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sparrowofthedawnsworld · 4 months

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Last Minute Changes - Jake Kiszka’s Version

A/N: Remember when I said Sam was Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker coded?? Yeah, well… So is Jake, and since we have now experienced so much Ballerina Jake on stage, I just couldn’t help myself. Also disclaimer, I haven’t done ballet in 5+ years now, so please forgive me if I misname anything. Also, if you are not familiar with the Nutcracker pas de deux, I have linked it HERE for you to go watch (I recommend watching it before reading this, if you have the time or even just the desire to!). Please excuse any errors as always, and I hope you all like it! <3

WARNINGS: Excessive language, excessive practicing, some name calling (bitch, asshole, etc), hate!fucking, asshole!Jake, degradation, fingering, edging, slight mirror play, overstimulation, choking, biting, sort of public sex? sex in a studio, unprotected sex.

MASTERLIST

••••

“You two will be excellent together!” You can hear the smile in your choreographer’s voice. At least one of you is excited. “Well, have a lovely day, dear and I will see you back tomorrow to continue rehearsals.”

You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone, immediately sighing to yourself as you toss your phone to the side.

This is just great, you think to yourself.

What are the odds that the original Cavalier would suffer an injury and have to back out and Jake of all people, will be the one stepping in. It’s a serious lose/lose situation for all parties involved.

It has been quite some time since you’ve worked with Jake Kiszka, but to your knowledge he is no different than he used to be. Arrogant, cocky and an absolute asshole. Not to mention, the extensive hours that he chooses to practice are arguably a little unhealthy and excessive. Though, you have to give a nod to the way he strives for perfection. He’s one of the most talented dancers within the Ballet company the two of you work for. It’s admirable in its own sort of fucked up way.

Not that you don’t strive for that same level of perfection, you just have a different view and approach on how to get there.

After a moment or two of sulking, you decide to call Danny. A fellow dancer at your company and one of your best friends - but also a pretty close friend of Jake’s, you’re almost certain.

The phone barely rings twice before an excited Danny is answering the phone.

“Hello?” Danny’s voice finally cuts through, warm and genuine. As it always is.

“Hey! So uhm…” you start to trail off. “You know Anthony, right ? The guy who was originally the Cavalier?”

“I do, why? What happened?” He asks, concern and curiosity seeping into the way he speaks. “You sound kinda upset...”

“Oh, I’m definitely upset… Anthony has an injury and is being required to take a break…” you pause for a moment, before adding more details. “I mean, he seemed to be in some pain when we were practicing last night, but he told me not to worry.” A long sigh pushes out of your lungs. “But, now Jake is Cavalier...”

What you can only assume is slightly stunned silence, takes over his end of the phone.

“Jake…?” He questions finally. You can practically see his raised eyebrows and wide eyes. “Jake is Cavalier now?”

“Yeah…” You confirm, sighing heavily at the incredibly draining thought of it. “Danny, I don’t even know what to do.”

“Are you joking? What do you mean you ‘don’t know what to do?’” Danny practically scoffs at your words. “You’ve always wanted this part. You would really let Jake ruin this for you? That’s kinda ridiculous, bug.” He scolds you. “Not only that, but you’re already well into rehearsals. You’ve only got a few days left before dress rehearsals start up.”

“Danny, Have you not worked with him?!” You laugh humorously into the phone. “He’s an ass. A complete and total fucking ass.”

Danny laughs at your little outburst, immediately taking up for his friend. “I have and… yes, he can be a lot to handle, but he’s a perfectionist. Everything he does on stage has to be perfect, in his mind.”

You bite at your bottom lip, not at all soothed by Danny’s words whatsoever. You’d made up your mind about Jake and that was that.

“You two will be phenomenal together,” Danny says, breaking the moment of silence. “Give it a go. Don’t just throw away your dreams of doing sugar plum just because of this.”

“I’m really not… it’s just… I really don’t wanna have to do that pas de deux with Jake.” His name spits out of you with pure distaste, making Danny laugh lightly. You can imagine the gentle shake of his head, too.

“Like I said… you two will be amazing,” Danny reiterates, tone warm and genuine. “Don’t stress it too much. Just do what you do best and I’m sure everything will be cool.”

The first few days of rehearsing with Jake go… well, anything but smoothly. Things are rocky and feel out of place, some parts of the routine having to be changed to suite you and Jake, instead of you and your original partner, Anthony.

And today’s practice rolls around too quickly, just like the last three days have. You go to bed, only to wake up feeling like you only slept for a solid five minutes, before you have to get up and reconvene with Jake all over again.

For the first time since joining this professional company, it feels like actual work. Not that it isn’t always work, but you’ve not ever felt this genuinely frustrated by the thought of going to the studio.

The door of the building slams closed behind you, finally separating you from the chilly, early December air.

You make your way down the long hallway, towards the room that your instructor had originally assigned for you and Anthony to use for practicing your Pas De Deux, but has now been for you and Jake.

As you reach the door, you can’t hear anything from the other side of it, and you wonder if Jake is even around yet. In all fairness, you are incredibly early. However, you’ve come to know that Jake takes early to a whole new level.

You open up the door to find he’s nowhere to be seen. Though he isn’t present just yet, realization is like a slap across the face, as it has been each day since you’ve started rehearsing with Jake.

It hits you in a brand new wave. Every. Single Day: This is really happening. You are stuck with Jake from now, until the end of the run.

But, there’s never enough time to dwell on what’s already in motion - which you’ve come to realize that it’s probably better off that way. You shove all the thoughts and feelings stirring up, as far back as they will go, placing your bag and coffee down, so you can begin getting ready to warm up.

Unfortunately for you, not nearly enough time passes before the sound of the door handle is beckoning for your attention and Jake is stepping through the doorway.

You turn to face him, a tight lipped smile being the only thing he offers you as he turns around to close the door. So, you return the half-assed smile and go back to putting on your pointe shoes and stretching out.

The more you spend time rehearsing with him, the more you realize that truly, he’s absolutely gorgeous. Quite possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever had the pleasure of dancing with. But, it isn’t really feeling so much like a pleasure to actually be dancing with him.

You swallow down the annoyance already bubbling up, “Do you need to warm-“

“I warmed up already,” Jake cuts you off before you can even finish your question. “I’ve been here for a while working on my variation.”

He places his things down, then makes his way over to you.

The annoyance floods right back in like it never even left, “Alright, then.”

“Let’s work on those new pieces we added.” It comes out as a command, setting your body even more ablaze.

“No need to get all bossy, Jacob.” You bite rather harshly. “That’s what I’m here for. Not to just bullshit around.”

“I wasn’t-“ Jake stops himself short, the two words sounding very defensive and annoyed.

The audacity for HIM to be annoyed.

He sucks in a sharp breath, trying to calm himself. “I wasn’t trying to be commanding.”

“Whatever.” You glare up at him, filling the space between you with even more tension.

“We can just carefully skim through the whole thing, sans the lifts, if you’d like.”

He stares at you with what can only be read as a stunned expression for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and reaching up to roll the sleeves of his shirt.

“Ready?” Jake extends his hand out towards you, while clearly trying his best to release the unwanted tension in his shoulders.

You take his hand and let him guide you, stepping through slowly until you reach the first lift.

“Aaaand we’re skipping this part,” Jake sings in a mumble, moving with you into the next few steps.

You move with him flawlessly through it all, letting him guide you around the floor. It might even feel nice, if it isn’t for the raging distaste you have for him.

The softness of the which he handles you, doesn’t go unnoticed, though. You notice it almost right away and it slips you into a distracted daze, focusing more on the way his face keeps a calm and even expression and his body moves so fluently.

“Shit!” Jake hisses suddenly, quickly followed by a gasp from you as you bump into his body, causing you both to stumble. “Are you even paying attention?! Goddamn.”

“You grabbed my arm wrong.” You lie quickly, smirking internally as you watch pure annoyance start to show itself all over his face at even the suggestion that he’d messed up.

“You’re joking, right?” Jake snaps at you, practically burning holes into your head with his intense stare.

“No, I’m not joking.” You fire back, trying to make your eyes just as cold and harsh as his are, “There’s a lift there, Jacob.”

Any sort of normal, appropriate volume for the space the two of you occupy is suddenly out of the window completely.

“We aren’t even doing the fucking lifts right now!” Jake’s hands fly into the air dramatically.

“Jesus Christ. This is already giving me a fucking headache.” Your fingers rub at your temples and you fight to not raise you voice like Jake just had. “Let’s just start over? We can do the damn lifts this time, if that makes you happier.”

“Just don’t fucking kill yourself.” Jake mumbles, adjusting the bun hanging lowly at the back of his head.

