RIVALS | MxM MPreg

Chapter 2

Loud dubstep music reverberated through Eleanor's lounge, its relentless pulse shaking the very foundation of the venue, yet cheers from the drinkers on the dancefloor overshadowed the deafening base. Multicolor lights covered every inch of space, while shot glasses on top of the bar counter trembled with each base drop, The air was thick with the heady scent of expensive liquor, sweat, the lingering taste of sex, and a subtle hint of marijuana. Jackson stepped across the floor, clad in a black and blue leather racing jacket, he threaded his fingers through his overgrown hair and observed the turmoil on the dancefloor before he rolled his eyes. Fucking idiots, he thought.

Half of these people he loathed with a passion. He didn't care about the losers he was compelled to invite, so his eyes wandered elsewhere, seeking someone else, for a madness—an unsatisfying urge he couldn't get rid of—for an obsession he was forced to live with for the past fifteen years! Day in and day out, he would—

The rookie's eyes darkened and a faint smile tugged on his lips. He found him, his presence unmistakable amongst the room of wanna-be nobodies: Landon McCoy, his Landon McCoy, who sat alone in relaxed clothing that those boring-ass old people wore—denim jeans and a plain white tee—sipping on a Corona, in the junction near the second bar area where the music wasn't bleeding to the ears.

Jackson admired him for a moment; fuck, he loved that man. Did Landon love him back, though???? He will, the youngster reasoned with his wayward mind. All he needed to do was be patient, and although it had been fifteen years, he could be a little more patient, right?? Yes—of course! A month, perhaps two, the old man would be his. All he needed to do was talk to him, be rational, reel into his hillbilly interest, and act nice. Landon would easily fall for his charms and wits. Who wouldn't? He was hot, rich—a pro video gamer when he wasn't racing, and... He had a large cock.

"Hey Jax! Come drink—"

"Fuck off," Landon snarled, his eyes wide with a warning as he shoved Tony away, who had the nerve to come into his space, and shove a bottle of BudLight into his chest like Jackson hadn't been busy admiring his Landon!

"Jesus Christ, man—stop being such an ass," Tony declared, though he didn't take any offense to Jackson's antics, already accustomed to it. Tony was Jackson's friend, a spoilt rich brat whom Jackson didn't care much about despite their friendship lasting well over eight years. "What the fuck you doing way over here?"

"Go away, I'm busy," Jackson said, his eyes back to Landon, who tinkered with his phone—typing god knows what.

Tony sucked his teeth and took a swig at his BudLight. "Whatever. Hurry up—me and the guys are waiting for you, baby. We can't celebrate without our winner."

Jackson rolled his eyes and gestured a dismissed hand before stepping away. He needed to talk to his Landon because the old man had been alone for too long.

When Landon glanced in his direction, Jackson's face lit up with glee before he waved in the veteran's direction. And when Landon smiled lightly at him, his heart thundered in his chest to the point of blinding pain— he couldn't breathe. He stepped over, his legs feeling lax with the notion that his Landon wasn't ignoring him as he ignored him yesterday to talk to that fool he called a friend! No, his Landon noticed him; surely he also loved him, surely he—

Jackson stopped in his tracks as though he might've walked into a brick wall. Instantly, the glee dropped from his face, replaced with a black, emotionless scold.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

He felt betrayed.

Wronged.

He saw red, and it was a flaring red that consumed him.

What was she doing here?

At his party.

Sitting next to his Landon.

WHAT WAS SHE DOING HERE?!?!?!

Jackson's left eye twitched as Landon's attention went to that woman, Vanessa Shah.

He knew her, she was Landon's friend, he knew all about them, had studied them for years—knew their likes and dislikes. Landon had met the Omega woman in that hillbilly-yee-haw town, Fredericksburg. The woman was a local business owner, she owned a bakery shop and Landon helped her whenever he was there. Jackson didn't know everything, but he knew their friendship was platonic for a good eight years until something happened and they started dating a year ago.

If Jackson could've, he would've dropped everything back home in Cali and tear them apart. It would've been a wrong move, though; he would've ruined everything. Luckily they broke up two months ago. They had stopped seeing each other, so he didn't understand WHAT THE FUCK he was looking at!

Jackson cleared his throat and smoothed back his hair.

No matter.

The old man was desperate, his age was catching up to him—he wanted someone to settle down with, he was pathetic and hopeless and drooling like a dog for an unattainable woman who obviously didn't love him, not how Jackson loved him.

This was all Landon's fault.

Jackson didn't want to hurt him— he loved him.

He had other ways to get his Landon.

Other... Unethical ways.

"Jackson!"

Jackson snapped out of his trance-like state, the booming dubstep echoing into his ears like crazy as his attention went to the opposite end of the lounge where his friends were drinking at a table, and shouting, and grinding on each other like sluts.

"Fuck man—get over here and let's get wasted!" Tony shouted.

With great difficulty, Jackson chose not to look back in Landon's direction as he left to drink with his friends.

He would worry about the old man tomorrow.

When he arrived at the crowded table, he slapped Tony on the back of the head and said, "You can't fucking wait when I tell you to?!"