Quarantine Day 3
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"Battle Lines"
Quarantine
Day 3
With a soft moan, Alex thrust into the sensation of lips, of hands; back arching as he chased the pressure rubbing against his straining cock. He —
There was the sound of a door shutting, of footsteps nearby.
He wasn't alone.
For half a heartbeat, he tried to ignore the dissonance grating across his unconscious mind; a harsh, low voice breaking into the siren call of sleep and insisting that he do something.
What that something was, however, remained unclear.
Alex wasn't even sure in that moment which was real.
Didn't much care, either. Only knew he wanted to sink deeper; dive beyond where the world could find him as he sought once again that elusive embrace of…
"Alex?" a voice rumbled from somewhere outside the hazy mists currently filling Alex's dreaming mind.
He froze, Alex's brain recognizing Weber's voice if nothing else. Slowly, wakefulness came filtering in. And with it, the realization of just what it was he'd been doing, red-hot embarrassment close on its heels.
Alex was painfully hard. Achingly so. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem. Whenever he woke up in his dorm room with morning wood, he could simply head to the bathroom down the hall for a quick wank and a piss. Add in a shower and brush his teeth; he'd be off to class with a spring in his step.
And if it were one of those glorious mornings he'd woken up to find his roommate had slept over at some boyfriend's place? Oh, that was even better. A nice, luxurious tug to greet the dawn? Hell yes, any day of the week.
But the sight greeting Alex when he opened his bleary eyes was not that of his dorm room, or Vincent's empty bed, no. Instead, it was the same damn tiny hotel room he'd been trapped inside for the past three days, as the world's smuggest bastard smirked at him from Weber's habitual armchair.
And sure, they'd shared a moment or something last night when Alex's nightmares had hit, after he'd apparently kicked Weber in his sleep.
He felt pretty bad about that, actually.
Especially when, instead of demanding Alex vacate the bed due to posing an imminent threat of danger, Weber had…
He'd been understanding about it. Or the closest to it that either of them could muster at unholy o'clock in the morning.
He wasn't sure why he'd gone and told Weber that about his mom, like some kind of midnight heart-to-heart at a sleepover in some movie made for tweens. It'd just sort of slipped out. But Weber had been surprisingly cool about it.
Alex's ears burned, remembering the way Weber's hand had felt on his leg; surprise and confusion stealing all of Alex's words, his mind awhirl with the implications.
But now? Now the smug jerk was leering at him; whatever sort of nighttime truce they'd formed, apparently having only lasted until the dawn.
Or unable to survive the clear advantage of the embarrassment factor Alex had just handed him, moaning and rutting into their shared bed like some kind of animal in his sleep.
Burying his face back into his pillow, Alex wanted nothing more in that moment than to cling to the last remnants of blissful, unconscious ignorance. Well…except for maybe the floor to open up underneath him and swallow him up whole.
Maybe Weber wouldn't say anything. That could happen, right?
Every guy had wet dreams. Who hadn't woken up with a bit of morning wood?
Weber had shown just last night he could be something almost like decent, at least some of the time.
There was no reason Alex needed to go borrowing trouble. It's not as if —
"Morning," the bastard drawled. "Good dreams?"
Alex groaned into his pillow in reply.
Fuck.
His.
Life.
△▽△▽△▽△
Alex got the idea at breakfast.
Or…rather, Alex was given the idea, you might say. He was feeling magnanimous at the moment; flush with his imminent, inevitable victory to come. He could share the glory for his brilliance.
His ears hadn't stopped burning since he'd gotten out of bed, despite the coldest shower he'd taken in maybe his entire life.
Not that it'd done any good. He was still hard when he'd toweled off, damn it; his cock absolutely begging for attention Alex couldn't afford to give it, thanks to their stupid bet.
Finding himself not really hungry so much as utterly and completely mortified, he'd gone through the motions of eating without actually tasting his food, chasing his cereal listlessly around the bowl with his spoon.
