“Hey, Dimitri! Over here!”
Dimitri shoved the last of his books into his locker. They didn’t quite fit, which told him it was time to clean it out, but he managed to get the door shut anyway. Then he shrugged his bag onto his shoulder and headed down the hall to Sylvain, who grinned at him.
“Almost time for the big game, huh? You feeling ready?”
Dimitri knew how he was supposed to respond to that - assurances that he was ready, that the team had practiced hard, that they were all ready to tear right through their rival school. But this was Sylvain, who he’d known for years, who had even been briefly on the team before he figured out that, while a lacrosse jersey definitely attracted girls, it also involved a lot of hard work, sweating, and bruises.
“I wish we’d had a little more time to practice,” he said instead. “Our defense is a bit weaker than I’d like. But we’ll manage.”
“Aw, you’ll do great,” Sylvain said, his grin softening a little. “You worry too much. Felix said you guys have been running extra drills every morning. You’re all lean mean lacrosse machines.” He smacked Dimitri’s arm with friendly vigor. “I’m invited to the afterparty, right?”
“There’s no afterparty,” Dimitri said.
“Oh, there’s gonna be an afterparty,” Sylvain said, grin widening. “I bet Claude knows where, and I bet he’s gonna get you there one way or another.”
Dimitri flushed. His relationship with Claude wasn’t new, not really - they’d been dating since winter of junior year, and they were both seniors now. They’d been seen together in the halls often enough, and once a sophomore had even walked in on them in the chem lab after classes, when Dimitri had Claude up on one of the tables with his tongue halfway down Claude's throat.
That had been embarrassing.
But even so, it often felt like something private, something between only the two of them. Claude knew about things Dimitri had told no one else, and Dimitri knew Claude’s secrets in return. They’d shared so much, been so intimate, that sometimes the mere mention of Claude brought that all flooding to the surface again.
Sylvain noticed, of course - perceptive as he was. His eyebrows rose just for a moment, his smile quirked, and he decided to have mercy on Dimitri and not tease him. This time, in any case. “Speaking of that boy of yours, Hilda said they’ve got something really good planned for the pep rally. Any idea what’s going down?”
“No,” Dimitri said, pleased that he could answer honestly. “But I’m looking forward to it.”
That, too, was honest. There had been some teasing, of course, when the captain of the statewide champion lacrosse team began dating the head cheerleader, but it was less than Dimitri might have expected. Claude said that the fact of them both being boys had confused people - no one expected the traditional high school power couple to be queer. He’d had a long dissertation about how it confused people that in one way they were playing into the most cliche high school tropes, while in another they were destroying them.
Dimitri didn’t really care either way. He’d liked Claude from the day he’d transferred in, admired his confidence and cleverness, been unable to stop looking at him across the room. He would have wanted to date Claude no matter who he was, no matter what extracurricular he’d chosen.
“You don’t have a gymnastics team or an archery team,” Claude had said, by way of explanation, “and Hilda made it sound like fun. What was I supposed to do?”
Dimitri thought Hilda probably regretted that now, since Claude’s ambition and gymnastics training had turned the cheerleading squad into something much more serious than it had ever been before. He knew Hilda now - not well, but she was Claude’s best friend - and he assumed her pitch had involved hanging out after school, gossiping, and performing half-hearted routines at games and pep rallies.
Under Claude’s leadership, they’d placed first at county championships and even placed highly at state, despite never even bothering to compete until he took over. Half of the students headed to the pep rally today would be going just to see what kind of tricks Claude had cooked up this time.
Though the rally was ostensibly for Dimitri’s team, for the match they’d be headed to tomorrow, he could admit to himself that he, too, was more interested in seeing what Claude could do. Pep rallies had never been his thing in the past - if anything, it was kind of embarrassing to sit there with his team and be feted, as if their success or failure really made any difference to the student body in general.
But now he could go to them and see Claude, and it all seemed a little more worth it.
