slide the ball right through the pipe

[sop]

cain/abel
nc-17
3674w
because icyheights thinks that dicks are the answer to all of life’s problems

The bus pulls into the lot at 9:30pm.

It’s not until 10:15pm that Cain actually gets to hit the showers.

“I can’t believe he made me run fifty fuckin’ laps!” Cain pants, dragging himself to the locker room with two tired and swollen feet.

Abel laughs, voice echoing against the metal. “Well Keeler did say you would.”

“I thought he’d let me slide after that match!” Cain slumps down onto the bench and groans, head falling into his hands. He rubs his throbbing temples and exhales sharply. “ And you people think I’m the fuckin’ sadist.”

After the game they’d gone straight back to their school’s gym. Hayden had delivered a short but inspiring speech concerning today’s match that had only taken roughly five minutes total to give. It’s the running circles until you’re about to puke part that had made Cain miss their scheduled post-game shower. And Keeler hadn’t been kidding about the whole “jog till you drop” thing. Cain’s about 80% of the way there, somewhere between “oh God oh God, I want to die!” and “I’m deceased, just go ahead and bury me behind the equipment shed”. So by the time he’s dragging himself into the locker room, drenched in sweat (again), he’s dead last to clean off. Well, second to last.

“Thought you woulda been showered already,” Cain says, wiping the back of his neck with a fluffy white towel. Abel’s. He was going to use that to dry off.

Abel leans against the lockers and shrugs, eyes darting nervously toward a cheesy motivational poster Helios had taped up three weeks ago in preparation for the tournament. “Ah, well.” His fingers tap the cool metal. “I didn’t want to go in with everyone else, so I just stood here until they finished. And then, you know, they took a while, so…” His voice trails off, lowering in volume. “And then you walked in! I wasn’t waiting or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking…”

Okay, so maybe Abel was. That doesn’t mean Cain has to know. It’s not like he’s been looping their impromptu bus-ride-back lip-lock in the dark for the past, oh, two hours. One spent still on that stupid Greyhound, the other here, at school, where Abel’s been replaying the scene over and over again in his head, like a broken record stuck on the very last song, incapable of moving forward without a little human intervention. Preferably from a member of the male species. With black hair. And a bad attitude.

Cain. He means Cain. Christ, Abel just really wants to kiss him again.

Cain smirks from under his towel. “Didn’t realize how bad you had it, princess.” He dumps it to the floor and stands up, inching closer. Abel’s back thuds against the locker behind him just as Cain brackets one toned arm around his head, caging him in. Cain smells like dried sweat and cloves, and Abel licks his all-too dry lips. “If I knew you wanted a second round I woulda finished runnin’ those stupid fucking laps in five minutes flat.”

Abel laughs, ruining the moment. “That’s not even possible! Keeler made you run about a hundred.”

Cain frowns and grunts a tch. “If I weren’t so damn tired I’d fuckin’ prove it to you!” Abel stops giggling the moment Cain’s nose bumps his own, mouths millimeters apart, and breath hot. Abel tries not to faint. “But I won’t. So I’ll just give you what you want instead.”

Their second kiss isn’t soft or questioning or as nervous as their first. It’s very wet, heated, and terribly uncoordinated.

Cain impatiently surges forward, holding Abel’s jaw in place with one free hand while the other frantically slips under the hem of his jersey. He doesn’t bother with pretense, taking advantage of Abel’s momentary confusion, and slides his tongue inside Abel’s open mouth the second his lips part just wide enough to gasp. Abel’s head softly thuds against the locker, dizzy, and his eyes flutter closed. Cain licks and sucks and bites until Abel’s squirming, whole body tingling with electricity, and Abel keens, desperately hungry for the taste of Cain’s lips. They’re slightly cracked, dry, but so invitingly warm, and Abel wants them on every inch of his skin.

