the anatomy of love [BxB] COMPLETED

14

Jackson got his first A on a Calculus quiz, and he figures it's time to celebrate. He invites Caleb and Lauren, and extends an olive branch to Hunter by asking if he's free to join them at the normal club. Hunter doesn't respond, but Jackson shrugs it off. His loss.

The lights of the club's sign burn bright against the Friday night sky, slightly cloudy from the recent weather. Caleb and Lauren hesitantly begin to flirt again, thanks to Jackson's intervention. He's torn between regret as the third wheel again, and pride when he catches the small smiles on their faces when they talk with each other.

Jackson tries to shake off that familiar slithering loneliness that creeps into his chest as he follows them into the club, allowing the heavy music to cloak him like a warm hug from a friend that's always there for him.

He tries, but he's just not in it. Caleb and Lauren fail to notice his dampening mood, and it only gets worse as they order some shots.

"We're going to dance, want to join?" Caleb half shouts into his ear. Jackson smiles and shakes his head.

"No man, she's all yours. I'll scout the area. Probably won't come home tonight." And as Jackson says it, he feels the loneliness burrow further within him, making itself at home and sucking all the life out of him.

He wants to go home. I should go home, Jackson thinks as he downs another shot. I should go home and watch a movie and sleep and not get wasted and wake up in a random apartment—

"Jackson." Hunter sits beside him at the bar. Jackson feels his head spin and he dips towards Hunter before finding his balance again. Ah, too late.

"You came!"

Hunter looks at him with a grimace, or maybe a smirk, he can't tell anymore. "Yes, but I'm starting to regret it. Drunk already? You really need help."

"Hey! You should get drunk too, then we can fuck and throw sparkles every where," Jackson says, and he whispers the last part and leans in, brushing his knuckles against the smooth fabric on Hunter's leg. He looks down and gasps.

"Don't," Hunter warns, but his tone has gone playful and Jackson knows he's got him right where he wants him. Jackson looks down at the long silky skirt that falls down to Hunter's ankles.

"Are you wearing a skirt?" Jackson asks, and he wants to say it teasingly but there's nothing really funny about it anymore, because Jackson has an idea and they have to try it now. He takes Hunter's arm.

"What are you doing?" Hunter asks. "I haven't even had a drink yet."

Jackson pulls him close and bunches some of the skirt up with his fingers.

"I need you. This skirt—" Jackson's voice almost breaks and he licks his lips which taste like lime and Hunter follows the movement and lets Jackson lead him to the bathroom and into a stall with no other word of protest.

"Jackson," Hunter whispers, but stops when Jackson drops to his knees and holds both of Hunter's slim, bare ankles.

"I like this skirt," Jackson says, hearing Hunter breathe sharply as he slides his hands up, the skirt riding up with him. Then he ducks his head under the fabric and everything's dark except he can make out that Hunter has nothing on underneath and he closes his eyes and finds Hunter by touch, already hard, and Jackson doesn't hesitate.

☆★☆

An alarm blares loudly and Hunter swears crisply and viciously, despite having been in a deep sleep only a moment before. He shrugs Jackson's arm off.

"Wake up asshole and shut up that stupid fucking alarm."

Without lifting his head, Jackson fumbles in the dark for his phone. The alarm ceases, then starts up again, somehow louder and more urgent.