Bi Film Nerd

He kept to his room for most hours of the day, unless he was heading out for classes or practice, and he scarcely attended parties unless Sig Tau hosted them. He was a ghost, moving quietly from room to room, leaving things undisturbed and puck bunnies ignored, unlike the rest of the guys.

But his reclusiveness hadn't become the object of Garrett's puzzlement. No, he understood the desire to keep to oneself pretty well, especially with so much spotlight and pressure riding on their shoulders.

Some of his most relaxed moments were spent lying in bed with his earbuds in and letting the music guide him into a brief moment of calm where he could forget about everything riding on his shoulders and pretend not to notice his father's insistent calls.

What puzzled him was the fact that he couldn't get the damn guy off his mind.

Each time his ears picked up the soft creak of weight on the floorboards, his head would tilt up and away from the television screen, his eyes locking on the staircase's landing with his thoughts drifting to (Y/N).

Sometimes, he'd eat his breakfast slowly, waiting for (Y/N) to descend the stairs with sleep weighing his eyelids. Other times, his eyes would part while kissing a puck bunny on the couch, searching for that familiar face in a party.

In the locker rooms, when the air would be heavy with exhaustion or electric with anticipation, his attention would roam around the room to search for (Y/N), tracking him while he walked around or fiddled with his gear.

Garrett had managed to memorize the routine (Y/N) had for gearing up and getting undressed, which spot on the benches he preferred, and the little pre-practice habits he had, like tapping his stick three times between his feet.

He realized quickly that (Y/N)'s face would often be slack with neutrality, his lips in a relaxed line and his eyes faintly lidded, as if he were drowsy. His smiles were always lazy, polite enough, and he barely uttered words in the locker room.

He often nodded along to whatever Birdie said to him, his brows slightly furrowed and lips pursed like he was caught between paying genuine attention or not. 

Garrett found it amusing, watching (Y/N)'s attempts at being polite, at being a good, active listener for his teammates, who were more often than not bragging about which girl they'd slept with or laughing about whatever dumb shenanigans they'd been up to the day prior that would have their coach scowling with disapproval.

He tried, to his credit, but he'd blink a couple times after the conversations ended as if asking himself what the hell that was about.

Dean always elicited the most confusion from (Y/N), but that was just Dean being Dean. Garrett liked the furrowed-brow, slightly pouty bottom lip look that came over (Y/N)'s face whenever he was baffled by his teammates. He wondered how many times a week (Y/N) regretted joining Sig Tau.

He suspected (Y/N) regretted it then, while he stood in the kitchen, attempting to grab a beer can from beneath the curtain of dirty blonde hair belonging to some girl Dean had propped up on the counter to make out with. 

The corner of Garrett's lip quirked at (Y/N)'s fifth attempt at reaching for the can he desired, and then bit back a chuckle when he finally wrapped his fingers around the girl's hair and lifted it for a moment.

The girl laughed out her apology, hardly apologetic at all, given the grin on her face, but (Y/N) shrugged her off, his annoyance at the inconvenience brief. Though much to Garrett's amusement, he took a moment to grab the hem of his shirt and wipe the top of the can where her hair strands had brushed over.

The crack and hiss of the can opening were lost in the mixture of overlapping conversations and "Collard Greens" playing from the speakers. (Y/N) disappeared into the backyard, the back door closing behind him gently. 

Garrett's attention darted back to the pretty girl in front of him (Molly? Dolly? Polly? Something like that, he was sure), and he offered her a closed-lip smile, trying to focus on the dimples that appeared when she smiled and the coy graze of her knee against his. Her mouth moved, but Garrett's ears refused to listen to a word she spoke. 

"Uhm," He cleared his throat and pushed himself off the edge of the dining table, setting the shiny plastic red cup down. "You're great-" Shit, what was her name? "-but I have to go talk to one of the guys about tomorrow's practice. Rain check?"

Light brown brows lifted, but her red-tinted lips curled upward understandingly. "Ah, Captain Graham reporting for duty, I see." She flicked some hair over her shoulder and nodded, taking a step out of his way. "We can pick this up later."

