Roughing

by Michaela Grey

  “Clothes,” Carmine said, scrambling backward and shedding his jacket in almost the same move.

  Saint followed suit, leaving his clothes on the floor before climbing back onto the bed. Carmine was stepping out of his underwear, his long, muscular body framed in moonlight from the high windows over the bed, and Saint shivered.

  “You’re so—”

  Carmine hummed encouragingly, crawling onto the mattress. “I’m so what?” He found Saint’s hand and guided it to his cock. Saint wrapped his fingers around it and stroked, remembering how Carmine had shown him last time, and was rewarded by Carmine groaning deep in his chest.

  “Less talking,” Saint suggested.

  Carmine’s mouth opened and closed and he nodded. “Supplies.”

  “I have lube in the table,” Saint said, letting go. “But—”

  It took Carmine a minute to focus. “No condoms?”

  Saint shrugged.

  “But you still want—”

  “Yes,” Saint said. “I’m clean, I swear.”

  “I know,” Carmine said, touching their noses together. His breath was warm on Saint’s mouth. “I haven’t had sex with anyone else in over a year. The question is do you trust me.”

  “Yes,” Saint said instantly.

  Carmine kissed him again and Saint arched into it. His cock ached to be touched, but he could ignore it, focused on Carmine’s taste and smell, the weight of him as he braced himself above Saint’s body.

  “Pillow,” Carmine said, pulling back and grabbing one at random. “Under your hips—there you go.” He leaned across him to pull on the drawer and fished out the lube as Saint ran his hands up and down his ribs, delighting in his presence.

  Carmine settled on his heels between Saint’s legs, one hand steady and warm on his splayed thigh, and popped the bottle cap.

  The lube was cold against Saint’s skin but it warmed quickly as Carmine circled his hole, pressing teasingly against his opening and then retreating, over and over.

  Saint forced his breathing to slow, relaxing his body inch by inch. Carmine smiled at him, warmth in his eyes.

  “I can’t believe I get to do this,” he said, and slipped in up to the first knuckle.

  Saint gasped.

  “Have you ever played with yourself?”

  “A f-few times,” Saint managed. “Been awhile.”

  “Try to relax,” Carmine said, rubbing his thigh, and slid deeper.

  “Oh… God,” Saint said. He rolled his hips, trying desperately to get Carmine in even farther, but instead Carmine pulled out, patting Saint’s knee at the protesting noise he made. Then he was back, pushing all the way in and crooking his finger.

  Fireworks went off behind Saint’s eyes and he bucked, clutching at the bed.

  Carmine rubbed his prostate leisurely, watching Saint’s face. “You feel so good around my finger,” he murmured. “Gonna feel even better on my cock.”

  There was a roaring in Saint’s ears. He couldn’t catch his breath, writhing in place. Carmine pulled out and added another finger.

  “How are we doing?” he asked, pumping in and out in slow, rhythmic movements.

  Saint managed a glare. “Why—fuck—why do you torture me—”

  “Can you blame me?” Carmine bent his fingers and rubbed again and Saint thrashed helplessly. His cock was leaking, hot and sticky on his stomach, but he had the sinking feeling that if he touched it, it would be game over immediately.

  Then Carmine added a third finger. There was a stretch this time, and Saint stiffened, breathing through it in deep gulps until the burn faded into pleasant warmth and Carmine had picked up his rhythm again, in and out, slow and steady.

  “Caz,” Saint choked. “I’m not—” He could feel the pressure of his orgasm growing under his skin, threatening to overwhelm him, and he was hanging on by his fingernails.

  Carmine shifted position and took hold of his cock, and Saint curled up off the bed in desperation.

  “No, no, I’m gonna—”

  “Come, then,” Carmine said, and stroked him rough and relentless until the bliss broke free, overwhelming him as he came helplessly all over his stomach. Carmine eased off, whispering words of encouragement as Saint collapsed back onto the bed, blinking tears from his eyes.

  “I didn’t want—” He swallowed disappointment.

  “Was it not good?” Carmine asked, pulling his fingers free and leaning over him.

  “No, it was, I just—” Saint reached for him, forcing a smile. “I wanted to come with you inside me, I guess.”

