“Good. Because I’m totally in. You don’t gotta worry about me getting all clingy, I’m not…” Richards ducked his head, frowning down at his beer. “Damn it, I’m not usually the type to get all crazy. Hamilton was a one-time thing. I’ve learned, and I won’t do that again. If you don’t call me tomorrow, it won’t be a thing, okay?”
“Considering you’ll likely be in my bed in the morning, and I’ll see you at the game, calling you would be a bit excessive.” Shawn slid his hand over Richards’ shoulder, resting it on the back of the rookie’s neck as he heard White returning. “I don’t want you to feel used. If you’re uncomfortable, at any point, let me know. I want this to be for you. A way to forget all you can’t have.”
Richards leaned against Shawn’s hand, his eyes drifting shut. “I want that too.”
“Good.” Shawn glanced over at White, who was holding enough condoms in his hand to go down on the entire US Navy. “What about it, White? Are you cool with helping our boy forget this night ever happened?”
The condom wrappers made a harsh, scraping sound in White’s fist as his throat worked hard. He stared at Richards. Then inclined his head. “Yeah. I’ll help him forget that asshole. I still want to destroy the bastard though.”
“Except, this isn’t a video game, Bruiser.” Shawn’s whole body relaxed as White came close enough for him to reach out and touch the man’s shoulder. “We can’t destroy people.”
White nodded slowly. “But it is a game.”
“It is.” Shawn slid his hand over White’s solid chest. Trailed it down to the man’s erection, which strained against the zipper of his jeans. “Are you having fun yet?”
Shuddering, White shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Then I guess it’s time for us to hit the next level.” Shawn stroked White, loving how easy this was. White didn’t pull away. Didn’t say a word. “Are you ready?”
Huffing out a breath, White laughed. “No. But I’m getting there.”
Shawn grinned. “Good boy. Ask nicely, and I’ll make this so much easier.”
White groaned and braced his hand on the edge of the table. “Damn it, Easy. Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”
The words dug in deep, taking hold. Refusing to let go.
And Shawn’s answer wasn’t part of the game.
It was the truth.
“Everything.” He stared at White’s lips, wishing he could taste them. Not in a gentle, teasing way, but in a way that would take all White had to give.
Instead, he pressed his lips to White’s throat.
“I’ll take everything.”
The soft brush of Pischlar’s lips along the length of Ian’s neck had his knees buckling. If this kept up, he was gonna have to get them checked. Of course, the doc would laugh at him if he was totally honest about when his knees gave him trouble.
No part of his body really worked right around Pisch lately. Well, one part was fully fucking functional, working overtime, actually, but his cock didn’t get an opinion. It had betrayed him in the past.
Nothing like getting hard for a hot chick who assumed all pro-athletes were crazy rich. Of course, his brain being slow to catch on to the obvious didn’t help. He’d even had one chick asking him details about his contract, and it hadn’t clicked until he’d refused to take her to an expensive restaurant on their third date.
Sexy and shallow as hell. He probably should regret the cash he’d dropped on the first couple dates a bit more, but the woman could do things with her hands and mouth and body that were probably illegal in most states. Worth every penny.
At least he hadn’t gotten attached, but it was too late to avoid that with Pisch. A pleading noise escaped him before he could stop it as Pisch raked his teeth lightly over his flesh and continued to massage his cock. He sucked in a breath as he felt a tug at his belt. Not Pischlar doing it, he had one hand in Ian’s hair and the other sliding down to his balls.
“Shit.” His whole body jerked as a hand curved around his dick. The hand was soft. Gentle.
Not Pisch.
He pressed his eyes shut tight, doing his best just to feel. Not to think. That’s what Pisch wanted, but fuck, it was hard.
And he wasn’t gonna be hard for much longer.
He tried to enjoy the stimulation, but he saw the rookie, so messed up, looking for a good time that Ian couldn’t give him.
Him…
Grinding his teeth, Ian fought the urge to pull away. It was messed up, but for some reason, when he’d fooled around with Pisch and Sahara, he’d managed to convince himself whatever happened was cool. He’d lost himself to the lust and pleasure.
With Pisch alone? Well, he’d only gone there once.
