Trick Play

by Alison Hendricks

  He reaches for my hands, pulls me to my feet, and kisses me deeply, grabbing a handful of my ass in the process.

  "Yeah, well I want to see what it's like."

  I've been with guys who didn't like giving head before. It was usually the more masculine tops, so I guess I just assumed Luke would be the same. Maybe he still will be, but I'm not about to argue him out of giving it a try.

  Before I realize what's happening, he's turning me, pushing me back onto the bed. My body aches with lust, and every touch is just stoking a deep fire that's burned for years. If he doesn't fuck me tonight, I might just go insane.

  He stands at the edge of the bed, tugs my pants off and then my boxers. I'm exposed to him, and some primal part of me wants to just beg him to slide inside of me. I can imagine putting my feet up against his strong shoulders and watching him thrust into me the same way he thrust into my mouth.

  I suppress a whimper. One thing at a time. For all I know, he isn't ready for that yet. And if he isn't ready for it, then it doesn't matter that I've been ready for it for years.

  "Okay. You're gonna have to tell me if I do this wrong," he says, breaking me out of my lust-addled stupor.

  I look up at him, and he looks a little shy. Bare below the waist, his spent dick hanging out, about to blow me, and he's actually shy.

  God, I love this man.

  "Don't try to take too much," I caution him. "And careful with the teeth."

  He kneels down on the floor before my bed and wraps his arms around my thighs, pulling me to the edge of it. My heart leaps with giddy anticipation, and it's more of a treat than I expected to watch him think about how he's going to approach it.

  I want to tell him that anything he does is going to feel good, but eventually he gets his bearings and slides his tongue out, licking at the head of my cock. I shudder, a hot jolt of pleasure shooting through me. He licks along the shaft, drags his tongue all the way down to my balls, and then draws one of them into his mouth. I gasp, not knowing where that came from, but loving it just the same.

  When he finally takes my dick into his mouth, it's pure heaven. He's slow and careful, and he falters a couple times, but seems so eager with it that it's more of a turn on than a perfect, practiced partner ever would have been.

  He gets me there faster than I want, my body responding to him wanting to please me, and I tug hard at his hair to try and pull him back. Sucking dick is one thing; I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to take my load.

  But he stays there stubbornly, using his hand to jack me until I come. My hips lift off the bed and I moan, low and deep, the pleasure of it wracking my body. My head falls back against the bed, but I force myself to look up at him. I see his smug grin, and I can't help but feel like he's earned it.

  "That wasn't all that hard," he says.

  I let out a breathless laugh. "Pretty sure you don't need a PhD to suck a dick."

  His grin broadens, and my body tingles in oversensitive pain-pleasure as he climbs over me, stalking toward the end of the bed like a giant panther.

  "Good thing," he murmurs against my lips before he kisses me.

  I taste myself there, mixing with his taste, and a low moan reverberates through me.

  We kiss and touch, and for a while there isn't any urgency to it. It's just like it has been after we've gotten each other off the first time. Slow, exploratory, learning each other's bodies and what makes us tick. He's learned, for example, that if he pinches my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, it sends an electric shock straight down to my dick. I've learned that he goes crazy if I stroke his perineum with one finger while I jack him. It's definitely been a mutually beneficial period of discovery, but we're both so horny it doesn't take us long to get hard again.

  That aching need builds in me, and as he flicks his tongue over the flat of my nipple, I bite my lip, some of the boldness from earlier fleeing. I don't know how to tell him what I need. Tons of gay guys don't want or even like anal. If I catch him off guard and it's not something he wants, it could ruin an otherwise amazing evening. Is there really a reason why we can't just see where things go, like always?

  As Luke's dick rests like molten steel against my thigh, I can think of one really good reason. And sex is supposed to be about communication, right? All I need to do is get the words out.

  "Luke..." I start, my hand squeezing his shoulder to get his attention.

  He looks up at me, his brown eyes searching mine.

  "I want you to fuck me."

