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Marns has always been shameless.


Okay, maybe not always, but certainly in the past few years and definitely around the boys. 


Something in Mitch doesn't make him feel embarrassed about things the way a normal person does.


Which is why it's so jarring for Mitch to look so unsure of himself when Auston opens his hotel door.


“Marns,” he greets cautiously, swinging the door open wider. Mitch steps into the room wordlessly, walking with his legs far apart. Auston doesn't remember Mitch taking a weird hit, or falling awkwardly, but he's a master at hiding when he's hurt. “What's up?”


Usually, by now Mitch will have thrown himself onto Auston's bed, commanding the space and ruining the sheets by cocooning himself in them.


Mitch doesn't even sit down. Just stands stock still in the middle of the room. It puts Auston on edge.


Marns takes a huge deep breath in and shuts his eyes. “There's something and I need your help. But you can't laugh.”


“Why would I - Mitchy, what -?” Auston feels on the back foot here, completely off-kilter. He's been able to tell Marns’ next step, his next thought, for years. Now - now he doesn't even know -


“I have a -” Mitch sighs again. Waves down at his lower body. Auston lets his eyes track the movement.


“A - what?” he asks carefully, not letting his eyes fix on Mitch’s crotch. Because that's a dangerous game to play and he is better than that.


“A - Matts,” Mitchy whines, tilting his head back and keeping his eyes closed. “Don't make me say it.”


“I don't - what do you have, Mitch?” Auston asks, then the pieces snap together in his head. “Oh my God, is something broken?”


Marns’ mouth twitches, a half smile Auston will take under the circumstances. “You could say that,” he breathes.


“Do you - you need a doctor, you don't need -” Auston tries, but Mitchy's eyes snap open urgently.


“No, no,” he rushes, “you can't tell anyone.”


Auston tries not to sigh. Any kind of emergency, Mo’s the guy you go to. Mo, or JT, or Muzz, or - literally anyone else. Maybe not Willy. 


“Okay, I'm just -” Marns hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, eyes fixed on the door behind Auston’s shoulder. “Don’t laugh,” he says firmly, and then in one movement, drops his pants to his knees.


Now, Auston’s been dreaming of this moment for years. Him and Mitch, alone, getting naked. For sex purposes, obviously. He's thought about it a lot, what it would look like, how they got there, the music that would be playing. He's got what to expect when it finally happens down fucking pat


Except -


What he's not expecting is -




He feels a little betrayed, honestly. He considers him and Mitch best friends, drawn out sexual tension aside. They've been through a lot together, for a long time, so he figured if Mitch was trans, they probably would've talked about it ages ago.


Because that's what's happening here. 


Mitch has no - Mitch has a pussy. 


The flat of his abdomen flows into a little curve between his legs, flush with dark hair. 


It's, objectively, a great pussy. Or - maybe pussy is the wrong word here. He’ll have to ask.


But it's very easy to reconcile this version of Mitch with everything he already knows. It kind of explains a lot, actually, now he thinks about it. The self-esteem stuff, everything with his dad, the tight little waist and his stupid fucking eyelashes.


“Tony,” Mitch says softly. “Stop staring at it.”


Auston drags his eyes up Marns’ body. He is, unfortunately, mostly still dressed. But Auston figures that was kind of a lot to say, so maybe it's best to do it clothed.


“Uh,” he clears his throat, remembers his extensive sensitivity training. “Thank you for telling me, I really appreciate you trusting me with this part of you. It doesn't change anything about -”


Mitch starts laughing. 


Auston is being completely serious, one hundred percent earnest for once in his life, and this is how Marns reacts?


“Man,” Mitch swipes a tear away from his eyes, face pink and glowing with the absolute glee of whatever the fuck is going on here. “That's so - you're so sweet. No, it's not that. I'm not trans, but thank you for that. It means a lot.”


Auston clears his throat again. Shifts from one foot to the other but keeps his eyes firmly on Mitch’s face. 


When he thinks about it, Mitch probably doesn't feel trans. He's been a dude as long as Auston's known him, even way before that too. 


