Page 5 of Coach’s Son (Twin Cities #2)

“Not in this lifetime, mate. Now jog on before you find out how quick I can put you on your arse. Shall I ring your general manager?”

“Oi, Charlie I’m just shooting the piss. No need to be an uptight wanker 'bout it.” Drew mumbles out, before stumbling back into the crowd.

Christ, he needs a full-time babysitter. It’s a wonder he’s made it this far in life without ending up in prison.

“Oof, your twin doesn’t handle his liquor the best.” Austin jokes.

“That’s a nice way of phrasing it.” I lean into Austin for a kiss. This is what I have really been waiting for all evening.

I savour the precious touch of lips, butterflies flying through me. It’s electrifying to do this in public. Minneapolis is a safe place to be queer. No homophobic comments or whispers. It’s just normal. As it should be.

The same couldn't be said for Manchester. Back home, I’d learned to read a room before I even thought about reaching for someone’s hand. Learned to tuck away that part of myself in certain pubs, certain streets. But here? Here I can kiss the man I love without weighing the risk.

I pull back, the lemon and sugar loitering ever-so-softly on my lips. “You have no idea how bloody good you look tonight.”

Austin laughs boisterously, the liquor helping to open him up out of his shell.

A bashful smile overcoming him. I could sit here all night.

Order every cocktail on the menu, kiss him between sips, and never tire of it.

Let Drew watch if he’s lurking. Let him see exactly what he can’t have.

It’ll drive the bastard absolutely insane.

“Oi, Sir, can we have another round? Whatever your best cocktails are.”

“Coming right up!” The bartender grins, knowing he’ll get a fat tip from me.

I’ve been a regular at these functions for years.

A fixture in Minneapolis ever since they drafted me seventeen seasons ago, fresh out of uni.

The analysts thought the Jacks were mad, spending a second-round pick on a kicker who’d never so much as touched an American football.

I’d grown up with proper football—what the Yanks call soccer—booting a ball around the streets of Manchester.

Back home, we play it the way the rest of the world does.

My parents grew so fed up with Drew that they shipped him off to a boarding school in Vermont, hoping a bit of distance and discipline might knock the attitude out of him.

For two blissful years, the house was quiet.

Then he came back for the last year of sixth form, sharper-tongued than ever.

While he was over there, he found his knack for hockey…

and a taste for pleasure that’s followed him ever since.

Alcohol, sex, whatever you could think of, he indulged himself in.

I glance over to see him stumbling to the ground, nearly toppling a pair of women in heels.

“Should we help your brother?” Austin murmurs innocently.

“No, he’s fine,” I say, watching Drew try to right himself. “Maybe he’ll learn a lesson in the morning. Once he pulls you into his orbit, there’s no way out. If he does end up in jail, it'd be a favour to us all.”

“We should get out of here,” I add, already picturing what comes next. Couldn’t wait to get him home, tear that suit from his toned body, get my hands on the perfect curve of his arse. Taste him. Take my time with him until neither of us remembers this bloody gala or that my prat of a twin exists.

We burst into my downtown apartment. Tearing off my tan suit and tasting Austin’s lips. This time, there’s no holding back, I want to hear him scream my name. Fuck him into submission. Until he’s got no breath left for anything but yes, sir and you’re my captain.

“You look so fucking delicious right now,” I growl, my mouth nibbling his jaw while tearing off his suite jacket.

“I do my best for my Captain,” he whispers in between his needy moans that make my tadger stand to attention like the Queen's Guard.

“That’s right, love. And your Captain’s going to take care of you…

make sure everyone in this city knows who you belong to.

” My fingers dig into his pelvis, pulling him hard against me.

Drew’s smug face flashes through my mind, and I press even closer, letting the weight of my body pin him in place.

“Mine,” I murmur against his ear, low and dangerous. “Every fucking ounce of you is mine.”

“Yes, Charlie," he whimpers helplessly.

The way he utters those words sends a wave of lust through me. I grip his chin, his eyes deadlocked on mine. “Say it again.”

“Yes, Charlie” he repeats.

I glance down to see his cock bulging against his pants.

He fucking loves it. Being obedient for me.

“That’s my good boy. My good lad.” I kiss him hard, making him pant against me, like a bitch that can't catch their breath. “Drew could stand right outside that door and he’d still know he’ll never get this.

