Archive of Our Own

Weirdly, the first thing Steph noticed about LeBron when they met, was that he smelled good. The two had hugged after LeBron’s game in Charlotte, with Steph raised up on his toes, and his nose tucked squarely in the other man’s neck. He had smelled like warm cardamom and dried tobacco, and part of Steph thought that his hands might have reflexively tightened around LeBron’s shirt when the scent hit his nose.

He didn’t quite remember, because the entire interaction had felt like a blur. From the point where he found out that LeBron and his team had requested tickets to his tournament game, to when he had watched the superstar sign a jersey for him, Steph had been working with half of his usual processing power. It was likely why he asked what he did when LeBron handed him the oversized jersey.

“Did you, uh—wear it?”

LeBron blinked down at him, a brief look of confusion passing over his face before it broke into a grin. “Did you, uh—want me to have worn it?” He teased, mocking Steph’s awkward cadence.

Steph shook his head a little too quickly and a little too hard. “Nah, it’s just—you know those sell for more.”

That joke got a genuine laugh out of LeBron, whose eyes squeezed shut and head tipped back. Steph felt an unfamiliar burst of warm radiate through his chest at having made The Chosen One laugh. He allowed himself to bask briefly in the undivided attention. That they were in a room full of people all vying for a second of LeBron’s time, and that he had just made him laugh.

LeBron peered down at him, amusement still coloring his expression. “If I see this jersey on eBay in two months, I’m gonna be pissed.”

The room erupted into laughter, the whole space bending to his will, leaning closer. His eyes never left Steph’s, though.

The jersey had not ended up on eBay.

Actually, Steph was wearing it right now. Standing in front of the mirror in his dorm room, his face beet red, even though no one was watching him. He turned around, craning his head back to see the letters stitched across his shoulder blades. There was that feeling again. That same heat in his chest he felt when LeBron had laughed at his stupid joke.

The jersey itself was far too big, reaching the middle of Steph’s thighs, hiding his boxers. It looked like a dress. It made Steph sort of look like a girl. It also smelled faintly of that same cologne. Not enough for LeBron to have worn it, but enough that it had probably been surrounded by a bunch of clothes that he had worn.

Steph worried his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on a non-existent mouthguard. He lifted the jersey up slightly, bunching it around his hips along with his boxers and exposing more of his pale thighs. His breath picked up for a reason he couldn’t quite pin down, and he watched his blush spread down his neck, the loose neckline of the jersey doing him no favors. He stood up on his toes, the same way he did when the two of them had embraced, and felt himself get a little lightheaded with it, rocking back and forth.

He was reminded of conversations he’d overheard in the locker rooms. About what it was like when your girlfriend showed up to your games wearing your number across her back.

“It’s like—“ AJ had paused, searching for the right words. “It’s like possession, kinda. Like, that’s your girl. Wearing your jersey. Letting everybody know you’re her guy. You feel me?”

The locker room had hummed in agreement.

“Makes you wanna…like—“ He laughed nervously, cutting himself off.

“Makes you wanna fuck her through the mattress, that’s what.”

Steph didn’t remember who had said that, only that it caused a chorus of laughter and affirmations from the rest of the team.

Back in his dorm room, Steph turned back around, rubbing his face with his hands and groaning. What the fuck was he doing? He reached down to pull the jersey off, but hesitated when his nose brushed against the fabric.

He wondered if this is what it would smell like if LeBron was on top of him, his chain dangling over Steph’s face. He wondered if LeBron was that kind of athlete. The kind that liked it when the girl he was seeing wore his jersey. If he was turned on by that sort of thing.

If…If he’d be turned on by Steph wearing it.

His gaze snapped to his bed, where his phone lay inconspicuously. Heavy with the weight of LeBron's phone number in it. He could send a picture. A super regular one. To show his appreciation for the gift. To plant the idea in LeBron’s head.

Steph paced back and forth across the scratchy carpet covering his tiny room. Bad idea. Horrible idea. What would he say with the picture? Hey bro. Do you think I’d look good bent over like this? Bad idea. Horrible idea.

When they exchanged numbers, LeBron had said: “Don’t be afraid to reach out, Thirty.” He had not said: “Send me a picture of you in my jersey, Thirty.” He had not said that.

So why was Steph grabbing his phone off his bed and adjusting the angle of the camera to crop out the fact he wasn’t wearing pants? He looked in the mirror and smiled awkwardly, pulling at the side of the jersey to make the logo on the front stand out more.

He didn’t retake the picture even though he didn’t love it, because retaking the picture would mean he cared if he looked good. Which he didn’t. If he thought about it too much, it would turn into something it wasn’t, and so he kept it simple.

Stephen Curry [10:43PM]

Not on eBay. Yet.

[IMG 087]

Steph threw the phone back onto his bed and took the jersey off in one motion. He changed back into his sleep clothes and didn’t look at his phone once while he did it. LeBron was probably busy. He was probably asleep. Steph should go to sleep. He laid in bed, his phone under his pillow, and stared at the ceiling.

His phone buzzed.

Steph peeked under his pillow and saw a response lighting up the tiny screen.

LeBron James [11:01PM]

Value def gone up tho now that ur wearing it

Steph’s heart was in his throat. 

Stephen Curry [11:03PM]

U think so?

LeBron James [11:03PM]

Know so

I look good on u

Steph must read the message 500 times. He read it in bed. Then he stood up and read it at his desk. Then he got up from the desk and walked into his bathroom, and read it again there. Then he stood in front of his closet, where the jersey was neatly folded, and read it there, too.

I look good on u

Just thinking about it made Steph’s entire body hot and his stomach do somersaults. He read the message so many times he almost forgot to reply.

Stephen Curry [11:34PM]

When I get 2 the league, you’ll be wearin mine

LeBron James [11:34PM]

Tight fit, 30

Im a lot bigger, u know.

Steph squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. He looked up at his ceiling, wondering if God would strike him down for what his thoughts were doing. He rolled over on his stomach, his feet kicked up in the air as he thought of a reply.

Stephen Curry [11:36PM]

Shouldn’t u b sleeping? Don’t u play tmm?

LeBron James [11:37PM]

Cant sleep

Stephen Curry [11:37PM]

Y not? Nervous?

LeBron James [11:38PM]

I don’t get nervous. I just perform

Stephen Curry [11:38PM]

Stop trying 2 sound cool

LeBron James [11:39PM]

Don’t gotta try

Steph decided to leave it at that, reading the conversation over and over with a stupid grin on his face until he fell asleep.

He and LeBron text more frequently after that. Steph was glued to his phone, waiting for the next message, wondering if it would make his heart sink into his gut the way “I look good on u” had. He instead hit his SMS limit halfway through the month and had to sit through an hour long lecture from his father about his irresponsibility. About how he was losing focus on basketball to talk to some girl all the time.

“What could you possibly be talking about that would have you sending over 200 messages in 14 days?” His eyebrows were set in anger and his voice was uncharacteristically exasperated.

Steph flinched, the basketball in his hands slicking up from his sweat. “I was—I didn’t even realize I was texting…that much. I’m sorry. I’ll cut it out. I’m really sorry.”

His father nodded once, and that was the end of that conversation.

So the texts had to slow down after that, and Steph instead looked forward to the next game LeBron would decide to attend.

Steph played well that game, he thought. Maybe. They had won, at least. He remembered that because LeBron had congratulated him with a big dinner, and had even let him try some of his fruity cocktail, watching as Steph licked the sweetness off of his lips and hummed in approval. If Steph didn’t know any better, he would almost think LeBron was watching the movement of his tongue. Before he could linger on the thought, the moment was over, and the two spent the next hour talking about any and everything. Most of the conversation was taken directly from their texts, now that they didn’t have a character or message limit to restrict them.

Steph also explained the SMS situation to LeBron, who found the whole thing extremely funny.

“He thinks you been textin’ a girl?” He asked, barely holding back a smile.

“S’not funny,” Steph responded, stabbing his fork into his pasta. “It’s embarrassing.”

LeBron titled his head to the side like a puppy, and regarded Steph seriously. “Do girls even like guys like you?”

Steph stopped chewing and furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

LeBron leaned closer, his elbows resting on the table. Steph was hit with that same strong scent. The one that had unfortunately faded from the jersey after Steph had accidentally fallen asleep wearing it.

“You know,” LeBron said quietly. “Skinny little pretty boys. Girls in N.C like that?”

Steph swallowed. He shrugged. Looked at LeBron then looked at the table. He shrugged again. He said, “I mean…yeah. I'd like to think so.”

LeBron hummed thoughtfully. “You prolly don’t like being reminded you got a baby face, huh? Like people don’t take you serious.”

Steph realized he’d been knocking the end of his fork between his teeth, just to have something to do with his mouth. The nickname was annoying, but Steph understood that it wasn’t meant to be condescending. As much as people said it as though it was. LeBron continued speaking without waiting for Steph to formulate a response.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t take you serious.” He said. Steph felt the gentle pressure of LeBron’s foot against his ankle under the table. “I take you very seriously. Especially as a basketball player.”

Steph kept gnawing at the metal prongs of the fork, his breath picking up the same way it had when he was standing in front of his mirror all those weeks ago. He pushed back against LeBron’s foot, eyeing the older man curiously. “Yeah?” He asked, a little more breathlessly than he intended.

“Yeah.”

Steph nodded once, and that was the end of that conversation.

They didn’t actually see each other in person for a bit after that. Steph had gotten a text after getting knocked out of the NCAA tournament, while he was still sobbing into his pillow.

LeBron James [1:55AM]

U r a very very very very very good basketball player

They got no choice but 2 take u serious now

He had watched LeBron in the Olympics that summer, mesmerized not just by his athleticism and skill, but by his body. When they were face to face, LeBron opted for baggier clothes that hid a bit of his frame. But whenever he was in a uniform, and Steph got a good eyeful of his arms, legs, and handsome face, it drove him crazy. He would sit in front of the TV with a pillow in his lap and his thumb between his teeth, pretending like he didn’t realize that he was rocking against the pillow, bright red and turned-on.

