Page 104 of For the Fans

Crowding him is easy, what with the size of my costume. I get him wedged between me and the lockers, my chest heaving from within the suit. My skin is burning up, a bead of sweat trickling down my back while I quake with rage.

“You’re such a fucking prick, you know that?” I growl.

He lifts his hands and tries to push me away. But I pin them at his sides, and he whimpers. The sound shocks us both.

Kyran’s pupils dilate. The muscled wall of his chest is thumping with strong breaths, his pink lips parted and shivering as we both register how close we are, and how the fuming testosterone has somehow slipped into a confusing lust.

This always seems to happen to us. It’s like something about our molecules in close proximity melts hate into desire, and I just don’t get it. It makes no sense, but it feelsgood. And I hate that it does, because he’s such a raving jerk.

“Avi… let me go,” he rumbles, breathlessly.

“No,” I grunt. “Someone really needs to bring you down a peg.”

His eyes shift. There are voices coming from just the other side of these lockers. We’re tucked away in a corner, but his teammates are nearby. And for some unknown reason, it sends a thrill up my spine.

I’m baking inside my suit, our bodies sealed together with only this bird costume between us, and it’s driving me crazy, because I justknowif our bare chests were together, I could feel his heart racing against me.

“G-get off me,” he stutters, lips trembling as my mouth inches over them.

I can’t help but notice the fight has seemingly left his words. And his actions.

He’s not pushing me away.

“Why do you have to be such an asshole…” I whisper, rhetorically, of course.

Because the next thing I know, my mouth is crashing into his.

Kyran mewls when my lips capture his, and I attack him with forceful kisses, immediately writhing myself into his sturdy frame. He’s resistant at first, head shaking as if to sayno…

But his mouth is opening for me. His tongue is creeping up to graze mine in a timid swipe that sends a buzz of electric need between my legs.

I groan, as quietly as I can because there are people so close. The entire football team is in the showers, laughing and chatting on the other side of the room, fully unaware that their quarterback is kissing the mascot a few feet away. But the reality of the situation does nothing to dampen the mood. In fact, my dick is rock hard, trapped inside this ridiculous costume.

And as much as he seems terrified, his movements jittery and nervous, I think Kyran might be experiencing similar sensations. Panting and moaning softly into my mouth with our lips brushing and sucking, tongues lapping in a dangerous, forbidden rush.

Pressing my hips into his, he gasps as I grind my bird suit against his cock, writhing into him, desperate to feel him through the thick layers of fleece and polyester.

I think I can… Just barely. I feel the ghost of his shape on mine and I’m fucking throbbing for more.

Quickly whipping the mitts off my hands, I lift my fingers to his face, gripping his jaw and holding him in place to bruise his mouth with kisses, tugging his bottom lip between my teeth until he purrs.Oh, baby… Feed me that sound…

“Avi…” he breathes, so softly I can barely hear him. “Stop…”

“Shut up,” I groan, dizzy from the adrenaline and illicit yearn.

No one knows…

He’s mine, and no one knows it.

Clenching fistfuls of my costume at my sides, he dips his face away from the starved force of my lips. “This isn’t… p-part of the deal.” My cheek brushes his while I breathe in deep, reacquainting myself with reality. “Business only,” he stammers. “For the fans, remember?”

“Stop acting like you don’t want it,” I hum, watching his swollen lips quiver.

“I don’t,” he growls. But he’s still not shoving me away. Or punching me.

It surges me with triumphant confidence.

My eyes drift between us, finding that his towel has completely fallen off and is pooled around his feet. I slowly slip a hand down to his dick, fingers tracing its thick rigidity as he shudders.