Page 43 of Speak in Fever

Percy's laugh is rough, surprised out of him despite the seriousness of their situation. "Captainy isn't a word."

"It is now," Rath says, then loses his train of thought entirely when Percy leans closer, close enough that Rath can feel his breath on his lips.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Percy murmurs, but he's not pulling away. If anything, he's pressing closer, his body pinning Rath against the wall in a way that makes Rath's breath catch. "We can't keep looking at each other like this."

But even as he says it, Percy's mouth finds the curve of Rath's neck, and Rath has to bite back a sound that would definitely carry beyond this room.

Percy's lips are warm and slightly chapped, familiar in the best way, and when he finds that sensitive spot just below Rath's ear, Rath's hands come up to clutch at Percy's shoulders.

They're both breathing hard now, and the sound is amplified in the small space of the video room, echoing around them.

Percy's hands slide down from the wall to Rath's thighs, and suddenly Rath is being lifted, pressed more firmly against the door, his legs coming up instinctively to wrap around Percy's waist.

It's desperate and probably inadvisable and everything they've been trying not to do in public spaces, but Rath can't bring himself to care when Percy is solid and warm against him, when he can feel the evidence of Percy's want pressed against him, when Percy's making those quiet sounds that mean he's losing the careful control he works so hard to maintain.

"Percy," Rath breathes, not sure if it's a warning or encouragement.

They’re both panting. It sounds so loud in the small space of the video room, echoing around them and so, so clear. He can feel Percy, hard and hot. It’s so much. It’s almost too much. He feels dizzy with it.

“Can we change places?” Rath asks, breathless, while Percy nips at his collarbone.

Percy pulls back and lowers him back onto the floor. “Whatever you want.”

He’s never done this. He’s never done it, but it’s what he wants the most. His mouth is watering.

Percy’s back is straight where he’s pressed up against the door, up to his full height. Rath has to look up at him, and the front of their bodies press together when Rath closes the small gap between them.

“Um,” he says, and Percy looks at him so patiently, eyes clear and soft and warm, and it’s Percy, it’s just Percy, he knows him and he trusts him more than anyone in this world, and that’s the thought that gives him the courage to keep speaking. “I want to blow you.”

Percy chokes. “Rath—”

“And I’ve never done it before,” he interrupts, a little hysterical with it, because he’s imagined this a million times in his bed, in his shower, and it’s happening now, in real life. “I won’t be any good. But I really, really fucking want to.”

“Fuck, Rath, you can do anything you want—”

And that’s really all Rath needs to hear.

He goes straight to his knees on the linoleum floor, thankful for the flexibility of practice shorts.

Percy’s looking down at him with dark eyes, pupils dilating in the bright lights, mouth wide open at the sight in front of him, and Rath has to press the heel of his hand into the bulge in his pants, to relieve himself just a touch.

“Rath,” Percy says again, and his voice is so raw, so low, that it sends tingles down Rath’s spine.

Rath knows his hands are shaking as he pulls Percy’s shorts down, and it takes him longer than it should to get them down around his legs. Percy’s looking down at him like he’s hungry for it, and Rath’s wanted this for so long that he feels like his mind is in overdrive with it.

“God, I’ve wanted to—” Rath gasps, voice breathy, “You have no idea.”

Percy makes a high pitched noise above him, like maybe he does have an idea, and it almost immediately turns into something more strained and urgent when Rath just—reaches right in and pulls his cock out.

Rath’s thought about this a lot. It’s a little fucked up how much he’s thought about it, honestly—he should maybe feel a little bad about it—but now that he’s here, now that it’s real, he’s never going to survive on just thinking about it again.

Because Percy is making these quiet little noises above him, and Rath’s got his hand around his cock, and it’s hot and hard and flushed and a little wet at the tip, and—and he’s got no idea what the fuck to do.

He’s not going to panic, because if Percy sees it in his eyes and tucks himself back into his pants and says they can always do this another time, Rath might die about it.

He wants it so bad.

He takes a few breaths to calm himself and then gives a few experimental tugs, and nearly comes just from the noises Percy starts to make.

Rath moves a little closer, his mouth only inches away. His heart is racing so hard that Percy can probably hear it, but whenever he looks up, he’s hit with that same thought from earlier: This is Percy. He trusts him. “Can you—I don’t know how to…”

Percy rests a hand in his hair, gentle and soothing. “Spit in your hand. Make me wet.”

He feels filthy. His knees are already aching and whenever he brings his hand back to Percy’s cock, he grips him tighter, watching with wide eyes as every movement makes him wetter.

There’s a soft bang, and when Rath looks up, Percy’s got his head thrown against the door, looking up at the ceiling like he’s already about to start losing it.

“Percy–” Rath starts.

