Trick Play

by Alison Hendricks

  "God damn," I growl.

  But he knows more about this than me, and he isn't done. He opens up his fingers so he can keep both of our dicks in his hand, guiding me to rub the full length of my cock against his.

  It feels so fucking amazing, and I know I'm not going to be able to take very much of it. Especially when Brandon uses his free hand to grip into my hair and bring my mouth back to his.

  I feel my balls tighten, and I let out what's damn close to a roar as release comes over me fast and hard. Then I watch as Brandon jacks himself on my dick and comes, too, his whole body seizing up right before he lets out a low moan.

  "That was fucking hot," I say, rubbing my softening dick against his one last time.

  He lays his head back on his bed, his chest heaving, and I want to kiss his throat, right where I know his pulse is probably hammering away. So I do.

  "Luke..." he starts, breathless. "I'm not complaining or anything, but what the hell has gotten into you...?"

  I lick the sweat from his skin, loving it when he shudders. Then I lift my head to look at him. "I don't know, man. But I'm pretty sure I'm not straight."

  And as I kiss him again, learning his mouth until we're both half-hard again, I'm pretty sure I don't care.

  10

  Brandon

  When I wake up the next morning and the memories of last night start to hit me, it's hard not to convince myself I just dreamed those things.

  Luke didn't come back to our dorm and tell me he wanted me to stroke his dick. He definitely didn't climb on top of me and kiss me like he wanted to fuck me. And there's no way we rubbed off on each other, then kissed and touched and jerked it some more until we both came three times.

  This is the real world, and things like that only happen in my dirtiest, most secret fantasies.

  It helps, too, that I'm in my bed and when I look over, Luke's in his. Sure, our beds aren't big enough to share, but I remember him collapsing on top of me last night. I don't really remember him ever climbing off me, and if that was true, he'd still be here.

  There are a few problems with that theory, though. I'm bare-ass naked, for one. So is Luke. Neither of us sleep naked, and though we aren't the tidiest guys in the world, we don't just throw our clothes all around--especially not haphazardly tossed to either side of my bed.

  I can feel something under me; silky fabric against my bare skin. I shift to pull it out, and come up with Luke's boxers. My mouth instantly turns into a desert.

  Holy shit.

  Last night really happened. All of it.

  I look over at Luke, almost afraid to wake him up. What if he was just... drunk or something? Drunk for hours on end. Definitely not too drunk to hold an erection, though...

  My insides clench as I think about his beautiful body; as I remember what it felt like to hold his powerful dick in my hand. I grab a pillow from behind my head, press my face into it, and muffle my groan.

  Luke stirs anyway, and I tense. He's going to regret it this morning. He has to. The fact that Luke Trent is as straight as they come was one of the last certainties in my life. If that's gone, I don't know what to do with myself.

  He flops over onto his back, dragging the blanket off his naked body in the process. I get a good look at his bare chest, at the soft hair I touched last night. I see the abs I wasn't brave enough to run my tongue over. The hard V I still want to bite. The blanket's only really covering his dick, and just barely. I can see the groomed thatch of hair peeking out from below the fabric.

  "Fuck me," I groan in misery.

  "Thought you had enough last night," a sleep-thickened voice says.

  My heart pounds, my brain tripping over itself to try and understand what he means by that; trying to find some way to protect my foolish heart. He's just screwing around. Typical Luke. That's all it is.

  He pushes himself up, stretches, then looks at me with a lopsided smile that just kills me, crumbling my defenses. His hair is sticking up all over, and he looks too adorable for me to handle.

  "Hey," he says.

  "Hey," I answer, having to make my voice come out in something other than a scratchy, broken squeak.

  Luke's beautiful face creases with a frown. "You okay, dude? I know I came on pretty strong last night, but--"

  "We got each other off, Luke," I say, still not believing it. "I know what your dick feels like against mine. I know the face you make when you come."

