Page 26 of Brat on the Ball

“You’re….killing me,” he panted, sweat glistening on his forehead. He was still holding his legs up for me like a good boy, but I pushed his legs up higher. He was a soccer player. I knew he had to be a little more flexible.

With the easier access, I pushed into him, harder than I had before, and the groan in response was all the encouragement I needed to go, harder and faster. I liked to draw out sex, to make it a process we could enjoy for as long as we could, but the sight of that alabaster skin against my dark grey sheets was too much. I wanted to own Ollie Gunnerson, and if it weren’t for the thin condom separating us, I’d have finished deep inside him and made him mine in the most primal, caveman-like way I knew.

My thrusts were fast and erratic, but Ollie seemed to enjoy every second. Every thrust brought out new octaves of pleasure, every movement a symphony of my own making.

“You’re…so beautiful,” I said, realising I’d brushed his bottom lip with my teeth. I moved down a little, biting his collarbone, then his chest. I needed him marked again. I needed him to be allmine.

“Touch yourself,” I said, pushing his legs even further back so I could pound with impunity. His hand came to rest on his cock and he stroked himself, hard and fast. I was still fully clothed, cock only freed from my fly. Having Ollie naked, vulnerable, and sweating under me was driving me over the edge.

Ollie’s moans reached a new pitch. “I need to come,” he whined.

“Come,” I encouraged him. “Do it for me.”

I could feel his tight channel tightening around my cock as he let himself go, spilling over the thin sheen of sweat that had built up on his stomach and chest.

Fuck. I wanted to come inside him, but with the condom between us I needed to mark him in another way, so as I reached my climax, I pulled out and ripped the condom off. In a couple of strokes of my hand, I was spilling all over his semi-hard cock and stomach, our releases mingling in his skin. Mad with lust, I kissed him again, so hard our teeth clashed. And then, when I pulled away, we looked at each other. Into one another’s eyes, and I felt like I saw him and he saw me. Maybe that was madness, maybe I was just lust-drunk. But in that moment, I’d never felt closer to anyone. Numberless hookups had come and gone. But Ollie was something special.

And then he broke the tension. “Well. I’mverysticky,” he said, gesturing down at his stomach. He really was a mess, and a little bit of me was embarrassed at how I’d lost control in the moment. I was always cool. Always in control of the situation. But I got a thrill of seeing him covered in my release, and how I’d taken him apart. I’d renewed my love bites, and he hadn’t complained, so it seemed he was OK with people knowing I had claimed him. Or that someone had, at least.

“Come on then, let’s get you showered,” I said. I held out a hand, and he took it. I led him to the shower and turned it on. I stripped off my clothes, realising I’d got cum and lube all over my jeans, and stepped in. Ollie just stood there, outside the shower cubicle. “Are you coming in?” I asked.

“With you? After we…” Ollie looked so confused, and his expression reminded me of the time he’d turned tail and run at the club.

“Yes. As I told you before, aftercare is important.” I didn’t think to mention thataftercarewould normally have just involved a wipe down and cuddles in bed. He didn’t need to know that this wasn’t something I normally did. That I felt a need to be close to him after the sex was over in a way I never did with anyone else.

“Are you sure? I can wait…”

“You’re dripping cum all over the tiles. Get your arse in,” I growled, and Ollie stepped into the shower with me.Yes.

“Good boy,” I growled, and watched as a blush crept up his neck and into his cheeks. I took a sponge, applied a little body wash, and wiped down his chest and stomach until they were clean. I turned him and washed down his back methodically too, using my hands to wash over his arse. My thumb brushed against his hole, and I watched as goosebumps formed across the small of his back. I wasfascinatedby Ollie. I wanted to see every inch of him, to know how his body reacted to everything I did. I turned him back to face me, and kissed him. “You’re all clean,” I said.

He took the sponge from my hand and, shyly at first, washed me too. I was surprised when he turned me around and gave as much attention to my arse as I had to his. I was some people’s cup of tea, but there wasn’t a huge market for rugby-scarred chunky men with furry butts. When he turned me back around, I noticed he was half-hard already.

“Liked my arse, did you?” I asked, pushing him against the cold tile and kissing him gently to cut off his immediate answer.

“Do you ever…?” Ollie tailed off, leaving the question unasked.

“Bottom? Yes, sometimes. But you can expect the same attitude I have when I top,” I said.

“How is that possible?” Ollie asked.

I grinned sheepishly, suddenly self-conscious at the things I’d not yet shown him. “It’s amazing how a good set of restraints can help to make a top more compliant.”

“Maybe…maybe not yet then,” said Ollie. I shut off the water and wrapped him in a towel, then hunted in the airing cupboard for one for myself.

“Are you in a rush?” I asked.

“I don’t need to be anywhere,” he said. We dried off and walked back through the bedroom to the living room. I sat down naked on the sofa and gestured for him to join. He sat next to me; and when I raised my arm, he tucked himself under it like he was meant to be there. The skin on skin contact was perfect, and I knew I could get addicted to him.

I looked down at the wine glasses and spill marks on the carpet. “That’s gonna smell like grapes and alcohol for the next twenty thousand years,” I sighed.

“I know a good cleaner,” said Ollie. “I’ll send you her details.”

“God, this is domestic,” I said.

Ollie laughed. “It’s nice. It’s what I need. I don’t really…get domestic all that much. I live by myself, and I live for my work.”

“Cardiff City’s star striker, huh?” I teased.

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