CHAPTER FIVE

"Sooo, who's the mystery man?" Jordan teased as Dom walked toward his stall, game sticks clutched in his hand.

"No one." Dom reached for his tape, wincing when his tone came out sharper than he'd intended.

"Hey, uh, sorry, man." Jordan sounded surprised. "Didn't mean to, um, bring up something you don't want to talk about or anything."

"It's fine. Just need to focus." Dom's gaze never left his stick as he deftly wrapped the tape around the blade, then ripped it from the roll.

Jordan said something else but Dom tuned him out.

He was a nice kid. A good goal scorer and a great teammate. But Dom couldn't listen to other people's chatter while he prepped for a game. He needed time to sink into himself, feel centered and ready to play.

He was exhausted and being exhausted led to sloppiness. Which led to stupid mistakes he couldn't afford.

His coach, the media, and the fanbase were all already up his ass over every mistake he made.

Dom squinted at the tape, eyeing it. No, that was all wrong. He ripped it off the blade, tossing the wad aside, then started again.

The stick was the same brand he'd used throughout his career.

He liked their products and had a good endorsement deal with them.

This model in particular had a perfect open curve, great for lifting the puck to clear the zone or shoot high when he was in close to the net.

It was great for tipping and deflecting as well and although his role on the team had massively changed in the past two seasons, his stick and blade ultimately hadn't.

He'd tried changing everything last season to get his offense going too.

He'd tested out different models of sticks with varying blades and curves until he thought he was going to drive their equipment guy, Doug, crazy. But Dom always came back to this one.

Fine, call him old school. Stubborn. Stuck in his ways. He liked his routines.

But ultimately, Dom had realized the problem wasn't his equipment. It was him .

He could still see and think the game at the same speed. His body couldn't keep up with what he wanted it to do.

Hell, the ache that settled in his lower back standing here told him that.

Matty danced by, doing his usual pre-game routine of shaking his ass to the beat of the music on Nico's playlist. Dom reached out, reflexively smacking it, then returned to his taping job, glad Matty was here tonight.

It was always weird when Matty was out for games. He'd been pretty healthy and blessed to avoid major injuries so it didn't happen often, but when it did, it left Dom feeling off-kilter.

Dom already felt like everything in his life was upside down. He didn't need any more changes right now.

He finished wrapping his sticks, leaning one against the wall near his stall and slotting the extras into the rack in the hall outside of the dressing room ready for Pete—their head equipment manager—to hand over in case he broke one mid-game.

Back at his stall, Dom dressed slowly and carefully, noticing the texture of his gear. The soft, slipperiness of his base layer, the glide of the laces against his fingers, the stiffness of the logo on his jersey when he settled it over his shoulders.

His own version of mindfulness and centering himself in the moment.

After, head bowed, he sat in his stall, eyes closed, visualizing the game ahead. The shick of his blades cutting through the ice, the solid thwack of the puck against his blade, the vibration of the stick traveling up his arms as he let the disc fly.

Dimly, Dom heard someone call out the time and he took a deep breath and then another.

He opened his eyes, rose to his feet, then strode toward the exit where guys were lining up. He tapped his teammates on the shin as they went past, wishing them a good game and getting glove taps to the chest in response.

Matty leaned in, doing their pre-game handshake, but when Dom glanced up, Matty met his gaze, brown eyes worried.

"Hey," he said in a low tone. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dom replied automatically but when Matty let out a heavy sigh, he winced at the look on his face. Matty had one eyebrow lifted, his expression dubious, clearly disappointed in Dom for not being honest.

"No. That's not true," Dom admitted. "Talk after?"

Matty nodded. "Yeah, let's do that."

But when Matty went to continue their handshake and walk away, Dom held on.

"Can we start this again?" he asked because he felt off now, out of sync, their flow interrupted.

"Yeah." Matty gave him a small smile. "'Course we can."

Matty was a sweetheart. Always willing to give everyone whatever they needed. God, sometimes Dom wondered if he deserved his friendship at all.

