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Double Dribble
Chapter One.
How do you stop doing something you know is bad for you?
That's not was thinking, but it is what was on my mind as I tapped a pen against my laptop and my left leg bounced restless under the desk. I'd been holed up in the library for a couple hours already, worse than useless. All I'd accomplished was listening to the few songs on my ipod that seemed to fit my mood over and over again on repeat.
I looked at the time on my laptop again and wondered if it was too late to go back yet. Every fear is a wish. Every wish is a fear.
The girl sitting a few tables over had finally gone from blatant staring to visible annoyance at my fidgeting. Fuck it. I packed up my things and left, heading back to my dorm.
Obviously, if I actually wanted to stop, I would have by now. Or maybe I did want to. At this point I'd lost so much respect for myself that I just didn't have the stones left to do it. Whatever. You never understand this shit when you're in it. I didn't, anyway.
Back in my room, I flipped open the chemistry book I should've been reading in the library. I was bone tired, but I didn't even think about hitting the sheets. Not yet. The words jumbled, and I thought about nothing.
Then, somewhere around 1:30, there was a knock at my door. I knew it.
"'s open," I called, and Brendan Routt let himself in.
"Chem?" he asked, noticing the book.
"Yep."
"Wanna finish the lab?"
"Sure," I shrugged. It made sense. We were lab partners after all. Brendan flopped down onto my bed with his notes. I stayed at my desk. It didn't take long; Brendan was brilliant and focused, which more than made up for my distraction.
Then, work put aside, Brendan stayed and we shot the shit. I didn't have much to say considering I'd sleep-walked through my day after the night before. And Brendan? He never talked about much anymore either. But there were enough old jokes and familiar insults to still keep the surface light and the pauses few.
Eventually, Brendan picked up the battered nerf basketball from the floor and started taking shots at the small plastic hoop on the opposite wall as we talked.
"You suck," I heckled.
Miss.
"Go fuck yourself, Jensen."
Another miss.
"Seriously." I wrestled him for the ball and sunk my first shot.
We crashed into each other on the bed when we both went for the rebound.
With our hands gripped over the ball, I met his eyes for the first time that night: Deep brown magnets that didn't flinch. Our faces were inches apart. It was the only time I'd felt awake all day. Chlorine. It was the scent that always lingered on Brendan's bronzed skin after the pool. His muscled arm felt solid and warm pressed against my own. And my dick- half hard since even before he'd knocked- was granite trapped inside my jeans.
Brendan returned my stare, but he didn't move. He never made this part easy. He didn't back off, but he didn't close the deal either. He waited and made the last choice mine.
I leaned in and pressed my lips against his.
Strong. That's how Brendan's lips felt. And once I'd brought us together, our lips were locked. We never broke the contact as we opened to each other, our tongues racing together and then dancing inside his mouth and mine. Deep, wet. Soft, slow. Relentless. We lost our clothes as we rolled around. Me over him over me, fighting for leverage and fighting for more. Our hands were everywhere, sliding over chests and abs, pulling shoulders, and gripping backs. Well, our hands were almost everywhere: we both left the ass alone.
Brendan had me pinned on my back when he eventually pulled his lips from mine and nudged my head up so he could get at my neck, washing his tongue over the hollow of my throat and along my collar bones. I gasped for breath and moaned in appreciation, but my mouth missed Brendan. I flipped us over and found his lips, dipping my tongue inside him again as my hips ground our naked and leaking hardons against each other.
I knew what I wanted. I pulled off and sat back on my heels for a moment to look at the sight below: Brendan Routt buck naked in my bed, legs spread around me and hard as the day is long. Dude was fuckin' hot. No way around it. He was all messy flaxen hair, dimples, sculpted chest, hard nipples, tight abs, lanky arms, and an awesome cock that was long and streamlined, just like him.
I moved forward into a pushup position over him, found his lips again, and settled the length of my body on top of his. Bit by bit, I slid down, my mouth following my body, kissing the stubble under his chin, tonguing his stiff nipples, washing over his abs. I hovered over his cock for a moment, taking it in: The throbs in his dick that matched his heartbeat. The Brendan scent of chlorine and him. The soft skin under my hands.
I closed my lips around the head of his cock, and Brendan's hips lurched forward. I swirled my tongue, bobbed, licked, sucked, stretched to take all of him into my throat.
Brendan's hands were restless. His long fingers threaded through my hair, clutched my shoulders, rubbed the stubble on my cheeks. For a moment, I looked up across his body. Our eyes locked but my mouth, his dick, our bodies didn't miss a beat. There were no words. The little gasping sounds of our breath said all there was to say.
Sweat gathered on Brendan's skin and his breath was ragged. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me off his dick and upward. He sat up in the bed, his mouth crashing into mine hungry and reckless. Pushing me to roll over, my back hit the wall. Brendan didn't even give me time to scoot onto my back before his hot, wet mouth was all over my aching dick, one hand gripping my hip and the other pinning me on my side against the wall.
My head spun. Awesome wouldn't come close to saying it. I fought as long as I could, but Brendan was too good. It didn't matter how long. It could never be long enough. My balls tightened, my mind exploded, and I blasted my load into Brendan's mouth.
He stayed there, his mouth nursing my still hard dick until my body stopped shuddering and I relaxed the grip I hadn't realized I'd kept on his shoulders. Brendan slid up and kissed me, hard. Our tongues wrestled as I rolled back on top of him.
I broke our kiss and went back to Brendan's cock, stopping first to tongue his balls. They were already drawn up tight against his shaft, and he was close. I licked my way up the length of his dick before I closed my lips around him and slid him into my throat. His hips pistoned in and out a few times before he flooded my mouth.
After, we kissed slow and mellow, the taste of each other thick on our tongues. Brendan drifted off, his face nuzzled in that spot between my neck and my shoulder.
I laid uncomfortable and motionless, trying not to wake him. There was no point in us both going without sleep. I already knew that for me it was impossible with him here.
Once I was sure Brendan was out, I inched myself out from between his arm underneath my back and the one he'd draped across my stomach. I stood, fished my boxer briefs out of the jumble of our clothes on the floor, slid them on, and then took a seat on the windowsill opposite the bed. I looked at him, his arms still sprawled out to where I'd just been in the bed, lips parted slightly, hair as wrecked as the sheets. I shook my head.
Outside, it was still dark, but the sky already had a slight glimmer of the approaching dawn. I rested my forehead against the cool glass and closed my eyes. My mind was blank.
A few minutes later I sat up, went over to the closet, pulled out my gym clothes and dressed with as little noise as possible. Brendan didn't stir. Before I headed out to meet my teammates, I paused at the door with my hand on the light switch, watching Brendan sleep.
"Fuck you, Routt..." But I didn't complete the thought.
I flipped off the lights and slipped out the door.
Fuck you.
To be continued.