Abel doesn’t realize he’s moving closer until Cain laughs, the sharp noise cutting through their harsh breathing. “You really do got it bad, dontcha?” His thumb traces the small curve of Abel’s bottom lip and Abel tenses, nervously excited. “What, my spikes get you hot or somethin’?” Cain pushes forward, silently urging Abel to open wide. “Or maybe it’s my ass in these shorts.” And Abel does, swallowing the tip whole. Cain smirks. “Yours looks better, though.”

They’re supposed to be showering so that they can hurry up and get on the bus for some celebratory dinner. But the only thing Abel wants in his mouth right now is Cain’s calloused thumb. And maybe his cock.

Cain groans. “Shit, princess. Keep this up and we’ll miss all the free food.”

Abel lets Cain’s finger go with a wet pop, lips slick with spit. He licks them and smiles. “I’m not really hungry,” he says. Really. He’s not. Maybe it’s the heat pooling low in his belly that’s making Abel feel full. Or the prospect of seeing just what Cain’s “and more” had really meant. Either way, he’s not getting showered or a thirty dollar steak at this rate. “Can we, uh…” Abel blushes. He can’t get the words to come out.

“Can we what?” Cain teases, that hand under Abel’s shirt moving now so that his fingers can stroke the hard plain of Abel’s stomach.

Abel’s cock twitches inside his shorts and he moans, unbelievably hot beneath his clothes. “Can we…” Cain licks and bites his way across Abel’s throat, nipping and sucking light marks into his skin until he’s blotchy and faintly bruised. Abel whines. “Cain, please.” He presses closer and groans because Cain’s half-hard, too, and it feels so, so good. Rubbing and grinding, which then turns into full-on dry-humping when Cain presses back and angles just right. Abel wants to come. Really bad. But not like this.

“Spit it out, sweetheart. Or it’s gonna end like this.” Cain grunts as his hips start to move faster. He’s leaking inside his shorts. The wet stain on the front is almost as dark as Abel’s. “Come on, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Abel blanks. There’s a lot going on inside his head right now. A million thoughts racing by at top-speed. And then Cain licks the front of his teeth and suddenly there’s only one. “Can you…” His hands cling to Cain’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle as he works up the courage to just say it. “Suck me off?” Oh God his cheeks burn. Abel buries his face into the front of Cain’s shirt. He can’t look. He can’t look.

Cain bursts into laughter and Abel briefly considers locker-door decapitation. “Jesus, princess. You go right for the good stuff, huh? You wanna come down my throat, is that it?”

Abel’s mouth dries. They’re still rubbing their erections together. At a much slower pace than before, though. “I…” He wants to. Hewantstohewantstohewantsto

“Say it,” Cain growls just before he bites down and Abel gasps.

“I want to come down your throat!” he whispers, voice cracking. Abel’s shaking all over, but he doesn’t want to stop. He just wants Cain’s mouth on his cock.

Cain smirks against Abel’s skin. “Heh. All right then.”

When Cain sinks to his knees, long black pads still covering both of them, Abel whines and bites nervously on the tips of his fingers. He’s so fucking high-strung he might actually shoot his load before Cain even gets to wrap his lips around the tip. Cain roughly grabs the elastic of Abel’s shorts and tugs down, underwear and all. Abel hisses when the cold air hits his dick and he tries to cover up, but Cain stops him, shoving his hand away so that he can get a good look at what he’s working with.

“Not bad,” Cain appraises like he’s analyzing a fucking match and not Abel’s erection. “Ever done this before?” A bead of precome leaks out from the tip.

Cain’s swollen pink lips and thick lashes as he stares up at Abel almost (almost) sets him off. “N-no,” Abel admits. Not because he hasn’t tried or wanted to. He’s just never found someone he’d like to do this with. Until now.

“Good,” Cain breathes. “Not like I’d care if you did.” He exhales against Abel’s cock and smirks when it jumps. “My mouth’s the only one you’re gonna want, anyway.”

“Fuck.”

