by Eden Finley
With my job in limbo right now, I don’t know what that’ll mean.
“Let things die down a bit first,” Damon says, and I frown.
I understand it, but I feel sorry for Ollie. He finally gets his chance to be out and he’s told to still hide it.
Ollie’s hand grasps mine. “What are you thinkin’ so hard about over there?”
“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”
“There you go calling me pretty again,” he grumbles.
“You are kinda pretty.” Soren turns to us from the passenger seat with a charming smile showing off the dark scruff on his face.
Ollie chuckles at me. “I think you’re growling. Are you trying to growl? Fuck, that’s adorable.”
“I’m not growling,” I argue. “I’m not that dumb. Soren could snap me in half.”
“I’m not after your man,” Soren says. “I’m after my own.”
“Any guy in particular or any random one?” I ask.
He barks out a laugh. “An ex. Broke up because I wasn’t out. That’s fixed now, so I guess I’ll make myself grovel to get him back.”
Damon pulls up to Noah’s house and double-parks to let us out. “I’ll call if there’s any developments you should be aware of, but I doubt anything unexpected will pop up.”
We’re no sooner out of the car before Ollie’s dragging me to the steps leading to Noah’s front door.
Climbing stairs without paying attention to where my feet are going is harder than I’d thought it would be, but I don’t care when I have Ollie’s mouth on me. His hands are all over me, and his lips trail down the back of my neck.
We make it to the landing, and I go to push open the door, but it’s locked.
“Awesome,” I say.
“Why’s it being locked awesome?”
“Because they only ever lock it when they’re out.”
“And how are we getting in?” he asks nervously, as if I’m about to ask him to break into Noah’s six-million-dollar mansion.
“I have my key, and I have plans for you.”
That perks him up. “Plans? What plans?”
I fumble with my keyring and open the door. “Why don’t we go shower, and then you’ll find out?”
Ollie dips his head, his breath ghosting along my skin as we stumble inside. “Can’t I find out now?”
I shut the door with my foot and pull Ollie toward the stairs. “No. We both have plane on us, and I want you clean for what I want to do.”
Ollie’s eyes light up. “Are you going to fuck me?”
I was worried he might ask that, but I’m hoping what I have in store will make up for it. My lips land right by his ear as I whisper, “I want to fuck you with my tongue.”
“Sweet Neil Patrick Harris in a harness,” he mutters, and I laugh.
“Did you steal my line?”
He starts moving faster, and suddenly he’s the one dragging me. “Like you said. Sometimes fuck just isn’t enough.”
I have to laugh at how fast he runs up the stairs. The sound of the shower hits my ears before I even reach the top step.
Ollie hasn’t shut the guest bathroom door, and the sight of him getting undressed has my feet moving as urgently as his were.
But before I know it, we’re both naked and under the spray of the hot shower. The water beats down on us, and Ollie pulls me in close.
I moan into his mouth as he kisses me while his hand trails down my back.
Pushing him off me, I turn him so he faces the wall. “This is about your ass. Not mine.”
He says something under his breath I can’t understand but braces himself on his forearms against the wall and sticks his ass out, ready for me.
My hands lather some body wash and massage it into Ollie’s shoulders and neck. His head lolls to the side and he hums in contentment, but as I work my hands lower, going slowly over his shoulder blades and then down his sides, his calmness is replaced with whines of want and impatience.
A soapy finger trails down his spine, and he shivers.
“Pull your ass cheeks apart for me,” I order.
Ollie obeys immediately and rests his forehead on the tiles in front of him.
My finger moves down lower and circles Ollie’s hole. He grunts, and instead of giving him what he wants, I toy with it some more and refuse to put him out of his misery.
I pour more soap on my hands and work his front, including every inch of skin above his waist.
“Lennon,” he whines.
“Mmmhmm …”
“God, I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
I laugh. “Oh, sorry, is this what you want?”
Finally, I bring my hand back around and slowly press my middle finger inside him.
“Yessss.” His whole body shudders, and he sticks his ass out even more.
“Impatient.”
“Of course, I’m fucking impatient. You can’t promise me a tongue fucking and then take your time. That’s like …” He breathes heavy as my finger works him over, inching that little bit farther inside him before I pull it back and then slowly torture him again as I do it again.
“Like?” I ask.
“Like bad.”
I love him like this. Incoherent and begging. I pull away, and he whimpers.
“Where are you going now?” he whines.
“We’re going to bed. Because I’m gonna make this last way too long for me to get on my knees on the cold tiles.”
“Fuck,” he hisses and grips the base of his cock hard. “Or it’s gonna be all over before you barely even do anything.”
I chuckle. “Or that.”
We both rush to make sure we’re properly clean and quickly rinse off. Toweling off is even quicker, and I have him on his hands and knees on my bed faster than he could skate during a power play.
Our towels are discarded on the floor, and my cock wishes I was the one on my hands and knees.
No, this is about him.
As much as I want to take my time, Ollie’s not into the whole wait for it to build until you come so hard you go blind thing that I love.
