Page 35 of Speak in Fever

T here's a lot of things Percy wants to do with Rath as they head back to the hotel, but talking is not one of them.

Rath keeps his hands to himself in the Uber, and stares studiously out the window, in a show of awkwardness that is both endearing and utterly at odds with the man who was in his lap grinding against his dick ten minutes ago.

But talking is important. This is big. This could change their lives, their careers. They need to talk about this.

The Uber drops them at the hotel and they head inside. Percy fishes his keycard out of his wallet and lets them into the room, and Rath enters first and takes off his shoes. He crosses the suite and sits on the couch, but Percy lingers in the doorway like he's entering someone else's room.

The intensity of their make out session is far behind them and now things are just weird. Like they'd been that morning after they woke up tangled in bed together and Percy had overstepped for the hundredth time.

He runs a hand through his hair, and Rath sits tense on the edge of the couch, and he hates that this can't just be easy.

That they can't just be regular guys out at a bar that are hooking up, rather than members of a prominent NHL team who could end up splattered across the front of a tabloid if anyone suspected so much as a whiff of a story.

And Rath should care about that as much as Percy cares about that. He's never seen Rath pick up a woman, so maybe he's gay and fine with it, but Percy is definitely not out. Nobody in the NHL is out. So it's terrifying, okay? It's a lot.

Percy crosses the room and sits on the couch, close enough to be intentional, and he can feel Rath stiffen a little beside him in response.

“If you're going to give me the it's not you it's me speech you can save it,” he says, still not looking at Percy.

He wants to ask how Rath can be so carefree about this. Anyone could have seen them in that club. It's like he doesn't care about the consequences. It's like he doesn't care about the fact that if people know then things will change.

It angers him a little, to know Rath isn't thinking this through, that he's not considering what Percy would be putting on the line.

“So you just want me to risk my captaincy and my place on the team for a quick fuck, is that it?” He asks.

“It's not–I’m not asking for a hookup, Percy.”

“Then what the fuck are we doing?”

Rath sighs then, heavy and complicated, and turns to look at him for the first time since they left the club.

There's a vulnerability in his expression that takes Percy back, sizzles out some of the anger building in his veins.

There's something else there that he doesn't want to see, something hurt and aching and open.

“I like you, okay?” He says quietly, but there's little space between them and there's no other sound in the room but the whirl of the central heating. It might as well be shouted from the rooftops, it's so loud in Percy’s ears, and then the rest of his anger really does fizzle out.

Before Percy can say anything, before he can even process it, Rath takes a breath and continues, just as determined, “And I can't be something convenient for you, okay? You can't just keep… if you want me, I need you to tell me.”

The laugh that erupts between them, short and humorless, is punched out of Percy. Rath frowns at him, confused, but Percy reaches out and cups his jaw with his hand.

“Rath, you are the most inconvenient thing that has ever happened to me.”

Percy kisses him and this time there is more heat to it, more urgency.

When Percy’s hand slips underneath the hem of his shirt, Rath gasps against his mouth.

Percy nudges his face back up, and sets their mouths together.

Rath opens up underneath him, soft and pliant and warm, and Percy licks his way into his mouth with his fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He pulls back and kisses the corner of Rath’s mouth, catching his upper lip between his with soft pulls.

Percy shivers when Rath’s nose brushes against his own, sliding his lips to the center of Rath’s mouth and dipping his tongue back inside.

He rubs his open hand up Rath’s arm to his shoulder to the side of his neck, sinking a little further into the couch under his weight.

Slow, syrupy heat drips down the back of Percy’s throat, and pools deep in his belly.

Rath’s hand pushes and pulls at his thigh, fingers rubbing in deeper and deeper circles, and he whines high and soft in the back of his throat.

Percy can feel his cock hardening against the zipper of his pants. He bites down on Rath’s plush lower lip, drawing it out until it slips free, and then nipping the round of his chin. He kisses his jaw, his cheek, and the baby soft lobe of his ear.

“Is this okay?” he asks, remembering to open his eyes as he pushes Rath’s head to the side to mouth his neck above the collar of his shirt.