  “Who says that’s not still on the menu?” Carmine asked. He kissed the tip of Saint’s nose, grinning down at him. “Come on, you’re only twenty-three, you can totally go again.”

  “Fuck,” Saint said feelingly.

  “That’s the idea,” Carmine said, and kissed him again, lowering himself until he was draped across Saint’s body, grinding his erection into the cut of Saint’s hip. “God, that feels good,” he sighed, and kissed him again.

  They made out slowly for several minutes, until Saint’s breathing had stabilized. Carmine lifted himself up and ran his hand through the mess on Saint’s stomach, holding it up and looking thoughtful.

  “Should I feed it to you?”

  Saint wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

  Carmine laughed and licked his hand. Saint watched, spellbound, and his cock twitched.

  “That’s more like it,” Carmine purred, and scooted down on the bed to take him in his mouth. He took his time, mouthing at the head and along the ridges, letting Saint thicken slowly on his tongue.

  Saint reached down and threaded his fingers in Carmine’s hair, cupping his skull. Carmine hummed, opening his eyes, and the affection in them took Saint’s breath away.

  “Wanna—do that to you,” he managed.

  Carmine pulled off with an obscene pop. “Next time,” he promised. “Because there will be a next time.”

  Saint swallowed hard and nodded. Carmine’s answering smile was blinding. He went to his knees and shuffled between Saint’s thighs.

  “Ready?”

  Saint nodded again.

  Carmine fumbled in the sheets until he came up holding the lube. He spent several minutes spreading it on his cock and over Saint’s hole, pressing in and tugging at his rim, but pulling away when Saint moaned.

  “You’re a f-fucking sadist,” Saint whined, and Carmine laughed, delight in his voice. Then there was blunt pressure at his entrance, pushing forward steadily. Saint took a deep breath and bore down against it, and they both gasped when the head slipped inside.

  Carmine tilted forward, fists on the mattress. His arms were corded with the strain of holding still, breath coming raggedly.

  “Okay?”

  “More,” Saint managed. “All of it. Let me feel it.”

  Carmine swore and slid deeper, working his way in slowly but without stopping. Saint heaved for breath, clutching at Carmine’s shoulders, his arms, unable to process anything but Carmine’s shaft spearing him open, invading his senses and taking him over, hot and thick inside him as he bottomed out.

  “Don’t move,” Saint gasped, back arching. “Don’t—just—”

  Carmine was talking, he realized after a few minutes of stillness, and he struggled to process the words.

  “—So perfect,” Carmine crooned. “Look at you, so beautiful, so trusting. God, I can’t believe you’re giving me this. I’ve wanted you for so long. Feel so good.”

  “Okay,” Saint said, and Carmine bent to kiss him.

  “You sure?” he murmured against his mouth.

  “Go slow,” Saint said. “At first.”

  Carmine breathed a laugh and sat up. “Okay, sweetheart.” He pulled out as slowly as he’d entered, the shift and drag making Saint cry out. Then he pushed back in, eyes on Saint’s face. Silence fell, broken by the sound of their breathing as Carmine established a rhythm clearly designed to drive Saint out of his mind. In and out, no hesitation, achingly
slow, until Saint was shaking, arching into it and pulling fruitlessly on Carmine’s arms in an effort to hurry him up.

  “More,” he panted. “Faster, come on.”

  Carmine obeyed, tongue caught between his teeth. Time blurred, fragmenting under the inexorable dragging slide of his cock, and Saint gave himself over to the sensations, aware of nothing but Carmine, in and over and around him.

  He wasn’t prepared for Carmine to sit back on his heels and pull him upright to straddle his thighs. Saint steadied himself with his hands on Carmine’s shoulders, holding still as Carmine got himself in position, and then sinking down in one smooth motion.

  Carmine made a guttural noise, hands coming up to grip Saint’s hips bruisingly tight. “Let me see,” he said, eyes glittering bright. “I wanna see you come on my cock, just like this.”

  Saint rose and fell, arms looped around Carmine’s neck, his cock rubbing against Carmine’s perfect abs in a distracting slide. Hockey-honed thighs kept his rhythm steady, gravity plunging Carmine deep inside him. Heat gathered under his skin, radiating along his nerves.

