Page 10 of Total Assist (For Puck’s Sake #13)

SHIVELY

“Thank you,” I tell the receptionist as she hands me the stack of keycards and a list of where the rooms are located. I skim the list and find the outlier on the tenth floor. One room. Mine.

I find that set of cards and grab a sticky note out of my pocket, writing the room number on it before sticking it to one of the cards.

Then I search for another outlier and find that there are only two rooms being used on the second floor.

I grab one of the room numbers and stick my card in it, intending to give that one to Dasan.

Picking the pile of cards up again after ensuring mine is safe in my pocket, I keep Dasan’s separated in my hand by my finger and turn to my team milling about the lobby.

“Alright,” I call. “Rooms are ready.”

My team makes a sloppy line, and I hand them each a sleeve with their room cards in it as they come by. There’s a constant stream of “Thank you, Coach” as I hand them out.

Dasan is about halfway through the pack. He meets my eyes with a playful smirk. Instead of taking one off the top, I give him the separated one that has a card to my room in it.

“Thank you, Coach,” he says like everyone else.

I incline my head in acknowledgment as I’ve been doing to everyone, but my heart races. There’s always that chance of a fuck-up, like if I somehow gave that room to someone else and that’s just some random keycard.

Logically, I know that’s not true. It’s not true. I was so damn careful. He has his room on the second floor and a key to mine on the tenth.

My heart continues pounding wildly even as I hand over room cards to Reno and Mina. It feels as if they can see my heart pounding out of control in my chest.

Dasan and I didn’t make plans for tonight, so this is me trying to hint that I want him to come over after the game.

Since we only have an hour before we need to get on the bus and head over to the Colorado Thorns’ arena, there’s very little time for anything now.

Just long enough to drop our shit, change, and maybe get a drink.

We haven’t set up a routine yet. There’s no schedule of any kind in place for me and Dasan except our text check-ins and daily phone calls. I need something physical. I hope I’m not being too forward with slipping my card in there.

The buzzer fills the arena, signaling the end of the game. I know the score, but my eyes flick to the clock anyway. Tied 3-3. All my players on the ice skate to the bench while I study Colorado. I’m not a fan of pulling my goalie. That’s a vulnerability we don’t need to take.

“How you feeling, Arivitis?” I ask.

“As in you ask I stay on ice or take bench?”

I grin. “No. Are you feeling good about defending if I put three offensives on the ice?”

Marion looks at his teammates. “Yes. We will work it out.”

From choppy English to a mostly proper sentence.

I love the way he messes with everyone. One of the Russian players from another team, who speaks very clear English most of the time, started pretending he didn’t know English whenever an opponent tried to insult him.

Marion witnessed this once and has since gone in and out of “understanding English,” to all of our amusement.

“Good. Ukiah, Morris, Willow. Take us home.”

Tove’s eyes widen. Dasan grips his shoulder in encouragement.

“You got this, Tove,” Felton says.

Tove nods, though he doesn’t appear entirely sure.

“Alright, let’s get on with it, so we can get back to the hotel and rest. It’s been a long game, and you’ve fought hard.”

“Aye, Coach,” several of my players say.

Dasan isn’t looking at me, but I study his profile, wondering if he’ll join me in my room tonight. Taking a deep breath and letting the hints of icy air fill my lungs, I turn my attention back to the game.

My men head out to the ice and get ready for puck drop. “Come on, come on, come on,” Zenia mutters as he leans forward.

As soon as the puck hits, it’s a mad rush to take control. It immediately heads for Marion, and I clench my teeth. Denny is decent at defense, which is why I almost always put him in during overtimes if I can help it.

Yes, Tove was maybe a wild card. This is his first year in the NHL, and I’ve watched him take risks that our more seasoned players don’t.

That’s why I wanted him on the ice. He’s willing to push more radical moves, moves that might be showy, but those are the exact moves that the other team isn’t expecting, which is why some of them work.

