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All Scout wanted was to come and get it over with. But every time they did this, always when he was about to finish, his mind would wander into memories, and painfully delay his orgasm.
The air was stuffy. Not even the cool late afternoon air coming from the open window could counter the heat of two active bodies, lying side to side on a bed not quite meant for two. It had been a long day, hot and relentless, and their bodies were tired and sweaty. The skin on their shoulders was sticky, the only point of physical contact between them.
Scout gripped his cock harder, moving his fist up and down at a faster pace. Next to him, Sniper slowed down the speed of his hand around his own member, only to huff and pick up the pace again shortly after. How had things come to this?
He remembered it all once again. Every time he got close, when he just wanted to come and leave the freaking room, he started reminiscing. It had been an awkward misunderstanding, an innocent mistake on Scout's part. It happened about a month and a half ago. He entered the wrong room late at night, laid on the bed he thought his, and started whacking it. Subconsciously, his mind had noticed the mistake, but only a few days later he understood. The Sniper's scent impregnated the whole room, and Scout's body had reacted accordingly. But in his half asleep state, he didn't notice the smell was real. He also didn't notice the door opening, or the Sniper sitting down next to him, oblivious to his presence.
When they noticed each other, they shared the longest stare of their lives. It was only broken when they looked down at each others' crotches. Scout still had his cock in hand. Sniper had his zipper open, and his own member was eagerly standing to attention.
They had laughed. Scout still didn't understand, or was unable to believe how things went so smoothly. There was no scolding, no anger. Just some mild embarrassment, and a few bad puns. And then the idea, the proposition, happened.
The only thing Scout could not remember was who had proposed it first. The shock and excitement of the following minutes had blurred that memory. He could only remember Sniper lying next to him, pulling down his pants, and starting to masturbate with the same peacefulness as if he were alone. And for a moment he really believed that maybe the Sniper was able to think himself alone just by closing his eyes, but then he smiled and said:
“Ain't you got something to finish?”
The low growl of his voice made him shiver. He looked away and pumped himself a couple of times, but the embarrassment was making his whole body feel like burning. Then Sniper had opened his eyes, and he couldn't remember much else.
“Relax, kid. Didn't mean to make you hurry or anything.” he had said.
There were no stated rules, but some simple guidelines were quickly established between the two. They never touched each other, other than their pressing shoulders and the occasional (but oh, so intense) brush of leg against leg. They didn't gawk at each other, but they both looked down from time to time. And even though they laughed when their eyes met accidentally, there was no attempt to mask the nature of those gazes. They looked at each others cocks with lust, uninhibited hunger in their eyes.
And as much as Scout enjoyed the burning heat of Sniper's body next to him, as much as he needed that smell, and as delightful the noises coming from the other man's mouth and throat were, he could never avoid the shame.
He had come that first night with a weak whimper, pathetic like a wounded animal. That feeling of emptiness and guilt was not unfamiliar to him, but he hadn't felt it in a long while. Years ago, when he had started masturbating, all the pleasure of his release was overwhelmed by the guilt. It had taken him a long time to accept it, to accept the fantasies and images of men as part of himself, and part of the act. But Sniper was real, the forbidden fantasy was real, and happening, and all he could think of every time he came in his hand was how much he regretted it all. He wanted to ask Sniper for forgiveness, apologize for thinking he was so hot, for being unable to look away from his face or stop getting shivers from his voice. He felt like begging to be held, kissed by another man, and this was the most humiliating blow.
He could never have that. He could never ask for that. He dressed quickly and left the room with no more than a silent nod. It had been dirty, it had been beautiful. It had taught Scout a lot about himself.
A few days later Sniper asked if he was okay. He acknowledged the strangeness of the whole deal, but he let him know that he had enjoyed it. A lot. So one clear morning, about an hour before lunch, he invited him into his room again. And among laughter and jokes, completely lacking the intimacy of lovers, they once again masturbated together on the same bed.
And it happened again, and again. And every time Scout finished with his stomach sticky and his soul feeling like crap. Sometimes he left before the other was done. When they finished together and they simply laid there, relaxed and peaceful, he was barely able to smile at Sniper. He never lingered as long as he would have wanted. He dressed quickly, and mumbling a “See ya” he left. Sometimes Sniper asked him if he was alright. He nodded urgently, repressing the need to confess his pathetic weakness to the man.
It had to stop. It was the best thing to ever happen to Scout, but it was a cruel way to tease his heart. He would tell him today. Today, after coming, he would stay. And it would end.
But it was taking so damn long for both of them to finish. Scout raised his head to peek at Sniper. The man had his eyes closed in deep concentration. But unlike the calm focus he showed in his profession, this was a chaotic state of being completely lost in desire. He couldn't know what Sniper was fantasizing about, if at all, or what was that turned him on. Was he aroused by Scout's presence? Did he desire Scout, in the same way Scout desired him?
He didn't have much time to muse over those matters, because his rational thinking was quickly burning away. Sniper was moaning, moaning in that delightful raspy way he did, the air leaving his throat in sharp exhalations. His body tensed and twisted, his wiry muscles turning and flexing under his hairy skin. When his mouth was shut, he licked his lips in one slow motion. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and when his lips parted the needy breathing resumed. Scout looked down, and saw Sniper's left hand gently caress his belly. His index finger idly roamed the trail of hair between his navel and his crotch, and further down his other hand grabbed at his dick with abandon. His head arched back, and his mouth opened to let out a moan of defeat, letting his body bask on the heavenly pleasure rushing through him.
