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He wasn't quite sure when tennis had become associated with infidelity, but he could not deny the fact that it was. First walking in on Amanda with her coach, and now with Trevor's tongue pressed half way up his ass after a match. Michael had tried to be a man of virtue when it came to his family, but even virtue had limits. The muscle withdrew, tracing and flicking against the tight orifice, ushering a few reticent grunts from Michael. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled, the scent of the rain soaked court flooding his senses. The wet metallic smell of the chain link fence he was desperately clinging to as rough hands continuously knocked him off balance, grabbing at him and spreading him further apart to gain access. Trevor’s tongue lapped at the stretched hole like a starved cat to milk before pressing further. Michael grunted as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, pumping his own cock slowly as Trevor tongue fucked him. Hands slipped from around his ass and to his hips, jerking him back as Trevor thrust deeper, tongue twirling in small circles against the tight walls of flesh, curling and teasing.
The thick tongue slipped out once more, leaving a trail in its wake as it traveled up to the small of his back. He felt his legs quiver when the warm, wet muscle left his body as Trevor stood and howled at the moon. Michael inhaled, the familiar feeling of self-loathing washing over him when he took it as a jab at how fat and white his ass had become over the years. He flinched at the sound; Trevor's wild and reckless manner both repelled and seduced him since they had first met and even now, years later; decade old desire running through his blood. A draft blew in from behind them, sending chills up his spine as it ghosted over the trail of saliva on his skin. Trevor’s grip loosened on his hips and Michael pressed back to regain his attention.
"My God, Townley! You are repressed!" Trevor pressed against the other man, his clothed cock pressing against soft, wet skin. He grabbed Michael’s shoulder and pulled him back again him, sliding his hand down Michael’s spine and then his ass, pressing his thumb against the tiny wet hole, " And tighter than I remember! Amanda not taking care of your...other needs?"
Michael shot a death glare over his shoulder, grabbing tightly to the fencing before thrusting his hips back with enough force to knock Trevor back; fingers dug into his hip to find purchase.
"Calm down, cowboy." Trevor released the reddening skin and rested his free hand beside Michael's head, bracing himself against the fence. He brushed his thumb over the slick hole several times before pressing his index and middle fingers inside. A broad grin lifted the corners of his mouth as he felt Michael tighten around him, gasping at the intrusion. He felt the other man's lips smear against the knuckles of his free hand and he untwined his fingers from the fencing, feeling a jolt shoot to his cock as Michael's hot mouth latched onto his fingertips, sucking wet and sloppy like an eager slut.
Michael bucked against Trevor harder, growing frustrated that the other man was still clothed. He already felt ashamed of himself for letting this happen without so much as an ounce of booze to blame it on, now the feeling of vulnerability was crashing over him as well. He glanced behind him and eyed the obvious erection jutting out of those obscenely diminutive white shorts. The yearning he hadn't felt in nine years was growing inside him, swelling and burning, overtaking the shame churning his stomach. He wanted to be fucked raw, "C'mon..."
He turned, bare ass pressing against the cold metal, wincing as the fingers inside him were abruptly removed. As he went to jerk down the shorts, Trevor grabbed his hand, nearly breaking several bones as he pulled him closer, his voice twisting into a growl, "You're not calling the shots with this, Mikey. I'm still pissed off."
"You want me to beg for it? Huh, T?" He was stuck between walking away, punching the other man in the face, or dropping to his knees, but Trevor was right. Amanda hadn't properly fucked him in over ten years. Not since she'd walked in on the two of them. She’d blamed on herself for getting him to let her use a vibrator on him in an effort to liven up their sex life after Jim was born, but it had been going on long before that. He could feel the guilt was building in his chest. Guilt for cheating on Amanda early in their relationship. Guilt for leaving Trevor. Guilt for never trying to contact him. Guilt for now cheating on Amanda after their new make shift vowels of devotion in Friedlander’s office. Just fucking guilt; burning a hole through the pit of his stomach. Being with Trevor was like an amytal. Every time he told himself it was a one off- wouldn’t happen again…but it always did. It turned out Trevor was much harder to kick than any type of narcotic he’d messed with in his youth. He made a compromise with himself before Trevor took up his offer, “I’ve missed you, Trevor.”
“Yeah, well, how about you show me just how much you missed me?” When a hand gripped his shoulder and roughly pressed down, Michael didn't resist. Trevor grabbed a fistful of his hair and pressed Michael’s face against his clothed cock. It didn't take long before he was kissing and licking at the fabric, soaking it. He glanced up at the other man, whose head was dropped back, the moonlight illuminating his scared face. While Trevor was distracted, Michael brought his fingers around the band of the shorts and slid them down. He was greeted by bare, throbbing skin. Michael looked up at Trevor, closing his eyes as he turned his head, letting the prick run across his cheek and then brush against his lips.
