osgood_asitgets / [Hockey RPS - You Caught Me Spanking It - Chris Osgood/Jimmy Howard - NC-17

kink_bingo | beta'd, enabled, and made better by

shades_of_hades and

mistokath13. | idea/title/cut-tag inspired by Stephen Lynch's 'Talk to Me'.

You Caught Me Spanking It

Chris opens the door to the hotel room he's sharing with Jimmy in this road-trip and stops dead, fingers suddenly gripping the door handle for dear life.

Jimmy's on his bed, with his own underwear at his feet and a pair of Chris's clutched in his fist, his other hand moving fast and slick up and down his cock.

As soon as he realises there's a rectangle of light coming in from the hallway, Jimmy pauses for a second.

"Daddy!" he says, almost a squeak. And then he's speeding up; his hand is a blur on his dick and his lower lip is shiny as if he's been biting it.

Chris shakes his head a little; not this again. Are they going to play this game every time they room together? He's still not sure how he feels about it—well, except his dick seems to like it, since just that one word falling from those spit-shined lips is enough to make him half-hard already.

"I'm so sorry," Jimmy mumbles, still sounding much younger than he has any right to; other than that quick hesitation when Chris walked in, he hasn't stopped what he's doing. Chris doesn't really know what the deal is, here, but his brain re-engages long enough to realise he should shut the door, which he does.

And then he steps further into the room, still unable to find any words.

"Please," Jimmy says, trailing off into a whimper. "Can you just let me finish? Please?"

Chris really doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing here. "You know..." he stops. He stares. Howard's flushed all the way down to his belly and he's dripping pre-come onto his stomach muscles with every stroke.

What would he do if this were one of his—oh my God. He wants to scrub his brain out with bleach.

"Listen, Jimmy," he starts. "I don't think... this probably isn't such a good idea—"

But Jimmy gives him a pleading look, and Chris finds himself coming closer, sitting down at the edge of the bed, careful not to touch Howard.

Jimmy gives him a tentative smile and lets go of Chris's underwear, reaching out and wrapping his very sweaty hand around Chris's bicep, just below where his short-sleeved t-shirt covers.

"What were you doing with—nevermind," Chris mutters. "This is..."

"Don't be angry with me, daddy," Jimmy says, and Chris finally figures out that he's not going to break character. Sure, it's a little weird, but he can't quite tell Howard how uncomfortable it makes him, either, since everyone's entitled to their own kinks.

He's trying really hard not to think about what Jimmy might have been doing with his underwear, or to look at his hand on his dick, even though he keeps catching the motion out of the corner of his eye, but... the problem is, Jimmy's pretty hot, and Chris knows he likes him, which makes it difficult to completely turn him away.

Especially since if he'd just drop this 'daddy' thing Chris might be persuaded to help him out.

Worse than all that, though, is that his own cock is still pushing out the front of his jeans and he kind of wants to cover Howard's hand with his anyway.

"Are you just going to sit there?" Jimmy asks, and Chris shakes his head again.

"You want me to help you out?" he asks, and Jimmy nods enthusiastically. "What will you do for me?" Chris continues.

"Anything," breathes Howard, eyes bright, fevered with lust. "Da—"

"I will," Chris says, "on one condition. Please, for the love of God, stop calling me daddy."

Jimmy looks momentarily disappointed, but he nods after a few seconds have passed. "Can I keep thinking of it that way in my head?" he asks earnestly, still sounding way too fucking young. Dammit, but it makes Chris feel like a dirty old man even without the moniker.

"Okay," Chris says.

Jimmy looks entirely too pleased. Like one of his daughters when she's been allowed an extra cookie or let to stay up late to watch one of his games.

He really needs to stop thinking of his girls while in this situation.

He glances quickly over; Jimmy's hand is resting on his hip now, his cock curved a little towards the opposite hip, but he's stopped what he's doing now. When Chris flashes a glance back up, there is curiosity and excitement mixed on Jimmy's face.

And then, without even thinking, Chris finds himself falling into the father role he takes with his girls and lecturing.

"You shouldn't be jerking off," Chris says. "Especially not on my bed." He watches Jimmy's face, which flushes a little with an emotion that Oz doesn't really think is shame.

"I wanted to feel close to you," Jimmy whispers. The tips of his ears are red, and there's sweat at the ends of his short blonde hair.

Chris leans forward, unable to help himself; his dick likes the way Howard keeps staring at him, the way Howard seems to be picturing him in that role. And why not? Chris is his mentor.

