Connor
Adrian digs a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms out of the bag beside the bed.
“Came prepared,” I say.
Adrian doesn’t look the least bit caught out. “I don’t leave things to chance.”
I play it cool, but my heart’s doing that stuttering thing again. This is really happening. I’m about to have sex with Adrian Vega. With a man, and it should freak me out, but it doesn’t. I want this more than I’ve wanted anything in a while.
Adrian pops the cap on the lube and pours some onto his fingers. He spreads his legs wider, one knee bent, the other falling open, and I have a perfect view as he reaches down between his thighs.
I stop breathing.
His fingers circle his entrance, spreading the lube, and then he’s pushing one inside himself.
Just the tip at first, and I watch the way his face changes.
His eyes go half-closed, his lips parting on a soft exhale.
He pushes deeper, past the first knuckle, then the second, and his whole body shifts with the intrusion.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
Adrian glances at me, that smirk playing at his mouth even as he works his finger deeper. “You okay over there, Boy Scout?”
I’m gripping my cock at the base, squeezing hard to keep myself from coming just from watching him. “You’re killing me.”
“Don’t die on me yet.” He adds a second finger, the stretch making him grunt. “I need you inside me.”
I let out a choked laugh and give myself a few strokes, just enough to take the edge off. I’m so worked up it’s starting to hurt. I force myself to breathe. To focus on something other than the sight of Adrian Vega fingering himself open on the bed in front of me.
It doesn’t work. I can’t look away, greedy for every detail of him. The way his fingers disappear inside his body, the flex of his thighs as he adjusts his position, the flush spreading down his chest. His cock is hard again, lying thick and flushed against his abs.
He adds more lube, his fingers moving easier now, and the wet sounds fill the room. I watch him fuck himself on his hand, his hips lifting off the mattress, chasing the sensation. His free hand comes up to his chest, fingers circling one of his nipples, and he moans.
The sound goes straight to my dick.
“Do you need any help?”
Adrian looks at me, his eyes dark and hungry. “Please.”
I grab the lube with shaking hands and pour some over my fingers. It’s cold, and I rub them together to warm it up. Then I reach out, my hand hovering near where his fingers are still buried inside himself. “Can I?”
“Go ahead.”
I hesitate. “Uh, aren’t you going to remove your fingers?”
“No.” His voice is calm. “Just put yours in. I can take it.”
I stare at him. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He shifts his hips, spreading his legs wider. “Do it, Boy Scout.”
I curse under my breath and line up my index finger next to his two. The angle is awkward, and when I start pushing in, the resistance is immediate. It’s so tight I think for a second it’s not going to work. That there’s no way this is going to fit, that I’m going to hurt him.
But then Adrian takes a deep breath and relaxes, his muscles loosening, and suddenly my finger pushes in alongside his.
“Oh, fuck,” Adrian groans, his head falling back against the pillow.
The heat is incredible. Tight and slick and overwhelming, and I’m only a knuckle deep. I can feel his fingers next to mine, the way his body grips us both. My brain is short-circuiting, unable to keep up with how good it is.
Adrian starts moving. Slow at first, just small rolls of his hips, pushing onto our combined fingers. His breathing goes ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Add another,” he breathes, and I pull out my finger and pour more lube over my hand before pressing two fingers against his entrance.
The stretch is insane. I don’t know how he’s going to take it.
But he relaxes again, breathing through it, and I push in slowly, feeling every inch of the way his body opens for me.
When I’m fully seated, two of my fingers inside him, Adrian lets out a broken moan. His cock pulses against his stomach, dripping precum onto his skin.
Our fingers work in tandem, pushing in and pulling out in a rhythm that has Adrian writhing on the bed. He’s gorgeous like this. Completely undone, his usual control shattered, and I did this to him. Me and my fumbling inexperience and my unsteady hands.
I brush against something inside him and Adrian’s whole body jerks. His back arches off the bed and he cries out, his cock pulsing again.
“Right there,” he gasps. “Do that again.”
I angle my fingers, searching for that spot, and when I find it, Adrian nearly comes off the bed.
He’s moving in earnest now, fucking himself back onto our hands with abandon.
The sight is burned into me. Adrian Vega, star cornerback for the Miami Vipers, my rival, riding our fingers like his life depends on it.
His movements get more frantic, his breathing turning to pants, and I know he’s close. I can see it in the tension coiling through his body, feel it in the way he’s clenching around our fingers.
“Stop,” Adrian says suddenly. “Stop, I’m too close.”
We both pull our fingers out and he collapses back onto the mattress, chest heaving.
“I need you inside me,” he says, his voice wrecked. “Now. Please.”
I reach for the condoms, tear one off the strip, and fumble with the wrapper, almost dropping it before I get it open. Adrian watches me, his expression fond and amused.
“First time jitters?” he asks.
“Shut up.”
I manage to get the condom out and roll it onto my cock. The sensation makes me hiss, my dick so sensitive I’m worried I’ll come before I even get inside him. I grab the lube and pour it over myself, using my hand to spread it, and I have to squeeze the base hard to stop from losing it right there.
Adrian’s watching me with those dark eyes, his legs spread, his body open and waiting. I line myself up at his entrance, the head of my cock pressing against that tight ring of muscle, and I freeze.
For once in my life, I’m scared of screwing something up.
“Connor.” Adrian’s voice cuts through the panic. “Look at me.”
I do. His expression is soft, reassuring, and he hooks a hand around the back of my neck, grounding me.
“Go slow,” he says. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
I nod and start pushing in.
