Unspoken Words (Said with heat and kisses)

Not enough to undress. Just enough to make it a threat.
“God,” Jeff muttered, almost to himself, “I should just stab you.”
And he smiled—wild, like the thought actually pleased him.
“That’d shut you the fuck up.”
Jack didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t even process it.
He lunged.
Their mouths collided in another brutal kiss—no build-up, no warning. Just teeth crashing and lips splitting, tongue forcing its way past Jeff’s lips like punishment. Jack’s hands were on Jeff’s sides now, dragging upward, slow and reverent, like he was touching something holy and unholy all at once.
“Do it,” Jack snarled into his mouth, voice ruined and raw and needy. “Fucking stab me.”
...
Or! Jeff and Jack get into an argument during the car ride back, and instead of talking it out like mature adults they instead decide to fuck.

Notes:

Hi, this fic was written along with my best friend who had the same prompt but for a different creepypasta ship.
I highly recommend you all go read their work as it is just fantastic! Check out his fic about Candymaker, @krayonberry on a03 :) (GO GO GO GO CHECK IT OUT ITS SO GOOD. AUGH.)
Okay! Enjoy this fic.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“Hell no!” Clockwork snapped, yanking the wheel as she veered into a rest stop so hard the whole car tilted. Jeff slammed into Jack, and Jack slammed into the door.

While Toby raised his hand up high as if he was on some roller coaster, “Woo!”

“Clockwork, what the actual fuck?!” Jeff barked, shoving himself off Jack and glaring daggers at the front seat.

Clockwork didn’t even look back. She parked crooked by the tree line, threw the door open, and muttered, “I’m not fuckin’ doing this. I refuse to be in the middle of whatever the fuck this is.”

The four of them had just entered back into Toronto after being gone for about a week. A mission in a whole different city that slenderman sent them on without using his powers, telling them to use the car instead.

“We’re less than an hour from the mansion. Get back in and drive,” Jack said coolly, arms crossed like a disapproving dad.

“It’s fifty-six minutes too long with you two brain dead bitches,” Clockwork said, rolling her eye so hard it nearly launched out of her skull.

“Uh-oh!” Toby piped up from the passenger seat, twisting around with a shit-eating grin. “Trouble in para—”

“Shut the fuck up, Toby!” Jeff and Jack yelled in unison.

Toby blinked. “…Damn,” he said, grin only growing.

Clockwork facepalmed. “I can’t.” She pointed between the two in the backseat like she was casting a curse. “Fix whatever this shit is. Text me when you’re done being some dunbasses.” She slammed the door and stalked off toward the rest area.

“W-Wait up!” Toby scrambled with his seatbelt, tripped out of the car with a wheeze, and stumbled after her like an excited puppy.

The doors thudded shut. Silence.

Jeff turned to Jack, still glaring.

Jack just stared right back, calm as ever, like he was already drafting a mental autopsy report.

Yeah. This was gonna be great.

“Look at what the fuck you did,” Jeff growled, voice razor-edged.

Jack didn’t even look at him. “Me? You were the one screaming for the entire fucking world to hear.”

“Because that’s the only fucking way you ever listen to me!” Jeff snapped, fists clenched tight in his lap.

Jack finally turned to look at Jeff, his expression hidden behind his mask. “I do listen to you—every goddamn day. And all I get for it is another tantrum. Another meltdown over your latest delusion.”

“Fuck off,” Jeff hissed, eyes flashing. “That’s not—”

“It is true.” Jack cut him off, voice low and venomous. “You’re doing it right now. Whining, deflecting, acting like the world’s out to get poor, fucked-up Jeff. God, it’s exhausting.”

Jeff leaned back like he’d been struck, breath catching, but Jack wasn’t done.

“You think you’re hard to love? Try being around you without losing your mind.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, venom thick in his voice.

“Don’t fucking act like you’re some victim of my emotions. You chose me . You keep choosing me. You want chaos, you want blood—so don’t get all high and mighty when it blows up in your fucking face.”

Jack’s jaw twitched, that telltale sign he was about to snap. “You start every fight, Jeff. Then you spiral and expect me to wipe your tears like it’s my job to babysit your breakdowns.”

Jeff let out a sharp, ugly laugh, like it got torn from his throat. “Holy shit,” he said, voice shaking with something between fury and heartbreak. “If you don’t love me, just fucking say it already.”

Jack didn’t blink. He stared at Jeff like he was something beneath a scalpel. “Are you seriously pulling that manipulative bullshit on me?”

Jeff inhaled sharply, about to fire back—but Jack was already there. Moving faster than thought, he grabbed Jeff’s face, hard, fingers digging into his jaw like he was debating whether to crush it or kiss it. He yanked Jeff forward until their foreheads slammed together, breath mingling, toxic and tense.

“What the fuck?!” Jeff snarled, but Jack cut him off, voice low and lethal.

“I do love you, you self-destructive little shit,” Jack hissed. “But keep pushing me like this—keep trying to test how far I’ll bend—and I will fucking kill you.”

Jeff didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe. Because that wasn’t fear prickling down his spine—it was desire. Violent, sharp-edged, sick with want.

“I fucking hate you,” Jeff whispered, empty and loaded like a gun cocked to the skull. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached up and ripped Jack’s mask off, flinging it to the side like it disgusted him.

“Yeah?” Jack growled. “So do I.”

“Fuck you,” Jeff spat—and then lunged.

They collided like a car crash.

Violent. Messy. Catastrophic.

Their mouths collided in a brutal, graceless clash—no rhythm, no romance, just teeth and tongues and a lifetime of blood between them. It wasn’t a kiss. It was war with lips and spit, a clash of monsters who never learned softness, only how to burn and break and take.

Jeff yanked Jack’s hair with both hands, fisting the shaggy strands so tight his knuckles turned white. Jack’s head snapped back hard enough to make the vertebrae pop, exposing the pale stretch of his throat—but he didn’t flinch. He grinned. One of those sick, wolfish things that showed too much tooth.

Jack’s claws sank into Jeff’s hips, possessive and punishing, like he was trying to leave bruises on the bone. He yanked Jeff forward until their chests collided with enough force to knock the breath out of them both. The air inside the car turned humid with sweat and breath, the windows fogging fast.

They weren’t kissing.

They were devouring.

Jeff shoved Jack so hard into the window the glass rattled in its frame, the whole car rocking on squealing axles. Somewhere outside, wind howled through trees, and a branch cracked. If anyone was near, they’d hear everything—growls, curses, skin hitting skin—but neither of them gave a single fuck. Not when Jeff clawed his way into Jack’s lap like a rightful king claiming his goddamn throne.

He straddled the demon with feral grace, knees bracketing his hips, panting like an animal in heat. His hands tangled again in Jack’s hair, pulling so hard Jack’s breath caught—but not from pain. From want.

“You taste like shit,” Jeff spat against his lips, voice rough and venom-laced, his mouth still slick from their kiss.

Jack licked blood off his own chin, slow and deliberate, obscene. “Then keep swallowing.”

Jeff’s snarl was instant. He slammed their mouths together again, harder, teeth clicking, blood and spit mixing in the raw space between them. His hands slid down from Jack’s hair to his jaw, thumbs pressing into his cheeks like he wanted to crush them inwards, to own him, to brand this moment into bone.

Jack groaned low and sharp, lips parting in something closer to laughter than pain. His hands spread wide across Jeff’s back before yanking him down—slamming their bodies flush. His claws shredded fabric as they scraped upward, leaving hot trails that made Jeff hiss through clenched teeth.

And then—

Three slick, grotesque tongues pushed into Jeff’s mouth like they belonged there. Slithering, curling, conquering. The pressure was overwhelming, invasive, wrong—but Jeff didn’t stop it. He moaned into the kiss, defiant and breathless, one hand sliding up to cup the back of Jack’s neck like he needed the demon closer, even as his whole body shuddered.

Jack bit his lip, and blood gushed between them like it was holy. Jeff didn’t flinch. He bit back.

Their bodies twisted, locked in violent rhythm. Jack’s hands gripped Jeff’s ass and dragged him forward, making friction spark where their hips ground together, dangerous and maddening.

Jeff arched, spine curved like a bowstring, pinned helplessly between Jack’s crushing grip and the cold window behind him. The glass was streaked with condensation and smeared blood, a reflection of the chaos inside.

“Say it,” Jeff panted, voice hoarse and broken between kisses. “Say you fucking hate me.”

Spit and blood laced his lips. His eyes burned with something unspoken—anger, lust, desperation, need. “Say it. But you kiss me like you’re starving.”

Jack’s lips dragged down his jaw to his throat, teeth grazing with barely leashed violence. He didn’t speak right away, just breathed hot and heavy against Jeff’s skin, the heat of it sending shivers down Jeff’s spine.

“I am starving,” Jack murmured, voice dark and cracked like something ancient. “And you, Jeff—” his mouth opened wide, tongue flicking against the soft skin of Jeff’s neck “—you’re the only thing I want to eat.”

Jeff shuddered, thighs tightening around Jack’s hips. His hands fisted the front of Jack’s hoodie, snarling like an animal cornered between arousal and fury.

“Then fucking eat me,” Jeff growled.

Jack’s hand shot up, gripping Jeff’s jaw with brutal precision. Fingers dug into bone as he forced Jeff’s head to the side, exposing his neck like prey. Like a beast preparing the kill. Jeff didn’t resist—he tilted further, his breath catching, pulse thrumming like a war drum just beneath the surface.

Jack leaned in, lips ghosting over the skin he’d already marked too many times. His breath was hot, damp, laced with the stink of blood and the metallic burn of hunger. His tongue slipped out—slow, obscene—and dragged along the pulse line like a predator savoring the last taste before the kill.

“Every time you fight me,” Jack whispered, voice as ragged as his breath, “you just make me hungrier.”

Jeff twitched. His hands flexed where they gripped Jack’s shoulders, torn between shoving him off and clawing him closer. His breath came fast now. More gasp than growl, more need than defiance.

His mouth split into a grin.

Twisted. Cocky. Dangerous.

“So,” Jeff spat, lip curled, “bite me.”

It wasn’t a dare.

It was a goddamn invitation.

The look in his eyes was feral. Wide, manic, starving—but not with fear. With need .

“Do it,” he hissed, their noses brushing, lips trembling from restraint or rage, who the fuck could tell anymore. “Fucking cannibal.”

Jack didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t give Jeff a second to regret it.

He bit.

Fangs sank straight into Jeff’s throat like they were made for it—long, curved, and buried to the root. There was no warning, no mercy. Just the snap of skin breaking and the immediate bloom of red that spilled over Jack’s lips.

Jeff’s whole body jolted.

