He jerked, hard, when Tim cradled his sac gently in his palm.
“Nope, they look fine,” he said sweetly.
“Uuugh,” Chris groaned, wishing he could cut the fucking cast off right now. It would be worth it, just so he could wrap his legs around Tim’s waist, pull him close, feel his ribs against the sensitive skin of his thighs. His good leg actually lifted off the bed at the thought—the bad leg, too, barely, but Tim pushed it down.
“Careful,” Tim admonished before he dipped his tongue into Chris’s bellybutton, twice, then sat back on his heels. “Here,” he said, shoving a few pillows under the cast, pushing it as wide as Chris’s hips would allow. “Better?”
It was, actually. Chris didn’t have time to tell Tim as much, though, before Tim was leaning over him and digging through the bedside table drawer.
“Hey,” Chris protested, racking his brain to recall if he had any decent lube in there. He blinked when Tim came back with a bottle he’d never seen before. “Where did that come from?”
“My room?” Tim replied with a little smile.
“Fucking boy scout,” Chris groused, trying to look put out, which wasn’t easy when his heart was banging against his ribs so hard, he was sure the whole city could hear it. He watched in a daze as Tim poured some into his palm, letting it warm there briefly before wrapping his hand around Chris’s cock again.
He hissed at the sweet, slick slide. His body felt hot, flushed all over, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. Tim seemed to know exactly how much pressure to use to drive him fucking crazy without taking him to the edge.
His heart stuttered in his chest when Tim’s other hand disappeared between his legs.
“I’ve never done this before,” Chris blurted, the flush in his cheeks instantly turning to fire.
Tim froze, his eyes snapping up to Chris’s face, which, remarkably, could burn hotter, apparently.
“With anyone?” Tim asked.
“Um…no? I mean, I’ve had sex with women. A while ago, I guess. Before I realized I—you…” Chris sighed, annoyed with himself now for not being able to get the words out. He steeled himself to at least be able to give the answer to Tim’s question. “But no, not, you know.” He gestured vaguely between them. So much for using his words.
“Not anal sex?” Tim asked, and there was no judgement in his tone, just the sense that he was looking for clarity. Which was good, Chris thought, trying to control his breathing and his blush.
“No. No pegging either, you fucking over-achiever.”
Tim grinned, and something inside Chris loosened.
“Good,” Tim said.
“I thought you said I should experiment,” Chris shot back, just to be contrary.
“That was before I knew I wanted to be the only one,” Tim replied with a little self-deprecating shrug.
And, oh. That was…Chris sat up, cupped Tim’s jaw, and drew him into a kiss. Tim immediately bullied his way into Chris’s mouth, of course, taking control, but Chris wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t like it. When their lips separated for a second, Chris whispered, “Me, too.”
Tim’s hand tightened around Chris’s cock, making him moan. “Good,” Tim said again. “I’m going to stretch you open now,” he announced, circling a slick finger around Chris’s hole.
Every muscle in Chris’s body tightened up. “Okay.”
Tim rolled his eyes fondly and pushed him back onto the bed. “Hold on.”
Hold on? Hold on to what? Hold on for what?
The press of Tim’s finger seemed like an answer to that, and Chris squirmed, forcing his cock up into Tim’s hand, then pushing back against that finger. It slipped in easily, and Chris let out a long, shuddering breath.
That was…not bad. Kind of good, actually. Especially when Tim started moving, dragging his knuckle past Chris’s rim, then thrusting back in, farther each time. He added more lube, and it felt messy in all good, filthy ways.
A moan escaped Chris’s throat unbidden.
“God, I wish you could see yourself,” Tim murmured.
Chris squirmed under his gaze, how Tim studied him, but couldn’t find any words.
“You’re fucking gorgeous like this,” Tim added, distracting Chris from the gentle prodding of a second finger along his rim.
Chris opened his mouth to say something, possibly “shut up”, when that second finger slipped in. His mouth snapped closed.
That was…interesting. The muscles that had given so easily for one finger were resisting the second. Still not bad. It didn’t hurt. But there was definitely a stretch. Chris wriggled a little when Tim added more lube directly from the bottle, then pushed his fingers in farther.
“Oh,” Chris gasped. “That’s—yeah, that’s good.”
Tim pumped his fist over Chris’s cock, taking up a steady stroke in counterpoint to what his fingers were doing inside Chris. A rush of heat worked through Chris from those two points of contact, loosening every muscle. Tim’s fingers were going deeper each time. Then he crooked his fingers, and pleasure burst over Chris’s entire body. He jerked like he’d been electrified.
“Holy shit. What was that? Fuck. Fuck,” Chris babbled as Tim mastered the art of nailing that spot with every thrust.
Tim grinned down at him and hit it again. “That’s your prostate.”
“Fuck. Don’t stop. Please, Tim. Don’t ever stop.”
Tim’s chuckle was warm and washed over Chris. “Okay, sweetheart. I won’t stop.”
