Page 27

Xander, December 19th

T he hallway in the Van der Hoff residence isn’t long enough to properly pace up and down. Definitely not long enough to get my mind off of what happened in the forest. Every time I reach the front door, I imagine pushing Nicko against it like I did against that tree. I picture how I’d pull his legs around myself, push his jacket open—something I couldn’t do while surrounded by snow—and how he’d again snark at me about dropping him, how I’d just buck forward and drag a moan out of his throat instead of more sass.

I’m so caught up in my head that, when I next turn around to face the entrance, seeing it swing open startles me. I’ve taken two steps forward on autopilot before freezing on the spot, worried that it’s actually Nate and his mother, back from the hospital.

The sight of Nicko’s tousled hair and flushed cheeks is a relief at first, before sending another spark of heat down my spine. He’s breathing harshly, like he ran back here as soon as he dropped off Coach. I don’t know if that’s the case, but I’m all too happy to assume that he too was eager to come back. To make use of the time we have alone.

The idea of it is enough to get me across the distance between us. Unlike in the forest, Nicko meets me halfway this time. One hand is still busy shaking his jacket off, but the other grabs for my sweater, bunching the fabric.

I slide my own hands over his sides, pushing him against the wall. My mouth brushes along his jaw and to his lips, eager to taste him again. They part readily this time, no biting needed. I gasp when Nicko’s tongue strokes against mine. When his hand wanders into my neck mine make their way down to his thighs again. But before I can lift him, Nicko turns his head, breaking our kiss.

“Wait!” He urgently pushes against my chest. “Wait, wait. Let’s– my room!” he orders, and I relent, letting him push me back. A room sounds good. More secure, and with the promise of a bed.

I follow him down the hallway; not entirely voluntarily, since his fingers are firmly wrapped around the collar of my sweater, dragging me along to the stairs. Like there's a chance I want to go anywhere else when his ass is right in front of me as we climb up, inviting me to frame his hips with my hands. I give in and worm my fingers into his back pocket.

Nicko doesn’t even flinch.

He leads me up to the second floor, past the door to the guest room and the one I recognize as Nate’s, to the one at the end of the hallway.

There’s still some underlying aggression when, as soon as we're through, Nicko pushes me against the door, closing it with our combined weight.

His mouth is hot against my neck, moving downward until he reaches my shirt, hissing when the sweater won’t stretch far enough for his liking. With an annoyed huff he pushes his hands under the hemline, briefly getting tangled with my own.

I move to pull my sweater off as a sharp thorn of a memory pokes me.

“What about Michael?” I switch my grip from my sweater to Nicko’s arms.

He doesn’t even pause, tugging on the fabric. “What Michael?”

I frown and pull his hands away again, holding onto his wrists, and wait until he looks up at me. “The Michael you wanted to go out with? Nate said–”

Nicko snorts and shakes his head. “Oh, that.” He reaches for the bottom of his own sweater, pulling it off and throwing it at me. He laughs when I’m too slow to catch it and the fabric momentarily blinds me. “Maybe Nate wanted to go out with Michael? I sure didn’t.”

It doesn't answer all my questions, but I can pretend it does. I finally pull my sweater and shirt over my head in one move.

“So this is…” I start as I drop my clothes next to Nicko's bed, my fingers working on my belt as I toe off my socks.

“Just to get it out of our system,” Nicko interrupts. Already in just his underwear, he reaches over to undo my jeans. His fingers make quick work of my fly and don't hesitate to give me a squeeze over my boxers.

“…right.” I should be relieved to hear that, since he will be my teammate in less than a year. My entrance to the NHL has already been complicated enough without me having even set foot on the ice yet.

I can't be the first out, gay NHL player and the one fucking his teammates. No agent would put up with the publicity nightmare of that, let alone the team’s PR manager. So I really should hope that whatever odd attraction we're harboring toward one another will be out of our systems after today.

Still, there's an odd sinking sensation in my stomach.

I'm torn out of my thoughts when Nicko pushes me, and I tumble backward onto his bed. He laughs at my yelp, and then pulls my jeans off my legs, dropping them to the side.

“Come on, Hart. Turn that super-brain off for a fucking minute.”

“Xander,” I correct him again, quietly grateful for the interruption. Not that I'd ever tell him; he wouldn't shut up about that either.

Leaning back on my hands, I stretch out my legs. Nicko takes the invitation and joins me on the bed, kneeling between them.

“Sure, Alex ,” he huffs, rolling his eyes.

I growl and surge forward to grab him by the elastic of his boxers, dragging him down with me. A quick roll brings us dangerously close to the edge of the bed—and Nicko under me.

“Xander,” I insist, pressing the word against his lips, breathing it into his mouth. If this is the only chance I get to hear him moan my name, I’ll make sure it’s the right one.

Nicko bucks his hips up against mine. His tongue invades my mouth, pushing and stroking. The heat builds between our bodies as we press together, eager for more.

My hand slides along his thigh, squeezing and then pulling Nicko’s leg up and around my waist. I roll my hips again, languidly, dragging my forming erection against the bulge in Nicko’s boxers.

His head drops back with a sharp gasp.

