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If You Beat Me At Pool

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It was a Friday night in mid-August when Jeremy received a text from his best friend confirming their plans for the night. He scanned the message and typed out a quick response.

To be truthful, Jeremy had completely forgotten, and therefore had yet to jerk off.

He deemed it to be unimportant, it was just Michael, and he didn’t have the time right now. And though Jeremy happened to be very into “Just Michael,” he told himself otherwise, refusing to admit what was blatantly obvious, before packing his things and heading outside.

The sun was starting to set, the sky an eruption of colors, ranging from reds and golds to soft, orange-toned pinks. Though Jeremy adored the sky, and found it fascinating, he did not enjoy the darkness that followed sunset, and he was already late. He picked up his pace.

When he reached Michael’s door, he didn’t knock, he simply pulled out his key and entered.

“Michael?” he called out.

“I’m in the basement!” came a sweet, oh-so-familiar voice. As usual.

Following the hallway to the stairs, Jeremy entered the basement. He scanned the room for Michael, his eyes landing on him, perched upon his bean bag. Jeremy stopped dead in his tracks.

There he sat, Michael in a grey tank top that hung low and displayed the muscles of his chest. As Jeremy’s eyes trailed his best friend’s form, he noticed that Michael donned the tiniest shorts he’d ever been lucky enough to spot on a man.

“Hello, Earth to Jeremy,” Michael teased, waving his arms.

Jeremy squeaked.

“I was just, uh, looking at, um, your,” he paused, blushing furiously.

“Uh, shirt!” Jeremy blurted out, “I, um, like it.”

Michael chuckled at him.

“Thanks, dude. This weather has been wack.”

Michael, of course, stuck to his slang as he discussed the heat spell they were experiencing.

Jeremy tried to compose himself. This was his best friend. They’d known each other forever. This was not someone who could turn him on.

And yet there he stood, attempting to fathom how a human being could be so perfect. The shorts Michael wore showed off his legs and the subtle curve of his hips. He snapped out of it, realizing Michael had been talking.

“—I just don’t know why it’s been so hot! Hell, it’s almost September!” Michael rambled on.

“Hey, Jere, you alright? You look kind of flushed.” he spoke. Of course, this only made Jeremy blush harder.

“Uh, yeah, it’s probably the heat.” he lied, grimacing slightly and sitting upon one of the beanbags by the televison

“Okay, dude,” Michael yawned, “Well, I need to take a piss like you wouldn’t believe. Set up a game?”

He nodded his agreement and Michael jogged up the stairs. Jeremy held his head in his hands and groaned. Why did Michael have to dress like that today? The one day he was lacking on time?

That was his real issue, of course. The lack of time. He wasn’t attracted Michael, per say, just the idea of him. Obviously.

Jeremy had known he was bisexual for months, but that didn’t mean he could fall for his best friend. That could never happen. Right? Right.

Though, sure, there was no denying Michael was hot, and he’d be a fool to say he didn’t love him, but it wasn’t like that. Only an idiot would be in love with his best friend.

Having forgotten entirely about the game, Jeremy sat, pondering his own thoughts. Michael re-entered the room and, after seeing that there was no game on, became concerned.

“Jere,” he said, making Jeremy jump in his seat, “What’s wrong?”

Jeremy lifted his head and looked up at him, his eyes pleading.

That’s when it clicked in Michaels brain. Between Jeremy’s eyes roaming his body and the lack of attention he’d displayed that day to anything else. Jeremy was turned on. Michael knew this before he glanced at Jeremy’s lap, but of course, he did so anyway. It was certainly just to prove a point, and it did.

Jeremy saw as Michael’s face lit up with realization and he mumbled out a simple, “‘m sorry, I didn’t have the time to get off today and I just—“

Jeremy cut his sentence short, deciding that it wasn’t helping his case in the slightest. He hid his face in his hands once more.

“Jesus, man. I knew you had a high sex drive, but no one even touched you,” Michael giggled.

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” Michael dared him. Jeremy sat up in shock and they locked eyes for a moment before Jeremy stood and made his way to the wall Michael was standing against, glancing as his lips before leaning forward.

Michael’s mouth met Jeremy’s halfway, kissing him gently. Their lips moved in sync, slow but passionate. Within moments, they pulled back for air, gazing at each other, dumbfounded.

