Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8636833.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Miss_Peregrine's_Home_for_Peculiar_Children_(2016), Miss_Peregrine's_Home
      for_Peculiar_Children_-_Ransom_Riggs
  Relationship:
      Enoch_O'Connor/Jacob_Portman
  Character:
      Enoch_O'Connor, Jacob_Portman, Alma_Peregrine
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Loss_of_Virginity, Resolved_Sexual_Tension, Underage
      Relationship(s), Dom/sub_Undertones, lil_bit_of_daddy_kink_??, jacob
      being_hella_pure, enoch_being_hella_not_pure, Self-Discovery, a_really
      long_and_drawn_out_story_about_two_gay_nerds_falling_in_love_and_being
      awkward_about_it, HollowHeart_-_Freeform, Really_long_oneshot
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-11-24 Words: 7333
****** Juvenescence ******
by jaysgatsby
Summary
     Jacob would be a liar if he dare proclaim a total knowledge and
     understanding of himself; and never had he vehemently searched for
     it. At least, not until he came to see Miss Peregrine.
     Not until he met Enoch.
Notes
     hi my name is eli and i told myself this would be short.
     obviously i was lying bc i spent 11 ??? hours on this i think wOW i
     have no life.
     also i tried to proofread but this is kind of long and i was kind of
     tired so idk sorry for any errors !!
     anyway, i've played around with this ship before writing this, but
     this is my first time like actually sitting down and developing a
     plot (porn) about them so !! i hope it's acceptable.
     i need more of this ship. i require it. i was forced by my thirst for
     these two to write this so here it go.
See the end of the work for more notes
Even the gods glorify the concept of  youth  to the ends of the very earth they
created—eternally gospeled are the sacred truths that the young are,
unfortunately, too young to understand. How paradoxical it is, but also how
appropriate for something as fragile and ignominious as humanity. Perhaps it is
the influence of his age itself, but Jacob never did see anything remarkable
about being young—what joy was in a perpetual confusion, a misunderstanding of
self? A constant pressure to know everything and yet nothing, and a constant
doubt that nothing he's ever said or ever thought held any substance because
he's  too young .
Ergo, as frustrating as it is, there is some underlying truth to these societal
outlines of youth. Jacob would be a liar if he dare proclaim a total knowledge
and understanding of himself; and never had he vehemently searched for it. At
least, not until he came to see Miss Peregrine.
Not until he met Enoch.
Though he certainly isn't the most “popular” boy among his peers, Jacob had,
for the most part, experienced enough comfort with himself to never really
question what it was he felt or preferred. Maybe it, in part, was focus on his
handicap of a social life and the crippling anxiety and depression he would
feel in  long, relentless  waves—to an extent that his own flesh felt foreign
to him. And aside from some mental conflict and the wet bandages holding his
peace of mind together, Jacob Portman is fine. He's sure of himself. He knows
who he is. And while he, at times, would soften on this, would wonder the basis
of his existence or ponder what the point of his life is  anyway , there is one
thing he always knew: he likes girls.
Right?
Only recently did this state of surety begin to falter.
The first day he entered the loop, the first day he saw,  in the flesh , the
faces of those fantastical characters from his grandfather’s stories, is when
it started. To his astonishment, the names and faces are real, all credit due
to his younger self for believing in them, and he was sure that when his heart
skipped a beat upon laying eyes on Enoch, it was just excitement. The
necromancer boy, perhaps the most unbelievable of them all, sat there before
him and demonstrated the art of his peculiarity. And never had something so
morbid been so beautiful.
His dark eyes seem to hold some threatening knowledge; like he knows everything
about Jacob just from looking at him, or perhaps even less. The vigilant glow
those hues of a sable brown would take when the light hit them—though rarely
ever is Enoch in the light by choice—Jacob nearly feels as though the other boy
has taken him by the throat, and stolen his breath right from his very lungs.
 And naturally, he acquaints this with hostility. Enoch is all but kind to him,
either way, and while Jacob has experienced quite a bit of ridicule in his
life, he simply isn't  used  to it coming from seemingly nowhere, and being so
directly in front of him. This must be his response to it,  that's  why it
feels strange. And at first, this was utterly plausible and he was satisfied.
But the truth, even when buried at the core of the earth, will rise with the
mountains and spread itself across the skies to be known and recognized, even
if not accepted. Nothing changes the fact that truth is truth. And poor Jacob,
as he learns this the hard way.
Enough time passes for the air to have thickened between them with a one-sided
aggression; for Jacob’s skin could flush with the heat of Enoch’s  hateful
eyes with merely the conception of the image. And as annoying as it becomes, as
much as he wishes to erase Enoch from every corner of his mind, he can't. And
he can't bring himself to hate the handsome boy, either, for something in
Jacob’s chest is just too soft for that. And while he cannot exactly name nor
describe what this softness—this tenderness—is, he knows that he doesn't want
Enoch to hate him, either. He wants to be close to him.
