Page 32 of Flagrant Foul (Totally Pucked #3)

Sev Delorean

Damn.

Talk about making mistake after mistake. What was I thinking going to my room so soon after Teddy told me he was going to jack off? After everything that’s happened since I moved in, I should have known that if he says he’s going to do something, he’s going to fucking do it.

I meant to go to my room and get ready for bed.

I did. I swear. I didn’t really think he’d be jerking off yet, and I definitely didn’t think he’d actually leave the door open.

I meant to walk down the hall quickly and take a left into my room, but I heard him before I got to my door.

It sounded like he was struggling. Suffering. Tiny little uh, uh, uh sounds found me.

It sounded like he was in pain.

And if there’s one thing on this Earth I can’t tolerate, it’s Teddy in pain.

My legs carried me to his doorway without my consent.

My arms were heavy. Thoughts molasses slow as I stood at the door with my eyes closed, willing myself to turn around and walk in the other direction.

I couldn’t move. I tried, but I couldn’t. I physically couldn’t.

I kept my eyes closed for as long as I could. I swear I did.

It wasn’t until the last second that I opened them. Until his soft moans grew loud and full-bodied.

He was more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen.

Skin pale against his dark bed sheets. So much skin.

God. There was skin everywhere. His abs were engaged, a deep grid stamped onto his belly with each breath he took.

He was stroking hard. Bicep and forearm clenching.

Teeth too. His lips were pulled back, canines fully exposed.

He looked like something straight from my dreams. He looked like the beginning and end of the world. When he came, he said my name.

I swear to God, I don’t think I’ll ever recover.

I’m in bed now, hands and spine shaky, typing and deleting message after message to his brother.

Nate, I don’t know what to do. I’m in deep shit here, bro.

I don’t know how much longer I can avoid this.

What if I swear on my life I won’t hurt him?

Nathan, please. I can’t lose you.

I’m fucking exhausted, and I can’t find a single hair tie in this whole goddam apartment. I’ve searched my room, the bathroom, under all the cushions on the couch—and nothing. They’ve all fucking disappeared.

Teddy wanders into the living room fresh-faced and pink-cheeked. He looks well rested. Ready for another hellish day of tormenting me. He goes over to say good morning to Ragnar, and when he turns his back on me, I notice what he’s wearing.

“Are you wearing my jersey?” I ask dumbly. The jersey is black with orange embellishments and has Delorean and the number sixty-nine emblazoned on it. There’s only one jersey in the league like it, and it’s mine.

He smiles and offers Ragnar a pellet. Ragnar’s fins fan out and flutter. Light hits him and makes his scales shimmer. He’s an asshole, but Teddy’s right. He’s a beautiful asshole. “Yep.”

“Why?”

He puts the fish food down and looks at me over his shoulder, shaking his head at what a dumbass I am.

“Because, Sev”—he lifts the trim of the V-neck, covering the bottom half of his face and inhales deeply—“it smells like you and”—he inhales again, this time like an addict who’s gone too long without a fix—“I like it.”

I rub my palms hard on my jeans, hoping the roughness will soothe the savage burn Teddy’s words have stoked in me. It doesn’t. Heat flares under my skin. My blood boils. My mind goes blank.

Teddy is still smiling at me, lips and chin slowly emerging from under my jersey.

Goddammit.

Does he have to look like this in the morning? He’s only just woken up.

I don’t know why he’s affecting me like this. I thought my defenses were fine. I’ve been working on them for years, and I thought I had this shit under control. I don’t know why the sight of him in my clothing is doing this to me.

Driving me wild.

Wild.

Wild.

Because that’s what’s happening. Something other is taking me over. Something bad. Something strong. Something so motherfucking strong, I can’t hold it back. It’s a hot, pulsing thing. A thing that clenches my fists and feels like a fight. No, not a fight.

A fuck.

I try to slow my breathing. To reason with myself, but it doesn’t work. I attempt to engage soft focus, but I’ve only just woken and haven’t had so much as a drop of coffee yet. It doesn’t work. My pulse speeds up instead of slowing.

There’s so much skin on display.

Pale and clear, draped over muscle like it’s been carved out of marble. My jersey is black. His skin is milky white. Flashbacks of the way his skin looked against his bed sheets last night assault me.

I should look away, but I can’t.

His upper body is completely covered. Long sleeves falling to his knuckles, demure, and mercifully covering his wrists.

His legs are bare though.

They’re the legs that gave rise to the saying legs for days .

The exact pair.

The only legs that have ever looked like that in a hockey jersey.

“You better be wearing something under there.” My voice isn’t my own. It’s an octave deeper and rough claws have raked over my larynx .

Teddy doesn’t flinch. It’s almost as though he’s expecting it. Like he knows this side of me, even though I don’t know myself like this at all. He arches his back microscopically and reaches back, taking the hem of my jersey in his hand and lifting it slowly.

The dip of his hamstrings appears.

The swell of ass cheeks.

Two soft semicircles of flesh.

Two perfect, full mounds with a deep cleft between them.

A curved shadow I want, need , to pry open.

I’m frozen. Mouth open. Rage, arousal, and frustration swirl and merge, becoming one thing.

A big thing.

A bad thing.

My arm swings back, and I land a resounding slap on his ass. Before he has time to react, I land another one on his other cheek.

He gasps and spins round, eyes widening and dancing with delight.

