by Emrys Apollo
He was looking very red himself, and staring very hard at his plate.
Sean groaned inwardly. What a way to turn off the only person he’d ever loved- with a banana.
Truly, his life was a joke.
***
Training went smoothly, although the tension between Clint and Sean was so rife as to be almost palpable. He cursed his luck inwardly. They’d finally gotten past it and here it was again. That stupid fucking yellow piece of junk fruit. He was never eating a banana again.
After practice, as they were walking back to the locker room, Clint suddenly turned to Sean, eyes dancing. He smiled mischievously. “Are you feeling hungry?”
“Mm,” Sean said, groaning and holding his stomach, oblivious. “Starving.”
“Maybe you could have another banana.”
Sean’s head snapped around and he looked at Clint’s expression, eyes full of laughter. “You-”
Clint raised his eyebrows. “What’s the matter? You didn’t like the banana? Do you want a different type?”
What the fuck was going on here?
Sean was speechless. “I don’t like bananas anymore,” he said firmly, glaring at Clint, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.
“That’s not what Maurice told me,” Clint said impishly, grinning wickedly.
Sean felt faint.
He cleared his throat. “That is a different- Clint!”
Clint laughed. The conversation meant they were dawdling and they were the last to finally reach the locker room. Just as Sean was about to push open the door, Clint reached in and put his hand on the doorknob, stopping him.
Sean turned to find Clint very close. His heart stuttered.
“What-”
Clint leaned in closer, then whispered, “I like that you swallowed.”
Laughing, he dodged Sean’s punch and entered the locker room.
CHAPTER FIVE
After dinner that night, Sean and Clint decided to wind down with some video games. Usually they played either sitting on chairs or sitting on their own beds. But when Sean came back from the bathroom, he saw that Clint had climbed into Sean’s bed.
A very immature part of him-read: penis-found this very interesting, but the rest of him simply shrugged inwardly and sat down next to Clint. The bed was large enough that they had plenty of space to themselves.
They played avidly for some time, crowing and trash-talking each other. The score was 1-1 and there was about twenty minutes left in the match, and that was when Sean suddenly felt a toe nudging his under the covers.
Confused and slightly distracted, he peeked at his own feet. He realized Clint’s foot had migrated all the way over to his and seemed to be gently stroking his foot.
Sean swallowed, his entire mind going blank.
He surreptitiously moved his foot away, just a centimeter or so - enough to relieve his brain without actually offending Clint.
He concentrated hard on the game. 15 minutes left.
He was just about to dribble past one of Clint’s defenders when, again, he felt that slow stroking of his foot. Distracted, he pressed the wrong button and ended up shooting wide. He glanced at Clint, but Clint was frowning in concentration, staring hard at the TV.
Sean again nudged his foot away gently. 10 minutes left! He had to make this count.
This time, it was only a matter of seconds before he felt Clint nudging his foot again. Badly rattled, he let Clint slip past him and score. The game ended a minute later with Clint the winner.
Sean turned to Clint and saw a suspiciously impassive expression on his face. He narrowed his eyes. “Clint.”
Clint turned to him, eyes so innocent that Sean knew.
“You asshole!” he roared, pushing Clint firmly down into the mattress.
Clint was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe or even defend himself. He had raised an arm in protection, but it was ineffectual in the face of his amusement.
“What kind of shitty friend are you?” Sean shouted, taking his pillow and smothering Clint gently with it. Clint was still shaking with laughter and doing nothing to protect himself.
Sean threw the pillow away, and pushed Clint smoothly off his bed. Clint rolled willingly onto the floor, landing lightly and still laughing. Sean waited, disgruntled, for Clint to recover.
He finally did, holding his stomach and smiling broadly up at Sean from the floor. “What?” he said, chuckling.
“You know you’re the world’s most horrible friend,” Sean told him matter-of-factly. “You are despicable and you don’t deserve me.”
