Chapter 7
Bastian Vos
A couple of days later…
Walking into my last class of the day, I sit in the back and wait for the professor to come in.
Zan is sitting in the front row and I roll my eyes.
We haven’t spoken since his little stunt the other morning.
I wonder if he ever realized that while he was in the shower, I jerked off and spilled my load onto his pillow. I smile at the thought.
Looking down at him, his eyes are roaming the room until they fall on me.
He smirks and gathers his things. Great.
More torture. He knew I would take this class.
Which makes me wonder if he still reads books out loud or quietly now.
I can’t read silently. That summer changed that for me.
Unfortunately, it’s not the same with my girl reading it with me.
It was so much better with Zan. Everything is better with him.
His body pressing against my back takes me out of my thoughts as he sits in the seat next to me.
“Oh, Buttercup. Did you think you would get away from me that easily?” he whispers, and I roll my eyes, acting as if he’s not right next to me.
The scent of his soap radiating from his body is so overwhelming that my cock starts to harden underneath the desk.
His arm brushes against mine, sending tingles up my spine.
I hate that he gets such a reaction from me.
I wish I could just exist near him and my body wouldn’t respond the way it does.
“I think after this class I’m going to go to the admin office and see about changing rooms,” I say purposely, and when he growls low, I know my words hit their mark.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Bash!” he spits, and I smirk.
“I think it’s best,” I reply, and he slams his fist against his desk, drawing attention from others in the room. I immediately look down and act like he’s having a tantrum all by himself. After a few moments, he clears his throat and leans into me.
“I swear to god, Bash. If I get back to our room and you are gone for the second time. I wi—”
“You’ll what? Torture me some more? Make me watch and listen to you fuck some slut right next to me?” I grit, and his eyes widen.
“Lower your voice!” he commands, and I nod, looking back to the front as the professor walks into the room.
“Just your dirty little secret, right, Zan,” I mutter under my breath.
“We’ll talk about this later!” he whispers, then opens his notebook as the professor begins her lecture.
“You know you’re confusing as hell, right?
Like I don’t know what you want from me?
” I whisper, and his eyes flicker towards me.
I damn near gasp at what I see–anger, want, need, and sadness.
This right here, ladies and gentlemen, is why he gives me whiplash.
Nothing is said for the rest of the class.
Once the bell rings, I gather my things and leave.
As I walk to practice, my phone vibrates in my pants. Taking it out, I see it’s Leelee. Shit! I haven’t been a very good boyfriend to her since I left. Pressing the green button, I bring the phone to my ear and take a deep breath.
“Hey, babe. I know, I know. I’m shit at this long distant stuff,” I say, and she laughs.
“You would be correct, Bastian. Why haven’t you called?” she asks as I weave in and out of people who are rushing to their next class.
“I’m sorry, babe. Practice has been nonstop, and by the time I get back to my dorm, I’m passing out hard,” I lie, and she huffs.
“This is never going to work if you aren’t going to make time for me,” she whines as someone slams into me from behind and I damn near drop my phone. My eyes collide with Zan and he snarls as he passes. I take a deep breath and continue to walk as I talk to Leelee.
“I’m sorry, babe. I’ll try harder. How’s dance going for you?” I ask, changing the subject.
“It’s been great. I have a show in two weeks so I’ve been practicing really hard for it. But hey, I gotta run. Sharon and Wesley are at it again.” She laughs, and I shake my head.
“They need to get it together. But alright, Lee. I’ll call you tonight,” I tell her.
“Okay. Love you, Bash.”
“Love you too, Lee,” I tell her, the lie just drips from my lips as I walk into the locker room, pressing the red button and ending the call. I slam into a hard chest and look up to see Zan with narrowed eyes.
“Love, huh?” He snickers, and I smirk.
“Yep,” I lie again, and he huffs.
“Get dressed. Time for practice,” he growls, and I roll my eyes as I walk past him to my locker.
As I get dressed and start walking toward the door, he whistles. I glance over my shoulder and our eyes collide. He smirks, and I just want to punch him in the face. I know this is not going to be good.
“We’re going to do this a little differently today. Vos, you’re facing off against me. The rest of you pick a side and let's run through the play,” he announces, and I take a deep breath. Fine. If he wants to play, let’s fucking play.
Heading out onto the rink, I skate to the middle.
We all take a minute to stretch our hips and the rest of our limbs, then Zan blows the whistle.
A few guys get behind me and the rest behind him.
He takes the puck and throws it up in the air and we both get into position.
Once the puck hits the ice, our sticks slam into one another as we fight to gain control.
He shoulder checks me but I lean out and gain the puck, sending it away from us.
Gliding along the ice, I smile because I took it from him.
He let his anger towards me cloud his mind, and that thought alone puts a smile on my face.
Skates slamming against the ice echo through the arena as we make the rink our bitch.
A few times, Zan comes for me, making me lose my footing, but I don’t hold anything back.
I slam into him, sending him into the side of the rink, and he growls as I gain the puck yet again and race down towards the goal.
I shoot and score, shouting as I skate around the goalie.
He sends it back down the ice, and this time Zan has it.
So, I chase after him, but he takes his shot and scores, whooping as he does.
He nods past me as the goalie sends the puck towards me, but someone comes from behind and shoves me so fucking hard I fall and slide across the ice.
“Pussy bitch. Get up!” Zan growls, and as I do, he pushes me against the ice. “That’s where you belong. Beneath me,” he spits and skates away. Such a fucking dick. I swear he does this shit on purpose, but then once we get back to our room he’s a slightly different person. I just don’t understand.
Practice goes on like this for the rest of the evening. My body aches as we leave the ice and head into the locker room. I throw my stick and sit down on the bench. I’m not showering here. Fuck him. This is bullshit. I take my gear off and head back to our room.
“Yo, Vos,” he yells from behind me, but I flip him the bird and keep walking. Fuck him. I’m not dealing with his shit. Fucking prick.
Standing in the shower, I let the hot water pelt against my aching limbs.
I’ve been in here for a bit but I don’t care.
He better hope he showered in the locker room because I’m purposely using all the hot water up here just to piss him off.
Why do I let him affect me so god damn much?
Just the thought of him naked in the shower has my dick hardening.
Fucking Christ. I take my cock in my hand, wrapping my fist around my length, and pump slowly.
I hear the door creep open but I don’t stop.
I pick up the pace as the shower door opens and Zan stands there, shirtless.
Watching me. I bite my bottom lip and moan, tightening my grip.
He doesn’t say a word but I can see his cock hardening in his sweats.
“Look at me,” he whispers, and my eyes snap to his as my fist moves faster.
“Such a good boy.” He groans as his hand disappears into this sweats.
Fuck, that’s so hot. I moan again, swiping my thumb over my tip.
“You going to cum for me, Buttercup?” And I smirk.
Just as that familiar tingle creeps up my spine, I take a step closer to him, jerking my cock faster while watching his fist move quickly inside his sweats.
“Fuckkk, Leelee,” I groan and cum all over his stomach.
He immediately stills, and I laugh, rubbing my tip on his arm.
“Fuck you!” I growl and step out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist. I leave the bathroom and he slams the door, making me laugh.
Like I said, fuck him, even if all I thought about was him as I came. Fucking hell.