8. Chapter Eight

Iate my chicken. I think it was good.

Nothing that I could have put into my mouth could have possibly compared to the flavor of Baskoro. Unless it was his dick which, if we were still falling into this pit of total asshole choices, might be resting on my tongue soon. My prick ached like a stubbed toe. No, not painful enough. A toe that had been stubbed and then stepped on by a horse. A big horse. A Clydesdale. Yeah, that was comparable. And yet not nearly enough.

Jasha was the most gracious host I had ever met, filling our water glasses as we stuffed food into our faces, joking and winking, as if he knew something that we didn’t. Which he did not because we were not dating. Far from it. We had just had a moment of tongue on tongue action that might lead to his hand on my cock or mine on his or both hands on both cocks. This was a terrible idea for many reasons—the biggest being we were supposedly the scourges of each other’s existence on the ice—which was totally not the vibe we were now basking in.

Actually, we’d not been enemies for some time now. How could you hate a man who loved his nephew as much as Baskoro did? How could you despise someone who fawned over every picture you sent him of your daughter—and there had been a lot of images flying back and forth between us? We’d somehow crossed over that river of dislike, rode into the village of buddies, and now had entered the castle of desire. And all of that without a Hobbit to be seen.

“Come by anytime,” Jasha was saying as he gently steered us out into the cold. “Maybe when we are open. I find you seat by fire for more kissing in secret.”

We stumbled out the door, both ready to refute the kissing thing, but Jasha had already locked the door, flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and turned out the lights.

And in all honesty, was there really any reason to rebut the comment? Nope. We had kissed. And right now, I wanted to kiss him again. So I did. I shoved him back into the door, took his face in my hands, and claimed his mouth. He moved into the kiss with a grunt, his arms cinching around my middle as I suckled on his tongue. The rich flavor of the dark coffee and chocolate cake we’d had for dessert lingered in his mouth. I wanted more. I wanted to douse his big, strong body in chocolate frosting and lick it off. I wanted to grind into him, cup his ass, stroke his dick, and make him come over and over.

A sharp rap on the glass behind us startled us. There stood Jasha giggling while pointing to our car.

“Yeah, shit, we should go,” I mumbled, taking Baskoro by the wrist to hurry him along. He seemed kiss drunk, his gaze and movements sluggish with desire. We got to the car, kissed again, and then I managed to separate to ask the most important question of the night. “Your place?”

He nodded just as his phone pinged. I smiled at the grimace of frustration on his face when he tugged his cell free from his back pocket to see who texted him.

“Shit, it’s Liam,” he huffed. “Fuck. He’s asking where I am.” He glanced up from his phone, a cold wind lifting some satiny black strands from his cheeks. “I kind of told him I was sick and couldn’t go to the team thing.”

“That sucks. What are you going to tell him?” I couldn’t help myself. I tucked his hair behind his ear. He leaned closer, his lashes fluttering at the touch.

“I’ll tell him I felt better and went to find some food,” he whispered as my lips skimmed over his cheek, the roughness of short whiskers sending a jolt of pure want to my dick. “And some meds. Christ, what the hell is going on here?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” I confessed as he wobbled a step away to type out his reply to his roommate. “Whatever it is, I am unable to get a grip on it.”

He reached out to cup my cock through my jeans. Hand to God, I nearly came right there in the parking lot.

“I have a grip on it, don’t worry. Can we go to your hotel room?”

A yes was on the tip of my tongue when some tiny bit of sensibility poked its head up through the fog of lust.

“I don’t think so. What if someone saw us coming or going?” I said, my fingers curled into a fist so I didn’t pull him back into my arms again. We needed some air, some clarity, or this was going to explode in our faces. Some space between us was good.

“Back seat?” he offered.

And all that good sense flew off in a cold autumn wind. We fell over ourselves to get into the car. I reached for his thigh as he kicked at a can of iced tea under the brake pedal.

“Hold on. Just…fuck, I can’t think right.” He led my hand to the bulge in his pants. His groan of pleasure hit me hard. “We can’t here. Wait. Just…shit.” He shoved the key into the ignition, reversed so hard my forehead nearly kissed the dash, and then gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Your hand on my dick is making it hard to…do anything.”

I sat back, buckled up, but left my hand on his upper thigh. We drove off into the night, pulling off the road to pick up some back roads that led us to a small lake.

“Almond Lake,” Baskoro informed me. I gave the moonlit lake a nod of appreciation and then popped the latch on my seatbelt. He did the same. His mouth crashed over mine. I took his shoulders and tugged, jerking him and me around. We shifted at the same time, lifting our bodies up and between the seats. A moment of panic ensued when we got wedged in, but once I wiggled free, I fell into the back seat and he flounced down on top of me.

