May, '86
It’s spring, warm and bright and it’s like the air itself just makes things get sticky. They make it to the locker-room a little late, so that when they’re walking in, ready to start peeling off sweat-reeking uniforms, most of the other guys are heading out, gym-bags over shoulders and congratulating each other on another great practice. They slap hands and smack butts on the way past, and if their hands are a little free with each other as well- it’s just spring’s high spirits. They’re doing damn good, and everybody knows it.
They’ve barely made it to their own little row when Brock turns to Rick, face flushed hot and- happy. Ricky makes a grab for him, eyes promising wicked delights. He pulls him close and the lockers bang when they smack up against them, rough hands groping thighs and asses, lips locking tight. Ricky’s got a hand in his dark hair, fingers tangled in the longer strands, while Brock scrapes his nails over the alpha’s scalp. They don’t come up for air until their lips are bruised, and spend a desperate few seconds trying to work off their gear before it chokes them to death.
Not fast enough. Brock gives up on making the laces work and turns to face the metal wall, hands spread against the locker doors, and makes a complete ass of himself arching his back, like he’s done this before, really showed off for someone he likes. Ricky laughs and gives him a little smack on the rear, just enough to smart real nice and tighten up parts of him that don’t generally clench.
“C’mon- c’mon, Ricky, I wantcha, I want you to touch me-“
He does. God, he does.
Brock’s pressing his sweaty forehead against the cool metal of the lockers as Ricky comes up behind him, continuing the kiss from before- only it’s down along the point of his jaw, skims down the side of his neck. The collar of his uniform gets pushed aside, and Ricky’s lips stop just under its edge, kissing and kissing and sucking until he knows there’s gonna be a little black bruise there tonight, something nice and tender to remember this by.
And this is the life, isn’t it, Brock thinks, grinning as the alpha boy skims his hands up the back of his uniform, comes up under his half-unlaced pads. Brock’s breath comes uneven, fast and giggly and Ricky’s warm against his back, those big fingers trailing down his sweaty stomach and easing their way into the front of his uniform pants. Ricky’s pressing up hard against him, the thick outline of the alpha’s cock feels like it’s being branded against Brock’s ass, and he grinds back against it, making Ricky growl.
His own cock stirs, thickens as Ricky’s warm fingers stroke him, all trapped together in the tight confines, and Brock fumbles with his laces, trying to get more room-
Ricky nips at the back of his neck, and Brock lets go with a gasp, holds on to the nearest padlocked handle and just arches his hips, feeling the cloth go taut against his ass while Ricky’s stroking his dick, fingertips slipping past the base to tease at the lips of his cunt, slicked up with heat and sweat and-
And-
-and damnit he’s starting to gush as his legs tremble, the omega mags talk about this stuff but he’s never been this slick off heat before- it’s soaking his pants and he whines, trying to shake off Ricky, he’s so fuckin’ embarrassed…
“Hey- it’s cool, baby, it’s good- just means you’re getting into it-“ Ricky murmurs, breath warm by his ear, and Brock hisses his next breath in, a sharp, panicked thing- but the cloud of green pine, bruised grass and sweet molasses the other boy gives off settles him, the heady musk filling him up with little sparklies that zip through him and settle to dance in his gut, his nipples, his groin.
“F-ffff- Fuck, Ricky-” Brock moans, and closes his eyes as he feels the other boy, the captain, the alpha slide his other hand into the back of Brock’s pants to tease him from before and behind, gripping his cock just right with the one hand and easing the fingers of the other down his crack. Brock’s thighs flex, giving way a bit, and the cloth’s so wet it almost squeaks, or maybe that’s him with Ricky palming his ass, hard-on rutting up against his hip, their padding clacking together uncomfortably.
