Fic: Let you put your hands on me (Hockey, Brandon Bollig/Sean Monahan, 15800 words, Explicit) 1/2
Summary:Sean's never quite gotten excited about sex the way other people seem to. That lasts from the time he first starts discovering sex until he's twenty and in his sophomore season in the NHL.
Content Notes: This story contains crossdressing, spanking, teacher-student role play, and characters using the term "slutty" to refer to sexually active young women.
Notes: Brandon Bollig really did tell the Flames cameras about dressing up as a cheerleader for Halloween. Title from Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream." Thanks to Lake for consulting and everyone on Twitter who answered various questions.
Story on AO3
Sean's never quite gotten excited about sex the way other people seem to. He jerks off, sometimes, and it feels good, but it's not something he likes to drag out and take his time with. He usually does it in the shower, quick and easily cleaned up. He's fucked a couple of girls, too, and it was good, but not good enough for him to be obsessed with it the way the other guys he knows always seem to be.
That lasts from the time he first starts discovering sex until he's twenty and in his sophomore season in the NHL.
*
"I'm not the one who dressed up as a cheerleader," Devin says.
"You'd be pretty as a cheerleader," Jonny says, with a guilelessness so well perfected that Sean can't tell if he's faking it.
"So who did dress up as a cheerleader?" Matt asks.
"Bolls," Devin says. "He told Kristin about it for the Halloween video."
There's a chorus of catcalls. Sean doesn't join in, but he does listen to Gratts ask, "A cheerleader?"
"Yeah," Bolls says, shrugging.
"Skirt and pom-poms and everything?" Gratts presses.
"No pom-poms," Bolls says. "Too hard to carry around while partying, and last time it was the Dallas Cowboys uniform, but I've done the skirt kind too."
"And a beard and a blond wig," Devin says.
Bolls shrugs again, unconcerned. His cheeks aren't even going red, like it's not a big deal.
It's not, really - the guys chirp him about it a little more but then they move on to chirping someone else - but the next time Sean's perfunctorily jerking off in the shower, the image of Bolls in a cheerleading uniform, the skirt short over his thighs, the sleeveless shirt showing off his arms, his beard dusting over the bottom of his cheeks, flashes through his mind and he comes so hard he has to fling an arm out and steady himself against the wall so he doesn't fall down and concuss himself in a really embarrassing way.
*
It's not a one-time thing. After the third time, Sean starts thinking about it on purpose, calling up the mental image of Bolls in a cheerleading uniform to begin with. He jerks himself off slowly that time, thinking about Bolls, about his thighs peeking out from under the skirt, about the way the skirt would hide his cock, about the bulge of his biceps against the sleeveless top that stretches over his chest.
The thought of it makes Sean dizzy with want, and he drags it out, strokes himself slower so he doesn't come yet, so he can enjoy it a little more.
Maybe he's starting to understand why all the guys he knows have been so into this.
*
Sean has lotion in his room, even if he doesn't usually use it for jerking off, but one afternoon when Lance is out, he decides to see how he likes it in this new world where jerking off really does it for him. He slicks up his hand, and then slicks up his cock, and touches himself really slowly, other hand ranging across his chest, his thighs, figuring out what he likes.
He already knows he likes the thought of Bolls in a cheerleading uniform, so he closes his eyes and lets himself think about that some more. The picture comes easily to his mind now, since he's thought about it so much.
He's doing this on purpose, trying to make it feel really good, so he lets the fantasy form a little more. Not just looking at Bolls, but what it would be like to touch him. His legs would be rough with hair, if Sean put his hands on Bolls' knees and moved them up. Not smooth like the girls he's touched. Rough under his palms, the fabric of the skirt on the back of his hands as Sean moves his hands up.
Sean gasps and jerks his hand too fast, has to tell himself to slow it down a little before he keeps thinking about it.
In his fantasy, Bolls is hard, and giving Sean a half-challenging smile while Sean's hands move up the inside of his thighs, up to the space between them, backs of his fingers just brushing Bolls' balls before he gets to his cock.
When he started, Sean wasn't getting there as fast as usual with lotion on his hand, but thinking about Bolls is making it faster. Good, too.
And then he thinks about touching Bolls' cock, wrapping his hand around it and stroking it like he's stroking his now. Bolls is cut, so that would be a little different, no foreskin to play with, just the head of Bolls' cock out there, between Sean's fingers, under the skirt.
Sean groans a little, thinking about that, about how he would be able to feel Bolls' cock but not see it, just the motion of his hand under Bolls' skirt. And if Bolls spread his legs a little, the skirt would stretch, riding up over his thighs, tight across the movement of Sean's hand.
Sean's fantasy doesn't get much farther than that, because thinking about jerking Bolls off under his skirt is so good he gets stuck there, at least as long as it takes him to come.
It's not as long as he was idly thinking about spending on jerking off, but it's longer than he's ever spent doing it, and unlike the other times when it was just okay, he can't wait to do it again.
He's not sure if he should feel thankful for that or annoyed.
*
So maybe Sean has a more normal appreciation of jerking off now, but it's not helping him stay normal with his team. With Bolls. He's trying, okay? He's really trying, but it's not working. Sometimes he looks at Bolls and all he can see are his arms and his thighs and his beard. It's not how he's supposed to look at a teammate.
No one calls him on it, so Sean thinks he's getting away with it, until Bolls hooks an arm around his neck after practice one day and says, "Come over and hang with me this afternoon." It's phrased like an invitation, but the tension in Bolls' arm makes it clear it's a command.
"Sure," Sean says, like he would if it were any of the other guys inviting him to hang out.
"You're going to be real disappointed," Gratts warns. "Monny's just as boring as he looks."
Sean flips him off.
"I guess I'll find out," Bolls says, and it wouldn't sound like a threat except for the way his arm is still a little too tight around Sean's neck.
Sean and Lance rode in to the rink together, so Sean climbs into Bolls' car for the drive over to his place. Sean relaxes a little on the drive, because mostly he and Bolls chirp each other about their music choices. Hanging out at Bolls' starts out easy too, because Bolls fires up the Wii and challenges him to a game of Mario Kart.
Sean loses the first round, but he's on his way to making a comeback on the second. Then Bolls gets him with a sneak attack by just asking, "What's up with you?"
Sean says, "Nothing," which is met with skeptical silence as he goes crashing off the track.
Sean swears and demands a rematch.
Bolls silently starts them up again, but it's no good; Sean can't get his concentration back, and when he loses a third time, he drops the controller onto the couch next to him.
"It's nothing," Sean says, not looking away from the screen.
"See, I don't believe that," Bolls says. He restarts the game on single player mode and keeps talking while he plays. "Obviously there's something up with you."
Sean sighs and admits that his first play isn't going to work. He regroups and says, "It's not really a big deal."
"You spend a lot of time either looking at me or trying very hard not to look at me," Bolls says. Somehow having this conversation isn't causing him to lose a game. "So that's a big deal to me."
Sean makes a face he hopes Bolls doesn't see. "I'll get it together."
"Really?" Bolls asks skeptically. "Because you haven't been able to yet. You want to just tell me what it is that's fucking you up so we can deal with it?" It's a question, but his tone makes it sound less like a request than an order.
"No," Sean says. He doesn't embarrass easily, but he can feel his cheeks going red. No way he wants to tell Bolls what's going on inside his head.
Bolls pauses the game and sets the controller down before he turns to face Sean. Sean's pretty sure he's not trying to be threatening or anything, but having a built enforcer stare you down on his couch is pretty intimidating.
"Okay," Bolls says, "then let me guess, because this started after Halloween."
Sean can't keep from cringing, and Bolls' face sets into deeper lines.
"So what," Bolls asks, crossing his arms over his chest like he needs to look more intimidating, "exactly is your problem with me?"
And, shit, Sean has really fucked this up. "It's not a problem," he says.
Bolls doesn't look like he believes that for a second. "Really," he says again, flatly. "Because from my perspective it looks like you found out I dressed up as a cheerleader for Halloween one year and now you have a fucking problem with me."
Sean has a few seconds to weigh which is worse for himself and his team: not saying anything and letting Bolls think Sean has a problem with that or humiliating himself and telling the truth.
"I don't have a problem with you," Sean says, and he can be completely honest about that. "I-" He looks at the still grim look on Bolls' face and decides it's better to humiliate himself. "I do keep thinking about you in a cheerleading uniform, but I'm into it."
Bolls' look softens from grim to neutral. "You're into it."
Sean nods, and he looks away from Bolls.
"Huh."
Bolls is quiet for a moment, and when Sean risks a glance at him, he's dropped his arms and is looking at Sean curiously.
"Into it like you'd want to try it, or into it like you want to see me in a cheerleading uniform?"
This is already so embarrassing; why does Bolls have to keep asking him things?
"The second one," Sean admits without looking at Bolls.
Bolls says, "Huh," and then, "stay there."
Sean tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. Why the fuck couldn't he have just been normal about this?
Bolls is gone for a few minutes, long enough for Sean to rethink every choice that brought him to this moment. He didn't have to play hockey. He could be in university right now listening to a lecture on astrophysics or French history or whatever it is you have to listen to lectures about in university. Okay, maybe he wouldn't trade hockey for that, but at least then he wouldn't be in this situation. Probably. Maybe. Maybe it doesn't matter and whatever path he chose would always lead to him embarrassing himself like this.
He stops staring at the ceiling when he hears Bolls' footsteps come back into the room, and then he almost chokes on absolutely nothing because Bolls is wearing a cheerleading uniform. Shirt tight across his chest and showing off his shoulders and his arms. Pleated skirt that only covers the very top of this thighs. Legs looking impossibly long. He looks better than any of Sean's fantasies about this.
Sean drags his eyes up to Bolls' face. "Um."
Bolls smirks at him. "Yeah, I thought you wouldn't care that it's not the Cowboys uniform."
"Um," Sean says again. He has no idea what Bolls is talking about.
