Nate

There’s this little monster in the back of my head telling me to be embarrassed that I came all over a hockey player and moaned his name while I did it. But when I look at Jesse, he’s smiling at me, and it’s not a cruel or mocking smile.

“Okay?” he asks.

I nod, because I don’t think I can talk right now. I hope he’s not going to ask for verbal conformation like he did before giving me the best orgasm of my life.

Okay, so I’ve only ever had an orgasm by myself, so there isn’t much competition. But I can’t imagine anything feeling much better than that.

I have an overwhelming desire to thank him, but even I know that would be lame.

I get up, my legs a little wobbly, and wet a towel in the bathroom to clean myself up, bringing one in for Jesse.

“Did I wreck your shirt?”

“No,”

he wipes at his shirt with the towel. “If you did, it’d be worth it.”

Did he enjoy that? Oh god, I didn’t even do anything in return. His pants are open and I can see a huge bulge in his underwear.

“Take it off.”

My face gets red when he looks at me.

“What?”

“Your shirt, so it doesn’t get wrecked.”

“It’s fine…”

I tug at the hem and he smiles wryly before pulling it off over his head.

“Better?” he asks.

Holy shit.

I’ve seen him in my room in nothing but a towel, but I was trying very hard not to look at him then. Now I’m looking at the guy who just gave me an amazing hand-job and he’s in my bedroom, his body is beautiful. And not just because it’s big and muscular. It’s not just Men’s Health cover. It’s Jesse.

I put my hand on his bare chest and he swallows. I have to stand on tip-toes to kiss him and when I do, he puts his hands and my face and I think about him lifting me onto that dryer and want him to do it again. Instead, he presses me back and we tumble onto the bed. I’m spent, but feeling Jesse this hard against me is getting me turned on again.

I slide my hand between us, expecting him to stop me, but he doesn’t. Unhindered, my fingers roam over the bulge in his underwear. His skin is hot and there’s a damp patch over the head of his cock.

He pulls away, his eyes glassy, and tugs at my shirt. I take it off, despite the contrast my skinny chest is going to make against his, but the minute I’m shirtless, Jesse groans and comes back down to kiss me and run his hands over my body.

I rub harder through his underwear and he makes noises close to growls next to my ear and says my name.

When he rolls onto his back, he pulls me on top of him and I straddle him, helping him pull his underwear down. His cock is thick and veiny like his forearms. I hesitate before touching it.

“You don’t have to, …”

“I want to,”

I squeeze some lotion into my hand and start stroking it. Jesse closes his eyes and throws his head back.

It’s weird doing this to someone else, not as effortless as I thought it would be. Maybe if I was standing behind him and reaching around it would feel the same. But then I wouldn’t get to see the look on his face or feel his hands sliding across my chest as he loses it under me.

I grind against his thighs as I pump my hand around his cock and it’s like an out of body experience. Who is this guy? If I saw myself in a mirror right now I’m sure I wouldn’t recognise myself.

Jesse opens his glassy eyes and looks at me, “fuck , that’s good.”

I allow myself to be greedy with my free hand, touching every place I’ve wanted to touch a man. Obviously one hand has a cock in it, and that’s awesome, but the other hand gets to feel up his sexy chest and abs and thighs. Even that stupid tattoo looks pretty hot right now. I want to be as confident as he was in all this. To bend down and whisper in his ear, “come for me,”

but I’m too shy.

When he grips me by the hips, I take that as a sign to speed up. He bucks up into my hand and I get hard rubbing against his thighs and watching him lost control.

“, fuck…”

everything else is unintelligible as he shoots his load onto his chest.

I stay still and give him a minute to recover. He actually looks vulnerable lying under me right now, catching his breath. When he looks at me, it’s with a lazy smile.

“Fuck , that was…”

he laughs and runs a hand over his face.

“Good?”

“Very good.”

He sits up and kisses me, and it’s surprisingly slow and tender.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mm, yes, very okay.”

I think my IQ has temporarily dropped by like twenty points. My brain losing the battle for blood supply.

I climb off his lap and let him go clean up in the bathroom. When he comes back, I’ve put my shirt on. He watches me from the corner of his eye as he get dressed.

“You’ve got a nice body,” he says.

I snort, “you’ve got a nice body.”

“There’s more than one version of nice.”

He shrugs.

He stands there looking awkward for a second before asking me if I want him to leave.

No.

“You can hang out while I study if you want.”

“I don’t have any books with me or anything.”

I try not to be disappointed. Jesse Engels is not and will never be my boyfriend. He is a hockey player I was tutoring and am now ‘fooling around’ with because I don’t want to be a 21-year old virgin. I’m not sure what his motivation is behind it. Getting laid I guess?

