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If Jason really sits down and thinks about it, letting his sister pester him into living in the co-op on campus directly lead him to where he’s at right now: his face between Percy Jackson’s thighs.
He didn’t really like Percy at first. And by “didn’t really like” Jason actually means they got into multiple shouting arguments and one almost-physical altercation in their first two weeks as roommates.
The dislike was absolutely mutual.
Percy can kinda be a dick, if Jason’s being honest. Even now that they know each other, now that they’re buddies rather than two dudes sharing a bathroom and kind of wanting to kill each other, he can say that with his full chest. He’s blunt and sarcastic and confident as all hell, even when he really shouldn’t be. All of which made, and sometimes still makes, Jason act like an absolute dickhead right back, even without provocation.
Their general approaches to life are so drastically different—Percy the epitome of go with the flow while Jason prefers a well thought out plan and ingrained structure built into his everyday life.
Living with multiple people after his freshman year with a single dorm room was its own culture shock, but sharing a tiny Jack and Jill bathroom with Percy was its own brutal adjustment.
But they’re fine now. More than fine.
They have an established dynamic and an easy friendship, one filled with good natured ribbing, occasional roughhousing, and innate appreciation for each other.
Theirs is a friendship that almost six months into his sophomore year of college Jason heavily leans on and gets a lot of joy out of, if he’s being completely real.
These days, they spend a lot of time together, dicking around in their bedrooms and on campus in between classes. A few days a week, he comes home to Percy slung across his bed, playing on his phone. He’s gained an un-Jason-like tendency to push into Percy’s room without asking in return, flopping onto and wriggling in his bed like a fish while Percy taps away on his computer at his desk.
Sometimes they smoke together, too. Percy is the first person on the face of the planet to convince Jason to take a break from his upright model citizen vibe with absolutely no judgment.
No cajoling, no pressure, not like his sister and her friends or Piper and Leo. Just, a “Hey, you wanna smoke?” and a few pointers on inhaling the right way when Jason coughed so hard the first time he almost threw up. Nothing more, nothing less.
All of these little Percy-things piled on top of each other lead to him knocking on the bathroom door on Percy’s side and pushing it open without waiting for a response.
Which is Jason’s first mistake.
It takes a few seconds to understand what he’s seeing once he’s actually in the room, Percy looking much like he always does, all long, gangly limbs and shock of dark hair, sprawled across his bed.
He’s wearing a hoodie Jason is pretty sure is his, plaid pajama pants shucked down to his knees, thighs spread. Hand between them, fingers rocking in a gentle stroking motion.
Jason doesn’t look away, even after he registers what’s happening. Second mistake.
Percy flails the second he spots him, yelping and tipping up into a haphazard bridge on his bed to tug his pajama pants back up. The angle gives Jason an even crazier view of his slick inner thighs.
“Oh shit, dude!” is the first thing to fall out of Jason’s mouth, because he’s an actual idiot. Third mistake. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” His voice tilts up at the end, edging into a higher register than he’s heard from himself in a long time.
His panic voice. Obviously.
Jason slaps a hand over his eyes and turns around immediately, facing the open bathroom door.
A little late on the uptake, but at least he’s trying.
The image of Percy’s long fingers tucked inside of himself, the concentrated furrow of his brows, his lower lip pulled between his teeth—they’re all immediately pressed into Jason’s memory, the sight flickering on the back of his eyelids when he squeezes his eyes shut.
There’s nothing from Percy for a beat. No sound in his bedroom aside from their heavy breathing, two very different reasons making them short of breath.
“Jase.” Percy sounds absolutely pained, a hint of resigned embarrassment in his voice. “You can turn around, my pants are already back on.”
Jason doesn’t move until Percy says his name again. He can feel how hot his own face is, but looking at how red Percy is is even worse.
He’s pink from his cheeks down his neck, likely disappearing underneath the hoodie Jason now knows for sure is his. It’s his high school lacrosse hoodie, with his last name on the back and everything. The thought of Percy wearing it in general, let alone like this, makes his dick twitch. What the fuck.
“I’m so sorry, dude,” Jason tries again, guilt immediately over powering both the embarrassment and the inherent horniness of this situation. “I knocked but I didn’t wait, fuck.”
