Lacrosse Buddies Hook Up in the Sauna

The cedar door shut on a suck of heat, and the sauna took them. Lionel and Errol were both twenty-one, both college lacrosse, still lit from the gym, pecs pumped and legs heavy. Lionel dropped onto the bench in his speedo. Errol did not. He had left the damp speedo folded outside, and he came in with nothing but a white towel knotted low, the cloth already clinging where his skin was hottest.

Lionel watched him sit and felt the looking change. They shared a locker room. This was not that. Errol's chest was absurd, pecs thick and squared, nipples tight, a treasure trail of dark hair vanishing under the towel. He laced his hands behind his head and his pits opened, thick and gleaming. His legs spread, muscular and hairy, and the towel pulled until Lionel could see the edge of a dense pubic bush and the heavy outline of a big cut cock.

Lionel's body answered. His pecs were ripped and flushed, and between them a few dark hairs had only just begun to sprout. His pits were thick. A treasure trail cut into the speedo. His thighs were corded and dark with hair, and the speedo was failing to hide how thick he was getting, the bush above his cock showing where the waistband slipped. Sweat ran his abs. He didn't wipe it.

For a long minute neither of them spoke. The stones hissed. A drop of sweat hit the wood between Errol's feet, and Lionel watched it the way a man watches something he is about to put his mouth on. Errol's mouth curved. He leaned back and let the towel ride, and Lionel felt his own cock thicken against damp fabric and did not adjust it. He had never once allowed a look like this. He allowed it now.

Errol's eyes stayed on the swell in the speedo, and he didn't look away.

"Hot in here," he said, voice low.

"Yeah." Lionel's cock flexed. The towel over Errol's lap tented. Neither of them laughed it off. Lionel looked at the pecs, the pits, the losing towel, the way he had never looked at a teammate. The room changed temperature, and the coals had nothing to do with it.

The humidity climbed until the towel clung to Errol's hips like a second skin. He shifted and the knot gave. The cloth caught on the flushed head, then dropped between his thighs onto the bench.

He didn't grab for it.

Errol's cock was big and cut, thick through the shaft, the head wet at the slit. His pubic bush was dense and dark, sweat in the curls, balls heavy against the wood, the treasure trail pointing straight down. He sat with his hairy thighs open and let Lionel see all of him.

"Towel slipped," he said. It was not an apology.

"I noticed." Lionel's speedo was painfully tight. He hooked a thumb in the waistband. Errol's eyes told him to do it.

Lionel pushed the speedo down. His cock sprang free, big and cut, the thick bush matted, balls drawn up. He kicked the fabric aside. They faced each other bare, and the looking turned hungry.

The heat had both of them shining. Sweat traced the cuts of Errol's pecs and disappeared into his bush. Lionel's new chest hairs darkened and stuck to his skin. Errol's eyes moved over him without shame, over the pits, the trail, the big cut cock standing out of that thick hair, the hairy muscle of his thighs. Lionel looked back the same way and felt his face heat harder than the room.

"Come here," Lionel said.

Errol crossed the heat in two steps. Lionel smelled clean salt and the gym still living on his skin. Errol's palm settled over one pec, thumb brushing the new dark hairs.

"These are new."

"Just started." Lionel's hand slid into the thick hair of Errol's pit, and Errol made a sound that went straight to Lionel's cock. Fingers traced treasure trails. Palms dragged over hairy thighs. Errol's knuckles grazed the base of Lionel's cock and stayed, asking.

Lionel spread his knees.

Errol's thumb rubbed slow circles over Lionel's nipple while his other hand combed through the bush, not stroking yet, just learning the weight of him. Lionel dragged his palm down Errol's treasure trail and wrapped loose fingers around that thick shaft, feeling it jump. They were breathing each other's air. Errol's forehead rested against his. For a second it was almost gentle. Then Errol's grip tightened, and gentle left the room.

Their mouths met open and hot, tongue and breath and stubble, no testing. Lionel pulled him closer by the hip. Their cocks brushed, wet heads smearing across stomachs. Errol kissed harder, one hand at Lionel's nape, the other cupping the heavy bush and the root of him.

"Want this. Want you. Tell me."

"I want it. I want you. Right here. Don't stop."

Errol kissed him like the yes had unlocked something, and Lionel kissed back with his whole body, the sauna roaring in his ears.

They dropped the last of the pretense between one breath and the next.

Lionel slid to his knees on the warm wood. Errol's cock stood in his face, thick and cut, head glossy, the heavy bush damp with salt and heat. Lionel wrapped a hand around the base, buried his nose in the curls, and took him into his mouth.

"Fuck. Lionel."

