Chapter 18
Lars
D ylon’s navy-blue suit and lavender shirt accentuate his eyes, making it difficult for me to keep my hands to myself.
“Stop staring at my ass,” he says as we walk through the halls of the arena.
“No one’s staring at your ass.” Ace gives him a tap on the butt, and I see red. Dylon thinks it is hilarious because this is typical between them.
“It’s not my fault this suit fits me like a glove.” He strides a few steps ahead and wiggles his ass. Spankings are in order tonight, but I cannot argue with his statement.
“Conceited?” Benz prances by me and whacks Dylon’s ass so hard he yelps.
“Not before a game,” I yell, holding back my fury that they’re touching my man. Benz is mid eye roll when I say, “Who will explain to Coach why Dylon cannot sit down or worse?”
Benz turns contrite, but I hear Griffin whisper, “Killjoy.”
“That is my middle name,” I fire back at Mason with a smirk to act as if I am teasing. As long as everyone keeps their hands off Dylon, I do not care what they call me.
We have had a five-game winning streak, and we are playing great hockey. We’re hosting Detroit and are ready to avenge our loss.
The only change to our pregame ritual is how we get suited up. Dylon and I face away from each other so our bodies don’t get the wrong signals. No matter what my brain thinks, if I see a naked or partially naked Dylon, my dick stands up for duty.
“What’s going on with you?” Ace asks.
“Me?” I glance over my shoulder to confirm he is speaking to me.
“Yeah, you. You’re walking around smiling all the time.” He leans in close. “If you’re in there and an alien has taken over your body, blink twice.”
Obviously, I blink twice.
“Lucky’s sense of humor is rubbing off on you.”
Ace and Coach say a few words before the game, and the crowd is electric when we skate out for warm-ups. New York is a tough city, but when the fans stand behind your team, they bring down the house.
The cheers are deafening when they announce the starting lineup. My heart swells, filling up with their energy and expectations.
We are on fire from the first puck drop. All our passes connect, and each line does their job. Tonight, there is no weak link. Richardson is out with a calf strain, and the team is better without him.
Ace, Dylon, and I are a single unit with three arms. And it’s as fun as playing youth hockey. Dylon’s playing with a wide grin, and we’re chasing the puck as if the other team doesn’t exist. When I skate across the blue line at full speed, Ace is in position ahead of me by the time the puck leaves my stick. He aims with precision and scores.
Ten minutes later, I circle around the crease, and Dylon shoots me a no-look pass that I fire in. We’ve scored twice in the first period, and they’re not on the board as we head into intermission.
Like the last game, the play gets physical. Ace intercepts me when I try to smash the player into the boards who hit Dylon when the puck is nowhere near us. I find a legal opportunity to shove him and steal the puck. Bonus: Ace takes a hard hit, and their defender gets sent to the sin bin. As soon as he’s released from his penalty, I’m tracking his play and take him out with a good hit.
The crowd chants, “Dragon, Dragon, Dragon.”
“Got a fire lit under you tonight?” Coach asks .
“Taking care of my men.” They all deserve protection, but one I will fight to the death for. I squirt water down my throat, ready for my next shift.
Jamal King scores our next goal, his first goal as a pro, and the bench celly is first rate. He holds out his hand for a high five, and our palms smash together. I cheer with him as we watch the third line. When Dylon catches my eye, there’s a flash of hurt, but it’s gone in seconds as he congratulates King as well.
Coach puts Benz in at the end of the game to give him more ice time. He saves everything they shoot at him, and we win five to one.
Lockers rattle in time with the bass from someone’s music. The reporters are gone, and Ace gives a brief speech to present King with the puck he scored his first goal. These little presentations mean so much, and we’re slow to leave while basking in the win and spending time together.
Grayson appears in the doorway. “Last call for treatment.”
“Gray, where are your suits? You get off easy,” Caleb shouts over the music.
“It’s the price you pay for being a pro puck boy,” Gray teases. “My suits hang in the closet collecting dust.”
Ace laughs, and Gray turns to him. “What the fuck. That’s my suit!”
“The dry cleaner misplaced mine, and I felt bad about all the dust on yours.” He spins to show off as Gray levels him with a death glare.
“Fight,” King hollers, and everyone turns in surprise. He’s still holding his puck, sporting a wide grin. “C’mon, y’all are hoping for a roommate smackdown.”
“Yeah, buddy,” Griffin sings, and everyone laughs.
It’s great to see King more comfortable and get in on the team’s pandemonium. It can be a rough transition for rookies, but he’s doing well—riding high from his goal tonight.
Everyone trickles out with their plans for the night. The team has noticed that Dylon does not drink anymore, and there is an unspoken agreement that he will only attend after-game celebrations when he is up for it. I always stay with him, and no one questions us.
Tonight, Dylon’s acting cagey, but with everyone around, I cannot ask him what’s going on .
He announces he forgot something in the shower to the three of us who are left so I sit on the bench to wait. When the locker room empties and Dylon hasn’t come back, I search for him.