But he knows what he's looking at. He's very familiar with -


“Stop staring at it,” Marns pouts.


“Sorry,” Auston says quickly, drawing his gaze up again. Mitch is still stood pantsless in his hotel room, and he's having a hard time wrapping his head around all of this while being presented with -


“Okay, you know what?” Mitch pulls his sweats back up quickly. He starts moving towards Auston - or, no, he's trying to get to the door. “Knew this was fucking stupid.”


“Marns, Marns, wait,” Auston says urgently, grabbing Mitch’s shoulders and forcing him to stop moving. “I'm sorry, okay? I just - I don't understand.”


Mitch sighs, drops his head forwards into Auston's chest. “I got cursed.”


Auston feels himself frown.


“I'm not - I don't usually have a - a, you know.”


Not to be not bros about it, but Auston has spent a long time watching Mitch, just never in the locker room. He keeps his eyes down, at all times. Mostly.


“So, thank you for being nice about my fake coming out,” Marns continues bitchily, “but this is temporary. Hopefully.”


Auston’s brain takes a second to buffer. He quickly unreconciles everything he just thought about Mitch, sends half an apology to his dad, and lets his thoughts take a different track.


“You spoke to Anna?” he asks eventually, because Auston has less than no magic in him and he's not a cursebreaker. Anna’s like, a full witch or something. Actually, maybe Willy would've been helpful to go to for once. He's an elf or a gnome or something, Auston remembers absently.


Marns still isn't looking at him, but Auston is refusing to take his hands off of Mitch's shoulders and Mitch seems pretty adamant on keeping his head where it is. Auston's not complaining.


“Yeah, and she -” Mitch sighs and Auston feels it reverberate through his whole body. “She said -”


Auston waits him out. 


“It's like, a simple fix,” Marns settles on eventually, then leans back to look at him. “It's really easy, but I -”


“Whatever it is, Mitchy, I’ll do it,” he says easily. It's completely true, and it always has been. It also feels way too soft given the fact that he'd literally been looking at Marns’ new, untouched - don't go there, not worth it - pussy less than three minutes ago.


Mitch blinks up at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly like he's trying to work out what Auston’s not saying. “I need - I need to cum.”


Auston feels all of his blood rush south so quickly he thinks for a second he's going to pass out. Now they're back on track for how Auston imagined this going originally.


“And I tried to do it myself, so I can go back,” Marns is continuing, like he has no idea he's just ruined Auston's life. “But I couldn't do it, so I need -”


“Wait,” Auston says before he can stop himself, “back up. When did this -?” he lifts a hand from Mitch's shoulder to wave it in the general direction of his crotch. “Like, how long -?”


“I think it happened in the game,” Mitch sighs, “because when I took my jock off in the locker room, my dick was just gone.”


Mitch had left way quicker than usual after the game, and Auston had watched him disappear into one of the equipment rooms in the underbelly of the new UBS arena. 


“So I've spent like, a couple hours, give or take trying to get myself there, and I -”


A couple hours.


Auston's legs almost buckle.




Of Mitch, alone, in his hotel room. Playing with his pussy. Auston wonders briefly if he cried a little out of desperation. He seems the type. 


Auston feels like crying too, honestly.


“It's been a long time since I even thought about pussy, let alone went anywhere near one,” and Mitch is still going, huh? Still just here trying to kill Auston off by sending all his blood to his balls and starving his brain. “And they're way more complicated than a dick, dude. Even when it's attached to you. Especially when it's attached to you. Can't see shit.”


The image of Mitch on his bed, legs up in the air, delicate hand between them as he watches himself in a mirror. Auston's going to need the world's coldest shower in holy water after this.


His hands are probably gripping Marns’ shoulders a little too tightly, so he pries his fingers away and drops his hands to his side. Tucks them in his pockets to stop him from reaching out to touch what he shouldn't.


“So, that's what I need you for,” Mitch finishes lamely. And right, he’d been talking. 




“Huh? Me? What -?” his brain takes a second to catch up.


