Chapter 5

Rhys

 

“Shoot! Shoot! Come on! Shoot!” I shouted at the screen. “For God’s sake, what are you—yes! Yes!” The puck hit the back of the net and I jumped up from the barstool a little faster than I should have, given my current blood alcohol content. I caught myself on the edge of the bar, though, and cheered alongside some of the locals because someone had finally scored. The game was halfway through the third period, Derek and I were probably halfway through a bottle of rum, and the score was now tied 2-2. To the bartender, I called out, “One more!”

“Hey, easy there.” Derek laughed, steadying me with a hand on my arm. “I’m not carrying your ass back to the hotel.”

“Pfft.” I waved him off. “You’re as drunk as I am.”

He chuckled and shook his head, but he didn’t argue because he totally knew it was true. Hockey wasn’t hockey unless we were fucked up by the end of the second period.

And since we were out of town, I didn’t have to worry about one of my students’ parents seeing me getting drunk and loud in a public place. Might as well take advantage.

The game had been a wild one so far, with two fights already and the puck changing hands so fast we were all going to get whiplash. Several locals had gathered around the TV too, throwing back booze and shouting at the players, the refs, and even some of the sponsors because… Look, we were drunk, and it was a hockey game.

The game went on at breakneck speed, both teams nearly scoring so many times it was dizzying. Then, with twenty-two seconds on the buzzer, the Caps had the puck and made a run for the goal while the Kings’ defense lagged behind for a few precious seconds.

“Go! Go!” we all shouted. “Shoot it! Shoot it!”

He shot it and—

Missed.

Everyone in the bar released a collective groan of frustration.

“Well.” I grinned at Derek. “That’s overtime. You know what that means!”

He returned the grin and gestured at the bartender, who poured us a couple more shots. At the buzzer, we both threw back the shots, slammed them down, and cheered along with everyone else.

As it often did, overtime dragged the hell on. We’d stopped drinking after the buzzer because we’d both had more than enough. By the time the Kings fucking lost after fifty-three years of overtime, we were still drunk but sobering up. Maybe we wouldn’t be passing a field sobriety test any time soon, but we could at least make it across the street to our hotel.

The biting cold was like a splash of water to the face. Holy crap, I was awake now.

And with as far as the temperature had dropped, I suspected there was more ice on the ground than there’d been earlier. Fortunately, I’d brought my cane in case the ground was slick when I’d left the hotel. It hadn’t been earlier, but now that the night was this much colder and I was hockey-game shit-faced? Definitely glad I’d brought the cane. We had to walk up a gentle slope to get to the hotel, and the pavement was shiny with ice under the streetlights.

Before we left the sheltered, dry pavement in front of the restaurant’s doors, I unfolded the cane. Derek offered his elbow, and I slid my other hand into it. This was one of those rare times when we didn’t worry too much about people noticing us touching. A man with a cane on icy ground wasn’t getting frisky by holding onto the guy next to him. Especially when one of them was drunk. Or both of them.

We slipped and slid a little, but between the two of us and my cane, we stayed upright and made it up the hotel’s driveway. The entrance to the building was sheltered so people could unload their cars without getting wet, and the pavement under here was dry. No more ice.

Still holding onto Derek’s elbow, I bumped his shoulder with mine and slurred, “We made it. I didn’t bust my ass or anything.”

He laughed as we walked in through the automatic doors. “Don’t get too cocky. We still have to get to the rooms, and you’re—” He stumbled, but caught himself on the door and my arm. “Drunk.”

I snorted. “I’m drunk? Look who’s talking.”

“Fuck you.” He righted himself. “It’s what I get for trying to hold your ass up.”

“Pfft. I’m not the one tripping on stripes in the carpet.”

“Jackass.”

I laughed as we continued toward our rooms. We didn’t have very far to go, thank God, and we weren’t going to slip on any ice in here, so we were home free. Score.

We stopped in the hallway between our rooms. I started to slide my arm free from Derek’s and tried to remember which pocket my room key was in.

But then I looked at Derek. And he looked at me.

And there was this beat of still silence.

And suddenly we were against each other.

I had no idea who’d initiated it. My rum-soaked mind couldn’t keep up enough to figure out who’d crossed the distance and made first contact. Or hell, maybe it could, and it had, but the instant we were kissing, my brain went blank and it didn’t matter anymore who made the first move. His lips were still cold from being outside, but they quickly warmed up. So did mine. My God, I’d always loved how he kissed, and now I was pretty sure it could get me drunker than anything in a bottle ever aspired to.