  “Caz,” he managed.

  “Yeah, sweetheart.” Carmine’s voice was husky, edged with need and something Saint was afraid to look at head-on. “I’m close. I’m really—”

  Saint tilted his hips, sitting deep. Carmine swore thickly, fingers tightening, and his head fell back as he came. Saint sobbed and followed him over. He felt like he was being turned inside out, ecstasy lighting up his bones, spilling on Carmine’s stomach in helpless jerks.

  They sagged sideways and landed on the bed in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs. Saint’s face ended up pillowed on Carmine’s bicep, Carmine’s rapid breath stirring his hair and one of his legs draped over Saint’s hips.

  It was several minutes before either could move. Finally Carmine moaned and rolled his head to press a kiss to Saint’s sweat-dampened hair.

  “I’m gonna need a pacemaker if the sex keeps being that good,” he mumbled.

  Saint didn’t try to stop the smile. “Need to shower.”

  Carmine smacked his hip weakly. “No ruining the afterglow.”

  Saint lifted his head and kissed him. “The game in Boston,” he said when he pulled away.

  Carmine’s eyebrows went up. “Now? Seriously?”

  Saint nodded, determined. “Why were you dogging me so hard? I couldn’t get a breath, you were all over me. What did I do to you?”

  Carmine sighed and thumbed Saint’s dimple. “You didn’t do anything to me, sweetheart. You were just… you. I had to throw you off any way I could. I’d heard the stories about what would rattle you, what would get to you most, so—” He lifted a shoulder. “That’s what I did.” A smile warmed his eyes. “You pack a mean right hook, Saint Hockey.”

  “I hated you,” Saint confessed.

  Carmine laughed softly. “Means I was doing my job. You don’t hate me anymore, right?”

  Saint shoved at his shoulder. Carmine barely swayed, smile widening. “No, asshole. I definitely don’t hate you anymore.”

  “Good,” Carmine said, and leaned in to kiss him again. “Now that the afterglow is properly ruined, I guess a shower sounds good.” He caught Saint’s hand as he sat up. “Sleep with me?”

  “Well, this bed’s disgusting,” Saint pointed out. “So yeah.”

  Carmine laughed and followed him to the bathroom.

  24

  Saint woke up early. They’d rolled apart sometime in the night, but Carmine’s hand was stretched across the bed, as if he’d reached for Saint in his sleep. Saint slithered silently from the bed and tiptoed out.

  He pulled on clothes, called a car, and went down to the gate to wait for it. When it arrived, he sent Carmine a quick text letting him know where he was and then settled back to wait.

  Kasha opened the door, hair on end and dark circles like bruises under his eyes. Saint grimaced.

  “You look terrible.” He held out the coffee and Kasha took it.

  “Why you’re here so early? I could be sleep.”

  “But you weren’t, were you? Can I come in?”

  Kasha stepped aside silently and Saint patted him on the arm as he walked into the apartment. He whistled, looking around at the hardwood floors, the perfectly matching drapes and furniture and the art on the walls.

  “This is nice.”

  “Nadia do it.”

  Saint winced. “Okay look, there are breakfast burritos in the bag. Sit down and let’s talk.”

  Kasha followed him to the couch, folding his long legs underneath himself and accepting a foil-wrapped burrito.

  “I need to apologize,” Saint said.

  Kasha shook his head.

  “No, I do,” Saint insisted.

  “You have routine. I fuck up. Not your fault.”

  “No, it’s not your fault I’m so neurotic.” Saint set his own coffee on the table and leaned forward, fixing Kasha with a serious look. “You didn’t deserve me snapping at you. I need to be better about my routines getting messed up. I’m sorry I got upset, I’m sorry I was an asshole.”

  “You’re not,” Kasha protested. “You’re Saint. Saint Hockey. Is okay you be a little bit asshole sometimes.”

  Saint sighed. “That’s really, really not true. If anything, I need to try harder not to be. But okay. What happened with Nadia?”

  Kasha’s face clouded and he hunched his shoulders. “Left. She’s not like Portland, wants to be in LA. I told her I can’t go, have contract, but she wanted me play for Royals, stay in LA. Not Seabirds, not Portland. Got mad when I said play with you more important.”

