Page 20

20

Nick

C aleb’s lips curve into a cocky smirk. He struggles with my belt for a moment, and that’s the only sign that he may be nervous, too. It doesn’t compare with my nervousness though, because my heart is racing at insane speeds. He must think I’m ridiculous because my hands are shaking against the bed, and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

Tossing my belt aside, he undoes my button. The sound of my zipper getting pulled down triggers a slight panic in me because this is happening, and Caleb must sense it because he stops and studies me.

He just feels so… far away, with him between my legs like this. I should be into this. I was into it, but now I’m not so sure. I work my lower lip, trying to figure out my mess of thoughts, and Caleb frowns.

“You sure you want this?” he asks.

“Yes.” I really do despite the way my mind won’t quiet down. I hold myself up by my elbows so I can get a better look at him and make a sorry attempt at a smile. My efforts don’t work because Caleb pulls off me. “Caleb,” I whine.

“New plan,” he says, pushing me back down on the bed and straddling me instead like he did last night. “Is this better?”

Strangely, it is. A smile spreads across my face, and I nod.

He entangles his hands in my hair and kisses me open-mouthed, and just like that, my thoughts settle. My nerves calm down and this—this is easier. There’s comfort in having him on my lap and feeling his warmth on me, instead of him being so far away.

“Sorry,” I murmur, even if I feel so much more at ease now. I slide my hand up his sides and cup his neck, kissing him back. “I’m all up in my head.”

Caleb holds me by my jaw and glares. “Nicky, I know you have some weird issue speaking up for yourself, but I need you to fucking tell me if you’re not comfortable with something.”

“Okay.” I know that. Weird thing is, the thought of him blowing me is incredibly appealing, but when it actually started happening, I realized that for the first time we do this, I want him as close as possible.

Caleb ruts against me, like the way he did last night—except that it’s not dark this time around, and I can see his face clearly. I can see the way he watches me, and when he puts a hand between us and cups me through my pants, I let out a strangled moan.

Caleb’s eyes darken as he smirks. “This okay?”

I nod.

“I need you to use your words.”

“It’s okay. More than okay.”

“Good boy.”

I glare at him and my cheeks flush. The first time he said that he had been teasing, but because of how flustered I got, I don’t think he’s ever going to let up on that stupid nickname. I’m about to tell him to quit it when he slips his hands down my boxers and wraps long fingers around my dick and gives it a slow pump, and all thoughts go out the window.

“Fuck,” I groan, throwing my head back.

Caleb pulls my hard cock out, spits into his hand, and jerks me slowly. He sets a rhythm that drives me insane. He kisses me through it, his elbow right next to my head to keep himself up, and it takes a moment for the haze to clear from my mind and I realize that I’m not touching him back. When that realization hits me, I scramble between us and reach for the button of his pants.

He laughs. “You don’t have to.”

I ignore him, and despite him saying I don’t have to, his breath hitches when I undo his pants and pull his hard dick out as well. I’ve never touched another man like this before and it’s a bit jarring—but not unpleasant—and I flick my thumb over the crown of his dick and press against the sensitive nerve under it.

Caleb buckles in surprise. “Damn, Nicky.”

My chest swells at how he says my name, and I sit up so that he doesn’t need to keep himself propped up by an elbow. Caleb takes a deep breath, and I watch every brief flicker on his face as we jerk each other off. I listen to the sounds he makes, quickly learning that he prefers faster and tighter strokes. It’s not until he lets out a small wince and I remember my hand’s dry, so I mimic what he did and spit into it, not missing the way his eyes darken with lust when I do.

Heat travels down my spine and settles in my gut and it feels as if every inch of my skin’s on fire. Caleb trails his mouth from my jaw to my neck, and I lift my chin to give him more access.

“Like that,” he murmurs against my skin, biting lightly on my throat.

God, his voice.

