There's Cock In This Book
(The Hockey Story)
by Isa K
Being gay in a locker room was hell.
It wasn't the temptation. It wasn't like straight guys assumed, he wasn't going to go mad at all the naked dick and ass and try to seduce one of them like an old perv in the park. Actually, the boys in the room didn't really do it for Mac D. He liked them well enough-- they were his team, his brothers-- but his introductions to them had been laced with fart jokes and chest thumping and Mac didn't exactly find that sexy.
They were good looking guys, but they were good looking straight guys. The fantasy of that was fun, it was good for porn, but Mac knew the reality of it all too well.
He was sick of wasting time lusting after men who would only look at him with confusion or disgust. Whenever he felt the slightest bit of attraction for a teammate he reminded himself that the wolfish grins and lustful glitter he got out of them over the red plastic cups of beer pong wouldn't cross over to the bedroom. Instead, it would be fear, shame, a wide-eyed sort of oh-my-god-what-do-I-do? horror. He'd make them children again: weak and ashamed and eventually resentful.
That was usually enough to kill any passing interest from his libido.
So it wasn't lust that made the locker room hell, it was the pressure of the secret. He was terrified by the possibility that he might give himself away. Did he walk like them? When he soaped himself up in the showers was there something telling in how he handled his equipment? Did his pussy jokes sound as forced and contrived as they felt?
He didn't want them to know because he didn't want to constantly have to preference every normal interaction with "Yes I'm gay. No, I'm not into you."
Or even worse: "Yes I'm gay. No, I'm not interested … no really, not interested. Sorry."
Hockey was a great sport, but it was a sport loaded with too many pseudo-sexual traditions. Goal hugs, chaste helmet kisses, the occasional shave-the-rookie bonding session-- if they knew, Mac was pretty sure he could say goodbye to all that. When you were straight stripping down naked for a pre-game nap was just odd. When you were gay everything was a potential come on.
Someone had told him once that homophobia was just believing that gay men were going to treat you the way you treated women. Every time one of his teammates spotted a Double-D-carrying puck bunny making eyes at them from the stands, Mac thought that must be right. Some guys would be okay with it, and some guys would be worried he was going to report back to homo-HQ with bullshit stories about how he pushed his cock down their throats.
And so, here he was, trapped in the hell of being so far in the closet he might as well be lacing his skates up for HC Narnia.
But that was before Leo Fritzgerald.
It was FRITZ-gerald, not FITZ like the famous author. The new player on their team made that very clear from the beginning. The boys shrugged and dubbed him "Fritzy", which really couldn't have possibly been have any less fitting.
Fritzy sounded like a small yappy dog that your girl carries around in her purse that pisses on your new carpets. One did not hear "Fritzy" and think of 210lbs of muscle with mean coal-colored marbles for eyes and a nose that had a kink in the middle from where it had been broken too many times.
Mac didn't know why but there was something about Fritzy that intimidated him. He wasn't that big-- although he would have to stand next to him to be sure, Mac thought he might actually be an inch of too taller than the newcomer-- and if he was mean, so what? They were on the same team.
Fritzy was quiet and serious looking with eyes that worked like skeptical laser beams slowly stripping off layer after layer of skin until he had worked you to the bone, until he had found the place where you were weak and you knew he'd found it.
He took one look at Mac and Mac wanted to run in the other direction.
He probably should have listened to that instinct.
They had, of course, checked him out before he arrived. The two buses and the cab ride it had taken to get there after the trade was announced had given them plenty of time to Google his name and rummage through several seasons worth of stats and gossip.
As it turned out, Leo Fritzgerald had been a pretty impressive junior hockey player, but an incident during his first year of draft eligibility left him with a bad reputation among pro scouts. So like the rest of them he was betting on a fairytale:, hoping to work his way up from the lowest, shittiest, crackerjack league there was to a try out contract with a major one.
"He broke the guy's jaw," someone said. "His own teammate."
Not just his own teammate, Brad Woodhall … a big name guy. One of those eighteen year olds whose shit doesn't stink because they practically have an NHL contract already. A kid who got to spend his summers working out with legends and his Christmas break wearing Team Canada colors and playing in the world junior championship while millions watched at home.
If you were going to knock out a teammate, that was the worst teammate you could possibly choose.
But he was here and he was theirs now. They had no choice in the matter.
###
Since Fritzy was a single guy, he was put in The Colony with them. The Colony was a tough looking colonial house the team rented for the purpose of housing young single players. Its dull, weather beaten paint job and drafty old windows with broken ornamental shutters made it far from homey. Its frat house interior where no expense was spared on couches or foosball tables made it far from sophisticated. It wasn't a home so much as an eternal sleep away camp.
