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bobofrog64 · 2 years

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II. ALLIOUT

“The wasted years, the wasted youth The pretty lies, the ugly truth And the day has come where I have died Only to find I've come alive” — Teen Idle. Marina

Ocean Alliout namorou Jason Clarke anos atrás. Quando os dois estavam no início da adolescência, buscando experiências e confundindo facilmente o amor de melhores amigos com algo romântico e único. Demorou quase um ano até que os dois finalmente despertassem de suas próprias idiotices e terminassem aquele relacionamento conveniente. O Alliout ruivo, contudo, havia encontrado certo conforto em exibir Jason para os pais. Ele levava o amigo para jantares de famílias e eventos espalhafatosos dos Alliout como acompanhante, evitando qualquer tipo de comentário sobre Ocean não estar namorando.

Porém, naquele ano, Jason estava perdidamente apaixonado por Leonardo Diaz do Ano 13 e Ocean teria que arrumar outro par para a Festa de Primavera dos Alliout.

Minerva e Maxine Alliout eram bons irmãos. Porém, os dois também eram extremamente intrometidos, difíceis de entender e obcecados por controle, o que fazia com que os dois gêmeos cuidassem do irmão mais novo de uma maneira casualmente atípica. Isso significava que ambos, assim que descobriram sobre o namoro de Jason e Leo, ficaram esperando avidamente a primeira oportunidade que teriam para jogar uma pessoa aleatória nos braços de Ocean, torcendo para que seu irmãozinho se apaixonasse imediatamente.

O problema não era exatamente a iniciativa dos gêmeos, Ocean sabia que eles tinham a melhor das intenções. E sim, que eles escolhiam as piores pessoas possíveis, resultando em encontros desastrosos e embaraçosos tanto para Ocean quanto para a pobre vítima escolhida pelos Alliout. Em contrapartida, o ruivo mais novo não conseguia expressar o quanto odiava tudo aquilo, porque sabia que os mais velhos eram esquisitos e péssimos demonstrando carinho. E o único momento em que não estavam em pé de guerra era quando estavam pensando em ajudar o irmão.

— Okay, eu e o Max conversamos. Nós escolhemos quatro garotos e você só pode vetar um — Minerva tinha acabado de sair do treino, mas parecia pronta para qualquer coisa. Seu cabelo estava preso em um rabo de cavalo e o uniforme do time de Lacrosse mal estava suado, como se ela nem tivesse corrido.

Não demorou muito para Maxine praticamente brotar do outro lado de Ocean. Ele estava com o cabelo molhado, o que fez Ocean assumir que ele devia estar na natação. Ele logo comprovou sua teoria ao sentir o cheiro de cloro em suas roupas.

— Na verdade… – Ocean começou baixinho, mas suspirou de exaustão antes de tentar contrariar qualquer um deles.

— Aquele loiro idiota vai se arrepender de ter trocado você por um nanico qualquer, melhor ainda, aquele loiro idiota não era o suficiente para você – Ocean parou de ouvir o discurso do irmão, Maxine se tornava um coach chato quando o assunto era levantar a autoestima de Ocean — [...] um garoto lindo e doce, você merece, outra dica é que não escolha garotos loiros de novo, então elimine o menino loiro da lista, Minerva que escolheu — ele finalizou com uma careta, o que fez Ocean revirar os olhos.

— Vocês são adoráveis e eu amo os dois, mas não preciso de ajuda no momento, ok? Já tenho uma pessoa para levar, nós estamos conversando a algum tempo e acho que é uma boa escolha levá-lo a festa – Ocean não tem uma pessoa para levar e não faz ideia de como sua boca está se movendo agora para mentir.

— Owwn!!! – Minerva o abraçou de lado e começou a pular, o balançando

— Você tem um namorado! – seus irmãos falam juntos e os três se encaram depois disso, os rostos parecidos se contorcem em uma careta — Não me imite! – eles repetem juntos novamente — Pare de falar junto comigo, idiota!

Ocean sente que está no meio de duas bombas prestes a explodir, o abraço de Minerva se torna desconfortável e apertado. É uma situação de desespero, porque ele pode sentir o espaço que ele usa para andar, gradualmente diminuindo até ele quase tropeçar nos dois. Ocean se sente sem ar, nada mais passa corretamente em sua cabeça. A não ser a vontade incessante de fazer aquilo parar.

— Tabitha Bishop! – ele grita. Ocean com certeza está imaginando, mas jura que ouviu os neurônios de seus irmãos explodindo — Estou namorando com ele, não é só uma coisa de momento, mas estávamos tímidos para contar a outras pessoas ainda…

A maior mentira que Ocean já contou em sua vida consegue ficar ainda pior e agora ele enfiara Tab no meio. Como se o garoto loiro não parecesse descontente o suficiente de ter que passar tempo com ele, nas poucas ocasiões em que eles estiveram juntos. E agora, com a atenção dos dois gêmeos nele, Ocean quase se sente como uma carne jogada aos lobos. Maxine parece tentar absorver a informação e Minerva está sorrindo assustadoramente, Ocean coloca as mãos no rosto e suspira pesadamente. Aquilo definitivamente havia sido um erro.

— Ele é loiro… – Maxine resmungou com um biquinho.

— Ele é perfeito! – Minerva exclama tão empolgada que recebe olhares feios das pessoas que estão passando.

O ruivo sentiu as bochechas começando a arder de vergonha quando percebeu todos os olhares que estava recebendo. Ele amava seus irmãos, mas fugia como uma praga deles quando estavam na escola, todos aqueles olhares o deixavam a um passo de correr.

Tab passando, do outro lado do corredor, foi quem o arrancou do mundinho de seus irmãos. Ele parecia uma bagunça adorável. A blusa branca listrada colada em seu corpo, por ser um pouco menor do que deveria. O cabelo loiro úmido e bagunçado. Ele parecia ter corrido. Ele parecia…

Ocean chacoalhou a cabeça e lançou um olhar para os gêmeos, eles estavam familiarizados para entenderem o que significava. Os dois se afastaram imediatamente. Murmurando algo sobre esperá-lo no carro e dando sorrisinhos sugestivos que Ocean ignorou. Ele seguiu na direção de Tab, sua cabeça planejando formas de contar para o mais velho a besteira que tinha o enfiado.

— Que porra você quer comigo? — foi a primeira coisa que ele disse.

Ocean se assustou com a pergunta e tentou disfarçar cruzando os braços. Ele nem prestou atenção na fala em si. Estava preocupado demais elaborando um discurso pouco problemático. O sorriso estampado no rosto do ruivo era tão desajeitado quanto sua postura. Era bem difícil se concentrar entre estar nervoso e ter pensamentos confusos sobre como Tab ficava ainda mais atraente depois do treino.

— Desculpa — Ocean respondeu rapidamente, logo que os segundos em silêncio pareceram horas.

— Não. Des-

— Eu fui estúpido — os dois disseram ao mesmo tempo. Eles ficaram em silêncio novamente e então Tab fez menção de deixar Ocean continuar —Eu precisava falar com você sobre uma coisa.

— Os horários de plantão estão na sala do nosso Form Group — Tab logo comentou, virando para voltar a andar.

Deus, ele realmente odiava Ocean. Não tinha como aquela situação ficar melhor de maneira nenhuma. Mas ele já tinha dito o nome de Tab em voz alta e ele sinceramente não sabia o que seria pior, falar com Tab ou contar para os gêmeos que ele havia mentido. Em sua opinião, falar com Tab lhe causaria uma morte muito menos dolorosa.

— Não. Não é isso… Eu… Hã… Eu… — Merda. Agora, Ocean estava gaguejando. Ele respirou fundo e juntou as mãos — Acho que você sabe sobre as festas que minha família costuma fazer. O Summer sempre chama a Luci para elas. Bom, hum, eu sempre vou com um acompanhante, mas esse ano ele vai acompanhado de outra pessoa. E eu não ligo nada pra isso, na verdade. Mas meus irmãos.. Meus irmãos estão fazendo um show absurdamente idiota sobre a situação.

