Chapter 16
Sixteen
Oakley
Tonight’s game against Cornwall ends in another win, and at this rate, I know whatever is happening between myself and a certain teammate has to be part of the equation.
We’ve been playing like stars on the rink these past few weeks, working together seamlessly like never before.
Which is fantastic for team morale, on the one hand.
And it also means the sex keeps happening.
The hot, dirty, and downright addictive sex that often leaves us panting harder than any run out on the ice does. But if hopping into bed together is the thing keeping us on this winning streak we’re riding, I’m all for it.
We’ve got another game against Cornwall tomorrow, and if we can take this win back to Leighton, we’re on track to get a solid seeding for tournament play. Something we both desperately want if we’re planning to get to the Frozen Four in Indianapolis this year.
The door to our hotel room barely has time to swing shut before Quinton’s dropping his duffle to the ground and is on me like white on fucking rice.
“You fucking killed it tonight,” he says, grabbing the arm of my suit jacket and hauling me to him until we’re chest to chest. “I think we’re gonna be celebrating more than anything tonight.”
“Oh, really?” I counter, setting my duffle on the desk.
He gives me a you’re kidding me look, brows arched so high, they might as well be in his hairline. “You don’t think your third hat trick of the season is something to celebrate?”
“It definitely is.” My blood heats as he helps me out of my jacket and tosses it to the bed. “But it’s awfully forward to think I’d want to celebrate with you.”
A smirk sits on his lips as he works to open my shirt buttons. “Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t a little too sure of myself, right, Reed?”
He’s got me there.
Hell, he’s been unruffled by this entire thing between us, which is more than I can say for most baby bi’s I’ve known through the years.
The couple I’ve been with in the past—and the reason I made it a rule not to get with them anymore—were always hesitant in making moves or acting on instinct, the whole “is this too gay for me” thought usually causing them to falter.
And not that I can blame them, but it usually takes away from the whole hook-up.
It’s never happened with Quinton. Not once.
He’s taken everything I’ve thrown at him in stride, unfazed at each turn, and usually ends up asking for more when it’s all over. Which only adds to his ridiculous amount of sex appeal.
“You might have a point.”
He tosses my shirt to the bed with my jacket before starting on his own clothes. “I know I do. Just like it’s something you like about me.”
Nail on the head.
“I wouldn’t go that far with it,” I say, trying to play off his comment.
Disbelief crosses his features. “The tent pitched in your pants begs to differ.”
And would you look at that, he’s right. The traitorous appendage between my legs made me a liar.
“I’m gay and you’re an attractive man currently stripping in front of me. Of course I’m going to get hard.”
“The only reason?” he counters, now shirtless and working the belt free from the loops. “Pure, carnal instinct? Nothing else?”
My cock throbs behind the zipper of my slacks, and not just because Quinton is now down to only his underwear. Apparently, his taunting is yet another thing capable of turning me on.
“Nope. Nothing el—”
“Just shut up, Oakley.”
Without any preamble, he hauls me in from the back of my neck until our lips collide. His tongue teases along the seam, coaxing me to open. The second I do, it’s an all-out war.
He fucks his talented tongue against mine, and my dick grows impossibly harder in my pants. Aching to be released from its confines and have its own turn with Quinton’s mouth.
“Fuck,” I mutter, anchoring my fist in his hair as I explore his throat. “What the hell are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know, but believe me, the feeling’s mutual.” His hands coast down my back, and he arches his neck into where my lips are brushing against his skin. “Is it weird to say I’ve missed you?”
I grin before moving to capture his bottom lip between my teeth. “You’ve been with me almost all day.”
Though I have to admit, I understand completely. The time we’ve been spending together has become this weird security blanket, and it’s becoming a bit of a problem.
I guess it’s more than just the sex that’s addictive. He is too.
“I’ve missed you.” His arm snakes between us, palming my cock through my pants. With a naughty smirk resting on his lips, he lifts his gaze to meet mine. “I’m planning to fucking worship this tonight.”
I hum, my hips seeking more friction from his hand. “Using me for sex, de Haas?”
He chuckles, a dimple popping in his cheek, and I nip at it. “Could be using you for a lot worse things.”
Another scorching kiss is pressed on my lips, tongue once again diving in for more, kneading and twisting with mine while he works to open my pants.