The resistance is immediate, his body fighting the intrusion even though we just spent ten minutes opening him up. I push a little harder, and the head of my cock breaches that tight ring. Adrian’s breath catches, his whole body tensing.
I go still. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Keep going.”
I push deeper, inch by inch, feeling the way his body struggles to accommodate me. It’s too tight. Every nerve ending is screaming, and I have to close my eyes and hold still until I trust myself to move.
When I’m about halfway in, I have to stop, pausing to pant above him, my arms trembling with the effort of staying put.
“That’s it,” Adrian murmurs, his hands stroking up and down my back. “Knew you’d feel like this. Like you were made to take me apart.”
His words bring back the calm and safety from that morning in his hotel room.
I push deeper, and Adrian’s body opens for me. Takes me in until I’m fully seated, my hips flush against his. The sensation steals my breath. I drop my forehead to his shoulder and just try to remember how to breathe.
“Move,” Adrian says. “Please, I need you to move.”
I do. Pulling out slowly, then pushing back in. The slide is easier now, and Adrian groans beneath me. I establish a rhythm, slow and deep, and his hands come up to grip my shoulders.
The hotel room fills with the sound of our breathing, our groans, the slide of my cock moving in and out of his body. Adrian’s making these small sounds every time I push in, and they’re driving me crazy.
“Christ. Every time you hit that spot, I feel it everywhere.”
I want to go faster, want to slam into him and chase the pleasure building at the base of my spine. But I’m also terrified this is going to end too soon. That I’ll come in thirty seconds like some overexcited teenager and ruin everything.
I slow my movements, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. Adrian whimpers.
“Turn over,” I tell him.
He looks confused for a second, then understanding crosses his face. He shifts beneath me and I pull out, giving him space to move. He rolls onto his stomach, then pushes up onto his hands and knees. The new position puts his whole back on display, the flex of his shoulders, the curve of his ass.
He looks over his shoulder at me, his expression heated. “Well? Put that cock back inside me, Boy Scout.”
I move closer, running my hands over the curves of his ass. “Bossy.”
“You love it.”
Hell, I do. I love how he takes control even on his knees, how he knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to ask.
I line myself up and push back in with one smooth thrust. The angle is different this time, the slide easier because he’s looser and more relaxed now. I sink in deep and Adrian drops his head forward, moaning.
“I’m not gonna break,” he says. “Come on, don’t hold back.”
I start moving faster, my hips snapping forward. Skin slaps against skin, and Adrian’s pushing back to meet every thrust. His arms are shaking, his back muscles flexing, and I can’t stop staring at the sight of my cock disappearing inside him over and over.
“Harder,” Adrian demands.
I grip his hips tight and drive into him harder than I’ve ever fucked anyone, because Adrian can take it. He’s as strong as me, and I don’t have to hold back or worry about hurting him. He takes everything I give him and asks for more.
“That’s it,” Adrian groans. “Your cock feels so good stretching me.”
The praise shoots straight through me. I slam into him, chasing the pleasure and the sounds he makes, and we’re both getting close. Adrian’s whole body is shaking, his moans taking on a desperate edge.
I wrap one arm around his chest and pull him up with me, so we’re both kneeling on the bed. The position changes the angle again. He cries out.
My other hand reaches forward, wrapping around his cock. It’s hot and slick in my palm, and I start stroking in time with my thrusts. Adrian covers my hand with his, our fingers tangling together, both of us working him.
“You feel incredible,” I murmur against his neck. “Fucking made for me.”
“Filling me up good, Boy Scout. I’m so close.” Adrian’s voice is wrecked. “Come inside me, I want to feel it.”
His words shove me over the edge. My orgasm tears through me, stealing my breath. I lock up, buried deep inside him, as my cock pulses. The sensation goes on forever, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through my body.
Adrian follows a moment later. His cock jerks in our joined hands, spilling over our fingers and onto the sheets below. He’s shaking in my arms, gasping, and I hold him through it as he comes apart.
For a long moment we just stay like that. Kneeling on the bed, me buried inside him, both of us panting. I’m completely blissed out, my head empty, every muscle in my body loose and satisfied.
Eventually Adrian shifts and I slip out of him.
We collapse sideways onto the mattress, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slick skin.
I take care of the condom and reach for Adrian.
He comes willingly, his back pressed to my chest, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck.
His scent fills my lungs. Cologne and sweat and sex, and underneath it all, just him.
We lie there in silence for a while. My heart gradually slows, my breathing evening out. I should feel awkward or be having a crisis about what just happened. I’m not. This feels right.
“Still think I’m a Boy Scout?” I ask.
Adrian huffs a laugh. “Jury’s out.”
I press a kiss to his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He turns in my arms so we’re face to face. “For what?”
“For this. For being patient with me. For making it good.”
Something soft crosses his expression. He reaches up and brushes my hair off my forehead. “Connor. It was good because it was you.”
The words land warm in me. I kiss him, taking my time.
When we break apart, we start talking. About nothing and everything.
Football and training camp and what we’re going to do tomorrow at practice.
Whether Brooks and McKenna are going to clock that we hooked up. If this changes anything between us.
I don’t know the answers to most of those questions. But lying here with Adrian, I’m in no rush to find them.
My eyes are getting heavy. The exhaustion from practice and the emotional whiplash of the evening are catching up to me. I should probably go back to my room and give Adrian space. But the thought of leaving makes my chest tight.
“Can I stay?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Adrian pulls back to look at me. “Why are you asking? Of course you can stay.” He looks almost offended.
Relief washes over me. I settle back against him, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, and I feel myself drifting.
For the first time in years, I don’t feel lonely. I feel seen and wanted and safe.