Entry tags:
rps: cover boys
cover boys
NY Rangers RPS; Brandon Prust/Brad Richards, Brandon Prust/Brian Boyle; NC-17
2,785 words
Based on this prompt at![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hockeyanonmeme. Originally posted there, which was a formatting disaster.
Disclaimer: not mine.
Prusty likes to think that he's above bribery, but right now that’s only true in the sense that he’s staring down at Brad’s head. He’s certainly not going to stop Brad anytime soon, even if he knows that there are ulterior motives at work here.
Brad’s mouth is sliding up and down Prusty’s cock, his left hand at the base and his right lightly resting on Prusty’s hip to keep him still.
Yeah. Prusty’s not stopping anything.
Prusty lifts his hand to Brad’s head and tangles his fingers in the hair before closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. As much as he wants to watch, he’s doing just fine without the visual. He relaxes against the wall, tugging on Brad’s hair as a test, and is rewarded with a moan that shoots through his cock. Too good, and now he’s getting close.
He takes his other hand and presses it against the side of Brad’s face, carefully not thinking of how he can feel his cock where Brad’s cheek is stretched thin, and tries to shove him off.
Brad doesn’t move away, just looks up at Prusty with determination in his eyes, and Prusty drops his hand away. “Whatever. I’m not going to complain,” he says, and Brad looks like he’ll roll his eyes and maybe move away, but the cock in his mouth must be a pretty big reminder (ha ha) and he sucks his cheeks in and then Prusty’s done.
Brad swallows it all, wincing slightly and wiping the excess off of his cheek with the back of his hand. He remains on his knees as Prusty goes boneless against the wall.
“Fine,” Prusty finally says when he feels human again, “you’ve got my vote.”
Brad shakes his head and returns to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure,” Prusty says with a snort. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It doesn’t last long, though. Prusty returns to the locker room to grab his stuff that he’d left behind when Brad had given him a pointed look and half-dragged him to an empty hallway. Hank’s still there, having just finished putting his suit back on. Prusty grunts a distracted greeting in his direction and slips over to his stall.
“Prusty,” Hank says, and Prusty immediately snaps to attention.
“Yeah?”
Hank cocks his head just slightly and Prusty’s by his side without thinking. “Have you given any thought to a certain vote?”
Prusty blushes and looks away. “I think Brad’s got that one pretty much sealed up. Sorry, man.”
“Are you sure?”
He could hint at what Brad had done, see if Hank would try to top it. Prusty tries not to squirm at the thought of Hank on his knees in front of him. It’s hot enough on the ice with all of the pads so Prusty would probably explode over anything else.
“I’m sure,” Prusty responds, his voice a bit hoarse, and then he does the stupidest thing he can do, and he looks into Hank’s eyes. “I mean I’m sure that I’ll be voting for you,” he hears himself saying.
Hank smiles, and Prusty melts a little. “Excellent.” He reaches up to straighten his already perfect tie. “Thank you, Brandon.”
“Anytime,” Prusty says as he watches Hank leave.
He has no idea what just happened.
“Do you think it’s possible for someone to have magical sex powers without actually using sex?”
He’d thought the question was quiet enough that only Brian would hear it, but he’s such a giant that it traveled to Cally first, if the way his head shoots up is any indication. Cally reaches out and nudges Prusty’s shoulder in that captainly way of his.
“Prust, what did Hank do to you?”
Prusty rolls his eyes and avoids Cally’s gaze. “Nothing,” he mumbles. “I think Torts is calling you, Cap.”
Cally’s not stupid enough to fall for that, but he skates away anyway, leaving Prusty to look up Brian. “Well?”
Brian stares blankly at Prusty. “Well, what?”
“Sex-less magical sex powers. Is it possible?”
Brian shrugs and stares down at Hank in goal. “With Hank? Sure.” He shifts on his skates. “But you didn’t have sex with him, right?”
“Not with Hank, although I’m not a hundred percent sure. It feels like I did. I definitely got a blow job from Richie, though.”