“Huh,” Sylvain said, “he doesn’t even let anything slip to you? No pillow talk?” Dimitri went redder, and Sylvain smirked. “Must be pretty good, then. I’ll see you there, buddy.” And he shrugged his own bag onto his shoulders and wandered off.
It was true that Claude didn’t talk to Dimitri much about the squad’s routines, but Dimitri also didn’t talk to him much about the team’s strategies. They did sometimes, when one of them had run into a problem - Dimitri didn’t think he was much help with that, really, but Claude always seemed able to help him - but their relationship was about other things. Helping each other with homework (Claude’s grades were excellent, but he liked for Dimitri to double-check his grammar), driving out to lay under the stars (Dimitri enjoyed watching Claude point out the constellations), sweet kisses and more, things they only shared with each other.
So Dimitri really did have no idea what to expect, and that was all right. He liked seeing what Claude’s labyrinth of a mind came up with.
He headed down to the locker room to change. It seemed silly - they weren’t playing until the next day - but Vice Principal Seteth had always been very clear about the pep rallies. They were meant to encourage school spirit, and as such, all the players on the teams involved needed to do their part. Which, in Dimitri’s case, meant showing up in uniform holding his gear and letting the other students cheer for them.
He could survive it. Claude would be there.
His teammates welcomed him with varying levels of enthusiasm. Felix was scowling - he hated pep rallies more than possibly anything else in existence. But Ingrid looked excited, Ashe even more so, and Dedue was quietly stoic. Mercedes, the team manager, was making sure they were all suited up and ready in time, and as soon as Dimitri appeared she hustled him off to change.
By the time they filed out into the auditorium, the bleachers were mostly full. Dimitri tried not to notice that - tried not to think about the amount of people who were watching them, who were attending this event whose entire purpose was to cheer them on.
That’s not really why they’re there, Claude had said once, when Dimitri admitted how much pressure it placed on him. After a rally like this, he would feel like he had to win, or else he was letting all these people down. But - They really just want something to do. They’re bored, and it’s fun. They’d come if we were holding a pep rally for the new fake meat in the cafeteria, you know?
It helped a little to think of it that way. It didn’t matter if they won or lost (though Dimitri’s team was well on their way to the championships), what mattered was that people were bored and they wanted a spectacle.
Also, Claude had said, grinning, Seteth does get really pissy if people don’t show up. For all that he says it’s not required, I swear he’d give us all detention if we skipped.
And that was true enough.
So they made their way out into the auditorium and took their places. The sun was bright, streaming through the windows high in the walls, illuminating the court. Dimitri sat next to Felix, mainly to make sure he didn’t slip away while everyone was distracted. It had happened before, thanks to his deep hatred of anything resembling school spirit.
Sylvain waved from the bleachers above, grinning, and Ingrid rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why he quit the team. He just acts like he’s still on it anyway.”
“Everyone take your seats,” vice principal Seteth said into the microphone, “and we’ll begin.”
Dimitri expected it to be essentially the same as every other pep rally he’d been to. The vice prinicipal would half-heartedly give a speech about school spirit, the jazz band would play, Mr. Rangeld the gym teacher would get everyone to play some kind of silly game, and then the cheer squad would come out and reward everyone for sitting through the rest of the rally. He was only looking forward to seeing Claude.
He zoned out during Mr. Seteth’s speech, thinking instead about the game the next day. They’d be going up against the Agarthan Academy, an elite prep school team that was known for being absolutely bloodthirsty. Last season, a midfielder from another school had broken his ankle during a fiercely contested game against them. Officially, it had been an accident, but the rumor mill said something else.
Dimitri normally didn’t listen to rumors, but it was better to be safe than sorry. They’d modified their usual tactics for the upcoming game, and he’d come up with a few strategies that he thought might work well. He went over those while the jazz band played, then during the games, their boisterous gym teacher throwing bean bags into the crowd for some reason.
