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clarks-letterman · 9 months

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daring | jacob custos x reader

a/n — wanted to make this different from my last jacob fic! again, writing to escape the slump so it might not be as good as usual!

summary — A game of truth or dare goes wrong when the counselors hear something outside of the cabin. You and Jacob go to check it out...

warnings — drinking, swearing, a bit of oral (jacob receiving), rimming (jacob receiving)

words — 3.3k

~~~

One thing about the outdoors was that it was quiet and slow. The night drug on and felt as endless as the forest. The atmosphere around Hackett's Quarry didn't feel much different, being the hearth in front of the warmth and spirit brought alive by the campers and counselors. Somewhere, lost in the passion, likely at the last cabin in a U-shaped order of identical structures, did it ignite into that fire. Alcohol carried that flame as it burned down everyone’s throat, and the contents of the cans evaporated, to which now laid in a pile under one of the unused bunks in case the big bad wolf—Mr. Hackett—stopped by to blow the roof off the closest thing that would come to be a party at Hackett’s Quarry.

"Jacob," Emma draws on the name, letting the syllables leave a pronunciated taste of sweetness on her lips, "I asked you: truth or dare?"

You noticed that, to Jacob, her salt looked like sweet sugar. He was willing to do whatever pleased her, and that reflected itself in his answer. “Dare.”

Emma bit her lip and smiled, “I dare you to. . .wear a piece of my clothing.”

“Do I get to choose?” Jacob pried. He sounded interested, and you figured that he probably would choose her bra or something immediately available on her, like the loose pair of sweatpants or tight spaghetti-strap hiding under a blue baggy cropped sweater. Emma knew better.

“Let’s take a vote.” Emma looked around in a circle, meeting the line of eyes as she waited for a response. Everyone sat facing each other in one big circle, and Kaitlyn, who sat two spots over from Jacob, skipping right over Dylan, put her opinion in.

“I think it should be the dealer’s choice,” she admitted.

Dylan turned to argue with Kaitlyn, “No way, the dude should get the choice since she came up with the dare.”

”I’m fine with Emma choosing for him,” Abby chided. Kaitlyn ignored Dylan to speak directly to her, “Thank you. See?”

The remainder of the group went, and finally, you. You sent the decision into a majority rule, and it was settled: Jacob would be able to pick his own humiliation. Jacob almost wanted to kiss you for unknowingly letting his preferred outcome happen. The question became not if he was embarrassed by the thought, but what he would choose to strut through the door in that he promptly exited with Emma tugging on his arm like a thick leash. In her absence, she left a promise that she would be back with expecting eyes trained on the door. That left you, Dylan, Kaitlyn, Ryan, Nick, and Abigail in the room.

Soon after, the two returned to a sprawl of low conversations that were interrupted as the old wooden door crept open with a creak. Emma entered first with her back turned to you and the rest of the group, only interacting with Jacob on the outside. She told him to wait for a cue, and he responded with a laugh about her dramatics. She turned to face the group, her glassy eyes falling on you first before looking around the half-circle.

“After a long wait, I present to you. . .” Emma bounced on her toes, “Jacob!”

She moved off to the side of the door, watching the reveal for herself as everyone joined in gazing at the widening space in the wall. Jacob pushed the door inwards and came into the light of the cabin, the soft glow casting a shadow on his torso where his newly-fitted brown cropped sweater ended. His thighs, which had previously been covered by solid denim, were now replaced by taut, pink nylon shorts that struggled to contain his tree-trunk-like thighs, and you couldn’t help but look at the ax-grinding right between his carved trunks. He also had on a different pair of less-than-pristine white canvas high-tops, which contrasted the dome of his head being covered by the same black baseball cap. Flipped backward, as expected.

“So that’s all yours, Emma?” Nick asked.

“No,” Jacob answered for her as he strutted to the center of the now mostly complete circle and posed, placing a hand on his hip, “These are mine, obviously. Why do you think I look so good in them?”

