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The Not-Very-Thrilling Life of Succulents

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Brock loves hooking up in LA. The city is full of beautiful, flawless people: tanned skin, perfect teeth, guys whose bodies are sculpted for looks and not skating. The guy who messaged him tonight isn't necessarily what he would usually pick. Normally if he's in LA he wants to find someone with cut abs and body fat in the 5% range. This guy, however, if his picture is accurate, he's stockier than your typical D-list actor; he has some bulk on him. Brock isn't against that, really, it just isn't always his first choice. If he's being fully honest, the amount of bulge showing in this photo of "Mo" is a large part of the draw, no pun intended.


He doesn't bother to dress for the occasion--he's probably going to be taking his clothes off as soon he gets there anyway--so it's the same t-shirt and jeans that he wore out to lunch with the boys after practice. He does pull on a zip-up, the hood tugged over his head so even if one of his teammates happens to walk by, they probably won't notice him.


He glances at his Grindr app once more before he steps onto the elevator at the hotel next door, checking the room number and giving "Mo's" profile another look.


Mo, 24

Just in town for tonight, looking for a little less Netflix, a lot more Chill. Must be discreet.

Height: 6'1

Weight: 220

Ethnicity: White

Body Type: Athletic

Position: Top

I am: Single

HIV Status: Negative

Last Tested: Sept 2018


"Oh fuck."


Brock blinks with confusion when the door opens and the guy on the other side of it looks stricken. "Bud, if you weren't expecting a dude you probably shouldn't be on Grindr."


"Mo" rakes a hand over his face and a flash of recognition hits Brock. He's seen the guy before, but he can't place where he knows him from.


"Well no, I was expecting a dude." the guy says quietly, barely more than a mutter, and he steps back to usher Brock inside. He glances down the hall one way and then the other, closing the door behind them. "I just wasn't expecting you ."


Brock is instantly worried that the man seems to recognize him. He's in Los Angeles, how the hell could someone know who he is here? Or maybe this guy is just a freak. Brock takes a quick look around the room to inspect for any signs that this guy is as weird as he appears. The room is tidy enough, save for a suitcase sitting open on the desk with a few pieces of clothing spilling out. He sees a suit hanging in the closet. The bed isn't made, but the guy made an effort to straighten the sheets at least. It looks a lot like his hotel room.


As he relaxes, realizing the guy probably isn't a serial killer, his eyes catch on a flash of bright blue next to the suitcase on the desk. He recognizes it immediately: a Maple Leafs ball cap.




Maple Leafs hat.


Guy who weirdly seemed to know who Brock was on sight.


" Shit ," Brock says when it finally dawns on him. "You're Morgan Rielly."


Morgan glances over at him, lips pursed and threatening to turn to a smirk. "Took you a little while to put it together, eh?"


"How the fuck was I supposed to know Toronto was in town?" Brock defends himself. "And what the fuck are you doing on Grindr anyway?"


Morgan ducks his head, trying to hide that his cheeks have gone pink. "I'd imagine I'm doing the same thing you were," he says, rubbing a hand over his neck. He's staring at his shoes and doesn't appear to have any plans to look up. "LA is usually a pretty safe bet if you wanna look through profiles on there."


Brock leans against the desk and pushes his hood down. He pulls Morgan's Leafs hat on. It actually fits, to Brock's surprise; most hats are too small for his huge dome. "Well yeah, I was expecting some random actor or musician or some shit. Those guys are always weird about their privacy."


"I feel like your team wouldn't be happy seeing you wear that hat," Morgan comments when he finally takes a quick glance up.


"Pretty sure my team would be way less happy if they knew about me setting up a Grindr hookup than me wearing a Leafs hat." Brock sets the hat down anyway, then rakes a hand through his hair to smooth it. "So what's the play, Mo? I mean, we're already here."


Morgan looks at him fully, his eyes wide and incredulous. There is a definite red flush that goes all the way to his ears now. "What do you mean what's the play? You should probably get back over to your hotel so you don't get caught."


Brock rolls his eyes. "It's only 7pm, we don't have curfew for hours. No one knows I'm even gone, and if they did they still wouldn't give a fuck, you know? They'd probably think I was banging some actress or her assistant or something."


"You can still go do that, you know."


Morgan is pacing now, rubbing a hand over his face. Brock takes the opportunity to give him a nice long look-over. He's Brock's height, but he's more filled out. Great ass. Nice arms. And those jeans do his junk a ton of favors. Brock realizes his attention drifted from whatever Morgan was saying.


"...happened and never say a word to anyone, yeah?" he's watching Brock expectantly now, but Brock had been too busy checking out his bulge.


"Sorry, bud, you're gonna need to catch me up on your crisis here," Brock says with a shrug. "I get distracted when somebody's balls show that much in jeans."


"Oh my god," Morgan mutters. He adjusts himself in an attempt to hide the obvious, but his pants aren't built to camouflage anything. "I was saying we should just pretend this didn't happen and not talk about it again. It's too awkward."


