Chapter Twelve #2
A slow pleased smile stretched across her face. Willow shot Bentley an unbelievably smug look and cocked a sassy hip. Bentley, to his credit, looked alarmed by her challenging stance but didn’t back down.
They fumbled a bit at first as they adjusted to the new setup, but soon were gliding through their familiar routine.
There was an ease to it this time—despite the switch up—and a joy that hadn’t been there before.
The frustration caused by Bentley’s struggles evaporated as they no longer forced him out of step.
Instead, the next time Bentley flailed and reached too far, Willow laughed, and even from a distance, Finn could tell whatever she’d said mocked his lack of grace, and Bentley, cheeks pink, snarked back at her.
Scott settled next to Finn, eyes on the kids, and said, “You’re good.”
“Oh well,” Finn rubbed his nape. “I mean, I didn’t do much—”
“Finn. They’re skating more in sync right now than they have in weeks. You’re damn good.”
Pride bloomed in Finn’s chest, but he didn’t let it grow too much. After all, Finn wasn’t the only skater they were talking to, and just because he had one good moment with these kids didn’t mean he was the best man for the job.
Robbie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and wondered if this was the wisest choice. Finn had kept Robbie away from his house for a reason.
But Robbie wasn’t here as a boyfriend, he was here as a friend.
One who was very proud of Finn for being in the running to coach a promising ice-dance team and who just happened to see a framed cross-stitch with an ornate flowery pattern and cursive text that read: Not Loving Myself Is Total Bullshit.
The Bullshit was rainbow coloured. How could Robbie resist buying it as a congratulations present?
Fuck it. Robbie was here now—it would be silly to leave.
He grabbed his reusable canvas tote and headed for the door.
He ran into Holly on the doorstep.
Shit.
“Uh, I have a present—” he started, lifting up the bag.
Holly held up a hand, even as she eyed the bold font on the side of the bag that read I Usually Forget This Bag in My Car, and kept walking.
“I am not here. I was not here. I left five minutes ago for my meeting and won’t be back for three hours.
I am blissfully unaware of anything happening in my home. ”
Well. That happened.
Figuring that was as good a permission as any to enter the home, Robbie tried the latch and found it unlocked. He stepped through the front door and locked it behind him.
Soft music wafted from the room on the right, so he took a few steps forward, peered inside, and—
Jesus H. fucking Christ on a pogo stick.
Robbie must’ve made a noise, because Finn’s eyes snapped open. His palms, pressed against the mat at his hips, twitched, and his toes flexed where they dug into rubber above his head. Finn was folded in half with his ass on display like an offering.
He looked up at Robbie from between his legs, and whatever wild, hungry look Robbie was giving him made him gulp.
“Babygirl,” he purred. “Did you do that on purpose? Set yourself up so your ass was on display if someone walked in?”
Finn lowered his lashes coyly. “I might have if I’d known you were coming.”
“Fuck. You little tart. Spread out in front of me in fucking plow pose.”
Finn’s muscles started to tremble.
“Naughty girl.” Robbie set down the bag and dropped to his knees. “I’ve been thinking about your ass since you showed it off in those sassy shorts. Think you can hold this pose while I do what they asked for, sweetheart?”
Finn’s breath hitched, but he hesitated just enough.
“Or do you want to unfold and roll over? Lie on your stomach while I eat your pretty pussy?”
Finn hastily slung his legs up until he lay flat on his back and then scrambled to turn over.
Robbie prowled forward on hands and knees until he was straddling Finn’s thighs and cupping his ass. “You are going to be the death of me, babygirl.”
“Me? You’re the one who walked in here with dirty talk. I was just doing yoga.” He attempted to affect indignance, but he was breathing too harshly and squirming too much for Robbie to believe the act.
“Brat. Keep up the attitude and I might have to spank you again.” Robbie slid his fingers in Finn’s waistband and peeled back his shorts and underwear.
“You always do yoga in pretty pink panties?” Before Finn could answer, Robbie lifted his hips and stuffed a throw pillow topped with the yoga towel underneath. He grabbed a cheek in each palm and squeezed. “Your ass is a peach. I’ve been dying to eat it.”
“So then why—why aren’t you?” Finn gasped.
There was only one way to answer that kind of bratty question. Robbie leaned in and bit one round plump cheek.
Finn arched into it. He tried to spread his legs, so Robbie shifted to get his own knees between Finn’s thighs, focused on the goal—his tongue, Finn’s ass.
He leaned in and licked from Finn’s balls up to his hole. He lapped gently, covering him in spit, getting him wet. Finn moaned into the yoga mat.
“Mmm.” Robbie pulled back and blew cool air on the wet skin. Goose bumps rose on Finn’s back and thighs.
“Robbie.”
