When he was dismissed and Jackson asked to stay behind to talk race strategy, it smarted. It may have felt like they were part of the same team, but Jackson Jennings still had the one thing Elliot desperately wanted, and no matter how many times he’d been reassured of his place, he wouldn’t truly believe it until the Team GB kit was in his hands.
Trying to shake the negative thoughts from his head before they had a chance to take root, Elliot focused instead on what he’d ask of Jackson for winning their little wager. There was only one thing he wanted from Jackson Jennings, though, and it was, in Jackson’s own words, a sure thing.
Racing Jackson had been a mistake. One he was paying for now, as he sat with his leg elevated, an ice pack wrapped around the ankle. He was cursing his bad decisions, but he made a lot of those when it came to Jackson Jennings. He knew he’d ditch the ice the second Jackson arrived. He couldn’t stand to see actual worry in his eyes again. That wasn’t how he wanted this afternoon to go at all.
Elliot had dressed in a pair of loose-fitting shorts and an old race T-shirt that he’d thrown on after deciding that lying aroundin the nude was both too desperate and potentially awkward for opening the door—that really wasn’t something he needed a straggling reporter to catch a photo of.
It felt like it had been ages since he’d left Jackson and Anders at the track. He’d had more than enough time to shower and get himself ready, and now he just felt a bit silly, icing his leg as he waited around for Jennings.
Jackson
Sorry, Anders wouldn’t stop talking. I need to shower, then do you want to head to the pool?
Jackson had been shown the waterslides a few days ago by their Italian friends and he’d taken to them with a childlike glee that was both embarrassing and adorable. Elliot loved seeing him happy like that. He’d noticed Jackson was carrying a weight that he hadn’t shared with Elliot. It was in his eyes sometimes when he talked about home, and the way his body tensed every time his phone buzzed. So, while swimming and socialising with the other athletes wasn’t Elliot’s favourite thing, he tolerated it. It was starting to become concerning how much he would tolerate where Jackson Jennings was concerned.
Not today, though. He wasn’t letting anyone else get in the way.
Today, he had plans.
Elliot
Not today. Come to my room when you’re done.
Jackson replied with a GIF of a grinning puppy, which was a surprisingly accurate representation of his own typical expression.
Less than ten minutes later, there was a knock on his door. Elliot tossed the ice pack into the sink before rushing to flingit open. Jackson didn’t need to know how much their little competition earlier had cost him.
Jackson pushed his way inside wearing nothing but the hotel dressing gown, his hair still dripping wet. His hands immediately found purchase on Elliot’s hips as he backed him up against the wall and kicked the door closed.
Elliot just managed to gasp out “Did you walk down the corridor like this?” before Jackson’s lips were on his.
“As if I was—” Jackson breathed out between kisses. “—going to take my time—” He continued his assault down Elliot’s neck, wrenching soft mewling sounds from Elliot that he hadn’t known he could make. “—with you waiting for me like this.”
Elliot pulled at the tie of Jackson’s robe, revealing his naked body underneath. Elliot’s eyes traced the trail of light red hair that led from Jackson’s navel to his already hard cock.
His mouth fucking watered.
Jackson laved his tongue over Elliot’s collarbone as he tugged on his T-shirt. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?”
Laughter bubbled out of Elliot involuntarily. “Should I?” he asked, starting to lift his shirt.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Jackson replied before capturing Elliot’s mouth again in a filthy kiss as he ground their hips together.
Elliot’s arm got stuck in his T-shirt as he was distracted by Jackson’s wandering hands lighting up every molecule of his body. He was so fucking desperate he couldn't think as Jackson shoved a hand roughly into his shorts, finally touching his aching hardness.
“Bed,” Elliot managed to groan, in a manner that must have been at least somewhat understandable because Jackson whirled them around, pushed Elliot down onto the bed, and crawled on top of him. Elliot managed to extricate himself from his T-shirt as Jackson tossed his shorts halfway across the room while kissing and licking down Elliot’s abdomen to his hipsbefore pulling back, eliciting a whine from Elliot. Jackson teased him mercilessly, stroking and nipping at the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, his taint, but never quite reaching where Elliot needed him.
“Jennings,” he groaned.
“Mmm, yes?” Jackson replied, a perfectly sunny smile on his face as he looked up at Elliot from where he’d positioned himself between his legs.
“I want…I want you,” Elliot gasped.
“Yeah? How do you want me? Because I’m really, really up for anything you want to do, but I need you to tell me what you want,” he whispered. “You're usually so mouthy that it shouldn’t be a problem.”
If he hadn’t wanted him so badly, Elliot might have shoved him off the bed for that one.
“Want you to fuck me, Jennings,” Elliot groaned. “Stop talking and fuck me.”
