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Zanka truly doesn’t know how he ended up here.
He would say so himself that he is a man of perseverance, so strong willed that he could deny an entire army entrance. He doesn’t know when those defenses began to falter at the sight of long locs, plump lips, magenta eyes, and apparently, piercings.
The blonde nibbles at the edge of his red Solo cup, sweater clad back pressed against the moist wall. It was Riyo’s entire idea of dragging him here. ‘Here’ being some snobby kid’s house, with parents no better who don't know that their home is being trashed right now. The redhead raved for days about it being ‘the biggest, best-est party in all of Spring Break’, and only one of those has been proven true. Zanka can’t deny that the house is packed.
He feels as if he has seen every kid he’s known since elementary, which probably wouldn’t be as hard as he’s thinking with a town this small. In the midst of all the familiar faces, his eyes caught onto one in particular. A certain one that he had believed he wouldn’t see again.
His teeth crunch into the cup loud enough for Riyo to fix her gaze on the older, brow quirked.
“You good, Zanka?” Her hand comes up to fix a stray piece of red hair, tucking it behind a pierced ear.
He only hums in response before stopping the persistent grind of his teeth against the flimsy plastic. Blue eyes flicker back across the room simply because he can’t help himself.
Zanka didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse when Jabber moved for college. He convinced himself that the distance between them was good, but seeing him for the first time in months has him reconsidering.
Riyo’s eyes follow his gaze, her face falling into a frown when it settles on Jabber.
“Don’t tell me—“
“It’s not,” Zanka interrupts, “just haven’t seen him in a while.”
The younger scoffs in near disbelief, “Isn’t that a good thing? You guys did not wrap that up well, even if you were just fuck buddies.”
“We were not — that.” The blonde covers the slight blush on his cheeks by taking another sip from his cup. Nothing but watered down fruit punch hits his tongue.
Riyo’s right to an extent. Before Jabber graduated and fucked off somewhere, Zanka couldn’t deny that they may have snuck around a bit. It wasn’t anything serious, and he still thought the man was annoying as anything, but for some reason it still burned when he left with no explanation, no goodbye, no closing. Nothing but an empty bed, cracked door, and short text greeted him the morning he woke up.
ima miss u pretty
Stupid. It’s all so stupid.
Zanka feels stupid for seeing him across the room and instead of feeling hatred, feels something
uncomfortable and warm furl inside of him.
He had almost forgotten about Riyo’s presence before she spoke up again, voice raised above the music.
“Well I’m going to get a refill,” she walks off, throwing over her shoulder, “don’t do anything stupid.”
Zanka almost grimaces at the thought. Every step he takes is one with purpose, not one second to be wasted on miniscule things. Zanka doesn’t do stupid things.
Magenta eyes finally meet his gaze.
Zanka doesn’t do stupid things. Sometimes.
He doesn’t even bother acting abashed, as if this isn’t what he wanted. He watches as Jabber begins to tune out the people talking to him, even as they clap his shoulder. The dreadhead tilts his head, only for Zanka to do the same in mocking.
With that, the older man absentmindedly pushes the other’s hand off his shoulder, trekking his way through the thick crowd towards Zanka. The closer he gets the more he wonders if he should just try and let the wall swallow him up.
“We just gon’ keep playin’ eye tag, Zan-Zan?”
His face crinkles with disgust at the nickname.
“Don’t know what yer talkin’ about.” His cup has been brought down to his side, forgotten in his hand.
Jabber smiles, showing off pointy canines that are decorated with silver lining.
“C’mon, y’know you missed me,” he drops himself onto the wall next to Zanka, their shoulders brushing, “where’ve you been, Z?”
Zanka feels almost the equivalent of rage bubbling up in him at the question, but it unfortunately dissipates once he turns to face the other. Fuck him and his stupidly sexy face.
“In this shitty town,” and just because he feels like poking the bear, “‘course, ya wouldn’t know since ya fucked off to college.”
Jabber’s face contorts into something akin to amusement. He leans further into the blonde’s space, arm loosely wrapping around his shoulder. Their heads knock together and Zanka has half the mind to create space before the older is speaking into his ear.
“Y’know I miss you too.”
Zanka twists his face away in defiance, playing it off as him scanning the room.
