[fic] No Such Thing as a Two Night Stand (McLaren/Rivet)
Title: No Such Thing as a Two Night Stand
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kyle McLaren/Craig Rivet (San Jose Sharks)
Word Count: 2801
Author's Notes: Written for ophidiae for zdarovyeh's "fic for Avon Walk for Breast Cancer donations" (for my personal fundraising effort) offer. Does that even make sense? At any rate, finally paying up on this one. I hope it fits the request well enough. :)
zdarovyeh's offer is still open (though the entry for it is locked to her friends only), as is an open ended one from me. Basically, if you donate at least $10 to my Avon Walk donation page, Z or I will write at least 100 words of any pairing you request. If you're interested and would like details, either comment here, or you can email me at leici@livejournal.com.
This story is based on two games in November (15th at Phoenix and 17th versus Ducks) where Craig Rivet was injured and ended up being on the Sharks' bench as an additional assistant coach. This story is set the night after the Phoenix game, where the Sharks won 6-0.
The "Reg" reference in here is to the nickname Craig earned by being a coach in those two games. It comes from Reggie Dunlop, which is the player/coach character played by Paul Newman in "Slap Shot".
Thanks to zdarovyeh for the beta, and helping me beat this thing into shape.
No Such Thing as a Two Night Stand
Kyle liked Craig a hell of a lot better when they were on the same level.
Or, hell, to be honest, he liked Craig best when he was submitting.
Having to hear Craig's voice over his shoulder giving commands... That he didn't like. Not even a little bit.
Craig, on the other hand, seemed to be fully enjoying himself. Of course he'd be on the defensive end of the bench, running the changes and giving directions. Being generally helpful.
It was driving Kyle insane. He was a veteran, just like Craig. When Craig wasn't injured, they were partners. They had age and experience and lifestyles in common. Craig wasn't supposed to be superior.
And it was worse off the ice. In the locker room, Craig stood against a wall, hands in the pockets of his slacks, looking utterly smug as his teammates changed out of their gear. When Kyle made the mistake of looking his direction, Craig curled a smirk at him, his lips puckered almost in a mocking kiss. He fought the urge to flip Craig off, giving him a dirty look instead and going back to pulling tape off his socks. And he kept his eyes down until well after he'd got his suit back on again.
He knew it was Craig at the door of his hotel room when he heard the knock later. Even the way he rapped on the door had attitude. He thought for a minute or two about ignoring him. He didn't have to let Craig into his room. He could easily pretend he was asleep, with earplugs in. Or in the shower. The potential excuses were numerous.
He looked out the peephole as he swung the security bar away, just to see the look on Craig's face when he learned he was going to be admitted. The grin on his face was almost feral.
Kyle schooled his own expression, eyes and mouth drawn as if he'd been disturbed. Pulling the door open, he pretended like he wasn't really in the mood to see anyone, let alone Craig. "Can I help you?"
Craig, in his usual fashion, pushed into the room without invitation, the arm of his blazer brushing Kyle's belly. He sauntered a few steps farther into Kyle's space, hands jammed in his pants pockets just like they had been in the locker room before. "I think it's your turn," he said before even turning around.
Kyle scowled at the back of Craig's head, tone tuned to irritation. "My turn?"
Craig pivoted on his heels. "Yeah." He spent an infuriating moment studying Kyle's face before sliding one hand out of his pocket, reaching past Kyle with an enormous palm to grab the edge of the door and shove it closed.
Kyle crossed his arms over his chest. It was almost the image of a petulant child, Kyle in the t-shirt and lounge pants he wore to bed, Craig still in his suit. "What if I don't want to?"
Half of Craig's stride brought them close, Craig's breath ghosting over Kyle's face. "Oh, you want to." As if to prove a point, Craig cupped his palm abruptly over Kyle's groin. The smile that came to his lips was wicked when he found that Kyle was half hard already. But Kyle didn't move to relax his defensive stance, nor did he make any indication that he was enjoying Craig's touch.
Craig's second half step pressed Kyle's back to the door, and Craig's thigh replaced his hand against Kyle's crotch. Kyle tried to make it as much like kissing a wall as he could, but there was only so long he could ignore the way Craig's lips worked against his own before he had to relent a little. Craig's eyes were too close to focus on them when he drew back, his voice a low growl that demanded action.
