Pairing: Jack/James (High school AU)
Summary: So much for having the place all to himself.
Note: Set shortly after foxxcub's J/J fic, The Guilty Party. Draws on elements of my fic Reunion, while contradicting others.
He should really quit smoking, James thought as he examined the cigarette he’d just smoked down to the filter. If he was serious about running. If he wanted to get back on the team. He’d only just gotten back into school. He couldn’t expect to make the team again so soon.
He flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and watched it glow red-hot in the darkness for another minute. No time like the present, he thought and headed for the track. It was sure to be deserted at this hour. If anyone else was still on campus, they’d be at the wrestling meet in the gym.
But it wasn’t deserted. A solitary figure was making its slow, laborious way around the track in the dark. Fuck. So much for having the place all to himself.
He kept walking, curious to see who else would be running this late. He neared the track, hanging in the shadows, and waited until the lone runner came around again.
It was light enough for him to see that it was a tall guy, broad across the chest, dark hair ... Fuck. It was Shephard. James’s stomach did a tortured little flip-flop. What the fuck was he doing here, this late? Didn’t Golden Boy have somewhere else to be?
He hung back, watching him push at it. The guy was no runner. He had no form. He just lumbered along, head down. But he looked determined, like nothing on earth would make him quit.
Maybe he didn’t want to go home either. And then James remembered how Jack wasn’t playing at the game the other night. Wasn’t even suited up. Maybe he was off his team, too.
And then, without thinking, James tugged off his sweatshirt and was on the track. It came back to him so easily, that fluid movement. Just run. Move the legs. Move the arms. Keep the head up.
Shephard heard him coming, and slowed, giving him a shocked glance as he sprinted past.
“C’mon, Shephard,” James yelled over his shoulder, not slowing his pace. “That as fast as you can go?”
He didn’t look back, didn’t have to. He heard the slap slap of Jack’s shoes on the dirt track and knew he was laying on the speed.
And then they were on. James ran full out, not sparing Jack any consideration until he rounded the curve of the first lap and then he slowed, letting him catch up. No sooner did he hear Jack’s footfalls close behind him that he sprinted off again. He heard Jack swear and he stifled an urge to laugh as he ran.
He finally let Jack pass him, saw the smug smile on Jack’s face as he ran by, panting. James let him think he was going to win this impromptu race for the next half lap and then he effortlessly caught up and passed Jack, drinking in the burst of adrenaline, and the cool night air rushing past him, and the knowledge that he’d beaten Jack. He stopped finally, breathing hard, turning and waiting for Jack to reach him.
Jack's face was red and covered in sweat and James felt a little sorry for him as he drew up beside him, chest heaving and unable to speak.
“What ... what...?” It took him several minutes to get his breath.
“What am I doin’ out here at this hour?” James volunteered, stretching lazily, showing off that he wasn’t winded anymore. “Same as you. Just out for a nice, quiet run by my lonesome.”
Jack nodded. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “So you’re back in school?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. No point in going into all that. “You sidelined?”
Jack flinched at his question. “Just for two games.” James nodded and he added, after a beat. “Word got back to coach about a party at my house.” If possible, he turned even redder.
“Gotta watch that.”
“Word gettin’ out.”
They stood there awkwardly for another minute or two and then James turned to go.
“I’m gonna hit the showers. Looks like you could use one too.”
Heat spread through James’s crotch at the word “shower.” He raised an eyebrow, trying to read Jack’s expression. He licked his lips, which suddenly seemed horribly dry. “Ah, thanks ...” Fresh sweat pooled at the small of his back.
He bent over to pick up his discarded sweatshirt while letting the vivid image of Jack ... naked ... ran through his mind. Fuck. He could feel himself getting hard and he just hoped it that it was too dark for Jack to notice.
The heat kept traveling up his body until he was sure he was as red-faced as Jack now. James cleared his throat and was about to answer in the negative when Jack tugged the shirt out of his hands.
“You want it? Come get it,” Jack yelled, laughing and running toward the locker room.
Oh no, he was not about to get away with this. James was on his heels, hand outstretched to grab the shirt back. But Jack had the element of surprise on his side and he’d made it to the door first. It was locked, but he pulled out a keycard from his back pocket and had swiped it open and was through the door by the time James caught up to him.
James reached for the door, but he only grazed it with his fingertips as it slammed shut. Jack was on the other side, laughing at him through the glass.
“Very funny. Let me in, you big, dumb fuck,” James yelled, pounding on the door.
The more James pounded, the more Jack just giggled. Fine. He didn’t need the damn shirt that much. He shot Jack a disgusted look and pointedly turned on his heel.
He heard a click of the door opening but he’d had enough by now. Stupid, bored rich kids.
Jack had him by the elbow and pulled him inside with him before he could react. He stumbled heavily against Jack, his hands going to Jack’s chest to catch himself. Jack’s shirt was damp with sweat and he could feel his heart pounding underneath.
He told himself it was because they’d just been running, but when he looked into Jack’s face, he realized he’d stopped laughing.
