Willow @willowrainn - Tumblr Blog

Seven Minutes in Heaven - Jeff the Killer

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──────────────────────────── 7 minutes in heaven - fall out boy

── .✦ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.

CONTAINS NSFW, MINORS DNI

✦ . Summary: (No correlation to other parts, only prologue) The bottle lands on Jeff.

✦ . Characters: Jeff the Killer x Female Reader

✦ . Warning: Alcohol, weed, smoking, force feeding alcohol, flirting, dirty talk, forced proximity, making out, tongues and spit, teasing, groping, vaginal fingering, jerking off, mutual masterbation, whining, semi-public sex, risky sex, drunk sex

✦ . Words: 7.6k

✦ . Note: First part!!! I want to make it clear going forward that all of these parts are alternate endings to the same story! The prologue is the only “canon” thing, all these other parts are choose your own ending based (meaning nothing that happens in this part happens in the other parts)! Happy reading!!!

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It was agony, watching all this play out.

Everyone’s eyes were trained on the center of the coffee table, their pupils spinning in frantic circles to see where the tip would end up.

The bottle spun fast, the unopened beer sloshing around inside and making it spin faster. It wobbled, slowed, then came to a lazy stop with the neck pointing straight at…

Jeff.

The whole room snapped to attention.

Eyes darted between you and him frantically, trying to gauge reactions the best they could. Jeff’s wide, unblinking gaze locked onto you from his spot on the couch, that jagged smile lazy for half a second before it cracked into something bigger.

Ben punched his shoulder hard. “Ha!”

Jeff didn’t even flinch. Instead he looked straight over at Tim with the greediest, most cocky grin you’d ever seen on him. His mental instability was always lurking under that cocky front, but right now it was shining through bright and ugly, all sharp teeth and wild eyes and the ego of a much larger man.

“Ohhh, Timmy,” Jeff drawled, his voice wet with feigned sympathy. “Tough break, man. Maybe next round you can watch from the sidelines like a good cuck.”

Tim’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Brian just exhaled through his nose, his arms still crossed.

Jeff pushed himself up with a dramatic stretch, his joints popping loud enough to hear over the low music. He snatched the half-empty vodka bottle he and Ben had been nursing earlier, took a quick swig, then tucked it under his arm.

“Alright, princess,” he grinned, turning that manic grin on you. “Up and at ‘em.”

He grabbed your wrist and hauled you up from your seat before you could protest. You stumbled into his chest for a second, the smell of cheap vodka and smoke hitting you all at once as Jeff wrapped his arm around your back and hauled you closer.

“Jeff—wait, hold on,” you started, trying to dig your heels in and push off his chest. “This is stupid. I’m not—”

“Really?” he laughed, already tugging you toward the hallway. “You gonna be a sore loser already?”

You bickered the whole way. “You’re such an asshole. Can you not be a cocky asshole one time?”

“Me? Never,” he shot back, still grinning like a lunatic. “You’re such a prude. C’mon, it’s just seven minutes. Don’t act like you’re scared of little old me.”

Some of the others were whooping and catcalling—Toby trying his best to whistle. But others stayed quiet. Tim’s glare was heavy enough to feel on the back of your neck. Brian watched with a tight jaw. The whole ordeal was uncomfortable.

Ben cranked the music up a notch, the gritty sound filling the living room again as Jeff dragged you down the short hallway toward the supply closet.

Jeff hauled you down the short hallway, his grip insistent around your wrist, his boots scuffing the old floorboards. The storage closet sat at the very end on the right, but it was nothing special, just a cramped little room the mansion had never bothered to clean out properly.

He yanked the door open without ceremony. Inside was pure darkness, coats hanging messily on the rod, stacks of dusty boxes, random junk piled on the floor that smelled like mothballs and mildew.

You hesitated at the threshold, your stomach twisting. “Jeff, wait—”

One firm shove between your shoulder blades sends you stumbling forward into the black. Your foot caught on something solid—a box, maybe—and you nearly pitched face-first before his hand shot out and grabbed your arm, hauling you upright with a rough laugh.

“Easy there.”

The door pulls shut behind him, cutting off the lights and the low chatter from the living room. Complete darkness swallowed everything. The music outside dulled to a distant, muffled thump, like it was happening in another house entirely. This tiny space suddenly felt like its own little world—hot, close, and way too quiet except for the sound of both of you breathing.

You couldn’t see a damn thing.

“Jeff,” you barked, your voice sharper than you meant. “Turn on the light. There’s a bulb in here, it’s above your head.”

He didn’t answer, he just stood there, close enough that you could feel the heat coming off of him.

