Brown Sugar

Basketball season started up and, as usual, Mo joined the team—being the second tallest in his class and the swiftest on his feet. He somehow convinced Angel to sign up as the team manager, seeking to spend more time with the male. Besides, colleges ate that shit up.

After a terrible game, the score and losing players shot to shit, Mo was depressed—feeling the loss to be his responsibility and sulked around the locker room until everyone else had left. Angel was busy chatting with their coach; he was smooth-talking the man into letting Mo out of practice for the weekend, so they could chill. The stubborn man miraculously relented and the Latino triumphantly strutted towards the showers, where he had guessed Mo was, to inform him of his awesome news.

Prancing back, Angel heard the water still running, the sound of water ricocheting off of bare skin, and assumed the mystery person in the stall was his boyfriend, seeing as how the locker room was cleared for the night and it was his duty to lock up anyways. He waited patiently and seated himself on the benches, half-heartedly attempting to write an essay that just was not flowing. He sighed in frustration, shoving the binder back into his bag and called for Mo. Receiving no reply; he made his way over and tapped on the curtain, calling his name again.

Water turned off and a barely audible, 'sorry' was heard. A white towel slid from the curtain rod and Mo exited with it still wrapped around his waist, water droplets dotting his shoulders and chest.

"Sorry I took so long," he mumbled.

Angel's mouth went dry while his mind explored a plethora of scenarios in which the darker male was pinned somewhere gasping his name. His eyes were currently glued to a rogue water droplet taking a quick journey down Mo's muscled torso that disappeared into his towel.

"Um. Yea"

The downtrodden powerhouse hadn't noticed, still pouting over a ridiculous loss. Angel managed to control his newfound urges by twirling his rings around, shifting them up and down until the motion twisted his insides again and his mind spiraled back into the gutter.

Mo practically zombie-walked to his locker for his clothes and Angel followed closely behind, while his brown orbs admired the dip of his back. He'd seen the B-boy without a shirt before but now that they were something more the sight appeared more intimate. Worried about Mo, knowing how hard his ego had crashed today and understanding the reasons why, he set out to cheer him up—formulating some sort of plan of comfort.

Fiddling with his lock, his mind a mess and nerves fried to a crisp, Mo growled in frustration, yanking on the lock furiously, passively venting. Warm arms circled around his chilled middle and a pair of soft lips found his damp shoulder blades.

"Don't lose yourself. It wasn't your fault," Angel whispered, attempting to console the B-boy. His heart was pounding its way up his throat, despite his usually confident nature.

Feeling needy, he leaned into him, only slightly relieved now. "I could've done better than that shit out there."

Angel hugged him closer and spoke frankly, "Does that really matter? The team lost anyways."

The Latino felt him tense from his response and he mentally scolded himself, feeling like a jackass. Seeking repentance, his hands traveled further up, fingertips gliding across ribs before descending to down to the rim of his starchy, white towel. One hand instinctively reached for the folding holding the towel to his waist for safety, the other gripped a playful pair of hands that wrapped around his instantly.

"Angel, what's goin' on?"

"Trust me on this," Angel chuckled; warm breath washing over Mo's left side, his laughter reverberating through him, forming in Angel's chest and transferring to his back. If his skin wasn't a rich brown then he would've been an exceptionally bright shade of red.

Angel nuzzled his cheek with his own, "Look 'it me."

Mo turned and was greeted with a warm smile, bright teeth inviting him closer, and Angel kissed him fervently, quickly adding his tongue to the mix.

The prankster felt alive again.

With his guard dropped, his hands moved up to cradle a smooth face and weave through his hair. Mo found that the Puerto Rican liked his hair being played with, tugged on even. Gripping a handful of hair, he broke the kiss with a wet pop, and yanked Angel's head back. The Puerto Rican let out a deep groan, rattling Mo's frame and the anxious B-boy attacked his neck, tagging what was his.

"So rough, conejito." Angel commented, noting Mo's change in demeanor, willing to let the B-boy have his fun regardless.

Mo's harsh bites turned to soft nibbles, tongue dabbing at the abused areas in apology, as he muttered out a sheepish, "I got carried away."

Angel shook his head, "Let it all out."

Despite the permission, Mo continued with softer ministrations, shaking with excitement instead of anger.

Loving lips roamed down, teeth nipping at his collarbone, tongue occasionally swiping it. Angel sighed happily, pushing Mo against the lockers to seriously study him once kisses began to trail from between his abs and lower. A ringed index lifted Mo's chin up, warm honey eyes gazing into half-lidded ambers, "I owe you".