Some guys looked for their own space in town, but most of them found free housing was hard to turn down. Playing hockey at this level only paid a few hundred dollars a week and their dreams made leases look like death sentences. You didn't want your own place. You wanted to be scooped from this league as soon as possible and play somewhere where you got more than $15 for dinner.
As Fritzy was a single guy who had been traded for a single guy it was natural to just slot him in where the last player had left off.
Which made him Mac's new roommate.
Fritzy had less personal stuff than most guys. No photos of girlfriends or pinups. No video games or a sturdy laptop. He moved in like some bizarre character implanted from a Charles Dickens novel: a couple of hardcover books with their glossy jackets stripped off, a scarf and a thick black wool coat.
His eccentricities did little to dispel the mythology they had created for him, but after a few days of practice where no one died mysteriously and Fritzy seemed more or less content to play along with their customs and traditions they no longer glared suspiciously at him.
"McDonald!"
Mac turned at the sound of his name to see their new teammate waving for him to slow down so he could catch up. It was their first road trip with Fritzy. The hotel's carpeting was this strange brown burgundy with ugly puke colored circles arranged in a random pattern.
Mac avoided each pale blob partly out of childish superstition; partly because he suspected they hid actual vomit stains.
"Yeah, sup?" He nodded and shifted his heavy bag on his shoulder. "Everyone calls me Mac or Mac D, by the way."
It seemed odd that Fritzy hadn't picked that up on his own, almost like he didn't want to presume anything by calling him as the others did.
"Right, Mac. You should wait up."
"What's the matter, you afraid of getting lost, Fritzy? Whole building is just one straight hallway."
"No, but you have my key card."
Mac looked down at his hand. So he did. He shrugged and handed the second flimsy plastic key to the other player and went back to plodding down the hallway. The sounds of his usual clique already roughhousing in their rooms echoed across the walls up ahead. He was tired and slush was starting to seep inside his boots, leaving his toes ice cold.
He was slightly unnerved by the sound of Fritzy hurrying to keep up with him.
"Did I offend you somehow?" the other player asked.
Mac strung together a convenient answer as flippantly as possible and hoped the matter would drop. "Nah, I'm just tired is all."
"No, I mean beyond that. Everybody on the team is a little bit distant, and I know what that's about, but usually people don't run away as fast as possible."
"I'm not running." As if to emphasize this point, he slowed his stride, although their room was barely two feet away. "What's your problem?"
Fritzy reached out and grabbed his hand. The feeling of his skin against Mac's unexpectedly made Mac want to squeal and hide behind something.
He didn't understand why the other guy made him so uncomfortable. He was never like this with the others and if Fritzy was mean and potentially violent, so what? Mac was no pacifist himself. He'd had sixty penalty minutes for fighting last season, he knew how to handle himself in a scrap.
Fritzy grinned and nudged his knee against Mac's. Right in the middle like he wanted to push Mac's legs apart. Mac raised an eyebrow, balled his left hand into a fist and tried to calculate the odds of the inevitable altercation being kept between the two of them. Not likely. He saw lots of humiliating meetings with coaches in their future.
Fritzy blinked at him and shyly stepped back. All the way back in one giant stride until he was practically pressed against the opposite side of the hallway.
"Whoops," he said. "Sorry, I thought…"
Holy assfucking Mother of God, he's gay. The thought exploded in Mac's mind and eradicated all other concerns. Mean, potentially violent Fritzy was blushing, the fine line scars from old stitches flushed a starker white as the rosy glow of humiliation spread from his cheeks down to his collarbone.
"I'm really sorry," Fritzy said again. "I was just messing wit--"
"I won't tell," Mac sputtered. He almost felt like the panic in his voice added an unspoken if you won't tell to the statement. He hoped that Fritzy didn't notice.
At least not anymore than he had already noticed that is.
"You won't?"
"Of course not, man. I mean … I'm sure everybody on the team would be cool with it, but … you know, obviously you won't be on this team forever."
"Right."
"So yeah, your secret is safe with me."
Fritzy relaxed a little and studied Mac. His dark smoggy irises ticked back and forth to the rhythm of thoughts he wasn't prepared to share. Mac turned back to their hotel room door and quickly shoved his key card in the slot rather than wait.
"So," Desperate to change the topic before his cowardice became glaringly obvious, Mac felt the words slip from his lips without considering their appropriateness. "In Junior, I mean … if you don't mind me asking-- was it something about this?"
"You mean why did I fight a teammate?"
"Yeah."
Fritzy shook his head. "They were hazing the rookies, but really sick stuff, you know. Not like the normal stuff."