You reached out blindly, your hands landing square on his chest. The fabric of his hoodie was warm and solid, your fingers landing on the zipper. Underneath, you felt the steady, fast thump of his heart.

Jeff let out a laugh before you. “Damn, eager already? We’ve only been in here ten seconds.”

Your face burned. You shoved him hard in the chest. “Shut up and turn the light on, asshole.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, still sounding way too pleased with himself. “You’re so touchy.”

You heard him reach up and fumble for the pull chain. A second later the single bare bulb clicked on overhead with a static buzz. Weak yellow light flooded the cramped closet, throwing long shadows across the hanging coats and stacked boxes.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to see.

You’d been seeing Jeff all night, but now in the close proximity, it was impossible not to notice all the distinct details about him.

Jeff stood barely a foot away, his longer black hair messy and sticking to his face in some places from sweat. The cut on his lip was still raw and glistening a little, but his grin was as wide and cocky as ever, the carved corners pulling tight around the dimples of his cheeks. His pale eyes were locked onto yours, those pupils bright with that wild, erratic energy that always seemed to simmer just under his skin and pop out at the worst moments.

He was wearing his zip up hoodie, because when wasn’t he? The thing was littered with stains and tears in the sewing, but it fit him perfectly—in size and personality. What was new was the thick belt that hung low on his hip over his dark wash jeans, something you’d see in 2000’s emo culture and probably think was cool if this idiot wasn’t wearing it. But paired with his thick, black combat boots and black painted fingernails, Jeff looked just the part of some stupid emo boy with an ego much too big for his lean stature.

The muffled music pulsed through the walls like a distant heartbeat. Outside, the others were probably already timing this, laughing or bickering or placing bets. In here, though, it felt strangely separate—like the rest of the mansion had faded away and it was just the two of you in this dusty, too-small space.

Jeff leaned one shoulder against the stack of boxes. He hauled the vodka bottle out from under his arm, brought it to his mouth, and took a quick, messy swallow. A drop escaped the corner of his split lip and slid down his chin before he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

He was trying so hard to look casual—his stature, his face, even the way he was trying to slow his breathing and even his tone—but you could see right through it. His fingers were gripping the bottle a little too tight, his breathing was just a touch too fast. The big, loud Jeff everyone knew was cranked up to eleven right now, all ego and swagger, because the second that mask slipped even an inch you’d see how nervous he actually was and he’d probably have to kill you for it.

He lowered the bottle and grinned at you.

“So,” he said, “we gonna stand here like idiots the whole time, or you finally gonna admit you’ve been waiting for a chance to get me alone?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “You rehearse that in the mirror?”

He laughed, but it came out a little too loud. “C’mon, don’t act all shy now. I saw the way you were looking at me earlier when you were playing nurse with that beer bottle. Bet you liked having your hands on me.”

“God, you’re full of shit,” you muttered, shifting your weight. The coats behind you brushed against your back. “You’re nervous as hell and it’s showing.”

Jeff’s grin faltered for half a second before he forced it wider. “Nervous? Please. You were about to break down on your way in here.” He took another swig from the bottle, then pointed it at you. “You’re the one who’s all stiff. What’s the matter? Scared I’m gonna do something you might actually like?”

You stared at him for a beat, then let out a short laugh. “You know what’s funny? You talk so much shit, but the second the door closed you started chugging that vodka like it’s liquid courage. How many swigs is that now? Three?”

That one nicked him.

Jeff’s expression darkened fast. The cocky mask cracked, and the mean slipped out before he could stop it. “Fuck you,” he scowled. “At least I’m not some stuck-up little bitch pretending I’m too good for the rest of us. If you didn’t want to be in here you could’ve just started cleaning like the prude you are.”

The words hung heavy in the tight space.

You lifted your chin and looked him dead in the eye. “There it is. There’s the real Jeff. Can’t keep the asshole act up for more than two minutes without showing how insecure you are, huh?”

He just stared at you, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek with irritation.

You softened your tone just enough to tease. “It’s kinda cute, actually. Big bad Jeff Woods getting all nervous because he’s stuck in a closet with me.”

You really need to learn to not antagonize him.

Jeff shoved the vodka bottle onto a shelf beside him with a clatter and grabbed the front of your shirt, hauling you forward so suddenly you stumbled right into him. Your chest bumped his, your faces inches apart. You could smell the sharp bite of vodka on his breath.

“Try again,” he muttered, his eyes bright and wild as he huffed.

You didn’t pull away. Instead you wrinkled your nose and gave him a smile. “You reek.”

Jeff blinked a couple times. The mean edge melted off as quickly as it had come, replaced by that familiar smile. He held you there for a second longer, then reached past you with his free hand, grabbed the bottle, and took another long drink without breaking eye contact.