The light in the hallway where they stood was dim, but he couldn’t mistake the intensity of Jack’s gaze. It made him shiver, to remember the last time Jack had looked at him like that.
His hands were still on Jack’s chest and his fingertips dug in slightly, punctuating the look he returned to Jack. He leaned in closer, almost by accident brushing his crotch against Jack’s.
He grinned when Jack sucked in a breath and his eyes fluttered shut. Like that? He ground into him again, harder this time, so there was no mistaking his intent. Jack’s hands were on his ass, pulling him closer as he moved his hips in response. His head was back, his teeth sunk into his lip, and that’s the moment James took to grab the sweatshirt back out of Jack’s inattentive hands.
He shrugged out of Jack’s grasp and ran, unable to keep from laughing.
“Hey!” Jack yelled and James sped up, knowing he’d be right behind him. He barreled into the locker room and hid himself in a corner. He didn’t have long to wait. Jack burst through the door, looking for all the world like a guy who’d had more snatched away from him than a shirt. The color was back in his cheeks and James wasn’t sure if it was anger, exertion or arousal.
James’s snicker gave him away and Jack practically pounced on him. James rethought his hiding place because now Jack had him cornered.
“You’re not getting away that easy,” he said, his voice still breathy from running, a smirk on his face. He planted a palm on either side of James’s head and stepped in, pinning him against the lockers.
They stood there for a second, both breathing hard, each tensed and waiting for the other to make a move. Jack’s face was flushed and there was a kind of glitter in his eyes James had never seen before.
Jack leaned in, eyes closing with a sigh as his lips met James’s, his whole body pressing against him now. James opened his mouth to him with a little groan and Jack moved in even closer, warmth spreading from his chest and legs and unmistakably stiffening dick.
James’s hand slid to Jack’s crotch of its own accord as they kissed, heat meeting heat as he cupped him through his track pants. Jack breathed in sharply with a little “Uh,” that vibrated through James. He drew back, watching Jack bite his lip as his fingers closed on his cock.
James couldn’t find a zipper, so he was going to have to jerk Jack’s pants down if he was going to get anywhere with him. Jack was already thrusting impatiently against his hand. “Hold up a sec,” James said low in his ear, taking his hand back as Jack made a vague sound of protest. “Thought you said somethin’ about a shower. Or would you rather come in your pants again?”
Jack’s eyes flew open in surprise, but then he grinned, ducking his head as if to hide his smile. “Yeah. Yeah, OK,” he said almost shyly.
James pushed him away and pulled off his own shirt over his head, nodding at Jack to indicate it was his turn. Jack blushed -- could his cheeks get any pinker? -- and off came his shirt too, revealing a surprisingly hairy chest, a V-shape that disappeared below the waistband of his pants.
James was able to get each of his shoes off with the other foot, but Jack ended up having to sit down to untie his, so occupied with the knotted laces that he didn’t look up when James got his sweat pants and shorts off. He felt kind of stupid just standing there, waiting for Jack to finish undressing, so he headed for the shower.
He turned the faucet on and stepped under the hot stream of water, going through all the motions of taking a shower the way he always did, rubbing the soap over his chest first.
He looked up and finally there was Jack, face still a very unmanly shade of pink as he strode towards him. James grinned. Golden Boy was shy.
His eye ran over Jack’s nude body, lingering on the parts he hadn’t seen before. The guy was in great shape -- he had more muscle on him than James did -- his waist was trim, and his ass and thighs looked rock hard. Just like his dick.
Jack joined him and without a word, but still blushing, started helping Jack lather his chest. Jesus, that felt good. James closed his eyes, imagining the feel of Jack’s hands all over him, slick with water and soap. It wasn’t just the steam from the shower that was making him feel too hot for his own skin now.
He took some of the sudsy water from his own chest and began rubbing it into the hair on Jack’s chest, drinking in the way he made Jack shudder. And then the pretense of getting clean was completely abandoned as Jack pulled James to him for another kiss, his tongue sloppy as if he could barely concentrate on what it was doing.
James edged his hand toward Jack’s cock but as he hesitated, Jack grabbed it and placed it there for him. Fuck. He panicked, realizing he had no idea what to do now.
Jack looked at him, puzzled and James suddenly knew how to get out of it. “Show me,” he said.
“Show me how you jerk off.”
Jack let out a short burst of air that could be a laugh or a gasp. His mouth twitched in a smile and he looked away abruptly, clearly embarrassed, but then he nodded. He leaned against the wet tiles, one hand on James’s shoulder, and he closed his eyes as he gripped his dick in his right hand.
He slid his hand up and down the shaft a few times, occasionally thumbing the head. James’s hand went to his own dick, but he stopped. No. He was just going to wait, because, unlike him, Jack seemed to know how to get another guy off.
Jack’s hand was moving faster now, a flush spreading over his whole body as his breath came faster, sending water flying with each stroke.
James stepped closer, his hand on Jack’s thigh, not quite ready to take over yet. “Who do you think about when you jerk off?” he whispered.
If possible, Jack flushed harder. He squeezed his already closed eyes even tighter.
