Chapter Text
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It should never have started, is the thing.
Jean knows better than to do something like this. To ever even think of doing something like this.
Except it is difficult to remember how to use his brain at all at the moment, in the electric rush of hands on his jaw, and lips on his, and his own body being shoved against the brick wall of an alley.
It is stupid, and dangerous, and he catches Knox's lip in his teeth as a hand works open the zipper of his suit pants and slips in. He bucks into the contact, as warm, wicked, fingers stroke him firmly, making a strained noise against his mouth as he tries to keep quiet.
Jeremy smiles into the kiss, licking across the parted seam of Jean's lips once before pulling back to breathe hot against the cool night. “I knew you'd be good. Fucking – mhm – still waters.” Knox's body is nothing but a slow writhe against him, desperate for friction and eyeing him with something close to triumph.
Jean knows that look, that striker arrogance, and he can't help the way it instantly stokes the fight in him.
And it is a nothing thing, to get a hold of Jeremy's thigh and hoist him up, flipping him around until he is against the wall and crushed into it. Jean snarls his annoyance into the skin of his throat, teeth digging in as thighs wrap tight over his hips to rock him forward. He can't help the whine as he follows the movement, gravity pulling him in as he gasps a breath out at the perfect drag of pressure.
“Yes, yes, just let me, just-” And Jeremy's reaching for his own zipper between their bodies, but Jean is faster, batting his hand out of the way to do it himself, nearly popping the seams in his rush to get his hands on him. Jeremy's eyes do this wonderful thing, widening in surprise before fluttering shut against a moan he tries to stifle through his teeth. “Fuck.”
Jean would like to think it's a comment on his own skill, but there is hardly any finesse to be had at the moment, too fast and desperate, grinding hard against one another as he gets a hand around both of them. He wants to look, he wants to see the flushed cock he can feel dripping in his grip but he can't get the brainpower to back off for a split second.
He opts for a quick experiment, twisting his hand in a way he normally likes, and running his thumb firmly up the length of Jeremy's cock to press beneath the head. And he is instantly rewarded for his efforts, as Jeremy's thighs turn to a vice at the feel of it, throwing his head back on a whine that borders on dangerous.
If they were anywhere other than here, if Jean was anyone but this, he would push harder. Pull for more noise, more breaking gasps and sharp inhales, see if he could absolutely wreck that pretty voice.
But he is not that, and will never be allowed to be, so he shoves his free hand over Jeremy's mouth and snaps at him, fear disguised as annoyance. “Shut it, Knox. We are hardly alone here.”
Jeremy eyes him with a sharper look, sinking teeth into his palm until he is released. “Pretty sure everyone is too busy getting shit-faced at the banquet to notice, Moreau.” He cocks his head, sliding his hand up Jean's chest until he gets a grip on his chin and pulls him closer. “But if you're worried, feel free to shut me up.”
He smirks, thumb dragging firmly beneath Jean's lip, and it is all the incentive he needs as he shoves through the grip to kiss Jeremy hard enough that his head thunks against the wall behind him. He seems unbothered though, humming his satisfaction into Jean's mouth as he runs fingers into his hair to tilt him just-so.
The angle is perfect. It is so damn good, and Jeremy's tongue is searing in his mouth, and this time it's Jean who can't hold back a moan as Jeremy slips fingers around his waist to grip his ass cheek and pull him in harder.
It is too much, and too fast, and Jean is pretty sure they're bruising each other's hips from how rough they're pushing against the wall, but its too good to even think about easing off now. Not with Jeremy's moans tapering into desperate whines, back arching into him until he has to give up with his hand entirely and just thrust against him, but they're already so close it doesn't matter.
Jeremy's breaks first, eyes wild and blown out as his gasp rushes over Jean's lips. “Fuck, fuck, I-” And then he is shuddering apart in Jean's grasp, fingers clawing into his asscheek and holding him where he wants him. “Good, you're so fucking good-”
It's barely recognizable as words, half snarled against his mouth, and Jean lasts all of three second afterwards, ducking his head to bury a wounded noise into Jeremy's throat as he adds to the mess between them.
Coming down is difficult, and it takes all of Jean's considerable strength not to collapse to the ground with Jeremy in his arms. His heart is thundering so quick and so loud he has a split second where he thinks he might die, and of all the ways he has pictured it happening, this would be one of the nicest.
He doesn't.
And if anything, his mind is more awake, more alive, than he thinks he has ever felt.
Jean blinks, trying to clear the fuzzy edges as he stars to get his heart rate back down, eyes wide in shock. And Jeremy stares right back at him, in just as much surprise, apparently.
