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What a Motivation

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When Gally texted Brandon inviting him over to hang out, he kind of figured Larsy and Julie would be around too. That's what he'd hoped, anyway. Not that he doesn't want to hang out with Gally, he's just not sure that hanging out alone is the best idea.

"Oh, no, it's date night," Gally says. 

"So you invited me over to entertain you?" Brandon asks, passing him the six pack of Unibroue. 

"Something like that." Gally says it with a grin that completely belies the fact that Brandon's pretty sure it was meant to be innuendo. 

He's surprised when Gally takes the recliner instead of sitting next to him on the couch. Brandon may have sprawled a little, but there's still room. But whatever, they're just hanging out, and if Colby could see them now, maybe he'd stop getting on Brandon about it. 

TSN is just starting the Leafs-Pens game, and Brandon doesn't really give a shit, but there's nothing else on, so he settles in with his beer. 

The games isn't completely boring, and he's comfortable all stretched out on the couch, so when Gally says, "Hey, pass me the remote, I wanna watch Suits," Brandon ignores him. 

Gally waits a minute. "Or fine, you can change it yourself. Prusty, come on."

Brandon shrugs, "Shouldn't you be scoping the competition?"

"This isn't a video session and we've played both of them twice already, come on."

"You want the remote so bad, come over here and get it."

"Seriously?" Gally asks. He huffs a little, and  Brandon figures that's the end of it. 

Right up until Gally lands heavily on top of him, after apparently launching himself off the chair. 

"What are you, part flying squirrel?" Brandon asks, even as he snatches the remote off the coffee table and holds it as far from Gally as he can. 

Gally's trying to hold him down and lunge at the remote at the same time, which wouldn't be a very effective technique even if he wasn't laughing so hard he was shaking. 

"You should've seen the look on your face!"

They wrestle on the couch a little while longer - Brandon trying halfheartedly to push him off and Gally grabbing onto him anywhere he can - until Gally goes limp on top of him and Brandon drops the remote. He can feel Gally's breath on his neck, and he sighs. 

"You know you flirt like a fourteen year old, right?"

Gally pushes himself up so Brandon can see him grin. "Whatever, it's working."

Which says more about Brandon than Gally, probably, so he gives up and finally goes to figure out whether or not Gally can stop smiling long enough to be kissed. 

Brandon quickly discovers that he can, but only for about ten seconds. 

"I was like, this close to just showing up naked in your room on the next road trip," Gally says, grinning down at him.

Brandon takes a deep breath, considering that, and adds, "What, all lubed up and ready to go?"

It's gratifying to see Gally bite his lip at that, and Jesus, Brandon's pretty sure he can feel his dick getting hard. And fuck, Brandon's into that, the idea of it and how into it Gally is.

"I hadn't, I mean. Maybe -"

He's licking his lips but looking a little bit at sea, so Brandon slaps his ass and grins. "Maybe save that one for later, eh?"

Gally nods and goes back to kissing Brandon, a little more focused than before, as he rubs himself against Brandon's thigh until Brandon's dick is ready and rubbing back.

He's not sure at what point he decides that he's fine with just doing this for now. If Gally wants to push for blow jobs or hand jobs, Brandon won't object, but there's something fitting about making out on the couch with the rookie.

Gally's hands find their way under his shirt and are warm against Brandon's skin, but he still gets goosebumps when Gally's thumb skims up his side.  He wraps an arm around Gally's waist and pulls him close, increasing the pressure as they rub off on each other.

"Are you trying to make me come in my pants?" Gally asks, more than a little breathless.

"It's not like you don't have other pairs," Brandon points out, stroking the patch of skin where Gally's shirt is riding up on his back.

"You're a dick, you know that?"

"Yeah, and so do you, but you still jumped me. Literally," Brandon says with a smug grin.

Gally purses his lips, but Brandon can see the smile teasing at the corner of his mouth, until he's distracted by the way Gally grinds down against him.

Apparently the Gally that's hyper-competitive on the ice and gets slashed at by opposing goalies for standing in their crease is now on top of him, grinding and twisting against him, hell bent on making Brandon come in his pants. Brandon's not that put out by it, especially since he figures Gally's as likely to make himself come like this, too.

Gally's got all the leverage and room to maneuver, including sneaking his hand between them to stroke and squeeze Brandon through his jeans.

"Uh uh, cheating," Brandon says, pulling Gally's hand away and pinning it to the side of the couch.

"Can't cheat when there are no rules," Gally argues, before cutting off with a gasp as Brandon bites gently at the side of his neck. He doesn't want to leave any bruises where the guys can see. Not tonight, anyway.

Gally is lasting longer than Brandon expected, and he's not sure how much longer he can hold on himself, so he slips his hand under the front of Gally's shirt, and with every ounce of coordination he has left, tweaks Gally's nipple while biting down on his earlobe at the same time.

Gally lets out a gratifying shout and jerks awkwardly against Brandon, who can't help letting out a long moan as he finally comes. pushing against Gally who's not providing much resistance as he just leans on Brandon's chest.

"'re the cheater," Gally mutters into Brandon's neck. As the immediate haze of need wears off, he becomes more aware of the fact that he really did just come in his pants. What the fuck was he thinking?

"Rematch later. No pants," Brandon promises.

"You're on."