Abel gasps and grits his teeth. Cain doesn’t bother with slow, introductory licks or coy swipes of his tongue. He grips Abel’s cock by the base and swallows him down in one go, working his jaw through every inch of Abel’s dick until he’s comfortably full and drooling. Abel’s right hand twitches against the metal and he’s not sure what to do with it. He settles for burying his fingers in Cain’s still-clipped hair when Cain starts to pull back, mouth tight and hot and obscenely wet. Anyone could walk in and see them like this. See Cain sucking his dick like he’s been craving it all day. See Abel bare-assed and naked from the waist down against the locker. Abel’s not sure how much he’d care right now if someone did, though. Not when Cain’s taking him in so deep the tip of Abel’s cock hits the back of Cain’s throat.

“Cain! Cain, ah!” He bites too hard on his fingertips and tastes blood.

Cain pulls back, licks Abel from base to tip, and then tongues the slit, smirking the whole time, like he’s actually getting off on blowing Abel in the locker room, semi-public and completely shameless. His painfully hard erection effectively proves that point. Cain pauses for air, panting, and then bobs his head down for more. When he swallows this time, Abel’s hips involuntarily buck, and Cain gags, but adjusts. Abel almost feels bad about it. But that was Cain’s fault, not his.

He’s so close.

He’s so fucking close.

Abel slaps a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming because it’s almost unbearable how good this feels. His head fogs and his balls ache, heavy and full between his legs. He’s gonna blow any second now with the way Cain’s sucking him off, fast and hard and so so so tight. Cain looks up, his black eyes even blacker beneath the fan of his lashes, and Abel groans because of Cain’s challenging, smug look, telling Abel to just shoot his load already—there’s no point in holding on. And Abel does. Almost instantly.

He gasps as thick, hot cum spurts from his cock and down Cain’s throat. And Cain swallows most of it, eyes closed, like he doesn’t even mind the taste. In fact, he might actually like it. What doesn’t fit slides down Cain’s lips and dribbles to the floor in fat globs, a pool of it between Cain’s knees. Abel’s legs shake from the aftershocks of his orgasm and he exhales an unsteady sigh, body slack against the locker. He’s still seeing flecks of white dot his vision by the time Abel’s realized that Cain’s asking him something.

“H-huh?” Abel pants, chest heaving.

Cain snorts, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. “That good, huh?” he rasps. He sounds absolutely wrecked. That might be Abel’s fault, actually.

Abel finally lets go of Cain’s hair. “Yeah. Really, really good.” That was probably the hardest he’s ever come.

“Want a taste?”

“I—”

It’s not a question Cain needs an answer to. He’s already on his feet, shoving his tongue down Abel’s throat, forcing Abel to taste what he just swallowed. Abel recoils, face scrunching because it’s so bitter, but he gradually adjusts, letting that familiar wet slide wind him down so that he’s just comfortably horny and not ready to burst. And it’s when Cain rubs his still very hard dick against Abel’s thigh does Abel remember to return the favor.

He starts to drop down to his knees when Cain suddenly grabs him by the arm. “Got something better in mind,” he says, all charm and mischief, a playful glint in his eye. And then opens Abel’s locker. Cain rummages around for a bit until he finds what he’s looking for. “Knew you kept this gay shit in here.” He pulls out a bottle of hand lotion and laughs.

Abel blushes. “My hands get dry!” he counters, embarrassed. It’s not that gay. Selene’s got one, too!

Cain snorts and squeezes a quarter-sized amount into his palm. “Sure, princess. I’ll pretend you’ve never used it to jack off with before if it’ll make ya feel better.”

Somehow that embarasses Abel more than being half-naked.

“What a slut,” Cain chuckles lowly, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your dirty secret’s safe with me. I jerk it in the shower all the time.”

They usually rinse off at the same time. Only a small, tiled wall separates each stall, chest-high at most. Which means Cain…while they all… Abel’s whole face flushes bright red.

Cain laughs. “Turn around, baby,” he says, voice lowering in volume.

Abel complies and tries not to trip on his shorts still pulled to mid-thigh. Cain pushes them the rest of the way down and positions Abel’s hands on the locker.