“If something happens to me, it’ll be because you’ve dropped me.” You scoff, emphasizing with an intense eye roll. “And I wouldn’t put that past you.”

For once, you seem to have stunned him into silence for a brief moment.

“Are you not capable of just fucking practicing?” Jake questions, dropping his arms down to his sides, his shoulders slumping. “Or is it always just going to be a bitching contest?” He takes a step closer to you, pointing and finger at your face. “Because if so, I fucking quit. They can find you a new partner.”

There’s barely a beat of crippling silence before he’s adding on, “And good luck getting your shit together with him before dress rehearsal in three days.”

Your jaw drops as shock washes over you. The first instinct of your body is to simply just reach up and smack him, however, it’s not worth the consequences that will surely follow such an action.

Getting down on the floor, you start frantically untying your pointe shoes.

“What are you doing?” Jake’s volume is still a little too loud for a place of work. “Get up.”

“I have a fucking better idea-“ You pull both pointe shoes off quickly and stand back up. “Find yourself a new partner, dick.”

With that, you storm over to your bag and drop your pointe shoes inside. You grab your regular shoes and your bag, not even turning back to look at him as you make your way to the door.

So much force is put behind your movements as you jerk the door open and slam it closed as you leave.

“Woah, there, hot stuff…” Josh greets you, with an air of caution to his tone. “What’s got you so pissed off?”

“Your twin.” You respond flatly. No emotion for him to gauge in your tone whatsoever as you continue storming down the hallway.

“Right, right… Cause he got…” he sighs, trailing off.

“Yeah…”

“How about we go take a little break?” Josh suggests as he catches up with you, stopping you in your tracks. “I was about to go grab some coffee on my way home, but you can come along and i’ll just bring you back here after?”

Though, you aren’t sure if you’ll even want to come back yet, you give him a slight nod, and that’s all he needs before his arm is motioning for you to follow him.

The two of you walk to his car in silence for a minute, until you’re both inside and buckled in.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Josh asks as he starts his car.

A strained sigh forces its way out of your lungs.

“I mean…He’s just…” you pause, trying to word yourself carefully as you don’t want to disrespect Josh by talking so harshly about his brother.

But Josh beats you to the proper words you’re searching so hard for. “Hard to work with?”

You hold back the scoff that bubbles up in your throat. “Yeah… Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

Much to your surprise, a genuine giggle leaves Josh’s lips as he drives through the little bit of lunch hour traffic lingering on the streets of the city.

“You don’t have to sugar coat it, love,” he assures you, flashing you a quick smile. “I know he can be a bit… mm…difficult.”

“He acts like I’m not also just as much of a perfectionist! I don’t get it!” Your hands gesture up for emphasis, slamming back down into your lap with a soft smack. “I felt like I was having to walk on egg shells earlier.”

“I wish I could sit here and tell you that things will get better, but…” Josh trails off, running his hand over his face. “This part is stressing him out. He never expected to be doing it… I know he doesn’t want to fuck it up. Now, that doesn’t excuse his actions, but just…give him some time. He will loosen up eventually. Hopefully…”

Despite Josh’s words being true, you don’t feel as though they’ve really soothed you very much, if at all.

“You haven’t danced with him in a really long time, either and you dance differently now. I mean that in a good way, but Jake is also having to learn how you work now, on top of everything on his end.” Josh adds, having sensed the uncertainty still lingering on your face.

“I’m not going to lie to you… I’ve been fucking up, too.” You tell him honestly. “Like our routine.”

Josh looks over at you, clearly surprised. “You? You’ve been fucking up?” He questions. “How? I watched you and Anthony do it just last week and it was beautiful!”

“I… I don’t know. I guess Jake just… makes me nervous?” You admit.

Josh turns his face towards the window, trying to hide the grin tugging at his lips until he can collect himself.

But before Josh even has the chance to formulate a response to that, you’re asking him the question that’s been burning your brain since you left the studio.

“Do you think he’ll still be there when we get back?” You ask him softly. The fear of having to go to your director and explain such an outburst between you and Jake, settling deep within your bones. Or worse, Jake has already gone to someone and explained the situation, ultimately kicking you from your role.

“I can assure you, he’ll be there when we get back.” Josh answers seriously. “He isn’t going anywhere.

The conversation about Jake drops for the remainder of your little adventure. Until you’re watching the studio slowly come back into your line of sight, as Josh drives the two of you back.

“What if he’s still mad?” You can’t help but bring the situation back to the surface.

Josh’s shoulders slump slightly, and he seems to be thinking about the best way to answer you. Because the sickening truth is, even he knows that Jake is probably still boiling below the surface, just waiting for another fuck up from you, or anyone else, to send him exploding all over again.

“Just… Don’t go back in guns blazing…” He tells you, trying to choose his words carefully. “Try to be level headed and just get as much practice in as you can. The more you dance, the less room you leave for talking…or an argument. Ya know, whichever... And hopefully, the nerves will ease up little by little, then he won’t have anything to be a shithead over.”

“Right. Because that really worked earlier.” You finally let the scoff you’ve been choking back slip out. “I’ll try again, anyway. Thank you, Josh.”

“Anytime, love. Anytime.” He waves you off with a smile as you close the door and head back inside.

“Hey!”

Just before you step inside, you hear Josh calling for you and you turn around to face him.

“If you need me to come back and beat his ass, just call!”

Your head falls back as a genuine laugh explodes from your lungs. The most you’ve laughed all day, really, and it feels lovely.

Shaking your head, it’s your turn to wave him off, trying to get inside before the cold starts to make your bones ache any more than it already has.

It’s quiet, as you’re reaching the later hours of the afternoon, daylight just barely lingering still.

You make your way down the hall, back to the dreaded, mirrored, room that you and Jake have to continue to share. Assuming he’s still here… or he hasn’t had you replaced and you just don’t know it yet.

When you reach the door, you can hear the familiar song playing from the other side. The doorknob is freezing cold beneath your hand, a drastic contrast to the heat of anger still somehow lingering in your body. Shoving it open slowly, careful not to disturb who you can only assume is Jake, you peak your head in first to see him practicing all on his own.

His movements are flawless. Each step he takes and every movement of his arms, so precise and strong. The white tights he’s wearing accentuate the muscles running throughout his legs, his black t-shirt hugging his shoulders just so. He holds himself with utmost confidence, his eyes never casting themselves to the floor, looking out into an imaginary audience, or at an imaginary partner, when his attention is meant to be focused on her.

Suddenly, you become very aware that you wish to be the one under that gentle, but attentive gaze of his - completely unlike the way he had looked at you earlier. While you may be his partner, he won’t ever look at you that way -gentle and attentive- until he’s on stage and even then, it likely won’t feel real. It will be nothing but acting. It stings, but you shove the sour feeling deep down inside you and step fully back into the room.

“Can you turn the music off for a second?” You ask him, trying to keep a cool and collected tone.

The sound of annoyance Jake lets out doesn’t miss your ears, despite the music still playing.

He walks over and pauses the music, turning to you with an expectant look - just waiting for you to have a damn good reason for essentially asking him to stop what he had been doing. As if the two of you don’t have a lot more work to do.

“I’m…sorry for earlier.” The words are a bit strained as they leave you. What’s to be expected, though? You don’t really want to apologize to him, but you know it’s the right thing to do.

“It’s alright.” Jake mutters, barely nodding his head in acknowledgement to your apology. “I’m sorry, too. Let’s just get back to it, yeah?”

You’re stunned for a moment by his returned apology, having not expected him to give you one at all. Although, you can’t bring yourself to open space for any hope that things are maybe going to get better from here. That’s something you won’t believe until you see it happening consistently. Besides, there’s still an obvious hint of something unpleasant in his tone.

“Yeah, okay…” you agree, sitting your things down. “If you want, we can just work on the lifts for a while… ya know, just for a change of pace.”

The air in the room seems thick with awkwardness, of which you’re not helping to aid at all, being that your tone is rapidly fueling it and Jake without a doubt takes notice of that.

Though, he continues to act completely immune to the awkwardness filling the space. Leaving you to suffer in it all on your own.

After only offering you but a short and flat, “Sure,” you and Jake move on to the lifts. Of which go smoothly… Until they don’t.

“Fucking-“ Jake grunts, arms wobbling slightly as you struggle to find your balance in his hands. “Shit!”

No sooner than the curse of annoyance and distress rumbles out of him, you’re plummeting almost to the ground, Jake’s arms catching you just in time to save you from completely hitting the floor.

“God damnit,” Jake sighs, running a hand over his face once you are standing on your own two feet again.

“This one is just… I can’t get my balance right.” You admit to him. At least you’re being truthful.

You aren’t really sure why you’re having so much trouble. You had done these exact same lifts just fine with Anthony for weeks before Jake even became Cavalier.

