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“Promise you won't laugh,” Archie had said, and Jughead had half expected him to admit he was a furry or some deeply embarrassing shit like that.
Instead he'd stubbornly kept his eyes locked on his lap, cheeks so red they almost matched his hair, as he mumbled something about cheerleaders.
“You want to fuck a cheerleader?” Jughead said, trying not to sound too heart-broken.
He could work with this. He could be mature enough to open up the relationship as long as he knew he still had Archie's heart. He could let Archie go make out with some girl under the bleachers and not throw up in his mouth at the thought. He could.
“No,” Archie exclaimed, finally raising his head to meet Jughead's eyes. He sounded aghast at the thought.
He sketched a complicated gesture in the air between them, square hands waving in agitation.
“It's the idea of a cheerleader,” he explained, voice low, but surer now. “I just -”
Jughead reached out for his hand, snatching it from the air and forcing it still. Tried to exude comfort and understanding without saying anything. He knew that interrupting his chain of thought would only make Archie more nervous.
“Sometimes I miss it, you know,” he finally said, shrugging a little helplessly. “I love boxing, but I sometimes go to the games and I watch the cheerleaders and I miss how wholesome it used to feel to have that.”
Just like that, Jughead understood.
Nothing in Riverdale was wholesome any more, Archie's life least of all.
“Do you want to, like, do a scene?” Jughead asked carefully. “Roleplay?”
Archie somehow blushed even redder. It was almost impressive.
“Nothing like that,” he said, wide-eyed. “It's just the costume. I miss how it made me feel.”
“How did it make you feel?” Jughead couldn't resist asking, because he wanted to understand this kink his boyfriend was so protective of.
“Normal, I guess,” Archie said, averting his eyes, and Jughead's heart broke a little for him. “Like I could be good.”
“Arch-”
“You don't have to do it, I know it's weird, and-”
“Hey,” Jughead told him, squeezing his hand, “I'll do it. It's not weird, and I'll do it.”
Archie's smile had been breathtakingly wide and grateful, and if Jughead hadn't already decided he would do anything to make Archie happy, that would have done it.
***
He tries not to think too much about himself in a cheerleader uniform, a little bit afraid of going down that rabbit hole. This is about Archie; not him. It's not Archie's fault that Jughead has a fraught relationship with femininity. It's not Archie who used to call him girls' names in the hall, used to beat him up and call him a pussy.
Instead, he puts his mental blinders on, and focuses on making Archie's fantasy come true.
The Serpents are on the straight and narrow these days, but they still have enough contacts that Jughead can easily procure a genuine Riverdale High cheerleading uniform in his size.
He even manages to get hold of a decent facsimile of the shoes, blue pompoms and all.
When it comes to the underwear, he allows himself a degree of whimsy. Instead of a sensible sports bra, he finds a cute little lacy bralette with a matching pair of boy-shorts at a Forever 22 in Centerville. The white suggests innocence, and the lace adds a bit of sex appeal. He doesn't need the extra support anyway, and he thinks Archie will like it.
He buys some mascara and lipgloss while he's at it, and, later, he sneaks into Jellybean's room to borrow her pink nail-polish. He's helped Betty paint her nails enough times to feel confident he won't make a total hash of it.
It feels like a ritual, getting ready, and he approaches it a bit like a man who's about to get sacrificed to some terrifying pagan god.
He wonders if Archie knows what he's asking of him, if he even remembers the way Jughead was relentlessly picked on for being a late bloomer. How a substitute teacher had mistaken him for a girl once, when he was in his middle school metal-head phase and had foolishly grown out his hair - it had made Reggie leave make-up and glittery barrettes in his locker for weeks.
His dad didn't help either, with his constant refrain of Jughead being just like his mother. What teenage boy wants to be told that?
If it was anyone other than Archie asking this of him, he'd assume they wanted to humiliate him.
Archie though; Archie is genuine, Archie is kind, and that's why Jughead's going through with this.
He starts by doing his nails, curled up on the bed in just his boxers and a t-shirt. Two layers, both on his finger- and toenails. There's a hint of glitter in the laquer, and he holds his hand up against the light from the window, pleased with the effect.
Next, he showers.
After some internal debate, he extends his manscaping routine and shaves his legs and armpits. He doubts anyone else will notice anyway, and if they do, then fuck them. His legs feel smooth and sensitive when he's done; inviting.
He feels strangely calm getting out of the shower, drying his hair as he walks into his bedroom. His dad and Jellybean are out, thank god, FP finally succumbing to weeks of begging, taking Jelly with him on patrol.