He sucked deep, lips stretched, tongue working the underside, taking the head to his throat until his eyes watered. He pulled back slow and went down again, hungrier. His free hand stroked his own cock, precome slicking his fist and dripping into his bush. Errol's hairy thighs bracketed his face. Lionel mouthed the crease of his hip, breathed him, then swallowed him again, spit running down his chin while Errol's hips started to rock.

"On your knees for me," Errol rasped. "Taking that cock like you've been starving."

Lionel moaned around him and let the strokes get less careful. The heat made everything slick. Errol's balls drew up against his fist, salt sharpening, and he pulled out with a wet sound before he finished.

"Your turn. Mouth on you. That bush. Those pits. That dick."

Lionel sat back, thighs wide, cock flushed and heavy out of the thick curls. Errol dropped between his legs and pressed his face into the pubic bush first, tongue dragging through the sweat-damp hair, groaning like the smell undid him. He sucked one ball, then the other, while Lionel gripped the bench and swore. Then he took the cock in one long slide, lips tight, throat opening, one hand pumping what he couldn't hold, the other sliding up through the treasure trail to the ripped abs.

"Arm."

Lionel lifted it. Errol buried his face in the thick pit and licked the sweat there, open-mouthed and filthy, then came back and swallowed him again, pit-salt still on his tongue. Pit, then shaft. Bush, then head.

"If you keep that up I'm gonna come."

Errol pulled off, chin wet, eyes sure. "Not yet. I want to fuck you. You want my cock in you?"

"Yes. Fuck me. I want you inside me."

Lionel turned and bent over the lower bench, forearms on the hot wood, ass up, hairy thighs spread. Sweat ran into the cleft. Errol spit into his palm and worked two fingers into him, slow, then deeper when Lionel pushed back. He scissored, curled, and found the spot that made Lionel's cock jump and drip onto the wood.

"Right there. Put it in."

Errol lined up and pushed. The thick head breached, and Lionel bore down and took him inch by inch until Errol's bush pressed flush to his ass and both of them were shaking.

"Tight," Errol gritted. "Tell me if it's too much."

"It's not. Move. Hard."

Errol fucked him. Deep, sweaty thrusts slapped skin to skin and filled the room. Lionel grunted and pushed back, cock swinging and leaking. Errol's hairy thighs smacked the backs of his legs. He stroked Lionel's cock in time, then drove harder, balls slapping, the bench creaking.

"Don't ease up."

Errol folded over his back, chest hair scraping sweat-slick skin, and hammered him, mouth at his ear. "Taking me so good. This ass. These legs."

Lionel clenched, close, and Errol pulled out with a raw groan, cock twitching, not ready to finish like that.

"Ride me. I want those pecs in my face when you come."

He sat. Lionel straddled him, kissed him once, messy, and sank down onto his cock. The angle went deeper. Lionel took him to the root, adjusted, then rode, slow rolls and then harder, hands braced on Errol's shoulders. His cock slapped Errol's stomach and striped the treasure trail with precome. Errol thrust up to meet him, watching the new dark hairs between Lionel's pecs go black with sweat, watching those pecs bounce, watching the thick pits open when Lionel gripped the wall for leverage.

"Stroke yourself. I want to feel you come on me."

Lionel fisted his cock and stroked in time, the wet sound mixing with the slap of his ass on Errol's thighs. Errol's thrusts went ragged. His cock swelled, catching that spot on every upstroke.

"Gonna come inside you. Yes or no."

"Yes. Come in me. Fill me up."

Errol slammed up and held, pulsing, flooding him in hot spurts, face buried against Lionel's chest, mouth open on sweat and those new hairs. The feeling tipped Lionel over. He stroked twice more and came hard, the first rope striping Errol's pecs, the next painting his abs and treasure trail, more spilling over his fist into Errol's thick bush. He rode it out, ass clenching around Errol's throbbing cock, both of them grunting, the sauna spinning with heat and the smell of sex. They stayed locked until the last pulse faded, foreheads together, cum cooling in stripes between them.

They eased apart. Lionel lifted off with a hiss, Errol's come slipping down his thigh, and Errol caught his hip and pulled him down onto the bench instead of letting any space open. They sat close, shoulders touching, hairy legs tangled. Errol kissed him slow, lazy, nothing like the first crash. Lionel kissed back and dragged two fingers through the cum streaked over Errol's pecs, smearing it gently down his abs. Errol's palm slid over Lionel's chest, thumb catching in the new dark hairs, tracing the mess with a care that tightened Lionel's throat.

"First time," Errol said.

"Not the last." Lionel's voice was wrecked and sure. "Not if you want it."

"I want it. After practice. After the gym. Whenever you look at me the way you did when that towel hit the floor. Lacrosse buddies. And this."

Lionel rested his hand in the hair low on Errol's belly.

The worst of it, and the best, was knowing they would lace up beside each other tomorrow and both of them would remember exactly how the other sounded when he broke.