Never touch you. He can queue up with the rest of the hopeless bastards. ”

His pupils dilate, amber completely swallowed by the pitch blackness. I hear his heart pounding, fit to burst underneath my touch. He’s ready to be handled by a man that knows precisely what he needs. By his captain.

I push him toward the bedroom, my pace slows on purpose, teasing him through my own flat. “On the bed,” I order, my voice a feral growl. “Clothes off. Face down. Arse up.”

I stand at the doorway, arms in a fold, watching him strip frantically. He's aching to be stuffed by my prick. To get properly creamed by a hung bloke.

Austin’s practically dripping precum by the time he gets down to his jockstrap.

He always wears one. Every bloody day. It’s something that we agreed upon shortly after dating.

Nothing winds me up faster than the sight of his fit arse framed perfectly by those straps.

When I'm done with him, his cheeks will be imprinted with my palms—flared red in their outline.

I let my gaze lollygag for a long moment, knowing that he’s enjoying every second of my attention. “Stay right there lad, but perk your ass up for your Captain like you mean it.”

“Yes, Sir,” he whimpers, his thighs quivering at my words.

He says it so softly, so obediently, it makes my fingers bleed into the door frame. He shifts on the bed, arching just enough to give me the perfect view, knowing the sight of his vulnerable arse drives me bloody insane.

His arse is practically screaming: eat me, fuck me, steer me captain.

I step forward at a dreadful pace, the slow tap of my feet against the floorboards echoing in the quiet. Every sound is for him—a reminder of who’s coming for him. “That’s it boy,” I murmur, standing just behind him. “Show your Captain what’s his. Show him who you belong to…”

He pushes back slightly, a wicked little tease that makes me want to skip straight to plowing his pink flesh. But not yet. Austin loves this. The slow burn, the taunting, the weight of my attention fixed solely on him. He craves pleasing me as much as I crave having him.

And I’ll give him everything. Worship him in a way that cements me into his identity—so he never even thinks about leaving.

No one will touch him like I do. Not my twat of a brother, not some filthy bear at the club, not anyone.

Only I can feed the hunger in him, only I can sate those filthy little desires he doesn’t dare voice to anyone else.

“What a perfect hole you have,” I grumble, admiring his dark, curly hairs that cover his pink flesh. “Ripe to be ravaged.”

“Yes sir,” Austin moans, shaking his ass in my face. His trembles tempt every waft of restraint in me.

“Stroke your cock for me,” I command.

Without hesitation he strokes himself furiously. Balls jiggling back and forth as he buries his moans into the pillow. His hole gaping, begging for my direct attention. But not yet. It's bloody brilliant to see him egg himself on, to watch him arrive to the precipice of desire.

“That’s it, lad,” I murmur, stepping closer, letting my shadow cast over him.

“Do you enjoy stroking yourself for your Captain?”

“Y—yes!” he whimpers, breathless. “Please… fuck me.”

“Do you think you deserve it? Have you been a good boy?” I taunt, starting to jerk myself, savouring the view of him. How vulnerable and delectable he is with his arse perked up for me to fancy.

“Yes! Sir, I promise I have been.”

I run my hand slowly down the curve of his back, letting my fingers hover over the top of his jockstrap as he shivers.

“You’d better not be lying to me, lad. Because if you are…

” I squeeze his balls hard enough through the fabric to make him gasp, “…I’ll make you start all over.

And you’ll have to beg twice as hard before I consider giving you what you want. What you fucking need.”

“I’ll even tell your father about how you beg me to fuck you…”

Austin trembles at my words, panting in pure anticipation. "I'll listen Captain," he pouts, as I watch the way he tightens for me, every muscle drawn taut, his hole clenching in despair to be filled. I lust at the sight of him. His whole-body quaking under my command.

It enrages me that Drew thinks he deserves this. He doesn’t deserve to be in the same fucking room as Austin. Let alone touch my boy.

I lean forward, grabbing his beautiful black hair. Just long enough to grip. “No one touches you like I do, lad. No one.” My words are a promise and a warning.

“Yes, Sir,” he nods his head vigorously.

“That’s what I like to hear. You ready for my tongue?”

Before he can muster a single word, I’ve got him spread for me and my mouth on him—burying my tongue deep into his fucking delicious tender hole.

