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Por shoves him hard.
Teetee stumbles back, caught off guard, he loses his balance but before he can fall he lunges forward, hand already curled in a fist as it makes contact with Por's jaw.
The crack of skin on skin is loud, and all other sound eases away as Por's body hits the floor, the squeaking of shoes, as he scrambles to get up and throws himself at Teetee, knocking him down as their bodies collide together, pushing the air out of Teetee, head thudding loudly against the court. Por is on top of him, it's a fleeting thought in his brain, small and hot, barely any weight on him. He smells like sweat, and something vaguely floral. It stunts him for a second and Por lands a punch of his own, a blooming pain against Teetee's cheek. And then in a rush of adrenaline, Teetee's hands move on their own, fingers tangling at the jersey hanging from Por's body, pulling it away as he flips them over, slams Por down and raises his fist again, this time aimed at Por's annoyingly perfect nose.
Por struggles under him, body rubbing against his, Teetee flinches at the way their bodies bump together and then grunts when Por's knee meets his stomach. He takes in a gulp of air, but even with how hard it is to breathe, he raises his fist again, ready to hit Por again.
Someone grabs at his wrist, pulls it back. Another hand pulls his shoulder back and suddenly he's been hauled back, untangled from Por's body.
There's the shrill sound of the whistle, the halting vacuum of everything stopping.
But Teetee only looks at Por, glaring more than anything. The side of his jaw is red from Teetee's fist, and his chest rises and falls in deep, big breaths. He's angry and that makes Teetee feel some sort of satisfaction.
Por pulls himself away from the hands holding him back, pushes them away as he touches his jaw gingerly.
“You're lucky there's people around,” he snarls, now holding his jaw.
Teetee laughs, spreads his arms around him, besides getting the air knocked out of him and Por being able to land a punch, there's not a single scratch or bruise on him, his cheek feels hot but Por's lack of momentum had not been enough to truly hurt Teetee.
“I don't know, someone here looks worse off than the other,” Teetee says with a smile.
“Come on, man,” Auau approaches Por, hand on his shoulder, “let it go. We should have your face checked.”
“Yeah,” Tutor adds in, “we're supposed to be a team.”
Por's heavy gaze finally leaves Teetee, “whatever,” Por scoffs, letting Auau guide him towards the health office.
Teetee turns his smile at the rest of the team, feeling the pride of winning the fight swell under his chest. But it quickly deflates when he turns around and comes face to face with their coach.
-
The gym is empty except for Teetee who is going around picking up basketballs. Their coach had made sure no one had done any kind of tidying up, a departure from the team's norm. Maximized punishment.
Teetee had gone up to Por with a plan, “lets split up the gym into areas, that way it'll be equal and fast. The faster we do it, the less time we have to spend together.”
“No,” Por had simply said, walking away as he started to stack up the orange cones all congregated in one place from where they had used them for drills. There were only a few of them, all in one place, and Teetee watched dumbly as Por simply picked them up, shoved them in the equipment room, picked up his duffle bag and left towards the locker rooms.
Anger is simmering deep inside him, but Teetee is a people pleaser, not one to disobey his seniors. So he swallows the burning frustration and starts to pack up the rest of their equipment.
He rushes with his efforts, teeth grinding together with his restrained rage. His movements are a little too forceful, as he stuffs balls into the netting, shoves the bag into the overflowing room, kicking the door closed and snatching his duffle bag from the floor.
He stalks his way to the locker room, wanting nothing but to wash off the sweat from practice, the unpleasant feeling of his confrontation, the confusing leftover traces of Por's soft body, cloying cologne, still sticking to him. Stomping down the stairs, annoyance flaring, something harsh and unpleasant, he reaches down to take off his shoes, socks, he yanks the door of his locker open, and after the metal screech of it stops ringing loudly he hears it. The sound of running water.
There's only one person who it can be, Teetee knows. But still, he drops his stuff on the bench, starts walking towards the shower stalls.
He tells himself he just wants to fight, finally crush down that burning, uncomfortable feeling he's had since Por joined the team. He's heated, anger unfurling again, flashing in an overwhelming wave of pent up emotions that only a fight can curb. But when he rounds the corner, follows the steam to the shower stall, he falters. The body before him is all bare, milky white, glistening from the hot water and the bright fluorescent lights.
