Coach Finstock sits at his desk, trying to do some paperwork. He can't get the image of that idiot Greenburg with his lips wrapped around that lollipop in the triplet's hospital room out of his head. He growls, shaking his head viciously to clear it. He stands, going out into the locker room to see if there are any after-practice stragglers he can yell at. He sees a shock of brown hair when he turns the corner, stomping over to it. The teen turns, and it's Greenburg. With another fucking lollipop in his mouth.
"Greenburg," Coach growls sharply.
"Yeah, Coach," the teen asks, and Finstock is transfixed by the way his pink mouth moves around the sweet. The man rips his eyes from the sight, glaring into the teen's wide brown eyes. With ridiculously long lashes that would look fantastic when he closes his eyes, sinking down onto Finstock's cock. He shoves those thoughts down.
"What are you still doing here," Finstock snarls.
Greenburg holds up the shirt in his hands, and Finstock realizes that the teen is bare-chested, wearing his tight lacrosse pants that make his ass look fantastic. Finstock mourns momentarily that the teen is sitting on the bench before he catches himself. "Someone got something on my shirt," the teen explains, reaching up and pulling the lollipop from his mouth with a slick sound that the Coach represses a shiver at. It's really not his fault that the empty locker room amplifies the sound. "I wanted to see what it was and if I could maybe get it out before I went home," the teen shrugs. "Can't tell what it is, though," the teen grumbles, turning his attention back to the mysterious liquid on his t-shirt.
"Oh, for the love of," Coach grumbles, snatching the shirt from him and looking at the shirt himself. He sniffs at it, but only smells sweat and Greenburg. He carries it to the sinks, pumping soap into the fabric. He hears Greenburg pad up behind him, glancing in the mirror to see the teen watching him in curiosity. The man nearly drops the shirt in the sink when Greenburg brings up his hand to twirl the lollipop, letting it knock against his teeth. "Why the fuck am I doing this," Finstock grumbles, pressing the shirt into the surprised teen's hands. "You do it." Greenburg steps forward, gently moving the shirt to work in the suds from the soap before he reaches to turn on the water. Finstock watches the teen's back appreciatively, seeing his muscles flex as he washes out his shirt.
"He-ey," Greenburg says, startling Coach out of his inappropriate looking. Greenburn turns, grinning like a madman. "It worked," he smiles. "Wonder what the Hell it was," the teen ponders.
"Doesn't matter," Finstock grunts, folding his arms.
"Hey, you ok, Coach," Greenburg asks, cocking his head. And goddamn, the kid calling him that really shouldn't go right to his dick, but Finstock can't help it. "You seem…tense."
"'m fine," Finstock says shortly. "What's with the lollipop," he finds himself asking. What the fuck? I don't care, he thinks.
"Oh," Greenburg says, pulling the lollipop from his mouth and spreading his shirt out on the bench to dry a little. "I brought some to Stoph, Luke, and B. Knew they wouldn't be able to hide all of 'em, so I helped myself," the teen shrugs. Finstock glances down at the lollipop and snorts despite himself- it's a little red heart. "'Course, I didn't realize that Luke's tongue was burned from that fucking thing," the teen growls softly. Finstock blinks- he'd never heard the kid curse before, or even sound angry. "So she can't eat really anything, she has to have all her meals through a straw," the teen growls, fists clenching.
"Calm down," Finstock orders, and Greenburg looks up at him. As big as the kid is, Finstock's still got a couple inches on him. "I want the bastard gone as much as you do, maybe more. But chances are, that fucker's back in Ireland," he growls. Greenburg takes a deep breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. As his lips purse with the breath, Finstock notices that the inside of his lips are stained red from the sweet. He has to really fight down his attraction at that, berating himself. After all, it's fucking Greenburg, not to mention a student.
"Sorry, Coach," Greenburg shakes his head, running his hand through his brown hair. "Got a little riled up."
Yeah, me too, Finstock thinks bitterly as the kid puts the lollipop back in his mouth. "So, you going home," Finstock asks, putting his hands in his track pants pockets. Greenburg makes a face.
"Guess so," the teen shrugs, and a huge clap of thunder sounds. Both whip their heads around, and Greenburg groans at the sight of rain pouring down on the field outside. As long as Finstock lives, he will never admit that the sound being dragged from the teen's mouth made him get a little hard. "Oh, man," Greenburg complains.