Bolls' cheeks are flushed under his beard, when Sean can keep his eyes on his face and not get distracted by his arms and his thighs and that fucking skirt.
"You're really into it," Bolls says.
Sean can feel his whole face turning red, but he can't think of anything to say, and really can't think of anything to say when Bolls walks toward him. Maybe this isn't happening. Maybe this is another one of his fantasies and it just seems very, very real.
But then Bolls is right in front of him and putting his hand under Sean's chin to make him look up from Bolls' skirt to his face. "I'm pretty into how into it you are."
Sean's still gaping at him stupidly when Bolls smiles at him, sunny like a cheerleader, and says, "Tell me if you can't take it," and then straddles Sean's thighs.
Sean can absolutely take it. Maybe not if he also has to think while Bolls is in his lap in a cheerleading uniform. But Bolls doesn't seem to expect him to think, so he can take it.
Bolls puts his hands on Sean's face and tilts his head, and then Bolls is kissing him, and after a stunned second, Sean kisses him back.
Bolls isn't going slow, just going for it, licking deep into Sean's mouth and keeping his head tilted exactly how he wants it. After a minute, one of his hands slides down, over the back of Sean's head, down his neck, to the center of his back. Bolls hitches forward while he does that, and Sean brings his own arms up, puts them around Bolls. The uniform's fabric is thick under his fingers, and stretched tight over Bolls' back.
"Oh, fuck, Bolls," he groans when Bolls moves down to his neck. He could feel Bolls' beard against his chin when they were kissing, but it's different against his neck. Better.
Sean barely bites back a whine when Bolls stops.
"Brandon," Bolls says.
Sean blinks at him.
"You're about to get your hand under my skirt," Bolls says. "Call me Brandon."
Sean's train of thought stutters to a complete stop.
"You're about to get your hand under my skirt," Bolls- Brandon says again, and this time he takes one of Sean's hands off his back and puts it on his thigh.
There's muscle there, a lot of it under Sean's hand.
Brandon smirks at him, and then ducks in to kiss him some more. Sean kisses back, distracted by that for a moment, until Brandon shifts in his lap and his thigh flexes under Sean's hand.
Sean grips Brandon's thigh reflexively, and then loosens his hand and slides it up. And up. Brandon doesn't stop him, so Sean keeps groping him, feeling all that muscle and the softer skin on the inside of Brandon's thigh.
Sean has to stop kissing Brandon, too overwhelmed to do more than one thing at a time. He tips his forehead against Brandon's, breathing hard, while he keeps moving his hand up. He hits the crease of Brandon's thigh, and he inches his hand a tiny bit higher and. And there's just skin under his fingers.
"Fuck," he breathes out. He looks down. He can just see the shape of his hand under the pleats of the skirt, and he can see that Brandon is enjoying this.
Brandon rolls his hips up into Sean's hand. "Keep going." He says it quietly, like they're in their own tiny bubble even within the silence of Brandon's apartment.
Sean moves his hand in, sliding over Brandon's skin. He hits the wiry tangle of Brandon's pubes, and then his hand is brushing against Brandon's cock. Brandon isn't stopping him, has his forehead against Sean's, both of them looking down at what it looks like when Sean wraps his hand around Brandon's cock under his skirt.
Sean strokes Brandon's cock a few times, listening to the way Brandon's breath hitches when he does. "Fuck, Brandon," he says helplessly, and he tips his head up to kiss Brandon.
Brandon kisses him back, moans into Sean's mouth when Sean draws his hand up Brandon's cock. So much hotter than even Sean's best fantasy. Sean's hard too, cock pressing against the fly of his jeans, but he doesn't want to stop touching Brandon to do anything about it.
Brandon stops him, pulls back a little, puts his hand over his skirt to stop the movement of Sean's hand.
Sean bites his lip. He doesn't want to stop, wants to keep touching Brandon until he comes all over his skirt.
"The really slutty cheerleaders," Brandon says, his voice gratifyingly hoarse, "let their dates finger them in the back seats of their cars."
Sean's mind flashes on that, the two of them crowded into the back seat of his car, his hands under Brandon's skirt like that, his fingers inside Brandon.
"But even the less slutty ones might let a guy finger them on the couch."
It takes a second for Sean to realize what Brandon's saying. What he's offering. When he does, he groans. "Really? You'd let me-" He cuts himself off because Brandon is leaning over him toward the end table, and the shift of his body is enough to rub up against Sean's dick, and, well, he's a little more aware of how fucking hard he is and how much he really wants to come.
Brandon yanks open the table's one drawer and grabs at a small bottle. He slams the drawer shut, sits up, and gives the bottle to Sean.
The downside here is that Sean has to stop touching Brandon's dick to make this work. A downside.
"I haven't, um," Sean says while he clicks the lube open.
"Go slow until I tell you not to," Brandon says. "Lots of lube." He nods when he decides Sean has enough, and then he holds his skirt out of the way until Sean has his fingers pressed right up against his ass. "That's it," Brandon says. "Put one in me. Slow."
Sean does, pressing against Brandon until his finger slips inside. It's a little bit weird, nothing like getting into a girl, really, but he likes the way Brandon moves against him while he does it. When he looks down, he can see that Brandon's still hard under his skirt.
Sean moves his finger, slow like Brandon said to.
"There you go, Monny," Brandon says with a smirk. "Now you're getting the idea."
Sean stops moving. "I have my finger in your ass," he says. "Call me Sean."
Brandon just smirks at him more. "You want me to say your name, baby?"
"Say whatever you want, Bolls." Sean moves his finger again, twisting and bending it until whatever he does makes Brandon gasp.
"Okay, another one," Brandon says.
Sean's starting to figure out how this goes, so when he gets a second finger into Brandon, he manages to make Brandon gasp pretty quickly.
Brandon recovers a little, though, and any thought Sean might have about trying to make him lose it again goes flying out of his head because what Brandon does in that pause when he's not gasping at what Sean's doing is unbutton Sean's jeans.
Sean pauses, holding his fingers still inside of Brandon, while Brandon gets his jeans open and his cock out, and then he has to do something because the feeling of Brandon's hand on his cock is too good not to.
When Sean moves his fingers inside of Brandon, Brandon squeezes his dick and then they're both gasping for air. They're professional athletes who know how to use their bodies, so it's just a minute or so until they're working together in a coordinated rhythm.
Brandon has his other arm hooked around Sean's shoulders, using it to pull himself closer to kiss him, and he seems pretty well balanced on Sean's lap, so Sean gets his free hand under the front of Brandon's skirt again and wrapped around his cock.
It's so fucking hot.
Sean gasps wetly into Brandon's mouth, kisses him messily, and then stops, resting their foreheads together so he can look down between them. He can see his cock and the slide of Brandon's thick fingers over it. He can't see Brandon's cock, but he can see the motion of his own hand over it under Brandon's skirt.
"Fuck you're so into this," Brandon groans.
"Yeah, you think?" Sean kisses Brandon, bites at his mouth, a little more vicious than what they've been doing. "This is the fucking hottest thing I've ever done."
Brandon's cheeks are flushed all the way red under his beard. "Me too," he says, and fuck, that makes it even hotter.
Sean redoubles his efforts to make it better for Brandon, twisting his fingers inside Brandon until every press of them makes Brandon groan, twisting his other hand and making sure he rubs over all the sensitive parts of Brandon's cock.
He's still looking down when Brandon comes, watching the movement of his hand under Brandon's skirt. Brandon clutches at him, arm around his shoulders and ass around his fingers, and makes a noise that can only be called a moan.
Brandon's fingers go slack on Sean's cock while he comes, but he tightens them again afterwards, and Sean watches Brandon's come soak into his skirt while Brandon jerks him off, sure and steady, until Sean's shouting as Brandon makes him come.
Everything goes fuzzy for a minute after that.
Brandon's hand on his wrist makes him pay attention again, and he carefully takes his fingers out of Brandon's ass. He rests his hands on Brandon's waist, since his skirt is a mess already.
"Damn, Monny," Brandon says, face still flushed, sweat glistening across his forehead. "That was something else. I didn't know you had it in you."
Sean is not too out of it to volley back with, "You're the one who had it in you."
It makes Brandon throw his head back and laugh before he gets off of Sean's lap.
*
Hooking up with Brandon does not in any way get it out of Sean's system. If anything, he wants more.
Sean has been around locker rooms full of guys his whole life, and maybe he hasn't been into jerking off all that much before, but that doesn't mean he hasn't absorbed a lot of the talk he's heard.
One of those half-remembered conversations is about something you can stick your dick in to jerk off with. He googles it and gets to the Fleshlight website. He's in his room with his laptop screen facing away from the door, but he still looks up to make sure he locked the door.
He goes for the classic one, because it means he can make a choice and get out of there quickly, and he chooses the one made to look like a butt because the one that looks like a mouth just looks weird and he's not, he's pretty sure now, interested in sticking his dick in vaginas, even ones that are made out of whatever space-age materials make up Fleshlight's trademarked and patented material. He also pays for expedited shipping, and he keeps an eye on the tracking information so he can get to it without Boums trying to open the box.
Sean follows the instructions when it arrives and washes the part his dick goes in, then puts lube in it. It's not exactly sexy. It kind of is, because it's a thing he's going to stick his dick in and when he sticks one of his fingers in it, it seems like it's going to feel good. But it's also a really, really pink fake asshole in a plastic casing.
Sean thinks about Brandon instead, about having Brandon on his lap and his fingers in Brandon's ass. And, yeah, that does it for him. That really does it for him, because it was hot enough when he was just fantasizing about it, but now he has the memory to go with it.
He strokes his cock a few times, getting himself all the way hard. Not quite as hot as having Brandon's hand on him while he looked down at Brandon's skirt spread out over his thighs, but hot enough.
Sean puts lube on his cock and then he pushes the head of his cock through the fake asshole. It's surprisingly good, the softness of the thing around his dick, the lube making it an easy slide. He gets his whole dick in there, and then he moves it, and, yeah, this is good.
