Making It Right

The hall is almost empty; random trash and spare boxes decorates it now, not the magazine cutouts that the RA had posted all semester. Nearly everyone has moved out; there are only a few classes left with finals to take, so nearly all the students have gone.

David hasn't gone, though. Jack knows that. Being on a freshman hall after a year of living off campus instead of in a dorm is bizarre, and he tries to convince himself that's why this feels so odd. The butterflies in his stomach and the lump in his throat are the hall, he decides, and not the fact that he and David haven't spoken since March.

Or rather, not the fact that he hasn't been brave enough to talk to David since March, and David has been kind enough to just let him go. But Jack doesn't wantto be let go. He wants to make things right. So he takes a deep breath and knocks on the door of David's room.

"'S open," David calls from inside, and Jack can picture him; he probably hasn't looked up from what he's studying. He probably expects someone else from one of his classes, looking for a study partner, or maybe the RA coming to find out when he's leaving. But Jack knows for sure David won't expect him.

He opens the door. David is reading and glances up boredly, then does a double take.

"Hey," Jack says.

"Hey," David echoes. He hesitates, then looks back at his book. "What's up?" he adds, no longer looking at Jack.

"Just... You know. Bored. I don't move out until the weekend, so..."

"Oh." David says it tonelessly; Jack is sure David knows he wouldn't have trekked all the way across campus on a random whim, that a visit to a freshman dorm has to be deliberate.

"So... What's up?" Jack asks, desperate to make conversation, wishing David would look up at him. He slips his shoes off, because David is a neat freak and he doesn't want to track up the place with spring mud.

"Finals," David answers.

"Yeah? Which—"

"Chem tomorrow, Hebrew the day after. Look, I'm kinda busy, so..."

Jack nods. So get out, David means. And it's probably true; he's a studious guy who probably isn't going to eat or sleep until he's finished for the semester, just sit there at his desk, book or flashcards in front of him, drilling the knowledge so deep into his head it's like a reflex by the time he actually takes the test.

"Okay." Jack shrugs. "I, uh, just wanted to stop by and all. To wish you a good summer."

"Thanks," David says distractedly, already back to his chemistry textbook, like Jack has already left the room.

But Jack doesn't leave. He knows he should, but he hasn't said what he came to say yet; he can say it and then leave David to his studying, but it needs to be said.

"I just... David, I'm real sorry about the... The dance. You know."

"Whatever, Jack. It's fine."

Jack somehow doesn't believe him that it's fine, but what can he do? And really, all Jack deserves is to be told to get out, he knows that; and he feels really bad about the dance. About what happened after...

Nice guys don't take advantage of freshman who've never been drunk before, he thinks. And Jack has always prided himself on being a nice guy, and what he did to David—or rather, convinced David to do to him—was inexcusable. David was drunk and didn't know what he was doing. Jack had just been so fucking horny and had the world's worst crush, and that was still no excuse, but...

David hadn't said no. But he was drunk. Jack had told himself at the time that David seemed willing enough, as he put a hand on David's shoulder and guided David down to his knees...

Jack shakes his head. It had been wrong of him; it had cost him anything he might have eventually had with David, who had sobered up the next day and, or so said the rumors, had been appalled. David hadn't had a drop since, Jack knew; and Jack, unable to face David, had stopped hanging out with their mutual friends when they might be together, had started getting meals when he knew David would be in class so they couldn't see each other in the cafeteria, and had stopped saying hi when he did see David in passing.

"Dave..."

David looks up at him. "What, Jack?" he demands testily. Not quite angry, but the words are clipped and annoyed. Like he's fighting to keep his real emotion in check.

"I really am sorry," Jack says lamely. Of course he knows that sorry won't make any difference, even if David believes him. Which he has no reason to.

"I don't have time for this," David answers. "I have finals."

Jack nods dumbly. "Okay... Yeah, okay. Just, if there's anyway I can make it up to you... I swear I'm a nice guy, Dave. I feel so fucking bad."

"Whatever."

"David—"

"You're a creep." David actually glares at him now.

"I—"

"Did you like it?" he demands suddenly.

Jack hangs his head slightly and doesn't answer. Because he did like it. "I... It's not like I..."