“Ow,” I hissed, reaching under my shoulder to pull out a crushed energy drink can. “Polkman is a slob.” I threw the can into the front, grabbed Baskoro by his head, and led his mouth to mine. Our legs were bent into odd shapes, and my neck was twisted badly, but I gave no shits. The man atop me was rubbing his cock into mine while he lapped deeply into my mouth. Who cared if I couldn’t straighten up tomorrow? I was bendy. I was young. It would all be good.

“Fuck, I…ouch what the hell?” I grunted as my backside rolled over something sharp.

“Skate, sorry, Liam is…oh shit yeah,” Baskoro huffed, yanking a goalie skate out from under my thigh as I found, and then freed, his dick. “Shit, oh shit, yeah, yeah. I want to touch yours.”

I lifted one side of my ass, unwilling to release his cock, and moaned in pure bliss as he ripped down my zipper and dug inside my shorts to grasp my dick. “Fuck you’re thick.”

Tugging his mouth back to mine, I linked a leg over his back and pumped up into his grip. He licked into my mouth, hair tickling my cheeks as it hung downward in a curtain of ebony silk. I fisted it, hard, and he gasped, then bucked, opening his hand to gather his dick. Hot cock rested beside hot cock. I arched my spine. My cock rubbed over his, the wet heads adding slick to the strokes. My fingers stayed in his hair as we both rocked, ground, and thrust madly. He came first, his whimper of release swallowed by my tongue in his mouth. I refused to let go of his hair, so when I blew my nut, I, too, growled into a scorching kiss that went on and on long after we’d drifted back down to earth. My grip slackened a bit. I caressed his hair back from his face when he levered himself up, locking his arms as we lay there like two spent pretzels.

“So touching dicks was fun,” he said, his voice thick and craggy.

“So much fun.” I wiggled upward, resting on my elbows, to kiss him again. He melted into the kiss, his weight shifting into me again, and I could easily lie back down and do this again. Hell, the mere thought of getting off with this man made me half hard in no time. “What the fuck are we doing here, though?”

“My knee hurts,” he said as he winced and moved back to rest his shoulders on the right window. “Man, Liam needs to hoe out this car.” He tossed a crumpled soda can over his shoulder, slid down to rest on the seat, and did nothing to untangle our legs. I chuckled at the sight of us, all bent up and sweaty, dicks out, cum spread over our abs and his hand, bitching about his sloppy roommate. It was surreal. The whole thing.

“You do realize that we just hooked up with enemy goalies,” I said, enjoying the way he looked in the moonlight. His hair knotted, his lips puffy, and his neck bore a mark that I didn’t recall making but obviously did. “Also, I think I kind of left a little bite mark on your neck.”

That lazy after sex mellow expression evaporated. “What? Fuck. Are you serious?! What the hell, Marcus? How can I explain that to Liam?”

He tucked his soft dick back into his pants, zipped, and clambered back into the front, long legs catching on the headrest several times before he freed himself. I sat up, found an old T-shirt, wiped my stomach and dick, and dropped it back to the floor. Then I felt bad for doing that and shoved it into the front pocket of my jacket. I could wash it at least and then give it back.

“Man, you are a beast,” he huffed after turning on the dome light to check out his hickey. His glower made me snicker. “Asshole,” he grumbled as the scowl melted into a soft smile. “That was pretty amazing…not going to lie.”

His gaze held mine in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, it was probably the hottest back seat frottage session I’ve ever been involved in.”

He nodded slowly, the amusement leaving his face. He sighed, popped the glove box, and pulled out some baby wipes. Oops. Well, who knew there were wipes? He offered me the package. I took one and passed it back. The smell of baby powder and sex was thick in the stuffy air.

“So this thing…” He wiped at his belly as he spoke. I watched, transfixed, wishing that I’d had more time to explore his body. More time and lots more space. “This thing we have going…is this just a hook-up thing?”

I scrubbed at my hand as I tried to work out the knots in my head. “It could be. Do you want it to be or are we just going to do this one time and be like ‘well, that was fun but I’m not that into you that way’?”

I peeked up as my words reached him. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth. Sexiest man ever right there, and I knew I wanted more than this one time. Stupid, yes, and probably a nuke to my career, but I didn’t want to have this be one and done. I liked Baskoro. A lot.

“How are you feeling?” he tentatively asked as he wadded the wipe into a tight ball before stuffing it into his hoodie pocket.

Leaning up, I draped my arms over the backs of both front seats and nudged at his cheek with my nose. He rolled his eyes but turned to face me, his lips brushing mine. I felt and heard the silky exhale on my face. Coffee and chocolate still.

Damn but I wanted more of him, of this, of the sex, of the teasing, of it all, but how would that even play out?

“I’m feeling like I want more,” I dared to say. He sighed, smiled shakily, and bobbed his head.