It gets even better when he goes back to thinking about Brandon while he does it. Thinks about maybe getting his dick in Brandon like this, and his hand and his hips jerk at that thought, and then it's just really fucking good. Sean barely has to think about Brandon then, although he does, thinks about Brandon in that fucking cheerleading uniform, the way Brandon's thigh felt under his hand. He jerks himself off with the Fleshlight while he thinks about that, and it's good, soft and tight and slick around his cock, and he comes like that with the memory of how Brandon looked in that cheerleading uniform behind his eyes.
The thing is kind of a pain to clean up, especially when he could easily slide right into a nap after that, but it was good, and he can see why guys would talk about it now.
*
Hooking up with Brandon doesn't stop Sean from looking at him too long, or trying not to look at him, or being weird about it in any of the other ways he was weird about it before. The difference is that now when Brandon notices, he smirks at Sean or smiles or raises his eyebrows.
The difference is also that instead of demanding in front of everyone that Sean come hang out with him, Brandon texts him and tells him if he wants to hang out, he can come over in twenty minutes.
The twenty minutes makes sense when Sean gets there and Brandon lets him in while staying mostly hidden behind the door. He's in a cheerleading uniform again. A different one this time. Same kind of pleated skirt, but this one has a top that covers up Brandon's pecs but leaves his abs totally bare.
"Oh, shit," Sean says.
Brandon grins at him, and the set of his shoulders somehow gets more boastful than braced. "Like it?"
"Fuck, yes." Sean jerks forward, and then stops, not sure exactly what he's allowed to do here.
Brandon rolls his shoulders back. "If you're not touching me in two seconds," he says, and Sean takes way less than two seconds to get his hands on the bare skin between Brandon's top and his skirt.
"Fuck," Sean says. "Fuck, Brandon." He runs his hands up and down Brandon's sides, from the bottom of his shirt to the top of his skirt, feeling the bare skin between the thick bands of fabric.
"I picked it out just for you," Brandon says.
Sean lets out a disbelieving laugh, and then surges forward and kisses Brandon hard. Brandon kisses him back and doesn't put up any resistance as Sean pushes him back into the wall.
It's easy to keep Brandon in place there while Sean kisses him over and over again. He gets his thigh between Brandon's, can feel Brandon hard against his thigh, can look down to see his jeans against Brandon's skirt.
Sean bites his way down to Brandon's neck, and he knows it's a bad idea, isn't really going to do it, but he wants to leave a mark, suck a hickey into Brandon's neck. He settles for scraping his teeth lightly over Brandon's skin, and then over to where the shirt starts.
He has to pull back then, and look at Brandon again, and this time Brandon slouches into the wall a little, pushing his hips hard against Sean's thigh and looking up at him.
Sean almost doesn't know what to do with that, but then he thinks about last time, about the muscle of Brandon's thighs under his hands, and he puts one hand under Brandon's skirt, pulls his leg up so it's hitched halfway around Sean's waist.
Brandon chuckles a little. "If that's how you want it," he says, and he tugs Sean in again, has to tip his head up for Sean to kiss him.
Sean digs his fingers into Brandon's thigh to keep him where he is, loves feeling Brandon's leg around him, like Brandon's trying to keep Sean there just as much as Sean's working to keep Brandon there.
"Hey," Brandon says after another few - two? seven? ten? - minutes of making out and slowly grinding against each other, "you ever get a blowjob from a cheerleader?"
Sean's hips jerk. "No," he says, breathless.
Brandon grins at him and pushes him away, turns them so Sean's the one with his back to the wall. Then he gets on his knees, and this isn't going to be a very long blowjob. The pleats of the skirt fall around Brandon's thighs, but don't do anything to hide the fact that he's hard. From this angle, Sean can't really see the place where Brandon's midriff is bare, but he knows it's there, knows that the shirt he can see over Brandon's shoulders doesn't cover everything.
Brandon looks up at him, red cheeks under his beard, swollen lips where Sean kissed him, and he keeps looking while he gets Sean's jeans open.
No matter what happens next, Sean's going to be jerking off to this moment later.
Brandon stops looking up at him when Sean's jeans are open, looks there instead while he gets Sean's cock out. Sean appreciates the care to make sure he's not scraping his dick on his zipper, but he really appreciates the way Brandon looks up at him again for a moment before he puts his mouth on Sean's dick.
Sean's head thunks against the wall. It's so fucking good, Brandon's mouth hot and wet on him. He lifts his head after a few seconds, because he can't not look at Brandon's lips wrapped around his cock, the slight hollowing of his cheeks as he sucks, the skirt still draped around him.
"Fuck," Sean says, and, "Brandon," and then it becomes a litany of noise as he tries to tell Brandon how much he likes it without actually having the presence of mind to string together a coherent sentence.
Everything about Brandon's mouth is perfect, and Sean has to reach down and touch him. He tries not to pull Brandon's hair, but he pushes one hand into it, puts his other hand on Brandon's cheek.
Brandon's lips are busy, but the smirk reaches his eyes when he shifts a little so Sean can feel his dick pressing against Brandon's cheek.
Sean's incoherent noises get louder, and he has to fight not to close his eyes, to look at Brandon like this for as long as he can. He doesn't really manage to warn Brandon when he's about to come, and his hips jerk without his conscious direction, fucking his dick into Brandon's mouth.
Brandon takes it. He takes it and he swallows and then Sean really does have to close his eyes and be really fucking thankful for the wall holding him up.
"Sorry," he says after a few seconds. "I should have-" He stops when Brandon squeezes his hip.
"Not like I minded," Brandon says, and his voice is rough. Because he was just sucking Sean's cock. That sound is going in Sean's spank bank along with the rest of it.
"Fuck," Sean says.
Brandon grins up at him, and Sean wants, well, a lot of things, but the first one is to slide to the floor and kiss Brandon. It means he's tasting himself in Brandon's mouth, and that's a little weird, but not weird enough to make him stop.
He tugs Brandon forward, and then stops and looks down when Brandon moans into his mouth. Brandon's still hard, dick visible even under the pleats of his skirt.
Getting his hand under Brandon's skirt is just as hot as it was the first time, and Brandon's not wearing anything under his skirt this time either. It makes it easy for Sean to wrap his hand around Brandon's cock.
"Yeah, Sean," Brandon says, voice still a little rough. "Fuck, yeah."
Sean jerks him off quickly. As much as he likes feeling Brandon hard in his hand while he looks at Brandon in the cheerleading uniform, it doesn't seem fair to make him wait. He would just look, but this part is for Brandon, so he leans in and kisses him, licks into his mouth and swallows his moans.
"Wait, wait," Brandon says, and Sean stops.
"What?"
Brandon reaches down and flips his skirt up, so his cock is visible, and fuck, Sean didn't really get to look at it last time. He takes a few seconds to look at it, to run his fingers up and down it, getting the picture of it in his mind.
Brandon swears at him, and Sean stops fucking around, goes back to getting Brandon off with tight, swift jerks of his hand. He gets to watch Brandon come this time, the way his abs tighten and his cock spurts out over Sean's hand and Brandon's thighs.
Sean takes his hand off of Brandon's dick and leans in to kiss him after a few seconds.
Brandon pushes that hand away, mutters, "Keep it off the skirt," before he lets Sean kiss him until they're both breathing hard.
Last time, Sean left after, but this time, while they're still sitting on the floor, Sean with his dick still hanging out of his pants and Brandon with his skirt flipped up and come on his thighs, Brandon asks, "Want to stay for dinner?" He eyes Sean up and down. "If you're lucky, I'll keep the uniform on."
"I think I'm already lucky," Sean says.
Brandon chuckles and keeps the skirt away from the come drying on his skin as he gets up. "Luckier, then."
Sean takes a minute before his knees feel steady enough for him to stand up and follow Brandon to the bathroom to clean up.
Brandon keeps the uniform on while he makes dinner, although he puts an apron on over it in the kitchen. Every time he turns his back, Sean can see the apron ties tied across the bare part of Brandon's back. He keeps his hands to himself despite the temptation. He's also pretty sure Brandon knows exactly what he's doing to him.
Sean's distracted over dinner, because Brandon takes the apron off. Sean can't see his bare midriff across the table, but he can see the way the top leaves Brandon's arms bare, and he knows what else Brandon's wearing. And what else he's not.
Sean offers to help do the dishes after dinner, but Brandon waves him off, and instead he watches Brandon move around the kitchen. He's comfortable and competent, like the cheerleading uniform doesn't change anything about how he knows to move his body. Like it's natural for him.
Sean's most of the way to hard by the time Brandon's done cleaning up, and his jeans aren't doing much to hide it. Not that he wants to hide it.
"Watching me do the dishes gets you hot?" Brandon asks with raised eyebrows.
"Watching you do anything dressed like that gets me hot," Sean says.
Brandon says, "Huh," and then he walks past Sean to the living room. "I blew you earlier. You can at least come feel me up on the couch."
It takes a moment before Sean can move, and then he jerks forward and follows Brandon.
This time Brandon lays himself out on the couch and pulls Sean down on top of him.
Sean goes without protest and lets Brandon manhandle him where he wants him, between his thighs, chests pressed tight together. Brandon brings one leg up and hooks it around Sean's waist, like they were against the wall earlier.
Sean takes that as a hint and puts his hands on Brandon while he kisses him. One hand goes on Brandon's thigh, pulling it up a little more so their dicks get closer. With the other, he pets Brandon's bare midriff for a couple of minutes, and then, thinking about Brandon saying, "feel me up," he gets that hand under the edge of Brandon's shirt.
Brandon says, "Yeah. Yeah that's it, Sean."
Sean keeps groping him while they make out, flexing the hand on Brandon's thigh, petting Brandon's skin as much as he can with the other one. His hips aren't still either, rolling against Brandon's, and he knows Brandon isn't wearing anything under his skirt, so little cloth between their dicks.
