Page 18 of Two Guys One Puck (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #2)

EIGHTEEN

KTYTOR

M y coach lectures me for fucking half an hour after my comments before he lets me shower. I’m so pent up I’m not sure if I want to fight or fuck. Or even what happens with a tie. Nothing? We just go our separate ways? I know instantly that’s not what I want to happen.

Not after thinking about him all summer. I’m not letting us being in the same city end without getting a release.

By the time I get out of the locker room, everyone is gone. I check my phone, but there’s nothing. He can’t have left? Doesn’t he want this as badly as I do? Or maybe I’m just telling myself that to feel better about wanting to fuck the enemy.Maybe I’ve lost my mind. Who knows.

Ktytor: where are you?

Seaborn: Where the fuck are you?

Ktytor: Can you even answer a question?

Seaborn: I’m walking back to my place.

Ktytor: Can’t even wait for me. Typical.

Seaborn: I waited like half an hour.

Ktytor: I was dealing with my coach.

I scowl at my phone, knowing I can’t really be mad at him for leaving, but my emotions from the game are still strong.

Ktytor: If you don’t want to hold up your end of the bet.

Seaborn: Excuse me? I didn’t lose.

Ktytor: Neither did I.

Seaborn: So who gets who.

Ktytor: Fight me for it.

Seaborn: where?

Ktytor: don’t you have a place?

Seaborn: I have roommates. Don’t you have a hotel room?

Ktytor: we share rooms.

Fuck. I clench my hands into fists and throw a punch at the brick wall, only stopping my hand an inch from it.

I can’t risk breaking my hand at the beginning of the season.

I need an outlet, and I don’t want to sit with my thoughts because then I’ll have to confront why I want that to be with Seaborn so badly. Hockey should be enough for me.

Seaborn: My roommates are out.

Seaborn: but they can’t see you leave.

Ktytor: Give me your address.

He sends me a location, and I follow it, glad it’s not too far from the rink. My ass is bruised, and I need to save my energy for the fight I know is coming the second we are alone.

Ktytor: I’m here.

Seaborn pulls the door open immediately like he’s been waiting behind it.

“Impatient much?”

He steps out and looks around before gesturing me in.

I bend down to unlace my boots while he hovers like a ball of nervous energy. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down. You’re not risking your team finding out.”

I set my boots on the mat and straighten up. “Lead the way.”

“You can’t leave those there.”

“You think your mates will recognize my boots?” I pick them up.

“They’re men’s boots.”

I grin. “Right. Can’t let that detail out.”

“Like you aren’t doing the same. You know it would risk our recruitment.”

I shrug like I don’t care, but he’s right. “Then maybe we should get out of the entryway.”

He turns and gestures for me to follow. The place is nice.

A townhouse, not typical student housing.

I cannot imagine what a place like this costs in Manhattan.

Boston is bad enough on rent. New York is one of the only places in the country that’s worse.

Seaborn walks upstairs and goes into the first bedroom.

It’s quaint, with blue LED lights around the frame of the bed and under the desk, lots of photos pinned to the wall, and tons of plants, some of them with their own lights. He wasn’t kidding about liking them.

I drop my boots inside the door and lean against the edge of his desk. “Take your clothes off.”

“You want them off, you do it.” He crosses his big arms.

Not the answer I expected.

“Such a hardship.” I grab his shirt and yank him forward.

He doesn’t fight the pull, and his words surprise me again. “I like when you take what you want.”

“I guess we’re not fighting then.” I slide my fingers under his tee, inching it up while I indulge in the feel of him.

“It depends on what you think is going to happen here.” He barely lets slip a moan, and I want more.

“We did tie, so maybe a truce?” I stand, nudging against his arms so he lifts them.

Seaborn takes the hint and raises them above his head. “I’m listening.”

I drag his shirt off and toss it on the floor before taking him in while I consider my words.

He’s gorgeous, and now that I’m not trying to ruin his face, I fully understand why women fall all over themselves for him.

“We could flip fuck but—” He visibly stiffens, and I have my answer before I can even finish.

“But,” I say again, “I’m sure the whole who fucks who first would become our issue, so why don’t we both have fun at the same time? ”

He narrows his eyes but relaxes a little. “What do you mean?”

“Mutual fellatio?”

“In English.”

I don’t point out that is English. “I think you Yanks call it a sixty-nine.”

He considers it, then nods. “Okay.”

Neither of us moves.

“I don’t know how to start this without hitting you first,” he says at length.

“You’re the man whore, but I’m expected to direct?” I start to tug off my shirt, but he grabs my hand, tossing it aside so he can remove it himself.

“Guess you really don’t want to be the top either, then,” he deadpans, and I can’t tell if he’s serious at first, but then he starts laughing.

I don’t have time to come up with a snarky reply because he grabs my jaw and kisses me. I groan into his mouth, and he smiles.

“What are you so happy about?”

“Shouldn’t I be happy about getting my dick sucked?” he says between twists of our tongues, but I don’t buy it. He could be getting his dick sucked by anyone he wants tonight.

I very much like that it’s me.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Craving my dick that bad?” He pushes a hand between us, shoving his sweats down.

I help him out, dragging them and his boxers down to expose his ass.

He steps out of them and then shoves me backward.