The first flicker of my tongue over his hole has him begging for more. I suck two fingers into my mouth, coating them in saliva. When I go back working him over with my tongue and loving every reaction I pull from him, I can barely contain my own arousal.
I add a finger and then two, working him over with both my tongue and my hand, and he turns into a blubbering mess.
His hands fist my comforter, he groans loud enough to wake the dead, and I’ve never been more thankful to be home alone.
My mouth moves lower to his sac and then his long cock hanging heavy between his legs while my fingers peg his prostate.
His ass clenches around my fingers, and his balls draw up tight. Right when I think he’s gonna lose his mind and shoot all over my bed, he rasps, “Stop.”
I freeze, my fingers still lodged inside him. “What’s wrong?”
“I want … I want …” He breathes too heavy to get it out.
For a moment, I wonder if he’s asking me to fuck him. I’d do it for him, but I’d probably last a whole one point six seconds inside his insanely tight ass. It’s a snug fit for my fingers. My dick has no hope.
“Don’t wanna come yet,” he says, and I smile.
Guess he’s not so against edging after all.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go again,” I murmur and place slow kisses up his back.
He nods. “I’m good now.”
I don’t change anything—just continue to mouth his hot skin along his spine.
“I said I’m good.” His voice, so gravelly, makes my dick ache.
Instead of going back to massaging his prostate, I withdraw my fingers and go back to licking and teasing, using my hands to spread his cheeks apart so I can dive in.
Fuck, I wish I had more hands. I need to touch my cock. I need to touch his cock. There’s a whole lot of neediness that I can’t get to right now.<
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Ollie’s hips start rocking back, trying to take my tongue deeper, and as much as I’d love to put the brakes on again and torture him some more, I’m the one getting to the point of no return.
A light breeze could have me coming in moments.
The way he writhes beneath me, his body begging for more, and knowing I’m the one doing it is probably one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced.
My fingers go back to his ass and slip inside with ease. My free hand snakes around his front and starts stroking his cock.
I find myself involuntarily grinding against the back of his thigh.
My name on Ollie’s lips as his cock swells in my hand has me wishing for my own release, and as soon as Ollie collapses on the bed completely spent, I use his cum as lube and take myself in my hand.
With Ollie’s hot body underneath me, all sinewy muscles and tattoos … I get close with only a few strokes. But when Ollie turns his head and sees what I’m doing, he breathes a loud, “Fuck yeah, come on me.”
Who knew that would be enough to send me over the edge? I convulse as ropes of cum hit his back and the top of his ass, and if I thought Ollie was hot covered in his own cum, it’s nothing compared to knowing it’s mine marking his skin.
When I’m completely empty, I try to climb off, but Ollie rolls over and pulls me down on top of him. My limbs become weightless and my mind fuzzy as he wraps his arms around me.
Complete satisfaction doesn’t begin to describe this moment.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
OLLIE
“Water,” Lennon croaks.
“I’ll get it,” I say but can’t fucking move.
He rolls off my side and nudges me. “You’re not moving.”
“Can’t.”
Lennon’s laugh gives me the energy to get out of bed, because after that, I’ll get him anything he wants. He could ask me for a pet unicorn, and I’d go find one.
He leans up on his elbows as I grab a towel from the floor and wrap it around my waist.
“So, I’m guessing that was okay?” Lennon’s tone is unsure.
I run my hand through my hair. “More than okay.” I sense he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. “Is this about the whole topping thing? Because I don’t care if you never want to top me. At all.”
“Are you sure?”
I climb back on the bed, crawling my way to hover above him. “I think we’ve proved multiple times I don’t need a dick in my ass to get off.”
“And people say romance is dead.”
I pinch Lennon’s side, and he laughs.
“I’m gonna go get you some water now, but I don’t want you to worry about this, okay? Even if you did like to top, I so wouldn’t let you until I get bored of fucking you, and I don’t see that happening any time soon.”
A smile breaks out, and he nods.
After a chaste kiss on his lips, I head downstairs with a spring in my step.
And in perfect timing, the front door opens as I reach the foyer, and suddenly, I’m in one of those nightmares where I come face to face with one of my role models while completely naked. The only thing covering my dick is a towel that’s dangerously hanging low and loose.
I’m pretty sure I’m still covered in cum too.
Great.
I’ve met Matt Jackson before. I’ve spoken to him on the phone, and I’m friends with his little brother. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t intimidate me. He was the first out athlete to play an NFL game.
Noah smirks. “Aww, babe, did you get me a birthday present in the form of a naked hockey player? Because that’s awesome.”
Matt elbows his husband in the stomach and then glares at me. “Where’s Jet?”
Uh-oh.
I stand frozen, unable to form words even if it is to defend myself about not being with Jet. “Umm … not here?”
Matt doesn’t seem convinced, and his scowl deepens.
“I swear!”
“Why are y’all hanging out in the doorway?” Jet’s voice comes from behind Matt and Noah, and then he pushes past them. Thank God. “Whoa.”