Trevor watched as Michael's lips pressed against the head of his cock. The pink of Townley's tongue appearing and slowly circling around him. He smiled as he heard Trevor’s breathing hitch and felt the grip on his hair loosen, the effect he could have on Trevor caused his ego to overgrow his guilt. The tremble, the quiver, and the slacking grip on his hips a tale tell sign that he was gaining control.
It wasn’t that Michael was the best fuck he’d had; it was the fact that he could knock him down a few pegs each time. In the past, he’d watch the other man return to his family with his tail between his legs. Even now, after everything, he could get this fucking asshole with the higher than thou attitude on his knees, hungry for a load of hot cum. It took every ounce of self-control that he could scrape up to keep from shooting a load all over Michael, just to see the look on his face.
He watched the self-proclaimed family man wrap his lips around his cock, unable to tear his eyes away as Michael’s mouth glided down his shaft and felt his tongue explore the underside, running over every vein. As he started working up momentum, his lips slid flawlessly along the length and he started working his own cock. Michael brought his other hand under Trevor’s balls, rolling them over his fingers. Michael glanced up at him for a brief moment before adjusting his balance, his age aching in his stiff knees. He balled his fist in Trevor’s shirt and pulled him forward; leading him to the stands. He sat on the edge of the bleacher and pulled Trevor between his legs, their cocks pressing against one another. A wolfish grin consumed Trevor’s face as he looked over Michael, gaze slowly skimming down his chest, running his hands up and grabbing the excess flesh and squeezing. He started a slow rhythm with his hips, sliding the head of his cock over the tight, puckered hole and prodding at the delicate skin under Michael’s balls; slick with spit, there was little friction. He ducked his head into the crook of the other man’s neck, hungry for the sounds stuck in his throat. Trevor began sucking at the exposed muscle in Michael’s neck, “Y’know…Despite how pissed I was when I saw you in that fucking mansion, I really just wanted to bend you over and drill you into your fancy countertops.”
“I’m startled by your self-control, T.” Michael hissed as teeth scraped against his jawline, a hand slipping from his chest and covering his. As Trevor pressed into him, he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut; His fist unfolded and he squeezed the other man's hand. It felt like he was burning from the inside out, even his sweat felt like liquid fire. Within moments they were both panting like dogs; their skin sticky with perspiration and the Los Santos humidity. He slammed his head back against the riser, ushering obscenities into the night air. Trevor was stretching him to the point of tearing. Each thrust slammed the base of his spine against the unforgiving metal. He spread his legs as far as his age would allow in an attempt to alleviate some of the burning. He felt Trevor's free hand ghost over his stomach and then wrap around his dick, gripping him tight and pumping fast. Trevor began twisting with each upward pump causing Michael's vision to fade in and out in pulses. The other man shifted between his legs and was now plunging into him full hilt, hitting home with each thrust. Michael felt warmth swelling and smoldering into the core of his being, twisting into a tight knot. His eyelids grew heaver as his concentration melted down to only the pleasurable dull pain between his legs, his heartbeat and cock throbbing in time with one another, and Trevor's weight. He was no longer able to keep the sentiment of a name burning in his throat locked away, "Trev..."
The sound of it filled the space between them, sounding no different than it had the night before the heist nine years ago. He came in long jets, the knot unfurling; he felt like a stone sinking slowly in the ocean. At some point, Trevor's hands had found their way to his hips, bruising the skin. Michael smeared his hand in his own semen, holding his hand up. He watched as Trevor's lips latched onto the skin between his thumb and index finger and he could feel his cock throbbing inside him. The bucking of his hips quickened just before he locked up, groaning out a loud, "Fuck!", as hot pulses of come filled him to the brim. Michael closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his temple, the reality of the situation punching him square in the nose and violently jerked him out of the sex driven lull. He was going to have to take a trip to the clinic to get tested. As he waited for Trevor to pull out, he silently cursed at himself.
"Waiting for some hobos to run a train on you or what?" Michael opened his eyes, noticing Trevor's extended arm. He took his hand and pulled himself up, his back screaming at him. He stood slowly, the world tilting for a brief moment.
"Want me to drop you off at the gym, porkchop?" Trevor smirked, watching Michael's face twist into a picture of confusion and anger.
"Fuck you, Trevor. I've had it - " Then he felt it and took a step back, glancing at his own legs. Disgust overtook his features as he saw the cum was dripping down his inner thigh, leaking from his abused hole. He was exhausted and the last thing he needed was for Amanda to catch on at three in the morning, "...Yeah. Thanks, T."