Oh my God.


His face must do something weird, because Marns takes a huge step back and folds his arms over his chest. “Don't make it weird, man,” he huffs. “I can go ask Willy, or like, Johnny would probably help. Soup, even. Maybe Mo, or -”


“Alright,” Auston cuts in, because ow. That felt kind of personal. But there has to be a reason Mitchy came to him first. “Why, uh - why me?”


He refuses to get his hopes up, but -


Marns goes bright red, flushed across his nose and cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. He shrugs. “You're my best friend,” he says quietly, “so it won't be, like, weird. And I don't know, you're -” he waves a hand at Auston. “You know.”


“I don't,” Auston says, frowning. “I'm what?”


Mitch rolls his eyes and groans, something he only does when he thinks Auston’s being particularly insufferable. So like, once a day. Minimum. He's still blushing though. 


“You're you,” Marns decides on eventually, “you're - like, good. At this stuff. Pussy. Or whatever.”


Auston tries not to smile, really, he does. 


He can't help but feel smug though. 


“You think about it a lot?” he asks, sounding a lot more confident than he feels.


Mitch flushes even more. Auston imagines it goes all the way down his neck to his chest. Now there's a thought.


“You're a dick,” Marns says accusatory, pointing. 


“Yeah,” Auston concedes. “You're still here though.”


Mitch sighs again. “Yeah. I guess I am.”


“And you still want my help.” It's not a question, not really. But he knows Marns will hear what he's asking.


“Yeah. I do.” Mitch is watching him, almost challenging. An old memory flashes in Auston’s mind, the look Mitch gave him in that elevator at World Juniors, so long ago now.


It's not - this isn't how Auston imagined it, really. But it might be the one chance he's got at this and he'd be stupid not to take it. 


“Okay,” he nods, “take your clothes off.”


“Such a romantic,” Mitch huffs, but tugs his hoodie over his head anyway. It fluffs his hair up on the way and he tosses it aggressively at Auston. 


He catches it easily, drops it onto the chair in the corner. Marns takes his shirt off too, throws that over as well like it'll actually bother Auston in the slightest.


He's seen Mitch shirtless plenty of times. Too many times. He considers it the biggest factor of what made him attracted to Mitch in the first place. 


Marns only looks a little different than the first time Auston saw him like this. A little more bulked out but not by much, more ink on his arms. But he's still got the same delicate cut of his waist, the flat chest and soft, pink nipples. 


“You too,” Mitch says absently. “I'm not - you should take your clothes off too.”


Yeah, he can do that.


He's not completely oblivious to how he looks shirtless, but something about the way Marns’ eyes go kind of wide, the way his eyelashes almost hit his eyebrows. It's a blatant ego stroke and Auston will take it.


It's not cold in his room, but he shivers anyway, runs a hand through his hair just for something to do with his hands. 


“You uh,” he clears his throat, “you should tell me what you want me to do. So I know.”


“Oh, uh,” Marns flounders, “I don't - whatever you want.”


“This isn't about me,” Auston says, even though it feels a little like it might be.


“Well, like,” Mitch scratches across the back of his neck nervously, stretching out his torso and arm. Auston's already looking at him, but it draws his attention in closer anyways. “What are you best at?”


What a question.


“Because I kinda just want this over with,” Mitch continues. “So like, efficiency. Or whatever.”


Right. That's why Marns is here. Not because he wants Auston. Just because he wants his dick back. It's fair enough, Auston's sure he'd be just as desperate.


“Get on the bed,” Auston decides, “I can - I’ll figure it out from there.”


Marns nods jerkily, movements stiff as he lays down, hands folded over his stomach.


Auston takes a second to breathe now that Mitch isn't watching him. Marns isn't asking for feelings, he's not asking for anything other than Auston's help. As a friend. He could just as easily be in anyone else's bed right now but he's here. With Auston. As a friend. 


He's gonna make it good. He's only got one shot here.


He walks over to the bed, kneels beside Mitch with his hands either side of his waist, just looking over him. “Can I touch you?” he asks gently.