Por's body is thin, narrow. Teetee's eyes tract the long line of his neck, flaring to his shoulders, his toned arms, the lithe lines of his fingers as they rub shampoo into his hair, and then back to the dip of his waist, the smallest of swells that make his hips, the jut of the bones there, the shapeliness of his legs.
Teetee takes a step back, his steps make a small sound against the wet floor, and Por's eyes open against the falling suds from his hair. Teetee watches as Por blinks rapidly at him, trying to keep the soap and water from his eyes, as if he can't believe it's Teetee standing in front of him staring at his naked body.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Por snaps, pushes his hair back, runs a hand down his face to wipe away the falling water and shampoo. His voice drags with a seething anger, venomous, dangerous.
Teetee doesn't say anything for a second, then two. He's absolutely caught in a trance, eyes drinking up every single centimeter of Por on display, eyes not at all subtle in their once over.
“You really are like a dog,” Por mutters, low, “stupid and begging for things you won't ever get to have.”
Por's words snap Teetee out of his stupor, he shakes his head, closes his eyes tight and tells himself to breathe, he's better than this, he’s better than Por. He won't go down to the other's level.
He wills his eyes to leave Por's body, focusing instead on the tile wall behind him, the sound of the rushing water, the heat of the steam that has him feeling like he's overheating,
Teetee needs to be the better person here. He swallows in an attempt to clear his dry mouth, parched purely from the temperature of the hot water and nothing else. All he has to do is turn around and walk away, walk away from Por's challenging words, from the temptation of Por's small body.
Por snorts from his place under the shower head. Teetee's eyes flicker back to Por's face. Water droplets fall from his hair, down his temples, clinging to the tip of his nose, beading along the shape of his pink mouth.
Teetee is still watching Por's mouth when he speaks again, “What? Are you serious? If I knew you liked me I would have beaten the shit out of you sooner,” Por laughs, humorlessly, “so what? You like me so you pick on me? What are you? Eight years old?”
The words land heavy against Teetee, starting a wave of raw nerves that run down his body, annoying, an unpleasant violent feeling roiling in the pit of his stomach.
“If you wanted me to fuck you this badly, all you had to do is ask. I'm not above doing charity work,” Por raises a challenging eyebrow at him, smirking in a way that Teetee knows means Por thinks he's won this round.
Teetee is stupid. He's fueled with testosterone and motivated by the dumb need to never back down from a challenge, to always win.
So he doesn't answer, instead he steps into the shower stall. The water hits him right away and the heat of it makes him shiver, the sticky feeling of wet clothes clinging to his body uncomfortable. But Teetee can't bring himself to care when he needs his hands on Por's body as quickly as humanly possible.
Por's skin is slippery in his grip, pushing Por's shoulder back against the wall, Teetee's own body following him directly under the spray of the shower head.
Teetee's hand glides from Por's shoulder, to his neck, where his fingers curl over the delicate column of it, and as if hypnotized, Teetee's palm presses down at the swell of Por's Adam's apple.
Enough that Por's eyes widen, enough that his chest heaves and his mouth opens just a bit for him to take a stuttering breath.
“You're the stupid one,” Teetee finally replies, and even with the edge he puts on it, he sounds dumb, unconvincing.
Por's eyes look at him. With his face tilted over Teetee's hand on his neck, head against the wall, water droplets framing his eyelashes, his eyes are intense, and Teetee feels himself start to grow hard.
The feelings he always gets when he sees Por are ranging under his skin but as his eyes track a drop of water sliding over the curve of Por's bottom lip, something starts to shift.
Teetee squeezes down on Por's neck, until Por's eyelashes start to flutter, cheeks going ruddy, body locking.
One of Por's hands suddenly finds itself against Teetee's chest, forcefully pushing him off. And again Teetee stumbles back, hand dropping away from Por's body, but reaching again to grab at his upper arm, trying to keep himself from slipping against the wet floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Por's voice is low, angry, grabbing Teetee's hand from his body, pulling it away.
Teetee doesn't answer right away. Instead his eyes betray him and they scan down Por's waist to his hips, pelvis, crotch.
He stares at Por's cock for far too long, an invitation Por takes to stare right back at him.
