Page 12 of Pucking Lucky (Steel City Sinners #1)

Eleven

Beau

T he digital clock on the nightstand displayed 9:57 PM. Three minutes until Coach would knock on our door for curfew check. Three minutes to maintain the facade that Trey and I were simply teammates, sharing a room on a road trip.

I sat on the edge of my bed, maintaining a careful distance from Trey, who sprawled across his own mattress, flipping through channels on the hotel TV. His casual posture betrayed nothing of what was to come after Coach left. Nothing of the promises we'd made to each other earlier.

Tonight, I want everything.

My own words echoed in my head, sending a current of both anticipation and anxiety through my system. I'd never done this before. Any of it. Sex with a man. Sex with a teammate. Sex with someone who could see through my carefully constructed walls.

"Relax, Harvard," Trey said without looking away from the TV. "You’re making me nervous."

"I'm perfectly relaxed," I lied, my fingers tapping a rhythm against my thigh that betrayed me.

Trey's eyes flicked to my hand, then back to my face, one eyebrow raised. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."

Before I could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door. 9:59 PM. Coach was early.

Trey rolled off the bed with lazy grace, stretching deliberately as he moved toward the door. I remained seated, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the hotel bedspread, forcing my breathing into a controlled pattern.

"Evening, Coach," Trey said, pulling open the door.

Coach Barnes stood in the hallway, clipboard in hand, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else than checking on twenty college boys. "Harrington. Sullivan." He glanced past Trey to where I sat. "Both accounted for. Remember, breakfast at seven, morning skate at ten. Stay hydrated." His eyes narrowed slightly. "And no midnight pizza deliveries this time."

"That was Matthews last trip," Trey protested with a grin. "We're being responsible adults here. Just watching..." he glanced back at the TV, "apparently a documentary about penguins."

Coach grunted, making a note on his clipboard. "Keep it that way. Big game tomorrow." With that, he moved on to the next room, where we could hear Williams' exaggerated greeting.

Trey closed the door slowly, then turned the deadbolt with deliberate care. The soft click seemed to echo in the suddenly quiet room. He stood there for a moment, back to me, shoulders rising with a deep breath before he turned.

His eyes met mine, dark and intent, all traces of casual teammate banter gone. "So," he said, voice dropping lower. "Coach's check is done."

"Yes." The word came out softer than I intended.

"You still want this?" he asked, moving closer, stopping at the foot of my bed. "Because if you've changed your mind..."

"I haven't," I said quickly, too quickly perhaps, but the truth nonetheless. "I want this. I want..." I swallowed hard, finding it difficult to articulate exactly what I wanted, the specifics lost in a haze of desire and uncertainty.

Trey smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips that sent heat pooling low in my stomach. "Tell me what you want, Beau. I need to hear you say it."

My heart hammered against my ribs. This was the moment to back out if I wanted to, to retreat to the safety of statistics and analysis. To go back to being Sullivan, the uptight defenseman with the perfect positioning and the NHL father.

But I didn't want to be Sullivan tonight. I wanted to be Beau. Just Beau, learning what it meant to want something for myself.

"I want you," I said, the words feeling foreign and right simultaneously. "I want... everything. I've never done anal before, but I want to try. With you."

Something flashed in Trey's eyes, dark and hungry. "Fuck, Beau." He moved closer, crowding into my space, hands coming to rest on my shoulders. "You can't just say shit like that."

"Why not?" I asked, genuinely curious. "It's true."

He laughed, the sound warming something in my chest. "Because when you talk about wanting me to fuck you in that precise Harvard voice, it makes me want to wreck you." His thumb brushed along my jawline, tilting my face up. "In the best possible way."

The crude language sent a bolt of heat straight to my groin. "Oh," I managed, my vocabulary suddenly deserting me.

"We'll go slow," Trey promised, his voice softening. "I've got stuff in my bag. Planned ahead."

The knowledge that he'd come prepared, that he'd thought about this, about us, before we even left campus, sent a warm flutter through my stomach.

"You brought supplies?" I asked, a small smile tugging at my lips.

"Always be prepared," he quipped. "Boy Scouts motto."

"You were never a Boy Scout," I countered, relaxing into our usual banter despite the tension humming between us.

"No," he admitted with a grin, "but I've always been hopeful."

He leaned down, capturing my mouth with his. The kiss started gentle but quickly deepened, his tongue sliding against mine as his hand cupped the back of my neck. I responded instinctively, hands reaching for his waist, pulling him closer between my knees.

