Chapter 42
August
It was hard being a Stanley Cup champion. Not every guy was cut out for the hard work and dedication needed to win the most sought-after title in the NHL, but August could now consider himself one of the elites.
Even though all he did was sit on the couch and cheer his team on from the other side of the country.
Jett, the asshole, had pushed Vancouver into game seven, but the Bigfoots never gave up. Dax had scored the winning goal in the last thirty seconds of the game, and if that wasn’t the biggest fuck you to his old team in Washington, August didn’t know what was.
But after the celebration had ended, and his teammates stopped showing up to visit him in the middle of the woods, August got bored.
He had Niko and Nollan sometimes, when Niko wasn’t obsessing over his new conditioning routine, and Nollan wasn’t catching frogs in the lake, but there wasn’t a lot to do in the area.
Not on a busted knee anyway.
Which is why, when the draft came on late that summer, August was fucking locked in. He wanted to see who was getting the rookies, especially the eighteen-year-old who everyone was talking about: Elias Finch. The kid was a six-foot-four teenage sensation from Yarmouth of all places.
August hadn’t even known where Yarmouth was until he pulled up a map on Google and found it on the ass-end of Nova Scotia, but he didn’t care which small town the guy was from; he needed to know where he was going.
And watching the draft was turning out to be a difficult task when he was restrained to the headboard in Jett and Harrison’s room with a sexy brunette bouncing on his cock.
“Quinn—I’m—”
There were very few positions they could have sex in with his busted knee, and Quinn got annoyed whenever August tried to do more than he was allowed, so that’s why the restraints had made an appearance tonight.
Not that August was complaining because the restraints always added an extra layer of pleasure in his fucked-up brain, but that had all changed when Quinn pulled out the cock ring and said, “I’ll let you cum inside me this time. I know you’ve been asking for it.”
He had. On repeat. For weeks.
He wanted to know what it was like to be inside Quinn’s body with nothing between them. He wanted to fill him up with so much cum that it would drip down his gorgeous thighs as he wobbled to the bathroom.
He wanted a lot of things, but he could achieve none of them when it was impossible to get off, thanks to a piece of goddamn rubber.
“Still bored?” Quinn asked, giving August the feral grin that never failed to get his blood pumping south. Quinn started rolling his hips to give his legs a break from the riding, and August was so deep inside of him that he could see a bump in his stomach, just below his navel.
If August’s hands were free, he would press on that spot while Quinn fucked himself on his cock because he knew how good it would make him feel, but—
“Not bored,” August hissed through clenched teeth. “It’s been…thirty minutes, and I need to come. You’ve done it like, three times now.”
Quinn barked a laugh and patted his cheek. “Aw, my poor baby. I’m just trying to help you achieve your fantasy of making a mess inside me by using a little edging technique. Do you think you have enough saved up for me now?”
There was no way in hell August was saying no, so he nodded frantically and prayed that Quinn would be merciful.
If there weren’t children sleeping upstairs, and if their injured brother-in-law wasn’t in the guest room on the other side of the house, August would be loudly begging Quinn for release.
But they had to be quiet, even with the soundproofed walls and door.
Quinn twisted a finger into the skate laces knotted around August’s wrist and applied pressure until he teetered on the edge of subspace. “Be good and don’t move.”
The command locked his body in place, and Quinn smiled as he unbuckled the restraints pinning his arms. When they were free, he let Quinn guide them down onto the bed beside him so the blood would have an easier time flowing back into his fingertips.
“Grab my waist when the numbness stops,” said Quinn, pausing to check in with him before he smirked and rose onto his knees.
August moaned as his cock slipped out with a wet pop, hips bucking instinctively toward Quinn’s retreating body, but the command kept him in place.
He didn’t move as Quinn reached between them and removed the wretched ring from around his cock, freeing his aching dick from its own form of restraints.
Quinn’s chuckle had shivers tingling through his skin, and August’s hands shot up, palms sliding over Quinn’s hips, fingers digging into firm muscle. He was desperate to draw Quinn back down and bury himself inside his tight ass again, but the goal was to be rewarded, not punished right now.
“Please,” August gasped, his voice strained from having to contain his moans. His cock throbbed against his belly, untouched and aching.
Quinn leaned forward, bracing one hand on August’s chest, nails scraping lightly over a nipple. “I’m going to hold myself up,” he said, grinding down—letting the cleft of his ass drag along August’s dick without allowing him to penetrate. “Just enough to give you room to thrust slowly.”
The friction was maddening, but August had enough sense to nod and give confirmation.
“I want you deep,” said Quinn, reaching back to wrap a hand around him and stroke firmly from base to tip, thumb circling the oversensitive head and smearing precum. “You’re so fucking hard for me. I can’t wait to feel you filling me up.”
August was trembling by the time Quinn positioned himself and sank down on his cock, taking every inch slowly, like he was savouring the fall. August curled around him with a whimper as he bottomed out, and he tucked his face into Quinn’s neck and panted against his throat.
He raised his uninjured leg to give Quinn something to use for leverage so he could hold himself up, and then it was August’s turn to take the lead.
