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Zhenya groaned and brandished a hand in disgust as the 49ers scored. He waved off Rusty, who was running down the row of seats and whooping as he high-fived everything that looked remotely handlike.
“Bullshit,” he told Erik as he hauled himself to his feet. Erik mumbled something through his mouthful of nachos, and Zhenya escaped from the media room.
He was about to lose good money on this stupid game. He’d be damned if the guys ate the rest of the wings before he got seconds. The kitchen was loud and busy. Zhenya skirted around the edge of an intense conversation between Rusty and Ricky’s wives to fill up a second plate.
Zhenya eyed the ranch and considered cracking open the fridge for the mayonnaise. Everyone was probably too buzzed now to comment on his choice of condiment. Just as he was about to reach for the fridge door’s handle, big arms curled around his sides.
“There you are,” a pleased voice said in his ear. Zhenya, his arms pinned to his ribs, turned to squint at Sid’s big nose, and, beneath it, his chin hooked over Zhenya’s shoulder.
“Where’d you go?”
“Guys gonna eat all my food. I want more.”
“You had, like, a whole chicken this afternoon,” Sid murmured. His mouth drew closer to Zhenya’s neck. “How are you still hungry?”
“I’m grow,” Zhenya said dryly, turning towards the fridge. Sid went along with him like a flea stuck to a dog. “Growing boy, need lot of food. I get taller.”
Sid laughed against the junction of his neck and shoulder. It was a little wet. Zhenya twitched as he rattled around Sid’s stupid sauce collection for the mayo.
“You’re already pretty tall, baby,” Sid said, and his hands started sliding down Zhenya’s torso.
Zhenya seized the mayo and twisted out of Sid’s iron grip with enough grace that his mama would have told him to dance his way to the Bolshoi Theater.
“Ah!” He accusingly held up the mayo, his finger pointed at Sid and pinning him there. “You take gummy?”
“Maybe,” Sid said, but his lips wobbled unconvincingly as he attempted to straighten them out of a smile.
“Stupid. How many beer you have, huh?”
“Don’t worry about it. It was just, uh, Kelsey mixed me somethin’, it’s fine. C’mere.”
“No,” Zhenya said, dancing away from Sid’s roaming hands. “It’s, like, not even halftime. No!”
“Geno.”
Sid always got so stupid and breathy when he was high. His eyes were dark and huge with interest, and he had an appealing amount of scruff on his face. He’d wiggled into a pair of jeans earlier that caught Zhenya’s eye, and he knew it. He looked very, very good.
“You trouble,” Zhenya told him resolutely before fleeing back to the media room.
Erik frowned at him as he crashed down onto the couch with enough force to make the rest of its occupants wobble. Zhenya returned his eyes to the enormous projection screen in front of them, though he found it hard to pay attention.
Sid’s hands had been nice and warm and seeking. Zhenya liked it.
If Sid’s first love was hockey, his second was hosting. He’d been busy since they returned to Pittsburgh, coordinating the food delivery and enlisting Zhenya’s help to get the extra leaf into the dining table. He’d been so busy, in fact, that when they’d fallen into bed last night, Sid hadn’t done anything but pat Zhenya’s flank appreciatively before promptly passing out.
They didn’t fuck on roadies now, mostly on principle. They were both old enough to recognize where their energy was best spent, and though they’d trade an odd handjob here and there, the bubbling tension had turned into something they both enjoyed. They would crawl back to Pittsburgh like animals returning from a hunt. When their blood-soaked muzzles finally crashed into each other, it was all the sweeter for the wait. It was one of a thousand little games they played with each other month after month.
Zhenya was keenly aware of the fact that they hadn’t so much as touched each other’s dicks since Wednesday, and Sid, High was a horrifically horny, destructively impulsive creature.
“Is there more food?”
“No,” Zhenya said to Erik, taking a bite of his chicken. He frowned at the dryness and tried to subtly squeeze some of the mayo onto his plate.
“Is that mayonnaise?”
“No!”
Before Erik could investigate further, Sid collapsed onto the couch between him and Zhenya. He spread out like an invasive weed, his big thigh spilling against Zhenya’s, his arm snaking behind Zhenya’s shoulders. It sounded like he knocked Jeff’s feet out of the way, Jeff letting out a series of disgruntled noises that Sid blithely ignored.
“Hey,” Sid said, in a low voice that meant he was trying to be sexy.
Zhenya picked out the smallest wing he had on his plate and jammed the meat between Sid’s lips before he could start doing something inappropriate with them.