When we broke apart, both breathing harder, Trey's eyes had darkened further. "Move up," he murmured, nodding toward the pillows. "Get comfortable."

I shifted backward on the bed, watching as he moved to his duffel bag, retrieving what looked like a small toiletry kit. My body tingled with anticipation, nervousness giving way to a heady mix of curiosity and want.

He returned to the bed, setting the bag beside us before crawling up next to me. "Where were we?" he asked with a smile that didn't quite hide the heat in his eyes.

"You were going to wreck me," I reminded him, surprising both of us with my directness.

Trey's laugh caught in his throat. "Fuck, Harvard. You're something else." He shook his head, then leaned in to kiss me again, his body pressing mine into the mattress.

The solid weight of him above me felt both grounding and electrifying. One of his thighs slipped between mine, creating a delicious pressure that had me gasping into his mouth. His hand found the hem of my t-shirt, warm fingers sliding beneath to trace along my ribs.

"This okay?" he asked, pulling back slightly to study my face.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Tentatively, I reached for the hem of his shirt in return, wanting to feel more of his skin against mine. He sat up, straddling my thighs, and pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion.

The sight of his bare torso momentarily stunned me into stillness. I'd seen him shirtless countless times in the locker room, but this was different. This was for me. I allowed myself to really look at him, to appreciate the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans, the scattered freckles across his shoulders that I'd never noticed before.

"Let me see the rest of you," he murmured, fingers finding the hem of my shirt.

I sat up enough to let him pull it over my head, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable as his gaze traveled over my exposed skin. His expression made my breath catch, appreciation and hunger clear in his eyes.

"Been thinking about this all day," he admitted, hands settling on my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples in a way that made my cock throb. "You sitting next to me on that bus with your stats and your perfect posture, and all I could think about was getting you naked and watching you fall apart."

Heat flooded my face at his candor. "I was thinking about it too," I confessed, the admission feeling like jumping off a cliff. "I kept remembering how you touched me last time. How you made me feel things I didn't know were possible."

His smile turned predatory. "Oh yeah? What specifically did you remember? Tell me what got you hard thinking about it."

The deliberate question demanded a specific answer. I swallowed hard, unused to talking about sex so openly. "Your hands," I said finally. "How they felt on my skin. The way you gripped my hips when you pressed against me. And your mouth on my neck."

Trey's eyes darkened. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the side of my neck, just below my ear. "Like this?" he murmured against my skin.

"Yes," I gasped, tilting my head to give him better access.

His mouth traveled lower, teeth grazing my collarbone before he pulled back slightly. "Have to be careful," he said, voice husky. "Can't leave marks where the team will see. But here..." His lips moved to my chest, sucking hard enough that I knew I'd have a bruise tomorrow, "Here I can mark you all I want."

I whimpered, the possessiveness in his voice sending another wave of heat through me. His hands weren't idle either, tracing patterns across my chest and stomach that had me squirming beneath him.

"Trey," I gasped as his mouth moved lower, tongue circling my nipple before sucking it between his lips. My back arched off the bed, seeking more contact.

When his fingers found the button of my jeans, I tensed slightly before forcing myself to relax. Trey immediately paused, looking up to meet my eyes.

"We can stop anytime," he reminded me. "No pressure."

"No, don't stop," I said, my voice rough with need. "I want this. Want you. Just... I've never done this before."

He sat back slightly, hands resting on my thighs. "Tell me what you're thinking."

I took a deep breath, pushing past my nerves. "I'm thinking I want your hands on me so bad I can barely breathe. And I'm terrified I'll do something wrong."

Trey's expression softened, eyes warming as he looked at me. "First, you can't do anything wrong. Second..." his hand moved to cup me through my jeans, making me gasp, "I'm pretty sure you want this just as much as I do."

The press of his palm through denim sent waves of heat up my spine, my hips instinctively pushing into his touch.

"I do want it," I admitted, voice rough. "Want you."

He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that started gentle but quickly turned hungry. His tongue slid against mine as his hand continued its maddening pressure. I moaned into his mouth, my hands clutching at his shoulders, needing him closer.

When he finally pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, turning his eyes almost black. "Let's get these off," he murmured, fingers working at my button and zipper.

We fumbled together, laughing when I nearly kneed him trying to kick off my jeans. The momentary awkwardness eased some of my tension, reminding me that this was Trey—the same guy who'd seen me at my worst and hadn't run.