"Great."

Garrett's feet led him to the back door before he could come up with a good enough excuse as to what actually prompted him to follow (Y/N) outside.

The door rattled shut behind him, and he took a quick survey of the backyard, finding it surprisingly empty aside from (Y/N), who sat sprawled out over a lawn chair with the can hanging loosely from his fingertips.

"Hey." Garrett greeted, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket. (Y/N)'s eyes slid open, and his head tilted backward to peer up at him. The warm back porch light illuminated his face in a golden glow. "You okay? You've been... tired lately. You're doing great in practice, but we need you-"

"I'm fine, Graham," (Y/N) sighed out, the soles of his sneakers pressing into the ground to push himself up a little straighter. "Insomnia's a bitch, but I know how to deal with it."

"Oh." Duh. Garrett almost rolled his eyes at himself. "Anything we can do to help? I can tell Dean to keep it down when he has girls over. Sharing a wall with him has to be..." Garrett trailed off with a crinkle of his nose. He'd rather lose his mind than lose sleep having to listen to Dean with his catch of the night.

(Y/N) chuckled, his fingers brushing over his forehead. "I actually don't hear much most of the time. I'm just glad I never learned how to unclog a drain. Dunno how I'd feel about fishing out condoms."

His head shook lightly, and the memory of Logan's lecturing flashed in Garrett's brain. His exasperated words always fell on deaf ears. They all knew it would happen again... and again... and again.

"Yeah," Garrett laughed, raising his hand to dig his fingertips into the back of his neck, soothing the tension there. "Logan's not happy about it, I'll tell you that much."

Garrett lowered himself onto the lawn chair beside (Y/N)'s, repressing a shudder when the night's chill curled around his collarbones. He attempted to keep his head trained forward, to focus on the foliage wrapped around the fence and the gym equipment that'd been left out on the grass, but his head eventually turned to gaze at (Y/N). 

His eyes were still open, but they were directed downward toward his lap, contemplating. The tip of his tongue poked out, dragging over his lips, leaving a wet gleam behind. Garrett stared at his lips. They looked soft, the skin slightly split from gentle, repetitive nipping.

The overwhelming urge to drag his thumb across them was startling.

"I guess..." (Y/N) began with another sigh, his head lolling to the side. "I'm a little down, maybe. I, uh... My boyfriend and I broke up before I transferred. Long-distance wouldn't work for us. I was willing to give it a try, but he was firm about it. I think I miss sleeping next to someone."

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend?

"You're..." Garrett trailed off again, not wanting to assume, not wanting to offend, not wanting to look as if he'd forgotten that was an option.

Gay? Bisexual? Pansexual? There were so many labels, so many terms. He'd never really stopped to consider them. He'd always observed the community from afar, from what he perceived as a respectful distance. 

(Y/N) looked at him, his eyes slightly crinkled and his lips up in a little, close-lipped smile. Garrett probably looked like a fool, sitting there with his mouth agape, the words caught in his throat. 

"That's- That's not a problem."

Of course, there were hockey players in the community. There were queer men everywhere, in every sport, in every position. He'd just... hadn't given it much thought before, the possibility of being queer and in hockey. Everywhere he looked, he'd spot one of his teammates locking lips with some pretty girl or blushing at the prospect of talking to a puck bunny.

Embarrassed heat crept up his neck. Maybe he hadn't been paying good enough attention to the people around him. 

"I don't care, really, and none of the guys do either," Garrett reassured him, despite the lack of need to do so.

After Jules came out, Logan made himself and his protective stance on the community clear. If someone had something negative to think or say, they kept that shit to themselves.

"If anyone gives you shit, you tell me, and I'll handle it, yeah?"

"Uh-huh. I can take care of myself, Graham. I'm not a little kid who needs defending." (Y/N)'s laugh was light, gentle, a hint teasing. The heat worsened, and something coiled in Garrett's gut. His fingers felt jittery. "I know how to throw a punch."