“Like I said—” you started, about to tear him up further.

But while he still had a fistful of your shirt, he tugged you forward just one more inch, close enough that your knees bumped his. Without warning, he lifted the bottle toward your lips.

You shook your head fast, wrinkling your nose. “No way. You and Ben probably pissed in that thing.”

Jeff’s grin sharpened. He let go of your shirt only to slide his hand up and grab your jaw instead, his fingers pressing into your cheeks with just enough force to force your mouth open. His grip was rough, his thumb digging into the soft spot under your chin and making you feel like a fish.

“Quit being a fucking baby,” he muttered, staring directly at your lips. “You’re way too anxious right now. This’ll loosen you up, make you all docile and sweet for me instead of this ego you’ve got going on.”

You stared straight into his pale eyes, trying to read for any ulterior motive or sick joke. For a second neither of you moved. Then you tilted your head back just slightly, giving in and letting your lips part wider.

Jeff’s smile widened with satisfaction. He tipped the bottle and poured the vodka straight into your mouth. The liquor was awful—burning hot and tasting like paint thinner and acid. It scorched down your throat in cheap, fiery gulps. His fingers stayed on your jaw the whole time, brushing along your skin as you swallowed, keeping your mouth open until he decided you’d had enough.

It took you hitting him on the chest before he snapped out of it.

When he finally pulled the bottle away, he was smiling—genuinely this time, the carved lines of his mouth pulling tight around gleaming teeth. He let go of your jaw and used the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray drops from your lower lip.

“There we go,” he murmured, mocking a pouty face. “Not so tense anymore, huh?”

The burn lingered in your chest and stomach, spreading warm and fuzzy through your limbs. The single bulb overhead made everything feel hazy and too bright at the same time. Jeff was still right there, inches away, one hand loosely resting on your shoulder now that he’d released your jaw. His breathing had evened out a little, but that nervous energy was still humming under his skin—you could feel it in the way his fingers flexed against you.

A small cough escaped you, eyes watering slightly as the heat spread through your chest and stomach through to your fingertips.

It hit you then—you hadn’t been keeping track of time at all. How long had you been in here? Three minutes? Four? Longer? The muffled music made it impossible to guess, and the warm buzz from the vodka that was starting in your head wasn’t helping.

While you were busy trying to calculate, Jeff’s thumb slowly swiped across the side of your neck, pressing lightly against your racing pulse. The touch snapped you back to the present. You locked eyes with him again.

He was staring at your neck, his gaze heavy and fixated, like he was listening to the blood rushing under your skin. The single bulb made the shadows under his eyes deeper, made his skin look even more rough, but you could still see the flush creeping up his pale cheeks. He felt warm too—too warm for it to just be the alcohol.

Your hand was still resting on his chest from earlier. Without thinking, you pushed him back just a little, enough to create a sliver of space between you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice quieter than you expected.

Jeff didn’t move his hand. He just blinked slowly, that cocky mask flickering.

“Nothing,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes. “Liar.”

He let out a short laugh. The mean edge from earlier was gone, replaced by something almost boyish and nervous underneath all the asshole. For a moment the two of you just looked at each other—really looked—his pale eyes locked on yours, his face an unfamiliar expression of calm.

“You’re being weird,” you finally said, the words coming out softer than they should have.

Jeff’s grin returned, small and crooked. “But you’re not stopping me.”

The air between you felt thicker now, warmer. Your gaze dropped to his mouth for a second, noting where his lips split off into jagged openings in his cheeks, before flicking back up to his eyes. He did the same, his eyes tracing your lips, then back to your eyes, then down again. Back and forth. Back and forth.

He leaned in just a fraction, not enough to close the distance, but enough that you could feel his breath against your skin when he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell me to stop then.”

You couldn’t.

Or maybe you just didn’t want to.

The distinction blurred somewhere between the burn of the cheap vodka and the way Jeff’s thumb kept stroking slow circles over your pulse like he was memorizing it.

Fuck it. It wasn’t the alcohol.

You were turned on as hell, heat pooling low in your stomach, making your breath come shorter and your awareness grow weaker.

Your fingers curled tight into the front of his hoodie, gripping the fabric to keep you steady. Jeff’s eyes flicked down to your mouth one last time. Then he reached over and set the vodka bottle on the shelf without ever taking his eyes off of yours.

For half a second you just looked at each other, finalizing your mind.

Then it snapped.

Jeff’s hands came up fast, one sliding to the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist. He pushed you back until your shoulders hit the wall behind you, the coats rustling loudly in the cramped space. The impact was urgent. His body followed immediately, pressing flush against yours.