"Your turn."
"Fuck you," Kyle responded with venom.
Craig's tongue slid out over his bottom lip. "No. Fuck you, Kyle." He ground his leg forward, hard, bunching muscle further aggravating an erection Kyle couldn't deny. "You can't tell me you don't want me."
"You don't always get what you want," Kyle snipped back. "Game's over, Reg. I'm not your fucking bitch."
"That's what you think." Craig was giving up both height and weight to Kyle, but he tried to enforce some strength, grabbing one of Kyle's forearms in each broad palm and trying to pull his arms apart.
Kyle let him, but then twisted his arms away, shoving Craig in the center of the chest. "What the fuck?"
Craig, incensed by even the idea that Kyle would push him that way, got his hands on Kyle and returned the gesture, Kyle's back colliding with the door behind him again. "You wanna fight? Is that what this is?"
"Sure, why not? Let's go, asshole." He had a hold on Craig's pressed collar in a fraction of a second and drew his right arm back, but never got a punch in for Craig's fist catching a handful of his shirtsleeve, blocking the blow with his upper arm. Kyle's free hand moved to catch the lapel of Craig's sport coat about the same moment Craig's fingers snagged the collar of Kyle's t-shirt. Kyle tried to push Craig farther away with one hand, wrenching his right arm to try and get free, but Craig moved and was able to get an even better hold, the two of them circling as they grappled. Kyle decided to go for a left instead and got his arm up, managing a half decent jab to Craig's right temple.
"Fucker," Craig growled and advanced on Kyle, the abrupt motion causing Kyle to stumble a few steps backward. Their arms tangled in a play for dominance and Kyle took a backhand to the chin, causing him to stutter step to the left. The shift in balance buckled his knee and sent his body toward the floor sideways, Craig dragged along for the ride.
Kyle's breath rushed out of him as his side impacted with the floor, and was then clobbered by Craig's weight, his head snapping back a bit unnaturally and thudding against the threadbare carpet. He rolled to his back, cringing and trying to fill his flattened lungs. Craig had the decency to move off him, kneeling between Kyle's thighs as he drew his knees up protectively.
"Asshole," Kyle managed to wheeze again, eyes squeezed shut. "Fucking... Knocked the wind..."
"I know, I know, shut up," Craig responded. "You started it."
Kyle opened his eyes, glaring up at Craig. "You... Fucking trying to force... Force yourself..."
"Like hell. I wouldn't fucking force you, and you know it." He ran his fingers through his thick hair, resting back on his heels. "I thought you got off on this sort of thing."
"Are you fucking insane?" Kyle gasped, groaning a bit as he sat up. "This isn't some kind of fucking game."
"What the hell is it, then? We're married guys, Kyle. It's not like we're going for a fucking relationship here."
"It's fucking nothing. It's just fucking sex." Kyle took a minute, inhaling a few deep breaths, one hand pressed to his ribs. "It was one fucking time."
"Well, you coulda fucking told me."
"I just fucking did."
Craig stood up, half turning like he wanted to leave, but just took two steps, and turned back. "Who says you get to decide how many times we do it, huh? Maybe I want to fuck you again. Didja ever think about that?"
Kyle blinked up at Craig, astonished. "You're completely out of your mind."
"You're telling me you didn't enjoy having your dick up my ass before? Because, if I recall correctly, you weren't fucking complaining at the time."
Seemingly recovered from his tumble to the floor, Kyle pushed himself standing, taking full advantage of the two inches in height he had over Craig. "Somehow I don't think enjoying fucking you translates directly to wanting you to fuck me."
It was Craig's turn to cross his arms. "I just thought it was fair."
"Fair?" Kyle shook his head, incredulous. "This isn't third fucking grade, Craig. It's not like we're taking turns on the fucking swings."
"I let you fuck me."
"You wanted me to fuck you!"
They stared at each other for a long moment, eyes flashing. The energy between them was raw; anger, yes, but also something else all together. Kyle's fingers tangled in Craig's hair about the same second Craig's hand moved to palm the back of Kyle's neck, and their mouths came together in a clash of lips and teeth. The kisses were choking and rough, hands gripping too hard and tugging painfully at hair. Craig's jacket hit the floor half a second before Kyle started yanking at his tie, and the number of buttons that lost the fight when trying to get Craig's shirt off was at least two too many to be able to explain to his wife later. Kyle might have a better chance of passing off the bite mark at the base of his throat as an accidental high stick in practice.