“How come? Bet there’s a bunch of folks you could be fuckin’ over there.”
When he looks back over at him, his face is no longer holding just amusement, but also surprise. His lips crack into a smile, perfectly displaying the silver accents along his teeth and bottom lip.
“Oh? We on that typa’ timing?”
Zanka only shrugs, attempting to keep his nonchalance. He prays that Riyo can’t see them through the people flooding the passageway from kitchen to living room.
“No, we’re not,” he pauses, but he’s only so strong, “but it’s whatever.”
Jabber’s cologne overpowers every sense as he crowds in, face becoming impossibly close.
“Nah, ‘cause if it’s ‘whatever’ then we finna leave right now.” The words are huffed against his cheek, and Zanka discovers a new, undoubtedly there emotion: lust.
He knows that the older man wasn’t joking either. It was actually quite sad that it took less than five minutes of them talking to want to fuck.
The blonde doesn’t close the gap between them, but doesn’t attempt to pull away from his hold.
“Don’t you wanna talk to yer friends,” his eyes flicker to the group of people Jabber was speaking to earlier, “bet they miss ya too.”
Jabber shakes his head, leaning in far enough for his lips to scrape against Zanka’s cheek. He can feel the metal of his piercings cool the heated skin.
“Uh-uh. ‘m talkin’ to you right now,” his lips finally connect to his cheek, giving it a small smack, “just tryna talk to you, pretty.”
Zanka doesn’t remember being this easy.
His cheeks immediately flush, and he brings a hand up to push at Jabber’s face. He goes willingly but still keeps a hand wrapped tight around his shoulder. The older man looks on expectantly, and how exactly could Zanka resist?
His eyes flicker down to his feet for a moment before locking in on the one’s in front of him.
“Well why don’tcha come and talk to me at my house then?”
“Bet.”
Jabber wastes no time in snatching Zanka up off the wall until they’re stumbling towards the door through the crowd and vibrating floor boards. The half filled cup slips from his hand, creating a mess that he wasn’t at all worried about. He pulls out his phone, typing with one hand before the cool night air hits him.
riyo
me — 10:47
going home
doing smth dumb srry
Zanka breathed a breath of relief when they first cracked the front door open to an empty house. He thinks he might have cried if he opened the door to Enjin and Rudo being home. Especially with a clingy Jabber hanging off of him, going on and on about how much he missed him, how he couldn’t wait to touch him again. Enjin fucking hated him, always thought he was a bad influence even though Zanka was already destined to go wrong with the childhood he had.
Jabber proved everything he had said once they stepped foot into his room, the dreadhead’s lips came to smash against the blonde’s. It was borderline painful due to their teeth clacking. Their mouths opened for the other, moving together in tandem. Zanka explores the new silver decorating Jabber’s canines, hands coming up to loosely curl around his neck.
The older moans at the mere feeling of them resting there, hands reaching down to clasp onto the younger’s waist. The once quiet room was now filled with the wet smacks of their lips, messy and desperate. Zanka continues to apply more and more pressure against his windpipe, so much so to the point that Jabber is having to sit on the edge of the bed, Zanka following suit.
He collapses into his lap, their lips never parting. They breathe heavily through their noses that it begins to tickle his upper lip. Jabber’s hands had left his hips, now settling two large palms over his ass, encouraging him to grind through their jeans.
Zanka complies with no issue, finally breaking apart the kiss and releasing the tightened grip on his neck. They’re both panting into the other’s mouth, attempting to regain all the breaths they had lost.
Jabber’s voice is raspy when he speaks, “Damn, still know how to get me goin’, huh?” His lips quirk up into a smirk, hands still moving Zanka’s hips.
The blonde brings a hand up to his chest, pushing him down completely onto the bed. He climbs up to settle on his mid-torso before carefully reaching down to unbutton his jeans.
“Nah, that was just an attempt to end yer annoying ass.”
Jabber barks out a laugh only to continue taking off Zanka’s jeans for him. The shorter allows him to pull them completely off, despite the uncomfortable position. Zanka registers the sound of them being thrown somewhere on the floor behind him.
He’s left there with nothing but his sweater and a pair of plain black panties. He can’t help but feel a tad bit exposed, so he goes ahead and tugs at Jabber’s shirt until he gets the hint. He rips it off as well, letting it collect onto the floor with the other articles.
