Chapter 1 #10
It was supposed to be just a little showy—one hand on Noah’s waist, the other on his face, a dramatic twirl.
But then Noah curled his fingers into the hair at Devon’s nape, which felt good, and his lips parted under Devon’s, which felt better, and then one thing led to another and he had Noah dipped in the doorway while Noah tried and failed not to giggle into his mouth.
Finally Devon had to pull them back upright or risk dumping them both onto the kitchen floor, but he finished by picking Noah up by the waist and twirling him around to applause and catcalls.
“You’re all animals,” he accused, noting that the card players had joined the perverts in the kitchen. Bronwyn still had two fingers in her mouth, whistling.
“Speaking of animals,” Noah said, “don’t you have to go look after the sheep?”
Oh. Oh. “You know what,” Devon said, “I think I left the paddock gate open. I’d better go check.”
“I’ll help!” Noah offered, and then grinned bashfully while Gable foisted off a Tupperware full of leftovers on them as they were toeing into their boots.
They were still pink-cheeked and grinning like kids who’d gotten away with something when they hopped into the truck.
“Well,” Noah said, “that’s one way to rip off the Band-Aid.”
Devon put the truck in gear and started backing out. “I don’t even feel bad. That’s, like, the definition of fuck around and find out.”
“We can make it up to them on New Year’s.”
Much as Devon would’ve preferred to head straight to the bedroom, he really did need to check on the sheep. He topped up their hay and double-checked the heated water troughs while Noah followed Nelson on his rounds, and then joined Devon in the barn for the lullaby.
“What are you playing them tonight?”
Well, if he was going to have an audience who could talk back—“Figured I’d go with a holiday classic,” he said, and then plucked out the opening notes of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”
Truthfully, the song was too fucking long and Devon had forgotten half the words, but he and Noah made up half a verse and closed it out to giggles and sheep bleats, and then they offended Nelson by locking him out of Devon’s bedroom.
“What,” Noah said, bright with anticipation, “no romantic firelight this time?”
Devon already had him by the waist and was pulling him in for a kiss, but he paused, considered. “I mean, we could lock Nelson in here instead—”
He was cut off when Noah kissed him.
If their first kiss had been for show, this one was all feel—Noah’s chilly fingers curled in the flannel of Devon’s shirt, his soft lips under Devon’s and the warm puff of breath from his nose.
He still tasted vaguely of pumpkin-pie spice from dessert, he smelled like gravy, and he sounded like the heavy thud of Devon’s heart coming back to life.
Devon was halfway in love with him after two days, and the idea didn’t even scare him.
They didn’t bother taking their time undressing.
Devon’s house still didn’t have the world’s greatest insulation.
They stripped and then dove under the covers and warmed each other with open hands and open mouths.
Devon found a ticklish spot along Noah’s rib cage.
Noah squirmed and arched and—okay, hello, that was Noah’s dick that had just left a damp trail along Devon’s stomach.
Devon should investigate that more closely.
“Hey,” he said, half into Noah’s mouth, half against his chin as he moved lower, “can I suck your dick?”
The dick in question left another smear on Devon’s skin. Noah gasped and arched as Devon bit gently over his Adam’s apple. “It’s all yours.”
Oh, Devon liked the sound of that. He nipped the side of Noah’s neck, the dip of his collarbone.
“I haven’t—haven’t been with anyone since Tommy, so—”
Right, right. Head in the game, Hughes. Devon stopped before he could duck under the covers. “Full disclosure, I’ve had everything you can cure with antibiotics.” He sucked a bite between Noah’s pecs and was rewarded with a full-body shiver. “Nothing now, though.”
Noah was laughing when he pushed Devon’s head under the blankets.
It had been a while for Noah and even longer for Devon, so he didn’t try to draw it out.
He wanted Noah’s cock in his mouth too much.
But he did savor it—the heft of him on his tongue, the salty taste, the muffled gasps from the head of the bed.