“How else are you supposed to make me -?” Mitch sounds like he's trying to go for bitchy, but the breathlessness puts him miles wide of anything other than desperate.


“‘’M just asking,” he hums, then takes a hand and skirts it across the soft skin of Mitch’s ribs. He feels his breath hitch more than he hears it, feels Mitch shake gently under his hand. “You need to relax.”


“I -” Mitch goes to argue, but drops his head back into the pillows and lets out a shuddering breath. “Okay.”


“Okay,” Auston repeats, letting Mitch get used to the idea of Auston’s hands on him like this. It takes a minute until Mitch stops shaking so much, and then he goes almost boneless with it, practically melting into the sheets. All Auston’s doing is touching his side, sliding his thumb over the edge of Mitch's abs occasionally. 


But Mitch - he's got his eyes closed, eyelashes casting long shadows over his flushed cheeks. “Why -?” he starts, eyes opening to find Auston already watching him. “Uh, you can - if you want, you should like, kiss me.”


There is nothing Auston wants more in the world, and here Mitch is just asking him for it.


Mitch’s lips are softer than they look, warm and pliant. He opens his mouth so easily and -


It's such a small thing to notice, considering, but he can feel Mitchy’s eyelashes fluttering against his own cheek. He shifts in closer, but both his knees are still to the left of Mitch's whole body.


He pulls back, just for a second, Mitch chasing his mouth before stopping himself. 


“Let me just,” he breathes, grabbing Mitchy’s right leg and pulling it to the other side of his body. Like this, knelt between Mitch's open legs, he remembers why he's here. The absence of a dick pressing up against his stomach isn't that out of place for him, granted. But with Mitchy - yeah, it's a little weird. A little off.


Mitch whines, high in the back of his throat, back arching off the bed. It pulls him into a long, pale line of smooth skin, from his neck all the way down to the waistband of his sweats. “ Aus.”


“Yeah,” he leans back in, kisses just left of Mitch's mouth, just to make him squirm a little more, then gives in and meets his lips. He's still got a hand on Mitch's thigh, lets himself smooth it down towards Mitch's hip, lets his fingers toy with the waistband. 


“God, I - “ Mitch writhes again, gasping when he feels Auston’s dick rub up against him. “ Shit, Matty. I'm so -” He breaks off into another whine and Auston feels dizzy with it.


When he slides his hand from Mitch’s hips up to his chest, he can literally feel his heartbeat hammering away underneath it. Suddenly, Auston's not so sure about this being the only time.


“Matty, you have to touch me,” Mitch breathes, trying to push up into every part of Auston that's already flush against him. 


“I am touching you, honey.” He doesn't mean for the pet name to slip out but Mitch either doesn't notice or doesn't care because he doesn't call him out on it.


“No, you have to - please.” Auston never thought it'd be this easy to make Mitch beg, but it's a heady feeling. Makes him feel unstoppable. It's dangerous and addictive and he doesn't know how he's ever going to get over this. “You have to touch my pussy, please.”


Auston feels like he's been slapped.


He lets out a wounded noise right into the crook of Mitch's neck, follows it with his teeth just because if he doesn't get something in his mouth, he's going to say something humiliating.


“Okay,” he says eventually, mostly to himself, “yeah, alright, whatever you want.” 


He still hasn't made the decision on what he wants to do yet, but when he pulls back to look at Mitch’s face, the tears pooling on his lashes, the flush down his whole body, the way his lips are bitten raw, the - 


Auston reaches his hand out, cups Mitch’s face and ghosts his thumb over his cupid’s bow, pink and hot to the touch, stung raw by Auston's mustache. The worst parts of him hope it lingers.


“Auston,” Mitch whines.


“Yeah, sorry,” he breathes, then starts tracking kisses down Mitch’s torso. Maybe he spends a little extra time on his nipples, maybe he bites a little too hard into his chest and stomach. Mitch doesn't tell him to stop and Auston doesn't have nearly enough self control right now. 