David stares him down.

He finally nods, ashamed. "But not because... It's not like I..."

"So you only took me to the after party for that, or what?"

"No!" The accusation stings, even though Jack understands where it comes from. "I wouldn't do that."

"No, but you'd get me drunk for sex and then ditch me once you had what you wanted." David's voice is cold and harsh, but Jack stares at him in shock, like he was slapped.

"That's not what happened."

"What was incorrect?" David demands. "You encouraged me to drink; you mixed my drinks. You asked for the blowjob as soon as I was drunk. And you haven't spoken a word to me since, so what the hell do you think happened?"

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me." Jack looks away from David, but knows David's gaze is still fixed on him, steely and cold. "I... I didn't even know what to say to you. I knew it was wrong, but Dave, you've got to believe that wasn't why I... Why I got you those drinks. I wasn't even thinking about that."

"I don't care."

"David—"

"I don't care, Jack. I gave you a blowjob, it's not like I'd never gone down on a guy before."

Jack doesn't gape at David, but he feels a little shocked. He hadn't realized David had done that before; David seemed so innocent. But he'd also seemed almost experienced, which Jack had assumed was natural talent, but...

"So if you don't care, why are you pissed at me?"

"Because you ditched me, you asshole!" David snaps, finally letting the anger go. "Because I liked you and I wanted you to like me too, or I wouldn't have done it even if I was drunk because it's not like I was so drunk I was brain dead. So I gave you the stupid blowjob because I figured we sort of had something, and then you stopped talking to me. That was low. If you just wanted head, you—" He stops abruptly, like he's said too much. "Anyway, I don't care."

"David, that's not what I—I thought you didn't want to talk to me, I heard you were pissed at me, I couldn't face you. I felt like such a creep that every time you looked at me I just wanted to go... Hide under a rock or something."

"You could have asked me." David's tone of voice is even more accusatory now than it was when he was ranting. Like Jack should have known it would be so easy...

"I should have..." Jack mumbles. "I just didn't know how."

"Yeah, well, your fuckup. Not mine. 'Cause every time I tried to talk to you, you ignored me."

"I'm sorry," Jack says for what feels like the fiftieth time. "I really liked you, David. I still... I still do. I wish I hadn't fucked it all up... That I could take it back."

"You can't take back half a semester of snubbing someone."

"I didn't—"

"I have to study, Jack."

Jack nods, and David turns back to his book, but Jack doesn't leave. He watches David read for a few seconds and takes in the details about David: the way he squints slightly in concentration and it makes his forehead wrinkle, the set of his jaw, the hint of his collar bone visible through his blue polo shirt.

Blue, like his eyes, Jack thinks. He wants to scream in frustration, because now he knows he did just the wrong thing and made the situation worse instead of better. Maybe he'd have been able to fix things if he'd talked to David, but now he'll never know, because now David doesn't even want to give him the time of day.

"David, wait, I—I want to make it right. I want to fix things."

"Good for you." David's back to not looking up from his reading.

"What do I have to do?" Jack demands, frustrated. "What's it going to take to make it up to you—to show how sorry I am about... About the whole thing."

"Nothing either of us wants."

Jack wonders what the hell that means, but continues desperately, "Just tell me, I'll do anything. I swear I—don't make me beg, David. Just tell me how to apologize."

"Would you?" David asks, not looking up, but his voice sounds vaguely interested now.

"Would I what?" Jack repeats. Make it up to him? Of course I would...

"Beg." David looks up, and looks almost... amused.

"I thought I was." Jack feels a little uncomfortable now. Begging is one thing; acknowledging that he's begging David for forgiveness is another thing. Almost humiliating. But I bet he felt humiliated when he thought I just... Used him. I did use him...

"Yeah, sure."

"David, I—"

"Why don't you beg on your knees, Jack? In front of me?"

Jack stares at him.

David smirks.

Jack can't tell if he's serious or not. He swallows; his throat is suddenly dry. Finally, he says, "Why don't you sit on the bed in front of me while I beg?"