His spine arched, mouth falling open in a gasp that twisted into a choked-off moan. His hands flew to Jack’s hair, grabbing a fistful with white-knuckled fury—but Jack didn’t move. He clamped down harder. His jaw worked slow and deep, anchoring himself in the wound like a leech made of sin and teeth and bottomless hunger.

He sucked.

Greedy. Desperate. Slurping the blood like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Jeff writhed in his lap, caught between pain and that sick, forbidden pleasure only Jack could wring out of him. His thighs squeezed around Jack’s hips, breath coming in ragged gasps, hips grinding involuntarily against the pressure building in his gut.

“Jesus—fuck—” he gasped, voice ripped raw, but it melted into a groan as Jack bit harder, tearing the wound wider with animal precision. Marking him with a wound no one else would ever be allowed to touch.

Blood gushed over Jack’s tongue, thick and coppery and perfect. It coated his lips, smeared across his face, a small streak ran down Jeff’s chest. He licked it as it came, groaning like a glutton at a feast, mouth never leaving the wound.

Jeff was shaking now.

Nails dug into Jack’s scalp, trembling from the inside out, torn between pushing him away and never letting him go. Pain hummed through him like a second pulse, and right alongside it…twisted and humiliating, was heat. Wet and aching between his legs.

Jack finally pulled back, lips red and glistening, sharp teeth glinting in the dark. He was panting like an animal. Like something wrong. His tongue swiped slowly over his mouth, catching every drop.

But he didn’t speak.

Not yet.

Instead, he leaned back in. Not to bite this time—but to kiss. Tongue flattening over the torn, ruined wound, sucking slowly now. Gentle. Worshipful. His mouth sealed over it like he was trying to memorize the shape.

“You fucker,” Jeff rasped, voice torn to shreds. “Always hurting me just to prove you can.”

Jack’s breath ghosted across the wound.

“Don’t pretend you don’t fucking love it,” he murmured. “You always bleed so pretty when you’re being a brat.”

Jeff snarled, shoving him again, only for it to come out weakly. Half-hearted. His hands just ended up gripping Jack’s shirt, wrinkling the bloodied fabric between his fingers.

“You’re not shit,” Jeff spat. “You’re violent. That’s all you know how to be.”

Jack looked up, eyes burning—dark and endless, leaking tar from the sockets. A monster barely pretending to be human. He tilted his head.

“And you push everyone away, then whine when they don’t stay.”

“So why the hell are you still here?” Jeff barked, chest heaving.

Jack’s voice cracked like thunder, low and lethal. “Because I’m the only one sick enough to love you.”

Jeff froze.

Just for a second. Just enough for his heart to stutter, the word catching in his throat like poison.

“You’re not sick,” he hissed. “You’re pathetic.”

Jeff leaned in, the space between them shrinking to a breath, their foreheads nearly touching. Close enough to feel each other’s ragged breathing, close enough to blur where one ended and the other began.

“You talk like you hate me,” Jeff muttered, voice low, trembling on the edge of a snarl, “but you’d fall to your knees the second I told you to.”

Jack didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe.

His face stayed expressionless—eerily still, like marble carved to look smug.

But his hand rose.

Blood-slick and trembling with restrained power, it curled slowly around Jeff’s throat. Not tight. Not choking. Just there—a possession, a promise, a touch that said you’re mine without a single word. His thumb rested right over the hammering pulse under Jeff’s skin. His fingers flexed, slow and deliberate, smearing warmth and crimson down the line of Jeff’s neck.

So intimate it hurt.

“Why don’t you try it,” Jack whispered. The words were soft, low, lethal. Like the drop of silence right before a thunderstorm cracks the sky open.

The moment cracked open with it.

Like a wound ripped too wide to scab. Jeff’s pupils dilated, chest rising and falling like he’d just been chased through hell barefoot. His lips parted. His expression flickered—anger, desire, betrayal, something worse—all tangled together in a mess of bruised pride and aching want.

He leaned closer, close enough that his blood smeared against Jack’s mouth. Close enough their lips barely brushed.

“I hope you fucking die,” he whispered, before closing the distance between them.

Their mouths slammed together in a violent collision—biting, not kissing. Jeff’s teeth clicked hard against Jack’s. Blood surged between them like they were trying to drink each other dry. Their lips moved rough, wet, uncoordinated, desperate. They were fire and razors and history—burning through everything they couldn’t say out loud.

Jeff pulled away like a wolf sick of the kill. There was blood on his lips, satisfaction in his eyes, but that deep, aching hunger still coiling in his gut like a second heartbeat. His mouth parted slightly, jaw flexing, tongue darting out to lap up the crimson smeared across his face—not sweetly, not shyly, but like he meant it. Like he wanted to taste every last drop of Jack that clung to him.

The sound he made wasn’t a groan or a sigh—it was a click of his tongue, sharp and annoyed, like he was pissed off that it was over so soon. Or maybe pissed that it wasn’t. That it never would be.

He sat back slowly, still straddling Jack’s lap, rolling his hips just barely to remind the demon beneath him who was in control here. His exhale was smug. Not cocky. Not loud. Just smug. The kind of exhale that said, I know you’re watching. I want you to.

And Jack was .

Jeff’s fingers found the buttons of his shirt, still torn slightly from earlier, stained and damp with sweat and blood. He didn’t rush. Didn’t fumble.

He just let his fingers linger.

Tracing the first button slowly, like he was mapping pressure points. Like the buttons were a fuse and he was counting down.

Click.

The first one popped open with a flick.

Click.

The second, even slower. His fingers moved with maddening grace, his head tilted just slightly, watching Jack through dark lashes.

Click.

The third came undone, knuckles brushing skin, dragging heat with them. Jeff’s fingers dipped beneath the fabric, thumb swiping just barely over his chest before moving to the next.

He moved like he was performing for a mirror—or maybe like he didn’t give a damn and that’s what made it unbearable.

There was nothing gentle in the way he undid himself.

It was calculated. Like stripping off armor he didn’t need to win.

The shirt loosened, collar slipping down his shoulders, the fabric clinging in places from sweat and blood before sliding lower with a sound that felt loud in the silence between them. Wet. Final.

Like skin being peeled away.

The shirt hit the floor with a soft, sudden slap.

And Jack didn’t look away.

Not with the way Jeff’s bottom lip caught between his teeth in that cocky, unconscious gesture. Not with the way his body caught the light in jagged streaks with pale skin marred with old scars and fresh bruises, the curve of his collarbone dusted in smeared blood. His blood.

Not with that smirk curling across Jeff’s mouth like smoke rising off a wreckage.

Jack sat frozen beneath him like a beast held in check by nothing but tension and the thin thread of Jeff’s weight across his hips. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. Claws carved deep crescents into the sides of the car seat, the leather groaning under his grip. Black tar welled in thick, slow trails from his hollow sockets, curling down the angles of his cheeks like war paint.

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t move.

He just stared—and Jeff felt it.

The heat of it. The weight of that impossible, eyeless gaze burning into him like fire under skin.

Jeff noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice a low purr wrapped in barbed wire. “Fucking staring.”

He leaned forward again, slow and fluid, one hand slipping down to seize Jack’s jaw. His grip was firm, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, nails digging just beneath the bone like he wanted to mark him there—on the face, the way he never let anyone touch him.

But it wasn’t cruel.

Not really.

It was just… Jeff .

His thumb slid slowly beneath Jack’s lip, brushing across it with a laziness that felt obscene. Testing. Playing.

His voice dropped to a whisper, all venom and velvet.

“Like what you see, doc?”

Jack’s mouth twitched. “Can’t see, dumbass,” he muttered, his tone dry as bone—but his voice hitched just slightly, like Jeff’s touch had slipped under his skin.

Still, Jack tilted his head with mock irritation, his leaking sockets narrowing just enough to mimic a glare. A performance. A reminder that even blind, he could see Jeff in all the ways that mattered.

Jeff scoffed, amused and annoyed all at once, rolling his very expressive, very visible eyes. “You’re such a little shit.”

His hand tightened around Jack’s throat. Not enough to hurt—but enough to warn.

His thumb slid down, dragging over the edge of Jack’s mouth again. Slower this time. Possessive. Like he was measuring how far he could push.

“I should leave you like this,” Jeff said, voice suddenly cold, mean with a smile still curling at the edges. “Hard. Dripping. Pathetic.”

Jack didn’t even blink.

“You won’t,” he said, calm as gravity. As inevitable as death. A truth carved into the marrow of their madness. “You can’t .”

“I could ,” Jeff shot back, but the words were sharp and defensive—an edge dulled by the obvious lie between them.

They both knew he wouldn’t.

He was too far gone already. Too tangled in the want, the power, the need .

Jack’s calm only fueled the fire. It made Jeff want to tear him open. To wreck him just to see what was underneath that cold persona.

“You’re too desperate to do that,” Jack murmured, voice molasses-thick and full of poison.

Jeff growled.

Not just sound, but a vibration that rolled from his chest through Jack’s lap—low, dangerous, feral. His nails raked down Jack’s neck in furious lines, leaving raised red marks that were already beginning to bead with blood. Then his palm landed flat against Jack’s chest and shoved—not violently, just firm. A push that said stay .

Stay right there.

Stay under me.

“I’m not desperate,” Jeff hissed, eyes flashing. His grin twisted wide, too sharp, too full of teeth. “I’m entitled .”

Jack laughed. Low, guttural, a gravel sound. Tar leaked from his eyes like he was crying some ancient sin. “Mm. Sure. And I’m a fucking nun.”

Jeff scoffed, disgust curling into something delighted. His hands were already moving, slipping lower, nails grazing skin, calloused fingertips dragging down the taut lines of Jack’s stomach. His touch was cold and electric.

Then lower still—until his fingers curled under the waistband of Jack’s pants. Right at the point where want becomes weakness. Where control slips.

He tugged once.

Not enough to undress. Just enough to make it a threat.

“ God ,” Jeff muttered, almost to himself, “I should just stab you.”

And he smiled—wild, like the thought actually pleased him.

“That’d shut you the fuck up.”

Jack didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t even process it.

He lunged.

Their mouths collided in another brutal kiss—no build-up, no warning. Just teeth crashing and lips splitting, tongue forcing its way past Jeff’s lips like punishment. Jack’s hands were on Jeff’s sides now, dragging upward, slow and reverent, like he was touching something holy and unholy all at once.

“Do it,” Jack snarled into his mouth, voice ruined and raw and needy. “Fucking stab me.”

Jeff shivered.

Not from fear.

From want.

Not the soft, romantic kind.

The kind that drips from your bones. That makes your lungs hurt. The kind that feels like setting yourself on fire just to watch the other person burn with you.

Their foreheads knocked together, hard. Their breaths tangled. Everything between them. Blood, heat, bruises, it was all blurred into one seething mess.