“Yeah, I feel like I want that too. We’ll have to be discreet. I don’t know how the teams would feel if they found out we were hooking up.”

I blew out a breath and sat back with my legs bent up as they rested on the rear seat. “I don’t know either. It’s probably never happened before. Two guys on opposing teams getting together.”

“If it did, it was in secret. I mean, who would have dared to come out about dating someone on a different team? Players had to hide their queerness, let alone the fact that they were attracted to an opposing team member.”

“Yeah, yeah, truth.” I pressed my shoulders into the window glass, my sight resting on Baskoro staring down at his hands resting palm up in his lap. “How about we take some time to think about it?”

He nodded. “Okay, that’s sensible. We’ll consider the pros and cons, and then we’ll make a call.” His sight left his lap. “I think we should get home before someone finds us here.”

“Good thinking. I just…well, thanks for dinner and for…” I waved a hand between us.

“I guess I kind of got half the surf and turf. I mean, chickens walk on the ground, so yeah, you only owe me a steak now.” He shot me a look that called for one more kiss.

Just one more. So I stole one. He moved into it. Somewhere deep down inside me where the truthiest of all truths lived, I knew all the thinking in the world was not going to see this thing between us fizzle out.

“If we win next time, that negates the steak,” I whispered over his lips and got that goofy snicker of his. Yeah, this was a bad thing, but man did it feel good.

***

You would think that hotels would make doors that open silently.

When I scanned my keycard, the latch unlocking made me wince. My roommate on the road was a notoriously light sleeper. Knowing Ooni would hear me, I did all I could to be super stealthy, even going so far as to remove my shoes. I was pretty sure I looked like some cartoon caricature of a dude coming home late from the bar and trying to sneak into the house without waking up his wife. If his fictional wife slept like Ooni, the tiptoeing would be a wasted effort.

I made it four steps into the modest hotel room when the light on the far side of the room came on, showing me a rumpled and groggy Finn blinking at me.

“You just coming in?” he asked, his words slurred and sleepy. His blond hair was flat on one side and sticking up on the other.

“Yeah, sorry to wake you up.” I dropped my shoes to the floor, then shuffled around with my back to him, trying to get undressed quickly. The sooner I got into bed, the less questions my fellow goaltender could fire at me. I was down to my briefs, which were kind of crusty, but I slid under the covers anyway. Once Ooni was asleep, I’d wiggle free of them and just sleep naked.

“It’s okay, I was flipping.” He checked his phone. “It is after two in the morning. Were you drinking?”

“No, what? No, I was not drinking.” I flounced to my side to stare at the tiny desk and lamp crammed into the corner of the room.

“Good. I know losing hurts badly, but alcohol is not the answer.” He turned off the light. His mattress made a crunchy sound as he moved around, trying to get comfortable. “Were you with someone working the loss off in bed?” I huffed out loud. My God, why were my teammates so nosy? “I’m sorry for stuffing my nose into your business. Forget I asked.”

Well shit. Now I felt bad. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry for being cranky. Yeah, I hooked up with someone.”

“Ah, well, sometimes sex does help. I hope you feel better. Tomorrow is another day where the sun will come out and the orphans will sing about it.”

That made me smile in the dark. Bless Ooni and his love of Broadway musicals. Sleep claimed my roommate faster than it did me. Those heated moments in the back of Polkman’s messy ride were too fresh to simply shove them aside and slumber. What the hell had Baskoro and I done in that back seat? Well, I knew what we’d done. We’d touched dicks in a big way. If I let my mind wander, I could still hear his soft pants of pleasure, taste his skin on my tongue, and smell the shampoo on his long, soft hair.

My dick wasn’t into the whole sleepy time thing either. It started plumping up as I recalled each caress, each grunt, each whispered plea. Christ, this was not at all me thinking things over. Thinking things over was logical. I had to channel my inner Spock.

Just then, as if somehow thinking of Mr. Spocksummoned him, my phone erupted with an incoming text from Baskoro. I’d chosen a text tone of the red alert klaxon from Star Trek for his messages. I flew out of bed, nearly falling to my face as the blankets tangled around my calves, and dove on my phone lying on the desk next to the complimentary coffee pot.

If we win, you owe me two steaks and a blowjob. ~ B

Sweet Jesus, what the shit was this man trying to do to me?

I hit him back after I slipped back under the covers. Ooni made some strange sort of sleepy-wakey sounds and then started snoring once more.

I thought we were thinking this over. ~ M

I did. I thought. I think I want a victory BJ. ~ B

You’ll be on your knees next time. ~ M

We’ll see. Bring steak sauce. ~ B

That one got me. I snorted loudly. Ooni mumbled something in Finnish and then rolled to his side. I turned off my phone, smiling at the ceiling. How wrong was it that I hoped we lost next time our teams met up?