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not only is katelyn ( @kindawild & @linewrk ) a phenomenal human, but she is so ridiculously talented. she’s captured kip perfectly in a way i can’t even begin to describe, and not only is andy amazingly thought out — so are his co-workers. i love every interaction we have, and i’m so excited to do more.

Back drops down on to the table and Andrew huffs out a breath as he makes contact. Eyes wide in shock, looking down between their bodies as air hits head of his cock with subtle cool breeze only to be warmed by the hand wrapping around him. The hand that had control of his cock comes to lay back on the table and his fingers search then coil in those dark strands of hair.

"Come on me," he repeats again, more firm and through grit teeth. His fingers readjust, nails dig into the skin of his shoulder as hand snakes through neck hole.

The pace is set by the rolls of hips and Andrew 's head falls back, outstretched neck as his mind starts reeling with possibilities. How that cock would feel entering him, if Scott would fuck him just as slow, just as firm, or would he take him recklessly and messily. How deep could he get in him? Would Andrew need to call from work? Would he been in pain, and love every second?

"Ho- shit yes, fuck, " Andrew pants, lifting his head up to catch a glance at Scott and all those butterflies, every tightened muscle returns and his thighs hug Scott at his hips. "You look so beautiful. Fuck- fuck me scott," Another tight jaw order, another beg as he whines.

Scott groans, it’s too loud, it sounds like it’s been ripped out of him, reverberating through the fucking walls because it’s too good, Andrew is too good, he feels too good and he tastes too good and Scott both can’t believe that any of this is happening and just wants more and more and more.

More than Andrew gives him. Scott doesn’t know if it’s because of Andrew’s own expertise or if it’s just how they are together, but little explination needs to be given. Scott spits, Andrew strokes. The spit thins and Andrew adds more, Scott hissing out a sharp “fuck,” at the scene before him.

“Don’t want to ask where you learned that.” But Scott’s laugh is playful, as is the way he chases after Andrew’s mouth. The way he takes it, delves into its depths, humming as he rocks his hips and they move together.

“So demanding,” Scott teases, grunting with each stroke but still able to whistle lightly at the sight before him. “Fuck.” Come leaks from his head. “Have you always looked like this?” Reaching forward he cups Andrew’s cheek. “So fucking beautiful.” Soft musing. “Right there next to me in class.”

The husk of his voice rocks Andrew forward, another round becoming inevitable as his cock hardens half mast with each groan of his words. Even more as he kisses Scott, and soon enough his poor, spent dick is full and his hand feels that warm slick of pre-cum on his hand.

Another drawn noise rumbles as he gives a firm stroke upward, and his hand comes between their lips, cum coated as his fingers slipping into his mouth as he sucks them clean and keeps momentum going with slow rolls of his hips. His hand then drops down to keep pumping, nose nuzzling on Scott's.

Beautiful. Just inches away from each other in their seats in class, both of them beautiful. Him toned, muscular; Andrew soft and easy to grip. The two just colliding with each other on first instinct like Andrew had dreamed about many times before.

"So fucking beautiful," Pants out, and he reaches between them, starts to undo his pants until Scott pushes him up and back, pressed tight between his hips in hasty movements and the hand strokes while the other arm, the one about to be stroking his own cock, swings around Scott's shoulders and his legs wrap around his waist.

Laughter escapes from parted lips as Andrew agrees, as he says yes, that he deserves it. Scott thinks so, too - hell Scott isn’t sure that he deserves any of this at all, but it seems to be working for them both and it’s what Scott fucking wants. This man. This moment. A thousand more moments after.

Moments where his breath catches, where he’s transfixed as he watches the movement of Andrew’s hands, as Scott’s gaze flicks up to watch the expressions that cross Andrew’s face. “Aren’t you a good boy?” Scott purrs, massaging the back of Andrew’s neck as he does what he’s told.

“Do you like what you see?” It’s much more difficult now, to talk. Everything in Scott feels jumbled as his focus settles unerring on Andrew’s grasp. Those hands, as big as his, wrapped around his aching dick. “Is that what you want?” It’s difficult to breathe. “You want to be on your knees for me?” Swooping forward, Scott steals another kiss, before allowing drool to spill out of his mouth onto his dick and Andrew’s hand.

Now why does that spark something in him to be called a good boy? Never- not once- has someone called him that. It's degrading and yet so fucking flattering to hear. That Scott approves, that he's doing well, that he's on track to get what he wants from this. His chest is surely flushed, his face as well, and he leans into that palm that pets at his scruff. Good boy indeed, he'd gladly sit, stay, roll over for Scott if he asked.

Do you like what you see? "I do... a lot."

Is that what you want? You want to be on your knees for me? "So much," with a misleading shake to his head.

