INSPIRATION: https://twitter.com/JackAllTimeLow/status/429763037822980096
Jack was woken up by a knock against the wall, which was weird because Jack was normally a heavy-as-fuck sleeper. It could've have something to do with the fact that he'd gone to sleep stone cold sober, though. Normally he had at least enough alcohol in his system to act as a light sedative, but they had a huge sold out show tomorrow and he'd played hungover before. It wasn't really an experience he wanted to repeat. The muted thud came again, and he was just propping himself up onto his forearms and blinking sleep out of his eyes when he heard the first gasp. His muscles froze and he slowly slid back into a horizontal position, yanking the covers up over his eyes. "No, no, god damn it no," He muttered into the duvet when the gasps and other... Sounds... Got a little louder. He tried pushing a pillow against either side of his head but that just meant the sounds replayed themselves in his mind on isolated surround sound. Which was less than helpful. "Alex," He growled under his breath. "Why the fuck would you wake me up with your fucking... Fucking." He dragged a hand down his face as the bed on the other side of the wall bumped into it again because of course, the most responsive dick in the world was already, well, responding, and Jack was sure that this was non-consensual arousal by now. He was gonna sue his dick for sexual harrassment, or something.
"I don't wanna do this," He whispered, breathing lies into his pillow as the sound of panting crossed the thin wall between him and his best friend's sexual exploits. Hesitantly, guiltily, he smoothed his palm down his bare stomach and caught his fingertips on the waistband of his boxers, before pulling them down to his thighs fast, convincing himself it was better that way, like ripping off a band aid. "I'm going to hell," He breathed as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, head automatically tipping back. "I'm going to best friend hell." He kept trying to tell himself that he didn't actually want this, that it was just because he was tired and his mind was still a little messed up from unconsciousness, but in reality he felt weeks of unresolved sexual tension pushing at the forefront of his mind, bubbling over. He'd had it coming, he supposed. But he wasn't going to dwell on that for too long.
He heard a high pitched moan and reflexively, almost angrily, his fist tightened. He had to bite back a whimper at the sudden pressure, swallowing hard. He wasn't fucking jealous, okay? Not jealous at all. The sound had just... Surprised him. Not that Alex could've had anyone else in there but some random girl. His hand picked up the pace, then, almost without his conscious thought, because so were they. God, he felt so dirty. The awkward feelings lurking around the corners of his mind, however, were not enough to drown out the pure carnal fire that was currently consuming his every thought. The knocking sounds were infrequent now, more careful, Alex probably remembering he had bandmates in hotel rooms either side of his. That didn't mean Jack couldn't still hear them, though. Hear Alex, because it was far too late for him to forget about getting off now, and he had to admit it. The girl just wasn't doing it for him. Muffled panting, breathing hard, a "fuck, yes," hissed that made Jack's hips jerk up against his fist.
"Oh my god," He mouthed silently, hand working, rougher and faster the longer it went on. Would Alex be rough if it was him? He cursed under his breath, eyes squeezing shut and fireworks dancing behind them. He sounded like he was being rough with her. Pressure building, heat dancing all the way from his neck to the bottom of his spine and making his legs tremble. He gasped once, pressed his lips together and made a wounded noise low in his throat when Alex muttered another desperate curse from the other side of the wall. "So close," He mumbled to himself, hand twisting erratically because he needed- he needed- Alex groaned like a fucking pornstar, then, with a moan of "Ja-" and Jack whited out. He missed the "-nie" because his ears were full of muffled static and the sound of fucking rainbows and imploding planets. He had just the presence of mind to clamp a hand over his own mouth before a name of his choosing tumbled out of it, fingertips digging into his cheek in an effort to ground himself.
When he landed from that fucking unusually intense high, he yanked his boxers off, turned them inside out and used the thigh parts to clean up. He never said that he was classy. Putting them the right way around, he tossed them into their laundry suitcase and then, breathing a little laboured, he fell back against the pillows. "Fuck," He murmured, flushing slightly in the dark. He was so fucked up, and perverted, and it was all that fucking bastard's fault. Yanking his phone off the bedside table and half-blinding himself with the brightness of the screen, he tapped onto Twitter and typed out a sarcastic-sounding tweet. "Friends aren't really friends unless you've heard them having sex from a room over". He pressed send and let his phone drop to the floor, turning onto his side and smiling tiredly. It was indirect, but Alex would see it and know he'd kept Jack awake. Hopefully, he'd feel guilty. Even more hopefully, he'd be embarrassed. After all, sharing is caring, and Jack didn't deserve this fucking blush all to himself.
