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“Oh,” Alex says because it’s about time he says something. “So you think since I fuck Eli, that makes him the girl?”
“Uh-”
“If that’s the case,” Alex says with a gentleness he doesn’t feel at all, “I have some shocking news for you.”
(page 173, Like You’ve Nothing Left to Prove)
Truth was, Alex did fuck Eli. For months, Alex exclusively topped, and it was awesome. His disposition to take care of Eli transferred seamlessly into the bedroom, and he loved how responsive Eli was to his touch.
The way his back would arch with the first press of a lubed finger to the furled entrance to his body. The slow moan as that finger slid in slowly. How he’d gasp when a second, or third, or one very adventurous time, a fourth finger was added, and then breathe out slowly through his nose, adjusting to the stretch. And then. Then, when Alex finally lined his sheathed cock up at Eli’s hole, applying just enough pressure to pop past the first ring of muscle, the way Eli’s perfect lips would part in a tiny o, and his eyes flutter shut as his body grew accustomed to the intrusion. He always looked so fucking blissed out from the moment of penetration right through Alex reaching between them to wrap a hand around Eli’s cock, stroking him until he shouted Alex’s name, coming over Alex’s firm fist.
Alex's jealousy and curiosity have been growing quickly.
And so, on a random Tuesday, Alex came home from nearly a week on the road, and asked Eli to fuck him.
The negotiation - or conversation, really - had been extremely short. Basically -
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Like sure you’re sure, and not just - “
“Whatever you were going to say, no. But yes to the first part.”
“Okay.”
And then Alex had let Eli lead him by the hand to the bedroom.
Eli settling in the vee between Alex’s legs is nothing new.
The way he lightly strokes up and down Alex’s hockey player quads is also nothing new. He likes to trace the outline of each muscle, and Alex, well, Alex likes to let him.
What’s new is Eli’s slim finger petting the firm space under Alex’s balls, dipping lower, lower, and lower, until it brushes the tight muscle of Alex’s hole. Out of reflex, Alex flinches and Eli draws back.
“Keep going,” Alex says, surprising himself with how rough his voice already sounds, “please.”
Eli kisses him as his fingers dance south once again. This time, Alex is prepared, intent on focusing on the new sensation of Eli’s fingertips dancing around the rim. It’s nice. Like, Alex isn’t complaining, but it’s more of a tickle, and he’d really just like it if Eli would -
Oh.
A half-second before Eli breaches Alex’s body for the first time, a drizzle of cold liquid drips down the seam of Alex’s balls, slicking up Eli’s fingers, allowing the first to slide into Alex’s body easily.
Well. That’s…different.
Alex feels Eli watching him. He looks up, and is struck by the sheer wonder in Eli’s eyes as he slowly and gently finger fucks Alex for the first time. Alex watches as Eli bites his bottom lip, entranced by the way Alex’s body accepts a second finger, slowing everything down, fucking his index and middle fingers in and out of Alex, twisting them gently, creating space for something larger. Literally and figuratively.
Alex senses Eli’s fingers probing. Searching, in and up and maybe off to one side a bit, just like Eli had explained to Alex months ago. A slightly different texture, and one that, if Alex is lucky, will feel like -
“Oh holy fuck!”
Kinda like that. The sensation so intense Alex’s back arches and bows, undecided whether he’s trying to chase, or get away, from the overwhelming feeling of Eli landmarking the border of his prostate, pressing gently as he goes.
Eli’s free hand wraps around Alex’s erection, stroking him lightly, and Alex’s brain turns to alphabet soup in a language he doesn’t even understand. The coil in his abdomen draws tight and -
“Please!,” he manages to grunt. “Eli, I need you. I need you. Just - “
It feels super weird when Eli’s fingers withdraw from his body. Super weird, and altogether wrong, really, and Alex can’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed at the plaintive whimper that passes his lips.
Eli catches the end of the whine with a kiss. A soft, I love you, and I’ve got you, kiss. With a twist of his wicked tongue that says I’m gonna fuck you though, and Alex is here for it.
It’s not going to fit. There’s no way. The blunt pressure of the head of Eli’s dick against Alex’s hole is too much. It can’t.
It just can’t.
Until it does, and Alex’s body lets Eli in, letting him sink half way in one easy push.
Alex gasps, and Eli stops moving, holding himself in a plank. Eli lowers just his upper body until their foreheads touch, grounding Alex. Alex lets out a slow exhale, and nods.
Soon, Eli bottoms out, his pelvis flush against Alex’s. They’re so close, it’s easy now for Alex to pull Eli down for a kiss as his body gets used to Eli's dick deep within. Eli keeps the kisses slow and soft and for a moment Alex thinks this is what making love is before his traitorous brain reminds him that he’s a hulking professional hockey player that -
No, you know what? Fuck all that. Alex gets to have this. It can be as hot and passionate or cheesy and loving as they damn well want. No one gets to decide, no one gets to judge, but them. And in this moment -
Yeah. Eli thrusts gently, grinding a little when their bodies are pressed close, and Alex feels him everywhere. His warm gaze. Lithe, but strong arms, bracketing Alex’s head. The globes of his pert figure skater’s ass gripped in Alex’s hands, working to bring Alex to the brink of pleasure with the right angle to rub his prostate. And then one of Eli’s hands reaching between them to wrap his nimble fingers around Alex’s length and stroke, stroke, stroke until Alex sees nothing but white, his voice unable to produce anything other than gibberish and broken syllables of Eli, as he comes harder than he ever has in his entire damn life.
Alex cracks one eye open as Eli drags a warm washcloth over his belly. That same adoration and wonder still in his eyes.
Alex sighs happily.
“Good?” Eli murmurs, kissing Alex’s cheek.
“Mmmhmm,” Alex replies, turning slowly to kiss him properly. “Definitely doing that again.”
“Oh yeah?”
Alex doesn’t try to hide the cheeky grin threatening to take over his face. “Yeah. How’s tomorrow for you?”
The washcloth lands on his stomach with a smack. “You,” Eli says sternly, “have practice.”
“Yeah, I do,” Alex smirks.
“You’re the worst, and I regret everything.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you do.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
“Me neither.”