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“Oh, fuck!”

He guided me through it, catching my moans and swallowing them down, his tongue in my mouth and those tentacles adding a layer of pleasure I had not foreseen.

“I—”

“Yes, come for me, Arne!” he commanded.

“Oh my God, Max!” I whimpered, drenching my boxers in my cum. The force of my orgasm blinded me for a moment, and I buried myself in his body, needing an anchor.

“Shh, Arne.” Max pulled me closer to his chest, pecking a hundred kisses on my forehead. “So gorgeous, Viking. Such a good boy for me.”

I shuddered, in part because coming in my boxers wasn’t the best thing, but mostly because… fuck me. Him calling me ‘a good boy’ was so hot.

Twelve

Max

Ifloated home through the night, dizzy and confused but fucking elated.

Arne had stayed put and kissed me back. His enthusiasm made up for his lack of experience. God, he’d made me so horny with his hips grinding against mine.

Let’s hope he felt that his first make-out session with a guy was a success. Maybe he even wants to repeat it. I’ll volunteer for a rerun.

I stumbled upstairs, undressing inside my apartment door. The next minute, I was naked on my bed, legs spread, and fisting my aching dick.

Shit.

I’d been close to coming in my trousers but had held out.

Not a moment longer.

Throwing my head back, I gave myself a slow jerk, imagining it was Arne’s hand stroking me.

My mind went back to that night at training camp. To my captain on his knees at my feet, tears trickling out of his eyes and into the scruff on his cheeks as he’d choked on me. Toes curling, I clenched my ass.

Hold on for a bit. You know you want to drag this out a little bit.

It was no good. My body tensed and arched until I hovered, supported by the shadows moving on the edges of my consciousness. Remembering the look in his eyes, I blew, unable to stop until I slumped back on the bed, covered in cum and gasping for breath.

If the memory of him blowing me in a dream gets me off in two seconds, how fantastic will the real thing feel?

‘You’re damn sure of yourself, Maxi,’Tobias’s voice echoed in my head. ‘You’ll stay alone forever.’ But fuck, I wouldn’t. I had the Viking. I had the other guys on my team. With every passing week, playing with them felt more like being part of a cool and attractive-as-fuck family.

I could see a future for myself here in Veitsreuth. And then? Who knew where life would lead me next?

…Wherever Arne will go?

I geared up for the popular annual Kerwa celebration after training the next day. Every tiny hamlet and village had their own. Jerke was particular about us attending the one in Veitsreuth, even those of us who hated crowds. It was always crazy busy, but that came with the deal of playing for the Pumas.

The team got lederhosen from a local maker, and I’d gone with traditional knee-length trousers made of stag hide. I loved the feel of the buttery soft leather on my plumage, and how it showed off my calves, and the way the suspenders hugged my newly enhanced pecs.

Søren and Jerke had us on a strict training and nutrition regime. Bulking up was a given.

I turned in front of the mirror, admiring my ass in these trousers. I’d played professionally in Klagenhofen for two years, but I had never been at the height of my fitness.

You look hot.

I felt fucking good, too.