He hated how much he liked that warmth—how every nerve was lighting up at the contact. How easy it was for Jack to burn through him.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Jeff murmured with a grin so wide it looked like a second carved mouth, wild and glinting under the dim light. His fingers were already moving—down to his belt, slick with sweat and blood, where the small knife he always kept hidden was waiting like it knew what was coming.

The moment his fingers curled around the hilt, the air thickened.

He drew it slow.

Deliberate.

The polished metal caught the faint gleam of moonlight bleeding in through the fogged windows, casting flickers across Jack’s throat, his jaw, the black tar that still dripped slow and rhythmic from his ruined sockets.

“You really want this?” Jeff asked, voice too casual, like he was asking if Jack wanted cream in his coffee. There was no softness in it. No real concern. Just pure, sharp-edged curiosity—a kind of dark fascination that danced in the pit of his gut. He wanted to hear it. He wanted Jack to admit it.

Jack didn’t blink.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t fucking move.

He simply leaned in closer, the distance between them shrinking to nothing—tar-stained breath mixing with Jeff’s as he stared into the abyss of Jeff’s eyes like he was looking for something to bleed.

“Do it,” he rasped.

No hesitation.

No shame.

No fear.

Jeff’s grin widened until it looked inhuman, spinning the blade once in his fingers with casual finesse, like it was an extension of his body. Like the metal itself was a language only he could speak fluently. He twirled it between his fingers, let it catch the light again, and watched as Jack’s gaze tracked the glint—not with caution, but hunger.

“Then stay down for me,” Jeff purred.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

It was a command—and a cruel one at that.

He pressed the flat of the blade against Jack’s chest first, just below the collarbone, dragging it downward with the same pressure you might use to trace your lover’s jaw. The metal left a trail in its wake—cold, a threat waiting to be made real. Jeff watched the way Jack’s muscles twitched beneath the contact, his body tightening beneath him, but still—he didn’t flinch.

He fucking welcomed it.

Jeff’s breath hitched.

He didn’t even bother hiding it. Didn’t try to mask the way the sight made his blood pulse harder, faster. Jack wasn’t some scared little pet. He was a monster on a leash—and Jeff loved being the one holding it.

Jeff stayed grinning.

Wide, sharp, stained red at the edges.

He dipped his head lower until his breath ghosted across Jack’s chest, warm and humid and unholy. The blade he held was nestled just above Jack’s heart now, the cool steel contrasting violently with the heat of their bodies. Jeff tilted the knife ever so slightly, letting the flat of it kiss the fabric before shifting it upright.

The point pressed in—lightly. Just enough to make the warning real.

“You feeling suicidal, Jack?” Jeff murmured, voice low and rough, all gravel and bite. The question wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t even teasing. It was clinical. Curious. Like he was poking a dead animal to see if it twitched.

The knife didn’t draw blood.

Not yet.

But it threatened to, and that was enough .

Then Jeff’s hips rolled forward.

A smooth drag of friction that pulled a broken, guttural sound from Jack’s throat before he could swallow it down. It wasn’t a whimper—Jack never whimpered—but it was close. Raw. Deep. The sound of something splitting from the inside.

Jeff felt it.

The twitch under his thighs. The way Jack’s breath caught in his throat. The heat radiating off him like it could burn straight through his clothes.

“No,” Jack rasped. His voice cracked slightly, enough to make Jeff’s grin sharpen. “Just feeling you.”

Jeff let out a laugh, short and hot—half amusement, half something deeper. Something unspoken. It caught in his throat and twisted, the sound almost a moan by the time it left his lips.

“Gross,” he muttered, not moving away. Instead, he shifted his weight, leaned in harder, and grabbed the hem of Jack’s shirt with his free hand.

He lifted it.

Slowly.

Tugging it up inch by inch, baring the skin beneath. The fabric stuck in places—blood, sweat, tar clinging stubbornly to scars that looked older than time. Jeff didn’t mind. Didn’t flinch. He dragged the shirt higher, exposing Jack’s ribs, his chest, the scars of pain etched across his body in raised, jagged lines.

But he didn’t stop there.

He didn’t move away.

The knife never left Jack’s skin.

Instead, Jeff tilted it again—blade angled sharp—and pressed.

Not to stab. Not to cut deep.

Just enough to slice.

Clean. Precise. Right across the chest, from one scar to the next, a shallow line that broke the skin and welled with thick, black tar. It didn’t spill—it oozed, slow and deliberate, almost like it was watching him back.

Jeff watched it like it was art.

Like he was a painter, and Jack’s body was his fucked-up canvas.

Another line.

Another breath.

Another slow trickle of black running down Jack’s torso in uneven streaks.

He dragged the blade again, just beneath the first cut, parallel and just as shallow—leaving a second trail of opened skin and bleeding tar. The stuff was hot beneath the blade, almost sticky. Jeff leaned in, lips brushing Jack’s ear.

“Still feeling me?” he whispered, tongue barely peeking past his teeth.

Jack let out a sound between a growl and a groan. One of his hands fisted in the fabric of Jeff’s pants like he needed something to anchor himself. His other hand gripped the seat again, claws flexing, trembling with restraint.

“I never stopped,” Jack breathed, voice barely human.

Jeff hummed—pleased, amused, absolutely drunk on the effect he had.

He let the knife rest flat across Jack’s chest again, pressing down lightly against the fresh cuts, letting the blade smear through the tar before dragging it downward. Right over Jack’s stomach. Toward the waistband of his pants.

And he grinned.

“Let’s see how deep you’re willing to let me cut.” Jeff’s wrist moved with fluid, practiced grace, like the blade was just another part of him—his favorite finger, his sharpest thought.

He dragged it down Jack’s torso, tracing each cut with calculated pressure, smearing tar across skin like warpaint. He paused just above Jack’s navel, the tip of the blade hovering there, teasing.

He looked up, gaze locking onto those dripping, ruined sockets.

“Still with me, doc?” he whispered, head tilting like a question mark carved out of sin.

Jack nodded once. Sharp. Controlled. But his breath betrayed him—shaky, ragged, sucked through his teeth like the only thing keeping him from coming undone was sheer, stubborn pride.

Jeff licked his lips slowly, purposefully.

And kept going.

The blade dipped lower.

Sliding down, down—past the cut of Jack’s abdomen, toward the waistband of his pants. Jeff’s fingers curled tighter into the hilt. His other hand gripped the front of Jack’s jeans now, tugging the fabric just enough to expose the line of skin beneath. The part where hip met hunger.

The knife pressed down, right there.

Not enough to cut. Just enough to make it known.

Jeff didn’t stop. He twisted the knife just slightly, dragging the flat edge against the sensitive skin just above the seam. Tar welled from the earlier slices across his chest had trickled down, catching at the blade, staining it black and shimmering in the dim light.

“Look at this mess,” Jeff murmured, almost tender. Almost .

He dragged the blade just under the waistband now, tip tucked behind the fabric, teasing the line of Jack’s pelvis. A whisper away from slicing straight through.

Jack’s fingers twitched.

Muscles jumped beneath Jeff’s thighs.

He could’ve stopped Jeff.

Thrown him across the car, pinned him down, taken the blade and shoved it through the leather seat just to make a point.

But he didn’t.

He stayed.

Jeff’s grin spread like a wound.

One hand fisted in Jack’s waistband, the other still clutching the bloodstained knife, pressed flush to skin that twitched under every inch of contact. He dragged the blade down—barely—another shallow cut just above the bone of Jack’s hip, slicing a fresh line into already marred flesh.

The hiss that left Jack’s mouth wasn’t pain.

It was satisfaction.

That low, guttural fuck yes that only came when Jeff broke something open in him.

“You’re a mess,” Jeff muttered, voice rasping as he mouthed at Jack’s throat again—nipping hard, sucking a dark bruise into the skin just below his jaw, right over the artery. “Warm, dripping, fucking obscene.”

He tugged Jack’s pants down further, just enough to get what he wanted. Just enough to expose him fully—and when Jeff’s hand slipped lower, curling around Jack’s cock again, Jack arched under him.

Hot.

Heavy.

Flushed and leaking with need, twitching against Jeff’s palm like it recognized the hand touching it.

And Jeff didn’t rush.

He stroked him slowly.

His grip being just tight enough to make Jack work for it, each movement of his wrist dragging along the underside with just enough friction to make Jack shudder.

Jeff pressed closer, his whole body arched over Jack’s like he owned him.

He bit his way down Jack’s throat—teeth dragging, tongue lapping at sweat and tar and blood as his hand moved, slicking with precome, knuckles bumping deliberately along Jack’s pelvic bone with every stroke.

“Fucking nasty,” Jeff murmured, his breath skating over the edge of Jack’s jaw like smoke. His voice was soaked in mock disgust, but the way his hand never slowed said otherwise. “You’re so goddamn warm. It’s disgusting.”

The tip of his blade dragged along the underside of Jack’s ribs, light and calculated. Just enough pressure to threaten without breaking skin—yet.

Jack let out a shuddered breath, jaw tense, and tilted his head to the side like he was baring his neck to a predator. “Yet, you love the warmth,” he rasped, his voice catching at the edges with something wicked. A flicker of a smirk curled at his mouth—right before Jeff bit down.

Hard.

Right where his pulse should’ve been.

His breath hitched, sharp and startled, and Jeff felt it—felt that split-second of involuntary response that couldn’t be faked. Couldn’t be helped.

Jeff’s lips trailed down the side of his throat, licking the bruise he’d just planted. His voice dropped into a gravelly growl, thick with something darker than desire.

“I love ruining you.”

Jack’s hand fisted in the seat.

“That’s not the same thing,” he said through his teeth, but there was no real fire behind it.

Then Jeff moved.

His hand curled tighter around Jack’s cock, knuckles grazing the sensitive underside with every slow, intentional stroke. His grip was cruel—perfect. Each drag was slicker than the last, and Jack made a sound that might’ve been a laugh or a moan, or both, but it broke off into something breathless.

“Could’ve fooled me—fuck…”

His voice cracked.

Jeff smirked. “That feel good, big guy?” he cooed, lips hovering at Jack’s throat again, tongue darting out to taste the salt and heat there.

The knife lifted.

Jeff flipped it in his hand, the blunt edge now resting flat against Jack’s collarbone, dragging lazily along the bone like a ruler guiding his favorite sin.

Jack sucked in a breath, trying—failing—not to react. “Can’t tell by my e-expression?” he quipped weakly, trying to claw some sense of control back.

But his voice trembled.

His body shivered.

Jeff hummed low in his throat, amused and unrelenting. “You’re pathetic,” he whispered fondly.

He didn’t stop stroking. His movements stayed smooth and maddeningly slow, knuckles dragging against heated flesh, the pad of his thumb brushing the head just once before he pulled back—denying the friction for a breathless heartbeat.

Jack twitched, hips lifting off the seat in a reflexive buck.

“Ohhh?” Jeff grinned, eyes practically glowing with delight. “Getting needy?”