"Still." Garrett insisted, his shrug tight and rigid. It was irritating how easily his body betrayed him, as if he'd never spoken to another person in his life before. He'd made out with Kendall just a couple of hours prior without issue. "I'm your captain. It's what captains do."

"Mm."

Silence.

Garrett made himself look away, made himself stare down at the blades of grass near their feet. Truthfully, hockey had consumed so much of his day-to-day life that the idea of exploring never crossed his mind. He always had something on his plate, something taking up his time and attention.

The rare times he was free, he spent them trying to ease away the tightness that never left his chest.

Sex was easy to get with a face and reputation like his, so those needs were always met, but... what if he liked more than girls? He considered the guys, but they were his bros.

They were all attractive and with distinct qualities that made them each unique; anyone with working eyes could see that, but attraction hardly bubbled in his stomach when he thought about them.

"How did you... know?" Garrett asked, his voice growing quieter, the rest of his body tensing. Newfound territory that he felt queasy about entering. His father would surely freak if he ever caught wind of his words, of his newfound curiosity. "Did you, uhm, always know? Or..."

"It crept up on me, I think. There are a lot of expectations with hockey, and it's so time-consuming that I only realized I wasn't as excited about chicks like the rest of my teammates in high school."

(Y/N)'s head tilted backward to gaze up at the drifting clouds that briefly blocked the moonlight. Garrett's eyes trailed away from the side of his face, down to his neck. He considered what it'd be like to lean in and brush his nose over his neck, to take in a deep breath. (Y/N) always smelled nice, clean and fresh. 

"Girls are great, don't get me wrong. Most of the time, I get along better with them than guys, and they make better friends than dudes do. But.. I don't know. I never felt butterflies for them. I've never looked at one and wondered what it'd be like to date her or- or sleep with her. I've never daydreamed or been excited over spending one-on-one time with one, either."

Garrett tugged his hand free from his pocket to rake his fingers through his hair. He definitely liked women. He liked kissing pillowy lips and brushing his fingers through soft, conditioned hair. He hardly minded the smell of perfume or the feeling of nails scratching his shoulders. He liked breasts and curves and delicate faces.

(Y/N) had strong legs that propelled him through the ice and strong arms that swung hockey sticks with enough power to do serious damage if the puck hit someone.

Garrett still admired him the way he'd admire Kendall or some other beautiful girl. Maybe he was his exception. 

"But.. you do with guys?" Garrett's brows raised slightly. 

"Yeah." (Y/N) nodded, his teeth finally showing with his following smile. It was somber, nostalgic. Garrett assumed the break-up had hit pretty hard. "But, contrary to what a lot of guys think, I'm not automatically interested just because I'm gay. I have standards, and a lot of these knuckleheads fail to meet those standards."

"Dean will be disappointed," Garrett said, hoping his voice sounded amused, that his tone sounded light-hearted. His thoughts were muddled. "He thinks he's hot shit." 

"Dean's nice to look at, but.." (Y/N)'s nose scrunched up playfully, a little chuckle escaping his lips. Garrett smiled at the sound. "I've never dug blonds." 

"Yeah?" Garrett's eyes darted upward to meet his gaze again. His breath nearly caught in his throat. "What do you like?" 

(Y/N)'s signature smile, the lazy one, greeted him. His brow lifted, one finger tapping on the side of the can. "Why do you want to know?" He asked, lifting the can to his lips and taking an audible sip. He licked his lips again afterward and propped the can on his thigh, his knee swaying from side to side.

"Just curious."

(Y/N) hummed, drawn out and slow. With an air of mystery and a smile like his, he probably knew all about other guys 'curiosity' and the dance that came with it.

"I make you curious?" He took another swing of the can, his jaw shifting slightly while he poured the drink into his mouth before crushing it in his hand.

Garrett grinned, and he felt some of his usual suave confidence return. "A little." He confirmed, propping his elbow on the armrest and leaning forward, his eyes flickering between (Y/N)'s. "Do I make you curious?"