I show him out and he lingers like he’s going to kiss me, but doesn’t.

I take my books out and open my computer, but I can’t focus. In that bed behind me, moments ago, I had a hot guy with his pants, not quite off, but definitely pulled down, and his cock in my hand. How am I supposed to get my head around this?

The surprise on my parents’ faces when I came downstairs and asked if I could get a ride with them to the arena was priceless.

Mom’s happiness is palpable and worth sitting through the awkward car journey, while they have a stilted, overly polite conversation up front and I text Katie to check she’s still coming.

‘Like I’d miss you ogling your fuck buddy!’

My face flushes and I hope my mom doesn’t turn around right now.

‘He is not my ‘fuck buddy’’

‘Potato po-ta-to’

How the hell did she just do that over text?

We arrive at the arena for the team’s first game of the pre-season against Denver, Dad parking his BMW away from any of the big pick-up trucks that might ding his wing mirror accidentally on purpose.

He’s wearing one of his usual suits and my mom is all dressed up in a white Chanel dress. Dad takes his jacket off to put around her when we find our seats because she looks cold and I look away.

I find Katie weaving through the crowd with a hot dog and a two bottles of beer.

“My parents are here,”

I hiss under my breath.

Katie beams at my mom and they hug like old girlfriends.

“ can have one beer right?” she says.

“Sure, live a little!”

I wait for my dad to say something, but he just side-eyes the beer and looks away.

When Katie takes a seat next to me, I lean in and remind her not to say anything about Jesse.

“Obviously. We’ll keep that strictly over text and in private.”

I gave her the PG-rated version of what happened in my room yesterday and she hasn’t stopped grinning since. I don’t think even I’m as invested in my sex life as she is.

The announcer comes out and starts riling up the crowd and I can’t believe I forgot how noisy hockey is. Katie’s into soccer and tennis and, watching it on TV at least, is peaceful compared to this. It’s like they can’t handle a second of silence. Between every goal and change over there’s music blasting through the speakers. Horns, whistles, shouting, the clack of sticks on ice and other sticks, shouting, bodies banging against plexiglass.

The teams skate out and I see Jesse in his maroon jersey with the college logo in white across his chest. I think about that stupid mascot tattoo on Jesse’s arm while he jerked me off and take a sip of beer, hoping no one can see how red I’ve gone.

They sing the national anthem and I can’t help but smile at Jesse mouthing the words so earnestly.

The game starts so fast, it’s hard to keep up. I can only really keep track of Jesse because I can read his name across his back on his jersey. One hand job and I’m thinking about wearing that jersey, like I’m suddenly his biggest fan or some kind of puck bunny.

My phone buzzes and I have a text from Katie saying, ‘you-know-who looks hot in that Pilsbury dough boy costume ;-)’

I bark a laug and my mom gives me a suspicious glance.

‘You don’t think it’s sexy?’ I reply

‘Oh, I didn’t say that. I had many a sexual fantasy involving the Pilsbury dough boy as a young girl.’

Mom catches me chuckling to myself and tries to peer over my shoulder to see what I’m laughing at, but I put my phone back in my pocket quickly.

I always though hockey was aggressive, but I never really cared that they were bashing each other into the boards and trying to trip each other over and occasionally punch each other in the face until now.

At one point Jesse bashes another player into the boards and I nearly jump out of my seat.

My dad is clapping and someone behind me shouts, “get him Engels!”

Katie leans in and says, “he’s strong.”

Yeah, lift you onto a tumble dryer to kiss you at a party strong.

When Jesse skates off the ice, I watch the back of his head on the bench, which isn’t easy and doesn’t exactly make sense seeing as he’s wearing a helmet.

The team are talking and laughing together on the bench until the coach comes over and starts giving them instructions.

Denver score a goal just before the end of first period and for once, I actually care if the team wins. Not that I never cared about Harrison’s career before. It’s just that I always knew he’d be okay whatever the score.

When Katie says she’s going to the bathroom, mom jumps up and says she’ll go with her and I’m left alone with my dad.

He puts his arm across the place where my mom was just sitting and taps his hand along to the beat of We Will Rock You.

“It’s nice to see you at your brother’s game.”

I bite back the urge to say something nasty.

“I know your mom appreciates you being here.”

Some girls are doing a skate cheer thing on the ice and we watch them absently, my dad probably wracking his brains for something to say.

“Katie’s nice.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Dad laughs, “, I know you’re gay. You’re still gay right?”

I cock my head in a gesture I hope he catches as really?

“I mean, obviously you’re still… oh here’s the girls back.”

Relief floods his face and I feel a little guilty.

When the players skate back out for the first face off of the second period, I find myself glued to the game. I want our team to win. I want Jesse to win.