Page 110 of Two for Charging

Chris stroked up the length of their cocks, and they both shuddered.

“Your cock is unbelievable. It pisses me off, you know?”

Chris’s cock throbbed.

Luca’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You walk around with this as if it’s no big deal. You happen to have the biggest dick outside of the porn industry—do you know what a tease you are? With your cute underwear and your—your blushing?”

“Blushing?” Chris repeated. He had no idea why he hung on every word, but his hand on both their dicks wasn’t making his balls draw up. It was the direct line between Luca’s mouth and the place in the pit of his stomach where pleasure lived.

“As if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What,” Chris tried, then licked his dry lips and tried again. “What am I doing?”

“Driving me fucking insane.” Luca thrusted down into Chris’s grip.

Chris’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he came in long, hot pulses over his own belly. Above him, Luca grunted and followed suit, as if he’d been forcing himself to wait until Chris got his.

That shouldn’t be so hot.

Luca groaned and collapsed face down on the bed next to him.

After a minute of panting side by side, he lifted his head. “This wasn’t some secret trick to validate your shitty self-esteem, right?”

Chris’s first instinct was to deny it, but he forced himself to consider for a moment. “Actually, I think it’s an ego boost. You like me so much it makes you angry.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“No, I mean, I love you so much it makes me angry. I wasn’t built to have this much feeling in me.” Luca dropped his head into the pillows with a groan.

Chris stretched his whole body out as far as he could, reveling in the comfortable feeling of satiation.

“Stop looking so smug,” Luca said into the pillows.

“Mm, no. C’mon, we have practice.”

Practice went better than their last few ones had. Howie still ignored Chris, which stung more and more with each passing day. Otherwise, they found a better groove. Phil focused on defensive zone drills, saying without saying that the D-core needed to be protecting the net more than they needed to score goals, at least as long as Nilsson started. The goaltending coach worked with him and the AHL call-up they’d gotten just before the flight out to Montreal, and it must have been invigorating enough for Nilsson to speak up in the locker room and apologize for his performance.

“No way.” Chris sprang up to pat him on his back. “The goalie does not apologize. It’s our job to protect you better.”

The rest of the defense muttered their agreement, and a few forwards agreed.

It didn’t change Nilsson’s save rate—hovering barely above 0.800—but it did make the team feel more like a team.

They had a team lunch after practice, huge plates of noodles and proteins of choice in a pasta bar Jax had found on Yelp. Chris tried to grab a seat next to Howie to enable a conversation, but Howie slid between Fedorov and Nieminen before he could. Instead, Chris sat with Luca, which he preferred anyway. If Howie didn’t want to forgive him, he’d rather be with the person who made him happiest.

“I love tagliatelle,” he said as he dug into his meal. “They taste so authentic.”

Luca, who had a bowl piled high with macaroni, the most American pasta, scoffed. “You could have had better ones with your parents in Montreal.”

“I was in the mood for pizza.”

“Your parents might not be real Italians, but they have good taste in restaurants. The tagliatelle there were fresh. These are store-bought.”

“You went out with Breezy’s parents in Montreal?” Mooney asked Luca.

Luca paused and licked his lips. “Yes.”