"How do cheerleaders feel about going topless?" Sean asks when Brandon's shirt limiting the movement of his hand starts getting too annoying.
"You want to look at my tits?" Brandon asks with a smirk.
Sean pulls his hand out from under Brandon's shirt and gropes his pec over it. "I don't have to."
Brandon arches into the touch, and Sean's felt the underside of his top, fabric stiff and just a little scratchy, and he can imagine what it feels like against Brandon's nipples.
"Fuck," Brandon mutters. "Fuck." He pushes Sean back and sits halfway up, enough to pull the shirt off over his head and drop it behind him, onto the floor on the other side of the armrest behind his head.
Sean takes a moment to look at Brandon spread out under him, bare skin all the way to the waist of his skirt, leg still hooked around Sean, cock hard and obvious under his skirt. He touches Brandon before Brandon can demand it, hand sliding up from Brandon's waist to his pec, rubbing the palm of it over Brandon's nipple.
Brandon draws in a breath at that, one Sean can feel as well as hear, and then he has his hands on Sean, pulling him down, one hand going up the back of his shirt, the other clamping hard onto his ass to pull their hips that much closer together.
Sean keeps his hand on Brandon's chest, feels him up some more while they make out again. It's fiercer this time, the two of them fighting to get closer, to lick into each other's mouths, to grind against each other. Sean's just as hard as Brandon, working with him for the friction on his dick that sends sparks up and down his spine.
Brandon hitches his other leg up, hooking his ankle around the back of Sean's leg. It changes things, pulls Sean deeper into the cradle of Brandon's hips. Brandon's gripping him, hands and legs both, like he's trapping Sean there. It's not necessary - Sean isn't going anywhere - but it's good. It's fucking hot, how much Brandon wants him.
"Are we getting naked?" Sean asks.
Brandon shakes his head, cheeks flushed, something desperate in his face. "Fuck, just move." He bites at Sean's lip. "Didn't you ever rub off on someone in high school?"
"No," Sean admits.
Brandon groans, and digs his heels into Sean's ass and the back of his leg. "You missed out. I'm fixing your sexual education."
Sean gasps out a laugh. "You are my sexual education," he says, truth and a retort all at once.
Brandon kisses him, hand gripping tight around the back of Sean's head. "Stop talking and just fucking move."
Sean is moving, but he gets what Brandon's saying, and he focuses on it. Rubs against Brandon. Kisses him. Gropes his chest with the hand still trapped between them. Grinds against him harder, working out what feels best for both of them.
It's fucking hot, and if Brandon and his cheerleading uniform had appeared in Sean's life earlier, maybe he would have done this before.
Brandon gasps out, "Sean," after a bit, fingers and heels digging harder into Sean. Sean meets it with a flurry of thrusts against Brandon, moving fast and hard, feels like he's working harder to get them off than he's ever worked for anything before.
Brandon cries out when he comes, and Sean watches his face, the flush under his beard, the way his mouth opens and his eyes close. Sean doesn't stop moving, so fucking turned on it shouldn't take much, shouldn't take anything to make him come.
"Fuck," Brandon mutters, not making him stop even though it has to be too much to have Sean still grinding against his dick. "Fuck, Sean. Come on, baby."
And that's it, the casual endearment, as stupid as that is, that makes Sean come. He screws his eyes shut this time, hips working against Brandon's all the way through the wash of pleasure that floods through him.
Brandon kisses him after, and they make out again, slower this time without the urgency of racing toward coming. It's a while before Brandon unwraps his limbs from around Sean and lets him get up.
*
They hook up half a dozen times over the next few weeks. It's always Brandon inviting Sean over, and he's always wearing a cheerleading uniform when Sean gets there. There are four that Sean knows about, the first two he saw, a third one that's a skirt and top, and the Dallas Cowboys one. The Cowboys one has hot pants that stretch tight and obvious over Brandon's dick, but mostly Sean prefers the skirts. It's usually the skirts that are in his jerk off fantasies, but sometimes it's just about Brandon's mouth or his arms or the way he smiles at Sean.
Brandon and his cheerleading uniforms are enough of a pattern that Sean's surprised when he heads over to Brandon's after Brandon texts him and Brandon answers the door in the same jeans and henley he was wearing after practice.
"Hey," Sean says, trying to be cool about being wrong about Brandon inviting him over for a booty call.
"Hey," Brandon says. If Sean didn't know that Brandon never gets nervous, he would think Brandon's nervous.
Sean follows Brandon into the living room. He has some very fond thoughts about Brandon's couch, but it looks like this visit isn't going to be the kind that lets him create more of the same kind of good memories he already has of it.
"Look," Brandon says when they're sitting down, "it's not that I don't want to hook up with you. I just-" He shrugs, looking more uncomfortable than Sean has ever seen him. "Is it only the cheerleader thing?"
"Uh," Sean says. He probably should say something else, but he goes for the truth. "It started that way." He can feel himself turning red, but it's not the first time he's been embarrassed about something Brandon confronted him about. "The cheerleading uniform was kind of a revelation." He might even be underselling it at that. "But it's not just that." He looks at Brandon, who's watching him fairly patiently, and, yeah, it's not just the cheerleading uniform. "I, uh, want to hook up with you no matter what you're wearing."
"Yeah?" Brandon asks.
"Yeah," Sean says. "For sure."
Brandon smiles at him, and he looks even better like that, hot like always but also happy with Sean. Sean really wants to kiss him, and he thinks that for a moment before he decides just thinking about it is stupid when he could be doing it instead.
Brandon laughs a little when Sean kisses him, and then pulls him closer, manhandles him until they're stretched out on the couch, Sean on top of Brandon. "I guess you do want to hook up with me."
"Yeah," Sean says. Then he kisses Brandon, because that's what he wants to do more than talk about it. This part he knows how to do, and it's not even that different with Brandon in jeans instead of a skirt. A little different because it's not bare skin Sean touches when he grabs at Brandon's thigh, but other than that Brandon feels the same under him.
Sean gets hard, and so does Brandon. It's a lot like any other time they've hooked up on Brandon's couch.
"Can we take our clothes off?" Sean asks when it gets to a point where the end result of what they're doing is clear.
"Don't want to come in your pants?" Brandon asks.
Sean sits up so he can pull his shirt off. "Not today."
Brandon sits up with him, and strips his shirt off one-handed. Getting their pants off takes a little more work, but not too much, and then Brandon's naked under him on the couch. Sean's seen him naked before, of course, but never when they've hooked up. That's probably weird.
Sean takes a moment to look, Brandon's reddened cheeks, the defined muscles of his chest, his cock full and arching up toward his stomach. He bends down to kiss Brandon, holding his body away from him. If he settles down onto Brandon, he'll forget what else he wants to do.
"Can I blow you?"
Brandon's eyes go wide. "Fuck. Yeah, you can blow me."
Sean kisses Brandon again first, because he likes the way Brandon's mouth feels under his. Then he moves down, brushing a couple of kisses on Brandon's skin along the way, hands rubbing over Brandon's chest, down his abs, coming to rest on Brandon's hips.
Sean hasn't given a blowjob before, but he knows the basic idea, at least, and he wants to, even more now that he's looking at Brandon than in his fleeting thoughts about the things they haven't done yet. There's nothing to do but get to it, which Sean does by putting his mouth on Brandon, licking at him a little while he gets used to it. Brandon's dick mostly tastes like skin, a little saltier at the tip. The feel of it filling up Sean's mouth is weirder, but not in a bad way. He decides, as he sucks carefully, that he kind of likes it. Amends that to definitely likes it when Brandon's hips push up against his hands. Sean holds Brandon's hips down - letting him move like that is definitely a more advanced blowjob technique than Sean's ready for - but sucks a little less carefully.
The movement of his hips isn't Brandon's only reaction. He also talks to Sean, says, "Fuck," and, "Yes," and, "That's so good, Sean."
It's good from Sean's side of things too, more than he thought it would be. He involuntarily rubs his hips down against the couch while he sucks Brandon off. He could probably get off like this too, but he puts more energy into getting Brandon off. That's the main point here, and Sean wants to know what it feels and tastes like when Brandon comes in his mouth.
He doesn't stop sucking when Brandon warns him he's about to come. He only manages to swallow part of it, drawing back as it becomes too much and making a mess out of both of them.
"Oh, fuck," Brandon says, breathless.
Sean raises his head to look at something other than Brandon's dick. Brandon's whole face is red, his abs heaving like he just went through a power skating session.
Sean's not sure exactly what's going on with his face, except for the part where his chin is covered in Brandon's come, but it makes Brandon say, "Come up here, baby."
And, okay, another thing Sean has learned from all of this: Brandon calling him "baby" really does it for him. Brandon doesn't say it much, which might be part of what makes it hotter.
Sean's dick protests the lack of friction when he lifts himself up and crouches over Brandon. Sean decides not to worry about that for a minute, because Brandon puts his hands on Sean's face and draws him down into a kiss. It's messy, messier even than when they kiss after Brandon sucks Sean off. It stays messy, because Brandon wraps his hand around Sean's cock and jerks him off while they make out and Sean can't concentrate on keeping the kiss steady through that.
"Baby," Brandon says when Sean gets close and loses even more of his coordination, "you sucked me off so good. Come for me now," like he knows how good that is for Sean.
Sean comes hard, making more of a mess out of Brandon, and then collapses onto him, spreading the mess all over both of them. Brandon doesn't seem to mind. He just wraps his arms around Sean and kisses the side of his head.
"You good?"
"Fuck," Sean says without moving. "I might pass out here, but yeah, I'm good."
"If you're going to pass out, we should at least go to bed." He can hear Brandon's grin even if he doesn't turn his head to see it. "Haven't done that yet."
Sean manages a chuckle. "Is that what I get for hooking up with you without the costume?"
