Against The Rules

Mac Reynolds slumped onto the couch after a long day at the academy, his cadet uniform still crisp but rumpled. Beside him, Eric Nolte kicked off his boots, the two young men trading knowing grins. 'Hard-ons like these,' Mac said, adjusting his trousers, 'need a cure worse than any headache.' Eric laughed, but his eyes lingered on the bulge straining Mac's pants. They talked it through—quick tugs, slower rubs, anything to ease the ache in their starched shirts and tight wool slacks. Mac's voice dropped low, coaxing Eric closer. 'Why fight it alone?' he murmured. Eric hesitated, then reached out, his hand wrapping around Mac's young, throbbing cock as Mac unzipped and freed it. Eric stroked first, firm and deliberate, but Mac wanted more. He guided Eric's head down, pushing into the warm, wet slide of his mouth. Long, deep thrusts followed, Mac's hips bucking rhythmically, filling Eric's throat until saliva glistened on his lips. Eric gagged softly but didn't pull away, his own hardness pulsing against his uniform. Satisfied with the mouth play, Mac flipped Eric onto his knees, peeling down those big blond cheeks to reveal the tight, inviting pucker. He slicked himself with spit and plunged in, slow at first, then harder, claiming that ass with steady, relentless strokes. Eric moaned, pushing back, the room thick with their shared heat. Eric came first, spilling hot across the cushions, his body shuddering. But he wasn't done. He turned the tables, easing Mac onto his back and sliding into Turner's creamy, well-fucked ass—wait, no, Mac's, slick and ready. He thrust deep, matching Mac's earlier rhythm, until they both collapsed in a tangle of limbs and sweat-soaked uniforms. Panting, Mac confessed over the afterglow. 'Coach knows all about this side of me,' he admitted, tracing a finger along Eric's thigh. 'He's invited us both to his cabin this weekend. Imagine the fun—the three of us, no holds barred.' Eric's eyes lit up, already hungry for more.