Page 13 of Two Guys One Puck (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #2)

THIRTEEN

KTYTOR

I barely get my towel back around my hips and get seated before a figure comes into view.

“We were wondering where you two disappeared to. Not gonna lie, a couple of guys were taking bets on you two fighting it out somewhere.” It’s one of the assistant coaches.

I’m shocked by his candor.

I laugh gleefully. “No one would be surprised. But no, we get along great…off the ice.”

Seaborn snorts, and I glance over at him, daring him to fucking say something.

The coach glances between us. “I’m shocked.”

“We leave it all on the ice,” Seaborn adds, getting it together and playing his part.

The coach agrees with us. “That’s a really mature way to do it. You can’t really control who you face day to day.”

“No, and he might piss me off on the ice, but I’ve come to find him amusing company off.”

“It’s one of the best parts about these camps, isn’t it?” Coach nods. “It’s such a good opportunity to network and get to know the guys off the ice. We’re really glad we can be a part of it.”

I give him a put-on smile. “Thank you for giving us the opportunity.”

“Yes, thank you,” Seaborn says hurriedly.

“Are you two almost done? You’re going to miss dinner.”

“Yes. We started talking and lost track of time. Sorry.” I put on a full act.

“No worries. I love the steam room myself,” Coach says before leaving.

We break out laughing when he’s gone, easing some of the tension.

“Fuck you.”

“I think what you mean is thank you.” I shove to my feet, grabbing my dick through my towel. “I’m hungry. Let’s go!”

“You don’t want me to…” He clears his throat.

“Of course I want the favor returned, but I’m not letting you rush this. I want to enjoy every fucking minute of you making me come.” I’m not sure he’s actually going to do it. He seems pretty attached to his straightness or whatever.

I don’t have time to worry about compulsory heterosexuality.

Even if it isn’t a crime anymore, nothing like that would be accepted in my family.

I’d been called every slur that exists growing up.

But I’d come to believe, like a lot of people my age, that it’s all fucking shit.

None of that matters when you’re staring down the barrel of a gun and everything you know and love is at risk.

We change in silence, and I wonder if Seaborn is going to go back to being standoffish. He’s got some post-nut clarity. Or fear. Both embarrassing. I’ll never understand people who don’t own their wants. Life is too fucking short to put on a show for yourself.

Christ. I’m exhausted thinking about living that way.

We eat dinner, and he manages to not completely ignore me. I guess he likes this image of us at each other’s throats on the ice, and off the ice, we’re chummy? It’s comical, but if it gets me signed next year so I can get the hell out of college hockey, I’ll take it.

But the second we get back to our room and the door closes behind us, I don’t know what to expect. Neither of us says anything. He moves to the back of the room to lean against the edge of the desk with his hands loosely tucked into his pockets. Total dad energy. I laugh.

“Christ. How old are you?” I rub my forehead suddenly, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.

His face contorts. “What are you talking about?”

“If you were in khakis right now, I’d think you were going to give me some American father lecture about safe sex.”

Seaborn glances down. “I don’t look like a dad. What is wrong with you?”

“Is your vibes. Not my fault you have dad vibes.” I shrug, refusing to elaborate. “Are we going to have some big conversation now where you scold me?”

“Are you into that?” he asks, cracking a smile.

“Do you want me to be?”

“I don’t fucking know—you brought it up. And I’m too young to be a dad.” Seaborn shudders.

“With all those puck bunnies you fuck, you can’t be sure you’re not.”

He holds up his middle finger. “Fuck you. I told you it had been awhile for me too.”

“So I’m wrong about how you usually are?”

“Well…no. But how did you know?” Seaborn is a little pissy, which I find cute. It makes the freckles on his nose stand out when he scrunches his face.

“You know how players are with gossip.”

“Worse than old housewives.” He rubs a hand over the back of his head. “I didn’t know I was so talked about.”

“I did ask.” I don’t know why I’m admitting this.

“What?”

I lift my shoulders again. “I’m not ashamed of it. After the kiss, I had questions.”

“What kind of questions?” He’s grinning now.

“Mostly why you’re an insufferable prick. And then I tried to find out if you’re into men. Subtly, of course,” I add before he can accuse me of starting rumors with my questions.

He doesn’t, though. He just nods. “And what did you find out?”

“That you get around but don’t date.” I think back on anything else that might be interesting. “You seem well-liked.”

“Who has time to date with our schedules?”

