Re: Punishment

((A/N: This takes off where Punishment ended, in Brett’s POV))

Together they headed for the locker room, neither one saying a word, nor did their gazes venture from the grass crunching beneath their feet as they walked.

Brett was embarrassed as fuck.

Just moments ago, he’d sucked his enemy’s dick. And vice versa. Because of their coach, who was turning out to not be the man Brett had once thought he was.

As they reached the steel door with its chipped, white paint, Brett stole a glance at the other male. Jamie looked as out of it as he did. Anger, confusion and contentment were all hallmarks on his handsome face. Brett was sure they were on his as well.

The locker room was empty since Coach made everyone leave hours ago. Except for them. The faint scent of soap and cologne lingered in the humid air. Wet towels clung to benches and showerheads, and dangled out of partly shut lockers.

Brett said nothing as he headed for his usual spot near the showers. Stripping out of his soiled, sweat-laced gear, he tried not to think of how good it felt when his cock was sliding between Jamie’s lips. His teammate was shoving things into a locker in the farthest corner of the room, even though no one else was around and he didn’t have to play the invisible new kid.

Ignoring him, Brett grabbed a slightly damp big towel—the driest he could find—and wrapped it around his waist, stalking to the showers. He usually had no qualms about being nude around other guys, but after what just happened, he couldn’t bring himself to do that now in front of Jamie.

As hot water splashed over Brett’s head and body, he wondered if his current mood had anything to do with the fact that he wanted more with Jamie, even though he shouldn’t. They’d just sucked each other off at Coach’s behest, but now he wondered what it’d feel like to have his dick shoved in another, more tighter part of Jamie’s body.

“Hey Roff.”

Jamie’s voice over the loud dripping snapped Brett out of his thoughts. His ice blue gaze met a pair of dark ones. Jamie stood mere feet away, also adorning a towel wrapped around his hips. Brett noticed the angry red bruise forming just beneath his ribcage, probably from earlier when he’d tackled Jamie at the fifty-yard line.

“What?” Brett bit out. Despite what they’d done, he still hated the guy. Jamie held his position as starting quarterback, and Brett wanted to sock him another shiner because of it.

“Sorry about the fights and stuff. It was stupid. Hey look, about the QB position, you can have it back. I’ll even tell him tomorrow.”

Brett stared, hiding his disbelief. Jamie had fought hard for the position. So why was he giving it back so easily? Was it because of what Coach Harmon had done?

“Why?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Jamie shrugged. “You’ve been putting up with Coach Harmon’s shit way longer than I have, so you probably deserve it.”
At the mention of the older man’s name, the air around them was charged with awkward tension. Fuck, he couldn’t believe what they’d just done.

Jamie chose the farthest stall away from him, and they showered quickly and quietly, Brett not sparing him a single glance. He was sure Jamie hadn’t either.

* * *

“Hey, stud.”

Brett looked up at the sound of the feminine voice in front of him. His on-again, off-again girlfriend, Amber, was waiting next to his silver Porsche GT.

She was fresh out of cheerleading practice, he thought, glancing at her long bare legs and slightly damp blond locks. The look on her face begged him to fuck her long and hard, but—as much as he’d like to—he couldn’t. After earlier, he was afraid he wouldn’t even be able to get it up for her.

“I need a ride home. You don’t mind, do you?”

Brett shook his head, unlocking the door without looking at her. “Can’t tonight, Am. Get a ride home from one of your friends.”

He glanced up just enough to see her confused frown. Yeah, even he thought himself crazy for turning her down.
“Well, what are you doing? Is it really so urgent?”

No, but he couldn’t go through with this seduction routine of hers, not now, nor anytime too soon. “I’ll see you some other time. Later.”

“What the hell is your problem, Brett?”

Ignoring her, Brett climbed into the driver’s seat, started the ignition and sped off. He’d only driven for five minutes before pulling over in front of a Checks Cashed building. The realization hit him hard. He’d been fucked by his Coach… a man he’s admired for close to four years.

