30. Xander

Xander

Steam enveloped the glass shower doors as Ry and I took turns lathering each other"s bodies, water cascading down our skin. Our lips met in a heated kiss, tongues dancing together while our hands roamed freely. Goosebumps raced across his shoulders as I trailed kisses along his neck and collarbone, venturing to his hardened nipples.

"Sunshine, you make me feel so good." Ry moaned, his breath rapid and shallow.

I circled behind him, pressing my chest against his back, and licked a slow, deliberate line up his spine. He shuddered at my touch and I gently nudged him toward the tiled wall. My erection strained against his lower back, the urgency building within me.

"I want to make you feel incredible."

As I gazed at him from behind, my heart skipped a beat. His backside was undeniably perfect. "Your ass is the cutest, sexiest thing I"ve ever seen." I couldn"t resist dropping to my knees in front of it, my fingers trembling with anticipation. "I want to worship every inch of you." The heat radiating from his body was almost suffocating, but I couldn"t get enough.

Ry arched his back, inviting me closer and driving me wild. My senses were overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of his skin and his toned muscles flexing under my touch. I parted his cheeks, burying my face between them, and inhaled deeply. "God, I love how you smell." His scent was intoxicating – a mixture of eucalyptus and wood sage and man filled my nostrils, making my heart pound against my chest like a wild drum.

"Xander..." Ry whimpered my name, his legs quivering.

Forming a small "o" with my lips, I blew a gentle stream of air onto his hole. He moaned louder and glanced back at me with a playful smirk. "Are you blowing out a candle on a cake or something?"

"Your ass is more delicious than my birthday cake."

"You say the sweetest things." Another groan escaped his lips. "No wonder I"m so in love with you."

A rush of warmth spread through me at his words, and I let out an openmouthed gush of warm breath over him again, teasing him, making him anticipate what was to come. I paused for a moment, drawing it out before diving in, my tongue exploring his hole.

Ry"s moans filled the steamy shower, each sound driving me further. I was lost in the taste, the sensations, and the pure essence of him.

"Tell me what you want, Ry," I whispered, my tongue gliding over his entrance, teasing him mercilessly. His moans grew louder, the sound mingling with the steady patter of water droplets in the shower.

"Sunshine... please," he whimpered, his fingers curling into fists against the tiled wall. I reveled in the control I had over him, and yet, I wanted nothing more than to make him feel incredible.

"Please what?" I asked playfully, my mouth forming a ring around his sensitive hole. A low chuckle escaped my lips when his body trembled beneath me, unable to find the words to express his desire.

"Please... just do it," he finally managed, grinding his hips back against me. "I need you so bad."

"Your wish is my command," I murmured, pressing my tongue deep inside him, alternating between the flat part and the narrower probing tip. My free hand gripped his hip, steadying him as I continued my sensual exploration.

"Fuck, Sunshine." Ry gasped, his voice trembling with pleasure. "You"re making me crazy… in the best fucking way."

I smiled at his compliment, my own arousal mounting as I heard the sincerity in his voice. "Good, that"s exactly how I want you."

I continued pleasuring him, letting my teeth graze his ass cheek gently, earning a delightful little butt shake from Ry. God, that was the second cutest, sexiest thing I"d ever seen.

"More," he begged, spreading his legs wider, giving me access to his most intimate parts. I swiped my tongue along his taint, causing his legs to buckle. I rose to my feet quickly, catching him before he could fall, my arms encircling his waist.

"I"ve got you." It was then I realized Ry"s dick hadn"t been touched yet – his arms had been bracing him against the wall while I devoured him. "Now it"s time for the main event." I turned him around and lifted him so he could wrap his muscular legs around my waist.

My name escaped from his lips, a low and guttural groan. I couldn"t look away from the intense desire burning in his eyes, like a wildfire waiting to consume us both.

I positioned myself at his tight entrance, the anticipation causing me to tremble slightly. The world slowed as I pushed into him gently, feeling the way his body yielded beneath mine.

The sound of his sharp intake of breath echoed in my ears as I continued my slow invasion, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. His heartbeat was a frantic rhythm against my chest, matching the pace of my own.

"Xander," he gasped out between ragged breaths, his voice sending chills through me. His hands clung to me tightly as if he was afraid I would disappear if he let go.