“Geno?”
Zhenya, laying on his side on the carpet, wedged up against the bedframe to his shoulder, didn’t look up.
“You okay?”
“Shh,” Zhenya muttered. “He’s scare.”
“He’s fine,” Sid sighed. Zhenya kept kneading Maverick’s thigh.
“So scared, hmm? So many people, I know,” he hummed to the cat.
“He probably wanted to be out there.”
“He get stepped on. Too many drunk people. Pointy shoes,” Zhenya said.
“Get up, you big lug.” Sid’s big toe pressed firmly into the small of Zhenya’s back.
“You get my money?”
“We have a few IOUs. Chad slipped out the side door and Gravy said he didn’t have enough cash on him.”
“We,” Zhenya drawled, finally looking away from Maverick’s bushy tail and up at Sid. “Who make bet that Chiefs win, huh? Me. I make. My money.”
“Whatever,” Sid said, and Zhenya squinted up at him.
“You take two gummy?”
“Who gives a shit. Can you get up here?”
Zhenya made a production of hoisting himself up, but as soon as he was mostly vertical, Sid’s hands were on him. His lips followed. Zhenya tilted into the kiss. Sid tasted salty from all the food they’d eaten, with a hint of alcohol on his tongue. Zhenya liked him like this, all indulgent and lazy. It reminded him of the summers, when Zhenya tried his best to fatten Sid up and Sid worked it all off on the hills in Halifax.
“You were such a prude tonight,” Sid said into Zhenya’s mouth. “Like the guys haven’t seen some shit.”
“You nasty,” Zhenya pushed back, turning them so Sid was pushed up against the side of the bed. “What you want to do in front of team? So gross.”
Before Sid could protest, Zhenya tipped them both onto the mattress. Sid inelegantly wiggled his way to the center, and Zhenya could tell what he wanted by the way he was palming up Zhenya’s chest.
“I win bet,” he said. “You’re lose. We do what I want.”
“Geno,” Sid whined, trying to hook his hand behind Zhenya’s neck to pull him down towards his dick. “Please. It’s been almost a week!”
“All I ever do for you is suck dick,” Zhenya complained, rearing back and breaking Sid’s hold on him. “Geno, suck my dick! Geno, blow me!”
Zhenya tugged Sid’s pants down, beneath Sid’s wings-and-beer bloated stomach, and palmed Sid’s hardening cock through his boxers.
“Me first,” Zhenya demanded.
“Sure,” Sid panted, grinding up into Zhenya’s hand, out of his mind with it. “Whatever you want, just keep on—”
Zhenya rolled him, blabbering mouth first until he was face-down.
Sid was perhaps the horniest person Zhenya had ever met. He was charming and funny and nice, and that meant he was used to getting his dick touched when he wanted it. Combined with an athletic body, it meant Sid needed to regularly clean his pipes, and he preferred to enlist someone to get the job done. Zhenya, after years of getting used to competing for the privilege, thought he had a handle on Sid’s needs.
Seven or so years ago, one of Sid’s various forgettable Halifax friends had introduced him to weed gummies. Zhenya had never forgiven him for it, because Sid-while-high was somehow an even more ridiculous beast.
He let his full weight fall onto Sid’s back, crushing him down into the comforter. Sid groaned in pain, but after some wiggling, he settled under Zhenya’s weight. Zhenya nosed behind his ear gratefully, sniffing in the scents from the night: a hint of rum, salt, the hot musty tang of meat.
“You stop?” he muttered into the shell of Sid’s ear. “So much tonight. Where’s romance, huh?”
Sid wisely kept silent. The half of his face that wasn’t jammed into the pillow watched Zhenya as he pulled back. His pupil was all huge. Zhenya regrettably was very fond of it.
“Easy way to get dick sucked is to win,” Zhenya informed Sid as he straddled his thighs, keeping Sid pinned as he leaned toward the nightstand and began rummaging around. “You don’t win, so maybe you try something different, and be all nice to me, make me want to suck your dick.”
“I was tryin’ t’kiss you in the kitchen,” Sid garbled out.
“Not sweet. Gross.”
“This isn’t gross? You’re about to put your fingers in my ass. That’s pretty gross.”
“You’re wishing.”
“G,” Sid sighed as Zhenya tugged his boxers to his knees and slipped a wet hand between his thighs. “The fuck’re you doing?”