In Kyle's hotel bed, Kyle skimmed his own t-shirt off as he sat astride Craig's hips, long fingers wrangling Craig's arms, pressing them above his head long enough to bite his way down Craig's sternum. Another battle for position, Craig fighting back and gaining the upper hand, finding leverage and managing to get Kyle on his back, pressed down into the mattress. His elbows dug into the bed on either side of Kyle's arms, and he rolled his hips down, erections grinding between them through their pants.
"Let me fuck you," he demanded, words poison tipped.
"No." Kyle's chest heaved as he tried to get Craig off him.
Craig thrust down again, harder this time. "What if I say please?"
"Not a fucking chance."
Craig's torso pressed down against Kyle's as he inhaled deeply, shoving one hand down between them, fingers finding the cleft of Kyle's ass through his pants. "Come on... How do you know you won't like it?"
Kyle bucked wildly, a more desperate attempt at escape. "Get the fuck off me!"
Craig decided to change tactics, hooking his fingers in the side of Kyle's waistband and tugging his pants half down his thighs, then smoothing his palm over Kyle's taut left buttock. "Relax, fuck. I'm not gonna do anything."
"Don't fucking tell me to relax," Kyle bit back, grimacing as the rough fabric of Craig's slacks rubbed his exposed dick. "And take your fucking pants off, if you're gonna keep laying on me."
Kyle half expected Craig to ignore him, but he backed off immediately and stood to strip off his trousers. Kyle considered using the space between them to escape, maybe lock himself in the bathroom until Craig went away. But something stopped him, and he just laid there, chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing as he watched Craig rid himself of the rest of his clothes. At the last moment, just as Craig was about to move back over Kyle's body, Kyle shifted, kicking to get his pants the rest of the way off, and opening his legs, clearly for Craig to lay back between them. Apparently he'd made some kind of decision of which even he wasn't entirely aware.
"You can't fuck me," Kyle stated, his tone mildly subdued. "I can't let you do that. But you can do anything else you want."
Craig was properly taken aback by Kyle's statement, but didn't question it, just arranged himself back in the cradle of Kyle's hips, sighing as their cocks pressed together again, skin-on-skin. "I won't try and fuck you," Craig agreed, arching his pelvis down, and groaning. "But fuck, I want to."
"I know." Kyle's voice was breathless, and he bent his knees, the angle of his body changing, groin digging up into Craig's. "I almost want to let you."
Craig growled, and Kyle could easily sense the satisfaction his admission gave, Craig's cock twitching against him. Craig started to thrust, fucking against Kyle's body rather inside it, the groan he uttered speaking very clearly to both the frustration and pleasure he felt. The hardness of Craig's lower abdominal muscles pushed down against him, the heat of Craig's cock right alongside, wiry hairs creating a texture against his sensitive skin that was almost painfully abrasive. Craig lengthened his neck, tipping his head so he could moan into Kyle's ear, voice deep with unspent desire. "Fuck, you do all sorts of wrong things to me. I want to get inside you so bad, I can fucking taste it."
Kyle fisted the hair at the back of Craig's head, yanking sharply. "Don't..."
"Don't what?" Craig's hips snapped down, and they both moaned at the feeling. "You don't want to hear how much I want you?"
"You're trying to make me change my mind," Kyle replied, voice thin. "Won't work."
"I'm not trying to do anything." One of Craig's hands found Kyle's hip and anchored itself as the speed of Craig's movements increased. "It's not my fault you won't give me what I want."
Kyle hooked his opposite calf around the back of Craig's thigh, leveraging himself so he could meet Craig's downward thrusts. "Can't always get... what you want..."
"I can dream, can't I?" He moved to bite at the dip between Kyle's shoulder and neck, mouth moving over the skin. "I can imagine how good you'd feel. How fucking tight..."
"Stop," Kyle practically wailed, digging the fingers of his free hand into Craig's shoulder blade, nails biting.
