Chapter 11
It turned out that what Mo had was an inconvenient boner.
Well, that and a stitch in his side. Adam played professional hockey and Mo didn’t, but that didn’t mean Mo could let Adam embarrass him. Mo might not be prone to toxic manliness, but he had pride.
They skated a couple of warmup laps—enough to remind Mo that he liked going fast on the ice too—and then Adam’s arena friend appeared at the bench with a handful of sticks and a puck.
“I feel like I’ve been set up.” Mo took a stick—the only right-hander in the bunch—and knocked the puck back and forth a few times. It was heavier than he remembered.
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Adam sniped the puck from under Mo’s nose and backed away with it. “Catch me if you can?”
He was obviously holding back. He had to; they had no pads and no helmets and Mo didn’t have a hope in hell of holding his own otherwise. But after his weird, emotionally charged morning, the challenge felt like a pressure release valve. He took off after Adam, heckling and swiping for the puck.
After half a lap, Adam let Mo catch him, and Mo thought fuck it and shoved him gently into the boards, one arm fruitlessly around his waist to try to hold him back while Mo knocked the puck away.
“Holding!” Adam laughed, easily keeping the puck out of Mo’s reach. Damn him and his long arms. “Where’s the ref?”
“I thought you hockey players were supposed to be tough guys!” Between the height difference and the angle, he had no hope of getting anywhere, but pressing his body against Adam’s worked as a secondary objective. He sank his teeth playfully into the back of his hoodie and grinned when Adam yelped.
“Did you just bite me?”
Mo released his grip on Adam’s waist and knocked the puck down the ice.
“Cheater!”
“If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying!” Mo shouted back, breathless.
A quarter of the way down the ice, Adam caught up to him, and Mo prepared himself to chase again.
Instead, Adam caged Mo between his arms and bumped him into the boards, taking the brunt of the impact on his forearms rather than letting Mo’s head or chest hit.
The heat of his body burned through Mo’s jeans and sweater, and he could smell Adam’s sweat over the familiar chemical scent of the arena.
Thank God they didn’t have an audience for this. Mo wanted to lean back into that solid, strong body until Adam shoved him against the boards and did something about the bulge pressing into Mo’s back.
Adam would never, obviously. Not where someone might see them. But the fact that he hadn’t backed away felt like progress somehow.
Not that Mo needed him to make progress in their fake relationship—
Adam snagged the puck.
“Now who’s cheating!”
Mo zoomed after him and collided with him once Adam let him catch up.
Laughing, Adam flung an arm around Mo, and the momentum carried them into an ungainly spin.
Pressed close, Mo stared up into Adam’s face as they came to a stop, panting and grinning.
For a moment, neither of them spoke or moved to get the puck.
He’s going to kiss me.
The thought lanced through him, leaving Mo even more breathless.
Then Adam gently shoved Mo away so he slid backward several feet, giving Adam time to regain the puck and speed away.
Mo shook himself. Of course Adam wasn’t going to kiss him in public. They weren’t actually dating. Public kisses were against the rules. He shoved the weird tangle of emotions that brought aside and sped after Adam again.
They messed around on the ice for close to an hour—Mo’s legs and sides hurt, and he could smell his own sweat. By the time they packed themselves back into the SUV, he needed a shower for more than one reason. And then maybe a nap.
Too bad he had to be on his best behavior. He could really stand to rewrite the memory of this morning with something a lot more pleasant. And naked.
The engine cutting out jolted him out of his stupor. From the driver’s seat, Adam gave him a look. “You okay?”
“I stink,” Mo said instead of the other, hornier things trying to weasel out of his mouth. “No one will think I’m antisocial if I shower before joining them, right?”
Adam’s lips twitched. “Honestly, I think they might insist on it.”
Mo gasped in indignation. “You vile wretch! Why do I even like you?”
“You don’t.” Adam popped the door open. “Go ahead and shower. I’ll bring in the booze.”
Mo didn’t need to be told twice. He went directly from the garage to the downstairs bathroom and stripped off his clothes.
He could come back from this morning’s episode.
Katie, Duncan, and Chelsea didn’t strike him as the kind of people who held grudges for silly jokes, even ones in poor taste.
They made enough of them, after all. The nugget of guilt in his chest was just a reminder that he could do better.
These people had gone out of their way to make him feel welcome at Christmas.
He could try being a little less defensive.
He’d just rinsed the conditioner out of his hair when the shower curtain pulled back.
