***
“Craig! Get your ass in here!”
Craig winced as the dressing room was filled with the snickering of the players. If Mac wanted to see him in his office he didn’t have to scream it from the door. He could just ask. Then again, if he walked all the way back to the room and asked politely, he wouldn’t be the Craig MacTavish they all knew and loved.
“Hey Simpson, looks like someone’s in for a spanking,” Ryan smirked. “Were you a bad boy?”
The other players roared with laughter. Craig gritted his teeth. In HIS day, players had a certain amount of respect for their coaching staff. And if they suspected that members of said coaching staff had a relationship that included the occasional spanking, they sure as hell didn’t SAY it.
“Enough of that shit, Smyth,” Craig said, glaring. He stalked his way to the small office down the hall, stoutly ignoring the lewd comments that followed him out.
“Dammit, Mac,” Craig sighed as he shut the door behind him. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. It just encourages them.”
“Fuck them,” Mac replied easily. “Who cares what they think?”
“We’re the COACHES, Mac,” Craig said testily. He walked over to where Mac was sitting at his desk, and perched on the end of it. “We’re supposed to be the authority figures here. It would help if they would respect us enough to stay out of our business.”
Mac laughed. “You sound older every day. I knew I shouldn’t have given you this job.”
“Oh, it was all you, eh?”
“You know it, baby.”
“Stop that,” Craig swatted at Mac’s hand, which had crept its way onto his inner thigh. “What did you call me in here for?”
“I called you in for a very specific reason,” continued Mac, putting his hand even closer to Craig’s crotch. “Let’s take a meeting.”
“A meeting about what?” Craig asked. He stopped trying to push away Mac’s hand.
“This.” Mac stood up, shrugging out of his suit coat. He threw the coat on the floor and unzipped his pants. His cock sprang free and Craig’s eyes widened.
“Mac!” he gasped, glancing around. “What if someone walked in?”
“That unfortunate man would find himself not only scarred for life, but doing laps at five am tomorrow morning,” Mac replied. “Look, if it’ll make you feel better I’ll lock the door.”
He swaggered to the door of the office, his erect cock leading the way. The lock clicked and Mac whirled around triumphantly.
“There you go!” he said. He pushed his pants down to his ankles and spread his arms wide. “Take me, baby!”
Craig laughed helplessly. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Mac said, his face taking on an injured look. “All during practice. Didn’t you notice I was distracted?”
“I noticed you were chewing your gum more violently than usual.” Craig snorted. “I thought you were just pissed at Staios for falling again.”
“Nah, I’m used to that,” Mac said, pulling off his tie.
“And you’re not used to me?” Craig asked, amused.
“Never.” Mac grinned.
Craig smiled, and scooted back onto the desk to watch Mac unbutton his shirt. He dumped it on the ground before pulling his undershirt over his head. With a pause and a grin, he swung it around in the air like fans did with towels. Craig laughed so hard that he coughed.
“What are you, the oldest stripper ever?” he gasped. He flinched then as he caught Mac’s shirt full in his face.
“Depends, got any twenties?” Mac staggered as he stepped out of his shoes and pants, and finally stood naked in the middle of the office.
Craig dug in his pocket for a second, before producing a loonie. He threw at Mac’s feet. Mac looked down at it for a second, watching it come to rest on the rough carpeting of the office. He glanced up at Craig, eyebrow arched.
“I am worth so much more than that, numb nuts,” he said, and approached the desk. “You’re gonna find that out right now!”
“Not here,” Craig said, as Mac pushed him down onto the desk. Craig gasped and squiggled as Mac stroked the front of his pants. Papers rustled and scrunched beneath him.
“Why not? It’s my office. I can do what I damn well please in it.”
“But-” Craig didn’t get to finish his protest, as whatever he was planning on saying went directly into Mac’s mouth. Mac lowered himself onto Craig, pressing himself down and kissing slowly. As they broke the kiss, Craig sighed softly, and wrapped an arm around Mac’s neck, pulling him back in. Mac scattered some papers onto the floor as he tried to adjust them more comfortably on the desk.
“Ow,” Craig said as Mac came up for air. “I think your stapler is digging into my back.”
“Don’t hurt it, it’s a Swingline,” Mac informed him. He licked at Craig’s neck, eliciting a shiver of pleasure from his assistant coach, and stood up from the desk. Mac chuckled. “Do those trembles of desire mean you want me to fuck you like the sexy stud that I am?”
Craig grinned and didn’t resist as Mac pulled off Craig’s tie and hurriedly stripped him of his silky business shirt. Mac added the two items to the pile of clothing on the floor and went to work on Craig’s undershirt.
“Mmmm…” Mac pulled the shirt up and pulled his tongue across the smooth skin of Craig’s stomach. Craig gasped, and the tent rising in the front of his pants became more pronounced.
“Oooh, Mac…” Craig moaned, as Mac suddenly disappeared. Craig could feel him pulling at his shoes and socks, and arched his hips, expecting to be relieved of his pants next. Suddenly he shrieked.
“NO TICKLING!” Mac had trapped one of Craig’s bare feet, and was mercilessly attacking the sole. “I’M NOT KIDDING, ASSHOLE! STOPPIT!”