Dom's throat felt a little thick as they started their routine from the beginning, moving through the handshake and chest bump fluidly until the knotted tension inside Dom's gut eased.

Warmups settled him back into his normal routine and by the time the game started, he felt like himself again.

Dom lost himself in the game's rhythm. The sounds, the smells, the feel of it all. Despite the lack of sleep and the strange day, he managed an assist in the second period and won enough faceoffs that he felt like he'd contributed.

After the game was over, he knelt on the ice by the door to the tunnel, bending to press his lips to the cold surface.

The routine had started in LA after his third round, game-seven OT goal in the playoffs. It had been one of those highlight worthy goals, a fast breakaway, knifing through their opponents like they weren't even there, a hard shot into the net through a screen of players, missing the goalie's shoulder by a centimeter and landing in the back of the net like Dom had hand-delivered it.

He'd kissed the ice after because at that moment he'd burned with his love of the game, loved how high he was flying on the win, loved his team, loved everything about the sport right down to the ice beneath his skates.

He'd knelt and pressed his lips to that ice to give honor to the fickle and capricious hockey gods who'd given him everything he'd ever dreamed of.

And every game after that, win or lose, he'd continued to do it. Because now he risked their wrath if he stopped.

Lately he'd started wondering if the charm had worn off. If he'd lost their favor.

Tonight, Dom's back still ached as he walked into the dressing room, but he was flushed and pleased about the 3-2 win they'd squeaked in over Colorado tonight. Relieved that he'd been a part of it.

"Nice job, boys!" Dustin grinned as the team stripped out of their gear. "That one was down to the wire but I'm proud of the way you all kept battling tonight. Great goal there in the first, Stokes!"

He nodded at Jordan, then continued. "And that was a beaut in the second, Arents!"

Nico grinned, his smile bright and happy. God it was good to have him in their lineup again.

"But tonight, this has to go to Yaterater. Great job, bud!"

Dustin gave Colton Yates a quick, back-slapping hug, then handed a ship captain's hat to him.

There were always three official stars of the game, and the first star always did a little on-ice interview with one of the reporters after the game was over.

But there was also an unofficial player of the game announced in the locker room. The previous winner handed the prize to the guy he thought deserved it and tonight it was, without a doubt, Colton Yates.

Colton settled the hat on his sweaty hair and grinned broadly. He should , after his gorgeous breakaway and game-winning clean shot into the net in the final thirty seconds of play, giving them the win.

Colton nodded toward Dustin. "Thanks, Captain. This was a tough one but we managed to pull it off so let's keep that energy up in the next game!"

Dom watched Colton take the hat off, wondering if he'd ever looked that young and carefree.

He still didn't know how the ship captain's hat had become their prize for this season but it changed every year. Last season, it had been a Viking helmet, the one before that a brightly colored sash.

In the end, the prize itself meant nothing. But the ritual helped bring the team together and was another bonding opportunity, and that was everything .

Dom lingered over his post-game routine. He cooled down, then did as much stretching and myofascial release as he could manage on his own.

After, Eddie Burton, one of the trainers, worked him through some stretches and a massage, manipulating his legs, stretching his psoas and hip flexors, relieving the pressure on his lower back.

After, Dom wasn't surprised when Matty followed him into the shiny new infrared sauna, towel struggling to cover his ample ass and thighs.

"Trying to get me alone, huh?" Dom teased as they took seats on the benches inside, skin already beginning to bead with sweat.

Matty snorted. "Only because I know you'll run off on me otherwise and avoid talking."

Dom grimaced but couldn't deny it.

Frowning, Matty leaned forward. "Seriously. I saw the JockGossip shit. You okay?"

"I hate it but I'll survive," he said shortly.

"Is the guy …" Matty shook his head. "Never mind. I shouldn't ask. You'll tell me if you want."

"He really is my stylist," Dom said.

