Page 50 of Unlovable Player

“Let’s get on the bed.”

We peel our outer layers off on our way, falling back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, kisses and grunts.

When I slide our boxer briefs down and press my skin against his, Austin sighs against my neck and clamps his arms around me, holding me tightly for a few seconds before loosening his grip.

This is so different to the kind of sex I’ve had with other men. Closer to the fumbling, naive experiences of my teenage years in Swiss boarding schools with that treacherous bastard Frederick the Swede, a German boy I was briefly in love with, and a French guy named Jean-Luc I cried for a week over when he moved back to Paris with his parents. I hadn’t realized how cold and detached it had become since then. Even with Greg. Outside of the attention he showered me with, the praise and false adoration, what he really wanted was to get laid. And the second the bedroom door closed, or the trousers came down, the façade melted away and we were nothing more than two bodies, pounding away.

Austin kisses me, slow and deep, sliding his cock along mine, nibbling my bottom lip, sighing against my ear. You can tell he’s used to straight missionary sex and I can’t believe how into it I am.

I guide him onto his back and kiss down his neck and chest, paying extra attention to his nipples. He arches his back and sighs as he buries his hands in my hair.

Lower, brushing my lips against his belly button, the V-shape of his hips and that path leading into his pubes. Ignoring his cock, I brush my lips against his inner thigh and he lets out a little growl. Using my tongue, I make my way to his balls. He gasps and tightens his grip in my hair. I lick a path to the base of his cock and flick my tongue.

“Fuck Seb.”

Kneading his thighs, I just lick, teasing him with the promise of sucking. Flicking my tongue around his leaking head. A big vein throbs under my tongue, and I slide my hand between my legs to alleviate some of the ache in my balls. The sound of Austin’s ragged breath with the NHL music muted on the TV is killing me. I’m waiting for him to tell me to get on with it, but he doesn’t. His hips rut gently and I take his cock in my mouth.

“Ahhgghhha.”

I try not to smile around him at that noise.

The blankets rustle and I hope his toes are curling. I hope he’s gripping the sheets with the hand that isn’t gently pulling my hair.

“Fuck… Seb… yeah… ohhh… arghhh… mmm….”

I hadn’t expected my grown-up boy scout to be so vocal, but it’s a pleasant surprise.

“No, fuck, I’m gonna-” He tugs on my hair and I come up, my lips swollen. He looks at me with glassy, half-lidded eyes. “You’ve gotta stop doing that, I’m gonna come in your mouth.”

“So do it.”

He frowns. “I can’t.”

“Why not? I’m giving you permission. I’ll jerk myself off while you do it, it’ll be hot.”

“Fuck.” He swallows like he’s mulling over the moral ramifications. “Okay.”

He lets his head fall back on the pillow. His cock throbbing and hot in my hand before I wrap my lips back around it.

Jerking myself off while I suck Austin is kind of a fantasy I’ve had for a while. Except we were always in the locker room and I was half-dressed in my Yale Blue jersey and he in his white and maroon away game one after we trounce them 5-0 and he takes his frustration out on me by fucking my mouth.

“Oh fuck, I’m close,” he whispers. I work double time on my own cock while keeping up the tempo on his. He starts to throb in my mouth and the dribbles of pre-cum explode into spurts until he’s painting the back of my throat.

I swallow the last drops while finishing myself off, stars exploding behind my eyes as I come over my chest.

Everything is still while we catch our breath. I come up onto the pillow next to his and chance a peek in his direction. When he looks at me, his hair is all fucked up and his cheeks are pink.

“Fuck,” he laughs.

“How’s your bisexual awakening going?”

“Stop calling it that.” He punches my arm, but it’s so feeble I have to laugh at him.

AUSTIN

Sitting next to Seb with the team after practise is torture. The air thrums around him and I can’t stop thinking about what we’ll be doing in less than an hour once we shake the guys and get naked at his place.

If I don’t stop to think too hard about it, I don’t have to call it anything. We’re just having fun. Seb knows the score and so do I. The fact he’ll either be working at his dad’s company in the city or moving to Vancouver after graduation gives whatever this is a deadline. Makes it easier to just lose myself to it, temporarily at least.

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