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I shouldn't be posting this because it's nothing but word vomit but I am because I am in a funk and all I can do in funks is write bits self indulgent porn, so maybe if I post enough of this atrocity it will motivate me to finish something actually worthwhile.

it's a process?????

Well anyway this came about from a conversation I had with Chelsea because in the most recent ep of Godzilla Arin was all "I was a straight up southern boy.", and it made me think of role reversal high school AU with punk Jon and lovely little Arin who just transferred from Florida and somehow has a slight southern twang because of reasons. AND THUS THIS ISSUED FORTH.

I'm sorry it's bad the porn is p nice tho

Word Count: 1000

"So, you still have your V card?" Jon says, and they way he's smirking at Arin as he says it clues him in that he's definitely missing something here.

He stops walking and looks at Jon and tries to say with as much dignity as he can, "My... My what?"

Jon chuckles and moves into Arin's space, and Arin doesn't even realize he's retreating until his back hits the wall and Jon cages him there, leaning an arm on the wall next to Arin's head and blocking any other route of escape with his large frame.

"That answers my question, gorgeous," Jon says, and he's running a couple fingers up the underside of Arin's chin as he speaks, tilting his head up. Arin tries really hard not to, but he eventually gives in and looks at Jon.

The look he's giving Arin--like he's a particularly delicious confection--makes his throat go dry and immediately his traitorous eyes drop to Jon's mouth. He can't even make himself feel embarrassed about how hard he's blushing.

Now that he's done it, Arin can't make himself stop staring. Jon notices, of course, and he grins and starts leaning in and Arin momentarily forgets to keep breathing as his brain is too busy breaking down into hysterics and screaming he's going to kiss you at him. Arin can't move--not that he could go anywhere if he could, seeing as Jon had him completely trapped--so he stands there waiting like an idiot, nervously flicking his eyes between Jon's eyes and his fucking mouth and Jon is giving him this smug grin. Arin wonders vaguely if Jon can hear his heart pile driving against his ribcage because Arin is starting to worry it's going to crack one of them. All of a sudden, and way before Arin is prepared for it, there's only an inch between them and Arin swears he can already taste Jon in the back of his throat when he breathes in, this mixture of stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer--and skittles? Something fruity that hits him with an intoxicating sweetness and makes his eyes flutter closed, and he realizes he wants it so bad; wants to shove his tongue against Jon's and taste him for real, feel the scrape of Jon's stubble on his face, have Jon press against him on the wall and really trap him. He wants Jon to fucking do something, but then he hears--or, feels--Jon laugh again, and he cracks open his eyes to see Jon pulling away, and he doesn't even think to stop the disappointed frown that spreads across his face.

That just makes Jon laugh again, and he slides an arm around Arin's lower back and tucks a possessive hand in his back pocket. Arin squeaks at that, and lets himself be led along as Jon starts off again walking down the hallway.

"Don't look so down, babe. We'll have plenty of time to get to that after school when we're... studying," Jon sounds so fucking casual saying it, and Arin wishes that his dick would stop overriding his brain long enough for him to be pissed at Jon for being such a fucking douche.

"You're a fucking douche," is what Arin settles for. It comes out flatter than he had hoped.

Jon snorts and tilts his head down so he can press his face into Arin's neck, and Arin gasps when he starts whispering in a low voice, "Kissing your pretty little mouth is great, but I can't very well spread you open and lick you until you're begging for my cock in the middle of the hall, can I?"

Arin very nearly swallows his tongue and his voice sounds alien to his own ears when he says Jon's name harshly, jerking away from him to give him a wide eyed stare. It's the strangest feeling to be so turned on and so mortified at the same time. Jon still has his trademark shit eating grin, though, and he glances around surreptitiously before he shoves Arin into a wall of lockers and presses the heel of his hand against Arin's dick all in one movement, and Arin can't tell which thing knocks the air from his lungs faster. Jon is saying these filthy things into his ear and his breath is hot on Arin's skin and Arin just closes his eyes and tries not to come in his pants.

"You know, I'm not picky Arin. I can show you how to fuck me and you can make me fucking feel it for days.I just want to see your face when you come--wanna see how pretty you look and how good you sound."

Arin feels like he's losing his mind. He's burning up in his layers of school clothes and scared to death that someone could walk by and see them at any time, and it's only making the steady, rocking pressure of Jon's hand against his cock that much better. He moans flat out, and Jon continues with the stream of filth in his ear, sounding out of breath and a little desperate.

"Fuck, Arin, I bet you're so fucking tight and perfect. I'll be so careful, baby--spend half an hour just opening you up with my tongue so you'll be wet enough that I can put it in you so easy." Jon groans into Arin's ear, and presses forward so Arin can feel his dick hard on his thigh, and Arin has to stop himself from begging Jon to just do it right now, fuck it. "You'll take it so good, won't you. Just push that tight little ass back onto my cock like you've been doing it forever and beg me to go deeper."

Arin hadn't noticed him unzipping his jeans, but all of a sudden Jon's hand is wrapped tight around his bare cock and Arin's head falls back hard against the lockers as he moans, deep and guttural. Jon's hand is too dry but Arin doesn't even fucking care because he's jacking him fast and tight and it's just what he needs. He keeps an iron grip on Jon's shoulders and pleads, "Please, Jon, please--Fuck me right here--I don't fucking care, I just need--"

He can't finish it--his voice dies in his throat and he just pants and makes these soft little sounds in his throat and Jon shushes him and whispers endearments against Arin's lips, telling him to come on beautiful, let me see how perfect you look when you come, and Arin chokes on a sob and does just that.


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