Page 70 of Forbidden Hockey

“Trav, Trav, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t,” he chants.

“Can’t what, pretty boy?”

“Gonna come if you keep … ahh,ungh. Please.”

I want him wild and desperate. He’s close after all I’ve done to him, but I want him even more desperate. My hips halt their thrusting.

“No. No, no, fuck you!” He beats on my wide shoulder, digging his heel uselessly into my ass cheek.

My response is an evil brush of my hand over his shiny red cock. His hips buck, begging for me to just fuckingtouchhim, his body straining with an orgasm that wants to explode.

The power. The control. God, I love it. That’s another way to own a body—dictating when it comes. But whatever power I hold over him, he holds greater power over me. I would do anything for this man.

Well, except let him come without permission, because I’m a sadistic bastard. Besides, this’ll make his orgasm even better.

I brush my finger down his cock this time, garnering another lovely reaction, an almost orgasm, where his cock spasms and his muscles shudder.

“You’re even prettier when you’re thirsty, baby. Do you need more of my cock?”

“You know I do, asshole.”

“Hmmm, that’s not very nice,” I say with enough teasing in my voice to let him know I’m amused.

He tries to move, but he can’t with the way I’ve got him pinned under me, at my mercy. But I’m at his, too. It takes all my willpower not to move, and acting skills I’m not sure that I have to make it seem like I’m apathetic about the whole thing, while every urge screams to pound into his ass. All because he drives me to the brink of sanity.

“You don’t understand, I’m so fucking horny,” he says. “I might die.” A desperate tear leaks from his right eye and down his cheek.

God he’s pretty.

“Can’t have that,” I murmur.

My hips rock slowly and of their own accord as if guided by something else, but then they speed up and I’m overtaken. The room fills with heavy breathing and the slap, slap, of skin meeting skin. My cock seems to thicken inside him, and he squeezes around it, trying to milk an orgasm out of me.

It works. I’m hit with an explosion of pleasure that seems to come out of nowhere. “Fuck, baby, fuck,” I grind out through a tight jaw, but then my mission becomes filling him full and making him see stars. I grip his thigh tighter, pumping him full of hot cum, spanking the side of his ass.

That does it.

Dirk lets go.

White streams shoot from his cock, thick cum drenching him like Vancouver rain, one streak landing across his abusednipple. I pull out so my cum can drip down his thighs and smear my semen as far as I can up his torso because I’m a territorial mother fucker.

He’s not just gonna bear my marks, he’ll smell like me, too.

Iget to have Dirk curled around my torso for the first time, naked, my spent cock sagging against his wall of abs. Our legs are tangled, fronts pressed together, and I hold him, a cage and a shelter at the same time. I’m not letting him go, and he doesn’t wanna go anywhere, clinging to me with fingers curled around my neck.

The other hand explores territory that belongs to him now, all the sharp planes of my body, running feather-light touches over my skin, passing over the roadmap of scars. I catch the questions he’s wondering if he should ask, because maybe they’re too personal.

“You can ask, pretty boy.”

Shy eyes flick down then back to me. “I know you had a rough life,” he says as if he’s already decided what they mean.

He doesn’t know the half of it. I lift an arm over my head and lean back, then I take his hand and run it down the long scar on my torso. “Knife fight,” I tell him. Then I direct his fingers over more of the jagged skin. “Three more knife fights.” I drag his hand up to the back of my skull. “Dad pushed me; I fell into the corner of the dresser.” His hand moves of its own accord this time to the underside of my jaw. “Prison.”

Dirk swallows hard, but he doesn’t stop running his fingers over the years of damage. “Fuck, Trav.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I’d have had a lot less if I didn’t live the life of a criminal shithead. I like to think they make me look bad ass.”

“They do.” He smiles. “But most of them are covered. Why?”