#50fic

He kept his expression carefully blank, not wanting to give Jack any reason to say what he thought Kent wanted to hear. It wasn’t the first time Kent had hinted at his sexuality around Jack. He was his best friend, and Kent knew if there was one person who was going to accept him, it was Jack Zimmermann. Sometimes he mentioned in passing the attractiveness of a guy, typically in a half joking tone. Other times he’d ranted to Jack about how pissed off he got when their team mates used a homophobic slur, or acted as if being gay was an insult. But he’d never said something like this, and he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was in for.

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with one,” Jack snorted, to Kent’s surprise. He had to admit, he felt mildly insulted.

“Excuse me?” He gasped, a little dramatically. He placed a hand to his own chest, as if in shock. “I mean I know there aren’t that many willing dicks around these parts, but you have no idea what I get up to on roadies. For all you know I could have plenty of experience.”

To Kent’s dismay, Jack still seemed unphased. “Dude, I’m with you like all the time. You don’t.”

Before Kent was even fully aware of what he was implying, words tumbled out of his mouth, unchecked. “I guess I’ll have to prove it to you then.”

That got the reaction he’d been wanting.

Jack stiffened, eyeing him more seriously now. “Kenny…”  

Kent smiled, wicked and taunting. “Jack, you clearly don’t believe me. Let me prove it.” He wasn’t sure where this was coming from. This hadn’t been the plan. He wanted to taunt Jack, sure, but he realized now that part of him was hoping that Jack would say yes. He placed a hand lightly on Jack’s knee, leaning forward slightly.

Though looking apprehensive, Jack didn’t avoid eye contact with Kent, instead he searched Kent’s for any sign that this was a joke. An expression Kent had sometimes seen on Jack ghosted his features. The set of his jaw, the dark look in his eyes, the crease between his brows. Cliche as it is, Kent had seen that look when Jack was determined to get a goal, determined to win a game, determined to prove his worth. Kent was so focused on that look that it took him a minute to register the word Jack had uttered. “Okay.”

Kent blinked, gulped, nodded. He gave Jack’s knee a quick squeeze before taking his hand away and moving from the couch to the floor. He pushed his forgotten game controller out of the way to make room for him on his knees, and once he was settled, he looked up at Jack expectantly. Jack looked down at him, his expression soft. “You don’t have to actually do this, Kenny. I believe you. If you don’t want to do this, you don’t need to prove anything to me.” Kent closed his eyes for a minute, nodding.

“I want to.” He promised, sliding his hands up Jack’s thighs. When he opened his eyes, he saw Jack smiling softly. Kent reached forward, popping the button and tugging down the zipper of Jack’s jeans in what he hoped was a smooth motion.

…

When Jack finished, Kent’s jaw was sore. His knees ached a little, although he really hadn’t been on them for very long. The whole thing had maybe taken five minutes at most, but Kent was kind of glad it hadn’t went on too much longer. He enjoyed himself, sure, but it was awkward, fumbling and nerve wracking.

It was clear that Jack was into it, but that hadn’t stopped Kent from worrying that he was doing something wrong. For all his bravado, he really didn’t have very much experience at all. Still, as Jack came and Kent looked up at him as he swallowed, he didn’t regret it. Fingers tangled in Kent’s blond hair, head tipped back and eyes shut tight, Jack looked wrecked. Kent had to admit it was a bit of a power trip to know he’d done this to him.

When he pulled off, Jack slipped his hand from Kent’s hair down to cup his jaw. He opened his eyes and looked down into Kent’s, and the blond could see a hazy sort of glow in Jack’s. He raised from his knees slowly, reaching forward to tuck Jack back into his pants. When he’d pulled the zipper up, he climbed forward onto the couch, straddling the other boy’s lap. Jack’s hand still stayed on his jaw, the other moving to grip his hip. They sat in that position for what seemed like an endless moment, just watching each other. Kent was pretty sure he would never forget how content Jack looked, how boneless and calm he’d gone. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Jack so… relaxed. The brunet slid the hand cupping Kent’s face lower, to rest on Kent’s shoulder.

As he did so, Kent let himself lean forward, into Jack. He pressed a kiss into Jack’s jaw, and then his throat, and then the place where his shoulder and neck connected. He stopped, his forehead dropping onto Jack’s shoulder. “Jack,” he whispered, barely audible into Jack’s chest.