Page 8 of Phantom Faceoff (Daddies of the League #5)

Chapter Eight

Malachi

Should I be getting my insight on this whole Daddy kink thing from fanfiction? Probably not. But am I starting to get the appeal after nearly twenty-five chapters of KiriBaku fucking like bunnies?

Judging by how flushed my body feels, I’m going with yes.

“Ooh what are we reading?”

I peer over my shoulder at Julian with his big ass grin as he scans my screen. The excitement sobers slightly into a more genuine smile.

“Doing some research?” he asks, flopping his arms over my shoulders and draping himself across my back.

Jules is tall and lanky, a fact he uses to his advantage every chance he gets.

“Just wanted to understand better.” I set the laptop on the bed in front of me and lean back. Julian takes the cue and climbs onto the mattress, fitting himself behind me. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

It doesn’t supply the same thrill as when Zander said it, but it fills me with a warmth I’m starting to become comfortable with.

“This dynamic … it’s important to you?”

He nods, resting his cheek on the back of my neck. “It feels like I’ve finally found a piece of myself that was hidden away. Tucked neatly in a drawer collecting dust.”

His arms tighten around me, and I hold onto his hands with my own. “I like it. Seeing you happy.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Shut up.” I squeeze his hands, more curiosity bubbling in my brain. “I have another question.”

“Shoot.”

I heave out a heavy breath, weighing my choice of words.

“Do you … I mean, is there …” I drop his hands and press mine to my eyes. “Is this kink sexual for you?”

His quiet for a minute, still except for the rise and fall of his chest on my back.

“With you? No. You make me feel safe. To let this part of me out.” He sits up straight and takes his hands away. “But yeah. There’s a sexual aspect I want to explore. Eventually. Just have to find a Daddy I feel safe and sexy with.”

I chuckle at the teasing note in his tone. “You’ll have me until then.”

He hums a happy sound, and then throws himself sideways to lay across my bed and grin at me.

“My turn.”

“Oh boy.”

“While you were reading,” he says, and I know immediately where this is going. “Did it turn you on?”

It takes me a second to answer, to put my findings into something coherent.

“Not the age play bits. I’m not sure I could be intimate with someone in that way. No offense.”

“None taken. It’s different for everyone.”

“I like the trust. The … deferring to one partner for permission.”

“Which partner do you want to be?”

My face flames in an instant, and I look away as Julian breaks out into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, you hush. I like—I like being Daddy, alright? It works for us, and it’s … it’s hot to think about someone calling me that in bed. Are you happy now?”

“You’re so cute, Mal.” He sits up and yanks my computer into his lap. “You’re more of a soft dom. Under all the prickles that is.”

“Fuck you.”

“No thanks. Love you, though.”

We sit in a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company until Julian shifts and meets my eyes.

“Mal? How long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”

I lean back on my hands, counting the specks of dirt on the ceiling. “Like sex or …?”

I can feel his stare, the silent reply.

“There hasn’t been anyone since Mack.”

Julian abandons the computer to wrap his arms around me.

“Oh and I’m the sap?”

But it feels nice. Being held. Knowing that no matter how fucked up I am at times, I’ll always have Jules.

I don’t know how I ended up getting dragged into a party at Zander and Micky’s student housing unit, but here I am sitting in a circle of very few familiar faces playing Never Have I Ever.

Seriously.

There are beers sloshing about, bags of chips ripped open and haphazardly tossed onto tables and cushions.

Julian sits across from me with Zander’s arm around his shoulder, laughing into the crook of the other man’s neck. Micky is lounging with his phone in his face—a video call to his boyfriend I’m told—while his friend, Tessa, sits with his legs in her lap munching from a bowl of M&Ms.

There’s a few other hockey players in the circle. No one I recognize. Some stoners in heavy make up having a drag. It’s not populated enough for me to call it a party, but the diversity feels like a Netflix production.

“You’re up, Moody.” Tessa holds out her hand, and I open mine to accept the candy she drops in my palm.

I sigh and toss a few in my mouth. “Never have I ever … slept with anyone in this room.”

Julian gives me the face of perfect fucking innocence as he tips back his shot. And so does every single person in the circle. Some grumble and groan. Some laugh.