And he’d fucked up. Flipped out and almost destroyed their friendship.
He wouldn’t do that again. If this was what Pisch wanted, he’d do it.
But his body decided it was done cooperating.
Pisch’s hands left him for a second. Then Pisch touched his cheek. “Stop, Richards.”
The air came easier to his lungs when Richards’ hand released his cock. He didn’t open his eyes though. His cheeks were blazing, and he didn’t want to look at either of the guys. He didn’t want to be the shy prom date, completely naked, all in until there was a pair of balls in his hand.
And just to think, a few minutes ago, he’d brought condoms and hadn’t even hesitated at the idea of having Pisch’s balls in his hand.
“Look at me, Bruiser.” Pisch pressed his thumb under Ian’s chin, tipping it up. Not speaking again until Ian looked at him. “Tell me what’s not working for you.”
Richards ain’t a girl. That answer would be easy, but it wasn’t the whole truth. He tried to find the words to explain why he couldn’t let go of all the fucked up thoughts in his head. “This is…different. Me and Richards fooled around while I was drunk. Maybe if I had a few more—” He wasn’t surprised when Pisch shook his head. “Shit. Okay, but, no offense, I’m not into the kid. All I keep thinking is he needs more than I can give. And I need to give something. But he’s a guy, and I guess that’s still a thing. Not with you, but don’t ask me why. I don’t know.”
Liar.
Okay, he kinda knew. He loved Pisch. The man hit every fucking one of his ‘hell yes!’ triggers. Even with Sahara, Ian probably wouldn’t have touched her without Pisch calling all the shots.
His brow furrowed.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Bruiser.”
Ian took a deep breath. “Well, I mean, Sahara is hot. And doing girls has never been an issue, but without you there, I would have been thinking about how tough she’s had it. Maybe wanted to hug her instead of let her suck my dick. But you took over. I didn’t have to wonder if I was doing the right thing. I trusted you to know.”
Pisch’s eyes darkened as his lips slid into a slow, dangerous smile. Dangerous to Ian anyway because it meant Pisch had figured him out. “Good. That was perfect, my man. I know what you need. Thank you for being so honest with me.”
Moving away from Ian, Pisch undid his belt. Slid it free of the loops and folded it in his hand.
He best not be thinking of hitting me with that. Ian frowned. His lips parted.
Pisch pointed at a chair. “Sit, Bruiser.”
He’d used the same tone he might with a dog. And Ian obeyed before even questioning if it bothered him. The hard wooden chair dug into the back of his thighs as he sat forward.
“Lean back and relax, Bruiser. This isn’t a fight.” Pisch smoothed his hand over Ian’s hair. “You want this. Even if you only want it for me, you do want it.”
All the tension in Ian’s body evaporated as he leaned back. Put that way, yeah, he wanted it. He rested against the back of the chair.
“Very good. Hands behind you…no, Ian. On the other side of the chair.” Pisch’s light tone made the embarrassment irrelevant as Ian put his hands in a place that made sense. Clasped around the back of the chair. His chest swelled at Pisch’s low hum
of approval. “Fuck, you’re hot like this.”
Sweat broke out over Ian’s flesh as Pisch bound his wrists. With the belt. Which was obviously why he’d taken it off.
No beatings. That’s good, right?
He tugged at his wrists when Pisch was done. His chest rose and fell with his deep, rough inhales. He’d never been tied up like this before. And he wasn’t sure he liked it.
“Relax, Bruiser.” Pisch’s low, soothing tone put Ian into a calm zone that made breathing less of a struggle. The way he rubbed Ian’s shoulder eased him completely. Then he leaned close, whispering in Ian’s ear. “I want to see his mouth on you. To have your mouth on me. I won’t let you regret this, Ian.”
Ian’s eyes drifted almost completely shut. Fuck, that sounded good. His whole body was secured. His mind was…kinda fuzzy. In a good way. Like he could go along with anything and not have to pick every move he made apart. Because he wasn’t making a single one. Someone else was calling the shots for him.
“You seem quite comfortable with your body, Richards. It’s about time you remove some of those layers.” Pisch tugged at the collar of Richards’ shirt when the rookie shifted closer. He hauled Richards forward, so the young man was standing with one legs between Ian’s, leaning over him as Pisch spoke against his lips. “And in case that wasn’t clear enough, I want you naked before you touch my man.”
