“Well go on then,” I say, adopting a bored tone. I can go to practice in what I’m wearing, even if I may need to borrow some socks.
I forget periodically that I have nothing to my name, and it’s jarring each time.
“Bossy boys get tied up later,” Skylar growls, dragging the crop up the underside of Rhodes’ cock as he groans.
The hit is on the crown of his shaft, and Rhodes screams as he shudders. His lids drop to half mast and he almost appears lazy as he hangs from his bonds. His hips are tense, and he’s struggling hard not to thrust forward.
“Such a good boy, Rhodes. Don’t come until I say,” Skylar reminds him.
“Yes, Daddy,” he sighs.
“He’s going to play really well after this,” Skylar murmurs, slapping him with the crop several times until Rhodes is fucking begging for mercy.
My dick leaks slick as I watch, and I whimper when Skylar finally gives Rhodes permission to come. I have to pinch my cock head to keep myself from spilling along with him, and I’m breathing hard as I watch the ropes of cum hit the kitchen floor.
I’ll never see meals here the same way.
“Is this how you train our goalie to perform well?” I rasp, watching Rhodes' red face as he sucks in oxygen.
“Are you mine, Little Viking?” Rhodes asks. “You just have to say the word for my bite.”
“Wait what?”
I’m flustered as I walk through the kitchen, and my foot slides as I slip on the puddle of cum.
“Are you okay?” Skylar asks, both amused and concerned as he watches me catch myself.
“Pretend I didn’t almost just bust my ass on a load of cum,” I mutter, walking out of the kitchen.
“That’s a tall order, Captain!” Skylar calls after me as my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
I am so out of my league here.
Rhodes may be completelyready for practice today, but it takes me a lot to be able to focus. I fuck up often during it, and my teammates keep glancing at me funny because this isn’t normal for me.
“Hey, is this about your apartment?” Olsson asks after he spits out his mouth guard.
We’re practicing shooting our shots into the net, and it’s the only thing mindless enough to settle me as I hit the blade of my stick against the puck. It sinks perfectly into the net, and I give a jerky nod.
“I lost everything,” I mutter, shooting again as a puck magically appears in front of me.
Okay, there’s someone pushing them my way, so it’s not really magic. It pulls some of the mundane energy out of it by pretending though.
“Sorry, man,” he sighs. “You’re safer with Skylar and Rhodes though. They like you.”
My lips purse as I hit the puck harder than usual and it pings off the edge of the tight corner.
“Why is everyone so interested in my sex life?” I grumble.
“Because you’re wound up too tightly,” Olsson grins. “You’d be much happier if you were being railed every night.”
“God, why does my asshole need to be impaled regularly to play hockey?” I ask louder than necessary.
There’s inappropriate snorts and laughter around me and I blow out a breath. Fuck, I need to get my shit together.
“Bag skating, let’s go!” Coach yells, making us all look at him in surprise. “You all need to be clear tonight, and you’re gossiping like teens. Move!”
Groaning, we all push ourselves into skating the rink from end to end until all we can think of is if we’ll be able to take our next breath. Our coach isn’t wrong, he not only made his point, but now we’re finally in that exhausted head space where only hockey exists.
