Bitty laughed to himself, a nervous sound.
“Oh my word,” he said. He stared at the phone screen clutched in his hands and shook his head in disbelief.
Received: 3:42pm - “I want you to top me.”
Sent: 3:43pm - “I’d like that.”
It was a sunny afternoon, early autumn, Samwell’s campus already turning the warm colors of the season, and Bitty was emphatically not a top. Or at least…well he wasn’t all that sure, he’d had to admit to himself when he set up his profile on the app. He knew that in his most explicit fantasies he was only ever the one bottoming, and more or less active depending on his mood. But there was still the fact that he’d never…he hadn’t…
Bitty felt a rush of shame shudder through him as he stood absently on the sidewalk. He looked away from his phone, laughing to hide the moment from any who might be looking. There was no one, of course, and he couldn’t help but kick himself for caring so much. In the distance a handful of loud students threw a frisbee between them in a game of Ultimate, but none of them could have told you that the blond boy in the floral button-up with a Samwell bag of hockey gear slung over his shoulder was a virgin, despite how much he felt he radiated that energy.
He shook his head at himself and resumed his walk towards the Haus, phone purposefully ignored where it rested in his pocket. Bitty’d only been on the apps since the start of the semester, or only actively that long. He had set up the profiles one summer night after just enough wine to be impulsive but not enough to wreck his spelling, but then let them languish in the dusty corners of his phone until he was back on campus. A few curious swipe-throughs before leaving Georgia were enough to convince him he’d be better off waiting till he was in another corner of the country. Besides, he still couldn’t risk running into somebody who would recognize him and maybe know his parents and maybe talk to them about, “Hey, your son likes it up the butt!”
Bitty clenched his jaw against the anxious spiral of his closet in Georgia as he climbed the stairs to the front door of the Haus. Whatever sealant had once been used on the wood planks of the porch had mostly worn through at this point, and being exposed to the elements had left them grey and warped in most places. The porch creaked underfoot and Bitty made a note to himself to speak with Jack about treating the wood come spring.
He swung the door open with all the dramatic flair he could muster, stepping through to what seemed to be an empty Haus.
“I’m an impulsive bitch!” Bitty screamed. Moments of drama were his typical source of personal catharsis.
He closed the door.
The late afternoon sun illuminated the Haus nicely, particularly with the carefully chosen curtains tied off and out of the windows. The air only faintly smelled of bro-sweat and microwaved food, which Bitty considered a victory most days.
“Well, from one impulsive bitch to another,” Shitty’s voice boomed from the kitchen, “You scared the shits out of me, Bits.”
Bitty wandered into the kitchen, waving half-heartedly at Shitty where he sat, stripped to his boxers as always, at the kitchen table, joint ablaze and an intimidating legal tome open on the table before him.
“Bro, what’s with the entrance?” he asked. “Not that your theatrics aren’t A+ as per uzh…”
Bitty shuffled to the pantry and began retrieving ingredients to start a batch of crusts for chilling. A jittery mass of nervous, giggly energy and the heaviness of anxiety and regret muddled the moment as he debated what to share with Shitty, who watched him with the chill energy he emanated with or without the help of weed.
He could talk to Shitty about this. Shitty was the first one he came out to on the team, his best friend of the upperclassmen.
“I, uh, well I made a profile on some apps. For…dating and stuff. You know.” Bitty laughed as he sifted flour into a bowl. His back faced the rest of the kitchen, including Shitty, who waited patiently for Bitty to continue.
“I guess I’m just kinda ready to get out there a little bit, and you know, y’all’ve been so supportive with the whole gay thing, but you’re not exactly…” Bitty waved a flour-dusted hand vaguely in the air.
“The Haus is a lot of things, my Bittlebro, but the gay scene it ain’t. I gotcha.”
Bitty sighed. “Yeah, thanks.” He tossed a smile over his shoulder at Shitty.
“So the ‘impulsive bitch’ thing? That was just about making the profiles?” Shitty took a deep drag from the smoldering joint.
