Page 8 of Line Change

He can have it for tonight. He isn’t keeping it.

4

BEN

Seattle is falling apart.

The team, definitely. The practice facility might be next. The locker room is mostly deserted and so hot the air sticks in my lungs. Steam pours out of the showers and crawls over the stalls like something is leaking behind the walls. Maybe the building is rotting around us. Why should it be any different from the team?

My body is too tired to care. My thighs ache. My shoulders feel packed with sand. I’m sick of losing and sick of Seattle, and if the showers flood the whole fucking building while I sit here, at least practice will be canceled tomorrow.

I close my eyes for a second.

When I open them, hot water is pounding down my back.

I’m naked in one of the showers with my palms braced against the tile. I don’t remember walking in or taking off my clothes. I don’t remember Fraser getting here either, but he’s leaning against the open glass door, naked and staring at me with a lazy, filthy smile.

His tattoos glisten in the steam. Black and gray ink curls around his left arm and spreads over his shoulder before climbing the side of his neck. I’ve seen every bit of it that his clothes leave uncovered. I’ve wondered what the rest looks like.

Now I know.

Ink stretches over his chest and runs down his ribs. I follow it with my eyes, already thinking about following it with my tongue. I want to start at his neck and lick my way down until I find out whether he tastes like soap or sweat or just hot skin.

My gaze reaches his cock. It’s thick and getting harder while I watch, lifting away from his body.

Fuck. I want to wrap my hand around it. I want to feel the exact moment it goes fully hard in my palm.

My own cock jerks at the thought.

Fraser sees. His smile deepens, and he starts flipping one of the green chips from casino night over his knuckles.

I can’t stop watching his fingers. Last night, they wound my tie around them. Now I picture that same slow curl around my cock, and the ache hits so hard I have to spread my feet.

A drop of water clings to the tattoo on his neck. It slips over his shoulder and runs down his biceps, following the ink all the way to his elbow. My tongue presses against the back of my teeth. I want to catch the next drop with my mouth. I want to suck at his skin until I can feel the muscle jump beneath it.

“Like what you see?”

His voice is lower than usual. Rougher. It runs through me and settles behind my balls.

He pushes away from the door. The chip hits the tile, forgotten, and then his wet body is close enough to mine that his cock almost brushes my hip. I can feel the heat of him through the steam. Smell his skin. See water shining on his bottom lip.

I want that mouth too.

Fraser reaches for me. His palm slides down my chest, barely touching, and every muscle in my stomach pulls tight beneath it. He passes my navel. Moves lower.

I know exactly where his hand is going.

I push my hips toward him.

I want his fingers around me. I want him to squeeze. I want to feel that first slow stroke while I put my mouth on the ink covering his throat⁠—

My eyes snap open.

The team plane hums around me. The cabin lights are low, my seat belt is fastened, and my cock is so hard it hurts.

Fuck.

I yank my jacket over my lap. My hand bumps my erection through my pants, sending a pulse through it that makes me grit my teeth.