Mac knew exactly what he meant. It was impossible to play the sport without experiencing a little of it yourself, with rumors of far more extreme rituals to comfort your memories.
Hockey was an elegant game, but rough all the way through. Rookie initiations could be as innocent as shaving mohawks and streaking through the streets, but they could also be much more potent and profoundly sexual.
Mac didn't even want to ask what had been the case there. He was willing to bet that if the rookies were stripping naked it wasn't to pile into the bus bathroom.
"Well there was one kid who wouldn't do it and Woodsy wouldn't let up about it, tortured him, called him names, played all kinds of pranks for weeks. Finally, one day he says the rookie can make it up to the team if he gets down on his knees right there and licks his balls in front of everyone. So I hit him."
"And broke his jaw?"
"Nah, that got exaggerated a bit. Hitting him that hard bare knuckle would have broken my hand first. He broke his jaw the next game when he got hit with a puck." A sly smile thinned Fritzy's lips before he admitted, "Maybe I loosened things up a bit for him over there. But I had to, what he was doing wasn't right."
Mac decided right then that he liked Fritzy. Even if Fritzy had made a pass at him, even if he was gay, he was also a decent guy who stood up for his teammates and got paid back by being exiled to this jock strap purgatory.
"Well for that," Mac said. "You can have first pick of the beds."
Fritzy snorted and pointed across the room to the bed closest to the window.
"That means you man the temperature controls," Mac said. "And I've got alarm clock duty."
"You like a cool room? Or like the tropics?"
I didn't matter, in these cheap hotels they could never get the thermostat above 55 anyway. Hell, they were lucky they were staying overnight to begin with. Whenever the team could work a twelve to eight hour overnight bus ride instead of putting them up in a hotel they did. Hours on the road there, play a game in front of a carnival crowd and immediately back on the bus for home. It was enough to drive a normal man stir crazy.
Mac shrugged. "Cool is fine. I'll grab an extra blanket if I need to."
He turned to throw his toiletry case into the small bathroom. He felt tired enough to consider skipping bedtime preparations and just collapse face first on the stiff, starchy smelling bed. But when he looked up again he realized that Fritzy was staring at him with a thoughtful look pursing his lips.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," Fritzy said, rubbing his head in such a way that his hair stuck up in all directions. "I'm going to hate myself for saying this. You always tell yourself you won't be one of those guys, but … you're a little shy in the locker room, you don't troll for pussy with the others and you don't share many dirty stories." A lopsided smile made the lines where old stitches had once held broken skin back together all the more obvious. "Not even obviously made up dirty stories. Are you sure you're not…"
"Gay?"
"Yeah."
"Can't I just be a nice guy?" Mac tried to laugh it off. He didn't want Fritzy to feel like an asshole for pushing the issue. Fritzy was an asshole for pushing the issue, but Mac didn't like the idea of him feeling that way. The idea of Fritzy embarrassed and ashamed of himself for taking a chance made Mac feel funny inside.
"Oh, you are a nice guy," Fritzy said. "That's part of the problem."
Mac looked him in the eye and the longer he held the stare the weirder he started to feel. He was acting like Fritzy was some kind of spy sent in by the boys to gather intel on his sexually. The guy had only been on the team for thirty seconds, not nearly enough time for conspiracies.
Mac had been telling himself that he wasn't ashamed, that staying in the closet was just pragmatic, just so he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his career assuring everyone that he wasn't going to rape them in the middle of the night.
But Fritzy had come on to him. He had taken on all the risks Mac faced and more. No doubt faggot was going to sit nicely on his scouting report next to belligerent loose cannon or whatever thinly veiled reference to breaking the jaw of one of Canada's golden children they had come up with. If Mac spread it around that Fritzy had made a pass, Fritzy would be done. Career over.
"Yeah, okay," Mac said. "You got me. Spot on, eh?"
Fritzy blinked as if he wasn't sure if Mac was kidding or not and Mac realized that as far as confessions went his was kind of flippant and cheap. "I like guys." The words wouldn't came out with any confidence, which annoyed him. Then the annoyance made him tighten his jaw and mumble, "Don't-- I never told anyone that before."
Fritzy tilted his head and said simply, "Okay."
"Rest assured your gaydar is fully functioning."
"So it's just me that's the problem, then? Not your type?"
Fuck if Mac knew. When it came to teammates, he had learned not to spend a lot of time looking for an attraction. He tried to recall any details from the naked visuals that were just part of the reality of living, traveling and showering with a pack of professional athletes. Nothing. Fritzy had two balls and two ass cheeks, but other than that, nothing broke through Mac's shield of presumed straightness.
