Beak Performance (Fangs on Ice #3)

12. Twelve

Twelve

Max

I floated home through the night, dizzy and confused but fucking elated.

Arne had stayed put and kissed me back. His enthusiasm made up for his lack of experience. God, he’d made me so horny with his hips grinding against mine.

Let’s hope he felt that his first make-out session with a guy was a success. Maybe he even wants to repeat it. I’ll volunteer for a rerun.

I stumbled upstairs, undressing inside my apartment door. The next minute, I was naked on my bed, legs spread, and fisting my aching dick.

Shit.

I’d been close to coming in my trousers but had held out.

Not a moment longer.

Throwing my head back, I gave myself a slow jerk, imagining it was Arne’s hand stroking me.

My mind went back to that night at training camp. To my captain on his knees at my feet, tears trickling out of his eyes and into the scruff on his cheeks as he’d choked on me. Toes curling, I clenched my ass.

Hold on for a bit. You know you want to drag this out a little bit.

It was no good. My body tensed and arched until I hovered, supported by the shadows moving on the edges of my consciousness. Remembering the look in his eyes, I blew, unable to stop until I slumped back on the bed, covered in cum and gasping for breath.

If the memory of him blowing me in a dream gets me off in two seconds, how fantastic will the real thing feel?

‘You’re damn sure of yourself, Maxi,’ Tobias’s voice echoed in my head. ‘You’ll stay alone forever.’ But fuck, I wouldn’t. I had the Viking. I had the other guys on my team. With every passing week, playing with them felt more like being part of a cool and attractive-as-fuck family.

I could see a future for myself here in Veitsreuth. And then? Who knew where life would lead me next?

…Wherever Arne will go?

I geared up for the popular annual Kerwa celebration after training the next day. Every tiny hamlet and village had their own. Jerke was particular about us attending the one in Veitsreuth, even those of us who hated crowds. It was always crazy busy, but that came with the deal of playing for the Pumas.

The team got lederhosen from a local maker, and I’d gone with traditional knee-length trousers made of stag hide. I loved the feel of the buttery soft leather on my plumage, and how it showed off my calves, and the way the suspenders hugged my newly enhanced pecs.

S?ren and Jerke had us on a strict training and nutrition regime. Bulking up was a given.

I turned in front of the mirror, admiring my ass in these trousers. I’d played professionally in Klagenhofen for two years, but I had never been at the height of my fitness.

You look hot.

I felt fucking good, too.

It wasn’t far from my flat to the fairground, and I enjoyed the walk. It helped calm my nerves.

Training with him was okay. As soon as I was on the ice, stick in hand, everything else ceased to exist. At the fair, I’d have no buffer or other focus but him. I bet Arne in Lederhosen was at least as sexy as him in a suit. Throw in the overstimulation that came with the bright lights, the smells, the music, and the crowd, and it was bound to get difficult.

I was glad for my medication. That, at least, took a bit of the edge off.

Trying to keep my eyes on the tent, I pushed through the crowd, only stopping for two teenagers who asked for an autograph. Someone called, ‘Hey, Raven!’ from one of the beer stalls; I raised a hand in their direction but pressed on.

“Hey, Decks!” I called when I spotted my American colleague with his giant bird fiancé.

We went into the tent together and found our table in a private booth. I hated not being in control, but Arne robbing me of what little power I had over myself was weirdly exhilarating. I snagged the seat next to him.

Let’s put this down as exposure therapy.

“I’ll never get over you in Lederhosen,” Arne muttered so only I could hear him, one corner of his mouth tipping up in a smile.

“They fit you surprisingly well for a Dane, too.” I winked at him.

After the official part in the tent was finished, things got more rowdy.

“Want to have a look around? It’s getting a little too loud for me in here.”

“Oh, sure.” Arne shot me a slight smile and got up. We told the others where we were going and took off.

Outside wasn’t a lot quieter, but it brought some relief, at least.

Strolling through the fairground with my Viking was fantastic. I loved talking to him, loved his calm composure and the witty jokes.

Seriously, how is he so hot?