Perhaps it was the tension between you and Jake. The mutual, very strong dislike for one another. The lingering bit of hostility from your’s and Jake’s outburst, not even two whole hours ago…

Or his hands on my body… Wait-

You’re quick to interject on your own thoughts. You simply cannot stand the idea of letting your mind wander off with such thoughts about Jake. You refuse to feel that way.

“I see that.” Jake’s words are once again dripping with that same amount of aggravation from earlier - Of which had lead to you storming out on him.

He throws a judgmental glance your way, likely wondering how you even got sugar plum in the first place.

“Let’s try again.” Jake steps behind you, placing his hands on your body just so, adjusting his stance as he prepares to lift you up into the air. Hopefully with more elegance and grace than the first time. “I’m going to count to three, and then you jump.”

You think you’re taking advantage of the fact that he can’t see your face, rolling your eyes at his commanding tone. Much to your misfortune, you seem to have briefly forgotten that you’re both facing a wall, perfectly lined with large mirrors.

“Can you drop the fucking attitude, for god’s sake?” Jake snaps in question, his hands squeezing where they’re planted just above your hips.

If looks could kill, the glare you send him through the mirror would have surely taken him out cold. “How bold of you to point fingers on someone’s attitude. I’m not the only one with an apparent attitude problem here.”

“I’m sorry? In case you haven’t noticed, you are the reason i’m irritated.” Jake is slowly starting to seethe again. You can tell by the way his jaw has clenched itself painfully tight.

You ignore his comment, just staring at him blankly for a moment before finally speaking up.

“Just…count to three. And lift me.” You enunciate your words firmly, sucking in a deep breath in attempts to prepare yourself.

Jake on the other hand, releases a long breath, rolling his shoulders back in hopes to relax his body, at least a little bit. “Fine, then.”

“One…” He begins to count, checking his grip on your waist. “Two…Three.”

The second he speaks the last number, you’re jumping just enough for him to gain the leverage needed to lift you up into the air above his head.

“Good. Good!” Jake praises from below you, watching you attentively through the mirror.

“Tighten your core just a little more,” He tells you, lowering you slightly as you start to wobble a bit. “Yeah, there you go.” He lifts you back up where you’re supposed to be. “Now, hold it.”

You extend your arms out, focusing solely on holding your pose. There’s still the slightest shake to your position, but you hold it pretty successfully, despite that.

“There it is.” The prideful tone of Jake’s voice makes you smile internally, though you’d spend your last drops of energy on keeping said smile off of your face for him to physically see.

“Okay, I’m gonna bring you down now…”

Jake slowly lowers you back down and you hold your next position until you feel your pointe shoe touch the hard floor.

“Thank fuck,” you sigh, relieved that it was somewhat smooth.

Of course, Jake can’t let the slightest little fuck up slide.

‘Everything has to be perfect, at least in his mind.’

“It was still shaky as hell.” Jake complains, giving a dramatic gesture with his hand.

You suck in a quick, sharp breath. The anger resurfacing is nearly blinding, clouding your vision in a red hue that you can’t hardly believe is really there.

“How do you suppose I fix that, then? Hm?” Your voice drips with a venom that’s so unlike you, normally.

“You practice more.” Jake says, as if it’s the most obvious fucking thing. Like you should have already known that.

“Wow. What prophetic fucking advice, Jake. I appreciate it,” you scoff, crossing your arms like a pouting child.

“Since you obviously don’t think you need it, let’s run it, then. Start to finish.” Jake suggests, knowing good and well he just wants to try and prove a point.

With a cool shrug of your shoulders, you agree. “Fine.”

Jake saunters over to his phone, where it lays right by the speaker sitting on one of the chairs, and presses play.

The familiar and oh-so beautiful orchestration starts to fill the room - it brings butterflies of realization to life in your stomach. This is your dream role and while you may be doing it with the absolute last person you would have ever picked on your own, you know in the end, once the two of you work out the kinks of your mutual dislike, you will be a flawless pair.

You take your first few steps that lead you to Jake, where you finally come to meet in the middle and delicately, you lay your hand atop of his palm. His fingers close carefully around your hand, then, lifting your arm above the two of you to slowly spin you around.

There seems to by a shift in the energy within the room and between the two of you, and it’s most certainly a welcomed shift.

As you continue through the routine, the new found comfort of dancing with him slowly overtakes you. Unfortunately, the burning sensation his hands leave in their wake as they help guide you, is making it harder and harder to focus. And of course, that only makes frustration bubble within you.

*Why can’t I dance with him? Why does he have to affect me so much? I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me.

Questions upon questions bounce around in your mind, inevitably distracting you from the important task at hand. It’s dangerous waters to swim in, the closer you get to the crescendo of the song; running the risk of one of you getting hurt somehow by lack of focus.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

You internally chant the word to yourself, desperately trying your best to pull your mind back to one collective place.

“Come back to me.” Jake’s tone is firm but not angry, as he prepares to bring you into the first lift.

Here goes nothing.

Forcing your brain to remain solely honed in on the task at hand, Jake’s hands find your waist and in the blink of an eye, he’s hoisting you into the air, much smoother and more elegantly than the first time.

And by some complete miracle, the first few lifts go flawlessly. Jake even finds it in himself to give a few mumbles of praise and encouragement as you go.

That confidence and momentum doesn’t carry through nearly as long as you hoped it would, though.

As the music builds and builds up to the first of what you would consider the “big” lifts, your heart rate increases. Suddenly your hands are clammy and a little shaky, and your stomach has twisted itself into a sickening knot.

Jake’s so into it, that you can’t bare the idea of asking him to stop, simply because your nerves have taken over. So, you continue into the lift, against your better judgement.

You make it into the air without much trouble, but as Jake brings you down into the next move, your form breaks and causes him to nearly drop you.

“Goddamn it!”

“Oh, my god!”

Both of your exclamations and curses fly out at the same time, only startling each other even more.

“Jesus christ, I knew you weren’t ready for that!” Jake shouts, hands running over his face as the adrenaline and realization of how hurt you could have just gotten, pumps through his entire body. “Do you even realize how fucking hurt you could have gotten just now?!”

“I am ready!” You argue right back, completely ignoring the hint of concern he was displaying for you.

“No, you are fucking not!” Jake’s voice booms, like a bang of thunder that shakes houses, after lightning has struck something. “We wouldn’t be having so much goddamn trouble if you were!”

“I didn’t have all these problems with Anthony,” you point out, matching his unruly volume. You even dare to take a step closer to him.

“What’s the difference?!” He practically screams, taking a step equal to the one you’d just taken. “We’re doing the same routine, for the same show! What. Is. The difference?!”

“Because you’re, you!” Your arms fly up into the air, before smacking back down against your sides.

Jake tilts his head back almost challengingly. “I’m what?”

“You’re the favorite! The one Everyone wants to have the fucking pleasure of dancing with!” You emphasize your words dramatically as you yell nearly right in his face. “You never fuck up anything! Ever!”

“And does that make you jealous?” Jake questions, his tone becoming smug and arrogant.

“No, it doesn’t make me jealous! It makes me nervous!”

Though half of the sentence is a lie; it definitely makes you both jealous and nervous, as soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to snatch them out of the air and shove them back in.

“Really?” Jake raises his eyebrows at you. “Nervous, huh?”

“Yes! Nervous, you fucking asshole!” You yell. “You’re arrogant as all hell and it’s absolutely insufferable, in case anyone hasn’t told you! It’s a nightmare trying to work with someone who is constantly picking apart every little move you make!”

“First of all-“ Jake wraps his hand around your pointed finger and shoves it roughly out of his face. “-Get your finger out of my damn face. And stop fucking yelling at me.” His eyes burn through yours, knocking you down a notch, but you refuse to outwardly show it. “Second, you shouldn’t be talking. You get everything handed to you, like the perfect, pretty little thing you are. You hardly have to work for shit.”

You snatch your finger out of his grip and immediately fire back at him. “I don’t get anything fucking handed to me.”

“But you do!” Jake chides, hardly making a legitimate point.

“No, YOU DO, Jake!” And now you’re back to screaming, throat threatening to go raw by the strain you’re putting on it. “How do you think we got here in the first fucking place!”

“If I got everything handed to me, don’t you think I would have had this from the beginning?!” Jake nearly closes the little space between the two of you, with one more step. “Don’t you think I would have gotten it first, instead of Anthony?!”

A wicked smirk grows on your face. “Right, right. So you’re just their backup, huh?” You watch as Jake’s face grows red and his eyes flash with rage. “Not even good enough to be cast as Cavalier the first time, are you?”

“You should be concerned about the fact that we start dress rehearsals in two days and you can’t even get all the damn lifts right.” Jake jabs.