“And the—and the shoes, too. ‘Cause, obviously,” he followed.

While Jacob modeled himself, you noticed a thin separation between his shorts and his torso. A skinny piece of fabric shifted just above the band of his pink shorts, something that matched the color and looked like an entirely different thing underneath them. He must have failed to mention it or intentionally forgot about the fact that he put it on. You figured that it was the latter, given that Jacob had an issue with oversharing (circa the start of summer when he pulled, in what could only ever make sense coming out of his speak-before-think mouth, "The finest chick at camp.")

“That’s it?” You asked, hoping he would reveal it to your curious eye.

He kept posing, striking more complex stances that beefed up his upper body by puffing out his chest, “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you wanted more.”

You receded, “It’s fine, Jake. I was just kidding.”

He brushed it off by not acknowledging it at all and returning to his spot in the group's circle, which was a little unnerving. Jacob accepted defeat when he was rightfully toppled over in a conversation but never exited without leaving a snarky comment in his place. The group found their way down the path of truth or dare again, and according to their rules, the dare victim became the one in control.

The second he learned of his power, he looked directly at you and called your name, "Truth or dare?"

"It's only fair. Dare." You admitted with a dreaded swirl in your gut. A jock without inhibitions could mean that anything goes, and the night had already taken the turn of trying on clothes that weren't the proper size; who knows where else it could go? Jacob sat puzzled by the endless things he could make you do. Oh, the things he wanted to make you do. To satisfy himself, but more importantly, to inflate his big personality.

"I dare you to—what the fuck was that?" Jacob exclaimed.

"I didn't hear anything," Emma spoke without a thought behind her eyes. She smiled blankly in an attempt to reassure the panicked jock.

He tried to defend himself, "Yeah, well, it sounded like a bear. . . or something."

You interjected, "When have you ever—"

"Shh—shush." He hushed everyone in the room.

"You should go out there, Jacob. Maybe you can finally use that body you're always talking about to keep that bear occupied for a few minutes," Kaitlyn spoke, "It'll finally shut something up."

He lifted himself to the ground and strode to the door, "Yeah-yeah, fuck you. All of you, actually."

She ignored his insult. "Take some backup for help."

"I'll go." You offered.

He looked at you with gratitude, "Thank you, and I'm sorry for fucking you."

He held the door open for you, and you went first onto the deck and down the small row of steps. You heard his footsteps follow close behind. The placid night swept over the two of you as the ripples of sundown carried away the day's motion, and only your and Jacob's entrance into the still night could bring it to life again, even in fear.

After a slow lap around the cabin, with only the swish of Jacob's running shorts to remind you of his presence as he kept his unusually sewn-shut tongue behind invisible strings. It urged you to break the silence, “You never gave me a dare.”

He peered at you. Suspicion, expressed blatantly, “Didn’t realize we were still playing.”

“You started it when you came in with those shorts,” you remarked.

"Really?"

"You know, you look—uh, good in them." Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you were delusional, but you couldn't help yourself. The move had to be played now or the game would switch to something you didn't know the rules of.

"Thanks for noticing." He teased.

You weren't sure how to bring it up, "Speaking of, I noticed something under them."

"It pairs with it, right?"

"Totally." You agreed. It was hard to go wrong with the matching colors. "But why—"

"Jesus Christ, I dare you to pull these off. . ." Jacob dug his thumbs into the elastic of his running shorts, stretching them out. The threading around his lips broke, pulled apart by neediness. He used the freedom of his lips to press them to yours—his being notably rougher and less taken care of than others at camp. You had trouble believing that the words chapstick and hygiene float around often in the boy's cabin. "I wanted you to see it."