“That girl?” The only answer he got was Jack’s labored breathing and maybe the slightest shake of his head.
“Or someone else?” James ran a fingertip over one of Jack’s knuckles, and he jumped at his touch. His whole hand was over Jack’s now, moving with him. “You ever think of me?”
Jack bit his lip, something like a whimper escaping him and he gave a quick up and down jerk of his head. James felt the flush from Jack’s face course through him. Jesus, he did.
Jack’s head fell back, with a thunk against the tile, his mouth open as James’s hand replaced his own. He moaned softly, tongue darting out over his lips. His hips jerked up into James’s hand and he looked helpless, completely in James’s control.
He had Jack Shephard moaning under his touch and not for the first time, and that sent an intense thrill through him. He didn’t know why, why him. Maybe he was like Jack’s tattoo, just a way for the guy who had everything to rebel, to go slumming a little. Without thinking, he reached to trace the outlines of the tattoo, but Jack grabbed his arm and gripped it tight, fingers digging in hard.
Jack’s body tensed as he hovered on the edge. His breath was getting more and more ragged, his chest and stomach heaving now. “Come on, Jack,” James said, low and urgent. He varied his grip, running a thumb over the head, the way he’d seen Jack do it and was rewarded with a desperate, strangled cry. Jack’s whole body went rigid as come shot all over James’s hand.
He slumped against the tiles, his heart racing so hard James could see it hammering away in his chest. “God, I’m ... dizzy,” he said slowly and James felt a surge of pride. He’d never made anyone dizzy before.
“Hey, Prep, time for a little ...” he was starting to say when he heard voices outside in the hall. “Fuck! The meet’s over.”
He was already running for a towel, not caring if Jack was going to just keep showering or what. He had it firmly around his waist, praying for his erection to go down, when he heard Jack call his name.
He ignored him, too busy trying to rewrap the towel more convincingly. He heard a heavy thud that didn’t sound like the door being opened. When he looked over at Jack, he saw only an outstretched hand on the floor.
“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, running back over to him, careful not to slip on the wet tile. Jack was out, lying face down as water washed over him. James turned him over, relieved to find he was still breathing.
He ran his hands through his hair. Now what? He tried slapping Jack in the face, and only succeeded in leaving a red mark. He had to get help.
The wrestlers were now streaming into the locker room and he searched desperately for the coach. Finally, he spotted him. “Coach,” he shouted. “Shephard fainted. Over here.” He ran back to where Jack was laying, still out cold.
“What happened?” The coach said as he bent over Jack.
“I don’t know,” James lied miserably, clasping his hands in front of his crotch. “I just heard him hit the ground.”
“Call 911,” the coach said, addressing the entire wrestling team that was now clustered around, angling for a view. When no one moved, he barked, even louder. “You, Thompson, call 911, now. There’s a phone in my office.” A tall, redheaded guy nodded and took off.
“What were you boys doing here anyway?” the coach said disapprovingly as he pulled up one of Jack’s eyelids. Jack jerked his head, his eyes fluttering open. He made a small noise of complaint and tried to sit up but the coach pushed him back down. “Easy there, son. You fainted. You wanna tell me what happened?”
James shot Jack a warning look as he chewed on his thumbnail. Jack saw him without really seeming to see him, but blinked as he looked beyond, to the throng of sweaty wrestlers goggling at him. “Uh, I was just taking a shower.” He said the words slowly, as if they were coming to him from far away.
“You weren’t drinking?”
“No. No, sir,” Jack shook his head and seemed to regret it. “We ... I ... was running and I guess maybe I pushed myself too hard.”
”Yeah, you probably got dehydrated,” the coach said. “How do you feel?”
“Pretty groggy.” Jack was still trying to lift his head and the coach wasn’t letting him.
The coach eyed James suspiciously and he felt a flush steal over his cheeks. “What are you still doing here?” he snapped at him.
“Uh, I wanted to help.”
“Well, you helped. Now run along, son.”
James nodded, wishing Jack would just look at him already so he could let him know how sorry he was. Or maybe he didn’t dare look at him.
James pushed through the other guys, who were muttering about when they could take a shower. He found his clothes and angrily tugged them back on. He didn't know when his erection had disappeared, but thanked God no one else seemed to have noticed it.
The paramedics arrived and the sea of students parted just enough to let them through. He hung around as they examined Jack. He was finally sitting up and someone had draped a towel around him.
James really wanted a smoke -- and a stiff drink -- right about now, but he just kept waiting. It didn’t look like they were going to finish with Jack anytime soon. From what he could hear, they kept asking him if he’d been drinking, if he’d ever fainted before. He just shook his head grimly at each question.
His clothes were still in the corner where he’d left them. James gathered them up and carried them over, all the while thinking this was probably not the smartest idea. “Here’s his clothes,” he said, handing them over to a paramedic, daring to glance at Jack. His own sweatshirt lay folded on top.
“Tough break, Shephard,” he said, forcing a smile. “Don’t forget your Gatorade next time.”
Jack held his gaze for a second before dropping his head.
Once he was outside, James couldn't light up fast enough.