Micky takes the smallest sip of his beer. “Y’all are nasty.” He lifts his phone and pans it around the room. “I’ve got Parks. You can have each other.”

The room explodes into laughter and chitchat. I take a couple sips of my own beer, but soon lose interest in the bustle.

Being hockey players, they have one of the nicer student housing units: two stories with a large living room and kitchen at the bottom and a slew of bedrooms up top.

I wander into the kitchen to procure a glass of water—more accurately a solo cup filled from the tap—to ease the slight buzzing in my head.

The lights are off, and this corner of the house is quiet compared to the living room, so I savor the moment with my head resting on my folded arms propped on the counter.

I’ve done enough parties and mixers over the years. More often than not at old barns or abandoned buildings. Places with more colorful crowds.

That’s not to say I wasn’t pleasantly surprised to find that several of the NH Ravens fall under the queer umbrella, but their interests all still scream “Single-Minded Jock”.

Something brushes my side, and I instinctively bolt up and jam my elbow back into something soft and firm.

“Fuck!”

I twist around to find a person behind me bent over gripping their side. As they straighten, the light from the living room catches on their blond hair creating an image of a golden nest. Hazel eyes beam down at me.

“What the hell, Blanchard?” Zander still rubs at his side, brows pinched and lips tucked into a tight line.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s a bad idea to sneak up on people in the dark?”

“I wasn’t sneaking.” He rolls his eyes hard. “I was reaching around you. There’s snack cakes literally above your head.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know either of those things?”

He drags a hand over his eyes and presses his fingers to his temples. “There is not enough alcohol in my system to deal with you.”

His tone strikes me as odd. I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation where he sounds outright hostile.

I cross my arms and press my back against the counter. “One would think you’d avoid drinking in my presence,” I say, watching his eyes narrow. “Might feel me up again.”

Zander groans. “I didn’t feel you up,” he hisses through clenched teeth, but it’s here that I realize he isn’t angry.

The pink on his cheeks I can barely make out in the darkness gives it way.

He’s embarrassed.

“You thought about it.” I can’t help the twitch of a smirk that tugs at my lips.

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweats, shoulders slumping with the weight of his sigh.

“Did you say anything to Julian?”

Just like that, I’m reminded of the Big Bad Wolf stereotype dangling above my head. Of course I would antagonize him with my best friend’s feelings simply because I disapprove of them seeing each other.

“I get that I’m a buzzkill or whatever,” I say, and his eyes widen in the dim light. “But I don’t start drama for the hell of it. Nothing happened. No reason to wind him up.”

Zander visibly relaxes, dragging a hand through his hair. “Thanks. I have enough shit to worry about without Julian being mad at me.”

“Jules is a force. But I wouldn’t sick him on you unless I had a damn good reason.”

He pulls open the fridge and tosses a bottle of water over the door in my direction. I barely manage to catch it, throwing him a glare in response.

A dimpled smile forms on his face. “Here’s to not giving you a reason.” He takes a swig of his own water. “Is failing your little Swiftie Analysis Course a reason?”

“No, but you lose serious credibility points for taste in music.” A stretch of quiet follows Zander’s chuckle, darkness engulfing us with the closing of the refrigerator door. “How’d your test go?”

Zander clicks his tongue. “I got a B.”

That shouldn’t make me smile, but damn it, it’s hard not to be a little proud of the guy.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

My grin widens. “Like what?”

“Smug bastard.”

The laugh tears its way out of my throat, and it’s so loud and absurd that it draws company. Julian teeters into the kitchen a little closer to wasted, so I immediately hook an arm around his waist and thrust my bottle of water at him.

He’s uncoordinated and giggly, but he manages a few sips before pushing it away.

I sure hope Hale didn’t plan on getting lucky tonight, because like hell am I letting Julian get laid with his head this much of a mess.

“Getting along?” he asks, reaching an arm out toward Zander, who hesitantly slides in and accepts the broken triangle of a hug chain we’ve got going on.

“Not killing each other,” I say. “It’s a start.”

Julian presses his lips to my cheek, brushing my ear as he pulls away. “Thank you, Daddy.”

