Chapter 13 - Callum

We won our second game against Massachusetts three to one. This time last night, I don’t think any of us expected to pull that off.

But a lot can change in one night.

We’re all back at the hotel, eating a late dinner at the restaurant. It’s noisy and crowded with hockey players and their coaches. Coach Hill is happier than I’ve seen him in a long time as he and our assistant coach throw back beers at the bar.

I’m squeezed in on one side of a booth between Brooks and Eric. Nate invited Stone over, and they both sit across from us. Our plates have been cleared from the table, and we’re all working on our second beers.

For them, they’re celebratory drinks.

For me, it’s to help calm the nerves I have about returning to the room later.

Stone’s eyes have been catching mine all night, and every time, I see suspicion surrounded by question marks. I can’t tell him the truth about this sudden shift, about why we were able to play today like we’re two halves of a whole. Because that’s what it felt like out there.

That’s how it felt last night.

I know he’s going to ask, and I don’t know what to tell him. I haven’t given him the chance between practice and lunch and using the excuse of catching up with Eric—who’s currently leaning over me to talk to Brooks, his face only slightly uncomfortably close to mine.

Close enough to have Stone’s jaw tight as he stares at me with what I can now almost imagine as his murder eyes.

It sends a not completely unwelcome shiver caressing down my spine.

“Wait,” Eric says, interrupting whatever conversation they had been having that I haven’t been paying attention to. “What’s your first name?”

I look away from Stone long enough to see Brooks go red.

Nate snorts into his beer. “He doesn’t have one.”

Stone, his hard gaze still lasered on me, answers with a vacant tone. “It’s Herbert.”

Brooks flops back against the booth and raises both hands in the air. “Dude.”

Nate and Eric both burst into laughter.

“Give it a fucking rest. I was named after my grandfather, alright?” Brooks mutters bitterly as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Wait. Herbert—”

“No.” His frown gets deeper. “Not that Herbert Brooks.”

The other two start laughing again.

I don’t think Stone has looked away from me once since Eric got a little too close to me, like he’s prepared to jump up and drag Eric away by his collar if he gets so much as a millimeter closer.

I’m not exactly keen on the idea of Stone killing my friends.

Our teammates’ laughter gets joined by more from the other side of the restaurant where our coach and assistant coach are finishing their beers at the bar. It all mingles in the air, swirling around my head until my mind is full of the sound.

I should probably get out of here before all the laughter can suffocate me like dark, ghostly hands around my throat.

Or before Stone murders Eric.

“Alright, guys,” I say before downing the last few drops of my beer. “I’m gonna call it a night.”

Nate, Brooks, and Eric all boo me, but Eric still slides out of the booth to let me up.

“We probably won’t be too far behind you.” Nate checks the time on his watch. “We gotta be on the bus at nine.”

“I drove up in my car,” says Eric, looking at me. “You wanna ride back with me?”

Even though I don’t meet Stone’s eyes, I can still feel them on me, burning a fucking hole in the side of my head. “Nah. I should probably ride back with the team. Thanks, though.”

“Sure. Night, Cal.” He gives me a pat on the shoulder before sliding back into the booth.

As I head out of the restaurant, I can still feel Stone’s eyes on me. After last night, it’s as if that brand they seared onto my soul five years ago is ablaze all over again, freshly sizzling and white-hot.

The heat lingers as I enter the elevator, press the button for the third floor, and lean against the back wall. The doors start to close, and I nearly jump when an arm shoots out to stop them. They open back up, and Stone steps inside.

The doors close, trapping us together.

My heart rate spikes.

Oddly enough, it has nothing to do with the fact I watched him murder a man in cold blood last night.

I might’ve been hoping I could make it to our room alone. We all showered after the game, so I could have slipped right into bed and at least pretended to be asleep before Stone made it upstairs.

He says nothing as the elevator takes us up. He stands a little in front of me, his shoulders squared and his jaw tense. I don’t know if he’s pissed about Eric or on edge from all the questions I know he has.

