Page 43 of Flagrant Foul (Totally Pucked #3)

Teddy “T-Dog” O’Reilly

The elevator doors close, sealing quiet strains of scratchy jazz into the metal cube with us.

There’s a brief pause, a slight jolt, and then the elevator begins hurtling up.

Two players got out at the last floor, so I put my bag down and take a step away from Lockie to make better use of the space that’s available to us now.

There are three of us in the elevator. Me, Lockie, and Sev.

Sev is standing behind us. Silent, but taking up more space than he should because his mood is pitch black, simmering, and causing the air to crackle with tension.

It’s hard to stop myself from falling into familiar patterns: analyzing the minutiae of his behavior, dissecting his micro expressions and making them all about me.

I do my best not to. I look straight ahead and try to think of nothing at all. Sev is his own person. He’s allowed to experience a full range of emotions. It has nothing to do with me .

Lockie turns to me, putting a hand on the small of my back. “Dunno about you, but I could use a drink. Want to come to my room and hit the minibar once you’ve settled in?”

Sev doesn’t move, but the temperature in the elevator plummets. He lets out a single breath. A long, low hiss that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Hey, Rook,” he says casually. “Do you like having your head attached to your shoulders?”

Lockie visibly straightens, dropping his hand as he tightens his other around the strap of the duffel he has on his shoulder. “Um, uh, yeah. I-I do.”

Sev’s growl is a wild, untamed thing. A rough edge and a sharp blade. “Might be wise to remember that.”

Lockie gulps audibly and jabs the button for his floor so hard I hear the soft rat-a-tat of fingernail on brass over the wail of a saxophone.

“Sev,” I say when Lockie has made his hasty exit. “It’s not like t—”

He cuts me off with a soft, almost defeated, “I know.”

Sev is still standing behind me, and now that we’re the only people in the elevator, his presence is bigger.

Closer. The temperature rachets up. Subzero to boiling in two seconds flat.

It’s not just the temperature in the elevator either.

It’s my body temperature too. There’s something about being trapped in a small space with a formidable Sev that does it for me.

The old me would have had a field day with this. I’d have been all over it, writing a scene in my mind worthy of an Oscar, or at least one of those Grabby or GayVN awards they have in the adult entertainment industry.

The new me takes a calming breath and reminds myself that nothing is going to happen. It’s not a feeling anymore, not a suspicion, or a notion formed in self-doubt. It’s a fact.

I’m not going to sexually objectify Sev anymore or want things from him that I can’t have. I’m going to love and accept him as he is.

The elevator doors open on my floor. Before I have time to pick up my bag, Sev does it for me, hoisting it over his shoulder along with his.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He shoots me a heated look. “Walking you to your room.”

In his defense, it was kind of a stupid question.

He stalks behind me soundlessly as I look for my room.

We’ve stayed in this hotel before. Many times.

It’s one of my favorite hotels in the country.

The décor is dark and dramatic. Black-and-white checkered floor tile and moody lighting.

The hallway is wide, but tonight, with Sev at my back, it feels a little crowded.

2150

2152

2154

“This is me,” I say.

Sev omits a gruff sound and drops my bag at my feet.

For years, I thought of his face as devastating.

Devastatingly handsome. Devastatingly hot.

It’s more than devastating tonight. He’s wearing his suit—black and well-tailored—the way he always does.

Like a second skin. Like something that’s part of him.

There’s a brutal grace to his movements that’s animalistic in its ease.

Predatory, almost. He has his hair tied back. For once, few strands have escaped.

It’s a severe look that should make him appear unapproachable or cold.

It doesn’t.

Perhaps it’s his mood, or maybe it’s his hair, it might even be the lighting, but either way, tonight, there’s something haunted about him.

The old me would be very concerned. I’d have dashed to the forefront, tried to work out what was bothering him, tried to fix it, and tried to make him fall in love with me while I did it .

Either that, or I’d have tried to provoke him.

I’m not going to do any of that now. I’m going to rise above it.