Ringed fingers grab at the soft flesh of Zanka’s thighs and ass, nudging him further up until he’s practically sitting on his chest.
“So fuckin’ sexy, Z. You gon’ let me get in this?” The way he asks already has him clenching around nothing. He resists the urge to grind down into the firm muscle of his chest, instead lacing his fingers through thick hair and tugging. Zanka can feel the vibration of the groan that Jabber lets out ricochet through his chest.
Fingers still in their firm grip, he says, confidently, “Eat me.”
Zanka looks down his nose at Jabber, allowing their eyes to meet. With no words, those hands are lifting the younger man up until his knees are caging his head in. Pink eyes never left his, boring holes into his eyes in silent pleading.
It takes him a moment to get the hint.
“Geez — ‘m not sitting on yer face ya freak.”
“C’mon, Zan-Zan!” Nimble fingers begin to peel the obstructing fabric down until it’s stretched thin around toned thighs. Zanka lifts a leg to take them off completely anyways. He chooses to ignore the way Jabber’s tongue darts down to wet his lower lip.
His head turns to place soft kisses on his knee, trailing up the inside of his thigh.
“I know this pussy missed —“ He’s cut off from Zanka sinking down on his mouth, fully resting his weight.
He resists the shiver that crawls up his back from the immediate moan Jabber let out and the swipe of his tongue.
“Finally shut up.” His other hand tangles in his locs alongside the first, beginning to set his own rhythm.
The blonde rocks his hips, feeling saliva slick at his entrance. Jabber eats him like a man starved. Taking short huffs from his nose, he drags his tongue up and down his hole, prodding it into his velvety walls.
The grip on Zanka’s ass is firm enough to leave red bruises in its wake. He doesn’t resist the urge of grinding his clit against the older man’s nose, taking up the last of his air supply. He hears his breath hitch before he doubles down, fucking his tongue into his heat messily.
“Fuck— yer disgustin’.” The insult comes out as a whine, his hips still moving in jerky motions. Another flood of heat washes over him when he sees his slick plastered on the dreadhead’s face. His eyes are screwed shut, brows furrowed in complete concentration of making the younger cum.
Zanka’s knees crowd in on his head as Jabber takes his fill. His mouth comes up to focus solely on his clit, closing his lips around the nub. The steady motion of his tongue swiping relentlessly around him has his eyes whiting out. Those hands leave his ass to travel to his waist, up his back, around his stomach, massaging thumbs into the softness of his lower stomach.
Zanka’s hold on his hair only got firmer as his grinds got choppier, orgasm right around the corner.
“Gonna — hah, ‘m gonna cum.” He announces.
His gaze never leaves Jabber, even as his eyes open to meet the heated stare. He’s humming now, as if to wordlessly talk the younger through it all. You can do it. I want you to do it.
Zanka can feel those vibrations in his soul.
His body finally snaps, cunt contracting repeatedly around nothing. His breaths get heavier as Jabber sucks it all up, humming growing even more intense. He doesn’t stop his incessant work until Zanka pulls harder, yanking him away. He’s sitting up on shaky knees, peering down at the older who looks completely drunk on good pussy. Zanka tries not to let the blush on his ears grow stronger at the sight of his juices shining on the other’s face.
Suddenly, their positions are being flipped. Jabber situates Zanka at the head of the bed, hovering over him. Tan hands begin to part his thighs further only to be ceased with a foot to his stomach.
“Let me catch my damn breath first.” He huffs out, trying to shuffle away.
He’s stopped by a firm grip around his ankle. His foot is brought down to the pressing issue trapped in Jabber’s baggy jeans.
“Don’tcha feel me? I need you.” The words are whispered out against the leg he’s holding, teeth barred to scrape against Zanka’s knee.
He’s not lying either. Zanka can see the lust throughout his entire countenance. Can feel his length pressed up against the sole of his foot. The younger couldn’t deny that seeing him so disheveled and desperate for him stroked his ego.
He teases a bit, digging his heel into his dick. Payback for all the confusion and borderline heartbreak that the older man had left with him.
