Trick Play

by Alison Hendricks

  The idea of losing Brandon, of him not being here, seems to carve up what's left of my heart. The ache hits me deep, and I’m torn between so many different emotions that I don't know what to feel.

  "I just... need to tell you why I did it, before I go."

  A part of me wants to hear this. The rest of me wants to run in the other direction, where I can just keep on pretending Brandon and I are cool; that there's nothing that could tear us apart.

  "I never thought you'd hate me. And if you do now... that's fine. I totally understand."

  Anger rises above all my other emotions. Anger and a sharp sense of desperation.

  "I don't fucking hate you," I say, shoving him again. His back hits the wall and I follow. "I hate that you fucking lied to me. I hate that you didn't think you could trust me with this."

  He opens his mouth to respond, but I don't even give him a chance. Before I even realize what I'm doing, my mouth crashes to his. It's hot and hard, like the kiss I stole from him at the bar. But instead of trying to mess with anybody, I'm just trying to get some kind of relief from the emotions that are eating me up from the inside out.

  I bracket him against the wall with my hands, my body pressing to his, pinning him there. My tongue is brutal, thrusting and taking, my teeth biting and scraping, I'm punishing him, but I know in the back of my mind I'm punishing myself, too.

  Throwing myself at the mercy of whatever the hell this is; these feelings Brandon brought up and left me with. Feelings I haven't wanted to sort through since finding out he was gay, because if Brandon is gay...

  If Brandon is gay, then maybe I am, too.

  That thought isn't cooled any by the kiss. Feeling his hard body against mind fills me with a rush of heat. His muscles are hard and unyielding, and the longer I kiss him, the more I can feel his dick tenting his jeans.

  Not like my dick isn't doing the same, and when he moans, I feel that sharp jolt again, like all the blood's just rushed south. I roll my hips against him, hard, and with the wall at his back, I can practically feel the ridge of his dick against mine.

  Through the haze of anger and hurt and confusion, one thought emerges: This is really fucking hot.

  I draw back, afraid of what I might find out about myself if I keep going. But it's probably too late for that, right? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, you fucking call it a duck.

  And maybe I'm the gayest duck there is.

  "Luke," he breathes, his voice thick and scratchy.

  It gets under my skin, shooting a tingle along my nerves. I step away from him, look away from him, because if I see his face flushed with desire, his eyes holding that heat, I know things will go down a lot different than I want them to.

  "I don't fucking hate you," I say again, almost in a growl.

  He lets out a shuddering breath and I can see him leaning back against the wall.

  "Why did you think you needed to lie to me?" I ask, desperate. "Of all the fucking people in the world."

  My nerves are so on edge I don't even know what I'll do next. I don't know why I kissed him. I don't know why I want to pull out my dick and jack it with him watching me. Why I want to see him sink to his knees and wrap his mouth around my cock until I come.

  It's fucked up, and it scares me a little, my breath coming out more ragged than it should.

  Brandon sinks slowly to the floor, his back sliding against the wall. His knees are up in front of him, his arms draped over them.

  "I didn't want you to look at me the way my parents did. I don't think I could handle that."

  His words hit me like a big bucket of ice water, straight in the face. I knew about his parents, somehow. It wasn't that hard to put two and two together, but I hadn't asked him to confirm it yet. It was more than I wanted to know.

  But now I do know. Now I know that Brandon's piece of shit parents didn't kick him out for disrespecting them, like they told all their church buddies. They kicked him out for being gay.

  Brandon stayed at my house after that happened, and I remember how withdrawn he was. I was a stupid kid, and I just figured he was a little weirded out by being on his own. Fuck, I even envied him, and I was glad his folks had thrown him out because it meant I got to see him all the time.

  Had I just not noticed the pain he was going through?

  I tug a hand through my hair, wanting to pull hard. This whole situation is so fucking frustrating, but there's one thing I know I need to say.

  "I don't want you to switch dorms."