"No," Craig responded, increasing his pace again. "You can't stop me from imagining... Don't tell me you aren't thinking how good it would feel, what it'd be like to have me in you, fuck, thrusting... Fucking coming..." And Craig came in a flood across Kyle's belly, brought to the end by his own words, and the feeling of Kyle's body pinned below him.
Kyle shook his head, eyes closed as Craig spent his climax with a few final jolts. They were both gasping, though for different reasons, and Kyle pushed at Craig's shoulder, trying to urge him to move. "Get off, dickhead."
"I already did," Craig replied with a sneer, but did roll off Kyle to the side, resting on his hip.
Kyle didn't open his eyes, but pushed his palm down his abdomen and through some of Craig's semen, wrapping his fingers around his own swollen cock and stroking, bringing himself to the brink and then over quickly. Craig watched with lecherous hunger as Kyle's come spurted from him in long ribbons, adding to the mess across Kyle's torso. He wanted to touch, or maybe taste, and he definitely wanted to stay, no matter what the aftermath.
Kyle had other ideas.
"Get out."
Craig opened his mouth to argue, but the look in Kyle's eyes, finally open again, stopped his words in their tracks.
"Get the fuck out of my room." Kyle sat, leveling a cold gaze on Craig before he slid off the end of the bed and headed into the bathroom.
He didn't look back, and definitely didn't wait to hear if Craig was actually leaving or not before he turned on the shower. The first time they'd been together, he'd had an easier time afterward. This time, he felt the guilt start to well up inside him. Before, it was nothing more than a slightly messy one night stand. One time was easy to pass off as a mistake. A case of bad judgement.
Two times was a habit. An affair. It was bad enough that it had happened again, but the way Craig wanted it... Kyle was coming up against two things of which he'd never even considered himself capable. An adulterer and a faggot. It made him sick, the taste of bile rising in his throat as he made the water even hotter. It burned, but he didn't move away, just let it peel the sin off him, washing away Craig's come and his own disgrace. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to cry or scream or put his fist through the mockingly pristine hotel shower tiles.
He wanted to hate Craig for doing this to him, for making him cheat on his wife, for making him almost want to give in and let Craig have him.
He couldn't.
That just made it worse.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kyle McLaren/Craig Rivet (San Jose Sharks)
Word Count: 2801
Author's Notes: Written for ophidiae for zdarovyeh's "fic for Avon Walk for Breast Cancer donations" (for my personal fundraising effort) offer. Does that even make sense? At any rate, finally paying up on this one. I hope it fits the request well enough. :)
zdarovyeh's offer is still open (though the entry for it is locked to her friends only), as is an open ended one from me. Basically, if you donate at least $10 to my Avon Walk donation page, Z or I will write at least 100 words of any pairing you request. If you're interested and would like details, either comment here, or you can email me at leici@livejournal.com.
This story is based on two games in November (15th at Phoenix and 17th versus Ducks) where Craig Rivet was injured and ended up being on the Sharks' bench as an additional assistant coach. This story is set the night after the Phoenix game, where the Sharks won 6-0.
The "Reg" reference in here is to the nickname Craig earned by being a coach in those two games. It comes from Reggie Dunlop, which is the player/coach character played by Paul Newman in "Slap Shot".
Thanks to zdarovyeh for the beta, and helping me beat this thing into shape.
No Such Thing as a Two Night Stand
Kyle liked Craig a hell of a lot better when they were on the same level.
Or, hell, to be honest, he liked Craig best when he was submitting.
Having to hear Craig's voice over his shoulder giving commands... That he didn't like. Not even a little bit.
Craig, on the other hand, seemed to be fully enjoying himself. Of course he'd be on the defensive end of the bench, running the changes and giving directions. Being generally helpful.
It was driving Kyle insane. He was a veteran, just like Craig. When Craig wasn't injured, they were partners. They had age and experience and lifestyles in common. Craig wasn't supposed to be superior.
And it was worse off the ice. In the locker room, Craig stood against a wall, hands in the pockets of his slacks, looking utterly smug as his teammates changed out of their gear. When Kyle made the mistake of looking his direction, Craig curled a smirk at him, his lips puckered almost in a mocking kiss. He fought the urge to flip Craig off, giving him a dirty look instead and going back to pulling tape off his socks. And he kept his eyes down until well after he'd got his suit back on again.
