Sticks, Tricks, and Dicks – Part 7

Everyone in this story is 18+.

The morning sun crept through the cabin's flimsy curtains, spilling a soft haze over the messy bunks, the air still carrying the smell of last night's escapades—booze and bodies lingering in the tight space. Luka had slipped out after the fun died down, insisting on crashing in his own bed, leaving Jake and me solo in our room. My skull ached a bit from the whiskey, but the throb down there demanded immediate attention, my erection straining against the sheets, insistent and full. I shifted, the bottom bunk creaking, hand dipping under the covers to wrap around my own morning glory, the girth solid in my fist as I started a little tug, while not really holding back on the noise, the rhythmic slap echoing in the quiet.

The top bunk groaned as well, Jake's breathing catching in a ragged hitch that gave him away. A low rumble escaped him, followed by the shift of fabric, his hand getting to work with a pace matching my own, the bunk frame vibrating lightly with each motion. I chuckled deep in my chest, my grip sliding over the wetting cock head, the sensations adding by the second. "Morning glory hitting you too?" I called up, voice thick with the haze of sleep and want.

He let out a snort, peeking over the edge, his sandy blonde hair a chaotic spike, blue eyes narrowed but sparkling. "Couldn't ignore it—last night got me wired." His arm tensed as he kept going, unashamed, the sight of him handling himself making me hot, my sack drawing tighter with every pull.

"Yeah?" I said, hand quickening, the slide smooth from another drop of pre beading at the tip.

"Luka's ass was unreal—right? Feeling your cum when I dove in... damn, that slop was wicked, made it glide like nothing else." Jake said, his own pace speeding.

My's chuckle morphed into a grunt, my own movements ramping up, the bunk shaking harder. "Man, when I first sank in—hot and snug, hugging my whole piece, like a custom fit. Then seeing you take over, his ass all widened and dripping my stuff... fuck, nearly busted again from the spectacle." I paused, my breath uneven. "You two were a sight—his spine curving, your hips driving home."

The words landed heavy, memories rushing back—Luka's pleas ringing, the smack of flesh, the creamy overflow trailing down his legs as we alternated filling him. My tug stuttered, but beneath it, something shifted. Jake's tone, the way he painted it, his gaze holding mine—it wasn't just the romp. He was becoming more, a tie pulling past casual tries, not at Chris's depth yet but inching there, a warmth blooming in my ribs amid the lust. And maybe this was becoming dangerous, but I couldn’t resist.

"Climb down," I said, voice low, patting the space next to me. He swung down without hesitation, the mattress dipping as he landed beside me, our bodies pressed close in the narrow strip. We faced each other, hands crossing the gap, my fingers circling his sturdy column—warm, throbbing, the skin velvety under my touch. He returned the favor, his rough palm enclosing my span, stroking with a twist that sent jolts racing from my loins up to my brain and back again.

"Last night hit different," he said, his pull consistent, thumb pressing the sensitive spot that made me jerk. "Luka taking us both—drawing it all in... shit, it was hot."

"Yeah," I agreed, my hand gliding even quicker, the vein along his span pulsing under my fingers. "Felt filthy in the best way.” The cabin continued to be filled with our labored breaths, the bunk creaking as we jerked each other.

Jake's eyes darkened, his stroke hesitating. "Wanna fuck me?" I blurted, the words bursting out, my heart thudding heavy.

He froze, eyes widening, a blush climbing his neck. "You for real?" His hand squeezed tighter on me, a smile emerging. "Yeah... yeah, I do."

We didn't rush it, even though our bodies was already primed from the mutual tugs. I wanted to taste him first. I shifted closer, my mouth finding slick dick first—warm and solid, the flushed head salty with the bead of fluid at the tip. I took him in slow, lips stretching around the him, tongue massaging the underside to trace the vein that pulsed there, the thickness filling my mouth as I bobbed, sucking with a steady pull that drew a deep rumble from his chest. His fingers threaded through my hair, guiding but not forcing, the sensation a mix of control and surrender that made my own rod twitch harder. "Fuck, that's good," he groaned, hips lifting slightly, pushing deeper, the slide smooth and invasive, hitting the back of my throat with a gentle nudge.

He pulled me up after a minute, flipping us so his face hovered over my lap, his breath hot against my skin. "My turn," he said, diving in without hesitation, his lips wrapping my tool, the heat enveloping me like a glove, tongue swirling the crown before he sank lower, taking me halfway, then more, the suction tight and relentless. I gasped, the pressure building as he worked, his hand cupping my sack, rolling the orbs gently, the dual assault sending sparks though my body, my hips bucking involuntary into the warmth. The taste of him lingered on my lips—musky, slightly bitter—as I watched him, his cheeks hollowing with each draw, the sight filthy and intimate, our eyes locking in a shared blaze.

We traded off like that, mouths alternating, the room filling with the wet sounds of our efforts, the give and take a rhythm that stoked the fire higher, edges blurring until we were both leaking, rods slick and throbbing. "Taste so damn good," he said between switches, pulling off with a pop, strings of saliva connecting us. "Could do this all morning."

"Yeah," I agreed, diving back down, hollowing my cheeks for a deeper pull, the fullness in my mouth a delicious weight, his groans vibrating through me. We edged each other like that, building but holding back, the anticipation building until I felt ready.