His close proximity is making it hard to think anymore, the features of his beautiful, anger-hardened face proving to be a major distraction from the comeback you should have been already able to conjure up.

“Well, they- their hopes can’t be but so high, now that they’ve had to settle for you.”

Jake’s jaw visibly tenses, causing the muscles to protrude around his cheekbones and down his neck, the crease between his brows setting in even deeper.

Before you can even bat an eye, or open your mouth to add a little more gasoline to the already raging fire, Jake’s hand is tightly wrapping itself around the back of your neck.

“Is this entertaining you?” You can see Jake’s free hand gesture about, through your peripheral vision. “Being a little bitch?”

You’re frozen, stuck in place - not only because of his grip on you, but because you can’t decide if you actually want to move away.

One might find that name absolutely enraging, but apparently you don’t, considering the way your cunt throbs as the word travels from his mouth, to your ears.

“Fuck you.” You spit through gritted teeth.

“Would that make you less bitchy? If you fucked me? Hm?” Jake taunts, clearly taking in the newfound enjoyment he’s getting out of this.

“Call me a bitch again.” You say threateningly, but it holds no real weight. You just want to keep up the fight a little longer, perhaps a bit too addicted to the way he’s making your blood boil.

“Or what?” Jake all but growls, leaning his face in, so that he’s right next to your ear. “Are you gonna storm out of here like earlier? Like the little fucking brat you are?”

Your skin is screaming to feel his lips. They’re mere inches from your skin, the heat of his breath casting a heat that almost resembles when you sit just a little too close to a campfire.

“I bet you’d perform a lot better if I fucked you.” Jake speaks the wondering thought out loud. “Trained you to be a good little dancer for me.”

“Jake…” you sigh, chest heaving rapidly.

“What?” Jake seethes. “No smart ass comeback? No attitude?” He slides his other arm around your back, but doesn’t pull you quite close enough for your body to touch his. “Come on. Say something else. I dare you.”

Your thoughts spin around themselves as you attempt to conjure up another snarky comment, while Jake’s eyes stare intensely into yours, occasionally flickering down to your lips and right back up.

Finally, it comes to you.

“I’m not taking insults from a boy who probably can’t even fuck me hard enough to keep me out of rehearsal tomorrow.”

The silence that falls between you and Jake is deafening. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, hear the blood running hot beneath your skin. If you listen close enough, you might even hear Jake’s heartbeat banging against his own ribcage, too.

Neither of you move for what feels like an eternity, only adding to the tension that’s already about to burst at the seams.

Jake’s mouth opens and closes quickly, but he still doesn’t speak - only adding to the torment of the moment. Anticipation fills you up so much, you feel like you may start throwing it up.

Slowly, Jake’s eyes narrow until they’re practically shut, and his hand tightens around the back of your neck tightens.

“Are you challenging me, sugar?” The name typically used for endearment, spits out of him like it’s anything but sweet. He’s so cleverly alluding to your role as sugar plum.

“I-If that’s how you wanna see it, go ahead.” You half choke out. Your words are becoming less and less intimidating and lethal as the moments go by. “Since you want to try and prove a point soo badly.”

“I don’t think you deserve anything else from me today.” Jake says, not even bothering to fight off the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Shock fills you up the second the words float out from his mouth and you’re even more shocked at the way disappointment comes along to mix in with it. You may have been annoyed with him for petty shit before, but now you’re genuinely upset.

“W-what…?” The word is barely audible coming from your breathless lungs.

Jake lets go of you and steps away, taking little steps backwards in the direction of his things. The expression adorning his face is downright evil.

“I think you heard me loud and clear.” Jake shrugs, grabbing up his things. He doesn’t even bother to take off his shoes - likely just leaving you to go off to a different room and practice alone.

You watch him, completely dumbfounded as he makes his way to the door, not even giving you glance as he goes by.

The door opening feels so obnoxious, given the newfound silence hanging between the two of you. He’s about to step over the threshold, but turns around to face you one more time.

“See you tomorrow.” He glances over you for a moment, tongue visibly poking the inside of his cheek. “And you better not fuck up.”

After a horrendous night filled with constant tossing and turning, the cool light of the gloomy morning wakes you up out of the sleep, that has only just found you a few hours ago.

Begrudgingly, you force yourself to get out of bed and take a shower, then dig out a pair of tights and one of your favorite leotards. And as much as you don’t want to acknowledge it, the brief question of whether or not Jake will like it, plants itself in your head. It’s black, with long sleeves, and the daintiest lace details at the top around the chest.

You force the thought away immediately. The mere mental thought of Jake making your body tense with anger, and… whatever the hell is left lingering from last night’s little… moment.

The drive to the studio is severely uneventful. Music being the only thing to keep you company throughout the short trip over there.

Seems like you’ve been living there these last few days. Which, might not be so bad if Jake wasn’t such a constant thorn in your side.

As the studio comes into view, a lump over nerves nearly makes you choke. Last night’s interesting turn, still at the forefront of your memory, despite your efforts in trying to ignore it.

You grab all your things and make your way to the door, walking as quickly as you possibly could to get out of the cold air. A swift glance around the parking lot as you go, is enough to see that Jake’s car is nowhere to be seen.

There’s no denying the relief that washes over you. Perhaps you’ll actually be free of Jake for a little longer than normal, to perfect some things by yourself, without the intense and judgmental stare of Jake’s eyes.

Just as you’ve hoped, as you walk down the hallway to your room, there’s nothing but silence on the other side of the door. But just to be safe, you slowly push it open and peak in, only to confirm that Jake is nowhere to be seen.

You take the opportunity to practice certain pieces of the pas alone, hoping to work through most of the imperfections that Jake has pointed out, time and time again.

What you don’t realize though, is how much time actually passes as you fall into a zone. Completely locked in on what you’re doing, practically floating around as though Jake is there to guide you, except you’re doing it all on your own.

Little did you know, Jake is standing at the door… admiring you just like you had done to him yesterday. For him, it’s different; his moment or slight admiration and ogling. He doesn’t have nearly as much trouble admitting to himself that he finds you ridiculously attractive and talented.

Will he say that directly to you? It isn’t likely, but to himself, he absolutely will. Although, the odds of him telling you his thoughts, are far more likely than you vocalizing your’s to him.

Jake stands, body halfway slipped between the cracked door, intently and quietly watching you. Until finally, you turn and your stop brings you to perfect face the door.

The sudden sight of Jake makes your entire body jolt, startled and unprepared to see him in such a random way.

“Jake!” You half screech, your hand coming to grasp at your now aching chest.

“My bad.” The softest chuckle dances with his words. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine…” you mumble.

Looking at him for the first time since last night is… definitely different, to say the very least.

The air in the room has shifted and it feels so heavy that it may crush you. Given Jake’s cocky strutting across the room, you guess that he doesn’t feel it the way that you do, or he’s doing a really good job at ignoring it. Like he always does. Yet another thing about him that you envy; his ability to be so unaffected.

“You- uhm… How long were you watching from the door?” You ask him timidly, chancing a quick glance at him as he sits down his things.

“Long enough to see that you’re perfectly capable of a flawless and confident routine.” Jake replies, bringing a soft, pink tint to your cheeks. “Which I suppose is great, except you can’t seem to do that with me.” His tone is the slightest bit playful, but you can’t ignore the way it claws at your skin.

“A bit early to be making digs, don’t you think, Jake?” You raise an eyebrow at him, awaiting the death glare he’s sure to throw towards you any second now.

But it doesn’t come. He just ignores your little muse all together, continuing to stretch and warm up.

Silence falls over you both, as you work on a few moves on the opposite side of the room in front of the mirrors.

Occasionally, you glance over your shoulder through the mirror at Jake, but you don’t let your eyes linger on him for too long, in favor of not getting caught and the refusal to let yourself get carried away.

After a few minutes, you catch a glimpse of Jake getting up and setting up his phone with the speakers, before making his way towards you and finally speaking up.

“Ready to run this thing?” He rubs his hands together in front of him.

“As I’ll ever be,” you mumble in response and follow him back over to the middle of the floor.

Jake steps back to his phone and presses play, bringing the beautiful instrumental to life throughout the whole room.

It eases you, much to your surprise. But not enough to ignore the fires that Jake’s hands seem to be lightning, gradually, all over your body in each place that he touches you.

You do your absolute best to try and remain calm and collected, focusing solely on the dance and nothing else.

Further and further you sink into the routine, and so does Jake. It’s evident in the electric energy that’s suddenly buzzing throughout

the room. The way Jake’s eyes stare into yours so intensely, it makes your knees want to give out beneath your weight. The passion of which he’s exuding…

The way he grips your body to lift you up into the air, unintentionally gripping you harder and harder with each passing lift, until you’re certain he’s going to crush you.