Bitty turned to face Shitty and leaned up against the counter, his hands trailing flour in the air. He laughed and rolled his eyes self-consciously. “More like that’s the stage for my impulsive choices.”
Shitty’s eyes flickered with interest, though Bitty could tell he was trying to hold it in as best as he could. This was one of the reasons he appreciated Shitty. “This is getting interesting, Bits, please continue.”
“Well, you know, I talked to some guys, that was fun, took me a bit to get comfortable with it,” Bitty could feel the rambling quality of his storytelling and had no power to stop it. “But I figured ‘Hey, this is a big step for you, don’t beat yourself up, ease into it.’ Which was mostly fine but now that I’ve gotten comfortable talking to people I started to realize…” He stopped abruptly, his face flushing red.
Shitty waved him on with his hand. “Keep it going, Bits, it’ll be good for you to spill.”
Bitty studiously avoided eye contact as he said through his blushing, “I realized that I’m horny, dammit!”
His hands flew to cover his face, the flour streaks standing out against the vibrant red of his blushing, as Shitty roared with laughter.
“Bits it is truly a testament to the quality of your upbringing that you’re still embarrassed to say that to a man who only wears clothes when mandated. To a man you’ve walked in on during his self-love time, no less.”
Bitty’s blush showed no signs of abating. “Well I thought maybe I’d take that next step, you know, and meet up with someone, just casually. So I start talking to this guy a couple of days ago…”
Shitty’s demeanor shifted abruptly, reminding Bitty of a guard dog, back stiff, eyes alert, shoulders squared, “Who is this asshole, Bits, you know we’ve gotta screen him. No one’s laying a finger on this priceless Georgia peach without proper vetting.”
Bitty laughed, “Hush up, I’m not finished.” His eyes glinted and he wagged a finger at Shitty, “And just so you know I’ll let any fingers I want on this peach.”
Shitty nodded with respect.
“As I was saying, I started talking to this guy and there’s definitely some chemistry and we both agree that we’re looking for something casual and sex is definitely on the table. But we’d both labeled ourselves ‘vers’ on our profiles…”
Shitty’s eyes lit up with barely suppressed anticipation.
“And he messages me today saying he wants me to top him and I don’t know what got into me but I said yes immediately and instantly regretted it.” Bitty’s face was in his hands again, though he laughed through them.
“Bits, my Bittle, while I think I understand what you’re distressed about I’ve gotta point out that drawing such distinct lines between ‘top’ and ‘bottom’ as identities really does recreate…”
“Aw shush, I know, I know. But look, I’ve never really seen myself in that role?” Bitty resigned himself to a perpetual blush for this conversation. “I’m sure it…feels good, you know, like why wouldn’t it, but I’ve kind of always imagined myself more…of a bottom.”
Shitty nodded with an affectation of wisdom. “I see, so you’re looking for someone to help coach you through this, maybe practice on.”
Bitty’s shocked expression morphed quickly into mortified silence, mouth agape, as Shitty stood from the chair.
“Well you know, Bits, I can’t say I’m an expert by any means, but I’ve done my share of dallying and I imagine I could give you a few pointers, walk you through it. Have you in tip top topping shape by the time you meet this guy, you’ll fuck his world right up.” Shitty placed his hands on his hips, looked at Bitty with a very coach-like expression.
Bitty sputtered, “That’s not — I mean, thanks? But I couldn’t…possibly — I wasn’t asking that at all?”
Shitty laughed, dropping the coach pose. “I know, Bits, don’t sweat it, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to fuck with you.”
Bitty punched Shitty squarely in the shoulder and walked back to his abandoned pie crust. “You asshole, I’m serious, I don’t know what to do about this!”
“You plan on meeting up with him, or do you need help brainstorming escape plans?”
Bitty remained silent in thought for a moment, cutting cold butter into the dry ingredients in the bowl.
“No, I wanna go through with it. I think I’m just nervous about not being good at it and leaving him disappointed or something, you know?”