Noah’s dick was long and slender and probably very pretty, and Devon was a little sad he couldn’t see anything under here, but they’d have time.
They had all night, all week, all year. Maybe even longer.
He didn’t need eyes to appreciate Noah’s ass anyway.
He grabbed a double handful of firm, smooth muscle as he pushed his mouth down over Noah’s cock, savoring Noah’s groan, the burst of flavor on his tongue.
When he ghosted his fingers down Noah’s crack, he was rewarded with splayed legs and a choked-off moan, and he sent up a prayer of thanks to whatever pagan god was responsible for twink Muppets who were into assplay.
He wasn’t stopping to find lube, though, so Noah would have to make do with the discount brand.
He shoved two fingers into his mouth to get them wet and put them back where they belonged, and then traced tight circles over Noah’s hole while he lapped at the head of his cock.
He sounded so good. He tasted so good. He felt so good.
Everything after that went hot and kind of hazy, fuzzy around the edges. Devon pushed his index finger against the rim of Noah’s ass until it gave, and then pushed farther when he swore and his balls tightened. Under Devon’s steadying hand, the muscles of Noah’s stomach went taut.
Devon’s mouth watered. His own erection leaked against his thigh.
“Fuck,” came Noah’s low, tortured voice, muffled by the blankets. His breathing came louder. “Devon, I’m gonna—”
Good. Devon took Noah’s cock as deep as it could go, swallowing around it and curling his finger just right, until Noah clenched tight around him. Then he pulled back to suck the head while he was coming and tongued over the slit as Noah thrashed above him, until—
Until neither of them could take it anymore. Devon threw the covers back to see Noah slack-mouthed and red with pleasure. He kissed him with his own taste in his mouth and reached down to fist himself, rough to the point of cruelty.
Noah groaned into his mouth and joined his hand with Devon’s, pulled back panting, lips shiny. “Do it,” he said urgently, as if he hadn’t just spent in Devon’s mouth. As if he was on the edge again too. “Come on me.”
Jesus. Since he asked so nicely.
Devon thumbed the head of his dick and pointed it at Noah’s. White ropes of come splattered against his softening cock, striped over his balls, his stomach. He looked obscene. He was the best thing Devon had ever laid eyes on.
“So,” Devon said, numb. His head rang. “You’re kinda bossy.”
“Mmm,” Noah agreed, looking smug. He trailed his fingers through the mess on his belly. “You kinda like it.”
“Apparently.”
Noah stretched and wriggled over on the bed to make room. “Don’t worry, you can be captain next time.”
Huffing a laugh, Devon collapsed next to him and plucked the box of tissues off the nightstand. “I’ll take you up on that.”
“Mm,” Noah said again. He practically purred into Devon’s touch as Devon cleaned the mess from his body. “I’m counting on it.”
Devon was going to spoil him stupid. He dropped a kiss on Noah’s shoulder and pulled the blankets back up. “What do you think?” he asked as he curled himself around Noah. “New Christmas tradition?”
“I’m in,” Noah said. “But like, next year let’s skip the roadside rescue.”
“YOU’RE SURE you want to do this.”
Devon gave Noah a look. They might’ve only known each other a little over a week, but it didn’t take a genius to read it. I’m not going to break.
Fair. He raised his hands. “Sorry. But like, it’s going to be a lot. Not actually because of the hockey thing.”
Now Devon tilted his head. “Not because of the hockey thing?”
“You can handle the hockey.” Noah waved his hand and ushered Devon toward the frozen pond.
“Then…?”
“Last week you thought it was too soon to meet my parents and this week you’re hosting both our extended families for a New Year’s Day skate and Winter Classic watch party?
” Did Devon not realize Noah’s parents were still die-hard Wings fans even though Noah had played for Buffalo?
And Devon was an Avs alumnus. Detroit so happened to be playing Colorado for this year’s Winter Classic.
Noah expected bloodshed on the ice, but Devon was willing to risk it in his living room as well, apparently, after their early exit from Christmas dinner.
