Page 10 of Phantom Faceoff (Daddies of the League #5)

Chapter Ten

Malachi

Why do I let my best friend talk me into these things?

Crowded rooms are in my top five least favorite places. Doesn’t matter how big the room is. Actually, I’d say the bigger it is, the worse it is.

The most awful part of all?

It’s filled to the brim with sports maniacs.

The last place I want to spend my afternoon is an ice hockey rink. But Julian: sweet, sensible, wide-eyed Julian insists we need to be here for Zander’s first game.

A game he gets to play—mind you—because he’s spent the last several weeks bugging me at work and arguing about his truly awful media literacy.

Julian’s arm is healed up well, and he looks genuinely happy, bouncing in his seat as the players circle each other below. I couldn’t tell you a single thing about what’s happening other than lots of shouting and a surprising amount of fist throwing for a school sanctioned event.

“Which one is Hale?” They all just look like multi-colored blurs. Helmets. Pads. If I didn’t already know this wasn’t a co-ed sport, I couldn’t even tell if they were boys or girls.

“Number sixteen,” Jules answers without hesitation, way too into a game I don’t think he’s ever seen played a day in his life before now.

Sixteen. Right. Okay …

Even if I don’t understand the plays or calls or any of the words out of the announcers mouth, I keep my eyes zeroed in on number sixteen.

Sometimes he’s on the ice. Sometimes he’s pulled to the bench.

Every time he takes his helmet off and wipes at the gallon of sweat pouring off of him with one of those rinky dink towels, I get a strange sensation in my chest. Not just the unfortunate attraction, but something akin to …

concern. Which is absurd, because he has the most ridiculous smile on his face eighty percent of the time.

For the amount of time elapsed, the scoreboard is abysmally low for both teams, and when half of the crowd stands and shouts, I have no idea who scored.

By the grin on Julian’s face, I’m guessing us.

“How do you follow this?” I ask, trying and failing to make any sense of the game.

Julian shoves his shoulder into mine and chuckles. “Hot, sweaty men, Mal.”

If only it were that easy. If only I could look at a man, spot my attraction, and just go for it. That’s one of the things I admire about Julian. He’s friendly. Outgoing. Knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to search it out.

It’s how he ended up on that kink site. And it’s how I ended up being his stand-in Daddy.

I only know the game is over when a loud buzzer sounds, followed by Julian jumping to his feet and dragging me with him. The arena is packed, noisy, and I have no clue which way will lead me outside, but eventually that’s where we find ourselves.

The sky is bright blue littered with perfectly white clouds. Julian must have taken us out a side door, because the foot traffic has nearly disappeared. I lean against the side of the building, catching my breath.

Large crowds make me lightheaded. It’s one of a few reasons why—even with my love of music—I’ve never been to a concert. It’s on my bucket list, but I haven’t felt like chancing the panic attack.

With my eyes closed and face tilted toward the sky, I can almost forget where we are. Can almost imagine I’m on my lunch break at the record store. If only I had my earbuds, but I didn’t want to risk them getting dropped and crushed.

Julian’s high-squealed laugh draws me out of the daydream, and I open my eyes to see him with his legs around Zander’s waist, and the other’s hands on his ass.

Lovely.

They exchange a hurried, flurry of kisses before breaking away and Zander glancing at me over Julian’s shoulder.

“Enjoy the game?” His blond hair is damp and tousled, and I can’t tell if it’s from sweat or a shower.

My deadpan expression only makes his grin widen. “You’re a smug bastard.”

“A smug bastard,” Julian cuts in, “who is about to get laid.”

I hate the way my heart twinges at the soft expression on Zander’s face. At how he cups the back of Julian’s head so gently to meet his lips in another kiss.

I’m happy that Jules is happy, but I think I’ve had my fill of people for the day.

“Why don’t you two take it back to the dorm? I’ve got some class work to catch up on, so I’ll hit up the library.”

Julian’s reaction is one of gratitude, while Zander’s is … something else. Curiosity?

“Just don’t get jizz on my bed.”

That makes him crack a smile, and Julian jumps down from Zander’s arms long enough to engulf me in a bear hug before dragging the hockey player off toward his own truck.

My best friend certainly has a one track mind.

The library thing was a total lie. Instead, I take up space at one of the on-campus coffee houses in an unoccupied corner surfing a kink forum not unlike the one I found Julian on.

It’s more lurking than interacting on my part, though I did have to create an account to have access. Only a few pages in, and I realize I may have stumbled too hard into the dynamic. Bitten off more than I can chew.

As my head starts to spin trying to understand all the terminology, I come across a post promoting another site. It’s … colorful.