Looking at him now, Mac gave himself permission to at least consider the idea. Fritzy was stocky and mean looking, but he had a young face and soft concerned eyes. His body was a hockey player's body: muscular but not cut like a body builder's. The six pack hidden under a layer of pregame meal pasta insulation.
Mac liked his arms, long with thick knots of muscle tapered at nimble joints. He especially liked his hands, but that might be because he had watched him playing with the puck during practice and knew their skill. He was half envious of those hands and half wanted to see their responsiveness tested on his own body.
"I can ask one of the guys to switch with me…" Fritzy rambled awkwardly and Mac realized that instead of mumbling some polite, noncommittal answer he had been staring at the other player, thoughtfully considering his attractiveness.
"Oh, no don't be silly. It doesn't bother me."
"You sure? I can see how it might."
Because it was much easier to room in a situation where you knew you had no shot than it was to lie in bed, horny and lonely, knowing that just a few feet away was a guy who might not be your dream guy but whose hands were warm and whose body was at least theoretically willing.
Mac was kicking himself for not being better prepared for something like this. Statistically speaking it was bound to happen sooner or later. Eventually he was going to run into someone who was like him, or at least curious enough to establish some temptation.
"Nah, it's cool. Unless it bothers you?"
Fritzy shook his head.
"Then we're fine."
Later Mac would realize how ridiculously naive he must have been to believe that.
###
He lasted about a week.
For years, he had been able to sequester his sexuality until the off season when he could lock his bedroom door and wank off to whatever he pleased with no roommates, teammates or coaches to catch him or have anything at all to do with it. Somehow this system had worked, although now he couldn't imagine how his cock didn't fall off just from aching in denial.
There wasn't necessarily anything gay about masturbating. It wouldn't give him away, but it would make him a target for some good-natured razzing and a few setups with eager puck sluts to 'help him out'.
Every since Fritzy had accidentally come out to him he couldn't stop his mind from curiously drifting towards the most obvious possibilities and the most provocative observations.
Fritzy liked to lick and suck the powdered cheese off his fingers when he finished a bag of Cheese Doodles. He bit his lips when grinning. He cheated at foosball. He had thigh muscles like tree trunks that looked like they could pound away for days--
This was insane. They were not going to hook up via process of elimination. Just because Mac was gay and Fritzy was also gay did not mean that they were automatic boyfriends.
But he couldn't help being curious. He had watched enough porn for a thesis on the sexual habits of gay men but he had never actually been in the same room with one. Well, okay he had, but the gay boys he had encountered before Fritzy seemed like a different species. They were fae and cliché, totally embracing the cultural identity they were told came along with the sexual preference. That was good for them, but it wasn't for Mac. He had as much interest in fashion and musicals as he had in quantum physics and tax returns.
Fritzy wasn't like that. Fritzy was like him.
So he couldn't help thinking about it, and because they were teammates living with a whole mess of guys who were oblivious to their preferences he couldn't help trying to suppress it.
The more he suppressed it, the more of an obsession it became.
A Saturday night that wasn't a game night was a rare occurrence and the boys took advantage of it by hitting the town.
Of course, there was never much town to hit in the first place: a movie theater playing three month old releases, a diner, a few bars. Still, a gang of randy athletes could make their own fun well enough.
After a week of slowly lusting after his roommate, Mac just couldn't be bothered with spending a whole night pretending. The prospect of it felt like following up a marathon with a triathlon. One more pair of perky college tit shoved in his face and he was going to go completely mad, bend their goalie over the table and test how flexible he really was.
"You're being terribly obvious," Fritzy said after the boys had left and their hooting and hollering had faded into the distance.
Mac glared over his shoulder, but didn't bother getting up from his seat at the small kitchen table they mainly used to store four to six months worth of junk mail. "You're not going either."
"I don't mean that. I mean you've been moping and distant all week. They're knuckleheads but they're not blind."
Mac hated how observant Fritzy was. "Shut up, I haven't been moping."
"Have it your way," Fritzy said. "We're the only two in the house, what do you want to do?"
He knew exactly what he wanted to do. The idea popped into his head in graphic detail with a helpful soundtrack of moans and a not so helpful throb of blood between his legs. When he looked up at Fritzy, there was something about his expression-- like he could barely keep himself from smiling-- that suggested he knew exactly the effect that question had.
"Oh, fuck you," Mac snapped. "Do you have to torture me?"
"Not torturing you." The smile broke loose on Fritzy's face, a laugh scooted in under his breath. "You're the one who turned me down."
"Cause we're teammates."
"Cause you're afraid."
Well of course he was! It was stupid to think they could maintain the level of discretion needed to keep this secret if they were boning each other behind closed doors and thin walls.
"I'm not asking you to marry me," Fritzy said. "But I like you. I find you attractive. I find the idea of you on your knees sucking me off even more attractive."
