Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CALLAN
“Damn, that felt good.” Diego shakes off his gloves and rakes his fingers through his hair. In spite of the cold in the arena, we still managed to work up a bit of a sweat. And, no surprise, Diego mopped the ice with me.
I know he’s a pro player and all, and obviously there was no way I was going to out skate him, but my ego doesn’t really care about that kind of bullshit logic. I should have at least managed to score one damn goal on him.
“Are you pouting?” He barks out a laugh as we step off the ice and start towards the small locker room where we stashed our stuff.
“I’m not pouting,” I grumble. “Hey, we should head back to the bar and get a pinball rematch going.” Wait, he was damn good at that too, so maybe that isn’t the answer. What’s something I’m sure I could outdo him at? Dick sucking competition? Where would we even enter one of those?
He chuckles again and shakes his head at me, shouldering through the locker room door with a smirk twisting those pouty lips of his. Fuck, he just humiliated me out there on the ice and I still want to lick the sweat off of his chin.
Putting aside my ego, there’s definitely more confidence in his clunky, off-ice strut now than there was before I got him out there.
The ice time was the right move, and hopefully it’ll give him the boost he needs to start feeling like himself again.
I’ll take my Personal Trainer of the Year trophy any time, thanks.
The locker room door swings closed behind me, and we both take a seat on the wooden bench situated in the middle of all the cubby-style lockers. Diego is quick with his laces, relying on decades of muscle memory to easily tug the knots loose and slip his skates off while I fumble with mine.
“You remember last week?” The question might sound casual if I couldn’t hear the slightest hint of flirtation underneath it. I’m not imagining that, am I?
I manage to get the knot undone on my first skate and I risk a glance at him, standing a few inches in front of me, shimmying out of his padded shorts.
The slight pink in his cheeks could be from the hour we just spent on the ice, but I don’t think it was there before he asked the question.
I toe off one skate and then untie the other one before I answer him.
“In general, or are you asking about something specific?” I tease, watching his expression.
He pulls his jersey off, leaving him shirtless, in nothing but those tight pants that might as well be a second skin, his abs and chest glistening with a sheen of sweat, the pink buds of his nipples stiff and extremely biteable.
My cock swells uncomfortably inside the tight, padded shorts I still have on.
Diego’s eyes meet mine, and I’m expecting to see the same curious, shamefully horny look in them he had when he asked me to blow him.
The horny part is definitely right where I left it, but instead of shame there’s an unmistakable confidence in the curiosity that’s shining in his eyes now.
Like sometime between that night and right now, he decided that maybe it wasn’t such a big deal if some small—my gaze drops to the swelling bulge between his legs—or not so small part of him is attracted to me.
“I’ve just been wondering if you knew I was still there when you jerked off in the shower.”
Surprised laughter bubbles in my throat and my cock gives an eager throb that borders on painful with these damn shorts still on.
Fuck, I had managed to convince myself that there was no way he stayed for the show.
Did he like it? Was he horrified by my lack of professionalism?
He’s still grinning at me, so I doubt it’s the latter.
I kick my second skate off and brace my hands behind me on the bench, trying for a more casual posture and the excuse to shift my hips and create a little more room for my growing situation. It doesn’t help though. The shorts I rented are too small, no matter how much I shift around.
I hold his gaze and weigh my answer carefully. I don’t want to come on too strong and scare him off, but he’s not looking away or even blushing anymore. His cock is definitely harder too.
“I wasn’t sure, but I was hoping you were,” I confess, and then I pull out my cockiest, most challenging smirk. Fuck it, if we’re going there, I’m not going to pussyfoot. “Seems kind of unfair now that I think about it though. You got great seats to a spectacular show, I think I deserve the same.”
I blatantly eye his erection so there’s no room for a misunderstanding.
His pants are so damn tight I can already see the shape of his cockhead through them.
My mouth is fucking watering to wrap my lips around him again and drag more of those deep, throaty moans out of him while he paints my tongue with his cum.
“I’m not sure how good the seats were when all I could see was your ass.” He lets out a little huff of a laugh that makes me think he was going for snark, but the horny quiver in his voice is giving him away. He’s not joking at all—he wants to see my dick, he’s just not sure how to ask.