Brian looks down at him with a strangled look on his face. “That’s great, Prusty.”
It doesn’t sound too sincere, but Prusty will pretend it is anyway. “Thanks, man.”
He’s dressed again after practice and ready to head to his car when Brad’s hand on his arm stops him.
“What’s up?” Prusty asks.
“I thought we had a deal.”
Oh. That. “Hank’s pretty persuasive, too.”
Brad folds his arms across his chest. “Seriously? Did he even do anything? Or did you just stare into his eyes and imagine doing something, and that was enough?”
Prusty shrugs. He’s thought about it, and he doesn’t feel the need to be ashamed. No one can resist Hank, so why stress out over it? “If you’ve ever done that then you’d know how special that can be?”
Brad rolls his eyes. “But it’s not real! I gave you an honest-to-goodness blow job. No imagination required. And you’d rather have the fantasy?”
“It’s a nice fantasy?” he tries, but the words are barely out of Prusty’s mouth before Brad’s dragging him away for the second time in as many days.
“I’ll show you how reality can trump fantasy,” Brad’s muttering, or something like that. Prusty just walks along with him until they get to the parking lot and Brad shoves Prusty into the backseat of his SUV.
“Whoa,” Prusty says as Brad climbs in on top of him. “Are we seriously going to have sex in the back of a car?”
“We’re not having sex.” Brad bends over and covers Prusty’s mouth with his own. It’s almost as nice as having his mouth on his cock. Prusty lets the kissing go on for a few minutes before he has to pull back.
“Wait. Are we just going to make out? Your blow job didn’t have any sticking powers and you think that making out is going to do better?”
Brad stares at Prusty with his eyebrows raised. “I have been making out like a champion since I was a teenager, and you will not even think about Hank after I’m through.”
It’s a totally cheesy thing to say but Prusty knows better than to point that out. Brad’s kissing is pretty nice, so he lets things go, and decides to just enjoy the ride.
Thirty minutes later Prusty’s shirt is rumpled, his lips are chapped, and he knows he’s going to vote for Brad but he doesn’t want to say so because he’s afraid that Brad will stop then. But Brad might have mind reading powers along with awesome making out skills because he pulls back and gives Prusty a knowing look. “Now go home and cast your vote before you see Hank again.”
Prusty nods numbly and stumbles out of the car. Brad seems completely affected as he moves to the front seat and drives away, which doesn’t really seem fair. Prusty goes over to his car and drops his bag inside but before he can start the car his phone rings. He answers it without looking. “Hello?”
“Hello, Brandon.”
Prusty is so screwed. When he hangs up the phone he bangs his head on the steering wheel and then picks up the phone again. He sends a quick text to Brian.
think hank has magic sex voice too. brad very good at making out. think vinny taught him?
Brian never responds.
Prusty’s not all that surprised when he wakes up on Sunday morning to Brad pounding on his front door. He doesn’t know how Brad knows what’s going on since it’s not like he’s been tweeting about this part of the competition. (hank’s sex powers > brad’s bj’s maybe?) but Brad obviously knows as his face is furious when Prusty opens the door.
“He’s an impressive creature,” Prusty says by way of greeting.
“Shut up,” Brad growls. “Bed.”
Prusty had jerked off the night before to the memory of making out with Brad so he’s a bit disappointed when Brad doesn’t seem interested in kissing him. But he gets over it when Brad shoves him on his back on the bed and points to his boxers. “Take those off.”
Prusty scrambles to comply as Brad strips his shirt off and pulls a little bottle of lube out of his pocket. The sight of that makes Prusty shiver a bit and he wonders if he should reminds Brad that they have a game tonight, but he’s too turned on to do that. He’s not going to break, and if it looks like Brad’s willing to forfeit Prusty’s skills in the game in favor of this dumb contest then he has bigger problems to deal with.
Brad kneels in between Prusty’s legs, pushing them further apart as he drizzles some lube onto his fingers. Then his index finger is probing at Prusty’s hole, shoving in with little resistance. Prusty can barely feel it.
