15. Tate #3
His chest firmly against one of the lockers as his arse pushes out towards me, I put some of the lube on my hand and fist my cock.
Making it all nice and slicked. Then I put my fingers to his hole, teasing the rim gently, enjoying the whimpers and desperation I draw out of him. Slowly I push in a finger.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” I groan, kissing any inch of his skin that I can reach.
Vince moans, rocking back into me. I steadily stretch him further, going from one finger to two to three, the slide easy with the lube on my fingers.
“You like that, baby,” I say, pushing into him, not wanting to push him too close to the edge just yet.
“Yeah, I need, I need. I need,” he pants. Unable to get a sentence out.
“I know what you need, Vince,” I say. I pull my hand out, leaving him empty.
“No,” he whimpers.
“Shh, it’s ok,” I croon, knowing that being empty is the last thing that he wants right now. He's so close to the edge of coming that he wants to be filled.
“I line my cock up with his hole and slowly but firmly push into him.
“Ah,” he groans, his back arching as he pushes his arse towards me. His hands fisting against the locker, holding himself upright.
His body willingly accepts me, letting me in with no resistance as I push in until I'm flush against him.
“You feel that, Coach?” I ask, just holding myself there for a minute. “You feel that big cock inside you.”
“Uh-huh,” Vince pants.
“That's yours, baby,” I murmur into his ear.
“Tate, Tate,” he pants, as I withdraw and then slam home again, the lockers rattling as we crash into them again and again.
“Yeah, fuck,” Vince groans. “Fuck. Fuck.”
“That's what I'm doing,” I say with a smile. “I'm fucking you. I'm making you mine. I'm marking you from the inside out. You may have swallowed my cum enough times for your body to be mine already, but your ass, your ass is mine now.”
Vince pants as he pushes back. As I thrust into him again and again and again, slowly getting faster and deeper.
I move my hand from his waist, snaking it between the locker and fisting his cock because I'm on the verge of coming and I need him to be there with me.
I need him to reach his pleasure before I do.
I give him no mercy as I fist his cock and stroke him up and down in unison with my thrusts, thrusting him into my hand as I thrust into him.
“Oh, Tate. Oh, Tate. Oh, oh, oh…”
“I fucking... I need you to cum, Vin,” I state. “I'm not gonna last much longer. I need you. I need you to cum.”
He tenses as his body shivers. My kisses are tonguing at his neck as he spurts all over my hand and the locker in front of us.
The way his body tightens with his orgasm, the way his arse clenches around my cock, sends me over the edge.
I pump my seed into his arse. Taking that last bit of barrier between us down.
“You're mine now, Vince,” I stay kissing his neck gently.
“I’ve been yours for a while now, Tate,” he pants, trying to catch his breath as we come down. “Does that mean I need to fuck your ass to make you mine?” He continues with a twinkle in his eyes.
“You don't need to,” I say, giving him a small kiss on his lips. “But I'll let you if you want to.”
His eyes kind of go wide again. “You—you'd let me fuck you?” he asks.
“Yeah, baby, if that's what you wanted, I'd be down.”
“I didn't know you would want that.”
“Well, that's because you have avoided the conversation every time I've tried to bring it up over the past few months,” I say, with only a hint of censure.
He chuckles, but it breaks off with a slight groan as I pull my softening cock out of his arse.
I hold his hand and pull him into the shower stall. Between smiles, kisses, and soaping him up, all I can think of is the endless possibilities of our future together.
Before long we towel off and put our clothes back on.
This day has been full of turmoil and triumph.
I was so lost in us, not thinking much as we exit the sex scented locker room behind us, that I forgot that the whole team was still here.
The rowdy applause, wolf whistles and hollering that welcomes us as we step into the hallway though?
Yeah, that reminds me that they’re all here.
"About bloody time," someone yells from the back of the group, earning a chorus of agreement.
Vince groans beside me while I can't stop the grin stretching across my face. Maybe tomorrow there'll be questions, but that's tomorrow. Right now, Vince's hand finds mine, hidden amongst the chaos, and squeezes. The noise of my teammates fades into the background as I look at the man beside me.
The coach who was never supposed to be mine. The man who somehow became everything. For so long, football was the thing I loved most. Standing here with Vince, though? I finally understand something.
The best thing footy ever got me?
It wasn’t my draft to the Outlaws. It wasn’t the premiership win my rookie season.
No.
It was him.
Vincent Anderson. The Coach who intercepted my plans, and made a play for my heart, and scored the winning goal from in the square.