23. Nathan
NATHAN
“This bruise is taking its sweet time healing,” the physiotherapist, Shannon, said while Nathan was lying face down on a table in the therapy room after practice.
“I barely feel it,” he lied. He felt it, he was just good at hiding pain. After a lifetime of various injuries, he’d learned how to push through. Every professional hockey player could. Half the guys were on a cocktail of pills they couldn’t even remember the names of at this point.
“I’m going to do a quick ultrasound just to make sure there’s nothing more going on.”
Nathan turned onto his side and gestured at the bruise. “Knock yourself out.”
“Hey, Berty,” the head athletic therapist greeted him. “How’s Scottie doing?”
“Physically, he’s coming on really well. Mentally, it depends on the day.” He hissed as the cold gel hit his skin. “He’s moving in soon, so I’ll have a better idea when I see him more.”
“Well let me know if he wants someone to come play Call of Duty.”
“He’s been playing it at rehab. Had me bring a Ghost mask last week, apparently he wanted to show some kid who he’s been playing against.”
“I bet it’s an authentic one too, right?”
Nathan only offered a shrug because he wouldn’t know. Knowing Scottie, probably.
“Well, we’re staying home over the break so let me know if you need someone else to distract him. I’m happy to volunteer.”
“Will do.” Nathan nodded as the therapist grabbed a box of wraps and left the room.
“Breathe in and hold,” Shannon instructed, moving the wand along the bruise which made it hard for Nathan to keep his breath held.
“Anything?” he asked when the pressure eased.
Shannon shook his head. “Just a deep haematoma. Let’s get ice on it and wrap it. Not much else we can do right now.” He wiped the gel off Nathan’s skin and motioned for him to sit up.
“It’s fine,” Nathan said, standing and letting Shannon do what he needed to do.
Three hours later, he was home and unpacking boxes of things Octavia had ordered to make his guest room a bit less impersonal.
Scottie wouldn’t be there for long, but Nathan figured he may as well do something with the space.
He’d been living in the condo for five years and the room didn’t even have art on the wall.
Octavia ordered everything in shades of blue and cream.
A calm palette, very different from the black and grey Scottie had in his place.
A place he knew Scottie was desperate to return to.
He probably could but his neurologist suggested he needed somewhere that was all on one floor, and while Nathan lived on the seventeenth floor, the ramps, elevators, and minimal stairs made it the most ideal place for him to stay for a bit.
Nathan threw the bedding into the wash and then began sorting through the various decor items. Five pieces of art, all seascapes, a couple lamps for the bedside tables, a decorative throw. He burst out laughing when he opened the final box to reveal a Ghost bobblehead.
He set the bobblehead on the dresser and placed the pictures against the wall where he thought Octavia may want to hang them.
He glanced down at his watch and smiled, she’d be here soon, probably itching for a massage after a long day in court.
She’d deny it but he knew that she was most tense on these days.
He’d give her a massage and run a hot bath for her so she could soak while he made dinner.
Her coming home to him warmed something in his chest and he had to force himself not to immediately start imagining a future where she always came back.
When she was here when he got home from a long trip.
When he was there when she got home from work long after he retired.
The door opened as he tucked the end of the sheet beneath the mattress, and he listened to Octavia taking off her coat and setting down her bag. Heard her groan as she slipped off her heels followed by a long sigh.
“Nate?” she called, her voice closer.
“In here,” he replied, straightening, stretching his arms above his head as her head peeked around the door.
She leaned against the doorframe, her eyes trailing down his body, halting where his shirt rose above the waist of his sweats.
“See something you like, Autumn girl?”
She trapped her lower lip between her teeth and shrugged. “You could say that,” she cooed, stepping into the room and walking to him.
He reached for her when she was in front of him and brought her in so her body was flush against his. “Hi,” he breathed out, lowering his head.
“Hi,” she murmured against his lips.
Her lips were like home, the taste of her on his tongue was heaven.
He gasped as her hand slipped into his sweats, wrapping around him. There was nothing gentle about her grip. No suggestion in her action. Only a demand.
“I had a long day, honey.” Her words brushed his neck as she dropped a kiss there. “I’m not in the mood for a long fuck.”
Nathan swallowed at her implication. No foreplay, no teasing, no taking his time tasting every inch of her or watching as her pussy slowly swallowed his cock.
He reached into his pants and covered her hand with his, pulling her away from him.
“You sure you know what you’re asking for, baby?”
“Yes.” She nipped his neck and then squeaked in shock as he turned her around so fast he had to grab her waist to keep her from falling over.
“Grab the dresser,” he demanded, pulling up her skirt as he pushed down his pants.
She did as he said, looking over her shoulder at him, nothing but want in her eyes.
“You’re not wearing any panties, Octavia. Have you been thinking about this all day? Thinking of coming home and jumping right on my cock?”
She nodded, making a sound that had him growing impossibly harder as he ran his finger along the crotch of her pantyhose, smiling at how wet the delicate fabric was.
He pushed his fingers into it, testing their strength at the seam.
They split almost immediately and the thought of fucking her through the hole became his singular focus.
He grabbed her hips and pulled her back against him. “I’m going to fuck you just like this, is that what you want? Want me to fuck a hole right through these slutty tights?”
“Oh god.” She moaned, squirming against him. “Hurry,” she whined.
Nathan took himself in hand and guided the tip of his dick to the hole he’d created, the sensation of slipping through into her wet cunt causing stars to form in his vision.
“Fucking Christ.” He gasped as he sank all the way to the hilt. He could stay like this forever, the tightness of the fabric with the tightness of her pussy one of the best sensations he’d ever experienced.
“Nath—” she started to say, only to be cut off when he started to move, testing the flexibility of the hose as he increased his speed.
Her knuckles turned white as she held onto the dresser, crying out when his fingers found her clit and squeezed, her head falling back as she panted.
“If only your client could see you now. Still in your court clothes being railed against a dresser because you spent the entire day horny for my cock.” He grunted, picking up the pace when he felt her start to clench.
“Were you wet for me all day?” he asked, twisting her hair in the hand that had just been playing with her clit.
“Yes.” She moaned, pushing herself back against him.
“I bet they could fucking smell how turned on you were, but this is just for me right?”
She nodded and he slowed his pace, earning a delicious little whimper from her.
“Say it, Octavia.” He gripped her hair harder, watching as she swallowed. “Who do you belong to?” he demanded, not sure where this sudden possessiveness was coming from.
“You,” she breathed out. “Just you.”
“Fucking right.” He drove his hips forward, returning to the punishing pace as she broke apart around him, triggering his own orgasm.
He kept fucking her, even as his legs felt like they’d give way, reaching down to feel how coated he was in them as he continued sawing into her.
He brought his hand up and slipped his fingers between her parted lips.
The sound of approval she made would have had him coming more had he not just done so.
He turned her head so he could kiss her, his tongue licking into her mouth, tasting. “We taste good together, Autumn girl.”
Nathan held Octavia against him as he caught his breath, the Ghost bobblehead still bobbing, as if approving of what they’d just done.