“Going to need something bigger than that,” he challenges, and Brad responds by adding another finger and twisting at the same time.
“Much better,” Prusty mumbles, the words trailing off as Brad quickly inserts a third finger. It’s much too soon and the burn makes Prusty’s entire body tense up. Brad doesn’t move as Prusty’s body stills, keeping the fingers there for him to adjust. The pain runs through his body in waves and as it starts to fade Prusty reaches for his dick and rubs along the tip, waiting for the good to push against the bad. Brad watches him closely the whole time and finally Prusty nods and forces his body to relax.
Brad pulls his fingers out but is gone only long enough to add more lube. He pushes them back in slowly and leaves them there, twisting slightly, and oh hey, there’s Prusty’s prostate. Prusty’s hips jump a bit at that and Brad’s grin turns downright malicious then. His other hand grabs at Prusty’s cock, mirroring his earlier movements along the tip and then he pulls his fingers out again only to ram them back in, brushing the prostate again.
“Jesus,” Prusty pants out. “You’re really good at this.”
Brad’s smug look says it all as he continues to fuck Prusty with three fingers. He hits the prostate on every other attempt, and then he’s adding more lube and a fourth finger.
Prusty watches this with wide eyes, sweat beading across his forehead. His hips are starting to thrust in time with the movements of Brad’s fingers so he wraps his hand around his cock, shoving Brad’s away as he picks up the movements that have never failed him. Brad pulls out one more time and shoves in hard and Prusty’s pretty sure that this is the best orgasm he’s had in years, if not in forever.
Brad pulls his fingers out and moves to the bathroom to clean up. When he comes in he throws a washcloth at Prusty’s stomach and stares down at Prusty with frightening intensity. “I trust that that was good enough?”
For a moment Prusty has no idea what he’s talking about, and then he waves a dismissive hand. “Sure, sure. Casting my vote as soon as I can move again.”
“Good.” Brad doesn’t move, and Prusty wonders if he’s going to watch until he’s voted, but then Brad pulls his shirt and leaves without another word. Prusty musters up enough energy to drag the washcloth over himself a few times before collapsing into an unmoving heap once again.
He thinks he falls asleep because all of a sudden his phone is beeping at him. He pulls himself up enough to grab it from beside his bed, hoping Brian had finally responded to his text, but he lets out a groan when he sees who it is from.
King Henrik.
Of course.
He could just not click on it, save himself a lot of trouble, but that’s obviously bullshit because it’s already too late for that.
How are you doing, Brandon?
What is it about him?
Prusty gets to the Garden early enough that he feels okay about hiding in his car for a few minutes. Brad and Hank’s cars are already here and he’s got no desire to go in and see him. Or maybe too much desire. He’s not clear about that.
Someone taps on his window and he jumps, ready to turn the car on and drive away just to avoid them until he sees Brian bending over to peer in at him. He scrambles to get the window down. “What are you doing?”
Prusty shrugs. “I think I’m hiding.”
“From what, Chara?”
Prusty shakes his head. “Brad and Hank.”
“Oh. That.”
“Brad’s really good at real sex, but Hank’s even better at fantasy sex, and now I don’t know what to do.”
Brian huffs out a sigh and looks away. Prusty glances over to see if Brad’s coming over, but he doesn’t see anything. Brian continues to not look at him and Prusty lets him be, hoping he’s just thinking really hard. And it seems like he’s got a solution because suddenly his jaw hardens and he motions for Prusty to follow him.
Prusty quickly grabs his things and shuts up the car, running to catch up with Brian and his long legs. He feels kind of relieved that Brian’s probably going to fix things, and he can’t believe he’s so anxious to stop having sex. These guys are going to give him an ulcer at the rate they’re going.
They get to the locker room and Prusty tries to hide behind Brian, but it turns out he doesn’t need to because Brian signals for Brad and Hank to follow him into the hall and then he’s dragging Prusty out there.