When the doors open again, Stone strides out, pulling me along by some invisible force. He takes his key card out of his pocket and swipes it at the door to our room. Once we’re both inside, I close it and lean my back against the wood. My heart is still in overdrive, and I’d rather try to gauge Stone’s mood before walking deeper into a viper’s nest.

Not that I’m afraid. Maybe I should be, but I’m not. I’m nervous for a different reason.

He makes it as far as the corner of my bed before he turns back around to face me. The small lamp on the desk is the only light on, saturating the room in a dim yellow glow and casting shadows.

Stone’s eyes are so dark that they’re part of those shadows.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid, Callum. You’re too smart for that.” He stalks toward me, just a few steps, before he stops again. His jaw ticks, and his hands tense at his sides like he’s trying to control himself from coming closer. “How did we play like that today? Were you just in a good mood after seeing your old buddy? Had to show off for him?”

“Eric didn’t have anything to do with it,” I tell him honestly.

“Then what the fuck changed?”

I can’t give him that truth.

But maybe I can give him a different one.

I take a breath, then, “I panicked.”

His eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”

“Last week. In the locker room. I panicked.” The next words don’t want to come right away, and I have to swallow past the knot in my throat that’s holding them back. “I didn’t want you to stop.”

Stone’s eyes grow even darker when he takes a single step closer to me and further away from the light. He tilts his head, studying me. “No?”

I shake my head, barely managing a quiet, “No.”

A deep rumbling noise comes from his chest, and I swear it’s a growl. Like he’s a fucking animal. He nearly closes the distance between us, and his hands come up, palms landing flat on the door on either side of my head, trapping me all over again.

I stare into his eyes and breathe in his scent, losing myself in the forest of both.

No part of him is touching any part of me, but I swear I can feel him. Every inch of my skin is suddenly tingling and hot, every atom sparking until they’ve all caught fire.

He leans forward an inch, our warm breath meeting in the air between us. There’s more of mine because I’m breathing twice as heavily as he is.

“Are you at risk of telling me to stop again?” he asks as though he’s worried I’m going to start hyperventilating like I did that one day after class.

I’d be pissed if he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“I don’t think so.”

“In that case, choose a safe word.”

There’s a tug between my brows. “A safe word?”

“Yes. A fucking safe word.” His voice grows more husky, more desperate, with every second that passes that he’s not touching me. “That way you can tell me to stop all you fucking want.”

It takes about two seconds for my brain to catch up with what he’s saying, and when it does, I think I feel another one of those things I shouldn’t be feeling.

He’s putting all the power, all the control, in my hands.

Fuck, I love it.

“Hurry the fuck up, Callum.”

Yeah, that was definitely a growl.

My dick is straining against the zipper of my jeans, demanding me to hurry the fuck up too.

“Um.” For some reason, I think back to the last goal of our game tonight, when his eyes were the only ones I saw. My mouth speaks the first word that comes to the tip of my tongue. “Ricochet.”

He grins. “I like it.”

And then he’s pressing his body into mine, our chests heaving against each other. He rolls his hips, grinding against me. I don’t even try to stop the moan that tears up my throat as I thrust back against him.

His hands leave the wall and lift the bottom of my shirt, splaying his palms against my abs. They feel cool against my burning skin.

I’m only vaguely aware that he’s touching my scars.

He’s already seen them.

I feel safe.

But then I realize his mouth is about two inches from mine. I lick my bottom lip, tasting the beer on his breath, and his eyes zero in on it.

“Don’t kiss me.”

A dark, bewildered scowl crosses his face. “Is that like you telling me to stop?”

“No. I mean it.”

“Goddamn it. You confuse the fuck out of me.”

I could say the same thing about him.

I literally watched him end a man’s life last night, yet he’s earnest in his refusal to force himself on me.

So, by Stone’s logic…

Murder good. Rape bad.

Fucking hell. I don’t know what it feels like to be in love, but if it’s anything like this, I’m fucked.

And that’s exactly why I can’t let him kiss me.

“Fine.” Stone’s nails lightly scratch along my stomach as he runs his hands down. “If I can’t taste your lips, then I’ll just have to taste every other inch of you.”