And he didn’t. He just kept doing it, and Chris just kept talking. It was horrible and wonderful and he never wanted it to stop, but please god, why wouldn’t he just shut up?
He was in the midst of a veritable tirade about how magical Tim was when Tim tucked a third finger in and pressed deep, until the pad of his finger was pinned to that spot and Chris’s rim was stretched wide.
Chris’s words cut off with a deep, happy groan. “Fuuuuuck,” he sighed. He curled his arm around Tim’s shoulders when Tim pressed his lips right over Chris’s heart, not caring how it made the angle of Tim’s fingers weird or squashed his dick, still in Tim’s fist between their bodies. He thought he could stay like this forever.
He told Tim as much. Told him he was gorgeous and had the best hands, both on the ice and in bed. He told Tim how he’d jerked off thinking about doing this, but hadn’t imagined it right at all. That this was better. Tim was better than he ever fantasized. And how he never, ever wanted to stop doing this. With Tim.
Tim started out laughing at the stream of confessions pouring from Chris’s lips, but by the end, he was flushed and sweating, his shoulders trembling beneath Chris’s hands.
His voice was rough when he gasped, “Chris. Chris, I can’t wait anymore, okay? Please.”
Chris pressed a hand to Tim’s cheek and forced him to lift his head. He ran his fingers along Tim’s jaw, the pads catching on the stubble there, and smiled. “I want you to fuck me now. Please.”
Tim jerked forward and kissed him fiercely, and then just as quickly pulled away to settle on his heels between Chris’s legs. Tim’s eyes turned calculating, and Chris’s heart thumped heavily in his chest as he watched Tim dumped an obscene amount of lube over his bare dick.
Tim looked up. “Is this okay?”
Chris didn’t have to ask if Tim was clean. He knew he was, and not just because the team got them all tested. But also because they actually did talk about that shit. That was how he knew Tim had never gone bare before. And Tim knew Chris hadn’t either.
“Yes.”
Tim’s breath left him with a huff, a smile flashing over his face before he proceeded to attack Chris with the sheets.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Chris squawked, as Tim wrapped his cast in flannel and summarily rolled Chris onto that side. His next protest left him with a gasp when Tim slid up behind him, cupping the back of his good leg and bringing it up to his chest.
“Here. Hold this.”
“What?” Chris aske
d blankly, hooking his hand behind his knee as instructed.
“Fucking cast,” Tim muttered as he plastered himself to Chris’s back. “Is this okay?”
Chris nodded frantically, his brain finally catching up with what was happening. He was acutely aware of the slide of Tim’s cock along his spine as Tim eased further down the bed, until his chin was hooked over Chris’s shoulder and he settled on the mattress.
Chris whimpered when Tim’s fingers slid back into his ass, testing his rim. “God, you feel so fucking good. So tight,” Tim said, his lips brushing Chris’s ear. Then his fingers were gone, and Chris held his breath as the broad head of Tim’s cock pressed up against him.
Tim’s other arm curled under Chris’s neck and over his chest, holding him close.
“You sure?”
Chris looked into Tim’s eyes, so close. “Of course I’m sure. I love you.”
Why were those words ever hard to say?
Tim’s hold tightened, crushing Chris against him. “I love you, too,” he said, his voice hoarse. Then his hips pressed forward, and the joy rushing through Chris was tangled with the slow, hot stretch of his body opening to Tim, the burn unlike anything he’d experienced in his life.
He tested his body all the time. It was his job. But this was a measure he had never taken, and it felt good. Letting the tension go and feeling Tim push past his rim, taking Tim into his body, felt fucking amazing.
Tim trembled behind him, moving his hips in gentle waves that pushed him farther into Chris. Brought them closer. Chris grabbed the hand on his chest, pressing it over his heart and wriggled back.
Because seriously, this was taking too long.
Tim groaned against Chris’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”
Chris shifted back again. “I’m trying to get you to fuck me,” he said with a frustrated sigh.
Tim’s head popped up and his hips jerked forward, forcing his cock deeper.
Chris whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut.
“I was trying to be all romantic and slow and shit,” Tim admitted.
“Knock it off.”
“But—”
“You can romance the hell out of me another time. I swear. Just please, please, now I want you to move.”
Tim chuckled, the sound buzzing directly from his chest through Chris’s back. His lips traced over Chris’s shoulder. “Okay, then.”
Tim’s hips rolled forward, and Chris pushed back, gasping as his body felt split in two by the long, hard thrust of Tim’s cock taking up residence deep inside him. Fuck. Tim’s hips pressed against his ass and he ground up against him, stretching him wider.
“Like that?” Tim asked.
Chris nodded frantically, his heart galloping in his chest. It felt amazing. He got why some people would say it hurt, but Chris was a hockey player, and he knew that some hurts were the good kind.
Tim shifted against him again and, on the next grind, hit that fucking spot.
“Oh, fuck. Tim. Please,” Chris gasped, turning his face to bury it against the sheet.