Unlike Por, he's been affected. By Por's nude body, by Por's mean words.
Por laughs at him again, this time breathy, thin.
“And what the fuck has got you so excited?” Por spits out at him, his own hands going to cover his crotch, hide himself from Teetee's prying eyes.
It's a question Teetee isn't meant to answer, just Por pressing hard, meanly, into an already bruised ego.
But Teetee still answers, unthinking, “you,” he says quietly, raw, too honest.
The feeling of the word brings an itch under his palm, a boiling heat in his gut that starts a burning that reaches where his heart is.
And Por finally doesn't have a response for him. So Teetee takes a chance to touch Por again, this time curling a hand around his hip, digging his fingernails into the pale skin stretched thin over his hip bone. He's not gentle as he drags him forward. Por's wet body colliding with Teetee's clothed one. His saturated clothes stick to Por's skin, touching him in places Teetee wishes he could touch too.
The heat of the water, of Por's slim body, of Teetee's burning desire, is overwhelming, it's confusing, he doesn't understand what he feels. So it settles into something he can understand, a label that's clumsy but it's what Teetee has convinced himself to feel when it comes to Por.
“You're so annoying,” Teetee says lowly, free hand moving Por's hands away from where he's covering himself, cupping over Por's soft cock. It's wet and warm and Teetee bites down on his tongue when he feels it respond to the touch of his palm, when Por's hips twitch from Teetee's hands.
Por breathes out heavily, “yeah?” he asks, voice firm, amused, “and how am I annoying to you? We barely speak to each other.”
“That’s the problem,” Teetee answers too quickly, “you think you're better than everyone else, better than me. You barely talk to anyone, look at anyone, turn up your nose like you're above everyone else. Like no one is worth your time, like I’m beneath you.”
Por doesn't deem his rant worthy enough of an answer and the misplaced anger in Teetee makes it hard for him to stop talking.
“All I've ever been is nice to you,” Teetee bites out, “but you can't seem to stomach the idea of talking to me, looking at me, being near me.”
Liking me.
Teetee's words die off and he wills himself to look at Por's face. He's met with an infuriating smirk, teasing, coy.
“What is there for me to look at,” Por says, voice tinged with an artificial sweetness, “a stupid dog who can't do anything but run after his own tail and drool over me?”
“I'm not drooling over you,” Teetee defends himself, irritation flaring inside of him.
“Oh, Por, why won't you look at me, why won't you talk to me, why don't you like me like how I like you?” Por pitches his voice high, a mocking shrill of Teetee's own words.
“I don't like you,” Teetee’s voice rises in volume, in panic.
Por's eyes flicker down between them, where Teetee's hand is still on Por's cock.
Teetee takes a minute too long to admire how his hand looks over it, watches as he takes the chance to wrap his fingers around the length properly.
His heart skipping a beat when he realizes that Por is growing hard.
“I'm not the one that's getting hard just from my hand,” Teetee shoots back.
Por’s smile spreads wider, eyes squinting at the unfortunate outline of Teetee’s dick hard under his basketball shorts, “that's because you nearly came all over yourself from just looking at me.”
Teetee feels heat flash over him, creep up his neck.
Teetee goes still when he feels Por's eyes on him again, lingering, almost appraising.
“Which is such a shame,” Por starts, “that you’ve got all of that and yet you seem like you can't last long enough to do anything with it.”
“Shut up,” Teetee’s grip on Por grows tighter.
“Shut up or what?” Por pokes back, instigates, words mean.
But his hips twitch in Teetee’s hold and his mouth snaps shut.
Teetee's hand dwarfs Por's cock, Teetee likes it too much. The way his hand looks so big around Por. How he can only see the head of Por's cock. Pink, glistening with the water falling over them, with the pearly beads of pre-come Teetee’s hand coaxes out of him with just holding him.
So Teetee strokes him, from the base, a slippery glide up, rewarded by Por's stuttering hips, a choked off breath that sounds desperate.
Desperate for Teetee.
Heat spreads down his neck, mouth dropping open in an attempt to catch his breath, mouth watering when Por twitches in his hold, spurts out more pre-come from just Teetee's eyes on him.
“What are you doing?” Por's voice is sharp, cutting, “are you so stupid you're just going to stand there?”
