He caught my eye across the arena and fucking winked.
I was going to kill him. Or fuck him. Possibly both.
The band launched into their set and Soren was absolutely in his element, sticks moving fast and sure, his whole body engaged in the rhythm. I watched him hit the cymbals with enough force to make the sound ring through the entire building, watched the way his muscles shifted under his skin, watched him grin at the crowd like he owned them all.
This was wildly unfair. I had a playoff game to play in less than an hour and my boyfriend was up there looking like every filthy fantasy I'd ever had, performing in front of fifteen thousand people and making it look easy.
The set lasted twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of me standing near the bench trying to look professional while internally combusting. When the final song ended and the crowd erupted, Soren stood and took a bow with the rest of the band, and then they were clearing the stage and heading backstage.
I didn't even think about it. Just moved.
“Where you going?” Dmitri called after me.
“Bathroom,” I lied, and kept walking.
I caught up with Soren in the hallway near the loading area, and the second he saw me his face split into that troublemaker grin that meant he knew exactly what he'd done and had been waiting to see how long it would take me to come find him.
“Hey, Cap,” he said. “Enjoy the show?”
I grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the nearest empty room, a storage closet that smelled like cleaning supplies and stale air, and locked the door behind us. One bare bulb overhead. Shelves of product on three walls. Maybe eight feet of floor space and I was already crowding him back against the shelving.
“You didn't tell me you were playing today,” I said.
“Wanted to surprise you.” His hands came up to my chest, fingers spreading over my game-day suit, and the heat ofhis palms came through the fabric in a way that was doing absolutely nothing for my composure. “Did it work?”
“You're wearing leather pants at my playoff game.”
“I know.”
“You winked at me in front of the entire arena.”
“I did.” Still grinning, the bastard, hazel eyes bright and completely unrepentant. “You gonna do anything about it?”
I kissed him hard enough to bruise, one hand fisting in his hair and the other gripping his hip. He opened for me immediately, tongue sliding against mine, and the sound he made went straight through my chest and lower. I pulled back long enough to look at him, the flush across his cheekbones, the mouth I'd just wrecked, the flannel tank that showed off every tattoo on his arms and shoulders and left absolutely nothing to the imagination about what was underneath.
“You look so fucking good up there,” I said against his mouth. “Playing for all those people. Being brilliant.”
“Yeah?” His hands were already moving to my belt. “You like watching me perform?”
“I like watching you do anything. But especially when you're showing off for fifteen thousand people and making it look like breathing.” I bit his lower lip and felt him shudder against me. “Get on your knees.”
He dropped without hesitation, looking up at me with those hazel eyes gone dark, and his hands finished opening my pants and pulled my cock out and the cool air of the closet lasted about half a second before his mouth was on me.
The heat of it went through my skull immediately. Wet and tight and his tongue pressing up from below on the first stroke, and I let my head fall back against the door and bit down hard on my fist to keep from making a sound that the entire loading corridor would hear. He worked me over with focused and deliberate attention, no teasing, no working up to it, just hismouth taking me in deeper with each stroke until his lips were at the base and his throat was opening around the head.
“Fuck,” I breathed, the word barely clearing my teeth. “Just like that.”
He pulled off long enough to look up at me with wet lips and an expression of pure satisfaction. “I know.”
Then he went back down and took me all the way in one motion and I felt the back of his throat and my hand in his hair tightened involuntarily and he made a low muffled sound that vibrated through everything.
The control was going fast. My hand fisted harder in his hair and his eyes came up to mine and he held my gaze and swallowed around the head and I almost bit through my own knuckle.
“You planned this,” I said.
He pulled off with a wet sound. “Obviously.”
“You brought lube?”