  He looks up at me, blue eyes shining with something like hope. I can't crush that, and I don't want to. Instead, I sit my ass down beside him. The weight of the situation has killed that crazy, sudden hit of anger-driven lust that shot through me, and I feel mostly normal again.

  "I'm sorry I didn't realize what was going on back then. You probably needed somebody to talk to, and I just wanted to play video games and shit."

  I can see his slight, shaky smile out of the corner of my eye. "Kicking your ass at Halo was probably the only thing that got me through."

  I snort. "You didn't kick my ass. You took advantage of me being a newb."

  He shrugs. I can feel his shoulder against mine, and a sharp thrill jolts through my veins again. Damn. Whatever this is, I need to get it under control.

  "Either way. You did help. And... I'm sorry for not telling you. That's something I'm going to regret for the rest of my life."

  I just nod, then let my head rest back against the wall. I'm all raged out right now. My body feels like it's had all the energy pulled from it. I can't be angry at Brandon anymore; not when he's told me what's up.

  "Are we cool?" he asks tentatively, after a long silence.

  Shit, are we? I've kissed the fuck out of him three times now. I've felt his hard dick against mine. Can we ever really be cool again, when I don't know what the hell is going on with me?

  "Yeah, man," I struggle to say. "We're cool."

  Silence again. I can hear Brandon's phone vibrating over on the table. Probably Erica making sure he's okay. Thinking about her brings the whole fake relationship thing back into focus, though, and I realize we have to end it now, before it gets out of hand.

  "We should call off the fake relationship thing," I say.

  Maybe some of the damage is already done, but I don't want Brandon to suffer any more because of me. The team means a lot to me, but they’re nothing compared to my best friend.

  "I guess you're right," he says sullenly.

  And I'm kinda feeling the same way about it. I've had lots of girlfriends and my breakups have ranged from super messy to barely noticeable. I never thought the relationship I'd mourn the most would be a fake one.

  "...Why did you kiss me?" Brandon asks.

  That's a good fucking question, isn't it?

  I drag a palm over my face, tugging as I go. "I don't know."

  And I don't. I sure as hell need to figure it out, though. I just know I can't do that when I’m around Brandon. He might be my best friend, but considering all this seems to revolve around him, I don't think staying here will help.

  I push myself to my feet, and I can feel Brandon's eyes on me. "I'm gonna go back to the gym for an hour or so. Just wanna clear my head. I’ll text Erica when I’m back."

  "Yeah," he says quietly.

  I need to figure this out, before I end up doing something that will actually destroy our friendship.

  The gym doesn’t help.

  The whole time I’m busting ass on the machines, working up a sweat, I’m thinking about Brandon. Thinking about the way his body felt against mine. The way he tasted. The way he moaned. That last thought just destroys me, and I have to push myself harder to even begin to get it out of my mind.

  I know what’s changed. Brandon is gay. Obviously he’s been gay this whole time, but now that I know about it, it’s not something I can just ignore. He likes dudes. And judging from that moan, he at least liked what I did enough to respond. He kissed me back that time
, and I felt like if I would’ve kept going, he would have, too.

  So maybe he’s actually attracted to me. The thought blows my mind; we’ve been friends forever. How could I have missed that? Maybe it’s a new development. Maybe this fake relationship thing has had the same effect on him that it’s apparently had on me, and now we’re both stuck thinking about each other in ways you don’t think about guys who are just your friends.

  If I thought we were both straight, I could just go on justifying it in my mind. I was doing it for show. He was going along with it for the same reason. But if Brandon is gay, then maybe he wasn’t just going along with it. Maybe he liked it. And if that’s the case… how do I feel about it?

  I never even thought about the possibility that I might be gay. I like tits. A lot. Gay guys don’t like tits, right? But I guess Hawk liked tits, and so did Mills. They just happened to find a guy they were into, and they started liking dicks, too.

  Maybe it’s the same for me, because when I think about Brandon being hard for me, I get hard all over again. And I fuck up my workout routine so bad it’s a wonder I haven’t pulled a muscle yet.