A breathless laugh, and the start of an eye-roll. "I don't know," (Y/N) admitted, and Garrett tried to keep his shoulders from slumping.

He knew most girls liked him, or at least thought he was handsome. He, like Dean, considered himself everyone's type, but he hadn't considered that some guys probably preferred more feminine dudes.

Garrett was tall and broad, with defined arms and a hard stomach he worked hard to keep. He lacked curves and daintiness. He was the opposite of petite and cute.

(Y/N) pushed himself up from the lawn chair with a quiet grunt and tossed the can into the nearby garbage can that needed to be dragged out to the end of the driveway.

"I thought you were as straight as they come." He told Garrett with a lopsided shrug. Garrett had thought so, too. "If you want to mess around... see if you're into guys or not.. I don't mind."

The chair scraped against the pavement when Garrett stood up, his brows raised and his lips parted with surprise. "Really? You'd want to?"

"Why not?"

Garrett only realized then that he'd never set foot in (Y/N)'s bedroom after he moved in. The door was always shut, unlike Dean's, which remained open nearly 24/7, regardless of whether or not he was in bed with someone.

The place was tidy, thankfully clean, with a couple of textbooks scattered over the desk tucked against the wall.

Garrett nudged the door shut with the heel of his shoe and turned the lock, the noise sounding surprisingly loud despite the party continuing on downstairs. (Y/N) glanced over his shoulder at the sound of it, and a sheepish chuckle slipped out from Garrett.

His fingers curled around the hem of his Briar U hoodie, which he tugged up and over his head, a few black curls tumbling over his forehead that he brushed back. 

"You've never been with a guy before, right?" (Y/N) questioned, slipping his phone out of his pocket and setting it on the nightstand.

He kicked his sneakers off and faced him, bending down slightly to tug the nightstand drawer open. Garrett nodded. Not even a drunken kiss.

"It's not rocket science."

"Oh, really? I was hoping to get some nuclear launch codes while I was here."

Garrett flashed a grin, and (Y/N) rolled his eyes, his mouth pulling into a small smile. Despite his easy-going words, nerves manifested into a fluttery feeling in his stomach. He felt like a virgin again: excited by the prospect of getting laid, but anxious about fucking it all up and embarrassing himself. 

(Y/N) set a bottle of lube on the nightstand that he'd taken out of the drawer. Something bitter like envy dug its teeth into Garrett's throat when he noticed he was a used bottle. (Y/N) stayed out of their way so much that it was hard to tell when he had company over, if he ever did.

Garrett was certain there were plenty of guys who quietly considered themselves puck bunnies, too. He swallowed down bitterness, bitterness that he hoped was brief, and he reached down to undo his shoe laces.

"What're you comfortable with, Graham?"

(Y/N) approached him, the palm of his hand dragging over Garrett's shoulder, his fingers gingerly massaging his clothed skin. It slid down to his bicep when Garrett straightened up again, his feet easily sliding out of his sneakers.

"Some guys are comfortable with starting with the little things first."

Garrett swallowed. "Well, I've never been pegged before, so..." He trailed off, his lips twitching upward, the humor helping with his stuttering heartbeat. "Maybe.. we try that another time? If that's good with you. I don't know. You're the expert here." (Y/N) snorted. Garrett winced. "Sorry. That was- That was dumb."

"I'm good with anything," (Y/N) replied, his palms cupping the sides of Garrett's neck, calloused fingers rubbing pleasantly over his skin. His eyes were inquisitive, warm with comfort. Garrett allowed himself to relax, to breathe. He felt lighter around him. "Kissing okay?"

"Definitely."

(Y/N) tasted like the mildly sweet beer he'd been drinking, the flavor clinging to his tongue when it brushed against Garrett's and sending a chill down Garrett's spine.

His hands settled over (Y/N)'s hips, squeezing and bringing him closer, knocking their hips together. His arms curled around him, one of his hands slipping beneath his shirt to grope along his back, pleased to feel his muscles flexing.