As Sniper's seed splattered his legs, Scout could only think of how much he wanted to kiss his mouth. He was starting to get upset again, and he didn't want that. He wanted to come, and distractions like that would only kill his erection and make him miserable. He closed his eyes, and tried for a moment to pretend he was alone. It wasn't working, obviously, so he started thinking about Sniper's lips on his body, and tried to pretend that the hand angrily pumping him was not his own.
He came with a mute spasm. His lips were sealed, and every moan died deep down his throat. Only then he exhaled.
They laid down in silence. Sniper had a happy smirk on his face. Scout's was a complete mess, the face no man should ever wear after an orgasm. But his mind was racing before his body could recover from the release, reminding him of how wrong this was, how depraved he was, how perverted Sniper was making him, and how much he simply wanted Sniper's company. What the fuck was he going to tell him? That he didn't want to be gay? That he was okay with being gay, but he wanted more than this thrilling game?
But was he really okay with being gay at all? He was angry with Sniper, too. He was older, and he was gay as well. He should try to guide Scout to a degree, damn it. Why was he treating this like it was... normal? Didn't he have any knowledge to share?
The longer he laid there, the pressure on his throat grew. He had to leave, now. He couldn't talk like this. But he needed to, needed at least some strength to make it stop.
But the only noise that left his throat was sobbing.
Sniper turned his head, alarmed. “Are you alright?” he said, concerned.
Scout swallowed. Yes, he wanted to answer. He bit his lip and tried to hold it in, but his face muscles were already contorted in pain. A tear left his eye, and he sobbed, his nose suddenly stuffed and his throat aching.
“Hey, come on now.” Sniper said. “Come on, man”.
Don't ruin the moment, you dumbass. That's probably what Sniper meant. Don't make a mountain out of this. Oh god, this is embarrassing man. Have some dignity.
The thoughts only made Scout break even more. He rose his hands, hastily wiped them on the sheets, and covered his face with them. The sobs were clearly audible now.
He felt Sniper sit up next to him. It was probably for the best if the man just left the room, unable to see a man cry like that. Scout certainly wouldn't want to witness anything like it.
Instead, he felt a strong hand gently grab his wrist, and slowly pull his hand off his face. Scout gave in, trying once again to repress his sobs with all his strength. A thumb pressed on the side of his nose and gently caressed his cheek, wiping away the tears that had pooled there.
“It's okay, man.” the Sniper's voice was a whisper. “It's alright.”
The hand remained there, cupping his face and keeping him warm. It had been hastily cleaned and smelled strongly of sex and sweat. Under different circumstances, he would have been disgusted by the musk. Instead, Scout put his own over it, a caress at first, terrified of making Sniper feel compelled to keep it there. He dared open his now reddened eyes, and was met with Sniper's gray ones standing above his. A wave of peace flooded his mind, quickly receding to give way to the same uncertainty as before. His face contorted, and he tried to talk.
“I'm so sorry...” he whimpered.
Sniper shushed him gently.
“It's alright mate. You got nothing to be sorry about.”
He gripped Sniper's hand a bit harder.
“I do, man. I'm so... messed up.”
Sniper smiled, a sight so beautiful it eased Scout's pain. Then Sniper caressed his hair.
“Tell me, Scout.”
Confusion slowly replaced his anguish. Sniper's eyes were gentle on him, but his hands left no shadow of doubt. Their touch was so full of overwhelming love, Scout's fears were on the verge of abandoning him. All he needed was the courage to make that final leap.
He reached for Sniper's head with his other hand. His fingers entwined on the damp hair, and with a gentle pressure he pulled down. But he didn't really need to be afraid of pulling too hard and scaring the Sniper away, because the man did it on his own, and their lips met on a firm yet slightly uncomfortable kiss. His nose was still stuffy and his face damp, after all, so the kiss was brief. But the steady pressure Sniper put in it, and the gentle motion of lips were enough to make the point.
He needed more than just masturbating together. He needed to know he could look at Sniper's smile through the day. He needed permission to enjoy that smile, to let his heart flutter madly whenever he lowered his glasses and winked an eye at him before each match. He needed to feel those hands touching him. Not his cock, or at least not just his cock, but him. He needed that breath, those lips on his face. He needed a freaking hug.
“I didn't want to fuck this up.” he said.
Not exactly the words he was looking for. But it was also true, specially now that he had those eyes fixed on him with a concerned expression on them. He didn't want to lose Sniper. If he had to endure this torture of friendly masturbation because Sniper wanted nothing more, he would do it. He would. Fuck his shame and his misery, if it was the only thing he could get, he needed to keep it.
“Fuck this up?” Sniper said. “If anything this is an upgrade, don't you think?”
He smiled and pressed his body tight against Scout's. His lips sealed over his again, going for a bolder invasion of his mouth. Scout was enamored by it all. Their lips parted and Scout gasped for air.
“You mean you want this?” he muttered.
“Only if you do, too.”
Scout's blue eyes widened. His throat was now free, and the pain on his chest had vanished. Their eyes remained locked for an eternity, interrupted by a strong pull of Sniper's head and a hungry kiss.
It was happening. He had Sniper's body close, his scent all over him, his hands cradling and arms closing around him. He could feel the skin under his fingertips, he could grasp the lean muscle and taste the sweat on his skin. He rubbed his legs against Sniper's, feeling the abundant hair brush against his smooth ones. He laughed.
“Should I take it as a yes, then?” Sniper asked.
Scout pulled Sniper down into a hug, resting his cheek against the other man's shoulder, the most satisfied smile in his mouth. He would say it, eventually. Yes, he would be very specific about what he wanted. But right now, he just wanted to enjoy the moment.