13. Ben
BEN
Fraser’s text doesn’t make sense until my cock gets hard.
Still curious?
I stare at the two words. For a second, I’m back in his locker room after practice, looking at his wet hair and wondering why he isn’t being an asshole. Then I remember the balcony. The joint passing between us. His mouth close enough to kiss while he asked whether I wanted him to offer himself up.
Apparently the offer is still open.
I should ignore it. Nobody has ever ruined a working relationship with a linemate by putting his phone facedown and going to bed.
Instead, I tap the reply box.
No.
I erase it.
Fuck off.
That sounds like me, but he’ll know it doesn’t mean no. I erase that too.
Send me a dick pic.
My thumb hovers over the arrow long enough for the typing dots to show on his end. I delete the words before I lose whatever remains of my mind.
Maybe I’m supposed to send mine first. The possibility is so insane I lock my phone and stand up.
Leaving it unanswered is the only sensible option. Getting in my car and driving twenty minutes to Fraser’s place with no warning would be fucking insane.
My keys are already in my hand.
I make it all the way to the parking garage before I admit where I’m going. I could stop during the elevator ride or the walk to my car. Instead, I get behind the wheel.
At Denny, I could turn west and go home. A gas station farther up gives me another chance, and I pass the last useful side street before Fraser’s block without taking it. The drive lasts seventeen minutes. I feel every one.
I’ve spent weeks wondering how his mouth would feel against mine. Now he’s invited me to find out.
I pull into a space across from his building.
This will make everything worse because we have to play together and already fight too much. Adding sex in Seattle means I can’t blame Arizona or a hotel room. I want Nolan Fraser badly enough to do this at home.
I turn off the engine and get out.
The building code is still in the old team-party message. I let myself into the lobby, take the stairs too fast, and knock on his door before the decision catches up with me.
It opens almost immediately.
Fraser is barefoot in gray sweatpants and a faded black T-shirt. His curls are flattened on one side like he was lying on the couch, and the ink on his neck disappears under his collar. He looks past me toward the empty hall before his attention comes back to my face.
“Pope?”
The confusion in his voice almost stops me. Then his tongue wets his lower lip, and I catch the back of his neck and kiss him.
His lips part on a startled breath. For one awful second he doesn’t move, and then his fist closes in the front of my jacket. He yanks me over the threshold and kisses me back hard enough for our teeth to knock.
The door swings shut behind me. I expected his mouth to feel different. I didn’t know how. It’s hot and wet, his lower lip soft between mine. His chest presses hard against me as one rough hand catches my jaw, and he shoves a thigh between my legs while putting his back against the door.
His tongue slides over mine. My cock goes from hard to painful. I push my hips against his and swallow the sound he makes when he feels it. His sweatpants are thin enough that I can feel his cock through them, already stiff and getting harder as he grinds into me.
Fraser bites my lower lip. The sting makes me kiss him deeper, holding his jaw where I want it while his tongue strokes mine. He tastes faintly like weed and the mint gum he chews at practice. That mouth has been on my thumb and my cock. Kissing it is better.
I pull back because I need air.
His fingers stay twisted in my jacket. His mouth is wet and red, and he’s staring at me like I’ve been dropped on his doorstep by a confused delivery driver. “Yes,” I say.
“Uh, what?” He still doesn’t let go of me.
“Yes. I’m still curious.”
His eyes narrow. “You drove over here to answer a text?”
I kiss him again instead of explaining. This time he’s ready for me. Both hands go under my jacket and across my back, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. The lock presses into his shoulder. He rocks his hips against mine and sucks on my tongue until my lungs hurt.
His hand drops to my ass and squeezes. I bite the tattoo on his neck. Fraser tips his head, giving me the line of it, and my mouth follows the ink down to his collar. His pulse jumps against my lips. I suck hard enough to leave a mark where his shirt will hide it.
“Fuck,” he says into my hair.
I push the bottom of his shirt up. My palms find warm skin and tight muscle. The tattoo across his chest waits under another few inches of cotton, so I drag the shirt higher.
Fraser catches my wrists. “Not again.”
My head comes up. “What?”
“We’re not fucking in the entryway again.” His grip loosens, but he keeps my hands away from his shirt.
“You have a problem with the entryway?”
“I own a couch. Use it.”
He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind me. The full sweep of ink over his chest hits me before he catches my jacket and shoves it off my shoulders.
