Page 59 of Line Change

“Nolan.” I pull at his hip. “I’m close.”

He only sucks harder.

My warning turns into a groan. I thrust up, once, and come into his mouth.

Fraser’s throat works around me as his body goes tight. The next pulse spills over his tongue when he makes a wrecked sound and pushes his cock deep into my mouth.

I grab him tighter and suck.

He comes with his hips in my hands. Heat hits my tongue. Some runs from the corner of my mouth when he jerks again, but I keep him there and swallow what I can. Above me, he loses the seal around my cock. My come streaks his lower lip and drips onto my stomach while he breathes through the last of it.

For a few seconds neither of us moves.

Then Fraser lifts his head. “Did you just come on your own couch?”

My mouth is still around the head of his cock. I give it one last slow suck.

His arms buckle.

“Fuck.” He catches himself on my thighs. “Okay. Point made.”

I let him go. He turns carefully and crawls down my body until we’re face-to-face. His chin is wet. So are my mouth and half my chest.

He looks at the mess between us. “We’re getting disgusting at this.”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “You’re the one who stopped sucking.”

“I was coming.” He wipes his thumb over my chin.

“Excuses.” I catch his thumb in my mouth before he can answer.

Fraser kisses me.

His tongue pushes deep, tasting himself, then drags over mine until I can taste myself too. I hold the back of his neck and keep him there. He settles half on top of me, still breathing hard, his softening cock slick against my stomach.

We kiss until neither of us has enough air. Fraser finally reaches between the cushions for his T-shirt. His hand lands in a damp spot beside my hip.

He looks at his palm. “Your couch is going to have a personality now.”

I laugh. His grin comes back, slower this time, and he bends to kiss me again.

We clean up and find our clothes. Fraser leaves his jeans on the floor and sits beside me in his boxer briefs while I turn on the game. It’s midway through the first period, tied at one.

“Who are we rooting for?” he asks.

“Nobody. We need both teams to lose.”

“That’s not how hockey works.” Fraser reaches for the remote.

“It should be.” I let him take it.

He turns up the volume. His bare thigh stays against mine. A minute later, his hand slides under the waistband of my sweatpants.

I’m soft. He holds my cock loosely while we watch a defenseman miss an easy clear. I reach into his underwear and do the same.

Fraser’s thumb moves when mine does, slow and absent while we argue about whether the winger should’ve been lower. During the next stoppage, he turns his head and kisses me.

There’s no rush in it. His mouth opens under mine, and we kiss until play starts again. Then he pulls back to yell at the television without taking his hand out of my pants.