“People are staring,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t sound bothered.
I pull him closer, letting my hands wander to his ass. “They’re jealous they don’t have a quarterback in tighty-whities.”
“Possessive,” he teases, but he grinds against me harder, and I can feel him getting hard through the cotton.
“Very,” I agree, squeezing his ass for emphasis. “You’re mine, Jackson Monroe. Mine to dance with, mine to drive crazy, mine to?—”
“Yours,” he cuts me off, and the simple agreement is all I need to die a happy man.
The music changes again, something slower and dirtier, and our dancing adjusts accordingly. It’s less dancing now and more vertical foreplay, our bodies finding every excuse to touch, to press, to grind. Jackson’s breathing gets heavier, his fingers digging into my shoulders, and I know we need to quit while we’re ahead before I do something truly indecent.
“Drew,” he gasps when I roll my hips. “We should?—”
The party continues its descent into beautiful madness, but here in our little space, it’s just us—Drew and Jackson, who figured it out against all odds.
ICE QUEEN BLOG POST #7
The Moment of Truth: A Live Investigation from the Hockey House
Posted by The Ice Queen | April 17th | 2:10 AM
Hey there, puck bunnies! Ice Queen here, your go-to gal for the coolest takes on all things Barracudas.
I have infiltrated the most exclusive spring break event, and I come bearing the ultimate test.
For months, you’ve watched me document the supposedly epic romance between Drew Larney and Jackson Monroe. You’ve seen them at roller rinks, witnessed their paint-covered performance, and followed their nauseating public displays of affection. But tonight—or tomorrow, technically—in this backyard full of drunken, naked athletes and frat guys, I shall finally reveal the truth.
Because words are cheap. Anyone can say “I love you” when caught up in the adrenaline of public nudity. The real test?The body never lies. Which brings me to my proposal—no, mydemand.
Jackson Monroe will be blindfolded and will have to identify which glorious hockey butt belongs to which player, including his supposed true love. It’s okay if he can’t guess every guy’s ass, so long as he guesses Drew’s correctly.
If he succeeds? I’ll admit defeat. I’ll acknowledge their relationship as genuine and retire my investigation. But if he fails? We’ll know once and for all that this has all been an extremely elaborate performance. A straight man forced to grope another man’s ass for show would immediately forget the experience. Only someone truly attracted, truly invested, trulyin lovewould remember such intimate details.
Stand by for updates. The Ice Queen’s investigation reaches its climax…now.
38
JACKSON
I’m about to identify my boyfriend’s ass in front of a hundred drunk college students, and somehow this isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me this semester.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” I mutter, but Drew’s hand squeezes mine, warm and reassuring despite the chaos erupting around us.
Elliot—still very inebriated and clearly just finished having sex with Gerard—stands in the center of the backyard like some demented game show host. He’s holding up a Berkeley Shore University bandana that’s about to become my blindfold. The crowd presses closer, phones already out, ready to document what might be the most humiliating moment of my life.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I take a seat in a metal folding chair. The chill that seeps into my ass does nothing to quell the fire raging inside of me. I’ve had four beers—no, five—and the world has that soft-focus quality that makes terrible decisions seem reasonable. But even through the alcohol haze, panic claws at my chest. Because I do know Drew’s ass.
I know it intimately. Have spent the past several weeks worshipping it with my hands, my mouth, my cock. The questionis whether I can identify it in a lineup while blindfolded and drunk with everyone watching.
“This is the best partyever!” Gerard bounces on his toes, still gloriously naked yet no longer erect. “A new game! We should make this a tradition!”
“Absolutely not,” Kyle growls. “Let’s get this over with before I come to my senses.”
Oliver sighs. “Everyone…the sooner Monroe gropes us, the sooner we can pretend this never happened.”
“But it’s for love!” Gerard protests, grabbing Nathan by the shoulders. “Nathan, you understand! Tell them about the power of love!”
Nathan snort-laughs, clearly having drunk past his usual limit. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s swaying slightly. “Love is…love is Gerard’s ass causing chaos everywhere it goes.”
