Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
JENSEN
Dinner is the fucking greatest. I have a personal chef back home who keeps me stocked and fed during the season based on the meal plan my nutritionist has created for me.
When it comes to hockey, I’m tipping toward the older end of the player spectrum, and while I still have plenty of years in me if I stay healthy, I’ve passed that thirty mark now.
I have to be more careful than ever with looking after myself.
Right now though? Fuck hockey. The pie and fries have hit the spot that’s a mix of nostalgia and plain old food porn.
I drove Kasen home today and got a few words out of him, and then the gardening with Ben was actually fun.
Barrett has finally got the appointments lined up that he needs, and ever since his phone conversation, I’ve been sitting here, half-hard at the memory of him telling me he’ll do whatever I ask.
Life is fucking good.
And when Barrett’s gaze dips from my face, down my throat, and over my chest again, I wonder if he’s having the same thoughts I have been.
Helping him coach has been a good time-filler, but it’s meant a lot of side by side with him wearing skates, in athletic gear that really emphasizes his ass.
I’ve been looking. A lot. Unlike the photo I took of him that I haven’t opened once.
I shift in my chair as my dick gets harder. Barrett is and always has been a sexy guy. I felt like all my fantasies were coming true at once when I had him on his knees, but I don’t know whether it’s something he’s open to doing again.
I’ve had plenty of people do the casual hookup thing, and it’s not like I’m in town for any longer than the summer.
What’s holding me back is all those years of no contact. It feels like he’s finally in my life again, and I’m scared to do anything that will fuck with that. If he’s not interested in hooking up, will he get weird around me for suggesting it?
Will my dick give me a choice?
I’d really like to think I’m stronger than sexual attraction, but I doubt it. My dick is uncomfortably tucked into my shorts, and I have to shift again to try and find a better position.
It doesn’t work.
Barrett lets out a choked laugh that drags my attention back over the table.
There’s something lurking in his deep gaze that’s calling to me and doing nothing to fix the situation I have going on.
It’s like he can sense how turned on I am, and he’s doing everything he can to make it worse.
Maybe I’m so turned on that it’s all in my head, but when his gaze slowly, deliberately sinks to my chest again, it’s a struggle not to call him on it.
And if he’s checking me out … does that mean he wants to hook up again too? Or is he teasing me?
“Want seconds?” Ben asks, snapping my attention back to him.
“Ah …”
“Of course you do.” He pushes away from the table and stands. “I’ll get it for you.”
I watch Ben disappear into the kitchen and let out a long breath.
“What’s wrong, Hawke?” Barrett asks. “You look uncomfortable.”
“N-no. Everything is fine.”
“Really?” He drops his voice some more. “Because you keep squirming in your seat.”
“I’m full.”
“Liar.” The way his tone laughs at me only makes everything so much worse. This playful side of my best friend is my favorite side.
“It’s not my fault you said you like doing everything you’re told.”
His expression turns smug. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Fuck off. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“And what was that?”
The words making me hard get stuck on the way out.
“Did you like it … here?” he asks, foot sliding over my ankle under the table.
I glare at him.
“What about here?” It lifts to skim my calf.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out where exactly you’re uncomfortable.” Then his foot slips between my legs and lands on my dick. “How about here?”
“Fuck …” I breathe, tilting into his touch. He massages my cock through my shorts, and it brings my whole body alive. But before I can tell him to stop and remind him where we are, his dad walks back in.
“You boys have cleared me out,” he says, sliding the plate back in front of me.
I’m sure I’m supposed to answer him, but all that’s going through my mind is nrrmmzzzgg, and Barrett still isn’t moving away. If anything, his foot is pressing harder, more insistent.
The pressure runs from my balls, all the way up my shaft, and back down again. It’s firm, teasing, and I’d give anything to be able to dry hump him into fucking oblivion, but Ben is still in the room, talking about the milkweed as he collects his plate and cup.
The delicious-smelling dinner in front of me is hardly on my radar as my body temperature creeps higher.
I’m worried that at any second, Ben will notice the movement under the table.
That he’ll realize one of Barrett’s legs is missing and know exactly where it’s landed.
That he’ll pick up on how overheated I’m getting, how my breathing has sped up, how I want to strip off my shirt and pull his son into my lap for some goddamn fucking relief.
Knowing that I can’t come right now is making me want to even more. Barrett and his dad are talking about something, but my entire brain is focused on the way he’s getting me off.
On how he’s rubbing my cock. How he’s teasing me. How desperately I want to pull out my dick and fucking come already.
“Well, that’s me done for the night,” Ben says. “It’s been a big day. Thank you for the help, Hawke.”
“Anytime.” And I mean it. But I also need him to get out right now.
The second he leaves, I grab Barrett’s foot, hold it tighter against me, and finally give in to the urge to thrust. My head falls back, but the relief I need isn’t coming. I’m so close, but I can’t get there like this.
“What do you need?” he murmurs.
“You.”
Barrett’s foot disappears, and he’s immediately up and out of his chair. He grabs my hand, pulls me to my feet, and leads me through the kitchen and out the back door into the dark yard.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far.”
Not far ends up being a few steps outside the back door, where he pushes me up against the house.
His lips find my ear. “Do you know how hard it was to get through dinner, knowing that you were turned on?”
My dick throbs at his husky tone. “How did you know?”
“Because I know you.” He leans down, and wet lips meet my skin. I give in to the feel of him touching me, loving the gentle suction and his tongue lapping at flesh.