Oh Jesus. Please don’t tell me he likes it. Please, Lord, do me a solid. I need it.

“Did you just spank me?” What’s happening in his eyes is insane. Waves are crashing. Tiny crystals exploding with delight .

“No!” I say sharply. “I didn’t spank you. I, I smacked you.”

His nose crinkles. “What’s the difference?”

“A spanking is like, sexual, or whatever, it’s meant to cause pants feelings and, and a smack is purely discipline. And that’s what that was,” I clarify quickly. “A smack. Discipline . Because you fucking need it.”

Bells ring. Heavy, old bells beaten hard. A clear, rich sound that chimes over and over, tightening some things in me and causing others to go lax.

He releases my jersey, but before it can fall down enough to offer him modesty, he uses both hands to rub his rapidly pinkening ass. Reams of skin and flesh flash at me. Hands, cheeks, thighs, and calf muscles.

I don’t think. I act.

I take him by the back of the neck and push him down until his upper body is flat on the table Ragnar's tank sits on. He doesn’t resist in the slightest. He’s like putty in my hands. Soft and malleable. A supple, pliable thing that giggles adorably.

I yank the jersey up, bunching it in my left hand and lifting so hard he’s on his tiptoes. My other hand swings back in a broad arch and lands a loud, tacky slap on his ass.

Again .

And again.

The feel of his flesh on my palm, the density of it, the softness, the muscle. It’s the thing. The thing I’ve needed all my life. He moans when I make contact with him. Like an animal. Like sex. Like a man taking a dick.

“Don’t stop,” he groans. “Immm gonna cum.”

That snaps me out of my trance.

“No! Don’t!” I hiss.

I step back and pull the jersey down as hard as I can.

Ragnar swishes a judgmental fin and looks at me indignantly.

Oh great. Just great. On top of everything else, I’ve made a mortal enemy of a Siamese fighting fish.

Teddy gets up unsteadily and blinks vacantly at me.

“You look like I feel,” he says, words slurring a little. I expel a muddled selection of vowels and consonants in his direction. He nods as if what he’s said makes perfect sense. “Do you want me to blow you? I’m happy to do it. It won’t fix you completely, but it’ll take the edge off.”

I leap away with a hand clamped over my junk and the other clutching at my neck like I’m looking for a string of pearls I know damn well isn’t there.

Bells chime again .

I straighten and compose myself. The extra space my ungraceful leap bought is like a breath of fresh air. It’s exactly what I need.

Teddy shrugs. “Suit yourself, handsome, but the offer stands. I mean it. You can have my throat whenever you want. You can wake me up in the middle of the night and say ‘Open wide,’ and I will. No questions asked.”

Fuck. I can’t let him talk like this.

I should spin him around and send him to his room immediately. Failing that, I should send myself to my room and lock the door until common sense has prevailed. Instead, I hear myself mumble, “So, like, do you have a thing for that, giving head? You mentioned it last night as well…”

“Oh yeah, I love it. It’s one of my favorite things to do…mainly because it’s so easy to close my eyes when I’m on my knees and pretend the guy I’m with is you.”

That takes my brain offline completely. A record is spinning, but there’s no needle near it. No sound. Only a flat vinyl disk going around and around. “Is that, um, is that something you do?”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head at himself, raising an unapologetic shoulder.

“I do it a lot. I can’t get off if I don’t think of you, so I kind of have to.

I was thinking of you the first time I touched my dick…

and it’s also how I got of f last night.

” He gives that a second to land and take effect.

“I mainly do side stuff when I’m with other guys because I don’t like topping, and I find it hard to relax enough to take a dick that isn’t yours.

But I like giving head, and I’m super good at it.

I like getting head too…” He chuckles salaciously.

“But that’s just ’cause it feels good to have your dick in a mouth, you know? ”

I bob my head blankly.

I do know.

It feels fucking good to have your dick in a mouth. So good. All nice and wet and warm. Pretty lips wrapped around you. Sweet, mind-numbing suction that makes reality go away.

“But don’t worry. It’ll be different with you,” he says.

“What do you mean?” asks the ignoramus that’s taken command of my voice.

“I mean, I won’t be tense with you because I know you won’t let me be. I know you’ll take all day to prep me if that’s what I need. Plus, I know how much I want you. My body and my mind will let it happen, you’ll see. My hole was made for you, Sev. I know that because I was made for you.”

It’s too much. I can’t take this kind of talk.

“Teddy, please.” I slump against the wall, insides shaking with arousal. “Please, Teddy Bear, please be good . ”

“Oh, Sev.” He shakes his head sympathetically. “I’d do anything for you. You know I would, but I can’t do that. I’ve been trying to be good for years, and it hasn’t served me at all. You might not realize it yet, but it hasn’t served you either.”

A weak whimper leaves me.

“But here’s what I will do, okay?” His face is a picture of reasonableness, and that fills me with a smattering of hope. “I’ll put on some pants before we go to Nadia’s.”

It’s not much, but it’s something.

“And you’ll take my jersey off,” I suggest optimistically.

“Okay, but I’m keeping it in my room, and I’ll wear it whenever I feel like it.”

When he goes to his bedroom, I type a frantic message to Nate.

Look, bro, I don’t know what to tell you, but if something doesn’t change fast, I’m going to accidentally put my dick in your brother’s ass.

Once I’ve read the message back a few times, I delete it with the greatest care imaginable, letter by letter, to make sure I don’t hit send by mistake.