9. Dover
I stand frozen in absolute shock, my eyes fixed on the man who strides away from me, his entire body radiating tension that matches my own.
Every line of his posture screams agitation, and it is clear that just moments ago, he was so riled up, so overwhelmed with emotion, that he reacted without thought.
And yet, despite all that energy crackling between us, the asshole just turns on his heel and walks away, leaving me reeling.
Well, I’m not about to let him get away with it—not this time, not now.
He disappears from view, slipping around a corner with practiced ease, but I know exactly where he’s going.
I trail after him, weaving through the maze-like corridors of the building, my mind racing with questions.
Why is he taking this route? His office, which he shares with two other colleagues, is actually located a couple of floors above us, so his current path makes little sense.
My brow furrows in confusion as I watch him stride purposefully ahead, only to stop abruptly and press the call button for one of the rarely used service elevators.
He glances back at me, his gaze unreadable, as I hesitate in the doorway, unsure of his intentions.
“Get in,” he says, his voice firm but weary.
“We need to talk, Dover.” There’s a heaviness in his tone, and as he speaks, I notice the subtle slump of his shoulders, a sign that he’s more exhausted than he’s letting on.
Without saying a word, I step into the elevator.
Levi enters right after, his presence filling the small space.
The metallic doors slide shut behind us with a soft hiss.
He reaches out and presses the button for the parking garage, but then, unexpectedly, he hits the emergency stop, halting our descent between floors.
The elevator shudders to a stop, and the sudden stillness feels charged with tension.
Levi leans back against the wall, running a hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the fatigue and frustration.
After a moment, he finally speaks, his voice low and edged with concern.
“Social media is buzzing right now,” he says, fixing me with a serious look.
“There are photographs circulating of you with your hand on another guy’s dick.
” The words hang in the air, heavy and inescapable, as I process the gravity of the situation.
My heart pounds rapidly in my chest, the rhythm echoing my growing anxiety as the realization settles heavily into my confused and overwhelmed mind—this situation is far from ideal.
For some reason my brain goes off in a slightly different direction.
Instead of dealing with the social media storm, I can’t help myself.
“Graham isn’t the one I’m interested in,” I admit, my voice trembling slightly as I force out a hollow laugh, devoid of any real amusement or joy.
“I tried to give it a chance, really I did. I wanted to see if I could feel something, but it just wasn’t there.
No matter how much I tried to convince myself, the connection was missing.
” I pause for a moment, letting the weight of my words linger in the air before continuing, my gaze locking firmly onto his eyes.
“You know it’s always been you.” With deliberate intent, I take a step closer to him, closing the distance between us.
My voice drops to a lower, more vulnerable tone as I ask, “Does it bother you, even a little, that my hands have been on another guy’s dick, but never on yours?
That I’ve crossed that line with someone else, yet never with you? ”
"Shut up," he snarls, his voice rough and edged with frustration. His eyes flash as he glares at me, jaw clenched tightly. "I'm too old for you," he bites out, the words sharp and defensive, as if trying to convince himself as much as me.
I can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from my chest, light and teasing. "Sure you are, old man," I reply, my tone playful, deliberately provoking him. My eyes dance with mischief as I meet his intense gaze, refusing to back down.
"Stop!" he snaps, his patience clearly fraying.
Without warning, he shoves me back against the heavy doors behind us, the impact sending a jolt through my body.
Our bodies are pressed close together, the heat between us almost tangible.
I feel his heart pounding, matching the wild rhythm of my own.
The air is thick with tension, every nerve in my body alive with anticipation.
The need simmering between us is so powerful, so overwhelming, that I fear it might very well consume me entirely.
The instant his gaze drops to my mouth, a surge of reckless determination overtakes me.
I think, fuck it, and reach out with both hands, gripping the sides of his head with a fierceness that surprises even me.
Without hesitation, I pull him toward me and crash my lips against his in a desperate, hungry kiss.
The contact sends a violent shudder rippling through his entire body, and I feel the tremor echo through me, as if our nerves are wired together.
“You’re not too fucking old,” I growl against his lips, my voice rough with desire and defiance.
I attack his mouth with renewed intensity, my tongue darting past his lips to tangle with his, tasting him, claiming him.
He responds instantly, pressing his body more firmly against mine, closing any remaining space between us.
Our cocks are hard and throbbing, straining against the fabric of our clothes, the heat and pressure building with every passing second.
My hips grind into his, seeking more friction, more contact, and the sensation is so overwhelming that a whimper escapes me, muffled by his mouth.
My fingers tangle in the short, coarse strands of his hair, tugging him closer, desperate to keep him anchored to me.
The kiss grows more frantic, more consuming, until it feels as though we’re both on the verge of losing ourselves completely.
“We need to stop,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, yet thick with desire and hesitation.
Despite his words, he leans in again, capturing my lips with his, and our mouths meet in a hungry, urgent kiss.
Our tongues intertwine, exploring and tasting, while our bodies press even closer together.
The friction between us intensifies as our erections rub insistently through the thin fabric separating us.
The sensation sends electric tingles racing up my spine, making my entire body feel lightheaded and overwhelmed with pleasure.
