Telling himself that he shouldn't let Scott do this, that the other boy will regret it in the morning are suddenly totally meaningless. Scott slipping in front of him, lips pressing against Jackson's own, and he can't help but murmur, shivering and pressing into the warmth of it. It's affectionate, sweet almost, and that's new, the way that there's no biting teeth... Not that he doesn't enjoy teeth and scratching and so much more very, very much, but it catches him off guard. In the good sort of way, so that when Scott offers that reproach, all he can do is sigh.

"Of course not," he breathes against his Alpha's lips in a way that tries to be affectionate, a little apologetic. The last thing he needs is to turn Scott from fluffy-adorable puppy mode and into growly Alpha that would shove him to the floor and fuck him here and now and Jackson would have no hope of taking this somewhere missing Lydia and her camera. He curls his arms around him, nuzzling his cheek into his shoulder.

He knows they're being watched. The two co-captains of the Lacrosse team? Yeah, of course everyone is all eyes on deck. And, as Jackson loved to point out -- he was everyone's type.