Page 14 of Phantom Faceoff (Daddies of the League #5)

Chapter Fourteen

Malachi

Bright and early the next morning wasn’t what I had in mind for time to think things through.

“What in the hell are you doing here?”

Julian isn’t even up for the day, snuggled tightly in his bed without a care in the world.

“You said we could talk about the … thing.”

Sleep is still hanging onto the corners of my mind, but slowly our last conversation comes back to me in horrifying detail.

“And you thought … five-twenty in the morning was the right time for that?”

Zander is standing outside the dorm room in a hoodie and jeans, hands shoved into his pockets with his unruly hair frizzing around his face.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says with a shrug. “Got up and went for a run. Ended up here. Figure we could talk.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting back a smile at his earnestness.

“Give me five minutes to get dressed, and we’ll go grab breakfast.”

That seems to be the moment he realizes I’m practically naked in just my boxers and a tank top, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he forces himself to look away.

Who knew Wildfire could be cute?

Fifteen minutes later, we’re walking side by side, and the chill morning air is nice on my flushed skin, acutely aware of Zander’s gaze as it keeps bouncing to me.

“Got something to say?”

If me calling him out startles him, he doesn’t show it.

“I don’t think I’ve said it clearly,” he says, “But you’re hot, Malachi. This is far from the first time sleeping with you has crossed my mind.”

They’re strange words to hear—not like I haven’t before—but uncomfortable in a way I can’t quite place. At least I can blame the red in my cheeks on the wind.

“I don’t sleep around,” I say, devoid of judgment. Just a fact.

Zander laughs—a snorting, cackling noise stark against the quiet morning.

“I don’t as much as you think I do,” he says. “I mean, yeah, I hookup, but I do have other hobbies. Hockey keeps me busy. Sometimes, after a stressful day or week, I just like the comfort of another body.”

My throat feels dry as I suck in a heavy breath. I know the feeling, even if it doesn’t quite present the same in me. It’s why some nights Julian crawls into my bed, and we just hold each other.

Sometimes you need human contact.

Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe my body has just been craving attention for so long it’s latched onto the first person outside of Julian willing to give it.

“Is sex like … special to you?” Zander asks, and my immediate response is to laugh but it comes out more like a scoff. “Hey. I’m trying to find some middle ground here.”

I shake my head. “No. Sex isn’t special. I’m not a virgin. I’m just selective.”

“So selective that you haven’t slept with anyone your entire adult life?”

When I glare, he throws his hands up. “I’m just asking. You seemed into me that night in the quad. And again yesterday.”

“It’s not a matter of being into you or not.” I briefly close my eyes and plant my feet. “I need coffee to finish this conversation.”

Zander’s hand grips mine, tugging me forward. With a sigh, I open my eyes and follow him to one of our campus’ coffee shops. It isn’t until I catch the barista giggling behind the counter that I realize we’re still holding hands.

I flex my fingers to pull away, but Zander takes that as an invitation to lace ours together. My grumbled protest is met with a chuckle, but the feel of his palm against mine is oddly comforting.

We get our coffees and breakfast sandwiches and find an unoccupied table in a corner to settle into. At the very least, I can say I learned something mildly interesting about Zander today—he drinks his coffee black.

“Who puts whipped cream on hot coffee?”

I take a slow sip and raise my brow. “I do. Problem?”

“I kinda figured you’d be like …” He waves his hand about while searching for the word. “What’s that saying? Something something as dark as your soul?”

“Ouch.”

“I don’t—I mean,”—he gestures vaguely in my direction— “Have you looked in a mirror? You give off major scene kid vibes.”

“Even if my soul was dark—which, rude, it’s not—full disclosure, I am a sugar fiend.”

“Huh.” He leans back in his seat and lets his eyes roam over me. “Never would have guessed.”

I give him the same treatment and watch the red that rises in his cheeks. Then, I take another sip and clear my throat.

“And I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who gives up control. Most jocks I’ve met are the picture of toxic masculinity in the bedroom.”

Zander is silent for all of a minute before he barks out a laugh. “Ready to talk bedroom habits?” He folds his arms on the table and leans forward. “I’m flexible. Depends on what my partner needs. But no, I’ve never been … is submissive the right word?”

