Chapter Text
Zanka's eyes burned as he stared at the same paragraph for the fifth time, the words blurring together into meaningless shapes. The test was tomorrow—Advanced Biochemistry, the class with a C+ average that somehow he'd managed to maintain an A in. He should feel confident. He should feel prepared.
Instead, he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.
His phone screen lit up with another text. He didn't need to look to know it was from Riyo or one of the others, checking in again. They'd been worried lately—he knew that. Knew he'd been ignoring them, canceling plans, buried so deep in his books that he might as well have been six feet under. But he couldn't stop. Couldn't let his guard down, couldn't risk slipping even a fraction.
The headphones on his ears had died twenty minutes ago, but Zanka kept them on anyway, a useless barrier between him and the world. Between him and—
"Ah..."
Zanka's pen stilled on the page.
At first, he thought he'd imagined it. Some trick of an exhausted mind, sleep deprivation making him hear things that weren't there. He forced his attention back to his notes, to the chemical structures he needed to memorize, to anything other than—
"Ah... fuck..."
The soft sound came from directly behind him, breathy and unmistakable. Zanka's grip tightened on his pen until his knuckles went white. His jaw clenched so hard it ached.
This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not the night before his exam.
But of course it was. Because Jabber had been pushing his buttons since the day they'd fought—since Zanka had put him on his ass during that stupid argument and Jabber had looked up at him with that infuriating grin, blood on his split lip, eyes bright with something that definitely wasn't defeat. Since then, Jabber had been a constant presence, orbiting around Zanka like he'd found something fascinating and refused to let it go.
Zanka had tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend he didn't notice the way Jabber watched him, the way he found excuses to get close, to touch, to provoke. Tried to pretend his own pulse didn't quicken when Jabber smiled at him like he knew exactly what he was doing.
But this? This was new.
"Mmm... ah..."
Heat crept up Zanka's neck, pooling low in his gut despite every attempt to will it away. His blood rushed south, his cock stirring traitorously in his jeans. He stared at his notes with laser focus, trying to force his brain to cooperate, to think about peptide bonds and enzyme kinetics instead of the increasingly desperate sounds coming from six feet away.
It wasn't working.
The sounds continued—breathy little gasps that went straight through him, accompanied by the barely-there rustle of fabric and movement. Zanka's hands trembled slightly as he gripped his textbook. He could feel his resolve cracking, piece by piece, like ice under pressure.
One minute passed. Then five. Then ten.
The sounds only got worse—louder, more deliberate, like Jabber was putting on a goddamn show. Zanka rewrote the same sentence four times, his handwriting getting progressively more illegible as his focus shattered into a million pieces. His cock was fully hard now, straining against his jeans, and his hands shook with the effort of keeping them on his notebook instead of—
When another deliberately loud moan drifted across the room, something in Zanka finally snapped.
He shoved his chair back hard enough that it scraped against the floor and spun around, already opening his mouth to tell Jabber to shut the fuck up and let him study—
The words died in his throat.
Jabber was sprawled on his bed, head tilted back against the pillows, locs fanned out around him with gold accessories catching the lamplight. His shirt was rucked up to his chest, pants shoved down his thighs, and his hand was—wasn't on his cock. Instead, two of his fingers were buried inside himself, working in and out at a lazy pace.
When Jabber's eyes met his, there was no embarrassment, no shame. Just that same smug satisfaction, painted across his flushed features like a challenge.
"Took you long enough," Jabber drawled, voice rough and deliberately provocative. His fingers didn't stop moving. "I kinda just expected you to stay there the whole time, pretendin' ya couldn't hear me. Thought you had better self-control than this, Zanka."
For a moment, Zanka could only stare, his brain short-circuiting as he tried to process the absolute audacity—
"Are you fucking serious?" The words came out sharp, cutting. "The night before my exam? You're really doing this the night before my exam?"
"You've been studyin' for weeks," Jabber said, adding a third finger with a soft gasp that made Zanka's cock throb. "You're gonna ace it anyway. You always do. But you just can't help yourself, can you? Always gotta be perfect, always gotta be the best." His smile sharpened. "It's kinda pathetic, actually."
Zanka's eye twitched. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"
"You heard me." Jabber's voice was pure provocation now, even as his fingers worked faster inside himself. "You got an A in a class where everyone else is failin', but you're still up at midnight makin' yourself crazy. What're you tryin' to prove, huh? That you're better than everyone? That you're worth somethin'?" He moaned deliberately, eyes locked on Zanka's. "Newsflash, baby—everyone already knows you're a fuckin' try-hard."