Stephen Curry [4:43PM]

Congrats on gold. U played real well.

LeBron James [5:20PM]

U watching while wearing my jersey, aint u. Fan behavior.

It all came to a head on a hot and sticky night that summer. Steph was in his room back in Charlotte, wearing the jersey and standing in front of the mirror again. He was getting it framed properly tomorrow, so today was the last day that he could wear it.

He walked over to his bed and buried himself under the covers, shielding himself from the omnipresent eyes he could feel boring down on him. It was the last day he’d be able to touch the jersey, so he’d only do it once. Then never again.

Steph panted into the dark suffocating air surrounding him, and rocked his hips against the pillow that had found its way between his legs. He bit back a groan and pushed harder, already overwhelmed and sensitive. He thought back to the dinner they had. How LeBron had looked at him. Eyes full of intensity, and something Steph wanted to think was fondness.

He thought back to how LeBron had given Steph his jacket as they walked back to his car, and how Steph had spent the entire walk trying to smell the collar as subtly as possible. He thought about how LeBron’s big hands had wrapped around his waist and moved him to the half of the sidewalk further away from the street. The way he had briefly squeezed Steph before letting go and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Steph had wanted to kiss him. When they got to LeBron’s car and he had opened up the door for Steph like they had just gone on a date. Steph had wanted to pull the taller man down and by his neck and kiss him. He wanted to pull LeBron’s bottom lip into his mouth, run his tongue over his shiny white teeth, let LeBron grind against him while they made out next to the car.

Back in his room, he let out an embarrassing whimper, running his hands under the jersey to touch his heat flushed chest. “Ah,” he moaned, hips jolting. “…fuck. Ah, fuck.”

He imagined LeBron cornering him after a game, tugging his Davidson jersey off and putting him in a Cavaliers one.

“Suits you better,” He’d say, running his hand across Steph’s body. “You look pretty like this.”

Steph moaned open-mouthed on his bed, his hips moving faster as his imagination ran away with the fantasy. He conjured up the image of being in LeBron’s room, on his bed, his face pressed against the silk sheets while LeBron kneeled behind him, forcing his back into a deep arch.

Steph hadn’t ever been with another man like that before. There had been a couple rushed make out sessions in empty locker rooms that he had instantly regretted afterwards, but nothing more than that. He figured LeBron was probably used to gorgeous girls with perfect bodies and pretty smiles. Inexperienced skinny boys weren’t his type. But, Steph was letting himself indulge. Just tonight. So, he would pretend he was LeBron’s type. That LeBron would wrap his hands around Steph’s waist, naked save for the too-big jersey.

And socks, because Steph’s feet got cold easily.

“So fuckin’ sexy. All mine, too, ain't you?” LeBron’s deep voice made Steph go lightheaded, and he felt like he was burning up all over.

Steph nodded in the fantasy and in real life. “Yeah, all yours, Bron. Whatever you want. You can do whatever you want.”

LeBron pressed a kiss against the back of Steph’s sweaty neck. “I’ll take good care of you, princess. Help you turn that brain off. Make you go dumb on my dick.”

Steph moaned just a tad too loudly for comfort, and shoved three of his fingers into his mouth. LeBron’s fingers would be thicker. He’d only need two to stuff Steph’s mouth shut. He’d watch in fascination as Steph sucked on the fingers eagerly, drooling over the digits with his eyes closed in bliss.

“Suck it just like that, baby.” LeBron encouraged, his other hand squeezing the meat of Steph’s thigh as if trying to leave marks. Steph would let him, too. He would probably beg and cry for it. To have something to press his fingers against while he looked in the mirror, the slight pain reminding him of what had been done to him. What he had let be done to him.

“Good fuckin’ boy, Stephen.”

Steph came in his boxers like a teenage girl, with his fingers shoved down his throat and a pillow between his thighs. He grinded against the pillow a little more, relishing in the aftershocks, and kept two fingers pressed down on his tongue to ground him. He sniffled, not sure when he’d started crying and exhaled shakily.

He wasn’t sure how he’d face LeBron the next time they saw each other.

Steph overdid it during the all star break. Obviously, he was excited to be in the rising star game, to be able to rub shoulders with some of the guys he looked up to, to play some good basketball. But mostly, he was itching to see Lebron again. They’d met during another game in January, but both of them had been too busy to see each other outside of the game. Nothing more than a hug that lingered too long and left Steph warm for the rest of the day. They weren’t texting much either, and part of Steph had worried that when they saw each other, LeBron would brush him off as just some scrub sitting at the kids table.

Instead, when they had crossed paths during media day, Steph had been rewarded for his patience with a tight hug and the scratch of LeBron’s stubble on his cheek. LeBron muttered against the sensitive shell of Steph’s ear, away from the prying ears in the room.

“I’ll come find you this weekend, ‘kay?”

Steph had just nodded dumbly, too flustered to trust his voice. The rest of the week was spent in anticipation for what that meant. He was decidedly unremarkable in the rookies vs sophomore game, but that didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Afterwards though, he allowed himself to be goaded into attending an after party, finally relenting when it was off handedly mentioned that a group of the older players would be there too.

Steph lost count after the third shot James passed him. He really never drank, never saw much fun in it. And he wasn’t having fun right now, either. Sitting on a weirdly textured couch in the corner of the club, trying to make the room stop spinning. The worst part was that LeBron hadn’t even shown up. Steph tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling, counting the length of each inhale and exhale he made.

“Where your friends at, Rookie?”

Steph opened an eye to see LeBron’s large figure looming over him. He looked just as handsome as he always did. Just as confident. Just as big. Steph blinked up at him slowly, taking a moment to register the question.

“They’re not my friends,” Steph settled on.

LeBron sat down next to Steph on the couch, so close that their thighs pressed completely together. He stretched his arms across the back of the seat and shifted his weight, getting comfortable.

He leaned in a little close, so he could talk directly into Steph's ear. “You here all alone? Hoping to meet someone?”

Steph furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of if that was a trick question or not. “No, I’m not really…I don’t really do that.”

“No?” LeBron roamed his eyes over Steph's face, searching for something. “What’s your type?”

Steph could feel himself getting flustered. Too drunk to have any control over the conversation. “I don’t—I dunno. I don’t think about that kind of stuff.” Not true. He thought about it all the time. Every time he touched himself he’d think about LeBron pressing him down, running his hands across Steph’s body. It was all Steph thought about, actually. That kind of stuff.

“No?” LeBron repeated, not sounding too surprised. He tipped his chin up, looking down at Steph. Always, always, looking down at Steph. “Too focused on basketball?”

“Aren’t you?”

LeBron snorted, as if that was the funniest thing ever. The arm behind Steph on the couch dropped down, until his fingers were dancing across the strip of skin on Steph’s waist that his too short t-shirt exposed. Steph's lips briefly parted at the sensation, and LeBron looked as calm as ever. The scratched Steph gently, his pinky just dipping towards Steph's boxers. It was the first time they’d touched in an unambiguously flirtatious way, and Steph's skin was burning against Lebron's fingers.

“Are you…do you have someone?” Steph found himself asking. Worse than actually asking, was the fact that the answer didn’t really matter to him. Steph would be a good side piece, he’d know his place. He’d let LeBron do whatever he needed to do in public to save face, and wait for him in bed. Let him do whatever he needed to do in private, too. Steph closed his eyes. What an insane thought.

“Nah, it’s all me right now,” LeBron replied, and Steph let out a slow breath. “Why? You wanna be my girl?” An obvious joke that made Steph’s whole body burn hot.

Steph shook his head slowly from side to side, too drunk to move as quickly as he wanted to. “Jus’ wonderin’ is all,” he said.

“Wanna know what my type is?”

Steph did not. “Okay,” he said.

LeBron leaned in real close, until their noses almost brushed. “I like pretty girls.”

“Pretty girls,” Steph repeated. He rolled the words around in his head. It was like he thought. “That’s it?”

LeBron pressed his thigh against Steph’s more insistently. “I like polite girls, too, I guess. Say please and thank you. With big watery eyes. Girls that fit perfectly in my lap. Real sweet.”

Steph swallowed, hot arousal tugging in his gut. “Yeah?”

LeBron nodded. “Yup.”

Steph sat up on the couch, pressing his palm to his forehead. He looked back at LeBron, who was still relaxed, stretched out like he owned the place. Steph took a deep breath and looked at the taller man through his eyelashes.

It was now or never.

Steph licked his lips and wished he had something to chew on, “could you help me back to my room?” He asked, and it came out sounding far meeker than he intended, “think I need to be put to bed.”

Steph could barely keep his thoughts together when they stumbled into the hotel room. LeBron held him up by an arm while Steph unsuccessfully tried to slip his shoes off without falling over. When he bent down, his vision swam a bit, and he fell further into LeBron’s arms. The two of them laughed as they moved further into the room, and Steph tried his best to orient himself. LeBron reached over him to flick on the light in the entranceway, and Steph got a good look at his face.

He was so gorgeous. Steph could tell he was a little tipsy from the way his eyes were slightly glazed over and his smile teetered on the edge of a little too goofy.

“Sorry, I jus’—fuck—I’m kind of tipsy.” Steph laughed airily. He tightened his grip on LeBron’s bicep and bit his lip when he felt the muscle flex. “You’re…will you stay? With me?”

LeBron let out a hum and led Steph further into the room. He laughed when Steph hissed at the bright fluorescent lights and ducked his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Steph.”

Steph frowned at that. He didn’t want LeBron to go anywhere. LeBron was so warm and so sexy and smelled like a fireplace at a camping site. Steph could roll around in it. He could drown in it. He didn't want LeBron to leave. “Why not? You can jus’ lie down. We can sleep.”

