Peaches and Pucks

Chapter 4

HARRY

“Just to be clear, Spiderman and not . . . Jean Grey? She can read minds. That’s got to come in handy.”

“Nope.” He moves a rogue curl away, keeping his hand on my head. My heart pounds with such intensity, I fear it may rupture through my ribcage.

“Storm? Anyone who can change the weather on a whim would get my vote. We could have snow days on demand.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Black Widow? Scarlett Johansson has made me question my sexuality on multiple occasions. I’m not even a massive Marvel fan, and I streamed that movie three times because of her.”

His finger traces down my jawline. I think it’s his thumb, and it lands right under my bottom lip. Darius moves closer, his face only inches from mine.

“If you don’t stop talking, Harry, I’ll have no choice but to kiss you to shut you up.”

I open my mouth, maybe to protest or call his bluff by saying more, but nothing comes out because Darius’s lips, full and soft, still tasting like peppermint toothpaste, brush mine.

He’s tentative, gentle, even, and a soft moan escapes my mouth because never in a million years did I expect my impulse decision to chaperone the fifth-grade boys’ hockey team would lead me to kiss a naked Coach Hill in an only-one-bed situation.

Or maybe, deep down, a part of me hoped for this.

I must have seen the parallels between his behavior and Victor’s with Rebecca—not consciously, but on some level.

My head spins, but before I’m able to continue overthinking how I ended up in a hotel bed with him, Darius pauses the kiss and asks, “Is this okay?”

“So now you’re concerned with my feelings?”

He nods, and fuck my life.

“Yes, Harry. Consent is hot. Don’t they teach that in all those books you read?”

I open my mouth to reply, but—I’m speechless. Please let his mouth find its way back to mine and never stop kissing me. I grab the back of his head, and the peach fuzz of his buzz cut tickles my palm as I pull him in, deepening the kiss and poking my tongue at his lips.

Darius rolls on top of me, his hot skin still damp from the shower. Or maybe he’s sweating. Either way, my fingers find his strong back muscles and hold him in place as his tongue slips into my mouth with a groan. He fucking groans and something inside me melts.

And then I realize—Darius is rock hard, and he’s trying to hold his midsection off me to avoid me feeling the full force of what he’s packing.

“Darius?” We’re still kissing, and the word tumbles into his mouth. He pulls back and searches my face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just . . .” I reach down and grab his waist, pulling him down. His stiffness grinds into mine, confined under my pajamas. When I notice his bottom lip quivering, I suck it into my mouth. “There.”

“You sure?”

Yup, he’s right. Asking for consent is hot.

My hand moves between us, his thick cock full in my hand, the heat sending a wave of desire to my core, and I gently squeeze, allowing my fingers to make out what I had only glimpsed before.

The tip is sticky with precum, and I’m pretty confident there’s nothing more I want than to have it filling my mouth. Soon.

“Okay. Mr. Peterson is sure,” he says, and his tongue resumes excavating the inside of my mouth.

Darius ruts into my palm, and my other hand joins the first, massaging his lower stomach, feeling the happy trail that leads from his belly button to his rather full bush. I’m imagining how far I can deep-throat Coach Hill when everything suddenly stops, and he rolls off me.

Before I can ask what’s wrong, he says, “Pajamas off.”

“Oh, he’s bossy now.”

“Hey, I’m the coach.”

“Yes, sir.”

I quickly push my pants down, my dick springing up against my stomach, and as I attempt to remove them completely, Darius grabs the waistband and yanks.

“Okay.” I take his hand, wanting him to return to kissing me, but he doesn’t budge.

Instead, he pulls at the hem of my pajama shirt, and taking his cue, I lift my arms so he can remove it.

When I’m completely naked, he finally returns, and the feeling of his heated skin on mine electrifies my senses.

If this is my reward for attending a hockey game, I might just have to start scouting for a Zamboni of my own.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” His lips are close to mine, and each word sends his hot breath over my face.

“Do what?”

“This.” He kisses me softly.

His fingers wrap around my shoulders, squeezing.

“And this.” A soft thrust of his cock on mine.

Darius can’t be more than ten pounds heavier than I am, but his weight on me makes my blood boil. He brushes his hands through my hair, getting lost in the curls as our tongues resume playing the only sport I know well—tonsil hockey.

I’m doing my best to stroke him between our bodies, but it’s not easy. When he pulls back to catch his breath, heeding his advice to the team, I take my shot.