Ian’s dick had no issues with that order, but his head was kinda torn about the way Pisch sucked Richards’ bottom lip. Kisses were an issue for him, but they weren’t for Pisch. He kissed the guys, and girls, he fucked. After laying out his rules.
But he wouldn’t kiss Ian. He’d come close, but Ian wasn’t sure if he could count their lips touching for a few seconds as any kind of commitment. Everything Pisch said made it clear he’d only give so much.
But he’d told Richards Ian was his man.
Which made him different, right? He could deal with them being open if he wasn’t just another warm body.
Richards shed his clothes with the erotic grace of a stripper, but Ian didn’t watch him as he had when the rookie had been on stage. There’d been distance then, he’d been able to admire the young man without wondering if fooling around with him would be weird. Kinda like his issues with driving didn’t change how much he enjoyed watching stock car racing. He wasn’t the one behind the wheel.
And he wasn’t driving this show either, but damn, shotgun at 200mph was just as dangerous.
Standing by his side, arms folded over his chest, Pisch watched Richards kneel between Ian’s thighs. Ian kept his eyes on Pisch as the rookie covered his cock with a condom. He wanted that hazy feeling back. It had made going through with all this fucked up shit seem not so bad.
Heat surrounded his dick. Rough, dry pressure. He winced as Richards sucked and the pressure increased. If not for the condom, he’d be begging for damn mercy. Actually, he was getting there anyway.
“Richards, what in the world are you doing?” Pisch fisted his hand in Richards’ hair, tugging him away from Ian.
Because he was all kinds of awesome. Ian’s dick softened, deflating in relief. And probably self-preservation.
Richards gapped up at Pisch. “I wanted it to be good for him this time. Last time he looked bored.”
“And this time he’s in pain. Please tell me you didn’t do that to your nice police officer. He might not have played you at all. He may be very afraid.”
The rookie’s cheeks reddened. “Things moved kinda fast. I didn’t have a chance to mess up. He fucked my mouth for a bit and told me what he liked.”
“That’s actually very helpful, Richards. Thank you.” Pisch ran his thumb over Richards’ bottom lip. “Seducing a ‘straight’ man takes patience and experience. You have neither. But I can help you with that.”
Grinning, Richards licked Pisch’s thumb. “I’d like that.”
Pisch laughed. “I’m sure you would. Now, for starters, slow down. This isn’t a race to see how fast you can make him come—which you never would have the way you were going. True, Bruiser?”
Ian scowled. This whole lesson thing wasn’t much of a turn on. If they were gonna have a chat, he wanted his dick in his jeans. Far away from Richards mouth. “Can you untie me, man? He can practice on you.”
Yeah, don’t really want that either.
“Let’s be nice, White. You won’t regret giving him another chance. I promise.”
Don’t promise that. I already regret it.
To make things even more awesome, Pisch left the room.
Ian prepared for awkwardness, but Pisch returned too fast for either he or Richards to exchange a word.
He handed Richards a bottle of lube. “Try this. It’s got a nice citrus flavor that will make your mouth water. Your lips should slip over his dick nice and smooth. Start slow and work your way up to taking more of him in your mouth.” Pisch met Ian’s eyes, his lips slanted as he grabbed Ian’s half full bottle of beer off the table. “I’ll keep him relaxed, but remember, he has no control. I’ve taken it all.”
Sucking in a harsh breath, Ian stared at Pisch as the bottle was tipped to his lips. He gulped down the still cool, malty liquid. And groaned as Richards’ slick hand slid over his dick. The boy was definitely better with his hands. He got Ian hard again with a few steady strokes. Then his tongue circled the head of Ian’s cock.
Oh fuck, that…that’s much better.
“Very good, Richards.” Pisch framed Ian’s jaw with one hand, challenge in his eyes. “Were you paying attention? You have less experience than he does, and if you hurt me, it will not go well for you.”
