I let out a booming laugh as I walk back to him in two big steps. He yelps when I pick him up and throw him over my shoulder. I carry him to the bed, then toss him onto it. Leering at him from above, I say, “Oh no. You are mistaken. This is my bed and I intend to defile you in it.”
He raises himself up in his elbows and looks up at me with barely concealed lust. “Does that count as rest?”
“Yes,” I say and undo my tie.
Connor
“We’re gonna have to take it easy on the bed,” I say as I crawl back into it with Gavin after cleaning myself up in our closet of a bathroom. “I think I heard the wood cracking.”
He wraps me in his arms and pulls me close, sated and content from quick blow jobs. He hums into my neck. “No deal. I can’t stop myself with you.”
“I’ve noticed.” I laugh.
He pulls me tighter. “No. Seriously, Connor. I can’t stop.”
“Does it seem like I’m asking you to?” I laugh again, but nerves are beginning to creep in. We still haven’t taken this to the next step. We still haven’t crossed over the true point of no return: penetrative sex. Him inside of me. It’s what I want. It’s what I need. Which is terrifying. Because at some point, not just he, butwe, are going to have to stop.
It’s the last thing I want, though. And I’m afraid I have no choice in the matter. But how is this going to work when we return to the real world?
“No,” he says, laughing sleepily against my neck. “You’re a complete slut for me.”
“You say that like you’re not the one who could hardly wait for the door to close to get my dick in your mouth.”
He hums again. “It’s a good dick.”
“I bet you say that to all the boys,” I tease, but he responds by squeezing me tighter again and kisses my neck.
“No. Only you.”
“Liar.” I laugh. “You’re as gay as I am. All dicks are good dicks.”
His lazy laugh vibrates the bed. “Some dicks are bad dicks. But yours is the best dick.”
“Are you saying I have a better dick than you?”
“Yes.” He nuzzles my neck and takes a deep inhale. His breath starts to get slow behind me. He’s moments away from falling asleep, and I don’t blame him. The past twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind, and that’s without taking traveling across the world into account. So I close my eyes and join him, opting to relax into the now. Who knows how many days I’ll have to enjoy him like this?
Gavin
I know we’re supposed to be taking the opening ceremonies seriously, but no one should be surprised that we’re not. Especially me.
Don’t get me wrong. I get it. I know why people in the crowd or at home watching are into this. For most of them it’s inspiring. For me it’s a waste of time. I’d much rather be playing hockey. Or better yet, back in mine and Connor’s room picking him apart with my hands, my mouth, and my dick.Thatsounds like fun. This feels like the world’s most boring procession of egos on display.
Hockey players in general aren’t made for pomp and circumstance. We’re made to be hooligans, better suited for a full-on Donnybrook than orderly introductions followed by polite waves. Our rowdiness as we jab each other in the arms, jostle each other’s bodies, and dodge cheap nut shots is earning us dirty looks from everyoneelse taking themselves too seriously. Thankfully, no one has spotted the flask that’s being passed around between some of the players discreetly.But that might be because I’m working as their blocker.
I eye Connor, who, unlike the rest of us, is trying to keep it together. He looks incredible all decked out in our United States team jersey. His hair is perfectly combed, and his smile is camera ready. Which is good. Because there are hundreds of cameras holding him in their sights, broadcasting him around the globe. Most distressingly, directly into his father’s judging eyes.
I can’t wait to get him back to our room and set him free.
But in the meantime, I have to stay away. I don’t trust myself not to give in to my impulses around him now that I’ve unlocked that particular Pandora’s box.If we were next to each other, it would be too tempting to touch him. Whisper into his ear. Kiss his full lips.
“Yo! Marshal! Bouchard!” a familiar voice I haven’t heard in over a week calls out behind me. I turn around to see Alexander Tavish. Bouchard is quick to grab him into a hug.
“Alright, let him breathe,” I say as I pull Bouchard off of Tavish. It’s good to see him.
He looks at me expectantly with his arms spread out wide. “Don’t tell me I’ve been replaced!”
Bouchard snickers and I kick him in the shins before I wrap Tavish into a bear hug, lifting him off the ground.