As I wrapped my arm around his waist, my cane clattered to the floor at our feet, but I made no move to pick it up. There was no ice in here, and even as drunk as I was, I was steady enough to stand without the support. Even if I did waver from all the booze, I had Derek’s arms around me.

And…fuck, yes. We’d hit that sweet spot where we were drunk enough to be frisky, but sober enough we could still get hard. His cock rubbed mine through our jeans every time we moved, driving soft groans and whispered curses out of me as I explored his throat like it was the first time I’d ever touched him. I found that spot on his neck, just below his ear, and he gasped and shuddered, holding me tighter. God, I was painfully hard, desperate to have him naked, but I just needed another moment or two of this.

“Rhys,” he breathed. “Come up… I want…”

I lifted my head, and he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me. I shivered, leaning into him. My touch-starved skin tingled under my clothes, but my kiss-starved mouth was too busy to stop and suggest we go into one of our rooms and get naked. We’d get there. Maybe. I didn’t know. All I knew right then was that I couldn’t get enough of Derek’s soft lips and insistent tongue.

I pushed him back a step. Then another. He gasped when his back hit the door, and I pressed my hips against him, making sure he felt every inch of my erection. He grunted softly and arched, and I dipped my head to kiss his neck again, and… Jesus. Oh my God. All the alcohol I’d had tonight couldn’t send me as high as the scent of his skin and the heat of his body as I breathed him in and kissed up and down the side of his throat.

He guided my hand down between us, and I swore against his skin as my palm slid over the rock hard ridge of his erection. I squeezed him through his pants, reveling in the thrum of his voice against my lips. Derek rutted into my hand and swore into the silence of the hallway.

“We should go in one of our rooms,” he slurred, probably as much from arousal as alcohol. “Because if I take your pants off out here, we’ll end up in jail.”

“Mmm, I love how you think.” I drew back. “Which room should—”

He touched his key to the reader beside his hip, and the LED turned green. Guess that answered that question.

We exchanged grins as he opened the door. Then I picked my cane up off the carpet, and we hurried into Derek’s room.

We didn’t bother with slowly undressing. As soon as the door was shut behind us, the clothes started piling up on the floor like snowdrifts. Parkas. Shirts. Shoes. Jeans. After he’d pulled back the covers, I sat on the edge of the bed, slid off my prosthetic and liner, tossed my boxers onto the rest of my clothes, and then joined Derek under the thin sheet.

For the second time, he guided my hand down to his dick, but this time, there was no more denim barrier. Just hot skin on hot skin. I closed my fingers around the shaft, and he gasped as I started stroking him.

“Like that?” I murmured between kisses.

The reply wasn’t words, but it definitely sounded positive, so I kept going.

I wanted to stroke him and turn him on, but his mouth was too distracting. His lips and tongue were magic, always had been, and I couldn’t make out with him and concentrate on teasing his dick, so I finally gave up doing anything with my hands. I’d get there. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy this man’s amazing mouth.

I pushed him onto his back and straddled him, and as I came down to kiss him, he dragged his hands down my sides and onto my ass. I’d always loved the way this man’s hands felt on me. He could be rough to the point of bruising or so gentle it bordered on ticklish or anything in between, and I loved it. I was drunk already, but his touch made my head spin even faster. His erection rubbing against mine almost drove me out of my mind.

Through the haze of need and ninety proof, I was aware this wasn’t the last man I’d been with. After I’d admitted to Derek that I’d cheated on him, he’d refused to touch me, and though I hadn’t blamed him, I’d ached for him. Not just to somehow assuage my guilt, but because I’d never wanted anyone like I’d wanted Derek. One stupid mistake had cut me off from the breathless, needy sex I’d taken for granted for almost a decade.

Having his skin against mine now, tasting his mouth again and feeling his thick cock rubbing mine, brought tears to my eyes. Guilt. Relief. Shame. Need. I wanted him so bad it hurt, and it hurt even more to be this aware of everything I’d destroyed.

I took in a long, deep breath of his scent through my nose, hoping it also masked a subtle sniffle. Then I kissed his collarbone again, and started working my way downward, letting my lips memorize every inch of his chest and abs. This was probably the last time I’d touch him like this—a second chance to drink him in and commit all this to memory—and I fully intended to burn it into my mind.

As my lips crested his hipbone, Derek moaned. “Oh, yeah.” He combed his fingers through my hair. “Please, baby. Suck my—yes.”