I drag him with me, and we stumble the few steps to the bed.

When I sit, he drops to one knee, hooking his fingers in my pants and pulling them off in one swoop. He stands but freezes.

“What?” I ask, wrapping my hand around my cock.

“Did I do that?”

I glance down, following his gaze to my bruised ribs, and smirk. “You did. Want to sign your work or something?”

He’s still hesitant, but why?

“I’ve had worse. And probably done worse to you. Like your bruised ribs last year.” I shrug it off, and my words seem to shake him out of it.

He puts his knee on the bed, dipping his head to brush his lips over the spot. “That hurt like a motherfucker.” His warm breath blows over my skin, and I shiver.

“It was meant to.”

He laughs, then finds my nipple. “You’re such a dick.”

“Act like yours weren’t meant to either.”

“I’d much rather give you marks like this.” He bites my pec.

I suck in a sharp breath. “I like them better this way, too.”

He looks up like I said something he wasn’t expecting. “You do?”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s hot. I want to cover you in them.”

My cock throbs. “As long as they aren’t visible in my uniform.”

“Are you just giving me blanket permission?”

I nod without hesitation.

He bites me again, harder this time.

Pre-cum leaks from my dick, and I’m painfully aware of how long it’s been since he’d gotten me off the last time.

I’m way too desperate for this, and I hate the disadvantage it puts me at, but I don’t stop him.

I watch while he paints me in bruises until I can’t take it anymore.

I get a hand on his cock, pulling him closer with it.

He moves to the base of my neck, playing with fucking fire, but I don’t have the resolve to tell him to stop.

Not while he works his hips, fucking his cock into my hand.

I want more. Want him to touch me. Suck me off again.

Anything. But I don’t know how to ask him.

This is where experience puts me at a disadvantage, and there is nothing I hate more than being at a disadvantage.

So I flip the script, hooking my leg around him to roll us over. I land on top and shove his legs open wider to take him in my mouth.

“Fuuuuck.” He grabs my hair, pulling me off. “No, the fuck you don’t. I wasn’t done with you.”

I fight his hold. “Then flip around and suck my dick. You don’t get to play alone.”

He chuckles but rearranges with me so we are stretched out on our sides. He’s laid out like he couldn’t be more relaxed, head on his hand with one knee up.

“Asshole.” I rub my tongue inside my cheek.

“What?”

“You just look good at everything you do, don’t you?”

“It’s a good problem to have.” He leans forward, nipping at my hip.

I buck, torn between watching his mouth move over my skin and his massive dick standing straight up. I lick his tip, earning a moan.

“I need to be in your mouth.” He presses his forehead into my thigh, sucking the sensitive skin there and driving me fucking nuts.

“You first, lover boy.” I swirl my tongue around his head.

He doesn’t hesitate even for a second. Had I not known he was straight, I’d never believe it after being with him. He sucks cock like a fucking god—it should be illegal. I barely keep up, breathing hard around his dick. Pleasure inflames my senses. We’re both gone to it.

I come off his cock just in time to warn him. Barely. “I’m going to come.”

Bliss takes over, and he finishes me with his hand. I come all over his hand and chest, blinded with ecstasy. He’s grinning as I come down. Like he’s won.

“Yes, you made me come first,” I say before he can.

“No tie here.” He collapses back.

“If all you care about is winning…”

He half sits up, growling, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Do you want me to finish?” I say my words over his cock without touching him.

“Yes.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Why?” he barely manages, his cock pulsing without me even touching him.

“Because.”

“Why the fuck do you like driving me crazy so much?” He’s gripping the sheets, frustration throbbing a vein in his forehead.

“I like how you react.” I flick my tongue out, stopping it a millimeter from him.

He presses his eyes closed but finally says, “Please finish me.”

“It would be my pleasure.” I smile, taking him back into my mouth. I love this control over him, all his pleasure riding on what I’m doing.

This feels even more like winning than getting someone to come first.

It’s easy to get drunk on his reactions.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Seaborn grabs me again.

I fight his grip, taking him deeper into my mouth, playing with my gag reflex to really see how far I can go.

“I’m going to come. Shit.” His words come between gasps.

I love it. I swallow, lavishing my tongue around his shaft.

“Ktytor!” He loses it, filling my mouth. I struggle to swallow it all while he lifts his hips, forcing his cock deeper.

And I like it.

He pumps three more times, giving me all the sounds I want before finally collapsing back. “Holy fucking shit, Ktytor.”

I lick my lips rolling off him. “Yes?”

“That was… Fuck.”

“That sounds a little like I won.”

“Maybe.”

I lift my head. “Who knew you were so pleasant after an orgasm? Maybe you should get off before you play.”

“Are you offering?”

I laugh.

“That’s not a no.” He flips around, and we just lay there, coming down.

“When do you have to be back at the hotel?”

“They won’t miss me until morning.”

“Your roommate won’t care if you don’t come back tonight?” He sounds surprised.

“I’ll tell them I went home with someone. I don’t have to say who.”

Seaborn nods, falling quiet. After a while, he speaks again. “What the fuck does this mean?”

“We’re getting each other off?”

“I mean with being gay and all that?”

I realize he’s being vulnerable. He’s full of surprises tonight.