Lips meet again, setting the pace for each stroke, each firm handed pump to his cock as slow and intimate as the kiss they share for the moment. Then, as Scott breaks, that drool is gifted to the head and the minute it makes contact, Andrew's pumping up. His thumb and index finger spread over the slit, working that spit down over his shaft, dick letting another more abrupt twitch start between his legs while Scott runs his hands up over his skin.

When the spit runs thin, Andrew leans his head forward and follows. Spit gathers, then pools over the head in a large, thick glob and the same parted finger movement repeats to stroke him wet. Abrupt buck of hips as his own grinding forward, his own shakey little noise too light to be a moan but too audible to be anything else falls from his lips.

"Come on me," Andrew mirrors, leaning his had to the crook of his neck as his eyes flutter and his own chest grows in rapid breaths. As if he were being stroked, being worked, being lead to his orgasm. His hand gradually picks up pace, not too quick still, he wants this to last. Wants to savor the feeling of Scott's cock thick in his hand. The idea crosses his mind to strip, to let Scott see him fully but it would be more difficult to explain if caught, so he settles.

Settles on removing the overshirt that had been buttoned up, uses his fingers to pluck buttons through holes and remove the flannel from his shoulders to reveal an old tee shirt from the eighties where the logo has been worn off, the fabric is thin, and the sleeves have been cut to show a single tattooed bicep on his arm. The shirt removed is laid out on the table behind him as his hand grips Scott again and continues those stead pumps before he buries his head in his neck.

Andrew had whimpered there, once, fleeting, a small sliver of a noise as Scott had seperated them again, and here and now it's Scott that makes that sound, breathy and desperate and needy. He rolls his hips and whimpers as Andrew nuzzles him, nuzzling him back like he's never thought could be enjoyable because he just needs to be pressed against Andrew's skin.

Arms loop and Scott turns, turns to kiss at a wrist, to bite at a forearm. This is what he's always wanted, what he's always needed, what Scott has known would be the only thing to please him, to turn him on, to tear him apart. He can't get enough of Andrew and there isn't enough time but he's going to take each and every second that he can get and and please and please and please.

"I'll take what I can get," with Scott surprised at how throaty his voice sounds, how husky, how deep, as his arms wrap around the small of Andrew's back, pulling him down against Scott’s groin even tighter. There’s a moan though, a whine, as those teeth tease against his pout.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to enjoy this?” Kissing, the feeling of touching someone, of being touch, getting to explore those moments, getting to explore someone’s mouth, holding on for dear life as he does so.

Fuck, again, that rasp to his tone. As if he couldn't get anymore attractive, and it was aimed at HIM. It has his heart fluttering and heat growing down in his lap. Enough time had passed that the temptation starts to pull himself to some subtle form of arousal but it doesn't change the enthusiastic way he rolls his hips against Scott's.

Moan grows in his chest, shared between the kiss and his eyes close. Dazed. "Too fucking long," Andrew answers, forcefully pressing his lips against Scott's. Again, his hands skim over Scott's arms, his chest, his biceps and his neck. His eyes close tight as fingers crip at his muscles, venture underneath his shirt to feel skin on skin.

Another hum, fingers venture in his hair entwined in the loose deep curls. It welcomes him closer, head turning to kiss at new angle, to taste every bit of his mouth and tongue on his own as greedily as he can because lord knows how long this will last. Until he's not, until he's pulled away and his lips are neglected and parted. Licked by own tongue, Andrew presses down into him again. "Yes," breathed out against Scott's lips, turning head to try and grab another taste, only to be swayed to stop by that order.

For all this foolishness. For being someone he hasn't been, someone he isn't. He thinks about it as he crossed the quad, as he tapped out each message, he wonders who the fuck he is, acting like this. Acting like he knows what he's doing. Acting like he's going to come out on top. Oh and even that thought has him groaning, palming the erection that has not so much as eased since they were in the closet.

Him. On top. Andrew beneath him. Bent over something. On all fours. On his back, long, long legs wrapped around Scott's waist.

Sex has never appealed because Scott hasn't really wanted to deal with ... all that. But now? Fucking now? Scott isn't even sure how it would work although google has been fairly helpful in the last couple hours, and it seems like Andrew has had some practice, but christ all Scott wants to do is bury his cock in him again and again and make those lips curve and those cheeks flush and for Andrew to see only him.

Which somehow, is how Scott knew that Andrew would come. He wishes that there was more question or that he felt some kind of uncertainty but even as he paces and worries about his skyrocketing libido, he knows that Andrew will be there.

Chewing on his thumb, Scott stops midstride when the first knock comes. He smiles around the digit in his mouth, waits for a few more, and then walks closer. Andrew looks good, hot, fucking bewildered and Scott just wants to devour him, so once he leans out a little, checks that no one is there, and grabs Andrew.

