Leander’s hand begins rubbing hard against his shaft.
I pinch his cheeks to make him open his mouth again before shoving myself deep into his throat. He chokes, tears welling up in those soft hazel eyes. His fingers dig into my ass as he tries to put space between us, but I want his throat bruised, his jaw aching.
I glance down to make sure he’s not on death’s door, but my boy is taking me so well.
Tears stream down Leander’s cheeks, his rough moans vibrating to my balls. His gym shorts are pooled around his knees as his hand moves up and down his length. The delicious sounds of my spit on his cock and his gagging ping around the locker room.
“Lee, I’m gonna?—”
Leander starts bobbing his head faster, his left hand squeezing my thigh.
It’s too much. It’s too good. I cum hard in his mouth. He moans as his own release makes a sticky mess of his hand.
Annoyance rolls through my shoulders. I yank him off of me by his hair. His cheeks are pink and tear stained.
“I didn’t say you could come, did I?” I spit.
Leander shakes his head, puppy dog eyes almost making me forget that this was a punishment for ignoring me today.
“So, why did you?”
He doesn’t answer. I can tell he’s holding my cum in his mouth waiting for an opportunity to spit.
“Swallow.”
He follows my instructions, panting heavily. A ditzy smile curling on his mouth. “I couldn’t help it.”
I release his hair, pulling up my pants. Once I’m covered, I start to see panic sinking into his face. Oh, he’s gonna flip.
He sits there, shocked. Reality clearing his eyes. “What the fuck did we just do?”
I grab a hand towel from the rack and run warm water over it. “I fucked your mouth.”
“That’s not what I meant!” He stands, pulling his shorts up like he’s some ruined whore. “We weren’t?—”
I stride back to him, the long practice and post nut weighing heavy on my shoulders. I lace my free hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I got you.”
He shudders against me like he’s feeling something harsh and raw.
I begin by wiping his face gently with the warm rag before cleaning his chest and hand of his mess. He looks as shocked by my gentle actions as I am.
“Don’t freak out. You’re okay,” I mumble.
I normally just get off and leave, but something inside me wants to care of him. Like he’s cherished.
Like he’smine.
I claim his mouth softly, my hands pulling his hips to mine. He tastes like me and those shitty cinnamon mints that sociopaths like.
My new favorite flavor.
I cup his face in my hands, smoothing his hair back. His eyes are less scared and panicked now. His pulse slows against my fingers.
“Don’t ignore me at practice again,” I whisper against his mouth before leaving him in the locker room with the taste of me still on his tongue.
The night air bites at my lungs when I finally step out of the rink. The lot’s mostly empty, just a few stragglers hauling their bags to dented cars, but I don’t see them. I barely notice the steam rising from the vent near the building or the thin crust of frost forming on windshields.
All I see ishim.