“It’s okay, man.” Percy sits up as he speaks, crossing his legs. His eyes are so damn green. “It’s fine, shit happens. Next time I’ll lock the door.”
Next time.
Jason groans under his breath, pushing his hair back off his forehead with a little too much force. He tries not to look at the hand Percy had between his legs, his lizard brain desperately wanting to know if his fingers are still shiny and wet, slick. He looks directly at Percy’s face instead.
That’s almost worse. He’s still so pink, slightly ruffled. Hair all fucked up in the back, like he was rolling around in his bed. Which he probably was.
“Let’s just pretend it never happened,” Percy says, voice closer to begging than any sort of command. He shifts again on his bed, fingers curling over his knees. He’s off kilter, his confidence slipping. It throws Jason off balance in return.
“What happened? I don’t remember a thing.” He leans into the request, desperate to alleviate any of Percy’s tension. Especially when it was Jason’s goddamn fault. “Already forgotten. Didn’t even experience it, actually.”
It makes Percy huff a laugh, tiny and sweet. His shoulders relax from their hunch. The tension winding Jason up eases too, directly proportional.
“You wanna hang here for a bit?” Percy asks, sounding hopeful as he pokes through his blankets and sheets for his phone.
If Jason spends a single second longer in this room, he’s going to do something both of them will probably regret. Out of embarrassment or desperation, he can’t be sure.
“No, uh, I gotta head back to campus. Was just seeing what you were up to.”
Percy grimaces, immediately reminded.
Okay, well. Uncomfortable for them both but probably better than saying he’s half hard in his jeans and absolutely nosediving the vibe. Needs must.
He fires off a halfhearted salute to Percy that he’s not sure he gets a response to before doing a full one-eighty and running out of the house without looking back.
*
Jason very much does not forget.
He’s an absolutely shit friend, but he thinks about it every time he jerks off for the next week and a half. Knuckles pressed to his mouth when he gets off in the shower, the sounds of Percy puttering in his own room audible even under the spray. Bored in his lectures, his brain spinning the experience into something altogether different, an edge of fantasy that turns it red hot.
He loses hours thinking about it, looking at it from different angles, changing the outcome. Playing out all the plots and feeling guilty as hell while he does it.
The angle of Percy’s fingers inside himself, the soft, flat plane of his stomach. The indent of the waistband of his pajamas tight on pale thighs. Jason shuffling on his knees across his bed, Jason between his legs, Jason’s hand replacing Percy’s.
When he isn’t actively thinking about something else—work, papers, and projects, Leo’s latest hair brained scheme—he’s thinking about Percy.
Percy, Percy, Percy.
Jason should’ve known, is the thing. He’s never gotten that worked up and upset about some random guy who didn’t like him, who he didn’t get along with immediately. He should’ve known from the beginning that he was attracted to Percy even when they were having shouting matches about single socks left on their shared bathroom floor. He should’ve realized months ago, when the thing he looked forward to most all day was coming back to the co-op and hanging out together, doing nothing at all.
He thought about Percy a lot before this anyway, he means. Now his thoughts are just colored a little differently.
Because they are who they both are, the entire experience comes to a head two weeks later, Jason sitting in the window sill of Percy’s bedroom and pretending like he hasn’t been watching him for the last half hour.
Percy is frowning, hitting the trackpad of his laptop at an increasingly agitated tempo. He’s stressed, worried over midterms and exhausted by his job and his responsibilities and his whole life. They both are.
Which is why, Jason, apropos of absolutely fuck all nothing and with a brain full of white hot daydreams, says, “Hey, uh, if you ever need help. Or want to relieve stress or whatever. I can give you a hand. If you want.”
Give you a hand? What the hell is wrong with him? Why would he say that?
Percy doesn’t even look up at him. “With what?”
God. Jason should just get up and leave while he’s ahead. “You know.” To really send his point home, he gestures vaguely at Percy’s waist.
“What.” How flat Percy’s voice is should be a warning. Jason doesn’t take it.
He can’t stop thinking about the split second view he had, Percy’s long fingered hand working himself over. Jason could make him feel better, he thinks, he could do it just as well. It’s always nicer when it’s not yourself doing it.
“If you ever want to like, get off with someone that isn’t yourself…” He trails off, sounding like a fucking idiot.