"You gonna eat that, or you planning on fucking it too?" Weber asked as he wandered out of the bathroom, leaning against the doorway.
Alex glanced up at his team captain, then jerked his eyes just as quickly down to his bowl.
Freshly showered, Weber could've just stepped off the set of some damn cologne ad. All solid muscle and broad swathes of damp skin, wet hair slicked back and dripping tantalizing little rivulets down the side of his neck.
Absently, Alex licked his lips.
Towel slung tantalizingly low on his hips, Weber swaggered to where Alex was sitting in the 'not-Weber's chair' at the hotel room's tiny excuse for a table.
Stopping right in front of him, it seemed as if Weber was dead set on giving Alex a first-row seat to the show of his dreams, his sanity hanging on by a prayer and bulk-produced cotton.
Stomach muscles rippled as Weber leaned forward, so close Alex could feel the warm brush of Weber's breath as he rumbled in Alex's ear.
"Come here often?"
Alex thought he couldn't get any harder, but fucking damn.
Seemed Weber wasn't done, either, reaching for —
Oh. His backpack; picking it up from where it'd sat propped up against Alex's chair, before slinging it over his shoulder and fucking strutting away back into the bathroom. Like that fucker knew what he'd just done, acting as if he was some actor in a bad porno and…
Wait.
Wait.
Alex grinned. Calmly, he finished his cereal while he made his plans.
And then?
Then he went to war.
△▽△▽△▽△
Oh, fuck me! Yeah…
"Would you turn that off?" Weber snarled, sounding gratifyingly annoyed.
You like that? You like my thick, hard cock?
"It helps me think," Alex answered him absently, attention mostly on the scholarship essay he was trying to finish up, futile though it might be. But hey — Alex knew he was nothing if not a stubborn bastard. And knowing was half the battle, or…something.
Oh baby, I love your thick, hard cock. I want it so bad!
Admittedly, the porn playing on his propped-up phone at max volume was somewhat distracting. But proving oh so worth it, if the intensity that Weber had been stabbing at the keys of his own laptop was anything to go by.
Yeah? Yeah! Yeah? Yeah! Yeah? Yeah!
Good grief, but here was the perfect example of why Alex usually watched his porn with the sound off. He glanced at the video where — yup, it sure did appear as if the actress was enjoying herself some cock.
Calling it 'thick' is a stretch, though.
Alex had a dildo back in the box under his bed that would give the actor a run for his money, and it was only his second biggest one.
Oof, not helping.
He shifted, trying to shove that line of thinking out of the way so he could focus on his paper.
The weekend over, the rest of the world had kicked back into gear like the poorly oiled machine it was.
Apparently, not actually being sick didn't get the team the same free pass from classes Campbell had been given.
In fact, a few of his professors seemed to think quarantine gave them license to assign Alex even more work than usual.
To “help keep him from falling behind” for the next two weeks he'd be away from the tender mercies of their classes.
After he finished this section of his essay, Alex had four entire sections from his algebra book he was expected to turn in by Friday. Then a two thousand word essay for Poli-Sci on the theme of protests in the USA from the 1950s-present day. And as if that wasn't enough —
"Alex!" Weber snapped, making Alex jump.
The effect was rather undermined by Weber slamming his palms on the padded arms of his chair, creating more of a whumpfing noise than anything truly attention-grabbing. Alex still got the point, however.
"Yes?" Alex asked innocently, turning towards his roommate. "Is something wrong? You sound…frustrated."
"Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!"
"Turn. The. Video. Off." Weber gritted out between his teeth. "Or I swear I'll drop your phone in the toilet."
Weber's expression honestly looked like he might do it, too.
Alex sighed. Well, it'd been an idea worth trying, even if it hadn't seemed to work out in the end.
Hard as he'd been all morning, Alex had decided it was only fair to share that particular plight.