— Ta…

— E aí começou uma briga. E, como sempre, eu estava no meio deles. Má sorte, claro. E não seria muito legal ser machucado por aqueles dois sem noção — Ocean definitivamente estava tagarelando, era realmente uma sorte que Tabitha ainda não tivesse virado as costas e fugido para fora daquela conversa —Então, eu meio que acabei falando pra eles que nós dois estamos juntos e por isso iríamos juntos na festa — o tom de voz do garoto começou a diminuir gradualmente, ele não deixou Tab falar antes de continuar — Me desculpa por ter feito isso. Mas sério, se você puder ir à festa comigo e só fingir um pouco que estamos juntos para eles saírem do meu pé e esquecerem que eu existo. Eu posso fazer o que você quiser…

Quando Ocean finalmente parou de falar, Maxine e Minerva cruzaram o corredor novamente. Eles já não estavam no carro? Deus, o que Ocean havia feito para merecer aquele castigo. Antes que ele pudesse reagir, Tabitha foi mais rápido. Os braços do Bishop repentinamente estavam em seu braço, o encostando em um dos armários, o rosto próximo o suficiente para que parecesse que os dois estavam se beijando. Tabitha Bishop era realmente alguma coisa.

O rosto de Ocean estava tão vermelho quanto a gravata do uniforme. Nenhum dos dois falava e Tabitha estava olhando para cima, então Ocean olhou para baixo, esperando o momento passar. Apesar do constrangimento, não era desconfortável, Ocean quase desejou que Tab o beijasse de verdade. Talvez Ocean não tivesse escolhido o nome dele ao acaso.

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

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Kurtbastian fic - “A Dalton Boy Hotter than Hot” (Rated NC17)

Summary:

While in the steam room at his father’s country club, Sebastian encounters an intriguing man who’s not shy about taking what he wants. (3655 words)

Read on AO3.

“Hey, Sebastian!”

“Hey, Ms. Melanie!”

“Haven’t seen you here in a while!”

“Sorry. Been busy.” Sebastian reaches out a hand for a locker key. “School, lacrosse, getting ready for graduation, you know how it is.”

“Absolutely!” Her smile grows as she hands him a towel from the warming cabinet beside her desk. “My Mark’s going through the same. I barely see him poke his head out of his room on the weekends with all the homework school gives the seniors.”

“Yeah. You think they’d let up a bit considering we’re leaving.”

“Not a chance! For the money we spend to send you kids to Dalton, they’d better stuff you full of knowledge right up to the very end!”

“Trust me, they’ve been doing that all year. It would be nice if they let us relax.”

“You can relax when you’re dead!” Melanie laughs at her own joke, and Sebastian laughs with her. Usually he wouldn’t. He’d roll his eyes and walk away. He wouldn’t be polite about it either, so he’s sure Melanie has noticed over the years. And yet, here she is, as sweet and kind as ever, teasing him as if he were an old friend.

What an ass he’s been, treating her like she’s beneath him because she worked at his father’s country club handing out towels and her son went to Dalton on scholarship! He didn’t do it intentionally. It was always more of a subconscious reaction than a consciously decided action – the unforeseen side-effect of quote/unquote good breeding and constant exposure to the right people.

But he still did it.

He has no problem standing up for himself when sacks of shit like Hunter think they’re his betters, but when is the last time he stood up for someone else? Someone who couldn’t give him anything in return?

Maybe this is what growing up is – realizing your shit stinks more than you think it does and doing your best to keep it downwind. He’d like to say he came to that realization on his own, but it’s more than likely a symptom of the company he’s been keeping.

Company that’s humbled him both figuratively and literally.

He waves goodbye to Melanie and heads for the locker room, making a mental note to find Mark the next time he’s on campus and invite him to the commons for coffee.

He peels off his uniform and tosses it in his locker, rolling his shoulder after every article he removes. He took a few hard hits on the field today. Normally, it wouldn’t be so bad, but Hunter seemed to have it out for him. Probably because Sebastian was named MVP of yesterday’s game.

Plus, he got some ass last night to boot. That had to irk Hunter, who hasn’t gotten his dick wet in God knows when.

Sebastian wraps the towel around his waist before he slips out of his underwear. He’s not self-conscious about his body by any means. At Dalton, he has no qualms about tossing off all his clothes in the locker room after practice and strutting to the shower naked.

But this place isn’t like the locker room at school.

The boys at Dalton keep their eyes to themselves. They respect one another’s boundaries. Even if that’s simply a consequence of Dalton’s zero tolerance bullying policy, it makes for a safe and pleasant environment.

Not here.

Coming here alone after school has opened Sebastian’s eyes to a lot of things about the so-called real world - realizations that are cartoonish in their absurdity.

One of them being that married men think about sex … a lot.

Not necessarily with their partners.

And even though straight adult men around his father’s age might turn up their noses at sex with another adult male, that doesn’t mean teenaged boys are off the table. Maybe it’s because they’re attracted to youth and youth can be considered androgynous. Smooth skin and a tight ass doesn’t need to belong to a specific gender to make it appealing.

It could also be ego – the alpha inside them eager to dominate a perceived up-and-coming alpha to prove they’ve still got it. They may never act on it, not in a million years. They may even deny it.

But their eyes tell a different story.

Sebastian enters the thick cloud of steam and walks to the far end of the room, finds an empty space and sits. Finding an unoccupied bench isn’t as easy as it sounds. It’s seven in the evening and fairly crowded for a weeknight.

It always is.

Sebastian judges heavily the men gathered here who should be at home having dinner with their families. It grosses him out how many of these old farts stare at him while he sits on his bench, trying to ignore their slimy existences. He knows a handful of them – not well, not by name. But he’s seen them around the club, old money and new money alike, in the main dining hall, out on the links when he golfs with his dad, over by the pool, a lot of them with their wives and kids.

That makes it worse.

Away from their significant others, they look him over like he’s a meal, licking their lips behind the veil of steam, some with their eyes glued to his brand as if they know what it represents. And that makes him wonder …

Do they want to own him, or be him?

The question makes his skin crawl but he doesn’t leave. Sebastian came here because he needed to get away from school, from people who barge into his room uninvited and talk his ear off endlessly without taking a breath, as if they don’t see him eight hours out of the God dammed day.

But from Hunter especially.

Sebastian had a feeling Hunter would stop by his room after his shower, and he wasn’t in the mood for his crap. It filled him head to toe with tension that he didn’t need, felt it accumulate in his sore shoulder – the same shoulder as his brand.

The brand Hunter hated with a passion.

So Sebastian chose getting ogled over by pathetic old men in exchange for peace and quiet.

Seems like a reasonable exchange.

He rolls his head back on his neck and closes his eyes, and the second he does, he becomes the center of attention. He doesn’t need to see the men looking at him. He knows. He feels eyes on him, eyes that shamelessly stare, and out of pure, morbid curiosity, he opens his again to check.

To silently call them out, shame those of them who have some shame left.

A handful of men do look away. Most of the others can’t be bothered, going so far as to rub their erections through their towels as if in invitation.

Make Sebastian reconsider his seat.

But amidst the sea of flabby bellies and greying hair, Sebastian spots a man he swears he’s never seen before. He doesn’t fit in with the other fogies, which is a mark in his favor. He’s not flabby in the slightest, not a grey hair to be seen. He’s an older man, but not a dad.

More like a Daddy if Sebastian ever saw one.

From his toned arms and chest to his striking blue eyes, he cuts quite the picture. Sebastian wonders if the pudgy masses haven’t been sizing him up, too. Maybe once or twice, but not the way they do with Sebastian. They wouldn’t dare. This man gives off some serious apex predator vibes.