“This has to stop,” Brian growls, and Prusty’s a bit surprised that he’s so mad about this. “You both are going to stop trying to manipulate Prusty. I don’t care if you were using real or imaginary sex because it won’t happen again. Got it?”
Hank nods. “Of course,” he says in that silky smooth voice of his, and Prusty mentally files a vote in his favor before he can help himself.
“But he-” Brad begins.
Brian stops him with a glare that makes even Hank take a step back. “No. Everyone gets an unlimited number of votes, so there’s no reason to put him through this. From now on I will be the only one who touches him. Do you understand?”
Brad has the decency to look ashamed at that, and Prusty wonders why he didn’t think of that argument by himself. Oh yeah, it’s because he was too busy having awesome but mentally exhausting sex. A great excuse.
Prusty wants to see if Brian’s going to glare them into apologizing but Hank and Brad slink back to the locker room - well, Brad slinks, while Hank glides like always - and Brian and Prusty are left alone. Prusty turns his best smile on and tilts his head to look at Brian. “Thanks, man. That was awesome.”
Brian’s doing that not looking at Prusty thing again so Prusty’s smile quickly turns into a frown. “You okay?”
Brian shrugs. “I’m fine.”
Right. Prusty shrugs and starts to walk away, and then he realizes what Brian had said.
He hadn’t seen that coming.
Prusty walks back over to Brian and intertwines his fingers with Brian’s, using them to tug him down enough to plant a quick kiss on his mouth before moving to whisper in his ear. “You know, Brad already opened me up pretty good this morning. And after this game we don’t play until Tuesday, so if you want to come over tonight you can.”
Brian blinks down at him and then his face twists into a small grin and he nods. Prusty grins back and carefully lets go of his hand before he starts thinking too much about the size of his fingers, and he goes to the locker room to get ready. It’s a good thing he’s played hockey for a long time, because at least he knows how to skate with a hard-on.
Hank shuffles past in his pads. “Have a good game, Brandon.”
Prusty pulls out his phone and casts his vote for Lundqvist.
NY Rangers RPS; Brandon Prust/Brad Richards, Brandon Prust/Brian Boyle; NC-17
2,785 words
Based on this prompt at
hockeyanonmeme. Originally posted there, which was a formatting disaster.Disclaimer: not mine.
Prusty likes to think that he's above bribery, but right now that’s only true in the sense that he’s staring down at Brad’s head. He’s certainly not going to stop Brad anytime soon, even if he knows that there are ulterior motives at work here.
Brad’s mouth is sliding up and down Prusty’s cock, his left hand at the base and his right lightly resting on Prusty’s hip to keep him still.
Yeah. Prusty’s not stopping anything.
Prusty lifts his hand to Brad’s head and tangles his fingers in the hair before closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. As much as he wants to watch, he’s doing just fine without the visual. He relaxes against the wall, tugging on Brad’s hair as a test, and is rewarded with a moan that shoots through his cock. Too good, and now he’s getting close.
He takes his other hand and presses it against the side of Brad’s face, carefully not thinking of how he can feel his cock where Brad’s cheek is stretched thin, and tries to shove him off.
Brad doesn’t move away, just looks up at Prusty with determination in his eyes, and Prusty drops his hand away. “Whatever. I’m not going to complain,” he says, and Brad looks like he’ll roll his eyes and maybe move away, but the cock in his mouth must be a pretty big reminder (ha ha) and he sucks his cheeks in and then Prusty’s done.
Brad swallows it all, wincing slightly and wiping the excess off of his cheek with the back of his hand. He remains on his knees as Prusty goes boneless against the wall.
“Fine,” Prusty finally says when he feels human again, “you’ve got my vote.”
Brad shakes his head and returns to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure,” Prusty says with a snort. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It doesn’t last long, though. Prusty returns to the locker room to grab his stuff that he’d left behind when Brad had given him a pointed look and half-dragged him to an empty hallway. Hank’s still there, having just finished putting his suit back on. Prusty grunts a distracted greeting in his direction and slips over to his stall.