His mouth found your neck first.

Hot, open-mouthed kisses dragged up the side of your throat, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. He sucked at your pulse, then higher, until his lips finally crashed into yours.

The kiss was hungry, messy, and desperate from the start.

Jeff kissed like he fought, all teeth and tongue and no holding back. His lips snagged hard against yours, his hand pushing your head further against his to kiss you deeper. You kissed him back just as hard, one hand still fisted in his hoodie while the other slid up to grip the back of his neck, your fingers threading into his messy black hair.

He made a low, hungry sound against your mouth, almost like laughing, like he couldn’t believe you were actually letting him do this. His hips pressed closer, pinning you more firmly to the wall as one of his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, his palm flaring hot against the skin of your lower back.

Jeff pulled back just enough to grin against your mouth. “You’re a terrible kisser.”

You laughed into the next kiss, nipping at his bottom lip hard enough to make him hiss. “Sorry. You’ve just got such a loud mouth, it’s hard to work with.”

He growled, but it turned into a low chuckle as he kissed you harder, his tongue sliding against yours like he was trying to shut you up. “Shut the hell up. It’s hard to kiss you if you keep bitchin’ at me.”

“Can’t help it,” you shot back, biting his lip again, “you’re so fucking annoying. It’s unfair.”

“Annoying? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He laughed darkly, pressing you tighter to the wall, one hand sliding up your side. “Keep talking dirty to me.”

The hypocrisy hit you hard even as you kept kissing him—how the two of you spent half your time aggravating each other, throwing insults like punches, making everyone else roll their eyes… but the second the door closed and it was just the two of you, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. It was stupid. It was juvenile. And right now you didn’t care.

Jeff’s hand crept higher under your shirt, fingers brushing the edge of your bra, clearly trying to push further.

You shoved him back with both hands, laughing as he stumbled into the opposite wall of coats and boxes. He caught himself, panting, his chest heaving under that stained white hoodie.

You were laughing too now, a little more tipsy than before, the vodka making everything feel funnier than it really was. You covered your face with both hands, cringing at yourself. “Oh my god, what the fuck are we doing?”

Jeff didn’t let you hide for long.

He closed the space again in one step, peeling your hands away from your face. His grip was surprisingly careful as he looked you straight in the eyes, his wide-eyed gaze intense for how close you were. For a moment you just stared at each other.

Then he took your wrists and slowly guided your arms up, draping them around his shoulders. His hands dropped to your hips, his fingers digging in just enough to pull you flush against him again.

“Stop thinking so much,” he murmured, his voice rough as he spoke, his forehead almost resting against yours. “We’ve got like three minutes left. Don’t waste ‘em.”

He leaned in slowly this time, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted.

You didn’t.

You kissed him again. And again. Again. Your arms stayed looped around his neck, your fingers playing with the messy hair at his nape. Jeff’s hands rested heavy on your hips, his thumbs brushing lazy circles onto your hip bones.

But, with all the reassurance Jeff had just given you on time, came swooping away the minute you heard loud, sudden yelling from down the hall.

He always had been very unreliable.

“Time’s up, lovebirds!”

The door handle rattled violently. Before either of you could react properly, the closet door was yanked open, flooding the small space with brighter light from the hallway.

You and Jeff shoved apart at the same time, stumbling back into opposite walls in a scurry. Your face burned, so you knew Jeff was probably panicking himself.

Nina and Ben were crammed in the doorway and laughing their asses off.

“Oh my god!” Nina howled, doubling over. “Look at your faces!”

Ben was practically crying with laughter, one hand clutching the doorframe. “Holy shit, you two look like you just got caught stealing. Jeff’s all red—wait—Jeff’s embarrassed!”

Jeff snarled and lunged forward, shoving Ben hard enough to slam him into the opposite hallway wall. “Fuck off!”

Ben just cackled harder, bouncing back like it didn’t even hurt. Nina darted in and threw an arm around your shoulders, hugging you sideways while whooping right in your ear.

“Finally! I knew it! You’ve been flirting alllllll night.”

You were mortified, trying to shrug her off while your cheeks stayed on fire. “Nina—shut up—”

“No way! You’ve got lipstick—wait, no, your lips are just swollen. Even better!”

Jeff was still grumbling and shoving at Ben as the two of them half-wrestled down the hallway. Nina kept her arm locked around you, dragging you along while teasing nonstop.

“Bet you didn’t even make it the full seven minutes. Did he try the whole ‘I’m just gonna be really mean and hope you can tell I’m flirting’ thing?”