"What? Afraid the rain'll ruin your hair, princess," Finstock teases.
"No, it's just it'll make the walk home ten times more annoying," Greenburg sighs.
"Don't you have a car? You're what, seventeen," Finstock asks.
"Eighteen," Greenburg corrects him without looking, still staring morosely out the window.
"What? Did you get left back or something," Finstock asks, heart beating a little faster. The kid's legal?
"Yeah, in elementary school," Greenburg shrugs, tearing his eyes away from the rain. "Was a bit of a daydreamer. And dyslexic," the teen shrugs. "Teacher didn't figure it out until she called me up to the board and had me write down a math problem from the book- I wrote what was supposed to be '532-243' as '352-432' and was really confused when I couldn't figure it out," he admits. "They taught me special ways of reading to help balance it out."
Finstock blinks again- he'd never known that. He's learning a lot of things today. Mostly that he's ridiculously attracted to Greenburg. Another thunderclap from outside, and they both turn again, watching lightning fork across the sky. Finstock counts silently in his head. One, two, three, four, five, six. Thunder.
"About six miles away," Greenburg mutters. Finstock's not surprised; most people know that the number of seconds between lightning and thunder is about how many miles the center of the storm is. Or at least that's what he was told as a teen, he has no clue if it's true. He's an Economics teacher and a coach, not a scientist. Sue him. Greenburg's phone goes off, and the kid reaches into his bag, pulling it out and looking at the screen. "God damn it," Greenburg groans.
"What," Finstock asks. Greenburg shows him his phone, and the man looks briefly at the smartphone, reading what's on the screen. It's an alert from the weather station.
"Lightning strikes and flooding," Greenburg grumbles. "This is gonna suck," the teen complains.
Finstock sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Greenburg, stop," he orders, and the teen stills, looking over at him from where he'd put one knee up on the bench to get better access to his duffle bag.
"Yeah, Coach?" Finstock shoves down the way that his cock twitches at Greenburg's words, the way that the kid is maneuvered to put his ass on display, and that stupid. Fucking. Lollipop.
"I can't let you go out there, if one of my students gets hurt, I'm gonna get some serious shit," Finstock rolls his eyes. Greenburg straightens, looking square at Finstock with his knee still braced against the bench.
"Is that what happened with the triplets," Greenburg asks. Finstock grits his teeth. A few parents had come up to him, demanding to know how three of his students were attacked under his watch.
"No," Finstock lies. Greenburg can obviously tell that the man isn't telling the truth, but drops the issue.
"I'll wait for the storm to pass," the teen shrugs, turning and stretching his arms above his head. Seeing his back muscles ripple was the final straw for Finstock. He growls, gripping Greenburg's shoulder and turning him around, making his eyes widen and his mouth to open slightly. "Coach?"
"Shut up, Greenburg," Finstock snarls, pulling the lollipop from the kid's mouth himself and crushing his lips to his in a bruising kiss. He realizes what he's done after a second, pulling away. "Fuck," he whispers, staring at Greenburg. Greenburg touches his lips with his hand, a slow smile coming over his face. "I shouldn't have done that."
Greenburg's eyes clear slightly, and he looks up at Finstock. "What? Why not," he asks.
"Because I'm a teacher and you're my student," Finstock groans softly, seeing the teen lick his lips.
Greenburg scoffs. "That's for elementary pedophiles and college professors who can't keep it in their pants," he points out. "High school with an eighteen year old is totally different."
Finstock really can't find a decent argument to that. Not when Greenburg is looking at him like that. With his eyes half-hooded and his fists clenching and releasing at his sides, like the teen has to hold himself back from touching the man. Or himself. And that really brings the coach's ego up a few notches- not that it needed it. "Fuck it," Finstock growls, and they both step towards each other, bringing their lips together again. This time, Finstock deepens the kiss, and Greenburg moans softly, opening his mouth and letting him sweep inside, tasting all that he can reach. Greenburg's mouth tastes like the damned lollipop, but Finstock can also taste the Gatorade from practice, along with the teen's own personal flavor. Finstock can feel the other exploring his own mouth, but ignores it to lick further into Greenburg's, enjoying it fully. Greenburg finally pulls away, gasping, and Finstock realizes just how light-headed he had been getting because of not breathing.
