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There’s one thing you need to know about Jesper Fahey – he’ll do just about anything for money.
Kaz knows this more than anyone, sending him on not-always-legal errands he knows the man can’t refuse. Most of the time, Jesper can’t even be bothered arguing with him about it; as long as the cash sits in his hand and he stays out of prison, the details are really none of this business.
Like agreeing to drive across two states with a stranger to pick up ‘a parcel’. Maybe Jesper would've been more skeptical if it was anyone but Kaz – unfortunately, he isn’t surprised in the least.
More interesting, perhaps, is the notion of the ‘stranger’, and the looming promise of a whole day of driving. Will they talk to me at all? Will they like me? Will I like them? They better enjoy showtunes or we’re gonna have a problem…
Leaning casually against his car, waiting for his mystery partner, one final question pops into his head. Will they be hot?
The thought immediately dissipates when he sees the man walking towards him. His red hair gleams in the sun, soft freckles offset by the hard, angry scowl of his mouth.
Wylan Van fucking Eck. Jesper thinks about climbing into the car just so he can run him over.
Saying that Wylan and Jesper have serious beef, as Nina puts it, is an understatement. Every conversation is laced with passive aggressive (or sometimes just aggressive) bickering, insults hurled like they’re in an active warzone. They sabotage each other’s plans, steal each other’s dates, spread rumours just to rile each other up.
Jesper honestly can’t even remember how it started anymore. Maybe it never started – maybe it’s something that’s always simply existed in the world.
So the last thing Jesper wants to do is spend a whole day stuck in a car with him.
“Kaz left this little gem out for you too, didn’t he?” Wylan huffs, shoving Jesper aside without waiting for an answer to slide into the passenger seat. By the time Jesper opens his own door, Wylan is already glaring at him, arms crossed. “Let’s just get this over with so I can get paid.”
“You’re not going to complain?”
“Oh I’m going to complain,” Wylan chuckles, “but Kaz doesn’t give a shit. Anyway, I’m not going to let you ruin my ability to do this job.”
Jesper sets his phone on the dashboard, queuing up the Hairspray movie soundtrack – he swears he hears Wylan mutter something about Chicago under his breath, though he honestly doesn’t care enough to catch it. “Suit yourself…” he mutters, unbothered if Wylan is listening to him or not. “But this is going to be a terribly, terribly long ride.”
–
Barely five minutes into the drive, the pair had started arguing – honestly, that’s four minutes longer than Jesper had initially predicted.
They’d argued about every trivial, non-important thing two people could ever argue about: movies and tv shows, celebrities and sports, whether the chicken or the egg came first or if beans on toast technically counts as a soup or a sandwich. They’d spent a good half an hour on the topic of chocolate, Wylan standing firm on his Reeses Take 5 stance and Jesper fighting back angrily with his argument for Hershey's Kisses.
As they approach the gas station, (My saviour fucking grace, Jesper thinks) the argument turns to the music.
“We established this, Wylan, I’m driving so I get to pick the album. The Heathers OBC is objectively the best cast recording-”
“That’s so stupid! Have you not heard Jamie’s J.D.? Beats out Ryan’s any day, easy-”
“You’re wrong, but what else is new. Next you’re gonna tell me that You’re Welcome is better than Blue…” Jesper waits for his response, his quip, but Wylan goes silent. “You’re joking, right?”
“Blue is so gross and-”
“So is You’re Welcome! That’s the point!” At the parking bay, Jesper shuts off the engine with a sigh. “You’re driving the next leg, so technically you’re on music, but I swear to the Saints if I hear even the suggestion of the West End cast recording I’ll-”
“Yeah, yeah.” Wylan rolls his eyes, climbing out of the car. Jesper watches him go, his hair blowing softly in the wind, his strut almost cute across the pavement. If I didn’t hate his guts, maybe Wylan Van Eck could be cute.
He shakes his head harshly, expelling the thought. Maybe this car trip is driving you insane, after all.
When they’ve filled up and switched seats, Jesper settling cosily into the passenger side, something hard hits him in the middle of his face, falling onto his lap. “You’re welcome,” Wylan adds, monotone as he connects his phone to the stereo. A little dazed and definitely confused, Jesper looks down at the small plastic package.