Brock arches an eyebrow. "Oh right, I'm totally going to not think about the fact that I tried to hook up with you the next time we play the Leafs. Hell, we're already through the 'shit what if somebody finds out I'm gay' panic."


"Bi," Morgan interrupts. "Not gay, bi."


Brock rolls his eyes dramatically. "Fine. I'm gay, you're bi. Still not a problem. You're not gonna go telling people you know that, because then you'd have to admit how you know. And I'm pretty sure you don't wanna go around Toronto telling people you were on Grindr. And you know I am not going to tell anyone for the same reason. I'd say this is an ideal damn situation, actually."


"It's not that easy! What if our teammates find out?"


"Mo, if your teammates find out you're fucking me, they would've found out about you fucking some random guy too. We both stand to lose if this comes out, so we've got each other by the balls with this secret, eh?" Brock pauses and looks Morgan over. "Not that I'm opposed to touching your balls."


Morgan takes a breath and sinks down to sit on the bed. "I can't be what you were expecting when you signed on tonight."


"No, you've got me on that," Brock concedes. He unzips his hoodie and tosses it on top of Morgan's suitcase. "And you didn't expect me either. But we're here now, and I can't figure any reason we shouldn't do what I came over here for."


Morgan watches him curiously. His cheeks are flushed pink and he's chewing on the inside of his upper lip. "I guess you do have a point." He hesitates for a long moment, watching Brock intently. "No one is ever gonna know about it, yeah?"


"I'm not gonna be telling stories about my Grindr hookups in the room," Brock is walking toward the bed, eyes tracing down Morgan's body. "So I'm pretty sure we're safe as long as you don't go marking me up."


Morgan swallows visibly, but he nods once. "Not really my thing, anyway." His voice is strained. "And you can't scratch me up either."


Brock tugs his shirt up and off, then stands in front of Morgan. "Too bad, you'd probably look good with some claw marks down your back." He lays a hand flat to Morgan's sternum and nudges him to lay down. "But I guess I can restrain myself."


Morgan grabs him by the hips and pulls him onto the bed; Brock follows easily and climbs up to straddle his thighs. He braces his hands on Morgan's chest and slides down his stomach--Morgan's sucking it in, and Brock might just find that endearing--and then he pulls his shirt off, mussing his hair in the process.


Brock expects the typical Grindr hookup. Guys usually want their dick sucked, then they'll give him a quick couple of fingers to open him up and then move onto the main event. Usually he's cleaning up and putting his clothes back on within an hour. It's not perfect, but he gets off, most of the time anyway. Everyone gets what they came for and it's over. No numbers are exchanged, not even last names.


This is not what he expected.


Morgan is cautious, careful as he undresses Brock first. Then he keeps his eyes steady on Brock's face while he's pulling his own pants down, one eyebrow lifted as if he's making sure he's still okay with it while he peels his boxers down and kicks them aside, his already hard--and even more impressive in person--dick bobbing heavily once he's naked. He doesn't even ask for a blowjob; Brock is halfway to his knees when Morgan assures him he doesn't have to do it if he doesn't want to.


It makes Brock really, really want to.


Morgan doesn't force deep into Brock's throat. He doesn't tug his hair. He pulls him off long before he's ready to come. His face is flushed and his lower lip is bitten red when he asks if he can fuck him.


Brock wants to chirp him about asking for permission--it's a fucking Grindr hookup, what the hell else were they gonna do?--but he just flashes a grin and nods. Morgan waits for him to get comfortable on the bed before he starts opening him up, with fingers first and then his mouth too. Morgan stretches him gently, using plenty of lube. It's sloppy, sure, but by the time he has three fingers inside, Brock isn't just hot for it, he's desperate .


He begs, just a little bit. He'll never admit to it later.


Morgan asks if he's ready. He asks again when he's rolling the condom on. He settles between Brock's thighs and drops a kiss where Brock's hair brushes his neck. He spreads even more lube down the length of his cock and moves to nestle close against Brock. Once more he asks if Brock is sure.


Brock definitely begs this time.


And it's good. It's really, really good. Morgan gives him time to adjust. He strokes smooth circles over Brock's hips until he's ready for more; he nuzzles into Brock's hair while he thrusts, tells Brock how tight he is, how much he needs this. He turns Brock to his back so he can change the angle, tells Brock how he wants to watch him. Morgan's hands are all over him, holding his hips, fingertips touching featherlight up along his sides, squeezing his thighs firmly but not too hard.


By the time Morgan finally wraps a hand around his dick, Brock feels like his skin is going to ignite. Morgan's found just the right angle, a steady rhythm driving into him over and over, and the calloused skin of Morgan's palm gives just the right friction as Brock thrusts up into it.


Morgan wants him to finish first, tells him as much. He strokes Brock's dick faster, matches it perfectly to the pace of his hips, and Brock can't hold back anymore; he comes hard , his eyes squeezed shut and his heels digging into the bed, blurting out a string of curses he hopes no one can hear.