Percy slowly lowers his chin, looks at Rath with his mouth parted, eyes a second away from fluttering closed. “Go slow. You can—don’t try to do everything at once.”

Rath gets close, close, closer, and Percy’s so fucking big, just like everything else about him. He doesn’t even think, just—licks from the base to tip, humming curiously at the unfamiliar taste.

Percy’s head hits the door again, and it’s—they’re loud, and the thrill of it makes Rath’s blood a little hotter.

He’s out of his mind, Percy drives him so crazy.

He allows himself to go slow, getting used to the way Percy feels on his tongue, the warmth, the taste. He puts both hands on Percy’s huge thighs and only uses his mouth, tongue out, jaw wide open.

“Here,” Percy says, and then he’s moving to hold onto his own cock, keeping it steady, moving his hips forward so the tip rubs against Rath’s tongue, slow. “Fuck—Rath.”

He can imagine how the sight must be—him on his knees, mouth wide open, Percy moving so carefully, letting him go at his own pace.

After a minute, Rath turns his head just a little, so he can speak. Percy’s cock hits his cheek, smearing precome near his jaw. “I want to—stay still.”

Percy’s panting again, and he immediately stills his hips. His hand is working over himself, barely, slowly, because he can’t seem to help himself. “Okay.”

Rath moves forward again, and he thinks about all the porn he’s watched and everything he’s seen. He doesn’t give himself time to overthink it. He just goes right in like last time—teeth covered, stopping once he’s a little past the head of Percy’s cock.

It’s—new. It’s new and it’s a little weird, the weight and warmth on his tongue, and he’s not at all used to it, but it’s so fucking hot that his brain stops working.

He’s nowhere near taking the whole thing in his mouth, but his throat already wants to start screaming at him to get out of there.

He bobs his head once, moving his tongue underneath the tip, and Percy hisses, his free hand going back into Rath’s hair, and Rath moans at everything—completely overwhelmed.

He wants to talk to him, but he’s trying to move just a little deeper. Percy said don’t try to do everything at once, but it’s so fucking hard to listen when he’s dreamed about this more times than he can count.

Rath keeps breathing through his nose and bobbing his head.

His technique is sloppy and he keeps choking a little, the noise obscene in the small space, and his jaw is starting to ache, but Percy’s looking at him and babbling, “That’s it, that’s it, you’re–fuck, you look so good, Rath,” so it’s not a surprise when he can’t take it anymore.

He starts to rub himself through his shorts. He doesn’t give a fuck about the mess he’s about to make, he just closes his eyes and listens to Percy.

“Fuck, Rath–You look so good on your knees for me.”

And something about that—something about those words, has Rath trembling and coming in his pants with a muffled moan around Percy’s cock.

He’s shaking so much from the intensity of it, hands clenched at Percy’s thighs, so fucking lost in it that he can’t even find it in himself to cringe at the way his underwear is quickly becoming ruined. He doesn’t care.

“Rath, Rath, I’m close—”

Rath doesn’t get off, he stays there and gets his hand around the base of him again when Percy’s falls to his side, mouth wide open, and tries his best not to choke when he feels Percy start to come down his throat.

His eyes water, but he forces them to stay open, because Percy’s mouth is hanging in a silent moan, a vein is straining in his neck, he’s flushed, his eyes are rolling back, and he still looks like a fucking dream. The hand in Rath’s hair is gentle, a soft grip that he barely registers.

He swallows everything down and Percy’s sighing out his name over and over, and Rath’s ruined.

He finally pops off, panting, mouth tingling.

There’s a little bit of spit going down his chin, and his neck is wet and his pants are wet, and there’s no way they’re going to be able to get back out there.

They’re going to have to sneak out of the back and hope to God nobody stops them to say goodbye.

“Fuck,” Percy says, voice shaking, and he very lazily gets himself back into his underwear, pulls his shorts back up. “I fucking forgot where we are.”

Rath huffs out a rough laugh, jaw aching. “Shut up. You—I can’t believe we did that.“

Percy holds his hands out and Rath takes them, getting pulled up from the ground easily, and they both laugh like idiots.

A knock on the door interrupts them, and they spring apart like they've been caught.

"Cap? You in there?" It's JP's voice, carefully casual. "Coach wants to see you in his office."

"Coming," Percy calls back, his voice admirably steady.

He opens the door to find JP waiting in the hallway, his expression carefully neutral but his eyes knowing.

"Everything alright?" JP asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer.

"Just going over power play options," Percy replies smoothly. "Rath had some good insights about creating space in the slot."

JP's gaze flicks between them, taking in Percy's slightly flushed face and Rath's obvious effort to look casual. "I'm sure he did. Very... thorough analysis, I bet."

As Percy heads toward Coach's office, JP falls into step beside Rath as they head back to the locker room.

"You two are about as subtle as a freight train," JP says quietly, but his tone is fond rather than critical.