I arch an eyebrow at him and push myself to my feet.
“You sound disappointed, Fergie. Did you want to see my hard, throbbing cock?” I hook my fingers in the waistband of my shorts and wait for his answer.
His breath hitches and his eyes drop to right where my cock is, but we both know he can’t see a damn thing through all the padding. Is he trying to imagine it? Trying to work up the courage to say the words I need to hear? Second-guessing being so damn bold to begin with? I can’t wait to find out.
He swallows hard, and then he nods.
His eyes snap back to mine. Nervous, determined, fucking lustful.
“Yeah, I want to see it.”
“See what?” I tug my shorts down half an inch. The shift of the tight material against my cock nearly makes me moan. I take a step closer, and he takes a step back—not like he’s trying to get away from me, but like he’s looking for something to steady himself against.
Diego backs up until his back is against the wall, and in a second, I’m right in front of him, not touching him but close enough that the slightest shift would change things.
This close, I can smell the sweat on his skin and see the dilation of his pupils.
With a deep breath that fills his chest and steadies the wild look in his eyes, he darts his hand out and slides two fingers into the front of my shorts.
“Your cock, Callan,” he says gruffly. “I want to see your hard, throbbing cock.”
“See how easy that was?” I wink and happily shove my shorts down around my thighs. A groan of relief instantly jumps to my lips, and my already stiff cock swells even harder now that it’s not being strangled by all that padding.
Diego’s eyes drop immediately to my dick, and the hand he had gingerly down my shorts a second ago hangs uncertainly between us now like he’s still trying to decide how far he’s actually willing to take this.
His breath catches and something about the sound makes me fucking ache to surge forward and taste his lips.
I don’t know what the rules are though, so I fight it, leaning even closer to feel the hot flutter of his exhale against my face but resisting the urge to give in and kiss him.
I’m still wearing the rented jersey that’s a little bit too small, just like the shorts were, riding up my stomach and clinging tightly to my biceps and pecs.
I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to get it off when the time comes.
I might need to grab a pair of scissors and eat the rental fee, but I’ll deal with that later.
I might feel a little ridiculous with my dick swinging free, my shorts around my thighs, and a too-small jersey on, but it seems like the look is doing it for Diego.
His hips jerk involuntarily and he reaches out again.
Slowly, slowly—how fucking slow can a guy move with less than six inches of space to cover?
My cock spasms and twitches impatiently and I grit my teeth against the urge to tug his pants down, press myself up against him, shove my tongue into his mouth, and grind until we’re both panting and covered in each other’s cum.
His fingertips graze the head of my cock, and he makes a strangled sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a choked laugh.
“I can’t believe I’m touching another guy’s dick.”
“Not very well, Fergie,” I groan as his fingers dance too damn delicately over my sensitive cockhead.
“Hey,” he complains. “It’s my first time, cut me some slack. Give me a second; I’ll figure it out.”
I let out a rough chuckle and grab his wrist lightly. “There’s nothing to figure out. It’s a cock, not a Swiss watch.” I guide his hand to my shaft and moan with relief as he wraps his fingers around me.
DIEGO
Holy fuck, I’m holding Callan’s cock fully in my hand.
Obviously, I’ve touched my own dick plenty, so I thought I knew what to expect, but there’s something about holding another dude’s hot, hard, twitching cock that just hits differently.
And, fuck, I think I like it. But I’ll worry about unpacking that later.
His eyelids flutter and he makes a needy rumbling sound in his throat, bracing his forearm on the wall I’m leaning against and tentatively brushing the fingers of his other hand over my hip. I squeeze his shaft just a little more firmly and he moans again.
Fuck, I had no idea how powerful it would feel to touch another guy’s dick.
Why doesn’t anyone ever tell you that? Feels like I could get him to do anything if I stroked him just the right way or got down on my knees and teased him with the promise of my mouth.
My stomach flutters and my cock jerks with nervous enthusiasm at the thought.
One gay sex act at a time though. If handjobs go well, I’ll consider graduating to cock sucking.