It’s a small bag of Hershey’s Kisses. Just like- Jesper tries not to think about what that could mean. Instead, he does the thing he does best… Annoy the living Saints out of Wylan.
It starts without even trying, with Jesper shifting restlessly in his seat and clicking his fingers. He hums along to the music, clicking his tongue, fiddling with the plastic bag in his lap. Wylan’s shoulders visibility tense, as if he’s trying to ignore him, though it doesn’t appear to be working.
Finally, as Jesper begins to tap his knuckle against the window, Wylan breaks. “Will you stop that!” he shouts, surprised by his own volume.
Jesper only smirks, amused by how engrossed Wylan seems to be on the road, refusing to look at him. “Am I distracting you?” he asks, layering a falsely saccharine sweetness into his voice.
Wylan draws in a deep breath, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s just fi- WHYYYYY DOES MY HEARTT CRYY!” he belts, turning the volume dial up to, drowning out Wylan’s complaints. “FEEELINGSSS I CAAAAAN’T FIGHT!”
“Jesper, shut the fuck up-”
“YOU’RE FREE TO LEEEAVE ME BUT JUST DON’T DECEIVE MEEEE-”
“Jesper I’ll crash this car-”
“AND PLEASE BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAYYYYY IIIIIIII LOVE YOUUUUU!”
By the time Wylan finally figures out how to turn off the music, somehow managing to refrain from crashing the car at the same time, Jesper’s solo is over. He looks over at Wylan, smug. “What, no applause?” Wylan ignores him. “No?” He starts slowly clapping for himself, exaggerating the movement to make sure that even the peripherals of Wylan’s vision can see him. “You know, it’s rude not to clap when everyone else i-”
Wylan’s hand flings out, catching Jesper by surprise as it slaps against his mouth. He doesn’t move, even though he knows perfectly well that he could. Wylan doesn’t move, either, which is possibly even stranger. His hand just sits there, silencing him and pressing his head against the seat.
Naturally, when he comes to his senses, Jesper acts upon his first impulse. Naturally, that involves sticking out his tongue and licking Wylan’s hand.
He expects Wylan to pull away quickly, to yell at him, to start another argument… But Wylan doesn’t move at all. Jesper presses his tongue against his hand again, hoping for a reaction, but still, nothing.
Fine, he smirks to himself. Two can play at this game.
Jesper swirls his tongue lazily on Wylan’s palm, suctioning his mouth on the skin. He pulls off slowly, turning his face in order to access even more of Wylan’s hand, trailing his hand along his fingers, his nails. It’s only when he takes two of Wylan’s fingers into his mouth, sucking on them tightly, that he hears a catch of breath from the driver’s seat.
He almost misses it when Wylan’s hand pulls away. Still, it’s easy for him to switch it off, tuning seamlessly back into his natural demeanor; irritating and teasing.
“Enjoy that?” he asks, winking at Wylan, whose cheeks look distinctly pinker than they did before. “Was I… distracting you?”
Wylan gulps, eyes still fixed to the road. “No.”
“Right.” Another idea pops into Jesper’s head and, again, he acts on it without thinking, sliding his hand smoothly across the centre console. It reaches Wylan’s knee and, ever so gently, Jesper squeezes the soft flesh of his lower thigh. “What about now?”
Knuckles whitening on the wheel again, Wylan shakes his head. “No.”
Jesper’s hand slides further up his thigh, nails digging ever-so-slightly into the sensitive skin beneath the fabric of his jeans. With one finger he draws circles, sweeping gently along the inside of his legs. “What about n-”
“You need to stop that right now or I-”
“Or?”
His grin shakes as the car swerves sharply, pulling to the side of the road. Wylan turns off the engine with much more aggression than is probably necessary, eyes squinted shut. Jesper’s hand squeezes one more time around his thigh.
Finally, Wylan looks at him, fire burning behind his eyes. “Jesper.”
“Yes?” he beams, turning his head to the side.
“Get in the back seat.”