"Hold on," I whispered back into his ear, each word laced with promises of pleasure yet to come. My mind was filled with thoughts only of him – how he felt beneath me, how he tasted on my tongue... Every sensation amplified by our connection.

As I moved inside him, every moan and sigh from Ry fueled me further.

His name fell from my lips over and over again like a mantra as our bodies moved together in perfect harmony – Ry and Xander... Xander and Ry... Until there was no beginning or end to us anymore – just us lost in each other.

"I"m close," Ry whispered, his body tensing. And then, with a blissful cry, he found his release; the sight of him unraveling before me was all it took to push me over the edge as well.

"Fuck, Ry," I breathed, feeling my own orgasm wash over me like a tidal wave as I filled him. The world outside the shower ceased to exist, and in that moment, it was just us – united, connected, and completely, utterly lost in each other.

As the rush subsided and reality began to creep back in, I glanced at my lover. He was coming down from his high as well.

"What's the time?"

He released an arm he had around my neck and glanced at his waterproof watch. His eyes widened. "Damn it! We're late."

I hastily disentangled myself from him and we both rushed out of the bathroom. Glancing at my own watch, I couldn't believe how much time had passed. Forty minutes had evaporated like the warm water droplets on our skin.

We had a podcast slot to fill. The thought sent adrenaline rushing through my veins as we raced against time to get dressed and head out to the arena.

Traffic was another beast altogether: unpredictable and unforgiving. My mind reeled with thoughts about potential shortcuts and alternate routes to get us there faster while battling against my post-coital haze.

The shift from intimate serenity to this frantic scramble was jarring – like being yanked from a warm dream into a cold reality. But there was no denying it; we had let ourselves get carried away with passion and now we were paying for it – racing against time.

The arena had a life of its own – a living thing made up of players yelling and sticks clashing, reverberating through the walls. The place reeked of sweat-soaked jerseys and day-old popcorn – an odd blend that somehow smelled like home to me. The chill from the ice rink seeped into the corridor, nipping at my face as we darted past.

The thud-thud-thud of our footfalls echoed off the bare concrete under us, broadcasting our lateness in no uncertain terms.

As we neared our destination – the podcast studio – I could already feel its familiar hum vibrating through my bones. It was a small room tucked away in the corner of the arena. The scent of burnt coffee wafting from its entrance mingled with the lingering aroma of cold steel and rubber from players" gear nearby.

Every detail around me was amplified by adrenaline – each sound sharper, each smell more potent – wrapping me tightly within this world that revolved around hockey pucks and radio waves.

"Xander," Ry huffed, "I swear if we're late because you couldn"t find your socks..."

"They"re not just socks, Ry," I retorted between gasps for breath. "They"re woven from the hair of a rare Tibetan yak."

Ry snorted as we skidded around a corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with an unsuspecting janitor.

We burst into the broadcast room. Sliding into our seats with seconds to spare, we slapped on our headphones and grinned at each other.

"Close call," I muttered under my breath as Ry chuckled.

The microphone was live now and there was no turning back. We launched into an animated breakdown of last night"s game, the adrenaline from our mad dash still pumping through my veins.

"Let"s not forget about Jester and Tank," I said enthusiastically, "those two defensemen were like brick walls out there."

Ry chimed in. "Absolutely. And Maestro? What a performance! He was practically doing ballet in that goal post."

Our banter flowed effortlessly as we dissected plays and praised performances.

"And let"s give ourselves some credit too," Ry added cheekily towards the end. "A 4-1 victory isn"t something to sneeze at."

I laughed heartily before adding my own shout-out, "That"s right. Bullet and X-Man – scoring goals and taking names."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Ry's lips as he scrolled through his phone, searching for fan reactions. "Ah, here"s a good one." He held up his screen for me to see. "@RoaringSuccess, I'm counting down the minutes until puck drop."

"So are we." We'd nailed the series against Chicago last night and were getting closer to punching our tickets to The Cup playoffs.

Ry's thumb swiped to reveal another message. "And this one says, "Can"t wait to hear the X-Man and Bullet spill some locker room secrets."" He glanced over at me. "Looks like our fans are dying for some behind-the-scenes dirt. Think they can handle the prank war stories?"

