Page 83 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

And his poor ass .

He understood he had asked for the spanking session, but his cheeks still stung like a sonofabitch almost twenty-four hours later. He told Harrison that he wanted to feel it the next day, and his boyfriend had taken that request seriously.

He had maybe three minutes to rip it off the wall and find somewhere to hide it, but his room was so full of junk that his only option was to run it to his dad’s old room.

“Hey, do you know if I forgot the floss—oh my god—”

Welp, the cat was out of the bag now. Jett groaned and turned to see Harrison’s reaction.

“That is a huge poster, Jett.” Harrison was shirtless, and he had his toothbrush stuck in his cheek, but there was no denying that he and the hunk on the poster were the same.

“Why is he glaring at me? Wait—why am I glaring at myself? Is that really what my face used to look like?”

Jett looked between Harrison and the poster. Other than looking slightly older and a thousand times sexier, they looked the same to him.

“Why do you look like you’re about to cry, Sunshine?”

Jett bit his wobbly bottom lip. “It’s because the tears are about to fall. This is so much worse than I remembered.”

Harrison held a finger up to stop him and then grabbed the end of his toothbrush, scrubbing his teeth as he returned to the bathroom. Jett waited like a good boy because he was a slut for praise, and the instinct to follow orders was becoming ingrained in his fucking psyche at this point.

Harrison returned a minute later with clean teeth and a soothing smile. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, gathering Jett into a hug. “I think it’s cute in the most flattering way.”

“Even if I jerked off once or twice while looking at it?”

Shocked laughter from Harrison helped unravel some of the tightness in his chest. God, his life was such a disaster.

“I assumed you did, but I’m trying to ignore the five-year age gap between us.” Harrison drew away from the hug and cupped Jett’s face in his calloused hands. “And we both know it was more than once or twice.”

Jett crinkled his nose because Harrison was absolutely right.

“Was fantasy me at least good to you?” Harrison asked, and Jett didn’t like where his cheeky suggestion was leading. “Is the real thing better or worse?”

He freed himself from Harrison’s hands and roughly closed the bedroom door. “Thin walls,” Jett reminded him .

“Robert made a very dramatic show of putting earplugs in before he went to bed,” said Harrison. He folded his arms, drawing Jett’s attention to the perfect pecs on display. “And I doubt the floors are as thin as the walls.”

Jett hesitated, and Harrison took a step back to give him much-needed space. The thought of Harrison fucking him in his childhood bedroom was so filthy that he didn’t know if he could go through with it.

“Show me the puck,” Harrison said softly. He shifted his posture into something less threatening, as if he were trying to tame a baby deer. “And the sweater, as long as you don’t mind.”

He didn’t mind at all. Pucks and jerseys were less embarrassing than a poster hanging above the headboard of his bed.

Jett went to his tiny closet and started rummaging through his keepsakes. The Jersey was framed like the poster to keep it safe, but the puck was hidden behind his trophies and action figures.

He passed it to Harrison when he found it, and then returned for the sweater, cheeks flushed as he watched his boyfriend move the piece of rubber around in his hands.

Maybe it was just as surreal for Harrison to be holding it in his hands as it was for Jett. One scratched circle of rubber was proof that their pasts were intertwined, and more impossibly, their futures.

“Do you ever think about how crazy it is that we’re together?” Harrison asked, his blue eyes staring hard at the puck and the space between them.

Jett swallowed to force his voice to work. “I think about it every day.”

Harrison was a giant in his minuscule room. All he had to do was reach his arm out to set the puck down on the dresser, no foot movement required. He was looking at the back of the frame, which held his Jr. A. jersey, his breathing unsteady in the quiet room.

“Show me.”

Jett slowly spun it around, revealing the number 25 in bold white letters, along with the name Killinger.

The emotions on Harrison’s face came and went so fast he didn’t have time to read them. But if Jett had one guess for all of them combined, there was a singular word that stood above the rest .

Heartbreak.

And then more confusingly—happiness.

“If I hadn’t been in that accident, Bracken would have been pushed out of captaincy.”

Jett frowned, unsure of where this was going.