Before Teetee can answer, Por pushes him away, small hands pushing Teetee's hand away from him, going to the waistband of Teetee's shorts, pulling them down all in one motion. The sound of them landing on the floor is heavy and loud, an unpleasant wet sound that Teetee immediately forgets when he feels Por's gaze on him.
Teetee's cock is hard, flushed angry red, curving against his stomach.
Por looks away, pushes him around, Teetee allows himself to be manhandled, steps out of his shorts, lets Por walk him up against the shower wall, under the shower spray.
Water quickly oversaturates his t-shirt, plasters his hair against his forehead. Por's eyes are looking at him, his pretty mouth opens, Teetee knows he's saying something but all brain and bodily functions cease when Por's hand wraps around Teetee's cock, squeezes hard.
Por let's go of him and the noiseless vacuum breaks with Por's laugh, then, “you really must be an idiot if all it takes to leave you speechless is a touch,” and then he drops to his knees and Teetee has to think really hard to keep his body from just giving up, “no, but it really is such a shame,” Por mumbles, face turned up to look at Teetee, eyes big and shining, eyelashes fluttering to keep the water away, water drops sliding over his lips, holding on desperately before falling between Teetee's feet.
Teetee can come like this, he thinks, his stomach tightens, with Por's pretty face looking up at him, on his knees for him, body glistening from the showerhead.
“Such a shame that you have such a big cock and have probably never used it properly.”
Teetee comes.
Teetee curls his fingers into tight fists, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he comes.
His hips lift from the wall and he watches with an erratically beating heart as lines of his come land on Por's face.
Pearlescent streaks crisscross against his cheeks, catching on Por's eyelashes, clumping them together, and when Por opens his mouth just a bit, come lands on the swell of his bottom lip, milky beads of white that makes his mouth look even more kissable. Beckon for Teetee to kiss him and taste himself on Por's lips.
Por looks at him the entire time, watching as Teetee's chest heaves, how his hips twitch with his release, how the head of Teetee's cock is now wet, rubbing against Por's bottom lip, how Teetee is still hard.
Por licks his lips, reaches a tentative hand to his face, touches where Teetee's come has stained his cheek, smears it against the skin, rubs it into his fingers and brings them back to his mouth.
Teetee's dick jumps at the visual, his body going taut.
“Wow,” Por says quietly, “pathetic,” his face wet from the quickly cooling water, from Teetee's come.
And then he puts his mouth of Teetee. No warning, no moment for Teetee to brace himself.
His lips wrap around the tip, and then the slick heat of his mouth engulfs him, keeps going in such an agonizing pace Teetee is forced to watch as his cock sinks into Por's mouth inch by torturous inch.
Por is half way down Teetee's hard shaft and it's more than Teetee's brain could ever dream up. This is as good as it can get and Teetee can feel the way another orgasm is building a fire deep in his belly. But Por keeps going and Teetee makes a strangled sound, a choked off whine, legs trembling as he feels the velvet vice grip of Por's throat, feels Por's nose press against his groin. He looks down at Por's watering eyes, his pink cheeks under the streaks of come, hips pressing forward, greedy in their chase of Por's mouth.
One of Teetee's hand undoes itself, reaches down, slow, reverent as it wraps around Por's neck, over his throat, where he can feel the outline of his own cock, stuffed down Por's throat, bulging under milky skin, distorting the beautiful, graceful line of such a lovely neck.
Teetee groans, his body moves without his control, pushes his hips uselessly to feel more of Por's hot mouth, tight throat.
Por chokes at it, gags around Teetee's cock, throat fluttering, constricting at the intrusion.
The sound of Por struggling rings loud in Teetee's ears and can't do anything but come again. The fingers around Por's throat press down harder and his other hand moves to hold onto Por's wet hair, gripping tight as he selfishly pushes Por's head down on his cock, getting a jolt of something that feels like too much as he feels the way Por's throat moves under his palm, forced to follow Teetee's quiet commands.
Teetee keeps Por close as he shoots hard down his throat, he feels like he’ll never stop coming, eyes drinking up Por's red face, lips stretched over Teetee's dick, eyes big and alluring and wet with tears.
Eventually Por’s hands go to grab at Teetee's hips, start to push them away until Teetee’s body goes heavy, his hand still in Por's hair but no longer insistent in keeping himself in Por's mouth.
