Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 68

Roger's hand hadn't even left the curtain before Brian drew him in, pressing his lips fervently against the younger man's and pulling the two of them close—their clothed erections almost impossible to ignore.

The kiss was rough and spontaneous, something Roger hadn't expected from the unusually confident professor. Moments like this were all too common for the blonde, but with Brian, it felt different. The fight for dominance wasn't easily won. The two first fell into the full-length mirror parallel to the curtain, then the one to the right, and lastly, the one opposite that—each time with someone else's back to the reflective surface.

Roger pulled away for air and gazed into the professor's lusty eyes, slipping his hands underneath the professor's button-down that hung loosely from his chest and sliding the garment to the ground. Without breaking eye contact, he dropped to his knees and began working at Brian's belt, tearing it out from the belt loops and tossing it behind him. He ran his hands up the professor's quivering thighs and grinned as the man towering over him wove his fingers into his blonde locks for support and returned the smile, assuring him that he wasn't going to stop him this time.

The blonde undid the button and tugged at the zipper, the trousers joining the shirt on the floor and revealing his underwear that were already sporting a small, wet stain in the front. Roger licked his lips and hooked his fingers beneath the boxer's waistband, yanking them down Brian's legs. Within the blink of an eye, he had taken the professor's erection in his mouth, his pleasured moan causing Brian's eyes to flutter shut and his head to rest back on the mirror he leaned against.

Roger bobbed back and forth at a pace which he let Brian determine, gripping his hair as more and more of his length slipped past the blonde's lips. The professor's legs began to twitch, and before he could relieve himself from the tension that began to grow in his lower abdomen, Roger pulled back with a pop and wiped the drool from his lips, his retracting hand slowly revealing the wicked smirk they'd formed.

No words were exchanged as the blonde stood up and brought his lips to Brian's, forcing the professor to taste himself as his tongue explored his mouth. Tripping over each other's feet, they stumbled into the opposite wall, Brian slamming Roger up against it like he had the chalkboard, except this time he was bare from head to toe—an even riskier situation if someone were to walk in on them. He didn't seem to care, though, focusing solely on the blonde and the feeling that having him there in his arms, on his lips, and against his hips elicited.

Roger broke their kiss for the second time that moment, running his hand up his own chest and wrapping it around Brian's, which found its way to the back of his neck. "You remember what to do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

It embarrassed the professor to admit that he did, and that he hadn't lost practice since their time apart—on himself, of course—but with reddened cheeks, he answered, "Yeah, but...we don't have any—"

"We don't need it," Roger smirked, dragging Brian's hand across his jaw and to his mouth. With widened eyes, the professor watched as his fingers disappeared behind the younger man's lips, his warm tongue dousing the digits in saliva. It took everything in Brian not to instantly draw his hand back, the natural alternative admittedly making him queasy, but he fought the urge and waited until Roger had sufficiently coated his fingers, the blonde taking it upon himself to release him and shimmy his pants and underwear to the ground.

"Ever done this standing up?" he questioned, earning a frustrated and impatient eye roll from the professor.

"Just turn around, Rog," Brian muttered, arching the blonde's eyebrow in surprise and compelling him to follow the professor's command without a single word of defiance. He pressed his hands up against the reflective glass and spread his legs, his breaths appearing and fading from the surface as he anticipated the long overdue touch of the older man's calloused fingers against his entrance.

Roger thought it would never come, but just as he turned his head over his shoulder—ready to snap at the professor to get on with it—he slipped his finger inside of him, punching out a moan so loud the blonde feared that the security guards down the way had heard him. He couldn't help himself, though, the sensation hitting him harder than he'd expected and intensifying with each digit that was inserted into him. With Brian's thumb being the only finger not inside of him, Roger knew he was more than ready, and in between the shallow pants for air, he stammered, "Just...Just fuck me already."

"But you look so beautiful like this," Brian whispered into his ear, the blonde's eyes that had been closed finding their way to the mirror, where staring back at him was the reflection of a wrecked man—disheveled hair, slack jaw, lusty eyes—and behind him, the cause of it. It brought a smirk to his face, seeing the beauty in the fact that it was the two of them in the mirror and not him and Tim or him and some random client. No, this time it was him and someone he loved—someone who loved him back—and knowing that made him want it even more.

"Just fuck me, Brian," he muttered, his smirk growing into an impatient grin. "Please."

"Okay," he murmured, matching the blonde's facial expression before planting a quick, gentle kiss on his neck. "But only because you said please." Roger had no time to think before the professor leaned back and replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding as far into Roger as he could and making him stifle back a cry of pleasure. "Is everything okay?" he asked, worrying that he'd hurt him.

"Yes, just...just stop talking and start...start moving," Roger rattled off, inviting the older man to thrust his hips into him, his pace quickly building as the desire they tried to suppress for months was unleashed all at once. The lewd and repetitive slap of their skin filled the small dressing room, drowning out the grunts and groans that grew louder the nearer they became to reaching their climaxes.

The blonde suddenly dropped one of his hands from the mirror and wrapped it around his aching erection, pumping as fast he could to bring himself to the edge with Brian—feeling the professor getting close. It only took a few strokes before the tension let up, his hand and the bottom half of the mirror falling victim to his release while he fell victim to Brian's. Their sticky bodies collapsed against the reflective surface as one, trying to catch their stolen breaths and sort out the scattered thoughts racing through their heads.

Brian lazily trailed his hand up Roger's side, sending a faint tingle through the blonde's body as he traced his fingers along his arm and down to his hand that still clung to the glass. The professor laced their fingers together and frowned, knowing that they couldn't stay in that dressing room forever, and that the second they walked out, he'd have to face the reality he was hoping to avoid.

"I messed up again, Rog," he mumbled, attracting the blonde's lidded gaze.

"What'd you do this time?"

The professor bit his lip, giving Roger's hand a slight squeeze before answering, "I made the wrong decision. I shouldn't have gone back to Chrissie that day. I should've stayed with you."

Roger chuckled. "Tell me something I don't know."

Though the blonde didn't actually mean it, Brian took his response at face value and revealed bluntly, "Liz isn't mine."