  He grins sheepishly at that. "Hope it's not too stupid. Your O face is pretty chill, man. I like it."

  I blink at him, flabbergasted that that was his takeaway.

  "My world was just turned upside down,” I continue. “I don't know how I'm supposed to react to that."

  Some part of me is getting defensive, and I hate it. I know why it's happening. I'm terrified the other shoe is going to drop. Because it has to.

  Luke just frowns, ruffling a hand through his already tousled hair. "I don't know, man. I don't regret last night. If you do, then I feel like a real asshole right now..."

  "I don't," I say quickly.

  "Then I don't see what the problem is. We did something that made us both feel good. Everybody already thinks we're doing it anyway, so--"

  My mind's still reeling, trying to process this when he suddenly stops himself.

  "Shit, I didn't call Erica. I bet she printed that story." He grabs his phone, then seems to lose interest and just shrugs. "Oh well."

  For what seems like the twentieth time since we started this, I find myself gaping at him.

  "Oh well? Luke. I'm gay. You're straight."

  "I don't think straight dudes like jacking it on other dudes," he points out.

  "But your dad..."

  "Is gonna be fucking pissed, yeah. But I’ll figure it out.”

  I can't believe what I'm hearing. It's like these last few weeks Luke has been played by some actor who only knows the part on a superficial level. He looks like Luke and talks like Luke, but there's so much that seems... off.

  This guy who may or may not be the real Luke Trent gets up, pulls on a clean pair of track pants from the basket, and comes over to stand in front of me. My heart thuds against my ribcage as I think of all the things he did last night.

  I don't know what to expect from him anymore, and it's as terrifying as it is thrilling.

  "I know what you think of me, man. You think I had all that 'traditional values' shit beat into my head. But you know what my first thought was when I figured out I was into you?"

  "What?" I manage to choke out.

  "That life's too fucking short not to do what makes you feel good. And I’m really glad it’s you who makes me feel good."

  We're late to practice because Luke was just as horny this morning as he was last night. I can't think straight, can't think of anything but Luke and this crazy situation, and when we get around the other guys, it's obvious he doesn't plan on telling anybody our relationship is a sham. Especially when Oak shows us the school paper and all the blog posts that have cropped up talking about the return of the Rainbow Tiger dynasty.

  It worked out just the way he hoped it would. The guys work harder in practice, not just that first day, but every day after that as the articles and posts keep rolling in.

  By homecoming weekend, we've got national coverage again. Luke and I have been interviewed more times than I can count. It's all been small news outlets--ESPN hasn't come knocking at our door yet--but it's more press than Eastshore has seen in years.

  It takes me until that game to figure out how I feel about it. When I came out to Luke, stopping the 'relationship' seemed like the best idea just because I didn't want the attention for something that was obviously never going to be real.

  But Luke and I have spent a week exploring each other's bodies, and it feels pretty real to me. Maybe not a real relationship in the traditional sense, but there's something real about it. There's something so real that I feel like I have to hold on for dear life while I still can.

  Luk
e's right. Life is too short not to do things that make you feel good, and being with him makes me feel amazing. Not just when we're alone in our dorm room, but when we're out with the guys, too. And I know it's the artificial high before the crushing blow that will end it all, but the more time I spend with Luke, the less I care.

  I'm getting some version of the things I've always wanted. Who cares if it isn't the whole package? It's more than I ever thought I'd get.

  And it isn't hurting anyone. It isn't even hurting me. I've spent more time embracing the present this past week than I ever have in my life. I'd go so far as to say it's actually helping the team, too, just like Luke hoped it would. With the press behind us on homecoming day, the guys feel untouchable.

  That feeling only grows when we jog out of that tunnel and find the stands filled with rainbow colors, our fans waving signs and banners that just reinforce that we, as a team, need this identity. And to be a gay man in the middle of all of this, getting support from teammates and fans alike? It's addicting, and it makes me play harder than I've ever played in my life.