Clint grinned. “I agree. Forgive me.”
“No.”
“Please. Tell me how I can make it up to you.”
Sean felt his heart squeeze. They both knew he was only pretending to be angry. He didn’t know what to make of this side of Clint. They had always teased each other, but Clint was teasing him about his feelings. For Clint. Wasn’t that flirting?
Sean didn’t know and he didn’t dare wonder about it too long. He didn’t want to ruin this moment between them, and, besides, Clint was looking so adorable, lying down on the carpet and dimpling up at Sean, hair flopping across his forehead-Sean just wanted to soak it in.
“You have to tell me 10 things about me that make me awesome.”
Clint grinned and sat up. He crawled onto the bed and sat at the foot of it, leaning his back against the footboard. “Pass me a pillow.”
Sean did and Clint stuffed it behind his back, stretching his legs out in front of him. Sean did the same, and their legs lay next to each other, not touching.
“I’ll tell you one nice thing about you,” Clint said.
“8.”
“3.”
“5.”
“Deal,” Clint said, putting a hand on Sean’s calf and shaking it as if it were a hand.
“Go ahead then.”
Clint leaned his head back, pretending to think. His hand was still on Sean’s calf, not brushing or moving, just laying there. Sean felt his calf burn hot and hoped to God he wouldn’t get a stiffy.
“The more time you take, the longer the list has to be,” Sean warned.
Clint laughed. He looked more relaxed today than he’d looked in a long while with Sean. His hand moved down Sean’s calf and gently held his big toe, smiling. “You’re very funny.”
“Damn, right,” Sean retorted. But he had butterflies in his stomach and his mouth was dry.
Clint’s fingers moved to Sean’s second toe. “You’re the best footballer.”
“That’s a damn lie,” Sean said absently. He was starting to lose his concentration on this list now, focusing more on Clint’s touch. “You know you’re the best.”
Clint shushed him. He moved to the third toe, his fingers slow and unhurried. “You’re the greatest friend ever.”
“That’s better,” Sean said, his voice slightly hoarse. He didn’t dare clear his throat for fear of embarrassing himself.
Clint’s voice was dropping now. He held Sean’s fourth toe, his thumb pressing on the pad of it, stroking gently up and down. “You’ve got such a beautiful son.”
Sean simply nodded, unable to say anything more. His whole foot was tingling. He could feel Clint’s touch everywhere, especially in his crotch. He thanked God that the sheets were folded in such a way over his lap as to hide his erection.
Clint moved his hand very slowly to Sean’s little toe. He gently stroked it for a little while, looking at it. Then he raised his head, looking Sean full in the face, and whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”
Sean felt his stomach flip over. For a long second, he was utterly silent, held by Clint’s expression, intense and passionate. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
It was Clint who broke the tension. He grinned and squeezed Sean’s foot before dropping his hand into his own lap. “Am I forgiven?” he asked cheekily.
It took a giant effort for Sean to smile. “Well, all right. But only because you said I’m hot, which
I am.”
Clint flashed a smile. Then he sobered a little and said, “Can I-can I ask you something?”
Sean nodded. He still didn’t trust his voice.
“Have you ever-um…” Clint blushed. “Have you ever been with another man?”
Sean felt himself going red too. “Yes.”
Clint looked surprised. “What, really? Who?”
Sean shifted uncomfortably. “Clint-”
“Oh, God, it’s Paxton, isn’t it?” Clint’s eyes were wide.
“No! Oh, God, no,” Sean exclaimed. “I would never-” He shook his head and gestured, unable to say that he wouldn’t ever sleep with one of Clint’s teammates. Simply because he’d always had that tiny hope that one day Clint would love him back and he’d never wanted to make things awkward for Clint.
But he couldn’t very well say that to Clint, could he?
Clint looked relieved. “Sorry. It’s just-that day, on the bed-”
Sean frowned, then remembered that he was referring to the night they’d all been watching the movie in Paxton’s room. “Oh! No, no. We’re just friends,” he said hastily.