  When I hit the shower, my first instinct is to jack it. My dick is aching, and I need relief before I go back to the dorm. But damn, I don’t want relief to just come from my hand. I don’t know why I’m feeling this way, if there’s anything to it other than a fucked up mix of anger and lust, but I really want it to be Brandon who jacks me.

  So I go back, not at all satisfied. Some of my lust dies down as I make my way back to our dorm. But as soon as I get close to our room, it kicks into overdrive. My hormones haven’t raged like this since I was a kid.

  I open up the door and drop my gym bag on the floor. Brandon is on his bed, in track pants and a shirt, watching TV. I really, really want to climb on top of him and press my body to his, rub my hard, aching dick against him, but I keep myself rooted in place.

  “How’d you figure out you were gay?” I ask.

  He looks up at me, startled. There’s a shyness in his eyes I’ve never seen before. “Uh… I guess just… realizing I was attracted to guys when I was a teenager. Athletes, mostly. And figuring out I wasn’t attracted to girls that way.”

  I’ve never been attracted to an athlete other than the one in front of me. And I don’t know what’s drawing me to him, but it’s like an industrial strength magnet.

  “You think it’s possible to not know for sure until you… do something?”

  My blood pounds hot through my veins. I can feel it throbbing in my dick. If Brandon looks down, he’s bound to see I’ve got an erection, and I don’t even give a shit.

  “I… think it’s possible, yeah. Why…?”

  I let out a huff of breath. I have a feeling I’m about to change things between us forever, but I just can’t help it. I need relief. I need to know. But I need him to be on the same level, first.

  “Because the whole time I was at the gym, I kept thinking about you stroking my dick. I couldn’t even jack it, because I wanted it to be you.”

  His eyes are wide, and he stares at me open-mouthed. I don’t blame him for looking at me like I’m crazy. Maybe I am.

  “Ever since that fucking kiss, I’ve been thinking about you. And I need to know why.”

  “Okay…” he says slowly, and I can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

  I have the weirdest urge to run my tongue along that little ridge in his neck. Damn.

  “Are you down with this? Because I don’t want to mess things up between us, but fuck, I just… I need to know.”

  I see him swallow again. “I don’t… understand what you’re asking for, Luke…”

  For some reason, I can’t just come out and ask for it. I’m not even sure what I want to ask for, just that I think I’ll know it when I feel it. So instead, I give into the impulse I had earlier. I stalk toward his bed, climb onto it and over top of him. He lets out a breath, his blue eyes wide. I’d almost think he was afraid of me, but there’s a heat in his eyes that burns me through to my soul and makes my dick rock hard again.

  “This,” I breathe, before I throw all fucking caution to the wind and crash my mouth to his.

  He tastes different this time, when I slide my tongue past his lips. A little sweet, like better wine than either of us can afford. It's not just the sweetness, though. There's a bit of spiciness, like a mild pepper that just sort of kicks you in the back of the throat a few moments after you've tasted it on your tongue. I wouldn't say the taste of him kicks me, but it definitely jolts through me, and my dick throbs almost painfully in response.

  I know he probably has no idea what the fuck has gotten into me, but he kisses me back in a way he hasn't before. Sure, his lips moved against mine the last time we did this, but now I can feel passion and heat from him, his tongue meeting mine, lashing and stroking in a way that's both tender and savage. I groan, leaning down on my elbows so my hand can fist in his hair. Whatever product he's using in it, it's pretty damn nice. Soft to the touch, a good contrast against the scraping stubble along his jaw, and he's got just enough of it to where I can get a decent grip.

  A part of me feels like I could kiss him for hours, and just explore some kind of slow-building tension that eventually boils over. I think that's the part of me that still gets a little giddy over holding hands, though, and right now it's shoved aside by the starving beast that apparently really, really wants dick right now.

  My knees press onto the bed, and I roll my hips toward his, rubbing the front of our jeans together. I can feel the hard ridge of his cock straining against the seam, and when I slide mine against it, sharp heat shoots through my veins.

