Page 114 of Line Change

Ben rolls us before I finish the words. My back hits the mattress, and he comes down over me without letting our cocks separate.

His weight pins our slick cocks between our stomachs. Ben shifts lower, dragging his body over mine until the pressure lands along the full length of my cock. I lock one ankle behind his thigh and pull him into the next stroke.

“Push up,” he says.

I push my hips off the mattress.

Ben groans and bears down. His cock slides against mine, slick and impossibly hard, while our bodies move together. The weight of him makes every short thrust count. I feel the blunt head rub under mine and the hard length follow, trapped in the heat between us.

He buries his face against my neck. One hand grips my hip while the other slides beneath my lower back, lifting me into him whenever I start to lose the angle. I dig my heel into the mattress and keep grinding.

“Don’t fucking stop,” I tell him.

Ben catches my mouth without slowing. His hips stay heavy against mine, pressing our cocks together while the friction sharpens under the head. My thighs start to shake around him.

I come between us. The first pulse spills hot under Ben’s stomach, and my hips punch upward against his weight. He keeps grinding through it, spreading the mess over both our cocks until the next slide is almost too slick to feel.

Then Ben changes the angle and the underside of his cock drags over mine again. Pleasure snaps through the oversensitivity. I grab his ass and hold him there until he comes with my name against my mouth.

His cock jerks between our bodies, adding more heat to the mess. Ben shudders and lowers his full weight, knocking the air out of my lungs. I lock my arms across his back while his face stays pressed into my neck and our softening cocks lie slick between us.

The room smells like sex. Morning light catches on Ben’s shoulder and the mess cooling over my stomach.

Neither of us moves to clean it up.

Ben kisses the mark he left on my throat, once, then rests his mouth there. His breathing gradually slows against my skin. I rub my palm over his back and feel the muscles loosen beneath it.

“Still hope there aren’t any more stragglers?” I ask.

“If someone knocks now, I’m killing Bobby.”

“What if it’s Sindre?”

Ben considers that with his face still against my neck. “I’ll ask what he wants first.”

“Very compassionate.”

“He gets one warning.”

I laugh and feel Ben’s mouth curve against my skin.

He rolls onto his side but keeps one arm over my chest. I use the least disgusting corner of the sheet to wipe us both off, then Ben steals it and cleans his chest.

“We should burn that,” he says.

“It’s been through worse.” His eyebrows lift, and I add, “Not recently.”

“That’s not better.”

I shove the sheet toward the bottom of the bed and settle against him again. Ben closes an arm around my shoulders and plays with the curls over my ear.

“Playoffs are going to make Bobby worse,” Ben says.

“You should’ve seen him last year.”

“Great.”

I run a hand down his side. “I’ve been in the playoffs before, you know.”