Archie is coming over in an hour, so he has plenty of time to get ready, and freak out if necessary.
The clothes are laid out on the bed, tags carefully removed from the new underwear, the white sneakers left neatly on the floor.
It feels strange to pull on the white boy-shorts. They're pretty simple in design, but he's not used to wearing tight underwear, and the lace edging feels weirdly scratchy against his skin, making him hyper-aware of them the way he never is of his boxer shorts.
They ride low on his hips, and ride up his ass-cheeks in a way that's making him feel very exposed.
There's a fussy little matching bow in the middle of the waistband, and Jughead is reminded of Betty's panties. They all had useless little bows as well.
He has to rearrange his package a little, but the panties fit pretty well, all things considered.
The bralette has delicate twin straps and the cups consists of even more scratchy white lace. There's a clasp in the back, and he struggles with it for far too long before he realizes that he can just put on the bra upside down and backwards to get it closed.
He feels very proud of himself as he twists it around and pulls up the straps over his shoulders.
There's no lace edging on the socks, thank god, but he still feels a little silly putting on the bright white ankle socks.
The short pleated skirt is next, and he doesn't feel any less naked for wearing it. It covers his ass, as long as he's not bending down even a little, but most of his thighs are still on display, and he's never paid much attention to his knees before, but looking down at them like this he wonders if they look okay. Are they too knobby? He's suddenly very glad he opted to shave his legs. Going au naturel wouldn't have made him feel any more manly, and his hairy shins and thighs would just be another flaw for him to worry about.
If he thought the socks made him feel silly, it's nothing compared to the sneakers with their cutesy little decorative pompoms. He consoles himself that if nothing else, the sight of him might be able to make Archie laugh.
Last of all, he pulls the sleeveless top over his head. For some ungodly reason there's a zipper in the back, and as he struggles to reach it, he wonders why girls' clothes have to be so goddamn complicated.
He finally gets it closed, and, carefully avoiding his reflection in the full length mirror mounted on the closet door, he walks back to the bathroom, the sneakers squeaking against the floor.
He volumizes his hair a little, makes it fall in a messy wave over his forehead, getting the curls to look just right.
He almost pokes himself in the eye with the mascara wand, and he has to run over to Jellybean's bathroom and steal her make-up remover when he accidentally gets some on his eyelid, but eventually he gets the hang of it.
His eyelashes were already dark, but they look longer and thicker like this. He wonders if he should have bought some eye-shadow as well, to really complete the look, but decides that it would have been too much.
The lipgloss is pink and smells like strawberries, and makes his lips look shiny and slick, the color the deep pink they usually only get after a prolonged make-out session or a blowjob.
He looks at his made-up face in the mirror, and feels a vain little thrill at what he sees. He gets what Betty meant when she wistfully said that he had nicer lips than her now.
He doesn't look like a girl, no matter what Jason Blossom and his cronies used to call him, but a boy. Just a surprisingly pretty one. Jughead is surprised to realize that he's actually okay with that.
He approaches the large mirror in the bedroom with renewed confidence.
It's not terrible.
He doesn't fill out the uniform in the same way the real cheerleaders do, but it's not terrible. Even the shoes look kind of cute together with the rest of the ensemble.
He does a little spin, and watches the way the short skirt twirls around his body.
It's definitely not terrible.
The doorbell rings, and he swears, running to get his phone from his sherpa jacket.
“Let yourself in,” he texts Archie, and then he has to fight himself not to nervously bite his lip. Wouldn't do to mess up his makeup.
If he was a Veronica Lodge or a Cheryl Blossom, or even a Reggie Mantle, he'd drape himself seductively over his bed, and give Archie a sexy smile when he walks into his bedroom.
Instead, he's him, so he sits down awkwardly at the foot of the bed and tries to make the pleated skirt fall just right over the slight swell of his bare hips.
“Jughead?” Archie's voice floats up the stairs.
“In here!” Jughead calls, running a hand through his hair and fighting his instinct to hide. There's an old terrycloth bathrobe thrown over the back of his desk chair, and he gives it a longing glance. It would be so easy to just slip it on, wipe his face on the sleeve, pretends this whole thing never happened.
Archie takes the stairs two steps at a time, as he always does, the approaching heavy footfalls a relief. Whatever Archie's reaction, at least he won't have to wait for it much longer.
Archie practically slams the door open. “I'm a bit early, hope that's okay,” he greets him, blithely unaware of Jughead's state of dress. Or the state of his nerves, for that matter.