He began measuring water into the dough and mixing. “I’ve already come to peace with having my first time not be some romance novel kinda thing, so I’d kinda like to just dive in and maybe not be stuck with my hands for the rest of my time in college.”
Shitty nodded with understanding. “I respect it, bro. And as far as being worried about your performance or whatever, I get it, but try not to sweat it too much. We penis-folk tend not to be the hardest to please, even if our world’s not shaken by the fuck.”
He eyed Bittle for a moment, an appraising air about him. “Besides, I think you could make for a pretty dynamic top, ‘specially with your diminutive stature,” he patted the top of Bitty’s head teasingly as he said this, “and your tight build. Topping’s all charisma and core, you know. And listening.”
Shitty took a breath for what Eric could tell was going to be one of his consent and communication soapboxes and cut him off. “Did you just use the words ‘dynamic top’? Are you going to offer commentary like a sportscaster, is this what I’m missing out on if I don’t take you as my coach?”
“That and a very fine ass, if you wanna know,” Shitty said with no hint of sarcasm.
“I’ll try not to die of regret,” Eric chuckled.
Eric formed the dough into a disk, wrapped it in plastic wrap, and dropped it in the fridge as Shitty returned to his textbook.
“Thanks, Shitty,” Bittle said after he cleaned up after himself, “For letting me talk it out a little.”
“I cherish being allowed into your inner world, Bits,” Shitty said, nose buried in his book.
Later that evening, Shitty saw a head of blond hair appear in his doorway. The door wasn’t closed, it was never closed, and he reclined on his bed with his phone in hand, casually scrolling and muttering to himself. Bitty figured he was scrolling through Twitter or some such site, as that was the mumbling he only ever did when reading of the world’s latest political dramas.
“Hey, Shitty,” Eric said with some hesitation.
“Bits, come in and relieve me of the terrible burden of awareness in a world full of oppression and exploitation, please!” He threw his phone onto the nightstand with some flair and Eric shook his head, laughing.
“So what’s up now, my Bittle? Reconsidered my offer? Wanna hone your topping technique with this the most adequate of hockey asses?”
Bitty raised an eyebrow and deflected, “Only adequate?”
“When one lives in a Haus blessed with sculpted posteriors such as Jack’s and Ransom’s, one must be honest with oneself.”
That got a laugh from Bitty, as well as a nod of agreement.
Shitty said, “But I maintain that this is a skewed sample and my ass is more than adequate when compared against the whole population.”
Bitty stood in the doorway, only a step or two inside the room, and his face was already showing a blush. His hands were buried in the pockets of his sweats, but Shitty could see them fidgeting.
“We started sexting,” Bitty admitted.
“You’re really doing this for real, aren’t you, Bits? I’m so proud of you, bro.” He sat up, eagerly, making grabby hands at Eric. “You know you’ve gotta let me see, bro, assuming your boundaries allow for that.”
Bittle hesitated, then pulled his phone from his pocket and presented it to Shitty while looking anywhere but.
Shitty’s face glowed with the underlighting of the phone as he scrolled through the handful of racy messages Bitty had exchanged over the past few hours. He grinned.
“I’m afraid I might have…”
“Talked yourself up just a little?” Shitty finished, laughing.
Bitty covered his face and groaned, “I know, I told you I’m impulsive today.”
Shitty eyed him as he handed the phone back. “Looks like the pressure’s really on you now, isn’t it? You’ve upped the stakes for yourself.”
“I didn’t mean to, it just felt like the right stuff to say while it was hap-”
Shitty’s laughter cut him off. “Bits, the whole sport of sexting is about exaggeration and confidence. It’s fine, really.”
Bitty looked like he was trying to force words out of himself, but he kept looking away right at the moment he began to speak and cutting himself off. Shitty said nothing, simply gave him space.
Finally, clenching his eyes, Bittle said in a rush, “I know you were probably joking but actually maybe it would be great if I could try with you first if you don’t mind but I totally get it if you do you know what nevermind I’ll see myself out bye.”