The faint scratch of those curly black hairs only makes the heat sharper as I push past, tasting the warm, succulent flesh beneath.

He moans for me, raw and unrestrained, the sound running straight to my core.

Every flick, every drag of my tongue draws another shiver from him, and the more I taste, the more I need.

I grip his pelvis harder, holding him in place, determined to take what’s mine until he’s screaming for my bloody prick.

I keep him open for me, my thumbs parting those perfect cheeks as my tongue works him over—slow at first, then hungrier and further inside his hole, until his hips are seizing against my grip.

His bitchy moans are muffled into the pillow, but I can still feel the vibration of them through the mattress.

“Good lad,” I growl between strokes, letting my tongue massage against every square inch of his irresistible crease.

I slip one hand down, wetting my fingers in the mess I’ve made of him before pressing the tip of one inside. His back arches instantly, a choked gasp breaking free. I ease it in gently, tongue circling him all the while, until I feel him clench tight around me.

“That’s it… open up that harbor for your Captain,” I murmur, sliding a second finger in beside the first. His whole-body quakes, a mewl escaping him.

I curl my fingers just right, thumping his prostate to hear a beautiful moan spill from his mouth.

My tongue’s still teasing the edge of him, relentless and unforgiving in its conquest.

This is what I live for—having Austin beneath me, begging and whimpering like a proper slut for my cock. I could keep him like this all night and never tire of it. Just like that first night we met—round after round of filthy, frenzied sex until neither of us could walk straight.

His thighs tremble, becoming weak from the pleasure of my tongue. Each curl of my fingers driving him fucking mad for it.

“Good boy,” I coax, stroking my cock, feeling my precum build. “You ready for me to use your filthy arse?”

“Yes sir,” he grovels, reeking of desperation and starvation.

I step in closer, letting the head of my cock brush against his soft black curls, just enough to make him gasp. “Say it again, lad. Let me hear you beg for it. Tell your Captain what you want him to do.”

“Use me. Fuck me silly, Charlie.”

Christ, I see his cock pulsating, throbbing immensely. Ready to shoot a fat juicy load and I haven’t even gone in yet.

Pushing my cock into his precious flesh, he whimpers, “Give me everything.”

I fucking will. My pleasure.

I slam inside, savouring his warmth, his plushness. His body eagerly welcomes me. Swallowing every inch I have to offer. He's starving for my bloody prick. He mewls out in a searing joy that rings right to my ears.

“That’s right you little slut. Swallow Captain's cock with your hole” I growl, resisting the urge not to cream his arse already.

Austin’s howls euphorically as I feed his greedy desires.

Drew wouldn’t last five seconds inside Austin’s honeypot. He’d never earn the right. The thought of him thinking otherwise just makes me slam harder, thrust further into his hollows, forcing a blissful cry from Austin’s lips.

“Good boy,” I breathe, my control hanging by a partially torn thread aching to rip. “Your Captain’s going to keep you so full you won’t remember what it’s like not to have me inside you.”

“Yes Charlie, I never want you to pull out.”

That sends me. The bloody fucking trigger.

A growl rips from my chest, as I dive into him. Brutal thrusts, slam after slam. His whimpers sharpen with each pound, transforming into piercing cries. The bed frame rattles. The neighbors turn up the sound of their telly.

I bury myself as far as I can, not allowing any part of his arse to escape my prick. No mercy.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m so bloody close.

Then I let go. Bursting into his impeccable arse. Giving Austin my sweet cream. Pump after bloody pump, gushing and filling any available space inside him. Flooding his hollows with every drop I can offer.

I see his cock burst fat ropes into the sheets. Moans of divine pleasure escaping his filthy mouth. Cumming on impact from my milk. Oh, how he fricking loves it.

We both tip over onto the bed. Knackered and panting and sweaty, lying in our mess of filth. We don’t say anything, allowing our breath to fill the air of the room. I pull him in close to me, landing a sweet kiss onto his forehead and close my eyes. A perfect ending for the evening.

Just as I’m closing my eyes, my twat of a brother pops back into my mind. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s going to try something with Austin, my boyfriend, my forever.

Scheming some shit to fuck with me.

But tonight, I'm over the moon. With my love in my arms, I'll worry about that tomorrow.