His blade moved again, this time pressing just barely against Jack’s sternum. Then down. A clean, shallow line carved over old scars, just deep enough to sting.

Black tar welled up—slow, sticky, beautiful.

Jeff’s tongue darted out to taste it from Jack’s chest. He paid no attention to the burn it left on his tongue.

“Your tar is so fucking gross…” he whispered. “But so addicting.”

Jack’s head hit the window with a dull thunk, jaw clenched, throat working like he was fighting the groan crawling up from somewhere deep.

But it broke loose anyway.

One low, guttural sound, dragged from his gut like a confession.

And fuck, Jeff loved it.

He watched every twitch, every flutter of breath. His own arousal was clear, with the heat between them being unbearable—coating the air in something animalistic and electric.

He rolled his hips down, slow, deliberate, grinding himself into Jack’s lap.

Jack groaned—loud and broken this time, no defense left.

Jeff’s knife trailed lower again.

He pressed the tip just beneath Jack’s navel, adding another cut—shallow, just enough to let more of that thick black tar roll down.

Jack hissed, but his body arched into it.

“You know…” Jeff murmured, voice dripping syrup and venom in equal measure, “you’d look really good tied up.”

That made Jack’s head snap up.

His breath coming in sharper now—not panicked. No, not even close. It was something far darker. Something primitive. Wired straight into the marrow of him, deep down where control used to live.

Jeff saw it.

The twitch of his throat. The subtle jerk of his hips in Jeff’s palm. The unholy gleam hiding behind every hissed breath.

“What?” Jack rasped, like the word had been punched out of him. His whole body was flushed and trembling, not from fear, but from the idea.

And Jeff’s hand never stopped.

His strokes grew faster. Tighter. His grin widened as he leaned in and kissed the corner of Jack’s mouth, slow and filthy, the taste of blood and tar still smeared on his tongue.

“Oh come on,” Jeff whispered against his lips. “You’re into that shit. Aren’t you?”

Jeff dragged the blade across Jack’s stomach again—not cutting this time, just pressing the flat edge against skin that twitched beneath the contact. He slipped it under the waistband again, his hand still working on Jack’s cock with relentless rhythm. He let the tip of the blade rest just beside it. A kiss of steel, hot with threat.

He paused.

“Wanna see how close I can get,” Jeff purred, voice like smoke curling into Jack’s ear, “before you stop me.”

Jack’s breath hitched, sharp and tight, as Jeff ran his thumb across the leaking tip—slow and cruel. The sound Jack made wasn’t a moan, not really. More like the crack of something splintering under too much weight.

“Just imagine it,” he murmured, and his words dragged across Jack’s skin like a second blade. “Arms tied above your head. Nowhere to run. Nothing to do but take everything I give you.”

The knife shifted—slid lower.

Now it wasn’t beside Jack’s cock.

It was pressed gently underneath, resting against the sensitive skin between cock and thigh. Jeff’s strokes slowed to match, teasingly, while the blade moved with intent—dragging, barely touching, tracing every tremor that pulsed through Jack’s body.

Jack made a noise. Soft. And desperate.

And Jeff heard it.

Felt it.

Loved it.

He pinned Jack down harder with his hips, grinding into him as he jerked him in sync with the blade’s motion. Pressure and pleasure collided until they blurred.

“You twitch so pretty when I play with knives,” Jeff whispered, dragging the tip over the vein at the base, not cutting—but letting him feel how close it could happen. “Like your dick knows it’s in danger.”

Jack let out a breathless curse, hips jerking again as his hands dug into Jeff’s waist.

Jeff leaned in, licking into Jack’s mouth mid-kiss, messy and full of teeth, tongue exploring every hot, panting gasp he could steal.

His own arousal strained against his jeans, grinding hard into Jack’s pelvis with a heat that bordered on brutal. He didn’t need to be touched. Didn’t need release.

This was the high.

This was enough.

“You look like you’re gonna come just from me talking,” Jeff sneered, dragging the blade back up Jack’s torso now, leaving a thin trail of tar-stained skin behind. “Pathetic.”

Jack groaned, head tipping back against the seat again, throat exposed like an offering.

“You know I could carve my name into you right now,” Jeff whispered, nipping the underside of Jack’s jaw as he stroked him faster. “Bet you’d come the second I crossed the ‘J.’”

“Y-you don’t even…” Jack gasped, voice raw and cracking. “You don’t even have anything to use, Jeff—”

Jeff let go.

Pulled his hand from Jack’s pants with a wet slide and sat up straighter, blade still glinting in his other hand.

His expression was unreadable for half a second.

Then it broke into that obscene, too-sharp grin as his hands went to his belt.

Click.

The sound of the buckle echoed like gunfire in the tight space.

Jack’s eyes followed him.

Wide. Still bleeding black. Still aching for more.

And Jeff tugged the leather free like he was performing it.

Slow.

Sinful.

His fingers glistened with Jack’s arousal and blood, and he didn’t care. He held the belt in both hands now, stretching it tight until the leather creaked.

“You’re serious?” Jack breathed. His voice was suspicious. But not resistant.

“You wanna tie me up? Right after we argued?” Jack’s eyes flicked from Jeff’s mouth to the belt, then back again.

“And in the car, of all places?”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Clockwork and Toby could come back.”

Jeff smiled wider, like that was exactly the point. Like danger was the gasoline he needed to burn brighter.

“That’s the fun part,” Jeff purred, grabbing Jack’s wrists before he could even react. His knife still gleamed in one hand. The belt snapped taut in the other.

Jack let him.

Worse—he leaned into it.

“If they do come back…” Jeff dragged Jack’s wrists up—past his chest, over his head—until his hands rested against the handle above the window. “They’ll see you tied up while I use your dick.”

Jack let out a breath that was more growl than sigh.

“You’re such a fucking whore,” he muttered.

But he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t even pretend to fight it.

Jeff wrapped the belt around both wrists, threading it tightly with one hand, the leather cinching snug against Jack’s skin. He yanked to test it, just once, and Jack’s arms flexed, muscles tight, breath even tighter.

Jeff leaned down, lips brushing the edge of Jack’s jaw. “Your dick’s twitching again,” he whispered, voice like a sin made flesh. “You like the idea of being caught. Fuck , Jack, you’d cum the second the door opened, wouldn’t you?”

Jack swallowed. His mouth was dry. His pants were not.

“Shut the fuck up,” he rasped.

Jeff didn’t listen. Of course he didn’t. He licked a slow stripe up Jack’s throat before planting a kiss just below his ear.

“No,” he breathed. “You shut up. I’m busy using you.”

He rocked his hips again, grinding down on Jack’s now restrained body, the heat between them only more intense with the tension of leather, the press of tight space, and the fact that at any second, someone could walk past the car and see exactly what Jeff was doing.

Jeff didn’t care— couldn’t care. His mind was a haze of heat and want, breath catching in his throat as he kept rocking his hips down onto Jack, slow and steady, like he was savoring the friction. The tight pressure of their bodies rubbing through layers of clothes, belt still tight around Jack’s wrists, leather creaking faintly with every subtle movement.

He let out a breathy, broken moan, head tipping forward, dark hair falling across his face. “Can feel how hard you are even with your pants still on…” he whispered, voice trembling with pleasure.

Jack let his head fall back against the window, exposing his throat as his eyes fluttered shut for a second. He wasn’t unaffected, not even close. The tension in his arms, the way his hips shifted beneath Jeff with every roll, it all screamed need. But of course, he had to open his mouth.

“You gonna cum just from that?” Jack asked, his voice all gravel and sin, cocky despite how fast his heart was beating. “That desperate?”

Jeff whined, a soft, high-pitched sound as he pressed down again, grinding harder this time, chasing the friction like he needed it to breathe.

“Mmm…” he hummed, pretending to think, lips curling into something dangerous. “Maybe I will, Jack.”

Another sound slipped out of him, quiet, needy, a muffled moan that got caught in his throat as he rolled his hips just right. His thighs were trembling, face flushed with the kind of raw heat he couldn’t mask.

And fuck —

Just hearing him like that—hearing Jeff whimper and sigh and pant out Jack’s name like it was a prayer and a curse at once…made Jack twitch.

His cock throbbed, painfully hard, confined and aching. He couldn’t move his hands. Couldn’t touch Jeff. Couldn’t do anything but feel him rutting against him and listen to every sound that poured from that filthy mouth.

Jeff’s hips stuttered once more, his breath hitching as he grinded down on Jack’s lap—friction building, heat curling tighter in his gut. But then, with a shuddering sigh, he stopped. Just for a second. Just long enough to push himself upright again.

Jack blinked up at him, chest rising and falling hard beneath the weight, wrists still bound together above his head with Jeff’s belt. He expected more teasing. More grinding. Maybe another filthy comment.

Instead, Jeff leaned back on his knees, still straddling him—and began to undo his own pants.

Slow. Deliberate. Torturous.

The sound of the zipper dragging down filled the car, followed by the rustle of fabric as Jeff pushed both his cargo pants and boxers down his thighs. He didn’t rush it. He knew Jack was watching. Of course he did.

Jack didn’t move. Couldn’t.

His eyes were glued to Jeff—every inch of newly exposed skin, every motion, every flicker of muscle under pale flesh. His breath caught in his throat, and his cock pulsed with helpless want. He didn’t say a word.

Jeff noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He looked right at Jack—right at those hollow eye sockets and that slack jaw and those flushed cheeks—and grinned. The kind of grin that said he was winning, and he knew it. The kind that said Jack was his , and Jeff was about to prove it.

Jeff sat back on Jack's lap, but this time leaned back—supporting himself on one hand against the seat behind himself. His other hand slid down, trailing over his belly, then between his thighs.

Jack’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

And— God help him—Jeff spread himself open with two fingers, exposing his slick, flushed cunt, and started to play with himself right there on Jack’s lap.

“ Fuck… ” Jack breathed, barely audible. His voice was hoarse. His arms strained slightly against the belt instinctively—he wanted to touch , to grab , to ruin , but he couldn’t. All he could do was sit there, watch, and burn .

“You’re going to make a mess,” he muttered finally, voice strained, his gaze unable to pull away. “Right on my jeans. Like a goddamn horny teenager.”

Jeff moaned at his words, fingers circling slow and wet, and he rolled his hips down into his own touch while perched on Jack’s thighs.

“It’d be your fault if I do,” Jeff laughed breathlessly, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth until it flushed with color. “You look like that and expect me to behave?”

Jeff moved the blade. Lifted it, slowly with his free hand, letting the handle drag against his inner thigh. His fingers were soaked, and the knife caught the light, smeared faintly with his wetness as he slid it up along his stomach.

Right between his ribs.

“God—fuck, you really do look good like this.” Jeff stared openly at Jack.