“Darius, I need you in my mouth. Now.”

Just as he moves in to resume kissing, I gently draw away.

“Not that. This.” I give his cock a gentle squeeze and brush my thumb over the tip, spreading the precum over his entire head.

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He moves off me. “I mean, duh. Of course it’s okay. I didn’t want to pressure you, is all.”

“Darius Hill.” I kiss his chin. “I want you to sit in that chair for me.”

I hop out of bed, toss my bag onto the floor, and pat the seat. Darius joins me and sits, spreading his legs wide. I move to my knees and take him in my hand, jerking him a few times, and yup, he’s hard and ready.

“Now, just relax and enjoy this,” I say.

Darius’s fingers brush against my cheek before sliding into my hair, his grip tightening as he holds on for the ride I’m about to give him.

I lick near the base of his shaft, and I give his balls a little kiss before gliding up to the head. He’s leaking precum, and the salty-sweetness entices me. “Someone’s excited.”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” He pulses his cock in my hand, the heat palpable. “I’ve been dreaming about this for . . . years.”

“Are you ready to get sucked, Coach?”

When I glance up at him, Darius nods eagerly, like he’s been waiting for this his entire life.

I take his head in slowly, licking around the tip, giving every spot attention. I’m not going to just start sucking and bobbing like some uncouth heathen. This mouthwatering cock deserves to be savored.

When he lifts his hips, I place a hand on his chest and pull off. “Easy. Give me a minute to appreciate this.” Holding him with my other hand, I notice more precum escaping the tip. I clean it off with my tongue, and Darius shudders under me.

“You’ll get to fuck my mouth soon. I promise.”

“Holy shit, Harry.”

I laugh and take as much of him in as I can. He’s not much bigger than me, but I’m not trying to choke within the first few seconds of blowing him. There’s plenty of time for that.

When I’ve almost reached the base, his soft pubic hair brushes the bridge of my nose. My hand on his chest finds his nipple, and I begin playing with it. Between having his cock and chest attended to, Darius’s breathing becomes heavy and slow.

“Harry. When you’re not yapping, that mouth of yours is magic.”

After a few more bobs on his glorious cock, I pull off. I need more.

The image of him naked, walking into the bathroom flashes in my head. That round, perfect butt. So damn delectable.

“Have you ever had your ass eaten?”

Darius’s eyes go wide.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

I stand, pull him up, and he wraps his arms around me.

We’re almost the same height, but I’m about half an inch taller, and Darius immediately returns to kissing me.

His tongue brushes the inside of my mouth, he’s grabbing at my ass, and well, this entire encounter wasn’t planned, so we’ll be keeping things to oral, but who knows, depending on how things work out, maybe someday we’ll rail each other.

I reach around and give his ass a squeeze. “Now, let’s have you kneel over the chair.”

His mouth drops open a little as I turn him around, but he complies with my command, positioning his forearms comfortably on the mesh seat.

I lower myself and gently tap his inner thigh, feeling the warmth of his skin. As I graze the light fuzz on his legs, my tongue can’t wait to taste it. Him. All of him.

“Let’s spread these legs, please.”

He shimmies his legs open, and his ass shakes and shakes, and fuck, what cosmic favor did I earn in a past life to deserve such a beautiful butt?

“You know you have a juicy ass, right?”

He turns around, eyes wide. “Juicy?”

He laughs, ending with a cough, and I think I’ve embarrassed him.

“That’s a good thing, Coach. Trust me,” I say, giving his left cheek a soft slap and then kissing right where my palm landed. “Like a delicious peach.”

I grab on to his cheeks and jiggle them, and his ass vibrates in my palms, the movement almost hypnotizing me. I catch a glimpse of his hole in the low light, and I wish I could kneel here forever, playing with his meaty rear.

I pause the assquake and spread him wide. The fuzz on his legs also dots the perimeter, and the soapy smell from his shower infiltrates my nostrils. I strain to catch a bit of his sweat. Maybe next time. My tongue coats my lips like a starving animal eyeing its prey.

“This is what you’ve been hiding under those track pants,” I say.

“Yeah.” He’s lowered his head between his arms, and I can just make out his mouth.

“You good, Coach?”

He nods rapidly, and I bury my face between his plump, juicy cheeks, diving into his warm hole. He’s apprehensive at first, my tongue fighting against his tightness. I keep at it, and I can tell he’s trying to let me in, but he needs some guidance.