Jughead holds his breath and watches Archie's face as he finally takes notice of him.
There's a soft 'thud' as Archie's phone falls out of his lax hand and lands on the carpet. His eyes are huge, saucer-like, and his mouth has dropped open.
“Holy shit,” he says, quietly, sounding awed, and it makes a small smile fight its way onto Jughead's lips.
“You said you wanted a cheerleader,” Jughead says, shrugging a little, trying to project more confidence than he really feels.
“Holy shit,” Archie says again.
Jughead stands up, straightening the skirt as he does, and Archie makes a strangled sound Jughead doesn't think he's ever heard from him before.
He walks the few steps separating him from Archie, and gives him a close-mouthed kiss in greeting,
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, but he's pretty sure he already knows the answer. Archie's being uncharacteristically silent and still, but there's nothing about him that suggests dismay or disgust. More like he's overwhelmed.
Archie raises his arms, and slowly and carefully, he puts his hands on Jughead's waist. The second his palms make contact with the fabric of Jughead's top, he exhales noisily, eyes half-closing in contentment.
“You're perfect,” he mumbles, caressing Jughead's sides absently.
“Yeah?” Jughead says, not hiding how pleased he feels by the compliment.
Archie reaches up with a trembling hand, gently tucking a loose lock of dark hair behind Jughead's ear.
He's smiling now, and it's not a big smile – not anything like the huge sunny grins he used to bestow on his friends once upon a time, before their lives became fucked up beyond repair, but it's breathtakingly tender and soft. His eyes are shining.
“You look beautiful,” he says, simply, and it makes Jughead huff out a laugh. Not a derisive one, just one that is happy for once.
Jughead wants to kiss Archie, but he doesn't know if that's what Archie wants right now. Usually what they have is a lot more rough, on both sides. Jughead always chalked it up to both of them being guys.
Archie's the first boy he's ever been with, so he's been following his lead, but it hits him now that Archie's previous experiences with men all have been with guys he's met in juvie. All of it consensual, sure, but not really a breeding ground for softness.
Still, he's starting to feel a little restless like this. “Aren't you gonna kiss me?” he finally asks, sounding more breathless than he's wholly comfortable with.
Archie smiles at him, besotted, bringing a thumb up to his lower lip and pushing lightly at it, smearing his lipgloss a little.
“Don't want to ruin your make-up,” he says, teasing him.
“I really don't care,” Jughead whines, and it seems to do the trick, because, finally, Archie gently clasps Jughead's face in his hands and kisses him.
It's soft and gentle, and Jughead closes his eyes and sighs into the kiss.
“You taste so sweet,” Archie mumbles, and it makes Jughead giggle a little hysterically.
“It's the lipgloss,” he explains, “the finest artificial flavouring money can buy.”
Archie gives him a wet kiss on the cheek for that, making Jughead grumble a little.
“I can't believe you did this for me,” he says, sounding a little wondering. “You're so amazing.”
He dives in for another kiss, and this time Jughead responds in kind, opening his mouth and sucking on Archie's tongue, already feeling a little desperate.
His hands make their way up to Archie's shoulders without any real input from his brain, and soon he's got one hand clamped in the short hairs at Archie's neck, and the other clutching his bicep.
Archie doesn't seem to be able to decide where to keep his hands, one second his fingers are oh-so-gently tracing their way across Jughead's cheek bones, the next they're in his hair, on his shirt, under his shirt-
His thumb reaches the bottom of his bra, brushing against the lace, and Archie growls, breaking the kiss and staring, wild-eyed, at Jughead, before diving in again and nipping at his lips.
Archie's hands move to his waist again, holding him like a vice, and Jughead moans, chases Archie's mouth until he lets Jughead's tongue tangle with his again.
Finally, Archie manages to wrench his attention away from Jughead's mouth long enough to say, “I really want to blow you,” voice low and insistent.
Jughead hesitates a moment, wondering if he's brave enough to make a show of it, and then deciding that he's already gone so far that this is nothing in comparison.
So. He could just have bounced down on the bed, ungainly and unstudied, the way he usually would, but instead he gets one knee on the foot-end of the bed and slowly crawls his way up to the pillows, trying to make it look sexy.
“Fuck,” Archie breathes behind him, and he knows he's made the right choice, smirking a little to himself.
He can feel the edges of the skirt brush over the top of his thighs as he moves, and he wonders if Archie can see flashes of his underwear like this.
