“That feels so, so good,” he said, keeping his voice low. “And your dick is so hard. Fuck.”
I made it throb in his grip and earned another moan that originated somewhere deep down in his chest. This moan wound my core up tight. I could feel myself getting close to busting my load. That’s how pent-up he had me. All he had to do was jerk me off for five minutes before I was ready to blow.
“Fuck, Eli,” I warned. My toes curled against the warm wood slats. “I’m already close.”
“Oh God, so am I, Gabe.”
That made me jerk him faster. I wanted to see him come. Wanted to break his record and then lick up all the evidence. So close, sooo close, just a few more?—
Voices from the training room made us both freeze. Sounded like Dylan and Soren loudly talking shit to each other. They were getting closer. Eli let go of my dick, and I let go of his as we hurried to cover ourselves back up with our towels, doing it just in time as the door opened and a cloud of steam escaped.
“Oh, hey, guys,” Dylan said, smiling like a goofy golden retriever who had no idea his owners were fooling around. “Room for two more?”
“Yeah,” I answered with the bluest balls imaginable and a tightness in my throat that felt like a damn boa constrictor was wrapped around my neck. “Yeah, come on in.”
Chapter Twelve
Guess We’re Roomies
ELI
Savannah,Georgia, was a beautiful city that had a haunted, historical feel to it.
Our bus pulled up to a hotel that appeared to be yanked off the set of a campy vampire show I would watch back in high school. It had a red-bricked facade with a white-roofed porch and a row of black rocking chairs, colored with bright green swaths of trailing ivy. The long roadway leading up to the hotel was lined with live oak trees, their thick and twisting branches draped with thick clumps of Spanish moss. Flickering gas lamps lit the way and added to the time-travel sensation.
It was a cool spot, one I hadn’t been to before but the other Bobcats had frequented quite often.
Savannah was home to the Sharks, our sworn rivals and the next two games we had lined up for this Friday and Saturday. I was hungry for a win and knew it would taste extra delicious if it were against the Sharks. We’d gone hard during practice and doubled up on training time, spending a lot of time on the ice.
Which translated to a lot of time with Gabe.
It’d been difficult, keeping a cool head around him. That moment in the steam room, with his hand between my legs and mine between his, still replayed in my head on a constant loop. I’d get random hard-ons throughout the day. Standing in line at the grocery store? Hard. Stuck driving behind a car covered in a layer of quirky bumper stickers about saving the environment who also had the driving skills of a newborn fawn? Rock hard.
We sat in different rows on our flight here. I had felt a surprisingly intense wave of disappointment when I found out the seating assignments. I had fantasized some mile-high action with him. As risky as that would be, it was also another daydream that instantly had my dick swelling.
The bus ride was a different story altogether. We had booked a smaller bus than what we needed, so I sat sandwiched between the wall and Gabe, with Soren sitting next to him. His weight was fully pressed against me, but there was nothing I could do to actually enjoy it. The vibrations of the engine and the bumps of the bus’s hydraulics weren’t helping the situation at all. I felt like the universe had come together and devised a plan to edge me for all damn eternity.
Maybe it was a funny joke to the universe, but it wasn’t something I necessarily wanted.
“Alright, boys,” Coach Julian said in a voice that carried over the loud banter through the bus. He was standing between the aisles, one hand on Dylan’s head and the other on a headrest. “Don’t get too wild tonight. We have two games to win. Back-to-back, so no distractions.”
Emmy stood up next to Coach. He wore a Bobcat jersey with his number—eleven—on it. “I’ll keep an eye on everyone.”
Dylan stood up and pulled his navy duffel bag onto hisshoulder. “Good thing you’re usually knocked out by eight thirty, then.”
“I had a Celsius on the plane,” Emmy said. His eyes narrowed, softened by a smirk. “I’m staying up until at least ten.”
“Perfect,” Dylan said, inching toward the exit. “I’ll order Ubers for ten fifteen, then.”
We climbed out of the bus and grabbed the rest of our bags, helped by an extremely friendly concierge. Apparently, a few of them were secret fans of the Bobcats but had to keep their excitement on the low when they were in Shark territory.
“Thanks, man,” I said after, tipping them each a hundred dollars. The younger one—Ritchie—almost tried giving it back to me, thinking it was a mistake. “Consider it an early Christmas gift.”
The team filtered into the lobby of the hotel, decked out in holiday decorations from the garland-covered front desk to the twinkling icicles above the elevator bay. Opulent wreaths decorated with mistletoe and dusted in powdery white “snow” hung on the walls and framed one of the most magical-looking Christmas trees I’d ever seen. It had to be close to fourteen feet and was wrapped with enough lights to either be a fire hazard or a stand-in for the Rockefeller tree.
Maybe both.
We all had our room numbers already, so we let Emmy and the coach check us in and grab our room keys. I stood to the side, talking to Dylan, my roommate for the weekend.