"That's not the fucking point—"
"Then what is the point?" Jabber's eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, but his smile was mean. "That you're killin' yourself over a test you don't need to kill yourself for? That you're ignorin' everyone who gives a shit about you because you're too busy jerkin' yourself off over bein' the smartest guy in the room? Or—" His breath hitched as his fingers found something that made his back arch slightly. "Or is it that you've been wantin' this just as bad as I have, but you're too much of a pussy to admit it?"
Something dangerous flashed in Zanka's eyes. When he spoke, his voice was deadly quiet. "You've got a real fucking mouth on you."
"Yeah?" Jabber grinned, sharp and challenging. "What're you gonna do about it?"
Zanka's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, arousal and fury twisting together into something volatile. "You're such a fucking slut."
The effect was immediate. Jabber's whole body shuddered, his cock visibly twitching, precome beading at the tip. But instead of backing down, he laughed—breathless and mocking. "Yeah, and you're such a fuckin' prude. What, you gonna stand there and lecture me? Or you gonna actually do somethin' about it?" His fingers moved faster, deliberately obscene. "Keep—keep talkin' to me like that, baby. I'm so close. Bet you won't even touch me, bet you'll just go back to your precious notes like a good little—"
Something primal surged through Zanka at the sound of Jabber's taunting voice, at the challenge in those dark eyes. Before he could second-guess himself, he was moving, crossing the small space between them in three strides.
He grabbed Jabber's wrist and yanked his hand away with enough force to make him gasp, ignoring the wounded sound that followed. "You want to come?"
"Fuck you—"
Zanka's hand wrapped around Jabber's throat, squeezing hard enough to make his eyes go wide. "Wrong answer. Try again."
Jabber's lips curved into a defiant smirk even as his cock twitched at the pressure. "Make me."
"Oh, I'm going to make you do a lot of things," Zanka said, voice dark with promise. His grip tightened. "But first, you're going to beg for it like the desperate whore you clearly are."
"Fuck—" Jabber's defiance cracked slightly, arousal winning out. "Fine. Please. Happy now?"
"That's not begging." Zanka's free hand wrapped around Jabber's cock, grip just shy of painful. "That's you running your mouth like always. I want you to beg properly, or I walk away right now and leave you to finish yourself off."
The threat was enough to make Jabber's facade crumble. "Wait—fuck—please, Zanka, I need—"
Zanka's free hand wrapped around Jabber's throat, not quite cutting off air but firm enough to make his point. The moan that escaped Jabber was obscene. "You need what? Say it properly, or I'm done here."
"Need you to touch me," Jabber gasped out, pride finally cracking. "Need your hands on me, need you to make me come, please, I'm sorry, just—just please—"
"Pathetic," Zanka said, but his hand was already moving, stroking Jabber's cock with just enough pressure to make him cry out. "All that attitude, all that shit you were talking, and look at you now. Begging me to get you off like you can't function without it. You really are just a desperate slut, aren't you?"
"Yes!" The admission came out strangled, desperate. "Yes, fuck, I am, just—don't stop, please don't stop—"
Zanka stroked him slowly, deliberately, his grip just shy of too tight. His other hand tightened fractionally around Jabber's throat, feeling the way his pulse hammered against his palm. "Had to put on a whole show for me, didn't you? Moaning and whining for ten fucking minutes while I was trying to work. You get off on being annoying, is that it?"
"Maybe—fuck—maybe I just wanted to see how long you'd last," Jabber managed, some of his defiance returning even through the pleasure. "Wanted to see when you'd finally snap and admit you want this too—"
Zanka twisted his wrist on an upstroke, making Jabber's words dissolve into a broken moan. "I don't want this. But clearly someone needs to teach you how to shut the fuck up."
Zanka didn't. He worked Jabber's cock with practiced efficiency, learning quickly what made him gasp, what made him whine, what made his whole body tremble. When he twisted his wrist on an upstroke, Jabber keened, back arching off the bed.
"You gonna come already?" Zanka's voice was rough, mocking. "I've barely touched you."
"Can't help it," Jabber panted, eyes squeezed shut. "Feels too good, you feel too good—"
Zanka tightened his grip on Jabber's throat just slightly, feeling the vibration of his moan against his palm. "Then come. Show me what a desperate slut you are."
Jabber came with a choked cry, spilling over Zanka's hand in hot pulses, his whole body going taut before melting back into the mattress. Zanka worked him through it, milking every last tremor from his oversensitive body until Jabber was whimpering and trying to squirm away.
When Zanka finally released him, Jabber lay there panting, looking completely debauched—lips parted, chest heaving, his face flushed and sweaty. Zanka looked down at his hand, covered in Jabber's release, then back at Jabber's face.
"Clean it up."