He was still deep in thought, running through one of the ideas he’d come up with, when Mr. Seteth cleared his throat and said into the microphone, “Very well. Now please welcome the Garreg Mach High cheer squad.” His eyes flickered to the door, and then Dimitri saw their vice principal’s eyes widen. He followed Mr. Seteth’s gaze and watched the squad come in, full of energy, their bright yellow uniforms eye-catching.
And then he discovered the reason for the look on serious, proper Vice Principal Seteth’s face.
Claude was wearing the girl’s uniform.
It wasn’t immediately obvious, mainly because there were so many people wearing the same outfit, all moving and shouting and making it hard to tell one from another. But Dimitri’s eyes always managed to find Claude first in any crowd, and this was no different. Normally Claude, along with Raphael, wore the boy’s uniform - the same GMHS patterned top as the girls, just with long pants instead of a skirt.
But today, it seemed, was different. Raphael was still wearing pants, but Claude - Claude had on the same skirt as the girls instead. The amount of skin it showed on the girls had never bothered Dimitri (for reasons that he hadn’t really considered until he started dating a boy), but somehow on Claude it was - impossible to ignore. Dimitri could see his legs, that long expanse of brown skin, right up to his strong thighs.
He’d shaved his legs, Dimitri realized belatedly. But Claude did that sometimes, because he was on the swim team, too. That wasn’t abnormal, but the skirt - he didn’t know what to think of it.
It was nearly impossible to drag his eyes from Claude’s legs, but when he managed to, it was to a wink and a grin from Claude, who had clearly caught him staring. Dimitri’s face felt hot. He knew he must be bright red. He tried to distract himself by admiring the glittering facepaint Claude always allowed Hilda to decorate him with, gold tones making his grass-green eyes stand out. It was a distraction, but not one that calmed him down even a little.
“Damn,” Sylvain said into his ear, leaning down from the bleachers above them. “You’ve been holding out on us. Who knew Claude had such nice legs?”
Dimitri had to resist a very immature and entirely illogical urge to cover Sylvain’s eyes. Everyone at the pep rally had, at that point, seen Claude’s legs - it wasn’t as if he could jump up and throw his coat over his boyfriend. And realistically, Claude wasn’t showing any more skin than he did when he wore shorts or during his swim meets. Less, even.
But it felt so much… racier.
The bouncy hiphop that the cheerleaders did their routines to filled the auditorium. Dimitri tried to keep his mind off the way Claude looked in that skirt, the way the entire student body could see him. It would be entirely ridiculous to be bothered by it. He didn’t know why Claude was wearing a skirt, but knowing him there was some kind of reason, even if that was just ‘horrify the vice principal’. And Claude wasn’t acting any different - he took his position at the front of the squad just as he did every time.
Oh, there were some whispers and laughs, and Dimitri was sure he heard someone whistle from the high bleachers (he would find them later), but Garreg Mach didn’t have the kind of student body that would make a big deal about a boy wearing a skirt. Especially if that boy was Claude, who was already known for pushing boundaries and doing exactly as he pleased.
Dimitri took a deep breath. Maybe this was what Sylvain had meant when he said Claude had something planned. Though it seemed rather simple, for a Claude von Riegan plan.
And very soon, he discovered that he was entirely right about that.
The skirt, if anything, seemed to have been an afterthought. The main attraction was the routine.
Dimitri had seen plenty of the squad’s routines. As Claude’s boyfriend, he’d attended some of their competitions last year, and so he’d seen routines from more polished squads, too. He knew that most squads used rallies like this as nothing more than a testing ground for their tricks, figuring out what worked and what didn’t, what would wow the crowd and what fell flat, and of course - most importantly - what they could pull off safely.
He knew, also, that it was almost time for the competition season to begin. He knew that Claude had been teaching his squad new tricks, that they’d been getting their routine ready. He’d expected to see it soon - in fact, he’d figured they’d probably try out some of their tricks today.
He hadn’t expected to get the whole routine. And, though he knew Claude’s skills, though he knew how far the squad had come from what they’d been before his boyfriend joined, he hadn’t expected this.