By the time you all spilled back into the living room, the embarrassment was in full bloom. The group had already moved on without you. Someone had cleared a decent patch of table space, and now they were all sitting in a loose circle playing cards. Nat was clearly winning—her pile of chips (or whatever random junk they were betting with) was massive, and she had the smuggest little smirk on her face, her legs lazily kicked over Toby’s lap.

Toby looked up first and let out a loud, stuttering laugh. “There th-they are! How was h-he-heaven?”

You cringed.

Tim and Brian both glanced over. Tim’s expression was unreadable. Brian just raised an eyebrow, but you could tell he was fighting a smile.

You dropped down into an open spot on the floor, trying to act normal. Jeff flung himself into the seat directly across from you, sprawling his legs out. He was still breathing a little hard, but the second he sat down his eyes locked onto you.

And he wouldn’t stop staring.

Every time you looked up from your cards that were shoved into your hand, his pale gaze was waiting. He kept licking the split in his lip like he could still taste you there. When Nina leaned over to whisper something filthy in your ear, Jeff’s grin only widened, like he knew exactly what she was saying.

The next round started almost immediately.

Someone slapped the (now empty) beer bottle back onto the coffee table. Toby gave it a lazy spin with two fingers. It twirled fast, then slowed, finally landing on Nina.

Toby’s head jerked up. “Oh hell—”

Nina let out a delighted squeal and grabbed his hand, already dragging him toward the hallway closet. “C’mon, pretty boy!”

The rest of the group whooped and catcalled as the closet door slammed shut behind them. Within seconds everyone had shifted back into the card game like nothing had happened, chips (and random stolen trinkets) clacking as Nat still smugly raked in her winnings.

You, however, were still riding the warm, fuzzy buzz from the vodka and everything moments ago. Your face felt too hot, your lips still tingled, and every time you glanced up, Jeff was staring at you from across the circle with that same hungry, cocky look.

You needed air. Or water. Or anything that wasn’t this room and all of these people who definitely looked like they knew exactly what happened.

You cleared your throat and stood up. “I’m gonna grab a snack real quick. Anyone want anything?”

A couple vague murmurs answered you, but no one really paid attention. You slipped out of the living room and hurried down the hall toward the kitchen, your heart still beating a little too fast.

The kitchen was quieter, the mess from earlier still everywhere but at least the lights were dimmer. You went straight to the sink, grabbed a clean-ish glass, and started filling it with water, trying to cool down.

Not even two minutes later, you heard the soft scuff of boots behind you.

Jeff slunk around the corner with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, that nasty crooked grin already in place. He leaned one hip against the island counter, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Well, well,” he drawled, keeping his voice low enough that the music from the other room drowned him out to anyone but you. “Escaping? Thought we were having fun back there.”

You kept your back to him for a second, taking a sip of water to steady yourself. The cheap vodka still burned pleasantly in your stomach, making everything feel loose and warm, but also clouding your judgement.

Jeff pushed off the counter and wandered closer, stopping just behind you. Close enough that you could feel the heat coming off him again.

“You gonna pretend that didn’t happen?” he asked, tilting his head. His fingers brushed the small of your back, making your skin prickle pleasantly. “Because I sure as hell ain’t.”

He paused, then added with a chuckle, “Your lips are still red.”

You turned around to face him, arms crossing tight over your chest as you tried to look unimpressed.

“Shut up, Jeff.”

He didn’t. Because when does he ever?

He stepped closer, crowding you against the counter without actually touching you yet.

“Aww, c’mon. Don’t get all shy on me now,” he teased. “You were pretty eager earlier. Hell, you were gripping my hoodie so hard I thought you were gonna rip it off me.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to deflect even as your face heated up again. “It was the vodka.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back, leaning in so his face was only inches from yours. “Vodka didn’t make you shove your tongue down my throat. That was all you, sweetheart.”

He lifted one hand slowly, cupping the side of your jaw with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, and damn it—you melted. Your arms uncrossed on their own as you stared up at him, caught in those pale, wild eyes. The cocky mask was still there, but underneath it you could see the nervous flicker, the way he was trying so hard to keep control of this moment.

Jeff’s smile softened into something greedier. He tilted his head and started leaning in for another kiss.

You stopped him with a hand flat against his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart under your palm.

“Not here,” you whispered.

He paused, his lips hovering just above yours. “Nobody’s gonna see,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “They’re all busy with their other shit. Toby and Nina are probably already going at it. No one’s paying attention.”

You glanced over his shoulder, checking the hallway. It was empty. The living room was completely out of view from this angle, but you could hear just muffled laughter and the occasional clack of cards drifting down the hall. No one was coming.

That was all the confirmation you needed.