At his tied wrists, the way his muscles flexed as if he could break free if he really wanted to. The faint blush that was crawling up his face. His ruined hair. His parted lips, already kissed to hell and back.

Every inch of Jack screamed restrained need, and Jeff ate it up.

“You like watching me fuck myself, don’t you?” Jeff whispered, voice like a razor wrapped in silk. “You’re not even blinking.”

Jack’s mouth opened, but nothing came out—no retort, no sarcasm, not even a curse. He was just breathing. Staring.

Completely wrecked, and Jeff hadn’t even touched his dick again.

Jeff moaned, hips rolling forward to meet his own fingers, thighs trembling as he worked himself with a steady rhythm. His head tipped back, lips parted in a gasp as he rode the wave—each motion slow, obscene, and absolutely shameless. Slick dripped down onto Jack’s jeans beneath him, soaking the fabric and making every grind wetter, hotter, filthier.

“Fuck,” Jeff whined, breath catching. “I might cum just from this…”

“Jesus Christ—” Jack growled through clenched teeth, he tugged at the belt, harder this time, muscles tensing and jaw clenched. But the belt held, and the frustration only grew. “Jeff, either untie me or do something.”

Jeff’s eyes fluttered open, dazed with lust. He grinned, teeth sharp. “I am doing something.” His fingers slid deeper between his folds, making a mess of himself, on purpose.

“That’s not what I fucking meant,” Jack snapped, hips jerking up without his permission, just trying to get closer.

Jeff tilted his head, playing innocent. “No? It isn’t?”

“You fucking tease.” Jack’s voice cracked slightly. He hated how desperate he sounded—but he was. That belt may as well have been a damn collar.

Jeff let out a soft, sinful laugh. “Mm, that’s what I like to hear.”

Jack watched him. Couldn’t stop. His eyes tracked every motion—every glisten of slick between Jeff’s fingers, every bounce of his hips, every little shudder and twitch. The way Jeff dragged that blade across his skin, not cutting, but teasing. And the way Jeff leaned back just a little more, putting himself on display. Showing off that perfect, dripping cunt like it was something Jack had to earn.

And God, he’d beg if he had to. Not out loud—god no—but his body already was.

Jack’s chest heaved with ragged breath. His cock strained hard and aching against his jeans, throbbing with each of Jeff’s wet little noises. His eyes were wild now, locked on Jeff like a starving animal. He wanted to ruin him.

He wanted to rip the belt off, shove Jeff onto his back and eat him out until he was crying. He wanted to fill him up with his fingers, then his tongue, then his dick—until Jeff couldn’t walk, let alone smirk.

Every part of him screamed for it. For Jeff’s cunt. For his body. For his surrender. For something other than this torment.

“Fuck, Jeff,” Jack rasped, low and ragged. “You’re killing me.”

Jeff leaned forward again, just slightly—his fingers still working between his thighs, but slower now, teasing again. Drawing it out. Torturing both of them.

“Am I?” he breathed, voice sweet and full of venom. He was flushed and glowing, lips bitten, eyes half-lidded with lust. “Because you look pretty alive to me.”

Jack let out a noise—deep, guttural. Barely human.

“You don’t look like you want me to stop,” Jeff added, his thumb circling his clit lazily now, moaning just loud enough to ruin Jack’s sanity. “In fact… if I do stop… you might cry.”

“I might bite,” Jack growled, tugging at the belt again.

Jeff moaned at the sound of Jack’s threat—he licked his lips with a slow flick of his tongue, face flushed and eyes burning with that unholy light that only came out when he knew he had power.

“Do it,” Jeff breathed, voice thick and sweet with venom. “If you can. Poor demon… all tied up.”

He shifted his hips purposefully, dragging slick heat along Jack’s lap again. “Can’t even touch the pussy that’s all over him right now.”

Jack let out a strangled groan, a sound somewhere between rage and need, hips jerking up in a raw, involuntary response. “You little fucker—”

Jeff leaned closer, lips hovering so close to Jack’s they almost brushed—just a ghost of warmth between them. His voice dropped to a whisper, like he was offering a secret. “You want a taste?”

Jack froze.

His eyes widened just a fraction, like something short-circuited behind them. He blinked—once, then twice—trying to process what he’d just heard. That filthy, daring offer.

And then, without a word, without so much as a grunt or growl…

He parted his lips.

Slowly. Willingly.

Jeff’s breath hitched—but then he laughed, soft and mean and so pleased with himself. “Of course you do.”

He sat up straighter, lifting the hand that had been between his thighs, two fingers slick and glistening with wet. He held them up, letting Jack see—see the way his juices clung to his fingers, glossy and obscene. He rubbed them together, slowly, and then pulled them apart.

A perfect strand of slick connected them.

Jack groaned, his arms strained against the belt again, but not to break free. He just needed —to grab, to taste, to do something. The tension in his body made every muscle tremble, every ounce of him wound tight like a wire ready to snap.

Jeff leaned in again. And this time—he didn’t ask.

“Filthy little bitch,” he whispered, right before licking across Jack’s lips, slow, hot and claiming. The taste lingered behind, and Jack shuddered violently.

Then Jeff slid his slick fingers between Jack’s parted lips.

Slow. Purposeful. Fingers curling against Jack’s tongue as his mouth closed around them.

Jack moaned, his eyes fluttering shut like it was relief. His tongues moved instinctively, tasting him, sucking gently, hungrily, needing.

Jeff watched.

Watched Jack— his demon, his beast, his sharp-toothed monster—suck on his fingers like it was the only thing that mattered. Like he was starved for it.

“Fuck…” Jeff gasped, hips grinding down hard once more. “Look at you.”

Jack didn’t look. He was too busy tasting.

Jeff’s fingers slid out with a wet pop, connected to Jack’s lips by a thin strand of saliva and slick.

“I should take a picture,” Jeff murmured, drunk off the sight. “You know, for memories of how fucked you look just from sucking my fingers.”

Jack’s head fell back against the window, panting, chest rising and falling as though the air had been sucked out of him. His arms trembled in their restraints. His jeans were soaked from Jeff’s cunt and his own leaking cock.

“Untie me,” Jack rasped, voice hoarse and wrecked.

Jeff raised a brow. “Why?”

Jack’s eyes slowly opened. They glowed with heat and promise.

“So I can ruin you.”

Jeff blinked.

For just a moment, his grin faltered—only a flicker, a half-second of awareness in those sharp, stormy eyes. Like Jack’s promise rattled something deep.

“Nah,” Jeff said, voice all sugar and spite. “I like seeing you like this. Bound. Breathing hard. Licked raw by shame and desire.”

Before Jack could even open his mouth to protest, Jeff slid his fingers back between his lips—slick and warm and unrelenting.

Jack growled low in his throat, but didn’t stop him.

His eyes locked on Jeff’s, narrowed and burning with fury, and frustration. And even while glaring, even while his whole body tensed to strike, his tongues moved—licks sweeping over Jeff’s fingers. He worked them with slow, rough sucks, like he was punishing them, like he wanted to bite but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

And Jeff?

Jeff watched everything.

Because fuck, watching Jack seethe and suck at the same time? That was its own kind of victory.

“You’re so mad,” Jeff whispered, his free hand trailing down Jack’s chest again, fingers skating along tense muscles and twitching flesh. “But you’re still sucking.”

Jack’s jaw flexed around his fingers. His eyes screamed I’m going to kill you .

His tongue whispered but not yet .

Jeff slid his fingers out again. Slowly, dragging across Jack’s tongue, and leaned in close enough for their foreheads to brush.

“I bet if I told you to beg right now, you would.”

His voice was low. “You’d beg for my cunt, wouldn’t you? Just to feel it. Just to stop the ache.”

Jack didn’t respond.

He just breathed, sharp exhales through flared nostrils, every inch of him trembling under the weight of restraint.

Jeff hummed—a sweet, satisfied sound that vibrated from his throat like a purr. Like he was proud of himself. Like he was enjoying watching Jack fall apart.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he reached down.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of Jack’s jeans, right at the hips, he tugged, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Like Jack wasn’t leaking into the fabric. Like Jack wasn’t suffering.

Jack tensed beneath him, muscles flexing, breath catching.

But Jeff just kept humming as he dragged the jeans down, inch by inch, letting the cool air of the car cabin kiss Jack’s flushed skin. He pulled them past his hips, down to his thighs—just far enough to expose Jack’s straining cock, soaked with precum, red and angry with neglect.

“Damn,” Jeff muttered, eyebrows lifting as he took in the sight. “You really were gonna cum in your pants, huh?”

Jack didn’t answer. He was too busy glaring. Lips parted, breathing harsh, chest heaving like he’d just run a mile.

Jeff leaned down, brushing his lips across Jack’s jaw—mock-gentle. “That’d be kinda sad,” he whispered.

“All that power, all that demon rage… and you’d still cum in your jeans like a pent-up teenager.”

Jeff laughed, dropping the knife to the ground as he curled his hand around Jack’s cock, just to feel the twitch of it in his palm.

Jack moaned—choked on it—and bucked up into his grip.

Jeff smiled.

Then he spit, wet and warm, into his hand and stroked Jack slowly, letting the slickness spread.

“Better?” he asked, tone so fake-sweet it practically dripped with venom. “Or should I keep teasing you?”

Jack growled, “If you stop now, I swear—”

“You’ll what?” Jeff purred, squeezing just enough to make Jack whimper. “Can’t exactly threaten me when you’re tied up with your dick in my hand.”

Jack opened his mouth to spit something cruel—but all that came out was a broken moan as Jeff’s thumb slid over the head of his cock.

“I’ll take that as a thank-you,” Jeff grinned, leaning forward until their lips barely touched again.

Jeff let out a long, exaggerated sigh. Like he was bored. Like Jack wasn’t tied down and trembling beneath him with a cock that looked like it was about to explode.

Jack stared at him, eyes wild, sweat slicking his forehead. “What now?” he growled, breathless. “You gonna fucking ride me or keep playing around like a—”

Jeff cut him off by shifting his hips.

And then slid his soaking cunt along the length of Jack’s cock.

Not letting him in.

Just dragging that slick, wet heat over the sensitive head, down the shaft, and back again. Slow. Purposeful. Cruel.

Jack jerked, hips bucking reflexively, but Jeff held himself just out of range, only letting Jack feel that maddening friction, the unbearable slide of slick folds hugging and teasing, never giving him what he needed.

“Fuck—fuck,” Jack hissed, “Jeff, you fucking bitch—”

Jeff laughed and rocked his hips forward again, letting Jack’s cock catch between his folds and grind right against his clit.

Both of them moaned at the contact.

But still, no entry. No real friction. Just that filthy, helpless glide.

“You feel so good,” Jeff murmured, head tipping back, hands braced on Jack’s shoulders.