  It seems like everybody's been touched by whatever magic is happening in the Den today. Davis fakes out one of the quickest LBs in the conference and sails a perfect spiral into MacMillan's waiting hands. He runs it, completely uncontested, into the end zone for a TD. We get two sacks on Mississippi State’s QB, including one where the ball is stripped late in the second quarter, leading to another touchdown as Jones runs it in.

  Luke is a force of nature all by himself. I watch him shrug off defenders with superhuman strength and agility. He ducks, he leaps, he acts like if he touches the turf with anything other than his cleats, he's going to explode into flames. Mississippi State is known for shutting down running games, but apparently Luke didn't get that memo today, because he's barreling through them like a bull through a house of cards.

  It has to be the sexiest thing I've ever seen him do, and I can't help but wonder if our new, exploratory relationship has him feeling freer, looser, and more able to make those insane plays.

  By the time we enter the fourth quarter, we're already up by twenty-one points. Second string's getting to play a lot so we can conserve our best guys. The Bulldogs are just getting the shit beat out of them, but I have to give them some credit. They're still putting up a fight. Late in the game, they halt one of our backup QB's drives, putting us sixty yards out from the goal line on fourth down.

  Any other time, I'd be coming out to punt it away. Instead, Coach tells us to call the play we want to run. We talk about doing an onside kick, hopefully being able to recover the ball for another shot. But in the end, I tell my teammates I can boot it in. Even from sixty yards away, with the wind whipping through the stadium.

  It's a pipe dream, and I'd never do it if there was any chance of us losing. But what the hell, right? I'm on top of the world, looking up at those rainbow-colored stands, my blood pumping when I hear the crowd cheer specifically for me.

  I give them what they want, striking the ball hard, sending it sailing straight through the uprights. And Luke gives them what they probably came here to see, because when I jog back to the sidelines, my helmet in hand, he grabs my face and kisses me, hard. Judging from the eruption of cheers in the crowd, it was broadcast on all the screens in the stadium.

  We win the game 31-7, and our fans pour out into the downtown streets to celebrate with us. After the parade and the fireworks, we head to the Top and I feel like there's nothing in the world that can bring us down.

  "The Rainbow Tigers are back, baby!" Hanley yells as we bust into the bar.

  Some fans at another table buy Luke and I a beer, and our teammates talk with a buzzing energy I haven't felt from them in two years. Everybody's focused on the next few games, and how if we win those, we've got a shot for a great bowl game to cap off the season.

  No, not everybody, I eventually realize.

  "Where are the freshmen?" Luke asks, after we've already been there an hour.

  I hadn't even noticed, but he's right. Nobody's been bitching about us or staring at me all night. Nobody's been giving me a look like I'm not fit to lick their boots. It's been really nice.

  "They didn't wanna come out," Hanley says. "Three guesses as to why."

  I snort, the alcohol loosening me up a little bit. "Lethal case of jock itch of the mouth?"

  It doesn't even make any sense, but the guys laugh anyway. Luke slings a warm arm around my shoulders and grins.

  It should get to me that there are guys on our team so bothered by gay players that they can't even enjoy our first victory of the season, but right now, I don't care. And when Luke whispers in my ear, I care even less.

  "Let's get out of here. I wanna celebrate on our own."

  A delicious shiver runs up my spine. It doesn't take a genius to guess what he means by that. We've been exploring each other almost every night for a week, and that was before we were riding high on being the defining team members in the Rainbow Tigers. Tonight, maybe things will go even further.

  As Luke makes excuses for us that nobody buys, I find myself really, really hoping that's the case. There's only one thing that would make this day even more perfect, and that's having Luke in every way I can get him.

  11

  Brandon

  Luke manages to keep his hands to himself on the way back to our dorm, to the point where I start to wonder if we're even on the same wavelength. But as soon as we get inside, he slams me back against the door, pins my arms above my head, and kisses me like he's been waiting to do it for a lifetime.