You’re not sure what exactly snaps in your brain, but when it snaps, there is no going back.

"Jesus fucking christ- Put me down!" You yell over the music and Jake immediately brings you back down on your own two feet, but not exactly gently.

"Fuck- what now?!” Jake hisses through his labored breathing. “Can you not go two minutes without bitching?!”

"You have a fucking death grip on me!” You grab at his bicep for emphasis. “Are you trying to bruise me!?”

“You should feel so lucky.” Jake spits back, sarcasm mixing with cockiness in his tone.

“Oh, shut the fuck up Jacob!” You screech in his face. “The last thing I want is you leaving any kind of marks on my body.”

“Trust me, princess, I'm not interested anyway." Jake fumes, face red and jaw set tight, nose glistening with the lightest layer of sweat.

“I’m not either!” It feels like a lie, the second it leaves your mouth. But the volume behind your words, masks the way you hardly believe it yourself. “You’re just an arrogant, self centered, asshole, who always has to get his own fucking way with everything!”

“And you're a fucking bitch who never knows when to shut her mouth." Jake practically growls, his face just inches from yours.

"You’re such a piece of shit." You retaliate lowly.

"Back atcha, princess.” Jake grits, the muscles in his cheeks and neck pulsing rapidly.

"Stop. Fucking. Calling me that.” You demand.

"No.” Jake shakes his head, pushing his tongue into his cheek. “No, I don’t think I will.” He adds. "All you ever do is bitch and complain about me doing something wrong and it's so irritating. I know what the hell i I'm doing. I'm a fucking professional. It is not my fault that you're so goddamn picky about every little thing!"

"Well, excuse me for wanting to do this perfectly!” You shout back at him, praying internally that this explosion between the two of you hasn’t drawn any attention outside of the room.

"How ironic.” Jake chuckles humorlessly. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Sugar plum, but you're not even close to it.”

"It would be perfect if you didn't grab me like a caveman!” You chide, feeling the sting of Jake’s words prickling under your skin.

"It would be perfect if you stopped squirming every time i lift you!” Jake argues, throwing his hands into the air.

"Maybe if I fucking trusted you, I wouldn't get nervous when you have me in the air!” You shoot back.

“You know that’s not really why you get shaky when I lift you, but whatever.” Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Maybe aybe if you weren't such a hateful little shit, you'd be able to at least pretend to trust me."

"You. Are insufferable.” You turn to walk away from him, leaving Jake glued to his spot as his brain processes what he’s about to say.

"And you clearly need to be put in your goddamn place." Jake says, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn back around to face him, taking a few little steps forward defiantly. "I fucking dare you to try.”

The challenge spits out of you, and not a bit of you thinks he’ll really see it, considering he had the opportunity last night and trashed it.

"You couldn't handle it.” Jake says simply. His words only raise your anger somehow.

"I hate you.” You seethe, closing in on him with a pointed finger.

"Not nearly as much as I fucking hate you.” He flashes you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen in your life, immediately dropping his face back to his previous, stone cold expression.

The tension hanging in the room is so thick, even a chainsaw would likely struggle to cut it. A deafening silence falls over the two of you, nothing but the sounds of both your heavy breaths to fill it.

Your teeth are so tightly gritted together, you worry they may shatter any second now as you await his next move. Because you certainly are not backing down first, from this eerily silent stand off.

Jake’s face is still sharp and set with anger, not even a glimmer of that chocolaty brown left in his eyes.

Just as you open your mouth to foolishly provoke him even more, he’s lunging for you, roughly gripping either side of your face as his lips sloppily crash into yours. You can’t stop yourself from kissing him back. He tastes intoxicating in the best and worst way. A drug that now that you’ve had just a taste of, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to put it down.

Haphazardly, Jake starts guiding you backwards towards the barre, not even breaking the kiss to make sure that’s where he is going. Like a man about to die of thirst, he drinks in the whimper that you release, as your back collides with the barre. His hands find your wrists, and he shoves them up above your head and pins them there.

“Tell me to stop.” He huffs out through rapid breaths, free hand staying planted on the wall by your arm.

"I thought you were putting me in my place.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Or are you all talk?"

Jake just growls, swiftly reaching down to cup your heat, making you gasp desperately. His foot kicks your legs farther apart, middle and ring fingers stroking over you so lightly, you could scream.

Except you can’t. You’ve been struck with utter speechlessness, thanks to the sudden advance and the merciless ache he’s creating between your legs.

“What? Nothing to say now?” Jake questions tauntingly. “I think this is the longest you've been quiet around me. It’s truly a nice change"

“M-maybe you're just not doing a good enough job," you stutter, pressing yourself into the palm of his hand.

"The way you’re stuttering and the wet spot that I can feel right here, says otherwise.” Jake’s fingers tap against you.

You let out an exhale that is dripping with attitude, but make no move to break away from Jake. And you won’t, really. You both know that at this point.

“Do you get tired?” Jake mumbles, leaning in to ghost his lips over your cheek. They trace around, until he settles on your ear. “Do you get tired of being so defiant? Being a fucking brat and causing me so many stresses? Does it get you off?”

“What if it does?” You answer in a whisper, trying to turn your head towards his, but he isn’t having it.

His hand comes up from between your legs and wraps around your throat, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact.

“Let’s get something clear,” Jake starts lowly, his voice rumbling like nearby thunder as he begins to warn you. “Drop the fucking games, or I’ll make sure to fuck you so hard, you’ll have to fucking crawl your way out of here tonight.”

“I will never give you such satisfaction.” You know you’re about to eat these words, but you can’t find it within your being to care.

Faster than what your brain is capable of processing at this point, Jake is turning you around to face the mirror, leaving you no choice but to grip the barre in front of you.

“Then take it.” Jake says, pressing himself against your ass and wrapping his other hand around your jaw. “Take everything I fucking give you, right here. And when I’m done-“ He uses the grip to turn your head towards the door. “-I can’t wait to watch you limp to that fucking door.”

Jake’s hand abandons your jaw, his fingers hooking themselves around the top of your leotard and pushing it off your shoulders. You help him work it off your body from the front, until it finally falls down around your ankles. As you move to step out of it, he stops you.

“Ah. Don’t.” Jake uses his own leg to halt the movement of your own. “Leave it there.”

You huff, but place your foot back where it was, leaving your leo pooling on the floor around your feet.

Jake’s hands work their way up for your hips, to your shoulders, before his dull nails scratch down your back just enough to make your muscles tense and cover you in goosebumps. He repeats the action one more time, watching your body shiver under his touch in amusement.

“Beg me.” Jake commands, dipping the tips of his fingers into the waistband of your tights.

“What?” You meet his eyes through the mirror, both of you taking notice of the pink tint your cheeks take on.

“I said, Beg. Me.” Jake repeats himself, but not without placing some firmness behind his tone.

“For what?” You spit the question like it’s drenched in poison, though, you know good and well what he’s asking you to beg for.

In a blink, Jake bends down just slightly and yanks your tights down until they’re sitting just around your knees.

“Aren’t you gonna take them off?” You ask him through a scoff.

“I only take off the clothes of good girls,” Jake smirks slyly from behind you. “And you’re most certainly not one of those. Are you?”

You don’t answer him, mostly because you’re hyper focused on the way the air feels cool against your cunt, the slip of your inner thighs from the arousal soaking them and the fact that Jake is the one that has caused it.

A swift smack to your ass pulls you back to him, though.

“Are you?” Jake asks again. You can see his hand drawn back through the mirror, prepared to deliver another blow.

“No,” you finally answer, not nearly loud enough.

Smack.

“Louder.” Jake demands.

“No, I-I’m not.” Your voice cracks as you raise your volume up, hoping it will suit him.

“That’s better.” Jake attaches his lips itno your shoulder, sinking his teeth into the muscles as his fingers unexpectedly slip through your folds.

“Ah, fuck!” You cry, squirming slightly at the pleasurable pain of his teeth biting just enough to leave a bruise, paired with the coolness of his fingers. You’re ever so slowly losing your own game of defiance.

“Aw, do you not like it rough, sugar plum?” Jake asks, feigning sympathy for you as he lets his fingers tease around your dripping heat.

“I- I told you I can take it,” you remind him, but it’s hardly as believable as earlier.

“Yeah?” Jake pulls his hand away from you and smacks it across your hand again, the wetness coating his fingers making it sting just a little more.

“Jake, come on,” you beg, dying for him to pay your throbbing clit some attention, even though it likely won’t be for long.

“Oh, so now she begs…” Jake scoffs, returning his fingers to your core.

Instead of going where he knows you want them the most, he slowly sinks a finger into you, curling it upwards upon hearing your whiny moan. The force at which his finger curls into, sends you lurching forward, damn near hitting your head against the glass of the mirror.