I let out a mock sigh, shaking my head. "They"ll eat it up. Remember when we filled Tank"s locker with ping-pong balls? He was finding those things for weeks."

"Yeah, and guess who had to listen to him whine about it every single day? Me."

"You were a good sport about it, though. And what about when we swapped Maestro"s coffee with decaf? The look on his face when he couldn"t figure out why he was so tired."

"Yeah, well, he kept trying to blame me for it. Like I have nothing better to do than mess with his coffee."

I smirk. "Classic. But hey, can"t spill all our secrets. Gotta keep some tricks up our sleeves."

"Absolutely," Ry gave me a pointed look. "A little mystery keeps things fun. Plus, we need to make sure we still have pranks left to pull on each other."

"Exactly." I was unfazed. "Who knows what we"ll come up with next?"

Ry muttered, "Hopefully something that doesn"t end with me cleaning up a thousand ping-pong balls." But there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

The instant I flipped the switch for the call-in segment, I heard a familiar voice, one of our team's die-hard fans. "Hey, X-Man and Bullet, love the show!" The excitement in his voice was palpable.

"Thanks, man! What"s your question?" I asked, ready for the usual game-related queries.

"Well, it"s more of an update. Just saw on social media – Xander, you"ve been called up to the Newark Eagles, permanent. How do you feel about that?"

The words slammed into me like an unexpected body check, leaving me momentarily breathless. My heart pounded. A rush of excitement surged through me – after all, the Newark Eagles were in the major league. "Wait, what?" I managed to stammer out, my mind racing; maybe I'd misheard.

"Yeah, just now. It"s all over social media. Congratulations, I guess?"

But just as swiftly as the excitement came, it receded, replaced by a gnawing anxiety that began eating away at my composure. Thoughts of Ry flooded my mind and how this colossal change could potentially destabilize our bond.

I struggled to process the news. No official briefing had come my way, and yet here I was, hearing about this possibly monumental shift in my life from a loyal pair of ears on the other end of the line. What were the chances that it was nothing more than a rumor?

Ry's hand gripped mine under the table.

"Uh, we appreciate you calling in," I said, trying to steady my voice.

I fought to keep my expression unreadable as panic threatened to rise within me. My thoughts whirled around this unforeseen twist of fate like a cyclone. Memories of Ry flashed before my eyes – his smile when we joked around after practice sessions, his comforting presence during those late-night conversations about dreams and fears.

Would these moments become just memories now? Would distance create a chasm between us too wide to bridge? The uncertainty was suffocating, each question stoking the fires of fear within me.

This wasn"t just about moving teams or cities; this was about risking something precious for an uncertain future – something akin to gambling with your heart at stake.

Oh God. I feel like an actor thrown into a play without any script or direction – unsure of what's awaiting me on stage.

Newark held promise, yes, but at what cost? Would the thrill of playing in the major league be worth the potential loss of something – someone – irreplaceable? The weight of these questions threatened to crush me as I struggled to navigate through this storm of emotions.

The smell of electronic equipment hung heavy in the room, suddenly becoming suffocatingly real. My heartbeat drummed loudly in my ears, drowning out the persistent hum of studio equipment and distant city noise filtering through the soundproofed walls. My palms were slick with sweat against the cool plastic of my microphone as I tried to regain control over my racing thoughts. It felt as if gravity had increased tenfold; each breath became an effort, each blink was slow-motion.

My gaze flickered towards Ry instinctively. Catching sight of the tempest brewing in his usually calm eyes was like a punch to my chest. It was evident he was as taken aback as I was, but damn if he wasn"t weathering it like a seasoned sailor in stormy seas. He squeezed the hand he still held, a gesture of comfort that spoke volumes, and mouthed, "We'll figure it out."

Despite this unexpected twist thrown into our call-in segment, Ry and I soldiered on with our podcast. We transitioned back to engaging with our listeners so seamlessly you"d think our world hadn't shifted on its axis. Internally though, it felt like I was grappling with a whirlwind of emotions, trying to comprehend my imminent departure and its possible repercussions on my relationship with Ry.

I found myself stealing glances at him throughout the show but his face had transformed into an unreadable mask. And then just when we were wrapping up, there was that familiar vibration against my thigh. With a hand that trembled, I slipped the phone from out of my pocket – Coach Mack"s name flashing on my screen.