"Okay …"

Dom licked his lips. Last fall, he'd finally admitted to Matty and Dustin that he was gay. He hadn't wanted to but he and Matty had gotten into a fight about Matty's new boyfriend, Antoni.

He'd thought Antoni was using Matty. He had believed it too.

Matty's ex had been a horrible woman and between that and Dom's general distrust of people, he'd taken his own shit out on his teammate.

Antoni was good for Matty, Dom could see that now, but at the time he'd been so far up his own ass he'd nearly wrecked the friendship and jeopardized the peace of the team.

The only atonement that felt right was for Dom to tell them the truth about his own past. About the man who'd broken his heart so many years ago. About why he kept everyone at arm's length.

Even his friends.

"My stylist … we … I know you've always been curious but yeah, that's how I spend my Sunday nights," Dom admitted now, the words coming out garbled and jumbled because he sometimes still had a hard time saying it aloud.

Admitting who he was.

Matty arched an eyebrow. "Getting styled ?"

There was nothing salacious about that phrase but it was Matty so Dom assumed everything came with some silly innuendo and waggle of eyebrows, whether he showed it outwardly or not.

"I do regularly make the best-dressed lists, you know?" Dom pointed out.

Matty grinned. "I know."

"But, no, that isn't … that isn't all we do," Dom admitted, his voice catching on the words.

"Fuck buddies?" Matty guessed.

"Mmm," Dom said because he didn't want to flat-out lie to Matty. It was true-ish. True enough.

If Dom was braver, if he had the luxury of finding guys to hook up with who he didn't have to pay, he'd have gone for a guy like Shea. He could see them being friends.

If Shea's hockey career hadn't been torpedoed by his knee injury, Dom could imagine him as someone on the team, someone Dom had fallen into bed with after a boozy night at the bar.

Though Shea could certainly do better than a washed up NHL player with back problems.

Matty grinned. "I knew there had to be somebody ."

"Man cannot live by hand alone," Dom agreed.

"Well, good for you!" Matty said, thumping him on the shoulder. And that was so Matty . He was happy for Dom. Happy he was getting laid on the regular.

"Yeah, well, now the damn public is speculating about it," Dom said shortly. "So that's not great."

Matty's happy expression fell. "True. What's the plan?"

"Well, we discussed it with Kate this morning. She invited herself over for a meeting."

"And your stylist guy was still there?" Matty raised his eyebrows.

"We went to my place after the fire last night, yeah," Dom admitted. "He had some smoke inhalation so someone needed to keep an eye on him."

Matty nodded. "Totally makes sense."

Taking an injured person home was the sort of thing Matty would have done. Then again, if Matty was in Dom's shoes, he would have handed over the keys to his sports car and invited Shea to move in too.

Neither of which Dom was willing to do.

Then again, Matty was both a better person, and less suspicious of humanity, than Dom was.

"So what's the plan? Are you coming out now?" Matty asked.

"No," Dom scoffed. "Why would I do that?"

Matty shrugged. "I dunno. Just wondering. So what happens now?"

Dom made a face. "Kate's plan is that we should go on a few ‘bro dates' and I'll have a date-date with a beard."

"Eww," Matty said and Dom nodded, heartily agreeing with that sentiment.

Audra Morgan swirled her glass of wine, the deep red liquid inside nearly the same shade as her long wavy hair. She glanced over the rim of the glass and scowled at Shea. "You're a fucking idiot."

Shea rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Audra. Very helpful. Telling me that repeatedly is clearly working to change my behavior."

"I'm just saying, if you weren't in love with him, you wouldn't have risked everything." She curled her long legs under her until she was tucked into her armchair, the expression in her green eyes challenging.

"What was I supposed to do?" Shea asked irritably, shifting to flip on his side to get a better look at her and nearly falling onto the floor. Damn. They needed a bigger couch. "Leave his shit in the apartment and let him get caught? Isn't that risking everything too?"

"Well, I meant your life ," she said, draining the last of the wine from her glass. "But yes, it would be risky too."