He groaned when Tim eased back, every inch of his shaft easing from Chris’s body and dragging over his rim sending bolts of pleasure through Chris. Chris’s mouth hung open, ready to beg, when Tim thrust back in.
A grunt burst from Chris’s throat when Tim glanced over that sweet spot then bottomed out.
Tim laughed and groaned at the same time.
“What?” Chris asked, practically delirious with pleasure, but not so far gone he didn’t know Tim was laughing at him.
“That’s the exact sound you make when you’re on the bench press.”
To prove his point, Tim thrust again and another grunt tore from Chris. It was a good sound. Chris was too busy trying to process the deluge of sensations currently roaring through his body to come up with a better riposte than, “Shut up. You like it.”
“Yeah. I do,” Tim replied, and Chris could hear his smile. Then Tim started working his hips in earnest, never letting up, and Chris made the noise again, over and over.
As some point, the burn was replaced with pure pleasure. The stretch lost to overwhelming need. It all felt so fucking good. Tim thrust harder, faster, forcing that damn noise up and out of Chris time and again, and Chris didn’t care. Well, he did care. Because he never wanted this to end. He never wanted to stop making ridiculous noises if it meant Tim would fuck him like this, hold him close and whisper obscene promises in his ear and bury his cock so deep into Chris’s body he couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began.
He jumped when Tim’s hand curled around his cock, so that each thrust pushed Chris’s dick through his fist. Chris would have bruises on his ribs where Tim’s other hand anchored him, held him fast against each punch of Tim’s hips.
“Fuck, fuck,” Tim chanted against Chris’s shoulder, eventually gasping, “I’m close.”
He slammed forward one more time and ground his hips, his hand flying over Chris’s cock. Chris arched his back, the building tension pulling his spine taut until only his shoulders and his ass were touching Tim and he was grinding back.
His climax crashed over him like a Zamboni going highway speed. The world went white, his only anchor to reality the press of Tim’s hands and the heavy press of his cock.
Sensation returned with a rush, though Chris had no idea how much later. A second? An hour? It started with the hot bite of Tim’s teeth against his shoulder, and the loud, almost painful-sounding groan in his ear.
Chris reached behind him as best he could and held Tim close as he shook through his orgasm, his other hand stilling Tim’s on his over-sensitive cock.
Tim slumped onto the bed and against him. “Holy shit,” he whispered.
Chris chuckled, then squirmed as Tim’s cock began to slip from his body. Tim’s hand patted his hip, as if in apology, a moment before he pulled the rest of the way out. Chris winced, but mostly from how sensitive he was, not because of any pain.
He expected Tim to go get something to clean them up, but instead he just scooted back enough to help Chris roll onto his back, then curled back around him, tucking his legs so that Chris had to drape his good leg over them.
Chris stared up at the ceiling, very, very aware of his ass leaking onto the sheets, and possibly onto Tim. It was mind-bendingly hot, when by all rights it should have been the opposite. Hell, they were both covered in lube and come, and Chris didn’t want to move a muscle to change it.
Tim hummed and slid a hand down past Chris’s cock and behind his balls. Chris was too fucked out to flinch, not even when Tim pressed two fingers back inside his hole.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.
“After glow,” came Tim’s slurred response.
“Isn’t this kind of messy for you?”
“Exceptions should be made.”
Chris grinned, then turned to look at Tim’s face.
Tim blinked back blearily.
“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Chris confessed quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just…I never thought you’d feel the same, you know? But I promise I’ll be better. I’ll tell you things.”
Tim patted Chris’s stomach gently, a slow smile stretching across his face. “It’s okay, baby. I know how to get you to talk now.”
About the Author
Samantha Wayland has three great loves in life; her family, writing books, and hockey. She is often found apologizing to the first for how much time and attention is taken up by the latter two, but they forgive her because they are awesome and she clearly doesn’t deserve them.
Sam lives with her family—of both the two and four-legged variety—outside of Boston. She is a wicked passionate New Englander (born and raised) who has been known to wax rhapsodic about the Maine Coast, the mountains of New Hampshire and Vermont, and the sensible way in which her local brethren don’t see a need for directional signals (blinkahs!). When she’s not locked away in her home office, she can generally b
e found tucked in the corner of the local Thai place with other socially-starved authors and an adult beverage.
Her favorite things include mango martinis, tiny Chihuahuas with big attitude problems, and the Oxford comma.
Sam loves to hear from readers. Email her at [email protected] or find her on Facebook or Twitter (@samwayland).
Also by Samantha Wayland
Destiny Calls
With Grace
Hat Trick Book One: Fair Play
Hat Trick Book Two: Two Man Advantage
Hat Trick Book Three: End Game
Crashing the Net
Home & Away
Out of Her League
Checking It Twice
The authors would like to thank you one last time for your support. Please consider leaving a review for Changing on the Fly at Amazon, Goodreads, or your favorite place to talk about books. Reviews help us to raise more money by making the book more visible.
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