It seemed like Claude had choreographed something halfway between a dance routine and a gymnastics performance, with an added few stunts that were pure cheer. It was more difficult than anything Dimitri had seen them do before, and much flashier. Even the students who didn’t know anything about the cheerleading squad seemed to realize it, and the whoops and applause whenever one of the cheerleaders landed a stunt was deafening.
It was no surprise that Dimitri could not take his eyes off Claude. That was always true, and now even more so. He was the most skilled of them all, having practiced actual gymnastics for years before coming to Garreg Mach. He flipped across the wooden floor of the auditorium with ease, bending and twisting in a way that ought to have been illegal, and for all his grace he still had enough strength to help anchor one of their pyramids, taking Hilda climbing on his shoulders without a hint of difficulty.
And all in that ridiculous skirt.
Well. It wasn’t ridiculous actually, and that was the problem. It looked good. It fluttered around the tops of Claude’s thighs, and moved when he moved, flaring up when he jumped and showing - nothing scandalous, really, he was as covered as any of the girls, but it felt scandalous.
Dimitri couldn’t stop looking. He couldn’t stop thinking about Claude’s legs, about his strong thighs wrapped around Dimitri’s waist the way they had been just the other night, Claude pulling Dimitri down onto the soft sheets of his bed. He’d pressed his mouth to Claude’s soft inner thigh later that night, but he hadn’t left a mark. Normally Claude liked it when he did, but Dimitri had thought of Claude changing in front of his squadmates, thought of how they might tease him, and so he’d refrained.
Now he wished he hadn’t. Now he wished he’d given in to his desires and nipped at Claude’s skin until it was red and raw, until there was proof that he’d been there, so that everyone who was watching Claude now would know that he was Dimitri’s.
His hands tightened on the edge of the bleachers beneath him, and he worked to keep a scowl off his face as Sylvain let out another wolf-whistle from behind him as Claude did a backflip that looked much easier than it should have, his skirt flaring out around his thighs.
He wasn’t the jealous type - he didn’t have any need to feel insecure, Claude had never given Dimitri a single reason to doubt him. Claude wore his love-bites with pride and held his hand in public and kissed him hello in the halls. More than once Felix had called them disgusting for how comfortable they were with each other, how certain.
But Dimitri could admit that on some level, deep down in the darkest part of his heart, he had a possessive streak. That was part of the reason for the love-bites, part of the reason why he’d overcome his natural embarassment in order to get used to being a little affectionate in public. He didn’t think that Claude would ever stray, but he still wanted the world to know that Claude was his. No one else’s.
And right now, all he could do was struggle with himself, swallow down that possessive part of him that wanted to tell Sylvain to keep his eyes and whistles to himself, wanted to tell the whole school to keep their eyes off his boyfriend. He knew it was ridiculous, he knew it was unfair, especially when Claude wasn’t doing anything wrong, but still - still. It was a part of him that he could not destroy, even if he could push it down, grip the bleachers, eat Claude up with his own gaze.
The routine ended with a startling display of dexterity and strength, people on each other’s shoulders, flipping off into the air and being caught. Even Dimitri was impressed enough by it to be distracted from his own turmoil of emotions for a few moments, and he applauded and cheered along with the rest of the crowd as the cheer squad grinned in triumph.
Claude’s smile was the brightest, the glitter painted along his cheekbones catching the light as he threw his head back. Dimitri wanted to touch him, wanted it suddenly and with a gut-wrenching need. He wanted to slide his hands up Claude’s thighs under that skirt, wanted to press his mouth against Claude’s smile and kiss him breathless.
He looked away. He had to, or else things were going to get very embarassing very quickly, because the pep rally was over and people were standing up, finding their friends to chat with, filing out of the auditorium.
Dimitri needed a few moments before he could stand.
Claude and Hilda were trotting over, though, with a couple other members of the squad trailing behind. Dimitri managed to regain his composure enough to exchange smiles with Claude, but he could not deny being somewhat relieved when Annette and Ashe intercepted them first.