  Somehow saying this makes me feel more embarrassed than telling him to fuck my mouth earlier. I guess the alcohol was still pumping through my bloodstream then. Now, it's all me. And I’m blushing from head to toe.

  "Damn," he says on an exhale. He looks down at me, and I can feel his dick twitch against my thigh. "Damn."

  "We don't have to," I say suddenly. "I just... need you to know I'm cool with that."

  Maybe that was a fair middle ground? Now, if he wants to back out, it won't be so awkward.

  But as I look up into his eyes, I see a hot, needy desire that tells me everything I need to know.

  "I want to," he says, his voice a deep, rumbling baritone.

  I know, deep down, that this is going to change things between us forever. There's no going back from this. Everything else, we could maybe write off as experimenting. But fucking another guy, to me, crosses a line beyond the bounds of whatever people consider to be bi-curiosity.

  He kisses me and wraps his hand around both our dicks, jacking us together like I showed him. He doesn't really need to work me up to it; I'm already ready. I've been ready for a long time.

  "You got condoms?" he murmurs against my lips.

  "In the drawer," I say breathlessly. "There's a bottle of lube in there, too."

  He lifts himself off me, and the absence of his weight is hard to bear. A nervous anticipation threads through me as I watch him. He's got his dick in hand and he's stroking himself as he rummages through the dresser drawer to find my stash.

  "What's the uh... best way to do this?" he asks, standing at the edge of the bed.

  "You mean position-wise?"

  He nods, ripping open a condom. I watch, mesmerized, as he rolls it over his dick.

  "I can handle pretty much anything,” I finally say. “Just go slow at first."

  I spread my legs a little, lift my ass off the bed just enough to encourage him to take me like this. I really want to see his face as he buries himself inside of me.

  He seems to get the picture and lets out a shuddering breath, stepping closer to the edge of the bed. He flicks open the lube, pours some of it onto his dick and strokes.

  "How much should I use?" he asks.

  "We can try that and see how it feels," I say, holding out my hand to take the lube. When he passes it to me, I put some onto my fingers, and he watches as I get ready for him.

  "Damn," he says breathlessly.

  I set the bottle of lube down beside me, in easy reach in case we need it. Luke is thicker than what I'm used to, but I'm more than ready for him, and I want this so bad I'm not about to let that stop me. Honestly, if he'd wanted to fuck me completely raw I'd probably let him. I might even beg him to do it, but I know my brain's a little overtaken by lust right now to really think through the consequences.

  I lift my legs up, both to get out of his way and because I want to be able to feel him as deep as I can get him. I might never have another shot at this, and I want it to be something I'm going to remember and fantasize about for the rest of my life.

  His hand wraps around his dick, and he guides himself to my hole, the head of his cock nestling between my cheeks. He rubs it there and it slides easily through the lube, teasing me. Every time he passes my aching hole, I groan and squirm.

  "Don't want to hurt you," he says, and I can feel his body is tense.

  "Just fuck me, Luke," I growl, my voice not sounding like my own.

  He lets out another breath and finally pushes into me. I moan
as I feel him spread me, open me, fill me. I know there are some guys who don't like being fucked, but the feeling of being stretched by a talented top is something I can't imagine giving up.

  It's more than that with Luke, though. As he fills me, rocking into me, seating himself deeper and deeper inside of me, I feel like we're joined together in every sense of the word. Flesh to flesh. Body, heart, and soul. It's a crazy, sentimental thought to have right now, and I can feel the emotion welling up in me, threatening to overwhelm.

  I shove it down, focusing on the way he feels. The condom he's using is smooth, and thin enough I can still feel the lines and ridges of his dick. They stroke against me, against that one spot inside of me, and any sentimental thoughts dissolve in a burst of pleasure.

  "God, you're so fucking tight," he groans, working his dick into me inch by inch.

