(This is, obviously, the lemon.
Part one.)
It was an hour, maybe even more before the two of you finally stopped. Jack was panting just slightly, though it might have been more from the excitement than the kissing.
He had carried you into his room, relatively easy, and you realized that he was stronger than he seemed. His build seemed awfully skinny, but he was lean, not scrawny.
Taking a deep breath Sean immediately tugged his shirt off before leaning back down, on his elbows and knees over you. He couldn't get enough; each kiss only seemed to encourage more. Truth be told, you could just barely keep up.
Don't drunk guys have issues with sex, though? He doesn't seem like the type of guy to get whiskey dick...
On the contrary, Jack was very much excited. Almost painfully so. Pulling you up into a sitting position he backed off again, head hanging and grinning a little. "Sorry," he panted, "gettin' a wee bit carried away..."
At some point there had been a fire building up, somewhere below your belly. It was a low heat, the flame small to start with, but his attention on you had turned up the fire. When he stopped, however, you felt your body protest. You needed... something. Something more.
With a small smile you followed his lead, tugging your shirt off. His breath hitched in his throat, and Sean promptly pushed you back down, lips at your neck. His kissing was a little messy, but the two of you were drunk...
Should I be doing this?
That nagging feeling of being watched didn't seem to go away, and you realized you were too drunk to care about it any longer. You wanted the stranger kissing your neck, his mouth trailing lower, hands sliding up your back as it curled away from the bed. Gently, so gently that you had no choice but to feel his every movement, he freed your chest of its bindings, tossing the article of clothing to the side. His lips molded to one breast, sucking carefully, playing with the other with his fingers.
The alcohol had made your brain fuzzy; if there had been any red flags going off, you vehemently ignored them. This was, after all, your first one-night stand, and you wanted it- and Jack- badly. Very badly.
"F-fuck," you slurred, hands tugging the stranger's head closer still. His own hands lifted you from behind your back, bringing you up and towards his mouth. He sucked eagerly, now working the other bud with his tongue. Jack was... a little too good at this.
You opened your mouth to say more, but Sean's bent leg slid forward, between your own. The fiery feeling there suddenly flared up red-hot, and the words at your lips died in a whimper. You felt his mouth grinning against your skin. "You, uh, need a little help?" Jack teased, his leg pressing incessantly.
"G-go to hell," you stammered. Your face burned darker than it ever had in your life, and you felt yourself being sucked back into watching him. He was watching you right back, with those goddamned baby blues of his. Watching you writhe in his bed as his leg grinded against you. You couldn't look away, even if you wanted to.
You could have laid there forever, enjoying whatever the hell his leg was doing, but the burning had become an annoyance at this point. Hands scrambling, you undid your jeans, tugging them down a little. An invitation, so to speak.
It was an invitation that Jack willingly took, his fingers at the hem of the remainder of your clothing. He undressed you slowly, not breathing, watching as he carefully exposed the rest of you. You looked... absolutely stunning.
But Sean smirked wide. What was his deal? Then you realized: he licked his upper lip before leaning back down, pressing light, fluttery kisses to your stomach. You stuttered, wanting to speak, but the feeling was ticklish and exciting. You knew where he was going. "J-Jack, I..." you started.