They ended up in the bathroom, with Steph sat on the toilet seat while LeBron took all his jewelry off for him. Everything was coming to him in flashes. He didn’t even remember sitting down. Steph had to fight to keep his eyes open, LeBron being the only thing keeping him upright. He cupped Steph’s face with his large hands, his rings cool against Steph’s flushed skin.

“Open your eyes, Steph.”

Steph blinked slowly, looking up at LeBron with a heavy weight on his eyelids. “Just stay.” Steph whispered.

“I can’t.”

Steph frowned and pressed his hand against LeBron’s hip. “I won’t try to fuck you, I promise.”

LeBron laughed. A loud and shocked sound. Like he couldn’t believe Steph had said that. Steph couldn’t believe it either. “Something tells me that's not true,” he said, amused.

Steph tugged at the belt in front of him and looked up at LeBron thoughtfully. He felt like his brain was moving in slow motion, and like his thoughts were encased in molasses. Every motion took twice as long and was twice as exhausting. “Just…lay down next to me,” Steph pleaded.

LeBron leaned down, palms still cradling Steph’s face and pressed their lips together. Steph went limp, letting his eyes slide closed. He kissed back as best as he could, smiling into LeBron’s mouth. His arms wrapped around LeBron’s neck and pulled him even closer, trying his best to melt them into one person. It felt unreal, LeBron kissing him. The weight of LeBron’s tongue in his mouth, of his hand finding its way to Steph’s neck. The small voice in his brain was telling him that he was making a mistake. That he shouldn’t be greedy. That he should stop while he was ahead. But Steph couldn’t help but want more. He couldn’t help but want what he’d dreamt about all those nights in his shitty dorm room.

He wanted to feel LeBron wrapped around him, rocking against him. He wanted the feeling of LeBron’s lips on his neck, on his shoulder. He deepened the kiss, and swallowed LeBron’s low groan eagerly. Steph let LeBron kiss him how he pleased, opened up for him as best as he could, tried to make it as sweet as possible. That didn’t last too long though, because LeBron pressed closer, harder, and the kisses got wetter, sloppier.

Steph was good for that, too. He could be nasty, give it as good as he got it. He whimpered into LeBron’s mouth, making little aroused sounds that had LeBron’s hands tightening around his face. Then, out of nowhere, all the warmth was gone, and Steph leaned forward, almost tipping off the toilet seat chasing LeBron’s lips.

LeBron took a large step back, until he was against the opposite wall. “That’s why I can’t spend the night with you, Steph.” LeBron said, licking his lips.

Steph stood up, bracing himself on the counter to keep his balance. He wished he hadn’t gotten so sloppy. So that he’d come off as more convincing. So that LeBron would know just how badly he wanted this. How long he had fantasized about it.

He walked past LeBron and to the bed, peeling his pants off and tossing them into the corner. “Just stay until I fall asleep, at least?” Steph asked, sitting on the bed.

LeBron eyed him from the other side of the room, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “You’re getting naked.”

“Well, I’m keeping my shirt on,” Steph said, “out of respect.”

“Ain’t nothing ‘bout you right now feel respectful to me.”

Steph lay on the bed, rubbing his legs together briefly before getting under the covers. “Just ‘till I fall asleep.” Steph bit his cheek briefly. "Please?" 

LeBron stayed leaning against the wall for a full twenty seconds before letting out a deep breath and walking towards the bed. Steph watched with the duvet pulled up to his nose as LeBron took his jacket and shoes off. He sat down next to Steph on the bed and crossed his arms over his chest.

Steph moved closer, until the duvet cover was the only thing keeping his legs from pressing against LeBron’s. “I’ve thought about how something like this would go a million times,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve thought about meeting you at a party, or some club, and being charming enough to go home with you.”

“Yeah?” LeBron asked, “and what would happen after that?”

Steph pushed the covers off of himself. The room was getting way too warm. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased.

LeBron narrowed his eyes “Do you think I can’t see right through you?” LeBron asked. “You think I can’t tell you never been with a man before? Or anyone?"

Steph flushed at that. Even if he tried to deny it, it was written all over his face. “What difference does it make?”

LeBron leaned forward and ran a hand down Steph’s thigh. His blunt nails trailed along the inside of Steph’s leg, and he watched Steph’s expression closely. “You don’t even know what you want, Steph.”

Steph’s eyes fluttered as LeBron’s callused fingers danced along the back of his knee. “I — I want whatever you want. I want to make you feel good.”

LeBron let out an incredulous laugh. “This is why I didn’t wanna stay. Because if I stayed, I’d wanna fuck you, and I didn’t want you to think that my friendship was all some elaborate plan to get in your pants. But, that’s actually your plan, isn’t it?”

Steph grinned sheepishly. “You want to fuck me?”

LeBron swept his hand higher up on Steph’s thigh, and Steph had to bite back a moan. He could feel himself get hard at the small action, and shifted a little to try to adjust. He was getting uncomfortably turned-on. “Look at that,” LeBron said, eyes glued to Steph’s lap. “You really are a virgin.”

Steph arched his back and opened his legs wider. “I can’t help it.”

LeBron cupped Steph gently, and his finger brushed against Steph’s dick, making Steph force out a desperate and breathy moan. “When you have those little fantasies, what are we doing? What are you thinking about?”

Steph bravely threw his leg over LeBron’s lap and sank further into the plush pillows. “I’m never thinking. You’re doing all the thinking.”

“You always this easy when you drink?”

Steph giggled, “how am I easy, and a virgin?” He lifted up a hand, signaling that he was about to speak again. “You could fix the second thing, you know.”

LeBron shook his head. “I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, man.” He said this even as the hand on Steph’s crotch swept just a little lower, almost under his boxers.

“Then stop touchin’ me, n’ saying sexy things.” Steph pouted, yet made no move to untangle himself from LeBron. LeBron didn’t seem too keen on moving his wandering hand either. “Is it ‘cause I’m drunk?”

“A little bit.”

Steph let out a sound of frustration and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop from bursting into tears. “That’s so stupid! That’s the stupidest shit ever! I’m not even that drunk!”

Steph still had his eyes screwed shut, but he could hear the smile in LeBron’s voice. “Steph.”

Steph shook his head and peeked out from between his fingers. He pushed one of his hands against the bulge in his boxers and groaned. “Then…then jus’ go so I can deal with this.”

The hand on Steph’s thigh flexed. “Let me watch,” LeBron’s voice had gotten deeper, and his gaze a little darker. “That okay?”

He was asking but he wasn’t really asking.

Steph threw an arm over his face to shield his eyes from the scrutiny of LeBron’s gaze. The thought of those same eyes watching him while he touched himself sent a shock of arousal straight to his stomach. His body seemed to decide for him.. “If you…if you wanna, that’s okay.”

LeBron’s fingers squeezed at the muscle of Steph’s leg deliberately—encouragement. Steph pushed his embarrassment down as far as he could and shyly pulled himself out of his boxers. He didn’t have to look to know it was hard and leaking against his stomach. He did hear what sounded like a shaky exhale from LeBron, and his curiosity won over his mortification. He snuck another look at him, and watched his eyes were run all across Steph’s body.

Steph tightened the grip around his cock and made a humiliating noise. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. That he was in some random hotel in LA with LeBron James about to make himself cum. He wondered what people would think if they saw this. The way that Steph wriggled at every tiny movement of his own hand, simultaneously overwhelmed and wanting more. He risked a glance back at LeBron, whose chest was rising and falling rapidly, and whose eyes were wide as they watched Steph’s hand.

The searing points of connection between the two of them were driving Steph crazy. He needed a little more, and was just drunk enough to ask for it.

“Bron,” Steph moaned shamelessly. “Can you…your fingers? Uhm—could…fuck, I’m…could you please—I need somethin’ uh….in my…in my mouth. If that’s okay.”

LeBron didn’t hesitate like Steph thought he might. The hand on his thigh rubbed shapes into Steph's heated skin, and his free hand shook a little as they approached Steph’s parted lips. The feeling of LeBron’s thick fingers—rings and all—pressing down on his tongue was exactly what Steph needed, and he tilted up his hips, whimpering around the intrusion in gratitude.

“Jesus, baby,” LeBron said, almost reverent. “This how you get off at home, too? Need something in your mouth to feel full? So nasty.”

Steph sucked on LeBron’s fingers instead of answering, running his tongue between the two digits. He reveled in the taste of the man’s fingers and the metallic texture of his expensive jewelry. He absentmindedly swiped his thumb over the head of his cock, almost forgetting that he was supposed to be touching himself.

“Look at you. I’m not ‘posed to take advantage of you when you look like that? When you look at me like that?” LeBron sighed, his hand returning to the back of Steph’s knee, and running down the entire length of his leg.

Steph pulled at LeBron’s wrist, removing the spit slicked fingers long enough to say: “I want you to take advantage of me. I’m askin’ you. I’ve been askin’.”

LeBron’s expression shifted slightly, and he shoved his fingers back in Steph’s mouth. “You don’t know what you want,” he repeated, “you can’t even jerk off right. Need me to…need me to do everything for you, huh?”

Steph nodded in agreement. He bucked into his hand as he swiped a thumb under the head of his cock. Every touch lit him on fire, and he was so hard it almost hurt. He felt too good, too hot, too horny.

“You look so pretty like this, baby. You got no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this. How much I’ve been holding myself back,” LeBron almost sounded pained, but the words were going right to Steph’s precum slicked cock. The hand on his leg slides up under Steph’s shirt, exposing his quivering stomach. “So small and skinny—I could break you.”

Steph moaned loudly at the image. At LeBron holding him up by the hips and breaking him in half, not stopping even after Steph’s covered in his own cum and barely conscious. If Steph were a little more in his body, he might be put off by the thoughts he’s been having.

