“That’s it. Pinch them, play with them. Show me how you like it.”
He does, plucking and pulling, and putting on a show, whether he realizes it or not, performing for his own reflection.
And fuck. What a show it is.
I drink in the sight of him, the sound of his moans, the feel of his body tight and hot around me. It's almost too much, almost overwhelming in its intensity.
But I don't slow down, don't hold back. I can't, not when he's looking like that, not when he's falling apart so beautifully.
His whole body shudders, a broken moan tearing from his throat, his hand flying to his dripping cock. “Feels so good, so fucking good . . .”
“That’s it. Play with your cock. I want to see you come while I'm buried inside you.”
He strokes himself hard, fast, relentlessly. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, Beckett! I'm gonna . . . Fuck, I'm coming!”
His ass clamps down around me as he spills over his fist, his whole body shaking with the force of his orgasm. The sensation pushes me over the edge, and I bury myself to the hilt, grinding against his prostate as I empty myself into the condom, a guttural groan tearing from my throat.
Viktor whimpers, still rocking back against me, milking every last drop.
I collapse on top of him as we struggle to catch our breath, both panting, sweat-slick, and spent, our hearts racing in tandem.
“Fuck, that was . . .” he trails off, seeming at a loss for words. A rarity for him.
“Incredible,” I finish, carefully pulling out, then sitting up to remove the condom and tie it off. “You were incredible.”
He rolls onto his back and hums, a satisfied smile on his face. “I know.”
“Brat.” I roll my eyes, but I can't stop the fondness that swells in my chest. Even post-orgasm, he's still a brat.
My brat.
Fuck.
I shake my head as I get out of bed and pad into the bathroom. After disposing of the condom, I walk to the cabinet and, just as I open the door to grab a washcloth, a white ball of fur bursts out. “Goddammit, Mouse!”
My heart’s beating a million miles an hour as I mumble, wetting the cloth with warm water. Shaking my head and taking a few deep breaths, I return to the bedroom to find Viktor fast asleep.
Carefully, I clean him up, wiping away the sweat, lube, and cum. After, I toss the cloth aside and arrange him more comfortably on the bed before sliding in behind him. I pull him close, his back to my chest, savoring the way he fits against me.
As I listen to the steady rhythm of his breathing, a sinking realization settles in my gut.
I'm fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
This was supposed to be a one-time thing, a way to get the infuriating goalie out of my system, an itch to scratch and then move on, going back to our roles of coach and player.
But now, with his warmth seeping into my skin, his scent filling my lungs . . . I know once will never be enough.
I want more. I want everything.
And that wanting, that bone-deep need . . .
It might just cost me everything.
Chapter 12
Viktor
Scrubbing my face, I stretch my legs and toes as I roll onto my back. My body is deliciously sore, burning in all the right places. Can’t recall the last time I’ve been fucked like that. Actually, I don’t think I ever have been.