Greenburg moans quietly. "God damn, Coach, you've been holding out on me," he smiles. He's so close that Finstock doesn't even need to open his eyes to know that- he felt the small movement against his lips. "What took you so long?"
"Fucking. Lollipop," Finstock growls. Greenburg laughs, and Finstock decides that he wants to hear the pleasant sound a lot more.
"Thought I saw you looking in the hospital room," the teen says softly.
"You motherfucker, you planned this."
"More like was hoping," Greenburg admits with a shrug. Finstock pulls him closer with his hand splayed across the teen's bare back, and Greenburg grips his hips. He leans up, kissing Finstock softly. Finstock takes his bottom lip between his, biting gently to make it swollen. Finstock pulls away, admiring his handiwork. Greenburg opens his eyes slowly, panting again. Finstock smiles- even though the kid looks fit, he can barely run without getting out of breath. The best thing Greenburg does on the field is mow down opposing players for his teammates. Greenburg slides his hands up Finstock's chest, bringing him out of his thoughts. Finstock realizes belatedly that he's still holding the damned lollipop, and he brings it in front of him to look at. Greenburg glances at it and gets a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leans forward, capturing the sweet on his tongue and pulling it seductively into his mouth. Finstock feels his cock jump again, and this time Greenburg smirks. Finstock feels his face grow hot- they're pressed so tightly together that Greenburg felt the man's reaction to his little stunt.
"You punk," Finstock grumbles, no real heat in his voice. Greenburg reaches up a hand to play with the stick, long tan fingers stroking it. Finstock's eyes trail between his fingers and his mouth, and Greenburg smiles again.
"You want me to suck your cock," Greenburg asks innocently, and how the fuck can an eighteen-year-old say something like that innocently, especially when his mouth was doing positively sinful things to that lollipop.
"You better," Finstock growls, and Greenburg grins, taking out the lollipop and shimmying down, pressing lightly against Finstock's hips to make him sit down on the bench. Greenburg tugs at his pants, and Finstock raises his hips to help, slightly impressed when Greenburg manages to keep his boxers on with the way his fingers are hooked right against his skin. But he's thankful- no way is he putting any part of himself on these damn benches besides his hands, no matter how well they're cleaned. Greenburg tugs his dick gently out of the hole in his boxers, and moans softly at the sight. Finstock smirks and looks down at him. "Like what you see?" Finstock is pretty average size, at six and a half inches, but he's thick, and that seems to make Greenburg happy. The teen reaches up with the hand not holding onto the lollipop, and Finstock finds himself wondering what the Hell the teen is planning with the sweet. That thought leaves him as soon as Greenburg wraps his hand around him, and Finstock groans.
"Yeah," Greenburg replies softly, watching enraptured as he moves his hand just a little. He sits up more on his knees, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking a long stripe along it, putting it back on Finstock's cock. Greenburg directs it towards his mouth, putting his lips around the head and swirling his tongue a little. He pulls back, making a thinking face. "Not as bad as I'd expected," he shrugs, and licks Finstock from base to tip. Finstock grips the bench, knuckles going white. Greenburg looks curiously up at him as he puts the head in his mouth again, and Finstock moans through his teeth. Greenburg looks pleased, slowly taking more and more of his cock into his mouth. When it hits the back of his throat, he pulls off and coughs.
"Easy," Finstock murmurs. "Don't want you to choke."
"No, I got this," Greenburg tells him, and tries again. He manages it after several deep breaths through his nose, swallowing around Finstock's dick. Finstock's hand flies into Greenburg's hair, and the teen freezes, glancing up at him. Finstock doesn't force him down, though, just holds onto him for grounding. Greenburg hums, satisfied, and Finstock can't hold back the moan at the vibrations. Greenburg starts up a rhythm, bobbing his head and stroking the part that he doesn't have in his mouth. Greenburg pulls off entirely, licking all over Finstock before going down again, this time not stopping until his nose is pressed against Finstock's skin. Finstock tilts his head back and moans, and Greenburg makes a noise against him that he assumes must be triumphant.
"Didn't your parents ever teach you not to speak with your mouth full," Finstock asks breathlessly. Greenburg drags his head back up, and Finstock groans softly at the feeling of his tongue.