“You wanna get broken though, don’t you?” LeBron said quietly, sweetly, right on the money. “You’d look so fine, too…getting torn apart on my dick. You already look so sexy like this, and I’m hardly touchin’ you.”

Steph was lightheaded and floating, mumbling incoherent nonsense around LeBron’s fingers. Where did LeBron learn to talk like this? He tugged at the other man’s wrist, ignoring how much he missed being full in favor of getting his point across. LeBron’s hand cupped Steph’s cheek, and he leaned into the gentle touch, sinking further into the mattress.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby. Look so pretty. Can’t believe you’re letting me see you like this. ‘S all for me, right? So pretty. You so damn pretty.” LeBron sounded like he was talking to himself, but Steph still preened under the attention. “All night, everybody’s been looking at you,” he sighed, “but you’ve just wanted my attention this whole time, huh.”

It wasn’t a question this time, but Steph still nodded. “I—“ Steph paused, his voice scratchy and fucked out. He cleared his throat, blinking up sleepily at LeBron. “Can I ask for somethin’? That okay?”

LeBron swiped his thumb across Steph’s cheek before petting gently at his bottom lip. The way he was looking down at Steph made Steph’s heart ache. “What do you need, baby?”

Steph made a point to not break their eye contact, no matter how much he wanted to. “Can you kiss me again, please?”

Steph watched LeBron’s handsome face break into a soft, genuine grin. “Yeah,” he said, “you can get a kiss, baby.”

Distantly, Steph thought that if anyone was easy, it was LeBron.

It was their second kiss but felt like their first all over again. LeBron tasted like dark liquor and minty gum, and Steph couldn’t help the tiny little sounds he was making every time they parted even slightly. The hand he had on himself sped up, and the pleasure made his toes curl and uncurl. He panted briefly into LeBron’s mouth, their foreheads pressed together and noses bumping as Steph let out involuntary little ah ah ah’s.

LeBron leaned almost completely on top of him, and Steph let go of his weeping dick to wrap both hands around LeBron’s shoulders, pulling him closer until the two were chest to chest. He looked up at the chain hanging from LeBron’s neck and sighed dreamily. His cock was trapped between their two hard abdomens, and Steph deliriously pushed LeBron’s shirt out of the way, moaning at the contact.

“Okay?” Steph managed to ask, his hips rocking against the hard plane of LeBron’s stomach. God, he was so hot. LeBron was so sexy, and on top of him, and his stomach felt so good against Steph's sensitive cock. The taller man’s eyes were dark, his lips parted open in awe as he looked down at a wrecked Steph. He must look so pathetic like this. Nearly on the verge of tears and humping against LeBron like a bunny in heat.

“God, Steph. Baby. What’re you…what’re you tryna do to me?” LeBron moaned into Steph's neck. “Why are you…Steph.”

Steph threw a leg over LeBron’s hip for better leverage. “Just…let’s just…just take off your clothes. Then we can—ah—you can just…you don’t have to fuck me. Jus’ take your clothes off.” Steph hoped his rambling was getting the point across. If they were already like this, they might as well both be naked, right? And if they were both naked they might as well just have sex. If LeBron let it get this far, and he wanted Steph, too.

“I shouldn’t even have let it get this far,” Lebron said. For a moment Steph thought that maybe he had said that last part out loud, but it seemed like his desire was just embarrassingly obvious. “You drive me crazy. Can't think straight around you.”

He laughed, but it sounded dry and strained. Steph shifted his leg, feeling LeBron’s hard bulge against his knee and bit his own lip. He was getting close, and LeBron seemed to sense that. “Yeah, let me see you come, baby. Let me see it. Wanna see you fall apart.”

Steph could feel his breath coming out hot and wet against LeBron’s ear. He really liked this position, how LeBron’s larger body covered his, how his deep voice sounded talking dirty. He continued rocking against LeBron, not bothering to censor himself.

“Bron,” Steph whined, “Bron.” LeBron kissed Steph’s neck, dragging his teeth across the skin. He pulled back to look at Steph momentarily before reconnecting their lips. When they pulled apart, their lips were still barely grazing, as if either couldn’t stand to pull further apart. “More.”

“More?”

“Fuck me,” Steph asked again, desperate. His humping sped up as he panted into the small gap between them. He could feel himself falling to pieces. The longer they stayed like this, the more he wanted the real thing. “It’ll be okay. I want you. I wanted you back when I was in college, too—so bad. I won’t make it a big deal or tell anyone or get super clingy I just—”

“You won’t get clingy?” LeBron teased, nosing at Steph's jaw. “What if I like you clingy?”

“I can be clingy,” Steph corrected as he shifted under LeBron, unable to stay still. “You just gotta fuck me.”

LeBron cupped Steph’s face in his hand and slipped his thumb into Steph’s mouth. He looked satisfied at the way Steph’s eyes fluttered, humming in approval. “How bout we just make you cum, first?” He suggested, taking hold of Steph's waist and rutting down against him.

Steph did just that, shooting spurts across his and LeBron’s stomachs, moaning out the others name and a combination of the words, fuck, please, thank you, shit, God. LeBron kissed him through it, running his hands across Steph’s face and stomach and legs, making Steph smile. Steph was still floating on cloud nine, in post orgasmic bliss when LeBron pressed a kiss to his cheek, then his forehead, then the column of his throat.

Steph ran his palm across LeBron’s short hair, humming at the texture and pulling the body on top of him even closer.

“Hey,” LeBron murmured into Steph’s neck, “You gotta let me go, Steph.”

Steph instead pressed his cheek against the top of LeBron’s head. “Stay till I fall asleep.”

LeBron gently untangled himself despite Steph’s weak protests. He sat up on the bed, kneeling over Steph’s body. “I’m gonna clean you up. I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Steph’s attention dropped to the obvious straining erection in LeBron’s jeans. He weakly lifted his leg and clumsily pressed his foot against the bulge. His face burned as he said, “lemme help.”

LeBron shook his head, even as his hips twitched forward, pressed against the bottom of Steph's foot. “Not tonight, baby.”

“Ain’t no way you got that much self control,” Steph whined.

LeBron laughed, a deep and genuine sound as he got off the bed. “It’s your first time. Should be special or somethin’, you know? Not like this.”

“It would be special,” Steph said, “if it was you, it’d be special.”

LeBron just shook his head again as he stumbled towards the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Steph heard the sound of the sink turning on, then off, then on again. He came out 5 minutes later, looking much more put together, and with a wet cloth in his hands.

Steph let himself get wiped down with the warm towel, and hummed in approval when LeBron wrapped him tightly in the soft duvet, pinning his arms to his side. The pressure was weirdly comforting, and it felt even better when LeBron slid back into bed next to him.

“Mmmm,” Steph turned his head to the side. “This is nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steph said through a yawn.

A gentle laugh. “You’re still drunk, I think.”

Steph didn’t bother to argue about that, instead trying to focus on the warm fuzzy feeling that settled into his bones. They were quiet for a while, listening to the hum of the air conditioner and the soft sound of each other's breath.

With everything finally settled, Steph had enough brain power to start to get embarrassed about his behavior.

Steph sniffed. “I’m sorry I was so pushy earlier. Not cool at all.”

LeBron blinked down at Steph, his expression a mix of confusion and something else that Steph was too tired to process. “Nah, it’s all good,” LeBron said sincerely. “I was into it, it’s just. You know. I didn’t want it to happen for you like that.”

Steph smiled, “Like what? With one of the best basketball players in the world?”

LeBron’s expression turned grim, like Steph had just said the wrong thing. He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to grasp at the right words.

“First draft thoughts are cool with me,” Steph said, “I’m not a reporter.”

LeBron exhaled through his nose, an almost-laugh. Steph still counted it. “How come you’ve never done nothin’ with anybody before?” LeBron asked.

It was a fair question, but one that Steph admittedly didn’t think about much anymore. At first, it was because of religious reasons. Steph had used to feel immense guilt about the desires he had. The fact that he had them for men. It made every mundane interaction with a guy his age feel like a sin, and it was just easier to not do anything with anyone, than to have sex with a girl in an attempt to curb it.

In the past few years though, Steph had been praying a lot. He’d been talking to God, asking Him serious questions. Asking how come he felt this way if it wasn’t right. Asking why it wasn’t right. He’d had a realization at nineteen, on his knees in front of his tiny dorm room bed, that there wasn’t anything wrong with how he felt. That the God he worshiped, and spoke to every night, and whose presence he felt constantly wouldn’t make him in a way that was inherently wrong.

After that, it had been easier to handle his sexuality. Now, the reason for his abstinence was a lot less interesting.

“Hasn’t ever felt right,” is what he settled on.

“And it felt right tonight?” LeBron said slowly, in disbelief, “with me, during all-star weekend, in a hotel room?”

Steph did the best shrug he could while burrito’d in the blankets. “Yeah. Is that crazy?”

“Yeah, Steph,” LeBron said, “that’s crazy.”

Steph bit the inside of his cheek. “What’s happening right now?”

LeBron clenched and unclenched his hands. “I know we were talkin’ all that shit earlier, about you having planned this or whatever, and wanting to be taken advantage of…I guess…I dunno, man. I’m sorry. I don’t got the right words.”

“That’s okay.” Steph wiggled closer, and LeBron cracked a small smile at that. “Just talk.”

LeBron took a deep breath. “I really like you. I want to fuck you. Real bad. More than I think I’ve ever wanted to fuck anybody, and you don’t know what you want, and that makes me want to fuck you even more.”

“What’s the issue?”

“I don’t think…I should. We should. I don’t think we should.”

Steph nodded. “Why?”

“‘Cause I feel like it’ll ruin you.”

The thought sent a shiver down Steph’s spine. “That’s okay. I want you to ruin me, I want you to take advantage of me. I play into the helplessness sometimes to tease you, but I’m a grown man. It’s a choice I’m actively making. I like how you take control. I like how I’m inexperienced and you’re not, and that I can rely on you to show me how good I can feel. It’s fun. I’m having fun. I want to keep having fun with you.”