"One of the things you get," Brandon says, and this time Sean does raise his head to see Brandon's grin. It gets him a kiss before Brandon really does lever them off the couch and take Sean to his bed for a nap.
Part 2
Content Notes: This story contains crossdressing, spanking, teacher-student role play, and characters using the term "slutty" to refer to sexually active young women.
Notes: Brandon Bollig really did tell the Flames cameras about dressing up as a cheerleader for Halloween. Title from Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream." Thanks to Lake for consulting and everyone on Twitter who answered various questions.
Story on AO3
Sean's never quite gotten excited about sex the way other people seem to. He jerks off, sometimes, and it feels good, but it's not something he likes to drag out and take his time with. He usually does it in the shower, quick and easily cleaned up. He's fucked a couple of girls, too, and it was good, but not good enough for him to be obsessed with it the way the other guys he knows always seem to be.
That lasts from the time he first starts discovering sex until he's twenty and in his sophomore season in the NHL.
*
"I'm not the one who dressed up as a cheerleader," Devin says.
"You'd be pretty as a cheerleader," Jonny says, with a guilelessness so well perfected that Sean can't tell if he's faking it.
"So who did dress up as a cheerleader?" Matt asks.
"Bolls," Devin says. "He told Kristin about it for the Halloween video."
There's a chorus of catcalls. Sean doesn't join in, but he does listen to Gratts ask, "A cheerleader?"
"Yeah," Bolls says, shrugging.
"Skirt and pom-poms and everything?" Gratts presses.
"No pom-poms," Bolls says. "Too hard to carry around while partying, and last time it was the Dallas Cowboys uniform, but I've done the skirt kind too."
"And a beard and a blond wig," Devin says.
Bolls shrugs again, unconcerned. His cheeks aren't even going red, like it's not a big deal.
It's not, really - the guys chirp him about it a little more but then they move on to chirping someone else - but the next time Sean's perfunctorily jerking off in the shower, the image of Bolls in a cheerleading uniform, the skirt short over his thighs, the sleeveless shirt showing off his arms, his beard dusting over the bottom of his cheeks, flashes through his mind and he comes so hard he has to fling an arm out and steady himself against the wall so he doesn't fall down and concuss himself in a really embarrassing way.
*
It's not a one-time thing. After the third time, Sean starts thinking about it on purpose, calling up the mental image of Bolls in a cheerleading uniform to begin with. He jerks himself off slowly that time, thinking about Bolls, about his thighs peeking out from under the skirt, about the way the skirt would hide his cock, about the bulge of his biceps against the sleeveless top that stretches over his chest.
The thought of it makes Sean dizzy with want, and he drags it out, strokes himself slower so he doesn't come yet, so he can enjoy it a little more.
Maybe he's starting to understand why all the guys he knows have been so into this.
*
Sean has lotion in his room, even if he doesn't usually use it for jerking off, but one afternoon when Lance is out, he decides to see how he likes it in this new world where jerking off really does it for him. He slicks up his hand, and then slicks up his cock, and touches himself really slowly, other hand ranging across his chest, his thighs, figuring out what he likes.
He already knows he likes the thought of Bolls in a cheerleading uniform, so he closes his eyes and lets himself think about that some more. The picture comes easily to his mind now, since he's thought about it so much.
He's doing this on purpose, trying to make it feel really good, so he lets the fantasy form a little more. Not just looking at Bolls, but what it would be like to touch him. His legs would be rough with hair, if Sean put his hands on Bolls' knees and moved them up. Not smooth like the girls he's touched. Rough under his palms, the fabric of the skirt on the back of his hands as Sean moves his hands up.
Sean gasps and jerks his hand too fast, has to tell himself to slow it down a little before he keeps thinking about it.
In his fantasy, Bolls is hard, and giving Sean a half-challenging smile while Sean's hands move up the inside of his thighs, up to the space between them, backs of his fingers just brushing Bolls' balls before he gets to his cock.
When he started, Sean wasn't getting there as fast as usual with lotion on his hand, but thinking about Bolls is making it faster. Good, too.
And then he thinks about touching Bolls' cock, wrapping his hand around it and stroking it like he's stroking his now. Bolls is cut, so that would be a little different, no foreskin to play with, just the head of Bolls' cock out there, between Sean's fingers, under the skirt.
Sean groans a little, thinking about that, about how he would be able to feel Bolls' cock but not see it, just the motion of his hand under Bolls' skirt. And if Bolls spread his legs a little, the skirt would stretch, riding up over his thighs, tight across the movement of Sean's hand.
Sean's fantasy doesn't get much farther than that, because thinking about jerking Bolls off under his skirt is so good he gets stuck there, at least as long as it takes him to come.
It's not as long as he was idly thinking about spending on jerking off, but it's longer than he's ever spent doing it, and unlike the other times when it was just okay, he can't wait to do it again.
He's not sure if he should feel thankful for that or annoyed.
*
So maybe Sean has a more normal appreciation of jerking off now, but it's not helping him stay normal with his team. With Bolls. He's trying, okay? He's really trying, but it's not working. Sometimes he looks at Bolls and all he can see are his arms and his thighs and his beard. It's not how he's supposed to look at a teammate.
No one calls him on it, so Sean thinks he's getting away with it, until Bolls hooks an arm around his neck after practice one day and says, "Come over and hang with me this afternoon." It's phrased like an invitation, but the tension in Bolls' arm makes it clear it's a command.
"Sure," Sean says, like he would if it were any of the other guys inviting him to hang out.
"You're going to be real disappointed," Gratts warns. "Monny's just as boring as he looks."
Sean flips him off.
"I guess I'll find out," Bolls says, and it wouldn't sound like a threat except for the way his arm is still a little too tight around Sean's neck.
Sean and Lance rode in to the rink together, so Sean climbs into Bolls' car for the drive over to his place. Sean relaxes a little on the drive, because mostly he and Bolls chirp each other about their music choices. Hanging out at Bolls' starts out easy too, because Bolls fires up the Wii and challenges him to a game of Mario Kart.
Sean loses the first round, but he's on his way to making a comeback on the second. Then Bolls gets him with a sneak attack by just asking, "What's up with you?"
Sean says, "Nothing," which is met with skeptical silence as he goes crashing off the track.
Sean swears and demands a rematch.
Bolls silently starts them up again, but it's no good; Sean can't get his concentration back, and when he loses a third time, he drops the controller onto the couch next to him.
"It's nothing," Sean says, not looking away from the screen.
"See, I don't believe that," Bolls says. He restarts the game on single player mode and keeps talking while he plays. "Obviously there's something up with you."
Sean sighs and admits that his first play isn't going to work. He regroups and says, "It's not really a big deal."
"You spend a lot of time either looking at me or trying very hard not to look at me," Bolls says. Somehow having this conversation isn't causing him to lose a game. "So that's a big deal to me."
Sean makes a face he hopes Bolls doesn't see. "I'll get it together."
"Really?" Bolls asks skeptically. "Because you haven't been able to yet. You want to just tell me what it is that's fucking you up so we can deal with it?" It's a question, but his tone makes it sound less like a request than an order.
"No," Sean says. He doesn't embarrass easily, but he can feel his cheeks going red. No way he wants to tell Bolls what's going on inside his head.
Bolls pauses the game and sets the controller down before he turns to face Sean. Sean's pretty sure he's not trying to be threatening or anything, but having a built enforcer stare you down on his couch is pretty intimidating.
"Okay," Bolls says, "then let me guess, because this started after Halloween."
Sean can't keep from cringing, and Bolls' face sets into deeper lines.
"So what," Bolls asks, crossing his arms over his chest like he needs to look more intimidating, "exactly is your problem with me?"
And, shit, Sean has really fucked this up. "It's not a problem," he says.
Bolls doesn't look like he believes that for a second. "Really," he says again, flatly. "Because from my perspective it looks like you found out I dressed up as a cheerleader for Halloween one year and now you have a fucking problem with me."
Sean has a few seconds to weigh which is worse for himself and his team: not saying anything and letting Bolls think Sean has a problem with that or humiliating himself and telling the truth.
"I don't have a problem with you," Sean says, and he can be completely honest about that. "I-" He looks at the still grim look on Bolls' face and decides it's better to humiliate himself. "I do keep thinking about you in a cheerleading uniform, but I'm into it."
Bolls' look softens from grim to neutral. "You're into it."
Sean nods, and he looks away from Bolls.
"Huh."
Bolls is quiet for a moment, and when Sean risks a glance at him, he's dropped his arms and is looking at Sean curiously.
"Into it like you'd want to try it, or into it like you want to see me in a cheerleading uniform?"
This is already so embarrassing; why does Bolls have to keep asking him things?
"The second one," Sean admits without looking at Bolls.
Bolls says, "Huh," and then, "stay there."
Sean tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. Why the fuck couldn't he have just been normal about this?
Bolls is gone for a few minutes, long enough for Sean to rethink every choice that brought him to this moment. He didn't have to play hockey. He could be in university right now listening to a lecture on astrophysics or French history or whatever it is you have to listen to lectures about in university. Okay, maybe he wouldn't trade hockey for that, but at least then he wouldn't be in this situation. Probably. Maybe. Maybe it doesn't matter and whatever path he chose would always lead to him embarrassing himself like this.
He stops staring at the ceiling when he hears Bolls' footsteps come back into the room, and then he almost chokes on absolutely nothing because Bolls is wearing a cheerleading uniform. Shirt tight across his chest and showing off his shoulders and his arms. Pleated skirt that only covers the very top of this thighs. Legs looking impossibly long. He looks better than any of Sean's fantasies about this.
Sean drags his eyes up to Bolls' face. "Um."
Bolls smirks at him. "Yeah, I thought you wouldn't care that it's not the Cowboys uniform."
"Um," Sean says again. He has no idea what Bolls is talking about.
Bolls' cheeks are flushed under his beard, when Sean can keep his eyes on his face and not get distracted by his arms and his thighs and that fucking skirt.