“Was it just the way I couldn’t get comfortable that gave me away?”
“Nope.” He sounds like he’s enjoying himself, which is a huge change from how he was earlier. “Your ears get all red. And around your throat. And how you’d look away the second we made eye contact.”
I grab his hips and pull him against me. Dick to dick, it’s exactly what I need. “That’s because I didn’t want your dad to know how desperately I wanted to pull you over the table and into my lap.”
Barrett’s chest stutters against mine. “What would you have done once you got me there?”
“Kissed you,” I murmur against his temple as my hands dip lower to grab his ass. It’s exactly as full and hard as it looks, and I use my hold to coax him into slowly grinding against me. “I would have made you straddle me. Grind against me, like this, until your cock couldn’t take it anymore.”
He groans, breathing going unsteady by my ear. “And then?”
“Then I would have told you to take me out.”
“Just you?”
“Just me,” I confirm. “Your cock would have stayed nicely tucked away. Your ass though … you would have gotten that out for me.”
His shaky laugh hits my skin. “And what would you have done with it?”
“Made you sit on my cock.”
Barrett groans, thrusts picking up in urgency. I’m plastered to the wall of the house as he rapidly loses control. “And … next?”
I suck my fingers into my mouth, getting them nice and wet, then slip them down the back of his gym shorts.
“I would have fucked your brains out.” I circle his hole with my wet fingertip, and the strangled sound that leaves him fills me with satisfaction.
Like the other night, he’s beautiful when he loses control, and I think I have my answer for whether I want this to happen again.
I do.
Many, many more times.
The tip of my finger slips inside him, and I fuck it in and out. His body trembles, ass clenching around me, and I have a feeling he’s close. I swear I’ve been close all fucking night.
“Shit, Hawke,” he rasps. “I want that. Want you inside me.”
I’ve wanted it since we were goddamn teenagers. It’s one thing for my best friend to make me curious, and it’s a whole other thing to learn that my curiosity was well-placed.
With his forearms braced on the wall on either side of me, his panting in my ear, his cock rutting against mine as he pushes back onto my finger, I’ve never been so turned on.
If I had a condom on me, I’d have him face-first on this wall by now, cock buried inside him—no thought to logistics or what we ate or even if we should.
This need between us is primal, a hibernating beast waking after a decade of dormancy, and now it’s conscious, I don’t know how to make it stop.
“I want you to come in your pants, Barrett,” I say, the urge taking over. “Want you to be so turned on that you can’t stop. Make yourself filthy for me.”
“All I can think about is your cock,” he confesses, face flushed in the exact way I love. “I need it. Fuck, I need it.”
His begging has me aching, and there are so many things I’d do to him if I could, but I’ve passed the point of stopping. My heart is a drumbeat, baselining the rhythm of sex, and Barrett thrusts hard and fast against me in time with it.
I catch his mouth with mine, needing to taste him as I lose all semblance of control. Our kiss is a greedy mix of tongue and teeth, and I swallow every moan as I feed him ones of my own.
Touching his hole is tipping me over the edge. I play with his entrance, stroke his taint, and imagine that every time he sucks my fingers into his body, it’s my cock he’s doing it to.
My poor, trapped cock.
We’ve gone from zero to a hundred, and Barrett grunts with each thrust. His hips meet mine bruisingly, punishingly, and I’m so fucking turned on I don’t even know how I’m still standing.
Then he shudders against me, mouth breaking from mine as he chokes back a long groan.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, breathing hard as I fuck him through it with my finger. I don’t stop until he’s finished. Then he scrambles for my fly.
Barrett pulls out my cock, spits into his palm, and wraps his calloused hand around me. He jerks me hard and fast, rough and without rhythm, single-mindedly wanting to make me come, and I thrust to meet each stroke.
“I’m so close,” I tell him.
He immediately lifts his shirt, showing off his abs. “Time for you to get me all filthy too.”
Shit.
Fuck.
Damn.
The building high crashes into me. My dick throbs out my release, each spurt streaking his skin shiny and white in the darkness. My orgasm finally ends, and then we just stand there, panting, looking at the mess on his skin.
“That’s so hot,” I tell him.
Barrett grins at me. “Ever think I’d be wearing your cum?”
“Never. Not even five minutes ago.”
“Want another photo?”
Do I ever. I almost drop my phone in my hurry to pull it out and take the shot. I make sure to get his face in it; he’s looking down, dark eyelashes inky against his cheeks, lips bright red, and abs a sinful mess.
Then I tuck my phone away.
The nervous laughter we let out helps.
“Well, that’s twice now,” I point out.
“Yeah, but who’s keeping count?”
“Me.” Our eyes catch. “Even I can manage one plus one.”
With a real laugh, he strips off his shirt and wipes his abs clean. “I think I needed that.”
“I’m always here for what you need.” And yeah, I think we both know that I’m talking about sex. It’s complicated, and I’m scared, and I don’t even know what it would mean.
Apparently, Barrett feels the same. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Then we go back inside, finish off dinner, and the same as the first time, everything is normal.
Like he didn’t just make me explode.
Ignoring it the first time was the perfect move for us.
This time, it feels off.
But I go along with it before I help him wash up, then slip through the cramped house to the front door.
It takes the walk from the house to my car for all of my doubts to crash back into me. He’s struggling, I miss him, what if I lose him for a second time?
And the worst doubt of all: what if we never do that again?