Percy, for what it’s worth, doesn’t look surprised. At least not about the return to the topic they both agreed they would forget. He squints at Jason, fingers stilled over his keyboard. “Are you offering to get me off?”
That is indeed exactly what Jason’s doing.
“Yeah,” he says, simply, shrugging. “No worries if not.”
He sounds like a goddamn nervous email sign off. No worries if not? Many worries if not. Friendship ending worries if not!
Percy squints at him even harder, suspicious. “Are you sure? Even with my whole deal?”
Jason scoffs, as if Percy being trans has any bearing on how badly he wants to go down on him. “I had a girlfriend for multiple years, dude. I know my way around.”
“Wasn’t questioning your abilities, champ,” Percy says, his dumb mouth—the same one that’s been occupying half of Jason’s thoughts—curling up into a smirk. He visibly drops his gaze to Jason’s hands, unoccupied on top of the textbook he’s got open in his lap. Jason tries not to blush. “Right now?”
“Whenever,” Jason is quick to reassure. “Now. Later. Next week. I’m game whenever.”
Percy takes a second to think something over, the space between them going taut like a bowstring. The tension feels tangible, like Jason could reach out and grab it. He wants to. He wants to reach out and get a hold of it, wants to bend it in his grip.
“Fuck it,” Percy says, finally done deliberating. “Sure, right now. Get over here.”
Snapping his laptop closed, he frisbees it to his side table before reaching down to shuck his hoodie—Jason’s hoodie, his traitorous observant mind whispers—over his head and onto the floor. He’s barely shifted over to make room for Jason before he’s there, tucking himself into the warm curve of Percy’s body.
“How should we—” he starts, looking unsure but not like he’s about to back out. Jason interrupts him, two weeks worth of fantasies leaving him already prepared, “Do you wanna kiss a little bit first?”
Percy goes even softer against him, a little sigh falling out of his mouth. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
It’s no trouble to dip down and kiss him, to press tiny, chaste little kisses against the curve of Percy’s lips while leaning over him on one elbow. Percy meets him with the exact same enthusiasm, small, questioning kisses meant to figure each other out.
It’s even less trouble to swipe a tongue across the seam of Percy’s lips, to edge closer and press their chests together. Percy lets him in without a second thought, their kisses going hot and wet.
Jason thinks he could do this for hours. He wants to memorize the inside of Percy’s mouth, wants to lick the back of his teeth. He’s always been a sucker for making out, for grinding and dry humping, for rocking together until somebody comes in their pants like the dumbass teenagers they’re barely aren’t.
But even with so many varying fantasies swirling around in his brain, he has a specific goal in mind. He’s getting in between Percy’s thighs one way or another, but preferably face first.
Percy bites down hard on his lower lip and hums, the sound smug, when it makes Jason gasp. “Thought you were gonna show me your way around?”
Jason ignores him, knowing exactly what’ll happen if he verbally engages. Instead, he trails warm, wet kisses down the side of Percy’s neck. Pushing his shirt collar to the side, he works on sucking a ridiculous hickey into the slope of his shoulder, biting down harder when Percy makes tiny, pleased noises.
His next order of business is rucking up Percy’s shirt to get his mouth on him. Soft, tickly kisses to his collarbone, across his scars, down his belly. A mock bite, complete with the barest hint of teeth to a sharp hipbone. Nuzzling his face into Percy’s happy trail, Jason unable to stop himself from laughing when Percy squirms.
Those same long fingers he’s been thinking about for days tangle in the short length of Jason’s hair, holding on with a hesitant but consistent pressure. He wouldn’t mind if Percy tugged even harder, but he won’t say that yet. Hopefully he can get it to happen naturally.
When he pats pointedly at Percy’s thigh, he’s quick to arch into the same bridge from before, the muscles of his stomach rippling and his quads going tight. His sweats are shimmied off and his boxer briefs follow quickly, the only clothing left on him is his t-shirt, rucked up to his armpits and skewed at the collar.
Jason takes careful note of the moment, etches it into his memory, slides it to the front of the pile of all of his fantasies, shiny and bright.
Bullying his way between Percy’s legs is easy, especially when Percy lets them fall open for him, green eyes blown and lip pulled between his teeth.