A groan vibrated in Garrett's chest when (Y/N) fisted some of his curls, the tug gentle enough to avoid pain, but the act sent heat spiraling down to Garrett's lower belly. Instinctively, he pulled his hand out from (Y/N)'s shirt and brought it down over his jeans, groping at his clothed ass next.

His chest tightened, but before he could take his hand away and apologize for potentially overstepping, (Y/N) laughed against his mouth and soothed the worries. Sighing softly with relief, Garrett mouthed at (Y/N)'s jawline, his arms releasing him so he could fiddle with both their jeans, popping the buttons and tugging at the zippers. 

(Y/N)'s hands bunched up Garrett's shirt, and he took a few steps back, dragging Garrett along with him until he bumped against the end of his bed. He turned them around and lightly shoved Garrett back onto the bed, pulling the shirt off him and tossing it aside blindly.

The bed groaned beneath the sudden weight, and then again when Garrett leaned back on his elbows, his hips raising off the mattress to help (Y/N) peel his jeans and briefs off. 

Garrett's breathing grew heavier with anticipation, sweat already beginning to gather along his temple and back. (Y/N) lowered himself down onto his knees, his hands gripping Garrett's calves to drag him a little over the bed's edge. He flushed. It was rare for him to be the one manhandled.

"Oh, fuck." Garrett hissed when wet warmth engulfed the tip of his cock, and his thighs tensed, toes curling within his socks.

(Y/N)'s eyes fluttered shut, his features relaxed and content, as if he were suckling on a popsicle on a warm summer day rather than swallowing his captain's cock in his bedroom.

Garrett's head dropped back, his mouth parted with grunts and deep sighs, his hands in fists because he felt unsure of what to do with them when it came to (Y/N).

A low noise came from deep within his chest when (Y/N) wrapped his fingers around him to stroke him, a subtle wet noise reaching Garrett's ears from the saliva coating him. Garrett's nostrils flared, his brows tightening into a furrow once (Y/N) wrapped his wet lips around one of his balls, his tongue massaging it with the finesse of someone who'd done it plenty times before.

His ex was a fucking dumbass.

With his other hand, (Y/N) continued massaging and toying with his balls, rolling them between his fingers. He touched Garrett with casual curiosity. A lot of his hook-ups often felt like a performance from the other party, a desire to impress.

(Y/N) seemed more focused on discovering which buttons existed and which ones elicited better responses. Less of an act, more of an experiment.

"You want to try something?" (Y/N) asked him abruptly, his tongue flicking over the dribbling tip of Garrett's cock. 

Garrett's abdomen tensed, and he sucked in a breath, swimming through the pleasure flooding his body in order to reply. "Sure."

"Pass the lube."

Blindly, Garrett reached toward the nightstand, patting around until his fingers bumped against the bottle and he handed it over. He looked down at (Y/N) through his bleary vision, blinking until it focused again. He wet his lips nervously, swallowing thickly as he watched (Y/N) squirt some lube onto his fingers. 

"If you don't like it, we can stop, yeah?" Garrett nodded, but (Y/N) only raised his brows at him. "Use your words."

Garrett almost laughed. He'd uttered that exact sentence many times before, and he finally understood why girls always blushed. The butterflies fluttering around his stomach made him lightheaded. "Yeah, yeah, we- we can stop. I'll- I'll let you know."

Satisfied with his response, (Y/N) nudged Garrett's knees upward, and Garrett reached down to grasp the back of his thighs. His back pressed flat against the mattress, leaving him to stare up at the ceiling, his breathing picking up.

His idea of masturbation had always been jerking off. Fingering himself never came to him as an option. Would it feel strange?

"Relax, Garrett," (Y/N) cooed, and heat pinched Garrett's cheeks. He liked the way his name rolled off (Y/N)'s tongue when it was spoken so softly, so reassuringly. "Deep breaths."