“You want me to -” he starts, mumbling into Mitch's skin when he reaches his waistband. 


“Yes, obviously,” Mitch huffs, lifting his hips up but making no move to pull the sweats down himself. 


Auston smiles to himself against Mitch’s stomach, hooks his fingers into the elastic and tugs a little. The fabric goes easily and he watches it all the way. 


It's lucky, he guesses, that he's looking, because for a blink and you miss it moment, there's a fine string of wetness clinging to Mitchy’s sweats, from his pussy


“Oh,” he breathes, barely any sound leaving his lips. Mitch shudders as the cool air hits him. 


“What?” Mitch groans when Auston doesn't move, trying to sit up onto his elbows. “What's wrong?”


“Nothing,” Auston says quickly, looking up to catch Mitch's eyes. There's a few seconds of a feedback loop; Mitch must see something in Auston's face that gets to him, and then seeing that reflected in Mitch’s face gets to Auston and it just - “You're really wet.”


Mitch shudders again, abs going tense and his fingers flexing like he wants to touch. He doesn't close his eyes, but he drops his head forward onto his chest, watching Auston through where his hair has flopped onto his forehead.


“Did you get this far earlier?” Auston asks him, mostly curious but a little bit competitive, as he pulls Mitch’s sweats the rest of the way down his legs and throws them behind him. 


“No,” Mitch sighs, finally dropping back into the pillows.


In a split second, he makes his choice. “I'm gonna eat you out, okay?”


Mitch hiccups a sob, tries to smother the back end of it into the crook of his elbow.


“Or, I don't have to -?” Auston offers, confused. He'd mostly been joking about Mitch being the type to cry.


“No,” Mitch says frantically, “no, please, you have to -”


“Okay,” Auston soothes, rubbing a palm over the soft hair at the top of his thigh.


It’s strange, Auston thinks, that the pussy kind of suits Mitch. Not in a mean way, it's just - it looks so delicate tucked between his legs, like it's meant to be there. Soft pink and covered in dark hair.


“Stop looking at it, oh my God,” Mitch groans, hips shifting under Auston's hands like he's trying to squirm away. He can't close his legs with Auston’s shoulders in the way, but he gives it a good shot anyways. 


“Can't help it,” Auston half shrugs, “you're pretty.”


He swipes his fingers through the damp crease of Mitch’s thigh, just left of anywhere good, just to piss him off a little more. 


“You're - shut up,” Mitch hisses, but his voice sounds too strung out to actually carry any venom in it. It's also a little muffled where Mitch is hiding in the crook of his elbow again, arm slung across his face.


Auston bites him for the insolence, right on the softest part of his thigh. The skin is warm and smooth, so pale. Now pale with the addition of a perfect bruised ring in the shape of Auston’s teeth.


“Don't pull my hair,” he adds as an afterthought.


He can basically already hear the chirp Mitch is trying to formulate and he could really do without that right now, so he takes him by surprise. Just dives face first into his pussy, cuts off any coherent thought Mitch was planning on having for the next couple of minutes, and gets to work.


Mitch is practically dripping with it. That's the first thing he notices. So wet that it immediately soaks into Auston’s mustache and starts getting smeared across his chin. He's kind of loose too, when Auston finally licks into him, twitching a little bit, but so obviously into it.


Auston shifts a little on his stomach, groans straight into Mitch’s pussy as he ends up grinding his cock down into the mattress. He hadn't realised he was this hard, his own arousal so far down his list of priorities after things like Mitch and pussy and Mitch's pussy and Mitch’s eyelashes and the curse


Mitch is moving kind of a lot, which is making Auston’s job more difficult than it needs to be, but he's: one) too into it to really tell him to stop, and two) going to die if he ever has to take his face out of Mitch's pussy. 


He moves Mitchy's thighs up onto his shoulders, hooked at the knees, tilting his hips up. He reaches blindly for a pillow, dragging it down the bed and shuffling it under Mitch's lower back.


“Auston,” Marns whines, high in the back of his throat. Over the wet sounds of his pussy, Auston can hear his hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets.