“Prusty,” Hank says, and Prusty immediately snaps to attention.
“Yeah?”
Hank cocks his head just slightly and Prusty’s by his side without thinking. “Have you given any thought to a certain vote?”
Prusty blushes and looks away. “I think Brad’s got that one pretty much sealed up. Sorry, man.”
“Are you sure?”
He could hint at what Brad had done, see if Hank would try to top it. Prusty tries not to squirm at the thought of Hank on his knees in front of him. It’s hot enough on the ice with all of the pads so Prusty would probably explode over anything else.
“I’m sure,” Prusty responds, his voice a bit hoarse, and then he does the stupidest thing he can do, and he looks into Hank’s eyes. “I mean I’m sure that I’ll be voting for you,” he hears himself saying.
Hank smiles, and Prusty melts a little. “Excellent.” He reaches up to straighten his already perfect tie. “Thank you, Brandon.”
“Anytime,” Prusty says as he watches Hank leave.
He has no idea what just happened.
“Do you think it’s possible for someone to have magical sex powers without actually using sex?”
He’d thought the question was quiet enough that only Brian would hear it, but he’s such a giant that it traveled to Cally first, if the way his head shoots up is any indication. Cally reaches out and nudges Prusty’s shoulder in that captainly way of his.
“Prust, what did Hank do to you?”
Prusty rolls his eyes and avoids Cally’s gaze. “Nothing,” he mumbles. “I think Torts is calling you, Cap.”
Cally’s not stupid enough to fall for that, but he skates away anyway, leaving Prusty to look up Brian. “Well?”
Brian stares blankly at Prusty. “Well, what?”
“Sex-less magical sex powers. Is it possible?”
Brian shrugs and stares down at Hank in goal. “With Hank? Sure.” He shifts on his skates. “But you didn’t have sex with him, right?”
“Not with Hank, although I’m not a hundred percent sure. It feels like I did. I definitely got a blow job from Richie, though.”
Brian looks down at him with a strangled look on his face. “That’s great, Prusty.”
It doesn’t sound too sincere, but Prusty will pretend it is anyway. “Thanks, man.”
He’s dressed again after practice and ready to head to his car when Brad’s hand on his arm stops him.
“What’s up?” Prusty asks.
“I thought we had a deal.”
Oh. That. “Hank’s pretty persuasive, too.”
Brad folds his arms across his chest. “Seriously? Did he even do anything? Or did you just stare into his eyes and imagine doing something, and that was enough?”
Prusty shrugs. He’s thought about it, and he doesn’t feel the need to be ashamed. No one can resist Hank, so why stress out over it? “If you’ve ever done that then you’d know how special that can be?”
Brad rolls his eyes. “But it’s not real! I gave you an honest-to-goodness blow job. No imagination required. And you’d rather have the fantasy?”
“It’s a nice fantasy?” he tries, but the words are barely out of Prusty’s mouth before Brad’s dragging him away for the second time in as many days.
“I’ll show you how reality can trump fantasy,” Brad’s muttering, or something like that. Prusty just walks along with him until they get to the parking lot and Brad shoves Prusty into the backseat of his SUV.
“Whoa,” Prusty says as Brad climbs in on top of him. “Are we seriously going to have sex in the back of a car?”
“We’re not having sex.” Brad bends over and covers Prusty’s mouth with his own. It’s almost as nice as having his mouth on his cock. Prusty lets the kissing go on for a few minutes before he has to pull back.
“Wait. Are we just going to make out? Your blow job didn’t have any sticking powers and you think that making out is going to do better?”
Brad stares at Prusty with his eyebrows raised. “I have been making out like a champion since I was a teenager, and you will not even think about Hank after I’m through.”
It’s a totally cheesy thing to say but Prusty knows better than to point that out. Brad’s kissing is pretty nice, so he lets things go, and decides to just enjoy the ride.