A warm flush falls over my cheeks, and Zander’s stare is like a laser pointer.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I keep my attention on Jules. “I think someone needs to get home and have a shower.”

He pouts and tugs the both of us closer.

Zander cups his hand over Julian’s cheek and guides their eyes to one another. “Malachi is right.”

A thrill shoots up my spine, and my body responds in ways I refuse to acknowledge. All he said was my name for fucks sake.

When Julian pouts out his lip again, Zander kisses him. “How about you hop in the shower here, and I’ll make you both up a place to sleep on the couch?”

I open my mouth to protest, but our close proximity gives Zander the bright idea to sling his free arm around my waist and close our circle.

“No funny business. The others will likely crash, too.”

I want to argue, but Jules is already bearing his weight on me, so I suck up my pride and give in.

“Fine. But I’m not responsible for any damage done if someone looks at him wrong.”

Zander laughs, and I’m too fucking aware that he hasn’t let me go.

It’s well into the night by time the house settles down. Most have scurried off to bedrooms, a few out the door, but Julian and I are downstairs on the couch.

More accurately, Julian is bundled on the couch, and I’m settled on the floor in front of it. He tried to argue that we could share, but Julian is an active sleeper, and I’ve learned to keep a safe distance.

Jules was far from sober enough to wash himself up without turning the bathroom into a slip ’n slide, so we showered together and are both stuffed into clothes from the various house inhabitants.

Julian was able to borrow a t-shirt and pair of shorts from Micky while I got tossed a hoodie and sweats from Zander.

“It’s not fair,” Julian grumbles, pressing his face into one of the couch cushions.

“If you had asked, I’m sure Zander would have loaned you something, too.”

He sticks his tongue out, and I fight back a laugh.

“Mean, Daddy,” he whispers, and I wonder how much of his attitude is the alcohol and how much is the regression.

“Get some sleep, love.”

His bright copper locks fly about as he rubs his face into the fabric. “Can’t.”

“Why not?”

He curls tightly in on himself, bright eyes piercing me in the darkness.

“Jules.” I roll onto my side, matching his stare. “Honesty time.”

In the pocket of silence that follows, Jules drops his hand down, and I catch it in my own.

“I don’t want to be alone.” The words are whispered and wet, though I can’t see the tears in the dark.

“I’m right here.”

The moment brings me back to nights in the group home when I’d camp in front of Julian’s bed while he slept. Deter some of the nastier boys from giving him trouble.

“Can I lay with you?”

Another moment where I’d wake up half propped on the mattress to green eyes watching me, curled beside me.

Sleeping together—in the most platonic sense—has been reserved for those nights when the past catches up to us faster than we can dream it away.

Resigning myself to being even more sore than I was already going to be, I open up my other arm and nearly choke on the laughter as he scrambles down into my hold.

Julian is still clenching my hand even as he buries his face in my shoulder and scrunching up the hoodie in his fists.

A pang of sadness hits me. “If you want, I’m sure Hale would let you sleep with him.”

The head shake is instant. “I want you, Daddy.”

I smile and kiss the top of his head, then find a comfortable position for my neck and try to get some sleep.

It’s quiet other than the sound of our breathing, and just as I think I might go under, Julian shifts, and his lips brushing my ear thrusts me back into full consciousness.

“You know,” he says with a low giggle. “I bet Zander would let you sleep with him, too.”

My body practically goes into shock, which only makes Julian’s giddiness worse.

“I think you like him,” he teases, and I’m confused how my best friend went from cuddly to menace so fast.

“I barely know him,” I hiss and gently pinch his side. “What has gotten into you?”

“Zander. Multiple times.” He sits up, propping an arm on my chest and grinning down at me. “Maybe you don’t feel the tension, but the rest of us do.”

“Tension?”

“Yup.” He pops the ‘p’ hard. “Sexual tension. You, Malachi, desperately need to get laid.”

I can’t do anything but gape at him.

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re a brat.”

Still, he smiles wide and leans down so his nose presses to mine. “Come to the rink with us tomorrow. I’ll show you.”

“Show me what?”

Julian wiggles beside me until he’s lying down again, a puff of air sliding across my neck. His breathing lightens, and his voice goes from playful to soft and sleepy.

“That I think he likes you, too.”