Page 70 of Game On

In his bedroom, he shooed Poppy out—he couldn’t have sex with the dog watching—and removed his cardigan, flinging it onto the armchair. Before he had a chance to start on the buttons of his shirt, Jamie tackled him onto the bed, and they rolled over it, laughing, limbs tangling again. The shirt hanging onto Jamie at the wrist twisted around them.

Flat on his back, Dorian pushed at Jamie’s shoulders. “Christ, you’re massive.”

Jamie waggled his eyebrows and rolled onto his side, bringing Dorian with him so they lay face to face. “I’m massive everywhere, just so you know.”

“I believe it.”

With one of his legs between Jamie’s and their pelvises snug together and Jamie’s face only a hand-width away from his own, Dorian’s body heated by another few degrees. This close, Jamie’s blue-grey eyes were the colour of light denim and one of his front teeth was slightly crooked, unnoticeable except from close-up. There was laughter in Jamie’s eyes, as well as affection and banked desire.

“Tell me something,” Dorian blurted, their proximity making him uncomfortably aware of his own emotions.

Jamie grunted.

“Is Jamie Jamieson your real name?”

“What’ll you trade me for the answer?”

Dorian flicked him on the forehead.

Jamie fell onto his back, laughing. “Yes, it’s my real name. My mom’s brother was named Jamie. He passed away a few months before I was born, so she named me after him.”

Slinging himself over Jamie’s hips, Dorian sat up and tackled the button on Jamie’s shirt cuff. “Do you get teased for your name?”

“All the time. Never bothered me, though. I had older siblings to beat up bullies when I was in school.”

“That’s really sweet,” Dorian said, tossing the shirt sleeve aside. The rest of the shirt was bunched under Jamie. “Being named for your uncle, I mean. Although I guess the older-siblings-beating-up-bullies thing is also sweet.”

Jamie yanked Dorian’s shirt out from his pants. “Who beat up your bullies?”

Dorian met his gaze. “I did.”

“Damn right.” Jamie looked proud as hell for a second. Then his gaze softened. “I’m sorry you didn’t have anyone to beat them up for you.”

Dorian shrugged, the gesture serving to convey indifference as well as sliding the shirt off. “I had Charlie. We went to different schools, but he’s always had my back.”

“Not Coach Shore?”

“He’s almost ten years older than me. We didn’t become close until he moved back here a few years ago, after his time in the NHL.”

“What about your siblings?”

Dorian scoffed and unbuckled Jamie’s belt. “Way too concerned with themselves to worry about me. Now, do you want to talk about my past or do you want to get off?”

“I can do both,” Jamie said, except then he made a move that had Dorian flopping onto his back. “Right now, specifically? Let’s focus on the latter.”

“Good call,” Dorian managed, his voice thready. He might’ve teased Jamie for being massive earlier, but truth was, he loved being pinned by someone bigger than him. It was wicked and delicious, and it made him feel safe and desired, and as if, if only for a few hours, someone would take all of his problems away.

And god, Jamie was big, sitting on Dorian’s thigh like a Greek god with his massive chest and hard nipples and the light mat of fur between his pecs. His arms were massive, his legs were massive, and the bulge behind his pants was massive.

He was... massive.

And all Dorian’s.

A rush of pleasure swam through his head as Jamie dipped to press kisses down his chest. “Now you tell me something.”

“What’s that?” Dorian asked, carding a finger through Jamie’s hair.

“Do you bottom?”

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