“I would have won us five Stanley Cups by the time you appeared. Jett Fraser, a green boy from my hometown, as pretty as a fallen angel whose wings had caught fire flying too close to the sun.”

His heart was in his throat, the thudding so loud he could barely make out what Harrison was saying.

“I would have been a cocky bastard in my prime, but you would have caught my attention regardless. You’re too enigmatic, just like the goddamn star in the center of our universe.

You would have humbled me, and I would have loved you for it because, despite what you believe, you are on my level, Jett. ”

All the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. It was the only explanation for how dizzy and breathless he felt.

“Our paths would have crossed whether I chose to get in the car with Taylor and Luca or not. It’s comforting to realize that no matter what road I walked, you would be waiting for me at the end of every one of them.”

Harrison smiled, and it was so serene that Jett understood this was him making peace with something that had been torturing him for a long time.

“I was always meant to orbit you, Sunshine. I was born to be on the ice, just as much as I was born to be yours.”

Jett didn’t know what to say. What the hell could he say to that?

“Is this a proposal or something?” he asked shakily.

Nope. That definitely wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Are you asking me?” Harrison smirked, looking totally unaffected by the deep topic of conversation. “Because if I were going to propose to you, there would be no questioning my actions.”

Cocky bastard.

“Fine.” Jett set the frame against the wall and copied Harrison’s posture, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not a proposal then. ”

Harrison closed the space between them, bending low to rest his chin on Jett’s shoulder while he hugged him. “I’m a hard man to read sometimes, so I wanted to make sure you understood how I feel about you.”

Jett inhaled the scent of Harrison’s shampoo and allowed it to settle the tension squirming around inside. “You don’t have to turn into a goddamn poet. I know how you feel about me—all you have to do is kiss me or touch me. Your actions tend to speak louder than your words.”

“Kiss you?”

Jett felt warm lips on his neck, brushing over his racing pulse.

“Touch you?”

Hands gripped the back of his thighs and picked him up, squeezing his firm muscles.

Grumbling, Jett peered down at Harrison’s smirking face. “What did I say about picking me up?”

Harrison’s head tilted to the side, and he hummed. “Something, something, leg. Something, heavy, something, I’m not a princess?”

“Put me the fuck down, Killinger.”

Harrison shrugged and turned toward the bed, taking two strides to get to his destination and then sat with Jett still on his lap.

Jett huffed a laugh, but it was cut off by Harrison’s mouth descending on his, swallowing his squeak of surprise. He could feel a smile against his lips, but Jett ignored it in favour of kissing the life out of his stupid, attractive, and perfect boyfriend.

He was already hard in his thin pyjama pants, but one upward grind told him that Harrison was just as turned on.

Screw it, his dad had ear plugs in.

Jett stood so he could shuck his pants off, hands reaching for Harrison’s, only to be smacked away.

Frowning, Jett scowled. “Sex?”

Harrison’s amused chuckle annoyed him more than he was willing to admit. He didn’t know what was happening as he watched Harrison shimmy his bulky frame across the bed, shoving his pillow out of the way so he could lie his head down.

Harrison drummed his fingers over his smirking lips, cool and casual as always. “Come sit. ”

The groan that left Jett was nothing short of debauched. He couldn’t disobey an order, but he made sure to curse the man’s confidence every second until that smirk disappeared between his thighs.

Jett gripped his headboard, ignoring the hockey stickers stuck to the wood as he waited in anticipation for Harrison to get on with it.

In a cruel twist of fate, Jett glanced up just as the first stroke of Harrison’s hot tongue brushed over his hole, meeting the eyes of the younger Killinger unintentionally.

He gasped and leaned up to stop what was about to happen, but Harrison’s arms were wrapped around his thighs, and the downward pressure was giving him a clear order.

Sit.

“Did you fucking plan this, you bastard?”

The only answer he received was a tongue dipping inside him, and breathy laughter across his balls.

How could he even breathe?

But Harrison neither seemed to care nor want oxygen as he put his mouth to work in earnest, his moans vibrating over every sensitive area between Jett’s legs. He licked and sucked on the sensitive rim, tongue swirling around the edge before thrusting inside as far as he could reach.