“Wow!” Annette said, visibly on the verge of breaking into applause again. “That was amazing! I didn’t even know people could do stuff like that!”
“Thanks!” Hilda said with a grin. “It took way too much practice, but Claude’s got big dreams.”
“Yeah,” Claude said, unashamed. “There are still a few wrinkles to iron out, but if we perfect that routine, I’m thinking we can take it to state, at least.”
“I didn’t see any wrinkles,” Ashe said, sincere and impressed.
Claude winked. “That’s how it should be.”
“So,” Sylvain said, leaning down precariously from the bleachers above, “is that skirt part of the routine?”
It almost seemed as if Claude had forgotten he was wearing it. He laughed and reached down to tug at the hem. Dimitri’s gaze followed helplessly, lingering on Claude’s clever hands, his taut thighs. “Nah. Hilda finally convinced Marianne to join the squad, and this was going to be her first performance, you know? But right before we came out she got really nervous about wearing such a short skirt in front of most of the school. We didn’t have time to get an extra pair of pants, so I swapped with her.” He shrugged. “I’m a little taller so we had to pin them up, but they fit all right.”
Dimitri had not noticed that Marianne was wearing pants, but then, he hadn’t noticed much of anyone besides Claude. When he looked now, he saw her, cheeks a little red but looking proud of herself - and yes, wearing pants that looked like they’d been pinned at the bottom.
“Well,” Sylvain said, and he was grinning, and Dimitri didn’t like it. “You should think about making it a permanent change. It’s a good look for you.”
As innocent as the comment seemed to be, they all knew better. Ingrid rolled her eyes, Felix scowled, Claude raised his eyebrows, and Dimitri -
Dimitri fixed Sylvain with a firm look of disapproval, caught hold of Claude’s elbow, and said, “Come with me.”
It was, all things considered, about the most peaceful reaction he could have managed. Sylvain was who he was, and even if he meant nothing by it he would make comments like that, and he would look, and who wouldn’t appreciate Claude, all flushed with exertion, with his brilliant smile and his long legs? Dimitri couldn’t blame him, not really, not when his thoughts were even less appropriate. It was better to just get Claude away from all those eyes, get him -
Get him alone.
Claude went willingly, a grin tugging at his lips. Dimitri caught the edge of the look he exchanged with Hilda, Claude amused and Hilda looking like she was pleased with herself, but he didn’t know why and he couldn’t say he cared right at that moment.
He pulled Claude out of the auditorium, down the cramped hallway that led to the locker rooms. If asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say where he was going, what his plans were - something unformed about covering Claude up, maybe, but the obvious truth was that wasn’t what he wanted. And that became very clear to both of them, because the moment the door to the auditorium shut behind them, Dimitri found himself pressing Claude against the cinderblock wall and kissing him, hard and hungry.
Claude made a soft sound of pleasure and kissed him back, pulling his arm free of Dimitri’s grasp so that he could slip it around Dimitri’s neck instead. He opened his mouth beneath Dimitri’s, encouraging him, and Dimitri slid his tongue into Claude’s mouth, kissing him until they were both gasping with it.
“Hilda said you were gonna like the skirt,” Claude said, breathless, when they finally separated.
So that’s what that look had been about. Dimitri saw no reason to deny it, and finally - finally he could allow himself to slide a hand up Claude’s perfect thigh, under the skirt. Claude shivered at his touch. “I like it,” he said, and then admitted, “I don’t like other people seeing it.” He corrected himself. “Seeing you like this.”
“Hmm,” Claude said, and he didn’t seem displeased. Dimitri had come to realize over the months they were together that Claude liked it when Dimitri laid public claim to him. It wasn’t that he liked jealousy, or the sort of possessive posturing some people indulged in. It was more that he liked knowing that Dimitri wanted him, wanted him enough to let other people see it. “I don’t think anyone cared as much as you do.” He smiled up at Dimitri.
“You don’t know that,” Dimitri muttered darkly, thinking about everyone who had been watching Claude, thinking about him. But Claude was his, their bodies pressed together, and when Dimitri slid his thigh between Claude’s, Claude allowed it, a shaky little sigh passing his lips.