And he’d loved it. Every second of it. Had wanted more, even.

“Fuck,” he cursed, clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles ached. He’d completely gotten off on being dominated by the older man. Without a doubt, he’d even enjoyed what he’d been forced to do with Jamie.

Did that make him gay?

Up until now, he’d never even fantasized about another dude, not even for a second. He’d had no sexual inclinations towards a person that shared his gender. So why the hell was he suddenly thinking of fucking Jamie? Or worse, being fucked by Coach Harmon again?

* * *

Brett had been dreading this moment since yesterday.

Today was game night. As they stood on the football field, warming up, Brett glanced around at his teammates. Most of them were making derogatory gestures towards the other team. Jamie was sitting on the bench, helmet in hand. Brett glanced at him, wondering if the guy had even told Coach Harmon that he was no longer vying for the quarterback position. So far, he hadn’t heard anything yet, and he’d been anxiously awaiting the moment.

Anger seeped through him at the thought of Jamie lying to him.

“Yo, Brett, Coach wants to talk to you.”

The brief rage vanished just as quickly as his heart thumped hard in his chest. He glanced over at his friend and teammate coming out of the locker room.

“He’s back there, man.”

“Thanks, bro.”

As Brett made his descent into the locker room, he could feel Jamie’s stare directed at him, but he didn’t look back, not wanting to see what expression the other male was wearing. Brett didn’t want to give anything away. The entire school didn’t need to know they were fucking faggots.

The locker room was completely empty. There was still thirty minutes before kick-off, but everyone was out on the field already. The place was its usual mess, with clothes and towels everywhere. The warm, condensed air smelled like soap and Old Spice. Besides his own pounding heartbeat, the only other sounds were the dripping from the sink and shower faucets. Brett made his way to the back of the room, careful not to slip on the wet spots on the floor.

Coach Harmon’s office was located at the locker room’s end, with a good view of on the surroundings. As he approached, Brett wondered how many times the older male had watched him from his large window, unsuspecting. He pondered if Coach Harmon had gazed at him, counting down the days until he’d have him. The thought made him sick, but strangely hot.

Brett knocked on the door and waited for him to respond. Normally, he’d just pop in, but he needed the few moments to get composed because he was still flustered as shit.

“Come in.”

Brett pulled open the silver latch, his game face on. “You wanted to see me, Coach?”

Coach Harmon looked up from the laptop on his neat desk. “Come in, son. Shut the door behind you.”

Though Brett was hesitant, he did as asked, standing in front of the door with his hands at his side. Looking at Coach Harmon now, he still didn’t see him in that way. Not like how he saw girls. The guy was handsome, of course. Tall, very fit, great features, but he wasn’t attracted to him mentally. He’d never been, but for some reason, his body seemed to be at odds with his brain.

He fucking wanted him.

His body tightened all over. His dick throbbed, as if reminiscing Coach’s large hands on it, bringing him to climax.

“Nervous, son?”

Coach Harmon’s deep voice brought Brett out of his stupor. He cleared his throat. “No, Coach. Excited about the game, that’s all.”

“I see.” His dark gaze raked a slow glance down his body, making Brett feel as if invisible hands were caressing him.

Coach Harmon faced the laptop again. Brett stifled a sigh of relief. “Do you know that Jamie no longer wants the quarterback position?”

Brett feigned surprise, although Jamie had told him his plans already. “Ah, no. I didn’t.”

Coach Harmon gazed back at him. “You lying to me, son?”

“No, Coach. He mentioned yesterday that he wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t know what for.”

“You’re not my first choice for quarterback.”

Brett’s eyes narrowed angrily. He knew better than to argue or counter Coach Harmon’s words, but in the moment he didn’t give a shit. “Why not? I’ve been quarterback and MVP of this team for three years. I’m the best player you’ve got.”