"Don't really think this is what they had in mind," Greenburg replies. The sass is kind of nulled by the fact that he sounds wrecked, and the teen starts to lazily stroke him before Finstock can form a retort.
"God damn," Finstock grunts, and Greenburg puts his head in his mouth again, bathing him with his tongue. "'m close," Finstock warns him, and Greenburg's eyes light up. He moves faster, and Finstock groans. "Seriously, unless you want a real mouthful, you better pull off," Finstock insists. Greenburg looks up at him, and tongues the sensitive spot just under Finstock's head, pushing him over the edge and flooding the teen's mouth with come. Greenburg greedily swallows every drop, gently stroking him through it. He stops after a few moments, unsure if Finstock is the kind of person that gets really sensitive after an orgasm. The man looks down at him, eyes half-closed, and gently strokes his hair. Greenburg preens under the touch, and Finstock smiles as Greenburg licks his lips to get the last traces of come.
"Come 'ere," Finstock murmurs, and Greenburg stands, tucking Finstock back in and pulling up his pants as he goes. Greenburg's dick is really starting to hurt from the confines of his lacrosse pants, but he's pretty sure that his Coach won't leave him like that. Finstock settles Greenburg on his lap, and Greenburg gets comfortable, putting his knees on either side of his thighs and adjusting himself so that he's not causing himself more discomfort. "You want me to return the favor," Finstock asks, and Greenburg bites his lip. "Or do you want a handjob? Your choice."
Greenburg grips the back of his coach's neck with one hand, tucking his face into his shoulder. "H-hand," he whimpers, and Finstock nods. He gently pulls Greenburg from his shoulder, making the teen look up at him. Finstock easily slides the kid's pants down just enough to do the job, pushing his briefs down, too. Finstock glances over the kid's shoulder, fingers tightening on his lower back when he sees the curve of his ass. "Next time, next time," Greenburg pants, shuffling forward a little to press his erection against Finstock.
"Impatient," Finstock chuckles, and Greenburg blushes, moving as if to hide in his shoulder again. "Don't you dare," he warns, and Greenburg looks up at him. "Wanna see your face," he explains, and Greenburg nods. Finstock holds his hand up, and Greenburg gets the message, laving his tongue over his palm and fingers. Greenburg takes one of his fingers in his mouth, sucking on it, but Finstock pulls away, looking at him with heat in his eyes. Greenburg pants, putting the lollipop back in his mouth and holding onto the stick. "You're such a tease," Finstock grumbles as he wraps a hand around the teen's dick. He notices that he's uncircumcised, something that Finstock doesn't see often. He'd be lying if he said he'd never been with an uncircumcised man, but it's still sort of a novel concept to him.
"I blew you, how is that teasing," Greenburg groans, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Finstock slides his hand up his back, directing his head forward. Finstock swallows- those long eyelashes are casting shadows on Greenburg's face from the occasional lightning. Finstock makes it his mission to make sure that Greenburg won't be able to string together coherent sentences. Finstock sets up a slow rhythm, looking at Greenburg. The teen pulls the lollipop from his mouth slowly, leaning down to give him a long kiss. "Now who's the tease," Greenburg pants against his lips.
"Word of advice- don't sass the person who's holding your dick," Finstock rests his forehead against the teen's, squeezing him from root to tip. Greenburg whimpers, and Finstock grins. "You make such pretty little noises," Finstock breathes, and Greenburg whines, starting to pump his hips into Finstock's grip. Finstock grins and increases his pace, swiping his hand through Greenburg's precum and making sure to get the sensitive spot under his head. "Oh, you like that," Finstock asks, and Greenburg nods. "Hmm, hearing those noises come from that pretty little mouth is amazing," Finstock compliments, watching the teen's face. Greenburg bites his lip as best he can around the lollipop and closes his eyes. "Can't wait to see what noises you'll make when I'm driving into you, your legs around my waist," Finstock growls, and Greenburg snaps his eyes open, keening.
"Please, please, please," Greenburg begs, thrusting his hips to make Finstock go faster. Finstock obliges him, making Greenburg moan softly.
"So needy," Finstock murmurs, twisting his hand when he reaches Greenburg's head. Greenburg pants, his hand tightening on the back of his neck. "And you beg so pretty."