  When his thighs finally meet mine, his cock buried to the hilt, I let out a low moan. My hand splays over his hard abs, up to his pecs and his arms. He's rocking his hips still, moving back and forth inside of me, stroking me deep, but slowly. Way too slowly.

  "Please," I whimper, any thought for my pride gone.

  I've seen Luke in the weight room, benching insane amounts. I've seen him shrug off guys that are twice his size on the field. I know he's strong and fierce, not willing to quit for anything, and I want to feel that firsthand.

  But Luke's being extra careful. When he draws back and slowly thrusts into me again, he must assume my cry is one of pain, not pleasure mixed with frustration. He goes even slower, until I reach behind him, grab his ass, and impale myself on him in one smooth motion, letting out a moan he can't possibly misinterpret.

  "God damn," he says, panting. "You know how to take a dick."

  "Then fuck me like you want to," I breathe, meeting his gaze.

  Molten obsidian greets me there, his eyes burning with barely restrained need. Mine must look the same, because he lets out a shuddering breath, then gives me a jerky nod.

  His big hands grab my hips, and I feel a thrill of anticipation. This time when he draws back, he follows it up with one smooth, powerful thrust, using his hands to pull me back to him at the same time, our thighs crashing together with a satisfying smack.

  I moan for him without any sense of shame, my hands still clutching his ass, feeling his muscles flex beneath my fingers. He leans into me and my ankles rest against his shoulders, a delicious burn in my muscles as he holds me up in that position with his body.

  Then, once he's finally reassured he won't break me, he pounds me hard, just like I always knew he could. The whole bed shakes as he fucks me, fast and fierce, and all I can do is enjoy every single thrust, my mouth open, choked sounds pulled out of me every time he slams home.

  "Fuck, Brandon," he growls. "You feel so fucking good."

  Hearing him want me, hearing him enjoy me like this is almost too much to handle. I can feel my balls tighten, my body wanting so badly to come again, but I grip the sheets hard, bite down on my lip, and do everything in my power to stop myself.

  I don't want this to be over yet. If I could get away with it, Luke would fuck me in every position we can think of, just as hard as this, before either of us ever gives in and comes. I know that only happens in porn, though, and I'll settle for being able to get off when he does.

  He's close, I can tell. Now that I know what he looks like when he's about to nut, I can see the signs in his face. His eyes roll back a little, his mouth pulls open, his moans come out in short bursts he punctuates with his brutal thrusts.

  "Fuck," he yells, burying himself in me one last time.

  His cock jerks inside of me, and I can't hold off any more. I jack myself in swift, sure tugs, but it doesn't take much effort before I come, too, my muscles clenching around him.

  When it's over, we're both slick with sweat and panting. A part of me that apparently even euphoria can't touch starts to panic. What if he regrets this? What if he's ashamed of himself, of me? I wouldn't be able to live with that.

  But Luke just gives me a sleepy, lopsided grin.

  "God damn, man. If I knew us fucking was gonna be like that, we would've been doing it every night since high school."

  I can't help but laugh, a ripple of pleasure coursing through me that has nothing to do with getting off.

  Luke finally withdraws and takes care of the condom. I clean myself off, expecting him to maybe throw on his boxers and go shower. But he comes back to my bed and lays down next to me. Or tries to, at least. Half of him is hanging off the side, and I laugh again.

  "That's not going to work," I say.

  "Fucking dorms."

  But he makes it work. He pulls me to him, one strong arm around me like a brace, and we're both hot and sweaty and in need of a shower, but we manage to fall asleep like that, my head resting against his chest, my body tangled up with his.

  I don't know what time it is when he wakes me up. My mind struggles into consciousness, only aware that I feel really, really good, pleasure signals shooting through my brain even through the haze.

  When I'm finally conscious, I realize it's because Luke has his hand wrapped around my half-hard dick and he's stroking me slowly.

  "You up?" he asks, his voice husky.

  "I am now," I answer, and turn my head to kiss him.