For a second, Jabber just stared at him. Then, slowly, that smug smile returned, sharper now, more satisfied. He grabbed Zanka's wrist and brought his hand to his mouth, maintaining eye contact as his tongue darted out to lick a stripe up Zanka's palm.
The sight went straight to Zanka's cock, which was still straining almost painfully against his jeans. He watched, transfixed, as Jabber cleaned his hand with obscene thoroughness, sucking each finger into his mouth like he was savoring the taste.
"Fuck," Zanka breathed.
When Jabber finally released his hand, he looked up at Zanka with those dark, hungry eyes, his earlier smugness returning. "That all you got? Thought you'd be better at this, considerinin' how much you love bein' the best at everything—"
Zanka's eyes went cold. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
"Never have," Jabber said with a sharp grin. "What're you gonna do about it? Gonna go back to your notes? Gonna pretend this didn't happen?" His voice dropped into a mocking purr. "Or maybe you're just not good enough to—"
Zanka fisted his hand in Jabber's locs, yanking his head back hard enough to make the gold accessories click together. "I'm still empty," Jabber said through the pain, somehow still defiant. "Still want you inside me. But I bet you won't do it. Bet you're all talk—"
"You want me inside you?" Zanka's voice was deadly quiet.
"Yeah." Jabber's grin was sharp even as his eyes watered from the grip on his hair. "But you're probably too much of a coward to actually—"
Zanka snapped. He fisted his hand in Jabber's hair and yanked his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. "You want me inside you?"
"Yes!" Jabber's eyes were bright, eager. "Yes, please, I'll be good, I'll—"
Zanka bit down on the junction of Jabber's neck and shoulder, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to draw blood. Jabber's entire body jerked, a sharp cry tearing from his throat that sounded more like pleasure than pain.
"You've never been good a day in your life," Zanka growled against his skin, licking over the bite mark. The taste of copper on his tongue made something dark and possessive curl in his chest. "You're a mouthy little brat who doesn't know when to shut up and runs his mouth even when he's about to get fucked."
"Yeah," Jabber breathed, tilting his head to give Zanka better access. "Yeah, that's—fuck, bite me again—"
Zanka did, this time on the curve where his neck met his shoulder, teeth sinking in until Jabber was writhing beneath him. He soothed it with his tongue before pulling back to look at his handiwork—two perfect crescents of teeth marks, blood welling up in small beads.
"Beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself.
Jabber made a wounded sound, his cock already starting to fill again. "Zanka, please, I need—"
"Shut the fuck up." Zanka grabbed Jabber's hips and flipped him onto his stomach with enough force to knock the breath out of him. "Ass up. Now."
Jabber scrambled to obey, finally, presenting himself but still managing to look smug about it. "Took you long enough to—"
The slap that landed on his ass was hard enough to echo in the small room. Jabber yelped, then moaned. "Gonna keep running your mouth?" Zanka asked, voice dark. "Or are you finally going to shut up and take what I give you?"
For once, Jabber didn't have a comeback. He just pushed his ass back, silent invitation.
Zanka pulled back long enough to strip off his own clothes with quick, efficient movements. "Condoms are in the—"
"I know where they are." They'd been roommates long enough for Zanka to know exactly where Jabber kept his supplies. He grabbed one from the nightstand, along with the lube, trying not to think too hard about how Jabber had clearly planned for this.
When he slicked his fingers and pressed one inside, Jabber was already loose and open from his earlier preparation, the slide easy. He added a second finger immediately, scissoring them and earning a low moan.
"Already so open," Zanka observed, his free hand coming down in a sharp slap against Jabber's ass that made him yelp. "Were you planning this? Getting yourself ready for me while I was trying to study?"
"Maybe," Jabber gasped out, pushing back onto Zanka's fingers. His voice gained that taunting edge again. "Maybe I've been thinkin' about this all day, thinkin' about makin' you lose your shit—ah!"
Another slap, harder this time, leaving a red handprint. "About distracting me from my exam? About being an annoying little shit?"
"About making you—fuck—making you stop tyna kill yourself!" Jabber shot back, even through the pleasure. "You're gonna give yourself a fuckin' aneurysm if you keep—oh god—"
Zanka crooked his fingers, finding Jabber's prostate and pressing against it deliberately. "Keep what?"
"Keep—fuck—keep acting like you gotta be fuckin' perfect at everything—"
"That's rich coming from someone who's literally begging me to fuck him." Zanka pulled his fingers out, ignoring Jabber's whine of protest, and rolled on the condom with hands that weren't quite steady. "You don't get to psychoanalyze me while I'm three fingers deep in your ass."