A part of me wishes we had taken the time to remove all our clothes so I can feel his warm skin against mine, but I think he’s as impatient as me right now, and I’ll take what I can get. I snake my free hand under his shirt and graze it on his abs, drifting it upward to his nipple. When I discover he doesn’t have his piercings on—probably because we just came from a game—I pout, but then I pinch his nipple and Caleb groans.

He rocks against me, fucking into my fist, and I follow his lead. I can practically feel my world untangling. My mind’s a haze and my heart’s hammering in my chest as I slowly lose control.

Caleb sucks in a breath and buries his face against my neck, and I inhale his masculine scent.

There’s a warmth blooming in my chest and it spreads to every inch of my body, and it’s incredibly overwhelming that I remind myself to breathe.

“Close,” he mumbles against me.

“Me too.” Frantically, I use my free hand to pull both our shirts out of the way.

Caleb shudders and he bites down on my neck, spilling over my fist, and the feeling of his warm cum on my hand undoes me completely. I groan and electricity jolts down my spine, and Caleb works me through my orgasm, continuing to stroke me, and I do the same for him.

He pulls away, his face red and his light hair sticking to his nape with sweat. He looks between us and at the mess we did—our abs are sticky with cum, our dicks wet and glistening, and there’s something unfairly hot about that. He gets up to grab the box of tissues from the bedside table, tossing it between us. My hands shake as I wipe myself clean, and then he takes my dirty tissues, and along with his, tosses it in the wastebasket.

Caleb pats my cheek, but before he can say anything, I say, “Please don’t call me a good boy.”

Even if I think I really, really like it.

“Okay, Nicky.” He leans down and presses his lips lightly against mine. Caleb tucks himself inside his pants and then grins at me. “You going to use the bathroom? You can go first.”

Wow, how times have changed. Just some weeks ago, he’d rush without even asking and take his sweet time just to annoy me. The thought makes me smile, and he lifts his eyebrows at me.

“What’re you smiling at?” he asks.

“You can go first… and I’m smiling because you really are a lot sweeter than you let on.”

He makes a face as if I just insulted his entire being. “Gross,” he says, before grabbing clothes from his bag and retreating to the bathroom.

It’s true, though. Caleb’s loud and enjoys antagonizing people, but he’s also thoughtful, and I’m confident his love language is acts of service. It’s why when I’m at the café, he makes my drinks sweeter than normal even when I’ve never asked him to. It’s why he remembers everyone’s orders and starts on them the moment he sees us walk through the door. More than once, I’ve seen him carrying all of Maddox’s things.

And—I know he’d take this to his grave—that one time Rhys forgot his usual Gatorade bottle at the dorm and was fretting because it’d mess with his routine, Caleb bought one from the vending machine outside the rink. He put it in Rhys’s stall when he wasn’t paying attention and didn’t correct him when he thanked the equipment manager for it. Caleb insists he hates Rhys, and he doesn’t make a secret out of it, but if that’s how he treats someone he claims he hates, then it only shows what kind of a person he truly is.

I didn’t tell him I saw what he did, but my chest did that funny, warm thing it does whenever I see a new side of him.

So, yeah. Caleb’s definitely a lot sweeter than he lets on, and it makes my face heat now that I know it extends to sex as well—he was so attuned to me, so considerate of my comfort, and not once did he make me feel bad for the almost freak-out I had.

God. I rub at my sternum and take a deep inhale.

There’s something about Caleb that makes my heart race.

Some minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom in a shirt and sweatpants, and he glances at me with a yawn before plopping down on his bed. Caleb stretches out on it, his shirt riding up and showing more skin, and my dick takes all the interest as if I didn’t just come my brains out.

Snap out of it.

I head to the bathroom to get ready for bed as well. While I’m brushing my teeth, I hear voices from the room. Caleb’s FaceTiming his sister. She seems to be telling a story, and he’s laughing along, and the sound of it makes me smile.

“Here’s Nicky!” Caleb announces when I step out to the room. He angles the camera to me, and I self-consciously wave at his sister, who scowls at me.