This afternoon, once the car service had returned Shea to the apartment in the Leslieville neighborhood he shared with Audra, he'd been trying to deal with the chaos this fire had caused in his own life.

God, how could he have been stupid enough to leave a burner on?

Dom had been as good as his word though, and a shiny new phone had arrived quickly on Shea's doorstep. He'd used it to contact his manager at the physical therapy clinic. A few well-timed coughs had sold the story and he now had a few days off to deal with the rest of the shit he was trying to juggle.

Shea had also spoken to his manager at Select Image Consulting and she'd been sympathetic but concerned about the potential ramifications for the company. She'd said she'd need to speak to the owner but, for now, there was little else he could do.

Truthfully, he wasn't even sure if the woman who was the figurehead of the company was the actual, legal owner.

It wasn't like services like theirs held annual company picnics or anything.

And the blurring of lines between the legitimate services and the less than legitimate ones made it a hell of a lot more complicated.

Audra leaned forward, placing her glass on the coffee table, her forehead creasing with worry. "Is this whole moping thing because you think you won't see him anymore?"

Shea gave her a half-hearted shrug. "We talked earlier about which PR plan we're going with, so I know I'll see him a few times."

"And that is?" She poured more wine into her glass then held the bottle questioningly over his empty one.

He waved away the offer. "Dom's agent will release a statement explaining that I'm his stylist, he crashed on the couch, he was helping out a friend, blah, blah."

"Okay," she said slowly. "And what does that mean for your future ‘appointments' with him?"

"I have no idea. We are going to plan a couple of outings together. As the team's PR person called them, ‘bro dates'."

Audra snickered. "Something very masculine and heteronormative."

"Precisely. And one of us needs to be seen with a woman. Presumably Dom."

"And you're jealous?"

"What? No." Shea gave his roommate a weird look. "Why would I be jealous? No matter who she is, he's not going to be interested in her. That man isn't even a little bit sexually flexible. Trust me, if he was, he'd have run with it long before now."

"Ahh. Because I was going to say I could do it. Be his beard at the event, I mean."

Shea nodded. "I considered asking you if you would."

"Ironic, isn't it?" she said with a smile. "That he's gay and you're …"

Shea rubbed his face. "Ugh. I don't know what I am."

The truth was, until Shea and Audra became friends and she recruited him to become an escort, he'd been one hundred percent sure he was straight.

Though recruited might be too strong of a word.

They'd had a few classes together during their undergrad at University of Toronto, worked on a group project together, then started hanging out outside of class.

After months of him whining and moping about bills and how he wasn't going to be able to afford grad school, she'd subtly tested the waters of what he thought about being paid for sex.

The subtlety had gone straight over his head and, at first, he'd been dumb enough to think she was hitting on him.

He'd been totally into the idea and it still embarrassed him to think about her laughter when she turned him down. "Oh, sweetheart, you are so not my type," she'd cackled.

But she had offered him a lifeline.

He'd started out working as a stylist for women. Then started having sex with some of those women.

But when he realized how in demand men who were willing to sleep with men were and what he'd be paid to do it … well, he'd taken one look at his bank account, another at what grad school would cost, and never looked back.

It was Audra who'd talked him through the prep and bought him a toy to practice with.

Audra who he'd called after his first appointment with a man when he was quietly freaking out because he hadn't hated it.

He'd been horribly awkward the first few times. Terribly inexperienced. Though clearly that hadn't deterred Dom, who'd been working his way through their available escorts and settling on none of them until he'd met Shea.

It gave Shea a perverse pleasure that he'd been the one who'd caught Dom's attention. The one who he'd continued to see. The picky bastard had chosen him and that was a weird point of pride.

Yet Dom was the only man Shea had ever fallen in love with so maybe that meant something. He was trying not to read too much into that but, well … it did raise a lot of questions.

Because the term gay for pay was a little crass but maybe not inaccurate for him.

He'd certainly never looked at a man twice until he started getting paid for sex, and even after, he still thought of himself as being heterosexual. If he walked down the street, it was women who caught his eye. Women who turned his head.