And right now, he has his sights set on Sebastian.

This man is gorgeous, which is not a word Sebastian tosses around lightly. He can only recall using it one other time - to describe his Porsche.

Fitting since this man is another thing he’s dying to ride.

That thought must manifest on his face because the man smirks and raises a questioning brow. Sebastian nods. He swallows hard. He inclines his head slightly toward the door, attempting to extend a subtle invitation. Sebastian knows nothing of ‘steam room etiquette’ except what he’s seen in a few cheesy ass pornos. He doesn’t even know if anything like that goes on here. He’d only started coming here on his own recently and it’s definitely not a place he’d choose to look for sex.

But there are exceptions to every rule, and this man is one fine exception.

Is Sebastian actually going to do this? Here? After having judged everyone else around him so harshly for thinking the same thing this man’s probably thinking?

Yes. Yes, he is.

He doesn’t know this man from Adam, but he’s different from the rest if for no other reason than, if he is married, he has the decency not to wear his ring.

So if he’s down to fuck, why not?

With eyes locked on those intoxicating steely blues, Sebastian rises from his bench and makes his way out of the steam room, heading for one of the more private rooms down the hall.

Ones with locks on the doors.

A skeevy guy Sebastian swears once asked his dad for stock advice a while back reaches for his towel as he passes, and Sebastian responds the same way his father had: “Not fucking likely.”

Sebastian doesn’t turn his head to see if he’s being followed – unwise considering the wrong man may have picked up on his invitation and Mr. Sexy AF may have stayed behind. But the mere chance that that man is behind him, following him down this hall, has Sebastian aroused eight ways till Sunday, the extreme tenting of his towel leading him like some obscene beacon. He goes to the farthest room and peeks in.

It’s empty.

Perfect.

If the man follows him in, it will prove they’re on the same page.

That he wants him.

Sebastian walks inside.

He leaves the door open.

It’s not a large room – roughly the size of his Dalton dorm room, maybe a few feet bigger, with benches along the wall to seat about five people. There’s another bench near the center, mounted in front of a square pedestal that comes up to Sebastian’s stomach. The top of the pedestal is recessed to hold rocks and heated underneath. Pouring water on the rocks produces steam. The more water added, the more steam produced. It billows up and over the rocks, down the column of the pedestal, and fills the room from corner to corner.

In a room this size, it’s effective at keeping things hot.

Sebastian heads for the rocks and begins ladling water over them.

Behind him, he hears the door close … and lock.

Sebastian stops ladling.

He still doesn’t know if the person behind him is the man he wants, and even though it’s going to cause one hell of a headache if it’s not him, these last moments of uncertainty provide their own erotic thrill.

The man doesn’t insult Sebastian’s intelligence, doesn’t employ any pretense, doesn’t sit down on one of the benches to make it seem like he’s there for any other reason than to pursue his prize. He puts a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, palm pressing into his brand, and spins him around.

And there he is – sculpted cheekbones, toned chest, blue eyes and all. He stares pointedly into Sebastian’s face and says, “Tell me to leave.”

Sebastian grins. “Why would I do that? I led you here.”

The man puts a bold hand on Sebastian’s ass and pulls him close. Sebastian feels every inch of the man against him – unforgiving planes and muscles, including his cock, resting against his own. “If we do this,” he whispers, “am I going to be your first?”

“Does that matter?”

“Not if it doesn’t matter to you. I just wanted to make sure you’re not the wine and roses type.”

“Actually, I think I’m the fast and hard in a steam room type.”

The man grins. “You jewel.” He grabs Sebastian by the back of the neck and kisses him, reaching for their towels and tugging them away, tossing them on the bench behind. Salty sweat on skin mix, dripping down Sebastian’s upper lip till he can taste it on his tongue. The man reaches for their cocks and strokes them together. Sebastian’s stomach spasms. He doesn’t know how to react, where to put his hands, how to participate. This is happening so fast, it makes Sebastian’s head spin. This man isn’t like the boys Sebastian has made out with, fondled, felt up, jerked off. This man knows what he’s doing, knows what he wants. He pushes Sebastian down onto the towel-covered bench with no hesitation, gets on his knees, and sucks Sebastian off, holding on to his hips a little too hard.

But Sebastian likes it.

“Jesus Christ!” he groans, hands locking onto the bench beneath him and holding tight. He’d always considered himself well-endowed, but this man has no trouble with him, taking him all the way down his throat without gagging an inch. The man goes at him hard. Sebastian tries to back up, to slow him down, but the man won’t have it, squeezing his hips harder, digging his thumbs into pressure points until Sebastian submits. And submit he does, lying back like a lion in surrender, arms and legs draped over the sides, his abs tense but his mind giving up control, allowing only for the uttering of one weak word: “Yes … yes … yes …” Muscles in his thighs and biceps twitch as he fights not to cum, but there’s little he can do to combat this man’s voracious mouth and his exceptionally talented tongue.

Sebastian cums.

The man’s mouth disappears, and the air around Sebastian’s cock cools even though the room is sweltering.

“Oh, God,” he moans, nearly rolling off the bench in his attempt to stand.

“Nu-uh.” The man puts a hand to his branded shoulder and pushes him down. “I’m not done with you yet. Not by a long shot.”

“Good,” Sebastian growls. He may be out of his league, but that doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying it. “But I’m not too sure I can get hard again right away after that.”

“Let me worry about that. Besides, I don’t need you hard. I need you open.”

“Then open me up.” Sebastian realizes that’s a dangerous thing to say to a stranger in a locked room, but it’s hot in here, and he’s still riding high off that orgasm. Between steam and lust, he’s feeling woozy.

“So, you like being used?” The man grabs Sebastian’s ass cheeks and pulls them apart, spending a long time just looking without touching.

“As long as you’re doing the using.”

The man chuckles. “You don’t even know me.”

“Do I have to?”

“That depends …” The man spits onto his fingers and wipes them over Sebastian’s asshole in a crude attempt at lubrication “… you’re not going to get attached to me or anything, are you? I’m not sure I need you following me around like a puppy dog.”

“Hey, you followed me, remember?” Sebastian grits his teeth when he feels one finger, slick with spit and sweat, make its way inside his body. It doesn’t hurt. Sebastian’s too relaxed for it to hurt.

“But you led me in here. You said so yourself.”

Another finger joins the first, and despite Sebastian’s mellow exhaustion, he starts bucking back.

“A-ha. I led you in here so you could fuck me, not talk about it. So why don’t you get on with it?”

The flat of a hand smacks his ass as a third finger forces its way inside. It stings like all get out, but when Sebastian clenches, he and the man behind him moan.

“God!” the man growls, fingers disappearing. The head of his cock replaces them at Sebastian’s entrance, becoming his sole focus. “I’ve gotta be in you! Now!”

“What? No condom?” Sebastian teases. He doesn’t have enough blood left in his brain to recognize that this is one of those moments they warn you about in sex-ed. He’s so far gone for this man, so ready to be fucked, he couldn’t care less about the consequences.

“Nah. I need to feel you.” The man’s voice shakes as he eases inside Sebastian’s body, snapping his hips and fucking him before he’s even all the way inside. But the first long thrust that slams Sebastian’s prostate brings his face straight to the bench.

“Fuck!” Sebastian grips the bench with knuckles white to keep from sliding off on his sweaty knees.

“Your wish is my command,” the man jokes, going back to what he seems to do best – fucking and fucking hard, spreading Sebastian’s cheeks wider and driving into him so deep, Sebastian swears he can feel the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. He’s tempted to ask this man if fucking is his day job, but he doesn’t because what if it is? What if that’s the reason he’s here? What if he’s a professional, making a few extra bucks trolling a den of pitiful rich old fucks stepping out on their wives?

If that’s the case, this man has earned so much of Sebastian’s respect.

If Sebastian has to fork over a few thou after this encounter, it’ll be well worth it to support him doing God’s work.