He was already trembling for it. Robbie couldn’t wait to ruin him. “You’re so wet for me, babygirl. You like having my tongue in your pussy?”
Finn gasped. “Fuuuck.” He pressed his forehead against the mat. “You know I do.”
“Want me to keep going?” He rubbed a thumb over Finn’s hole to watch him twitch.
“Yes!”
“Yes what?”
“Yes… please?”
Robbie shifted so he had both palms on Finn’s upper thighs, pushing his cheeks up and apart with his thumbs. “Tell me what you want me to do, princess. Use your words.”
Finn pushed harder against the mat, tearing at his hair. “Eat me,” he whispered.
“Where?”
“Robbie!”
“Tell me where, babygirl.” He tongued one cheek, moving toward the crease, then hopped over it to the other one. “What do you want me to eat, princess?”
“My pussy,” Finn gasped finally, legs twitching, trying to widen. “Please, ea-eat my pussy and, and, my clit, touch—rub my clit,” he moaned into the floor, both hands fisted in his hair now. And Jesus, that was more than Robbie had hoped for. Saliva flooded his mouth and his blood sang in his ears.
Somehow he managed to purr, “Good girl.”
Then he leaned forward and got to work.
Robbie was a man possessed. Finn promised him ethical consumption weeks ago, and he was nothing if not conscientious.
He lapped, nibbled, sucked, and kissed. He drooled and gasped like a starving man at his first meal, unable to stop his mouth, even to acknowledge the symphony of pretty noises coming from Finn.
“Robbie, Robbie, Robbie,” Finn chanted, his voice pitching higher. “I’m gonna, gonna come.”
Robbie pulled back. “Yeah?” He’d been so focused that he hadn’t pried his hands away from Finn’s asscheeks to touch his dick. But with a little space between Robbie’s mouth and Finn’s glistening hole, Robbie could see his desperate squirming was pushing his dick into the pillow.
“I’m so—” Finn gasped and arched his back.
So hot? So perfect? So going to give me a heart attack before my next birthday? Robbie forced in a breath and rasped out, “You little slut. Too desperate to wait for my hand? You can come that way, then, kitten. Humping a pillow while I tongue your cunt.”
Finn keened and hitched his hips forward, rubbing his dick against the towel.
“Good girl.” He held Finn open once again. “You take care of your clit. I’ll see to your pussy.” He pointed his tongue and speared it in deep, and was rewarded with a wail.
Robbie’s mouth and tongue were deliciously sore moments later when Finn came trembling around him, but he didn’t let up until Finn slumped into the floor, boneless. He pulled back with a few gentling laps and then became aware of his own painful hard-on pressing against the zipper of his jeans.
He crawled up Finn’s body and kissed his shoulder. “Fuck, babygirl, I’m hard enough to pound nails.”
Finn tilted his head back toward Robbie, glassy-eyed. “You gonna fuck me?”
“You want me to? Want me to pound your pussy now that it’s dripping wet, babygirl?”
“Yes!”
“Next time, sweetheart,” Robbie promised. “Not gonna last.” He ripped open his jeans to get a hand on his dick.
He pulled himself out, dark red and dripping, but Finn reached for him before he could start jerking. He all but fell into Robbie’s lap. Robbie twined his hands into Finn’s ruffled hair. “You hungry, baby?”
Finn blinked damp eyelashes over bitten-red lips. “Let me suck you.”
“Fuck,” Robbie had just enough brain cells left to mutter before he thrust into Finn’s mouth.
There was no way he would last. He barely had time to register hot, wet, tight, or groan out a few words of praise before he was pulling Finn’s hair and warning him he was about to come.
After, they lay in a tangled heap on the floor, come-dumb, situated with Robbie on his back and Finn’s head pillowed on his shoulder.
“Have I told you lately how much of a wet dream you are?” Robbie asked the ceiling.
The warm air of Finn’s breathy laugh tickled Robbie’s neck. “Says the guy who walked in and started eating my ass.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Speaking of, what are you doing here?” He tilted his head back to look at Robbie’s face.
Robbie ran his fingers through Finn’s hair. “Aside from the buffet breakfast? I brought you a ‘congratulations on the interview’ present.”
Finn shook his head. “What kind of present does that warrant?”
Robbie flailed for the bag he’d left in the doorway and handed it over.
“Fancy gift bag,” Finn noted.
“Shush.”
He pulled out the framed piece and burst into laughter. “I’ll hang it up in the living room,” he said. “Right now.” He twisted to stand, then pulled a face. “Okay, shower first, then hanging the present.”
“A water-saving communal shower?” Robbie asked hopefully.
Finn grinned back. “Is there any other kind?”
Transcript from season 7 episode 5 of DANCE YOUR ICE OFF
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