His free hand reaches up to grip at your jaw again, forcing your head up to look at him.

“How’s that feel? Hm?” He asks, voice low and gravely, like it has to travel over rocks before it reaches your ears.

Adding in a finger, the thrusts of his fingers become deeper and the sweet curl into that spot that has your knees buckling, grow harder and more intentional - hitting the same sweet spot over and over and over again.

“Goddamn, Jake…” you moan breathily, eyes fluttering closed.

“Open your fucking eyes and look at me.” Jake commands, emphasizing his words with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers.

How he’s managing to reach these untouched places inside of you, you’ll likely never know, but you don’t really care. You force your eyes open and meet his reflection. Tendrils of his hair have fallen out of his bun, framing his face so perfectly. His eyes are dark and dancing with lust and more emotions that are too entangled to place.

“You feel like you’re about to cum…” Jake observes, pulling his soaked fingers out and wrapping his arm around your waist to reach your aching and horribly neglected bundle of nerves.

The circles he’s drawing over you are quick and tight, enough to throw you into an orgasm and completely wipe your mind blank in the process. It’s almost too much pleasure.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” Jake snaps, cracking his hand against your cunt, before returning to the dizzying circles.

You open your mouth to smart off, but the second your lips part, the most feral moan you’ve ever heard come from your own lungs, bursts right out of you.

“You’re so much more pleasant to be around when you’re moaning instead of bitching.” Jake comments, leaning in to bite at your shoulder again.

You don’t have much wriggle room this time, as his grip around your neck keeps your firmly in place as he bites all along your neck and shoulder.

“Jake!” You whimper, so close to sounding more like a sob.

You want to jerk away from his far too skilled fingers, but you don’t want to run from the earth-shattering orgasm that he’s steadily dragging you towards.

“Do not cum yet.” Jake says against your skin, but his fingers don’t stop.

“Jake, i-“

“Nope. Don’t fucking cum yet.” Jake says again in a much harsher tone.

He’s pushing you. Seeing just how much you can take, how long you can keep yourself dangling you over that steep edge before you’re crying and pleading with him to stop, because you just can’t hold it anymore.

And you’re not far from that, as hot tears sting the corners of your eyes and the knot in your belly is aching and screaming for release.

“Fuck, I can’t-“ You choke out, gripping the barre so hard that your knuckles are paper white. Even your knees have started to slightly bend, forcing Jake to bend down with you in order to not lose the contact. “I can’t, Jake! Please, just let me!”

“Fuck no.” Jake snaps, bringing his fingers to an agonizing stop before removing them from you completely. “What makes you think you’ve earned it?”

Jake’s hands abandon you and just barely, you catch sight of him pushing his own tights and underwear down to his thighs, fully revealing himself to you, hard and practically soaked with pre cum.

As much as you want to hate every bit of this, you can’t wait have him buried inside of you. The way you imagine it will feel to have him stretching you out, hitting all the perfect places inside of you, is replacing all coherent thoughts in your brain.

“Fuck,” Jake groans, stroking himself a few times. “Goddamn how did you fucking get me like this?”

Reaching forward with his opposite hand to grip your hip tightly, he lines himself up and pushes in to the hilt, his dark eyes intently watching your face contort in pleasure.

“Yeah? You like this?” Jake asks, his words slightly rushed from his own pleasure as he moves in and out of you a few times. “Can’t believe this is all I needed to do to get you to shut your pretty fucking mouth.”

All you can do is moan. You’re far too gone to come up with a good and bratty response to that. Besides, you coming to not mind the way he sounds degrading you. It’s addicting, just like his fingers and cock.

Your chest heaves with anticipation as he continues his slow thrusts. One of his hands ventures up your spine from your hip, stopping to firmly grip your shoulder for more leverage.

“You think your dancing has imperfections now?” Jake growls into your ear, his black t-shirt grazing your bare back. “Just wait until you come in and try to dance tomorrow.”

Jake pulls nearly all the way out of you before slamming himself right back in without warning, setting the most relentless pace possible.

A choked moan rips its way out of you, the pleasure of Jake’s cock pounding into you, shooting through your whole body in debilitating waves.

“Come on, sugar plum,” Jake taunts through labored breaths. “Mouth off some more. M’sure you have plenty to say now, don’t you?”

“F-Fuck you…” You force the two strangled words out through your throat, through an array of moans a high pitched whines.

Using his bruising hold on your hip and shoulder, he brings you back to meet his thrust, driving himself even deeper with each stroke.

You can feel the pleasure shooting down through your legs, all the way down to the tips of your toes - sore and likely blistered from your pointe shoes. The sensations popping up all over your body, make you feel like you’re choking on air - little hiccups of whines and ragged, loud breaths being all that makes it out of you.

Jake’s sounds of pleasure aren’t lost on you, though. The deep grunts and growls, an occasional higher whimper falling in here and there. But god, his voice… the way he talks to you. That, you’re sure, will be what drives you into the life changing high that’s finally starting to rebuild itself within you.

“Oh, my god, Jake…” You croak, wishing you could hold onto him. Sink your nails into his shoulders and run them down his back, or arms. Anything.

“Are you gonna cry for me when you cum? Huh?” Jake asks tauntingly, raising his voice slightly to ensure you hear him over your constant moans. His hand travels from your shoulder down to your cunt, and he begins swirling his fingers over your clit.

You writhe in his hold, forcing him to wrap his other arm around your waist, the palm of his hand splaying over your chest to hold you against him.

“Nuh uh, this is what you fucking wanted, so take it.” Jake growls lowly into your ear, kissing the side of your neck just below it.

It feels too good. Way too good. You’re just waiting for your body to short circuit, as Jake continues to mercilessly pound into you, expertly toying with your clit as he does so.

“Look at yourself,” Jake scoffs, sliding his hand up from your chest to your jaw. “So fucked out and pathetic. You gonna leave looking like this?” His eyes scan over the little bruises littering your shoulders and neck. “Gonna show everyone that their pretty, sweet, sugar plum is just a little whore?”

Words have completely fled from you, as have the loud moans you were emitting before. You’ve dwindled down to nothing but a constantly open mouth, with hoarse and uneven breaths panting out, makeup running and strands of hair falling out of your bun, as your orgasm slowly pulls you under.

“Ja- Jake!” You sob, a deep ache settling low in your stomach. “I- I’m s- I-…”

“Give it up, pretty. Go on…” Jake encourages, his thrusts just barely faltering as you begin fluttering around him. “F- Fucking. Give it to me.”

The orgasm that takes hold of you, nearly ravages you. It’s head-spinning, body numbing. So all consuming that your vision and hearing go out entirely, for what feels like an eternity. Your lungs burn as your body locks in place, until you’re finally able to suck in a gasping breath and release the most pornographic cry into the room. It echos and bounces around, and Jake is quickly committing it to memory.

Faintly, as Jake delivers a few more paralyzing thrusts, you can hear him cursing under his breath. Groaning as he pulls out quickly, removing his hand from around you to work himself through his own high and spilling his release over your lower back.

His fingers have yet to come to a stop over you, even through his orgasm. You frantically grab for his wrist, whining desperately as overstimulation takes you for a dizzying spin.

Barely having regained his composure, Jake turns you around, pressing his body flush against yours as he sinks his fingers into you and uses his thumb to continue working your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Jake, please! It’s too much, please!” You beg him, more tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

“You’re a tough girl, right?” Jake mocks, kissing your cheek with a wicked smirk on his lips. “You can take one more.”

“Jacob, please!” You beg him again, unsure of how you’re even holding yourself up anymore.

“Hush.” Jake commands, watching you with dark eyes as you start fall back into another high.

Your head falls back against the glass with a soft thud, eyes screwed tightly shut and mouth hanging agape just like before.

“That’s it, sugar plum,” Jake rasps. “You’ll give me one more because I said so. Good girl.”

Those last two little words do you in. It isn’t quite as intense as the first, but it still does you in, nonetheless. Your legs tremble beneath you, the muscles in your stomach clenching as you come undone for him again.

As you come down, Jake carefully withdraws his hand from you - soaked and glistening with your release.

You watch his movements with hooded eyes, as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean of you.

“Like sugar…” He hums with a shit eating grin. “How fitting.”

Bending down, Jake guides your tights back up, followed by your leo - pulling it up just to your chest.

He then takes a step back from you, pulling his own tights back up over his hips, eyes never leaving your face as you watch him in slight, post-orgasm confusion.

“It’s late,” he speaks up calmly, taking slow steps backwards. “I’ll see you back here tomorrow. Same time.”

You watch him in walk away disbelief, as you attempt to follow after him on weak and shaky legs. By the time you reach him, he’s already flinging his back over his shoulder.