A hand gripped his shoulder as he turned to make his escape, and Bittle felt Shitty’s thumb rub him comfortingly.
“Bro, this is the biggest honor and the most solemn responsibility you could possibly give me.” His tone carried the same ironic edge that Bitty sometimes thought must be a genetic trait, but his eyes were nothing but earnest, and he made unflinching eye contact with Bittle the whole time he spoke.
Bitty was caught between relief that Shitty was taking this well and the dawning realization that he was really about to do this.
“You sure you’re not just yanking my chain?” Bitty asked. There was a brittle quality to his voice, vulnerability that he didn’t display all that often in the swaggering culture of the Haus.
“Eric,” Shitty said firmly, “If I didn’t mean it I would let you know. It would be an honor to let you make sweet, sweet love to me.”
“Oh god, why’d you have to say it that way,” Bittle groaned. “Now all I can picture is rose petals and candles and you calling out plays to me.”
Shitty seemed to consider the image. “You know, I’m gonna tuck that idea away for another time,” he said.
Eric shifted awkwardly. “I didn’t really think past asking you.”
“Not to worry, Bits. First order of business is making sure we’ve got our supplies in order, including a good training arena.” He grinned mischievously, bouncing on the bed a little.
Eric shook his head and said, “Nope, not in here, definitely not in here.”
Shitty looked genuinely confused. “Why not? I can’t imagine your mattress is that much more comfortable than mine.”
Bitty rolled his eyes. “They’re identical,” he said, “And it’s not about that. You literally have a sign on your door that says, ‘Don’t Knock, Just Enter’ and I don’t think anyone has bothered knocking since you moved into this room.”
“You don’t want someone walking in on our training sesh?” Shitty teased. “Trust me, it’s kind of hot knowing people might walk in.”
Bittle shuddered. “Yeah, maybe when you’re already an exhibitionist nudist, not when you’re a shy gay boy losing his virginity to a teammate sex coach.”
Bitty looked immediately regretful and attempted to speak up, but Shitty beat him to it.
“Sex Coach!” He stared into the distance dramatically, and Bitty could almost see his hair flowing in the imaginary wind. “I like the sound of that.”
“I’m not calling you that.”
“Should I punish insubordination with laps or do you think some actual punishment,” he clapped his hands together for emphasis, “Would be more conducive to our training regimen?” He waggled his eyebrows at Bitty, who was quickly beginning to regret his decisions.
Shitty laughed. “Okay, serious. We can do it in your room if you’re fine with that.”
Shitty shifted his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up. “Well you probably know I’m gonna need some time to clean up and prep, so how about you make sure we have the condom and lube and I’ll meet you in your room? And then this Sex Coach will make a top out of you.”
With a slap to Bitty’s ass, Shitty made his way to the bathroom, the sound of the tub filling beginning a few moments later.
Bitty took a few deep breaths.
“Alright. You’re just gonna…you’re just gonna treat this like any other sport, this is just waking up at 4 in the morning to train with Jack.” Thoughts of Jack momentarily interrupted Bittle’s spiral into nerves. Thoughts of Jack being his sex coach, specifically.
“That’s enough of that,” Bitty said to himself and walked back to his room.
The room was an improvement in every way but dimension over Shitty’s, though that wouldn’t surprise any resident of the Haus who knew what it had looked and smelled like before Bitty was recruited. Bitty retrieved the lube and condoms from the discrete box kept in the back corner of his nightstand. He rushed to gather them before Shitty finished prepping; he might have revealed his virginity, his sexual preferences, his sexting personality, and his insecurities to Shitty, but he didn’t have to completely surrender his dignity to this experience.
Bitty set the materials on the nightstand and then fidgeted about the room, full of nervous energy. He wondered if perhaps he should go ahead and undress, and not have to deal with doing that while Shitty watched. But no, that was stupid, he was literally about to have his dick inside of one of his best friends, undressing in front of him should be the least of his concerns. He spotted Senor Bun where he was propped against the pillows of his bed and quickly moved him into the nightstand.