Fingers hook through beltloops and pull Andrew in. The door is swung shut behind them, there's no lock but Scott's only marginally concerned, focused instead on pulling Andrew back. Step by step by step, until Scott drops into one of the chairs around the small table and pulls Andrew down with him, guides those thick thighs around his legs, fingers spanning around Andrew's waist.

It's something small, but those fingers in belt loops does something for him. Nearly makes his own body act to it's full potential but only registers a twitch in denim. Does Scott even register how naturally alluring he is? How he approaches him with the gusto of someone so effortlessly charming? Does he notice how many girls look at him in class or how many guys' lip curls up at him because their girlfriend stares too long?

Probably not.

His body is guided down on to Scott's lap, heart thudding in chest as he frames him so easily. He hasn't been this guided since high school, since his first time. If he's with a man, there's some unspoken agreement that Andrew would be the one giving orders, instructing the positions and so forth. Scott does it so smooth, so willingly that it's almost frustrating.

He's answered with a small nod- they both know studying is long gone from their minds- as his hips settle against Scott's and Scott presses upward. "Fuuuck", ground out as his arms loop around Scott's shoulders and his nose nuzzles his cheek. He wants to kiss him, to taste him and all his sloppy wet fucking glory but he'll wait. Patiently. Until he's allowed.

Head cants by him, following the movement of combing hand. "Not long enough," Andrew answers before diving his head forward. One hand rests on his cheek, thumb stroking along stubbled skin as his lips part, bite, suck on his lip. Anything he can do, he does.

"Thir'y minu's," he utters, some consonants cut by the way he kisses him, how he breaths against him and rolls his hips forward against that lap thick with muscle. "You gonna come for me in here?"

Wanting Andrew to want him.

They fit and Scott doesn't understand any of this, because somehow he went from vague interest to full blown obsession and he's sure that's now thow things are supposed to be. Is this how the guys on the team feel when they meet up with women they're into? Is this why they talk about it endlessly? Why they say they need pussy or they're going to go nuts?

Scott thinks it's more. Thinks there's something else there, that's its deep within him and it's so fucking dangerous and there's a thought in his head that it's because Andrew is oh so male and this is all those firsts wrapped into one and that's why it's feels so heavy, so meaningful, so ... permanent.

But Scott for all the fact he wouldn't call himself smart (a fact he's more than okay with) he certainly isn't stupid and this, it feels, oh damn it feels like more.

Like trouble.

Like need.

Each touch is one that Scott leans into and as those lips brush against his neck Scott doesn't even try to hold back the soft shattered motions of his breath. "I haven't," speech is stolen yet again by Andrew, by his mouth, and Scott loses himself in it, buries his fingers in that dark brown hair. "I haven't decided to forgive you."

A deep breath is taken in, released out, Scott pulling on that hair, pulling Andrew up and back, so their lips are just almost maybe touching before Scott shoves him away again. "I have class."

He stands. It's awkward. He stumbles. But his fingers drag quick over Andrew's lips before Scott's looking down at the soft cock that hasn't yet been tucked away. A smirk plays across his lips, curves and cuts as he moves back the step to the door.

Obedience overtakes him, following him up off the ground like pup grabbed by scruff. He's half naked still, humiliating to look at but he does it and follows so well. Their lips just a hairs breath away from meeting again- he wants them to, so bad. So desperate he's certain he would crumble just at the touch of him.

Then comes force of shove as Andrew's back nearly hits the wall, but he stumbles and catches before he can cause more noise. He spares a look down at Scott's pants, mapping out the curve and what he knows is hidden beneath it. How can something clothed look so damn appetizing all the same?

"But-" Clicks follow before he can speak, as the door latches and he stands soft. He works to tuck himself away beneath boxers and quickly withdraws phone to send Scott a text.

Seconds go by. Then minutes, and Andrew, when hearing little footfall, steps out from the closet. He had turned to head for the food court but stops dead when a message crosses his screen. Flushed hot with Scott's offer, he turns back on his heels and heads opposite direction.

Knuckle taps on the door, stairway rounded to the study room he had been so graciously invited to. He taps once, then three more, shifting weight between feet. Eyes look everywhere but at the door. Passing students, faculty leaving, all paying not much mind at all to him as he swallows down his nerves and looks to opening door.

"Hey..." greeted sheepish and pathetic, his hand rakes back through his hair as he bounces a little on the balls on his feet. "You um... ready to study or..."

Two large men in a custodial closet goes as well as to be expected.

The two of them now bundled together on their knees, pulling at clothing, Andrew' at Scott's pants and Scott at his shirt, his hair, his neck, aching for another taste and to share taste with him. His hands are pulled off, but come to rest on Scott's face, on his neck and chest and arms to feel each curve of defined muscle beneath his shirt.

