Page 61 of Two for Roughing

“Don’t.”

“But…”

Damir palmed his balls, enjoying how tight they felt and how his pulse thrummed under his fingertips. “Would you let me mark you up?”

“Yes.” The answer was instant.

“What else would you let me do?”

He didn’t expect Kilian to laugh. “I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t let you do to me.”

Damir shut his eyes. Precome pulsed out of his slit onto his fingers. “Touch yourself.”

He heard the rustling of Kilian reaching for himself, heard his shaky sigh when he finally did.

“How does it feel?”

“So good,” Kilian said. “I’m so sensitive. I haven’t…it’s been…”

“When’s the last time you got off?”

“A week ago, in the bathroom at the club, when you told me to fuck myself on my fingers.”

Damir grunted out a wordless sound of pleased surprise. He wrenched his hand off his dick before he could come, his orgasm bubbling dangerously close to the surface. “You should be illegal. Your voice message…I nearly got hard on the team bus thinking about you, how pink and flushed you must be, your pretty little cock hanging out of your tight pants, your perfect ass, and the slick you used dripping out into your boxers.”

“Yeah, well, I was wearing the same clothes when you picked me up at the airport.”

Damir’s cock throbbed. He had to touch it again, had to stroke himself to take the edge off, even though he was playing with fire.

“I wanted you so bad that night. Kept dancing with other guys, but none of them were you. None of them talked to me the way you do. None of them looked at me the way you do.”

It was too much. Damir’s fingers caught at the sensitive bit of skin under the head, and he came in thick streams across his abdomen.

“Damir.” Kilian’s voice in his ear prolonged the sensation, dragging it out another moment, another pulse.

“Kilian. I wish you were here. I’d swallow you whole, finger your perfect pussy, make you—”

Kilian moaned, and then there was nothing but both their breathing, too hard, too loud, too perfectly in synch.

Chapter Eleven

“The Sea Lions have made headlines all year with their engagement with local LGBTQIA+ shelter, Pot of Gold. Touting themselves as the progressive hockey team, they’ve garnered enough local support that San Francisco has gone from a perennial bottom place in game attendance to a respectable middle of the list. But is their allyship all for show? What happens when it’s not a PR stunt and it’s one of their own? Discover the shocking truth about the recent trade of Kilian Howard in the San Francisco Chronicle’s exclusive behind-the-scenes feature on the Sea Lions.”

Top comments:

clions2010: are you saying what I think you’re saying about Howie?

hockeyfanofcolor88: yo outing people is not cool

sf_sea_lions_official: This article was published without the knowledge or consent of the San Francisco Sea Lions and all affiliates.

(From Olivia Starling’s X account, 12/19/2025)

Tyson Fuller was a dirty fucking player. To date, Howie had never had fun playing the Philadelphia Magpies. Their core was aging out of relevance, their cup window was closing fast, and with nothing more to show but a handful of half-hearted playoff runs, they were getting desperate.

Kilian thought having his little brother on the opposing team might force Fuller to chill the tiniest bit, but alas, he was as much of a rat king as ever. And as the widely acknowledged rat crown prince, Kilian knew what he was talking about.

Midway through the second period, Fuller put paid to the notion he might give his little brother some leniency and tried to spear Fulls (and God, Kilian had to learn the Firecracker rookie’s first name before they played Philadelphia again because he sure as fuck wasn’t going to start calling the opposing captain “Tyson”). More surprising than the penalty itself, the refs saw it and awarded a double minor.