He turns towards you, tossing you a little jar without any warning.

Your hands shoot out to catch it just in time to save it from shattering all over the floor and upon a little examination, you read, ‘Epsom Salt’ written across a little sticky note, taped to the side.

“Might wanna soak in a nice little bath tonight,” he suggests as he heads towards the door.

You watch him pull it open and step out, still completely speechless and rightfully exhausted, your mind spinning in a whirlwind of thoughts about what the hell just happened.

“I need those to be working tomorrow.” Jake adds smugly, quickly pointing at your legs. “Oh, and cover those marks. Can’t go in to dress rehearsal tomorrow night bruised up.”

“W-What…?! I thought dress rehearsal starts the day after tomorrow?” Your sleepy eyes grow impossibly wide.

“Nope.” Jake shakes his head once. “Best be ready, huh, sugar plum?”

With that, he leaves you to be alone with l shock and insanely sore legs, wondering how the fuck you’re going to manage a full day with him and dress rehearsals, now that he’s fucked your body to the point of no return.

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sparrowofrhiannon · 4 months

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SPELL ON YOU, I

WARNINGS: soft jake! x femme reader (no mention of gender.) rough kissing, f receiving oral, m receiving oral, mirror sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex (WRAP IT GUYS!!), face fucking, edging, orgasm denial, slight cockwarming (if you squint??), choking, Jake’s old blue jeans

“I put a spell on you, cause you’re mine.”

The whole rest of the night started with his hands on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, ragged breaths and shallow breathing being the only noise in the room other than the occasional creak of the mattress. You didn’t really remember how this happened, drunk on a few too many glasses of wine that was way too expensive for you to even guess the price of.

“What’re ya lookin’ at?” he tilts his head, chestnut hair cascading down his perfectly sculpted face, he slurs slightly, tipsy as ever. “Look at me, c’mon now.” he grabs your chin, turning it to him, his lips pursed.

Your eyes hit his in the dark of the bedroom, the party downstairs still roaring on. His chocolatey brown eyes looking almost black in the mooonlight, you shift your eyes down, and his grip goes from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes in warning, puffing out a breath of air. “I said look at me.” he practically whines.

You chuckle at his neediness, never meeting a man in one night who whines to get his way. It’s cute, soft, you think to yourself. “Please?” he begs sweetly, his hands traveling down your thighs, he huffs again, frustrated at the feeling of fabric. “Please, please?”

“Fuck! Fine, you’re whiny,” you spit out, immediately feeling bad as he pulls away slightly, his gaze lowering. “No, no, no.” you cup his cheeks, pulling him in to kiss him sweetly. He parts his mouth, opening it kindly as you lick into it. He groans slightly, his hand going down to palm himself through his shitty blue jeans you’ve seen at every party, doesn’t he even have another pair? You shake that thought out of your head as he lifts your shirt up, his hands squeezing at your sides.

He breaks the kiss, picking you up lazily and dropping you onto the bed, you chuckle slightly, wincing at his roughness. He winks stupidly, making you roll your eyes as he slots his knee in between your thighs, returning his lips to yours. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling his chest to yours, the chains around his neck cooling your burning skin.

He lifts himself up, sitting on his knees. “You want them off?” he gestures to his necklaces and you shake your head, chuckling.

“No, your shirt- can you take that off?” you ask him quietly, feeling slightly embarrassed asking as his eyes burn into yours.

“Only if I can take off your pants,” he winks, smirking just enough for you to notice.

You nod your head, lifting your hips, he takes his time, humming an old blues tune while he unclasps every button, zipping down the zipper. His thumbs dip under your underwear, rubbing circles into your smooth skin. “Soft.” he murmurs, lowering his head to kiss just below your stomach.

You reach your hand down to his hair, twisting at his strands. You blush at his comment, turning your head away. But, just as it started, his touch stops. “Pretty baby, I said look at me.” he says more sternly than the last time. “I don’t wanna beg, jus’ need ya to look at me.”

You oblige, looking at him as he pulls your jeans down, throwing them to the side of the room, licking his lips as he looks at you. “God, ‘m so lucky.” he hums. “Can I give ‘er a kiss? Just a tiny one?” he asks sweetly, batting his eyelashes. His hand reaches to palm you, clothed just enough for him to feel frustrated.

When you stay still, he rubs his hand up your sides. “‘S okay, pretty thing. Just wanna kiss her hello.” he says, a sly grin forming on his face, your eyes go to the ever growing dimple on his face, sighing.

“Need a yes.” he tuts as you buck your hips up.

“Yes- please do.” you whine, wiggling your hips, inching them closer to his pretty lips.

He chuckles at this, pulling the rubber band at his middle finger, wrapping his hair into a low bun as he looks again for confirmation. His lips part ever so slightly as he presses a kiss to your clothed clit, humming softly. “So pretty.”

He pauses, tilting his head up. “More?” he tilts his head like a lost puppy, if he had a tail it’d be wagging. You nod, grabbing his low bun and pushing him closer. He takes the hint and licks you through your underwear, your body jolting up as the tip of his tongue catches your clit. He chuckles again, hands places firmly on the insides of your thighs, thumbs burning circles into your skin.

“Like honey.” he comments. “Can I take them off? Please?” he looks back up at you, bottom lip tucked behind his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, please.” you sigh breathily, nodding your head frantically.

He hooks his index finger under the hem, pulling them down while kissing down your thigh, once they’re fully off he folds them and shoves them into his back pocket, smirking. You know you’ll never get those back. His thumb reaches up back to the inside of your thigh, firmly gripping to keep you parted. “Fingers too? Just my tongue?”

“Anything- fuck- anything please.” you whine, hands balling at the sheets below you, knuckles white.

“Mhmm.” he hums, darting his tongue back and taking a slow, drawn out lick from the bottom of your pussy to the top of your clit, he breaks away, licking his lips to savor the taste. “Fuck, have you ever tasted yourself?” he asks curiously.

You shake your head at his question, in response he runs the tips of his ring and middle finger through your folds, standing up and brining them to your mouth. “C’mon, taste it.” he taunts, you shakily wrap your lips around his fingers and suck, humming at the salty-sweet taste.

“So good for me.” he hums, his thumb going down to rub at your cheek. He pecks your temple, descending down again.

His thumb finds your clit and rubs tight circles, eliciting a strangled moan from your lips, you snap your mouth shut and he stops. “Wanna hear you.” he says, licking into your entrance.

You buck your hips, rocking them, but he puts a stop to that, grip firm on your thighs. You whine slightly, his tongue fucking into you as his thumb rubs at your clit. He groans softly, adding to the sensation as his tongue vibrates inside you, your dominant hand moves from the sheets to his hair, pulling at his bun, accidentally undoing his rubber band. He doesn’t mind, too focused on you to even focus on his hair that’s starting to cling to his neck. You push him closer, he chuckles into you, making you yelp and buck your hips up.

He releases you, thumb still circling your clit as he licks his lips as clean as he can, leaning down to kiss you, his tongue licking into your mouth and playing with your tongue. “Sound so pretty.” he mutters between kisses, making you blush.

“Baby,” you sigh, pulling his face closer, arms around his neck. “What about you?” you ask him, his lips still kissing you, muffling your words.

“I like it,” he chuckles, nipping and sucking at your throat, his tongue licking and soothing the wounds. “Fuck- you’re perfect, just perfect.” he purrs, his non dominant hand running up your stomach. You fight the urge to sit up and shove his face back down, the burning between your legs not soothed but teased by the slow circles around your clit.

“Please- please- just fucking-“ you rock your hips, frustrated at his slow, yet painful circles around your growing need.

“Shhh, baby, calm down- I’ll take care of ya, promise.” he hums, nipping at your collarbone with a cheeky grin, his thumb moving even slower.

“No, no, no, no!” you kick your feet, spreading your legs farther, hands balling into fists before banging against the mattress.

He grows frustrated at your small tantrum, pulling his hand away to wrap around your throat, squeezing tighter. “Fuckin’ brat.” he spits. “You’re gonna take what I’m givin’ you, and like it.” he demands, eyes boring into yours. You have the nerve to roll your eyes at him, making him groan and squeeze your throat again.

“Nuh-uh, honey.” he tuts. “You’re not five, I’m not gonna give you what you want if you throw a fuckin’ fit, baby. Gonna shut you up with my cock if you’re unhappy with what I’m givin’ you.”

Your eyes widen, not being used to being refused in this way, you open your mouth to speak but he shoves two of his fingers into your mouth, resting them on top of your tongue. “Mh, no.” he hums, smiling devilishly.

“Please?” you beg, almost choking on his fingers as he shoves them further down your throat, gagging.