“Can’t have you witnessing this nonsense,” Bitty muttered to the stuffed rabbit. He absentmindedly scrolled through his Twitter while waiting for Shitty, not paying much attention to anything he saw.
It felt like an eternity, but was in reality only fifteen or so minutes before footsteps padded across the hallway and Shitty’s voice shocked Eric into a brief jump of fright.
“Time to be a TOP, Bittle!” he yelled, entering the room with a damp towel slung low across his hips.
Bitty squeaked in panic and brushed past Shitty, closing and locking his door behind his friend.
“Shitty, someone could hear you!” he hissed, back against the door and a hand over his racing heart.
The taller man laughed and nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone got caught doing the dirty in the Haus, but I get it, don’t worry, I’ll button it up for you Bits.” He made a show of zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key.
“Though you should know,” he said, “I’m usually a moaner, so you might have to remind me to keep it quiet during our training.”
“If you wiggle your eyebrows at me every time you say ‘training’ I might just have to murder you, Mr. Shitty,” Bittle said, wagging a finger menacingly, earning him a laugh.
Bitty took a deep breath and felt himself beginning to blush already. He looked anywhere but at Shitty, who waited patiently in the middle of the room.
“Okay, um, I’ve got,” Bitty walked over to the nightstand, picking up each item as he spoke, “I’ve got a condom here, and here’s my fav— here’s some lube. I guess these are…for me.”
Shitty laughed and stepped up to Bitty. “Bits, slow your roll. You gotta calm down first if this training—sorry, sorry, I won’t do it again—is gonna be any good.”
Bitty paused in his movements and looked up at Shitty, laughing at himself. “I know it’s not that big a deal, it’s just sex, or whatever…”
A hand cupped Bitty’s chin, warm, and Shitty leaned into a kiss. Bitty’s eyes widened and he froze. But then he settled into it and took a small step into Shitty’s space and leaned up into the kiss, letting the anxious part of his brain fade into the background. This was nice, the warm press of lips and the way they shared breaths, and maybe he could feel his pulse picking up for reasons other than anxiety now. Shitty’s mustache tickled and scratched in a way that made Bitty pull back laughing a few times before leaning back into it. Bitty could smell the body wash Shitty had used, something almost floral, and one of Shitty’s lectures about gendered marketing made him chuckle into the kiss.
“Alright, you calmed down now?”
Bitty nodded. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”
Shitty patted him on the shoulder and moved to the bed, unceremoniously pulling the towel from around his hips and laying it over the comforter. Bitty averted his eyes, a habit learned to survive a lifetime of locker rooms, and then caught himself. He allowed himself to actually look at Shitty’s body, a sight that he was used to because of his friend’s propensity for nudity, and appreciate it.
“You should be kinder to yourself, Shitty,” Bitty said, “Your ass is more than adequate.”
Shitty slapped his butt and wiggled it a bit, making ridiculous leering faces at Bitty over his shoulder the whole time. “Why thank you, Bits, my ass could use some love from someone in this Haus, since Jack and Ransom deservedly get most of the attention.”
Bitty took a step forward, a hesitant look in his eyes. He reached out with his hands and said, “May I…?”
Shitty arched his back a little and said, “Help yourself, Bits, that’s exactly what I’m here for.”
Eric ran his fingertips down Shitty’s back, still damp and warm from the shower, and over the muscles of his ass. He felt the light layer of hair that covered it, soft over the solid muscle shaped by years of hockey. He cupped Shitty’s ass with both hands, letting himself experience this first moment of touching, happening in a way he never expected, but safe and relaxing. He’d never touched another man like this, and reminding himself of this put him fully in the moment. He felt the tell-tale stirrings of his body and he slid his hands up and around Shitty’s waist, stepping closer till his body was flush against the other man’s.
“Is this alright?” Bitty asked, as he let his hands feel their way around the front of Shitty’s body. Abs, which twitched and flexed a bit under his light touch, a nipple that was already peaked into a tight point, the cut of muscle that led down from his hip.