“Then ride me.” Jack’s voice was raw, cracking. “Just fucking— please —”

“Ohh?” Jeff purred, rolling his hips again, cunt slicking his cock all over again. “Did you just say please ?”

Jack groaned, biting down on the inside of his cheek.

Jeff leaned down, lips brushing Jack’s ear. “Say it again.”

Jack didn’t.

Jeff grinded again, slow and smooth, dragging his folds across the head, pressing down just hard enough to tease entrance before rocking forward again, never letting it happen.

“Say it or I’ll stop.”

Jack’s fists clenched where they were tied. His hips trembled.

“ Please ,” he growled.

Jeff paused. “Say it nicely.”

Jack’s voice dropped, barely more than a ragged breath. “ Please , Jeff. Please ride me.”

The words sounded foreign in his mouth. Wrecked. Stripped down to bone and need.

Jeff paused like he was savoring them, like it was his favorite music. He leaned in, kissed the corner of Jack’s mouth with infuriating slowness, tongue flicking out just enough to tease.

And then he pulled back.

“ Fuck yeah …” he whispered, voice husky, drunk off power. A soft moan followed, curling out of him like smoke. “You sound so good when you beg, Jack.”

Jack gritted his teeth, trying to hold onto the last frayed scrap of control, but it was futile. He was leaking, panting, his cock twitching against Jeff’s soaked folds every time he moved. The belt around his wrists creaked with how tightly he pulled.

And Jeff just smiled. That lazy, evil smile. His hips rocked forward again, dragging his slick cunt along Jack’s length, coating him in heat and wet and nothing close to mercy.

Jack hissed, biting back another moan. “Jeff, I swear—”

“Swear what?” Jeff interrupted, voice all velvet and smug satisfaction. “That you’ll lose your mind if I don’t sit on your dick right now?” He dipped forward again, letting the head catch at his entrance before rolling his hips away.

Jack shuddered. Every muscle in his body tensed, cock pulsing helplessly against Jeff’s folds. He was right there, so close, and still— still Jeff wasn’t giving in.

“I could ride you,” Jeff murmured, trailing his fingers up Jack’s chest, circling one of his nipples with the lightest touch. “I could make you cum so hard you forget your own name.”

Jack groaned.

“Or…” Jeff smirked, “I could keep using you like this. Keep grinding until I cum. Leave you dripping and untouched like a little demon toy.”

Jack’s whole body arched beneath him, furious. “You wouldn’t.”

“Awe, Jacky,” Jeff whispered, as he rocked his hips again. “I would.”

And the worst part?

Jack would let him.

Because fuck , Jack was drunk on everything that was Jeff.

The sight of him, straddling his thighs, bare and flushed and shining with arousal, was almost too much to process.

His dark hair clung to his damp forehead, his eyes shining with power, mouth kiss-bitten and red, chest heaving in sharp little pants as he worked himself on Jack’s cock without ever letting him in.

Jack couldn’t stop staring.

Couldn’t stop watching the way Jeff’s thighs trembled when he ground down just right, how his fingers twitched against Jack’s shoulders, how his wet cunt dragged across his length, smearing slick with every agonizing roll of his hips.

It was obscene. Unfair. Perfect .

Jack didn’t know when he’d stopped wanting to ruin Jeff and started wanting to be ruined by him, but here he was—arms tied, cock pulsing, and brain going numb from the slow burn of overstimulation.

He should be angry. Furious.

But the only thing he felt was needy.

And God help him, Jeff looked so fucking good like this.

Beautiful and terrible. A walking contradiction of power and chaos. He didn’t move like someone playing with fire…he was the fire, and Jack was the idiot who ran straight into it. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t think.

And the worst part?

The most pathetic, sick, horny part?

This? being pinned down, tied up, and used like a goddamn toy? It was one of the biggest fucking turn-ons of Jack’s life.

The feeling of leather tight around his wrists. The helpless rutting of his hips into Jeff’s heat. The way Jeff kept denying him, moaning for his own pleasure while Jack got nothing.

Jack should hate it.

But all he could think was: I’d let you do anything.

Jeff could keep him like this forever, and he wouldn’t stop him. Couldn’t. He needed every second. Every grind. Every moan. Every filthy little smirk Jeff shot him like he knew Jack was already halfway broken.

And when Jeff looked down at him, eyes gleaming with control and sweat sliding down his neck, Jack felt something awful curl in his stomach.

Need. Worship. Obsession .

“Fuck,” Jack whispered, barely audible, voice shaking. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Jeff slowed his hips just enough to make him suffer, then leaned down again, noses brushing.

“What’s that?” he teased, “Did you just say something nice?”

Jack clenched his jaw, breathing hard, but the words were already there—sticky, trembling, desperate.

“I’d let you do anything.”

Jeff froze.

Only for a second. Then he rocked his hips just right, letting his slick cunt kiss the head of Jack’s cock again.

“ Anything ?” he whispered, grinding down slowly. “Even if I never let you cum?”

Jack choked on a moan, eyes fluttering closed.

“…Yeah,” he breathed.

And he meant it.

That got Jeff to freeze.

Because hearing that— those words —from Jack’s mouth? It hit him like a punch to the gut. A jolt of electricity, straight through his spine. His hips stilled, his breath caught, and for a second all the heat in the car felt like it collapsed inward, sucked into the gravity of that one, trembling confession.

I’d let you do anything

Jack had said it quietly. Raw. Sincere. Not a threat. Not a plea. Just the truth.

And it shattered something in Jeff.

He still had all the control, Jack was still tied up, still writhing beneath him, still hard and leaking and at his mercy. But somehow, somehow , Jeff felt like he was the one on his knees now.

Because Jack wasn’t just surrendering. He was giving himself. And Jeff wasn’t ready for how fucking intoxicating that was.

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. His voice caught. He blinked down at Jack, lips parted, stunned. His throat worked once. Then again.

Still silent.

Finally, desperately, he bit down on his lower lip, trying to ground himself, trying not to shake from how badly he suddenly wanted to give Jack everything.

His fingers trembled where they rested on Jack’s chest. His whole body pulsed with heat.

And then—

“Say that again,” Jeff said, barely a whisper. His voice cracked around the edges, soft and strangled. Like it hurt to ask. Like he needed to hear it again just to believe it.

He stared at Jack, wide-eyed and vulnerable in a way Jack had never seen—like that one line had peeled him open and left him raw.

“Please…” Jeff added, so quiet it was barely there. “Say it again.”

Jack blinked up at him, stunned at the shift. At the tremble in Jeff’s voice. At how all the bravado had melted into something real.

He could’ve teased. Could’ve laughed. Could’ve taken the win.

But instead—

“I’d let you do anything,” Jack said again, slow and serious, staring right back at him. “Anything you want.”

The effect was immediate.

Jeff shuddered. His breath hitched hard. His fingers dug into Jack’s chest as if anchoring himself, trying not to fall forward. His thighs trembled where they straddled Jack’s. His whole body lit up with heat.

Because he had won. But not just the game—not just the scene.

He had Jack’s trust. His devotion. His fucking soul.

And now?

He didn’t want to tease anymore.

He wanted to give.

“Does being tied up automatically mean you become a sap?” Jeff let out a shaky laugh, trying to keep his voice playful—but even he could hear the tremor in it.

Because fuck, it was hard to keep up the act when he was this full of feeling. When Jack’s words had knocked the breath out of him and left him raw.

Still, he grinned, lips brushing Jack’s as he rocked his hips forward—slow, dragging Jack’s cock through the slick heat between his thighs.

“God, Jack…” Jeff whispered, voice already fraying.

Slowly he let the head push in.

Jack’s breath hitched beneath him. His whole body jolted like a current had shot through it.

Jeff’s own head dropped forward, a gasp leaving him as he slowly, achingly slowly, sank down. Inch by inch, he felt every vein, every twitch, every stretch that made his cunt clench involuntarily.

The slide was unreal, hot, tight and wet enough to make obscene noises echo in the air around them.

“So big— god… ” Jeff huffed, his breath punching out of him in little stuttered waves.

His fingers dug into Jack’s shoulders for support, gripping tight, while his thighs trembled as he eased further, adjusting to the stretch with shaky breaths and soft, involuntary moans.

Jack stared up at him like he was witnessing something holy. His jaw clenched. His hips fought the urge to thrust.

He let Jeff take his time. Let Jeff control the pace. Let him feel everything.

Because watching Jeff fall apart like this—watching his flushed face, his parted lips, the way his brows pinched when he finally bottomed out—was enough to make Jack’s brain short-circuit.

Jeff sat there for a moment, fully seated, gasping against Jack’s neck. His cunt fluttered around him, pulsing and warm and too fucking perfect.

And at first, it was just rolling hips and shaky breaths, the rhythm more about feeling than fucking—drawing out every drag of Jack’s cock inside him, every gasp that spilled from both their mouths. His thighs trembled as he moved, hands gripping Jack’s chest to keep balance, mouth parted in little, breathy moans.

But after a bit Jeff began to quicken the pace. His hips rolled harder, faster. The wet slap of skin against skin grew louder, filthier, bouncing off the windows of the car like they were in a fucking cathedral of sin.

“ Fuck—! Fuck—Jack—! ” he gasped, pace stuttering as he slammed down again, harder this time, “you feel—fuck, you feel so good—”

And Jack?

Jack let out a breath he’d been holding since Jeff first sat on him.

It was ragged. Shaky. Absolutely guttural.

His body shuddered with the rush of finally getting what he’d been denied. The friction. The tightness. The wet, messy heat of Jeff taking him completely in, rhythm messy and wild and so fucking perfect.

His hips bucked up instinctively, trying to meet Jeff’s every motion, trying to get deeper, harder, more—

And without thinking, he reached for Jeff’s waist—

Only to jerk up short.

The belt.

His wrists yanked against the leather, the sound of it pulling taut adding to the wet slap of their bodies, and Jack groaned—not in frustration, but in desperation.

“ Shit —” he hissed. “I—fuck, Jeff, I need to touch you—”

Jeff just grinned, a little wild, a little dizzy, eyes glossy with lust and flushed deep red from effort. “What’s wrong?” he teased, riding him harder now, pace slamming down into full obscene. “Can’t handle b-being my fucktoy w-without your hands?”

Jack growled, head hitting the window behind him with a thud, his jaw clenched tight.

“Fuck—j-just untie me—”

“No,” Jeff moaned, pace unrelenting. “Not yet. N-Not done ruining y-you.”

Jack’s cock twitched violently inside him, and Jeff felt it—moaned louder, loved it.

He braced his hands on Jack’s shoulders and bounced, harder and faster, the sound of his slick cunt riding Jack’s cock growing louder, filthier, wetter with every passing second.

Jack was unraveling. Squirming. Wrists flexing against the belt like his body forgot he wasn’t free.