Thirty minutes later Prusty’s shirt is rumpled, his lips are chapped, and he knows he’s going to vote for Brad but he doesn’t want to say so because he’s afraid that Brad will stop then. But Brad might have mind reading powers along with awesome making out skills because he pulls back and gives Prusty a knowing look. “Now go home and cast your vote before you see Hank again.”
Prusty nods numbly and stumbles out of the car. Brad seems completely affected as he moves to the front seat and drives away, which doesn’t really seem fair. Prusty goes over to his car and drops his bag inside but before he can start the car his phone rings. He answers it without looking. “Hello?”
“Hello, Brandon.”
Prusty is so screwed. When he hangs up the phone he bangs his head on the steering wheel and then picks up the phone again. He sends a quick text to Brian.
think hank has magic sex voice too. brad very good at making out. think vinny taught him?
Brian never responds.
Prusty’s not all that surprised when he wakes up on Sunday morning to Brad pounding on his front door. He doesn’t know how Brad knows what’s going on since it’s not like he’s been tweeting about this part of the competition. (hank’s sex powers > brad’s bj’s maybe?) but Brad obviously knows as his face is furious when Prusty opens the door.
“He’s an impressive creature,” Prusty says by way of greeting.
“Shut up,” Brad growls. “Bed.”
Prusty had jerked off the night before to the memory of making out with Brad so he’s a bit disappointed when Brad doesn’t seem interested in kissing him. But he gets over it when Brad shoves him on his back on the bed and points to his boxers. “Take those off.”
Prusty scrambles to comply as Brad strips his shirt off and pulls a little bottle of lube out of his pocket. The sight of that makes Prusty shiver a bit and he wonders if he should reminds Brad that they have a game tonight, but he’s too turned on to do that. He’s not going to break, and if it looks like Brad’s willing to forfeit Prusty’s skills in the game in favor of this dumb contest then he has bigger problems to deal with.
Brad kneels in between Prusty’s legs, pushing them further apart as he drizzles some lube onto his fingers. Then his index finger is probing at Prusty’s hole, shoving in with little resistance. Prusty can barely feel it.
“Going to need something bigger than that,” he challenges, and Brad responds by adding another finger and twisting at the same time.
“Much better,” Prusty mumbles, the words trailing off as Brad quickly inserts a third finger. It’s much too soon and the burn makes Prusty’s entire body tense up. Brad doesn’t move as Prusty’s body stills, keeping the fingers there for him to adjust. The pain runs through his body in waves and as it starts to fade Prusty reaches for his dick and rubs along the tip, waiting for the good to push against the bad. Brad watches him closely the whole time and finally Prusty nods and forces his body to relax.
Brad pulls his fingers out but is gone only long enough to add more lube. He pushes them back in slowly and leaves them there, twisting slightly, and oh hey, there’s Prusty’s prostate. Prusty’s hips jump a bit at that and Brad’s grin turns downright malicious then. His other hand grabs at Prusty’s cock, mirroring his earlier movements along the tip and then he pulls his fingers out again only to ram them back in, brushing the prostate again.
“Jesus,” Prusty pants out. “You’re really good at this.”
Brad’s smug look says it all as he continues to fuck Prusty with three fingers. He hits the prostate on every other attempt, and then he’s adding more lube and a fourth finger.
Prusty watches this with wide eyes, sweat beading across his forehead. His hips are starting to thrust in time with the movements of Brad’s fingers so he wraps his hand around his cock, shoving Brad’s away as he picks up the movements that have never failed him. Brad pulls out one more time and shoves in hard and Prusty’s pretty sure that this is the best orgasm he’s had in years, if not in forever.
Brad pulls his fingers out and moves to the bathroom to clean up. When he comes in he throws a washcloth at Prusty’s stomach and stares down at Prusty with frightening intensity. “I trust that that was good enough?”
For a moment Prusty has no idea what he’s talking about, and then he waves a dismissive hand. “Sure, sure. Casting my vote as soon as I can move again.”