We rearranged, me flat on my back, Jake rising above, his form a solid barrier of heat. He snatched the lube from the duffel, coating his fingers generously, the cool gel glistening as he nudged my ass, circling the ring before easing one in gradual, the intrusion a stretch that eased into pleasure as he curled it, grazing that bundle of nerves that made lights flash behind my eyes. "Like that?" he asked, adding a second, the fullness growing, his digits scissoring to widen me, the lube making it smooth, a building pressure that had me rocking back for more.

"Keep going," I said, breath short, my length leaking onto my stomach. He worked me open, the sensation a delicious burn turning to bliss, his free hand stroking my thigh, soothing the tremble.

I balanced myself above him, his hands steady on my hips, guiding as I lowered, his pole sliding along my balls first, the tease making me hiss, the wrinkly sack massaging the head before I lifted, trying again. It bounced off, gliding into my crease this time, the lube turning it slippery, a frustrating glide that had us both laughing breathlessly. "Third time's the charm," I said, grabbing his rigid tool, making him moan loud. "Yes, take your time," he panted, his eyes half-shut in pleasure, clearly loving the buildup. I positioned once more, and there it was—his tip finding my puckered ring, nudging in about an inch, the delicious pierce of his sizable girth filling me, a slow impalement that stretched me wide, the burn giving way to a full, satisfying pressure as I sank lower, inch by inch, till I felt his trimmed pubes tickling my ass.

"Goddamn," he groaned, hands digging into my hips, the fullness a perfect ache that had me grinding down, adjusting to the bulk. I started riding, rising and falling, his length hitting deep, my own rod slapping his abs with each drop, the wet smack rhythmic, the sensation a constant wave crashing through me. "Ride it good," he urged, bucking up to meet me, the angle shifting, pleasure spiking with every collision.

"Flip," I said, and we did—I laid on my back with him over me, settling between my legs for missionary, his body covering mine, thrusting slow at first, the slide intimate and deep, our mouths meeting in hungry kisses, tongues clashing, his weight a grounding force.

He picked up speed, pounding steady, the bed banging against the wall, my legs hooked around his waist, pulling him in, the friction a relentless build that coiled tight in my gut. "Feels amazing," he panted, our eyes locked, the connection hitting me—passionate, real, his every move pulling me closer to that edge.

My orgasm barreled in first, the pressure exploding, shooting out between us in thick ropes that splattered my abs, my spent hole clenching around him in spasmic waves, milking his length with every pulse. Jake leaned in sudden, his mouth crashing into mine, the kiss fierce and deep, tongues tangling as he swallowed my gasps, his hips stuttering. He groaned into my lips, the vibration humming through me, and then he let go—filling me with warmth, his girth twitching inside as he emptied his nuts deep, the sensation a hot flood that left me trembling, our bodies locked in the rush.

We broke the kiss, chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, eyes locked for a few breathless seconds—his blue ones raw, vulnerable, a flicker of something deeper breaking through the haze. "Grayson," he whispered, voice cracking just a little, "I like you... more than a friend. A lot more."

The words hung there, heavy and real, my heart slamming against my ribs. I nodded, throat tight, pulling him closer for a second before the intensity cracked us both into grins. "Shower?" I suggested, voice rough from everything, breaking the moment before it swallowed us whole.

We stumbled to the tiny bathroom, the water steaming as we crammed under the spray, soaping each other—hands gentle on tender spots, kisses light under the stream. He lathered my back, fingers kneading the knots, easing the soreness, and I did the same for him, the care a quiet bond, washing away the remnants with soft touches and shared grins.

We stumbled to the tiny bathroom, the water steaming as we crammed under the spray, soaping each other—hands gentle on tender spots, kisses light under the stream. He lathered my back, fingers kneading the knots, easing the soreness, and I did the same for him, the care a quiet bond, washing away the remnants with soft touches and shared grins.

By the time we tumbled out, toweling each other dry, the morning light had shifted—brighter, harsher, the kind that meant the rest of the day wasn’t waiting for us to catch up. We dressed in a hurry, tossing gear into duffels, exchanging lazy smiles that didn’t quite hide the nerves humming under the surface.

◆◆◆

Outside, the air was sharp, the kind of cold that bit through layers. The team bus idled by the curb, exhaust curling in pale clouds. Luka leaned against the door, grinning like he knew exactly what kind of morning fun we’d had.
“Sleep well, boys?” he teased, elbowing Jake as we climbed aboard.
Jake just rolled his eyes, cheeks a little pink. “Like angels.”

The bus rattled through the early streets, tires hissing on slush. The team was loud at first—trash talk, music, the usual—but somewhere between city and countryside, things went quiet. I watched frost lace the edges of the window, Jake’s reflection beside mine, his head tipped back and eyes half-lidded. He looked peaceful for once.

When the bus finally pulled into the arena parking lot, everyone stirred, the usual pre-game adrenaline kicking in. We grabbed our bags, jokes flying again as we spilled out into the cold.

And then Jake froze.

I felt it before I saw it—the way his hand went still on the strap, his body going tight beside me. I followed his gaze across the lot to where the other team was gathering near their bus, laughter and chatter echoing against the rink’s metal siding.

One of them turned, helmet tucked under his arm, sunlight catching in his hair.

Jake’s breath hitched.

I frowned, glancing at him. “Hey, you okay?”

His jaw worked, throat bobbing like he had to swallow before he could speak. Finally, barely audible, he said, “That guy on the other team… that’s him.”

“Who?”

He didn’t look at me. “Ash. My best friend. Or he used to be.”