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“Not coming unless it’s on you,” he grits out, but you aren’t convinced he has that matter fully under control.

By your assessment, he’s close to drowning in the sensation, the push-and-pull between your hand masturbating him and the toy up his ass.

There’s a part of you that is very tempted to just let the game play out and watch him come buckets over your fingers, dripping all over the sweatbands on your wrists.

But the part of you that’s winning—your own throbbing, ignored cock—is pulsing against the flimsy material of the football pants.

This time, Kai does utter a complaint when you sit back, easing the toy out of him gently and powering it off before casting it aside on the duvet.

“Fucking hell, ” he groans. His vision is glassy and fuck-sick as he watches you untie the top of your pants and fumble with the laces over the crotch.

Your hands are a little shaky; whether it’s from desire or the residual rumblings of the vibrator, you aren’t sure.

The flimsy fly of the Halloween costume is no match for your straining dick.

Impatiently, you yank the laces out and fling them somewhere on the floor.

It’s the first time that you’ve ever fucked somebody raw, and the immediacy of skin-on-skin is a literal jolt to your senses when you push inside Kai. It’s hotter this way, and wetter. The sensation is so acute that it almost unmans you. You could swear that your eyes cross a little bit.

He’s clearly on the same wavelength. “Oh, god,” he whispers, sounding loopy. “I can feel your cock.”

It’s a damn good thing that you got him so worked up with the toy and with your hand, because all your coordination of this scenario—the few moments when your brain worked after he asked you to top him—didn’t prepare you for the reality of the first time you were having sex without a condom.

You’ve fucked Kai a bunch… almost as many times as he’s fucked you.

Maybe more? (You two don’t keep a tally.) But you swear that, at this moment, you are discovering new places inside him.

Feelings you have never felt in your life.

Your cock is so, so sensitive. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear that his fucking soul was touching yours.

Maybe it’s making you stupid, because Kai has to do a lot of the work for you.

Showing remarkable presence of mind for someone who’s been edged by a vibrating dildo, he throws the pillow aside and sits up on the bed to gather himself around you, legs bent over yours.

Somehow, he doesn’t break the connection of your bodies.

His big hands lift your ass and basically use you to fuck himself as he crashes your hips against his ass over and over again.

You knew he was getting close, which is why astonishment lights you up when you realize that you are going to come first. It’s all you can do to grip Kai’s shoulders and close your eyes against the force of it when your climax hits you.

Feeling yourself shoot off inside him is a revelation that almost blinds you, waves upon waves of astonishment, until you realize that you have to get him off.

You’re only going to stay hard for so long, and Kai hasn’t come.

Sloppily, feeling like your brains are going to melt out of your ears, you redouble your thrusts.

Kai doesn’t stop guiding your hips. Between the combined forces of his power and yours, you’re fucking him like the world is ending.

Your hand, still shaking, reaches down for his cock, which is fever-hot and covered in slickness.

It takes maybe three jerks of your fingers.

Kai buries his face in your shoulder pad as he comes. All you can see is the expanse of his heaving back, but you can feel the cum, hot and copious, painting your belly and covering your hand.

It takes a second for you to feel steady enough to pull out.

Kai flops back on the bed dramatically, his immense wingspan nearly covering the mattress.

For some reason you can’t fathom, you stay sitting up.

In the mirror across the room, which you only just noticed, you can see that your shoulder pads are askew, and there is lube and cum all over the cheap pants.

Your hair is a rat’s nest, and your cheeks and chest are flushed.

You are still between Kai’s spread knees, his body a limp, spent starfish on the bedding.

His hole is exposed, and a trickle of cum leaks out, starkly white against his dark skin.

It’s absolutely fascinating to your exhausted brain.

With your thumb, you trace his overheated skin.

Push the cum back inside him, over and over again.

“Time to hit the showers, rookie,” Kai announces groggily, making no move to get up.

“I think these pants need to be thrown away,” you comment, looking down once more at the mess. “I don’t know if you can wash this crap.”

“Don’t you dare,” he mumbles. His eyes are drifting closed.

You can’t help a tired laugh. “ Somebody ’s got a fetish.”

“ Somebody is sneaking into the locker room and stealing Dettweiler’s uni,” he announces. “You guys must wear about the same size. And that somebody is me, by the way.”

Your nose wrinkles at the thought of wearing clothes belonging to the Cyclones’ notoriously evangelical kicker. The mild disgust doesn’t stop you from stroking Kai’s calf. Over and over. You are addicted to his skin, you think. Every part of him just feels good . Why does it feel so good?

“Are you having a nice birthday?” you ask.

“I think a trip to African Paradise is better than some Louis Vuitton luggage,” he says. You’re going to have to drag him into the bathroom soon; he is definitely falling asleep.

“That Louis Vuitton luggage is very pretty,” you say, glancing across the room to the closet where aforementioned luggage is stowed away. “Sandy and Jamie were very thoughtful to send it.”

Kai scoffs weakly. “You know Jamie picked it out. Sandy just told me that, if I was going to be a superstar’s love nugget, I needed to travel in style.”

There’s a world of things wrong with that statement, but you don’t argue.

Instead, you tug weakly at Kai’s arms, which finally inspires him to get himself up and follow you into the shower.

It’s fully dark outside by the time you guys are cleaned up, and you’re both hungry.

You order room service and tear into it the moment it arrives, both of you swaddled in hotel robes.

As you eat, you watch an old French movie that neither of you understand.

You have to stay up even later, because nobody remembered to ask housekeeping for a change of sheets.