  The part of my mind that still hasn't caught up with what's going on is convinced I'm just horny as hell and I could rub up against the arm of a couch and get the same results. But deep down, I know the truth. Getting firsthand proof that Brandon is hard for me turns me on. Feeling his hips rise off the bed to meet me is sexy as hell. I'm running on pure instinct, thrusting my hips into his like I'm fucking him. And he's responding to me like I’m balls deep inside him and he's loving every second of it.

  Damn, it’s fucking hot.

  Just grinding against him isn't enough, though. Not like this, anyway. It isn't enough to cool the fire burning in me, and it isn't enough for me to figure out if I'm really into dicking out with dudes.

  So I push up onto my knees, pinning them on either side of Brandon, and start working on his fly.

  "What are you...?" He's so out of breath, he doesn't even finish the question.

  "Wanna see your dick," I say, palming him through his boxers once I work the zipper down.

  He moans, arching up into my hand, and my mouth dries as I watch him. His face is flushed, his lips are a little fuller than normal, and his eyes are squinted shut like it's too much for him to handle.

  I realize in that instant that I'm the one who made him that way. And I fucking love it. I want more. I want to wreck him, so he doesn't look anywhere near the composed guy he shows the rest of the world.

  I slide my hand into his boxers and wrap it around his dick, pulling him free of the fabric.

  "Fuck," he groans, his hands gripping into the sheets.

  I've seen Brandon's dick before. You don't share a locker room with a guy for ten years and not see his dick. But this is different. He's thick and hard, pulsing in my hand, and the raw, masculine power just sort of short-circuits my brain. My dry mouth damn near begins to water, which is never a reaction I thought I'd have to another guy's dick.

  If I were a little braver, I might get down on my hands and knees and take that dick all the way into my mouth like a champ. Guess I'd know for sure if I liked it then. Instead, though, I stroke him from root to tip, fucking fascinated by the texture against my hand, the bead of moisture that I slick up and down his shaft.

  I'm real familiar with my own dick, but I guess I'm so familiar with it now that I've forgotten what it feels like beyond 'good.' Stroking B
randon's dick gives me a whole new appreciation for it. He's uncut, like me, but his foreskin's a little looser than mine, so there's a different feel when I tug along his shaft. I'm getting off on watching him, especially watching the way the skin pulls tight over his balls when I stroke upward. I can imagine being down on my knees and running my tongue over them while I jack him, and I groan.

  "Jesus, Luke," Brandon says with a gasp. "You're killing me."

  I feel a strong hit of pride when he says that, and even more of an ego boost when I look down into his lust-glazed eyes. For never touching another guy's dick before, I guess I'm doing a pretty good job.

  Brandon isn't content to just lie there, though. His hands come up to undo the buttons of my jeans. One of them's already half out of the hole, since I wasn't thinking straight when I put them on. When he tugs on my zipper, my dick twitches like it's just been waiting for him to get around to touching it, even if it's just the side of his hand brushing it through two layers of fabric.

  He doesn't screw around, though, and takes me out. The second his hand closes around my cock, I lose my fucking mind. It feels so good. Better than it should feel. His hands are mostly soft, but there's just enough of a callous on the inside of his thumb that I can feel it against my sensitive skin. It helps that he seems to know just how to stroke me, squeezing hard toward the base, then letting up on the pressure as he moves toward the tip.

  I feel like I'm not even in control of my body at this point, because before I know it, I'm thrusting into the hole he's made for me with his thumb and forefinger, feeling that callous rub against the underside of my dick.

  I know I'm not giving him enough attention, my hand slowing more and more as my mind gets stuck on a single track, but he doesn't seem to mind.

  "Fuck," he groans, in a thick voice I've never heard before. "Lay your body on top of mine and do that."

  I'm not sure what he means, but I do it anyway. His hand is still around my dick, so I keep thrusting because it feels fucking amazing. He guides me down some, and I feel my cock slide against hot, smooth skin. When I look down between us, I see myself moving against his thick shaft, and I nearly come right on the spot.