“You still good?” Jason checks, because he’s not a goddamn monster and now is the time. Above him, Percy scoffs then drags a gentle hand down the back of Jason’s neck in a possessive sort of caress. Then he tightens his grip, guiding Jason even closer to his cunt. The action makes Jason press his hips forward into the mattress, desperate for the pressure even when he knows it won’t be enough.
But this isn’t about him right now, he’s got more important things to focus on.
Like Percy tangling a hand back in his hair before sliding it around the curve of Jason’s skull and smoothing it over his cheek. “I’m good, Jase, let’s get at it.”
At that, he hooks his arms around the bend in Percy’s knees and tugs. He’s a handful of inches shorter than Jason, still tall but lithe, skinny and toned where Jason is dense and broad. It’s easy to pull him down the bed, the vee of his legs brought closer to Jason’s waiting mouth.
Percy twitches when he moves forward, likely expecting immediate action, but Jason takes his time. Nuzzling into the crease of his leg, dragging his mouth along the sensitive skin there. He pays careful attention to Percy’s inner thighs, laving his tongue against the fine, soft hair.
He’s thought about this in some shape or form for actual days, but experiencing it doesn’t even come close to his dirty daydreams. Jason would stay here, right here, forever if he thought he could get away with it. The tenuous grasp on his self control has already slipped, so he says just that.
“Been thinking about this for ages,” he mumbles, hand on Percy’s knee to press his legs open wider. "Wanna live between your thighs."
“Yeah?” Percy sounds just a touch breathless, leaning into his smarmy, smug tone to try and cover it.
“Mhm,” Jason hums, pressing a kiss to the slope of Percy’s pelvis, edging closer. “Since I saw you fingering yourself in your goddamn bed in the middle of the day.”
The hand still in his hair tightens and Percy traps half of a moan behind his teeth. “Was thinking about you.”
Jesus Christ, Jason thinks, a touch hysterically. The grip he’s got on Percy’s thigh tightens, his fingers indenting the pale skin. He hopes it bruises. Hopes Percy sees it later and is reminded of this exact moment.
“Really?” he asks, desperate for that to be the truth. He uses the hand not wrapped around Percy’s thigh to drag his fingertips up the length of his lips, purposefully avoiding his clit. Percy is already visibly wet, shiny and slick and inviting.
“Dead serious,” Percy murmurs, head thrown back against his pillows. ”Scared the hell out of me when you showed up, thought I manifested you.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, exactly like this,” he says, because he can’t respond to that in any sort of normal way. “In my lectures and while doing my homework and at work. Made me feel crazy.”
“Jason,” and god, he sounds desperate, pleading, “fuckin’ do something about it then.”
So Jason does, using his fingers to part Percy’s lips and leaning forward to lick a pointed stripe up him from hole to clit. Percy groans, the foot trapped beneath Jason’s body scrabbling against the sheets.
He loses track of himself after that, getting messy with it. Piper used to say that one of the best things about him giving head was how enthusiastic he was about it, every time. So Jason makes goddamn sure to show Percy just how eager he is, alternating between pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to his clit and prodding the pointed tip of his tongue inside of him with unselfconscious abandon.
This has been something he’s thought of at least once every few hours for the last two weeks, he’s going to make every second count.
Percy doesn’t seem to mind that Jason is sloppy with it, hooking one of his knees over Jason’s shoulder and pressing the heel of his foot down hard into the middle of his back. The angle shifts his hips, making it easier for Jason to slip two of his fingers into him, slurping noisily against his clit all the while.
Percy rocks against his mouth, moves with the thrusting of his fingers. It’s easy to lose himself in the motion, in the sounds they’re both making, in the wet noises of Jason’s fingers inside Percy.
He can feel Percy getting closer, his entire body ratcheting up tight. So Jason pulls back, gentles the strokes of his tongue, the speed of his fingers. Drags Percy back from the edge with soft pets to the thigh thrown over his shoulders, slowing down the steady, persistent rhythm of his mouth.
Percy groans, distraught. Jason wants to grin but he keeps his focus through sheer willpower alone and also actual months of Percy being a literal nightmare roommate.
A socked heel prods at his ribcage, like he’s a horse. Jason ignores it. “No, no, come on, more please.”