“As long as nobody sees me fall on my ass, I’ll be fine.”
Which was why Noah and Devon were out here in the back pasture at nine in the morning, skates and helmets slung over their shoulders. Devon’d brought a shovel out on the snowmobile too, because God knew the ice was going to need scraping before anyone could skate on it.
Noah had never met a professional hockey player, current or former, who’d willingly wear a helmet when he didn’t have to in a non-game scenario.
But Devon had come out of the barn attic two days ago with just the skates, stick, and helmet.
Noah was pretty sure that was for his benefit.
He didn’t take unnecessary risks with his brain, but it felt nice not to be alone in that.
“I promise not to take video.”
They’d tested the ice the night before, but Noah double-checked it now before he skated out. The unseasonably cold weather had held, and the pond was frozen a good six inches deep.
He picked up the shovel while Devon was still lacing up, taking his time.
“You could’ve been ice crew,” Devon commented teasingly after Noah had made a few passes. The ice was surprisingly smooth, given how windy it had been. “You’re a natural.”
Noah flung a shovel of snow at his feet.
“Believe it or not, teaching actually pays better.” Judging the surface sufficiently cleared for now, he tossed the shovel off to the side and held out his hand.
“Now quit stalling. We’ve got to knock the rust off before people start getting here, and we’ve only got, like, four hours.
Come here and start your therapy homework. ”
He might’ve felt cautious about it, but Devon’s therapist had already given this plan her stamp of approval, especially since they were starting small, with outdoor rinks and kids and family only. And Noah could see the banked excitement in Devon’s face as he looked at the pond.
Finally his blade touched the frozen water.
He didn’t wobble. Noah let him take a few slow laps by himself, while he stood there leaning on his hockey stick, soaking it in. Devon deserved a few moments of peace to reconnect.
But a few moments was apparently all he wanted, because once he’d pushed himself up to speed, he flew down the ice away from Noah, turned on a dime, raced back, snowed to a stop in front of him, and nodded to the stick. “One-on-one?”
Oh, so that was how it was going to be? Noah grinned. “You think you can take me? You’re kinda rusty.”
“I have experience,” Devon retorted as he fished his stick out from the straps of their shared gear bag. He flipped a puck onto the blade and batted it toward the center of the pond. “Besides, you’ve only been playing with kids. It’s a fair fight.”
He turned out to be mostly right—Devon’s years of pro experience against Noah’s more recent but less intense exposure.
But after half an hour and two hilarious falls—both due to irregularities in the ice that Noah marked off with a can of orange spray paint—Devon was panting and groaning, and they decided to pack it in and save some energy for later.
“I can’t believe Gable knocked up my sister,” Devon grumbled as they let themselves back into the house for coffee and second breakfast.
Noah elbowed him. “You can get him back later,” he promised, mock serious, and laughed when Devon kissed him about it. “I can’t believe we missed the announcement because we left early. They couldn’t hold on to that for another week?”
“It’s not like they knew we were going to host a New Year’s party.” Devon handed him a full, hot mug. “I’m just glad she’s not due in lambing season.”
Noah had been in the middle of taking a drink, and he almost sprayed coffee out his nose. “I’m telling her you said that.”
“Hey, do you think she’ll tell us the kid’s name in advance? We could match the lambs’ names.”
“Or you can try to get her to name her kid on theme. But like, subtly.”
Devon’s eyes lit up. “Oooh. I like the way you think.”
Noah bowed. “Thank you. That reminds me—did you pick a theme for this year yet?”
The toaster popped, and Devon slathered the two halves of the bagel with peanut butter. “Oh yeah, didn’t Amber tell you?”
When would she have had time? Noah had spent four days renting an apartment he’d probably never see, and every other moment he’d been here, Devon had been with him. “No.”
“Since I’m officially no longer in hockey withdrawal, we’re retiring that trend.” Instead of just handing Noah his half of the bagel, Devon stuck it directly in his mouth. “This year we’re doing Muppets.”