Mac closed his eyes tight and cursed the way his dick perked up at the suggestion. "Fuck you, Fritzy-- and if you say something dirty about that I swear to God I'll make the knob end of my hockey stick your new boyfriend."
Fritzy laughed. He didn't seem the slightest bit threatened, possibly because he could see how hard Mac was getting just from their banter.
"If you want to be a monk for the rest of the season that's your business, but I think it's much better to give in one or twice just to make things bearable."
Once or twice, huh? Was it really that simple? Could they indulge in an occasional fuck and keep it a secret?
At some point while Mac tried to ignore his dick's obvious opinion on the matter, Fritzy had crossed over and put his hands on the table right in front of him. He hovered there, shoulders hunched, looking down at Mac as if he might, at any moment, bend down and lick the arousal off him. The idea made everything tight and tingly, more than Mac could bare. So he lifted himself far enough off his seat to press their lips together.
He did it mostly because he just wanted to see what it was like. Because he couldn't stand the smell of Fritzy so close: locker room musk, aloe shampoo and cheap cologne brushed second hand on Fritzy from interaction with one of their stupid teammates. It was possibly the most unsexy smell imaginable and yet all he could think about when it filled his nostrils was Fritzy's hands all over him.
The other player's lips were reluctant. Maybe Mac had surprised him. The idea brought a tiny bit of satisfaction to Mac and a healthy dose of confidence. His own aggression shocked him. His tongue flicked over one of Fritzy's scars, and he delighted in the little yelp that produced.
Fritzy cursed and pulled away from him, dark eyes smoldering with lust. He licked his lips, mauve pink tongue darting over the places where Mac's own had gone.
When Mac did not follow up that first kiss with another, Fritzy slid his palm over his cheek and trapped him up against the back of his chair. Fritzy's kisses were hungry. His teeth scrapped across Mac's lips when they only opened a little. His weight shifting out of balance, as if he might sit right down in Mac's lap just to get more access for each sloppy, sucking kiss.
It felt amazing, but Mac had trouble getting into it.
"Let's go upstairs," Fritzy said. "We can lock the door in case they come back early."
It wasn't really that. Mac certainly appreciated Fritzy's clever, strategic mind, but being caught by teammates was the least of his worries.
He coughed awkwardly and fidgeted in his seat. "Umm…"
Fritzy pulled back and waited as if he wasn't fully hard and itching to do something about it. He was too goddamn patient and smart. How did he handle the union of youthful hormones and deviant celibacy without going nuts? Mac felt like he was going to go nuts and he had years of experience in shoving this whole side of himself away.
"You a virgin?" Fritzy finally asked.
"Yeah--um, No!"
The other player raised an eyebrow at Mac's stuttered split answer. "Yeah with a guy, no with a girl?"
Mac found his attention slipping to a dark knot in the grain of the wood floor. "Right…" he said.
"Okay. It's not a problem if you don't want to."
"Why wouldn't I want to?"
"Maybe you want it to be with somebody special."
Mac snorted and dropped his head to hide the cherry color he could feel burning up his cheeks. "You make me sound like some kind of girl."
"I don't think it's girly to want important things to mean something."
"This isn't that important."
"Then it's just nerves?"
Mac shrugged in complete humiliation. "I guess."
"You want me to carry you across the threshold? Would that make you feel better?"
He glared at Fritzy, his mortification replaced with enough annoyance to make his fists tighten by his side. Then he met the other player's eyes and realized that had been the whole point. It was Fritzy's strange way of trying to get him to relax.
"You are a fantastic asshole, you know that?"
Fritzy grinned. His mouth opened, a breath hissed into his lungs, his tongue touched the roof of his mouth to form a clever quip--
"Don't say it," Mac cut him off. "I swear, worst pun ever."
"You're no fun at all. So sensitive … but then, maybe that's good too."
He wanted to find a comeback that Fritzy couldn't twist into a dirty joke. Conversations with the other player were becoming more and more like being the butt of never ending rounds That's What She Said.
But before he could think of something, he looked up and realized Fritzy had already moved on.
"First we need to go out for supplies."
"What kind of supplies?" Mac asked. "It's a little too early to be kinky with me."
"Well, if you want to play around with bondage it's relatively easy to repurpose common household items." Great, more teasing. "But for other things, makeshift solutions won't do."
"Such as?"
"To start with condoms…" he trailed off when he saw the look on Mac's face. "What?"
"Dude, you're in a house that you share with seven single, horny professional athletes in their twenties. Any size, any flavor, glow in the dark, ones with unicorns on them. We've got condoms, trust me."
"How about lube?"
"Yeah I think so."