“Seemed pretty submissive to me.” It’s hard to forget the way he relaxed and caved into each simple touch. How easy he is to guide. “You follow your partners’ lead. That what you mean?”

He nods, picking at the remains of his sandwich. “It’s usually pretty easy to suss out what they expect from me. Whether they want me in charge or more of a level playing field.”

“And what do you think I want?”

I’d love to hear it, because even I’m not entirely sure I know.

Zander’s eyes grow alight with mischief. “I think you want someone to challenge you … Daddy. I think you want the illusion of a fight.”

Something in the words resonates with me, but I’m not ready to dig into it.

“Don’t call me that until we’ve talked about it.”

He makes a sweeping motion with his hands. “Let’s talk.”

Why does he have to be so infuriating?

“For starters,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning back. “It’s not a joke. You say it like it’s something to make fun of.”

His eyes widen, and his shoulders rise. “Seriously? No, I’m just … have you noticed how you react? When I say it?”

“You mean annoyed?”

My body reacts whole-heartedly, that much is obvious. It’s something I don’t have much control over.

“No. I mean …” He looks off to the side and bites down on his lip. “Even when I’m teasing—No, especially when I’m teasing—you look like you’re one step away from bending me over and spanking me.”

Punishments have never sounded appealing when it came to sex, but even I have to admit it’s a pretty sexy—and well deserved—image.

“So you keep it up because why? You want me to snap?”

His face says he wants to protest, but all that comes out of his mouth is a “huh”. He’s silent, eyes unfocused as his thoughts visibly wander. “Kinda. Yeah.”

“You’re a brat.” The words come out of my mouth automatically, and where some people might be offended, Zander just turns a dark red.

“Maybe I just really want you to kiss me again.”

So do I. It’s like a magnetic pull, the way I want to reach across the table and drag him over it. Pull him into my lap and obliterate every thought in his head other than how my tongue feels mixing with his.

“You’re thinking about it.” He grins. “Listen. You have your own personal reasons for having a Daddy kink—and I really want to hear the details there—but for me, it’s simple. It turns you on. I like being the one to turn you on.”

“But why?”

Instead of answering, Zander pushes up from his chair and walks around the table. I look up, and our eyes meet just as he grips the back of my chair and pushes it back.

My heart hammers in my chest, my skin prickling with the awareness of his arms brushing my shoulders, and my body rising to an inferno when he swings a leg over my lap and lowers himself down.

I catch my hands around his thighs and stop him from fully seating himself, earning me a chuckle.

“You think too much.” He lowers his face to my neck, and against my better judgment, I tip my head to give him more space. “Do I need some grand, noble reason for wanting you?”

His lips graze my ear, hot and heavy breath pulsing against my skin.

“Please, Daddy.”

I groan too loud for where we are, and a couple of heads turn our way but quickly disperse.

Could it really be so bad to indulge him? To explore these new feelings with someone open and honest and willing to lay all his cards on the table?

“I have conditions.”

His laugh skirts down my neck. “Of course you do. Lay them on me.”

It’s an awkward position to talk in, but it promises no one will overhear, and I sort of enjoy the heat of his body on mine.

“This isn’t casual. We don’t just meet up for sex because you’re horny,” I say, and he shifts a bit but nods.

“When do we meet up for sex?”

The pout in his voice makes me smile, and I’m glad he can’t see it.

“Win your games, and … you can pick a sexual favor. Or you can let me choose.”

He shivers, and the thought of touching him—or him touching me—has my cock responding almost immediately. It’s been so long since anyone other than myself has put hands on me.

Zander’s lips land on my throat, and it takes everything in me not to let go and start rocking him on my lap.

“What about kissing? Do I have to wait for that, too?”

With the way he whines, I should say yes. I could dangle it over his head to make him behave, but in all honesty, that would only be torturing myself.

“We’ll make a deal,” I say, kneading his thighs with my fingers and listening to the tiny broken moans he puts right in my ear. “I’ll kiss you at my own discretion, depending on your behavior.”

“What if I kiss you first?”