Fuck.

He grabs the hem of my shirt and rips it up and over my head, tossing it away onto the floor. His fingers comb through my hair before he grips it by the roots and gently tugs my head to the side. His teeth nip at my jaw. He licks up the column of my throat. All the while, he’s grinding against me, making me feel his cock that’s as hard as mine.

His mouth continues moving down. He doesn’t kiss me. Instead, his lips brush my skin, his teeth scrape along my collarbone, his tongue leaves hot, wet trails across my chest. As his mouth covers one of my nipples, his hand leaves my hair. He licks and sucks and bites while his fingers move to the top of my jeans.

The button’s undone, the zipper lowered.

My breaths come quick and harsh as I lean my head back against the door.

That voice in my head that made me tell him to stop last week isn’t there. Right now, there’s a different one screaming something else.

Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.

And then he does. He dips his hand into my boxers, and his fingers wrap around my dick.

I think I let out the loudest moan I ever have in my entire life.

“Fuck.” I can’t stop from thrusting into his hand. “Stone.”

His mouth leaves my nipple, his tongue darting out to lick it one last time. “You taste good so far. I can’t wait to taste more.”

I swear I’m going to end up coming just from his filthy words before he can finish whatever plans he has.

Once more, his mouth travels down, lips and tongue caressing my overheated skin. They brush over scars, but any distress I might feel about it is eclipsed by this ferocious hunger. Desire. Want. Need .

His hand leaves my cock long enough to pull my jeans and boxers down past my hips.

And then he’s on his fucking knees.

Whatever invisible force I’ve felt between us before draws me in, and I look down, meeting his dark eyes as he peers up at me. Without looking away, he drags his tongue up the underside of my shaft.

I can’t feel the rest of my body. All I can feel are the parts that Stone touches.

He wraps his hand around my dick again and takes one of my balls into his mouth, sucking while his gaze keeps mine hostage. He strokes up, twisting around the head of my cock.

I moan again.

This pleasure just might make me explode.

He releases my ball only to lick up the bead of precum at my tip. “You good, Cal?”

It almost feels as though he’s taking advantage of the position he has me in to call me that. But… fuck . He’s on his knees for me. He can call me whatever the fuck he wants.

I think hating him was a defense mechanism. I had to hate him so he wouldn’t see me again. I had to hate him because everyone else who saw me weak like that only ever fed on it. Let me down.

But in the past twenty-four hours, Stone has given me more than anyone ever has.

“Please don’t stop,” I whisper back breathlessly.

He grins. “That’s more like it.”

Then he fucking swallows me down, enveloping my cock in a kind of wet, hot heaven I’ve never experienced before.

The back of my head hits the door again, and I groan. “Oh, fuck.”

I wasn’t fucking prepared.

How does that feel so fucking good?

My brain goes offline, every single cell concentrated on the feeling of being inside Stone’s mouth, on the sensation of him sucking my very soul out of my dick. He uses his hand and his mouth, stroking in time with the bobbing of his head.

Heat flares at the base of my spine. The pressure builds.

Stars burst behind my eyelids.

Then it’s all gone.

I whine pathetically as I open my eyes to see Stone standing in front of me once more, a smirk plastered on his face. How can a smirk be both beautiful and arrogant at the same time?

“Did you think I was going to let you come that easily?” His mouth is once more inches from mine, and his gaze drops to my lips. He hums. “I’m taking my time with you since I’m being robbed of a kiss I really fucking want.”

He wants to kiss me?

Fuck, I want to kiss him too.

But I won’t let myself.

“Now take the rest of these fucking clothes off.”

It doesn’t even occur to me to refuse. I want him to touch me more. I want to feel every inch of his skin against every inch of mine. I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what I have to give him.

As I kick off my shoes, Stone removes his shirt. He grabs both my arms and turns me around, backing me up. The backs of my legs hit my bed, and I go down. He grips the sides of my jeans and boxers and yanks them down my legs since he didn’t give me the chance to do it myself.