And yes, my dick is rising too, but what of it? I’m human.

In truth, the new me is quite concerned about Sev. He’s not himself at all. I search his face for a clue about how worried I should be. His brow is heavy. Eyes shadowed and hard to read.

Usually, when we’re close to each other like this, I find it easy to get a read on him, or at least, I like to think I do. Tonight, the signal is jammed. We’re out of the elevator, and Lockie is several floors down, far away from us, but Sev is still throwing heatwaves at me like it’s his job.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“You played well tonight,” he says at almost the same time.

He looks down at his feet and then up at my face.

His eyes flick from my left eye to my right and then dip down to my nose.

“That was some goal you stopped.” Left eye.

Right eye. Dip down to my chin. “You were…on the Jumbotron. Your eyes were…really big. You skated around the goal three times. I saw you… You like things in threes, huh?”

Wait. Is he trying to make conversation?

Something is very wrong here. Sev doesn’t make conversation. He makes obvious jokes. Other people make conversation, and if he deems it appropriate, he responds.

I’m confused and tired, and despite my best efforts, my body is starting to react from being close to formidable Sev. Heatwaves lap at my face. At my neck and my chest. At my dick. Warming me. Burning me. Making me stiffen.

My throat goes bone dry.

I fumble as I remove my keycard from the little cardboard holder it’s in.

Jesus, he’s standing close.

Why’s he so close?

He bows his head slightly and a soft puff of breath hits my face.

Left eye. Right eye. Bottom lip.

“So, like.” His voice is different from usual. A strangled husk that spins in his throat. “You good?”

“Uh.” My mind has gone blank. All new-me thoughts wiped clean.

Left eye. Right eye. Bottom lip again.

Wait. Did he just move closer?

“Do you have everything you need, Tee?”

I don’t have a single thing I need.

My head bobs loosely on its hinges all the same .

Sev doesn’t step back, so I reach down awkwardly for my bag, still crowded, and turn to tap my key against the reader. My bag bumps into him as I do it. The door unlocks. There’s an awful, mechanical grating finality to it.

“N-night,” I stammer as I cross the threshold.

The door swings shut, and I’m left reeling. What the hell was that? That wasn’t normal. That was weird as fuck. Sev was being weird. There’s no doubt about it. I thought I’d seen all his moods, but I’ve never seen him like that. He wasn’t himself. He was nervous and trying to make conversation and…

Jesus Christ.

I’m trying to be a better version of myself here, but how the hell am I supposed to do it when he’s being like this? How? How am I supposed to not sexually objectify him when he looks at me like he wants to consume me?

Oh fuck.

I’m hot. I have too many clothes on. Unlike Sev, I wear a suit like a suit. Like an uncomfortable garment made of too much fabric. I rip my jacket and tie off, and unbutton two shirt buttons. It doesn’t help. I can’t get a good breath, so I unbutton two more and shuck off my shoes and socks.

I’m still too hot .

I’m horny too. So fucking horny my dick hurts. I can’t have this. Sev being weird while I’m being a better man is a terrible combination. I need to settle down and clear my head. I need to chill.

I need to nut. That’s what I need. Stat.

Maybe I will have to sexually objectify Sev again. Just a tiny bit. Maybe just once more.

I press the heel of my hand down on my shaft. Fuck. I’m so hard. It feels so good that I do it again as I struggle with my fly with the other hand.

There’s a knock at the door. A light wrap of a knuckle on timber. It shocks me so much that I leap several feet into the air, landing clumsily as I yank my hands off my cock.

I straighten myself out, looking around the room like a fucking idiot, as though I expect someone to have seen me. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me. Open the door.”

I’m not going to lie. I’m having real trouble remembering the new-me rules right now, and I’m finding it all but impossible not to let my dick fill in the blanks of what’s happening.

I scramble across the room and open the door, and there he is.

The bane of my existence .

The light of my life.

He’s leaning against the wall across the hallway from me. His knees are bent, like he started sliding down the wall but stopped himself before sliding too far. The result is that for once, I’m not looking up at him. Our gazes line up exactly.