“Such language!” Mac popped his head back up, looking down at a flushed Craig with amusement. “You kiss me with that mouth? I’m shocked!”
“I’ll do more than kiss you with it,” Craig growled. He pushed his way off the desk and dropped to his knees.
It was Mac’s turn to moan, arching his head back, as Craig’s tongue lightly circled the head of his cock. He fought the urge to shove himself into Craig’s throat, instead concentrating on the waves of pleasure running through him with every movement of Craig’s tongue.
Craig flickered his tongue against the underside of Mac’s cock, the sensitive place just below the head. Mac muttered something under his breath and moaned again.
“That sounded like “asshole” Mac,” Craig said, smirking in between licking his lover. “Who’s got the potty mouth now?” Before Mac could answer, he took him fully into his mouth, expertly relaxing his throat.
Craig hallowed his cheeks as he sucked Mac, bobbing his head, stroking his balls lightly with his fingers. Mac gave a strangled cry, and Craig, taking that as encouragement, sucked harder. He squeezed Mac’s balls gently.
“I’m gonna come,” gasped Mac.
“Ooh, better stop,” said Craig as he withdrew.
“Wha… you dick!” Mac burst out, stroking his cock and glaring down at Craig.
“You said you’d fuck me like the sexy stud you are,” said Craig, unbuttoning his pants. He stood up to face his glaring lover, and wriggled out of his pants and underwear. He too stroked his cock lightly. “You gonna break that promise?”
“We can do both…” Mac looked imploringly at Craig, hand still wrapped around his cock.
Craig snickered. “At your age? I don’t think so, baby.”
Mac gritted his teeth. “Then get the lube out of the desk, asshole. Top drawer-”
“Top drawer on the right. This isn’t my first day here, you know.”
“On the couch, smartass!”
Craig rummaged in the drawer he’d indicated, and threw the small tube to Mac. He collapsed onto the couch, and shivered as the cool leather pressed against his naked skin. He was suddenly struck with the urge to rub against the smooth material. His cock twitched at the idea of pressing his length along it, and with a grin he rolled onto his stomach.
“You want it like that?” Mac asked, warming the lube in his hands.
“Yeah…” Craig said. He rubbed his hips back and forth.
“You like the leather, don’t you?” Mac laughed, and Craig scowled over his shoulder. But his eyes twinkled a silent “oh hell yeah.”
“I never figured you for having a leather fetish, Craig,” Mac said, hissing as he coated his cock with lube. He was panting as he kneeled onto the couch. “We could get some leather stuff if you want. I could ask some of the guys where they buy theirs.”
“You know… fuuuuuck…” Craig said as Mac slid a lube-coated finger inside of him. “You know WAY too much about your players, Mac.”
“You weren’t around last year to walk in on Horc and Comrie in the dressing room,” Mac removed his finger and positioned himself above Craig. “You wouldn’t BELIEVE the shit they were wearing…”
“I don’t want to know,” Craig said, gripping the couch. He alternated between pressing his cock down against the now-warmed leather and arching his hips back toward Mac. “And anyway, with Mike, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Mac laughed breathlessly and eased himself into Craig. Craig whimpered at the pressure, but easily relaxed under Mac’s familiar touch. Soon Mac was completely within him, and began a rough thrusting rhythm.
Craig cried out, and arched back to meet his every thrust. Mac was growling above him.
“I’m gonna fuck you right through the couch,” Mac gasped. Contrary to the roughness of his statement, he propped himself up with both hands, relieving Craig from some of the pressure of his weight. “Right through the god…damn…couch!” He accentuated each word with a sharp angled thrust.
“Mac!” Craig moaned. The smooth leather beneath his body was suddenly slick as jets of come shot from him. “Craig,” he whimpered, calling Mac by his real name as he shook from the force of his climax.
“Shit… fuck!” Mac gripped Craig’s shoulders, hips pistoning on pure instinct as he came. “Craig… fuck…”
Mac collapsed onto Craig, trembling. He pressed his lips against the back of Craig’s neck, damp with sweat, and kissed him gently.
“Right through the couch, eh?” Craig’s husky voice was muffled, as his cheek rested against the leather. “Didn’t quite do that, did you?”
“Fuck you,” Mac replied in a voice that shook. “Are you complaining? I’ll break the couch in the next round.”
“How many rounds you think you got, old man?”
“Old?? You asshole…”
Outside the door of the office, Marty Reasoner frowned in concentration. He had the bottom of a water glass pressed against his ear, and the open end against the wood of the door.
“What are they saying now?” Steve Staios asked impatiently. He held a pad of paper and a pen in his hands.
“Shut up!” Marty hissed. He paused, listening intently. “Something about buying leather…”
“They should talk to Georges, then,” Steve said, busily writing. He was adding to the extensive list of things they’d overheard in the time the two coaches had gone into the office. “You’d be surprised what that guy has in his closet.”
“And how would YOU know?” Marty asked, moving his glass and searching for a better sound.
“Well, from what Jason told me last night…”
“Hang on…” Marty interrupted, blinking. “I can’t hear them anymore…”
Steve and Marty looked at one another solemnly for a fraction of a second. Then with a burst of speed, they tore off down the hallway.
“LAPS!” a fully naked Craig MacTavish bellowed from the now-open doorway. “LAPS FOR BOTH OF YOU!”
