Brandon steps forward to cup Andrew's hips, when he's naked, smoothing his hands over his sides and around to settle in the dimples above his ass, fingertips dipping over the curve.
"Gonna buy you more drinks next time," he says, licking a stripe along Andrew's jaw. "Get you drunk enough, you can give me a lap dance, huh?" His hands move down to squeeze Andrew's ass properly, pulling him forward so their dicks are bumping, blood-hot and slick.
"Fuck," stutters Andrew. "You thought about that? Got some fantasies?"
"I've thought about a lot of things," says Brandon, sucking a hickey into Andrew's neck.
God, that feels amazing, sharp and perfectly painful. Andrew likes the thought of it, the mark it's going to leave, another remnant of the game and tonight.
"Been holding out on me," he mumbles, stretching his neck, showing Brandon more skin.
"No," says Brandon. "Knew you'd show me how much you wanted it, eventually."
He reaches down to squeeze Andrew's dick.
"Asshole," hisses Andrew, grinning and groaning at the same time, caught between Brandon's hand on his dick and Brandon's mouth on his throat, heat and insistent pleasure-pain everywhere.
"Maybe," says Brandon, letting up so he can start pushing Andrew towards the bed. Andrew lets him because that's where he wants them to end up anyway, sprawling out on his back and spreading his legs wide, stroking his dick slowly while Brandon stands over him, watching.
"What you gonna do?" he says, pushing his thumb under the head and biting down on his lip. "Still think you know what I need?"
Brandon climbs onto the bed, between Andrew's legs, holding him by the knees. "First of all, you need to stop being so mouthy if you wanna get laid, mutt," he says.
"You like me mouthy," says Andrew, letting go of his dick and tilting his hips towards Brandon.
"I do?" says Brandon interestedly. He curls a loose first around Andrew's dick.
"Mmm, fuck," gasps Andrew. "Yeah, you really want me to shut up? I was gonna tell you how I've been thinking about this, how I want to blow you after practice all the time, on my knees in the showers. Bet you'd like that, huh, shutting me up with your dick, you-- "
Brandon makes a wounded noise, like he's been gut-punched, and catches Andrew's mouth in a brutal kiss, punctuating it with the sharp jerks of his dick against Andrew's hip.
Andrew slides his hands down Brandon's sides to catch his dick, curl his fingers around it and jerk a few times. Brandon's got a nice dick, thick and heavy in his palm, and more precome leaks out the tip as Andrew works him, squeezes hard and strokes up the length.
"God," says Brandon, bracing his hands on either side of Andrew's head and sort of looming over him with his eyes closed, fucking into Andrew's fist. "You're such a little shit."
"You love it," breathes Andrew, arching up to lick the corner of Brandon's mouth.
Brandon opens his eyes. "What makes you so sure, huh?" he growls.
Andrew just grins, slow, and presses his thumb deliberately into the slit of Brandon's dick.
"Fuck," says Brandon. He shifts his weight back onto his legs and knocks Andrew's hand away from his dick, which kind of sucks, but then he gets his on Andrew's again, which is awesome.
Brandon keeps one heavy palm on Andrew's hip, holding him in place, and starts jerking him off properly. He goes slow, too fucking slow, Andrew is so hard and he wants to get off fucking yesterday, but he's also-- fuck, he knows what he's doing, knows how to set the pace so there's this slow, shuddering heat spreading out from Andrew's dick all the way to his hands and feet, making his toes curl and his fingers clench desperately in the sheets.
He squirms and bucks, trying to fight the heavy weight of Brandon and not really getting anywhere, biting his lip to stop from asking-- begging-- for more.
"Fuck," he gasps wetly, twisting his neck, "If I wanted to jerk off I could do it myself, asshole."
Brandon smirks. "No you couldn't, not like this," he says, and twists his wrist, smoothing the hand he's got keeping Andrew still over Andrew's hip before he brings it down to roll his balls, scratch his thumb back behind them to catch on his hole.