Before he could say anything, Michael was tugged into another kiss by the front of his shirt. He fisted his hands into brown curls and gave them a light tug. At this, Jeremy let out a quiet moan against Michael’s lips.

He took this opportunity to let his tongue his swipe at Jeremy’s bottom lip. The kiss progressed into a deeper, open-mouthed one and Michael’s tongue began to explore the inside of Jeremy’s mouth.

As the pair kissed, they stumbled to the pool table, it being the nearest flat surface. That’s when Michael got an idea. He trailed his lips down Jeremy’s jaw until they hovered just behind his ear, pausing to whisper to him:

“I’ll only have sex with you if you beat me at pool.”

Jeremy looked at him and groaned. He was so far gone, his face flushed and the front of his pants straining. Michael grinned and stood.

After making Jeremy stand, he bent over the table. Michael lined up with the white ball, and with a swift stroke, scattered the other balls, knocking one into the top left pocket of the table. It’s striped.

“Stripes it is, then,” he smiled, standing up and moving in front of Jeremy before bending over again, against his crotch, and hitting several more balls into the pockets. Then he missed.

“My turn,” Jeremy spoke, moving away from Michael’s body. He stepped up to take a shot, but Michael is distracted. He suddenly appreciates Jeremy’s decision to wear tight jeans on this particular day.

“You’re up.” Michael snapped out of his thoughts, and the game continues.

Eventually, they’re down to the last balls.

“Which pocket?” Jeremy manages, his voice cracking slightly. He was desperate to win.

“Top right,” Michael said, lining up to take his shot. He misses, by a lot. Was it intentional? Well, if you were to ask him, he’d tell you it wasn’t.

Michael grinned, saying, “Name your pocket.”

“Top left,” Jeremy responded, leaning to take a stroke. The ball glides across the table, and, thankfully, into the pocket.

Jeremy made a mental note to thank his father for teaching him to play pool, and took several strides over to where Michael stood before attaching their lips.

They collapse onto the pool table before resuming their actions, Jeremy’s hips hovering over Michael’s.

Jeremy’s shaky fingers tease at the hem of Michael’s shirt before pausing the kiss to lift it over his head. Clothing is discarded item by item until the two remain in nothing more than boxers.

Their lips connect once more, sliding against each other wonderfully. As Michael’s hands grip Jeremy’s hair, he grinds down on impulse. Michael whines at this, desperate for more.

Suddenly Jeremy is everywhere, claiming his body as his lips trail down his neck, his jaw, his chest.

His hips grind into Michael’s, finding a rhythm. The friction was much appreciated and Michael let out a string of expletives before throwing his head back in bliss.

Jeremy’s mouth attacked his own once more as they ground against each other. Every time Michael made a noise, Jeremy was there to silence it.

What would have been a loud moan, became a low rumble. A whine to a grunt.

Michael was being controlled. He hadn’t expected it from Jeremy, his shy, uncertain best friend, but it wasn’t unwelcome by any means.

He needed something to cling to, he felt like he was floating. He clawed at Jeremy’s back, who let out a high pitched whine.

Jeremy pulled back to admire the body below him. He smiled, gazing at the hickeys he’d created before mumbling:

“Holy shit, I’m so lucky.”

Immediately, Jeremy’s lips found his chest, trailing down his stomach before pausing at the waistband of his boxers. He looked up at Michael through dark lashes, waiting for his permission to continue.

Michael nodded at him and Jeremy removed his dick from his boxers, discarding them. Jeremy’s tongue traced the tip. He slowly took in more of Michael until sinking his lips down to the base of his cock. Michael’s eyes widened as his mind flooded with ideas. Jeremy lacked a gag reflex.

Michael let out a loud moan as Jeremy’s head began to bob up and down slowly, quickening his pace as he went. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Michael felt like he was melting as he began to thrust into his best friend’s mouth with reckless abandon.

Michael’s fingers thread into Jeremy’s hair, moving his head in time with his thrusts. It was euphoric, and Michael would have been content to continue. Though he had promised sex, and if Jeremy didn’t stop he’d have finished then and there.