“Fine.” he sighs, pulling his fingers out of you, you sigh with relief. “I’ll give ya what you want, mkay?” you nod your head immediately, feeling slightly embarrassed at your desperate nature. But, you’ll do something, anything, for him to place his hands back where they were.

He pecks your lips, settling himself on his knees, he teases a finger inside, curling it. You gasp, arching your body off the bed, he lays his arm around your stomach in response, pinning you down. You grab at something, anything, your hands yet again going to his hair. He groans as you tug at his strands, sticking his tongue out to lick you.

He pulls away yet again, you wince. “C’mon, fuck yourself on my tongue, you gotta work for it.” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling, he fucking enjoys this.

You groan. “Please, just-“ you plead, pushing himself down, but, he doesn’t move, firm on his stance.

“You want it, you gotta pursue it.” he tuts, pulling his hand off your stomach, sticking his tongue back out. “Come on, ‘m waiting like a fuckin’ dog.”

You blush, cheeks rosy from arousal and embarrassment. You scoot yourself closer down the bed, your ass nearly hanging off, you pull his head down onto your pussy, freezing for a moment. His eyes dart to yours, checking to see if you’re okay. You nod, placing your other hand into his shoulder. You rut your lips on his tongue, he doesn’t even move it, making you more frustrated.

“Baby, please.” you pull his head back then push it forward, encouraging him to move his tongue. But, he doesn’t, and you rut your hips faster, feeling like a fucking dog. “Give me something, Anything.”

He relents, wiggling his face, his nose rubbing onto your clit. You moan in satisfaction, feeling the pit in your stomach bubble. “Yes, thankyou thankyou.” you rush out, your tone whiny.

He laughs, he fucking laughs at you. You whine, feeling yourself closer and closer. You tug at his hair, throwing your head back, your eyes rolling into your head. Right when you’re about to feel the band snap, your orgasm teetering on the ledge, he pulls himself away.

“No!” you cry, tears brimming your eyes. “No! Please! I wasn’t complaining- I was- I was-“

“Save the tears,” he sighs, rubbing the teardrops off of your cheekbones. “Whining like a dog, I’ll give you what you want.” he tuts. “But you’re gonna have to get it.”

You nod eagerly, raising yourself to your knees, you crawl to him, hands immediately fiddling with the button on his jeans. “Easy now.” he pets your head, craning his neck down to kiss the top of your head.

“Pretty baby, so so so pretty.” he coos, pulling the rest of his jeans down, stepping out of them and kicking the other side off.

Your eyes immediately beat down to his boxers, American Eagle navy blue boxers, his pretty pink tip resting just above the hem of his boxers. You lick your lips, eyes going to his. “Can I?” you ask him sweetly.

“Course, pretty, bet your lips would look so pretty wrapped around my cock? You want it?” he teases, his thumbs pulling the waistband down just enough for you to see an inch more.

You tug the rest of him down, his underwear resting on his thighs. Hands clammy with sweat, you wrap one around him, gasping at the girth. He chuckles, his hand going to the top of your head, rubbing circles with his thumb to encourage you.

“C’mon baby, I’m hurting here,” he groans, tugging at your hair.

You oblige, pressing a small peck onto his leaking tip, stroking him with your dominant hand, the other holding onto his thigh, anchoring yourself. You sink down onto him, remembering to breathe through your nose. He laid a soothing hand on your white knuckled left hand, rubbing it to let off pressure. You slowly relent, knowing that they’ll be crescent shaped indents left on his tan flesh. Deep and slow, you bobbed your head down onto his heavy flesh, in response he let out a deep, guttural sigh. “Just like that, ffuuuuuuck.” he pushes your head farther down, you gag, immediately he softens his grip.

“Mhm, mhm, yes, just like that.” he groans, throwing his head back, you can feel him twitch inside you, he gulps, pulling at the roots of your hair.

He pulls you off of him, your mouth making on obscene pop. “No more, I don’t wanna cum in your mouth, too pretty for that.” he slurs, lust drunk on you. He taps your cheek. “Up, up.”

He craws on top of you, spreading your legs while he works the rest of his half buttoned down black button up. Coins rattling while his fingers shakily work down his shirt. He pulls it off, letting it fall from his arms down to the floor. Then, he pulls your shirt off, pushing you down to kiss along your stomach, pecking up your stomach, he murmured sweet nothings.

“God you’re gorgeous.”

“You smell pretty.”

“So soft.”

“Sweet thing.”

He reaches your collarbones, sucking at the tender skin he already bit, darting his tongue out to lick the wounds and soothe them. “You ready?” he asks sweetly.

“Yes, fuck, please.” you nod eagerly, bucking your hips up, sighing when you don’t get any friction.

Placing his hands on your hips, he flips you over onto your stomach, tapping your thighs. “Look at that.” he grabs your chin, callused hand pointing you towards the vanity mirror on the other side of the room. Your eyes dart down, blushing stupidly. He shakes his head, “Look.” he demands, softly at first “Look!” he says again, sharper this time.

You raise your eyes up, his hands at your sides, rubbing up and down your body, feeling your stomach, squeezing your thighs. “Want you to watch, see what I’m doing to you.” he sighs, bending his body in half to rest his chest on your back, nipping the shell of your ear. You shudder, nodding your head in agreement.

He cranes your face closer to his, pecking the corner of your lips before meeting you on the middle, giving you a sweet yet sloppy kiss. “Gonna fuck you, how do you want it?” he slurs, eyes half lidded, a dopey smile playing at his lips.

“Just- give it to me.” you demand, whining.

He chuckles, kissing your shoulder. “M’kay, I’ll take it slow.” he coos. “Gonna be rough, ‘s that okay?”

“Mhm.” you hum, wiggling your hips. His hands knead the flesh of your hips, letting go of one hand, he places it between his legs, pushing himself into you.

He watches you shudder, holding himself as still as possible. He caresses one hand around your stomach, holding you in place, kissing all over your shoulder. Thumb rubbing under your bellybutton, he whispers, “Can I move?”

Nodding, you chuckle somewhat. “Yeah, thanks.” you blush, a small smile playing on your lips at his care.

He pulls your back to his chest, chains of his necklaces dangling and clinking with each other. He slowly pulls out almost all the way, making you wince, but he slowly slides himself back in. “You feel incredible.” he sighs, pecking at your temple, hand wrapped around your throat. “Jus’ look at you, fuckin’ goddess.” His thumb swipes just above your jawline, craning your face to the mirror. Your hair a mess, eyeliner smudged down your face, panting like a dog.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, taking him in, his lips parted, eyes half lidded, tan skin damp and shiny with sweat. He picks up his pace, hand wrapped tighter around your throat, left hand still soothing circles into your stomach. “C’mon, baby, tell me you’re pretty.” he whispers into your ear, lips grazing the shell.

When you don’t respond, he pounds into you more forcefully. “I said, tell me you’re pretty.” he groans, letting his head fall back onto your shoulder.

“I’m pretty.” you pant out, one hand going to the back of his thigh and the other over his hand on your stomach, trying to keep balance.

“Fuck, you’re so good, so sweet.” he hums, kissing along your shoulder, sucking and biting. “Play with you clit, ‘m so close, so sorry.” he whines, brows furrowed, sweat beading and falling from his forehead.

You chuckle at his apology, tilting your head to the side to catch his lips. He hums in delight, kissing you deeply, tongue melding with yours. Your hand reaches down and rubs feverish circles into your clit, feeling yourself coming closer and closer to the edge, and you know the same is true for him with the way he’s twitching inside you, rhythm faltering.

you grab at the hair on the back of his head, pulling it, he groans gutturally, biting his lip to soothe the pain. “Fuck- fuckingshit.” he tries his best to continue his rhythm, wanting to get you there first.

You come undone, but he holds you still, guiding you through it, hands still firmly around you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “Shit.” you sigh out, eyes rolling back in pure ecstacy.

You wince when he pulls out, his hand immediately going to finish himself off, spilling onto you back in ropes. Catching his breath, he kisses your shoulder, lifting himself off of you. “Gonna get a towel.” he explains, rushing over to the connected bathroom, the water running.

He returns with a black washcloth, wiping himself off you, handing you another clean cloth to wipe the sweat off your body as he uses the same wash cloth to clean off his dick, slowly softening.

“Thank you,” you flip over to look at him, wiping yourself off, shuddering at the sudden coldness of the room.

He pulls his pants and boxers back up, fastening the button. “You see my shirt?” he chuckles, looking around the room until you find it half tucked under the bed, throwing it his direction. “Thanks.” he smiles softly, pulling the sleeves over his arms.

He helps put your pants back on, then your shirt, kissing your forehead. “I’ll be back, you rest here.” he says softly.

“Wait.” you grip his wrist. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Jake.” Jake winks, walking out the bedroom door.

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