Marion blocks a shot, and Denny takes possession of the puck. The players race to the other end. Denny loses the puck to Colorado number eight, but Tove takes the puck from him. He brings it around their goal, and I swear, sometime behind the goal, the puck disappears.

There’s half a second’s confusion, and in that time, Tove slaps the puck into the goal.

My team cheers. Denny and Dasan sandwich Tove in a hug.

Like most of the arena, we’re all looking up at the replay to find that Tove scooped up the puck so it sat on the end of this stick, but he was moving in such a way that his stick looked like he was just carrying it along.

“Fucking magic,” Willits says, laughing.

We win in overtime, 4-3. My team is ecstatic, loud and rambunctious, as they celebrate on their way to the locker room. I spend a few minutes congratulating them on the win and Tove on his spectacular shot. His cheeks are pink as he beams at me.

The bus ride back to the hotel doesn’t quiet down.

If we were home, I imagine that the team would go out to celebrate.

Dinner and drinks, maybe. At the hotel, they’ll likely remain in the bar for a while, encouraging the bartender to put on Sports Spot because we know that Tove’s shot is going to be replayed at least a dozen times tonight.

I don’t race upstairs because that would be suspicious.

I make sure my entire team heads upstairs first. They’re in good spirits, which is to be expected after we win.

It was a close win, though. I think Felton might have been in his head tonight, and based on how Ren moved around him during breaks, that assumption feels pretty close to the truth.

Felton’s family is officially banned from all our games.

That’s not to say they can’t randomly show up anyway.

It would be impossible for the security staff of all thirty-two arenas to memorize their faces.

I have to think that they’re smart enough to stay away given the restraining order Felton took out on them.

Whatever it is, I trust Ren to make sure Felton gets whatever it is he needs, and if he needs help doing so, I have confidence that Ren will ask as he has in the past.

For right now, I need to feel Dasan’s need for me . I still don’t race to my room. Even though I’m alone on the tenth floor, I would rather not call attention to myself if I can help it.

Once in my room, I strip from my suit and take a quick shower. Then I’m on my knees on a pillow on the floor facing the door. How long will I need to wait? Does Dasan even plan to come up?

I should have checked my phone, but I didn’t even think of it. Maybe he’s going out with his friends. Though… maybe not. I don’t think Felton will be up to go out tonight.

I close my eyes and take a breath. However long it takes Dasan to get here, I will wait patiently. That’s what a good… uh, pet… does. Right? Hmm. I hope he’s not overly attached to that name. It’s weird.

Would Dasan be okay if I suggested an honorific?

Not that I have one in mind, but what if I think of one to try on for a while?

I know he doesn’t like sir. I don’t even like the way it sounds coming out of my mouth.

How do people decide on their honorifics?

Is there a database we haven’t found yet?

Or do they all just stick with the common ones?

My heart jumps into my throat when I hear my door beep, and I can’t catch my breath. I know that it can only be Dasan… unless I accidentally gave my room key to someone else. Oh, fuck, please let me have given my key to Dasan only!

Thankfully, it’s Dasan that walks in, and I release a sigh of relief. Thank all the fucks. He’s still in his suit, and goddamn is he gorgeous in it.

“How good you are,” he says quietly as he locks the door behind him. Dasan crosses the room and grips my chin, making sure I’m looking into his eyes. “You struggle with telling me what you want verbally, but it seems like you’ve found another way to tell me what you want, haven’t you?”

I swallow. “I also want you to take what you want, when you want it,” I say in a rush. “You don’t do that, sir.”

Dasan smiles after we both wince. “Let’s try… Lord?” he says, but I can already tell he’s not a fan of that either by the way his face scrunches.

“Yes, Lord.”

He hums. “That’s not going to last, but anyway, I hear you.

I’m sorry. You’re right, I haven’t been good about taking what I want from you unless you initiate it first. Your earlier uncertainty has me hesitating, and I haven’t taken that control back.