LeBron was nodding along slowly as Steph spoke, and by the time he finished, LeBron was smiling. Less with his mouth and more with his eyes, like he was trying to control his expression but his entire face wouldn’t cooperate. It made Steph want to climb him like a tree.

“So?” Steph asked, shimmying even closer, until his head was in Lebron's lap.

LeBron thought for a moment. “Okay.”

“That was easy.” Steph wiggled happily, and the tension from earlier was all gone. “When?”

“Not tonight. After the season.”

Steph considered that. “After you’re riding the ego trip from being named back-to-back MVP?”

LeBron grinned. “Nah, before the play-offs start. After your season is over.”

Steph wished he had access to his hands to smack LeBron, but instead all he could do was glare.

LeBron just smiled wider, unbothered and stupid handsome. “Cute.”

LeBron seriously thought of calling the whole thing off up until the moment he watched the taxi pull into the bottom of his driveway. He’d been tormented by the image of Steph laid open on the white hotel sheets, breathing heavy and begging LeBron to fuck him. It was all he could think about. Before he slept, after he woke up, when he brushed his teeth, or drove, or held a basketball in his hands, or fucked his fist in the shower. He’d been doing that last one when he got the text saying that Steph was only five minutes away, and had come down the drain with a groan.

Now, he was standing outside his front door, freshly showered, watching the object of so much of his affection walk up the comically long driveway, a duffel bag slung over his shoulders. LeBron’s lips twitched upwards despite himself.

He was wearing a faded Panthers t-shirt that stopped just above his waistline and a pair of baggy jeans. It was the exact kind of outfit you’d wear if you wanted to look good without seeming like you put too much effort into it. Steph was so obvious, and so cute.

“You need a charter service to get from the bottom of the driveway to the front door. Absolutely ridiculous. Didn’t you build the house yourself? You didn’t think of that?” Steph said in lieu of greeting. He handed the duffel over to LeBron, who took it without any complaint, and instead opened the door to drag Steph inside.

“Hey, Bron. How are you? I missed you. You’re so sexy and smell so good.’ That's what you ‘posed to say when you see me.” LeBron explained through a smile. “Try again.”

Steph wrapped both his arms around LeBron’s neck, rocking up onto his toes so they were barely at eye level. He smiled sweetly. “Hey, Bron. How are you? Even though you've been calling me twice a week since the all-star break, and I know exactly how you’re doing,” he gave LeBron a tight hug, and he smelled kind of like popcorn. “I missed you. You’re so sexy, and smell so good.”

LeBron hugged back as best as he could with the oversized duffel bag on his shoulder. It was always nice to hug Steph. He fit so perfectly into Lebron's chest. “I‘ve been missin’ you too, Thirty.”

They pulled apart, and Steph rocked back down onto his feet. “Could I take a shower? I feel gross from the plane.”

LeBron placed a hand on Steph’s lower back and led him further into the house. “For sure,” he said, “You look good to me, though.”

LeBron watched as Steph's ears turned just a little pinker. “It’s just a shirt and jeans. I just, like, threw it on before leaving the house.”

Sometimes Steph did things so endearing that LeBron felt almost violent with it. How cute of him to pretend like he hadn’t spent hours the night before picking out what to wear, how he’d walk up, what he’d say. LeBron decided against bringing it up.

He led Steph upstairs, all the way down the long hallway to the master bedroom. Seeing Steph there, standing in his bedroom, being nosy and looking through his things, made LeBron’s stomach lurch. He ignored it in favor of getting Steph a spare towel.

Steph spun around from where he was inspecting LeBron’s bookshelf. “No way you’ve read any of these, man,” he lifts up a thick hardcover, “Crime and Punishment? Seriously?”

LeBron narrowed his eyes, opting to put the towel over Steph’s head and steer him towards the en-suite. Better than him admitting that, yeah, he doesn’t even know 80% of the books there. “Get in the shower, Steph.”

Steph lifted the towel and looked up at LeBron through his thick lashes. He was genuinely the single most stunning person that LeBron had ever met. “Okay. I won’t be too long. Don’t miss me.”

LeBron bent down slightly, until they were at eye level. “I can’t come with you?”

Steph looked off to the side nervously and huffed, clearly embarrassed. “Not this time,” he said.

Lebron watched as Steph placed his duffel bag on the bed and rummaged around in it, before pausing, looking up at LeBron, blushing, and then carrying the entire bag into the bathroom with him.

Steph was in the shower for forty-five minutes. It was enough time for LeBron to do a quick sweep of the house and for the lunch that he ordered to get delivered. As he was setting the table, Steph appeared on top of the stairs, wearing what looked like Lebron's fluffy oversized robe and nothing else.

“Hi,” he waved shyly.

“You not getting dressed?”

He shuffled his feet awkwardly, and pulled on his fingers one at a time. “Oh! Um…I just thought…I thought we’d just…”

So overeager. If Steph had a tail, it would be thumping against the floor in anticipation. LeBron was almost offended that Steph would think he’d want to just jump right into it without at least letting him get comfortable first. He told Steph as much, who rocked back and forth on his bare feet and stared at the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling.

“I was kind hoping it would be the first thing we did. I’m really…anxious. I’d love it if…we could do it now, so that...we can do it more later.” Steph explained. “I don’t wanna be thinking about it all night, and freaking myself out.”

LeBron walked up the stairs slowly, until he was just one below Steph. Still taller, though. “What’s there to freak out about?”

Steph toyed with the straps on the robe, and LeBron took the time to admire just how soft and sweet Steph looked bundled in it. Especially paired with the bright flush on his cheeks. “I guess I’m just…not sure what to expect.”

LeBron hummed in understanding. “I can tell you exactly what to expect.” He pressed his thumb against Steph’s cheek. Steph's eyes widened briefly before softening, trusting. “First, I’m gonna kiss you. Get you to relax. You too keyed up. Anticipatin’ it too much.”

Steph flushed at that, his lip parting expectantly. LeBron leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. It was just as sweet as the last time, even moreso, because LeBron knew it would end with Steph in his bed, dazed and blissfully satiated. Steph gave him shy little pecks, nothing like he had in the hotel room. He had been drunk then, overly sensitive and selfish. His kissing had been sloppy, wet and desperate. Now though, it seemed he was a lot more self conscious. He was worried about making it good for LeBron, about doing the right thing.

LeBron wouldn’t have that. This was about Steph, after all.

He used the hands bracing Steph's face to tilt his head back further, coaxing his mouth open with a small bite to Steph’s bottom lip. LeBron was rewarded with the sickly sweet sound of Steph’s whimper and hummed in response. Steph's hands were holding on to LeBron's shirt tightly, urging him closer.

As they made out, Steph grew more confident. He eventually moved his hands from LeBron’s shirt, sliding them across the bare skin of his stomach instead. He hesitantly explored, and LeBron made sure to encourage the behavior with pleased moans. The heat of his long fingers against Lebron's torso was searing hot. He wanted Steph’s hands all over him. On his abs, his back, his neck, his dick. He groaned into Steph's mouth at the thought.

Back at the hotel, when Steph had shyly pressed his foot up against his crotch and asked to help, LeBron had almost given in. He had almost pulled Steph's boxers the rest of the way off and fucked him right there. Now though, he had Steph all to himself for the better part of a week, and he was going to make sure it was worth the wait.

Steph had been so good, and so patient, after all.

They part for air, and LeBron can't stop himself from pressing another gentle kiss to one of his eyebrows.

“Can’t get enough of you,” LeBron muttered. “Could kiss you forever.”

“What—“ Steph's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, trying again. “What…happens next?”

“Next,” LeBron started, “I take you back to the bedroom.” He guided Steph back through the route they had traveled earlier. He sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs slightly and pulling Steph to stand between them. The fluffy robe swallowed Steph's lanky frame, and LeBron would acknowledge the curl of possession in his gut seeing his initials embroidered on Steph’s chest another time.

He pulled Steph into his lap and kissed him again, harsher this time. He licked into Steph's mouth and felt his dick twitch in the confines of his boxers. He pushed the robe off of Steph’s right shoulder, and instead of being met with bare skin like he expected, he instead sees the white athletic fabric of a Cavaliers jersey. It was like unwrapping a present, pushing the robe off of Steph's shoulders and seeing his number stitched right under his heart.

The same possessive heat bared his teeth, and this time LeBron sank into the feeling, inhaling sharply. “What’s this?”

Steph is red down to the collar of his jersey, and is breathing heavily. “I thought maybe you’d like it. That it would…you know. Be sexy. I was tryna be sexy.”

LeBron pressed his forehead against Steph's chest and took a deep breath. “You don’t gotta try. Just look at you.”

Steph put his hands in LeBron hair, slightly overgrown because he had been too preoccupied to get it cut. He shifted in LeBron’s lap and pressed his ass down experimentally, gasping at the contact.

“Yeah, just like that,” LeBron encouraged, sliding his hands down to Steph's waist. “Make yourself feel good, baby.”

Steph did just that, humping against LeBron and letting out the sweetest little noises out. “You’re so…so big.” Steph mumbled out, his lips grazing LeBron’s neck. “Wanna feel you inside me.”

LeBron’s dick twitched at that, how conceited of him. “I wanna feel you, too. Already so hard thinkin’ bout how warm you’ll feel around me. How tight.” He emphasized his point with another grind upward, getting a muffled moan from Steph. LeBron pet the back of Steph’s head and pressed a kiss to his thin shoulder. “What did you want to do today? What have you been making yourself nervous thinking about?”

LeBron reached between the two of them, running his fingers over the soft skin of Steph’s inner thigh. Steph sighed dreamily, rocking his hips to nudge LeBron just a little closer. LeBron had a suspicion that making Steph feel good would get him to be a bit more honest.

“C’mon baby,” LeBron encouraged, “let me hear it. I’ll make it good for you.”