“Good.” Brad doesn’t move, and Prusty wonders if he’s going to watch until he’s voted, but then Brad pulls his shirt and leaves without another word. Prusty musters up enough energy to drag the washcloth over himself a few times before collapsing into an unmoving heap once again.
He thinks he falls asleep because all of a sudden his phone is beeping at him. He pulls himself up enough to grab it from beside his bed, hoping Brian had finally responded to his text, but he lets out a groan when he sees who it is from.
King Henrik.
Of course.
He could just not click on it, save himself a lot of trouble, but that’s obviously bullshit because it’s already too late for that.
How are you doing, Brandon?
What is it about him?
Prusty gets to the Garden early enough that he feels okay about hiding in his car for a few minutes. Brad and Hank’s cars are already here and he’s got no desire to go in and see him. Or maybe too much desire. He’s not clear about that.
Someone taps on his window and he jumps, ready to turn the car on and drive away just to avoid them until he sees Brian bending over to peer in at him. He scrambles to get the window down. “What are you doing?”
Prusty shrugs. “I think I’m hiding.”
“From what, Chara?”
Prusty shakes his head. “Brad and Hank.”
“Oh. That.”
“Brad’s really good at real sex, but Hank’s even better at fantasy sex, and now I don’t know what to do.”
Brian huffs out a sigh and looks away. Prusty glances over to see if Brad’s coming over, but he doesn’t see anything. Brian continues to not look at him and Prusty lets him be, hoping he’s just thinking really hard. And it seems like he’s got a solution because suddenly his jaw hardens and he motions for Prusty to follow him.
Prusty quickly grabs his things and shuts up the car, running to catch up with Brian and his long legs. He feels kind of relieved that Brian’s probably going to fix things, and he can’t believe he’s so anxious to stop having sex. These guys are going to give him an ulcer at the rate they’re going.
They get to the locker room and Prusty tries to hide behind Brian, but it turns out he doesn’t need to because Brian signals for Brad and Hank to follow him into the hall and then he’s dragging Prusty out there.
“This has to stop,” Brian growls, and Prusty’s a bit surprised that he’s so mad about this. “You both are going to stop trying to manipulate Prusty. I don’t care if you were using real or imaginary sex because it won’t happen again. Got it?”
Hank nods. “Of course,” he says in that silky smooth voice of his, and Prusty mentally files a vote in his favor before he can help himself.
“But he-” Brad begins.
Brian stops him with a glare that makes even Hank take a step back. “No. Everyone gets an unlimited number of votes, so there’s no reason to put him through this. From now on I will be the only one who touches him. Do you understand?”
Brad has the decency to look ashamed at that, and Prusty wonders why he didn’t think of that argument by himself. Oh yeah, it’s because he was too busy having awesome but mentally exhausting sex. A great excuse.
Prusty wants to see if Brian’s going to glare them into apologizing but Hank and Brad slink back to the locker room - well, Brad slinks, while Hank glides like always - and Brian and Prusty are left alone. Prusty turns his best smile on and tilts his head to look at Brian. “Thanks, man. That was awesome.”
Brian’s doing that not looking at Prusty thing again so Prusty’s smile quickly turns into a frown. “You okay?”
Brian shrugs. “I’m fine.”
Right. Prusty shrugs and starts to walk away, and then he realizes what Brian had said.
He hadn’t seen that coming.
Prusty walks back over to Brian and intertwines his fingers with Brian’s, using them to tug him down enough to plant a quick kiss on his mouth before moving to whisper in his ear. “You know, Brad already opened me up pretty good this morning. And after this game we don’t play until Tuesday, so if you want to come over tonight you can.”
Brian blinks down at him and then his face twists into a small grin and he nods. Prusty grins back and carefully lets go of his hand before he starts thinking too much about the size of his fingers, and he goes to the locker room to get ready. It’s a good thing he’s played hockey for a long time, because at least he knows how to skate with a hard-on.
Hank shuffles past in his pads. “Have a good game, Brandon.”
Prusty pulls out his phone and casts his vote for Lundqvist.