And though he doesn't hate Enoch,  goddamnit  he hates that.
He tries to spend more time with Emma to extinguish that knot tightening
beneath his chest, but to no avail—while he is undeniably fond of the ethereal
and unique young woman, he felt nothing more than a platonic love for her; a
desire to honor and protect her, as much as he could. It isn't anything like
the burning sensation that Enoch gives him, and it cannot compensate nor
smother the growing fires, either.
Thankfully, it isn't hard to avoid Enoch. He tends to remain in one of about
three possible locations, the highest probability of which resides with his own
room, so Jacob has no problem physically dodging the object of his unwanted
affections. But mentally, there is no way to escape what he feels for the
boy—any distraction is painfully brief, and any moment of silent thought is
filled with his senses, enamoured by the walking macabre just a floor above
where he soon finds himself seated with Miss Peregrine.
The woman had gathered Jacob and asked for a word, and her sharp, but beautiful
features coalesce within a pensive countenance. A period of silence that had,
in reality, been less than a minute dragged on for  hours  to Jacob, but
fortunately (or so he thinks), the ymbryne begins her soliloquy.
“Now, Jacob,” she commences, her accent curled around her words like she'd
rehearsed them a thousand times. But he can tell she hasn't: that such fluidity
is just natural for a creature as remarkable as herself - and he's known her
long enough now to appreciate the esoteric art of her mind, of her being.
“You've been with us quite a while, now, and we love having you. As a matter of
fact, you've become … family, to us.  All  of us,”  including Enoch , say her
eyes, “and while families may not be perfect, nor do they always get along—I’ve
noticed quite a bit of … tension, between you and Enoch.”
Tension considered, Jacob begins to feel it in his shoulders, perhaps by the
mere mention of  that name . Because the name summons the image of the face;
the face that Jacob is uncomfortable seeing, the face that he knows defies the
one thing normal  about him. But, even through his anxieties, he can tell she
hasn't finished, and silently, he listens on.
“And I thought to myself that I could have handled it - couldn't I have
straightened things out? Well, for the sake of the house, I could have. But I
cannot place my hand where it doesn't belong. You must understand, Jacob, Enoch
is not the softest of heart, nor is he the most reasonable young man on earth.
But his heart, as unbelievable as this may sound to you—his heart is  pure .
He's been through quite a bit, I’m sure you can imagine, but at his core, Enoch
is a wonderful and altruistic youth. And …” never had he thought he'd see the
dark-haired woman hesitate, “I believe that you should tell him whatever it is
you have to say to him.”
Bright blue eyes have nearly doubled in size, Jacob regarding the caretaker
with a truly dumbfounded curve to his lips and circumference to his eyes. And
it shocks him because he hasn't even admitted it to himself—and while there
hasn't been any explicit implication, Jacob is certain Miss Peregrine knows the
nature of what lies in his heart.
And with her words in mind, as the sun starts to hang teasingly along the
horizon, he finds the apexes of his knuckles pressed against the wooden door,
behind which, he knows Enoch is there.
Though the sound had been relatively faint, it takes only a moment for
shuffling to be heard, before the tumblers of the threshold latch are turned
loose and before he'd been ready, Jacob is faced with Enoch. And he'd almost
forgotten how gorgeous he is.
Almost.
Rarely ever does the slightly older boy come to physically answer his room
door, for usually he proclaims from where he works that it is unlocked, if it
is. Possibly, the way Jacob had knocked alone gave the other boy enough context
to know that something  strange , but important lies ahead of them.
“Well, look who's here,” remarks Enoch, breaking the brief period of silent
staring in which either boy had been engaged. If he does hold some insight as
to where this upcoming conversation may go, he certainly isn't behaving that
way. “The local celebrity himself, hah? I figured maybe you forgot I existed,
but  unfortunately , it seems you haven't.”
Either Jacob has gone hopelessly insane, or Enoch almost sounds  bitter  about
his blatant avoidance of him. Unsure what to make of that, the blue-eyed boy
cuts to the chase, “I want to talk to you.”
Plush lips purse, and Enoch takes a seat behind his work table, the pads of his
calloused fingers spread along the cherrywood surface, stabilizing his
unreasonably athletic form in the action. “Well, you're here.”
“Enoch …” Jacob sighs, surprisingly long lashes fluttering as he tries to
gather his words, “It's pretty obvious that you don't like me. I mean, I’m not
sure why—but I get it, alright? You don't have to like me, and we both know
that. But … but whether or not you like me, it doesn't change the fact that
this is a family, isn't it? You and I … we're family. I know we are. And
families don't let little things tear them apart. And even if you hate me, well
…” as much as he  despises  it, his voice goes soft, “I don't hate you. Okay? I
know that this cold wall you've put up isn't all there is to you. I've seen it,
when you interact with the others. You're not someone who deserves to be
hated.”