"You're really into it," Bolls says.
Sean can feel his whole face turning red, but he can't think of anything to say, and really can't think of anything to say when Bolls walks toward him. Maybe this isn't happening. Maybe this is another one of his fantasies and it just seems very, very real.
But then Bolls is right in front of him and putting his hand under Sean's chin to make him look up from Bolls' skirt to his face. "I'm pretty into how into it you are."
Sean's still gaping at him stupidly when Bolls smiles at him, sunny like a cheerleader, and says, "Tell me if you can't take it," and then straddles Sean's thighs.
Sean can absolutely take it. Maybe not if he also has to think while Bolls is in his lap in a cheerleading uniform. But Bolls doesn't seem to expect him to think, so he can take it.
Bolls puts his hands on Sean's face and tilts his head, and then Bolls is kissing him, and after a stunned second, Sean kisses him back.
Bolls isn't going slow, just going for it, licking deep into Sean's mouth and keeping his head tilted exactly how he wants it. After a minute, one of his hands slides down, over the back of Sean's head, down his neck, to the center of his back. Bolls hitches forward while he does that, and Sean brings his own arms up, puts them around Bolls. The uniform's fabric is thick under his fingers, and stretched tight over Bolls' back.
"Oh, fuck, Bolls," he groans when Bolls moves down to his neck. He could feel Bolls' beard against his chin when they were kissing, but it's different against his neck. Better.
Sean barely bites back a whine when Bolls stops.
"Brandon," Bolls says.
Sean blinks at him.
"You're about to get your hand under my skirt," Bolls says. "Call me Brandon."
Sean's train of thought stutters to a complete stop.
"You're about to get your hand under my skirt," Bolls- Brandon says again, and this time he takes one of Sean's hands off his back and puts it on his thigh.
There's muscle there, a lot of it under Sean's hand.
Brandon smirks at him, and then ducks in to kiss him some more. Sean kisses back, distracted by that for a moment, until Brandon shifts in his lap and his thigh flexes under Sean's hand.
Sean grips Brandon's thigh reflexively, and then loosens his hand and slides it up. And up. Brandon doesn't stop him, so Sean keeps groping him, feeling all that muscle and the softer skin on the inside of Brandon's thigh.
Sean has to stop kissing Brandon, too overwhelmed to do more than one thing at a time. He tips his forehead against Brandon's, breathing hard, while he keeps moving his hand up. He hits the crease of Brandon's thigh, and he inches his hand a tiny bit higher and. And there's just skin under his fingers.
"Fuck," he breathes out. He looks down. He can just see the shape of his hand under the pleats of the skirt, and he can see that Brandon is enjoying this.
Brandon rolls his hips up into Sean's hand. "Keep going." He says it quietly, like they're in their own tiny bubble even within the silence of Brandon's apartment.
Sean moves his hand in, sliding over Brandon's skin. He hits the wiry tangle of Brandon's pubes, and then his hand is brushing against Brandon's cock. Brandon isn't stopping him, has his forehead against Sean's, both of them looking down at what it looks like when Sean wraps his hand around Brandon's cock under his skirt.
Sean strokes Brandon's cock a few times, listening to the way Brandon's breath hitches when he does. "Fuck, Brandon," he says helplessly, and he tips his head up to kiss Brandon.
Brandon kisses him back, moans into Sean's mouth when Sean draws his hand up Brandon's cock. So much hotter than even Sean's best fantasy. Sean's hard too, cock pressing against the fly of his jeans, but he doesn't want to stop touching Brandon to do anything about it.
Brandon stops him, pulls back a little, puts his hand over his skirt to stop the movement of Sean's hand.
Sean bites his lip. He doesn't want to stop, wants to keep touching Brandon until he comes all over his skirt.
"The really slutty cheerleaders," Brandon says, his voice gratifyingly hoarse, "let their dates finger them in the back seats of their cars."
Sean's mind flashes on that, the two of them crowded into the back seat of his car, his hands under Brandon's skirt like that, his fingers inside Brandon.
"But even the less slutty ones might let a guy finger them on the couch."
It takes a second for Sean to realize what Brandon's saying. What he's offering. When he does, he groans. "Really? You'd let me-" He cuts himself off because Brandon is leaning over him toward the end table, and the shift of his body is enough to rub up against Sean's dick, and, well, he's a little more aware of how fucking hard he is and how much he really wants to come.
Brandon yanks open the table's one drawer and grabs at a small bottle. He slams the drawer shut, sits up, and gives the bottle to Sean.
The downside here is that Sean has to stop touching Brandon's dick to make this work. A downside.
"I haven't, um," Sean says while he clicks the lube open.
"Go slow until I tell you not to," Brandon says. "Lots of lube." He nods when he decides Sean has enough, and then he holds his skirt out of the way until Sean has his fingers pressed right up against his ass. "That's it," Brandon says. "Put one in me. Slow."
Sean does, pressing against Brandon until his finger slips inside. It's a little bit weird, nothing like getting into a girl, really, but he likes the way Brandon moves against him while he does it. When he looks down, he can see that Brandon's still hard under his skirt.
Sean moves his finger, slow like Brandon said to.
"There you go, Monny," Brandon says with a smirk. "Now you're getting the idea."
Sean stops moving. "I have my finger in your ass," he says. "Call me Sean."
Brandon just smirks at him more. "You want me to say your name, baby?"
"Say whatever you want, Bolls." Sean moves his finger again, twisting and bending it until whatever he does makes Brandon gasp.
"Okay, another one," Brandon says.
Sean's starting to figure out how this goes, so when he gets a second finger into Brandon, he manages to make Brandon gasp pretty quickly.
Brandon recovers a little, though, and any thought Sean might have about trying to make him lose it again goes flying out of his head because what Brandon does in that pause when he's not gasping at what Sean's doing is unbutton Sean's jeans.
Sean pauses, holding his fingers still inside of Brandon, while Brandon gets his jeans open and his cock out, and then he has to do something because the feeling of Brandon's hand on his cock is too good not to.
When Sean moves his fingers inside of Brandon, Brandon squeezes his dick and then they're both gasping for air. They're professional athletes who know how to use their bodies, so it's just a minute or so until they're working together in a coordinated rhythm.
Brandon has his other arm hooked around Sean's shoulders, using it to pull himself closer to kiss him, and he seems pretty well balanced on Sean's lap, so Sean gets his free hand under the front of Brandon's skirt again and wrapped around his cock.
It's so fucking hot.
Sean gasps wetly into Brandon's mouth, kisses him messily, and then stops, resting their foreheads together so he can look down between them. He can see his cock and the slide of Brandon's thick fingers over it. He can't see Brandon's cock, but he can see the motion of his own hand over it under Brandon's skirt.
"Fuck you're so into this," Brandon groans.
"Yeah, you think?" Sean kisses Brandon, bites at his mouth, a little more vicious than what they've been doing. "This is the fucking hottest thing I've ever done."
Brandon's cheeks are flushed all the way red under his beard. "Me too," he says, and fuck, that makes it even hotter.
Sean redoubles his efforts to make it better for Brandon, twisting his fingers inside Brandon until every press of them makes Brandon groan, twisting his other hand and making sure he rubs over all the sensitive parts of Brandon's cock.
He's still looking down when Brandon comes, watching the movement of his hand under Brandon's skirt. Brandon clutches at him, arm around his shoulders and ass around his fingers, and makes a noise that can only be called a moan.
Brandon's fingers go slack on Sean's cock while he comes, but he tightens them again afterwards, and Sean watches Brandon's come soak into his skirt while Brandon jerks him off, sure and steady, until Sean's shouting as Brandon makes him come.
Everything goes fuzzy for a minute after that.
Brandon's hand on his wrist makes him pay attention again, and he carefully takes his fingers out of Brandon's ass. He rests his hands on Brandon's waist, since his skirt is a mess already.
"Damn, Monny," Brandon says, face still flushed, sweat glistening across his forehead. "That was something else. I didn't know you had it in you."
Sean is not too out of it to volley back with, "You're the one who had it in you."
It makes Brandon throw his head back and laugh before he gets off of Sean's lap.
*
Hooking up with Brandon does not in any way get it out of Sean's system. If anything, he wants more.
Sean has been around locker rooms full of guys his whole life, and maybe he hasn't been into jerking off all that much before, but that doesn't mean he hasn't absorbed a lot of the talk he's heard.
One of those half-remembered conversations is about something you can stick your dick in to jerk off with. He googles it and gets to the Fleshlight website. He's in his room with his laptop screen facing away from the door, but he still looks up to make sure he locked the door.
He goes for the classic one, because it means he can make a choice and get out of there quickly, and he chooses the one made to look like a butt because the one that looks like a mouth just looks weird and he's not, he's pretty sure now, interested in sticking his dick in vaginas, even ones that are made out of whatever space-age materials make up Fleshlight's trademarked and patented material. He also pays for expedited shipping, and he keeps an eye on the tracking information so he can get to it without Boums trying to open the box.
Sean follows the instructions when it arrives and washes the part his dick goes in, then puts lube in it. It's not exactly sexy. It kind of is, because it's a thing he's going to stick his dick in and when he sticks one of his fingers in it, it seems like it's going to feel good. But it's also a really, really pink fake asshole in a plastic casing.
Sean thinks about Brandon instead, about having Brandon on his lap and his fingers in Brandon's ass. And, yeah, that does it for him. That really does it for him, because it was hot enough when he was just fantasizing about it, but now he has the memory to go with it.
He strokes his cock a few times, getting himself all the way hard. Not quite as hot as having Brandon's hand on him while he looked down at Brandon's skirt spread out over his thighs, but hot enough.
Sean puts lube on his cock and then he pushes the head of his cock through the fake asshole. It's surprisingly good, the softness of the thing around his dick, the lube making it an easy slide. He gets his whole dick in there, and then he moves it, and, yeah, this is good.