“Here …” the man switches positions, sitting on the bench and pulling Sebastian down on him “… sit on my lap. Help me out. Arms up. Hands behind your head.”

The posing makes it difficult for Sebastian to move, but a moment later, he realizes the need. The man’s arms wrap around him, his hands roaming his body from clavicle to cock, massaging muscles and toying with his nipples before they settle between his legs. The man fondles him – balls with one hand, shaft with the other – and Sebastian’s flaccid cock springs back with a vengeance.

So much for not being able to get hard right after. He just needed to find a man who knew his was around his body.

“Fuck … fuck … fuck … fuck …” Sebastian grunts, doing his best to keep going when what he wants to do is sit on this man’s cock and let him stroke him to completion.

“My, my, my, what a mouth you have. We really need to find some way to shut you up. Maybe with my dick next time. Whaddya think?”

“Yes,” Sebastian moans.

“I want you full of me,” the man grumbles, pushing down on Sebastian’s thighs with his forearms to make him go faster. “I wanna tie you down and take turns fucking you and having you suck me off. Whaddya think about that?”

“Ye—” Sebastian mutters, finding it impossible to speak the closer he gets to cumming, bobbing on this man’s cock becoming sheer but exquisite torture.

“Here …” The man holds Sebastian steady in a crouch position inches above his lap “… stay like that. Don’t move.” He leans back, starts driving his hips up, and Sebastian’s legs begin to shake. “You’re an athletic young man. You should be able to stay like that till I’m through with you.”

Sebastian’s tongue slips. He says something he had no intention of saying, no intention of calling anyone. “Yes … Sir …”

“Sir …” The man purrs. “I like the sound of that. I like the sound of that … very … much …” The man pulls Sebastian down into his lap and holds him there, bucking inside him with small, deliberate thrusts until his entire body devolves into seizure-like shakes, his cock pulsing inside him as he cums, trapped in Sebastian’s incredible heat.

And there’s so much of it – heat enveloping his cock, heat clinging to his skin, heat pouring down his hand as he wrings Sebastian’s cock dry, heat drying out his mouth and throat, making it difficult to breathe. With Sebastian pressing on his stomach, he feels like he might suffocate.

But all in all, this wouldn’t be too bad a way to go.

“Scene … scene …” Kurt mutters, unable to get the word over out of his mouth as he pants for air, comfortably crushed beneath Sebastian’s body in the irrepressible heat.

Sebastian gasps, bending at the waist, fighting to find cool air beneath the oppressive blanket of hot “So … what … did you think … of that … Master?”

“I think you have one hell of a dirty mind on you, preppy. Shit!” Kurt laughs, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s midsection, laying kisses over his spine. “I’m so glad I made you pick this time! I didn’t know this was one of those steam rooms! Your folks are really getting their money’s worth!”

“I—it’s … it’s not, Master,” Sebastian says, reluctant to reveal the truth with his Dom up his ass, kissing his back.

The kisses stop, and despite the world around them being somewhere in the vista of 110 degrees, Sebastian’s entire body freezes solid.

“It’s not?”

“Uh, no.”

“So, what you’re saying is …”

“We may want to jet before they call my dad.”

Sebastian can’t see Kurt’s reaction to this new information, and the longer he has to wait, the sicker he begins to feel. He expects to get yelled at, feel nails rake down his sides, maybe even get shoved to the floor.

Kurt snickering into his skin relaxes him a hair.

His full out guffawing lets Sebastian know everything’s going to be okay – between them, at least.

“Holy shit!” Kurt snorts, pushing Sebastian off his lap, but gently. “You really have issues with symbols of societal standing, don’t you?”

“I … guess? Is that bad, Master?”

“Not at all.” Kurt throws Sebastian a towel and ties his own around his waist. “I think I’m beginning to see why the fuck it is you and I get along so well.”

*** Notes:I personally feel that in a sexual relationship like Kurt and Sebastian’s, roleplaying is a really good way for us as the audience to get into the minds of the characters. You see the things that they don’t necessarily express in dialogue, even in inner monologue, including how they see themselves interacting with the world around them - how they feel despite what they say.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #Frankie writes

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shaylaraquel-blog · 5 years

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Is Cheerleading A Sport?

Ever wonder who thought of the idea to have girls cheering with pom poms in front of fans at a football game? Would you be surprised that it was accidentally founded by a man in 1898. Since early 1900’s women have dominated cheerleading and have since incorporated the 4 elements that make up cheerleading; Dance, Stunting, Tumbling and Jumps.

Despite all of the hard work it takes to be a cheerleader there is still a large controversy on if cheerleading is a sport. So what makes a sport a sport? And can something that was not intended on being a sport develop into one? My answer is absolutely. Have you noticed that there are some “Sports” at the Olympics that you have never seen or heard of before? That doesn’t mean they are not a sport. Some may argue that there is not a Cheerleading event at the Olympics therefore it is not a “real” sport, well there are so many other sports such as Football, lacrosse or the “American Sport” baseball who are not included in the Olympic games. Does this mean that they should not be considered sports but rather “ Activities”. Maybe it's the bias stereotype that cheerleading holds that it cannot be taken serious enough to be considered, maybe not making it an official sport is protecting the sport itself or maybe it doesn't meet the qualifications for it to be considered a sport, but if so what are the qualifications to have a sport considered an “official” sport?

So what is a sport? Well according to The oxford dictionary it defines the word “Sport” as “an activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment” Let's break this down, “an activity involving physical excretion”, cheerleading is very active between the four major elements it contains. Dancing: which is movement of the entire body and uses a lot of cardio. Tumbling: being able to through your body into the air over your head and being able to land back onto your feet. Stunting: which is using your body to hold and keep another cheerleader in the air and catching them on the way down. “ Skill in which an individual or team competes” Cheerleading does involve skill and not everyone has the skills to be a cheerleader. This is why competitions started, to judge the skill level of a cheerleading team. These skills can be tested on both a school- sponsored and all star competition level as they have different rules for each. “Others for entertainment” Cheerleading started to encourage the crowd whose team was down or apart of a losing streak. As all things evolve, it became known as purposely for entertainment on the sidelines and performing during timeouts and half-time breaks. I mean part of going to watch basketball or football games is the entertainment such as the “ Laker Girls” or “ Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders” you get to enjoy their presence and you can always count on the cheerleaders being there to be the entertainment on the sidelines regardless of how the game is actually going. Most half time performances involve cheerleaders or a collaboration with the cheerleaders and another form of entertainment. So according to the oxford dictionary’s guidelines, cheerleading is considered a sport.

With all sports there is a risk of injury and cheerleading is not different. The American Medical Association thinks, “in the name of safety that cheerleading should be considered a sport”. Cheerleading is the only physical sport that its surface changes. Cheerleading can be done on a mat (Competition) on a hard surface such as cement ( Parade), hardwood (basketball) or track flooring (Football) and risk of injury changes depending on the surface.Part of cheerleading is stunting which has cheerleaders hold other cheerleaders above their head and even sometimes on one foot, there is definitely a high risk for injury with gravity not being on our side. Did you know that Cheerleading accounts for 65% of all direct catastrophic injuries to girl athletes at a high school level and almost 71% at the college level according to a report from the American Academy of pediatrics in 2012. Those numbers alone should draw concern to how dangerous cheerleading is and it needs to be taken more seriously. So with an activity that is potentially so dangerous why has this not been considered a sport yet?

Unfortunately since it is not considered a sport, schools nor colleges support or claim to be liable for the safety of cheerleaders who are cheering for their own school. Did you know that there is no insurance provided to cheerleaders by the NCAA at a college level. All collegiate cheerleaders are required to have private insurance or if the school is wealthy enough the private “Club” will have insurance that is ran by their own organization or boosters. Cheerleaders are at risk of the same injuries that could happen to a football, soccer or basketball athlete that is covered by the NCAA, but they do not consider cheerleading a sport due to its “supportive, noncompetitive role in galvanizing fans to support other athletes” (A direct quote from the NCAA) while that is true, the job of a college cheerleader is to cheer on and support other athletes as well as encourage fans and student body, but in the second statement given by the NCAA is false and college cheerleaders also compete against other college cheerleaders in the college championships and therefore should be recognized as a sport.