Steph pulled back slightly, looking at LeBron through his eyelashes. “Just…normal stuff.”

LeBron kissed his teeth in dissatisfaction. “You had a whole lot more to say All-Star weekend,” LeBron said. “Talking to me crazy. Sayin’ how long you wanted it. How bad you wanted it. You don’t wanna tell me no more? You wanna play shy now?”

Steph shrunk in on himself slightly. “I was drunk, man. I’m not—I don’t…I’m not actually that slutty.”

LeBron snorted. “You are. That’s okay, though. I like it.”

He opted not to bring up the late night phone call they’d had three weeks after the all star break. Where a normal conversation had devolved into pants and moans once LeBron realized how heavily Steph was breathing.

“It’s a lot on my mind. You know, above all else I’m a competitor, and it’s like they doing everything in their power to hold me back. I can't win here, is what I feel like. With these teammates and this front office. But it’s hard. I’ve put so much into it. I invested so much. Giving up now…I don’t know. What do you think?”

LeBron was quiet in anticipation of a response from Steph, who, even with less experience, was a great listener. Instead, he was met with the ambient sound of Steph’s ceiling fan and his quiet breath.

“You awake, Thirty?”

Crackling on the other end. “Yeah—uh-huh. Is it…is it an inability to build a winning…uh…roster around you? Or an unwillingness?”

LeBron scratched at his beard, giving it thought. “I think it’s both. Like, they’re just not trying hard enough. They don’t care as much as I do, maybe. I don’t wanna do it alone. Doesn’t work. Doesn’t feel good.”

Steph sighed on the other end of the line. “What feels good?” He asked.

LeBron smiled into the dark empty room. “Playing good, competitive basketball. This. You. Us.”

Steph shifted again on the line, and let out what sounded like a half-bitten whimper. “I…” Steph trailed off, sounding out of breath. “This feels good for me, too.”

LeBron hummed. “I’m sure it does,” he said, “I’m excited to get you back at my place. Spend five whole days with you. Finally clear my head.”

“Mmm, I’m excited to see you, too.” Steph replied.

“Yeah?” LeBron prompted. “What’re you looking forward to?”

“Teaching you how to shoot. Eating all your food. Stealing a pair of shoes.”

“That all?” LeBron’s voice had dropped in pitch and volume.

“Yeah,” Steph’s reply was shaky. “What else is there to look forward to?”

LeBron decided he’d bite. “I dunno. My teeth in your neck, your lips wrapped around my dick. That sorta thing.”

Steph whimpered on the other end, cutting himself off with an unconvincing laugh. “You can’t talk like that.”

“Like what?” LeBron played with a loose thread on his sheets. “Thought you’d want me sayin’ shit like that. Give you something to touch yourself to, you know. Instead of the sound of me pouring my heart out.”

“I’m not—“ Steph’s voice suddenly became clearer, as though he’d sat up. “I’m not touching myself! I’m really listening to you!”

“Then why do you sound like that?”

A pause. “Well. I’m just. I’m on my stomach. So. I’m not touching myself, but it’s. I don’t know.” He sighed, relenting. “I really like your voice.”

“You really like my voice.”

LeBron could almost see Steph nod, those big brown eyes looking up at him with that signature mixture of innocence and impishness. “It’s a good voice. Sexy. Even when you’re pouring your heart out. I’m sorry. But I was listening. For real.”

LeBron looked down at his clothed erection, pressing the heel of his hand against the bulge. “Are you?” He asked. “Looking forward to it?”

A muffled sound that LeBron suspected was Steph's head hitting his pillow came through the receiver. He yawned. It was late. They had been talking for two whole hours, and it was nearing 1AM. LeBron almost felt bad about keeping him up knowing the rookie had practice later that day.

Almost.

“Yeah. Um. I am.”

“Which part? My dick your mouth?”

Steph choked out a strained laugh. “Yeah. I don’t think I’d be very good at it though.”

LeBron pressed down on his dick harder, shifting his hips a little. He could feel the telltale burn of hot arousal in his gut that he’d come to associate with Steph. That pretty face. Those soft lips. The way he’d flush, fumbling around, not sure what to do with Lebron's dick in his face.

The thought had him sighing.

“You don’t have to be good at it,” LeBron reassured, “that’s what I’m here for. I’ll teach you.”

A soft moan. “Will you really?”

LeBron pushed down his sweatpants enough to pull his dick out, sighing in relief at the feeling of it in his hand. “‘Course I will. Let you take it at your own pace. Show you how to make me feel good. I know you’d do a good job with a little instruction. You’re a fast learner.”

Steph must have still been grinding against the bed, because LeBron could hear the quiet yet steady creak of the bed frame. “During…during the all star break, in the hotel room. I—you made me feel so good. Without even really touching me, and I was like—fuck—I’ve never felt like that. I want…I want to make you feel like you made me feel. Wanna see you cum. Wanna…wanna be the reason you do it.”

LeBron leaned his head back against his headboard and let out a heavy breath. He had stumbled into the bright bathroom of that hotel room with a half baked excuse, and a boner that made him lightheaded. He had stood above the toilet, his hand braced on the wall, and jerked off furiously to what had occurred in the last 20 minutes. He came so fast that Steph probably didn’t even think he touched himself.

“You still there?” Steph asked, his words sandwiched between moans. “I want…can you talk to me?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” LeBron said. He started stroking his dick slowly, wanting to drag it out. “I kind of want you to do the talking, though. I really like your voice, too.”

“We can both talk,” Steph compromised, “you first.”

LeBron dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. He told Steph almost everything. About how he’d wanted Steph since that first interaction, since he saw Steph dance across the hardwood in a jersey three sizes too big. He told Steph about how he couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of the other's mouth, the sound of his whimpers. Steph moaned through his own confessions. He told LeBron about how how badly he wanted to get fucked. About how it was all he could think about since the all star break. How he wanted LeBron to bite him and leave bruises on his hips and all other kinds of, frankly, insane shit.

So, even if Steph wanted to be tight lipped about it now, LeBron had a very good idea of how to make this as good for his partner as possible.

LeBron maneuvered Steph onto his back, untying the front of the robe completely. Steph looked gorgeous under him, and LeBron couldn’t believe that he was actually allowed to do this. To have this. To take this. Steph had no underwear on, and covered up his face with his arm in embarrassment. Everything he did was catastrophically endearing.

“I’ve been…practicing. With my fingers and…you know. Other stuff. So. Um.” Steph opted to open his legs instead of explaining further, and revealed the end of a dark blue gem nestled in his ass.

LeBron closed his eyes and counted back from ten. He took a deep breath. He tried to focus on five things he could see, and four things he could touch, and three—

“Should I not have done that?” Steph’s voice had a nervous edge to it that Lebron immediately wanted to dispel.

LeBron shook his head just a bit too hard. “No. I mean—yes. I mean, I was looking forward to prepping you. You didn’t have to do that. But you look gorgeous all spread open for me. You just couldn’t wait, huh?”

LeBron pulled at the base of the plug and watched Steph’s mouth fall open in a silent moan. He looked up at LeBron with furrowed eyebrows and a surprised expression. Like he couldn’t believe such a simple movement could make him feel so good. LeBron pulled it out another inch or so before pushing it back in and soaking up the shaky gasp Steph let out.

The fact that no one else had seen him this way before was making Lebron's blood run hot. He wanted it to stay that way.

“Mmmm,” Steph moaned, “Feels good, Bron.”

LeBron placed one of Steph’s legs over his shoulder, spreading the other one out to the side. It was an even better view from this angle, and LeBron was sure Steph could see just how turned on he was through his sweatpants. He twisted his wrist as he pushed the plug back in, and Steph arched off of the bed slightly.

“Mmmmph,” Steph looked up at LeBron through wet pleading eyes. “Wanna feel you, Bron. Want you inside.”

LeBron didn’t need more than that before he was pulling the plug free from Steph and replacing it with two of his fingers. Steph reached out for LeBron, attempting to pull him closer so they could start kissing again. He didn’t seem all that bothered by his leg pressed up against his chest, instead licking into LeBron’s mouth eagerly. Steph was a good kisser. Always gave it just as good as he got it. If LeBron wanted to kiss him slow and sweet, he’d melt right into it and sigh prettily as they made out. If LeBron was desperate, he’d open his mouth up obediently and let LeBron suck on his tongue while working his hips absentmindedly.

The latter was what Steph was doing while they kissed. Wriggling around on LeBron’s fingers and making the sluttiest noises.

“You’re so tight around me, baby. Feel so good. You feel good? Am I making you feel good?” LeBron knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Steph say it.

Steph nodded as much he could while they kissed, his hands grabbing at LeBron’s clothed back. “Love it when you touch me. It’s all I can think about. Missed you so much, Bron. Miss your hands on me.”

LeBron smiled. Steph was a lot more honest with a couple fingers inside him.

“Fuck, right there. Ah, Bron. Bron. Bron.”

LeBron pressed kisses against Steph’s throat. Licked up the sweet smell of his body wash and sped up the pace of his hand. “Yeah? That good?”

Steph answers with a loud and long moan. The kind that LeBron would have expected as he fully entered Steph for the first time. Instead, he had let out such a sweet sound because LeBron had adjusted his wrist. LeBron felt himself start to heat up at the thought of how Steph would sound and look once he was inside. His dick agreed enthusiastically, but LeBron would ignore it for now.

Steph worked his hips, fucking himself back on LeBron’s fingers, his lips parted and eyes unseeing. It was the same look he had back in LA, like his brain was being separated from his body. Steph was so unintentionally sexy. LeBron loved the bathrobe, and the jersey, and the cute attempts to be seductive. He had meant it when he said that Steph didn’t even have to try. He was incredible just like this. Open, and honest, and wanting.