You fisted the front of his hoodie and yanked him forward, crashing your mouth against his in a rough, hungry kiss. Jeff made a surprised sound that quickly turned into a groan as he kissed you back just as hard.

He pushed you backward until your lower back hit the edge of the counter. One of his hands braced on the countertop beside you while the other slid to your waist, gripping tight and pulling your hips flush against his.

Jeff broke the kiss just long enough to mutter against your lips, “That’s more like it.”

Your fingers tangled tighter into his messy black hair, gripping the strands as you kissed him harder. Jeff made a low, appreciative sound against your mouth, but he clearly wasn’t satisfied with just kissing anymore.

His hands started roaming, sliding up your sides, mapping your waist, your ribs, your back. The touches made your head spin, heat rushing through you in waves, making you plain dizzy.

Then his hands settled on your ribs, his thumbs stroking upward.

…Until they brushed the underside of your chest.

You gasped sharply into his mouth.

Jeff froze, his breaths coming fast and hot against your lips. For a second you both stayed perfectly still, your hearts hammering in cadence.

Then, carefully, he swiped his thumbs again, higher this time.

A louder gasp slipped out of you.

He pulled back just enough to look at your face, his pale eyes dark and looming under the dim kitchen light. Your cheeks were burning red, and you could feel the flush spreading down your neck.

Jeff didn’t say anything. He just watched you for a heartbeat, then slowly slid his hands higher until he was palming your tits fully, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through your shirt.

You groaned, eyes squeezing shut from pure embarrassment even as your body arched into his touch.

“Fuck…” you breathed through with a shaky voice.

Jeff leaned in again, his lips finding the side of your neck. He kissed there first, then started sucking gently, his teeth nipping just enough to make you shiver. All the while his hands kept working, squeezing and palming your chest with that same hungry confidence, his thumbs circling slowly over your nipples.

His mouth moved higher, sucking a mark right below your ear as he pressed his body closer, his hips pinning you firmly against the counter.

You could feel him through his ugly jeans.

“You’re so fucking sensitive,” he muttered against your skin, voice all smug and giddy, but there was that nervous edge underneath it, like he still couldn’t quite believe you were letting him do this. “Look at you… you’re so red.”

His eyes roamed over you.

“And your neck too—all the way down.” He hooked a finger into the collar of your shirt and tugged it to the side, exposing more of your shoulder. “Shit, even your shoulders are flushed.”

He let out a chuckle, clearly enjoying himself way too much.

“I wonder how far down it goes…”

Before you could answer, Jeff shifted his weight and slid one leg between yours, pressing his thigh firmly up against your center. The sudden pressure made you hiss sharply, your hips twitching forward on instinct.

“Jeff—” you hissed, “be quiet—”

He smiled against your neck, that crooked grin pressed to your skin as he rocked his thigh slowly, giving you just enough friction to make your head spin.

“Why?” he whispered, clearly delighted with himself. “You embarrassed? Or are you just worried everyone’s gonna hear how pretty you sound when you’re turned on?”

You were aching now, heat pooling heavy between your legs, the cheap vodka and the adrenaline making everything feel too intense. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you tried to catch your breath.

“We should just go to my room,” you managed, your voice a lot shakier than you’d like. “Right now.”

Jeff pulled back slightly so he could look at you again, still grinding his thigh against you. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide.

“No can do, sweetheart,” he said. “To get to the stairs we’d have to walk right past the living room. They’d all see us. They’d know exactly where we’re going… and exactly what we’re about to do.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he added, almost sweetly,

“And I don’t think you want them hearing you when I finally get my hands on you, do you?”

His thigh pressed up harder and you had to sink your teeth into your lip to stop from whining.

You shook your head in response, your fingers gripping his arm tight and your heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat.

Jeff’s hands slid down your waist slowly until his fingers reached the button of your jeans. Your breath caught sharply as he popped it open with a bit of fiddling, then dragged the zipper down. The sound felt way too loud in the muffled thump of music only one room away.

“You’ll have to be quiet,” he murmured against your ear. “Think you can manage that?”

Your eyes kept darting between his gaze and his hand as it slipped inside your jeans. Your pulse was thudding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. Every few seconds your gaze darted nervously toward the hallway, half-expecting someone to walk in any second.

Nobody came.

You looked back at him, your breath shaky. “Hurry up.”

He snapped your jeans open wider and shoved his hand straight into your panties. At the same time, he crowded you backward into the corner of the island, using his body to block any view from the hallway. His chest pressed against your shoulder, shielding you completely.

He kissed your cheek, almost sweetly, right as his fingers pushed past the fabric and slid between your ridiculously soaked folds.

You both groaned at the same time.