He remembers absently something he thinks he heard in the development program once. Maybe. 


If you're fingering a girl and you can't hear her, she's not wet enough.


It doesn't really apply here, honestly. Marns isn't a girl and Auston isn't fingering him - yet, his brain supplies traitorously - but he can definitely hear Mitch. He's definitely wet enough.


Auston pulls back just slightly to take a quick look up at Mitch, and receives a swift kick in the back for his troubles. 


“Come on,” Mitchy whines. “I was so - I think I was -” He groans, flinging his arm away from his face to stare down his body at Auston. His eyelashes are damp, clumped together like he's been crying. 


His face is flushed pink too, all the way down his neck and chest. He’s slightly damp all over, sweaty and glistening with it, panting as he pushes himself up onto his elbows.


“How am I gonna know?” Mitch asks breathlessly.




Marns rolls his eyes bitchily. “That I’m gonna cum,” he supplies. “What does it feel like?”


Auston frowns, his mind and at least 95% of his blood elsewhere. “Like, good, I guess?” he shrugs. 


Mitch kicks him again, square between the shoulderblades. 


“Ow, fuck, okay,” he huffs, smirking slightly as Marns twitches against the rush of warm air over his damp pussy. “It's like - it always seems like it comes from deeper, with girls. Like -” he presses his hand gently over the warm, soft skin just under Mitchy's navel. Feels the jump of his muscles under the palm of his hand. “From here. And someone told me once that it feels like - I don't know, like building rather than anything like, big. She was -”


“High as fuck?” Marns finishes for him, face bright and open as he watches Auston. 


“No,” he rolls his eyes. Although, now that Mitch mentions it - Huh. “Whatever, I'm just saying - it seems like it's different.”


“Can you get back to it?” Mitch groans. “I just - come on.”


“Yeah, you got it,” Auston hums easily. “Just relax, okay? Doing so good for me.”


He kind of loses himself in Mitch again, eyes closed and just feeling his way inside with his mouth - his whole face really, with the way he's got his nose pressed gently against Mitchy’s clit. 


He's still got one hand laid across the soft skin of Marns’ stomach, the other stroking across his hip absently. He shifts in a little closer, tipping his face down into Mitch, feeling a shiver race up his spine as he pushes his dick further into the mattress. Auston’s hair fans down across his face as he moves and -


Before he can move to push it away, Marns beats him to it. Just a quick brush of a warm palm over his face, and then the heavy weight of a hand resting on the back of his head. Not pushing, not pulling. Just there.


A reminder. 


Auston blinks his eyes open to watch Marns, just for a second. Mitch isn't looking at him, his head tipped back into the pillows with his face tucked into the crook of his elbow again. He can see Marns’ mouth though, bottom lip held tightly between his teeth. 


Auston takes that as a challenge. 


He shifts himself up onto one arm, keeping his mouth firmly on Mitch. He slides the hand on Marns’ hip down across the top of his thigh, tracing the pale skin as he goes.


It's not a surprise at all how easy it is to slip a finger into Marns alongside his tongue. He's so wet and warm inside and Auston swears he can feel Mitchy's pulse like this. 


The real surprise is the shaky moan it pulls from Mitch. How his legs go vice-tight around Auston's shoulders for a brief second, before they fall even wider and he shifts his hips up against Auston’s face.


He doesn't know which of them is more desperate anymore; Auston, now with two fingers tucked up inside Mitch, blood rushing through his ears, hot all over, grinding down into the mattress like a teenager, or Mitch, moaning and arching his back to push closer, his hand dropped to the back of Auston's neck, nails dug in so tight that Auston will be lucky to leave this bed with only bruises. 


“Matty, please,” Mitch sobs, “I - please, I - Auston.”


His jaw is starting to ache and his wrist is burning a little from the angle he has it at, so he doubles down. Marns tightens his thighs around Auston’s head, and all he can do is hum shakily, pushing his face further into Mitch.