As his coach stood to his impressive six-foot-four height, Brett had a momentary lapse of regret. “Why? Simply because Jamie’s a better quarterback, and if you two idiots worked together, you’d make the best quarterback-wide receiver team. I imagine you to be a high school version of the Brady-Welker combo.”

“I’m not a wide receiver, Coach.”

“On the contrary, you’re a great wide receiver. Or don’t you remember what happened after practice?”

Brett’s cheeks grew hot. He’d probably never forget yesterday, not even for a hundred years to come.

Coach Harmon continued, “However, what I want doesn’t matter. Jamie’s mind is made up. You’re QB. You’ll win regardless, won’t you, son?”

Brett nodded. “Yeah, Coach. I won’t lose.”

He watched the older man approach, trying his damnest to keep his nerves steady as Coach Harmon stood close enough that their chests almost touched.

“But I’d like to be sure,” Coach Harmon said. “Tell me, do you have a girlfriend, son?”

“Yes,” he said, thinking of Amber. They were probably “off” right now, but he wanted it to be known he wasn’t gay. Not usually, anyway.

Coach Harmon’s smirk unnerved him. “Tell me, son, what kind of pre-game rituals do you and your girlfriend engage in? Be honest. I hate lies.”

Brett swallowed. In the face of his coach’s scrutiny, he couldn’t lie anyway. “Sometimes, she’d… blow me, right before a game.”

“And how’d you feel afterwards?”

“Good. Pumped, I guess.”

Coach Harmon reached around him, and Brett tensed in both trepidation and anticipation. But instead of touching him, the older man locked the door. When he finally moved back, Brett could breathe again, until he noticed him drawing the blinds closed.

He watched him take a seat in the sturdy chair, a glint of humor and lust in his dark eyes. “Why don’t you have a seat, son.”

Brett licked his lips. There was nowhere else to sit in the cramped space. Nowhere but Coach’s lap.

Shit, not this again…

Despite that, a part of him yearned to do it… to be filled with the man’s cock again. He obediently moved forward and did exactly what Coach Harmon said. He stiffly sat in his lap, unable to ignore his coach’s erection.

Coach Harmon moaned softly against the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine and into his dick.

He took a deep breath as Coach Harmon’s large hand roamed across his chest and then down… passing over his abs and lower until he cupped his cock. Brett moaned, realizing that he hadn’t even put on his cup. He mentally cursed.

“I see you’re ready for me,” Coach Harmon said, giving his rod a squeeze.

“I… ah, forgot,” Brett breathed, shifting uncomfortably in his lap. Because of the thin fabric of his football pants, Coach Harmon’s dick pressed against him too intimately.

The large hand slid inside the waistband of the black spandex until finally finding a grip on his cock. Brett hissed as if he’d been burnt.

“How are you feeling now, son?”

Fucking great, he thought, but words escaped him as the searing palm slid up and down his shaft. His arousal became evident, standing at attention in his pants.

“Answer me.” Coach Harmon squeezed him at the base, eliciting another moan from Brett.

“Good,” he breathed. “It feels good.”

“Good, son. Now stand up.”

Brett complied, embarrassed as the tip of his wet cock stained his pants. He watched with rapt attention as Coach Harmon whipped out his own cock, engorged and erect, huge and ready. Brett’s eyes widened. A few days ago, when he’d been bent over with his head under the cold shower, he hadn’t gotten a really good look at it, but now… he had the sudden urge to just drop to his knees and put it in his mouth, wrap his tongue around the base and suck.

The fuck is wrong with me?


Brett met his eyes. “Yeah, Coach?”

“Strip. Make it quick.”

“Right.” He got to work, peeling off first his cleats, then working his way up to his pants, thigh and knee pads, jersey, and shoulder pads, until the only things left were his bandanna and sports gloves.

Coach Harmon crooked a finger at him, and Brett almost hated himself for obeying. His coach pulled out a bottle of lotion from somewhere in his desk. He tossed it to Brett, who caught it instinctively.

“Lube up.”