He expects David to... He doesn't know what. React somehow. Maybe yell at him, or tell him to get out, or maybe even laugh. But David doesn't; David stands up, crosses the room to lock the door, and sits down on his bed. Legs spread.

Jack gapes, then nods, slowly. "Is that... Is that what you want from me?"

"Isn't that what you wanted from me? Isn't that fair?"

"I wanted to date you more than I wanted... More than I wanted anything else."

"Then you should have asked me for a date, not a blowjob."

"David—" He breaks off, then nods. "Is this gonna fix things?"

David shrugs nonchalantly. "Either it will and we'll both be happy, or it won't and I'll be happy."

"So where does that leave me?"

"I think what I said was on the floor in front of me."

Jack can't believe this is David talking—David had to be one of the nicest people he knew. And naive—or so Jack had thought. He never really thought David was capable of...

Of what? Jack wonders. I offered, hejust told me what he wants. At least he has the decency to be honest, upfront... Better than I managed.

So Jack hesitantly walks over to David's bed and kneels. The bed's a little bit low, but Jack can manage it, he knows. He almost isn't sure where to start, but finally just does. He unbuckles David's belt and button, unzips his fly. David shifts his weight to allow his pants to fall down his legs, and slips them off—he isn't wearing shoes, Jack notes vaguely, and glances back up David's leg, and from the opening in his boxers, Jack can see that David's dick is just starting to harden.

Suddenly unsure, as though this was the first time he'd done it, Jack hesitates. He's wanted David almost since they met, and sure, he's thought about going down on David before. But not like this. Not because David wants some kind of payback for a mistake...

But he's come this far, so ignoring the vague feeling of wrongness, Jack helps David out of his boxers, too, and braces himself with one hand on David's hip and one on the bed next to David, and leans down. He licks his lips before he actually tastes David, then runs his tongue over the head of David's cock, feeling the smoothness of the skin against the roughness of his own tongue. He swirls his tongue around the head a few more times, before actually closing his lips. David is getting harder now, Jack notes, as he begins to suck, just the head. David shifts slightly beneath him and Jack inhales through his nose, unable to tell if he's smelling or tasting David, or both.

Finally, Jack slides his mouth further up the shaft, and one of David's legs spasms slightly, momentarily, and Jack takes as deep a breath as he can manage through his nose, tries to relax his throat, and slides further up, feeling the veins and the slight ridge along the underside of David's cock. It's now smooth, and thicker than average (though not longer) and still getting firmer. Jack can't see it, but David is leaning back on his arms, and his hands are now clutching the bedspread so hard his knuckles are white. All Jack can really see from this angle is David's stomach; his chest if he glances up. But David's head is thrown back and his face is out of sight.

Jack hopes he's smiling, enjoying himself, but doesn't think so. David barely reacts as he slides back down the shaft, then up, working at a slow rhythm. His leg continues to occasionally twitch, when Jack's lips pass over a sensitive spot, but either David is very calm and still during sex, or he's not into this at all.

Eventually, Jack moves a hand from David's hip to the base of his erection, traces his thumb between David's balls and to the spot just behind them, which actually elicits a very quick, almost grudging groan. He begins to rub there as he sucks, still in a slow rhythm, but quickening until the tremble in David's leg is almost continuous and he's breathing heavily, almost panting, and Jack tastes a drop of pre-come—

--and then abruptly, David is sitting up, pushing Jack away from him. "Don't—" he anages, sounding strangled, and his expression anything but minutes away from an orgasm.

Jack searches his face for some clue as to what just happened, but David looks away, reaches for his boxers, fumbles and drops them, and finally picks them up and pulls them on hurriedly.

"David?" Jack asks quietly, as David climbs backwards on his bed until he's leaning with his back to the wall, and pulls his knees up to his chest. His face is flushed, he's breathing hard still, but it's like he's working had to control his breathing—not to breath lighter or easier, but to just control it.

"I'm sorry," David mumbles into his arm, where he's hiding his face. "I'm so sorry."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I—I just—I shouldn't have done that. Made you do that. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I was so angry but I'm just sorry and I—"

Jack realizes David is just going to keep repeating that over and over, and hesitantly—no, not hesitant, just awkwardly—he climbs on to the bed to sit near (though not quite close to) David.