So I’m going to add a new rule. Are you listening, concubine? ”

I grin then nod. “Yes, Lord.”

“Oof. I hate both of those. Anyway. During away games, you will continue to give me a key to your room, and you will continue to wait for me after games, just like this. Understand?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“During the days we don’t have games, we’ll play it by ear. You often have things going on those days, right?”

I nod. “Yes. Meetings and planning.”

“Okay, so we play the down days by ear with a lot of communication.”

“Yes, Lord. Thank you.”

“You like rules,” he notes.

“I like knowing what you want,” I correct.

“During home games, we’ll also play it by ear, but I think we can agree to this same setup. After games, you’ll be waiting for me just like this at home, and I’ll be over after the game unless I tell you otherwise. We’ll also play by ear on the off days.”

“Yes, Lord. Thank you.”

“Such a polite concubine.”

I smile.

Dasan releases my chin and takes a step back. “I brought something for you.” He pulls a cock sleeve from his pocket. “First, I want to feel your hands on me. It was a stressful game tonight, and I want to feel my concubine worship my body.”

“Yes, Lord. Thank you.”

He sets the cock sleeve on the table beside the bed with a bottle of lube and condoms before he undresses. I watch as best I can over my shoulder as he climbs into bed. “Come here, Shiv.”

I scramble to climb onto the bed with him and wait at his side for further instruction.

“Make me feel good. Worship every inch of me and make me feel like I’m a god.”

That’s not going to be hard. I do worship every inch of him. He’s so damn sexy. I crawl over to him, and he spreads his legs so I crawl between them. I’ve only truly touched him once. The day he came over and we laid some ground rules and expectations.

That was nine days ago. I’m hungry for this man.

His dick is hard and waiting for me, so I wrap my hands around it. It’s so damn hard. If I could detach it from his body, I think I could use it as a mallet. I lick around his piercing then drag my tongue down the length of his shaft so I can reach his balls.

They’re nice and big, round, full, and also feel a little hard. I take his left testicle into my mouth, popping it in with an audible sound. Dasan groans, his body shifting beneath me. I suck on him gently and listen to the way he sighs.

I release his dick with one hand and touch his thick leg. The tendons of muscle dance under my fingers, flexing and relaxing. He has such sexy legs. Hairy and strong. I rub my hand over them, squeeze his dick rhythmically with my other hand, and gently suck on his left nut.

He continues to undulate beneath me, which I take as a sign that he enjoys what I’m doing.

I trade sides and give his right nut some mouth action too.

This leg is just as strong. After a while, I kiss up his dick again then move along his toned stomach, dipping my tongue into his navel and flicking the end of the barbell there.

Dasan sighs. “So good at this,” he murmurs. His fingers touch my hair tenderly, in no way giving me the impression that he wants me to go one way or another. So I follow his body up until I get to his nipples and lick them a few times. His moan is soft when I suck softly there too.

I love those little sounds. They’re so damn sexy. All the sounds he makes are sexy. Everything about him is sexy.

It isn’t until a few minutes later that I realize Dasan is beginning to relax under me. I hadn’t noticed he was feeling tense until his muscles began to loosen under my touch. I make a mental note that “worship my body” might be a code that he’s feeling tense and in need of some relief.

Now that I’ve been touching his body, I don’t want to stop. And now that I understand what he needs, I continue with a little more purpose as I work on his muscles while keeping my touch sensual—not fully sexual but sexy.

I can do this all night. Maybe he’ll just have to save the cock sleeve for another time.

Tasting him is the best feeling, and I want to keep tasting him until he comes.

We’re not in a hurry though. Not at all.

I’m not sure I have the skill, but maybe I can slowly stoke his orgasm until it sneaks up.

Then I’m going to clean him up with my tongue.

With a goal in mind, I explore his entire body as he moans and strokes my hair and face, always watching me with such warmth in his eyes.