Shitty sighed into the touch, “Of course, bro, it’s always good to take care of your bottom, anyway.”
Bitty laughed at that and let his hands drift downward, one tracing the line of hair from Shitty’s navel into the thicker patch below it and to the thickening shaft there and the other below that to feel the weight of his balls. He felt his own body responding as he let himself feel the length of Shitty’s dick, the soft skin, the way it was warm.
With a light grip, Bitty drew his hand up the shaft to where he could feel the round edge of the head, and back down. He rolled Shitty’s balls around in his other hand and tugged gently.
Shitty played with one of his nipples absentmindedly and reached behind himself with his other hand to grip Eric’s hip. He pulled the smaller man closer and said, “Feels like you’re getting ready back there, Bittlebro.”
Bitty would have blushed were his blood not already running hot in his face, feeling where his erection pressed up against Shitty’s thigh through his sweatpants.
“Yeah, I think we should do this before I lose my nerve,” Eric said.
Shitty laughed and hopped up onto the bed. “You do know you’re gonna have to get naked for this, right?” He asked, a teasing arch to his eyebrow.
Eric pulled his shirt and sweatpants off quickly, leaving himself in his boxer briefs. He’d done this a hundred times at this point, right? He unceremoniously pushed his underwear off his hips and down his legs before he lost his nerve. He became acutely aware of his dick as it bounced embarrassingly, the air cold on his sensitive skin.
Shitty watched this with undisguised appreciation, which Bittle had never though to anticipate. His friend’s gaze filled his belly with liquid heat.
“You are one beautiful man, Eric Bittle,” Shitty said, no hint of irony.
Bitty let himself bask in the compliment and returned the gaze, allowing himself to truly take in Shitty’s naked form, the fine chest hair and the way his dick lay flush against his abs. “Not so bad, yourself,” he returned. Shitty openly preened in response.
The nerves returned as the moment lingered. “Um, do you want me to…” Bitty gestured toward Shitty’s dick.
Shitty waved a hand dismissively in response. “My generous bro, while I’d be honored and more than delighted to accept your offer, that is not what we’re here for tonight.” He wagged a finger with the air of a professor, “Though, of course, you should never forget that your bottom deserves your full attention and their dick is just as important as yours.”
Bitty rolled his eyes with a grin, shaking his head.
“But I am perfectly content with taking care of this myself. Tonight I am your Sex Coach, not your partner, and just happen to also think you’re very sexy.”
Bitty blushed and muttered, “Lord, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He huffed a sigh and redirected his gaze to Shitty, expression firming into something like resolve. “Alright, well, are you gonna coach me or what?”
Shitty laughed and hopped onto his hands and knees, wiggling his ass lasciviously. “Alright, player, get on up behind me and get that condom situation sorted, please and thank you.”
Bitty rolled the condom on while saying, “I’m beginning to think you might have something of a coach/player fantasy, Shitty.”
“I won’t tolerate kink-shaming in my training session, Bittle, next offense will earn you a lap.”
“Why, Mr. Shitty, I believe you’ve gone mad with power,” Bitty teased as he eased himself onto the bed behind Shitty. The red comforter was covered, mercifully, by Shitty’s shed shower towel.
He paused, both taking in the sight and hyping himself up. His friend was on all fours in front of him. His best friend was waving a naked ass in front of him.
Shitty’s voice, with its awful affectation of coach cadence, interrupted the moment. “Alright now, sport, first thing’s first you gotta pay your bottom some attention and get them loosened up, if they haven’t taken care of that for ya.”
Bitty reached out and placed both hands on Shitty’s ass again, this time spreading the cheeks slightly. He knew what he wanted to do to get things started, and his heart raced at the thought.
Bitty had rarely been so aware of his body, like he could feel every inch of his skin with perfect clarity, the damp towel beneath his knees, the cool Haus air on his ass, the contact between his hands and Shitty. His erection hung somewhat awkwardly in the air between them, craving contact to a degree Bitty could barely tolerate.