“Not just you that’s horny,” Zhenya told him, sliding his hand up until he was cupping Sid’s balls in his lubed-up palm. Zhenya loved how hot he was down there, how it was all smooth skin and wiry hair and the thick muscle Sid worked so hard for. He kneaded Sid’s balls gently, enjoying the pathetic little whine it got out of Sid.
Zhenya had to restrain himself from leaning down and burying his face in it. The thought was tempting—Sid’s bare ass was right there, huge and round and ready to be bruised up with Zhenya’s teeth-marks—but he just worked at Sid’s balls. Sid didn’t try to roll them both; he barely even squirmed. Zhenya leaned back over him and caught Sid’s eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbone.
“You have one or two gummy?” Zhenya murmured.
“Two,” Sid fessed up.
“Selfish,” Zhenya told him, kneading hungrily at the sensitive skin behind Sid’s balls. “You gonna come in, get blowjob, pass out?”
“No,” Sid protested.
“Liar,” Zhenya told him, finally pulling his hand from between Sid’s thighs with a wet sucking sound. He yanked his joggers down his own legs—his fist wrapped around his cock was deliciously warm and wet. It made Zhenya’s mouth water.
Sid made pathetic little sounds as Zhenya worked his cock into the tight space between his thighs.
Zhenya let Sid take the full weight of his body, grinding his hips into Sid’s heat as he nipped and kissed at the back of Sid’s neck. Sid was so broad beneath him, delightfully pliant and so fucking warm as Zhenya stroked his cock between Sid’s legs.
“Geno, touch my cock?” Sid pleaded hazily. Zhenya could tell he was already starting to fade, and it made his hips crash against Sid’s ass harder. He loved Sid all pliant and easy, how he took anything Zhenya wanted him to take with only a token complaint or two.
“Please,” Sid moaned, and Zhenya ground himself in, feeling his cockhead rub against the sensitive crevices of Sid’s body, letting out harsh, gasping breaths at the knowledge that he was smearing his precum all over Sid’s taint and balls and the juicy meat of his thighs.
“Who’s win?” Zhenya panted against the nape of Sid’s neck.
“The Chiefs?”
Sid gasped when Zhenya bit him. “You.”
“What I win?”
Sid stopped playing his stupid little games.
“My ass,” he moaned. “Me, you won my fuckin’... my…”
“I win your tight ass. I win your big cock. I win nasty, hot balls so I can come on them.”
“Oh my God, come on me,” Sid demanded in a high, strained voice, and Zhenya held him down onto the bed, pumped his hips into him, and came all over Sid’s hot skin.
As soon as the haze cleared from Zhenya’s head, he was abruptly too warm. He rolled off of Sid, who was pumping off heat like a furnace, and took stock of himself. He felt good—satiated, enjoying the filthiness of how sticky his softening dick was. He kicked off his joggers and let his legs fall akimbo on the bed, closing his eyes with a pleased sigh.
“Mmph,” Sid said next to him.
“Yes,” Zhenya sighed, flopping his hand over to bounce uselessly off of Sid’s bicep. “Okay, I fix. Two minute.”
Sid ended up needing to wait three minutes before he got his blowjob, but there were no complaints. Zhenya knew him like the back of his hand, down to how he still squirmed—even high as a kite—when Zhenya put two fingers up Sid’s ass, his own cum helping slick the way.
“S’hot,” Sid told him as he pawed clumsily over Zhenya’s hair. Zhenya wiped the last of Sid’s cum from the corner of his lips and looked down at Sid’s dick fondly.
It was always a bit more worth it after these waits. Sid’s impatience was a fun toy to play with, and Zhenya found it hard to resist a little game.
He burrowed under the comforter, leaving a too-warm Sid atop it. The mattress bounced ever so slightly, and Zhenya looked down to the foot to see Maverick weaving his way between their outstretched legs.
Sid twitched as Maverick walked up his back and sniffed curiously at his hair.
“It’s so gross we don’t lock him out.” It took Zhenya a moment to decipher Sid’s slurred syllables. He was impressed Sid had made it past his own orgasm, truthfully.
“You’re wanting to fuck in front of team, but it’s gross cat’s in room?”
“I didn’t wanna fuck in front of the team,” Sid said, but the rest of his justification was lost as sleep snatched him from Zhenya’s clutches.
“Liar,” Zhenya said fondly. Maverick yawned and laid down in the triangle where Sid’s arm met his face. Sid was going to be a sneezy mess in the morning.
“Goodnight,” Zhenya told his cat, and followed Sid into sleep.