I barely get one arm free before he takes my mouth again.
We make it out of the entryway by running into the wall beside it.
Fraser laughs against my lips, then shuts up when I grab his ass with both hands and lift him enough to grind our cocks together.
His sweatpants slip lower on his hips. The tattoo along his ribs disappears under the waistband, and I hook my fingers into it.
He gets my T-shirt halfway over my head while I’m trying to push his pants down. For several seconds, I can’t see anything and neither of us will stop kissing. My nose catches fabric. His mouth lands somewhere near my chin. I yank the shirt the rest of the way off and find him again.
Fraser runs both hands over my bare chest. His thumbs drag across my nipples, and the light scrape makes my stomach tighten. He looks down between us while he opens my jeans.
Watching him watch me is almost as good as touching him.
I shove his sweatpants and underwear down together. His cock springs against my stomach, hot and slick at the tip. Fraser curses when I close my hand around it.
“Couch,” he manages.
The back of my knees hits it a few steps later. I sit hard, and Fraser follows me down, one knee on either side of my thighs. His naked cock presses along my stomach while mine is still trapped inside open jeans.
He reaches between us and pulls me free.
His fist closes around my cock. I lose his mouth on a groan. “Still curious?” he asks.
“Shut up.”
I wrap my hand around him and stroke. His head drops forward until our foreheads touch. The first pass is almost dry, but precum is already spilling from the head. I smear it down his shaft with my thumb and feel him pulse in my grip.
His palm glides over me, slower than I want, and twists at the head. My hips lift before I can stop them.
“There,” he says. I kiss him before he can sound pleased with himself.
Our fists work between our bodies while our mouths stay locked. He shifts closer, and our knuckles bump. Neither of us moves away. Fraser takes both cocks together in one hand, squeezing them side by side while I spread more wetness over the heads.
The sight is enough to make my balls draw tight.
I grip the back of his neck and hold him where I can kiss him. His cock slides against mine inside his fist, thick heat rubbing along every stroke. He rolls his hips, fucking the tight circle of his hand while the underside of his shaft drags over mine.
“Fuck, Nolan.”
His hand stutters. He looks at me for half a second, eyes dark and mouth open, then tightens his grip and strokes faster.
I kiss him again. He moans into my mouth while my thumb drags over both slick heads. The wet friction is obscene, his cock jerking against mine every time I circle the tips. My thighs tense under him. I’m getting too close, and I don’t want this over yet.
Fraser seems to decide the same thing. He lets go and sits back on my legs. “My turn to see you.”
“You’ve been looking at me for a month.”
His gaze drops to my open jeans. “Locker rooms don’t count.”
His hands go to my open jeans. I lift my hips, and he drags them down with my underwear until my cock slaps against my stomach. He pushes the clothes to my ankles, and I kick them off.
Fraser goes still. His gaze travels from my shoulders down my chest. It catches at my stomach before settling between my legs. I know what I look like. Women have liked my body, and I’ve never been shy about taking my clothes off.
Fraser looking at me makes my skin feel too tight.
He puts both hands on my thighs and spreads them. His thumbs press into the muscle, slow and firm. The couch dips when he slides down between my knees.
“Fuck, Pope.”
“Good fuck or bad fuck?” I spread my legs farther.
He bends and bites the inside of my thigh.
My cock jerks toward his face. “I’ll take that as good.”
His mouth closes around the head.
Wet heat swallows me. Fraser’s tongue slides along the underside, catching the ridge before he sinks lower. My hand finds the back of the couch and grips it. The last time he sucked me, I stood over him and controlled every inch. Now he has me spread open on his couch, and he takes all of me.
His throat tightens around the head of my cock. The pressure rips a curse out of me. He pulls back with his cheeks hollowed, keeping the suction hard until only the tip rests on his tongue.
Then he does it again.
My free hand sinks into his curls. I don’t push. I hold on while his head moves between my thighs and his mouth gets wetter. Each pass ends with his nose near my stomach and his throat working around me.
The smug look he gives me says he already knows exactly what I like. He’s right. I would let him do this for hours.
Fraser cups my balls and rolls them in his palm. My hips come off the couch. He takes the movement, letting me slide deeper before he pins me down with one hand across my stomach. My orgasm rushes closer under the pressure of his palm.
“Nolan.” His name breaks on the way out. “I’m close.”