His body is too weak to fight, it follows Por's guidance, allows Por to pull himself off Teetee's now softening dick.
Teetee's eyes immediately zone in on the corner of Por's mouth, where his come drips from, too much for Por to swallow down, instead being licked off by Por's tongue.
Por's hands on his hips start to dig his fingernails into the skin under them.
Por takes in a shuddering breath and when he speaks his voice is scratchy, a rasp from the force of Teetee's cock fucking his throat.
“You really are a brainless dog,” Por says, voice edging with something mean.
Teetee ignores the jeering words, his fingers curl tight in Por's hair again, pulling him up with it. Until Por is forced to stand up, forced to follow Teetee's grip until their eyes meet and Teetee is the first to look away, eyes flickering to Por's swollen mouth, to the splotchy flush speckling the planes of Por's chest.
Teetee turns Por around, to finally have Por at his mercy, to escape Por's icy gaze, unforgiving glare.
Teetee pushes Por's chest against the wall, eyes drinking up the curve of Por's spine, the way it dips into the small of his back all under flawless skin.
Teetee's hands travel down Por's sides, gripping his hips and then spreading him open for Teetee to see all of him.
Teetee can do nothing else but press a finger against Por's opening.
Por turns to look at him, scowling, “what are you doing? Can't even do this right? It'll hurt if you don't use lube.”
Teetee looks around, as if magically lube will appear somewhere in the stall and he won't have to stop touching Por like this.
“You're so stupid,” Por rolls his eyes, moves just a bit away from Teetee to reach for his bottle or bodywash, “here, use this,” Por twists his body to make Teetee grab the bottle, offering Teetee a tantalizing look at how his body can stretch and turn.
Teetee grabs the bottle, opens it with a snap, squeezes the clear gel onto his fingers. The earthy scent of it is something familiar, something that always catches Teetee's attention when he gets too close to Por, when he's pushed aside, when they hit each other, when they roll around in a struggle when arguing escalates too fast and Teetee has an excuse to press his body against Por's.
In his eagerness, Teetee isn't careful at all when he pushes a finger in. Keeps pushing in against the tight resistance, until his finger is curling against the soft walls, knuckle deep. Teetee’s finger pushes in and out for a couple seconds, then without much warning he pushes in another. Por's body tenses with it, but Teetee wills himself to not be too tender, too obvious, this is nothing.
So Teetee keeps thrusting his fingers in quick movements, the sound of too much gel squelching loud even against the rushing sound of the falling water around them.
He's trying to be just as mean as Por had been to him, trying to punish him.
But even with how careless his fingers are, he can hear Por's breath hitching, his back arching to meet his fingers, his ears a bright red.
“You like this, don't you?” Teetee asks. It's meant to be mocking but his voice sounds too breathless.
“Shut up,” Por hisses, “is this all you got? I don't think two fingers is enough.”
Teetee pulls his two fingers out, pushes in three, it's a tight stretch, put Por still pushes back to meet his hand and Teetee can only follow obediently. He is not kind, his fingers thrusting rough and too fast.
Teetee's cock is hard again. Just from Por's little hiccuping sounds, the sound of his fingers pushing the thick shower gel in and out of Por. The porcelain white of Por's shoulders, back, neck.
Teetee pulls his fingers out. Struggles to get a proper grip of the shower gel bottle with his slippery fingers.
He squeezes way too much gel onto his hard dick, using his already dirty hand to rub it all over his cock. His hips twitch at the smooth glide of it, desperate for any kind of friction. He considers for way too long just jacking off and coming all Por's back but he shakes his head, needs to feel Por around him.
Before Por can say anything scathing, ask Teetee to hurry, Teetee presses the blunt head of his cock into Por's slippery entrance. He can't be patient, not when this is something he never let himself know he wanted, when this is something he thought he would never have. So he pushes in too fast, too hard, absolutely selfish and ruthless until he suddenly sinks in fully into Por's smaller body.
His hips collide against Por and their bodies are flushed together. Stuck with the now cold water, the misuse of Por's bodywash.
Por's face turns away from the wall, gifting Teetee with a glorious look at Por's side profile, the steep line of his nose, the plush swell of his bottom lip, so tempting Teetee wants to bite it.
