Page 23 of Line Change

This time he does.

I work my way across his chest and down his side. The piece over his ribs is separate from the sleeve, dark curves following the lines of his body. I press my tongue to the top of it and taste him all the way down.

He can’t keep still anymore. His stomach pulls tight under my mouth. His hand lands on my shoulder, not pushing me away or pulling me closer, just holding on while I sink lower.

My knees bend as I follow the ink toward his hip. His cock is level with my mouth now. The head is dark and wet, a string of precum stretching from the slit when it twitches. I can smell his skin and arousal. If I lean forward an inch, I can drag my tongue over the head. If I open my mouth, I can find out how he tastes.

I want to.

The need hits so hard that one knee touches the carpet. Fraser’s fingers tighten on my shoulder, and his cock jerks toward my face.

Sucking him would cross some line I haven’t crossed yet.

As if standing on one knee in front of my naked teammate with my tongue wet from his body puts me anywhere close to the right side of it.

I drag my tongue over the tattoo on his thigh instead. Fraser swears, and his hand fists in my hair. His cock brushes my cheek, hot and slick, and for one second I turn toward it.

Then I stand.

Fraser’s pupils are wide. His mouth is swollen from sucking my thumb, his chest marked where I bit him. He looks wrecked already, and I haven’t touched his cock.

Seeing him wrecked makes me want to see how much worse I can make him look.

I’m straight. I know I’m straight. I’ve wanted women all my life and never looked twice at a man before Fraser. He got into my head, then my dreams, and now I’m in his hotel room with his taste on my tongue.

Maybe going through with this will get him out of my system. I can go back to being Ben Pope, the guy who scores goals and fucks women without seeing a tattooed man every time he closes his eyes.

Fraser is watching my face. Whatever he sees there makes the challenge come back into his expression.

“On your knees,” I tell him.

His eyebrows rise.

I expect him to laugh or tell me to fuck off. Instead, he lowers himself to the carpet. Slowly. His hands slide down my thighs as he goes, and his eyes never leave mine.

The sight of him there almost finishes me.

He sits back on his heels, naked and hard, looking up at me like obeying was somehow another way to challenge me. Precome spills over the head of his cock and runs down the shaft.

He is into this. Really fucking into it.

So am I.

I hate how much.

Fraser reaches for my belt. I catch his hand.

“No.” I open the buckle myself. My fingers aren’t as steady as they should be. I get the button open, drag down the zipper, and push my pants and underwear low enough to free my cock.

It springs out in front of his face. Fraser’s lips part.

I wrap my hand around the base and hold myself there, close enough that the wet tip touches his lower lip. “Open.”

His mouth opens wider. I lay my cock on his tongue. My thighs lock, and my hand tightens around the base.

His tongue is hot and wet beneath the head. He curls it around me, tasting the precum there, and makes a pleased sound low in his throat. The vibration runs through my cock and pulls my balls tight.

“Suck.”