"Why not?" Jabber tried to look back at him, defiant even like this. "You gonna stop? Gonna prove me right?"
"I'm going to fuck that attitude right out of you," Zanka promised.
When he lined himself up and started to push inside, they both groaned. Jabber was tight despite the preparation, his body clenching around Zanka's cock in a way that made his vision white out at the edges. He forced himself to go slow, to give Jabber time to adjust, his fingers digging into those slim hips hard enough to bruise.
"Finally," Jabber breathed out. "Thought you were gonna make me wait all—"
Zanka slammed in the rest of the way, cutting off whatever smart-ass comment Jabber was about to make. The cry that tore from Jabber's throat was gratifying.
"What was that?" Zanka asked, voice dangerous. "Couldn't hear you."
"Fuck—" Jabber's hands fisted in the sheets. "You're such an asshole—"
"And you're a bratty little slut who can't keep his mouth shut." Zanka pulled almost all the way out. "Let's see if I can fuck some manners into you."
He slammed back in, setting a brutal pace that had Jabber crying out with each thrust. His hand found Jabber's locs again, yanking his head back as he fucked into him.
"This what you wanted?" he growled. "Wanted me to use you like this?"
"Yes!" Jabber's voice was wrecked, but still had that edge of defiance. "Yes, fuck, finally—thought you were all talk—"
Zanka's other hand wrapped around Jabber's throat from behind, squeezing. "Still running your mouth. Guess I'm not fucking you hard enough."
He proved his point by slamming in harder, deeper, angling his hips to hit Jabber's prostate with punishing precision. Jabber's defiant response dissolved into incoherent moans.
"So fucking needy," Zanka panted, pounding into him with enough force that the bed frame creaked in protest. "Can't even let me study for one night. Had to get my attention, had to provoke me—"
"Worth it," Jabber managed to gasp out between moans. "So worth it, you feel—ah!—so good—"
"Of course it was worth it to you. You're a desperate attention whore who gets off on being a pain in my ass." Zanka bit down on Jabber's shoulder, but not hard enough to break skin.
Jabber moaned at the pain, his body clenching tight around Zanka.
Zanka bit down on Jabber's shoulder again, adding another mark to the collection. The taste of blood and sweat on his tongue was intoxicating, making him thrust harder, deeper, chasing something violent and possessive he couldn't quite name.
When Jabber came the second time, it was without either of them touching his cock, his whole body seizing up as he clenched around Zanka impossibly tight. The sensation was overwhelming, dragging Zanka right to the edge.
"Fuck, Jabber—"
"Don't stop," Jabber begged, voice shaking, all his earlier bravado finally gone. "Please don't stop, keep going, I want—want you to come inside me—"
Zanka fucked him through the aftershocks, his rhythm going erratic as pleasure built at the base of his spine. "Greedy—fuck—greedy little slut," he managed. "Not enough to come twice, you need—"
"Yes!" Jabber sounded completely gone now, overwhelmed. "Yes, please, need to feel you, need you inside of me—"
That did it. Zanka's orgasm hit him like a freight train, white-hot pleasure searing through every nerve as he buried himself deep and came harder than he could remember coming in his entire life. Distantly, he heard himself make some kind of sound—Jabber's name, maybe, or just an incoherent groan.
When he finally came back to himself, he was collapsed half on top of Jabber, both of them breathing hard. Jabber had gone boneless beneath him, looking thoroughly fucked out, and Zanka should probably move, should pull out and clean up and get back to his studying—
But when he tried to shift away, Jabber's arms wrapped around him with surprising strength, refusing to let him go.
"Five minutes," Jabber mumbled into the pillow. "Just... five minutes."
Zanka should protest. Should remind him about the exam tomorrow, about all the material he still needed to review. Should extract himself from this situation before it got complicated.
Instead, he found himself relaxing into Jabber's hold, letting the warm weight of another body ground him. His muscles unclenched one by one, tension he'd been carrying for weeks finally releasing.
"You need to study more?" Jabber's voice was soft now, absent of teasing.
Zanka thought about his notes, about the practice problems he'd done a dozen times. Thought about how his friends had been worried, about how he'd been tying himself in knots over something he was already prepared for.
"No," he admitted quietly. "I think I've studied enough."
Jabber made a satisfied sound, burrowing closer. "Good. You're gonna ace that test."
"You don't know that."
"Yeah I do." Jabber turned his head just enough to press a kiss to Zanka's jaw, surprisingly gentle. "You're brilliant. Even if you won't admit it."
Something warm bloomed in Zanka's chest at the words. He buried his face in Jabber's shoulder to hide the flush creeping up his cheeks.
"Shut up," he muttered, but there was no heat in it.