Jabber’s shoulders shake with a groan, curling over Zanka until his hair creates a curtain around them. The blonde doesn’t miss how the hand around his ankle had tightened and how the dreadhead began to rut his hips up into the harsh pressure.
“C’mon,” he lowers his forehead to rest on Zanka’s sweat slick one, “‘m losing my patience here, Z.”
“Does it look like I care?” He pants out, grinding his foot deeper.
“Shit — still got that nasty ass attitude. Ain’t nobody fucked that outta you yet?” Jabber’s words pleasantly sting as his lips travel to his neck, biting at tender skin. His hips continue to cant up in need, chasing the pleasure.
Zanka brings a hand up to cup the older man’s face, dull nails digging into his cheek.
“No. ‘m not a slut like you.” He spits.
Jabber’s lips form a fake pout, “Aww, only my dick does it for you?”
The blonde blushes furiously, fumbling over his words. “That’s not what I said oh —“ He’s suddenly being flipped to his stomach, face planted in pillows.
He turns his head to glare back at Jabber only to see him working his jeans and boxers down far enough to wrap a hand around himself. Zanka is mesmerized at the sight of him and almost worries if it’d be as easy as before since it’d been so long.
“I ain’t waiting no more, Zanka.” He grumbles out. The blonde tries not to seem so affected at the use of his full name. In the essence of him attempting to fight back the urge of rubbing his thighs together, he seems to completely miss the part of Jabber shacking off the rest of his clothes and slipping a condom on. Zanka’s snapped back to reality once he feels the dull head press inexorably at his entrance until it pops inside.
He immediately tries to squirm away from the slight burn, even though his velvety walls squeeze tight in a plea for him to never leave. Ringed fingers are coming up to press down onto his lower back, amplifying the pressure as he sinks in further. Zanka is reduced to nothing but soft sighs and gasps until their skin finally connects.
“Damn, you wasn’t lyin’,” Jabber breathes out, Zanka can practically hear the smirk in his tone without even looking back, “I’m the only one who been in this pussy?”
“Shut the fuck up.” He manages to whimper out, resisting the urge to fuck back on the thick length.
The older man only laughs before pulling out to the tip and sinking back in, surely reveling in the way Zanka’s arms scramble for a pillow.
“We gon’ have to fix that mouth, hm?” He asks, knowing that he won’t receive a reply. Not with the way his hips are steadily meeting his ass faster. The glide became easier with how wet Zanka was. The blonde’s hips automatically began to meet the thrusts, arching up just to feel it at the right angle.
Jabber’s grip around his waist is impossible as his knees spread further along the slippery sheets. He’s yanking him back on his dick with precision until his feet begin to cramp with how hard he’s curling his toes. The once silent room was now filled with lewd, slick claps of skin on skin and of the obscene noises his cunt would make with each push inside.
“You fuckin’ hear that?” That alone has the noises growing in volume, along with Zanka.
He’s a babbling mess, can barely piece together a sentence as Jabber’s hips set a punishing pace. His arms had given up on keeping him propped up, leaving him literally faced down, ass up.
It’s humiliating.
“Oh, fuck — please,” he doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. More? A break? A kiss? He still continues, though, a hand reaching back for clearance on the older man’s lower stomach, “‘ts too good, Jabber — I can’t.”
The last bit is drawn out into a whine when the pressure is back on his lower back, forcing him into a deeper arch that makes his sweater roll up.
“Nuh-uh, you can,” he reassures, hand travelling up until his thumb is circling around his puckered rim, “look at’chu. All your holes are greedy for me.”
With that his thumb is sinking inside his gummy walls, pressing against his moving length inside of him. Zanka wails at the motion, positively trying to squirm away.
“No, nonono you fuckin’, freak —“
He’s stopped with Jabber pinning him down from head to toe, completely encompassing the shorter’s body. His thrusts turned into deep grinds that press right up against the spot that makes him sob. That paired with the tangled sheets rubbing against his swollen clit has his eyes bleary with unshed tears.
Jabber’s voice is in his ear, heavy and hot, “Nah, you gon’ take it. Don’t try and run,” and just because he’s evil, “gimme that shit just how Daddy like it.”
Unfortunately, that’s all it takes.