Rath shudders, and nods blindly. “Yes–it feels…yes.”

Percy grins against the line of Rath’s jaw and sets his teeth around the bone and presses in, right where people couldn’t help but see.

Rath’s entire body spasms against him, a garbled half-gasp caught in his throat.

He pulls back and exhales like he’s been punched.

Rath rocks forward, and straddles him, twisting his jaw free of Percy’s teeth.

He settles across Percy’s lap, knees digging into the outside of his thighs, hands digging into the meat of his shoulders, and locks their mouths together.

Percy groans, and sucks at Rath’s tongue, then chases it back between Rath’s lips. His hands tighten in the younger man’s hair, nails scraping his skin. He can hear the pounding of his blood racing against the sound of Rath’s quick, high breaths.

Rath’s heat teases him, inches from his own body and never touching for more than a second.

He has to be hard, as hard as Percy is, straining beneath him–maybe already leaking in his jeans–but Rath’s body won’t move, perching over Percy’s lap like he is afraid to get any closer.

Percy’s hand slips from the nape of Rath’s neck and down his back, stroking along the curve of his spine.

He grips him tight at the waist, and rocks upwards from the couch, holding Rath in place against him.

Rath moans into his mouth, and shudders from head to toe.

He twists his head, wet lips stumbling across Percy’s cheek, and Percy digs his fingers into the flex of Rath’s muscles as he tries to thrust down to meet Percy’s hips.

Digging his heels into the carpet, Percy pulls rather Closer, forcing his legs to spread.

Rath’s back arches and his ass grinds downwards.

His hands grip the couch on either side of Percy’s head, mouth open and panting at the ceiling.

His head falls forward on a grinding shove, and his hot breath scalds Percy’s temple.

Fuck. Rath feels so good. His weight is pressing Percy into the couch, the thick hard feel of his cock, burning even through two sets of jeans. He wants the smaller man naked, wants him stretched out and spread open on his bed. He wants it so badly he can feel himself shake with it.

Percy twines his fingers around Rath’s belt loops and bucks up against him.

Their cocks rub together, riding the edge of not enough, and Percy can’t stand it any longer.

He strokes his hand down Rath’s back to the tangled hair at his neck and then down again, bringing both his hands around Rath’s waist and rubbing up his chest to his throat.

Rath hiccups a breath, his head rolling up as his eyes meet Percy’s.

Time stretches to a crawl, heat boiling between them as Percy inches his fingers underneath the points of Rath’s collar and around the button at his throat.

Rath swallows, licking his lips, and Percy’s fingertips ride the swell.

His breath comes like a bellows, deep from his chest, and it is weird that this is the moment that Percy can feel the strangeness of the situation poking at them, like looking at them from another room.

Percy holds his hands still, and stops his hips from jerking upwards into Rath’s heat as much as he is able to.

He lets Rath breathe, lets him vibrate above him, lets him press heavy fingers into his shoulders until Percy is certain he can feel the whorls of Rath’s fingerprints embedding into his skin.

Rath watches him, licking his red and swollen lips with his tongue, and when Percy smiles at him, the corners of his mouth lift and hold.

He nods, once up and once down, and then Percy is kissing him as he unbuttons the first button of his shirt.

He pushes his mouth down the line of Rath’s jaw, setting his teeth against the pulse there as the next three open, then settles at his collarbone as he loses the next five.

Rath kisses the top of his head, and his right hand grips the back of Percy’s neck as he bites down, pressing him close as he sucks a bruise into the hollow of his collarbone and pushes Rath’s shirt off his chest.

Rath shivers, dropping his hands and Percy moves his hands to map a path across the center of his chest. His skin feels thin on his ribs, and the indentations around his muscles, smooth and pliable, pale like milk.

Percy imagines what he would look like tanned and golden from the sun, smelling like summer grass and clean air.

Rath bucks when Percy uncurls his fists and strokes his palms upwards from his flat stomach, and groans when he thumbs the point of his nipples.

Percy licks over the red splotch curving over the wing of Rath’s collarbone.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Percy says, tilting his head up and nipping Rath’s lips. “You’re so responsive.”

Rath’s eyes squeeze shut and he grinds down into Percy’s lap.