I bury my smile in his shoulder, refusing to admit that planning this is almost fun. “Maybe I’ll bend you over my knee and spank you.”

He shudders and shifts around to hover his mouth over mine. “You’re so hot. Daddy. Please.”

I’m going to lose complete control over myself because of this man.

I just know it.

We make out for a little while—paying no mind to prying eyes—when Zander breaks away with a gasp and whispers, “I know what I want.”

He’s got a grin that makes my defenses rattle. “What’s that, Wildfire?”

Before he even opens his mouth, I know he’s going to be trouble.

“A blowjob. If kissing is this good, I have a feeling you can do wonders with your mouth.”

This time, there’s no holding back the laugh that jumps out of my throat.

I’m in trouble indeed.

The Raven’s win their game, and I hate to admit it, but I’m strangely excited.

Things have gone back to normal over the last week in the sense that Zander shows up at work or the dorm and is hellbent on bugging me.

I can see in his eyes that he’s egging me on, hoping I’ll instigate some sort of fooling around, but watching him squirm and stew is more fun than I thought it’d be.

We haven’t kissed since the coffee shop, and when he brings it up, I quickly brush it aside. It frustrates him, but he hasn’t pushed the boundary yet.

He meant it when he said he’d stop fooling around with Julian. While he does still come over and hang out, their hands stay above board the whole time.

It’s a secret shoved way down into the depths, but every time I catch them in bed, my brain comes up with all kinds of perverted images. I’ve gotten off to the memory of listening to them fuck more times than I care to admit—not to mention the scene I’d walked in on.

One day I’ll have to come clean to Julian—not that I’m getting off to thinking about him specifically—because it feels sleazy to have my best friend in any kind of erotic fantasy without his knowledge.

But that’s a problem for another day.

Right now?

I’m hit with an eerie since of deja vu as I make my way down to the locker room after the game. Most of the team is filtering out, and I get looks from a couple of guys, but the last thing I am is intimidate by a jock.

I’m waiting in the hall, trying to decide the best place to go for our post-victory BJ session, when Micky and another of Zander’s teammates—Ellis, I think—steps out.

Ellis is tall, dark-skinned, with a buzzed head and a scruffy face, which is a stark difference beside Micky: pale, blond, and baby faced.

“Hey, Malachi,” Micky says with a note of surprise. “Where’s Julian?”

Right, because to most people that’s what I am, Julian’s shadow.

“He’s waiting outside. Figured I’d collect Zander.”

Ellis hoots and whistles, shouting through the open door, “Sounds like Halefire is in trouble!”

There’s laughter, and then Zander pokes his head out, hair still dripping from a shower and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Why? What did I do?”

He sees me, and to most people it would be imperceptible, but I’ve quickly grown accustomed to his minute tells.

His pupils dilate, and his breathing quickens. He wets his lips and bobs his throat—all small, quick motions that give him away.

Thirty seconds ago he was a badass hockey player high on a win, and now he’s Wildfire, all attention zeroed in on me and his promised reward.

“Nice towel,” I say, echoing my earlier sentiment and watching the gears in his brain play through our last encounter in the locker room.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” His eyes dart around, briefly pausing on Micky and Ellis. “Unless you want to wait inside so these two will fuck off?”

Ellis laughs and claps Zander on the back but is quick to take the opportunity to duck out. Even though Micky gives him a questioning look, he doesn’t push.

“Have fun,” is all he says before turning and continuing down the hall.

Zander latches onto the front of my shirt and yanks me into the locker room, dragging me to a corner out of direct eyesight and staring me down in all his scarcely covered glory.

“You have been an asshole,” he says under his breath, but there’s no heat to it. At least, not the angry kind. “Teasing me all week, and look at that. We won, motherfucker.”

I arch a brow and place a hand on his waist just above the towel. “That’s not what you call me,” I whisper, bringing my face close to his but not close enough to give him what he wants.

Adrenaline buzzes in my veins, thumping harder as Zander pushes his hands up under my shirt. I freeze, because I hadn’t really taken into account Zander touching me , but unable to deny how acutely sensitive I am under his touch.

His lips form a grin that he presses to the hollow of my throat.

“Blow me, Daddy.”