The groan he lets out racks his whole body, pussy gushing and clenching until beads of white begin to appear at the base of his dick and Jabber’s ringed thumb is forced out of his tight ass. His thighs shake with the force of it and his stomach quivers with sobs.
Jabber doesn’t pull out until his hiccuping moans calm down. But, when he does, he’s simply just flipping him over to his back, peppering his cheeks with small kisses before sinking back inside in one motion.
Zanka lets out a small yelp of over sensitivity and at the new found stretch in his legs with them tossed onto the dreadhead’s shoulders.
He doesn’t bother moving, settling on small grinds, “You so damn nasty, Z.”
He brings up both hands to tangle in the back of long locs without the intention of hurting this time, “You — you make me like this. It’s all yer fault.”
Jabber smiles a smile too sweet before leaning down to place a short smack on the younger’s lips, “Only mine, right?”
Zanka’s about to curse him out again, but he begins to pump his hips, picking a steady rhythm back up. His hands are anchored on either side of sprawled blonde hair.
The pace is maintainable at first until he starts to lean his full weight into the thrusts, tip pressing uncomfortably deep inside. The blonde can feel every push against that spongy spot that rests within him, threatening to implode on itself.
Jabber shifts his legs around until they’re pressed up against his chest, large hands keeping them there from the backs of his knees. He must be done with giving Zanka his break because he’s right back to the same relentless pace as before. The kind that made his voice shake with each thrust, head inches away from slamming into the headboard.
His hands scramble for tan forearms, “Yesyesyes — need it just like that, fuck!” His sentences don’t even make sense to him anymore, the words barely registering.
What he does register is Jabber lapping at the side of his foot until he catches the blonde’s attention. His mouth envelopes his big toe, suckling on it experimentally.
“Yer so fuckin’ gross,” he pants out, even though he just felt himself get ten times wetter at the sight, “can’t believe you.”
The dreadhead ceases his sucking in place of leaving small bites to the side of that same foot, “Better believe it, baby. Love every single bit of yo ass.”
Zanka wants to claw at himself from the inside at the sound of that word. Love. He knew it wasn’t like that between them. Jabber was a genius who had the potential to leave a shitty town like this. Zanka was a nobody who had to work hard just to barely reach impressive. They weren’t the same.
But he could still indulge, couldn’t he?
“Hah — mhm. Love — love this dick. Love it s’much.” The words are slurred together, but still have all the same effect. With Jabber’s brows furrowed with another level of concentration, his thrusts became heavier, more precise.
The stretch in his hips from how firmly he was being held down was making him drool, furthermore increasing the climbing pressure in his stomach. Every single push had that feeling building higher and higher, setting Zanka on that dangerous edge.
Jabber must be able to notice this as well due to the deafening squelch. His cunt leaks slick from his previous orgasms and only adds to the mess of creaminess that collects on his cock.
Amused eyes flicker down between the two of them, speed never letting up, “You gon’ be messy for me? Let it allll out, hm?” His thumb comes down to stroke over his clit, albeit choppy with his own stuttered breathing. It still gets the job done.
Zanka’s breath catches in his throat, neck barred and displaying the deep purple that had already been left there. His thighs shook with the promise of yet another orgasm that he didn’t even think was possible. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes as the undenying pressure and Jabber’s blabbing wouldn’t cease.
He could tell that the older man was nearing his end as well, if the tightness in his jaw was any dictation. He spoke the filthiest things to Zanka, anything to teeter him over the edge, make him act out, saying something back.
The blonde was doing well holding back his words, only letting out stray moans and cries until Jabber ultimately had to ruin it all, attacking him where he’s most weak.
“So fuckin’ good for me, letting this pussy get dug out like this,” Zanka’s body quite literally locked up at this, foot clocking Jabber in the side of his head, “gonna keep being a good boy for me?”
He can’t reply quicker, a series of yes and please spilling from kiss bruised lips.
“Then lemme see it. Give Daddy that squirt.”
And Zanka is gone.
His entire body freezes as his final orgasm hits, wracking him from head to toe. It’s so strong that it practically forces Jabber out in a wet plop as his sheets and comforter get ruined in the spray. It reaches everywhere from his thighs to Jabber’s toned stomach, wetting the faint happy trail there. He’s shivering like crazy and can barely see through the tears, but registers the dreadhead yanking the condom off and stroking himself over the blonde’s stomach.