He finally mustered up the strength to pull Jeremy’s head off of his dick and did so. Jeremy looked at him quizzically, about to speak when Michael cut him off.

“You’re not doing anything wrong, love. In fact, that was amazing. I just don’t want to, uh, finish before delivering on what I promised.”

Jeremy’s eyes looked confused before softening with recognition. He blushed.

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Dude, your mouth was just on my dick and you don’t blush until I tell you you’re good at it?”

The red tint to Jeremy’s face depended before he kissed Michael. This kiss was different, though. Sweeter and gentler. They both enjoyed this, though they were becoming desperate.

Jeremy pulled off his boxers and brought his hips down to meet Michael’s, a whimper escaping his lips before Michael swallowed the noises he made by connecting their mouths again. This continued for several minutes before Michael interjected:

“Jeremy, I’m enjoying this, but for the love of all things holy, please fuck me,” he whined. Jeremy’s eyes widened but he recovered quickly.

“Do you have...” he spoke, trailing off.

“In my backpack, by the couch,” Michael moaned out.

Jeremy dragged Michael with him to the couch before grabbing a foil packet and a small bottle from Michael’s backpack. He tore it open and rolled the condom on before applying a generous amount of lube to three of his fingers.

“You’re lucky I know what to do. I’ve, watc- I mean learned about, um, this stuff,” Jeremy stammered.

Michael snorted. He knew about Jeremy’s porn habits.

Jeremy shut him up by tracing his rim with a single digit, pausing before inserting it. Michael gasped at the feeling before moaning quietly as Jeremy pumped his finger in and out.

Minutes later, Michael was ready for another, so Jeremy complied, waiting a moment before scissoring his two fingers.

“Jere, more, please,” he whimpered.

Not much time had passed, but Jeremy had entered a third finger and Michael was a writhing mess solely from Jeremy’s hand. He only became more desperate when Jeremy curled his fingers experimentally, hitting a spot deep within him.

Michael could barely speak. His vocabulary had turned to mush, all he could manage was to moan out, “Fuck, Jeremy,” before speech became useless and he couldn’t do anything more than cry out in pleasure.

Jeremy slowed his fingers before removing them entirely, Michael whining at the loss. Jeremy took a moment to bite at Michael’s neck as he applied lube to his dick. Michael hooked his legs around Jeremy’s hips before he lined up with Michael’s entrance. He began to slowly push into him before Michael spoke.

“Jeremy, I’m not made of glass. Fuck me like you mean it,” Michael grunted.

At that, Jeremy lost his self control and he thrusted into Michael until he bottomed out. The pair groaned in unison.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jeremy whined.

Michael, who was usually confident and controlled by no one, was reduced to phrases like, “Fuck, and Jeremy, and more, please, dear God.”

This only turned Jeremy on more. He was the cause of this. He could reduce calm, intelligent Michael to a moaning mess.

Jeremy angled his thrusts and Michael all but screamed.

“Jeremy! There, fuck, oh my God,” he cried.

Jeremy pounded into him, his nails digging into Michael’s thighs, letting out whimpers here and there. As Michael felt the pressure building up, he became more and more desperate.

“Faster, please. Goddamnit, Jeremy,” he moaned, his voice hoarse and needy.

Jeremy complied, drilling into him a pace that had them both dizzy. He took a hold of Michael’s cock, pumping him in time with their thrusts.

“Fuck, Jeremy,” he cried “Harder, please, oh my God.” He was practically screaming, “It feels so good, you feel so good, fuck.”

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. All that existed in Michael’s word was Jeremy. He needed him. As their stamina began to decrease, Michael found himself on the brink of a climax.

“I– Fuck, I’m close–“

“Me, too,” Jeremy moaned, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder.

Michael let out a husky scream as he came on his stomach and Jeremy’s hand. Moments later, Jeremy was releasing with a muffled whine. They stayed there for a moment, panting, before Jeremy pulled out and flopped onto the couch beside Michael.

“Fuck, Jere,” Michael breathed.

“Yeah, fuck,” Jeremy responded once he’d composed himself.

It wasn’t long before the boys had cleaned up and curled up together under a blanket, and it took even less time for them to fall asleep.

Come Monday, Jenna would have figured something out, and started gossiping, but at the time, it was just them, and that was enough.