  “Fuck, you said that?”

  “Don’t want to go to LA,” Kasha said. “Want to play with you.”

  “You’re such a good kid,” Saint said helplessly.

  “Not kid,” Kasha pointed out.

  “Get your coat, kid,” Saint told him, grinning when Kasha scowled. “We’re going out.”

  “Out?” Kasha was already moving. “Out where?”

  “We’re going to explore the city,” Saint said.

  Kasha perked up, halfway into his coat. “Can Caz come too?”

  “Hell yeah he can. We’ll go pick him up now.”

  Kasha was nearly bouncing as he followed him out the door, talking excitedly of the places he wanted to visit. Saint let him babble, affection warming him.

  When they got to the house, he brought Kasha inside and parked him in the kitchen. “He’s probably still asleep. I’ll go wake him up, you stay here.”

  Carmine’s suite was dark and still when Saint let himself in. He could just make out Carmine’s shape in the bed, almost formless under the blankets. Steel whined softly, and Saint slid the patio door open and shooed him outside. When he closed it, Carmine hadn’t stirred. Saint crawled onto the bed, holding his breath, and Carmine made a sleepy noise and reached out, catching hold and dragging Saint in close.

  “Mmph, Carmine—”

  Carmine nuzzled Saint’s hair, tightening his grip. He slipped one hand down, over Saint’s groin to cup his cock, and Saint bit back a whimper.

  “Bad idea,” he managed.

  “Disagree.” Carmine’s voice was rough with sleep.

  Saint laughed breathlessly and caught Carmine’s wrist. “Much as I would love that—and I would, believe me—Kasha’s in our kitchen right now.”

  Carmine lifted his head. “I could have sworn you said Kasha’s in our kitchen right now.”

  “Probably because I did.”

  Carmine blinked and knuckled his eyes. “Why’s Kasha in our kitchen, Saint? Doesn’t he have his own kitchen?”

  Saint freed himself and leaned in to kiss him. “Because his girlfriend broke up with him and his captain was an asshole to him yesterday. I can’t do anything about the girlfriend, but I can spend the day with him to make him feel better about the rest of it, and he wanted you there too.”

  Carmine’s hair was tousled, falling in his face. He yawned, stretching, and flopped backw
ard onto his back. “Why me?”

  “Fuck if I know,” Saint said, propping himself on his elbows beside him. “You’ve got the disposition of a grouchy rhinoceros, can’t imagine why anyone would want you around.”

  Carmine cracked one eye open and glared at him. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

  Saint grinned. “Well, I had some really excellent sex last night.” He pecked Carmine on the lips. “Shake a leg, buddy, before Kasha wonders what’s taking so long and comes looking for us.” He rolled away when Carmine groped for him, fighting a laugh, and Carmine groaned theatrically and face-planted into the spot he’d vacated.

  “I changed my mind,” he said, voice muffled. “I don’t like you anymore.”

  “Aw,” Saint said, grin widening. “Does that mean you don’t want me to suck your dick after all?”

  Carmine jerked upright. “I’m showering now!”

  Kasha was still in the kitchen when Saint came back out. He brightened at the sight of him.

  “Is he coming?”

  “He’s showering but then we’ll go,” Saint said. “Anywhere in particular you have in mind?”

  Kasha fidgeted. “Can we go to zoo?” His eyes were hopeful, and Saint smiled at him.

  “You know, it’s been ages since I went there. We may have to sign some autographs though.”

  “Is okay,” Kasha said. “I want to see pandas.” He dropped to his knees to greet Steel as he bounded into the kitchen, crooning to him in Russian.

  Overall, Saint decided, the day was a success. Saint bought Kasha the largest stuffed panda the gift shop had on offer and Carmine helped him cram it in the backseat of the car. They went to Saint’s favorite restaurant for lunch and talked about their next game while Carmine nudged Saint’s knee under the table without looking at him. Saint applied himself to his food and did his best not to think about Carmine’s hands and the way they felt on his body. From the way Carmine’s lips were quirking as he answered Kasha, he wasn’t very successful.

  When they dropped Kasha back at his apartment, he waved goodbye to them, almost eclipsed by the giant panda, but his beaming smile clearly visible.