Steph unstuck his hands from LeBron’s broad back and slid them down until they met the waistband of his sweatpants. Steph pushed a hand down the front of the pants, his eyebrows furrowed in a look of determination. He surged up to kiss LeBron again, sucking on his tongue and whimpering through it.

He wrapped a loose fist around LeBron’s dick and gasped at the sensation. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed on it nervously.

So cute.

“Big,” Steph mumbled, “fuck. I wanna see. Take em’ off. Wanna see it.”

LeBron obliged, helping Steph push his sweatpants off completely. He kicked them off the edge of the bed, uncaring of where they ended up as his shirt joined them. Steph sat up on his elbows, his eyes moving rapidly across LeBron‘s chest, arms, stomach, cock. LeBron thrust his fingers just a little deeper in Steph, and watched his mouth drop open, lips shiny with spit.

“Oh god. Oh god. Ugh — I ‘m—Ahhh,” Steph tugged at LeBron’s wrist and let out a guttural groan. “Can’t–!”

LeBron watched in rapt fascination as Steph’s hands bunched up the hem of his jersey, just to have something to do. LeBron only sped up his ministrations, and Steph looked bucked his hips through it. His expression was like something out of a movie as he reached a shaky hand down to stroke himself. Eyebrows pinched together and cheeks a ruddy red from embarrassment and pleasure. LeBron wanted to bottle it. The ten uninterrupted seconds of Steph coming apart under him, in his bed, wearing his jersey, made the months of waiting more than worth it.

“That’s it,” LeBron said, talking Steph through it. “So good, baby. So much cum for me. You probably feel so much better now, huh? Good boy, Steph. Good boy. So perfect.”

Steph stuffed his face into the pillow next to him and shuddered. His legs twitched sporadically with the aftershocks as he tried to regain awareness of his surroundings. LeBron ran a hand across Steph’s thighs and hoped the touch was more grounding than overstimulating. He still had three fingers buried in Steph’s ass, wet and hot with the aftermath of his orgasm.

Steph lifted his head to look at LeBron through tear stained eyelashes and splotchy cheeks. “Does it—does it feel that good every time?”

LeBron laughed, leaning over to kiss into Steph’s soft mouth. He pulled away just far enough to reply, “if you stick with me, yeah.”

Steph hummed thoughtfully and shifted his weight a bit, wincing. LeBron got the message and carefully removed his fingers from Steph, wiping them haphazardly on the sheets.

“Sensitive?” LeBron asked, moving to lay down next to Steph’s warm body.

Steph nodded as he rolled over to curl into LeBron’s chest, his head tucked under LeBron’s chin and his leg thrown over LeBron’s waist. He nibbled and kissed at LeBron’s collar bones, rubbing his face all over LeBron’s chest like an overexcited cat. LeBron slipped his hands up Steph’s back, under the jersey, feeling him up like he’d been dreaming of doing for the better part of two years. To finally get to have Steph fucked out and pilant in his arms was all that LeBron could have asked for.

That, and maybe an orgasm of his own.

“You tapping out already, Thirty?”

Steph shook his head vehemently. “Nah,” he said into LeBron’s chest, “I just need a second.”

LeBron scratched gently at Steph’s thigh. “It’s okay if you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay.”

Steph reached between them to grip LeBron’s cock and gave him another bite on the chest. LeBron groaned deeply, and that seemed to encourage Steph, who wiggled happily and tightened his hand. He pulled back from LeBron’s clavicle and silently requested another kiss. LeBron could not get enough of kissing Steph. He was clumsy in his excitement, and so receptive to whatever tone LeBron set. Like now, they were kissing in that slow and dirty way they’d kissed in the hotel room and LeBron groaned at the memory and the hand still slowly working him over.

Steph opened his mouth, allowing room for LeBron’s tongue to enter and rub against his own. They separated with a wet sound that made Steph wrinkle his nose. He looked down between them, where his slender fingers were wrapped around LeBron.

He had that same expression that he did on the top of the stairs. Open, trusting, eager. “I think I’m ready, Bron.”

Entering Steph was easily a top five experience, ever. Being drafted. Winning his first MVP. Two things he couldn’t think of right now. Fucking Stephen Curry for the first time.

“Oh god. So—You feel—I feel—I think I’m—“ Steph couldn’t seem to get a full sentence out. His eyes were glued to the ceiling and unseeing. His breaths were coming out quick and labored, and his hands clenched and unclenched at LeBron’s chest.

Steph had opted not to change their positions, even after LeBron had explained how it might be uncomfortable for a first time. Maybe it was for the best though, because with both of them on their sides, there was about an inch or two of his cock that wasn’t quite in. Even without that, Steph looked overwhelmed and desperate. It was taking everything in LeBron not to move, to just rub his hands up and down Steph’s thigh, where it lay still across his waist and whisper sweet words in his flushed ear.

“Doing so well, baby. Made for my cock. You feel how deep I am in you? Want me deeper?”

Well, perhaps the words could be a bit sweeter, but they had the desired effect. Steph’s eyelashes fluttered and he whimpered, tilting his head down to slit his lips over LeBron’s. He started to rock his hips gently, gasping at the hot drag of LeBron inside of him. LeBron watched in rapt fascination as Steph found his own rhythm, moving his hips in a slow deliberate way that heated up LeBron’s stomach so much he was worried he might not last as long as he originally planned. It was just like Steph to be good in bed the first time though, wasn’t it?

“Just like that, baby. Just like that,” LeBron muttered. He let his fingers trace the notches of Steph’s bent spine and held him even closer, until Steph’s cock was trapped between their abdomens. “So pretty. Fuck, you feel so good. Look so good. So good.”

The two of them then made eye contact, and the look on Steph’s face made LeBron cant his hips forward harder than necessary. Steph didn’t seem to mind it though, instead speeding up his movements. “It’s good?” He asked. Stupid question.

“You have no idea, baby.” LeBron was underselling it more than anything, actually. He shifted his weight, using Steph’s leg as leverage to roll him over onto his back without having to pull out. He slipped those two extra inches in and watched Steph’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open. “Yeah?”

The sound of their hips colliding filled the room, only dampened by Steph’s voice, raspy and still somehow bouncing off of the walls and rattling in LeBron‘s skull. An incessant chant of more and please and Bron and so full that made LeBron’s gums itch with the urge to bite.

“Yeah,” Steph was nodding emphatically, pulling LeBron down by the back of his head. “You can—yeah. You can. Want you to. ‘S okay.”

It was all the permission LeBron needed to give into the feeling, mouth watering like a predator. He bit down on Steph’s shoulder enough to satiate the ache in the back of his head, but not enough to break skin. He could feel the thrumming of Steph’s heartbeat in his throat, and hear the pace of his breath increase.

Steph’s hands couldn’t seem to stay still, and his mouth couldn’t seem to stay closed. LeBron kissed over the dented skin and pulled back to look at Steph.

Steph smiled up at LeBron, running a thumb over one of his nipples, and gripping the flesh of his pecs just shy of too hard. LeBron changed the pace of his strokes, instead opting for slower deeper grinds, and was rewarded with the sight of Steph continuing to unravel. “Bron,” he said softly, “I really—can feel you in my throat—fuck.”

LeBron nodded. “Yeah, I know baby. You not used to it like this, huh? Used to being alone in your room with a magazine, right? Used to being quiet so your roommate wouldn’t hear.”

Steph shook his head.

“No?”

“No magazine. Just you. Just thought of you.”

LeBron hid in Steph’s neck and groaned. “Steph.”

“What about you?” Steph rushed the words out all at once. “You’re probably—uh—seeing other people but—“

LeBron stilled his hips and Steph immediately began to protest, rocking himself back on LeBron’s dick with a petulant whine. LeBron tried to push down the sense of pride he felt at Steph already being so needy. He needed to get his point across.

“Why’d you stop?” Steph complained.

LeBron sat up on his knees and gripped the back of one of Steph’s thighs and pushed it against his chest. He put the other leg over his shoulder and kissed Steph’s ankle. Steph really was inexperienced, if he couldn’t tell how gone LeBron was on him. He hadn’t been with anyone else since weeks before the All Star break, and hadn’t stopped thinking of Steph since that first game he came to.

“Other people,” LeBron repeated slowly, beginning to grind back into Steph’s burning hot body. “What other people am I seeing, Thirty?”

Steph opted to pout instead of answer.

“I’m fucking you raw right now and you think I’m seeing other people?” LeBron couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. “Have a bit more confidence, Stephen.”

Steph laughed. A light, genuine laugh that shook his shoulders and gave Lebron a view of his perfect teeth. He grinned up at Lebron. “I don’t get told that much anymore.”

LeBron adjusted Steph’s hips, and watched Steph’s eyes roll backwards as LeBron put pressure on that sweet spot inside him. Steph tightened around him deliciously and LeBron was eternally thankful that he had jerked off before Steph got there.

“Steph,” LeBron muttered, “Steph. You wanna hear about who I fucked before you?”

Steph shook his head. “That’s—like—the opposite of—fuck, Bron. Right there.”

LeBron obeyed, but kept the same grueling pace. “You wanna hear about how much better you feel around me than them? Want me to tell you how much better you take it? How good you are?”

Steph nodded, throwing an arm over his eyes and biting his bottom lip. LeBron was quickly becoming obsessed with how Steph responded to his words. How he could feel him get tight and see his hands flex when LeBron said something he really liked. His head was beginning to fill up with nothing but thoughts of making Steph feel good. Of letting him know how sexy he was, how much LeBron wanted him.

LeBron kissed Steph's ankle again. He bit at Steph’s calf, and licked his way up to the sole of Steph’s feet. “You taste good everywhere, you know that?” Steph peeked up at him from under his arm, just to get too overwhelmed and go back into hiding.

LeBron couldn't stop running his mouth to save his life. Not that he was trying much, anyway. The way Steph’s dick was hard against his stomach and leaking precum into the thin hair of his happy trail was enough evidence that LeBron wasn’t doing much wrong.