The words hit him like a lead truck, barely even registering in his brain before his body moves of its own accord, clambering out the door. He half-expects Wylan to lock him out of the car, surprised when he not only lets him in but, too, doesn’t budge from the front seat.
Instead, Wylan just smiles at him, flashing his teeth. “Good boy,” he winks. It affects Jesper way more than he’s willing to admit, mouth flopping open like a fish, his words caught in his throat.
After what feels like forever, but might’ve just been a few excruciating seconds, Wylan breaks, scrambling out of the car and into the backseat, right onto Jesper’s lap. His lips are on his in seconds, hands tangling in Jesper’s hair while Jesper’s find themselves gripping Wylan’s waist.
Their kiss is quick to deepen, tongues practically down each other's throats as Jesper tries to pull him closer, tries to taste every inch of his mouth. Who knew the mouth of a serial shittalker could feel this good, he laughs to himself, smiling into the kiss.
“Something funny?” Wylan asks, pulling away. His hands stay in Jesper’s hair, gently tugging it backwards to keep his head pressed against the seat, looking up at him. When he doesn’t answer, engrossed in the feeling of Wylan’s hands against his scalp, Wylan’s eyes light up, an idea forming behind them.
Slowly, just as Jesper had done, he moves his hands to Jesper’s thighs, sliding them slowly up towards his hips. He doesn’t stop there, though, slipping his thumb beneath the button of Jesper’s jeans and popping it, tugging the zipper down and-
“Fuck…” Jesper moans, entranced by the way Wylan’s eyelashes bat delicately up at him. He can feel himself tensing against his boxers, agonisingly visible beneath the jeans that are already being pulled halfway down his hips.
Wylan’s hands are on his stomach next, unbothered by Jesper’s growing noises beneath him as he trails up his bare stomach, bunching the fabric of his t-shirt as he goes. Jesper gets a faceful of Wylan’s hair as he leans down to his skin, kissing at the centre of his chest as he pulls the shirt the rest of the way off.
Sitting back to admire his work, Wylan purses his lips, nodding. “Good?”
So fucking good, Jesper wants to say, but something else pushes its way out of his mouth instead; something that’s been swimming around his head ever since Wylan looked at him like that. “Don’t you hate me?” he blurts.
Wylan hums, considering the question. “Yes.”
“Oh.” To be honest, Jesper isn’t sure what he wanted to hear.
“So do you want me to continue or not?”
Instead of responding Jesper pulls him down, hand tight at the nape of Wylan’s neck as he pulls him into another messy kiss. His other hand works quickly at Wylan’s own clothes, pants unbuckled before his shirt even hits the car floor.
Only now, with two layers of thin fabric the only thing separating them, does Wylan grind down and Saints, is it fantastic. Wylan rolls his hips slowly, forehead against Jesper’s and arm braced above his head, drawing out embarrassing strings of noises from Jesper’s throat. He feels Wylan’s own curses against his skin, breath hot as he rides harder into Jesper’s thigh.
Lost in the moment, Jesper almost forgets why he finds Wylan so irritating, cock aching at the mere thought of him. “Wylan, shit, touch me…” he breathes, rocking his hips. “I need…”
“Say please.”
Now Jesper remembers.
Unfortunately for him, the horny desperation of his body outweighs his pride. “Please,” he huffs, cursing his gullibility.
Wylan ceases his movement, lifting his hips away from Jesper’s. “What was that?”
Dignity already gone, Jesper plays into the act, letting his eyes roll into the back of his head dramatically. “Please, Wylan, please touch my cock, please I-”
He’s cut off as Wylan’s hand palms against him through his boxers, smirking. “Ah, so that’s how I can shut you up… Good to know…”
“Bite me,” Jesper quips back.
“Gladly…” Wylan latches onto his neck without missing a beat, nipping into Jesper’s skin as his hand continues to press against his crotch. His mouth draws a path around his jawline, ending with a sharp bite on his earlobe before he pulls his mouth away.
Jesper can only look up at him in awe. He’s so beautiful, so perfect, so… He finds himself hating Wylan even more.
And then Wylan actually touches his cock.
