Page 37 of Two for Roughing

When they’d hung up, he’d thought he was calm enough. So what if he hadn’t come? He’d live. He’d ordered room service and turned on the TV, intent on wallowing in his own failures. He ignored the shit-squillion messages from his dad asking why he’d been benched and whether he could call Coach Lindenberg to talk to her about it. When his grandpa tried calling as well, Kilian had to turn his phone off entirely.

But as the evening wore on, the memory of everything Damir had said over the phone kept occurring and reoccurring to him, and he’d gone to bed half hard. He’d woken up in the morning humping his pillow, and ever since, he’d been panting after this moment.

He hadn’t counted on being in public when it happened.

“Bet you’d be a perfect hole,” Damir said. “I could fuck you, fill up your pussy till you’re wet and sloppy with my come, and then leave you unsatisfied and begging for more.”

“No!” Kilian whispered before remembering he needed to be quiet and shutting his mouth tight.

Damir tutted. “Not so perfect after all.”

Biting his lip against the urge to tell Damir he would try harder and do better, Kilian sank lower in his seat. The movement caused his cock to brush against the silk of his boxers, an indulgence he allowed himself on game days. The smooth fabric made the dullness of wearing suits more bearable. When he’d chosen the underwear that morning, he hadn’t known it would also be a magnificent tease, the material a whisper of sensation against hot, throbbing flesh.

“That’s better. You can beg for me some other time, hm? I like to hear you when you get all whiny and desperate.”

It was a good thing Kilian wasn’t allowed to talk because he’d claim he didn’t get whiny and desperate, and they’d both know he was lying. And then Damir would have to punish him for lying, and he could lay Kilian over his knee and—

Another pulse went through Kilian’s cock, leaving wet, sticky trails soaking into his boxers. When he squirmed, the damp fabric provided less friction, and, perversely, not getting what he wanted made him pulse even more.

“Are you being good for me?”

Kilian imagined Damir standing over him, asking. He imagined being on his knees with Damir’s thick cock between his lips, imagined being on his belly getting railed just right, imagined being held just right.

He didn’t say anything.

“Perfect girl.”

The words were hardly more than a whisper, but it was enough.

Kilian bit the inside of his cheek as he came in shaky, hot pulses, seeping through his underwear and into his pants. Pleasure and shame warred within him, the humiliation almost as sweet as the orgasm itself. He was breathing fast. A flush ran down his neck and chest.

The blood rushing through his ears slowed a little, leaving only the roar of the jet engines.

Kilian unclenched his jaw. His mouth had gone dry. He shivered as sweat cooled on his skin.

“I,” he said. He couldn’t say he’d finished out loud, not on the team plane.

“Oh, I know.” They weren’t on video call, but Kilian had a good idea what Damir looked like when he sounded that smug. “You sounded beautiful trying not to scream. I bet you were. I’m going to think about you later, when I’m in bed. How you shot off in your pants to nothing more than my voice. How you have to wait out the whole flight in your own mess. I’d lick you clean if I could.”

“Jesus,” Kilian hissed. His spent cock twitched painfully. Then he frowned. “Wait, is it offensive to say ‘Jesus?’ Do you say ‘Mohammed’ when something is really hot?”

Damir laughed. “What the fuck? No, of course I don’t!”

Kilian breathed a sigh of relief. With his voice lowered to a whisper so no one would overhear him, he said, “I thought so. It would sound weird. Wait, was that offensive? Sorry—”

“Kilian, you have had sex with me. You know what I say and how I sound.”

“Yeah, but you could have been hiding stuff, or not saying what you’d usually say.”

A long pause followed. Kilian wondered if he’d fucked this up somehow, said something to alienate Damir.

“Do you hide things?” Damir asked.

“With other people,” Kilian admitted, “who don’t know about…”

“Ah. Right. Well, the answer is no. I’m not censoring myself, and I’ve never had the urge to invoke the prophet during sex.”

“Cool.”