“So who then?”
Sean laughed nervously, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want to say.”
“One of your teammates?” Clint asked shrewdly. His eyes widened. “Or is it more than just one guy?”
Sean hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. To both.”
For a second, they were both silent, playing with the sheets, then Clint asked, “Were you-were you… um… Giving or receiving?”
Sean laughed outright at that. Suddenly he realized how ill-informed Clint actually was about all these matters and somehow this set him at ease. “Receiving,” he said, eyes twinkling. “We call it bottom, though, and the person who gives is top.”
“Oh,” Clint said, blushing. “But isn’t it… painful?”
“Well, yeah, the first time is. But I mean if you go through the right preparations, it’s fine.”
Clint looked baffled. “Preparations?”
Sean grinned. He straightened two fingers and scissored them in the air. Clint turned so red, Sean wanted to kiss him. “Oh!” Clint hands were squirming over the sheets, picking absently at a loose thread. “But isn’t there… stuff in there?”
Sean tried hard not to laugh again. It wasn’t Clint’s fault he didn’t know. “No. If the person’s just gone to the bathroom and cleaned up, there’s nothing remaining in there. It only fills up when you have to go.”
Oh seemed to be all Clint could say. He was silent again, pondering this. “But isn’t it unfair? The top gets all the pleasure and the bottom just gets…” Clint’s brows were knit hard.
Sean shook his head. “It feels really good if he’s hitting the right spot and, you know, stimulating… other areas.”
Clint’s eyes were wide now. “Stimulating what?”
“The cock, Clint.”
Clint looked very relieved. “I thought-well, never mind.” He waved a hand. “But what spot are you talking about?”
“The prostate. It’s very sensitive.”
Clint looked like a young child learning that the earth was round, not flat. His eyes were wide. Sean shifted uncomfortably, wishing desperately he could do something about his aching cock.
“So… you like it?” Clint asked shyly.
Sean swallowed. He’d thought of Clint saying those words to him about this very same subject-albeit in more intimate circumstances-so it was difficult to restrain himself from getting even harder. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “It’s amazing.”
“Have you also… sucked someone?” Clint looked a little horrified at himself and said, “I’m sorry! You don’t have to answer that.”
“No,” Sean said, trying very hard not think like a horny teenager. “It’s okay. Yes, I have. That one goes both ways, usually.”
“The top can also…?”
Sean nodded. “It depends on each relationship, but yeah. Sometimes, there are people who like to switch between the top and bottom too.”
“Do you?”
Sean’s cheeks were very red. He shook his head. “I like being the bottom.”
Clint seemed to get even more embarrassed by that even though he’d asked the question. “So has someone… sucked you?”
Sean wondered what his friend would think if he told him about how he’d jacked off to Clint just a few days ago, picturing sucking Clint’s hard, leaking cock. Probably run right out the door.
“Yes,” Sean said shortly, unable to elaborate further.
“Did you like it?”
For a second, Sean wondered if Clint was making fun of him. What kind of question was that? Obviously he would! Why wouldn’t he? But he saw that Clint was serious, curious. So he simply nodded.
He was so hard now it was difficult to concentrate. He wished he could excuse himself to the bathroom and relieve some of this right away, but something told him to stay.
Clint was quiet, plucking at his shirt. “Does the size matter?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if a person was big… Would that hurt you?” Clint was blushing and talking so softly Sean could hardly hear him.
Sean felt his heart starting to pound. Surely Clint wasn’t talking about…?
“If he was gentle and went slow and prepared me the right way with lube, I’d be fine,” Sean said, his voice nothing more than a croak.
Clint nodded at his hands, seemingly unable to look at Sean anymore. “Does it make it better?” He peeked up at Sean.
Sean felt blood rushing through his head. He nodded. “It makes it better for him.”
“How?”
“Because it’s tighter.”