He shifts into him, straddling Scott's thigh between his own as his fingers work into his hair and every kiss traded is sloppy and wet, still eager to give him his release. His knee presses up against Scott's groin, teasing and urging for him to allow.

He can taste himself on Scott's lips, on his tongue, solidifying that Scott had gotten him off all too easily. That this is real, bound together now by the memory of some hasty closet blow. Scott's words cut through the footsteps on the other side of the door, adding to the secret rendesvous.

They shouldn't be doing this but every new change in atmosphere pushes Andrew to want to do more. If he were still hard, if he were properly prepared, they could fuck right there and Andrew would consider it the best lay of his college career.

And it’s charming and exactly what Scott wants because he feels that way, he feels like he can’t get enough, and with each deep breath and the shifting of fingers to hair, cradling the back of Scott’s skull, Scott doesn’t feel like this is just some random assignation.

This feels like it means something.

It feels like it’s more. Like it’s them together and that’s its own fucking brand of trouble but right now all Scott can do is try not to come at the way Andrew is touching him. By the sounds he makes.

“I didn’t fucking owe you anything.” He’s pulled off with a pop, spit hanging in a string from that beautiful cock to his mouth, Scott giving that an irritated look too before he leans forward to lick it up. “I wanted to tell you.” A frown scuttles across his features. “I wanted to talk to you.” All big brown eyes and far too much of his heart on display, Scott looks up through long lashes as he turns to nuzzle against Andrew’s touch. “It felt good.” A sigh. “Right.”

That gaze hardens. “But you’re just some fucking slut, aren’t you?” There’s a flash of something as Scott takes that cock in his mouth again. He’s made of challenge, competition, wanting to fucking win both by swallowing Andrew’s load and claiming him. This is mine isn’t a thought Scott’s had a lot. Just when he’s picked those big steps in life. Just each scholarship. Just each team.

Just this man.

With the slow, careful roll of his hips and the guiding pressure of his hands. It’s cautious, but Scott doesn’t need caution, and he’s never done anything half way, so he bottoms out. It’s too quick and there’s a jar of teeth before Scott can fix it, nose buried in those dark curls as he gags once before swallowing. Drool spills from his lips but he’s fucking desperate, hands moving to grab at Andrew’s ass and pull him even deeper.

"Fuck, you're right...you're right- 'm sorry," Andrew repeats, chewing on the bottom lip as he takes him in, how drool hangs from his lips for that brief moment, how his lips look more plump than before just from the effort alone. He's so fucking beautiful, Andrew can't stand it, especially when his palm is met with more of a touch, a nuzzle into his palm feline like.

That softness to his demeanor had looked hard as stone just days ago, too caught up in his own sports world to be made malleable now putty in Andrew's hands.

And it hardened again, within moments. And then again, those words are spat out- just some slut - makes his dick twitch against Scott's touch. Fucking electrifying.

As electrifying as the way he takes him fully. Sharp inhale follows, his arm shoots up to muffle the groan that pushes from the depths of his chest and the other hand remains tightly knit in Scott's hair. The teeth contributed heavily to such noise, a mild shock but quickly disregarded at the pull of Scott's throat. The gagging, the swallowing, the mess- it's a lot. Uncoordinated but so fucking welcome.

Andrew clasps his mouth closed.

It's too fucking good.

Everything. All his senses from the smell of bleach to the sound of Scott choking, to the heat of his mouth building up into his grown and within his core that tightens so easily, to the claustrophobic closet they're risking everything in. It's all too fucking good. Andrew had had sex in public before, given and received blowjobs in cars, at parties, in bathrooms- but this, with Scott, has himself reeling with want and need to finish right then and there.

Every uncoordinated pull of Scott's desperate mouth drawing him closer and closer to his edge, his fingers rake through hair in desperate drives of his cock forward. His ass, gripped in Scott's palms as he's beckoned forward.

"Oh fuck," panted out behind hand as his head's thrown back. Hips push as if they have anywhere to go, as if they can get any deeper in Scott's hungry throat. Pushed in, jagged movements that are sloppy at best.

"Fuck- oh God, Scott I'm gonna...fuck I'm gonna-" Noises claw their way through his throat behind his hand and with one final push over the edge, his palm plants down on to the back of Scott's head, pushing him down just as he wants. Hips push, snap forward in desperate attempt, his muscles tighten and soon, he spills into that throat with hearty noises hidden just by his forearm and long string of swears.

Stars glitter behind eye lids, his legs go loose and he gently eases Scott's mouth off of him before his own body collapses to the floor, face to face with Scott, dick still out, resting over hem. His hand had fallen in his drop, hitting some mop or broom and knocking it to the side causing some clattering but to hell with it.