Page 66 of Forbidden Hockey

He twists and kicks right out of my grasp, scrambling for the door. There’s a click and a creak, he falls into the apartment, trying to shut the door on me.

Once again, too slow, pretty boy.

I slam through it, gazing around the place as if I’ve never seen it before, until my eyes lock on him.

In some ways, I haven’t. His being here specifically so I can own his ass is new. Despite our growing attraction, I kept the thought of doing anything to him firmly away and out of bounds. We’ve ended up here a few times now to fool around, but this is the first time I’ve planned this, planned to have him in my space with the pure intention of taking him.

We’re not going to watch a movie, or bake fucking bread—yeah, we actually used Hunter’s sourdough starter. I’m going to strip him out of his clothes and spear his ass with my cock. I’m gonna take him wildly and make him forget anyone that came before me.

I don’t know what it is about Dirk, but he makes me wild and uncontrollable. He awakens things I haven’t felt since I was a young, motorcycle-riding rebel. There’s a lot I don’t miss about those days, but there were things that drew me to it. The camaraderie, the power, the danger. All things that electrified my soul.

My eyes land on him, and he smiles, but he’s clearly putting on a front. He knows there’s nowhere for him to hide. Dirk adjusts his hat over the hair that’s already growing out. The hair I demanded he grow out two weeks ago just for me.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he says. “Quieter than usual, I mean. And I don’t really know why I’m running because I’m a willing victim.”

“I’ll tell you why you’re running, pretty boy,” I say in a low voice as I shut and lock the apartment door. Hmmm. There’s a crack at the top from me slamming through it. Thank fuck Dash won’t see this with him leaving in a couple of days. We already said our goodbye for the season at a father-son dinner, and he worked his last shift. He probably won’t be by. Probably. I can have this fixed before he’s home, during which time it could have happened for any reason.

“W-Why?”

Stalking toward him slowly, I approach until I reach the boundary of personal space that makes him take a step back.

“Instinct. You know this is gonna hurt.”

“B-But I want that, too.”

Maybe, but only true-blue masochists run head-on into pain. Dirk isn’t. He likes it, sure, but more for the after than the during.

“You know it’s the end.”

He came up with the idea that I was saving this moment because I was being chivalrous. And, okay, maybe there’s some of that. I wanted it to be special. Certain acts don’t mean as much to his generation as they do mine, but sue me, I haven’t been able to shake the significance of taking someone to my bed.

But that’s not the only reason.

It’s one thing—for me, and maybe just to me, I dunno—to suck his dick, or grope him, hell, even kiss him, but tonight I’m intent onclaiminghim. A lot comes with the title “mine”. I’d almost call it a responsibility.

I don’t want to fuck Dirk for fun, I want to fuck him because he’s mine. Because he’s the one who’s meant to be by my side.

Tonight is the end of his life as a free man. Belonging to me means getting to know another side of me. The ex-biker. Ex-con. The animal. I’ve shown him bits and pieces of me, more so of late, but I’m not sure he really understands. Once I show him, he will. After I have him in my bed like this, with these intentions, he’ll more than simply belong to me.

I take another step, and he steps backward; his frame meets the wall. I crowd my larger form over him, enjoying the way his breath hitches as if he’s finally getting it. Being Dash’s dad is one of my roles, but it’s only a small part of who I am. The rest of me is dark and possessive. This is his first real step into my world.

“If this is the end, then this is the end. I want to be yours, Travis.”

My name is a whisper. He rarely says my full name.

I cover his lips with mine, sliding my hand across his face, using it to control him. Little pants escape his mouth, and I catch them all, wanting his breath, too. I love making him literally breathless as if I’m taking his air as my own and only giving him what I think he should have. Enough to survive until he’s begged for more from me.

A conversation we had the other day flitters across my mind.

“Got the all-clear on some test results, just so you know,” he’d said with a gleam in his eyes. The “some test results” meaning was clear without specifying.

“Congratulations. Glad you’re in good health,” I’d teased.

“Trav!” But when I wouldn’t give, he glared and stormed away.

I captured him later in the walk-in fridge, taking the chance, putting my arms around him from behind, so I could growl straight into his ear.

“I’ve got the all-clear, too. When I fuck you, it’ll be just my bare cock sliding into this ass.” I gave his ass—which I was quickly coming to think of as my ass—a nice, hard spank.