“Bedroom?” I gasp, breaking the kiss to nibble at his jaw.
He shakes his head. “It’s too far,” he says. “I want you right here.”
I nod before sliding down so that I’m kneeling on the floor between his knees while he sits on the couch. I hook my fingers into the waistband of his shorts, and he lifts his hips as much as he can as I slide them off. “Be careful,” I admonish gently. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
He chuckles. “I’m almost a whole week post-op. Getting stronger every day.” He pumps his eyebrows at me. “Who knows what I’ll be capable of by next week.”
I snort, because that’s such a Louis Tremblay thing to say. But then I wrap my hand around his hot, hard length, and he gasps, shivering under my touch. “God damn, why does it feel so good when you touch me?”
“Mmm.” I give him a smug smile. “Because you might be the King of the Crease, but between the two of us, I’m the expert instick handling.”
He looks at me in surprise before letting out a loud bark of laughter that quickly turns into another groan as I tighten my grip on his shaft and swipe at the bead of precome that’s gathered on his tip with my thumb. When I let go of him to raise my hand to my mouth and lick it off, I let out a groan of my own.
“Jesus, you picknowto start making jokes?” he grits out, his breath hitching again as I tighten my grip around him. “Tanner,” he breathes. “Please.”
I stroke him, slow and steady, watching his face. It’s a heady feeling—seeing the man I’ve idolized for years come undone under my touch. I slide my other hand underneath him, pulling on his balls gently, and he hisses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he rasps. “You need to get naked. I want to see you,” he whispers, opening his eyes and meeting my gaze.
We didn’t really talk much about what happened that night a couple of weeks ago after my shitty game in Edmonton. He seemed completely okay with this new side of his sexuality, but I think I’ve been waiting for him to have some kind of freak-out, or at least to decide that whatever this thing is that’s happening between us isn’t smart, for all the reasons we’re both well aware of. It would be fairly simple for Louis to find a random guy and explore his attraction to men that way, but, at least right now, he seems pretty interested in exploring it with me. And I do not have it in me to argue.
I stand from where I was kneeling between his legs, quickly ditching my jeans and underwear, while he, somewhat clumsily, kicks off his own shorts, which were still gathered around his calves. I pull off my T-shirt too, loving the way his eyes run over me slowly as I stand before him. When I wrap my hand around my own cock and give it a couple of long, slow stokes, he groans. “Jesus. Get over here.”
“Do you have lube around here somewhere?” I ask, knowing what I want to do to him and how much better it will feel when we’re both slicked up.
“Drawer in the side table.” He points, and I grin.
“Conveniently located.”
“Hey, you never know when you’re gonna need it. Like right now, for example.” He waggles his eyebrows at me again, and I laugh as I snag the bottle and walk back to him.
Instead of kneeling back down between his legs, I swing one knee over his lap and straddle him again, nothing between us this time. I grind my hard cock into his, and the noise he lets out resembles a growl as he lets his head fall back on the couch.
After taking a moment to pour a healthy amount of lube into my palm, I brace myself with one hand beside his head, using the other hand to cover us both with it until our cocks are shiny and slick in the low light, and then I line us up and wrap my hand around us, holding us together as I grind into him. I move slowly at first, thrusting back and forth against him, loving the way his hot, hard flesh feels against my own.
Louis’s eyes go wide for a brief moment, darkening even more as his mouth opens in shock and pleasure. “Oh fuck. Fuck! Why does that feel so fucking good?” he gasps, his voice shaking, like he’s not sure what to do with this level of pleasure.
He squeezes his eyes shut as I speed up my hand, continuing to thrust against him. And Jesus Christ, he’s right. It feels fucking amazing.
We’re both panting, and I’m working up a sweat as I move, my abs starting to feel the burn from how hard and fast I’m moving against him. A drop falls off my temple and lands on his chest, and something about the sight of my sweat rolling slowly down his muscles ratchets up my arousal even further, if that’s even possible.
“I’m gonna—” he starts, his eyes blinking open.
“Me too,” I gasp out. “Come for me,” I command, and he does. We come at the same time, both of us groaning as the feelings crash into us. We both unload, coming all over his abdomen together, and it’s unbearably hot to see our release mixed together on his skin.
Both of us still gasping, trying to catch our breath, I collapse forward, being careful not to put pressure on his bad side and resting my forehead on his good shoulder. Without thinking about it, I run two fingers through the mess we’ve made on his abs, mixing us together before raising my fingers to my lips, tasting both of us.
He lets out another loud groan. “Holy fucking shit, it’s so hot to watch you taste my come. Fuck, Tanner, I feel like I could almost get hard again right now.” His voice is full of wonder, and something about that makes my stomach flip.
I let out a breathless laugh. “Now, that would be impressive. Almost as impressive as your performance in Game 7 against the Thunder,” I tease, referring to the year the Sasquatch won the Cup against New York.
He chuckles. “Well, I am almost thirty-five, so yeah, I’d have to say if I could get hard again right now, that would be nearly as impressive.”
We’re quiet for a few minutes, both of us coming down from our highs. But slowly, reality creeps back in, and I know I need to head home to get ready for our early flight.
I make him stay on the couch while I go to the bathroom and run a washcloth under warm water, then return to him and clean him up, wiping away our mess. Louis watches me with those dark eyes as I gently take care of him. I toss the cloth into the hamper I noticed in his bathroom and then gather up my clothes and get dressed. All the while, we’re quiet, and I’m hoping the freak-out I’ve been expecting hasn’t just hit him.
But he doesn’t appear to be freaking out. He’s watching me calmly, one side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile, and when I slide my feet back into my sneakers, he grins at me as he gets to his feet.
“So I hope it’s okay if I don’t walk you to your car, since getting my clothes back on is kind of an ordeal, and as hot as I am, I’m guessing my neighbors won’t want that kind of show,” he jokes, and I laugh.
