Page 42 of Pressure Play


Font Size:

He tugged my waistband down and wrapped his hand around me. I stopped thinking.

His grip was cautious for about two seconds. Then he read me and adjusted. Found the right pressure and rhythm.

"Like that?" He was checking in.

I couldn't answer with words. The sound I made was answer enough.

He didn't rush. I was uncut, and he knew instinctively what to do with a foreskin. When he rubbed my exposed, precum-slicked head with his thumb, I nearly whited out.

"There," he breathed. Like he'd found what he was looking for.

I came, blurting out his name through my teeth. His hand slowed, stopped, and stayed.

My breathing was shot. His was steady now. Profoundly unfair.

"Okay?" he asked. Same word. Same voice. Except now he was smiling.

"Yeah," I managed. "Yeah, I'm—" I laughed. Shaky and stupid. "I don't have a word for what I am."

We ended up in my bed because the couch was too narrow for two hockey players to share without someone losing circulation.

Kieran stumbled forward on rubbery legs, my hand gripping his elbow.

"Bed's through there. The door doesn't close. The frame warped and my landlord quote-unquote noted it."

"Luxury."

"I prefercharacter-rich."

The bed was a full. Adequate for one person who slept diagonally. Two people required the spatial negotiation that probably should've been awkward but instead was like settling into a penalty kill—close quarters, with each person adjusting to the other's edges.

We lay on our backs. Shoulder to shoulder. The mattress dipped toward the center.

"Your landlord should fix that door," Kieran said.

"He should do a lot of things."

His hand lay palm-up between us. I set mine beside it. Two of our fingers on each hand overlapped.

He turned his head. Then, slowly, he touched my eyebrow scar with his index finger.

"How'd you get this?"

"Stick. Juniors. Kid named Deveraux who had opinions about where I was standing."

"Where were you standing?"

"In front of his goalie."

"Did you move?"

"No."

"Of course not."

He placed the hand on my chest, just below the collarbone.

"I can't lose this," I said.