When we were both down to our underwear, he paused, kneeling between my legs to just look at me. The hunger in his gaze made my skin flush warm.

"God, look at you," he breathed, hands sliding up my thighs, leaving trails of tingling skin in their wake. His thumbs brushed along the edges of my boxer briefs, teasing but not yet dipping beneath. "Been thinking about this since that first day you walked into practice with your perfect posture and your color-coded notes."

"That long?" I asked, surprised.

"That long," he confirmed, lowering his head to press a kiss to my hip bone. "Wanted to mess you up from day one."

His lips moved across my stomach, hot and damp, tongue dipping into my navel in a way that made me squirm. His stubble scraped lightly against my skin, the slight burn a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips. The feel of his hair between my fingers as I tentatively reached for him was silkier than I'd imagined.

"This okay?" he asked, fingers hooking in the waistband of my boxers.

"Yes," I managed, lifting my hips to help as he pulled them down and off.

I'd never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But the way Trey looked at me—like I was something precious, something desirable—chased away any impulse to cover myself. His eyes traced every inch of me, lingering on my cock, hard and leaking against my stomach.

"Fucking gorgeous," he murmured, voice husky.

Before I could respond, he lowered his head and licked a hot stripe up the underside of my cock.

"Oh!" I gasped, unprepared for the jolt of pleasure. "Oh god."

Trey looked up at me through his lashes, a smirk playing at his lips before he took me into his mouth. Wet heat enveloped me, his tongue swirling around the head in a way that had me clutching at the sheets.

"Trey," I moaned, watching as his lips stretched around me, the sight almost as overwhelming as the sensation. His hair fell forward, obscuring part of his face, and I reached to brush it back, needing to see him.

He hummed around me, the vibration sending shivers up my spine. His hands weren't idle, one gripping the base of my cock, the other wandering lower, teasing between my legs.

The dual sensations—his mouth hot and perfect, his fingers exploring—had me writhing on the bed. I'd never felt anything like this, never let myself be this uninhibited. Every lick, every gentle squeeze, every brush of his fingers pulled sounds from me I didn't know I could make.

When his mouth pulled away, I actually whimpered, instantly missing the wet heat.

"Don't want you coming yet," he explained, voice rough as he reached for the small toiletry kit he'd set beside us earlier. He unzipped it, pulling out a bottle of lube and several condoms. "Want to feel you from the inside first."

The sight of the supplies sent a mix of anticipation and nervousness through me. This was really happening. I was about to have sex with Trey Harrington.

"Have you ever touched yourself here?" he asked, slicking his fingers as he settled back between my legs, one finger brushing lightly against my hole.

I shook my head, suddenly unable to form words.

"Then we'll go slow," he promised, his free hand stroking my thigh reassuringly. "Tell me if anything doesn't feel good."

The first press inside was strange, the intrusion foreign but not unpleasant. Trey watched my face carefully, gauging my reaction as he slowly worked his finger deeper.

"Okay?" he asked, his free hand continuing its soothing strokes along my thigh.

"Yes," I breathed, surprised by how good it felt as he began to move. "Different, but... good."

His smile turned wicked as he twisted his wrist, finger crooking inside me and suddenly hitting something that made my back arch off the bed.

"Holy fuck!" I cried out, unprepared for the spike of pleasure.

"Found it," Trey said, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Your prostate."

He focused on that spot, rubbing gentle circles that had me panting, gripping the sheets so hard my knuckles turned white. Just as the sensation bordered on too intense, he pulled back slightly, resuming the gentle thrusting motion that had me relaxing into the pleasure.

"Ready for more?" he asked, his voice strained with restraint.

I nodded, beyond words.

The stretch of a second finger burned more than the first, making me hiss through clenched teeth. Trey immediately stilled, letting me adjust.

"Breathe through it," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my inner thigh. "That's it, baby. You're doing so good for me."

His praise sent an unexpected thrill through me. I focused on relaxing, on the sensation of his lips against my skin, on the way his eyes never left my face, watching for any sign of discomfort.

Gradually, the burn faded, replaced by a fullness that was starting to feel good. When Trey began to move his fingers again, scissoring them gently, stretching me, I couldn't help the moan that escaped.

"That's it," he encouraged, the strain in his voice betraying how affected he was by watching me. "You take my fingers so well."