Could cheerleading not being recognized as a sport have something to do with the fact that it would be one of the only sports with men and women on the same team and not divided by their sex? The only other sports are pairs ice skating, pairs tennis, and luge. But unlike those sports cheerleading does not have to have an equal male to female ratio for a team to compete against another team. Maybe it's because cheerleaders are 97% women? If we look at this at a sexist standpoint, it could be because this sport is made up of mostly women.If it was recognized as a real sport more men would be inclined to join and the percentage would change. May come as a shock to some but Cheerleading was invented by a man named John Campbell in 1898. John was very enthusiastic at a college game and on the spot made up the first ever “Cheer”. After that cheerleading became huge first within the college community but it then grew to high school and youth levels. How exciting as that is, it was not until 1923 that they even allowed women to be cheerleaders, and women have been fighting for equality in this sport ever since. Some may argue that gymnastics is also mostly women which is also true, but 21% of gymnasts are males unlike in cheerleading where there are only 3%. So maybe cheerleading needs more men to have it be considered a sport. But if that's the case its setting women equality back 100 years.

Some people think that cheerleading is not a sport because they think they don't have rules and regulations like traditional sports do. Cheerleading may not have a referee to enforce rules but cheerleading does have rules just like any other sport. There are time limits, legal moves, and you can be disqualified the same way you would be for a red or yellow card. Cheerleading in fact has its own safety association called American Association of Cheerleading Coaches and Administrators ( AACCA) as well as NFHS. They decide what stunts, tumbling and moves are legal from year to year. Movies such as a the “Bring It On” saga dramatize the rules that real cheerleaders have to follow, so all of the 3 men high stunts, belly rings and crop top uniforms are not allowed in traditional school level cheerleading. Bring it on also makes it seem like a club and not a sport because it doesn’t show a coach but just like any other sport, cheerleaders have to have a coach. There is a try out process, practices, summer boot camps, dress uniforms, and uphold academic and honor codes. There are other rules such as; all routines can be no longer than 2 minutes and 30 seconds, there are specific stunts that they cannot do on certain surfaces ( football track vs basketball hardwood) they can stunt and tumble while the ball is in play at football games but not while in play at basketball games and those are just a few of the rules that cheerleaders have to abide by, just like any other sport.

Some people in the cheerleading community are happy that cheerleading is not officially considered a sport. Most high schools have a limit on the amount of hours a team can practice or gather together each week, since cheerleading is not considered they do not have a limit. Besides taking time to learn dances, cheers, stunts and tumbling cheerleaders have to set aside time to make posters for their school and school athletics. They prepare and plan school events such as pep rallies, homecoming, alumni and end of the year dinners. Did you know that cheerleaders do not just cheer for football and basketball but also volleyball and wrestling which makes cheerleading a year round sport. If it was considered an official sport and had the limited 12 hour a week practice/gather time limit on it, cheerleaders would not be able to do half of the things that they do for their school and their schools athletics.

I believe that cheerleading is a sport because it requires an amazing amount of athleticism. From practices to competitions, cheerleaders face the same physical, mental and emotional obstacles that all other athletes in recognized sports face. It may not be in the Olympics or recognized by the NCAA but cheerleading is a competitive sport that will continue to evolve until the world recognizes it as what it is, a SPORT

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olivia-iris244 · 5 years

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Things to know about American Baseball

Baseball is one of the most popular outdoor games in the western countries. For some people it is not only a game but also a passion and a way of life. No matter the age and gender, everyone loves and plays this game the same. Baseball is often worshiped by teens and elders alike.Baseball is a professional game but the majority of the students in North America also play Baseball in school and colleges. It is also played in South America and East Asia but it is most popular in United States and Japan. In the United States, Baseball is often called the national pastime because so many people are used to spend a lot of time playing baseball and watching baseball.

Baseball fever runs along all ages of people. When it comes to represent a specific town, city, school, or college, uniforms are the most important thing in this matter. Representation of the specific location is as important as the game. A player respects and takes proud in his/her uniform. Every player in schools and colleges wants to wear its school or college uniform more than anything.That is why the uniform that is representing you and your town, city, school or college; should be the best and the one that everyone loves.The quality of a uniform represents the dedication and quality of the player.

When it comes to producing sports products, Pakistan is one of the best country for such task. They produced the best quality products for football, soccer, baseball, basketball, cricket, icehockey, field hockey, lacrosse, rugby, and lot of other sports. If you want to buy the best Baseball uniforms for your team that will show your opponent who is the best then Sublimated Baseball Uniform Packages of Eagle Gearz is your best choice.

Eagle Gearz offers the best quality Custom sublimated Youth Baseball Uniforms in different styles, sizes, and colors of your choice. Whether your team needs Custom Baseball Jersey, Custom Youth Baseball Uniforms, or apparel; you name it Eagle Gearz has it. A lot of accessories and uniforms are available on just one platform. Eagle Gearz is the one stop solution that fits best with your budget. During production, they make sure that your items and products are designed according to your requirements. All the Custom Baseball Uniforms Youth are made with 100% organic polyester and sublimated tags inside. The production quality of the products is kept in high standards and the usage of best ink guarantees that it will never fade.Along with best quality and long lasting material, the Sublimated Baseball Uniform is also athletic and cool.

Eagle Gearz’s Sublimated Baseball Uniform Packages are one of the best and most popular choice for the schools, colleges, clubs, and teams in the United States of America. Once your team wears the best Custom Youth Baseball Uniforms, you will come to know why Eagle Gearz is the best among all other professional sportswear suppliers.

#Sublimated Baseball Jerseys #Youth Baseball Uniforms #Sublimated Baseball Uniform Packages #Custom Youth Baseball Uniforms #Custom Baseball Uniforms Youth #Sublimated Baseball Team Apparel #Sublimated Baseball Pants #Custom Sublimated Baseball Uniforms #Custom Sublimated Baseball Jerseys #Custom Baseball Jerseys

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blueiceindustry-blog · 7 years

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Customize Fully Sublimated Lacrosse Team Jersey Manufacturer

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obld-erau · 3 years

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Week 6 RB-conflict management

As my son has gotten more involved with the sport of youth lacrosse, I have begun to research its origins. It is rooted in conflict resolution at its purest form. Invented by Native Americans, “…the game was very rough, and people could be injured and even die while playing, the Iroquois used lacrosse as a way of training young men to be warriors, and the game was used to settle disputes without actually going to war” (Haman, 2017).

I have always found solace in contact sports to settle conflicts. For my son, the game of lacrosse has cured a large amount of his boredom, where he would normally argue and fight with his sister, he has a different demeanor and a level of discipline he did not have prior, and I could not give him. In my personal life, the art of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu has allowed me to have the clarity to resolve conflicts. I can recall when I initially started training Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ), I was a patrol officer and would deal with citizens who were less than happy that we were called.

Sometimes, it would get out of hand as emotions would run high, especially when loved ones were involved. The “old Nick” would have issues bringing people to a calmer state. The “BJJ Nick” figured out that they are not talking to me specifically; rather they are talking to the uniform or governmental entity. After starting BJJ, my use of force percentage dropped over 90%. I no longer was on departmental early warning system, which is an online system used by police departments. Early Warning is described as: “a data-based police management tool designed to identify officers whose behavior is problematic and provide a form of intervention to correct that performance” (Walker, et. al., pg 1, 2001). This system is a career killer. Even justified use of force events count negatively towards the individual officer.

