Jake has stormed you before. It's usually with a scowl on his face, fists clenched as he stomps to stand in front of you, feet planted while he swears revenge on the next hop you take. This time, even though the scowl is present, he doesn't stop.
There's a lofty smirk on your face at the title of first place, something you're certain Jake would have killed for. But when his furious stomps towards you don't slow or stop, you're almost worried he will kill for it.
Instead of knifing you he slams his hands against the lockers behind you, craning his neck down to kiss you. You shrink in on yourself out of pure shock, but you can't seem to raise your hands to push him away.
"Jake," You gasp, in a rare moment of air where his lips aren't smashed to yours, "What-?"
"Kiss me back," He murmurs lowly, nipping at your bottom lip, "I know you want to. Call it a consolation prize."
"Conso- what? Jake," You finally push at his chest, the feeling of his lips on yours lingering as your mouth falls open, "What the fuck?"
"I see you watching me," He pants, out of breath from both his arrival and the kiss, "When I shower. You peek over your locker, I'm not blind. But I couldn't risk going soft on you for the trophy, could I? But it's over now, you won anyways. So fucking kiss me already."
Your cheeks burn hot just as your core does, something so deliciously exciting about the rage-turned-lust in his eyes. You can't bring yourself to be embarrassed about being caught, and you hope you'll get to see the same sight you'd viewed over your locker sometime tonight.
This time it's you that advances, cupping his cheeks and ramming him into the opposite row of lockers. His eyes widen then snap shut, his hands tugging at your waist.
You bite similarly at his bottom lip as he had to yours, and it raises such a guttural groan from his throat that you nearly faint. It's enough to make your knees wobble and he takes pride in slinging an arm beneath your ass, taking time to squeeze the flesh there first.
It's when your hands snake down his chest, fingers starting to slip beneath his belt that he breaks the kiss, pushing you away by your shoulders. You worry instantly that you've crossed a boundary, but you should have known better when you see his cocky smirk.
"You know what they say about me, darlin'. I always leave 'ya hangin'. Now, you go attend your little celebration party," He drawls, readjusting his shirt where your hands had patted it wrinkly to his chest, "And I'll be waiting for you at your apartment after it's over. Deal?"
"Fuck you," You breathe, and his smirk deepens, eyes narrowing at the corners.
"Oh," He chuckles deeply, "You will."