“Uh, Lennon?” I call out. “Your roommates are here.”
“And Ollie needs some pants,” Jet yells.
“I don’t think he does,” Noah says. “I like my birthday present wrapped in a towel.”
Footsteps thump down the stairs, and Lennon throws pants at me, and then he pushes Noah. “He’s not your birthday present. I’m not that generous a friend.”
Noah gets him in a headlock. “It’s not like I’d fuck him. I’d just want him to walk around the house practically naked and fetch me things. Like beer.”
“Ooh, I want in on that,” Jet says.
Matt joins in. “Yeah, I’d be down for that.”
“Umm …”
Lennon wrestles free of Noah. “They’re fucking with you. You have your brothers. I have these people.”
Noah puts his hand over his heart. “Aww, did you just call me your brother?” But then he screws up his face. “Makes how we met a little gross.”
I cock my head. “How you met?”
Jet bounces on the balls of his feet. “You don’t know that story? That needs to be rectified immediately.”
“As fun as that sounds, I’m, uh”—I grip my towel tighter—“gonna go get dressed first.”
I head for the stairs, but Noah’s voice makes me pause.
“By the way, welcome to the club.”
“Club?” I turn back.
“The everything’s gay club. Meetings are weekly, and on Wednesdays, we wear pink.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve been a card-carrying member since I was fifteen. And I look wicked hot in pink.”
Noah turns to Lennon. “I like him, Beatle.”
As I walk away, Lennon complains, “Don’t call me Beatle.”
Followed by Noah saying, “Okay, Ringo.”
In Lennon’s room, I use my towel to finish cleaning myself up before I throw my clothes back on. By the time I get downstairs again, the guys are in the living room watching SportsCenter, but Lennon isn’t with them.
“Where’s—”
Lennon appears around the corner from the dining room, and he pales as his phone shakes in his hand.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. My mind conjures shit about what the media could’ve already printed about me.
“Guess I don’t have to worry about resigning anymore.”
So, not about me. “They fired you?”
Lennon nods.
“Because of us?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “They don’t know we’re together, but they’re pissed I didn’t tell them I knew about you. Or Soren. Because they’re convinced I knew of that too. You know, with my gaydar superpowers.” He huffs a humorless laugh.
“That’s bullshit,” I say.
He didn’t want to out someone so they let him go even though he’s one of their best reporters?
“Hey, guys,” Matt says, staring at his phone. “Why is Ollie all over the news, being ’shipped with some other hockey player?”
“Huh?” I step forward to the back of the couch and look over his shoulder.
“Caleb Sorensen,” Matt says.
Noah leans in and blocks my view of the phone. “Damn. Need me to beat him up for you, Lennon?”
Lennon’s still looking at his phone, but he looks up at that. “You?”
“Okay, fine. I’ll get Matt to do it.”
“Soren’s cool,” Lennon mumbles and goes back to staring at his phone as if wondering if he really got fired.
Matt turns to look at me. “You came out publicly?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yeah.”
“How is your phone not blowing up?” Matt asks.
“Don’t have it on.”
“Ooh, smart.”
As Matt finishes reading the article, the story appears on the TV. Footage from the press conference is played, and it�
��s weird watching it. It’s like having an out-of-body experience, and the adrenaline that was pumping through me at the time has already faded the memories around the edges. As TV me speaks, I can’t recall saying half the shit I did. I told them about Ash?
I didn’t name him, but he might be pissed.
Oh, fuck. Speaking of pissed, I turned my phone off from the world, but I also just remembered I never got a chance to give my parents a warning.
I take my phone out and go to turn it on when a glass of dark liquid appears in front of me.
“If you’re gonna do that, I might suggest this first,” Jet says.
“Good point.” I throw it back and then hit the button.
I hold my breath as it reboots and notifications start popping up. Missed calls from unknown numbers, my family members, and Ash immediately fill my screen.
Then the messages come.
Ma: I know you’re busy, sweetie, call us when you can. Love you, and so proud. Xx
Dad: Your ma says you should’ve worn a suit but didn’t want to meddle so is making me do it.
I snort at that one. My brothers have sent through their own messages, mostly congratulations and one from Vic being a smartass that says:
Wait, you’re gay!?
I send out a quick group text to let them all know I’ll call them when I can, but I need time for everything to settle first.
Kessler and Petrov and a few other teammates have sent texts of support. There’s one from Bjorn, and I know I shouldn’t open it. I tell myself not to, but my fingers have other ideas.
Bjorn:. So I understand why you’ve been avoiding me since that day in the locker room when I said some hurtful words. Well, one word. I truly am sorry for my stupidity and want you to know I fully support you as a teammate and respect the hell out of you as a friend … if you don’t want to punch me, that is. If you want to punch me, go ahead. Free shot. I’m sorry for being an ignorant prick.
Whether he’s being sincere or not, I don’t know, but at least I know he’s not going to make a problem for me next season. He probably saw what happened to Healy and is saving his ass, but at least he can admit when he’s wrong, or at least pretend so there’s no drama. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.