When he looks up at Morgan, he's still stroking him, but the movement is idle now, and Morgan has a grin tugging the corner of his mouth.


"Feeling good?" he asks.


Brock snorts a laugh and sucks in a harsh breath. He doesn't quite trust his voice yet, so he just nods.


"I'm gonna finish," Morgan says, starting to rock his hips again. "If that's okay?"


Brock's eyes snap up to Morgan's face. "You don't have to ask . You're already in me, bud."


"Just makin' sure--"


Brock cuts him off with a chuckle and rolls his eyes, and even though his legs feel a little bit like jelly, he still tightens them around Morgan's torso to pull him closer. It's more intense now that he's come down from orgasm, his skin a little too sensitive; it's nearly too much stimulation when Morgan thrusts faster, firmer. It's never rough, though, and with all the careful prep before it doesn't hurt.


Morgan hides his face against the crook of Brock's neck, panting hot breath into his skin while his rhythm speeds, goes a bit erratic. And then he's swearing, pumping his hips into Brock as his body shudders. Brock tightens both arms around him, holding on while Morgan works through his orgasm, strokes through his hair while Morgan catches his breath.


Morgan pushes himself up to hold his weight off of Brock. His cheeks are pink with exertion and his hair is damp with sweat. "Gimme a minute," he says as he disentangles them; Brock bites back a sigh at the loss.


Morgan comes back a moment later with his boxers pulled on and carrying a washcloth. He crawls onto the bed next to Brock and wipes the come from his stomach. "We made a bit of a mess, eh?" Brock lets out a laugh, mostly because he's not sure what to say. Tops generally don't bother with the cleanup.


"You can't go back next door smelling like sex, y'know?" Morgan shrugs and nudges at Brock's thighs to make him spread them. With light strokes he cleans up the sweat, the lube, leaving Brock feeling tender and maybe a little swollen, but otherwise tidied up. "You're feeling okay, yeah? Not too sore?" His voice is light, but Brock can see the genuine concern on his face.


He can't fully hold back the smile threatening to curl his lips. He's not sure he's ever had a top check on him after it was over. Most guys are smug and condescending in the aftermath; he's even had a few smack his ass and snicker at his startled gasp. He's never had a guy treat him like this, though. "I'm definitely feeling okay. Way more than okay. But I'm pretty glad we've only got a video session tomorrow."


Morgan tosses the washcloth in the direction of the bathroom. He settles on the bed facing Brock, leans over to brush a lock of sweaty hair off of his forehead. He pauses just as he's tucking the stray hair behind Brock's ear; his nose scrunches up for a moment and he seems to think better of it, shifting to his back and laying his hands on his own stomach (he forgets to suck it in this time, Brock notices).


Brock lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.


"I guess, uh," Morgan finally breaks the awkward silence, "you've gotta get back to your hotel now, eh?"


Brock waves his hand dismissively. "I've got some time, it's only…" he trails off and glances at his watch. He's been here for more than two hours. "Fuck, I guess I probably should. I wanna get back before everyone else."


"Right, yeah, of course. Don't want to risk getting caught." There's a distinct edge of disappointment to Morgan's words.


"This was great, though." Brock says while he's picking his clothes off the floor. And he means it. Most tops aren't great about prep, so he's usually a little sore after a hookup. There have been a few bad ones when he's left before he's even come himself, if the top wasn't particularly reciprocal. And there are much better ones when the guy he meets up with actually knows what he's doing, and those are always nice. But even when they're good, they definitely aren't this good. Tonight he's a little achy, an inevitability as a bottom, and his legs are shaky, but otherwise he's sated, pleased. "Told you it was a good idea."


Morgan tosses Brock's zip-up to him when he's dressed. "Yeah, I've gotta admit you were right. It was definitely good." He follows Brock to the door. "So, uh. Thanks for all of that."


Brock pulls the hood up on his jacket and zips it up to the top. It's too warm for this outside, but he wants to make sure none of Morgan's teammates see him, and that none of his own recognize him. He's not sure how to end this--every other guy he's met on Grindr was someone he was definitely never going to see again.


"So, um. Good luck the rest of this season," Morgan offers, extending a hand to shake.


Brock can't get over the comedy of it all. Less than a half hour ago Morgan was inside him, and now he's going for a handshake. Before he can stop himself he pulls Morgan in for a half-hug. "Don't gotta be so formal, Mo."


Morgan stiffens at first but then relaxes, patting his hand on Brock's back. "Sorry, sorry. I'm not good at this shit, apparently."


Brock pulls back enough to catch his eye and wiggles his brows. "You were good at the rest, that's more important anyway."


Morgan flushes pink and his smile is bashful. "Thanks." And then he tips his head forward and presses his mouth to Brock's. It's a quick kiss, chaste and light; it only lasts a beat before he's pulling away. "I'll see you around."


Brock isn't sure if he manages to keep the surprise from showing on his face. "Yeah," he stammers. "Yeah, I'll see you. Later, bud."


It's another first from a Grindr hookup. They never kiss him goodbye.