He needed to hold Jeff. To dig his hands into those thighs. To grab his ass and slam him down harder. But all he could do was take it.

And Jeff?

Jeff leaned in, panting in his face, and whispered—

“You gonna cum from this?” Jeff panted, barely able to get the words out through how hard he was riding him. His voice cracked, high and rough and wild. “You are, aren’t you? Come on, Jack. Cum for me.”

And then he kissed him.

Jack didn’t just moan, he groaned, loud and deep and broken, like the sound was being ripped out of him. The kiss was instant and violent, all teeth and spit and need.

He shoved all three of his tongues into Jeff’s mouth at once, desperate for anything, any taste of Jeff, any kind of contact, any grounding in this chaos. And he got it. Oh fuck , he got it. Jeff’s tongue tangled with his, the heat between them unbearable, sweat and salt and them clinging to every breath.

Their kiss was wet, filthy, drenched in lust. Spit dripped down the corners of their mouths. Jeff moaned into it, like he wanted to be consumed.

The car windows were fogged completely now, the hot air inside thick with sex, sweat, and their snarled breathing. Every slam of Jeff’s hips made the car rock. It wasn’t subtle—it was fucking chaotic. The whole vehicle shuddered, squeaked, and jolted like it might collapse under the weight of their filth.

But they didn’t stop.

Jack’s cock pulsed deep inside Jeff, twitching hard every time Jeff slammed down onto him, every time his walls clenched around him like a vice.

It was too much and not enough at once.

Jeff pulled away from the kiss just long enough to gasp:

“ Fuck —Jack…I still f-fucking hate you.”

Jack’s hips snapped up hard, instinct taking over, eyes rolling back as he hit that high, that edge he’d been chasing since the start—and this time, he couldn’t stop it.

“ Jeff —!”

He shouted it, raw and desperate, as his cock jerked inside Jeff—once, twice—and then he was cumming hard, entire body seizing beneath the restraint.

He filled Jeff in deep, slow pulses, thick and endless, and Jeff felt all of it—let out a moan as he ground down one last time, legs shaking violently as his own orgasm slammed through him right after.

It was loud. It was messy. It was everything.

Jeff collapsed forward, chest pressed to Jack’s, their skin slick with sweat and come and everything in between. His breath hitched with every exhale, ragged and hot against Jack’s flushed neck, both of them shivering from the aftershocks.

“You just—fuck…” Jeff panted, his voice still broken, a dazed little laugh tumbling out. “You just came after I told you I hated you.”

He let out a breathless giggle, stupid and wild, and peppered kisses across Jack’s face—sloppy and warm, anywhere he could reach: the corner of his mouth, his cheek, the bridge of his nose.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” he murmured between kisses, completely blissed out.

Jack groaned, still reeling, eyes squeezed shut as he lay pinned beneath Jeff’s ruined, sticky body. “Sh-shut the fuck up…”

His voice was cracked open, deeper than usual, lips parted as he gasped for air. His hair was stuck to his forehead, horns glistening with sweat, wrists still tied tight above him. He looked like a demon undone—flushed, fucked-out, and humiliated by just how hard he’d needed it.

Jeff laughed again, glowing in the aftermath, full of satisfaction and come.

“You liked it,” he whispered, dragging his lips lazily over Jack’s jaw. “Being tied up. Being used. Came so hard I swear I felt your fucking soul leave your body.”

Jack made a strangled noise in his throat and jerked his wrists. “Untie me. Now .”

“Mmm I dunno,” Jeff whispered, nipping at his ear. “I like you like this. I think this is my favorite version of you.”

Jack glared weakly through heavy lashes. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“You’re welcome to try.” Jeff smirked, finally sitting back with a wince, letting Jack slip out of him with a wet noise that made both of them groan. “Mmmf. That’s so gross.”

“You’re gross,” Jack muttered, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re disgusting. You’re fucked up. You’re—”

“And you loved every second of that,” Jeff hummed smugly, his voice low and still breathless, eyes half-lidded.

He didn’t wait for Jack to answer—just reached up and finally unbuckled the belt around Jack’s wrists. The leather pulled free with a soft creak, and Jeff let it drop somewhere onto the car floor, forgotten.

Jack didn’t say anything, just let his arms fall, limp and aching, wrists raw with faint red marks. He looked at Jeff through half-lidded eyes, like he couldn’t decide whether to strangle him or drag him back in for another round.

And Jeff—despite every ounce of bratty energy still radiating off him, gently took one of Jack’s hands in both of his.

He held it for a moment.

Then, slowly, he started massaging the wrist. His thumb rubbed little circles into the sore skin, pressing carefully along the marks he’d left, and for a second, just a second, his ego melted.

“You moaned you hated me,” Jack muttered, not quite a question.

Jeff snorted. “Still do.”

But his hands never stopped moving. He cradled Jack’s palm like it was something fragile, something worth holding onto, even while he sat bare and sore in Jack’s lap, filled to the brim and legs still twitching.

Jack didn’t acknowledge the care, but he didn’t stop it either.

Just stared.

Stared at Jeff’s face as his lashes dropped, the way his lips parted slightly with concentration, the way his thumb worked over Jack’s bruised wrist like he gave a damn, even now. Especially now.

Jeff caught him looking.

“What?” he said, tone somewhere between suspicious and embarrassed.

Jack exhaled through his nose and let his head roll back.

“Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

Everything they weren’t saying. Everything that had just passed between them without words. Everything that still lingered in Jeff’s soft touch and Jack’s aching hands and the tension that wouldn’t go away, even after the sex had ended.

Jeff scoffed quietly, but didn’t push it.

He just kept rubbing Jack’s wrist, leaning in to kiss the inside of it like it was the least romantic thing in the world.

Jack tried to hold back.

He really did.

(No he didn’t)

Tried to let Jeff have his moment, tried to sit still with his aching wrists and ruined pride and overused dick—but then he looked at him.

Jeff.

Sitting there in his lap, bare save for the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest, skin flushed, lips swollen, hair a sweaty mess. Still breathing heavily. Still sticky. Still looking like the most dangerous, beautiful, infuriatingly edible thing Jack had ever seen.

And that was it.

Jack’s restraint snapped like a rubber band.

He pulled his hand from Jeff’s and reached up, fingers cupping Jeff’s cheek, thumb brushing over the skin there like he was trying to memorize it. Jeff blinked, startled by the shift, lips parting to ask something, maybe to tease, maybe to protest.

Jack didn’t let him.

He pulled him forward, gently but without hesitation, and kissed him.

It wasn’t a frantic, tongue-down-his-throat kind of kiss like before, it was deep, slow, and full. The kind that made the air go still. The kind that tasted like sweat and sex and something so much heavier that neither of them dared to name.

Jeff made a soft noise, caught off guard, and melted into it before he could even think. His hands automatically holding onto Jack’s shoulders, steadying himself.

Jack used his other hand to wrap around Jeff’s waist, pulling him in closer, tight, possessive. Like he’d been aching to touch him. His fingers dug in just slightly, like he couldn’t believe the contact was real.

Jeff kissed back, mouth lazy and warm, letting himself be pulled under again. There was no smirk now, no insult, no bratty commentary.

Just lips.

Just breath.

Just them.

If they were in bed, Jack would’ve already flipped Jeff over, pressed him down into the mattress, and fucked him until the only thing coming out of his mouth was Jack’s name—slurred, desperate, begging.

But they weren’t in bed.

They were in a cramped, sticky, goddamn car.

So instead, Jack did the next best thing.

He pulled away from the kiss with one last bite to Jeff’s lower lip, his breath ragged. His hand slid from Jeff’s cheek to his jaw, gripping just enough to tilt Jeff’s head—exposing that neck. That soft, warm, flushed neck still stained red from the last time Jack got his mouth on it.

He leaned in and devoured.

“Mmm—Jack,” Jeff gasped, his head tipping back instinctively, fingers tightening on Jack’s shoulders. “What—are you still not done?”

“No,” Jack mumbled, mouth hot against his throat, lips already finding a new spot to ruin. “Not when you look so fucking good.”

Then he sucked.

Hard.

A sharp, brutal pull that left Jeff gasping, the noise halfway between a moan and a curse.

Jack loved that sound.

He licked the spot afterward, like an apology he didn’t mean, then moved to a new spot just below Jeff’s jaw. Bit down. Sucked again.

Jeff was squirming in his lap now, sore and overstimulated but soaked all over again. His thighs twitched where they straddled Jack, his breath catching with every mark Jack left behind.

“Jesus—Jack,” he hissed, though there was no real protest in his voice. “You gonna tattoo your fucking name on me next?”

Jack dragged his tongue across a fresh bruise. “Don’t tempt me.”

He kissed a line down Jeff’s throat. “You’re already mine anyway.”

Jeff froze for a heartbeat—just one. Long enough for Jack to hear his breath stutter, his fingers tighten, his thighs clench.

Then, quieter:

“…You’re such a bitch.”

Jack didn't respond, just confused to mark him.

And then he marked him again.

And again.

Each time a little lower.

A little darker.

A little meaner.

Until Jeff’s throat was a canvas of bruises. Red, purple, a little bite swelling just under the hinge of his jaw. He was a mess of raw skin and fluttery moans.

Jack’s hands moved.

At first, it was slow.

Up the sides of Jeff’s body, rough palms dragging over fevered skin. They slid along the dip of his back, pressed against the bandages over his chest, then down…

Down to his hips. His thighs. His ass.

He grabbed both sides of Jeff’s hips and squeezed hard.

Jeff gasped, lurching forward into Jack’s mouth, his whole body jerking like a wire was pulled through him.

“Fuck, you’re twitchy,” Jack murmured, licking over a bruise just left on his collarbone. “That spot still sore?”

Jeff didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

His brain was drowning in overstimulation, heat rising in waves from every place Jack had touched, every place he was still touching.

Jack moved his hands again, slid them between Jeff’s thighs from behind and parted them wider in his lap.

“Look at that,” Jack breathed, voice darker now. “You’re dripping again.”

Jeff made a wounded noise, somewhere between a moan and a “fuck you.”

“Sensitive little thing,” Jack added, now dragging his nails up the inside of Jeff’s thighs just to feel the way he shivered. “I didn’t even fuck you again yet.”

Jeff finally found his voice—barely a whisper, wrecked but cocky.

“ Yet ?”

Jack leaned in close, lips brushing against the shell of Jeff’s ear. His voice dropped, low and dangerous.

“What? Are you too tired to go again?”

Jeff immediately shook his head, a grin curling back onto his lips. “Pft—No, of course not.”

Then— chomp —he bit Jack’s ear, hard enough to make Jack twitch.

Jack huffed, and let his hands slide up from Jeff’s hips to the front of his chest, fingers curling under the edges of the bandages. “Forgot how much of a slut you are for a second.”

Jeff didn’t flinch. Didn’t blush. He leaned into it.