Mo yelped and instinctively held his hands in front of himself, but it was only Adam, already naked and dark-eyed with hunger.
“What are you doing?” Mo whispered even as he backed up to make room. “Isn’t your family—”
He yanked the curtain closed behind him. “They went to the holiday market. They’re taking Chuckie to see the lights downtown after.”
Oh. Well, in that case—
Adam’s mouth was on his.
The shower wasn’t particularly big, and Adam took up a lot of space, but Mo couldn’t say he minded sharing when Adam crowded him against the wall and put his hand on Mo’s cock.
A strangled noise tried to escape Mo’s mouth around Adam’s tongue. Before Mo could decide whether to be embarrassed about it, Adam released him and slid to his knees. “Oh fuck.”
Maybe Adam was less cavalier about getting caught than he’d let on, because he pulled out all the stops. In the hot, steamy confines of the shower, he cradled Mo’s balls and took his cock deep into his throat.
Water pounded down around them. The heat and humidity made Mo lightheaded. “Fuck. Adam.”
No answer except enthusiastic bobbing. A few near-gagging sounds. Adam didn’t let up. Mo put his hands in Adam’s hair just to hold on. “Jesus, that’s so good. Put your finger in me, I can take it—fuck I’m gonna come. Adam!”
By the time he’d emptied into Adam’s throat, he was only vertical because he was basically sitting on Adam’s hand.
“I really underestimated hockey players,” he said dazedly, and then Adam stood and kissed him again.
A blow job like that deserved a proper reward, but Mo didn’t have the brain cells to reciprocate properly. He decided he could owe Adam one and wrapped his hand around his dick instead.
Adam broke the kiss and put his hands above Mo’s head on the shower wall behind him, breathing hard. His foreskin slid easily over the head and back, soaked with precome.
It was fucking criminal that Mo couldn’t stand close enough to touch him and see all of him at the same time. “You like it? Look how hard sucking my cock made you. So fucking hot.”
And then, because Adam had his head tilted toward the ceiling as he panted for breath and Mo couldn’t reach anything else, Mo scraped a biting, openmouthed kiss at the base of his throat.
Adam made the tiniest, softest broken noise and went rigid against him as he spilled hot white liquid over Mo’s hand and both of their stomachs. Mo stroked him through it, gaze darting between Adam’s neck and cock.
“Jesus Christ,” Mo said blankly. “Merry Christmas to me.”
Adam shook with laughter and handed him a washcloth.
After they secured towels around their waists and Adam checked the coast was clear, they hustled to their bedroom. The house sounded deserted, but Mo refused to risk getting caught mid-flight by Adam’s returning family.
Not that he cared. Well, not really. Okay, so he didn’t want them to think that he was a bad influence, making Adam do slutty things like have sex in the middle of the day in his parents’ house.
“You know,” Mo said once they were once again behind closed doors, “if you were going to tackle me in the middle of the day, we could have rented a hotel room.” What would a Fredericton hotel would be like? They probably had at least one posh place, probably two if there was a historical one.
“Why would I do that?” Adam looked baffled.
Mo shrugged, dropped his towel, and shimmied into underwear. “I don’t know, privacy? More banging time? An en suite so we don’t have to skulk around your parents’ basement?”
Adam stopped dressing. He stared at Mo, standing in just his briefs, pants held at his side. “I only have five days off. Why would I want to spend time away from my family? And why do you think this is my parents’ house?”
Mo finished buttoning his jeans, then looked at Adam. “It’s not?”
“How much money do you think teachers make?” His lips quirked.
Mo crossed his arms. “I don’t know.”
“Well, they definitely don’t make enough to afford four-thousand-square-foot homes on three acres. Even in New Brunswick real estate.” Adam was definitely smiling now.
“You could have chipped in,” Mo argued for some reason.
“I offered. They didn’t want to move out of the house where they raised us.” He shrugged and resumed putting on his pants.
Of course they didn’t. But if the house was outside a teacher’s budget, that meant it wasn’t in Chelsea’s either. “So… this is your house?”
That made no sense.
“Yeah. Need somewhere to live in the summer.”
Mo stared. Watched Adam’s beautiful chest disappear behind a T-shirt, then a sweater. And became abruptly aware of his own naked torso. He turned to find something clean. Damn that this morning’s hoodie was now all sweaty.
“If it’s your house, why the hell aren’t you in the master bedroom?” Because what the fuck.