He gets his answer when he turns around, leaning back against the pillows, and Archie wastes no time in getting between his knees and lifting up his skirt.
“Juggie.” he says, breathless and full of wonder, and Jughead watches him trace his cock through the thin fabric.
“You're so amazing,” Archie tells him.
Jughead can feel his face growing hot, and to distract Archie from how overwhelmed he's starting to feel, he says, trying to sound arch, “I was promised a blow-job, wasn't I?”
Archie knows him too damn well.
He smiles and leans over the inviting length of Jughead's body, kissing him on the mouth even as his nimble fingers play with his dick through the panties, making Jughead whine into the kiss.
“I'll take care of you, don't worry,” he says. He puts one hand over Jughead's collarbone, just a suggestion of grounding pressure, letting his thumb rub at one of the birthmarks that are scattered over Jughead's neck.
“This was supposed to be for you,” Jughead reminds him, making Archie smile that besotted smile at him.
“It is,” Archie says, simply. “This is exactly what I want.”
He leans back on his haunches, easy and athletic, and surveys the spectacle of Jughead Jones, skirt rucked up and his panties tented. He pushes at his legs a little, makes him bend his knees, and smiles approvingly when Jughead obliges.
His eyes zero in on his legs, the supple smoothness of them, and, smiling slightly to himself he caresses Jughead's shins.
“You shaved,” he says, voice light and pleased.
Jughead averts his eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed about it. He suddenly wishes he wasn't quite so exposed, hands inching down towards the skirt, meaning to smooth it down, cover up the evidence of his neediness a little.
“Don't,” Archie says, more of a plea than an order, and huffing about it, Jughead lets his hands rest on the bed instead, fingers restlessly picking at the sheets.
Archie smiles at him in thanks, achingly wide and grateful, and bends down to press a kiss above the elastic of the sock.
“This looks so cute on you,” he says, tugging a little at his shoe-lace, and Jughead feels like his face is on fire.
Archie's hand is so gentle on him, cradling his ankle as his other hand works on the shoe-lace.
“The shoes are adorable,” he says as he works, “but you'll be more comfortable without them.”
I would be more comfortable naked, Jughead thinks, but he keeps his mouth shut. This is for Archie, after all.
Archie removes one shoe, and then the next, throwing them on the floor, but he leaves the socks on.
“You are so pretty,” Archie tells him, sounding a little wistful. His hands are back to stroking Jughead's legs, a gentle and weirdly hypnotic sweep up and down.
Jughead leans back and closes his eyes. This is all getting to be so much, and he's not sure he can handle all this gentleness at once, not with Archie's warm brown eyes looking at him like he's something to be cherished. Not when he tells him things like that.
Archie kisses his shin, then his knee. It feels odd. Not bad, but odd. No one's paid that much attention to his legs before, and he can't decide if he likes it or not.
“C'mon, sweet-heart,” Arche says, teasing him. “Open your eyes.”
Jughead does, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly as he does just so Archie will know he's so very much above all of this.
Judging by the glint in his eyes and the smile lifting the edges of his lips, it's not working.
“That's better,” Archie says, and starts kissing his way up Jughead's thigh. It makes him want to close his legs; it makes him want to open them wider. In the end he compromises by not moving them at all.
Archie finally makes it to the edge of the panties, and his teeth nip playfully at the lace edging before he moves up, sucking a wet spot on the fabric just over the base of Jughead's dick, even as his fingers edge their way under the trim to play with his balls.
Jughead bites his lip and tries not to moan as Archie licks and sucks his way over his dick.
The panties are soaked by now, both from Archie's saliva and Jughead's precome, and Jughead's fingers dig into the sheets so hard he's afraid he'll rip the fabric.
The little sounds Archie keeps making are driving him crazy, little happy moans and sighs as he plays with Jughead's dick, sucking it through the fabric, his hand gently fondling his balls.
Jughead's almost afraid to look at Archie's head as it bobs between his legs, the sight a little too good for comfort. There's something so deliciously filthy about doing it like this, him still wearing most of a cheerleader uniform, and Archie fully dressed.
“Arch-” he begs, lifting his hips to get closer to his mouth.
Archie smiles at him, mouth looking almost as pink and shiny as Jughead's did before Archie's kisses ruined his lipgloss.
With careful hands, he lifts Jughead's hard dick over the waistband of the panties, making it bob almost comically in the air, but neither Archie or Jughead are laughing right now.
“Jughead,” Archie breathes, and then, finally, his mouth closes over the head of Jughead's dick.
