Chapter 7
EVAN
Showering with Perry after the over-the-couch sex was sweet. He was always so sweet after, like he thought he needed to butter me up or something bad might happen. He never seemed to get that it wasn’t necessary. I was hooked. He had me.
I was, as they say, all in.
It was okay, though, if he needed reassurance for some reason. I could do that. So I let him soap me up, rinse me off, give me another hand job, and when he started stroking his own hard cock, I dropped to my knees.
He smirked down at me. “Wanna suck me off too?”
I nodded. “’Course I do.” I opened for him and he fed me his cock, sinking his fingers into my hair at the same time. I closed my eyes and let him guide me, using the pressure of his fingertips against my scalp to tell me how dirty he wanted this.
He never quite pushed me as far as I could go, and this time was no exception. He pushed his hips forward, but there was no resistance on the back of my head to hold me there, make me take it.
I didn’t move anyway, letting him thrust his cock deep into my throat, swallowing around him even though my eyes watered. Thankfully, the spray disguised that fact, or he would have pulled back, and I didn’t want him to do that.
It wasn’t that I wanted him to be brutal. I just didn’t want him to be careful. I wanted him to trust me that I could take more than he thought I could. That I wanted to take more.
He rocked his hips slowly, almost gently, until I made a growling noise up at him.
“More?” he asked.
Of course more. I nodded.
He quickened his pace, and I sucked and swirled my tongue, doing my best to drive him so nuts he lost control. I needed him to lose control, just once. I think he needed it too, though he’d never admit it.
I didn’t have long enough to work on him, though, before his fingers tightened in my hair and the sweet tug at my roots made me moan. That was it. The rumble of sound around his dick set him off and he spilled down my throat.
It was good to feel him tremble, and, just for a moment, hold my head in place while his cock pulsed and his come spurted into me. For that moment, he held me trapped against him, and it was so perfect, the rest didn’t matter.
He was wobbly when he finally pulled out, and I braced him with a hand on his thigh as I gazed up at him.
“You are so fucking good at that,” he rasped, petting fingers through my hair, his other hand braced against the tiles behind me.
I grinned up at him. “I know.”
He snorted. “Get up here. I need to kiss you.”
I practically jumped to my feet, mashing my mouth over his as soon as I could reach him.
He delved his tongue deep into my mouth, as if needing to taste the mingled flavour of us on my tongue. I moaned again, loving this possessive side of him that thrilled me these rare times he let it show.
This was the guy I’d followed out of a party, for no good reason I could have told you at the time, other than he sounded like he was sure I was his, even though that had been the first time we’d ever spoken to each other, other than when he ordered coffee where I worked.
This was the guy I would follow anywhere. Do whatever he needed, even quit every other guy but him, if that was his hard limit.
We kissed and tangled and tousled under the spray for a long while before finally soaping once more, then rinsing off.
By the time we were done, we had the energy to throw pizza pockets in the microwave, eat standing in the kitchen, then fall into bed.
When he curled onto his side, I spooned him tight. The deep sigh he finally released when I had both arms around him, legs pretzeled with his, was a relief.
It was odd, the way he could be the complete boss of us the entire time, only here, in the dark, it was like he needed something else, and all I had for him was this wrapping him up in my body and hoping it was enough.
Nuzzling the back of his neck, I whispered into his ear. “Thank you for tonight.”
He grunted and shifted back, pressing harder against me, nestling his ass against my groin.
“I love you, Perry Hasting.”
“Love you too, Ev.”
I could tell by the sluggishness of his voice he was already half-asleep, so I kissed the back of his neck, closed my eyes, and let the tickle of his curls around my face and the sounds of his breathing lull me to sleep.
For the next week, we spent every night at the curling rink, practicing, perfecting, and hoping we could find an alternate.
Andre was pissed as hell because after the first day of asking around, his cousin, Darby, agreed to register as our alternate.
We needed someone, in case Shaw’s fingers got too sore for him to finish the tournament.
I think Darby did it just to piss Andre off, and I wasn’t mad about that.
It also ensured that Andre wouldn’t fuck up the ice out of spite because he wouldn’t want to risk making Darby look bad.
Besides, Darby was a good curler, so as far as I was concerned, it was a win/win for us, and Andre could suck it.
“You should not be so petty,” Darby admonished me one evening when I might have said something to that effect out loud.
“I’ll try not to be not nice to him but only because you’re related to him,” I said.
He squinted at me.
“He means,” Shaw piped up from the sidelines, “that he’ll stop making fun of him because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, since he’s your cousin.”
“I can’t help that he’s my cousin,” Darby said.
He chose a stone and set up at the hack, waiting while down at the other end of the ice, Perry contemplated the shot he wanted.
“And I can’t help that he’s a tiny man in every way.
So you can’t hurt my feelings pointing out the obvious.
It’s just that I don’t want you putting bad mojo out into the universe. For your sake, not his.”
“Mojo?” It was my turn to squint at him.
“The energy you put out is the energy you get back. So you want to reflect only good things back at yourself, by putting good things out.”
“That doesn’t sound very doctor-y of you.”
“I get a lot of people through my office wondering why the bad luck found them and broke one of their bones. It’s very difficult not to say something when the bad luck was that the wall they punched was made out of brick.
I want to tell them that’s the energy they put out reflecting back on them, but I doubt most of them would take it the way I mean it. But it does get me thinking.”
“That if people don’t put out the kind of energy that makes them want to punch things…”
“Things wouldn’t strike them back. Yes. You see? You get it.”
It made a weird kind of sense, I supposed. We had put out some kind of energy to end up with Darby agreeing to be our alternate, and that was proving to be a good choice. He gelled well with the rest of us. Especially Shaw.
“I think Perry has made up his mind,” Darby said, nodding towards the other end of the rink.
I slid out to position myself ready to sweep if required, and watched as Darby set himself up, swung back, and pushed out to deliver his stone.
Three quarters of the way down the ice, Perry called for us to curl, which we did, stopping again when instructed, and watching as Darby’s rock curled perfectly into the pocket behind the guard.
Perry grinned down the ice at all of us. “You did it!” he called.
“Of course I did it. You didn’t think I was going to agree to this if I didn’t think I could keep up with you all.” Darby stood halfway down the sheet, hands on his hips, his broom sticking out at an odd angle, a grin on his face.
He looked awkward and happy. He was going to be a good fit with the rest of us.
A week later, with Shaw’s middle two fingers taped together, and a determined set to all our shoulders, we entered the house to cheers from our hometown crowd that might, if I was honest, have been almost as loud as the cheers for the Olympic team had been.