Precum soaks into my shorts, a warm, wet reminder of just how close I am to the edge.
My need for release is almost unbearable, and from the way he clings to me, I can tell he’s just as desperate.
My hands, which had been tangled in his hair, slide down to his lower back and then to his firm, muscular ass.
I squeeze, pulling him harder against me, grinding my cock down along the length of his.
The pressure and heat between us build with every thrust. Levi lets out a deep, guttural groan, his whole body going rigid as he presses into me.
I feel his cock twitch and pulse against mine, and I realize he’s coming, his release unmistakable.
The sensation of him losing control, the way his body shudders against me, pushes me over the edge.
I grunt, my breath coming in harsh pants as I surrender to my own orgasm, feeling the hot, sticky evidence of it soaking into my underwear.
The intensity of it leaves me trembling, my mind spinning with pleasure, and for a moment, I wish this feeling could last forever.
The heat between us gradually fades, leaving the air thick with the remnants of our passion.
Both of us are breathing heavily, our chests rising and falling as we try to catch our breath, eyes locked on each other in the quiet aftermath.
I break the silence, my voice trembling with a mixture of warning and vulnerability.
“Do not tell me that shouldn’t have happened, or so help me, Levi, I will punch you in the nuts.
” My words hang in the air, half-serious and half-desperate, as I search his face for any sign of regret.
Levi hesitates for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processes what I’ve said.
Then, unexpectedly, he bursts out laughing, the sound loud and genuine, cutting through the tension like a knife.
After a moment, he sobers, meeting my gaze with a sincerity I hadn’t anticipated.
“I’m not going to say that,” he assures me, his tone earnest. “Not after that.” The weight of his words settles between us, a silent agreement that what just happened was real and meaningful.
I clear my throat, feeling a strange mix of relief and awkwardness. “Okay then,” I reply, not quite sure what else to say, but grateful that he’s not pulling away emotionally.
Levi shifts uncomfortably, glancing down at himself and then at me, his face twisting into a grimace.
“I need a shower,” he mutters, his voice low and gruff.
He takes a step away from me, his movements a little stiff, and his eyes flicker first to my crotch, then to his own, both of us acutely aware of the evidence of what just transpired.
He winces, rubbing the back of his neck, and I can’t help but let out a small, nervous laugh as the reality of the situation settles in.
“We could save water,” I say, raising my eyebrows in a suggestive manner, hoping to lighten the mood with a bit of humor.
Levi lets out a short, amused huff of laughter and shakes his head, clearly both entertained and exasperated by my attempt at a joke. “I honestly needed to talk to you,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” I reply, nodding in understanding. “It’s going to be a shitstorm.” The weight of the situation suddenly sits heavily on my chest.
“It won’t be long until the guys on other teams know,” Levi continues, his voice tinged with apprehension. “Then the fun will start with one or two of them. You know how it goes—rumors spread fast, and it only takes a couple of guys to make things difficult.”
“It already has,” I admit quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “McKenzie said shit to me on the ice earlier. That’s what set me off with him.” I clench my fists at the memory, frustration and anger bubbling up again. “He just threw it in my face like it was nothing.”
“Unfortunately, it’s out there now. We just have to deal with it.
” Levi’s voice is steady but heavy with resignation as he reaches out and presses the button for the parking garage once more.
The elevator lurches into motion, its mechanical hum filling the silence between us as it begins its slow descent.
He glances at me briefly, concern etched in the lines of his face.
“Let me know if you get any messages overnight,” he says, his tone gentle but firm, “and we’ll regroup tomorrow morning.
We’ll work out a plan to make sure you’re safe on the ice, especially from those few players who, to put it mildly, might cause trouble. ”
I tilt my head to the side, feeling a pang of disappointment settle in my chest as it becomes clear that Levi isn’t planning to come back to my place with me tonight.
The realization stings, though I remind myself that I haven’t actually invited him.
Just as quickly, I acknowledge that he hasn’t asked me either, and the uncertainty lingers between us.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I fix my gaze on Levi, silently willing him to look at me.
When his eyes finally meet mine, I muster the courage to speak, my voice soft but hopeful. “Come home with me?”
“No!”
I clench my jaw tightly, feeling frustration bubbling up inside me. “No! Seriously? That’s all I get?” I demand, my voice rising with disbelief and irritation.
Levi doesn’t even flinch. He just looks at me with that infuriatingly calm expression and says, “You got a lot more in the elevator.” His words are cool and dismissive, as if everything that just happened meant nothing at all.
At that moment, the elevator doors whoosh open with a mechanical sigh, breaking the tense silence between us.
I hesitate for a split second, searching his face for any hint of regret or apology, but find none.
With a final glare at Levi, I stride past him, my footsteps echoing in the garage.
As I pass, I throw a sharp, “Fuck you!” over my shoulder, unable to contain my anger any longer.
He calls after me, his voice echoing faintly behind me, but I refuse to turn around or acknowledge him.
I focus on my destination, determined to put as much distance as possible between myself and the asshole I just left behind.
My heart pounds as I make my way to my vehicle, every step fueled by a mix of indignation and hurt.