“Fuck…” Jeff breathed, his forehead dropping against your temple. His voice was strained, almost reverent. “You’re so fucking wet already.”

His fingers moved slowly at first, gliding through the slick heat, exploring this uncharted territory. Your legs spread wider on instinct to give him more room, one knee bumping the cabinet beside you. You gripped the front of his hoodie with both hands, white-knuckling it trying to stay upright as pleasure shot through you.

Jeff’s free hand came around your back, holding you steady against him while two fingers eventually found and circled your clit, then dipped lower, teasing your entrance before sliding back up again. He kept his face close to yours, occasionally pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cheek and jaw.

“Quiet,” he reminded you in a whisper, even though he was the one letting out soft, ragged sounds every time his fingers moved through your wetness. “Don’t want the whole house hearing how good I’m making you feel, do you? Especially not Timothy.”

You glared at him, which only received an amused smile in return.

His fingers pressed more firmly, rubbing slow, hard circles right where it made your eyes begin to roll, making your hips twitch forward into his touch.

You buried your face in his shoulder, biting down on the fabric of his hoodie to muffle the sounds threatening to spill out.

“Shit… that’s it,” he whispered into your ear. “Just like that. Let me feel you.”

His fingers slid away from your clit, trailing down until they pressed against your entrance. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes.

You gasped as he slowly pushed one finger inside you, the stretch sudden and foreign. Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct.

“Open them,” he murmured, almost anxiously. “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, locking onto his as he carefully added a second finger. The feeling made your breath hitch, your hips rolling forward into his hand.

Jeff started pumping them slowly at first, deep and slow, letting you feel every inch as he worked you open. The wet, slick sound of his fingers moving inside you was barely masked by the distant noise from the living room.

You could hear yelling and laughter echoing down the hall—probably Nina and Toby about to finish up their turn in the closet. Any minute now someone could come looking for snacks or wonder where the two of you had disappeared to. The thought sent a sharp thrill through you, making everything feel so risky.

But god, it felt so fucking good.

Jeff curled his fingers just right, pressing against your warm insides and making your knees weak and buckle in a little. You gasped sharply, and he immediately leaned in, licking into your mouth to swallow the whine that tried to escape. He kissed you quickly, drinking down every soft moan and broken sound as he fucked you with his fingers, the heel of his palm doing wonders as it pressed against your clit.

“You’re gonna have to tell me when you’re close,” he huffed, his fingers never slowing. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re cumming all over my fingers. Got it?”

You managed a shaky “Yeah,” barely more than a whisper.

Jeff’s lips curled into a grin against your cheek. “Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re so fucking wet… it’s dripping all over my hand.”

“It feels so good,” you breathed, your hips rolling into his hand before you could stop yourself. “We shouldn’t be doing this—”

“Then why aren’t you stopping me?” he shot back, but his fingers never lost their rhythm. He curled them again, pressing perfectly until your voice came out shrill and broken. He watched your face the whole time with his eyes narrowed and focused, reading every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your mouth, every sharp little inhale.

He was being such an ass with his words, but his hands were careful. Precise. He adjusted the angle slightly, slowing when you tensed, speeding up when your thighs started to tremble. He was completely tuned into you, hunting down every reaction like it was a game he refused to lose.

You always forget just how smart Jeff is. Not in academics or anything futile like that, hell no. But his ability to read and react to situations? That’s where he thrives.

You wanted to laugh at him, but he began to add another finger into the mix, pushing it up until his knuckle caught on your tight entrance, stretching you so good.

You couldn’t think straight anymore.

Your hand slid down his chest, over his stomach, until your fingers reached his belt. You worked it open with clumsy, hurried tugs. Only when the buckle rattled did Jeff notice.

“Fuck—” he swore under his breath, his head snapping toward the hallway for half a second. When no one appeared, he crowded you even tighter into the corner of the island until you nearly had to lean back onto it to keep your balance. His free hand quickly helped you, popping the button on his jeans and shoving the zipper down just enough.

You reached into his boxers and wrapped your fingers around him, pulling him out into the cool kitchen air.

Jeff is so lanky, you should’ve guessed his dick would be the same. He was so hard already, twitching in your hand and sending shocks through you in time with his fingers. Precum dribbled at the tip, smearing down onto your knuckles as you slid your grip to his tip.

Jeff let out a groan, his forehead dropping against yours as your hand gave him one stroke over his flushed head.

“Shit… careful,” he hissed, but there was no real protest in it. “I don’t think I’m… I’m not gonna last…”

You smiled, “One pump chump—fuck—,” but your teasing was cut short by his quick fingers.