“We’re not gonna be alone for long,” Claude said, a whisper against his ear as Dimitri bent down to press kisses to his invitingly curved neck.
“Mmm,” Dimitri said. Distantly, he knew Claude was correct. This hallway would soon be full of the rest of the cheerleaders coming to change and some of the sports teams as well. He hitched his leg up higher, pressing his thigh against Claude, feeling Claude harden. He wanted to peel off the spandex briefs Claude was wearing under that skirt, wanted to touch him, wanted more than even that. He took a deep breath, tried to regain some kind of control. “I can - wait. Until after school.”
“I didn’t say that,” Claude said. He took a deep breath and pushed Dimitri away, gentle but firm. “Just - give me a second.”
It was torture to pull away from Claude’s warm body, torture to keep his lips off Claude. Dimitri had to call on his diminishing reserves of self control, but he stepped away and let go of his boyfriend. Claude winked at him, then headed into the nearby locker room. He was only gone for a few moments, and when he returned he caught hold of Dimitri’s hand and pulled him down the hallway.
Past the locker rooms were a couple of doors that most people rarely noticed. They were storage closets, nothing more, full of gym equipment and other miscellaneous objects, but both Dimitri and Claude - as the captain of the lacrosse team and cheerleading squad, respectively - had keys to them. Dimitri realized what Claude was doing only a moment before his clever boyfriend slipped key into lock, pushed open the door, and pulled him into one of the storage closets.
They made it just in time. As the door swung shut, Dimitri heard the sound of talking, a small crowd of people coming into the hallway, headed for the locker rooms. Claude’s team or his own or another entirely, getting ready for practice.
But the door of the storage closet shut it all out. It was just the two of them in the darkness, and Dimitri caught Claude’s arm and spun him around, pressing him against the wall. It should have been more awkward in the pitch-darkness of the storage closet, but Dimitri knew every inch of Claude’s body, knew just how to touch him, and then they were kissing again.
One of Claude’s hands curled into Dimitri’s jersey, holding on to him. The other, still holding the key, slapped against the wall next to them, searching for the light switch, and Dimitri could have helped but instead he bent down and latched his mouth to Claude’s neck, sucking a mark there that no one would be able to ignore. Claude moaned beneath him, and finally his fingers found their destination. The dim light snapped on above them.
It wasn’t the most romantic of locations, with gym equipment scattered behind them, but Dimitri didn’t care. Claude was illuminated now, the light catching on the glitter on his face, and Dimitri pulled back just enough to look at him without letting him go.
“This,” he said, sliding one hand up Claude’s thigh again, catching the edge of his skirt, “should be illegal.”
Claude laughed. His hand fell away from the wall, between them, and he opened it to show not just the key to the storage closet, but a small container of lube as well. “All right,” he said. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Dimitri’s control snapped. He shoved Claude back against the wall again, hard, and took his mouth, kissing him with a possessiveness that startled even himself. He hitched Claude’s skirt up just enough to get his fingers inside the waist of his spandex, of the underwear beneath it, and then he pulled it down. He peeled it off Claude, sliding it down his thighs until it fell to the floor, until he was bare beneath that short cheerleading skirt.
And then he kissed Claude again, hungry and demanding, until Claude was gasping beneath him, moving up against him.
“Dimitri,” Claude said, and Dimitri reached for Claude’s hand, for the container there.
“Claude,” he said, and he barely recognized his own voice with that need laced through it. But there was no reason to pretend he was anything but needy. Claude had teased him all through the rally, the skirt riding up his thighs, showing parts of him that belonged solely to Dimitri, and Dimitri intended to remind him of that now. “Turn around.” He pulled away just enough so that Claude could do as he’d said.
Claude only obeyed when he felt like it, but it seemed like he felt like it right now. He turned around, braced himself against the door, and Dimitri pressed back in, molding himself against Claude’s backside, pushing his braid out of the way to kiss his neck again.