“Fucking... shit.” But he is laughing, breathless and steaming in the air between them.
He is beautiful like this. Red-flushed and kiss bruised and snickering in his arms. And Jean crushes the thought away just as quickly as it appears, because this is not his to have.
For both their sakes.
“This isn't a thing.” It is terse, and Jean is fighting back the panic as reality crashes back down, because what the fuck did he just do?
Knox cocks his head, eyebrow raised at the sudden shift. “Never said it was.” He loosens his grip to let his legs fall from Jean's sides, getting his feet back beneath him with only a momentary wobble. He reaches into the side of his suit jacket and retrieves one of the fancy cloth napkins, giving a cursory wipe of them both, but he took the brunt of it anyway. “But this, 'not a thing,' was fucking great, you have to admit.” He shoots Jean a sharp look as he shrugs his shirts on a bit better, and starts to rebutton them.
And Jean feels a quick pang of disappointment as the pretty expanse of tanned skin is hidden back away.
Jean needs a cigarette in the worst way.
He backs off a step, digging into his own pocket to pull a crumpled pack out and shake one loose as well as the lighter tucked inside. He had said he was coming out here to have one, and he needs the smell on him for that, and to hopefully cover the stench of sex that is no doubt clinging to every inch of him.
Jeremy says nothing more in either direction, and simply watches Jean light it and take a drag, blowing it out above them to spare Jeremy's lungs. He flicks the ash to the side, trying to dredge up some bravery, something to say that isn't too cruel or too truthful. “You aren't wrong. I just didn't... expect it.”
I didn't expect it feel like that.
I didn't expect you to be so warm, and alive, and wanting.
I didn't expect a two minute conversation in a banquet bathroom to be the thing that made me break every rule.
“Well.” Jeremy stretches with a slight wince, but the guarded look to his eyes shifts into something else entirely, and he smiles with a bit of a sheepish tilt to it. “To be honest, I hit on you fully expecting to be shot down into the mud. I never thought you would give me the time of day, let alone...” He gestures between them.
And that would've been the smart thing to do.
That should've been the only possible answer to give.
But Jean had been so caught off guard, and he had never been so instantly captivated by someone, and Jeremy had been so handsome and so brazen about it he had never stood a chance.
“Why did you?” Because it seemed odd at the time, that it would be him of all people.
That the golden boy of USC had made a pass at him, over literally anyone else.
Jeremy smiles, a little half formed thing that pulls at the corner, and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I think you're cute. And its impossible to watch you play Exy without being horrendously attracted to you. I have a competency kink, sue me.” And Jeremy clears his throat, ears pinking.
Despite himself, there is nothing on the planet that could stop Jean from bursting out laughing at that. “You can't be serious.”
His cigarette is snatched from his fingers, and Jeremy glares at him and takes a quick drag. “Fuck off. Don't think I didn't notice your praise kink, Moreau.”
“Fuck off.” He says right back, and its worth it to see the quick grin Jeremy shoots him.
Jeremy offers the cigarette back, and pats at his jacket in search for a moment before he produces a pen. “Well.” He takes a step back into Jean's space, shoving the open gap of his shirt aside for a bewildering moment before he starts to write on the skin below Jean's collar bone. “Not that I think we will get the chance, but if you ever want to have a 'not thing' again let me know.”
Jean glances down to the scrawled phone number on his chest, already planning the quickest and cleanest way to get rid of it before anyone could notice, but his thoughts are flung right out of his head when Jeremy leans up and tips his fingers under his chin to speak a couple inches from his lips. “I can only imagine how good you could be for me on an actual bed.”
Jean can't stop the annoyed sound he makes as he shoves past the grip to kiss him again, if nothing else than to erase the cheeky grin he was treated to. And this is already familiar, already precarious, the easy give of lips even in the quick press.
Jean is in so much shit.
Jeremy breaks off first, smirking and giving a half assed salute as he backs away towards the side door. “You know, I kind of like you when you're not slamming me into a court floor.”
And Jean can't resist shooting a smirk right back and raising an eyebrow at him. “Pretty sure you like me most when I'm doing that.”
It is worth to see him stumble for a second, before flipping him a middle finger and disappearing with the creak of a steel door hinge.
The sudden cold and quiet is unforgiving, and suddenly Jean's heart starts to race once more of its own accord.
He backs up, eyes wide until he hits the brick once more, and slides down to sit on the cold cement as his legs give out from under him. He tries to breathe, but it catches hard in his chest until it hurts, and then he just tucks his knees to his chest and speaks against them, barely hearing the words coming out of his mouth.
“What did I do. What did I do. What did I do. What did I do.”
~~