I grin, then do it again, groaning deeply at the sparks the friction sends down my spine.

One of Nicko’s hands squeezes my shoulder hard enough for his nails to dig in. I mouth along the sensitive skin of his throat, looking up at him only once I’ve reached his collarbone. My hand wanders further up his thigh to his ass, feeling along the full curve of it. Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside him, to make him gasp instead of running his mouth. But I want to make sure it’s what he wants too.

“You’ve done this before, right?”

“Of course!” Nicko says, jutting out his chin, but something gives me pause. His tone is as cocky as always, his eyes glinting in that way that dares me to call him out and take him up on his challenge. His answer came just a touch too quickly.

Paired with the way his shoulders tense, the muscle moving in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, I'm already torn before I feel a shudder going through him as I give his ass a squeeze.

His green eyes widen, only fleetingly meeting my own before darting away. Nicko’s throat moves as he swallows.

No matter how determined he is to not let his inexperience show, my gut tells me otherwise. Even in our situation I wouldn’t expect him to worry that much about bottoming.

I bite my tongue, ducking my head to nose behind his ear, teasingly tugging on his lobe.

Change of plans then.

“Good,” I say lightly, intending to cover my own nerves. It’s been a while since I've done this with someone—and not just my own hand or a toy—but I’m not going to take anyone’s virginity over something so casual as getting it out of our system .

Even if it's just a guess.

“Then you’ll know what to do.” I roll over to take my boxers off. Nicko stays splayed out on his back, only pushing himself up when I settle in next to him on my knees. His eyes fall to my middle before he looks up at me, cheeks flushing.

“What are you doing?”

“You really need me to give you a hint?” I hold onto the headboard with one hand for balance, shifting my knees apart. Then I deliberately slowly suck the index and middle finger of my other hand into my mouth.

Nicko’s eyes follow the movement, his lips parting. His attention encourages me to keep going, spreading my legs apart further so I can reach around myself to run my fingers over my entrance.

Although the wetness of my spit on my sensitive skin genuinely makes me shudder, I play it up, biting my lower lip with a soft moan. It’s a different anticipation building now, nerves mixing with the soft thrill of arousal as I push against the furled muscle.

My eyes close to blend out my audience, even just for a moment. It affects me more than I'd like to admit that I'm putting on a show for Nicholas van der Hoff of all people.

Getting blown by him in the locker room when we're both fired up is one thing.

Fingering myself open for his benefit, knowing that I also want him to fuck me, is a whole other level.

But soon enough my focus narrows to the point where my finger is rubbing against my hole. I take a few deep breaths and manage to relax enough to push the tip inside.

“Fuck,” Nicko rasps next to me, closer than expected, and I open one eye to smirk at him.

“Getting the idea?” I restlessly shift on my legs, inching my finger further in. The intrusion burns, dragging another gasp out of my throat. I pull my hand back, soaking my fingers with more spit before reaching down again.

On the way there I briefly nudge against Nicko's hovering hand.

He flinches, throwing me a look.

I raise one shoulder and shift closer to him. Raising up onto my knees, I lean towards the headboard, stretching out my back.

Taking the permission, he slides his palm over my hip, moaning softly as he cups my ass, pulling me open just as I push my finger back inside. I let out a low moan of my own, the feeling of being exposed quickly forgotten in the rush of more burning pleasure-pain.

Nicko's thumb rubs against the top of my crease and my hips jerk forward against nothing.

“Oh, fuck.”

“So hot, holy shit,” he mutters. His voice is soft enough that I'm not sure if he's aware that I heard him. I groan in agreement anyway, then push back onto my finger, taking it almost up to the knuckle now.

“Lube,” I manage between more deep breaths as I adjust, lowering my head to lean my forehead against my other arm.

“...hm? Oh,” Nicko says behind me, and I can't help but laugh softly, waiting until I feel him move before I turn my head to watch him. His flush has expanded down his neck, his eyes keep darting from where he’s rummaging through the drawer of his nightstand back to me, trailing down to where I'm slowly moving my fingers.

He finally does produce a tube of lube, throwing it onto the bed next to me. But instead of returning, as I expected, he darts away, over to the duffel bag that’s standing next to the wardrobe. When he gets back on the bed, he has his wallet in hand.

I pause, uncapped tube of lube in hand. “No, by all means. This is a service I provide free of charge,” I start rubbing the gel between my fingers to warm it up.

Nicko pulls a crinkling foil packet from a compartment, raising his eyebrows at me.

“I’d rather pass up an STD, even if it’s for free.” He tosses his wallet aside and shuffles in close behind me.

Rolling my eyes I return my focus to relaxing enough to take two of my fingers. The next intrusion is smooth enough that I can roll my hips, crooking my digits in search of my own prostate.

Bolder now, Nicko’s hand traces along my crease. He hesitates for a moment, then his fingers probe against my entrance, slick and warm. I shudder as the tip of his index rubs against the rim, then pushes into me alongside my own fingers.

“Oh, God!”

More noises escape my throat as the burn of the stretch intensifies, only slowly giving way to a steady thrum. My hips mirror the pulses with minute thrusts against our hands.