He leaned forward and licked between Shitty’s cheeks.
Shitty yelped and jerked forward, and Bitty had to slap a hand to the wall to keep himself from falling forward.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over—” Bitty erupted into horrified apologies, his face nearly matching his bedspread in hue. His voice trailed off as he realized Shitty lay before him, laughing.
“Bits, my man, that is entirely on me, but with as shy as you’ve been about all of this the last thing I expected from the night was to get rimmed.” He had turned partially toward Bitty and shook his head.
“We totally don’t have to, I just, um, you know I just was kinda doing it how I figure I might like it when I bottom.”
Shitty raised his shoulders in a shrug, “Bits, listen, I am *not* gonna stop you from rimming me, my ass and I are truly honored to be dignified in such a way.”
Bitty shook his head, “Okay then, well get back down so we can get back to this, mister.”
Shitty returned to his position, and this time Bitty did not scare him nearly off the bed when he trailed his tongue lightly up his ass. Bitty had always been curious about this, though he’d never admit it to anyone, and it was a not-infrequent element of his fantasies. Given Shitty’s reactions, it was worth fantasizing about.
He kept at it, nothing too refined though enthusiastic, until Shitty said with a shaking voice, “Bro, oh my god,” his face nearly buried in the mattress. “Okay, next…next play,” a blend of a laugh and moan, “Lube up one of those fingers and get to it, player.”
Bitty found the lube with his left hand while the right stayed braced against the body in front of him. He pulled his face away only just long enough to make sure he squirted the lube onto his fingers and went back to licking and prodding at Shitty’s hole with his tongue while he spread the slick substance over his fingers. Shitty was not fighting his moans at all, which Bitty would have been embarrassed by were he not so busy at the moment. Besides, it was hot, he found, that he could make Shitty feel like this, make his back arch and ass rock back onto Bitty’s face, searching for more pressure.
Lubed up, Bitty sat back and eagerly reached up to press against Shitty’s hole, spit-slick.
“Ready?” Eric asked.
Shitty had recovered somewhat, it seemed, and was propped up on his elbows with his head lifted off the mattress again, legendary flow a mess. “Bits, I will have to impose a penalty if you don’t put a motherfucking finger inside of me right this goddamn instant.”
Bitty pressed forward with his index finger, feeling the heat and the resistance before it gave way and his finger sank inside. Shitty groaned with relief and Bitty found himself holding his breath. Shitty was hot and slick and tight around his finger, and all Bittle could think about was how this would feel when he finally got his dick inside. He began to press his finger in and out, to curl it the way he enjoyed when he did this to himself, and with his other hand he reached around Shitty’s waist and grabbed onto his erection.
“Way to show some initiative, player,” Shitty said, back in his coach voice, though Bitty couldn’t miss the way it was breathier.
The positioning was awkward and it took some adjusting before Bitty felt like he was not about to fall over while trying to coordinate his hands’ very different tasks, but he finally managed to get into a reasonably comfortable position and refocused his attention on Shitty. His friend’s reactions and enthusiasm had done a great deal to quell his timidity, and he pressed a second finger inside of Shitty. The reaction was immediate, Shitty rocking back to push against Eric’s fingers and rocking forward to fuck into his fist.
“Okay, Bits, you gotta fuck me, man,” Shitty said, breathy.
Bitty hesitated, “Are you sure you’re ready, I could get another finger—” He was nervous and horny, a very confusing combination.
“If you don’t put your fucking dick in me right now you will be running naked laps around the goddamn Haus as a penalty.”
That was enough for Bitty, who shifted himself into position behind Shitty. He lined his erection up, held onto Shitty’s hip, and slowly pushed forward. Shitty took him in with ease, and Bitty sank in until he was flush against Shitty’s ass. He absentmindedly reached a hand up to pinch at a nipple while he took a deep breath to steady himself. The sensation was nearly overwhelming, and he found himself fighting to focus and not end things embarrassingly early.