“A-ah,” Por whines, voice airy, catching Teetee so off guard, his hips press closer into Por's body, pressing his cock deeper into Por.
For once Por isn't talking down to him, completely silent as Teetee pulls out and then slams back into him, crushing Por into the linoleum wall, arms folded awkwardly between it and his body.
Teetee holds on to Por's hips again, a vice grip that keeps him in place, impaled on Teetee's cock, fingernails digging angry red welts into his skin.
The water around them is cold now but Por's body is hot and soft, opening up for Teetee too easily, clenching around him in a searing heat Teetee will forever chase, forever dream of. Teetee gets overwhelmed with the feeling, his hips moving on their own as they start a desperate and brutal pace, a sloppy rhythm as he fucks himself into Por's willing body, something burning up his insides, pushing him to the edge.
Teetee's eyes trail down where they meet, hungry eyes watching how he enters the other, how he pushes in and out, how Por's body takes every inch of him over and over again.
He's helpless to his body, to his desire and even if there's a vague thought that he's going too fast, too hard, how this pace must not be enjoyable for Por, he can't help himself, can't control his need.
Por is pliant for him, for the first time since Teetee has known him, Por is quiet for him. The only sounds he makes are the breathless stutters Teetee's hips coax out of him.
“Want to come,’ Por's voice is small, quiet, the please hangs between them. It's probably as polite as Por will ever get.
“Then come just on my cock,” Teetee says, pushes greedily into Por, “find out for yourself how much I do know how to use this,” he doesn't pull out at the last words, instead grinds up against Por, right over his prostate, keeps the pressure there until Por's legs start to shake and one of Teetee's arms wraps around Por's slim waist, keeps him from falling, keeps him on his cock.
Teetee desperately needs Por to come, starts thrusting in and out again, his thighs are burning from the exercise of it all and his brain is melting with how good Por feels, squeezing tight, insides hot, body slim and warm and supple in his hands, pressed to his own body.
He ruts into Por with no control, a punishing snap of hips, holding Por so tight that all he can do is take what Teetee gives him.
Teetee's core tenses again when Por squeezes around him, the only warning he gets before he hears a whine and Por's body goes taut, strung up as he finally comes.
The breathy stutters, the feeling of Por clamping down on him, keeping him in place with the force of his orgasm, it's enough for Teetee to come a third time.
He shoots hard onto Por's insides, hand scrambling to press against the wall when Por's body goes limp, useless as Teetee shoots rope after rope of come into Por, so much that it starts to feel slippery, sloppy.
They don't say anything as they both come down from the intensity of it. All Teetee can hear is their heavy breathing, the loud thumping of his own heart.
“Get off me, you're gross,” Por's voice is once again edged with venom.
Teetee doesn't want to, he squeezes Por's body one last time in his arms. It's Por who starts moving away, as if he knows Teetee has been stunned stupid from what they've done.
But Teetee starts moving, winces when he's finally all the way out and a mixture of his come and shower gel follows, coating his dick, dripping from Por.
“Gross,” Por repeats, turning around, bending down to pick up Teetee's clothes, throwing them at Teetee to catch.
“Get out so I can clean myself,” Por sounds miffed, “thanks to you now I have to shower twice. You really are so useless. Ah, so annoying.”
He turns back to the shower tabs, turns the hot one all the way up until the cold water starts to turn lukewarm again.
Teetee allows his gaze to look at Por's body. Angry indents on his hips, lips red from too much use, thighs shiny from Teetee's come, and the faintest of purple bruises blooming from where Teetee had pressed against Por's throat.
Por goes back to ignoring him, reaching for the same bodywash Teetee had used to make his insides soft, now cleaning away the evidence Teetee had left behind.
It's his cue to leave and Teetee knows he doesn't have another choice.
But his throat feels like it's closing and there's weird pinpricks around the corners of his eyes.
He steps away quietly, into his own stall to wash away Por's warmth from his body. He turns on the spray of water, but it doesn't drown out the sound of Por finishing up, the sudden stop of running water, the tapping of his footsteps, the loud noise of a locker door opening and then closing and finally the retreating sound of someone walking away.
Por's touch is washed away, his scent replaced by Teetee's shampoo and bodywash.
Like nothing ever happened.