“No.”
“Do you need a shower?”
“Not yet.”
“Water?”
“No.”
“Do you not like the sheets?”
“The sheets are perfect, Nicki.”
“I’m floundering here, princess. Help a man out.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
Nicki goes very still and very silent. So much so Andrew entertains the possibility of running out of the hotel in nothing but his boxers, certain not even the threat of public indecency could be worse than what he’s about to face. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Nicki doesn’t want this, maybe?—
“Oof,” Andrew grunts, unprepared to be picked up and hefted halfway up the bed then dropped on his back with Nicki on top of him on all fours like some kind of super strength caveman. Or maybe all professional athletes tall enough to nearly touch the moon could do this, Andrew wouldn’t know. Nicki is his first hockey player. Nicki is his first for a lot of things.
“Are you sure?” Nicki questions.
“Would I say it if I wasn’t sure?” Andrew counters.
“Yes, you fucking would, which is why I’m asking. Don’t do this for me. If you don’t want it, then I’m fine. Look, my dick is already softening.”
“Does that mean you can’t keep it up if I wanted you to do all the things you said.”
“I can fucking keep it up,” Nicki growls, kissing Andrew until his toes tingle and all the air in his lungs is gone. Nicki’s kisses are possessive, demanding, and unexpectedly grounding. There’s finesse to his kisses, an experience Andrew doesn’t possess, but he tries to match it with feeling, pouring everything he wants, everything Nicki makes him feel, into this one kiss.
Judging by the sounds Nicki makes, he’s at least enjoying it as much as Andrew, who has no problem acknowledging this is the single greatest kiss of his life. No one has ever kissed Andrew like they need him to survive. No one but Nicki.
“So you’re sure?” Nicki asks again, breathless and handsome.
“I’m positive. Or well—positive I want to try, but there’s something you need to understand first. This doesn’t mean I’ll always want sex now. I might again tomorrow, probably not but maybe, but it might not be for months. I just…I don’t know. This is new for me, and I don’t want to get your hopes up then disappoint you.”
“Nothing about you could disappoint me,” Nicki tells him, cupping Andrew’s jaw.
“I don’t want to do anything,” Andrew blurts, deciding he might as well go all in.
“Okay.”
“I mean I want to kiss you, and uh, touch you, but nottouchyou. I don’t like bodily fluids, and I don’t really like jerking guys off.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll have to do all the work.”
“Okay.”
“Why do you keep saying okay?”
“Because it’s okay, princess. You keep throwing things at me with a tone that suggests I’m going to say no, and I’m not. You want to lay here in this expensive bed, lit up by the New York skyline and be worshiped? I’m your fucking man. You want to feel good without lifting a finger. I’m at your fucking service.”
“Oh.”
“That’s right,” Nicki croons, still holding his jaw as he kisses Andrew, pulling back just enough their lips brush when he speaks. “You’re mine, and I take care of what’s mine.”