Pulling back, I lick my lips. “Take a deep breath, Darius.”

When I hear the air leaving his lips, I plunge back in, and yup, he’s relaxing, opening up, and I can dart deeper.

“Fuck, Harry. Holy. Fuck.”

I reach under and grab his cock and stroke it while decorating the inside of his ass with my tongue.

Spit and slobber drench my face, and I lose myself in the heat of Darius’s opening.

He continues to moan and praise me with platitudes, but when I pull his dick back and give it a deep suck, he moves to stand up.

“What?” I ask. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s too intense.” He yanks his shoulders back and raises his hands. “I’m close, is all.”

“Good.”

I move to kiss him but hesitate. He’s all over me. Sensing my apprehension, Darius lifts my chin and plants a deep kiss on my lips, unbothered by my face that’s drenched in his ass.

I seize his cock, giving it a few long strokes. “Lie on the bed.”

He takes my hand and leads me back. With a pillow in hand, I promptly prop it under his butt, providing support and elevating his midsection.

“There we go,” I say. “For a coach, you take directions well.”

“Please. Direct away.”

“Hold your legs up,” I say.

Darius hoists his feet up, and my mouth waters at the sight.

“Perfect. Now I’m going to suck you while I play with your ass. Okay?”

“Um, yeah. More than okay.”

I rest next to him, taking his cock in one hand, licking and sucking while my index finger teases his taint. When he lifts his hips slightly, I slip my finger inside. All the rimming has him open and ready, and he quickly welcomes my entire digit.

“Fuck, you’re horny,” I mumble with half his dick in my mouth.

“Harry, I’ve been horny for you for years.”

“Really?” I glance up at him, and he’s staring at me doing my best to pleasure him.

“Yes, Harry. My last boyfriend was in college and that was . . . gosh, almost seven years ago now. I’ve been wild about you from the moment you walked into the teacher’s lounge.”

Darius’s confession leaves me breathless.

It’s like a switch flips, and my perception of his hostility crumbles, replaced by a new understanding.

As he lies with his toes pointing at the headboard and my finger up his ass, I finally see what Darius has been trying to protect all these years.

For someone who analyzes complex characters for a living, how did I miss the fact that this guy had a crush on me?

I’m like a detective who can’t spot a neon sign!

“Want to try another finger?” I ask.

“How about your cock?”

He’s stroking me, my dick surging into his grip.

“We’re not ready for that,” I say. “We don’t have condoms. Or lube.”

“Maybe next time,” he says, panting as my second finger uncorks him from the inside.

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“Fuck, I hope so.”

He continues stroking me as I resume sucking his cock while I fuck him with my hand, and Darius now leaks so much precum I’m sure I’m hitting his spot. He’s close.

“Harry, wait. I’m, oh man. Keep fucking me like that. Wait, harder. Please. Fuck. Harry. Harry. Oh fuck, Harry.”

He’s coming undone. His hole clenches around my fingers as he fucks my mouth. His eruption is imminent. Darius tangles his fingers in my hair. He’s attempting to move me off him. No fucking way. I want to taste all of him.

“Harry, I’m coming,” he says, tugging my hair again.

Quickly pulling off, gasping, I plead, “I want your cum, Coach.”

And with that, I take him back in, sucking with all my might.

It only takes about ten seconds before Darius’s balls clench, and hot, thick cum coats the back of my throat like lava as he moans through it.

He bucks into my mouth, raising his ass—I think to get me to fuck him harder.

I try to push my fingers deeper, despite already reaching their maximum depth.

When the last spasm glides down my throat, with a heavy sigh, Darius relaxes. “Harry Peterson. What the fuck have you done to me?”

Darius lowers his legs, and he’s still while I lick the last drops of cum from the head of his cock.

“Hopefully, whatever it was, it was good?” I ask.

“Not good. Fan-fuckin’-tastic. Now, c’mere.”

He takes my hand, guides me up so I’m resting on his chest, and kisses my head.

“I love these damn curls.”

My hand smooths over his torso, and I kiss his pec.

“Now, what about you?” he asks.

“Darius, I’m good. I swear. We need to get some sleep.”

“Okay, next time. Maybe you can come to the finals with us in Hartford. Coach Applegate isn’t going to want to leave all those adorable puppies.”

“Hmm. Another hockey game? Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

We nestle closer together, and the rhythm of his steady breathing lulls us both into a blissful sleep as I dream about peaches and pucks.