He holds eye contact for a second. An eon. And then drops it. It dips down to my mouth, and I see his jaw work. His Adam’s apple bobs and rides down his throat.

His eyes stay fixed on my lips.

My heart starts to race. Not race. Pound. My heart pounds so hard and fast that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t speak.

I can’t breathe.

Can’t move.

I’m scared.

Never been this scared before.

Never been this sure of the way he’s looking at me. Never been more afraid of being wrong.

I’m not wrong, though, because Sev pushes himself upright and closes the space between us. He moves quickly, but the moment drags out for an eternity.

When he’s within touching distance, he turns his head to the side and looks away from me.

His face in profile is a beautiful thing.

He raises his hand, reaching behind his head the same way he always does when he does his hair.

He does it easily. As though it’s a reflex. Something he does without thinking.

He looks back at me after a lifetime, dropping his arm slowly and uncurling his fist in front of me.

A hair tie lies on his palm.

It’s black, the hair tie. Not very thick, not very thin. Nondescript except for the fact that it’s his and he’s offering it to me.

I reach for it robotically—confused as fuck—taking it from him and then feeling unsure what to do with it. My heart is beating so hard that I’m worried he’ll hear it.

The corner of Sev’s mouth hitches up and his eyes soften, robbing me of my breath. I never thought I’d see him like this, with soft eyes fixed on me.

I want him so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.

He takes the hair tie back from me and takes my hand. He stretches the hair tie, sliding it over my hand, rolling it down until it’s on my wrist.

My heart thunders.

My cock aches.

I wish to God I knew what was going on.

I think I know, but I’ve been so wrong so many times before. So disappointed. So hurt. So rejected .

And yet…and yet, this time feels different.

This time, it’s not me chasing him.

This time, it’s him at my door. In a suit. Letting his hair down for me.

“Sev—”

He places both of his hands on my neck, at the base, slowly sliding them up until his thumbs graze my jaw and his fingers cradle my skull.

I was right. Sev’s touch is hot. His skin is blazing. Scorching hot.

My mind swims.

He leans in slowly, closer and closer, fracturing time, shattering reality, until our lips touch. Electricity enters me through my mouth and flows down to my hands and feet, shooting back up again, frying my brain.

His first kiss is light, tentative, maybe even a little hesitant.

His second is less so. He covers my lips with his, playing with them like they’re his.

Like they’ve always been his. Testing the density and the give with blunt teeth.

He kisses the top one, then the bottom, and then nudges his tongue in between them.

My soul starts to fray.

I moan as he does it. Not a little. Not softly.

Long and loudly. So loudly, the sound travels down the hallway and climbs the walls.

I climb Sev too. I don’t mean to. My body reacts without conscious decision from me.

My arms wind tightly around his neck, my chest presses against his, hips canting and bucking as my dick searches for his.

It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.

I suck his tongue into my mouth frantically and moan and moan around it.

Good things flow from him into me. He pulls away and pushes me against the door roughly, eyes black, pupils blown.

He attacks me again. This time, his kiss is ruthless and hard.

It’s the furthest thing from chaste. A linear mile from innocent.

It’s the kiss. The one I’ve been waiting for all of my life.

His breath comes in loud, racking gasps as he fucks my mouth with his tongue over and over. Both of us grow more demanding, more desperate, more needy each time it happens.

By the time he releases me, I’m unsteady. Dizzy with pleasure. Lips swollen. Vision hazy.

I’m on my toes.

My mouth is gaping open, my fingers knotted in his hair.

He waits until I untangle them and smiles as he runs a finger along my jaw, tipping it up when he reaches my chin. He kisses me sweetly on the lips. A closed-mouth kiss. No tongue. Just lips .

A kiss on my right cheek.

Then one on my left.

A soft kiss on the lips.

Three little kisses that ruin me for everyone else.

“Night.” His voice is raw. Stripped bare and exposed. “Sleep well, Teddy Bear.”