The feeling of Jacob laying out a hint to you was enticing, and you were ready to take the bait further down. Your hands dove in, pulling down his shorts to his ankles and reaching for the thin tri-pointed cloth covering his dick. He was already chubbing-up and pushing the small mask to its limit, and you cupped a hand over it, feeling his still soft dick and balls overfill your hand. You thought about how your hand would smell and maybe taste like him if he set the boundaries at simply hand stuff. But a single worry cannon-balled into your thoughts to disrupt the flow: what if DylanRyanNickEmmaAbbyKaitlyn saw?

"What about everyone inside? They'll see this, too." You went to pull your hand away, but Jacob brought it back to its rightful place with his rough-skinned one. Your palm felt warmer—he felt warmer. The cloth could turn to bits of scattered ash and ember from the heat, and you wouldn't question it.

"They won't," he confidently stated. Another kiss and even more nonchalance, "If they do, they'll see this beast. Scarier than a stupid fucking bear, right?"

"Right."

Moving the thin, nearly tearing cloth to the side is the reason why you're about to act in the way that you do. He flopped out, albeit a little unceremoniously, as the support of your hand on his dick was gone. Jacob was big and much scarier than your first sip of beer from earlier in the night because he wasn't just a sip. He was the whole can. He was the type to bottom out and pound and pour and bottom out and repeat.

You looked at him, taking him into your gentle hand, "What first?"

Jacob took a moment to think. "You tell me. Dare or dare?"

His chocolate irides guided your impossible-to-make decision, "That's a hard one. I think I'll go with a dare."

"I dare you to get on your knees for me." There was a moment of silence where the only noise was a light shuffle and whir of fabric rubbing against itself. Your knees sank onto dirt packed in by hundreds of happy campers, and you were about to give Jacob an ending to the night that would make him feel just as happy being there.

Cast in the soft glow of a lantern a camper must have left nearby, a brief glance over to it revealed that it rested on an old tree stump, it shined a light on your endeavor to do something you had never done before. If you were still in the cabin, the dare could have been something as easy as stealing something from Mr. Hackett’s office or shotgunning the next beer you might have decided to drink. But now you were outside, surrounded by the darkness as your only witness with one faint light not too far off. Light from the window above poured out, too, but it served as less of a guiding gleam and more of a reminder that you were in the shadows of vigilantes in the cabin. One loud moan or even something as stupid as losing your balance could draw their attention, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Maybe you could use the experience of shotgunning at this moment; to recall the feeling of a sudden rush flowing into your mouth. The opposite happened when his tip went past your lips, though. Jacob was slow and careful with familiarizing his cock with your mouth. He could have done it for his own sake, or he was just being a tease.

"Fuck," Jacob moaned. "You're hot. So fucking hot." He ended his praise on a high note, almost sounding giddy,

You managed to get a good movement going from the tip to about halfway down his dick. When your mouth got to the halfway point–made clear by how his pink tip faded to white by that point–he nudged the back of your throat. But on one of the trips down his cock, taking the usual jaunt past your lips, and molars, carefully watching your teeth altogether, Jacob felt the right, or even the need, to make you take all of it. You gagged, sputtering out a cough as you choked on him. "Should've warned me, Jake."

"Notasfun." Jacob ghosted your throat, pushing himself back into the back of your mouth and slowly pulling farther and farther out until he actually pulled himself out. He did stop as you had hoped for but not without some kind of trade in mind. Jacob let his slobbery cock fall on your face, credulously asking as if he knew the answer, "You want more?"

"Uh-huh," you moaned. Jacob laughed, "Good, 'cause that was only half of the delivery and only the first dare. Still got a dump truck for you."

Jacob turned around, bunching up what he could of his already shortened sweater to make sure everything in his backside was in view. His thick thighs lead to two pale moons, with a thin pink line running over the tops of both and going down his crack to circle under and cradle everything he had just taken out in the front. It looked a little bit uneven, likely from the events happening on the flip-side of where you were now–on the bright side of the moon.

His shoes were rough against the dirt path paved out by years of dozens of feet running across it, making small crunch sounds as he spread his legs out and bent over. He beckoned you forward by waving his hips side-to-side. You peeled apart his cheeks–and now it felt like the dark side with the hair smattered along the inner parts of both. A place where light didn’t shine, thanks to Emma and her prudity, and his moons appeared as crescents in the night, thanks to you and your dare.