Percy groans, digging his fingers along the curves of Rath’s ribs.

They rock together, harsh and out of rhythm.

Rath’s hands are like vises around his shoulders, and Percy knows he’ll have bruises to show for it tomorrow.

He sucks at Rath’s plush lower lips, and scrapes his hands down to Rath’s waist, and fights the urge to topple Rath to the floor and fuck into him until he can’t remember his name.

Rath’s eyes flutter half-open and his full mouth parts. Percy tucks his hands under the waist of Rath’s jeans, his thumbs tapping his belt buckle. This time Rath’s nod is so slight, Percy almost doesn’t catch it.

But, just as his hands land on the buckle, Rath inhales and his body jerks away.

Percy freezes, hands suspended between them, but Rath is grinning at him, and Percy can’t help but grin back at him.

Then Rath’s hands are at Percy’s waist, and, just like that, it’s game on.

He tears Rath’s belt open a second faster than Rath’s hands on his own button and zipper, and then pops the buttons on Rath’s jeans with both hands.

He pulls and Rath sits forward. They topple sideways, Rath’s gasping laugh falling against the side of his face, as they wriggle together, shoving at each other’s jeans and boxers.

Their hands smack into each other, fingers tangling together until finally Rath is on his back on the couch.

It feels so good to have him underneath him, feels so good to have his skin under his hands.

He slides his left arm up, curving his elbow above the fall of Rath’s hair, and flexes his other hand along the hard, curving line of Rath’s cock.

Rath’s thighs fall open for him like an invitation, his stomach tensing as Percy’s fingers dip down to his balls.

Rath’s left hand fumbles at Percy’s naked hip, thumb sliding down the groove between his leg and his cock.

Rath licks his lips and looks up at him, panting and flushed.

His hand moved from Percy’s hip and his fingers drag through his wiry hair before gripping his cock and squeezing tightly.

Percy shudders, and drops his head, fumbling their mouths into a kiss.

Percy wraps his fingers just under the sticky head of Rath’s cock, and circles his fingertips around the slit until his entire palm feels slick and Rath is whining into his throat.

He pumps harder, pulling to the right so that Rath’s hips twist towards him rather than away.

Rath’s hand clenches and unclenches around Percy’s dick, loose enough for Percy to thrust and tight enough to be perfect.

Their knuckles bump, Percy’s foreskin catches on the head of Rath’s cock, and Percy curls his free hand into the back of Rath’s head.

Rath wriggles, panting into Percy’s neck.

His fingers open, sliding to meet Percy’s opening hand, and then they are gripping together, slick and tight and hot in each other’s grasp, and fucking perfect.

“God, the shit I want to do to you,” Percy says, clenching his fingers around Rath’s and shuddering. “I want–” he bucks as Rath twists his fingers, so fucking good, “--I want you around my cock. You’re so good, Rath, so fucking perfect–”

Rath whines low in his throat, gasping, "Percy–”

The couch shakes beneath them, rattling on its metal frame, and the heat is going to fry Percy to a crisp, burn him into ash until nothing is left.

Rath is moving against his skin, sweaty and hard and moaning like he’s forgotten he needs to breathe, and he can’t believe he thought this was a bad idea.

Their cocks slide against each other, their fingers meet and twist, and Rath’s bites down on Percy’s neck.

He shakes once, hard and all over, and then Percy feels hot liquid splashing over his knuckles, slipping down his arm to the couch.

Rath’s fingers flutter in Percy’s, rubbing in tight circles on his shaft, stroking his foreskin. His lips are a lazy pulse on Percy’s skin, and Percy is coming, shooting out across Rath’s skin.

Rath slumps against him, boneless and pliable in a way Percy has never seen before.

He rubs his nose in Percy’s biceps, hair a sweaty mess against Percy’s face.

Percy closes his eyes and breathes in. He can’t smell anything but them, sex and sweat.

Slowly, they break free of each other. Rath blinks up at him, mouth bruised, covered in Percy’s marks like he’s been mauled, and Percy tries to breathe like a normal person.

“So much for talking,” Rath manages, and Percy groans.