Mitch's sobs break off into high, breathy whines, his fingers fisted into the hair at the back of Auston’s head. He's about to pull back to say something about it when -


Marns’ pussy clenches around his fingers and his legs get even tighter around Auston's head. So much so that he can't really hear the loud cry Mitch lets out as he cums all over the bottom half of Auston’s face. 


Either he's sweating more than he thought, or Mitch just came so hard it's literally dripping down his neck.


He kind of wants to do something really nasty, like lean up and spit in Mitch’s mouth, just to see what he'd do. If he's out of it enough that he'd open his mouth and just let Auston. If he's still in it and he'd like it. 


He doesn't though, just pulls his fingers out of Mitch and tries to wipe as much of his cum off his face with the back of his hand. All he succeeds in doing is smearing more of it everywhere. 


He sits up a little, feels dizzy almost like he's simultaneously just woken up from a nap and ran four miles. His heart's pounding and he's sweating, he's so hard he feels like he's going to die - he doesn't even want to know how crazy he looks right now. 


Mitch doesn't look much better, face flushed and wet, hair plastered to his forehead. The bite marks Auston left across his chest and down his stomach are worse than he intended for them to be, but he finds it hard to be too upset about that. 


One second, as he's watching Mitch's chest rise and fall, Auston can just about see the wet slit of Mitchy's pussy. Then he blinks, and by the time his eyes are open again, there's a dick in its place. Resting up on his stomach, soft and spent, is maybe the prettiest dick Auston has ever seen in his life. It's not a thought he's really had before, but here he is. Mitch's dick is long, kind of skinny but straight, and soft pink at the tip.


“Of course your dick is pretty too, man,” Auston sighs, mostly to himself.


Mitch hums lazily, and then sits bolt upright. “My - my dick!” He yells, staring between his own crotch and Auston's face. “My dick is back! Oh thank God.”


And then he's tackling Auston backwards into the mattress, tipping them both dangerously close to the edge of the bed, kissing all over his face. 


“You saved my dick,” Mitch grins, laughing almost straight into Auston’s mouth. He can't help but laugh back. “Thank you, thank you, thank you -”


Auston gets a hand fisted in the soft hair at the back of Marns’ head and pulls his mouth to where it should be. 


It's, objectively, pretty gross to be kissing like this when Auston's face is as wet with Mitch’s cum as it is. But he's a big believer in making out after oral and he refuses to be ashamed about it. He's glad him and Marns are on the same page about this too. 


“Let me get you back,” Mitch says against his mouth, moving his legs to straddle Auston's waist. 


“Huh?” he asks, sure his brain is fucking with him. He's got Marns’ ass pressed into where his dick is straining and leaking against the front of his sweats. There's no way -


“Let me blow you,” Mitch pants. “Come on, I'll make it so good for you, I can -”


“You don't have to, man,” Auston tries, getting his hands on Mitch's hips to stop him moving, because if he ends up ruining his sweats like a teenager, he's going to be so pissed. 


“And if I want to?” Mitch sits up, which is good for Auston because with Mitch's mouth so far away now, he feels like he can breathe a little bit. It's also bad for Auston because now Marns’ entire body weight is pressed into his dick.


“Do you?” he asks carefully, fighting to keep his face neutral. 


“I've always wanted to, you just haven't been paying attention.” Mitch is pouting down at him, eyes wide and wet, lips bitten red and his face still flushed. “Matty, please.”


He looks like every wet dream Auston’s had since his rookie year.


There's no chance Auston isn't dreaming anymore. First, Mitch shows up at his door with a pussy, and Auston's the one he asked for help? And now Marns is practically begging to blow him? There's no way it's real.


Doesn't mean he can't enjoy it, though. 


“Yeah, okay,” he breathes, forcing himself to make a decision before he talks himself out of it. “Okay, but I'm not gonna last long.”


He'd be embarrassed about that if his brain was still attached to the rest of his body. As it is, his dick throbs as Marns slides his sweats down and shimmies between Auston’s thighs.


“Been thinking about this for years,” Mitch says, and Auston's sure he's not supposed to have heard that, but his dick leaks onto his stomach in response anyway. 