But Dom … fuck, there was something about him.

No previous client or relationship had ever made Shea feel so seen .

Some clients preferred things to be businesslike and transactional. Some liked a more personal touch or to be swept up in a fantasy.

Most treated him with respect and the ones who didn't were no longer clients, so it wasn't that.

Dom certainly wasn't the only client Shea had laughed with.

He'd held a few while they cried.

Under the right circumstances, it could be a very warm and real interaction.

But there was more to it.

Even his ex-girlfriend Keira, who had loved him and tried to commiserate when he talked about what he'd lost when he'd left hockey behind, had struggled to grasp what he was saying. But she'd never been on a path to going pro or elite in her field, so no matter how hard she'd tried, she'd never quite understood.

But Dom had.

Dom knew what Shea had gone through when his career ended. Knew how much of his identity had been wrapped up in being a player.

Knew how lost he'd been without that.

"Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?" Audra asked, her tone skeptical. "You keep spacing out."

"Ugh." Shea rubbed his face again. "No. It's not smoke inhalation. It's been a weird day."

"I'm sure." She licked a stray droplet of wine from the rim of the glass. "Maybe you should let this be your sign from the universe to wrap up this arrangement with him. You don't need the money anymore."

"I know."

After graduation, after Shea had been hired at the physiotherapy clinic, he'd stopped taking on new clients for sex and let others fizzle out. Eventually, he'd politely ended things with the few remaining clients who wouldn't take the hint.

Save for one. The one he refused to stop seeing.

Sure, Shea made more money in sex work than he did in PT but he truly didn't need to keep his arrangement going with Dom. Not for monetary reasons, anyway. He had no debt from school, his car was paid off, and he had reasonably healthy savings and investments for a twenty-eight-year-old.

Actually, he was doing better than most of the people his age. At least the ones he knew.

Audra was right, this was the perfect time to step away from the business completely. Except …

"Yeah, but then I'll never see him again," Shea said, sighing.

"You can always watch him play." She gestured toward the TV where they were doing the post-game analysis.

"Not quite the same as riding his dick, but sure."

"Meh. You can find that elsewhere. His dick isn't any more magical than any other one out there."

"Is that how the old saying goes?"

"Yes." She smirked at him.

They both fell silent as Shea tried to imagine no longer having those Sunday night meetings with Dom. No longer feeling the touch of his skin or hearing his laugh.

"I'm not ready to let him go," he whispered.

"Oh, you poor, poor stupid man," she said, laughing and patting his foot, the very picture of condescension.

"Fuck you."

He kicked at her playfully and she pushed his feet away, smirking over the rim of her wineglass. "Baby, you couldn't afford to fuck me."

And that was the truth.

How are you feeling? Lungs okay?

Dom stared at the unanswered text message on his screen, a strange feeling churning in the pit of his stomach when no reply came. He'd texted Shea after he got home from the game, too tired to go out with the younger guys on the team.

As one of the veteran players, he tried to set a good example. He took the rookies out, kept an eye on them, and made sure they didn't get into too much trouble.

He tried to set a good example without being a total killjoy.

It used to be something he and Dustin and Matty did together but now that the guys were married, it was harder, even on the road.

Dom missed it. Missed those nights, tucked into a booth with the team all around him, talking and laughing over drinks. Reminiscing about hockey. About the good times.

And maybe Dom was getting sentimental in his old age or something but he felt the loss of it acutely.

He thought of the dwindling days remaining on his contract, knowing that the organization would never extend him another.

Maybe he should let the team buy him out so he could go play in Europe. He'd lost his step but there would be takers in the Swedish league, maybe, or the KHL.

Probably.

But he didn't want to adjust to a new team. Didn't want to learn a

new language or play on a different team.

He wanted to retire a Fisher Cat.

Well, actually, he wanted to roll back the clock ten or fifteen years and keep playing like he had been then, but that wasn't going to happen.