Heat singed Brett’s cheeks as he popped the cap open, pouring the unscented stuff onto his fingers. Coach Harmon’s gaze was pure hunger as he watched in anticipation, stroking that beast of a cock.

Fuck, this was all kinds of wrong, but Brett couldn’t make himself stop. It was desire, the thrill of being caught, the forbidden aspect of what they were about to do. All of it kept Brett going. Reaching back with his fingers, he was prepared to do what Coach asked until he noticed his frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Turn around and bend over, son.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Brett complied. He turned around and bent at the waist, just enough for his coach to get a good view of his fuck-hole. The sharp inhalation from Coach Harmon actually made him feel good.

Brett didn’t waste any more time. They had about fifteen minutes before kick-off. His lubed fingers circled his entrance several times before plunging inside. As he stretched and prepped his body, Brett stamped down the urge to moan.
“Use more,” Coach Harmon demanded.

Brett did. Because of the man’s size, he’d been sore last time he’d gotten fucked. They also hadn’t had proper lube at the time, either, but then Coach had been punishing him so that might have been deliberate.

After getting himself nice and ready, Brett took the initiative and went to Coach Harmon first. His body was hot with yearning. And Coach probably felt the same way, if the slow smile on his handsome face was indication enough.

“Open this.” Coach Harmon handed him a condom.

“With my teeth, sir?”

Coach chuckled. “You learn quickly. I like that. Not with your teeth. Open it and strap it on me.”

Kneeling down between Coach Harmon’s muscular thighs, Brett ripped the condom free of the foil, hands trembling slightly as he rolled it down onto the stiff cock. Pale blue eyes met dark ones, gleaming with pleasure.

Brett hid his surprise as he was yanked against Coach Harmon’s hard body. The man’s strength kept them upright; otherwise the chair would’ve tipped over, sending them both awkwardly and painfully to the floor.

With his hands on Brett’s waist, Coach Harmon shoved him down onto his prick hard and fast, so much so that Brett’s breath caught in his throat. He let loose a strangled cry at being filled so deeply, it was almost agonizing.

Mercifully, Coach Harmon had stilled inside of him, letting him gain his bearings.

“Get adjusted quick, son,” Coach Harmon said, voice hoarse and strained.

Brett cursed under his breath as he tried to relax, letting the tension ease out of him as he leaned back against the hard planes of his body. “Okay,” Brett said, after a moment had passed.

“Good, son. That’s real good.”

Coach’s hand gripped his hips, the strength of it bruising. The other hand snaked around front, wrapping around his cock like a fist. Brett groaned.

The rhythm started up again, hard and punishing, and so fucking good. The simultaneous pleasures of being driven into like a pile driver, and having his rod tugged and stroked had Brett seeing stars. His back arched, stomach contracted, and throat grew sore from all the moaning and crying out. He would worry about being heard, but knew that no one would dare defy Coach and come down here without permission. Not on game night. No, everyone was out there on the field like good little soldiers.

“Fuck,” Brett hissed, feeling his orgasm cresting.

In his pleasurable daze, Brett barely noticed Coach Harmon’s thrusts slowing a second before something sharp pierced his shoulder. “Ow! What the fuck?”

Before he could take another breath, his head was yanked back by a strong hand. “What did I say about being crude, son?” Coach Harmon whispered into his ear.

“Sorry, Coach.” Shit, how was he supposed to keep quiet in the heat of the moment?

As the momentum built back up, Brett’s breathing grew heavier. He was so fucking close. And Coach was practically twisting his balls, and it felt so fucking good. Brett thought of Amber, and how she was still afraid to even touch anything past the head of his dick. Though she was a pretty good lay, she had no concept of the rough, messy sex he was engaged in right now. Hell, he could barely comprehend it himself.

“I’m… coming,” Brett groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as his body rose higher and higher, biting down on his lip hard as cum shot out of him and into Coach’s waiting hand. The orgasm seemed to last forever, what with Coach Harmon still stroking, milking him for everything he had. He didn’t stop, either, not even as Brett’s deflated cock grew sensitive.