He drops his voice. "Will you suck me off?" he asks, and there's an illicit thrill that runs through his belly like a current of electricity. Oh fuck, he should feel so guilty about this, but Jimmy's just so eager, so willing to please—Ozzie finds himself enjoying the fact that he's so much younger.

Suddenly enjoying—and getting off on—the role that Jimmy's thrust him into.

"I will, da—" Howard cuts himself off, but this time it doesn't make Chris's stomach drop. Oh, it should; but his gaze keeps being attracted back to Jimmy's blush-red cock, thick and curved. Chris swallows down a deep breath and scoots closer to Jimmy on the bed. He runs his fingers up the strong, hard muscle of Jimmy's thigh, then interlaces their fingers.

"Do you want to get off first? I could make you feel so good." Chris doesn't know when they stopped playing and started really being these two people—as if they've suddenly swapped their skin for someone else's. It makes Chris feel good, actually, to get out of his own head a bit.

Even if it means being in the head of a bit of a creepy pervert—but only because Jimmy seems to love it so much. And Chris does find himself wanting to do something nice for Howard.

"I've been very bad," Jimmy says. His eyes are so blue. Ozzie wants to taste those plump lips. He wants—he slides their hands back over to Jimmy's dick, curling both of their hands over it.

"If you've been very bad," Chris murmurs, "I don't know if you should be allowed to get off first. Perhaps not at all." He strokes up the length of Howard's shaft. Jimmy's lips part on a soundless breath, his head falling back and exposing his neck.

Chris doesn't intend to do it, but his other hand is suddenly covering Howard's Adam's apple, fingers ghosting up and down the sleek pale column of his neck even as he drops Jimmy's hand and takes over the grip on his cock.

Jimmy gasps, and his Adam's apple leaps under Chris's fingers. Oz rubs along the jut of his cock again, working Howard closer; he spreads pre-come liberally over his length and then kind of presses down on Jimmy's neck.

"Please, please—" Jimmy mumbles, body writhing under Chris's talented hands. Chris slips his palm over Jimmy's mouth.

"It's a secret," he whispers, leaning down to brush the words against Howard's ear. "Little boys who have been very naughty need to learn to be quiet."

He has no idea what he's doing. Except it feels entirely too good to be touching Howard like this—to be a part of something like this. The kink still doesn't really do it for him, but the idea of sharing something so private and essential to Howard's makeup as a person is an unbelievable turn-on.

Which is probably the only thing that can explain it.

Howard's breath is incredibly hot against his palm, and Jimmy's hard cock is just as scorching beneath his other hand.

In fact... Jimmy's dick is dripping pre-come more liberally now, and Chris takes a moment to run his fingers down, tracing the protruding vein, and cups Jimmy's balls; they are taut, heavy with need in his hand. Howard's very close.

"Do you want to come?" Chris asks, sliding his hand up and fisting the base of his cock, squeezing.

Howard can't or won't speak around Chris's hand, but he nods fretfully. His body bucks up against Chris's hands.

Oz tightens his fist, making sure Howard's orgasm is impossible.

"Will you keep it a secret?" Chris demands. Jimmy nods again, his cheeks glowing red like they're lit from within.

Chris allows his grip to slacken; he strokes up Jimmy's shaft again. Howard gasps and arches, and pre-come dribbles from his slit, his swollen cock even moreso the closer he gets.

He jerks him a couple of times, brings Jimmy so close that his mouth is open and his eyes are screwed shut, and then he clamps down on the base of his dick again. Howard moans desperately, hips still thrusting up, trying to find that release that Chris won't allow him.

"Are you sorry?" Chris asks. He holds him tightly, and Jimmy's breathing is frantic, his body radiating anxiety, as he reaches for the climax that Chris won't allow.

Jimmy bites at the inside of his palm, and Oz moves his hand just a bit. "Quietly now," he urges. "No-one can know about this." The irony is that that is true; it wouldn't really be acceptable for Chris to be doing this with Jimmy—everyone would say Howard's too young and Oz is in too much of a position of power, being his mentor and all.

"I'm sorry, daddy," Howard breathes, barely discernible. Chris relaxes his hand, and covers Jimmy's mouth again.

"All right," he says indulgently. "You can come. Come for me." He can't bring himself to use endearments on Jimmy, but it doesn't seem like he needs it; just the permission sends him careening past that barrier, and he gasps, body trembling, cock jumping and spasming, and he shoots thick and white over his belly. Some of it hits Chris's arm.

"Remember," Chris says as he lifts his hand away from Jimmy's mouth. "This is our secret."

end.