And, apparently, neither was Shea texting him back.

Annoyed, Dom tossed his phone on the coffee table. He should get up and go to bed but he couldn't quite convince himself to do it yet.

Maybe if he stayed up a little longer …

He jerked when his phone buzzed, rattling against the metal surface.

I'm okay, haven't coughed much today. Haven't needed the inhaler, so that's good , appeared below the earlier question.

Dom blinked. Hmm . He'd thought maybe Shea was out tonight. Then again, he might have been. Might have just gotten home from an appointment.

Fuck.

Great game, btw! Appeared a moment later.

Dom's mouth curved up in a smile. Thanks. You watched?

Yeah. Sick assist there in the second. Still don't know how you make those blind passes.

Thanks. It felt good.

Any thoughts about our "bro dates"?

Dom frowned. This wasn't something he felt great about discussing via text. Can I call? It'll be easier to discuss that way.

His phone rang a moment later, the name Sawyer Barnett flashing on his screen. Fuck, Dom needed to change that. Or no? God this two-name thing was fucking confusing .

"Hey," Dom said when the call connected. "Thanks. I'm probably overthinking this but I feel like there are some things I shouldn't commit to text. Call me paranoid but—"

"Oh, you definitely are," Shea teased.

"Ha-ha," Dom said drily. "Look, a teammate's phone got hacked a few years ago. A video of him having sex got leaked and—"

"Yeah, the Nico Arents and Skylar Hanley on a balcony video, right?" Shea asked.

"Yes."

"I remember that. Everyone at the agency was freaked out about it. It was used as a reminder of how unsecure most of our data is."

Dom made a face. "Ugh, don't remind me."

"So what are you up to tonight?" Shea asked, his voice sounding very low and very warm all of a sudden.

"Uhh …" Dom glanced around his condo, taking in the black television screen, the unlit fireplace, the low lights. "Nothing much. Just trying to wind down."

"Yeah, I know how fired up you get after a good game," Shea purred. "Trust me, I remember that two-goal game you had last season."

Dom had come this close to getting a hatty that night. It had been a fluke and he'd gone on to have a twelve-game scoring drought almost immediately after so it wasn't necessarily something he liked to dwell on.

But he did remember the call he'd made to Shea that night, asking if he was free.

He'd made time for Dom, met him at the High Park Towers apartment, already prepped and ready to go.

They'd never even made it to a bed.

Still half-dressed in his game day suit, Dom had bent Shea over the back of the couch, fucking him so hard he'd left faint bruises on his hips and a bite mark on his shoulder.

He'd apologized after, because he figured the other guys Shea fucked probably wouldn't appreciate that, though there had never officially been a "no marks" rule or anything that they'd agreed on …

"Dom?" Shea asked, his voice husky.

"Yeah, I remember it too," Dom said. He could feel the thickening in his cock at the memory, the press of it against the fabric of his suit trousers. He ghosted a hand across the bulge and his breath caught.

Shea let out a rough noise. "Shit, Dom. Are you …"

"Yeah," Dom whispered. "Thinking about it, anyway. You?"

"I am now . Hang on, let me go in my bedroom though. I think Audra's asleep but she'll kill me if she walks in on me jerking off in the living room."

Dom chuckled. "This isn't why I called, you know."

"I know." Dom heard the sound of a door closing softly, then a rustle. "But we can, if you want."

They had phone sessions sometimes when Dom was on the road and too tightly wound, needing a release. It wasn't the same but it was better than nothing.

"Please," Dom said, the word coming out breathier than he intended.

"What do you want?"

"I … I don't know. I was just thinking about that night," he admitted. "Remembering it."

"The two-goal night?"

"Yeah."

"God." Shea let out a low groan. "You were … you were fucking intense , Dom. I don't think I've ever come so hard."

"Really?" Dom wanted to believe that was true.

"Really. And when you bit my shoulder, I felt … shit, it was so good. What are you wearing?"

Dom glanced down. "I'm still in my game day suit."