Shitty shifted and propped himself up on his hands, looking over his shoulder to grin at Eric. “What do you think, Bits?”
Bitty responded by pulling out halfway and thrusting back in with a snap. He let a groan escape, too caught up in the moment to be embarrassed.
“You feel so good,” he replied.
Bitty continued to thrust at a steady pace, both hands clenching the sides of Shitty’s hips. His skin was damp with sweat and slick with errant lube, hard to hold onto, though somehow that made it hotter, and Bitty felt the way his body was filling steadily with a syrupy heat that pooled in his stomach and spread. It built, a feeling of potential, of holding his breath and bracing for impact, a feeling like trying to take control of a skydive.
With one final effort to prolong the experience, Bitty tore his focus away from the sensations building in his body and reoriented it on Shitty. It was at that moment that Bitty noticed Shitty bouncing back to meet his strokes, his right arm stroking his own erection furiously, and the pulsing clench of his ass around Bitty’s dick as he came into the towel with a barely suppressed moan.
All of which was enough to bulldoze Bitty’s resistance, and he thrust one final time and froze with a whimper, body tense, as he came.
Silence, contoured only by the soft sounds of sighs and panting, settled in Bitty’s room. Shitty lay with his arms outstretched and his forehead pressed to the bed as if in some awkward post-sex yoga pose, his long hair a sweaty, tangled mess matted to his shoulders. The towel beneath them was damp with sweat, and Bitty lazily dismissed the concern that his comforter might be dampened as well.
He withdrew from Shitty with a whimper, oversensitive now that he was finished, and delicately disposed of the condom. His thighs twinged nicely as he walked across the room and made his way back to the bed, where Shitty had sat up and rested, back against the wall.
Bitty stopped before the bed, hands planted on his hips. “Well, coach? Feedback?”
Shitty grinned and shook his head. “You sneaky motherfucker,” he laughed, “Acting all shy and then showing up like that. That was good, Bittlebrah.”
Bitty couldn’t help the blush that graced his face, but rolled his eyes nonetheless. “I’m flattered.”
Eric shrugged. “Yeah? But, you know, not as much? I was worried that I was gonna cum before I even got inside him, and that wasn’t a problem, so that’s nice.”
The other man laughed. “Nope, not a problem. Now here,” he awkwardly shifted the towel out from underneath him and used it to haphazardly wipe down, then laid down on his side and patted the bed before him, “You’re free to do as much or as little cuddling with your Tinder dude as you want, but cuddles are a crucial part of my training regimen.”
Back snug against Shitty’s bare chest, an arm draped over him, Bitty couldn’t help but laugh.
“Bro, my cuddles aren’t a joke.”
Bitty shook his head. “I can’t believe you let me fuck you because I’m nervous about a hookup.”
“My friendship is expansive and unconventional, you sexy Southern peach.”
“You don’t say.”
They dozed for a while before Shitty patted Bitty on the shoulder and excused himself to shower and go to his own bed.
“Too bad we don’t have any tape to review,” he said, with the waggle of his eyebrows Bitty was ready to kill him over, and left.
Bitty giggled his way into the Haus. Midafternoon, again, during one of the gaps in his course schedule when most of the team were still in classes. Except for Shitty, of course, who seemed to live at the table in the kitchen with that legal book.
“So?” Shitty said, the pretense of studying evaporated. “Deets, brah, deets.”
Bitty shook his head and moved to gather ingredients for yet another pie. Buttermilk pie, this time.
“Come on, you fucker, I gotta know how it went.”
Bitty glanced over his shoulder, blush evident, and said, “Well, turns out he, uh, wasn’t all that experienced with bottoming.” He measured flour onto his pastry board. “He couldn’t really relax very well and…I couldn’t really, uh, fit.”
“Big Dick Bro, I love it.”
“So what, you just called it quits or what?”
Bitty’s eyeroll was evident even through the back of his head. “Of course not, but a gentleman doesn’t blow and tell, I’m afraid.”
Shitty laughed and patted Bitty on the shoulder.