“I’m so deep in there, baby, fuck.” LeBron panted out, “talk to me, baby. Let me know what you need.”

Steph pushed his jersey all the way up under his armpits, and his arm moving revealed his tear stained cheeks and far-off eyes. “I don’t want it to be over. I want you in me all the time—shit—I’m just so…it’s just…you’re so…”

LeBron was nodding before Steph finished his disjointed sentence. “I can do that, baby. I can do that—keep you here, fuck you whenever you want, wherever you want. Won't let you go back to the bay. They don’t value you over there. You should be with me. Wearing nothing but my jersey all the time—oh, you like that?”

Steph was nodding. “Yeah, I want that. I want—I want so much.”

“Like what, baby?” LeBron leaned down, so that the weight of his torso was pushing Steph’s thigh back instead of his hand. He bracketed Steph’s head with his hands and hovered his lips right over Steph’s, moving back when Steph tried to kiss him. “Like what?”

Steph blinked up slowly, so cutely irritated. “Can’t think with you in me—“ Steph cut himself off with a moan and shudder.

“You know,” LeBron said thoughtfully, “If I play my cards right, we could probably go like this for hours.” The two of them had found an intoxicatingly delicious rhythm, where every inch of LeBron’s cock was dragging though Steph’s body. “You wouldn’t have to do nothin’ but lay on your back all day. Let me handle everything else.”

Steph was looking at him as though he hung the stars in the sky. Like he couldn’t believe what was currently happening. LeBron was sure he had the same expression as he looked down at Steph. Steph pressed down on his abdomen, rubbing his stomach over the skin.

“Bron,” he whined, pawing at LeBron with a clammy hand helplessly. “Bron, you’re fucking me so good.”

LeBron sped up at the praise, pounding into Steph harder as his head swam with voices telling him to make Steph moan, make him cum, make him cry, make him his. Steph seemed to notice the correlation and hummed thoughtfully, licking his lips and wearing that mischievous expression, albeit a bit sloppier.

“Doing so perfect, fucking me just right.” The words were slightly slurred together as Steph’s brain slowly leaked out through his ears, but they still made LeBron‘s hips stutter. He knew that he was a confident guy, but to think he’d get that turned on by simple praise was almost embarrassing. Almost, because Steph had said it so sweetly. He was saying it again, too. “Love your cock, Bron. Love it so much. I wanna—I—“

LeBron didn’t slow down, and he slid his lips against Steph’s, desperately. “What? You want what? Tell me. I—I’ll give it to you, baby.”

Steph gasped, and spoke quietly, just between the two of them. “Wanna be yours, want you to fuck me all the time—whenever you want. Wanna be good for you. Wanna make you cum. Wanna feel it. I’m so—I think I’m—I’m so close.”

LeBron felt like his entire body was on fire. He cupped Steph’s face in his hands and bit gently at the tip of his nose. “Yeah? That what it is? Wanna be my girl?”

Steph twitched violently at that, his eyebrows shooting up so high they almost touched his hairline. “Oh.” He said simply, cheeks red.

“You can be my girl, Steph,” LeBron answered, “you can stay with me as long as you want. Fill you up whenever you’re aching for it. Nobody else gon’ fuck you like this, you know that? Nobody. You better not even let nobody try.”

Steph was nodding, mouth open and lips wet with spit. LeBron reared back his head, pressed two of his fingers against that plush bottom lip and opened Steph’s mouth wider. He looked down at Steph, smiled gently, and slid his fingers further back into Steph.

Steph sucked on LeBron’s fingers with fervent enthusiasm, only egging LeBron on further. “You’re all mine, now. All mine. My girl.”

“You all mine, too—“ Steph mumbled around LeBron‘s fingers. He bit down gently on them and grabbed LeBron’s wrist. He kissed LeBron's hand. The calloused palm and thick fingers . “—don’t want you fucking anyone else, either. You can fuck me wherever. Would have—would have let you fuck me when we first met. In that room with everyone watching. At that restaurant when we got dinner, next to your car. You could have fucked me there, too.”

LeBron licked at Steph’s neck, and sunk his teeth back into the soft skin to stop himself from saying something crazy. Like how this was the best sex that he’d ever had, and that he’d been looking at Steph’s hands for the past five minutes and trying to see if he could figure out his ring size. LeBron knew that they’d have had good sexual chemistry. He could tell from the moment Steph had looked up at him, shy yet confident. This, though, was something completely different.

He could tell that Steph was barreling towards his peak, cock still untouched against his stomach. He didn’t seem all that interested in touching it, so LeBron opted for kisses instead, something he knew that Steph enjoyed. Steph kissed back without much regard for technique and ran his hands down the slope of LeBron‘s back and gripped his ass. Steph urged LeBron to grind in deeper and panted out stuttered moans and whimpers. He licked his lips and whispered into LeBron’s ear, chants of fuck me, fuck me, make me take it causing LeBron’s self control to slip even more.

Entering Steph was a top five experience ever, but watching him cum untouched was worming its way up the list. Cock still red and neglected in a bed of curls, LeBron watched as his eyes filled up with tears and his face twisted in bliss. He watched as spurts of cum coated Steph’s abs and he made a sound that LeBron had never heard before. Almost as though he was in pain, but the grip of LeBron’s ass, keeping him pressed flushed against Steph’s hips told him differently.

Steph threw his head back and kept saying the same thing, begging for LeBron to cum inside him. LeBron, who had found out recently just how susceptible he was to Steph’s charms, followed soon after, groaning into Steph’s mouth and kissing all around his lips.

“Mmmm,” Steph rumbled. He shifted his hips with LeBron still buried inside as he started to soften. He had a satisfied smile on his face, all the tension in his body gone “how long till you can go again? Like ten minutes?”

LeBron raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

“You said whenever I wanted.” Steph said plainly. “Will it take longer? Like fifteen? Should I do something to help? I could…we could…you know, you could teach me how to—”

“Steph.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I pull out of you, first?”

Steph frowned as LeBron started to pull himself from the overbearing heat of his ass. LeBron paused.

“…Steph?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I pull out?”

Steph laughed breathlessly, embarrassed. “Yeah, ‘course.” LeBron leaned down again so that they could kiss, and felt Steph relax under him. He slid his thumb across LeBron’s eyebrow and offered a sheepish smile, “thank you. For doing this for me. I know it’s…yeah.”

LeBron reached down to gently guide himself out of Steph. He watched as some of his cum trickled out, and Steph clenched down, seemingly without thinking much about it. LeBron dragged his eyes back up to Steph’s face and tried to make his smile kind instead of hungry. His voice still cracked when he spoke, “I wasn’t doing you some favor. I wanted it, too. Been wantin’ it.”

Steph flushed and blew out a disbelieving breath. “Yeah. Like anything would have happened if I didn’t embarrass myself in that hotel room.”

LeBron hummed in agreement, more focused on cleaning the two of them up than the conversation. “I think it would have happened. Just later.”

Steph sat up and pulled the jersey—which had started to stick to his skin with sweat—off. He giggled to himself and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “Could you imagine that? Years worth of sexual frustration taken out on the basketball court. Maybe we’re rivals or something. And like—we meet in the playoffs—“

“—You’d have to make the playoffs first.” LeBron interrupted. He stood up from the bed and stretched, hearing a few bones in his neck crack.

Steph scoffed and fell back dramatically into the plush pillows. “In five or six or seven years, we’d meet in the playoffs—I guess the finals if you stay in the east. We’d be cordial, I think. I’d probably still have a huge thing for you, but would be too stubborn to do anything about it.”

He eyed LeBron without much shame, sweeping his eyes over the full length of his body. LeBron was deeply flattered. “So what? We’d be rivals?” He walked over to the bathroom and grabbed a wash towel to wet.

“Yeah,” Steph responded, “and every time we’d play each other there would be this weird tension hanging between us that neither of us could explain. Then—BAM—I beat you in seven to take home the championship, then—“

“—wait, why do I have to lose for this to work?”

“Because it’s my fantasy?” Steph replied, and LeBron could hear the eye roll in his voice. “Anyway, you get so heated because I own you that you find me after the game, in the locker room after everybody else is gone. Then you slam me against the lockers and you’re all like ‘you think just ‘cause you won a couple more games you big shit?’ And I’m like ‘hell yeah I’m big shit I just crushed your sorry ass.’”

LeBron returned to the bedroom and climbed back into bed. He ran the warm cloth down Steph’s torso, cleaning up the flaky dried cum. “Is that it? You just tell me I suck?”

“Yeah, for the most part. But I’m, like, riding you while I do it.”

“Interesting. I think it’d go a little differently.” LeBron grabbed a hand around Steph’s thigh and pushed it back to give himself better access. He probably should have pulled out, so that Steph wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning the cum out of his ass when he showered, but he wasn’t exactly in his right mind. Maybe he could use this as an excuse to get in the shower with Steph. Offer to clean him up.

“What do you think would happen?”

“I think we’d meet at the finals. I think you’d lose in seven, but get really close,” he dragged the cloth gently over Steph’s rim, and felt his gut kick as he watched it flutter. “I think I’d call around to find your hotel room, or look up your address,” LeBron leaned forward, and Steph braced himself for a kiss that never came, and instead landed on his shoulder. LeBron continued to kiss Steph’s chest as he spoke, “think I’d want you to congratulate me properly. I wouldn’t be too mean about it. I’d tell you that you did a good job, that you tried your best,” Steph’s breath picked up, and his hand came up to grip LeBron‘s neck. “but at the end of the day, you’re still just my little rookie.”

Steph pushed LeBron off of him while the other went easily, rolling over and laughing. Steph pouted. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you patronized me like that.”

LeBron tilted his head to the side. “You sure?”

Steph gave it some thought. “Maybe I’d fuck you a little.”

“How much is a little?”

Steph smiled, lips stretching from ear to ear. “Want to find out?”