"It's... It's all right."

"No." David shakes his head stubbornly, though all Jack can see is the shaking of curls over his arms. "It's not all right."

"David, it's fine. Really."

David looks up then, and he's biting his lip and looks like he's spending all of his energy on not crying. "I shouldn't have—I shouldn't—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Jack."

Jack gently puts a hand on David's elbow. "It's okay. Look at me, Dave. I'm fine. Look, see?"

David nods very slightly. "I'm sorry, Jack. I was angry, but I... That's no excuse."

"I didn't do anything I wasn't willing to," Jack says seriously.

"I shouldn't have asked you to. Two wrongs... Two wrongs don't make a right. I'm such a, a creep... I don't even know what I was thinking, I..."

Jack can't stand to listen to David talk like that anymore, because he feels kind of better knowing that David didn't just want head from him, that he can't even go through with whatever kind of revenge that was supposed to be. So he pulls David close to him and puts his arms around him, pats his back lightly. "David, everyone makes mistakes," he mumbled. "No harm done."

"But I—"

"Shhh. It's okay, Dave. It really is."

"I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven, okay? You really are."

David leans his head on Jack's shoulder and Jack rubs his back some more. "You are, too," he finally mumbles.

Eventually, David puts his arms around Jack, too, and clings to him. Jack can tell he's confused and scared, and murmurs in his ear, "No big deal, David. I... I was happy to, anyway."

"No you weren't."

"Well,uh, that's not quite the way I'd pictured it going... But I mean, I like you."

"I like you too," David says almost desperately. "That's why I was so... When you ditched me..."

"I really am sorry," Jack answered. "I really liked you, too. Still... Still do."

"Jack..."

"Shhh," Jack says again, and tilts his head slightly, and next thing he knows, he and David are kissing. But this isn't the same David who was glaring at him, this is everything he had thought kissing David ought to be. He and David had only kissed a few times, that night; Jack's hormones were overly insistent and David had found that hilarious at the time, so the kissing lead to other things, with no time for real foreplay.

David's lips are soft, and Jack wonders what kind of chapstick he uses, but his mouth is too busy to bother with speech. Instead, his tongue is exploring the inside of David's mouth, and David is returning the gesture, and even better, David's hands are running up and down his back, and it almost tickles, but it feels good. Very good.

When David pulls away, Jack is disappointed. But then David smiles at him. "So how did you picture it going?" David asks.

Jack blinks, and remembers what he's referring to, or at least, what he thinks David is referring to. "Oh. Well." Jack grins back at David, and David's hands are now rubbing his shoulders gently. "How much detail do you want?"

"Oh, lots."

"Well, uh..." Jack can't believe he's about to say these words out loud. Becausehe's a nice guy and all, but his fantasies are so insanely cutesy they're borderli ne ridiculous. "I guess... I guess I pictured getting back to my place after a dinner out one night... Uh... You know, and having flowers waiting..."

"Flowers?" David asks, sounding amused.

Jack feels himself blushing. "Shut up," he mumbles.

David leans over. "Keep talking," he murmurs in Jack's ear.

"Well, uh... Originally I was thinking maybe a bottle of wine, but you don't... You don't drink, so..."

David moves slightly so he's sitting behind Jack, giving him a full on back rub. Jack finds it kind of hard to talk. "So, I guess the wine is out..."

"Please tell me there were no candles involved."

Jack laughs a little guiltily. "And anyway... I wanted to start off by just... Just kissing you and kissing you... Kiss you all over, you throat, your shoulders, your..." He swallows hard. "Your chest..."

Abruptly, Jack realizes two things: David still has no pants on and is sitting close enough behind him that he can feel David's still half-hard erection; and two, David is now kissing his neck. He freezes up in reaction, but David just whispers for him to keep talking, then bites his earlobe gently. Jack opens his mouth to speak, but David's tongue darts inside his ear and he groans instead, and David chuckles.

