by Ellen Devlin
“Absolutely.” She gently slipped off his shoes, socks, pants, and boxers and grabbed a pillow from the nearby chair, placing it under her knees.
He felt her hands run up the outsides of his thighs and murmured, “Oh, fuck.” Her hands ran over the top of his thighs, tantalizingly near his balls as she moved them down to his inner thighs, and he groaned as she dragged her hands gently down his inner thighs to his knees, pushing his legs apart as she went.
“So, big guy, I was thinking about a vocabulary lesson.”
“Vocabulary?”
“Yes.” She settled herself comfortably between his knees and gently encouraged him to move his hips forward on the couch just a bit, so that everything was in easy reach.
Stroking his inner thighs gently, she started talking.
“I love knowing all of the words for things.” She paused to drag her fingers gently on the underside of his scrotum, causing him to twitch.
“For instance,” she continued, “this, as I’m sure you are aware, is your scrotum, containing your testes.”
She cradled his balls, weighing them in her hand. They were large and heavy, and she rolled them gently in her fingers briefly.
His eyes were half-lidded, and he was breathing more heavily than normal already.
“In singular, one may be referred to as either a testis or a testicle. The plural is testes, although testicles is also generally accepted.
“But did you know that the midline of the scrotum is called the raphe? Right here.” She bent her head down and drew her tongue along the center up toward the base of his shaft, and Chris gasped.
Paige took the loose skin of his scrotum in her lips and tugged gently and then took one testicle into her mouth, using her tongue to move it around within the pouch.
Chris groaned and instinctively moved his legs further apart so that she had room to repeat her actions on his other testicle, lightly sucking as she manipulated it with her tongue before releasing it.
He was already fully erect, and she wrapped her hand around him, saying, “This is the shaft of your penis.” Dragging her hand slowly upward, she added, “And this is the head, also known as the glans.”
Paige began using fingers and tongue to draw attention to the various parts as she described them to him.
“This area right here, the ridge where the glans meets the shaft? This is the corona,” she said and then circled her tongue around him. “And the area just up under the corona is the sulcus.” She circled her tongue around him again, catching that sensitive area underneath the head.
“Christ.” It was a whispered groan, and Chris closed his eyes and put his head back against the couch cushions.
“The foreskin is also known as the prepuce.” Pulling down slightly so that the skin was taut, she said, “And this, where the foreskin connects to the shaft, is known as the frenulum.” She kissed and sucked at his frenulum, moving it with her tongue while he twitched and moaned.
One of her hands was holding the base of his shaft, and she shifted the other to cradle his balls again.
Paige met his eyes, which were heavy-lidded with lust, and smiled.
“As I said,” she continued, “I like knowing all the words for things. I’ve already mentioned a few, but colloquially, these are your balls.” She moved her hand to roll them in her fingers. “And this is your big, hard, cock,” she said as she started stroking him, watching his reactions carefully. His eyes had widened at her last words.
“Oh, Chris,” she said, pausing to swirl her tongue around him again and then speaking with her mouth teasingly close to his glans, “your reaction to the word ‘cock’ makes me think that it’s possible you might like dirty talk.”
His breathing got a little faster.
“Words are powerful, and context is everything.” She licked the underside of his shaft and said, “So, if hearing me say that I want to suck your big, thick, hard cock turns you on, I want to know.”
The responding involuntary thrust of his hips was enough of an answer for her, but he also whispered, “Oh, fuck.”
“Oh, yes. You like hearing just how much I want to suck you off, how badly I want to feel your fat cock in my mouth, don’t you?”
Chris stared, almost unable to believe what he was hearing from her, unable to connect the words with the woman.
“Don’t you?” she repeated, hovering over the head so that he felt her warm breath. “Does it make you even harder, Chris? Does it turn you on hearing me talk about wrapping my lips around your thick, hard cock?”
“Yes.” The word rasped out of his throat, the admission almost painful.
Smiling at him, maintaining eye contact, she took him into her mouth until her lips met her hand.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” It was almost a mantra he was repeating as she began moving on him.
She started with moving her mouth slowly up and down on his shaft. Bringing her left hand back down again, she reached under to cup him, rolling her fingers in time with the sliding of her mouth. She added a bit more suction pressure and allowed him to pop out of her mouth, only to swirl her tongue around his crown again.
Chris was groaning and cursing softly under his breath.
“Do you want to come in my mouth, Chris?”
“Oh, fuck, Paige.”
“Do you?”
“Goddamn, baby,” he growled. “Yes.”
Releasing both of her hands, she took him back into her mouth, taking him in as far as she could while she moved her hands back along his thighs to his lower back. He felt her run her short nails across his back and down to his thighs again as she held him deep in her mouth for a moment before resuming her hold on his shaft and her shallower strokes into her mouth.
Increasing speed slightly caused an audible intake of breath from him; when she opened her mouth around him and rapidly breathed in, causing a rush of cold air around his shaft, he jumped, gasping, “Holy shit!”
She moved back a bit, chuckling, her eyes wickedly playful when they met his.