The tightness in Enoch’s face disappears. The wrinkle above his brow and the
pout of his lips are gone, now, and he stares at the other boy with a
bewildered, incredulous look. For quite a while, he is silent, arms still
crossed over his chest despite his body language having changed dramatically.
When it seems as though he isn't going to speak, especially as those dark eyes
fall and seem to focus on the table, Jacob sighs and turns to leave - his wish
for  something  positive to form between them long since suffocated.
“I don't hate you.”
But through the silence, it lives on.
“I don't … I don't hate you, Jacob. I really don't.”
“Then …” He starts to speak long before his thoughts have organized themselves,
and he has to work not to choke on his own breath, “You had me fooled. Why've
you been acting like I stabbed your mother or something?”
“Tch,” Enoch stands, then, eyes focused on Jacob for only a moment before they
find a jar in the corner of the room to regard, instead. “You don't get it.”
“No, I don't,” Jacob says, voice more tired than anything else, “help me out,
won't you?”
“You came here and it meant everything to everyone,” he doesn't hesitate, eyes
slowly oscillating to find the misty blues that stare into him, “I couldn't see
what was so special about it. Sure, we don't get visitors often. But everyone
got so carried away and up in a tizzy about it—‘Jake this’ and ‘Jake that.’ But
you know what pissed me off the most about it? Is that I started to  like  you.
I didn't want to, by God, I didn't. But then you disappeared on me, and I
guessed you decided I wasn't worth your time. I don't suppose I can really
blame you for that, though, considering how things had gone between us. But
nothing stopped it from getting me upset. I felt like you were playing with me,
and there's few things I  hate  more than that.”
Dazed, Jacob’s blinking eyes absorb all that's been said to him, before a heavy
breath comes past his nostrils. “I wouldn't play with you,” he clarifies,
lidded eyes unveiling to lock on Enoch’s stony gaze. “Enoch … there's something
… else I have to tell you.” Miss Peregrine made it seem as though Enoch would
understand, at least, or refrain from shoving Jacob as far away from him as
possible. She isn't ever wrong about anything, so hopefully, Enoch will at
least consider not kicking his ass.
“Well, say it.” It sounds like a dare, and Jacob swallows.
“I've been avoiding you because I haven't known how to deal with the way you
make me feel. Enoch … for God's sake, I think I'm falling in love with you.”
It is Enoch’s turn to be swept up in the gusts of confusion, grasped by the
cold hands of a reality he could only imagine, but had successfully convinced
himself couldn't be real. His throat is too full of his thoughts to
propitiously omit any of them. In fact, all that he can do for the longest of
whiles presents itself in standing where he is, frozen as though time itself
has abandoned the both of them, with large,  beautiful  eyes grappling Jacob in
their aporetic gaze.
And Jacob is  terrified . He doesn't know for certain what his confession has
just done, but he knows that it is something monumental for the both of them.
Lest he forget the way his body is shaking with the solid admittance that he's
been wrong about himself his entire life - and he doesn't know how okay that
is, but he simply wants to be able to accept it, and to move on. Enoch may not
be sure how vital his response will be, should he even provide one, in how
Jacob may see himself for the rest of his life. The blue-eyed boy doesn't even
realize how much power he's given the other … and neither does Enoch.
After what feels like several eternities (however, elapsed are they in only a
few moments), those full lips part with purpose, a low voice rising from the
base of his gorge.
“How could you mean that …” despite the inquisitive structure of his words,
they do not leave his lips as a question, “you don't even know what love is, do
you? You're  too young  to be falling for anyone that way—let alone another
man, and one you haven't known for very long.”
Jacob flinches, and he feels something hot beneath the flesh of his face -
Anger? Embarrassment? He's known them both too well and too similarly to
distinguish, for now, at the moment Enoch upbraids him for his tender words.
He's about to shout something concerning the fact that Enoch is hardly even a
year older than him, but then he remembers: few have been  too young  longer
than Enoch has.
And the words the ymbryne had earlier said to him resurface. He isn't the most
reasonable , but his heart is  pure . Jacob takes another look into those
narrowed eyes, hardened with a lack of reverence for affection, fortified by a
distance from his birth family, and the fear that took them in response to
their own child.
He isn't angry. He's scared.
Realizing he still hasn't spoken, but unable to shake the heat held by his
face, Jacob starts to near Enoch. Slowly, like a man approaching a fire, though
not to extinguish it … he  knows  he cannot extinguish it, nor does he want to.
But to nurture the blazing soul of this broken boy, despite the fact that Jacob
himself exists as little more than a mountain of shards - maybe together, they
can get somewhere. Maybe together, they can be strong.