"Uhhhh... Anyway... Uh..." Jack has lost his train of thought, because all he can think about is what David is doing, not what he dreamed of doing to David. "I wanted to, to work my way down your chest, kind of... teasing—"

David's hand creeps around his chest, and his fingers rub at one of Jack's nipples, which is easy to find because Jack's more turned on than he thinks is probably appropriate, and even through his shirt the feeling of David's fingers sets off shivers of pleasure, which shoot down his body and straight to his pelvis. He has to shift slightly and force himself to keep his mind on what he's saying.

"Undo your fly—"

David pinches his nipple and he whimpers. "With your teeth?" David suggests, smiling into Jack's shoulder.

"Whose fantasy is this, mine or yours?" Jack answers.

"I haven't decided yet." And with that, David's hand drops to Jack's crotch.

The next noise Jack makes is definitely not English. It's not even words. But finally he manages to form coherent thoughts again and tries to start speaking. "Undo your fly with my teeth if it makes you happy—"

"It does," David purrs in his ear, and starts kissing his neck.

"—and slip your boxers off, and—uuuuuuuuuuuh, David..."

David's hand is now rhythmically sliding up and down the outside of Jack's jeans, and Jack is confused—pleased, but confused.

"What were you going to do when my boxers were off?" David prompts.

"I can't think when you're doing that..." Jack says in a voice that's almost a wine.

"You want me to stop?"

"No!" Jack yelps, a little more vehement than he meant. "I mean... Uh... You should only... Only do it if you really, really want to..."

David doesn't say anything, but his hand hasn't stopped moving, and Jack's jeans are starting to feel restrictive in a bad way. He wants to loosen them—or take them off—but he doesn't want to seem like he wants David to do anything David might not want to, so he tries to start talking again.

"Uhhh... Yeah, get your boxers off and then... Uh... Well, you can guess."

"I bet I can," David says, and Jack feels David unzip his fly and undo the button of his jeans, and Jack is more than happy to shimmy out of them. It feels almost like breathing again to have his erection free of restriction—until David's hand grasps it, and then he can't catch his breath at all.

"David..." Jack mumbles, as David begins to tug at the shaft, his hand creating all sorts of wonderful friction as it slides up and down the length. David's other hand slips over Jack's chest and begins toying with his nipple again, but after a few moments David is irritated with Jack's shirt and begins to tug it off. Catching the hint easily, and happy to do anything to encourage David, Jack helps pull it off and now is sitting around in only his underwear and socks, getting a handjob from someone who, ten minutes ago, was unspeakably angry at him.

He wonders how this happened, but doesn't object any. David licks his thumb and forefinger and twists Jack's nipple until he whimpers, partially from the ache and partially from the pleasure it creates.

David kisses his neck again, and then whispers in his ear, "Did you ever fantasize about anything else?"

"Uh..." Jack can barely think; all the blood in his body is rushing somewhere that definitely isn't his brain. "Like... Like what...?"

"Like sex," David answers. "Like lying face down on my bed and having me inside you."

"Not... Not exactly," Jack pants, his voice breaking, because David's hand hasn't stopped yet.

"You wanna try it anyway?"

Jack nods, and David releases him. "Take your boxers off," he says, and slides off the bed. Jack turns to watch David as he does so, leaving them on a heap on the floor, like the rest of his clothes. He watches in fascination as David strips off his shirt, his socks, and finally his boxers, the sight of David naked unconsciously sending his hand to his own cock. He continues to watch as David reaches into his top dresser drawer and rummages around, and Jack's heartbeat speeds up as he sees David produce a condom and a small tub of Vaseline.

"You couldn't use Astroglide like everyone else?"

"I bought it for my lips," David answers distractedly, opening the condom. Jack nods; now he knows why David's lips didn't taste like chapstick. "Not my fault it has..." David pauses mid sentence, his hand sliding over his own cock for a few seconds. "...Has other uses," he finally finishes, setting the Vaseline down so he can slide the condom into place.

Jack starts to wonder just how experienced David actually is, but the thought is cut off as David joins him on the bed again, nudging his side. "All fours," he says.

Jack obeys unthinkingly, rolling over and propping himself up on his hands and knees. He glances back over his shoulder and sees David kneeling between his legs, twisting the top off of the Vaseline, and then using several fingers to scoop a generous amount out and setting it aside. Jack can't see the next part, but he feels it clearly; the cool gel on his ass, David's fingers applying it—teasing him, he realizes, and moans, shifting slightly to emphasize what he wants.