Unsure as to what exactly Angel meant, he nodded, allowing the other to lead again. Tanned hand unworked the knot on the side of Mo's waist, but clasped it together, holding it up on toned hips and seated Mo on the bench attached to the lockers.

Mo shook, nervous and cold, his back hitting the lockers and causing loud rattles and obnoxious bangs to echo through the room.

Mimicking Mo from the night he confessed, the night Angel felt he owed him for, he murmured out a velvety, "Lemme fix ya up."

The joke helped in microscopic heaps but Mo still felt queasy. Angel dropped to his knees noting how fucking hard the floor was and smiled up at the wide-eyed tagger.

Mo's hands were squeezed in tight fists, nervously clenching and unclenching, until Angel's own wrapped around them.

"I'm just as nervous as you are." The Puerto Rican was serious, but was rewarded with a light-hearted but disbelieving laugh. The brunette sure as hell didn't look nervous, only confident as ever, and he looked like he knew what he was doing, so Mo just had to ask, "Ya ever do this 'fore?"

"Not to a guy." He answered honestly and the darker male's mind froze, then thawed out, suddenly wondering what exactly Angel did before now.

His musings were cut short when Angel nuzzled his stomach with his cheek, one hand idly squeezing Mo's side, the other holding the towel together. Heated kisses traveled lower, to his navel and Angel formed a ring around it with his tongue, swirling around before dipping inside and the other let out a sharp gasp. Angel shifted slightly, the light taste of soap and Mo complimented each other, as well as provide a great distraction from the pain in his knees. He peeled the fabric back lovingly, almost as if he were unwrapping a gift.

He wasn't exactly prepared, not planning this in any way whatsoever and recalled the techniques his past girls used to get him off. Briefly wondering if he could master them, or at least attempt them, he opted for experimenting with most of what he'd received at one point.

Mo gasped sharply from the cold air and unconsciously widened his legs to allow the other better access. Angel had no problem coaxing his half-hardened member to life in his smooth hands and Mo squirmed, a deep whine gurgling from deep in his throat when a slick muscle flicked the head. The Latino didn't find the taste to be unpleasant, just different—especially from his own. Licking a broad line up his length, he swirled his tongue around the head before wrapping his lips around it and leisurely slipping it into his mouth. Mo moaned underneath him, hands tearing at the unfortunate cloth he was seated on.

Angel smirked, pleased with the progress he made so far, tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth and lightly sucking. He eased more into his mouth, relishing the taste, Mo's disoriented panting, and the way Mo could hardly form his name properly. He was unable to see Mo's face twisting in pleasure but could spy fingers gripping fabric harshly. An idea danced around in his mind and he lifted the desperate hand and rested it in his hair, urging him to guide him. Mo instantly obliged, slowly pushing Angel further down, hips bucking up suddenly with a loud moan, catching Angel by surprise. Inexperienced, he choked, earning him embarrassment but Mo eased up, grating at his lip with his canines to maintain a level head while petting his brown locks.

Teeth barely scraped pleasantly across his cock once or twice and Mo's head rolled in ecstasy against the faded grey lockers, panting phrases that would make a slut seem virgin. His hand was pushing down more than it was pulling up, while the other blindly gripped around for non-existent leverage above his head. Angel's head soon began bobbing on his own accord, setting his own rhythm, one that was faster than the tempo Mo ordered. Angel dragged his mouth up the heated flesh, digging his tongue into the slit, before quickly descending with his wet lips touching the base. The darker male couldn't control himself when Angel swallowed tightly around him, and his lower half shot up, trying to buck into the warm cavern. A ringed hand slammed his hips back down, trying to avoid the last predicament and hummed a warning.

The feeling made him see stars and he arched perfectly off the locker as he climaxed, his heels digging into the linoleum tiles and both hands fisting tufts of hair. His body was still suspended, slim hips convulsing, his flaccid member twitching in Angel's mouth. He keened loudly as the Puerto Rican lapped at oversensitive flesh, licking up what he had missed the first time around.

Both boys panted hard, Angel's cheek laid on Mo's tingling thigh, before he languidly hoisted himself up and plopped next to the B-boy, blissfully unaware of the throbbing in both his knees in favor of pleasing the other. The suave Latino caught his breath first and laced his fingers with Mo's and kissed the colored knuckles before slipping on a silver ring to one of his digits. Mo peered down though fluttering eyelashes, head still swirling in euphoria and entire body basking in the afterglow. He cocked his head, giving the other a curious look.

"I'm here for you. Te amo," he purred.

Mo shivered at the words, then his whole face cracked into a wide grin that wakened his tired features and he eagerly kissed the other, unexpectedly tasting himself on his friend. The couple cuddled into each other's warmth until their asses numbed and made their way home.