"Really?"
"Just because we're the only gay guys does not mean this is a butt-sex free zone."
The sound of Fritzy's chuckle endued Mac with deep satisfaction for being on the other side of a clever, sexy joke.
"Point taken," the other player grunted. "So then, upstairs?"
Mac nodded and tried to keep the fluttering in his belly from making him nauseous. What was the big deal? He'd had sexual encounters before. Awkward, clumsy and about as sexy as a paper bag full of slugs, but he'd had them and they counted. There wasn't any way this could be worse than that.
Once upstairs and in their room, there was another problem to consider. Whose bed to use? Each single mattress was equally lumping and unappealing, the springs barely cooperative when the task was simple sleeping, forget about humping a--
Whoa, Mac turned and realized that Fritzy was taking off his shirt. It was a motion Mac had probably seen a thousand times before. It began each day and ended each day, yet now it looked different. The muscles seemed to move with a smoothness they didn't have when they were stripping off gear. His desire airbrushed all the little imperfections off the flesh until Fritzy looked a bit like he should be on a pedestal in a museum somewhere.
God, he really was losing his mind.
Fritzy didn't comment on his shyness. He probably enjoyed it, or at least he certainly seemed to when he backed Mac into the wall and used those talented hands of his to start undoing buttons and pushing aside hems of fabric. His lips greeted each newly exposed section of flesh, making Mac's dick tighten and his hips jerk eagerly at the feeling of the other player's heat looming close to him.
The scrape of Fritzy's teeth against his collarbone made everything between his legs throb like it might fall off. Each touch opened up wild fantasies of being fucked-- or fucking … he had no idea what he wanted.
He was naked before he knew it. His mind went back to Fritzy's teasing carnal proposal and he pressed straight against the wall rather than be pushed too easily to his knees.
Fritzy's pants hit the floor with a muffled rustling of fabric and suddenly there it was … hard, slightly wet at the tip, rubbing coyly against his thigh. It was so like his own but yet so foreign. Mac's hand was wrapped around it before he even knew what he was doing.
It started as an experimental touch, barely more than cradling the hardened flesh in one hand. All it took was a purr from Fritzy and the feel of the other player nuzzling him for Mac the close his fingers around it and start stroking slowly and awkwardly.
It was different when you were doing it to somebody else. Mac was little worried about pulling too hard or being too rough, but Fritzy's content hums seemed to suggest that Mac was doing just fine.
"God you're so sexy," Fritzy said, his teeth nipping at Mac's ear lobe until Mac heard himself squeak.
Fritzy laughed. Again. Perhaps this could be worse than his previous vagina based sexual encounters.
"Get on the bed," the other player commanded.
"Which one?"
Mac flinched before Fritzy could laugh again. "Wait, forget I asked that, okay?"
"Okay, and that one. Get on my bed so that I can smell you on the sheets after I'm done."
Mac shuddered. It should annoy him. It should have offended his masculine pride. But it didn't, it turned him on like nothing he had ever heard before.
"When you're done with me, huh?"
Fritzy laid their gathered supplies out on the bed and grinned at him. A pulse of red hot lust shot right down Mac's belly like a spidery phantom touch.
"Come on, don't be shy." He patted the bed and Mac shuffled his feet against the carpeting of the bedroom floor. Fritzy could still turn this into some delicious conquest story for the boys just by changing the gender of the anonymous slut. Mortified-- he couldn't let the other player take charge completely.
These thoughts dissolved back into his dreams the second Fritzy's tongue lapped over the head of his cock. Mac plopped down on the bed. His lips felt dry and cracked as he watch Fritzy's tongue leave glistening trails of saliva. The other player looked up, everything about him dominant even as he engaged in what locker room talk had always taught Mac was the most submissive of actions.
But Fritzy controlled him completely just by knowing what he was doing to Mac. The warmth slid up and down his throbbing flesh, lips teasing with pornographic sucking and popping noises until Mac wanted to thrust up into him. When Mac's fingers lingered a little too long in Fritzy's hair there was a snarl that vibrated around his member and the touch of teeth raking lightly over the head in warning.
Fritzy's fingers tapped and slid over his balls, a touch that made Mac whimper and pull his legs up until his heels pressed on the edge of the bed.
"Too much?" Fritzy asked, his strokes becoming softer and feather light.
Mac shook his head. "No."
"What do you like? Little tug okay?"
He could feel winter-broken skin burning under his teeth as he bit his lip. "Dunno--" he yelped when Fritzy's fingers decided to experiment, but the sensation was far from painful. A strange burst of pleasure shot through him and he longed to feel it again but hated the idea of admitting that.