He knew it was Craig at the door of his hotel room when he heard the knock later. Even the way he rapped on the door had attitude. He thought for a minute or two about ignoring him. He didn't have to let Craig into his room. He could easily pretend he was asleep, with earplugs in. Or in the shower. The potential excuses were numerous.
He looked out the peephole as he swung the security bar away, just to see the look on Craig's face when he learned he was going to be admitted. The grin on his face was almost feral.
Kyle schooled his own expression, eyes and mouth drawn as if he'd been disturbed. Pulling the door open, he pretended like he wasn't really in the mood to see anyone, let alone Craig. "Can I help you?"
Craig, in his usual fashion, pushed into the room without invitation, the arm of his blazer brushing Kyle's belly. He sauntered a few steps farther into Kyle's space, hands jammed in his pants pockets just like they had been in the locker room before. "I think it's your turn," he said before even turning around.
Kyle scowled at the back of Craig's head, tone tuned to irritation. "My turn?"
Craig pivoted on his heels. "Yeah." He spent an infuriating moment studying Kyle's face before sliding one hand out of his pocket, reaching past Kyle with an enormous palm to grab the edge of the door and shove it closed.
Kyle crossed his arms over his chest. It was almost the image of a petulant child, Kyle in the t-shirt and lounge pants he wore to bed, Craig still in his suit. "What if I don't want to?"
Half of Craig's stride brought them close, Craig's breath ghosting over Kyle's face. "Oh, you want to." As if to prove a point, Craig cupped his palm abruptly over Kyle's groin. The smile that came to his lips was wicked when he found that Kyle was half hard already. But Kyle didn't move to relax his defensive stance, nor did he make any indication that he was enjoying Craig's touch.
Craig's second half step pressed Kyle's back to the door, and Craig's thigh replaced his hand against Kyle's crotch. Kyle tried to make it as much like kissing a wall as he could, but there was only so long he could ignore the way Craig's lips worked against his own before he had to relent a little. Craig's eyes were too close to focus on them when he drew back, his voice a low growl that demanded action.
"Your turn."
"Fuck you," Kyle responded with venom.
Craig's tongue slid out over his bottom lip. "No. Fuck you, Kyle." He ground his leg forward, hard, bunching muscle further aggravating an erection Kyle couldn't deny. "You can't tell me you don't want me."
"You don't always get what you want," Kyle snipped back. "Game's over, Reg. I'm not your fucking bitch."
"That's what you think." Craig was giving up both height and weight to Kyle, but he tried to enforce some strength, grabbing one of Kyle's forearms in each broad palm and trying to pull his arms apart.
Kyle let him, but then twisted his arms away, shoving Craig in the center of the chest. "What the fuck?"
Craig, incensed by even the idea that Kyle would push him that way, got his hands on Kyle and returned the gesture, Kyle's back colliding with the door behind him again. "You wanna fight? Is that what this is?"
"Sure, why not? Let's go, asshole." He had a hold on Craig's pressed collar in a fraction of a second and drew his right arm back, but never got a punch in for Craig's fist catching a handful of his shirtsleeve, blocking the blow with his upper arm. Kyle's free hand moved to catch the lapel of Craig's sport coat about the same moment Craig's fingers snagged the collar of Kyle's t-shirt. Kyle tried to push Craig farther away with one hand, wrenching his right arm to try and get free, but Craig moved and was able to get an even better hold, the two of them circling as they grappled. Kyle decided to go for a left instead and got his arm up, managing a half decent jab to Craig's right temple.
"Fucker," Craig growled and advanced on Kyle, the abrupt motion causing Kyle to stumble a few steps backward. Their arms tangled in a play for dominance and Kyle took a backhand to the chin, causing him to stutter step to the left. The shift in balance buckled his knee and sent his body toward the floor sideways, Craig dragged along for the ride.
Kyle's breath rushed out of him as his side impacted with the floor, and was then clobbered by Craig's weight, his head snapping back a bit unnaturally and thudding against the threadbare carpet. He rolled to his back, cringing and trying to fill his flattened lungs. Craig had the decency to move off him, kneeling between Kyle's thighs as he drew his knees up protectively.