So, the objective is to keep those events low but doing what you must, as tactical decisions must be made in seconds. After realizing how calm and collected I could be after training BJJ, I believe that my career trajectory would have been different. Less use of force equals less negative management interactions and promotional opportunities/specialized unit interviews.

Even as a former officer, I still tell younger officers to train in the art. It will save their life, their mental health, and their careers. There are no longer any viable excuses as there are free programs nationwide available for officers such as the Adopt-A-Cop BJJ program. The Adopt-A-Cop program “…aims to create a more resilient and more effective police force, improve police relations around our country, and ultimately reduce the incidence of police-involved shootings and deaths” (adoptacopbjj, 2022).

Haman, Z. (2022, January 31). The Creator’s Game: Native American Culture and Lacrosse – StMU Research Scholars. The Creator’s Game: Native American Culture and Lacrosse. Retrieved February 19, 2022, from https://stmuscholars.org/the-creators-game-native-american-culture-and-lacrosse/

Walker, S., Alpert, G. P., & Kenney, D. J. (2001). Early warning systems: Responding to the problem police officer. Washington, DC: US Department of Justice, Office of Justice Programs, National Institute of Justice.

ADOPT A COP BJJ. (n.d.). OUR MISSION. Retrieved February 20, 2022, from https://adoptacopbjj.org/pages/our-mission

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alsrasports · 3 years

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universal-health-care · 3 years

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USA Flag (2 Sizes) Youth & Adult - Great Holiday/Birthday Gifts for Your Youth Athletes to Match Uniform. There are USA Flag & Vampire Fangs & 13 Best Colors to choose from for Flag Football, Boxing, MMA, Judo, Martial Arts, Karate, BJJ, Hockey, Lacrosse, Kickboxing, Muay Thai, Soccer, Football, Rugby and any other contact sports. #mouthguard #mouthpiece #usaflag #americanflag #kidsmouthguard #youthmouthguard #kidsgumshield #youthgumshield (at Queens, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQv8UrtpRs_/?utm_medium=tumblr

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petrovahpierce · 7 years

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gaypasta · 7 years

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7th times the charm

Bill recounts his first seven kisses, it only took him that long before he found who he was looking for in a mess of curls and a kiss to his palm. Read on Ao3

I Beverly

Beverly was Bill’s first kiss. They were in third grade. The stage lights danced across Bill’s vision the same way that Bev’s fiery hair danced when she laughed - she laughed a lot. The entire school and his own parents were watching, his heart was in his throat as he stuttered out the lines. The words got caught in his throat, the lights were taunting him while the audience merged into a uniform sea look of pity and forced grins.

His Peter Pan costume was hanging off his shoulders - it was much too big. Even to this day, Bill still remembers the trailing of his pants along the floor, the conscious thoughts of the movement of his feet to avoid tripping. Anxious butterflies fluttered around his stomach in a way that Bill wouldn’t feel again for several years, the knot that built up in his throat and the quickening heartbeat were all signs and Bill knew.

He was in love.

He was in love with Beverly Marsh, the girl who sat two desks away from him. She bought him a Christmas card and wrote a smiley face in a glittery lilac pen. She twirled her hair and chewed her pencils, she came into school late and forgot her homework and she was perfect.

Bill, of course, wasn’t actually in love - we don’t have to let him know that.

This kiss - the ending scene - was the most important thing in little Bill’s life. To his parents, the teachers and over an ocean of faceless people, this was just a show. Oh no, but to Bill - he knew better - he knew this was going to be how he met his wife, they would get married on the playground, just like Robert McNeill and Kathy Gates.

He messed up his last line in anticipation of the kiss, and just then, with a soft smile and a flurry of freckles - Bill Denbrough had his first kiss.

Nerves, Faces, Freckles.

II Eddie

For the year after kissing a young eleven-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill would flush in embarrassment and change the subject as swiftly as possible. He was embarrassed, guilty and felt ever so moronic.

The locker room lights flickered, giving Bill a headache and almost sending him into a different changing room. However, the wheezes of a broken cough flickered even louder than the light to Bill - and Bill being Bill, he rushed into the showers in his muddy shoes and his lacrosse stick whipping the wall tiles like a drum.

Bill doesn’t remember much, he remembers Eddie curled up in the corner of the shower. He remembers that he was wheezing and tears were cascading down his face with the same pull as jumping off a cliff into an icy ocean. He remembers Eddie’s bright red, neatly ironed gym shorts and his pale legs quivering.

He was scared, his friend couldn’t breathe and he didn’t know what to do. He knew of Eddie’s aspirator, the medicine helped him breathe, but for some reason, it wasn’t working. Eddie kept shaking it furiously at Bill’s face - but Bill didn’t know what that meant. Eddie was crying, long raspy sobs that echoed against the greying ceramic tiles and the speckled white flooring. The dirt from the crevices of the tiles groaned under the pressure from Bill’s fingernails as Bill did all he could think to do in that moment of panic.

Bill did as he saw on the soap operas his Mother watched on TV and pressed his lips roughly against Eddie’s. Eddie stilled for a moment, before shoving Bill away - sending him sprawling into the shower stall opposite. Bill, in the moment, was unfazed and promptly returned to an even more flustered Eddie and soothed his back, rubbing it in gentle motions.

After the moment, however - Bill and Eddie were both mortified and made an unspoken agreement to never bring it up again. Except Eddie had told Richie, and for the year after, Bill stomach twisted in embarrassment and his face lit up the same colour as Eddie’s perfectly ironed gym shorts. For the remainder of the days that he remembered the kiss, however, Bill and Eddie would laugh.

Bill would laugh at how he truly believed the best way to cure a panic attack was a kiss. Eddie laughed at how Bill thought that Eddie would appreciate the exchange of germs. Everyone else laughed with them.

Panic, Comfort, Embarrassment.

III Ben

Bill never counted this as his third kiss. He hadn’t thought about it after the moment it happened - well that’s a lie, he thinks about it every time he has an oral presentation but the memory is nothing but fond. It doesn’t bring the nervous butterflies of his first, or the panic and mortification of his second. It makes him smile, makes him feel at ease and makes him feel like he can conquer the world (with the aid of his friends, of course).

It was spring of seventh grade - Bill remembers this because it was the last spring he attended the annual Derry carnival in May. It was the last spring he had before he would wake up with nightmares, or see yellow flashes of colour in the corner of his eye. Bill found it difficult to appreciate the newborn lambs and calves that roamed the fields West of Derry, but Ben tried his best to help everyone find the light again - and he appreciated Ben.

He appreciated Ben even more when Ben offered to be his partner for his oral presentation. Normally Bill would sit back and watch everyone’s eyes dart to him, before scrambling to find anyone else. But not Ben, never Ben. The presentation wasn’t more than three minutes long, but practising it took every chocolate-fuelled lunch period, every warm pink sky of the evening, every star-littered night, and even well into the ominous blanket of midnight.

Antiduh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-

It’s okay Bill, try again.

Antiduh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-

It’s okay, I’m sure you’ll get it.

And get it Bill did. It took hours upon hours - Bill’s throat was raw from reading, he could feel the scratch in his throat and no amount of icy water would cure it. With every breath, his throat felt like it was on fire.

But, he did it. On the evening of Thursday, May 4th - Bill Denbrough spoke for one-point-five solid minutes, without a single stutter.

And that concludes our study on…. (breathe) …. Antidisestablishmentarianism

He remembers Ben cheering loudly, he remembers dropping his papers on the floor - because his teacher scolded him for crinkly papers the following day - he remembers an overwhelming rush of joy and, in the joy and triumph of it all, he grabbed Ben’s cheeks and landed a wet, firm kiss on his mouth.

Ben laughed and cheered, not even doubting Bill’s impulse for a moment, and standing there, in his cluttered bedroom at eight twenty-four in the evening, Bill would remember the burning of his throat as the fire of determination.

Triumph, Patience, Persistence.