Auston knows exactly how long this is going to last the second Mitch gets his mouth on his cock. He just looks so pretty, his lips stretched around the base of Auston's dick, nose pressed into his pubes, eyes closed with his stupid fucking eyelashes fanned over his pink cheeks.


He's not timing it, but it goes something like: Mitch's mouth on his dick one, two, three, Mitch moves Auston's hand into his hair four, Auston pulls Mitch’s hair five, Mitch looks up at him six, seven, eight -


And that's it. 


He makes a humiliating noise, moaning deep from his chest, his head tipped back almost off the edge of the bed. Mitch - fucking Mitchell Marner - does nothing but whine a little as he swallows and keeps his mouth exactly where it is.


Auston manages to untangle his fingers from Mitch's hair eventually, suddenly feeling bone tired and fucking mortified. Marns pulls off slowly before laying his head on Auston's thigh, seemingly happy to fall asleep right there like they're not both disgusting right now. 


One of them is going to have to speak first. One of them is going to have to address what the fuck just happened. They both know it won't be Auston to do it.


“Look,” Marns starts, and Auston feels his stomach twist immediately, bracing for the rejection. “Matts.”


His hair is soft on Auston’s thigh. He thinks he might remember that more than he remembers how Mitchy sounded when he came. 


“I've been in love with you a really long time,” Mitch sighs, “and I know you don't -”


Auston's knee jerks involuntarily as he registers the words. He hits Marns square in the sternum as he sits up. “Huh?”


“Come on,” Mitch rolls his eyes, rubbing slightly at his chest. Right over the multiple bite marks scattered across his skin. “You knew.”


“No,” he says slowly, “no, I definitely did not knew - know. I didn't know.” This is a dream. Any second now, he’ll wake up from the anaesthesia of the wrist surgery and the past month will have been a dream, tonight included.


“How could you not?” Marns asks petulantly. “I've been so obvious and -”


“No,” Auston cuts in, “no, you haven't. If you were being obvious I would've noticed.”


“Clearly you didn't,” he huffs, folding his arms. The whole bitchy thing Mitch has going on has always kind of done it for Auston and he finds it's only amplified when Marns is naked. “And now you're fucking with Bunts, so it doesn't even fucking matter -”


“I'm - what?” Auston can't help but laugh, but it comes out all stiff and way too loud in the quiet of his hotel room. “I'm not doing anything with Bunts, what the fuck are you talking about?”


“You guys hang out all the time, he practically lives with you, you're taking him to Raps games like you used to do with Fred and you never invited me, so I -”


Auston’s been so fucking stupid. So has Mitch, obviously, but mostly Auston. 


“Marns, Mitchy, come on,” he cuts off Mitch’s tangent, watches those delicate hands pull at a loose thread in the comforter. “Look at me, man.” 


Mitch doesn't. 


“Mitchell,” Auston tries, ducking his head slightly to force himself into Marns’ eyeline. “There's never been anyone else. It's not - I haven't -.” He takes a huge breath in. “It's you. It's always you.”


Mitch's head snaps up. His eyes are wide but his eyebrows are furrowed, soft little crease between them. “Is this just because of the -” he waves down at his lap, “because like, that's not, I don't - I'm not a girl.”


“I know that,” Auston says softly. “It's never been an issue. Kind of comes with being bi.”


“God fucking -” Mitch hisses, and then all but throws himself at Auston, bony knees in his ribs and soft hair fanned over his shoulder and -


“So we're doing this?” he asks quietly. He honest to God thinks he can feel Mitch's heart hammering under the hand he has on his back. 


“Yeah, you're stuck with me now,” Marns laughs softly. “You owe me five years, Matts. At least.”




(Willy sits down heavily opposite them the next morning at breakfast, dark circles under his eyes and toque pulled low on his head. 


“I am so glad you two finally got your shit together,” he huffs, swiping Marns’ coffee from his hands. “But if you ever keep me up that late again because you're fucking, I will tell Kyle.”)