Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
They kept going like that, and Dustin kept saying it, because every time he did, Roddy made another little noise that made him absolutely crazy.
It was like discovering a magic word that opened a portal to another world.
He wanted to tell Roddy, “Atta boy,” and watch him wriggle for the rest of time.
And it was true. He was doing so fucking good. It was better than anything Dustin could ever remember doing. Not because it was tighter or hotter or sexier or stranger. Because it was Roddy. And Roddy was better than everyone. He was the best. Of all time.
Roddy’s skin started looking so much like it did in that Instagram picture that Dustin couldn’t resist leaning down to bite the top of his shoulder. He probably bit it too hard, because Elliot uttered a startled shout, and clenched around him, and Dustin groaned. Shit, he was going to come.
“God…” He panted. “I’m close.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah?” He met Roddy’s eye. “Are you gonna come for me?”
“I think – I think so.” He moved Dustin’s hand to his cock. “Help me.”
“Shit–” Dustin wrapped his hand around it and began to stroke him. Roddy moaned and gripped his shoulders, and… “Goddammit,” Dustin gasped. “I’m really close.”
“No, please – please wait.” Roddy grabbed the back of his neck and pulled himself up to press their foreheads together. “I’m nearly there, I promise.”
Jesus. Dustin squeezed his eyes shut and kept going.
It was like the hardest high-intensity training he’d ever done: holding himself up on one arm, stroking Roddy’s cock with the other hand, with Roddy hanging off him like a spider monkey, mumbling whatever Spanish filth he was mumbling in his ear.
He would’ve had an easier time doing burpees.
Thank fucking Christ the knee was doing better.
“Ah, God, Roddy,” he said. “I can’t–”
“No, no, no, please keep going!” Roddy held onto him tighter.
“Please, I can do it. I’m gonna do it. Just keep going.
Oh – yes, like that. Keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going, keep – oh.
” He went totally still, and Dustin pulled back to look at him as his brow puckered and his mouth fell open and he looked down and murmured, “I’m coming. I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.”
A massive spurt hit Dustin in the chest, and he felt Roddy clench around him and said something garbled that was either, “Thank you,” or, “Thank God,” and kissed him as he came.
Afterward, he collapsed and didn’t move until Roddy whacked his shoulder and complained he was suffocating. Dustin rolled off the bed, and tossed the condom in the trash as he went to open the window. Summer breeze filled the room, and outside everything was lush and green and shining.
He turned around at the window and looked down at himself. He was covered in it. It looked like he’d taken a come shower.
“It looks good on you,” said Roddy from across the room. He rolled over with his arm under his head and watched as Dustin decided to leave it there and came back.
He lay beside him and pushed a damp curl off Elliot’s forehead with his thumb. “You did it.”
Roddy smiled. “It was good?”
“So fucking good. Proud of you.”
He blushed and hid his face in the pillow, and Dustin paused and added, “Good kid,” and watched him squirm with delight and felt like he wanted to fuck him all over again.
He tipped his face back up and held him still so he could look at him. The space between them went quiet, and a thousand things came into Dustin’s head that he could’ve said to fill it.
Or maybe just one thing.
It crashed into him like a body check, and he caught his breath and held it to keep those words inside.
It didn’t seem fair to say that. He wasn’t in a position to be saying that to someone when, according to his psychologist, he still needed to learn how to say it to himself.
So he kept his mouth shut and just said it over and over again in his head, practicing. For Roddy, or himself? He wasn’t sure.
Elliot clasped his hand. “I have a question,” he said.
“Mm.”
“What happens when the season starts?”
Dustin shut his eyes. It was the absolute last thing he wanted to be thinking about. He felt Elliot’s lips touch his knuckles and looked at him. “What do you want to happen?” he said.
“I’m not sure. I think I wanna go back to Tampa? But I’m, like…conflicted.”
“Why?”
Elliot turned onto his back, taking Dustin’s hand with him and lacing their fingers on his chest. “Because on the one hand, it’s where my mom is, and my friends, and my team. And it’s where I came up, and I like that I get to play for the city where I was born.”
“Uh huh.”
He sighed. “And on the other hand, I don’t want to ever see Reef Okafor ever again.
And if I go back to Tampa, I have to be on his team.
So I could request a trade, I guess, but I don’t know if they would go for that.
Like, I could say it’s because I have concerns about Reef, but then I have to tell them… you know, everything.”
Dustin nodded, watching the side of his face. “I think you could make a pretty strong case,” he said. “But you’re a star player. You don’t have to tell them anything. You tell them you want to trade, and they do it because you’re the most valuable asset in the NHL.”
Elliot rolled his eyes.
“I’m not joking,” said Dustin. “Talk to your agent. Or you know what–” Something had just occurred to him. “Talk to that other guy. Arsenault’s agent. What’s his name – Gallagher.”
Elliot looked skeptical. “Wouldn’t I have to tell him everything? And isn’t that risky?”