phone, and he sees freshly-washed hair and bare shoulders. His eyes drag lazily over every inch of Jake that he can see before he shakes the daze and opens his mouth.
“Hey, baby.”
Jake sits at attention, and as the comforter fortunately falls subject to gravity and sits at Jake’s waist, Albert’s eyes venture over the freshly-exposed skin. “A little early for you to be sleeping,” he says, “something wrong?” and Albert hardly registers a single syllable.
“Ah—no, nothing’s wrong. Tired. You tired?”
And Jake doesn’t respond.
Albert inches closer.
Jake tilts his head and eyes Albert down as if to ask him ‘do you want me to be?’ and God, by all a god could be, wouldn’t want him to be. To be a god is to be beautiful. God is an everything and everywhere, a liquid that fills in the gaps, and particularly residing in and dripping through the gaps between Jake’s teeth. Beauty is a fuck, and, sometimes, beauty is a fuck.
Albert sits at the edge of the bed, propped up on his left arm and tilted towards Jake.
“I guess I’m not that tired.”
Jake raises an eyebrow, eyes re-fixated on his phone. “Oh really?”
Albert wants attention.
He walks his fingers up the back of Jake’s phone, pausing as he grabs at it to make sure Jake is looking at him before swiping it from him. He carefully places it on the opposite side of the bed, draping himself over Jake’s lap.
“My head huuurts.”
Fingers rake through his hair, just how he likes it. He lets a groan of relief drop from his mouth, which turns out to be his first step up the staircase to heaven when he feels Jake’s fingers tense. Jake’s fingers massage Albert’s scalp, and his nails elicit moans from Albert.
Albert can feel something raising beneath him as Jake’s fingers slow to a halt.
“Why’d you stop?”
“You know goddamn well.”
“My head still hurts.”
Silence.
“I’m trying to get in your pants, jackass.”
“Why didn’t you say that?!”
“What, the moaning wasn’t enough for you?”
“I just thought you liked it!”
Albert sits up and gently begins rolling his palm against the bulge raising in Jake’s boxers. “I did like it,” he croons, “it’s just not what I need to make me feel better. You do wanna make me feel better, don’t you?”
Jake nods so quickly his head might as well fly right off, and he whines so softly that Albert can hardly hear it when he pulls his palm up off of Jake.
“Get up.”
Albert slides back to the edge of the bed with dangling legs, and Jake obediently stands up and situates himself in front of Albert. Albert reaches an arm up to Jake’s shoulder and pushes down, down, and Jake slowly lowers himself to his knees. Albert bares his teeth in a grin brought on by a softly sadistic amusement.
Jake glides a hand up Albert’s thigh and his fingers make their way just underneath his shorts before Albert smacks his hand away. “Ah-ah, hands to yourself.”
Jake huffs through his nose and holds his wrists behind his back to restrain himself, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on the inside of Albert’s thigh. He looks up at Albert with eyes that whine louder than he ever possibly could, and Albert sees everything he’s never said reflecting back at him—underneath him. Jake is the manifestation of everything he’s ever dreamed of, ever rolled around in his teeth and discarded for being too specific. He wishes he’d die right here, in a way, so that maybe he could look down at himself in the third person in a snapshot of this moment for eternity. He’d be happy there.
At least until Jake leans forward and plants kisses all along Albert’s inner thighs, frustrated by the prospect of being unable to touch him, squeeze him, love him, and Albert wants to live forever.
Albert delicately lays an index finger at the peak of Jake’s head, before shoving him away, and the fucker laughs. Jake whimpers and promptly doubles back in-between Albert’s thighs, pressing his lips against Albert’s bulge. Albert bites his lip and observes Jake like a doomsday clock observes a dandelion, he knows exactly where this is going and he gets to hold it over Jake’s head as long as he wants.
Jake continues feverishly dragging his lips across Albert’s legs, licking, biting at the flesh that silently aches for him, and Albert’s ego bloats tyrannically. Float fat, sink skinny—and he’s starving Jake.
Jake finds himself nudging Albert’s shirt up with his nose just to kiss his stomach, and the level of desperation finally sparks an ounce of pity in Albert. Albert runs a finger from the back of Jake’s ear, to his jaw, to his chin, tilting Jake’s head up to make eye contact with him while he considers letting up.
“How bad do you want it?”
Jake’s eyes try annoyance on for size for the slightest moment before he realizes where he is. He shoots puppy eyes up at Albert, bottom half of his face still buried beneath his shirt, and it crushes Albert.
He ponders letting him reign free, but not before he gets one last laugh. He flicks Jake in the center of his forehead, making him wince, but he still doesn’t raise a finger. He doesn’t have permission.
“Alright, you can touch me, whatever.”
Jake immediately claws at the waistband of Albert’s shorts, rather than paying himself any attention, and Albert entertains his tragicity by lifting his hips and making himself accessible. Jake immediately rips his shorts off, alongside his boxers, and carelessly launches them behind him. He shoots forward, lips immediately latching on to Albert, grazing his tongue from the base to the tip, and Albert shudders for the first time in what feels like ages. He props himself up on his palms and leans back, eyes wide and fixated on the boy beneath him as he feels himself begin to sweat from the sensation. Jake’s mouth engulfs Albert’s cock, and Albert’s hips stutter and buck into his throat. Jake gags and drools over Albert, pushing himself off and coughing. Albert opens his mouth to apologize before he’s cut off by Jake’s lips around him again, and all he can muster is a drawn-out, guttural ‘nnnh’ through his teeth. Jake bobs his head up, down, without any regard for how overwhelming it might be. He’s been starved, he’s getting his fill.
Albert wraps his legs around Jake’s neck and curls his fingers in Jake’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer, trying his absolute best not to shove Jake’s head into his crotch with all the force he could possibly muster. It’s repulsive how badly he wants to become one soul, and this is the closest that he can get. In a vacuum, it’s love, and from bird’s-eye, it’s hanging off of the edge of a cliff and trusting it to hold your hand. Albert’s blood boils beneath the skin of his thighs as Jake frantically grasps at them, forcing himself closer, and all Albert can do is moan and whine. He can see the tears bubbling up behind Jake’s eyelids as he begins to sob and choke himself for pleasure, locking eyes with Albert like his life depends on swallowing him whole. Albert’s back arches as he begins to leak and wail, slurred strings of ‘mmh,’ ‘fuck,’ ‘so good for me’ dripping from his mouth like liquid gold. Jake pulls back and swirls his tongue over the tip of Albert’s cock, enticing incomprehensible whimpers from his heaving chest.
Albert pulls at Jake’s hair, watching the tears stream down his cheeks before he forces his head back down, legs shaking and extending senselessly as he barrels up the last stairs to heaven. “Jake. Jake. I’msofuckingclose. Jake!”
Jake doesn’t budge. He continues his sloppy, desperate fit, as his throat begs to be coated.
Albert’s back arches further as he throws his head back and screams out “Aah—hah—Jake!” and his voice cracks out of exhaustion. Warm cum drips down Jake’s throat, and he swallows it as it comes. He moans around Albert’s cock, shivering before he pushes himself off for good. He looks up at Albert for praise.
“So—so good for me… ‘proud of you. My sweet boy.”
Jake smiles and presses one last kiss to Albert’s tummy, standing up to make sure Albert’s legs are stable enough to carry him to the shower.
“Can you wash my hair for me? My arms are broken.”
“I’m never touching you again, actually.”