Garrett took a deep breath and melted into the mattress, but the relaxation proved short-lived when a slick finger pressed against his entrance. His teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and he concentrated again, breathing in and out. Slowly.

Relax. Relax. Re- Jesus Christ. 

"Oh-"

Garrett's heart leapt to his throat at the feeling. It was... weird, and his body fought the confusing intrusion. It was hardly unpleasant, but not immensely pleasurable, either... until (Y/N) curled his finger, and Garrett nearly shouted, his body almost curling into itself at the shock of pleasure that went through his body.

(Y/N) continued to prod at what Garrett deduced was his prostate, and fuck.. Garrett's mouth fell open, quiet moans flowing from it in a broken song, his whole body tensing and relaxing, unable to settle on what to do. His mind blanked into nothing but white noise.

Each time (Y/N) brushed over that bundle of nerves, his body jerked, and it took everything in his being not to let out noises that would surely attract attention. 

He could only imagine what it'd be like to have something bigger, heavier, hitting that spot over and over again.

Without warning, Garrett's hips buckled, and warm spurts of come splattered over his stomach and chest, coating his skin in pearly white. Heat flooded his face, and he released his grip on the back of his thighs.

"I can last longer." He exhaled quickly, embarrassed, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position after (Y/N) slid out. He almost missed the feeling. "I swear."

"It's fine."

(Y/N) laughed and stood up, ridding himself of the rest of his clothes. His bulge was evident against his briefs, and Garrett reached down to slowly drag them down his legs. His cock sprang up once released, and Garrett took another deep breath, tracing it down to the hairs at the base.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," Garrett assured him.

How hard could it be?

Gently, Garrett wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing lightly, curiously. (Y/N)'s hand settled over the top of his head, running his fingers through the loose curls and scratching his short, blunt nails against his scalp. Garrett hummed pleasantly, and he leaned in, wrapping his mouth around the tip.

(Y/N)'s hips drew back, leaving a string of saliva connecting his cock to Garrett's lips, and Garrett looked up at him questioningly. "I don't think you like it," (Y/N) said, reaching down to pick up the bottle of lube from the floor before he straddled Garrett's hips.

Another feeling that he found himself unable to describe. Unsurprisingly, dicks tasted like skin and faintly of sweat. Nothing otherworldly about it, but the heaviness on his tongue was nice.

He suckled a bit, ran his tongue over grooves, and while (Y/N)'s quiet noises had him hardening again, he couldn't find what made some people go crazy over blowing someone.

"It's not... I don't know."

Garrett's hands roamed over (Y/N)'s thighs until they reached his ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing. (Y/N) rolled his hips in response, grinding their wet cocks together slowly. Garrett shivered, goosebumps rising over his arms.

"I can try again-"

"It's okay, Garrett." (Y/N) kissed the corner of his mouth and giggled when Garrett chased after his lips for a proper kiss. "There are things you'll like, and things you won't be into. Not everyone likes giving blowjobs. That's fine." 

Licking his lips, Garrett took the bottle from (Y/N) and coated his own fingers in the lube. He spread (Y/N) with one hand and reached around, messily rubbing his fingers over (Y/N)'s hole with the determined desire to pleasure him.

(Y/N)'s lips stretched out into a grin, and he pressed his body against Garrett's, pining their cocks together as he began to roll and grind against him.

They sighed and moaned against each other's mouths, and Garrett soaked up the sight of (Y/N)'s back faintly arching when he pushed his finger past the rim of his slicked-up hole.

He was warm and tight, and Garrett's head reeled as he thought about how it'd feel to sink into him. Garrett leaned in, attacking (Y/N)'s throat with wet kisses and nips, half-tempted to cover him in hickies that'd take ages to fade.

"Garrett..." 

The soft moan prompted him to add a second finger, confident that (Y/N) would take it with ease, and he picked up the pace until the wet noise was downright pornographic. Each slow roll of his hips was teasing, meant to drive him wild with each little wave of pleasure, and it worked perfectly.

Needy desire clouded Garrett's mind within seconds.