IV Richie

Bill doesn’t remember the events which lead up to this kiss. He knows it involved lots of lukewarm beer and a bottle of Grey Goose vodka that Richie stole from his parents, Eddie had told him not to, because he was only turning sixteen - not twenty one. He remembers the start of the night, where all he smelled inside Stan’s house (his parents weren’t at home, he can’t quite recall why) was cigarette smoke and soft cotton. Richie was soon told off by Stan for smoking, Stan was cross, Bill remembers that. Then Richie kept giving Bill beer, and Bill had no reason to decline. Then Richie started shots, or a drinking game - Bill doesn’t remember.

He remembers a burning in his throat, but not the burn of triumph, a burn that stung like bleach and hurt so good that he couldn’t help himself to stop. The next thing he remembers is Richie’s mouth on his throat. They weren’t at Stan’s anymore - they were in a car. Stan’s car. He remembers the wet and heavy air, feeling like he was inhaling density itself.

There was a fire in his stomach and on his cheeks, and his mouth fought with Richie’s for what felt like hours. This kiss wasn’t innocent or a symbol of a youth, this kiss was wet and hot. Oh, so very hot. Bill could hardly breathe with Richie on his mouth, forcing his mouth open and licking up his tongue, back down, underneath his tongue, the roof of his mouth, behind his teeth - Bill doesn’t remember if he fought back or if he was too busy trying to claw through his drunken haze to deduce whether grinding back on Richie would be a good idea or not.

He concluded it felt too good to not be good. He remembers Richie’s hands exploring his body in a way he had never felt before, fingers tracing his chest and his back and rolling his nipples. Bill remembers liking that. Richie’s mouth doing dirty, painful things to his neck and leaving blisters of purple bruises from his earlobe to his collarbone. He found one on his inner thigh and he couldn’t remember if Richie had put it there or not.

He doesn’t remember taking off his pants, but he remembers Richie’s hands travelling down them - he doesn’t remember much of Richie. Bill reckons that he must’ve had his eyes closed most of the time. He remembers Richie saying dirty things that made him moan and whimper, he remembers begging and holding tightly onto Richie’s shirt when he comes.

It was there, in the back of Stan’s car, with Richie lying on top of him, grinding down on him and whispering dirty things into his ear with a breath of vodka, that Bill realized, only the next day, that he might not have been completely straight.

Blurriness, Heavy, Regret.

V Mike

Mike was the one Bill went to, not even a week after his heavy hour with Richie, for help. Help which Bill needed so desperately that he had cried, wept openly on the edge of the river, tears so heavy with confusion that Bill wished he would melt into the river and float away. Mike sat with him, not speaking, just staring off into the trees, waiting for Bill to be ready. Bill thought he might never be ready.

He was exaggerating, of course he would be ready, but much like how he had thought that kissing Beverly Marsh eight years ago would be the most important moment of his life, he truly believed that having an alcohol-fuelled moment with Richie Tozier would ruin his life.

It didn’t, of course - but Bill would not yet know this, so instead, he wept until his eyes hurt and his flannel shirt was covered in snot and tears. Mike’s shirt was too - but he didn’t mention it.

He wept, fearlessly - his words cried out of his mouth and spilt into the water and floated away as Mike sat and listened. Taking in every word, listening to Bill’s heavy stutter of concerns. Bill wept about wanting Richie in that car, the way boys weren’t meant to want their best friends. Bill wept about liking, no, loving the way Richie made him feel, and the horrible, dirty things he said, he cried about feeling dirty, feeling foolish for getting that drunk.

But above all else, Bill cried, in this cool winter’s afternoon - with the low sun casting long shadows of the squirrels scuttling up the trees, and the soft wind carrying songbirds’ poems down the river like a boat - about losing a friend. Losing a friend to testosterone and Grey Goose fuelled deviance.

Mike listened, squeezing Bill’s shoulders when he felt Bill’s shoulders begin to shake again. Mike’s firm hand on Bill’s shoulder made him feel grounded, like Mike was the weight that kept him from floating out of existence.

Mike had told him that his friendship with Richie would never be ruined, even after something as risque as what he had done. Bill disagreed, wanting the winter sun to go so low that it ate the world up in darkness. The flannel on his shirt made him feel like a bullseye - ten points to whatever tragedy in his life could make his world fall apart around him. Richie’s arrow of backseat handjobs had struck him in the heart, and Richie not picking up his phone for a week had been the final arrow to shatter him.

Mike tried to assure him, no, you’re our friend. Nothing like that could change that.

I don’t buh-buh believe that.

Mike’s arm fell from Bill’s shoulder and firmly found its place on Bill’s hand.

I can prove it, but you might not like it.

And before Bill even had a chance to dispute, Mike had leaned in, giving Bill the softest kiss his lips would probably ever feel. Mike thought that Bill might shatter under his lips, but he didn’t. Their lips slowly, carefully and almost anxiously moved against each other. The feeling of Mike’s lips grazing against his own felt like an angelic encounter, like his soul was lifted and his mind was dusted of his miserable thoughts.

The kiss eventually stopped, and Bill and Mike stared off into the orange ripples of the river, the sun casting it aglow like the book of revelations. Bill had his own revelation, that he and Richie would probably be fine, just like Bill and everyone else were fine.

Bill was right, he and Richie were back to normal not two days later. Bill and Mike were different, however, warmer and more peaceful with each other, as if the kiss that Mike had shared had transferred a part of their soul into each other, forever binding them in a blissful existence.

Connective, Blissful, Serene.

VI Stan

Bill would never forget his first (of many) kisses with Stan Uris. It was the first time he had forgot all about that dreadful summer in four years.

It was a long time coming, admittedly. It took neither of them by surprise. They were walking along the river, no real destination in sight. The moon was high in the sky, watching their fingers brushing together as they walked, bathing Stan’s soft features in a stream of moonlight.

This is how it had been for a couple of months, since Christmas - Bill and Stan took afternoon walks to the store together, then to the quarry, then along the river and slowly as the days went on, the sun got lower when they decided to slip on their walking shoes. Now, it was almost midnight. There was no feeling of dread, no whispers from behind their ears and definitely no flashes of yellow. It was just them, the way it had to be.

Bill could’ve kissed Stan by now, and Stan would’ve accepted it - kissed back. But it never felt like it was the right moment, and Stan felt like the most important thing in the universe, not like the Peter Pan play or like Richie’s vodka breath on his neck - but like once he had begun to look at Stan, really look - he couldn’t imagine a world without him. And if one were to exist, Bill most definitely would not want to be a part of it.

Stan wasn’t just his… lover? Boyfriend? Date? No, he was so much more than Bill, who had the highest grade in English in the forty years of records in his school, could put into words. There are over 170,000 words in the dictionary, and not one of the billions upon billions of configurations of those words could even begin to describe how important Stan was to Bill. That’s why Bill never gave Stan a nickname, all of them felt like they were insults in comparison to Stan.

The wind ruffled Stan’s hair in a way that he hated, but Bill adored. It made his curls bounce and twist around his face and fall into his eyes. Stan’s perfectly ironed white shirt almost glowed in the reflection of the river, Bill watched the ripples lap at Stan’s reflection, he could’ve stared at it all night if Stan would have let him. But alas, Stan marched onwards, looking back at Bill.

Follow me.

And Bill followed. Stan could have led him to the end of the Earth and back and Bill would walk, in his dirty converse, with him. Stan wrapped his hand around Bill’s, their fingers intertwining as easy as blinking, and they ran.

They ran and ran the whole way to the quarry, red-faced and puffing clouds of air into the cold night. Bill laughed at Stan’s grimace as he noticed a grass stain on his white shoes. Stan shoved Bill’s shoulder, and Bill couldn’t be happier.

So there they sat, overlooking the expanse of the water below them, holding hands and knocking feet softly against another.

