Frerard smut.

Part 14

frankie and i are partners, as usual, and we run to the basket in the far left corner of the gym. he bends down to take his first shot, dribbling the ball two times and pumping his legs. he does the same routing every time he's behind the line, and it seems to really work. his shot is perfect like it always is, and the ball circles before swishing through the net.

i fetch his rebound and walk behind the line. i dribble four times; the last two dribbles, i look up at the basket, before bending down and repeating my normal free throw routine that is certainly not fool-proof. i shoot the ball, and my follow through fails immediately, but the ball slaps against the backboard and stumbles into the hoop. i'm surprised i make it.

frank catches the ball before it even touches the ground. we go to switch places, and frankie slaps my ass. hard. he grabs my ass and squeezes it before rubbing and finally smacking again, and i can't help but moan because who wouldn't moan when frank fucking iero grabs your ass. i should be used to it, but it's still so hot every time he touches me. "keep it up, and you might earn yourself a reward, gee," he whispers before i pass the ball to him and smirk, jogging to a position underneath the basket.

it's quite unusual for frank and me to be going back and forth like this during practice. we usually fuck other times and places, like at a party, or when my parents aren't home which is literally every day, or in the bathroom in the auditorium fifteen minutes into e period. but never before or after basketball. we've been friends with benefits for three months, and we've never even considered mixing that with basketball, ever. it that changes today, i'll be fucking grateful, because i could certainly go for frank iero touching my ass more.

frank swishes his next three shots, and i miss five in a row. the next goes in, and the following misses. i finally manage to make two in a row, and frank and i are the last ones out of the gym, aside from coach who's bitching about how no one put up the balls. frank and i vow to put the balls back, and lock the closet door back, and with that, we are officially the only two people left in the gymnasium and we're running around, racking each ball before wheeling them into the closet on the side of the gym. we don't say a word to each other, but we don't need to. frankie touches me twice more before we're done, once on my stomach and once on my ass again.

finally, we sprint to the locker room, eager to get whatever they hell was about to happen started.

joe is the only one left in the locker room besides us, and he's changing his shirt. joe's attractive, but he's not half as hot as frank. he's been recruited for basketball from a canada, because since our school doesn't have a football team, they view basketball as a priority, so much as to fucking recruit from other countries. joe is fantastic, but he's a 17 or 18 year old sophomore in freshman classes dating a senior girl. my school doesn't care if he tries in academics or not, as long as he gets us points and wins on the basketball court.

"bye, guys," he says before wiping his face with his jersey and putting on a nike tank top followed by a navy sweatshirt. we each tell him bye and watch him stagger out of the locker room.

i'm taking off my right basketball shoe to exchange it for slide ons when frank gently closes the door. i feel my stomach flop because frank never closes the door when either of us are changing. we aren't self conscious people.

as i'm untying my left shoe, i feel frank's breath heavy and warm and uneven above me, ruffling my bright red hair. he waits until i have both my shoes of, and he kisses me. hard. he licks into my mouth, opening his parted lips really wide and opening mine along with them. his tongue grazes over my teeth and next over the roof of my mouth.

my hands rise to his hips, gripping onto his jersey. frank's hands travel to my neck and my hair, and he pulls me up off the bench by both my neck and hair. i moan into his mouth as his grip on my neck tightens, long, rough fingers digging and pressing into my throat.