His breathing was ragged now, his hips twitching forward into your grip even as he tried to stay focused on you. He kissed you again, but it was more of the two of you panting against each other’s lips.

You pumped him faster, your hand sliding up and down his cock with shaky, unsure strokes. You weren’t even sure if you were doing it right, but Jeff didn’t seem to care. He buried his face into the crook of your neck with a moan, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

His free arm wrapped around your hips from behind, pulling you snug against him sideways so the flushed tip of his cock pressed right under your bellybutton, smearing pre-cum against your skin with every twitch of his hips.

You were both moving frantically now, your hand working him quickly while his fingers pumped deep inside you, curling against your gummy insides and pooling slick into your panties.

Then the yelling started from the living room.

“Nina! Toby! Time’s up, you horny fucks!”

Laughter erupted, followed by Nina’s loud, giggling protest and Toby’s stuttering laugh as they were dragged out of the closet.

The sound hit you both with sudden urgency.

You both groaned at the same time and sped up, causing you both to be even messier than before. Jeff’s fingers fucked into you faster, lewd wet sounds barely muffled by your bodies pressed together. Your hand stroked him harder, your thumb swiping over the slick head on every upstroke.

“Fuck, you’re so wet… you’re gripping me so tight, sweetheart. Gonna cum all over my hand while everyone’s twenty feet away? Want them all to hear how good you feel?”

You whined.

“Fuck— just imagine if it was my dick instead. Imagine how good it’d feel. How deep I could get.”

The words overwhelmed you. Your thighs started shaking.

“I’m— I’m gonna cum,” you whined louder.

“Yeah?” Jeff growled, his lips brushing your ear. “Come on, baby. I’ve got you, let me feel you..”

That was it.

Your eyes rolled back, a broken moan catching in your throat as your orgasm crashed through you. Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers, your walls pulsing rapidly around his knuckles and sucking him in impossibly deeper.

At the same moment your hand gripped his cock like a vice, stroking him through it.

“Fuck— fuck—” Jeff cursed sharply, his hips jerking forward frantically.

He came instantly, thick ropes of cum spilling over your fingers and onto your lower stomach in hot, roped pulses. He buried his face deeper into your neck to muffle the groan he couldn’t contain, his body shuddering against yours as he rode it out, grinding his cock into your hand while his fingers kept lazily pumping inside you, drawing out every last aftershock he could milk.

For a few long seconds you both just panted against each other, bodies trembling, hearts hammering so hard you could feel his pulse where your chest pressed against his.

Then—rapid footsteps coming down the hallway.

Jeff reacted instantly. He yanked his hand out of your pants, shoved his hoodie down roughly to cover his still-open jeans, and spun around to step fully in front of you, using his body to block any view of your undone jeans and the cum streaking your lower stomach and shirt.

Ben turned the corner a second later, heading straight for the ashtray he’d left on the far counter earlier. He grabbed it, then glanced over at the two of you.

The kitchen went dead quiet.

“Jeff,” Ben said flatly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

“Ben,” Jeff replied, his voice thrumming with that fake menace he always used when he was trying to look tough.

Ben’s gaze flicked between the two of you once more, then he gave a single, knowing nod and scurried back toward the living room without another word, weed ashtray clutched in his hands.

The second Ben disappeared around the corner, Jeff’s shoulders sagged just a fraction. Pure anxiety flashed across his face for a split second before he covered it up with a sharp, menacing scowl that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He turned back to you, looking you up and down slowly. A short laugh escaped him.

“Shit… you look like a fucking mess.”

You smacked his chest hard. “Asshole.”

Jeff just grinned wider, those split cheeks pulling tight. He reached over, grabbed a wad of paper towels from the roll on the counter, and started wiping you down. He cleaned the streaks of cum off your stomach and shirt first, then wiped his own mess from your fingers you had clutched behind your back from Ben. After that he quickly cleaned his own hand and tucked himself back into his boxers, fixing his belt and jeans with a few quick motions.

You were still buttoning your own jeans when he gave you one more slow once-over, satisfied with how disheveled he’d left you.

“I know a way up the tree out back,” he said casually, shrugging his shoulders. “Climbs straight to my window. I use it sometimes to sneak past Tim and Brian when they’re being assholes.”

You hit him again, harder this time. “You’re such an asshole. We could’ve gone up there this whole time?”

Jeff caught your wrist mid-swing. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He leaned in closer, dropping his tone. “I liked sneaking around. Besides… it was hot as hell watching you try to act like you didn’t want me. Had to get you as soon as I could.”

He pressed one last quick, messy kiss to your lips, still tasting like smoke and vodka, before pulling back with a wink.

“C’mon. I wanna see what you can really do with those hands.”