It gets even better when he goes back to thinking about Brandon while he does it. Thinks about maybe getting his dick in Brandon like this, and his hand and his hips jerk at that thought, and then it's just really fucking good. Sean barely has to think about Brandon then, although he does, thinks about Brandon in that fucking cheerleading uniform, the way Brandon's thigh felt under his hand. He jerks himself off with the Fleshlight while he thinks about that, and it's good, soft and tight and slick around his cock, and he comes like that with the memory of how Brandon looked in that cheerleading uniform behind his eyes.
The thing is kind of a pain to clean up, especially when he could easily slide right into a nap after that, but it was good, and he can see why guys would talk about it now.
*
Hooking up with Brandon doesn't stop Sean from looking at him too long, or trying not to look at him, or being weird about it in any of the other ways he was weird about it before. The difference is that now when Brandon notices, he smirks at Sean or smiles or raises his eyebrows.
The difference is also that instead of demanding in front of everyone that Sean come hang out with him, Brandon texts him and tells him if he wants to hang out, he can come over in twenty minutes.
The twenty minutes makes sense when Sean gets there and Brandon lets him in while staying mostly hidden behind the door. He's in a cheerleading uniform again. A different one this time. Same kind of pleated skirt, but this one has a top that covers up Brandon's pecs but leaves his abs totally bare.
"Oh, shit," Sean says.
Brandon grins at him, and the set of his shoulders somehow gets more boastful than braced. "Like it?"
"Fuck, yes." Sean jerks forward, and then stops, not sure exactly what he's allowed to do here.
Brandon rolls his shoulders back. "If you're not touching me in two seconds," he says, and Sean takes way less than two seconds to get his hands on the bare skin between Brandon's top and his skirt.
"Fuck," Sean says. "Fuck, Brandon." He runs his hands up and down Brandon's sides, from the bottom of his shirt to the top of his skirt, feeling the bare skin between the thick bands of fabric.
"I picked it out just for you," Brandon says.
Sean lets out a disbelieving laugh, and then surges forward and kisses Brandon hard. Brandon kisses him back and doesn't put up any resistance as Sean pushes him back into the wall.
It's easy to keep Brandon in place there while Sean kisses him over and over again. He gets his thigh between Brandon's, can feel Brandon hard against his thigh, can look down to see his jeans against Brandon's skirt.
Sean bites his way down to Brandon's neck, and he knows it's a bad idea, isn't really going to do it, but he wants to leave a mark, suck a hickey into Brandon's neck. He settles for scraping his teeth lightly over Brandon's skin, and then over to where the shirt starts.
He has to pull back then, and look at Brandon again, and this time Brandon slouches into the wall a little, pushing his hips hard against Sean's thigh and looking up at him.
Sean almost doesn't know what to do with that, but then he thinks about last time, about the muscle of Brandon's thighs under his hands, and he puts one hand under Brandon's skirt, pulls his leg up so it's hitched halfway around Sean's waist.
Brandon chuckles a little. "If that's how you want it," he says, and he tugs Sean in again, has to tip his head up for Sean to kiss him.
Sean digs his fingers into Brandon's thigh to keep him where he is, loves feeling Brandon's leg around him, like Brandon's trying to keep Sean there just as much as Sean's working to keep Brandon there.
"Hey," Brandon says after another few - two? seven? ten? - minutes of making out and slowly grinding against each other, "you ever get a blowjob from a cheerleader?"
Sean's hips jerk. "No," he says, breathless.
Brandon grins at him and pushes him away, turns them so Sean's the one with his back to the wall. Then he gets on his knees, and this isn't going to be a very long blowjob. The pleats of the skirt fall around Brandon's thighs, but don't do anything to hide the fact that he's hard. From this angle, Sean can't really see the place where Brandon's midriff is bare, but he knows it's there, knows that the shirt he can see over Brandon's shoulders doesn't cover everything.
Brandon looks up at him, red cheeks under his beard, swollen lips where Sean kissed him, and he keeps looking while he gets Sean's jeans open.
No matter what happens next, Sean's going to be jerking off to this moment later.
Brandon stops looking up at him when Sean's jeans are open, looks there instead while he gets Sean's cock out. Sean appreciates the care to make sure he's not scraping his dick on his zipper, but he really appreciates the way Brandon looks up at him again for a moment before he puts his mouth on Sean's dick.
Sean's head thunks against the wall. It's so fucking good, Brandon's mouth hot and wet on him. He lifts his head after a few seconds, because he can't not look at Brandon's lips wrapped around his cock, the slight hollowing of his cheeks as he sucks, the skirt still draped around him.
"Fuck," Sean says, and, "Brandon," and then it becomes a litany of noise as he tries to tell Brandon how much he likes it without actually having the presence of mind to string together a coherent sentence.
Everything about Brandon's mouth is perfect, and Sean has to reach down and touch him. He tries not to pull Brandon's hair, but he pushes one hand into it, puts his other hand on Brandon's cheek.
Brandon's lips are busy, but the smirk reaches his eyes when he shifts a little so Sean can feel his dick pressing against Brandon's cheek.
Sean's incoherent noises get louder, and he has to fight not to close his eyes, to look at Brandon like this for as long as he can. He doesn't really manage to warn Brandon when he's about to come, and his hips jerk without his conscious direction, fucking his dick into Brandon's mouth.
Brandon takes it. He takes it and he swallows and then Sean really does have to close his eyes and be really fucking thankful for the wall holding him up.
"Sorry," he says after a few seconds. "I should have-" He stops when Brandon squeezes his hip.
"Not like I minded," Brandon says, and his voice is rough. Because he was just sucking Sean's cock. That sound is going in Sean's spank bank along with the rest of it.
"Fuck," Sean says.
Brandon grins up at him, and Sean wants, well, a lot of things, but the first one is to slide to the floor and kiss Brandon. It means he's tasting himself in Brandon's mouth, and that's a little weird, but not weird enough to make him stop.
He tugs Brandon forward, and then stops and looks down when Brandon moans into his mouth. Brandon's still hard, dick visible even under the pleats of his skirt.
Getting his hand under Brandon's skirt is just as hot as it was the first time, and Brandon's not wearing anything under his skirt this time either. It makes it easy for Sean to wrap his hand around Brandon's cock.
"Yeah, Sean," Brandon says, voice still a little rough. "Fuck, yeah."
Sean jerks him off quickly. As much as he likes feeling Brandon hard in his hand while he looks at Brandon in the cheerleading uniform, it doesn't seem fair to make him wait. He would just look, but this part is for Brandon, so he leans in and kisses him, licks into his mouth and swallows his moans.
"Wait, wait," Brandon says, and Sean stops.
"What?"
Brandon reaches down and flips his skirt up, so his cock is visible, and fuck, Sean didn't really get to look at it last time. He takes a few seconds to look at it, to run his fingers up and down it, getting the picture of it in his mind.
Brandon swears at him, and Sean stops fucking around, goes back to getting Brandon off with tight, swift jerks of his hand. He gets to watch Brandon come this time, the way his abs tighten and his cock spurts out over Sean's hand and Brandon's thighs.
Sean takes his hand off of Brandon's dick and leans in to kiss him after a few seconds.
Brandon pushes that hand away, mutters, "Keep it off the skirt," before he lets Sean kiss him until they're both breathing hard.
Last time, Sean left after, but this time, while they're still sitting on the floor, Sean with his dick still hanging out of his pants and Brandon with his skirt flipped up and come on his thighs, Brandon asks, "Want to stay for dinner?" He eyes Sean up and down. "If you're lucky, I'll keep the uniform on."
"I think I'm already lucky," Sean says.
Brandon chuckles and keeps the skirt away from the come drying on his skin as he gets up. "Luckier, then."
Sean takes a minute before his knees feel steady enough for him to stand up and follow Brandon to the bathroom to clean up.
Brandon keeps the uniform on while he makes dinner, although he puts an apron on over it in the kitchen. Every time he turns his back, Sean can see the apron ties tied across the bare part of Brandon's back. He keeps his hands to himself despite the temptation. He's also pretty sure Brandon knows exactly what he's doing to him.
Sean's distracted over dinner, because Brandon takes the apron off. Sean can't see his bare midriff across the table, but he can see the way the top leaves Brandon's arms bare, and he knows what else Brandon's wearing. And what else he's not.
Sean offers to help do the dishes after dinner, but Brandon waves him off, and instead he watches Brandon move around the kitchen. He's comfortable and competent, like the cheerleading uniform doesn't change anything about how he knows to move his body. Like it's natural for him.
Sean's most of the way to hard by the time Brandon's done cleaning up, and his jeans aren't doing much to hide it. Not that he wants to hide it.
"Watching me do the dishes gets you hot?" Brandon asks with raised eyebrows.
"Watching you do anything dressed like that gets me hot," Sean says.
Brandon says, "Huh," and then he walks past Sean to the living room. "I blew you earlier. You can at least come feel me up on the couch."
It takes a moment before Sean can move, and then he jerks forward and follows Brandon.
This time Brandon lays himself out on the couch and pulls Sean down on top of him.
Sean goes without protest and lets Brandon manhandle him where he wants him, between his thighs, chests pressed tight together. Brandon brings one leg up and hooks it around Sean's waist, like they were against the wall earlier.
Sean takes that as a hint and puts his hands on Brandon while he kisses him. One hand goes on Brandon's thigh, pulling it up a little more so their dicks get closer. With the other, he pets Brandon's bare midriff for a couple of minutes, and then, thinking about Brandon saying, "feel me up," he gets that hand under the edge of Brandon's shirt.
Brandon says, "Yeah. Yeah that's it, Sean."
Sean keeps groping him while they make out, flexing the hand on Brandon's thigh, petting Brandon's skin as much as he can with the other one. His hips aren't still either, rolling against Brandon's, and he knows Brandon isn't wearing anything under his skirt, so little cloth between their dicks.
"How do cheerleaders feel about going topless?" Sean asks when Brandon's shirt limiting the movement of his hand starts getting too annoying.