“Ah, Coach…,” he pleaded, half-afraid to make him stop.

“What? Say it, son,” Coach Harmon whispered, the teasing in his voice obvious.

Brett swallowed, his eyes rolling backwards as he slumped back against him. The continued strokes were unbearably uncomfortable. “I can’t…” Brett grappled with what to say, how to say it so it wouldn’t offend or make him angry. “Too sensitive right now,” he managed.

“Is it?” Coach asked, absentmindedly.

Brett nodded, breathing a sigh of relief when his cock was released. Instead, he gripped his hips tighter, with both hands, and plunged into him deep and hard. With each thrust, air left Brett’s lungs. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Harder,” he choked out between rams.

“Rambunctious now?” But Coach Harmon obliged, going as deep as Brett’s body would allow.

“Oh, fuck,” Brett panted, no longer caring that the guy didn’t like when he swore. He was too far gone. Stars filled his vision. Coach Harmon didn’t say anything, and Brett was grateful that he seemed lost in pleasure, too.

When Coach Harmon came moments later, it was powerful. He squeezed him tightly, silently cursing as his body released deep inside. Brett shuddered.

They came off their high, breathing heavily, Brett covered in sweat and other things. He leaned forward, drained and energized all at once.

“Get up,” Coach Harmon ordered.

Though Brett was too weak-kneed to stand, he complied, staring at him with glazed eyes. He didn’t dare grab his things without permission.

Coach Harmon pulled off the condom, disposing of it in his track pants pocket before grabbing a few Kleenex tissues and wiping himself off. “Feeling pumped now, son?”

“Yes, Coach,” Brett answered, really meaning it. Though he was a little drained, he was ready to go out there and beat their rival’s ass.

Coach smirked. “That’s good.” He stood and tucked his junk back into his pants. “You have exactly two minutes to clean up and get dressed, and I want you out on that field. You understand?”

Brett nodded.

“I need you to say you understand, son.”

“I understand, Coach.”

Coach Harmon left the room, nonplussed as ever. One would never guess he’d fucked someone just moments ago. Shaking his head clear of those thoughts, Brett gathered his things and headed outside to the locker room. He found a towel and ran it under the faucet, wiping down the worst of his problems. He winced as the damp towel passed over a particular sensitive area on his shoulder. The spot where Coach Harmon had bit him.

Brett hurriedly dressed into his gear and headed out onto the field. Everything was just as he left it, except the stadium was packed with fans of both teams, showing their “team spirit” with painted faces and body parts, ridiculously large signs, and team chants. He spotted Coach Harmon having a chat with the coach of the opposing team. Ignoring him, Brett ran over to where his boys were still warming up.

Jamie pulled him to a stop first. “Hey, you okay?”

Brett stared into those dark eyes, forced to remember yesterday when he’d blown the guy because Coach had made them. Although Jamie would clearly understand if he told him what had happened, Brett didn’t like the guy enough to share his deepest, darkest secrets with him.

“Yeah, man.” Brett patted his arm before shoving his helmet onto his head.

The coaches and referees were meeting in the middle of the field for the coin toss.

“Let’s go, Roff,” Coach Harmon called.

Brett nodded, turning his attention back to the worried male in front of him. “Thanks for giving up the QB position. Must’ve been hard.”

Jamie shrugged. “Let’s just kick some ass tonight, okay? Remember what Coach said he’d do if we lost.”

Brett didn’t say anything. When Coach had said it, he’d been fearful and disgusted, stressed over the implications. But now that he was more in-tune with his feelings, the threat didn’t bother him anymore. In fact, he was curious about what the man had up his sleeves if they lost. Coach Harmon wouldn’t dish out anything Brett couldn’t handle.

At least he hoped not.

“Let’s win this, then,” Brett said, running off towards his coach and the others. If they won, great. If they lost, great. And he meant that.

The End


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