And if Weber took himself in hand to ease the problem, then that was Alex with a new pair of cleats, wasn't it?
For all Alex's high hopes, though, it looked like his plan had sadly turned out to be a dud.
Still fucking funny though, he decided, enjoying the apoplectic expression on Weber's reddened face.
"Fine," he finally muttered, reaching for his phone. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw the way Weber's shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch at that. And as if he'd been possessed by the spirit of mischief itself, Alex's thumb moved practically of its own accord.
Weber had only said ‘that video’, after all.
OhOhOh, I'm coming! Oooooooh! I'm coMININGINGINGGGGGGG!
"Damn it Alex!"" "Weber barked, setting down his laptop and rising from his chair.
"Oops?" Alex snickered, already flicking to another video.
Oh yeah, baby. Just like that."
Weber stalked towards him, an intent expression on his face. And Alex couldn't help it. He laughed even harder. Captain Perfect, all-around hotshot and Coach's golden boy; knocked off his block by a little porn? Hi-fucking-larious.
"Give me the phone," Weber bit out as he attempted to corner Alex between the bed and the wall.
"No~pe"!" Alex answered, making the 'P' pop as loud and annoyingly as he could. "Don't think I will."
He lunged out of Weber's reach, ducking under his grasping hand and bouncing across the mattress to gain himself some distance. Another twitch of his thumb, and another video started up.
You're going to look so good on my cock…
Oh — that was a great one, actually. Might have to come back to it after 'Operation: Make Weber So Horny He Throws The Bet' proved successful and Alex could indulge himself once more, safe in sweet victory's embrace.
"Alex!" Weber hissed. "This is the last" time I'm asking!"
"Not hearing a lot of asking there, oh captain, my captain," Alex smirked, elbowing Weber in the armpit as he twisted away again.
Weber was a great striker and all, but really — he should know better than to go against Alex when it came to control of the ball. Or phone, as the case may be.Another tap, another video; Alex's blood thrumming hot and wild in his ears.
?Ay Papi!
Weber dove for him once more; his fingers catching, tugging briefly at the edge of Alex's shirt before he slipped away again, laughing.
?Ay Papi!
It took a minute for Alex's brain to fully register this particular video, you see.
?Ay Papi!
Seemingly harmless enough, those two words. The video's sound was poor quality, even before you accounted for the mobile phone's speakers. The downside of amateur porn, though the video itself more than made up for the lack.
?Ay Papi!
Still, there was no denying that there was a notable difference in this selection compared to the previous ones that Alex had played so far.
?Ay Papi!
Not with the deep, unmistakably masculine voice now moaning those words.
?Ay Papi! ?Ay Papi! ?Ay Papi!
Ay, mierda.
From the highest high to the lowest low, the blood drained from Alex's face while everything around him went cold.
That's — I must have…accidentally switched over to — to the wrong tab.
His chest seized as realization came crashing in. Nearly tripping over his own feet, Alex scrambled backward, abruptly gripped by an all-consuming need to flee. Breath exploded all at once from his lungs in surprise when he felt his shoulders hit something solid.
Wall, his brain threw at him like seed before a swarming flock of birds. No escape there.
Heart beating rabbit-fast, his gaze snapped in startled desperation towards Weber; finding the other man frozen stock-still, staring back at Alex in mirrored shock with the widest fucking eyes…
Alex could see the gears at work behind those gray eyes as Weber put all the pieces together while they both stood there, rooted to the spot.
Alex's entire body was unresponsive, immobilized, the taste of metal coating his tongue.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to go; it felt as if the floor was dropping out from beneath his feet.
?Si, si! ?Ay Papi, mas duro! ?Oh! ?Oh! ?Oh! ?Ayyyy, qué rico Papii~iiiiii!
A muscle jumped in Weber's jaw at the actor's exultant wailing, eyes narrowing like a jungle cat's. And then —
He pounced.
Alex & Ian's story continues in
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