Archie's mouth is a hot inferno around his dick, and Jughead tosses his head restlessly on the pillow as Archie sucks him deeper into his mouth, not drawing back until Jughead is hitting the back of his throat.
He makes a gagging sound that would sound horrible at any other time, but right now it's painfully hot, especially when he starts moaning the very next second, letting Jughead's dick glide out a little.
Jughead can't help himself any longer, and reaches out for Archie's head, gets his hands tangled in that fiery hair.
Archie is so good at this, almost good enough to give Jughead a complex, but mostly he's grateful that he gets to have this, that he gets to have Archie.
He knows exactly how to move his tongue, how to suck, and he keeps making these delicious little noises like he loves it. Small happy moans as he licks his way up Jughead's cock, suckling at the head like he's chasing the flavour of his precome, tongue dipping into his slit, little whimpers when Jughead thrusts into his mouth.
It's so hot, and it's over much too soon, Jughead hardly having a chance to tug at his hair in warning before he's overtaken by his orgasm, emptying himself in that skilled mouth.
Archie moans when Jughead's come hits his tongue, and it makes Jughead press his eyes tightly closed, whimpering through the aftershocks. How the hell did he get this lucky?
“I want to fuck you,” Archie pants, his voice gravelly, and there's nothing Jughead can say to that except yes, even though he's still feeling shivery and sensitive.
His arms are noodle-y and useless, as they always are after a good orgasm, but Archie doesn't seem to mind, reaching over him to the bedside table and picking up lube and a condom.
“I wish I could fuck you through the panties,” he says, picking at the fabric a little regretfully. “You look so beautiful like this.”
Jughead thinks about the panties he saw in that other store in Centerville, the ones made entirety of lace with a convenient hole in the back; the ones he was too chicken-shit to buy.
“Maybe next time,” he says.
It makes Archie chuckle, a little weakly, at him.
“You're unbelievable,” he says. “Like something out of this world.”
Jughead snorts. That's rich coming from Archie fucking Andrews, with his million-watt smile, and beautiful kind eyes, his copper hair almost taking on a golden quality in the afternoon light.
“You're amazing," he tells him, meaning every word of it, “and beautiful, and kind, even when the world isn't kind to you.”
It's soppy, but it's true, and it makes a pleased blush work its way over Archie's cheeks. Now he's the one averting his gaze, looking bashfully at the bed rather than at Jughead.
“Also,” Jughead says, never one to resist a chance to tease, “I'd really like you to fuck me now.”
It breaks the odd, almost fragile, mood, just like it was supposed to.
Archie peels off his panties, giving them one last regretful glance before he tosses them over his shoulder, and then he gets to work on his own clothes, kicking off his shoes, and pulling off his sweater, before his hands, almost shaking with anticipation, goes to work on his jeans.
Jughead grabs one of the pillows and works it under his ass, knowing it will make for a better angle, wriggling into a comfortable position as he watches Archie get undressed.
They haven't performed this specific act that much, blow-jobs and hand-jobs being wonderful in their own right, and easier besides, but he's learned that much.
There's a 'squelsh' as Archie squeezes the tube, and then there's the unpleasant sensation of cold lube sliding down his ass-crack.
“Archie!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Archie says, rubbing the stuff around with his fingers, making his hole wet. He teases around the edges for a while, and Jughead relaxes into it. The lube doesn't feel quite so cold any more, and Archie's fingers feel good. Especially when he finally works one inside of him, fucking him carefully with it until Jughead relaxes even further.
Archie adds more lube, wordlessly petting his hip with a lube-sticky hand in apology when it makes Jughead shiver. He pushes in with another finger, and Jughead watches through slitted eyes as Archie watches himself work his fingers in and out of Jughead's ass.
When he finds his prostate, he smirks to himself, self-satisfied and pleased, and Jughead should probably say something about that, but he's too busy moaning, that small bundle of nerves making his whole body sing.
He can feel his dick growing hard again, bobbing up against this stomach, and he reaches for it, giving himself a dreamy stroke as Archie's fingers brush over his prostate again.
“Ready?” Archie asks a little breathlessly, and Jughead moans in assent.
The fingers retreat, and he can't hold back his whimper at the loss, his hole aching to be filled now.
There's a crinkle from the condom wrapper, and a soft swear as Archie works the latex down the length of his dick.
Then Archie hushes him, leaves wet kisses in supplication on his chin, and then he's pushing in, his face screwed up in concentration as he, inch by inch, works his dick inside him.