Greenburg groans, tilting his head back and exposing his throat. "Close," Greenburg grunts. Finstock moves faster, twisting his hand on every upstroke and thumbing the bottom of the head.
"Come for me," Finstock orders, and Greenburg obliges with a moan. Finstock makes sure to catch everything with his hand, bringing it up and away from his clothes. Greenburg slumps against him, resting his head on his shoulder and smiling softly up at him. Finstock grins back, and Greenburg takes the lollipop out of his mouth to kiss along his jaw gently. Finstock hums, smirking as he teasingly swipes a come-covered finger against the lollipop, making it stick to the sweet. Greenburg glances at it, looking up at Finstock as he brings it to his mouth and slowly licks it clean. Finstock's eyes darken, and Greenburg lowers the lollipop when the man slowly brings his hand to the teen's face. Greenburg laps up his come from Finstock's fingers, not stopping until the hand is clean. He even licks at the skin, tasting him.
"Yum," Greenburg smirks, making Finstock growl.
"Fucking. Tease," Finstock grunts, tapping Greenburg's hip to get him up. Greenburg obeys, pulling up his underwear and pants. He glances out the window, where the downpour had lightened to a heavy rain, thunder just barely rumbling in the distance. "Greenburg," Finstock calls, making the teen turn. "When you said, 'next time,'" he asks hesitantly, making Greenburg blush.
"I meant it. If you don't want to risk your job, I totally understand," the teen tells him. "But I won't tell anyone."
Finstock stands up, looking at him. "You sure you wanna do this," he asks.
Greenburg smiles. "Definitely," he nods, pulling the man closer with a hand in his shirt and kissing him deeply. When they pull away, Greenburg offers the lollipop to him, and the man raises his eyebrow. "Relax, I don't think it's got any more come on it," Greenburg smiles. Finstock pulls it from his fingers, putting the sweet in his mouth. Greenburg was wrong- he can taste a slight bitterness in the candy, not that he's complaining. Mostly he's just a little turned on by the fact that Greenburg had been licking the candy for what was probably a long time.
Finstock watches as Greenburg pulls on his now-dry t-shirt, toeing off his shoes and pulling down his pants to change into jeans and sneakers. "I should be getting home, Coach," Greenburg smiles, sitting on the bench to tie his shoes.
"Bobby," Finstock says.
"What," Greenburg looks up at him in confusion.
"My first name. It's Bobby," Finstock shrugs. "If we're gonna do this, you can't be calling me 'Coach' all the time," he says.
"You said 'all the time,' Coach," Greenburg notices. "It turns you on a little, doesn't it," he asks in glee.
"Shut up," Finstock grumbles. Greenburg laughs.
"I shouldn't talk, I apparently have a big praise kink," Greenburg shrugs. "Not to mention I like sucking cock a lot more than most probably do," he admits with a slight blush.
"Yeah, you did it like a pro," Finstock remembers.
"Not bad for a first time," Greenburg grins.
"You're a virgin," Finstock asks.
Greenburg nods. "Yeah," he shrugs. "What, like you're surprised? The only reason people know who I am is the fact that you're constantly making fun of me in class and in here," Greenburg gestures around the locker room. Finstock rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "Don't worry about it, I don't mind," Greenburg assures him with a smile.
Finstock shakes his head. He can't believe that Greenburg had never had anyone's cock in his mouth before his. It also gives him a thrill to realize that he would be the kid's first. But he's also guilty because he basically just ruined the kid. "You ok," Greenburg asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. "It's the virgin thing, isn't it," he says. "I promise, I've never really had a thing for any other person," the teen admits. "That is, 'til you." Finstock looks at the kid, and Greenburg smiles and shrugs. "Hey, it happens."
"Where do you live, Greenburg," Finstock asks, put at ease.
"Geoff."
"Hmm?"
"My first name. Geoff. G-E-O-F-F."
"Alright, Ge-off, where do you live," Finstock asks, smiling when he mispronounces the kid's name.
"Don't worry about it, my car's in the parking lot," Greenburg smirks, picking up his duffle bag and his stick.
"You son of a bitch."
Greenburg laughs as he walks out of the locker room, leaving an amused Bobby Finstock in his wake.