"Which one did you wear tonight? I haven't checked social media."

"The small grey and black check Armani with the smoky blue shirt and black tie from Tom Ford."

"Mmm, that combo looks so good on you. Fuck."

"Yeah?" Dom smiled. "You're the one who picked it out for me."

"I have good taste, don't I?" Shea sounded smug.

Why did Dom think he was talking about more than the suit?

Shea continued. "Do you have all of it on?"

"No, I took off the jacket and tie. I'm wearing the button-down and the trousers now."

"Mmm. That's a good look too."

"What about you?"

"Sweats and nothing else."

"Nothing else?" Dom raised an eyebrow. "Nothing underneath?"

"Nope."

"Fuck." Dom drew in a sharp breath, skin heating at the thought.

"Yeah, you like that?"

"I do. God. I want to see."

"One sec. I'll switch this to a video call."

Dom lowered his phone and tapped Accept . A moment later, Shea's face appeared on his screen.

He was in what must be his bedroom, sprawled against the pillows, shirtless and relaxed looking, skin lit up a warm golden tone from the light on the nightstand.

"You don't mind, right?"

"No, not at all," Dom said. Switching to video wasn't what he'd meant when he said he wanted to see but he had no complaints.

Shea licked his lips. "Unbutton a couple of those buttons for me."

One-handed, Dom worked them loose, continuing until the sides of the shirt hung open. "How's that?"

"Perfect. Keep it on though."

"Yeah, okay," Dom agreed, because the way Shea looked at him made his skin burn. He'd do anything for that look. "Let me get a better view of your sweats. I want you to prove that you don't have anything on underneath."

He caught a quick flash of Shea's grin before he moved his phone, panning down his chiseled abs and then to the waistband of the gray sweats he wore.

When Shea hooked his thumb in the waistband and tugged, there was just smooth golden skin all the way down to the base of his cock, which pushed at the fabric in a way that made Dom's mouth water.

"Fuck," he said again before he could stop himself.

"Yeah?" Shea laughed softly. "You like that?"

"You know I do." Dom swallowed.

"Would you suck me tonight?" Shea asked, teasing himself through the fabric.

Heat crawled across Dom's body. He didn't suck dick often. But tonight? Yeah, he wanted that.

His head spun at the memory of the weight of Shea's cock against his tongue, the scent of Shea's skin in his nostrils, the flex of his muscles as he held still while Dom fucked his own mouth on Shea's cock.

He hated the latex but God, right now he was so turned on he didn't care.

"Yeah. Yeah, I want that."

"Mmm." Shea shoved his sweats lower to reveal his dick, thick and bobbing in front of the camera. "God, that would feel so good to have your mouth on me."

Shea wrapped a hand around the base and stroked, his touch light, like he was teasing himself. He tugged at the foreskin, revealing the glistening tip and Dom let out a rough sound, gripping his own cock tightly through the fabric.

"Fuck!" Ugh, he'd been reduced to stupid one-word responses, his blood rushing to his groin, no longer powering his brain.

"Let me see you," Shea begged.

Dom carefully tucked the phone into the cushions of the couch, praying it would stay in place, then switched to a wider angle to reveal his cock straining against his suit trousers.

"Oh yeah. Undo them for me. Slowly ," Shea instructed.

It was agonizing to drag the zipper down and work the button loose, but when he did, Shea drew in a sharp breath.

"Yeah, look at you," he said with a little sigh. "Take yourself out."

Dom shifted, pushing the fabric below his cock and balls and the hiss of Shea's indrawn breath was so gratifying.

It wasn't like it was the first time Shea had seen his cock. Not even the tenth. By now, he'd had Dom's cock down his throat or in his ass hundreds of times but the way he licked his lips … it made Dom feel like it was the first time all over again.

Dom's dick was long enough and thick enough that he didn't have any insecurities in that department, but the way Shea looked at him, it made him feel like his cock was the most perfect one in the world.

The only one Shea wanted.

And that went straight to Dom's head.