"Hmm," Fritzy hummed. His tongue got back to work exploring every ridge and rim, light slapping licks over the slit making Mac pant before Fritzy dropped back and swallowed him whole.
"Christ…" This was quite possibly the best blowjob he had ever had. How on Earth had Fritzy managed to learn these sort of tricks while pretending to be straight for the convenience of straight men?
A whimper lingered on his lips when Fritzy pulled away.
"Hush, I thought you weren't going to act like a girl about this?"
Mac nudged Fritzy's shoulder with his foot, a kick barely hard enough to push him off balance. "Shut up, you whore."
Fritzy popped open the bottle of lube with his teeth and spread it on his finger like it was hair gel. It was surreal, Mac didn't want to think about what was going to happen next for fear that he would chicken out before Fritzy's finger could slip in.
The penetration felt weird. Not sexy, not painful, just weird. Mac found himself thinking the lubrication was sloppy and slightly gross the way it stuck to hairs. He wanted to squirm and wipe it away, but before he could put anything behind that thought Fritzy dipped his head back down and started sucking him again.
"Fuck. Oh my God. Fuck." He panted and groaned and lifted his hips until he was curled on his back in the most ridiculous position. That finger explored, sliding in and out of him, giving him more sensations than he could deal with.
He came just like that. Like he was some kind of teenager with no control. The orgasm was very utilitarian: a quick hot flash and the familiar glow of release but none of the intensity and fireworks he really wanted. Mac was mortified. His hands pushed up against his face and he wanted to melt into the mattress rather than see Fritzy's reaction.
"Oh my God, oh my God, I'm sorry…"
"For what?" Fritzy replied. His voice sounded amused, which made Mac want to kick him in his stupid cock-sucking face.
"I didn't mean to… That was too soon, like a teenager."
Technically, they were only a few years removed from teenagers, but that hardly seemed the point.
Fritzy dismissed the matter with a careless pffttt. "I hope you're not offended, you caught me by surprise."
Mac pulled his hands away from his face long enough to follow Fritzy's line of sight to the T-shirt with the cum stains slowly seeping into the weave. That wasn't his shirt-- why would he be offended?
"I don't usually mind but I thought it would be worse to choke on it," Fritzy continued. Mac realized there was a bit of nervousness to Fritzy's words that he hadn't noticed before. How long had the bashful color been lingering on his cheeks?
"Hacking something like that up has to be the most unsexy thing--" This was coming close to babbling now, suddenly Mac's performance malfunction didn't seem like such a big deal.
Mac grinned. "It's fine. I don't care either way."
Fritzy visibly relaxed. "Yeah?"
"I'm just sorry things ended so soon."
The tilt of the other player's head was early warning Mac got that Fritzy had other ideas. "I'd like to keep going if that's okay with you."
Well of course, if Fritzy was the one doing the fucking what did it matter that Mac had checked out early?
Mac nodded because it seemed rude not to. Losing his guy-virginity without the intensity of arousal was disappointing, but Fritzy had done his part and Mac had already said he didn't care if his first time was special or not.
He watched more lube spread out across Fritzy's fingers, wanting to shift back and stare at the ceiling but worrying that might be offensive somehow. God was he going to have to fake an orgasm just to keep from hurting Fritzy's feelings? How did a guy even go about faking an orgasm?
The second finger was a little uncomfortable, as was the third. The whole process of stretching and being greased up like a Slip 'n Slide had taken on a weird perfunctory vibe. It was like being at the doctor's for the longest and most awkward prostate exam ever.
Then Fritzy scooted up and started kissing him.
His lips were nice, flushed with a wine stain color, little sexy growls rolling from them. His teeth raked up the side of Mac's neck and his thumb pressed temporary dents into Mac's hip.
He was still hard and the feel of his erection against Mac's leg made the awkwardness slip away. His curiosity shuffled a thousand different questions into his mind. What would it feel like? Would he feel the heat through the condom? Would the throb push against his skin?
He hadn't realized how badly he wanted to know what it was like. Each touch was studied for clues. The feeling of Fritzy's weight pressing into him made his mind wander into pornographic scenes borrowed from internet clips.
Mac flushed giddy when he realized he was getting hard again. He felt Fritzy's smile pressed just under his ear, but didn't want to turn and see the stupid gloating look that was sure to be plastered all over his face.
Fritzy pulled away so that his fingers could go back to what they were doing. Except that what they were doing before felt nothing like this. He was stroking against the spot that had made Mac come just moments before.
It felt amazing. He listened carefully to every murmur the old house replied to the moans that escaped him.
"Nobody's home," Fritzy purred. "Can make you scream if I want."
Mac's voice was hoarse when he answered. "I'm not your fucking puck slut, Fritzy."