Enoch holds his gaze, his frown deepening and his defenses high as the willowy
youth approaches him. He hears the soft breaths, now, and knows that a tone
just as delicate is on its way.
“I don't exactly know what love is, no,” attests Jacob, and the addressed can
see the determined glint encrusted along the lazuli looking directly through
him, “but I know that I haven't ever felt this way about anyone, or anything,
before. And I know that love is different for everyone who experiences it,
right? That's why no one can explain or make sense of it - except for in a way
that they understand. I  am  young, and so are you, but what does that even
mean, Enoch? Does it mean we aren't supposed to feel anything? We're not seven
- we're old enough now to know, or at least start to wonder about the fires
that start within us. How long do you want to ignore anything other than what
makes you look strong? It would be nice, right? But you can't do that to
yourself. You're a person. I can't say anything for certain, except that I love
everyone in this house. But you, I love you differently. I want … I wouldn't
mind staying here with you, forever.” He stands right in front of him, now, and
his soft hands raise to take Enoch by the face. The movement is dangerously
slow, and Enoch only looks at him, his countenance soft, and even weary, as
Jacob’s palms take hold of him.
“Don't run from me.”
Ever so gradually, with little haste about him, the established peculiar starts
to lean into Jacob - their near identical heights making it difficult to look
anywhere but into each other. Following a weighted silence, Enoch does whisper
a response.
“Only if you don't run from me.”
It is then that Jacob kisses him.
It begins gently, with the barely taller boy pressing his lips just against the
plush contours of Enoch’s. And he fills with butterflies, enchanted by the
feeling he hasn't known he's been imagining since the moment he set foot into
the house, or maybe even before that. The chaste nature of their lips brushing
against each other soon deepens to something far more substantial, as Enoch
takes over.
His arms encompass Jacob’s waist, the thinner boy’s hands still pressing a
warmth against either of his cheeks as firmly, he takes the undeniably sweet
taste for himself. Jacob’s resulting gasp is small, but the distance between
their lips that it creates is quickly closed by Enoch. The movements become
less languid and more precise, and before long, Jacob feels the wet velvet of
Enoch’s tongue along the seam of his lips. He knows what this means, and his
bashful nature causes his face and the tips of his ears to burn, though he does
open his mouth to make way for Enoch.
The younger boy tries his best to restrain the sounds his body pushes for him
to make, though the feeling of someone else’s tongue inside of his mouth,
especially  Enoch’s , makes him feel awfully weak. He's never kissed anyone
like this before, and his body feels like it's on fire as his partner strokes
every inch of his mouth’s interior. Shyly, he responds by sliding his own
tongue along Enoch’s, and he forgets not to moan at the feeling. It's a soft,
high sound that has the dark-eyed boy’s chest deepening with lust.
But he doesn't want to hurt Jacob, nor does he know how far the smaller boy
will let him go. Yet, the heavy breaths and whinelike sounds make it difficult
to want to stop here.
So he doesn't, and he tests the waters as he pulls away from the utterly
delectable taste of Jacob’s mouth, anything but ignoring the soft cry of
protest that leaves the flustered boy. But Jacob is soon quelled as Enoch
begins to trace his lips along his jawline, the younger then gasping as his
hands tangle in Enoch’s hair.
The kisses trail down his neck, and as lips descend, Enoch kisses harder, and
soon, he's sucking the already-flushed skin along the lower side of Jacob’s
throat. The adorned boy is panting by now, his eyes squeezed shut as his
fingers grip tightly onto Enoch’s hair - but hardly does he mind. When a bite
pinches his collarbone, Jacob moans louder than he had before and seizes his
lower lip between his teeth to try to keep himself quiet. With this, Enoch
knows now that Jacob  likes  a little bit of pain, a little bit of discomfort.
Given, he'd never expected the boy to be  this  submissive, but he's learning
not to argue with good things.
“E-Enoch …” Jacob whines, chest heaving as his shirt collar’s been pulled aside
to expose more of his skin. He isn't sure what he was going to say, his
cognitive mind is barely working right now, but whatever it was is severed by a
loud moan as a tongue glides over his nipple.
“What?” Enoch asks, mouth flush against Jacob’s hot skin, “What is it, Jacob?”
“I -” his breath falters, throat rawing with the increasing volume and rasp of
his sounds, “I don't think we should be doing this -”
“Really?” Enoch asks, removing his mouth, though his arms remain where they
are, even tightening against Jacob's little waist. “Your body isn't saying that
at all,” he remarks, one finger moving to trace the contour of Jacob’s hipbone
before finding the pronounced bulge behind his zipper.
“Nnh -” Jacob’s lip is nearly bleeding by how hard he bites down on it.