He gives a couple of experimental thrusts, groaning in relief at finally getting to feel that tight pressure around his no doubt achingly hard dick.
Jughead's right there with him, moaning as Archie finally pushes inside him, his balls slapping gently against his ass as they're joined.
Archie fucks him with all the strength and endurance his extracurricular activities have given him, body flushing red with the exertion but not slowing down even a little, and Jughead would happily come like this, lying on his back with Archie powering into him, but it seems like Archie has different ideas.
He pulls out, making Jughead cry out, and then his hands are on him, and Jughead is dragged up on his knees, thighs stretched over Archie's lap.
“I want you to ride me,” Archie says, hurried and needy. “Is that okay? Can you do that?”
And they've never done it like that, but Jughead can't really refuse him. He always liked doing it that way himself, when he was with Betty.
He feels more on display like this, but also more in control, and he watches Archie look at him with hunger as he reaches behind him for Archie's dick and sinks down on it.
It feels different like this, deeper somehow, and he feels slutty, sitting on Archie's lap like this, his own hard cock brushing against Archie's abs.
“Need to get you out of this top,” Archie mumbles, hands unerringly going for the hidden zipper in the back, and Jughead is suddenly reminded that Archie Andrews isn't a stranger to fucking cheerleaders.
Strangely, it doesn't make him feel jealous. He's the one Archie chose in the end, after all, he's the one Archie is looking at like he's something special.
Archie doesn't waste any time in lifting the offending garment off him, tugging at Jughead's arms to make him raise them.
Jughead's almost forgotten about the bra. Archie has too, judging by the broken way he moans when he catches sight of the white lace hugging Jughead's chest.
“God,” he breathes, fingers gingerly tracing his nipples through the lace.
“Nope, just me,” Jughead quips, but he's feeling a little breathless himself. Archie is hard and thick inside him, and he lifts his hips a little, trying to get a feel for it.
He's not the most well-coordinated guy, and he's certainly not as athletic as Archie, but he grabs Archie's broad and sun-kissed shoulder for support, and rides him, lifting his hips up and down in an undulating movement, loving the way it feels when the thick cockhead catches at his hole, the way Archie is pinching and licking at his nipples.
It takes a few tries, but he manages to get a good rhythm going after a while, sinking up and down on Archie's cock in a way that makes them both moan with how good it is.
His thighs ache with every movement, but it's so worth it for the way Archie feels inside him and around him, for the way he moans against his chest, loud and unashamed and pleasure drunk.
“Gonna come,” Archie warns him, and Jughead feels close to coming himself.
“Me first,” he pants, feeling selfish and self-indulgent and kind of relishing the feeling. His dick feels so hard, rubbing slickly against Archie's sweaty abs, and if he tilts his hips just so, Archie's cock brushes over his prostate.
Archie moans, pinching his nipples in protest, and Jughead whines until he does it again, the slight twinge of pain a delicious contrast to the sweet glide of Archie inside him.
He comes like that, spurting against Archie's stomach and spreading the come around with every move, moaning, a little shocky at the sensation. He feels electric.
It makes his internal muscles clench down around Archie, making him come in turn, swearing gratefully as his cock is milked.
“Holy shit, Jughead,” Archie finally says.
Jughead collapses against his chest. He feels completely wrung out. He can feel Archie's dick growing soft inside him, and he wrinkles his nose at the way it feels when it finally slips out. At least they remembered the condom this time.
He doesn't like the way he feels after. The soreness, he can live with, but that hollow emptiness that comes from a good fucking never stops being weird.
He grumbles a little, and Archie brushes his sweaty bangs away from his face, lowers him carefully down on the bed.
“That was amazing,” he says, and Jughead lifts his head, a half-nod in agreement.
He's too exhausted to speak. He should probably get undressed – after all he's still in the skirt and bra, but that feels like altogether too much effort.
He closes his eyes, and listens to the sounds of Archie disposing of the condom and getting himself cleaned up in the bathroom before he returns, padding barefoot through the room.
He's brought a wet washcloth, and, ignoring Jughead's grumbling, he gives him a rough wipedown with it before throwing it in the direction of his laundry pile. It lands on the floor with a wet 'splat'.
He slips up behind him, half-turning Jughead's non-resisting body until Archie is spooning him.
“You were amazing,” Archie whispers. Jughead hums agreeably, not sure it's true, but lacking the energy to argue with him.
The last thing he hears before he falls asleep is Archie telling him that next time, it's Jughead's turn to choose.
He smiles sleepily to himself as he drifts off – he has so many ideas already.