"Asshole," Kyle managed to wheeze again, eyes squeezed shut. "Fucking... Knocked the wind..."
"I know, I know, shut up," Craig responded. "You started it."
Kyle opened his eyes, glaring up at Craig. "You... Fucking trying to force... Force yourself..."
"Like hell. I wouldn't fucking force you, and you know it." He ran his fingers through his thick hair, resting back on his heels. "I thought you got off on this sort of thing."
"Are you fucking insane?" Kyle gasped, groaning a bit as he sat up. "This isn't some kind of fucking game."
"What the hell is it, then? We're married guys, Kyle. It's not like we're going for a fucking relationship here."
"It's fucking nothing. It's just fucking sex." Kyle took a minute, inhaling a few deep breaths, one hand pressed to his ribs. "It was one fucking time."
"Well, you coulda fucking told me."
"I just fucking did."
Craig stood up, half turning like he wanted to leave, but just took two steps, and turned back. "Who says you get to decide how many times we do it, huh? Maybe I want to fuck you again. Didja ever think about that?"
Kyle blinked up at Craig, astonished. "You're completely out of your mind."
"You're telling me you didn't enjoy having your dick up my ass before? Because, if I recall correctly, you weren't fucking complaining at the time."
Seemingly recovered from his tumble to the floor, Kyle pushed himself standing, taking full advantage of the two inches in height he had over Craig. "Somehow I don't think enjoying fucking you translates directly to wanting you to fuck me."
It was Craig's turn to cross his arms. "I just thought it was fair."
"Fair?" Kyle shook his head, incredulous. "This isn't third fucking grade, Craig. It's not like we're taking turns on the fucking swings."
"I let you fuck me."
"You wanted me to fuck you!"
They stared at each other for a long moment, eyes flashing. The energy between them was raw; anger, yes, but also something else all together. Kyle's fingers tangled in Craig's hair about the same second Craig's hand moved to palm the back of Kyle's neck, and their mouths came together in a clash of lips and teeth. The kisses were choking and rough, hands gripping too hard and tugging painfully at hair. Craig's jacket hit the floor half a second before Kyle started yanking at his tie, and the number of buttons that lost the fight when trying to get Craig's shirt off was at least two too many to be able to explain to his wife later. Kyle might have a better chance of passing off the bite mark at the base of his throat as an accidental high stick in practice.
In Kyle's hotel bed, Kyle skimmed his own t-shirt off as he sat astride Craig's hips, long fingers wrangling Craig's arms, pressing them above his head long enough to bite his way down Craig's sternum. Another battle for position, Craig fighting back and gaining the upper hand, finding leverage and managing to get Kyle on his back, pressed down into the mattress. His elbows dug into the bed on either side of Kyle's arms, and he rolled his hips down, erections grinding between them through their pants.
"Let me fuck you," he demanded, words poison tipped.
"No." Kyle's chest heaved as he tried to get Craig off him.
Craig thrust down again, harder this time. "What if I say please?"
"Not a fucking chance."
Craig's torso pressed down against Kyle's as he inhaled deeply, shoving one hand down between them, fingers finding the cleft of Kyle's ass through his pants. "Come on... How do you know you won't like it?"
Kyle bucked wildly, a more desperate attempt at escape. "Get the fuck off me!"
Craig decided to change tactics, hooking his fingers in the side of Kyle's waistband and tugging his pants half down his thighs, then smoothing his palm over Kyle's taut left buttock. "Relax, fuck. I'm not gonna do anything."
"Don't fucking tell me to relax," Kyle bit back, grimacing as the rough fabric of Craig's slacks rubbed his exposed dick. "And take your fucking pants off, if you're gonna keep laying on me."
Kyle half expected Craig to ignore him, but he backed off immediately and stood to strip off his trousers. Kyle considered using the space between them to escape, maybe lock himself in the bathroom until Craig went away. But something stopped him, and he just laid there, chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing as he watched Craig rid himself of the rest of his clothes. At the last moment, just as Craig was about to move back over Kyle's body, Kyle shifted, kicking to get his pants the rest of the way off, and opening his legs, clearly for Craig to lay back between them. Apparently he'd made some kind of decision of which even he wasn't entirely aware.