David surprises him, though. He leans down and quickly runs his tongue along the line he'd been coating—further, over the sensitive spot. Jack's body convulses and it takes all of his will power to keep himself propped up, as David's tongue probes at his body. But then David straightens up again, Jack feels with dismay—but then Vaseline-coated fingers are where his tongue was, first one and then two, pushing inside.

Jack moans; it hurts, but it hurts in such an amazing way it barely registers as pain at all. He tells himself to relax and tries to loosen all his muscles. Some of the pain dims, though David's fingers are doing the most amazing things... And then the fingers are gone, and Jack feels the latex of the condom and the head of David's cock pressing close to him, though not in yet; David pauses, and then adds more Vaseline.

And then he presses forward.

Jack wonders what happened to his bones, because he could swear there's nothing holding him up; his elbows start to buckle and give out and David loses his balance slightly, sliding forward and father in. This is not an entirely bad thing, though. He places a kiss on the small of Jack's back, and helps tug him back into position, and begins to pull out slightly. His hands creep up Jack's sides and he slides out, and then partially back in; the ring of muscles protest as he slides past, but Jack does his best to will them to loosen.

He forgets how to even do that as one of David's hands slides down his side and to his front; it's the one that's got Vaseline on it still, and David grasps his very erect cock. His hand slides up and down it easily and Jack starts to go weak again; he isn't sure if he should concentrate on not letting his elbows give out or on not coming.

In the end, he compromises and falls down to his elbows, slightly better able to support himself from that angle. David adjusts to it and begins to thrust faster, no longer pulling all the way out, but now pushing deeper. Jack's moan is almost continuous, aside from long panted inhalations, and holding on is getting harder and harder...

David thrusts all the way in, and then again, and on the third full thrust hits Jack's g-spot, as a Vaseline coated finger runs up the ridge at the bottom of Jack's dick, and Jack loses all control. Red and black dance in front of his eyes and he's breathing too heavily to even moan as he comes. It's all he can do to stay in the position so David can continue to his own climax, and takes a will power he doesn't know he has.

His muscle tighten again against his will and David gasps sharply, as if in pain, but it's not pain, Jack realizes. He feels David's cock twitch slightly inside of him, feels the condom filling, and hears David let out a long, satisfied exhalation.

David pulls out, and Jack collapses on his stomach on David's bed, feeling the stickiness below him but not caring. David rolls off of him and sits against the wall, and it's a long time before either one of them moves.

"So..." Jack finally says, rolling over and observing how beautiful David is, sitting perfectly still, naked and sweating.

"Yeah," David answers, sounding kind of out of it. "I should..." he mumbles. "You know, paper towel..."

"There's stuff all over your comforter..."

"Yeah, I figured..."

It's dancing around the subject and they both know it, but finally Jack makes himself get up and walks to David's desk, finds the paper towel roll and brings it back to David, who cleans himself up, throws out the condom, and then does the best he can to clean up the bed. Jack watches him, still fascinated by every move he makes, and finally they're both sitting on the bed together. David is still naked; Jack is wearing only socks.

"So, uh..." Jack says. "You wanna go out some time?"

"Yeah." David nods. "That would be nice."

There's another long pause.

"I should study, but I don't want to move..."

Jack laughs. "I should stop distracting you, but I don't want to move either."

"Then I guess we're both just gonna have to sit here."

"Yeah..."

Silence.

"I'm not mad anymore," David finally says.

"Good."

"And I'm still sorry about—"

"It's fine." Jack look over at him and smiles. "I'd so go down on you in a second."

"I'd take you up on that, but I'm pretty spent." David smiles back at him.

"Then here." Jack motions him over, and David moves to sit next to him, then changes his mind and lies down, head on Jack's thighs, staring up at Jack's face. Jack pauses, then reaches out as far as he can without moving and manages to grab David's Hebrew flashcards off of the edge of the desk, and they spend the next hour on David's bed, reviewing vocab, before so much as moving to get dressed.

Jack smiles the whole time, hardly able to believe he actually made things right again.

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