Stan looked at him as though he were scared that if he didn’t look every couple of seconds, that Bill would disappear, every time he did, Bill would grin and Stan would look away, trying to hide a small smile.

It was then, when Stan brought Bill’s palm up to his mouth and gave it a gentle, but mindful kiss, that Bill knew.

I love you so fucking much.

Stan laughed, not mockingly - the laugh was warm - not warm like Mike or warm like the vodka or any of that - it was warm like Stan . It sounded so right and Stan muttered it back, with a smile present in his voice.

I love you too.

With the moon watching them, casting rays down to make Stan’s lips shine and his eyes sparkle with joy, Bill cupped Stan’s face, faintly feeling the scars under his skin, and kissed him there and then.

The same place they grew up, their go-to spot from when they were in third grade. In a way, it was almost like destiny, like this place was destined to be the centre of all Bill’s life. And Bill wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Stan’s lips moved with his, softly and with care - but not because they were afraid one of them would break, but because they didn’t need to rush. They had no reason to be firm or fast or rough. That would come, of course, but not tonight. Not on this cold February night. Bill’s thumb softly stroked Stan’s cheek as Stan’s tongue grazed his lip, before retreating.

Stan’s tongue knocked against Bill’s lips half a dozen more times before Bill took the hint, letting Stan’s tongue enter his mouth. It wasn’t hot, heavy exploration - it was gentle, their tongues licking at each other - Bill could feel Stan smile into his mouth, it made him smile too. Their tongues retreated, and Bill gave Stan a chaste kiss, which made Stan grin.

Bill hadn’t seen Stan this happy in a long time. But now he was, right here, right now - and Bill supposes that’s all that matters. They stayed under the stars for a while longer, before retreating back home. Stan suggested Bill stay over - Bill agreed, they shared a knowing look. They didn’t want to be apart again, they’re in this together.

Bill lay, sleeping beside his… boyfriend. Yes, that sounds right this time. Wondering what he did to deserve such a wonderful boy to be his, wondering what he had done to let the moon and the stars bless him on this night. The answer, of course, was nothing. The moon, nor the stars had nothing to do with the two boys falling for each other. They were just a part of the lucky few who had fell in love with their best friend - and stayed that way.

Bill knew that with that kiss, he had sold his soul. He watched the gentle breathing motion of Stan’s chest as he slept and thought, I don’t think I want it back.

Home.

#ff #stenbrough #bichie #bill denbrough #bill/everyone #bill is a THOT #mine

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brianzwerner · 3 years

Text

Making Money in Youth Sports

By: Brian Zwerner

I have been involved in youth sports as a dad, coach, team manager, startup founder, and investor for the last twelve years. I have two kids in high school now. My son played pretty much every sport. He started with soccer before he hit elementary school, then transitioned to football and basketball for the next five years, with a short detour into baseball and lacrosse. When he hit middle school, he was hooping on high level AAU teams and traveling around the country. He’s a senior in high school now and is totally burned out on basketball. He won’t be playing in college, even though he probably could’ve. He was even on a travel team with Anthony Edwards, the first pick in the 2020 NBA Draft.

My daughter came to sports late. After one pre-school year of soccer, she focused on drama, but she picked up volleyball in middle school. She got good quickly, played on a travel team, and won a state high school championship last year. I share all of this to say, I have seen a lot of different parts of the youth sports ecosystem.

In 2017 I decided that I wanted to build a business in the sports market, and I launched a company called Sportal. We started with a simple idea to solve a problem I had seen a ton of times with my own kids’ teams. On the travel programs, we typically had to find a gym we could rent for practice and training. The experienced coaches usually had a few hookups with people at schools, rec parks, or churches. However, we would frequently lose access to our normal gym for one reason or another, and a mad scramble would ensue. A bunch of parents would be calling around to find a replacement gym, usually at the last minute. It was a huge hassle, and most of the time we struck out.

Our big idea at Sportal was an online platform that would be the OpenTable for renting gyms and also fields for outdoor sports. We launched this platform at the end of 2017 and quickly got over 70 gyms and fields onboarded. Unfortunately, we never got enough scale and could not figure out how to break through with the school districts in my hometown of Atlanta. Also, many coaches would use our site to find a location and just call them on their own. I shut the platform down after a grueling six months when it was clear it would never scale. A handful of others have tried similar platforms in other parts of the country. I don’t think any have fared much better than Sportal.

We tried pivoting the Sportal business a few times after that. We built a basketball tournament and camps business, but the events we held barely broke even. We got set up to sell uniforms and gear to high school and travel teams, but the competition was fierce and we quickly abandoned that path. We ended up creating a media company covering high school sports in Georgia. We sent reporters and videographers to hundreds of football, basketball, baseball, soccer, lacrosse, softball, and volleyball games. We also started livestreaming games with a professional commentary team. Nothing worked. The schools wouldn’t pay for anything. The parents were pretty much tapped out. There wasn’t much of an audience to watch high school games. Ultimately, we shut the business after a difficult 1.5-year battle.

In my role as head of the investment committee for Beyond The Game Network, I see tons of companies trying to disrupt the youth sports market. Some of these founders are traveling over the same ground that I covered at Sportal. Some are trying other areas like college recruiting or team management software, both areas which we investigated but decided to stay out of.

I’ll break down a few of the key areas here.

·Team Management: Hudl has been the long-time leader in software to the high school coaches. The last meaningful competitor to Hudl was Krossover, and Hudl bought them in 2019. This is an area that could be productive for new entrants. There are two big leaders in software for youth sports team management – Sports Engine and TeamSnap. I’ve seen at least a dozen people try to break apart this duopoly. The software is hard to build and expensive to market to a disparate market. I generally agree that the two leaders don’t make a great product but stealing share from them is really hard. I don’t know if there is a venture scale business in team management.

·Media: There are several meaningful media platforms focused on high school sports. MaxPreps is a great tool for scores, rosters, schedules, and more. It is owned by CBS Sports. Rivals and 247 Sports provide media coverage of high school sports with a focus on recruiting news. Rivals is owned by Yahoo! Sports, 247 is also a part of CBS Sports. PlayON! Sports operates the NFHS Network, where they livestream high school games. Overtime does short form highlights and docuseries on high school sports, mostly basketball. Both PlayON! and Overtime have raised substantial venture capital and are growing. I think there is room for new entrants in this space. High school athletes are growing huge followings on social media, so there is interest in what they are doing on and off the court/field. Access to the top talent is key, and the offering needs to find a home in a crowded media field.

·Recruiting: NCSA is the market leader at connecting high school athletes with college coaches. As a parent, I had some exposure to this company and hated it. They charge a ton of money for a dubious service. There have been a bunch of companies that have tried to do this better, and I generally agree there is room for improvement here. The problem is the massive scale needed to connect with thousands of high schools and hundreds of colleges. If you want to go after this market, you need major dollars to compete.

·Coaching: This is definitely one of the more interesting spaces in youth sports. There is really no market leader nationally. Most coaching is done at the local level by individual coaches. CoachUp is a platform that helps youth athletes find a coach. HomeCourt has basketball training in an app. Diamond Kinetics and Mustard are doing cool things with baseball training. We have seen startups using connected devices or clothing and computer vision to try and systemize sports training. I think this will be an interesting space to watch in coming years. The biggest challenge is finding something affordable for the parents and then getting the word out to a dispersed youth sports audience.

Overall, the youth sports market is a big one. In 2017, Time Magazine called it a $15 Billion industry. I think there is room for disruptors and challengers, but based on my personal experience it is a difficult market to compete in. If you are going after it, do your homework upfront. Understand the incumbent players and make sure you figure out if they are really making money. Do a meaningful amount of customer surveying to figure out whether your idea is likely to find a receptive audience. Stay niche and solve a problem that someone is willing to pay for, and then expand to bigger areas.

See prior Consumer Gems posts here

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#youthsports #vc #startup

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