"You can't fuck me," Kyle stated, his tone mildly subdued. "I can't let you do that. But you can do anything else you want."
Craig was properly taken aback by Kyle's statement, but didn't question it, just arranged himself back in the cradle of Kyle's hips, sighing as their cocks pressed together again, skin-on-skin. "I won't try and fuck you," Craig agreed, arching his pelvis down, and groaning. "But fuck, I want to."
"I know." Kyle's voice was breathless, and he bent his knees, the angle of his body changing, groin digging up into Craig's. "I almost want to let you."
Craig growled, and Kyle could easily sense the satisfaction his admission gave, Craig's cock twitching against him. Craig started to thrust, fucking against Kyle's body rather inside it, the groan he uttered speaking very clearly to both the frustration and pleasure he felt. The hardness of Craig's lower abdominal muscles pushed down against him, the heat of Craig's cock right alongside, wiry hairs creating a texture against his sensitive skin that was almost painfully abrasive. Craig lengthened his neck, tipping his head so he could moan into Kyle's ear, voice deep with unspent desire. "Fuck, you do all sorts of wrong things to me. I want to get inside you so bad, I can fucking taste it."
Kyle fisted the hair at the back of Craig's head, yanking sharply. "Don't..."
"Don't what?" Craig's hips snapped down, and they both moaned at the feeling. "You don't want to hear how much I want you?"
"You're trying to make me change my mind," Kyle replied, voice thin. "Won't work."
"I'm not trying to do anything." One of Craig's hands found Kyle's hip and anchored itself as the speed of Craig's movements increased. "It's not my fault you won't give me what I want."
Kyle hooked his opposite calf around the back of Craig's thigh, leveraging himself so he could meet Craig's downward thrusts. "Can't always get... what you want..."
"I can dream, can't I?" He moved to bite at the dip between Kyle's shoulder and neck, mouth moving over the skin. "I can imagine how good you'd feel. How fucking tight..."
"Stop," Kyle practically wailed, digging the fingers of his free hand into Craig's shoulder blade, nails biting.
"No," Craig responded, increasing his pace again. "You can't stop me from imagining... Don't tell me you aren't thinking how good it would feel, what it'd be like to have me in you, fuck, thrusting... Fucking coming..." And Craig came in a flood across Kyle's belly, brought to the end by his own words, and the feeling of Kyle's body pinned below him.
Kyle shook his head, eyes closed as Craig spent his climax with a few final jolts. They were both gasping, though for different reasons, and Kyle pushed at Craig's shoulder, trying to urge him to move. "Get off, dickhead."
"I already did," Craig replied with a sneer, but did roll off Kyle to the side, resting on his hip.
Kyle didn't open his eyes, but pushed his palm down his abdomen and through some of Craig's semen, wrapping his fingers around his own swollen cock and stroking, bringing himself to the brink and then over quickly. Craig watched with lecherous hunger as Kyle's come spurted from him in long ribbons, adding to the mess across Kyle's torso. He wanted to touch, or maybe taste, and he definitely wanted to stay, no matter what the aftermath.
Kyle had other ideas.
"Get out."
Craig opened his mouth to argue, but the look in Kyle's eyes, finally open again, stopped his words in their tracks.
"Get the fuck out of my room." Kyle sat, leveling a cold gaze on Craig before he slid off the end of the bed and headed into the bathroom.
He didn't look back, and definitely didn't wait to hear if Craig was actually leaving or not before he turned on the shower. The first time they'd been together, he'd had an easier time afterward. This time, he felt the guilt start to well up inside him. Before, it was nothing more than a slightly messy one night stand. One time was easy to pass off as a mistake. A case of bad judgement.
Two times was a habit. An affair. It was bad enough that it had happened again, but the way Craig wanted it... Kyle was coming up against two things of which he'd never even considered himself capable. An adulterer and a faggot. It made him sick, the taste of bile rising in his throat as he made the water even hotter. It burned, but he didn't move away, just let it peel the sin off him, washing away Craig's come and his own disgrace. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to cry or scream or put his fist through the mockingly pristine hotel shower tiles.
He wanted to hate Craig for doing this to him, for making him cheat on his wife, for making him almost want to give in and let Craig have him.
He couldn't.
That just made it worse.