“I’m going to suck this big, throbbing cock of yours until you come, Chris,” she whispered and then licked the underside of the head again, still stroking him. “Until you come in my hot, wet mouth. Is that what you want?”
“Oh fuck, yes.”
And then, her gaze shifting to pure heat, she took him into her mouth again and began to move her hand on his shaft with a firm, sure grip, stroking him slowly at first. While she increased the speed of her strokes incrementally, she started treating the top half of his cock as she would a lollipop—sucking, moving her tongue to press and slide, swallowing while using her tongue to press him against the roof of her mouth. Allowing his cock to pop out of her mouth with hard suction and then sucking him back in again. All the while increasing the speed of her stroking. Holding his balls with her left hand, touching, rolling, tugging.
He was panting, groaning, moaning.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck. Yes.”
He started moving his hips as she increased the speed and pressure of her stroking yet again.
Suction. Pressure. Stroking. Tonguing.
She was now jacking in the short, fast strokes that she knew would finish him off. Hips shifting, cursing, thrusting…and then she pushed her lips down to her hand and moaned loudly, the vibrations finally sending him over the edge into a pulsing, shooting, shouting orgasm.
Chris grabbed her head, pushing his hips up toward her mouth, thrusting frantically as his climax crashed over him. He twitched repeatedly as she kept up suction and pressure, continuing to stroke him as she swallowed.
And finally, finally, he began to relax as she released him from her mouth and hands, running her hands up to his chest while she kissed the inside of his thighs before getting up to sit next to him on the couch.
“Holy shit.” Chris looked at Paige, feeling almost as if he had never met this version of her. “I…holy shit.”
She laughed softly, deeply pleased by his reaction, and he smiled at her, looking a
little confused, unfocused. After a few moments of just breathing and returning to his own body, he said, “I had no idea.”
“About what, in particular?”
Chris thought for a moment, still having trouble putting thoughts together.
“That you would say…stuff. And that I would like it.”
Paige laughed out loud. “As I said, all words are powerful in their own way, and there’s a time and place for them when they will be at their most powerful.”
He looked at her and said, “But you…” The pause lasted so long he just gave up trying to put his thoughts into words and just laughed, relaxed and satiated.
“So, big guy,” she said, nipping at his earlobe, “now I know another thing that turns you on. It’s fun.”
“I didn’t even know. I’m not so sure if it’s the words themselves or hearing them come out of you.”
“Either way.” Paige shrugged and then snuggled up close to his ear and whispered, “By the way, you can go down on me any time you want. I love feeling your soft tongue on my clit.”
Chris murmured, “Sweet Jesus.”
Chapter Twelve
Paige did not get a chance to watch many of Chris’s games from beginning to end. Between grading papers, lesson plans, parent-teacher conferences, and needing to get to bed at a decent hour, watching a full game that didn’t start until at least seven p.m.—later if the team was traveling west—was simply not an option. So it was a while before she got a chance to sit and watch another game with Liz.
“That game we watched together was not rough, Paige.” Liz was munching on popcorn as they were watching pre-game coverage on TV. “This game, however, is a different story altogether. In the other game, they were playing against Ottawa. Not huge rivals, and both teams are a bit more geared toward speed and skill rather than heavy hitting.”
“There were hits in that game,” Paige protested. “It looked rough to me.”
Liz smiled and said, “Just wait. Tonight you’ll see some fireworks, if I’m not mistaken. They’re playing Pittsburgh in Pittsburgh. This is one of our huge rivalries. Pitt knocked them out of the playoffs last season, and there were a few, shall we say, ‘questionable’ calls by the refs. This is the first time they’re meeting this season, and I have a feeling that things are gonna get chippy.”
Paige shook her head at the gleam in Liz’s eyes as she talked about the game. Liz always said she loved the physicality of hockey.
The game did not disappoint. Big, heavy hits slamming guys into the boards, lots of pushing and shoving, lots of after-whistle action, and quite a few penalties. And several things that probably should have been penalties that weren’t called, which just amped everything up even more.
“Oh, this is gonna get ugly,” Liz said, watching two players head off for matching roughing minors. She turned to Paige and added, “Just watch. There will be a fight between those two when they get out or soon after.”
“Not an actual fight, right?” Paige asked. “Just more pushing and shoving.”
Liz turned to her, looking surprised, and said, “No, Paige, an actual fight. How do you not know that there are fights in hockey?” Shaking her head, she added, “How long have you known me? Have you ever listened to anything I’ve said?”
“I sometimes listen, but hockey talk sounds a lot like ‘blah, blah, blah, Ginger’ to me.”
Liz sighed. “They fight. For real. Not all the time, but you’re gonna see it tonight, probably pretty soon. When it happens, both players involved will be called on a penalty—five minutes, haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘five for fighting?’—but the refs will let them go on a while before they break it up.”
Sure enough, it was only about three minutes after the roughing penalty when the first punch was thrown. It happened behind Pittsburgh’s net and became quite a scrum. When the refs started pulling players apart, it was clear that there were two main altercations happening at the same time, and one of them included Chris.