“What I’m going to do about it,” Dimitri said, “is make sure you remember whose you are.” He sunk his teeth into Claude’s neck again, sucking a mark into his skin. At the same time, he pushed Claude’s skirt up again, over the curve of his ass, and pressed his body against Claude’s, pressed his clothed erection against Claude’s warm skin.
His pants were already too tight, nothing but an annoyance, and when Claude moaned his assent there was no reason to hold back. Dimitri fumbled with the zippers, resisting the urge to curse when it caught in the fabric, and eventually he found success, unfastening his pants and pushing them and his briefs out of the way so that his cock, hard and ready, was free from its confinement.
He didn’t bother undressing any more than that. Uncapping the lube, he slicked up his fingers and pressed close to Claude again, mouthing at his neck. With his other hand, Dimitri tugged Claude’s hips back toward him, pushing his upper body forward so his back was a perfect curve, ass sticking out, legs spread so Dimitri could touch him.
And he did. His fingers found Claude’s tight hole and, slick with lube, it was easy to push into him. Claude’s breath shuddered at the intrusion, but Dimitri wrapped an arm around him, rucked his skirt up more so that he could take Claude’s cock in his hand. He stroked Claude with one hand while the other worked him open, getting him slick and ready for Dimitri’s cock.
By the time Dimitri was finished, fingers sliding out of Claude, Claude was moaning, making soft cries that he tried to muffle by pressing his wrist to his mouth.
“They’ll hear us if we’re not careful,” Dimitri said low into Claude’s ear. The locker rooms had a steady flow of visitors now, people changing after the pep rally, friends chatting in the hallway. Dimitri could hear them from inside the storage closet, which meant that if Claude cried out they might hear him too - and while the door was locked, they could still be discovered.
That probably ought to have made Dimitri think better of what they were doing. He was the more cautious one, the one who tried not to get caught making out in empty classrooms. Claude was the one who teased him into it, flirting with careful touches and clever words until Dimitri could not resist him.
And now here he was, slicking his hard length with lube, getting ready to fuck Claude inches away from so many of their classmates. He should know better, but he couldn't resist Claude. He’d never been able to.
They’d just have to be careful.
He paused for just a moment, admiring the sight in front of him. Claude, legs spread, back bent, braced against the door. Dimitri had pushed his skirt up at the back so that Claude’s ass and his slick, waiting hole were bare to Dimitri’s gaze. In front, his hard cock jutted forward against the fabric of his skirt, already dripping.
He was making a mess. They’d make more of one.
He’d have to keep the skirt after making such a mess of it, Dimitri thought, selfishly pleased.
“Dimitri,” Claude said, and his voice was low but needy, “please.”
Dimitri had always liked this side of Claude. He could seem so untouchable, so unruffled, teasing and smiling and acting as if nothing could ever shake him. But when they were together like this, Claude could be shameless - needy, aching, hungry for everything Dimitri could give him. He would melt under Dimitri’s carresses, get on his knees without being asked, say please with such desire.
Dimitri could not deny him anything.
He moved forward, catching hold of Claude’s hip with one hand and lining himself up with the other. Then he pressed into Claude, so slow. Claude was ready for him, he’d made sure of that, but he was still so tight that it was almost enough to make Dimitri lose his mind. He wanted to thrust into Claude, to take him fully and completely, but he forced himself to go slow.
Claude had been known, in the past, to get impatient - to take Dimitri deeper faster, to urge him along. But this time he let Dimitri set the pace. It seemed to be all he could do to keep himself quiet, his breathless gasps filling the small storage closet in harmony with Dimitri’s own hurried breath.
Finally Dimitri couldn’t take it anymore. Halfway inside Claude, he gripped Claude’s hips and held him in place as he thrust in, seating himself fully inside Claude with one harsh movement. This did draw a cry from Claude, one that he quickly muffled with his mouth against his wrist. Dimitri stilled, Claude impossibly hot and perfect around him, taking all of Dimitri.