He watches his face pinch in pleasure, bringing a hand up to guide their lips together. They move together fluidly until Zanka pulls away to mutter, attempting to talk the other through his nut.
“C’mon, I need it,” his fingers leave his cheek in favor of tugging at his hair, eliciting a sharp hiss, “please, Daddy. Lemme have it.” The last part is punctuated with a bite of his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and that’s what does him in. He’s spilling milky ropes all over Zanka’s half-exposed torso as he groans into the other’s mouth.
They take their time catching their breath, Jabber having collapsed into a heap of dead weight onto the blonde.
“Get… off o’ me. Yer fat.” Zanka grumbles, poking fingers into the older man’s ribs. The brown skinned man peels himself off of his body like a sticker before flopping down next to him.
He lets out an exasperated sigh, “Really tryna wear me out, Zan-Zan?”
The blonde scoffs, “Ya can’t even say that. I’m pretty sure I just lost, like, two gallons of water from my body.”
Jabber pauses and hums at that before springing up and out of the room, butt ass naked.
Zanka would normally yell at him, but he honestly doesn’t have the energy for that right now.
He’s pleasantly surprised to find the dreadhead reentering the room with a damp washcloth and a bottle of water. He passes it to the younger and he drinks wordlessly as he works at cleaning him up.
The moment is soft, Zanka notices the tender expression on the other’s face as he dutifully wipes him down from all of the body fluids. He’s never felt so comfortable in his own skin around somebody like this. It’s almost like they were made to be exposed to each other, bones and guts could be spilling from the other and they’d still look on in awe.
“Never thought you’d be the one to like all’at ‘Daddy’ shit.”
Yup. Moment ruined.
Zanka nearly chokes on his water at the comment before quickly putting up his defenses and kicking Jabber in his side.
“That ain’t fair. You said it first!” He says, definitely not pouting.
Jabber only shrugs, brushing a few strand locs from his face, “Was testin’ a theory.”
“And what theory was that?” He mumbles, arms crossed over his sweater clad chest.
“I’m afraid that’s a secret for Daddy.” He replies smugly.
Zanka drags both hands down his face hard enough to promise him wrinkles in the near future, “Get the fuck outta my room.” He says it with complete seriousness.
Jabber immediately back tracks, embracing the younger in a playful hug from where he’s sitting, “Nah, ‘m just playin’, Z! Y’know I miss you too much to leave you.”
He lets the words sink in deeper than they should. And he doesn’t know if it's the post-sex that makes him say it or just him being a complete idiot.
“Why didn’t ya tell me?” He mumbles into the dreadhead’s shoulder.
The mood shifts between them and for a moment Zanka believes he had officially gone and fucked everything up. Jabber was going to shove himself away and go back to college and never want to talk to him again which should be a good thing but not speaking to the older man almost feels like a punishment.
But instead, he answers him with all the honesty and sentimentality in the world.
“Mm, didn’t want you to be mad.”
Zanka’s awkwardly groomed brows pinch at that. And for a moment he actually feels angry. Fucking furious.
“Yeah? Well how’d ya think I felt when you just left without saying absolutely nothin’ to me?”
Jabber’s silent for a moment. There’s nothing to explain. He left. That’s it.
“Yeah,” he replies, “‘m sorry. That was a dick move.”
Zanka only hums in response, not having the emotional capacity to be dishing out forgiveness right now. But he can deepen the embrace. He straightens himself up to fully hug the other, even situating himself into his lap. His nose settles in the crook of his neck, smelling the musk of sweat, sex, and the incense burning in his room.
Then, since he’s already on the roll of saying dumb shit tonight, “I — I want ya to stay. Or, take me with ya.” He can feel the other’s heart speed up at the offer, and decides to take that as a good thing.
Jabber begins to nibble at his exposed neck again, “Don’t worry. When I can, I will.”
The blonde would ask for more clarification if he wasn’t so caught up in how his mouth worked over his neck, tongue pressing into the bruises that were already there, making him squirm in his place.
He’s so caught up, in fact, that he does not even hear the shut of the front door until a familiar voice is breaking them both out of their trance. Enjin.
“Yo, Zanka! You home?”
Shit.