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“How about this summer?”
“Okay.” He agrees, so quickly it surprises me. “This summer would be good. Maybe we could stay a while—a few weeks, or a couple of months, even. Come back home once next season is about to start.”
The surety with which he says this fills me with warmth. I wish I had half that amount of confidence in my status for next season; my wanting to remain in South Carolina for the remainder of my NHL career is so strong, it churns like acid in my stomach. My one-year contract is a noose around my neck, slowly tightening as time passes us by.
“Or not.” Corwin says, incorrectly reading my silence. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll be there.”
“Sorry, I was just…that’s a good idea, spending the whole summer in Canada. My family has a lake house we could stay at; it’s pretty secluded, so we’d have a lot of privacy. There’d be enough room for Troy, Sam, and Lawson to come for a visit, too, if they wanted.”
Corwin’s hand tightens on mine. I run my eyes over him, suddenly wishing I wasn’t the only one half-dressed. Noting the look, he smiles. When he stands up, I hold onto his hand as long as I can before his grip loosens and my arm falls back into my lap. He grips the shoulders of his hoodie, pulling it off and walking over to hang it up in the closet. He’s not wearing a shirt underneath. Reclined on my elbows, I watch the smooth motion of his back muscles; there is a purple bruise snaking around his ribs, mid-back, and a cluster of freckles high on his shoulder that I’ve never noticed before.
“That would be fun. Lawson would love it; he’s from up north, so being set loose into the Canadian wilderness would probably be his idea of heaven.” Corwin tells me, closing the closet door and sliding his sweatpants down his hips.
I snort. The sweatpants are off and he’s carefully folding them; just this simple act of undressing has me half-hard, as I watch him from the bed. He’s not even trying to be sexy, his movements economical. It’s hardly a striptease, and yet I’m practically salivating over the sight of those two dimpled indentations on his low back. I don’t want to talk about Lawson, or my family, or hockey anymore; I want to lay him out on the bed, touch every inch of him with my fingertips and then do the same with my mouth.
He walks back toward the bed and I sit up, surprised that he didn’t put on pajamas. I widen my knees when he reaches me, and he steps in between them. Immediately, my hands wrap around the backs of his legs and I slide them up until I can tuck a finger under the fabric of his boxers. Leaning forward, I kiss his stomach. His abdomen hitches, and I smile against him, doing it again. When he clears his throat, I stop and look up at him.
“I was wondering if I could give you a blowjob.” He says, and I burst out laughing. Only Corwin would offer head to his boyfriend in a tone of voice suitable for a mortician offering condolences. He pretends to look offended. “Hey, I’m being serious.”
“Oh yes, that was immediately apparent.” I kiss his bellybutton again, chuckling. Tightening my hands on the back of his thighs, I aim a pointed glance at his bulge. “Or I could give you one. You’re already right where I need you.”
Instead of responding, Corwin lowers himself to his knees and rests his hands on my thighs. Immediately, my semi hardens into a full erection; quickly, before he can move them, I place my hands over the tops of his.
“Wait.” I instruct. He’s eye level, and there is not an ounce of hesitation in his sapphire eyes. I know for a fact he has never done this before, nor been on the receiving end. I also know which one would likely be better for him to experience first. “Let me go first.”
“You can talk me through it.” He says, as though I’m worried he’ll bebadat it. “Tell me what you like and how to do it.”
I close my eyes for a second, needing to regroup without the distraction of his face so close to mine.This motherfucker is way too pretty for his own good.I blow out a hard breath and open my eyes; raising one hand, I trace my fingertips along his collarbone. He takes advantage and slides his newly freed hand up to my hip, fingers curling into the waist of my boxers. He pauses, cognizant of me asking him to wait and my other hand still holding him in place.
“Can I?” He asks.
“Yes.” His eyes light up, and he immediately looks down at my groin. I let go of his other hand and use it to tip his chin up, wanting him to meet my eyes. “But stop if you want to. If you don’t like it, don’t finish, okay?”
“Okay.” He agrees quickly, like he’s worried I’ll retract permission. Both his hands are at my waist now, waiting for me to lift my hips so he can slide my underwear down. “You’ll tell me when you’re about to come, right? Just in case I…”
“Yes.” I tell him, rubbing my thumb over his bottom lip. “Of course.”
“Okay, then.” Corwin pats my hip, a silent request for me to let him proceed.
I raise my lower body a few inches off the bed, one hand on the mattress, and he tugs the fabric swiftly down. He has to move back in order for me to close my legs enough for him to get the boxers completely off; because it’s Corwin, he takes the time to fold them neatly and place them on the bed next to me. When he shuffles back in, I wait until he’s cradled between my open thighs to kiss him.
Corwin
Nigel’s lips are soft on mine, a direct contrast to the rougher feel of his leg hair against my palms as I glide my hands up his thighs. I love kissing him, and even though I have something else in mind for right now, I still feel a pain of regret when his mouth breaks from mine.Just one more, I think, and lean in to catch his soft gasp between my teeth.
This time it’s me who pulls back, and he grins crookedly at me. I wish I could do this and keep his face in my line of sight. As though pulled there by a magnetic force, my gaze drops to his dick. I’m no stranger to porn, but I don’t think any amount of videos can really prepare you for the real thing; I wasn’t kidding when I told him to give me instructions.
Tentatively, I lean down and kiss his leg. Nigel’s stomach compresses, like he sucked in a deep breath, so I keep it up, coasting my mouth up his thigh until I reach his crotch. When I wrap my fingers around the base of his shaft, Nigel’s hands tighten where he is gripping the edge of the bed. The sight reminds me that I have no idea what to do with my own free hand.
I glance up at his face, but he’s closed his eyes. Deciding to just keep my palm on his leg, fingers spread wide for stability, I lean down and put my mouth around him. It’s just the tip, but from the way he reacts you’d think I deepthroated him on the first go. He groans—a throaty, erotic sound that will now accompany every fantasy I ever have about him. Already, he’s leaking precum and I swirl my tongue over his slit, tasting him. It’s my turn to groan.
“Shit.” Nigel mutters. “Fuck.”
Opening my mouth a little further, I take more of him in, breathing hard through my nose and inhaling the musky scent of him. Using the tip of my tongue, I trace careful patterns over the underside of his dick, enjoying the way his skin tastes different here than it does elsewhere. His quad clenches underneath my hand, and I wish once more that I could see his face.
Pulling off of him, I sit up and find him watching me. His fingers are so tight on the mattress I can see the tension in his biceps and shoulders.Is he trying not to touch me?
“You can put your hand on my head, if you want.” I tell him, thinking of the way everybody does this in porn. Nigel stares at me like he’s suddenly lost the ability to comprehend English. Leaving one hand on his dick, I lift the other to the back of my head to demonstrate.