My cock is still hard, fucking aching as I stare up at a shirtless Stone. He has a few bruises from the past couple games, black and blue watercolor brushed along his torso.

Even with them, he’s fucking beautiful.

Precum drips onto my stomach. Stone leans over and licks it up.

I groan and thrust my hips up like I can get my dick back into his mouth.

He chuckles as he puts his hands on my thighs, forcing my legs open wider so he can crawl onto the bed between them. He still has his jeans on, and he leans back on his heels to undo them.

The moment he frees his hard cock and takes it in his hand, my brain decides to come back online. I freeze, my body going rigid, my muscles taut.

“Callum?”

My gaze snaps to his, my breaths choppy, cutting through me in a turbulent rhythm. But whatever panic was about to come over me crawls back into its hole the instant I’m looking into his eyes. Falling into the fog. Once again getting lost in the forest.

All my tension fades.

“I’m good.”

His other hand takes hold of my dick again, giving it a few strokes. “Yes, you are. You’re so fucking good. You taste good. You feel good. But I’m going to make you feel even better.”

With both our dicks in his hands, he lines them up, wrapping his fingers around us. We’re about the same size, both cut, but he might be just a little bigger. The head of his cock is at least. As are the bulging veins running along the side of his thick shaft.

My head falls back onto the bed, and I whimper at the feel of him pressed against me.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” I barely manage to mumble. “Fuck yes.”

He starts to stroke us together, both our hips thrusting to match the tempo of his hands. The room fills with the sounds of our breaths and moans and Stone’s grunts as he picks up the pace.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Your cock feels so good against mine.”

That pressure from before builds back up, my balls heavy. My hands are in fists, gripping the sheets at my sides. Clawing. As though I’m physically climbing toward a peak.

Before I can reach it, his hands are gone.

Fuck!

I’m gonna fucking kill him.

Before I can lash out, he’s grabbing both of my wrists in his hands. As he raises them above my head, pinning them to the mattress, he falls on top of me. His hips move again, rocking back and forth, his cock rutting against mine. He buries his face in the crook of my neck and shoulder, panting, his warm breath soaking into my pores.

And just like that, I’m climbing again.

Higher than before.

“Fuck,” I moan. “Stone. Gonna come.”

“Come for me, Callum.”

He bites down. Not hard, but enough for me to feel the indent of his teeth.

I don’t know if it’s his teeth, his breath against my neck, or the slide of his cock against mine, but I come harder than I ever have before. My release spills out between our bodies that are slick with sweat, so much I think the orgasm might never end.

When it does, I collapse, utterly boneless.

Only a few seconds later, Stone goes still, warm jets of cum joining my own.

I can feel his legs trembling, but he doesn’t let himself crash, keeping the full weight of his body from crushing me.

Not that I think I’d mind.

Stone lowers his head and licks a hot stripe up my throat, no doubt tasting salt and sweat. His chest rumbles against mine before he’s sliding down, tongue moving in a winding path against my feverish skin. When he swirls our cum around my abs, scooping the combination into his mouth, my soft cock twitches.

He peers up at me and licks his lips. “So fucking good.”

I can’t do anything but sigh, fucking wrecked inside and out.

“Don’t move.”

Like I could right now anyway.

He crawls off the bed and walks into the bathroom. I hear the water turn on, but everything sounds a little fuzzy.

When Stone returns, his dick is tucked back into his boxers, his jeans still open. He takes the wet washcloth in his hand and cleans up the mess left on my stomach, carefully wiping it all away while I let my heavy eyes graze down his body.

“Thanks,” I mutter tiredly.

I could probably use another shower, but I doubt my legs are capable of holding me up right now. I can barely manage to push myself back against the pillows and get the covers over me while Stone returns to the bathroom.

On his way back, he pauses at the foot of my bed and throws me a small smile before turning off the lamp on the desk.

I listen while he strips off his jeans and climbs into his own bed.

I frown up at the ceiling when I realize I want him in this bed with me. But I wouldn’t let him kiss me. I can’t let him sleep beside me either.

“Goodnight, Callum.”

“Goodnight, Stone,” I whisper into the darkness.