There’s pictures akin to what you’d find in a children’s picture book with clearly labeled pages with their own illustrations. Despite the cutesy look, the information is very blunt and obviously geared toward adults.

I’ve been inferring a lot of information from my talks with Julian and the fanfictions I’ve read, but having it laid out plainly …

I don’t feel like I’m a Daddy in the full sense of taking care of a Little, but at the same time, I feel a deeper connection to the idea than just a kinky bedroom phrase.

I enjoy the domesticity of taking care of someone, but not to the point of micromanaging or punishing.

Taking care of someone is comforting; that’s something I’ve learned over the years with Julian and that’s only been reinforced since trying out this new dynamic. I feel a sort of possessiveness over the well being of people I care about.

It’s something I feel toward Julian, but in the case of the skating incident, I also felt an inkling of it for Zander.

Not an inkling. An inferno.

I was so overcome with rage for his lack of care about either of their safety that I didn’t dare speak for the duration of the hospital visit least something come out wrong.

Because I was angry, but that anger was deeply overshadowed by worry. Worry that this is the kind of shit Zander gets himself into all of the time, and he doesn’t seem to have the same level of care for himself that he exhibits to Julian.

I know I come across as harsh and demanding, and I didn’t want to upset Julian or bark anything out until I could get my thoughts together.

Which they still aren’t. I want something. It’s just under the surface. But I can’t name it.

Staring at the screen for so long starts to make my head hurt, so I decide that I’ve spent an adequate amount of time fucking off. Now that the sky is tinted shades of pink and orange, all I want to do is crawl into bed with my music and shut my brain off for a while.

It’s not a long walk back to the dorm, but it’s a nice day out, so I take my time enjoying the sunshine and warm breeze.

If it weren’t for Julian, I never would have applied to NHU in the first place. It’s a smaller school in a relatively small town in terms of housing a college. I was ready to pack my bags and step foot out of the group home the day I turned eighteen without a hint of a plan.

It didn’t matter if I had a place to stay, a job, money for food; I was ready to be out. But Julian is a couple of months younger, and I wouldn’t leave him there alone.

He’s the one who filled out the applications. Who dealt with transcripts and scholarships. For once, being foster kids came in handy, because the state paid for our first two years.

And now? It’s comfortable. Safe.

I don’t know what either of us is going to do after.

Despite the walk being relaxing, my head is filled with too much gunk not to be exhausted by the time I walk up the too-many flights of stairs to our dorm room. Maybe next year we should push for one of the student houses. Though, the funding for that is trickier.

The door clicks open without resistance, and I’m prepared to beeline for my desk and get huddled away as soon as possible, but the universe hurls me one final curve ball.

Zander Hale, naked as the day he was born, sprawled out on Julian’s bed with one arm folded behind his head and the other pressing on the back of Julian’s head over his lap.

My first thought is: they’re still going at it?

The second? Zander’s sex sounds are entirely too arousing. They’re wet and wanton, like he’s never had to hold himself back a day in his life.

His eyes slide open slow and hazy, but it doesn’t take half a second for his attention to drift from the man sucking his dick to the doorway where I’m still standing. It’s like the first night they fucked with me in the room; I’m too stunned and turned on to look away.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to call out, but when I take a half step back, all that comes out is a long, drawn-out moan.

Fuck.

The room sounds and smells like sex. It’s in a state of disarray that I can only assume is from their total lack of consideration.

“Deeper, baby,” Zander groans, wrapping a fist in Julian’s hair, hips rocking off and on the bed in a hypnotic motion.

He’s still looking at me. Panting. Moaning. Growling out “fuck yes” and “good boy” as his eyes roam from my face to the hard on tenting my pants. Tight jeans are a poor choice when you’ve got an erection.

Zander lick his lips, and when his eyes start to flutter closed, he snaps them back open.

I have enough self control not to touch myself behind my best friend’s back. Literally. Especially not to the sight of his fuck-buddy getting off.

Some lines we don’t cross.

But holy fuck do I want to.

I want Zander Hale, and the amount of shame burning through me does nothing to stamp out that desire.

I am undeniably, horribly attracted to him.

There’s no warning when he comes, but goddamn does he make a show of it. Entire body going taut, hips bowing off the mattress, and the most cock-achingly obscene moan slips past his lips.

All the while, his hazel iris’s bore into mine.

No matter how much I want to take myself in hand and get off to the image of his orgasm rocking through him, I finally gain control of my limbs—just as Jules pops off and I risk being noticed—and back as quietly out of the room as I can.

I don’t know where the hell I’m going to go, but for once in all of my time living with my best friend, home isn’t an option.

Not unless I want to blow that up like all the others.