He listened long enough to be sure that the students outside were still talking, that they hadn’t heard Claude - or if they had, they’d assumed his cry of pleasure was something else. Then he began moving in earnest. He fucked Claude with short, rough strokes, hands tight on his hips, body pressed against Claude’s. He could feel the shudder that ran through Claude’s body with each thrust, and as quiet as Claude was trying to be - as they were both trying to be - it was impossible to keep from making noise.
Claude, mouth still muffled, let out a soft, broken moan whenever Dimitri thrust into him. It was impossibly erotic, the sound of it going directly to Dimitri’s cock, and though he bit his lip to keep his own cries inside too, he couldn’t entirely swallow his gasps as the pleasure built.
“Come on,” Dimitri said, low and hungry, “come for me.” He reached, wrapping his hand around Claude’s cock again. Claude whimpered at the touch, and as Dimitri thrust into him, the movement pushed Claude’s cock into the circle of his hand. As he fucked Claude, he stroked him, the hem of the skirt brushing his wrist.
The need in Claude’s cries crested, and Dimitri fucked into him one more time, and then Claude was coming in Dimitri’s hand, stickiness coating his fingers and staining the skirt. He tightened around Dimitri too, his body tensing, and the world went white around Dimitri as he thrust again, and again, and then he bent forward and fastened his mouth on Claude’s shoulder to muffle his cry as he came.
His hips jerked, spilling inside Claude. Claude, panting beneath him, took all of it.
They stayed there for a moment, pleasure coursing through them, Dimitri’s hand still on Claude, his own cock softening inside Claude’s warm, taut body. But he knew they couldn’t stay long, and as his lust faded, Dimitri could not help beginning to feel somewhat embarrassed. While they’d kissed at school before, and Claude had coaxed him into a few extended makeout sessions, they’d never done this. He’d completely lost control - he’d wanted Claude badly enough to do something so shameless.
But how could he not want Claude?
Carefully, Dimitri pulled out of Claude. Claude turned then, hand coming up to stroke Dimitri’s hair out of his eyes. He was grinning. “Oh, now you’re embarrassed?” Claude knew him too well. “Don’t be. We didn’t get caught, and that was - nice.” He stepped forward, leaning up to kiss Dimitri, and Dimitri’s arms slipped around his waist. Claude was warm and so clearly pleased, and Dimitri found that it was hard to feel any regret when Claude was kissing him like that.
He sighed when Claude pulled away. “Still. We shouldn’t have done that.”
“Probably not,” Claude said, still smiling. “But it was fun.” His hands were gentle on Dimitri, tucking him away and doing up his pants. He tugged his own underwear back on, and Dimitri felt a guilty little twinge of arousal at the knowledge that his cum, inside Claude, might leak out and stain the fabric before he was able to change.
There were visible marks on Claude’s neck now. Luckily, the hallway was mostly quiet - they could probably leave without being spotted if they timed it right.
Dimitri tugged Claude in for another kiss, sweet and apologetic though he knew that Claude didn’t see any need for apologies. He liked it when Dimitri lost control - he’d clearly liked all of this. But still, Dimitri had been raised to be a gentleman, and he had certainly not been today.
“I’ll wait while you change,” Dimitri said, “and give you a ride home.”
“You’ve got lacrosse practice,” Claude said, raising his eyebrows. “Remember that big game tomorrow?”
“It’s all right if I’m a bit late. We’ll be holding a shorter practice today in any case, since we don’t want to risk any injuries or fatigue tomorrow.” It was difficult to let go of Claude, but Dimitri managed, and he smiled. “In any case, after your squad’s display today, there’s no way we can lose.”
Claude’s grin widened. “At least I know what gets your fighting spirit going.” He stole another kiss before going to the door, listening for the right time to leave.
And really, Dimitri couldn’t deny it. He was embarrassed, yes, but he felt strong, powerful, like he could do anything. Having Claude in his arms had a way of making him feel that way - and he intended to put it to good use on the field.