Their scowls are, honestly, very similar.

Caleb bursts out laughing and turns the camera back to him, and I listen to them talk as I walk towards my bed. She tells him about how it’s like going back to school after her long hospital stay, and then Caleb tells her about our game—he even tells her I punched someone, and I glare at him for that.

My own phone rings, Dad’s name displayed on the screen.

I accept the call and put the phone against my ear. “Hi, Dad.”

“Nicholas.” Dad sounds worried. “Are you all right?”

“Oh… you watched the game?”

“No, I was at a board meeting, but I got messages about it and my assistant sent me clips. What happened?”

At the corner of my eye, I see Caleb end his call and put his phone away. He lies on his side and watches me, not being subtle about how he’s listening in on my conversation with Dad.

“Um…” I hesitate. “The guy—Luca—was trash talking my teammate, and I lost my cool. It won’t happen again.”

“What was he saying?”

“Nothing.” There’s silence and I bite my cheek, remembering that Dad hates that word as much as Caleb does. “Um… no, not nothing. Sorry, Dad, he said something horrible, and I’d rather not repeat what he said if that’s all right.”

“I understand. As long as you’re okay.” He lets out a sigh. “This sport of yours has always been so violent, but you’ve never punched another player before.”

“Sorry. I made you look bad.”

“I didn’t say that at all,” he says.

“Yeah, but I’m just saying… I won’t get into any more fights.”

“Well, you said you’re quitting hockey soon. I suppose I won’t have to worry about you getting into fights then or hurting yourself.”

“That’s right.” My chest twists.

“But you love it, right? I still don’t know why you never joined the draft.”

I close my eyes and ignore the ache in my ribcage. “Hey, Dad, by the way… are you going to be around for Thanksgiving?”

“Most likely.” He pauses. “You’re changing the subject again, like you always do when I ask about this.”

“I’m not, I swear. Should I drive home?”

“I’ll check my schedule closer to the date, but yes, that would be nice.”

Dad and I catch up with each other for a while more. I haven’t seen him since the ribbon cutting at the hospital, and even if punching Luca surely made him look bad, I’m happy he called.

When we end the call, Caleb’s still watching me.

“I really don’t get it,” Caleb says, and here we go. “Your dad sounds cool. Have you ever told him you want to try going pro? I can’t imagine he wouldn’t let you if you wanted to.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never told him.”

“So you do want to play pro.”

My jaw ticks. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Caleb frowns. I don’t expect him to understand my decision, and it’s tiring to have to defend myself. I get enough of that from Rhys and occasionally, Coach.

“Sorry,” I mumble, even if I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for.

“You say sorry a lot. You said it two times to your dad.”

He counted? I huff out a laugh at how ridiculous he is, and he smirks. Fortunately, he drops the topic of me playing after college—though I can tell it isn’t the last time he’ll be asking about it.

“My sister likes you,” he says, changing the topic.

A laugh escapes me. “She hates me.”

“Nah, she absolutely likes you. That’s the only reason she’s so cold. She thinks you’re great, and she’s jealous. Probably thinks you’d take me away from her.” He pauses and his eyes widen. “Oh, she’s like you. She’s possessive, too.”

“I’m not possessive,” I say, as if I hadn’t outright admitted it about half an hour ago.

Caleb laughs and abruptly jumps up. He crosses the room to turn the lights off, then he plops back down on his bed.

It’s disappointing that we’re on separate beds, though sleeping next to each other would probably be weird since we’re not exactly dating.

We’re only two roommates who are attracted to each other and agreed to fool around. Casual but… exclusive.

A part of me is relieved that he’s not overcomplicating whatever this is. He’s not letting any awkwardness linger between us.

“Night, Caleb,” I murmur.

“Night, Nicky.” He yawns and turns away from me, and I stare at the silhouette of his back for way too long before deciding to get any actual sleep.