The first thrust was awkward because he had to figure out how not to use his bad leg, but by the third thrust, he had a feel for it, and by the fourth, he was punching quiet moans out of Quinn’s throat.
August still had plenty of strength in his arms, so when Quinn gave permission to take over by going limp against him, he picked him up and dropped him back down on his cock, using him like a toy.
August was submissive for Quinn, and he preferred it that way. But it was always so hot when Quinn allowed him to fuck him like this. Like he was a sex doll that August could thrust into as deeply and roughly as he wanted—and he would just take it.
Quinn keened when August pushed in as deep as he could go and pinned him in place, forcefully holding him down as his teeth found Quinn’s slim shoulder.
The mix of pain and pleasure had Quinn clenching around him so hard that August thought he might snap his dick off.
But then Quinn’s hands flew to his mouth to stifle his shout, and he was spilling between them for a fourth time.
“August, fuck—come inside me. Please, please, please. I need it.”
Quinn’s voice was muffled, but the command was clear. They were still locked together, and Quinn’s hole was squeezing around his cock, so it only took one thought of cum dripping down bruised thighs to send him over the edge.
He emptied himself deep inside, his cock pulsing so hard that his head pounded along with it as he filled his boyfriend with his cum.
He kept Quinn pinned like that, milking him while he swept his tongue over the teeth indents in his skin, moaning every time Quinn shivered and clenched around him from the ticklish feeling.
And when his orgasm finally ebbed away, they collapsed onto the pillows together, Quinn slumping forward onto August’s cum-smeared torso with a groan.
August was still seeing blackspots in his vision when Quinn lifted his head and smiled at him.
“Remember how I told you about that second ring of muscle?”
This was not the conversation he wanted to have while his dick was still inside Quinn’s warm body, and everything was slippery, and hot, and—
“You reached it that time,” said Quinn. “Good job.”
August was getting hard again. How it was possible, he didn’t fucking know. Apparently, Quinn had a magic ass.
Quinn rolled his hips, grinning as he pinched August’s nipples until he hissed. “Save that thought. Don’t you want to see what your hard work earned you?”
August smacked his head off the headboard. “Then stop talking about stuff that turns me on, and dismount.”
Quinn scoffed, which didn’t help with the clenching, but then he rolled his eyes and slowly pulled off August’s half-hard cock. His legs were shaking so badly that August was surprised he could stand on them, but then Quinn shot him a mischievous smirk and began hobbling to the bathroom.
August moaned, gripping a pillow until his knuckles turned white when cum slid down Quinn’s legs, painting the insides of his thighs with so much of it that it dripped onto the floor.
“Look at the mess you’ve made of me,” Quinn said, pausing his trip to the bathroom so he could make a show of running his fingers through the sticky substance.
That alone was hot enough, but then Quinn had the audacity to bring his cum-covered fingers to his mouth and suck them clean, moaning in a way that had August’s hair standing on end.
“You know heart problems run in my family, right?” August growled, biting back another moan when Quinn tossed his head back and laughed around the finger in his mouth.
August watched him disappear into the bathroom, and then it was just him, his hard dick, and the NHL draft that he had completely forgotten about.
The Finch kid had been selected by Ottawa, which August knew would make Jin happy because he’d been carrying that team since being traded to them.
He would have grabbed his phone to check the chat if he wasn’t covered in cum and sweat, but he was sure he would hear about it tomorrow when Jin showed up to terrorize them for breakfast.
August turned up the volume when the media group started talking about the new team that would be joining the lineup next season.
The Halifax Citadels would be Nova Scotia’s official NHL team, and August thought it was about damn time, seeing as the province was a breeding ground for some of the best hockey players in the league.
The roster for the Citadels had a few veterans they had acquired from trades, but the majority of their guys were rookies—kids in their early twenties who had been drafted but had not signed with any team.
That meant that the Citadels now had the youngest team and the youngest players, and a fuck-ton to prove.
August didn’t know any of them, but he was only just starting to remember the names of his own teammates, so that wasn’t unexpected.
He would get to know the Citadels when the new season started because there was no way he wouldn’t be lacing up his skates for the first Vancouver game; he would bet the rest of his sanity on it.
August just had to make it through the next few weeks—through the trial that would end with Perry behind bars. Then maybe he could breathe a little easier.
“Why are you making a face?” Quinn said, plopping down beside him with a wet cloth. “Do you need more restraints? Maybe on your other hand?”
August smiled as he watched Quinn clean his chest with gentle strokes of the cloth. It was nice to be taken care of, even if it still felt strange sometimes.
“Oh—I see why you’re making a face. Why isn’t Jason in his goalie getup?”
August’s attention snapped to the TV to see what Quinn was talking about, eyes widening when he spotted familiar blond hair and baby blue eyes. He had the same face as the goalie for the Toronto Sunbursts, but the sneer and the arrogant confidence—it was all wrong.
“Did Jason get traded or something?” Quinn asked, looking to August for answers.
August had no idea. He didn’t know what or who he was looking at, and he was starting to think he had slipped into an alternate universe until he read the name of the imposter when it popped up on the screen.
“Who the fuck is Dylan Carr?”
THE END