I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock, then slowly deep-throated him just the way he loved it. He moaned again. Except…no, that was me. That was my voice, my pleasure as I licked and stroked Derek while he arched and trembled beneath me. My head was light and my whole body felt warm all over; I had no idea where the booze ended and the arousal began, but whatever. I loved it. I never wanted it to stop.

Derek shivered. “Rhys. D-don’t suck me off. Not ready to come yet.”

I lifted my head. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He didn’t speak, but the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. I pushed myself onto my arms and came back up to kiss him, and…yeah, that was what he wanted. Deep, passionate kissing while our naked bodies tangled up all over again. Derek rocked his hips, rubbing his dick on my hip, and I returned the motion, adding some friction as my own cock rubbed against him.

He slid his hands down my back and squeezed my ass. “I so wish I had some lube with me.”

“Mmm, yeah. But I think we can make do without.” I nipped the side of his neck hard enough to make him gasp. “Plenty of things we can do.”

The helpless sound he released gave me goose bumps. He was always so fun when he was this turned on. When desperation rolled off him in waves that were nearly visible to the naked eye.

We made out and groped and nipped and gasped, and every time he stroked or so much as grazed my cock, it was a wonder I didn’t come. I was so turned on I couldn’t see straight. Wanted him so bad I couldn’t think straight. Somehow, we found ourselves on our sides, pumping each other’s cocks while we made out. We thrust our hips too, fucking into each other’s fists, and if I’d been sober, I probably would have come after two or three thrusts. The alcohol slowed me down, though, and thank God for that. Now I could enjoy this frantic neediness. His. Mine. Ours. I was drunk enough to slow down and get drunk on him. Fuck yes.

Derek shuddered, his hand’s rhythm faltering slightly. Then he moaned. “Ungh. Don’t stop. Fuck.”

I was panting too hard to speak, and I definitely didn’t stop. I dug my teeth into my lip, pumped his cock for all I was worth, and wondered if there was anything sexier than Derek when he was this close to coming. His features were tight, his eyes squeezed shut, his fair skin flushed, and when he held his breath, I held mine too, and I mentally urged him on as I kept stroking him and thrusting into his fist.

“Fuck!” The word burst out of him in the same instant his entire body jerked, and then he gasped, and his cum landed on my hand, our stomachs, and my dick.

I was probably three strokes from coming myself, but Derek suddenly stopped, pushed me onto my back, and—before I knew which way was up—went down on me.

“Oh God!” I groaned as his lips and tongue went to town on the head of my dick. I was so close to the edge anyway, and he licked and sucked and stroked me like he was hell bent on making me come as quickly as possible. I shuddered hard, gripping the sheets and not even trying to fight my orgasm. I let him take me there as only Derek had ever been able to, and in seconds, I cried out and came in his eager, talented mouth.

Derek sat up, cleaned his own cum off both of us, then flopped onto the bed beside me, and we lay there panting as the room spun. I didn’t let myself think about how long it had been since I’d felt this good, or why it had been so long—I just basked in it and savored it.

“Oh my God,” I murmured. “I needed that.”

“Me too.” He was quiet for a moment, then laughed softly.

I turned to him. “What?”

“Just thinking.” He let his head loll toward me, and he gave me a delicious leer. “I forgot how much I loved drunk hockey sex.”

I chuckled, finding his hand on the rumpled sheet. “I know, right? I mean, gotta do something with all that adrenaline.”

“Uh-huh.” He slid closer. “Whatever you say, baby.”

We cuddled up together, my arm draped over him and his encircling my shoulders. With my head resting on his chest and the heat of his body against mine, post-sex drowsiness kicked in fast. Now that we’d both come, everything—the road trip, the alcohol, the sex—came crashing down. My eyelids were suddenly heavy.

“I’d suggest a round two, but I…” I trailed off into a yawn.

Derek breathed a warm laugh across my forehead and pressed a kiss to my hairline. “It’s been a long day.”

“And we’re drunk. Don’t forget that.”

“And we’re drunk,” he acknowledged with a nod.

“So drunk.”

“Pfft. We’re not that drunk.”

“Sure you’re not.” I patted his shoulder. “Whatever you say.”

“I got it up, didn’t I?”

“Uh-huh. Doesn’t mean you’re not drunk.”

“But it means I’m not super drunk.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fuck you,” he said with a laugh.

I laughed too, and let my eyes slide closed as I enjoyed his warm embrace. I didn’t let my mind linger on whether it was a good idea to fall asleep in this bed. I wasn’t sure I could have lingered on the thought if I’d wanted to.

Wrapped up in Derek’s warm arms, I did the only thing I could do.

I let sleep carry me away.