“You said it yourself; we’re at a point in our lives where we want to start
exploring the things we feel - and we have every right to. We're too young to
not  be doing this,” with darkened eyes, Enoch raises a hand to coax Jacob’s
lower lip free of the sharp grasp of his teeth, “And for God's sake, quit
trying to hold back.” ‘Tis true that neither of them need to worry about
disturbances based on the sounds they make - Miss Peregrine had Enoch’s room
soundproofed ages ago, so that the sharp sounds of his dolls mutilating each
other wouldn't disturb the other children at night - that, and she knows he
likes to keep to himself.
And Enoch’s words seem to convince Jacob to let go of his worries - the
rhetorical value of what's been said enough to close off the part of his mind
that worries over everything, at least for now. His hands fall from Enoch’s
hair, now ruled free from its neat part and careful style, but Jacob can't help
but notice how  sexy  he looks like that. Thin arms drape around Enoch’s
shoulders as their faces are in such proximity that their noses touch, and
again, they kiss - with Enoch as the initiator, this time.
Thus, no shyness comes with this kiss, as the both of them indulge the deep
passion in the pit of their stomachs, spreading through their veins and
painting warmth all over their flesh.
Then comes the hassle of discarding the layers of clothing masking either of
their bodies from view; and it starts with an impatient Enoch prying Jacob’s
jacket right off of him. What follows is a need for the boy’s sweater to
disappear, and swiftly does the older one pull it off of him, with Jacob’s arms
raising pliantly as their lips distance for the minimum amount of time it takes
to pull the blue fabric away. Jacob then takes initiative to start pulling at
Enoch’s clothes, and through a hasty struggle, both of them are soon left in
their undergarments.
There's a moment of staring at each other, with silence thick in the air as
this new era of what began in “hatred” strips down to something far different -
Jacob has never seen this look on Enoch’s face, with eyes full of adoration,
lips kiss-bruised and face just barely flushed pink, in the little light that
the oncoming evening provides the room. And he’d never dreamed he’d see
anything but a scowl etched into that fair mien, but he knows now that it makes
his skin quiver with a need for Enoch to touch him. And truly, this is a
momentous day, as again his prayers are answered.
Jacob is altogether pliant as the object of his every affection gathers him
into his arms, both hands cascading along the bare skin of the younger’s back
until the lower one reaches the waistband of his underwear. Shivering from both
the touches and the upcoming loss of his virginity, Jacob emits a soft, airy
breath as his eyes are again forced closed by feelings of pleasure. How he’d
love to see Enoch’s face in this exchange, but his body is unused to being
overrun by such strong emotion. As he’d promised before, never has he felt this
way about anyone. And he can tell that it isn’t merely a sexual desire, for
Jacob has never been one to be even remotely interested in that kind of lustful
carnage - except for in Enoch’s case. He knows he only desires the other male
because  he’s in love with him, and something about that is delightfully
overwhelming as their lips find each other once more, in a languid and lazy
kiss; composed mostly of their tongues.
Enoch’s bed is large enough to hold the both of them, but with negligible room
beyond that. But for the moment, it feels like bower of adoration. The very
moment that Jacob’s back is pressed into the underused mattress, he knows that
he’s entered something sacred - that once this moment is over, nothing will be
the same between them. For better or worse, the love in his heart won’t allow
him to turn back, as slowly he succumbs to the body placed atop his own.
The light blues of Jacob’s eyes hold an entire world of innocence, and Enoch
can’t help but brush his fingers along the apple of the beautiful boy’s cheek.
He knows, just by the younger boy’s demeanor and his responses, that he’s never
done anything like this before - and while Enoch’s world of experience isn’t
the broadest, he knows what to do; he knows where to go. And he intends not to
leave Jacob in the dark this time.
Either of Enoch’s index fingers hook around Jacob’s waistband as he begins to
tug downward, exposing more and more of the porcelain flesh, and discovering
that the tiny moles adorning the boy’s face cover the expanse of his hips and
inner thighs, too. It’s adorable, though he doesn’t say this aloud, and
recenters his focus on the task at hand; eventually slipping the light blue
briefs from the lithe and supple body before him. Jacob’s face has turned
entirely red, as have his ears and the higher anatomy of his neck, and Enoch
gives him a little responsorial smile. Jacob’s eyes look away, unable to handle
the rare sight of a smiling Enoch, amid being entirely exposed to him in every
way.
“Jacob,” whispers Enoch, though surely there’s no one that could hear them for
miles.
The bright and cool hues of the addressed find the warmth of his lover’s gaze,
a shy and nervous sea held beneath the contrast to his reddened face.
“Relax,” he says lowly, hands gliding up the bare thighs, sliding inward as the
pads of his fingers ascend along the warm and pale flesh. Again, Jacob is
moaning, breath hitched tight in his throat as Enoch’s fingers lose distance
from his twitching cock. He covers his face with his arm, back arching as
finally he feels a hand enclose him - a tiny whisper of Enoch’s name follows as
Jacob’s thighs fall open.
