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Schmidt was on edge, mainly because Jenko was radiating a strange sense of hostility. His partner was a great guy, one of the best, and tended to a goofball friendliness. Jenko was an overactive Labrador puppy, not a coiled cobra.
Usually.
Sometimes Schmidt was painfully reminded of high school Jenko, the man who taunted and bullied him, and who Schmidt had tried to never ever cross, because that was always… bad. Really bad.
The front door shut behind them, and Schmidt turned immediately to face Jenko, because delay never did any damn good. "Okay, what?"
"What? That's what you got?"
"Yes, that's what I got. You are pissed; I can tell, but I have no idea why."
Jenko still looked tight-lipped, but his shoulders relaxed a bit, like he was accepting Schmidt hadn't meant to be provoking. "Seriously, you don't know?"
"If I knew I was doing something that was bothering you, I would have stopped." Schmidt could hear the whine in his voice. "Or made whoever was doing whatever stop." Maybe it wasn't Schmidt himself, but someone else, and Jenko was mad about that other person, right?
Bad tactic—Jenko tensed up again, like he was irritated by Schmidt's attempted deflection. "Oh, it was you. You were—"
"What, seriously what?"
"You were flirting with her," Jenko said, his face darkening.
"What? No. I was just... being pleasant."
"There's being pleasant and there's flirting. And you were flirting. Do you like her, Schmidt? Do you want to be with her?"
"Of course not, Jenko. I'm with you. I mean, kinda, I guess? We don't really talk about it."
Wrong way to reassure Jenko, because his face went from dark to massively boiling thunderclouds. "You don't know if we're together?"
"No, obviously I know," Schmidt back pedaled frantically. He and Jenko had been partners for several years now, and he admired the other man like crazy, like maybe the person he most admired in his entire life, but Jenko was not a good man to make angry. "We're together and I'm not interested in anyone else ever, no matter how hot she is and despite the fact that we never talk about our relationship," he ended victoriously, before his brain kicked in, oh my god, did he have to say it like that? Why was he so stupid? He was supposed to be the smart one.
Jenko put his hands on his hips, staring angrily. "I think you need to understand where I'm coming from."
"Communication! Yes, communication is great. My mom says it's the cornerstone of a relationship. We can sit, talk."
"That's not how I'm thinking about communicating," Jenko said, and then he was moving, manhandling Schmidt further into their living room. Schmidt gave a little "Whoa!" as he found himself over Jenko's lap on their couch, his face buried in the cushion.
"You!" Jenko's palm rose up, smacked down hard on Schmidt's ass, the crack sound very sharp. "Do not!" Again, his strong hand connected with Schmidt, this time the other ass cheek. "Flirt!" *smack* "With!" *smack* "Other!" *smack* "People!"
It hurt, for Jenko was a powerful man, his biceps rippled with muscles like his entire body, but not as bad as Schmidt feared. His jeans and underwear provided some cushioning, and Jenko alternated cheeks, so the pain was spread out.
"Yes, Jenko, I understand," Schmidt said quickly, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.
"Do you?" Jenko's tone was still dark, disbelieving. "Did that get through to you?"
"Yes, yes, of course, absolutely. No flirting whatsoever."
"I want to see. I want to see that got across to you." Jenko's hands reached under Schmidt's body, undoing his belt and zipper, shoving his jeans and underwear down to his thighs. "Oh."
"Oh?" Schmidt asked, twisting as much as he could while still on Jenko's lap.
"That's—so pretty," Jenko said, smoothing one palm over Schmidt's ass.
"Pretty?"
"It's all red and flushed. It could be more, can I make it more?"
Schmidt squinted. He wasn't flexible like those scary-skinny gymnasts, he couldn't see his own ass, but he couldn't imagine it looking pretty. "Are you asking permission to spank me more?"
"Just a little bit," Jenko begged. "It's really red here and here." He rubbed right in the middle of each of Schmidt's cheeks, and despite the lingering pain, his touch felt good. "But it could use a little bit—here." He smacked Schmidt's ass again, more gently this time, a little to one side. "And here." He gave another smack to the other side. "I never realized how pretty it could be," he said, his voice dreamy, before he started placing light taps everywhere, all over Schmidt's ass and onto the tops of his thighs, occasionally taking a break to massage the skin. The taps felt much better than the smacks, stinging blows that warmed his skin, spreading good feelings all over. Endorphins, Schmidt thought. This is how endorphins feel. Maybe this was why people willingly ran and did other tedious athletic stuff.
"I need to—you don't mind, do you?" Jenko begged, once again manhandling Schmidt up and off his lap, putting him back down, but this time with his knees on the floor, his chest on the couch seat. "I'll be right back," he said, before dashing away.
"Do I mind what?" Schmidt yelled at him, but Jenko was already returning, a condom and lube in one hand, trying to strip off his clothes with one hand, which wasn't working well. He dropped the supplies on the floor, allowing him to finish undressing rapidly, until he was standing naked in their living room. His body really was a work of art, his muscles as perfectly sculpted as one of those old famous statues by dead Italian guys, except his dick was hard and flushed with blood, not broken off or covered with a funny fig leaf.