“Pretty baby,” Ricky says huskily, and licks a stripe behind Brock’s left ear. Right over the scent-glands, and Brock knows this place is gonna reek of them together, all dark and sweet and sharp. He wants that. He wants- he wants-
He wants everyone to know, in this bright stupid instant. Wants Ricky to pull down his pants and fuck him on the bench, know that anyone who changes there is gonna be sitting where they came, thick and sticky and-
Brock chokes against the back of his hand as he comes, spilling wet over Ricky’s fingers and drowning in his underwear, thighs soaked through and nipples hard and pebbled and he’s gonna have to wash this all before next-practice-
But Ricky pulls him from his worry, pulls him from where he’s spread against the lockers, and turns him round while he’s still floating and dizzy, pushes him back. Brock shakes his head and laughs softly, looking down at them, at Ricky tenting his pants and a little damp where the tip rubs against the cloth, his blonde hair sticking up and his cheeks flushed bright around his smile.
“You wanna- you wan’ me to-?” Brock says, muzzy-headed and feeling generous, and Ricky shakes his head, just presses closer, sweat-stained and grinning. This is no behind-the-bleachers blow-job. This is him pressed up against Brock, face to face, touching him all over like he’s something to be savored, and all of the little sensitive spots are getting it. The alpha’s fingers are running up and down his back, lingering in the little patch of skin above his ass that just shivers his spine, and God, his nipples are so tight, the unforgiving pads an agony rubbing against them…
“Lemme-“ Ricky’s saying, pulling open the lacings on his pants, and Brock returns the favor, heady and drunk on the smell of sex. He hesitates a sec when he sees- really sees what Ricky’s packing, in full humming-halogen daylight. No real reason to feel jealous, they’re made for two different things, his is practically decorative by comparison- but goddamn, is Ricky built…
Thick and heavy, the knot just starting to flare at the base, and Brock feels the want flare up in him, even as he puts out a hand, greedy to stroke the hot, velvety flesh. Ricky closes with him instead, rubs his face up against Brock’s, and makes a soft, keen sound in his ear that just makes Brock’s knees feel like jelly, you’d think he hadn’t just come two minutes ago…
Hands tug desperately at his pants, and Brock pushes the other boy back, muttering “wait a sec-“ as he does.
“How far you wanna-?” he starts to ask, and gets cut off with a kiss. It’s a sweeter, softer, gentler thing than their earlier, bruising attempts, and the parting lingers. By the time he opens his eyes again, the alpha’s smiling at him, looking like a goddamn angel.
“Not too far,” Ricky says, gentle, and his eyes are open and blue-ringed and dark, practically see stars in ’em. “Don’t got the stuff for- but we can still ride, wanna ride with you, Brock, you wanna ride with me, too?”
“More’n anything,” he whispers back, and means it.
His pants are down around his hips, just enough that Ricky can slip a few fingers into the mess that’s been left there, and Brock shivers as his captain drags his fingertips over the sensitized flesh there. Rub, rub- the slick sounds seem so loud in his ears, just like the smell of him fills the omega’s nose and mouth…
“Squeeze your legs together,” Ricky whispers, and Brock bites his lip, does as he’s bid. Captain’s orders, a little part of his head giggles (though Ricky’s not going into the army, he’s got a career waiting for him, even if his student election posters say Follow Cap! just like the old vintage ones) -and only the sudden wash of sensation keeps him from giggling along with it. Ricky starts jerking him off slowly with one hand, and wraps his arm around him to squeeze his butt with the other. Between his legs, there’s suddenly a bigger, blunt pressure slipping in, rubbing up against the swollen lips of his opening, not in but past them, and he lets out a little cry.
Ricky’s cock is locked between his thighs, his trembling thighs, and breath leaves him as the alpha leans, ever-so-careful against him. Brock’s arms come around him, trying to hold him close, hold this strange, perfect moment to him forever. Then Ricky starts to move, slow at first, and careful, and it’s not so much about the moment anymore as hanging on to composure, sanity, dear life-
Brock comes again, biting down on his lip as he tries not to moan. And when Ricky comes-
Ricky says his name as he spills, fingers carding through Brock’s hair- and his name on Ricky’s lips tastes like forever.