  It doesn't take long for me to be ready for him again. This time, I climb on top of him, looking down at his beautiful body below mine. I ride him hard as he thrusts into me. Neither of us manage to hold out even as long as last time, but it doesn't matter.

  Afterward, we lay together, spent and sated. For now. Luke strokes my back, his breath coming slower and slower.

  "Is this going to be what we do now?" I ask.

  "I sure as fuck hope so," he says groggily.

  "I don't think you're supposed to fuck your fake boyfriend," I say, feeling a sense of nervous anticipation thread through me.

  I want him to say he feels differently now; that we've moved past fake dating, past experimental relationship and into the real thing. But I'm afraid, too. As amazing as the last couple weeks have been, it's all happened so fast that I'm afraid of waking up to realize none of it was ever real.

  "Don't think there's been anything fake about it for a while," he says.

  And with those words, he puts the last of my fears to rest. The part of me that's been waiting for it all to come crashing down hides away, overcome by a reality I never saw coming.

  I've always been Luke's. But now he's mine. And I'm going to do everything in my power to keep him.

  12

  Luke

  The Rainbow Tigers are back in full force.

  It's like the team can read how good things are between Brandon and I; like we're giving off some kind of vibe now that we're on the level for real. Everybody plays hard, our fans come out to support us, and we start kicking SEC ass again.

  Sure, the national press didn't really pay much attention to us after our homecoming win, but they sure are panting at our feet when we crush the next three teams, including division leader Auburn. Brandon and I are both interviewed, but the other guys get the recognition they deserve, too. Coverage moves from 'hey, Eastshore's got gay guys on the team again' to 'hey, Eastshore's turning into a top program again.'

  And it feels fucking amazing. Every one of us is able to hold our heads high on campus and around town. Instead of people calling us washed-up losers, we've got people holding up traffic just to tell us we had an awesome game. I even had a cop stop me once to talk to me about the eighty-yard breakaway run I had against Georgia.

  This is why I came to Eastshore. This program. These guys. This team. I know we're still 3-2, but when those three wins are back to back, it feels like we're unstoppable.

  It's not just football that's got me feeling like a million bucks, though.

  When I had the idea about starting up some fake relationship with Brandon, I never imagined it would end up like this. It's not just the fact that we're fucking every nig
ht, though damn, we can't seem to get enough of each other. Brandon's sex drive is definitely a straight up match for mine. And I've never had a more enthusiastic partner who damn near begs for a good, hard pounding.

  But there's more to it than just fucking. I like being around him. I like being with him, and I like people knowing I'm with him. I like people knowing he's mine.

  We're good together. Always have been. I just never would've dreamed we'd be good together as boyfriends or lovers or whatever we are. But it makes a whole lot of sense, and even Erica's on board. She's been hanging with us more lately, now that some of her big deadlines are behind her. Tonight, after we completely trashed Auburn, she came with us to the Top.

  She sits between Brandon and Davis, not looking even a little bit intimidated by the fact that she's surrounded by dudes who are twice her size. She can drink most of them under the table, and they know better than to fuck with her. Especially with me and Brandon here.

  Doesn't mean guys like Oakley aren't going to have their fun where they can get it, though.

  "Yo, Erica," he yells from further down the table.

  She just arches a brow, looking at him.

  "This must be weird for you, right?"

  "Trying to have a conversation with you? Yeah, it's pretty weird," she says, taking a pull on her longneck.

  I laugh and Brandon grins, nudging her with his elbow.

  Oak actually blushes again, which gets me howling and draws notice from some of the other guys.

  "No," Oak says defensively. "I mean with Trent and Tucker. You dated Trent for what, like two years?"

  Longer than that. I frown, looking at Erica. Sometimes I wonder if she's ever bothered by me and Brandon being together. She seems happy for us, and she's not really somebody who ever covers up what she's feeling, so I guess there’s that.

  She just shrugs. "Why would it be weird? Trent's my friend. So is Tucker. Turns out, they both like dick. That's something we have in common."