When they had just met, when they were butting heads about the stupidest shit, if Jason ever asked him something—like to pick up his goddamn clothes off the bathroom floor, or to move his laundry over from the washer—if he was too short or too curt, Percy would smirk, hands on his hips, and say, “Ask nicely.”
At the time, it made something in Jason go absolutely incandescent with fury. The tone so dismissive, so bitchy. But he did. He asked nicely. Every time. Swallowed his pride and tacked on a please and got Percy to clean the goddamn bathroom.
Now, Jason indulges in the tiny well of pettiness that lives deep inside of him and pulls away, speaking directly against Percy’s cunt. “Ask nicely,” he sing songs, and knows even as he says it that he’s being a dick.
Thankfully, Percy shivers, full bodied.
“Fuck,” he swears, more of a gasp than an admonishment. “Please. Please, please, please, more. I can be nice, so nice.”
It’s objectively shitty how hard Jason gets at that. How hot Percy begging gets him, his voice breaking in the middle of his pleas with his thighs tight around Jason’s head. But then again, Percy’s probably got some shit going on surrounding making Jason subjugate himself like a clown, so he thinks they’re probably even.
He redoubles his efforts, swiping a thumb over Percy’s clit to make him jolt before he resumes the rocking of his fingers, hooking them inside. Ducking down, he presses his flattened tongue back to Percy’s clit, keeping his pace unchanging even when he starts to beg for it faster, the words spilling out of his mouth, frantic.
The pitch of Percy’s moans climbs higher until he’s keening, the earlier soft grip he had on Jason’s hair turning into something white knuckled. The prickles of pain feel good, keeping him grounded, focused.
He tilts his hips up, grinding his cunt into Jason’s mouth. The desperation of it makes Jason moan, humming against Percy’s clit.
It’s that, combined with the continuous slide of his fingers into the wet heat of him that send Percy over the edge with a choked off moan. He tightens up, his thighs pressing so tightly against the sides of Jason’s head that his hearing goes muffled.
Jason doesn’t stop, not his fingers or his tongue or the ridiculous rocking of his own hips against the mattress. He works Percy through it, trying to sear the clench of his cunt around his fingers when he comes into his brain. Slowing his tongue but not stopping, leveling off into soft little kitten licks until Percy clearly can’t decide between pushing closer or squirming away.
He eventually has enough, pushing the heel of his palm against Jason’s forehead to get him to let off. He’s panting, breath seesawing out of him, and occasionally his legs twitch where they’re still wrapped around Jason.
“Dude,” Percy breathes, staring up at the ceiling with his arms flung above his head.
“Good?” Jason asks. He wipes his wet mouth off against the side of Percy’s thigh but not before pressing one last kiss against his clit, the wet slide of it enough to make Percy jolt.
“Good as hell, oh my god.” With that, Percy flops his legs completely open, letting Jason both breathe and hear again, but he doesn’t go far. Resting his face against Percy’s navel, he takes deep, measured breaths and tries to prevent himself from coming in his fucking pants at what just happened in the last twenty minutes.
Percy strokes through his hair, curling his fingers behind Jason’s ear and down his jawline. It’s a sweet, thoughtless action that makes the heat in his belly ebb into something warm that overflows in him. He wants to do this exact thing at least once every few days for the rest of his life.
“Piper was living the dream if you were doing that to her on a regular basis, holy shit.”
Jason smiles against Percy’s hip, hopelessly flattered.
“My claim to fame, I guess.”
“They should give you an award,” he muses, still scratching at Jason’s scalp and making him melt into a horny, relaxed puddle between his thighs.
They breathe together, quiet in the familiar comfort of Percy's bedroom. Jason is still hard, still balancing on a hair trigger, but he's happy where he is. There isn't any rush, no persistent need to get off. He did what he wanted, what he'd been imagining, and it was even better than that.
“‘Kay, get up here," Percy says after a while, green eyes so damn bright. He's smiling, mouth curved and cheeks pink. Jason thinks he might love him. "I need a minute or two more but lemme do you next. I might not have multiple accolades like you but I sure as hell can deep throat.”
Jason pushes up onto his elbows, fucking delighted, and kisses Percy square on the mouth.