Page 58 of The Tryout

Stumped, I go with what I know, leaning in and kissing him gently. Just as I start to worry he’s not into it, his arm snakes around my waist and he deepens the kiss.

Oh, fuck.

If I thought our kiss last week had been game changing, this one is life changing. The feel of his soft tongue running against mine, the slight sweetness from the rice pudding he ate. I try to move even closer, but the side-by-side nature of the couch makes that difficult.

Avery, though, solves the problem immediately, throwing one leg over mine, straddling me. He’s heavy, with a few more years of muscle than I’ve been able to build, but with the soft couch supporting me, he feels like a weighted blanket more than anything.

I reach a hand up to run through his hair, which glows a deep copper in the dim of the room. I rake my fingers through the strands, my nails scratching across his scalp. I’m surprised – pleasantly surprised – when a moan emerges from Avery.

I did that.

He pulls back momentarily, forehead still pressed against mine. His lips are rosy and slightly swollen, and I feel that trickle of pride pooling in my belly.

“What…what are you into? What do you want?”

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. Ideas are whirling through my head on fast-forward, but the words escape me.

“I don’t…I don’t have a lot of experience.”

I can see a flicker of concern race across his face. Before he can think too much, I lean back in, kissing him again. He takes a moment to respond, but once he does, he moves even closer to me, closing space I didn’t even know existed. As he does, I can feel his dick, hard and trapped in his jeans. Once he’s good and distracted, I pull away, just a hair.

“I like this. Seems like you do, too.” I run a hand over his dick, the layers of fabric doing little to hide the twitch it gives.

The sound that comes from Avery’s throat this time can’t even properly be called a moan. It’s a whine, nasal and needy and all because of me.

This time, he’s the one to lean in, to seek out my lips, his hips starting a gentle roll against mine. My own dick is interested and growing more so by the second, especially when his hips catch mine just right. This time, the moan is coming from me as my hips thrust upward without asking my permission.

When Avery pulls back, his pupils are wide, his gaze unfixed.

“Do you…do you jerk off?”

I can feel my eyebrows cinch in confusion, but I nod.

His breaths are coming rapidly, but he continues.

“Hey, not fair. Some people aren’t as sexual as others. I don’t…I don’t want to push you beyond what feels good for you.”

I grab his hand, the same hand he used to comfort me earlier, and put it on my dick.

“I’m into this, Ave. Keep pushing.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, rubbing his hand ever so gently over my hard on. Again, my hips thrust into the stimulation.

“Can I…can I take off my jeans? The situation is getting a little…dire.”

I laugh at that, because while Avery is still stuck in the fashionably tight jeans he wore home from the arena, I’ve got the comfort of a pair of gray sweatpants.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

He eases himself up from his position in my lap, standing in front of me instead. His hands go to the waistband of his jeans and I struggle to keep my eyes on his face as he frees the button and loosens the zipper.

“It’s okay to look, Finn.”

Don’t mind if I do.

He pushes the jeans down, over a pair of bright blue trunks, then further still over his strong thighs. I’ll have to ask him where he finds jeans to fit the massive quads he’s earned from years of skating.

Probably has them custom made or something ridiculous like that.