Jake sat on the edge of his bed and just breathed, bent over slightly, elbows on his knees. God.
He had come across Avery out on the football pitch. They had sat and talked lightly for a long while, watching the rugby team practise and then disperse, staying long after they had gone. They’d only had to come in because the bell had sounded for everyone to be in for the night, though Jake knew both he and Avery could have snuck around for even longer after that. He had wanted to really; really wanted to… but had also wanted nothing more to escape back to his own room. Escape those murky green eyes and that bright laugh, that shake of his head to toss hair that was nearing needing a cutting back out of his eyes.
Jake flopped back onto his bed and groaned quietly, the heels of his hands pressed back into his eyes.
It was hopeless. The way Avery bit his lip, almost worried it as they had watched the rugby practise. The light, seemingly unconscious but so very noticeable press of their thighs together as they lounged back on the cold benches in the stands. He could still feel the warmth of just that slight touch of their legs together, could still remember the way it stole all his focus and made it so hard for him to pay attention to anything else. And then Avery’s hands, pulling at the sleeves of his coat, delicate looking fingers curling into his palms so his sleeves fell down to hide them.
Hands still pressed securely over his eyes, Jake had an idea of what those fingers could do. What he wanted those fingers to do. He shivered, involuntarily arching only slightly on his bed, at just the thought. The idea. The desire. He imagined his skin to actually be aching with how much he wanted those fingers to just even skim his arm, with a hint to more than only a friendly gesture.
He shivered again, harder. He let his hands drop to the bed, arms raised over his head. His eyes remained shut, seeing nothing but Avery… Avery smiling at him. Avery smirking at him. Avery, turning to him, hair in his eyes almost but not quite hiding a mischievous glint before he grabbed Jake’s hand to pull him closer… flush up against him… his bare skin under Jake’s fingers and lips and…
Unable to stop it any longer, Jake moaned, a quiet, almost whimpering sound as his right hand moved and reached, undoing his trouser buttons and flies without a thought. He arched enough to shove his trousers and boxers down, kicking his shoes off and soon after the unneeded clothing as he pushed himself further up onto his bed. And his hand was on his cock, already more than just half hard. But it wasn’t his hand he was thinking of. It was those pale fingers teasing him slowly, making him writhe, making him sweat. Making him ache. It wasn’t his cock either, that he was running his fingers up the length of. It was Avery’s. Avery’s hot, heavy weight he curled his fingers around, Avery’s own precome he spread from the head, swirling it down underneath with his thumb. It was Avery underneath him, arching up against him, Avery’s legs lifted over his shoulders, around his waist, tightening, gripping him, pulling him closer.
Jake gasped, bucking into his hand as his mind spun, nails dragging along the vein underneath and catching on the ridge of his head, making him cry out, only barely stifling it as he bit his lip and choked it back, breathing hard, heart pounding. His left hand gripped the blankets on his bed as if to keep himself from sliding off it, right still moving painfully slowly but dragging it out because he never wanted it to stop. In his mind it was Avery – Avery’s fingers, Avery’s mouth, Avery underneath him eyes squeezed shut and arching, hips pressing desperately into his own and biting his lips when Jake wasn’t biting them himself…
That was it. Jake only had begun to fist himself in earnest and then he was coming, the muddled green of Avery’s eyes colouring the inside of his own as he bucked off the bed, heels digging into the edge. His hand didn’t stop moving, milking himself, coming repeatedly hot over his hand and splashing onto his stomach and thighs and most likely his shirt, which is still buttoned and on.
After what seemed and felt like an eternity (god how he wished it really would be) Jake collapsed, panting, not wanting to open his eyes. With his eyes closed Avery was still there, as flushed and out of breath as Jake was, collapsed beside him. With his eyes closed Jake could still imagine Avery curling into him as he curled onto his side, heart skipping every other beat, the smell of sex drifting through the room. With his eyes closed, that had been real.