"Not yet, at least."
He had a mind to clock him for that. Wipe that stupid smile off his face with his fist … wouldn't even have to make up an excuse for why he did it what with Fritzy's reputation. Everyone would just assume it was karma working things out.
But Fritzy gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek and nuzzled his throat with a whimper that made Mac's cock tighten between his legs.
He was getting really excited, but damned if he was going to finish like a fourteen year old boy again. Mac closed his eyes, breathed deeply and tried to ignore the sounds of foil packaging opening.
"I went with banana flavor," Fritzy said. "It seemed appropriate … not that you'll ever taste it."
Mac didn't have time to laugh because Fritzy was pushing his legs apart and treating his body like a posable doll. Mac slid down on the bed so that his legs hooked over Fritzy's arms and his hips hung half off the bed. His mind helpfully provided an inventory of all the porn he had watched that matched this moment, making his heart beat wildly in anticipation.
He loved the smell of him, sweaty and masculine; loved the feel of Fritzy's hands on him; loved the way Fritzy stroked his cock with a sly smile like there was no particular rush.
Finally, the other player shifted and grabbed his own dick, holding it steady as he pressed into Mac.
It felt as intense as Mac had hoped it would. Fritzy's groan of pleasure was his victory and Mac took the obvious opportunity for revenge and wiggled under his partner.
"Christ," Fritzy cursed. "Remind me to fuck nothing but virgins from now on."
"No objections here. That means you'll be my bottom next time."
Fritzy pulled out only to push smoothly back in with a little less care than the first time. He gave Mac a withering look and popped his hips until Mac couldn't help the sounds he made in response. He was filled so completely, the slightest movements stroked everything.
"Oh God, Fritzy…"
The fact that his partner was still standing meant he could thrust hard enough to make Mac see stars. His dick was throbbing hard between his legs, previous orgasm now completely forgotten. He needed more, he pushed his hips out to feel it deeper.
It was good. He wanted to tell Fritzy that but worried he would regret it later. Instead, he groaned and growled and made guttural sounds like a wild animal, gasping and whimpering only when Fritzy reached down and pinched his nipple.
But that felt amazing too.
Fritzy grabbed Mac's dick with his fist. "Damn you and your teenage boy control issues." A huff of breath broke up his speech. "This is going to take forever."
He fucked him like that: hard, short thrusts into his body while his fist jerked him off with rough pulling strokes. Mac defended himself from these subtle insults by squeezing tight around the penetration, delighting in the whines he ripped from Fritzy's throat.
It was like a little game: who would come first? Mac slid one leg up to hook around Fritzy's shoulder so he had better leverage with which to push up against him. When Fritzy thrust he pressed back, forcing him deeper and refusing to let go.
The pleasure was building fast and in waves. Mac felt all the blood rushing to the right places, the swelling, the ache, the need ran deep into his bones. The friction of Fritzy rubbing him didn't satisfy so much as kindle the flames.
Competitive to a fault, Fritzy reached down and very lightly rolled the balls aching below the cock he was fisting. It made Mac whimper and bite his lip but it was no good. He orgasm was brilliantly intense. So strong it drained him and left nothing but a soft, empty shell for Fritzy to fill.
Mac had a small consolation prize in that he tightened so hard against Fritzy as he came that Fritzy really didn't have a chance. Mac came down from his orgasm to find his teammate collapsed on top of him. His slight movements were more like a little puppy than a grown man. His affection was adorable. It made Mac feel warm and content inside.
The house was quiet.
Quiet enough for Mac to hear the pipes click. But still, his gaze flicked over to the door just to make sure it was locked. He was blushing at the realization of how loud his moans must have been, how easily they would have been heard in other rooms and even over the noise of video game explosions. The silence was as peaceful as it was incriminating.
Then he turned and stared at the stark red numbers of the bedside clock, trying to calculate how much cuddle, nap and shower time they had before their housemates marched in reeking of alcohol and bragging about what their dicks had been up to.
"You should have come out Mac," they would say. "You missed some great action."
And they would have no idea how right they were. He should have come out sooner, he was missing some great action.
"Mmmgh," Fritzy purred beside him. "That was better than I was expecting."
His fingers found themselves playing with locks of other player's hair, Fritzy's lips sucking lightly on his shoulder in response. The other player weighed him down and made escape from the warm post-coital cocoon almost unthinkable.
"Eventually we're going to have to move," Mac said.
"Eventually," Fritzy agreed.
"Otherwise they're going to find us like this and then everyone will know."
"Fuck 'em. Anyone talks shit about you, I will break their jaw," was Fritzy's reply before he nuzzled Mac's collarbone and found a comfortable spot against his body to drift off to sleep.