"Come on, you need to be naked too." Jenko yanked Schmidt's shirt over his head, kneeled between his legs to pull off his shoes and pants and underwear.
"Dude, really? You're going to leave my socks on? That's so tacky." Schmidt didn't care about his socks, but Jenko's abruptness was weirding him out a bit, which always brought out his tendency to complain.
"Right, right." Jenko peeled off his socks, and went to this knees between Schmidt's thighs. Coating his fingers with lube, he thrust two of them in Schmidt's hole. They fucked often enough that Schmidt was used to the roughness, spreading his legs wider. What he wasn't used to was Jenko's continued chanting, "Pretty, pretty, so pretty."
Adding a third, still stretching Schmidt's hole, Jenko said, "Gonna fuck you so hard, make sure you don't flirt on me again."
"I wasn't—" Schmidt started to protest, but Jenko was hitting that spot, over and over again, and seriously, who the fuck cared why he was doing it? Jenko could fuck his brains out every day from jealousy as far as Schmidt cared.
"But you won't," Jenko moaned, switching from fingers to his dick, "not anymore."
Well, maybe. Schmidt did like to be pleasant to people, especially pretty girls. It just wasn't in him to be rude. He was a little beyond discussing future activities though, because Jenko's dick was thick and long, and felt even better than his fingers. Schmidt's brain was totally disengaging, his body feeling too good for his mind to work.
"Wait, I want—"
And Jenko was stopping, rummaging in his discarded clothes.
"You can't stop!" Schmidt wailed.
"Okay, gonna start again, just gotta—" Jenko resumed his thrusts, long, lazy rolls of his hips. Schmidt could swear he felt every vein on Jenko's impressive dick as he fucked into him.
"What are you doing?" He twisted again, seeing that Jenko was leaning his torso away from Schmidt and had his phone aimed at where their bodies connected. "You are not filming!"
"It's so pretty," Jenko gasped. "Your ass is as red as my dick."
"Fuck, dude, fuck!"
Jenko seemed to take that as instruction rather than Schmidt's intended expression of irritation. "Yeah, yeah," he said, dropping the phone on the couch, gripping Schmidt's shoulders in his hands, and going to town like a jackhammer. Schmidt dug his elbows into the couch and tried to thrust back, but gave up. Jenko was slamming into him so hard, he had to focus on staying steady enough to not get plowed into the couch.
Then Jenko was gasping, coming, and muttering a hoarse string of "fuck, yeah, so good." He slumped, his weight heavy on Schmidt, who for once appreciated being solid enough to support him. Schmidt whined in his throat, because his dick was stiff and painful.
"Sorry, sorry," Jenko said, wrapping his hand around Schmidt's dick, his thumb finding that sweet spot right under the head. It only took a few strokes and Schmidt was coming, shooting on the side of the couch, and feeling like his brain was melting out of his skull.
"Dude, you fucked my brains out."
"I guess you won't be doing that again," Jenko said, very smugly. Schmidt thought this was a completely wrong assumption to make, but he kept his mouth shut. Sometimes honesty wasn't the best policy with Jenko.
"I can't believe you filmed it." He picked up Jenko's phone, and played the short clip. The picture was closely focused on their bodies, with nothing identifiable showing. Except that anyone who knew them would recognize their voices by their gasps and moans. "That is kinda hot," he admitted, a little turned on by Jenko's thick dick plunging in and out of his ass. "I'm not sure I'll be able to sit tomorrow though."
"I'll give you a massage," Jenko offered, groping at his ass, before standing up, his dick dragging out of Schmidt's hole and leaving him feeling empty. That time undercover at a spa had been useful—Jenko's big, strong hands made him excellent at massages. Jenko helped Schmidt stand, waiting patiently while Schmidt got his wobbly legs under him. Then he kissed him, slow and hungry. "Bed?" he asked, pulling Schmidt toward their bedroom.
Their clothes were still sprawled everywhere and Schmidt's come was on the side of the couch, but Schmidt figured what the hell, cleaning up could wait until tomorrow. Next week, whatever.
"So not the hard smacks, because you won't make me mad like that again, but the taps, that was good, right? We can do that again." Jenko pulled the blankets back on their bed, pushing Schmidt in and curling them up together as he talked.
"If I can walk and sit," Schmidt said pointedly because he knew that giving in too much to Jenko only encouraged him.
"Massage," Jenko promised. "My hands all over your body, every single inch," he added, already falling asleep, doing that octopus thing he did, arms and legs tucked around Schmidt's body, like he was a big stuffed teddy bear.
Schmidt wished for a moment that he'd cleaned up, because Jenko's come was leaking out of his ass, but being warm under the covers with Jenko felt too good. Yawning, he curled his arms and legs around Jenko and fell asleep too.
~ the end ~