  I can taste the beer there, but it doesn't matter, because underneath it Luke is savory spice and irresistible to me. Our tongues meet, and his hands move down to grip my ass, pulling my hips into his. I moan against his mouth because I can already feel his erection, hot and hard and ready.

  "You like that? Been hard for you since that field goal."

  I almost want to laugh, because while I thankfully haven't sported a boner this whole time--and I'm sure he hasn't either--I definitely appreciated the plays he made during the game, too. Leave it to us to be turned on by football.

  I don't laugh, though, because I'm too focused on moving this beyond what we've done before. I could get him off with just my hands for the rest of my life if he'd let me, but tonight I want more. I sink down to my knees, ignoring the sharp thud thanks to the poorly-carpeted floor. My hands grip his hips, and I press my open mouth to the bulge in his jeans, reveling in his immediate shudder.

  "Oh, fuck," he groans, his hands moving to my shoulders.

  I want to be coy, to tease him like I've seen guys do in videos. I want to have the patience to get him fully hard through his pants, then to work on him through his boxers, too, but I want to taste him too badly to care about any of that.

  I unzip and tug down his pants, pulling them past his knees where he steps out of them. I don't waste any time pulling down his boxers, too, his cock springing free. My mouth waters, because he's thick and hard and right now, he's all mine.

  I take him deep, and he lets out a strangled moan I've never heard before. His girth is almost too much for me, but I stubbornly take as much of his dick as I can, loving the pulsing heat of it in my mouth. I wrap my hand around the base of him, stroking his cock while I use my lips and tongue on the head. I've always enjoyed this, but with Luke it's just that much more satisfying. I could probably come just from the sounds he makes, the way he squirms and tries his hardest not to let his hips buck.

  I let off his cock with a gasp, and look up at him, my eyes burning. "Don't be such a pussy. I know you wanna fuck my mouth, so do it."

  I don't know where those words come from. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's just the fact that I'm beyond high on this moment. Wherever the words come from, Luke responds immediately, his brown eyes darkening so much they're almost black.

  His hand fists in my hair, tight enough to get a grip but not nearly as hard as I want right now. I look up at him, my eyes delive
ring both a challenge and a plea, and when I open my mouth, he slides his cock in. His hips roll in a slow rhythm at first, like he's afraid to hurt me. It's sweet, but I don't want sweet right now. I want to feel like he wants me so much he can't control himself.

  I grip his ass, my short nails digging into his skin, and he gets the picture. He pumps into my mouth, and I fucking love it. It's better than I could have ever imagined as I feel him driving his cock between my lips, in and out until he can't take it anymore.

  “Fuck,” he growls. “Can’t…”

  I hold onto him and don’t let him withdraw, so that when he hits his peak, I get to experience every jerky movement, every pulse of his dick, every vibration as his moan rumbles through his whole body. Best of all, I get to taste him in a way I’ve only ever dreamed about, and there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it.

  Not that he seems to mind.

  When I look up at him, his head is tilted back, his eyes closed, his mouth open. His hips buck one last time, and I finally let him go, satisfied I’ve had everything he can give me. For now.

  “God damn, man,” he says, breathless and panting. “That was intense.”

  I lick my lips, feeling ridiculously proud of myself. I guess there's not going to be any gold medals handed out for dick sucking, but if there were, I think Luke's words would have qualified me for one.

  God, now that we're together I'm even starting to think like him. Those crazy, random thoughts that always make me smile.

  "Yeah?" I ask, gratified by the fact that he's still catching his breath.

  "Yeah," he says. "Now you gotta show me the ropes."

  My eyes widen, and my heart thuds in my chest. I've been hard since he suggested we leave the Top, but now I can feel my dick pressing painfully against the seam of my jeans. And the image of Luke with his full lips wrapped around it definitely doesn't help.

  "You don't have to," I find myself saying, though I don't know why. "I didn't suck you off because I expected you to return the favor. I did it because I wanted to."