Time seemed to stretch and compress as he worked me open, adding more lube when needed, patiently preparing me. By the time he carefully added a third finger, I was beyond any self-consciousness, rocking back against his hand, seeking more.

"Fuck, Beau," he groaned, watching me move on his fingers. "So fucking hot. Never thought I'd see you like this."

The sight of him between my legs, face flushed, eyes dark with hunger, muscles tensed with the effort of restraint—it was almost too much. The knowledge that he was doing this for me, being patient for me despite the obvious tenting in his boxers, made something warm unfurl in my chest.

"Please, Trey," I gasped as he brushed against that spot again, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. "I need more. Need you."

He curled his fingers one last time, making me cry out, before slowly withdrawing them. The sudden emptiness was disconcerting, my body clenching around nothing, already missing the fullness.

"Christ, you should see yourself right now," Trey breathed, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "All spread out for me, begging for my cock."

I forced my eyes open, taking in the sight of him kneeling between my legs. His chest heaved with each breath, muscles shifting under olive skin now gleaming with sweat. The flush that had started on his face had spread down his neck to his chest. His dark hair fell across his forehead in damp strands, and his eyes—god, his eyes were almost black with need, fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

He looked wild, undone in a way I'd never seen him. Trey, who always moved with such swagger on the ice, was trembling slightly as he reached for the condom.

"You ready for my cock?" he asked, the words sending another wave of heat through me.

I watched, mesmerized, as he tore open the foil packet with his teeth and rolled the condom onto himself. His cock was thick and long, the head flushed dark, veins prominent along the shaft. His hand stroking himself was possibly the hottest thing I'd ever seen—the way his wrist twisted slightly at the head, the firm grip, the way his abs tensed with each stroke.

A wave of nervousness hit me as I tried to process how this was even physically possible.

"There's no way that's going to fit," I blurted out, staring wide-eyed.

Trey's face softened into a smile, his hand leaving his cock to stroke my thigh. "Trust me, it'll fit. Your body is made to stretch." He leaned down to kiss me, his lips surprisingly gentle. "And we prepped you well. I'll go slow."

"Promise?" I asked, hating how vulnerable I sounded but unable to hide it.

"Promise." His eyes held mine, something beyond just lust shining in them. "I've got you, Beau."

The simple pledge steadied me. He positioned himself between my legs, his hand wrapping around his cock to guide it to my hole, the other braced beside my head. I could feel him, hot and hard against me, the pressure both terrifying and exactly what I needed.

"Look at me," he said, and I did, meeting those dark eyes that had haunted my dreams since the first day I'd seen him on the ice. "Keep breathing. Tell me if it hurts too much."

I nodded, reaching up to touch his face, needing the contact. He turned to press a kiss to my palm before pushing forward.

The pressure at my entrance was far more intense than his fingers had been. The blunt head of his cock breached me, stretching me wider than I thought possible. There was a sharp burn, my body instinctively tensing against the intrusion.

"Fuck," Trey hissed, immediately stilling. His arms trembled with the effort of holding back, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my chest. "Breathe, Beau. Your ass is so tight. Just relax and it gets better, I promise."

I took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his body above mine, the intensity in his eyes as he watched me. Gradually, my muscles relaxed, allowing him to slide deeper, until he was fully seated inside me, our bodies as connected as they could possibly be.

The fullness was overwhelming—different from anything I'd ever felt. Trey remained motionless above me, his arms shaking with the effort, veins standing out on his forearms. Sweat trickled down his temple, and his jaw was clenched tight. His control was stunning—I could feel him throbbing inside me, could see how badly he wanted to move, but he waited for me, letting me adjust.

"Holy shit," I breathed, experimentally shifting my hips and gasping at the sensation. "You're inside me."

His face transformed with a smile that was both tender and predatory. "Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "You feel fucking incredible, Beau. So hot and tight around me."

I reached up to touch his face, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment. His stubble was rough against my palm, his skin hot. He turned to press a kiss to my hand, then dipped down to kiss my lips, gentle despite the tension running through his body.

"You can move," I told him, rolling my hips again. The slight burn was fading, replaced by a strange fullness that hinted at pleasure. "Please, Trey. I need you to move."

That seemed to break something in his control. His eyes darkened further as he pulled back slowly, then pushed in again, the drag of his cock inside me sending sparks through my body.

"Oh," I gasped, surprised by how good it felt.

"Yeah?" he asked, repeating the motion, watching my face closely.

"Yeah," I nodded, clutching at his shoulders. "More."