“You’re so sensitive …” another whisper as the dark-eyed male sits up onto his
haunches, though careful is he not to let go of Jacob. The boy whimpers, the
response prepared that  of course he is,  though never does it make it past his
lips - for Enoch starts to stroke him to full hardness and Jacob forgets his
own name for a while.
“ Enoch ,” it’s a potent whine, Jacob’s legs trembling as Enoch’s hand glides
faster and faster, aided by the dripping precome slickening the length of the
younger’s cock. A hum comes in response, Enoch’s plush lips glistening after
his tongue has glided over them a series of times, his eyes moving from his
hand around Jacob’s length to the gasping and moaning mess from the shoulders
up. “I - I think I’m gonna -”
“Not yet,” A low and thickly accented voice orders, as suddenly his hand is
pulled away. Oh, how Jacob cries at that, actual tears glimmering in the pearl
pink ducts of his eyes as Enoch pulls his arm away from his face, revealing
Jacob’s widened eyes and parted lips, where heavy breaths escape him. “Just be
patient,” Enoch requests, raising his own hips so he can discard his briefs
with ease.
Jacob can’t help but stare, having never seen another man before - let alone
another man that is half-hard, and as dangerously attractive as Enoch. It takes
a brief moment for Jacob to realize that  that’s going to be inside of him soon
, and he doesn’t quite know what to make of that, at least not mentally - for
physically his body is  begging  to be entered, among other things.
As an urge comes upon him, Jacob starts to sit up, mouth nearly salivating from
just the thought, and the  image  between the other’s thighs. “Enoch,” he
whispers, his pretty lips right beside his partner’s ear, and Enoch can  feel
the heat from his blushing face, “Let me suck you.”
As if Jacob realistically expects Enoch to refuse such a flawless offer, the
elder laughs breathily, his fingers gliding along the curve of Jacob’s cute
little ass. “I’ve got a better idea.”
As swiftly as he can manage, Enoch takes hold of Jacob and inverts their
position so that the very confused boy now sits atop his lap. Reclining his
body fully, Enoch exhales a heavy breath as the younger’s weight settles atop
him. “Turn around,” Enoch says, motioning only once with his index finger’s
implication of a spiral-like movement. A blushing and bewildered Jacob carries
out the order, before he realizes that Enoch’s dick is directly in front of his
face. He figures it out, now, having been so unused to endeavors of a sexual
kind that he hadn’t even considered the possibilities other positions held.
Anchoring his knees on either side of Enoch’s hips, he grasps the other into
his hand and begins to stroke, teeth biting into the insides of his lips as he
hears breathy groans from behind him. It’s different from touching himself, he
notices; immensely different, but one thousand times better. Once the velvety
flesh is slick and hard in his hand, Jacob parts his lips and traces his tongue
around the tip - Enoch’s breath hitches in response and his hands slide along
the the front’s of Jacob’s thighs until they reach the indents of his hips,
pulling the boy’s ass closer to his face. Jacob doesn’t notice, as he’s too
focused on taking small increments of Enoch’s cock into his mouth, certain that
he doesn’t want to choke himself. He hadn’t realized solely looking at the
other just how  impressive  he is, in terms of both length and girth, but again
he hasn’t much to which he can compare it. He flicks his tongue when he finds a
vein, the low and guttural sounds his lover makes behind him having him feel as
though he could come solely from this. He’s doing all he can not to, however,
as Enoch had been very clear when he’d told him  not yet  - and though he isn’t
entirely sure when  yet  will be, he is willing to discipline himself enough to
wait for it.
Finally, Jacob has the entirety of Enoch’s length past his lips; the odd but
pleasureable sensation of the very back of his throat being breached causing
him to moan around the older male. Enoch groans at that, tracing his tongue
over his lips as Jacob pulls off of him, and goes down again. Unable to wait a
moment longer, he rubs along the round curves of Jacob’s ass with his hands,
then using a sudden grip to spread his cheeks, Enoch leans in and circles the
hole with his tongue.
Jacob nearly chokes, then, but in surprise. He pulls off of Enoch, the vulgar
pop  that sounds in response resonating in either boy’s ears as he looks back
over his shoulder to confirm that this  feeling  is what he thinks it is.
Enoch uses this opportunity to pull him backward again, tracing the
circumference of that little hole once more before he employs his mouth to suck
on it.
Jacob is trembling, now, his head fallen backward as he moans and whimpers
without restraint. Enoch’s cock is still in his hand, and at the height of his
ecstasy, he grasps hard around him. They moan in near unison, Jacob falling
forward once again to try to reciprocate the pleasure he’s receiving - his head
gyrating in a relatively quick rhythm as it bobs up and down on the older boy’s
throbbing dick. Enoch’s tongue thrusts in and out of Jacob’s now dripping hole,
the boy instinctively grinding his hips down into the other’s face while Enoch
grinds up into his mouth.