My breath stutters when I find him naked, leaning against the industrial tile shower wall, waiting for me.
“Is everyone gone?”
“What are you doing? Someone could see you,” I whisper-yell from five feet away.
“No one is coming in here. I can’t wait any longer. I need you to fuck me.”
My feet close the distance between us in a nanosecond, and our mouths crash together, full of desire. He fists my shirt, keeping me close, then reaches down to undo my pants.
“Wait,” I say, and he hisses in frustration. “The first time I fuck you cannot be in the shower.” He starts to say something, but I cut him off. “It is a big deal, and I want the memory of our first time too. It should be special, not a desperate attempt to get off because we cannot control ourselves. We will have proper sex in a bed.” He makes it hard to get the last part out as he humps my leg, leaving tiny traces of precum on my pants. Last night, I cursed the rule we must spend the night before a home game in a team hotel.
“I fucking hope it’s not proper.” He strokes me over the fabric.
“Indecent sex in a proper bed.” I fist his erection and pump him.
“Better. But sometimes I really hate you,” he says while kissing me.
“Instead, I will introduce you to your prostate. Turn around.” He spins and braces his hands on the wall with his ass out.
Over his shoulder, he says, “Aren’t you getting naked?”
“No, this is for you.” My fingers trail down his spine, and he shivers. “I love your body. I love that you want to give it to me.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want.” He wiggles his ass.
“So impatient.” I tsk at him. “Open.” I shove two fingers in his mouth and gently kick his legs apart so I don’t hurt his ankles with my shoe.
I drop, spreading his ass cheeks, then tilt my head to kiss his hole. “So pretty. Did you get yourself ready for me?” He nods. “Needy too,” I coo.
My tongue flicks out, and his moan echoes in the shower. My erection leaps like it’s trying to get inside him. I kiss and lick his rim until he unclenches and his arms sag against the wall.
“You are doing so well. You make me proud,” I praise, knowing he loves it. His audible breaths spur my tongue to press into him and fuck his hole, tasting his glorious muskiness.
He slaps the wall and tries to suppress his yip. “So good. Please don’t stop.”
“I am not stopping until you paint the wall with your cum.” The locker room shower tiles dig into my knees, but I ignore the twinge.
“You don’t want it?”
This man might kill me. “You will do what I say,” I demand, but if he wants me to drink his cum, I will absolutely do it.
My thumbs massage his rim, stretching it from each side. I spit and he swears.
“I’ve seen that in videos and had no idea it would be so orgasmic. That was close.”
My lips kiss his ass cheeks until his muscles loosen. He wouldn’t have come, but I’ll let him barrel up to the edge. Before my tongue returns to his hole, I spit on my index finger. They work in tandem, and Dylon pushes back, silently begging for more.
He exhales and pushes out, allowing my finger inside up to the second knuckle.
“More,” he grunts as I hold one hip so he cannot force himself on me.
I add more spit, determined not to hurt him, and my finger slides all the way in. His forehead bangs on the tile.
“Be good,” I admonish, but my pulse races with his lust. “Do you want another finger?” He nods. “I need your words.”
“Please, please.” It takes all my self-control not to shove into him. My dick weeps in my pants, eager to be included.
With more patience and spit, I insert two fingers and release his hip so he can take what he needs. I would draw this out, but we’ve been in here too long.
“My k?raste , do not come yet, but this is what you have been asking for.” I stroke his prostate and his back arches, letting out a string of swear words as he clenches beautifully and his balls draw up. To obey his request, I remove my fingers.
An angry sound reverberates around us.
“Face me if you want me to swallow your cum.” He spins, and his dick slaps my face.
“Sorry, not sorry.” Dylon tries to shove his cock between my lips, but I turn my head to the side and soak my fingers with saliva. “Are those the fingers that were in my ass?” When I smile, he chokes. “So fucking hot.”
I reach around and plunge back into him as I take his cock to the back of my throat. His uncoordinated thrusts cannot decide if my fingers or mouth will trigger his orgasm.
With a hand on his ass to propel him forward, I pet his prostate and swallow. I wish I had two mouths so I could consume his sounds as well. To prevent him from hitting the shower floor, I clutch his legs.
His breath saws in and out, and he babbles nonstop about how it’s insanely good. “Promise me you’ll fuck me. Promise.” His hazel eyes are brighter than the northern lights and more spectacular. They glaze over, signaling his climax.
Dylon’s load unleashes down my throat, and I pull back so it hits my tastebuds. I want every salty drop. His knees bend, and I maneuver one onto my shoulder to support his weight.
Our eyes remain locked, and his emotion pours into me, filling me fuller than his cum.
He blinks and glances around as if only now realizing where we are. “Bet that’s a first for this place,” he jokes.
“I doubt it. Bathhouses and showers are a staple in the gay community.” I run my hands up his thighs, testing their sturdiness.
His eyes narrow. “Have you—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Only you. I have not been with a man in the United States. No locker rooms or anything else.” His relief is palpable, and it makes me happy. “Now let’s go home for round two.”