“I won’t.” The response came so automatically, Ian didn’t have a chance to consider what Pisch was actually talking about. After a few seconds—while Pisch unzipped his own jeans and rolled a condom over his hard, long, uncut dick—Ian was able to put two and two together. His brain was having a harder time than usual keeping up as Richards took him in deep. Without gagging. Hell, maybe he’d been wrong about the rookie. A few tips from Pisch and he was a goddamn pro.
His dick throbbing as he reached the edge of release, he rasped in a breath and swallowed. “Ah…might be safer to wait until he’s done.”
“Might be, but I trust you.” Pisch leaned down and drew Richards away. “Give him a moment. Then continue. I’m impressed, you’re doing even better than I’d hoped.”
Licking his lips, Richards smiled. “Dude, I wasn’t gonna let him ruin my reputation.”
Yep, because I’m gonna go right to the locker room and let all the guys know you give great blowjobs.
Speaking of the locker room, would things be weird now? They’d been fine before, because people did all kinds of crazy shit while they were drunk. He’d gone to Vanek’s room once to see if the kid had some pain meds the day after a bad fight on the ice—Vanek had left the latch open so the door wouldn’t lock—and found him and his two buddies, Carter and Demyan, sunbathing on the balcony. Naked.
He didn’t ask. He got the meds and got the fuck out. He really didn’t want to know.
This time, he wasn’t drunk.
Being drunk would be good.
“Another sip, my man?” Pisch held up the beer, letting Ian take a few more gulps when he nodded. “You ready?”
Was he? Fuck, he didn’t know. But he was willing to try for Pisch.
Only, how the hell was he gonna do anything tied to the chair? “Uh, you untying me now?”
“No.” Pisch poured some lube into his palm and slicked up his dick. “Let me lead you, Ian. Just relax.”
One hand curved around his neck, Pisch drew him down, his fist gripping his own dick as he ran the tip gently over Ian’s lips. The solid heat was strange, but Ian pressed his tongue against the sheathed head of Pisch’s cock. The lube tasted like starburst candy. Not bad.
He opened his mouth a bit more as Pisch pressed forward. The flavor filled his mouth as he licked and sucked, hoping he was doing this right. It was hard to focus wit
h Richards working his cock, hard and fast. If his attention hadn’t been divided, he’d have come already. Instead, he concentrated on the smooth length slowly dipping deeper into his mouth. He didn’t have time to wonder if he should do this. He was.
The thick length went in, an inch at a time, but the condom seemed to numb his mouth a little. He didn’t taste flesh. The lube was almost overpowering at first, like he’d stuffed his mouth full of hot candy, but after a bit, there was only lingering sweetness and his own saliva.
More pressure and he tipped his head back, his dick swelling painfully as Pisch stroked his hair and murmured his approval. He tried to move against Pisch’s slow thrusts, but Pisch took hold of his hair, keeping him still.
The haze was back and Ian let the muscles in his jaw relax. His body didn’t seem like his own anymore. Everything that happened to him, Pisch controlled. The brief glimpse of Richards’ head, moving up and down, was a blur. The sensations, the taste, the heat…
It was all Pisch.
“Take him, Richards. Slowly.”
The words meant nothing, but suddenly there was a weight on his thighs. A vise grip on his cock. He moaned as Pisch pushed in until he couldn’t breathe. Then eased back so he could.
“Give me a color, White. Are you still with us?” Pisch cupped his cheek, letting his dick slip from Ian’s lips.
A color? Ian wasn’t sure he knew what colors were anymore. There was black and white. What was good, and what was bad. And he wasn’t seeing any bad.
“White.” He grunted as the grip on his dick stroked down harder. “Shit, this is good. So good.”
“Does the rookie have a tight ass, Bruiser? He’s taking you so deep. The way he moves…damn, he was made for this.”
Blinking, Ian made out Richards’ back. His ass as he rode Ian’s cock. It didn’t matter who he was. He was all heat, and the heat was everywhere. And it was perfect.
But it wasn’t Pisch.
So perfect was the wrong word.
He needed Pisch.
“Easy, I need to give you…I need…” Fuck, everything felt so good, he wasn’t sure what his brain was trying to get past his lips. Or why he couldn’t move. Or why Pisch was so far away.
Line Brawl: The Dartmouth Cobras #8 Page 9