“You’ve got such a sweet ass.” Cain’s fingers knead the soft flesh and Abel weakly moans, pushing back. He’s still a little fucked out, but he thinks he could maybe get it up again if Cain teased him enough. “Bet it’d take a cock so well.”

Abel tenses. He wants it. So bad. But not right now. He can barely work two fingers inside himself before the pressure becomes too much. Abel can’t even imagine trying to stuff Cain’s entire dick up his ass at this point. He wants to work toward that, though. Eventually.

“Relax, princess.” Cain’s hand slides slower, between Abel’s thighs. He liberally slathers the insides with lotion. “We’re gonna do somethin’ different. But maybe this weekend—” Cain pauses, trying to concentrate on getting Abel’s skin slick “—we’ll see. Yeah. Fuck.” He rubs the head of his dick against the back of Abel’s left leg, getting turned on by his own words. “Get you drippin’ from my fingers knuckle-deep in that ass. Ever been rimmed?”

Abel almost forgets to breathe. “N-no,” he stammers, a little delirious. Cain needs to stop talking. Now.

“We’ll add that to the list. Right now, though…” Cain shoves his shorts down, hard cock springing free. Abel sneaks a look at it over his shoulders and he swallows. Cain’s a bit bigger and he’s soaking, precome leaking from the tip steadily. His balls look uncomfortably tight, like he’s been holding back the urge to come for a while now. “I’m gonna fuck those pretty thighs o’ yours, princess. You okay with that?”

Abel nods a little too enthusiastically. He can feel himself slowly getting hard again. “Yes. Please.”

“Close your legs, baby.”

He does.

Cain rubs a bit of excess lotion on his dick before nudging the head of his cock between Abel’s tight thighs. He braces one hand on the locker, right next to Abel’s ear, and the other on Abel’s hips, drawing them back so that Abel’s bent over, pale ass in the air. And then he pushes in, slowly, getting used to the friction, until they’re connected by the hip. Cain groans while Abel gasps.

“Jesus fuck,” Cain sighs, pulling back and then snapping forward.

His hips start a somewhat fast-paced rhythm, slapping against the backs of Abel’s thighs and ass as he slowly loses himself to that tight, hot suction. Abel leans all of his weight on his forearms and he moans lowly, Cain’s cock rubbing the underside of his balls and perineum, getting Abel worked up again. He starts meeting Cain’s thrusts, pushing back eagerly for more because he’s slowly building toward another orgasm, this one creeping up on him faster than the first.

“Feel so good, Abel,” Cain sighs. He runs his tongue against the back of Abel’s neck and then bites down, hard. Abel practically screams. “Not too loud, baby. Unless you wanna give the rest'a the team a show.”

Abel can feel Cain’s smirk against his hot skin. “Hah, n-no, I just—” He moans loudly when Cain thrusts a little too hard.

“Jesus, Abel. Gonna have to shut you up if you can’t keep quiet.”

He almost asks “how”, but only manages a broken whine instead. Cain’s hand on the locker slithers its way up Abel’s jersey, only pausing to pinch his hard nipples, before emerging from the collar, three fingers pressed to Abel’s open mouth in a silent command: open wide and suck. And Abel obeys, lips parting, drawing Cain’s fingers in. When Cain reaches down with his other hand to jack him off, Abel keens and bites down hard enough to break skin, tasting blood. Cain hisses, but doesn’t pull away. He just laughs and jerks faster, wrist moving in time with his thrusts, thumbing Abel’s sensitive head until Abel’s a drooling, breathless mess.

“You like that?” Cain rubs his fingers against Abel’s wet tongue. “Bet you’d like it if I fucked you with ‘em. Huh? Get you nice and loose before I shoved my cock up there.” Abel pushes back desperately, ready to burst. “Come on, princess, say it. You’d love it if I fingered you right now.”

Abel can only drool in response.

