Part I
Oh…..my….god…
The words push toward the front of Chad's mind, but he can't find a way to say them. He twists and turns, his shoulder blades digging into the wall behind him. Vaguely, his senses are turning dim. His voice is becoming quickly strangled in his throat and his capability for speech has hidden in his brain somewhere under his knowledge of hieroglyphics.
Troy tightens his grip along Chad's throat, his thumb digging into the hollow at the center of his neck and forehead pressed up against Chad's. His eyes almost made Chad's cross while looking into them. Dark, intensely focused, he had seen this look across the basketball court during games, never like the way they were now. Troy pressed him up against the wall by the scruff of his neck while water from the showers pooled around their feet.
Troy reached a soap-slicked hand in-between them and finds Chad's cock.
Those words, once again push toward the front of his brain.
His grasps at Troy's shoulders, between the wall he is resting on and the water slicked body he is holding onto, he has a slim chance of not falling over if his knees buckle.
He remembers how this started for the first time; after a winning game, he and Troy were left over in the shower. At some point, Troy's hand slipped, and landed on Chad's body. After a stifled moan, he was being pressed up against the mental cylinder of the showerhead and his body being handled with the precision that Troy usually left to a basketball.
But now Troy's eyes are trained on Chad's face. His hands are working with quick, assured motions. Chad is trying to grasp control on something, but Troy has gained the upper hand; usually the situation is not exclusive as it has become tonight.
Suddenly he can feel the pressure building, his body winding tight, his world contracting, focusing in on a few sensations. His head snaps back and slams into the tile wall, his thoughts break and spin, he locks his knees so he won't fall over.
Troy reaches up and runs his hand over Chad's hair; Troy's own hair is gracefully plastered to his head. Troy then presses their foreheads back together "Good game," Troy pulls his body away and walks out of the showers.
Taking a shaky breath, Chad's knees buckle and he slides down the wall, splashing a little in the pool of water at the base of the showers. He sits and the water washes over him.