"Fuck." He hissed, whipping his head around toward the nightstand and reaching for the condoms stored inside. 

(Y/N) gave a quiet, almost purposeful whine when Garrett slipped his fingers out, and then giggled breathily once he noticed Garrett fumbling with the condom. With an irritable huff, Garrett brought the plastic wrapping to his lips and tore it open with his teeth, tossing it aside and rolling the condom over himself. 

(Y/N) planted his palms over Garrett's pecs and shoved him back down onto the mattress, lifting himself over Garrett's hips and reaching between them to grip Garrett while he added some more lube. A gasp ripped from Garrett's chest when (Y/N) lowered himself onto him with ease, his head rolling back as Garrett sank into him. 

Without waiting for Garrett to gather his bearings, (Y/N) began riding him. It was a mixture of grinding down on him until his ass was flush against Garrett's hips, and digging his knees into the mattress to lift himself up and down.

He picked up the pace, and Garrett's fingers dug into his thighs hard enough to bruise, more than happy to lie back and let (Y/N) use him however he pleased. 

The heat canvassing his body was unbearable, and there was sweat on every inch of his body. He fought to keep his mind from fleeing him, from embarrassing himself again.

Garrett Graham could go for at least an hour or two, he could last long enough for his partner to have two or three orgasms, and he refused to let his reputation be ruined.

But then (Y/N)'s hand trailed down, squeezing his chest and running his fingers over Garrett's hardened nipple, a touch that felt electric. Garrett groaned, low and vibrating, his head digging back into the mattress.

His curls stuck to his temples and forehead, and his heels dug into the edge of the mattress, half-heartedly attempting to thrust up to regain some control.

"Your ex is so fucking stupid." Garrett blurted out through heavy pants, and despite his barely contained keens and whines, (Y/N) laughed heartily. "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you. Fuck him. You don't need him."

(Y/N) leaned down to press their mouths together in a messy, open-mouthed kiss full of saliva, both of his hands tangling themselves in Garrett's hair.

He stilled, and Garrett readjusted his footing on the bed, one arm curling around (Y/N)'s waist to keep him still before he began thrusting up into him. (Y/N) cursed sharply, nearly digging his teeth into Garrett's bottom lip. 

"C'mon, Cap." (Y/N) clung to Garrett's shoulders, his eyes bright and pupils wide. "Prove it. Prove it."

Garrett pushed himself with his elbows and rolled them over, pinning (Y/N)'s body down against the mattress and hiking one leg up, half-determined to fuck (Y/N) through the bed.

The sound of sweaty skin slapping together was obscene and loud, thankfully drowned out by the people downstairs drunkenly screaming the lyrics to "Trap Queen" without a care in the world.

(Y/N) clenched around him, tight like a vice, his body arching into Garrett as he coated both their stomachs with his release. Garrett wrapped around him, holding him through it, babbling barely thought-out praises before he groaned into his shoulder with his own second release.

He managed to reluctantly pull out and rid himself of the soiled condom, tossing it into the nearby trash can before he collapsed atop (Y/N).

His cheek pressed against (Y/N)'s chest, his eyes half-lidded and brain fuzzy with contentment. (Y/N) toyed with his hair, twirling a curl around his finger while he caught his breath, his heart thumping against Garrett's cheek.

They were sweaty and dirty, but there were only three bathrooms in the house, and Garrett's bedroom was the only one with a connecting bathroom.

Garrett had rules with the people he slept with, boundaries he refused to let be crossed. At the top of the list of rules? No sleepovers. But his body was wrung out, and (Y/N)'s chest made the perfect pillow.

"We should-" He cut himself off with a yawn. "Wait for the party to end."

"Mhm." (Y/N)'s other hand ran up and down Garrett's spine. "Well... think you know whether you're straight or not?"

"I don't know... I think I'll need to check again later. Just to be sure." Garrett lifted his head with a cheeky grin and pressed a kiss to (Y/N)'s collarbone, feeling the vibrations of his tired chuckle. "What do you think?"