“You obviously have time to pick up women. That’s a game in itself. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but everyone does it. It’s like not drinking. We all know that’s not good for us, but it’s hard to be on the team and not do what all the other guys are doing.” Seaborn seems almost embarrassed about it.

“Is all the beer. It makes Americans slow and bloated. Takes you out of your game. You must be like my people and only drink clear liquor. Is how we stay sharp.”

He scoffs. “With your genes, I bet you can drink a liter of it and not be hung over.”

“There are good parts about Eastern European.”

I sit on the bed and take my trainers off, tossing them over by the door.

“You really just going to leave them there?” he asks exasperatedly.

“What?” I glance at my shoes.

“They are a tripping hazard. Do you want to break your leg or tear something?” He shoves off the desk and picks them up, setting them nicely in the closet. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“We don’t have mothers in Ukraine. We are born under rocks and raised to fight fascism.”

Seaborn gives off a disbelieving grunt and heads back to the desk, but I grab him by the belt loop on the way, drawing him in between my knees.

“I think we were in the middle of something before we were interrupted.” I slide my hands up the outside of his thighs.

“Middle? I’m pretty sure I finished…” He smirks down at me.

“Pretty sure?” I ask flatly. “I would hope you’d remember a blow job.”

“Very sure. It was a really fucking good blow job.”

“Yes? I’m shocked you admit it was good.”

“Was that your first time…”

I lean in, brushing my lips along the waistline of his sweats, horny as fuck after all the edging. “Yes. Why?”

He moans, playing with my hair again, and I really like it. “You were really good at it. Better than any woman who’s blown me. Which is not many.”

“I don’t do things to be bad at them. Silly man,” I whisper over his skin.

Seaborn shivers, and it’s cute as fuck—not something I’d thought I would ever feel about him. “Of fucking course you don’t.”

I nip at his hip. “Now I want to see if you do things to be bad at them.”

He growls, tightening his grip on my hair. “I’ve never done any of this before.”

I pull back enough to look into his eyes. “Are you afraid you’re not going to be good at it, and I’ll show you up?”

His scowl deepens. “You aren’t going to show me up in anything.”

“I already have. I made you come so hard you forgot you hated me.”

“Only for a couple of hours.”

“I’m counting it as a win.” I nip the other hip and tug open his button.

He grabs my hand. “Oh no, you don’t. I’m not letting you say you have two times getting me off to my one.”

“If we’re really counting, I have one point five to your point five.”

“You insufferable bastard.” He bends down and hauls me up by my thighs, easily picking me up to toss me backward on the bed. He grabs my sweats and yanks them down.

“Commando? I should have known.”

“I don’t like to be constricted.” I tuck my hands behind my head to watch.

He moves like a fighter, and now I’m sure he’s boxed.

The way he hits, I wouldn’t be surprised.

He pushes my knees apart and slides his hands up the inside of my thighs.

I love the uncertainty in him. The slight hesitation in all his movements.

If I didn’t know what I was looking for, I would have missed it, but this makes it all the better.

Hotter than anything I’ve ever experienced, which shocks me.

I’ve always known I’m not like other guys.

I don’t have the drive for sex most of the morons I went to school with had.

I’ve always felt pretty indifferent about all of it.

I like to get off, but mostly, it’s easier to get myself off and not have to deal with someone else.

I’m not overtly attracted to most. Maybe I’m not at all, and I know that’s weird, so I’ve always kept it to myself.

But Seaborn changes something. I wasn’t attracted to him even after the kiss, he just pissed me off, but now I realize I find him sexy.

He wraps his hand around my cock. “You’re so thick.”

“Do you like it?”

He locks our gaze and then nods, but just barely.

I grin wider. “Are you going to jack me off, or are you actually going to suck it?”

Seaborn growls again, lowering down to his elbows, which flexes his shoulders, chest, and arms. “I should edge you like you did to me.”

“Be my guest. You can stay down there all night.”

He flicks his tongue over my tip hesitantly. “You’d fucking like that.”

I involuntarily moan, which seems to give him more confidence. “I’m telling you I would, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t say another word, saying it all with his tongue. There’s no way I’ll last, even if I wanted to piss him off. He takes his time getting a taste, and I’m desperate to be in his throat by the time he takes me fully into his mouth.

I try to fuck his mouth by lifting my hips off the bed, but he pins me to the bed with both arms, forcing me to come at his pace. It’s hot how he takes control. He’s awkward at first but gets a rhythm to his sucking and adds his hand.

This is going to be a problem.