“Maybe I need to remind you then,” he murmured, licking his lips—dry, and cracked from gasping and moaning and everything else.

“Maybe you do,” Jack replied, voice flat, already decided. And then— rip .

His claws dragged down the front of the bandages, slicing them with surgical precision. The fabric tore apart like paper, the sound sharp in the thick, steamy air of the car.

Jack didn’t break eye contact.

He just watched Jeff.

Waited.

Watched every flicker of emotion—every twitch, every breath, every dare in those bright blue eyes that shimmered in the dim light.

And Jeff? He didn’t look away.

Even as the wrappings fell, curling like ribbon to the sides, exposing the curve of his chest, the thin red impressions the fabric had left behind. His breathing was still ragged, slowing but deep, and his body was worn—used and glistening and shaking.

But he still looked at Jack like he’d win.

Jack’s gaze dropped.

Down to Jeff’s bare chest.

Down to the flushed skin.

Down to the trail of bruises he’d already left.

Jeff smirked, voice low. “You gonna stare all day or fuck me again, doc?”

Jack’s eyes looked back up at Jeff. His fingers flexed once, then gripped Jeff’s waist with a force that made Jeff jolt.

“You really don’t know when to shut up,” Jack growled, already shifting in his seat.

He lifted Jeff up easily and lined himself back up, sliding the head of his cock right back through the slick mess between Jeff’s thighs.

Jeff gasped, head falling back with a broken moan, his spine arching slightly as Jack slid back inside—slow, almost cruelly slow.

Jack leaned in, kissed the side of Jeff’s throat, lips brushing hot skin.

“Ready?” he asked, voice dark, low, and already sounding like he knew the answer.

Jeff’s voice—ragged, wrecked, cocky as hell—came out between parted lips: “Hurry the fuck up, Jack.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice.

He buried himself deeper in one steady thrust, hips snapping forward, and Jeff cried out, his head falling forward to press against Jack’s shoulder. The stretch hit him differently the second time—raw and sore and perfect.

“F-fuck, Jack—”

Jack growled into Jeff’s ear, voice shaking now, but solid, like the only thing holding either of them together was his grip on Jeff’s waist.

He slammed into him again.

The car shook— again . It rocked with every sharp thrust, every obscene slap of skin, every desperate moan that tore from Jeff’s throat. His thighs trembled around Jack’s hips, already sore, already ruined, but still moving—still meeting him.

Still taking it.

Jeff’s voice was barely coherent now. Strings of curses. Half-laughed insults. Garbled cries of Jack’s name. Every thrust knocked the words right out of him.

“G-gonna—gonna make me—fuck—”

Jack didn’t slow.

He gripped Jeff tighter, one hand sliding up his back to grab the back of his neck—holding him there, pressing their foreheads together as their bodies slammed again and again.

“Say it,” Jack panted. “Say my name when you cum. Say it like you mean it.”

Jeff barely managed a breath.

“…Jack—”

And Jack groaned, long and low and completely gone.

He was fucking him like he’d never get the chance again. Like this stupid car, this night, this filthy, broken moment in the dark was everything.

Jeff grinned.

That wild, cocky, ruined grin.

He was soaked and bouncing and full. And he started moving again, hips slamming down onto Jack’s cock with fast, wet smacks that filled the foggy car with the sound of skin and sex.

Jack barely got a breath in before Jeff was riding him again—quick, messy, relentless.

“Fuck yeahhh,” Jeff hissed, voice slurred from arousal, “God, listen to it—listen to how fucking wet I am. Can’t believe this is your second load and I’m still dripping down your balls, Jack. You’re disgusting.”

But Jack wasn’t listening.

Not to his mouth, anyway.

He was staring—eyes locked on Jeff’s chest, chest that bounced with every slap of hips. The bandages were gone, his skin was flushed, slick with sweat, those gorgeous tits moving with every single movement.

Jeff noticed. Of course he noticed.

“Awwww,” he purred, voice syrup-thick and soaked in smugness, “you look stupid, doc. You even hearing me?”

Jack didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His mouth was parted slightly, breath shallow, pupils blown out, just watching. Hypnotized.

“Jesus,” Jeff laughed breathlessly, grinding his hips down a little slower just to make them bounce more. “You’re r-really that easy, huh? Demon b-brain freezes up the s-second I take my tits out?”

That got something out of Jack—a noise between a grunt and a groan, his hands sliding up Jeff’s sides like he had to touch. Had to feel what he was watching. His palms slid over Jeff’s ribs, up higher, thumbs brushing underneath—so close.

Jeff leaned forward, just enough to bring his chest closer, still grinding slow, filthy, deep.

“You want ’em, don’t you?” he whispered, smug and panting. “Fuck, you wanna suck ’em while I ride you?”

Jack’s answer came in the form of his mouth latching on without a single damn word—growling as he sucked, hard, tongue dragging across Jeff’s nipple like he’d been starving for it.

Jeff yelped, hips jerking, twitching around Jack.

“Oh my—fuck, o-okay! You— god —”

Jack didn’t let up.

His mouth stayed latched onto one of Jeff’s nipples, tongue flicking, sucking hard like he was trying to draw the soul out through his chest. His other hand slid up—rough, trembling from how tight Jeff clenched around him—and dragged his thumb over the other nipple, circling, teasing, pressing.

Jeff choked on a moan, his whole body jerking forward.

“K-Keep doing t-that…!” he gasped, the words broken and trembling, hips never stopping their rhythm.

He was bouncing with renewed urgency now, chasing something bigger than either of them. Every slap of skin was wetter, filthier, their bodies sticking together with sweat and spit and everything else. Jeff’s thighs burned, his muscles trembled—but he kept going.

Because Jack was doing that .

And it was too fucking good.

The pleasure twisted up in his spine, sharp and aching, building fast. His eyes glazed over, lips parted as ragged breaths spilled out in shaky little gasps, and then—tears.

Tears welled up in his eyes, hot and unexpected, rolling down his flushed cheeks as his body gave in to the overload.

“F-Fuck, Jack— Jack —!” Jeff cried out, voice pitching higher, hands scrambling at Jack’s shoulders, clutching like his life depended on it. “Too—too good—!”

Jack groaned around his chest, growled, even, his hand gripping tighter around Jeff’s waist, helping him move—lifting him into each bounce like he needed to fuck him harder.

“ Jack, I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna—!!! ”

And Jack didn’t stop. Didn’t dare.

He suckled harder, thumb circling faster, hips bucking up into Jeff just as Jeff slammed down—and that was it.

Jeff shattered.

His entire body arched, tensed, collapsed. He let out a sobbing moan as he came hard, soaking Jack’s lap all over again, thighs twitching, cunt pulsing around Jack’s cock in desperate, clenching waves.

And Jack?

Jack looked deranged.

Eyes wild, mouth shiny, still locked on Jeff’s chest as he kept moving, chasing his own release like he needed to fill Jeff up. Like he couldn’t stop now if he tried.

His cock slammed into Jeff with frantic rhythm, thick and soaked, each thrust punching a choked sound from Jeff’s mouth. Filthy, wet slaps echoed in the tight space, the car shaking again beneath them, windows still fogged and dripping from the heat.

Jeff was gone.

“Y-Yeah… mmgh , keep going…!”

His voice was wrecked—cracked, high, trembling with overstimulation. He wasn’t even bouncing anymore, legs too weak, brain too scattered. He let Jack do all the work now—let him grab his hips and fuck up into him, again and again and again.

He wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck, letting himself go limp in Jack’s hold, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder. Small, pathetic little noises spilled out of him now, soft gasps, hiccups of pleasure that hit every time Jack bottomed out.

“ Nngh —fuck, Jack, just—cum in me again, do it, please—”

That was it.

That was the spark.

Jack snapped.

He growled—deep in his chest, and slammed into Jeff one final time, his whole body tensing, cock pulsing hard as he spilled deep inside him.

Hot.

Thick.

Endless.

Jeff felt it. Felt the warmth flood his insides, thick spurts filling him up until it spilled down his thighs and Jack’s own lap. Felt Jack’s cock twitch, buried so deep it was like he’d fucked the moans out of his soul.

Jack’s head fell back, mouth parted in a broken gasp of Jeff’s name as his hips finally slowed—shallow, twitchy thrusts dragging out the high.

And just as they were both coming down from the high—bodies still shaking, skin sticking, breath slowly starting to come back.

Jeff lifted his hips slightly, letting Jack's cock slide out of him. “Gross…” Jeff mumbled as he sat back down on the demon's lap, trying to control his breathing.

Jack looked at him. Just looked. At his flushed face, his sleep-heavy eyes, the way his chest rose and fell, skin still marked with bruises and bites.

After a long beat—his hand slid up their body and gently tucked Jeff’s hair behind his ear.

Jeff blinked.

“…Are you in love with me or something?” Jeff teased, voice lazy, smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

Jack didn’t answer right away.

Didn’t scoff. Didn’t look away.

He just stared—at Jeff’s face, flushed and tired and still raw from everything they’d done. He looked at him like he was a wildfire he’d willingly walk into again.

“Unfortunately,” Jack muttered, his voice low and honest, “I am.”

Jeff’s smirk wavered for just a second.

Then Jack reached down and picked up Jeff’s shirt from the chaos on the floor. He shook it out, careful with the wrinkled fabric, and moved toward him.

Jeff didn’t say a word.

Didn’t joke.

Didn’t move away.

He let Jack dress him—quietly, gently. Let him slide each arm into the sleeves. Let him button it, slow and meticulous, even though the collar sat askew and the shirt still clung damp to his skin. Jack didn’t seem to care.

He reached for Jeff’s pants next, helped him into them one leg at a time, like he was tending to something delicate. Like Jeff wasn’t the same person who had just threatened to stab him for fun.

Jack pulled his own pants up, and when it was all done, Jack pulled Jeff a little closer by the waistband. Not rough. Not needy.

Just close.

And Jeff?

Jeff leaned in.

Head on Jack’s shoulder. Arms loose around his waist. Still sore, still buzzing, still pissed somewhere deep inside—but letting it rest for now.

Their earlier argument hung in the air like smoke—acrid and sharp—but they didn’t mention it.

Didn’t pick the fight back up. Didn’t dig in more.

They just held each other.

Because the truth was, even after the yelling and the fucking and the blood in both their mouths, they were still here.

Still together.

Even if it drove them insane.

Even if it burned.

But for just a moment, they breathed in sync.

And that was enough.

They stayed in the silence a little longer. Outside, the moon hung low. The windows stayed fogged. The car seat was ruined.

And somewhere inside the rest area was a pissed off Clockwork waiting for a call from one of them saying it was safe to come back to the car.

All while Toby ate the entire vending machine.

Notes:

Soooo...
How's everyone feeling...
Yeah. okay.

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