He started a slow rhythm, shallow thrusts that gradually deepened as my body adjusted. His muscles flexed with each movement, the strength in his body obvious but controlled, holding back for my sake. A sheen of sweat made his skin glow in the hotel's dim lighting, highlighting every ripple of muscle as he moved.

When he shifted the angle slightly, he hit something inside me that made electricity shoot up my spine.

"Fuck!" I cried out, my back arching off the bed. "Oh my god, right there!"

A triumphant smile crossed his face as he repeated the motion, hitting that spot with perfect precision. "There?" he asked, his voice rough with exertion.

"Yes! Don't stop, please don't stop," I begged, no longer caring how desperate I sounded. Nothing had ever felt this good, this right. My hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles work as he drove into me, nails digging into his skin when he hit that perfect spot again.

"Louder," he growled, picking up the pace. "Want to hear how good I make you feel."

"So good," I gasped, words spilling out without thought. "You feel so good inside me, Trey. Please, harder. I need it harder."

His control visibly snapped at my words. His thrusts became deeper, more powerful, the sound of skin against skin filling the room along with our ragged breathing. One of his hands slid between us, wrapping around my cock, stroking in counterpoint to his thrusts.

"Trey," I whimpered, completely undone by the dual sensation. "Oh god, oh fuck, it's so good. Don't stop."

"Tell me, baby," he encouraged, his face twisted in pleasure, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead onto my chest. His hair was wild, his lips swollen from our kisses, his eyes never leaving my face as he drove into me. "Tell me how good it feels."

The dual stimulation was overwhelming, pleasure building to almost unbearable levels. I'd never felt anything like this, never imagined my body could experience such intensity. My usual analytical mind had completely surrendered to sensation, to the rhythm Trey set, to the connection between us that felt significant beyond the physical.

"Oh fuck, Trey," I gasped, feeling my balls tighten as my orgasm approached. "I'm gonna come."

"Me too," he admitted, his rhythm faltering slightly before steadying again. "Want to see you come all over yourself while I'm inside you. Stop fighting it, Beau. Let go for me."

His words, combined with a particularly well-aimed thrust against my prostate and a twist of his hand around my cock, sent me hurtling over the edge. I came harder than I ever had in my life, shooting hot ropes of cum across my stomach and chest, some even hitting my chin as I cried out his name.

"Fuck, fuck, that's it," Trey groaned, watching me come apart beneath him with hungry eyes. "So fucking hot, Beau."

He continued pounding into me through my orgasm, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure until I was trembling and whimpering from oversensitivity. Only then did he allow his own control to slip, his thrusts becoming faster and more erratic.

"Going to come inside you," he growled, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. "Fuck, Beau!"

His cock pulsed inside me as he buried himself to the hilt, his face contorting with pleasure as he came. The knowledge that he was filling the condom inside me, marking me in some primal way, sent an unexpected aftershock of pleasure through my system.

For several long moments, we remained connected, both panting and slick with sweat, my hands tracing shaky patterns across his back. The weight of him above me felt grounding rather than crushing, a pleasant reminder of what we'd just shared.

"Holy shit," he finally murmured against my neck, pressing soft kisses to my pulse point.

Eventually, he carefully withdrew his softening cock, both of us wincing slightly at the sensation. I felt strangely empty, my hole clenching around nothing. He disappeared briefly into the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth to clean the mess of lube and cum from between my legs and across my stomach and chest, the gentle care in his actions a striking contrast to the intensity of moments before.

When he settled back on the bed beside me, pulling me against his chest in a way that felt surprisingly natural, I allowed myself to really look at him. His hair stuck up at odd angles, his face flushed with exertion, eyes softer than I'd ever seen them. This version of Trey was entirely new to me, unguarded in a way I'd never witnessed before.

"What?" he asked, catching my stare. "You're looking at me like you're trying to solve a math problem."

"Thank you," I said simply, the words insufficient for what I was feeling but all I could manage.

His eyebrows rose slightly. "For fucking your brains out? Because trust me, Harvard, that was mutual."

I snorted, shoving at his shoulder. "You're such an ass."

"An ass you just let fuck you," he shot back with a grin, but then his expression softened. "Seriously though, what are you thanking me for?"

I hesitated, trying to articulate something I didn't fully understand myself. "For being patient. For... seeing me. For making me feel like being bisexual isn't just some statistical anomaly in my life but something... real."

