Gulp

Someone give me more scenarios, I’m runnin dry, (any character)…. Thinking I’ll post a real drabble after this, not just whimsy and smut

Jack unzipped the fly of his jeans, hurriedly dug himself out before he was in an embarrassing predicament with himself soaked and utterly too turned on by it. Just as his stream hit the toilet, the men’s bathroom door was swinging open and you were beside him, mirroring his actions. In moments like this, God really tested Jack. He felt simultaneously blessed and tortured to see your taller frame at the urinal beside his, yourself look all too pleased to finally let your bladder go after holding it all shift

Jack swallowed and shifted his weight off his prosthetic—or at least that was his alibi, if you asked why his eyes kept snapping leftward, then down.

And it didn’t help that, in all of his shameful fantasizing about his close friend, you seemed to be just as keen on catching a glimpse. Jack was drained out now, standing before the urinal with nothing left but a pink in his cheeks and a swell of heat distending his abdomen. Then both pairs of eyes caught briefly on each other and everything twisted up inside Jack. Your stream tapered off and left Jack drooling over that fat dick you tucked away like a temptation, wanting nothing more than to swallow down as much of it as he could and make you see stars. He washed his hands extra thorough after that thought and followed you out of the bathroom.

—

Jack felt fucking ruined.

he’d choked on his own fingers, making a mess of drool down his chin, while his other hand worked over his cock at a slow pace. He’d imagined you’d do that to him—snap his name or click your tongue every time he decided to get too carried away on himself. Mainly because: his lips, his hands, his flesh at that (hypothetical) moment were meant to be trained on you. While he sat back on his knee and two quarters, giving you the best eyes he could while mumbling out “Yes, doctor.. of course, sir..” until you got sick of it and told him to speak up properly. And if he got too snappy, too ambitious… you’d drag him up and flip him onto his stomach and tell him all about how filthy he was, how much he needed discipline.

You’d followed him to med school after you two chatted between each other over and over in solitary moments, over cards, with a contract between the US that felt almost punishing. There was an incident when you both were in school, sharing a dorm every night, sharing the cramped bathroom and the other shitty amenities. You’d both been wrestling around shirtless like idiots, door locked, smothering each other with torsos and finding headlocks with thighs. jack let a noise slip when he knew he shouldn’t have, cursed immediately after and regretted that too after seeing your face. His hands were on your chest and he was staring down at you wrecked eyes and parted lips, waiting for you to kick him off or acknowledge that both of you had half chubs that wouldn’t quit.

Jack sucked in a breath and tested, simply sliding his thigh over yours. The sleep shorts you both had on felt too thin, made it too easy for your bulges to brush, then rub together when Jack was soon straddling you.

“Jack—” your voice was clipped but was soon interjected:

“Wait, wait, wait-” he grit, hanging his head. He canted his hips forward and felt your print. He arched.

Your hands flailed momentarily, caught off your wits. They slid deliciously down his sides, only making his back tense further, before gripping over his waist and hips. All veins and coarseness that had his head fuzzy.

so.. funny way to end an episode