Jake’s grin edges on cocky, smug, and it drives David crazy, not in a good way.

“I want to blow you,” David gets out, trying to regain control of the conversation. His voice comes out even, though it wants to crack, and he takes satisfaction in the way Jake’s smile drops right off, fingers clenching on the wheel.

“Yeah?” Jake asks. David doesn’t know if he’s imagining the car speeding up or not. Probably not. Jake’s not exactly a safe driver at the best of times, is pretty much the epitome of why teenage boys pay more for car insurance.

“And then I want to fuck you,” David says, quiet, feels like his face is on fire, but it’s worth it, watching Jake’s face flush red, thinking of Jake driving back to Detroit tomorrow still feeling it.

“Yeah,” Jake says, unsteady. “Yeah, we can do that.”

*

David sucks Jake off in the front hall, which feels like déjà vu. He remembers feeling humiliated, furious, knees sore on the hardwood floor, trying to unbalance Jake as much as Jake effortlessly unbalanced him. This time there’s no real goal except to make Jake’s legs shake, to have his fingers clench in David’s hair, for him to flood David’s mouth, salt bitter.

Jake’s back to halfway hard by the time David has two fingers in him, sprawled out on his bed, shorts left back in the hallway and his t-shirt shoved up his chest. David watches the muscles of his stomach jump when David curls his fingers against his prostate, fascinated by how responsive he is, until Jake grabs him by the shoulder and hauls him in for a kiss, biting down on David’s lip when David’s nudging a third finger in, Jake stretched tight around his knuckles.

David takes his time, despite the fact he wants Jake to shift in the driver’s seat tomorrow, feeling it, despite the way his cock’s smearing the inside of his briefs with pre-come, balls drawn up tight.

He finger fucks Jake until Jake’s as hard as David is, dripping onto his own belly, mumbling, “C’mon, c’mon, David,” against David’s mouth until David can’t take it, pulls his fingers out, fumbling with a condom and trying not to look at Jake, feet planted on the bed, hole slick and open, because he’s afraid he’ll come before he can get inside him.

He doesn’t, but he doesn’t exactly last long either, close to tipping over the edge as soon as he’s pushing into the tight clutch of Jake’s body, Jake’s fingers curling around his bicep, just shy of bruising, his mouth red and wet and half-open, looking used.

David braces himself on one elbow, gets a hand around Jake where he’s nudging against David’s abs, and the only thing that keeps him from shooting in a minute flat is focusing on trying to make Jake come first, to get him to clench tight around David’s cock, wrench the orgasm out of him.

It feels like a blow when Jake comes, but in a good way, Jake’s eyes squeezed shut and every muscle of his body gone tense, the look on his face objectively stupid, but in a way David kind of likes despite himself.