“Holy shit! That’s Chris!” Liz exclaimed. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him fight. He must be really pissed about that cheap shot from Malek.”
His fight was quick, but he got in two good left hooks before it broke up. Liz cheered.
Paige was silent, and when Liz looked at her, she was rather pale. Liz moved over to sit next to her and put her arm around Paige.
“Paige, what’s wrong?”
Paige turned to her, eyes wide, and said, “I can’t believe he does that.” She was breathing rather shallowly and said, “I feel a little sick.”
“Oh, shit.” Liz got up and brought her a glass of ice water. “Paige, look at me.” When she had her friend’s focus, she said, “He does not do this all the time. Almost never. And it’s part of the game. Part of his job.”
Liz turned off the television so she could focus solely on Paige, who was clearly having a hard time processing seeing this aspect of Chris’s game.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Do what?”
Paige turned to her friend and said, “Date him. Date someone violent.”
“Oh God, no. Paige, he’s not violent.”
“How do you know?”
Liz stared at her. “How could you not know? Has he seemed the least bit violent to you? Ever?”
“No, but…”
“None of the Guardians’ players—and I mean none of them—have any history of violence outside of the rink. There’s no domestic assault charges, no bar fights, nothing. Chris is the same person now that he was to you two hours ago. Please don’t make a decision this important based on one two-minute hockey fight.”
Paige was calming down but still looked pale and shaken.
“Okay. That makes sense, but God, Liz. That’s crazy. They do that all the time?”
Liz smiled. “It’s part of the game. I think it’s part of what makes the game amazing, that there’s this built-in pressure relief valve. The players are passionate about the game.” Tilting her head to one side, she asked, “Are you going to be all right? I’m sorry, I had no idea that you really didn’t know about hockey fights. It feels impossible that you haven’t seen one before.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Still a little freaked out, though. He seems so…gentle.” She was smiling. “And sweet. It doesn’t seem like he could be the same person that just did…that.” She gestured at the television.
“Everything I have ever seen or read about Chris says that he’s exactly what you have seen from him…soft-spoken, quiet, kind. I promise I would never have pushed you toward someone who is violent or mean, Paige.”
Paige stood up and stretched. “I know. It was just surprising. Go ahead and turn the game back on. I’m going to go read for a while.”
“Nope, I can live without watching this game. Come on, let’s go get ice cream or something.”
***
The team traveled back to DC the same night after the game in Pittsburgh, so Chris came over to see Paige after school got out the next day. She answered her apartment door with a smile, but when he reached his hand to her cheek to hold her face for a kiss, she flinched.
Chris drew back immediately, his face a picture of concern, bordering on fear.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Paige, what happened? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine, Chris. I’m sorry about that.” She smiled at him, irritated with herself for her reaction, and said, “Let’s try this again,” as she moved toward him.
But he took a half step back from her, saying, “No, please. You flinched away from me like you were afraid. Paige, tell me what happened. This is scaring the hell out of me, because I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Paige sighed and stepped out of the doorway to invite him in. “Come in, have a seat, and we can talk. I am sorry, Chris.”
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“What? No!” Paige shook her head in irritation. “Shit! This is not going well.” She saw Chris raise h
is eyebrows in surprise at the language, and she laughed out loud. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, come inside, Chris. I’m making a mess of this conversation nine ways to Sunday, and I’m sorry about that. And yes, I can cuss too.”
Chris relaxed a bit at the abrupt change in tone and walked into the apartment to take a seat on the couch.
“I watched the game last night with Liz. Or, at least, I watched most of it.” She took a breath. “I stopped watching after the fight.”
He stared for a moment and then said, “I still don’t think I understand what’s going on.”
“Your fight,” she said. “It…” She felt her eyes tear up a little, which she hadn’t expected. “It kinda scared me,” she finished in a whisper.
“Oh God, Paige…shit.” He covered his face with one hand, the anxiety that began in her doorway beginning to make him feel ill.
“Liz talked to me about it. Explained things. I mean, I get it now, I think. I think I understand the way this works, but I haven’t ever seen you…” She trailed off with a vague gesture.
Chris took her hands very gently and said, “Paige, I’m sorry. I should have realized that you wouldn’t have known…that you don’t watch…” He looked up for a minute, trying to get his thoughts together. Looking back into her eyes, he said, “I feel like an ass for not having talked with you about this. That’s part of the game, but it’s not me. Not off the ice. I hardly ever get into fights even on the ice.”
Paige interrupted. “That’s what Liz said.”
He continued, “It’s not my role, really. There are guys that tend to take the lead on that sort of thing—they’re known as ‘enforcers’—and I’m not one of them. But it’s part of the game to stick up for your teammates, and sometimes that means that even I will take a swing at someone. Last night was one of those times. Pittsburgh was throwing some really cheap shots at our guys.”
He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed the knuckles on each of them. “That is not me off the ice, Paige.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Chris.”
He looked somewhat better but still not quite right, and he pulled away from her to sit back.