Nicko groans, and then there's a dull pain in my shoulder. He digs his teeth in, hard enough to make me worry about covering up the mark they leave behind, but I merely let my head fall against his, enjoying the spike of pain.

He curls his finger before slowly pulling back.

My vision goes fuzzy at the edges. “Fuck, I– fuck! Nicko, now!”

He repeats the motion before pulling away completely. I slump at the emptiness he leaves behind even as my own hand remains. All of a sudden that's not enough anymore.

Foil crinkles, and I turn my head just in time to watch Nicko roll the condom over his erection.

I reach for the lube again, not caring to warm it up this time and just dripping some over myself, hissing at the contact of the cool gel against my heated skin.

Nicko's hands chase mine away, and I let him rub the lube further into my skin. His fingers slip into me for a second, prompting a groan from both of us, but they're gone too soon.

I feel achingly empty until he shifts forward. His thighs brush against the back of mine, the tip of his erection nudging against my entrance.

My mouth drops open with a silent gasp. I remember what he felt like in my hand, all silky skin and hard flesh, but it's very different now that he's pressing up behind me. I draw up my shoulders, both hands on the headboard now, ready for the initial pain—but Nicko doesn't move.

One of his hands slides over my hip, thumb idly brushing along the base of my spine. It's warm and reassuring, and I can't help but arch into it.

Shifting one hand from the headboard, I brace myself against the wall behind to conceal my movement. Then I nod.

Nicko leans in close enough that I can feel his nose brush against my skin as he nods as well. His breath tickles the back of my shoulders.

I match his rhythm, relaxing slowly before I press back against him. Agonizingly slowly the tip of his erection enters me.

He feels huge, much bigger than even our three fingers. Big enough for the stretch to hurt. I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain, shoulders tensing. I try to focus on the heat of his dick where it fills me. On Nicko’s groans as his hips finally press against my ass.

He squirms impatiently, and I growl, reaching back to grab his leg and force him to hold still, to give me time to take a deep breath.

Slowly the deep ache recedes. Testing myself, I clench around Nicko’s erection, prompting a string of curses that’s too low and guttural for me to understand. My own erection gives a happy twitch.

I grin and do it again.

Nicko's hips stutter against my ass, almost a thrust.

Before I can tease him a third time, he grabs my hips with both hands, pulling back and slamming into me hard enough to push me forward against the headboard.

“Shit!”

“Not so smug now, huh?” Nicko growls into my ear.

A shiver trails down my back, causing me to involuntarily buck forward. I jut my ass out to meet his next thrust. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling and pushing while we establish a rhythm that has both of us panting.

Nicko’s next push goes deep enough that I see stars. I’m not going to last much longer, but I don’t want to be the first to give in. I squeeze around him, pushing back further to throw off his rhythm. Taking him to the root I rock down in short little bursts.

Nicko hisses and pushes me forward, holding me still as he fucks into me. It's too good, too much, too—

“Close!”

“I– almost,” he groans against my neck, his hot breath and rough voice raising goosebumps along my arms.

“Good,” I gasp out, tensing around him, determined to make him fall before me. “Just keep–” my voice breaks off into a moan as Nicko nails my prostate over and over, giving me exactly what I need.

“Fuck, Xander!”

The thrill of hearing him groan my name, paired with the spike of pain of his teeth on my neck, shudders through me. With the next thrust I spill all over the pillow, splashing even the headboard. My orgasm tears through me like an electric current. I’m left winded and gasping for breath as my body trembles with pleasure.

Spots dance in front of my vision, fading in and out. Vaguely, I register warmth pulsing inside of me as Nicko stills, then falls forward, catching himself on my back.

His hair brushes over my skin.

My arms shake as I hold both our weights, then slowly let us drop to the side before I roll onto my back. Nicko slumps down next to me with a soft grunt, boneless and sated. Part of me is still floating somewhere above, enjoying the blissful state of post-orgasm satisfaction.

“Oh, fuck,” Nicko groans vaguely. Without thinking about it I curl one arm around his waist, slowly rolling onto my side to face him. His hair sticks to his forehead, and as if on autopilot, I lean down to brush a strand away that’s lying over his eyes.

For a moment the only sound is our breathing.

Nicko’s green eyes are atypically soft when he blinks them open. The contact lasts only for a moment, then he clears his throat, turning his head.

“We should clean up,” he says quickly and sits.

I bite my tongue, then follow suit. “Yeah, sure, let me get right on that.”

I lean over the side of the bed, fishing up Nicko’s boxers to wipe my stomach clean.

“There, half done,” I tell him as I toss his now dirty underwear toward the hamper standing behind the door.

“Ass,” he grumbles, voice jumping a bit when he pulls off the used condom.

“You know it,” I say casually, though I have to fight to keep my voice level as I push to my feet. There’s a pull in my backside that will remind me of what we did. I know that it will go away in a couple of days, hopefully taking this tension between us with it.

For now, though, my steps are stilted as I pull on my underwear. I gather the rest of my clothes in my arms, stopping at the door to listen, but the rest of the house is silent.

I still hurry to make it to the guest room.