Brandon steps forward to cup Andrew's hips, when he's naked, smoothing his hands over his sides and around to settle in the dimples above his ass, fingertips dipping over the curve.
"Gonna buy you more drinks next time," he says, licking a stripe along Andrew's jaw. "Get you drunk enough, you can give me a lap dance, huh?" His hands move down to squeeze Andrew's ass properly, pulling him forward so their dicks are bumping, blood-hot and slick.
"Fuck," stutters Andrew. "You thought about that? Got some fantasies?"
"I've thought about a lot of things," says Brandon, sucking a hickey into Andrew's neck.
God, that feels amazing, sharp and perfectly painful. Andrew likes the thought of it, the mark it's going to leave, another remnant of the game and tonight.
"Been holding out on me," he mumbles, stretching his neck, showing Brandon more skin.
"No," says Brandon. "Knew you'd show me how much you wanted it, eventually."
He reaches down to squeeze Andrew's dick.
"Asshole," hisses Andrew, grinning and groaning at the same time, caught between Brandon's hand on his dick and Brandon's mouth on his throat, heat and insistent pleasure-pain everywhere.
"Maybe," says Brandon, letting up so he can start pushing Andrew towards the bed. Andrew lets him because that's where he wants them to end up anyway, sprawling out on his back and spreading his legs wide, stroking his dick slowly while Brandon stands over him, watching.
"What you gonna do?" he says, pushing his thumb under the head and biting down on his lip. "Still think you know what I need?"
Brandon climbs onto the bed, between Andrew's legs, holding him by the knees. "First of all, you need to stop being so mouthy if you wanna get laid, mutt," he says.
"You like me mouthy," says Andrew, letting go of his dick and tilting his hips towards Brandon.
"I do?" says Brandon interestedly. He curls a loose first around Andrew's dick.
"Mmm, fuck," gasps Andrew. "Yeah, you really want me to shut up? I was gonna tell you how I've been thinking about this, how I want to blow you after practice all the time, on my knees in the showers. Bet you'd like that, huh, shutting me up with your dick, you-- "
Brandon makes a wounded noise, like he's been gut-punched, and catches Andrew's mouth in a brutal kiss, punctuating it with the sharp jerks of his dick against Andrew's hip.
Andrew slides his hands down Brandon's sides to catch his dick, curl his fingers around it and jerk a few times. Brandon's got a nice dick, thick and heavy in his palm, and more precome leaks out the tip as Andrew works him, squeezes hard and strokes up the length.
"God," says Brandon, bracing his hands on either side of Andrew's head and sort of looming over him with his eyes closed, fucking into Andrew's fist. "You're such a little shit."
"You love it," breathes Andrew, arching up to lick the corner of Brandon's mouth.
Brandon opens his eyes. "What makes you so sure, huh?" he growls.
Andrew just grins, slow, and presses his thumb deliberately into the slit of Brandon's dick.
"Fuck," says Brandon. He shifts his weight back onto his legs and knocks Andrew's hand away from his dick, which kind of sucks, but then he gets his on Andrew's again, which is awesome.
Brandon keeps one heavy palm on Andrew's hip, holding him in place, and starts jerking him off properly. He goes slow, too fucking slow, Andrew is so hard and he wants to get off fucking yesterday, but he's also-- fuck, he knows what he's doing, knows how to set the pace so there's this slow, shuddering heat spreading out from Andrew's dick all the way to his hands and feet, making his toes curl and his fingers clench desperately in the sheets.
He squirms and bucks, trying to fight the heavy weight of Brandon and not really getting anywhere, biting his lip to stop from asking-- begging-- for more.
"Fuck," he gasps wetly, twisting his neck, "If I wanted to jerk off I could do it myself, asshole."
Brandon smirks. "No you couldn't, not like this," he says, and twists his wrist, smoothing the hand he's got keeping Andrew still over Andrew's hip before he brings it down to roll his balls, scratch his thumb back behind them to catch on his hole.
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