April Loves Avi

April O'Neill waits outside the locker room door. Avi Love shows up five minutes later in her practice uniform and neither of them bothers with words. They kiss hard enough to bruise. Inside, the towels hit the floor and so do their shorts. April spreads Avi across the narrow bench, pushes her thighs apart, and drags her tongue through the slick heat between them. Avi answers with a moan that vibrates against the ceiling tiles, then she rolls April beneath her and returns the favor. Their mouths stay busy, tasting salt and slick, until legs shake and fingers dig in. They grind against one another, slick skin sliding together, chasing the tight coil of pleasure until it snaps. April comes with a sharp whimper, biting her own wrist to stay quiet; Avi follows seconds later, hips stuttering, breath hot on April’s neck. They cling through the aftershocks, sweat cooling on flushed skin, already planning their next secret meeting before the locker-room door clicks shut behind them again.