I break away to catch my breath, helping him shove the fabric and my underwear to my feet. “You’re in quite the rush.”
“Mmm,” he hums, wrapping his hand around my shaft. “Worshiping properly takes time. I’m not looking to waste any.”
I almost drag him to one of the beds with that comment, ready to get this little celebration kicked off in the best way. His mouth wrapped around my dick.
But a new side of Quinton came out to play tonight, becoming more apparent when he shoves me back onto the mattress, strips out of his briefs, and climbs up to straddle my waist. His ass bumps and grinds down on my aching length as he dives in for another kiss and pillages my mouth some more, the combination of sensations driving me crazy.
God, I wasn’t wrong when I said his mouth would be my undoing. But I didn’t consider the way the rest of him does too. His taste and scent, the sinful dimples I just can’t get enough of. The way his fingers coast over my skin, light as a feather, before gripping on to me for dear life.
Everything he does unravels me a little more.
He reaches beneath him, wrapping his palm around me and gives an expert stroke.
My eyes roll back in my head, lost in the blissful nirvana of his touch.
It’s not long before I begin rocking up into his hand—seeking more friction as my desire builds—and the movement causes his cock to bob in front of him.
Hard, glistening with precum, and ready to get in on the action.
It’s then I realize, as much as I want to feel his exceptionally enthusiastic mouth wrapped around my dick, I want my turn at his too. After all, going down on him seems to be a common thing with scoring hat tricks, and I’m looking to test this theory again for tomorrow’s game.
“Lemme taste you.”
He laughs. “And what if I wanted to go first?”
I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this, but… “Then turn around.”
His brows furrow, hand faltering on my cock. “What?”
“Just do it, or I’ll make you,” I tell him, already grabbing at his hips to do it myself. Thankfully, he helps me out, flipping us into the perfect—
“Sixty-nine?” Quinton says, eyeing me from over his shoulder. “Now who’s in a rush?”
I hike a brow up. “It’s better than arguing about who has to wait their turn sucking dick.”
A disgruntled expression crosses his face, his nose wrinkling up a little when he figures I’m right. Or he just doesn’t want to argue with me.
Either way, it’s a win-win for me.
“Good. Now give me my reward.”
“Your reward?” he asks with a laugh.
I flick the tip of my tongue over his crown. “I said what I said.”
A low rumble comes from deep within his chest, and it might be the sexiest sound I’ve heard from him yet.
“Keep licking it like that and your turn is gonna be over way before you want it to be.”
I smirk before I take a long, languid suck on his dick and give a measured thrust up so my cock brushes his lips. “Less talking, de Haas. More sucking.”
Despite my demand, Quinton takes a slower approach than I do, licking and teasing along my shaft until I’m practically panting for more around him. I even attempt to thrust up into his mouth when he starts sucking on the head, forcing him to take more, but his hand quickly holds my hip in place.
It’s pure, agonizing torture, but he keeps at it, refusing me the one thing I’m desperate for.
And then it happens. He hollows out his cheeks and takes me into the back of his throat on the first go.
I moan around his length and take him deeper too, my hands grasping either side of his ass and pulling him down toward me.
When the tip of his dick inches its way down my throat, I swallow, giving him the same care and attention he’s showing me—gagging around his shaft until I can’t fucking breathe.
“Fuck, baby,” he growls, licking up and down the length of my shaft more. “I love the sound of you choking on my cock.”
My eyes roll to the back of my head, his words going straight to my dick that twitches against his lips. He wraps them around my length again, plunging deep until I hit the back of his throat. The soft, smooth flesh constricts around my crown, and stars form behind my eyelids.
We keep going at each other, licking and sucking like our fucking lives depend on it. And they very well might, at this point. If I don’t come soon, I might actually end up six feet under.
I adjust my grip on his ass, trying to coax him into a steady thrusting rhythm when my middle finger accidentally gets closer to his crease than I intended. The touch causes him to moan, loud and needy, like a fucking porn star, and the vibrations around my cock go straight to my balls.
Releasing him, I pop a finger into my mouth to wet it before bringing it back to his crease. Another moan comes from him as I tease the digit over the tight little bud.
“Have you ever been introduced to your prostate?” I ask, swirling the pad of my finger against his hole. I’ve played with his ass a couple times prior to this, but never broached the topic of penetration before now.