It’s an explosion of feeling, gunshot and prairie fire. Where do I know that from? he wonders briefly, before the slide of Wylan’s perfect fingers down the length of his cock consumes his entire capacity for thought. His movements are slow, wrist flicking so perfectly at the tip that Jesper can’t help but gasp, curses tumbling from his mouth.
Some part of his brain is still switched on, however, the part that dives his fingers into Wylan’s boxers, pulling out his already-leaking cock. Wylan shudders as he rolls the pads of his fingers against the tip, his grip on Jesper faltering.
But only for a moment.
Repositioning their hips, Wylan pulls them closer, pressing their cocks together in the space between them. His hand slides along the both of them, the sensation of skin overwhelming Jesper’s feeling of everything.
He tries to keep up, he really does try, but he finds himself utterly at the whim of Wylan above him. His hand seems to pale in comparison to the strength of Wylan’s, humping his thigh as he continues to stroke the both of them off. He knows exactly what Jesper needs, exactly what makes him feel good.
“It doesn’t feel li- are you sure you still hate me?” Jesper manages his last-ditch effort to remain smug as he falls apart beneath Wylan’s will.
“One hundred percent, next question.”
“It certainly doesn’t feel like it…”
Wylan finds his ear again, nibbling gently at the lobe. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” he whispers, breath tickling Jesper’s skin. As if to make his point, Wylan’s hand speeds up – Jesper’s only response to that, one he knows he’ll regret later, is to whimper.
The response does something to Wylan, his head falling backwards and his grip tightening. “Fuck, Jesper, I might not- I’m g-”
Jesper can feel it too, like a kettle boiling at the base of his stomach, close to breaking point. “If you get cum in my car, I’ll kill you,” he chuckles, gripping hard into Wylan’s waist to keep him steady as they both approach their peak.
Wylan snorts. “You’re the one who started this in the first pla- Shit, I’m go- Oh fuck-”
His release comes as a surprise, but Jesper works him through it gladly. He grips onto Wylan’s hand as the finger on their cocks slip, body already reeling at the energy that releases from his body all at once. It’s the picture of Wylan – a flustered, breathless, moaning mess above him – that sets Jesper over the edge, coming into their hands as they stroke each other through their orgasms.
Forehead once again pressed to Wylan’s, Jesper feels like he may never come down from this high; when he does, however, his memories of Wylan all come running back to him.
“Did I really just do that?” he murmurs to himself, extremely aware of Wylan’s naked draped across his own. It feels kind of nice. Wait, no-
But it does. They lie together in something like bliss, panting, lost in the pleasure of each other. When Wylan sits up, however, the same realisation seems to hit him, too. “Did I really just-”
“Yeah.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Jesper I swear to fucking Ghezen if you tel-” Raising his hand, Wylan seems to forget it’s covered in not just his own, but both of their release. He pauses, as if his brain is rerouting its course of action.
Then, Wylan smirks, moving to wipe his hand on the-
No. He. Fucking. Doesn’t.
Jesper grabs his wrist with lightning reflexes, holding too tightly as he glares deep into Wylan’s eyes, into his soul. He’s still trying to find some witty remark when Wylan opens his mouth, shifting his fingers beneath Jesper’s grip to his lips, licking his hand clean. He keeps eye contact the entire time, batting those gorgeous fucking eyelashes right at him.
It might be one of the hottest things Jesper has ever seen, if he hadn’t just experienced the whirlwind of confusing, angry, amazing sex in the backseat of his care. Still, he begs himself the question: Now what?
Wylan seems to read his mind, pulling up his pants and fishing his shirt out from where it’s crumpled under the seat. Instead of helping Jesper, or even speaking at all, he climbs off of him, already out the door and back into the driver’s seat before Jesper registers the weight off of his lap.
He looks at Jesper with a vague annoyance. “Hurry up, we’ve got a job to do.” Jesper knows that he can see his confused expression, still processing the image of Wylan’s hand wrapped around his cock, his mouth leaning down to his ear and-
“If you get your shit together and we get there early I’ll give you the best blowjob of your Ghezen-forsaken life.”
Jesper Fahey moves very quickly after that.