Jacob noticed the lack of your nose or mouth getting to work, “Eat up, baby. You know you need this snack to sober up after all that drinking.”

“You were making me nervous, Jake…” And he still was in this moment. You moved the pink strap out of your way to look at what exactly you would be tasting.

He played it off, “Yeah, I totally meant to do that.”

Leaning your face forward, his wiry asshair lightly crosses your chin and the sides of your cheeks. It became the scruff on your face as the hair rubbed against your chin with every movement. You couldn’t please him without the sensation of his hair scratching you. You couldn’t do it without taking him in, his ass overwhelming your senses and weighing down on your face as he did his best to keep himself from grinding back onto your face.

Could you really stop now? If you did, you might as well have considered yourself notasfun. He felt your hot breath take in his musky scent and release it, begging you to do it again. You weren't going anywhere. The way he smelled was anything but a turn-off—almost sweet and sweaty in one, a nearly perfect blend of alternating tastes to linger on your palate. The smell was just as good. Some of it was his natural stink, the rest being made up of whatever he used to clean himself with in the communal showers. You couldn’t help but wonder when this dare would end, if it had an end in sight. Maybe it would be over when the sun came up, or if everyone exited the cabin in time to see all of this happening, but the longer it went on, the better. The taste you picked up on with your wet tongue became addictive, and Jacob seemed to love the feeling just as much.

"You taste so fucking good," you told him between laps. You found yourself being pressed deeper into his crack, and all you can think about is his muscled ass finally shutting you up.

It was his hand raking through your hair. He wanted you to be closer, “This dare isn’t over yet, keep going…”

That was the sign that it was time to step up your game. Your method of licking the same area once over wasn’t cutting it for a guy who seemed like he would fuck in the same position every night. You started to let the tip of your tongue wander through his hole, being surrounded by all sides and getting a taste of Jacob from the inside. Soon, it became a quick and erratic motion of assaulting his hole by moving your head back and forth and your tongue along with it.

As you steered course, it seemed to be working since Jacob audibly shuddered. “Oh, shit, dude. I dare you to make me come.”

And that was the sign that your actions worked, but you knew there was one more thing you could do. So far, your hands hand just been free, resting on your own body or Jake’s wide ass to keep yourself steady. The idea to lay them in his sensitive areas, most notably his dick and balls, which had been touched very little since their acquaintance with your mouth just a short while ago, came to you. You reached around to grab his standing cock with one hand while the other went under and between his legs to fondle his low-hangers. Jacob shuddered in a way that you could feel, a quick “fuck” slipping out that sounded like it was only meant for him.

You noticed how Jacob still had his cropped sweater still bunched up in his hands at the front by looking at how the back of it was taut around his waist. He always had a hold of it—even if it was with just one hand—and he seemed to be clutching it as a way to prevent himself from coming, or so you thought it was for that. When he did come, spurting massive globs over your hand and shooting some ropes of it on the dirt at his feet and likely hitting the lattice fence under the cabin, he finally dropped it. You felt and could see his legs shake while he kept your nose and mouth buried between his crack, only letting you back off when he knew he was tapped out.

“That was too good, dude.” Jacob complimented. He bent down to pull his shorts back up, then he finally let go of the brown fabric. A second later, he was standing straight up with his shorts in place, the pink thong mostly covered besides the slight raise between the hem and the actual strap of it as he had done before.

“Yeah? What do I get for it?” You smacked his now-clothed ass with an eager smirk. Jacob looked at you, noticing that your face was damp from slicking him up with your saliva, and wiped a bit off with his sleeve. The same arm that the sleeve covered found its way over your shoulders, directing you in the opposite way of the cabin with the rest of the counselors.

A stupid smile crossed his face, “All the dares you want! We got all night!”

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