"Now touch yourself," Shea coaxed.

Dom ran his fingers across the shaft, rubbing this thumb across the ridge and mimicking the move Shea had done earlier by pulling the foreskin back.

Shea licked his lips. "Fuck I need that in me."

"Yeah?" Dom asked breathlessly. "Where?"

"Gotta start by tasting you. Making you all wet …"

Dom moaned.

"Since I can't, I need you to do it for me. Slick yourself up."

Dom spat in his palm and rubbed it all over his cock. "How's that?"

"Fucking perfect. Keep stroking. Not too fast, slow and easy."

"Okay." Dom licked his lips. "Show me what you're doing?"

Shea grinned and panned back down to where he was slowly stroking too. "You like that?"

"You know I do," Dom rasped. "Let me watch."

Shea propped his phone up—on the nightstand maybe—and Dom was treated to a view of Shea stretched out on his back, sweats down around his thighs, hard cock sticking straight up as he rubbed himself with slow, even strokes.

"Perfect," Dom said on a shaky exhale.

Shea smiled, raising his left arm and propping his head on it so he could get a better view of his screen.

For a few moments, they stroked in unison, watching each other.

"Faster," Shea urged and Dom sped up, stroking harder, pleasure rushing across his skin and making his body tingle.

Dom spat in his hand again and Shea's gaze sharpened. "Fuck, I need to watch you come."

"Yeah?" Dom asked, stomach tightening with anticipation, need building in his core.

"I want to see you let loose. Lose control."

A few more tight, hard strokes and Dom was there. He threw his head back and moaned, cum arcing up and splashing against his stomach. Head spinning, Shea's words were reduced to a low murmur in the background, familiar and comforting.

Eventually, Dom lolled his head to the side and looked at Shea, finally able to focus on what he was saying.

" … shit that's hot. I wish I could save a picture of that."

"Yeah?" Dom managed.

"You're so buttoned up," Shea teased. "Seeing you let loose, look a little messed up … I like it."

Dom wasn't sure how he felt about that but he reached for his phone—a little lopsided now—and panned over himself again, trying not to automatically reach out to fix his wild hair when he caught a glimpse of it.

"Yeah, like that," Shea said, smirking. "You look like you've had my hands all over you. Like I'm all over you."

"You wanna be all over me?" Dom countered. "Cover me in your cum?"

Shea drew in a sharp breath. "Would you let me?"

"Depends. What are you thinking?" Dom licked his lips.

"I want to come on your face."

Dom felt a jolt deep in his belly. "Yeah, I'd let you."

"Really?"

Dom swallowed hard. "Yes."

"It's not totally safe."

"I know," Dom admitted. "But I—I want it."

"Fuck!" Shea's breathing was a little strained.

"Are you almost there?" Dom asked. "Show me."

Shea adjusted the camera to give Dom a view of his hand wrapped around his cock. It was flushed so red at the tip.

Dom licked his lips. "I wanna know what you taste like," he said huskily.

Shea let out a breathless noise, speeding up, the tendons in his forearms standing out starkly.

"Yeah, come on," Dom urged. "Come all over me, Shea."

With a rough, desperate noise, Shea came, every muscle in his body going tight as he shuddered through the orgasm.

He came for a long time, panting, working himself through every tremor. Dom was transfixed, watching the slide of cum down his shaft and the way it pooled at the base.

"God, Shea ."

"Holy fuck, Dom." Shea fumbled the phone, the image on the screen bobbing when he turned it so his face was more in view.

"Yeah?" Dom asked, pleased.

"Yeah, that was incredible."

"For me too. It helped me wind down. I think I'll be able to fall asleep soon."

Shea smiled. "Good."

Dom sat up with a groan. "But that means I need to go get washed up."

"Yeah, fair. We never did plan our ‘bro date' though," Shea said with a low laugh.

"True." Dom smiled sleepily. "I'd say I regretted it but … we'll figure it out tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay. Night, Dom."

"Night, Shea."