It doesn’t take much longer before Cain’s chanting a steady stream of fuck’s and shit’s, losing all sense of rhythm and just snapping forward until he’s close, less than good five thrusts away from oragsm. Cain angles his cock upwards so that it feels more like fucking, his leaking erection sliding between Abel’s slick thighs faster, and he comes, muffling a low growl against Abel’s flushed skin. His semen splatters against the locker in front of them and between Abel’s legs, dripping down in thick streaks.

Cain grips Abel’s cock a bit tighter and speeds up the pace of his hand. “You close?” he huffs, still panting.

Abel frantically nods because he is. So so close. He closes his eyes and moans around Cain’s fingers, the ones gripping his cock working him harder, faster, tighter. His whole body tenses, toes curling inside his shoes, and Abel cries out when it hits him, whole body shuddering for the second time that night. There’s less cum this round, but enough of it manages to paint the metal door a translucent, sticky white, joining Cain’s mess from before.

Forty-five seconds go by where neither of them move an inch. They just pant, out of breath, and try not to collapse.

It’s Cain who recovers from his post dopamine-induced bliss first, unwedging his soft cock from between Abel’s thighs and his drenched fingers out of Abel’s hot mouth. Abel slumps against the locker with nothing to hold him up, his shaky legs more for show than function right now, and he sighs, exhausted. He’s not sure if he can walk let alone drag himself to the showers after that.

“Jesus Christ,” Cain breathes and Abel wishes he could verbally agree. “You still alive, princess?”

“No,” Abel croaks because he’s not. Every bone in his body lies liquefied on the floor. Along with his semen. Which there may or may not be a lot of. “We should clean this up.”

Cain snorts. “What? This?” He wipes his hand against the already dirty locker.

And then Abel realizes just whose locker that is. He bolts upright and fumbles for his shorts. “Oh God, we need to wash this off! Before he sees!” The idea alone burns Abel’s already bright red cheeks.

“The only thing I’m washing off is my dick.” Cain tugs his own clothes on and then Abel’s arm. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s take a shower. My cum’s gettin’ dry and it’s gonna chafe like hell if you don’t wipe it off your thighs.”

That’s…surprisingly sensible coming from Cain.

But the locker—!

Abel lets himself be dragged away even though he’s already regretting leaving evidence of their shameful locker room sex in a congealed puddle on the floor.

Cain swings an arm around Abel’s waist as they walk toward the empty stalls and he leans down, smiling. “You ever fucked around in a shower before?” he teases.

Abel groans.

Fifteen minutes and a fresh change of clothes later, they’re on the bus. It’s a miracle the stupid thing hadn’t left without them. Abel’s never letting Cain talk him into “just a little shower head” ever again.

“There you two are!” Phobos grumbles. He’s sitting next to Deimos who is currently power-napping or conserving his batteries depending on if you subscribe to the “Deimos is secretly a robot” theory or not. “What? Did you two get lost up each other’s assholes or something? You were gone for forty minutes!”

Cain plants his hands on his hips and smirks. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Abel’s ass isn’t a fuckin’ highway like yours.”

Phobos makes an indignant sound while Abel considers suicide via bus window.

Hayden hushes them and says, “are we all here yet?” He’s growing a tad impatient.

Abel plops down into a seat and Cain follows suit, swinging one arm over the back of Abel’s chair.

“Wait,” Ethos mumbles from the back. “Aren’t we missing someone?”

An ear-piercing, glass-shattering scream echoes from the gymnasium, the noise sounding an awful lot like “CAIN” and the owner of said scream sounding an awful lot like Praxis. Everyone slowly turns their heads toward Cain and Abel, and Abel prays for spontaneous self-combustion.

“Nope,” Cain mutters, staring down at his shoes. “Start the bus, coach. Before the restaurant closes.”

And that’s how Cain and Abel came to be assigned post-game locker room cleanup for the rest of the season.

Indefinitely.





author's notes: a sequel of sorts to how to scale a mountain (and play volleyball, too) in which cain and abel have their own little post-game celebration. you should probably read the first fic to understand what’s going on. or don’t. i can’t stop you. either way, this is shameful and icyheights is a horrible influence.