"You want to look at my tits?" Brandon asks with a smirk.
Sean pulls his hand out from under Brandon's shirt and gropes his pec over it. "I don't have to."
Brandon arches into the touch, and Sean's felt the underside of his top, fabric stiff and just a little scratchy, and he can imagine what it feels like against Brandon's nipples.
"Fuck," Brandon mutters. "Fuck." He pushes Sean back and sits halfway up, enough to pull the shirt off over his head and drop it behind him, onto the floor on the other side of the armrest behind his head.
Sean takes a moment to look at Brandon spread out under him, bare skin all the way to the waist of his skirt, leg still hooked around Sean, cock hard and obvious under his skirt. He touches Brandon before Brandon can demand it, hand sliding up from Brandon's waist to his pec, rubbing the palm of it over Brandon's nipple.
Brandon draws in a breath at that, one Sean can feel as well as hear, and then he has his hands on Sean, pulling him down, one hand going up the back of his shirt, the other clamping hard onto his ass to pull their hips that much closer together.
Sean keeps his hand on Brandon's chest, feels him up some more while they make out again. It's fiercer this time, the two of them fighting to get closer, to lick into each other's mouths, to grind against each other. Sean's just as hard as Brandon, working with him for the friction on his dick that sends sparks up and down his spine.
Brandon hitches his other leg up, hooking his ankle around the back of Sean's leg. It changes things, pulls Sean deeper into the cradle of Brandon's hips. Brandon's gripping him, hands and legs both, like he's trapping Sean there. It's not necessary - Sean isn't going anywhere - but it's good. It's fucking hot, how much Brandon wants him.
"Are we getting naked?" Sean asks.
Brandon shakes his head, cheeks flushed, something desperate in his face. "Fuck, just move." He bites at Sean's lip. "Didn't you ever rub off on someone in high school?"
"No," Sean admits.
Brandon groans, and digs his heels into Sean's ass and the back of his leg. "You missed out. I'm fixing your sexual education."
Sean gasps out a laugh. "You are my sexual education," he says, truth and a retort all at once.
Brandon kisses him, hand gripping tight around the back of Sean's head. "Stop talking and just fucking move."
Sean is moving, but he gets what Brandon's saying, and he focuses on it. Rubs against Brandon. Kisses him. Gropes his chest with the hand still trapped between them. Grinds against him harder, working out what feels best for both of them.
It's fucking hot, and if Brandon and his cheerleading uniform had appeared in Sean's life earlier, maybe he would have done this before.
Brandon gasps out, "Sean," after a bit, fingers and heels digging harder into Sean. Sean meets it with a flurry of thrusts against Brandon, moving fast and hard, feels like he's working harder to get them off than he's ever worked for anything before.
Brandon cries out when he comes, and Sean watches his face, the flush under his beard, the way his mouth opens and his eyes close. Sean doesn't stop moving, so fucking turned on it shouldn't take much, shouldn't take anything to make him come.
"Fuck," Brandon mutters, not making him stop even though it has to be too much to have Sean still grinding against his dick. "Fuck, Sean. Come on, baby."
And that's it, the casual endearment, as stupid as that is, that makes Sean come. He screws his eyes shut this time, hips working against Brandon's all the way through the wash of pleasure that floods through him.
Brandon kisses him after, and they make out again, slower this time without the urgency of racing toward coming. It's a while before Brandon unwraps his limbs from around Sean and lets him get up.
*
They hook up half a dozen times over the next few weeks. It's always Brandon inviting Sean over, and he's always wearing a cheerleading uniform when Sean gets there. There are four that Sean knows about, the first two he saw, a third one that's a skirt and top, and the Dallas Cowboys one. The Cowboys one has hot pants that stretch tight and obvious over Brandon's dick, but mostly Sean prefers the skirts. It's usually the skirts that are in his jerk off fantasies, but sometimes it's just about Brandon's mouth or his arms or the way he smiles at Sean.
Brandon and his cheerleading uniforms are enough of a pattern that Sean's surprised when he heads over to Brandon's after Brandon texts him and Brandon answers the door in the same jeans and henley he was wearing after practice.
"Hey," Sean says, trying to be cool about being wrong about Brandon inviting him over for a booty call.
"Hey," Brandon says. If Sean didn't know that Brandon never gets nervous, he would think Brandon's nervous.
Sean follows Brandon into the living room. He has some very fond thoughts about Brandon's couch, but it looks like this visit isn't going to be the kind that lets him create more of the same kind of good memories he already has of it.
"Look," Brandon says when they're sitting down, "it's not that I don't want to hook up with you. I just-" He shrugs, looking more uncomfortable than Sean has ever seen him. "Is it only the cheerleader thing?"
"Uh," Sean says. He probably should say something else, but he goes for the truth. "It started that way." He can feel himself turning red, but it's not the first time he's been embarrassed about something Brandon confronted him about. "The cheerleading uniform was kind of a revelation." He might even be underselling it at that. "But it's not just that." He looks at Brandon, who's watching him fairly patiently, and, yeah, it's not just the cheerleading uniform. "I, uh, want to hook up with you no matter what you're wearing."
"Yeah?" Brandon asks.
"Yeah," Sean says. "For sure."
Brandon smiles at him, and he looks even better like that, hot like always but also happy with Sean. Sean really wants to kiss him, and he thinks that for a moment before he decides just thinking about it is stupid when he could be doing it instead.
Brandon laughs a little when Sean kisses him, and then pulls him closer, manhandles him until they're stretched out on the couch, Sean on top of Brandon. "I guess you do want to hook up with me."
"Yeah," Sean says. Then he kisses Brandon, because that's what he wants to do more than talk about it. This part he knows how to do, and it's not even that different with Brandon in jeans instead of a skirt. A little different because it's not bare skin Sean touches when he grabs at Brandon's thigh, but other than that Brandon feels the same under him.
Sean gets hard, and so does Brandon. It's a lot like any other time they've hooked up on Brandon's couch.
"Can we take our clothes off?" Sean asks when it gets to a point where the end result of what they're doing is clear.
"Don't want to come in your pants?" Brandon asks.
Sean sits up so he can pull his shirt off. "Not today."
Brandon sits up with him, and strips his shirt off one-handed. Getting their pants off takes a little more work, but not too much, and then Brandon's naked under him on the couch. Sean's seen him naked before, of course, but never when they've hooked up. That's probably weird.
Sean takes a moment to look, Brandon's reddened cheeks, the defined muscles of his chest, his cock full and arching up toward his stomach. He bends down to kiss Brandon, holding his body away from him. If he settles down onto Brandon, he'll forget what else he wants to do.
"Can I blow you?"
Brandon's eyes go wide. "Fuck. Yeah, you can blow me."
Sean kisses Brandon again first, because he likes the way Brandon's mouth feels under his. Then he moves down, brushing a couple of kisses on Brandon's skin along the way, hands rubbing over Brandon's chest, down his abs, coming to rest on Brandon's hips.
Sean hasn't given a blowjob before, but he knows the basic idea, at least, and he wants to, even more now that he's looking at Brandon than in his fleeting thoughts about the things they haven't done yet. There's nothing to do but get to it, which Sean does by putting his mouth on Brandon, licking at him a little while he gets used to it. Brandon's dick mostly tastes like skin, a little saltier at the tip. The feel of it filling up Sean's mouth is weirder, but not in a bad way. He decides, as he sucks carefully, that he kind of likes it. Amends that to definitely likes it when Brandon's hips push up against his hands. Sean holds Brandon's hips down - letting him move like that is definitely a more advanced blowjob technique than Sean's ready for - but sucks a little less carefully.
The movement of his hips isn't Brandon's only reaction. He also talks to Sean, says, "Fuck," and, "Yes," and, "That's so good, Sean."
It's good from Sean's side of things too, more than he thought it would be. He involuntarily rubs his hips down against the couch while he sucks Brandon off. He could probably get off like this too, but he puts more energy into getting Brandon off. That's the main point here, and Sean wants to know what it feels and tastes like when Brandon comes in his mouth.
He doesn't stop sucking when Brandon warns him he's about to come. He only manages to swallow part of it, drawing back as it becomes too much and making a mess out of both of them.
"Oh, fuck," Brandon says, breathless.
Sean raises his head to look at something other than Brandon's dick. Brandon's whole face is red, his abs heaving like he just went through a power skating session.
Sean's not sure exactly what's going on with his face, except for the part where his chin is covered in Brandon's come, but it makes Brandon say, "Come up here, baby."
And, okay, another thing Sean has learned from all of this: Brandon calling him "baby" really does it for him. Brandon doesn't say it much, which might be part of what makes it hotter.
Sean's dick protests the lack of friction when he lifts himself up and crouches over Brandon. Sean decides not to worry about that for a minute, because Brandon puts his hands on Sean's face and draws him down into a kiss. It's messy, messier even than when they kiss after Brandon sucks Sean off. It stays messy, because Brandon wraps his hand around Sean's cock and jerks him off while they make out and Sean can't concentrate on keeping the kiss steady through that.
"Baby," Brandon says when Sean gets close and loses even more of his coordination, "you sucked me off so good. Come for me now," like he knows how good that is for Sean.
Sean comes hard, making more of a mess out of Brandon, and then collapses onto him, spreading the mess all over both of them. Brandon doesn't seem to mind. He just wraps his arms around Sean and kisses the side of his head.
"You good?"
"Fuck," Sean says without moving. "I might pass out here, but yeah, I'm good."
"If you're going to pass out, we should at least go to bed." He can hear Brandon's grin even if he doesn't turn his head to see it. "Haven't done that yet."
Sean manages a chuckle. "Is that what I get for hooking up with you without the costume?"
"One of the things you get," Brandon says, and this time Sean does raise his head to see Brandon's grin. It gets him a kiss before Brandon really does lever them off the couch and take Sean to his bed for a nap.
Part 2