The room fills with gasps and moans, alongside the sounds of wet, hot flesh -
the air thick and weighted with passion as either boy creeps closer and closer
to their respective limits.
“Jacob,” Enoch’s voice comes so sonorously that Jacob can only moan in
response, “Sit up, come here.”
With a whine, Jacob releases Enoch’s cock and does as he’s told, his quivering
body rotating as least clumsily as he could manage, until they’ve come to face
one another again. The older boy’s body has caught the glow of the moon as it’s
risen in the sky, Jacob instantly captivated by the planes of muscle
highlighted by the silvery blue which caresses the window. Both of them work to
recapture their breaths, and for a while no sound can be registered aside from
their heavy pants and the creatures of the night beyond the window.
The static nature of the silence is broken as Enoch reaches for the drawer to
the right of the bed, the meager little night table had three of them, but the
boy seems to know the exact whereabouts of what he’s searching for. It is then,
he retrieves a palm-sized bottle, and though Jacob is hardly focused on it, it
appears to be some kind of lotion, or oil.
Either way, the necromancer moors either heel of his hands to the bed, and he
drags himself upward, until Jacob is sitting on his lap. “Give me your hand,”
Enoch whispers, and Jacob nods as he offers his palm to the one who’d asked for
it. Cupping the bottom of Jacob’s hand with his own, Enoch pours enough of the
liquid into his partner’s curved palm, watching as Jacob’s blown pupils stare
in mesmerization at the thick liquid.
“Now, be a good boy, Jacob,” he says, tone firm as he leans back against the
headboard, as though preparing for a show, “and open yourself up for me.”
Wide eyes blink as though he’s been instructed to walk of a cliff - but in this
state, even if Enoch had asked him to, he’d do it. It takes only a moment for
him to understand what he means, based upon the acts they’ve just done, and the
knowledge of where his only entrance is. With a kittenlike moan, he closes his
eyes as he spreads the lubricant along his fingers, before gradually extending
them behind himself.
“Look at me as you do it,” Enoch commands, and Jacob’s eyes barely open, just
so that his dark pupils regard Enoch’s expectant eyes, and his pulvinate lips.
The sound Jacob makes as he seats himself on his index finger is a concoction
of a moan and a sob, and Enoch  loves  it. Jacob’s lips have parted entirely,
his head lolled to be supported by his shoulder as he starts to plunge deeper
and deeper inside of himself; his walls already moist thanks to Enoch’s tongue.
Once he feels he’s ready, he goes to add another, but only to be stopped by
Enoch.
“Add two,” he challenges, and Jacob mewls in obedience.
Soon, the boy has three fingers inside of himself, his other hand grasping onto
Enoch’s arm as he feels his hole stretch to accommodate the intrusion. The pain
very slowly deteriorates to pure pleasure; Enoch can tell this by the shift in
Jacob’s voice and Jacob knows by the way he suddenly can’t stop moaning.
However, as his middle finger brushes against a certain cluster of nerves deep
within him, Jacob cries out in a choked sob - a sharp feeling of rapture
sending a hard shiver all through his body.
“Are you ready for me, Jacob?” Enoch asks, observing the way the boy is easily
grinding down onto his hand, “Do you want more than just your hand to fuck you,
now?”
The vulgarities cause the younger to whimper, though by this point, the sound
is far from foreign to Enoch - and might he add, one of the most erotic sounds
he’s ever heard. However, just a nod won’t get the shaking boy what it is he’s
shaking  for , as Enoch is far from shy on letting him know.
“Say it,” he instructs, licking his lips once more as Jacob is  still  riding
himself, “tell me what you want.”
“Pl-please …” sputters Jacob, his body convulsing with need as again, he barely
prods  that spot . “Please fuck me, D-Daddy …
Either one of them finds surprise in this, though Jacob is far too aroused to
be embarrassed by the slip of his tongue. Enoch, however, finds  great
satisfaction with the new title, and never will he let the younger swallow it
down.
He could swallow something else, though, with due time.
“Good boy,” Enoch praises, grasping Jacob’s wrist with one hand and pulling so
that the boy’s fingers slip out of him. Jacob moans at the sudden feeling of
being empty, though he knows that, thankfully, it won’t last long. He leans
forward, his weakened body finding support against Enoch’s sturdy one, and
Enoch adores the soft moans that Jacob breathes against his ear as he takes the
boy’s hand and uses the remaining lubricant to coat his own cock.