It was such intense pleasure that Jett’s toes were curling with every movement. His sweaty hands gripped the headboard, eyes drilling holes into the wall as he willed himself not to look up.

He tried to keep his moans quiet, but when Harrison lifted him enough to kiss and use that sinful tongue on his balls, they increased in volume.

Jett was going to come like this—he didn’t have a choice. His cock was leaking, making a mess of the clean sheets and Harrison’s black hair. Something about seeing it smeared on the dark strands made him feel close to feral, and he accidentally rocked his hips on Harrison’s face.

“Sorry—”

Harrison lifted him again, and Jett cursed when the pleasure paused right before he reached his peak.

“Ride my face,” Harrison said between gulps of air. “You’re not hurting me.”

No, he wasn’t hurting him. Harrison loved this .

Jett smacked the hands that were pinning him in place, and Harrison reluctantly let go. He wasn’t disobeying the order; he just wanted to switch their positions so things were more equal for them.

“Jett—”

He sucked the wet spot on Harrison’s joggers, inhaling his musky scent as the bitter, salty taste of precum registered on his tongue.

Harrison had no more complaints as he yanked Jett’s hips back, thrusting his tongue inside him and letting out a wrecked moan.

Jett’s hands trembled as he removed Harrison’s thick cock from his pants and gently kissed the head, rocking his hips hard enough to cut off the moan leaving Harrison’s mouth.

Grinning, he suckled the flushed tip of Harrison’s cock, and was rewarded with another burst of precum on his tongue. He followed the beading fluid to the source, moving his hips in a steady rhythm as he licked the slit, swirling his tongue the same way Harrison was doing inside him.

He didn’t have enough experience to take every inch of Harrison’s cock down his throat, but neither of them would last long, and he wanted to see how far he could get. Jett stroked the hard length a few times in warning before sinking his mouth down on it, remembering to breathe through his nose.

Harrison’s stomach muscles flexed, his muffled moan overtaking Jett’s whimper when the cock bumped the back of his throat roughly.

All Jett could taste and feel was Harrison. He was so close to the edge that it wouldn’t take much to tip him over. He didn’t know what he liked more, the feel of throbbing flesh against his tongue or the breathtaking pleasure of grinding on Harrison’s face.

He bobbed his head, taking more into his throat with every downward glide. What he couldn’t fit in his mouth, he stroked with his hands. It wasn’t his most refined blowjob, but it was the most fun he’d had giving one.

Another flex under him was the only warning Jett got before his mouth was suddenly flooded with cum, the extensive amount nearly suffocating him. He tried to swallow as much as he could, but he didn’t last long, pulling off so the rest could spill onto his face.

There was a garble of curses from between his legs, and Jett cried out as two of Harrison’s fingers pushed inside his hole, crooking to graze his prostate.

It took two thrusts to have him spasming, coming hard on Harrison’s fingers while he stroked his cock and licked around the fingers moving inside him.

Legs tingling from overuse, Jett moaned, and Harrison kept going until he was boneless and limp on top of him.

He had no idea how loud they had been in the end. The orgasm had been intense enough to drown everything else out, even the sound of his own voice.

Jett figured Harrison didn’t actually have a death wish, so he rolled off him, letting the man breathe for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Your mouth is like fucking sin,” Harrison said, his words slurred. “The fuck you doing to me? Trying to give me a heart attack?”

Jett stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling. They weren’t working with the light still on, but his mind was too muddled right now. He thought they were still beautiful, plastic and all.

“Are you—” Jett sucked in more air when his panting stole what he had left. “Are you sure that wasn’t a proposal?”

Harrison’s ragged chuckle was almost a giggle. A giggle .

“Shut up, Fraser. I got plans.”

Jett rapped his knuckles on Harrison’s abs. “Okay, buddy. I believe in you. Set the fucking tone.”

Another laugh.

“Are you high?”

“No way,” said Jett. “I’m still feeling the eggnog and whiskey.”

Harrison took his hand, intertwining their fingers. “Best Christmas ever.”