“And for you?”
“It wouldn’t make much of a difference for me. But if he was enjoying it more, I would too.”
Sean didn’t know why he felt as if this conversation was like sex itself. It was the most erotic, sexual moment he’d ever had with Clint, and they weren’t even touching!
He shook his head inwardly. He’d probably die if Clint ever kissed him. Probably keel right over and stop breathing.
Maybe it was a good thing Clint wasn’t into him.
“But if a person wasn’t comfortable with… penetration-if they only wanted to do other things, would that still count as sex?”
Sean’s throat was dry as dust. “It depends on every relationship. But for me, I would only do what was comfortable for him, and it would count as sex for me.”
Clint met his eyes. Sean felt his cock lurching hotly in his pants. He wanted Clint so much at that moment he could almost taste Clint’s kiss. His eyes were glued to Clint’s mouth. He forced himself to look down and take a deep breath, trying to calm down.
“Thanks,” Clint said shyly.
Sean forced a smile. “Any time. Why the curiosity?”
Clint looked down for a long time. “I want to know. About you.” They looked at each other. “Is that okay?” he asked softly.
“It’s completely okay.”
Clint smiled. He glanced quickly at his watch. “Hey it’s 10! We should get to bed.”
Sean nodded. He grabbed a bottle of water from the night stand and drank thirstily. Clint got off Sean’s bed and went and sat on his own, pulling his shirt off.
Sean carefully stared at the window, determined not to get himself even more turned on. When Clint had climbed under the sheets, he looked over and smiled. Clint was on his side, facing Sean. He smiled back.
“Go to bed.”
“Yeah. I’ll just go brush my teeth.”
“Good night.” Clint was smirking. He knew why Sean was going to the bathroom, but Sean didn’t really care right now.
He needed that cold shower now.
And when he finally stripped of his clothes, letting the freezing water touch his skin, he thought of Clint touching his toes. Smiling, he pressed his fingers to his burning cheeks.
Maybe that banana had been a go
od idea after all.
CHAPTER SIX
Sean glanced around the breakfast table. Everyone was staring moodily at their own plates, most likely thinking of the match tomorrow. He’d had butterflies himself since he woke up. He’d stared at the ceiling and sent a quick prayer up to the heavens that they’d do well tomorrow.
Clint had woken up much later. He’d been quiet and a little drawn. He looked tired, Sean thought. Probably from playing so many matches. Sean felt anxiety twist his insides; he gave so much to the team and, surely, they would get their reward this time?
He looked at Clint now, drinking mate. He’d recently come to love it and it seemed to make him feel better. There was color in his cheeks and Sean felt a little relieved.
They walked to training together, both silent, lost in their thoughts. They warmed up next to each other, stretching their legs out. Clint smiled at him briefly as their eyes met and Sean just winked back.
He wasn’t going to think of what was going on between them today. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just plain professionalism. His career was more important than their flirting yesterday-was it flirting?-and he needed to focus. Clint similarly seemed to be concentrating hard-he played beautifully, magnificently, and once or twice, Sean watched him, smiling, marveling.
***
That night, after dinner, Clint was very quiet, lying down on his bed with his hands under his head. Sean debated asking if he was okay, but he needed to take a shower. He spent a long time with the water sluicing over his body, trying hard to motivate and calm himself. When he was done, he rubbed his hair dry and came out, pulling a t-shirt over his head, and saw Clint still in the same position.
Sean sighed and sat on the edge of Clint’s bed.
“Hi,” he smiled, patting his arm.
Clint took one hand down from his head and linked his fingers with Sean. He could feel a blush rising, but sternly tried to tamp it down.
They’d always had a very physical relationship-Sean was a very touchy-feely person and things like holding hands had become so common, it wasn’t anything to think about-and, though he’d always enjoyed touching Clint, he’d never really reacted this way. But now that his secret was out-now that he knew Clint was aware of his feelings-everything seemed different.