The word hung between us, charged with significance. I'd never labeled myself before tonight, despite having dated women in the past. Now, wrapped in Trey's arms, acknowledging my attraction to both men and women felt surprisingly natural.

Something shifted in his expression, vulnerability replacing the teasing. "I've always seen you, Beau," he said quietly. "Even when I hated you, I saw you."

The simple declaration hit me harder than any statistical analysis, any performance metric, any approval from my father ever had. To be seen, really seen, beyond the Sullivan name and expectations, beyond the analytical defenseman with the perfect positioning, was a gift I hadn't known I needed.

His hand found mine on the bedspread, fingers intertwining with a casual intimacy that felt new and familiar simultaneously. "You okay?" he asked. "Your ass must be sore as fuck after that."

"It definitely feels... used," I admitted, shifting slightly and wincing at the twinge. "But in a good way. Like after a really intense workout, but more... intimate."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Only you would compare getting fucked to a gym session, Harvard."

"Shut up," I mumbled, but I was smiling too.

"Was it worth waiting for?" he asked, something unexpectedly vulnerable flickering across his face.

"Absolutely," I said immediately. "Best first time I could have asked for."

He studied me for a moment. "You know, I had this whole plan to thoroughly wreck you tonight, but you kinda wrecked me instead."

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"I mean, I was supposed to be the one in control," he said, tracing patterns on my chest. "But watching you... the way you let go, how you trusted me enough to be that vulnerable? Fuck, Beau. That did things to me I wasn't expecting."

I felt a flush spread across my cheeks. "I didn't know what to expect. In my head, I'd analyzed all the mechanics, read about how it's supposed to work, but actually feeling it..." I shook my head. "No statistical model could have prepared me for that."

"Did you seriously make a statistical model for how gay sex would feel?" Trey asked, looking both horrified and amused.

"Not a formal one," I admitted sheepishly. "Just some mental calculations based on available data points."

Trey burst out laughing, burying his face against my neck. "You're ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. And somehow that makes me like you even more."

We fell silent for a moment, both catching our breath, bodies cooling in the hotel air conditioning. I felt myself starting to drift, oddly comfortable in a way I rarely experienced, when Trey's voice pulled me back.

"You know," he said, tracing patterns on my chest, "I never thought I'd hear the uptight Sullivan say 'fuck me harder' while begging for my cock. That was... unexpected."

I felt heat rush to my face. "Did I really say that?"

"Among other things," he teased. "Thank god the rooms on this floor are well insulated. Could you imagine if Williams or Reynolds heard that?"

"Oh god," I groaned, hiding my face against his shoulder. "That would be a disaster."

"Don't worry," Trey assured me, pressing a kiss to my temple. "No one heard. Just me. And it was hot as hell, Beau. Hearing you let go like that? Knowing I was the one making you feel that way? Best fucking feeling in the world."

I peeked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "Really?"

"Really," he confirmed, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You're usually so controlled, so... contained. Watching you come apart was..." he seemed to search for the right word, "beautiful."

Something warm bloomed in my chest at his words. Not the sharp heat of desire, but something softer, more dangerous. Something I wasn't ready to name.

"I never expected this," I admitted quietly.

"What? That sex with me would be mind-blowing?" he joked, but his eyes were serious.

"That I could feel like this," I clarified. "That I could want a guy this much. That being with you would feel so..."

"Right?" he offered when I struggled to find the word.

I nodded, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable. "Yeah. Right."

Trey studied me for a moment, his expression softening. "First time realizing you're into guys, too?"

"I'd never really let myself think about it," I admitted. "There were... moments. Thoughts I pushed away. But this is the first time I've actually..."

"Acted on it," he finished for me.

My father would be at the Lakeside game on Sunday, bringing with him all the weight of Sullivan expectations. The knowledge still sent a flutter of anxiety through me, but it felt more manageable now, less overwhelming. Because for the first time, I was beginning to understand that there might be more to me than just being my father's son. That I might have value beyond the Sullivan legacy.

As I drifted toward sleep, Trey's arm tightening around me even in his dreams, I allowed myself to imagine a future where I played hockey because I loved it, not because it was expected. Where I made choices based on my own desires, not my father's plans. Where someone looked at me and saw Beau, not just another Sullivan man.

Where I could explore my attraction to both men and women without shame or fear.

It was terrifying. Exhilarating. And for tonight at least, wrapped in the warmth of Trey's arms, it felt possible.