The younger boy jolts as he feels Enoch’s tip align with his hole, and despite
the ample preparation, he can tell there’s going to be a stretch. Exhaling a
hot breath, he gasps his lover’s name as he’s entered, his body responding as
though he’s just received all he’s ever wanted. Though his previous notion had
been right, and Enoch’s girth opens him up significantly - though the pain that
results only seems to add to the pleasure.
Enoch is still for quite some time, mostly basking in the tightness of the
younger boy, but also not wanting to split him in half with any sudden or too
strong movements. With enough time, however, he feels the other boy’s walls
begin to loosen just enough for him to slide in completely, and for Jacob to be
fully seated on him. With this new bit of room, Enoch pulls out almost
entirely, before shoving himself back in - and the process repeats, only it
grows  faster  every time.
Jacob is in shambles. Coherent thought or word had abandoned him as soon as
Enoch had entered him, and he’s melted down to moans and cries of either
Enoch’s name or ‘Daddy’ - and as much as Enoch enjoys these fluid and obscene
sounds, he silences the boy with another kiss, his neck elongated as the fact
that Jacob is on his lap gives him a bit of leverage over Enoch. The kiss isn’t
the neatest, but it hardly matters to either of them - albeit it mostly
consists of Enoch biting Jacob’s lower lip and Jacob moaning what simple words
and phrases he can get through his brain in this state.
The younger starts to grind on Enoch, raising his hips and dropping them back
down at quite an impressive speed, considering how tight he still is. The
joined efforts of Jacob riding him and Enoch thrusting upward have both of them
climbing closer and closer toward orgasm, and as Jacob seems as though he’s
going to  burst , Enoch figures he’s still waiting for permission to let go.
Grasping tightly onto his lover’s back, the blue-eyed boy’s broken moans blend
to barely form words, his body so overcome with pleasure that he’s almost
certain he could  die  this way, without a care in the world. “Enoch -  Daddy ,
please …”
Enoch kisses and sucks along Jacob’s neck, leaving a trail of bright pink marks
in his wake, “Go ahead, love.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Jacob claws his blunt nails down the expanse of
Enoch’s spine, his body shaking sans restraint as he comes - head leaning
backward, mouth agape with a half-silent scream and back arched as ribbons of
white adorn both of their stomachs and some of Jacob’s chest. Though totally
spent, he continues to lazily grind his ass onto Enoch’s cock, his tired
muscles allowing him to move only in languid circles.
But Enoch is near to his limit, as Jacob had become impossibly tighter during
his orgasm, squeezing height of pleasure right out of Enoch as his thrusts
begin to stutter. With a tight grip on Jacob’s hips, he bites his lower lip as
he empties inside of him, forehead pressed to the younger boy’s bitten
collarbone as he fills him, one last time.
Jacob is still panting with fervor by the time Enoch comes down from such a
high, but the high-pitched nothings that spill past the thinner boy’s lips
prove that he’s entangled in an afterglow. And Enoch is, too, as he remains
inside of Jacob for just a moment more, before sliding easily out of him, the
warm and adherent mess of his own cum simplifying the task even more.
After a few silent moments (save for the heavy breathing of either one of
them), Enoch finds an old handkerchief amid the contents of that same first
drawer, still opened from when he’d withdrawn the bottle of whatever lubricant
he’d used to claim the still trembling body of his newfound lover. Gingerly, he
wipes away the viscid substance from Jacob’s abdomen and chest, before cleaning
himself up.
“Well, we should probably get you into a bath,” muses Enoch, noticing now that
Jacob’s eyes are open. “I don’t think we’ll have time before the reset, though,
so you’ll have to wait until morning, I suppose.”
“Mm …” Jacob sits up, still amazed by what they’ve just done, and the fact that
Enoch could behave so casually about it, “Y-yeah, that’s fine … I don’t mind
it, anyway. It doesn’t feel bad,” says the younger boy, in reference to Enoch’s
essence still leaking out of him. “Hey … by the way, I meant everything I said.
I still mean it. I wouldn’t mind spending forever here, with you.”
Leaning back against his pillows, Enoch smiles, pulling Jacob nearer to him and
resting his chin atop the boy’s head. “Forever goes by a lot faster than you
think. We’ve been living the same day for more than seventy years, you know?
And none of us even think about it.” 
“It’s because you’ve got each other to live it with, it isn’t so bad …”
Enoch’s hand rubs along Jacob’s naked side, from his chest to the curve of his
waist. “You’re probably right. But now that you’re here, it’ll go by even
quicker, won’t it?”
A short breath passes through Jacob’s nostrils, and it almost sounds like a
quelled laugh. And Enoch’s almost certain it had been, as he can feel Jacob try
to hide his smile against Enoch’s chest. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
End Notes
     well there u go. idk what this was really and i know it was kind of
     vanilla but jacob is a virgin like what were u expecting ???
     anyway send me anon h8 (or prompts) on tumblr @elive.
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