Page 34 of Delay of Game

It was a different kind of kiss than they’d shared in the bathroom.

This was slow and deliberate, teeth dragging along Nate’s bottom lip, tongue teasing his mouth open. Zach didn’t want to rush it this time. He wanted—hewantedso many things. He wanted to know everything about Nate’s body. All of the places to touch him, all of the sensitive, hidden parts of him. He wanted to catalog every single noise he made.

Hewantedto take him apart.

Nate was breathing raggedly, frozen under Zach’s mouth and hands, but when Zach started walking him backward toward the bed, he went willingly enough. When his calves hit the mattress, he let Zach push him down, scooted backward on his elbows so that Zach could look at him. Zach didn’t know whathelooked like, but evidently, something in his face was weird enough that Nate had to look away.

Zach straddled him, a little shock up his spine when he felt Nate’s dick pressed against him and rolled his hips into it. “Yeah,” he said, even though Nate hadn’t said anything at all, and leaned down to kiss him again.

It had been a really long time since he’d wanted to spend hours making out with anyone, but he honestly thought he could do it with Nate, who was so fucking keyed up that every drag of Zach’s fingers, every touch of his hand, seemed to make him shiver. If he was being honest with himself, Zach wasn’t any better.

There was something about Nate—his best fucking friend, the person who probably knew him the best of anyone in his life at this point—completely losing it underneath him that was just, like... Zach was pretty jaded about a lot of things, but this felt new and overwhelming, and he didn’t entirely know how to deal with it.

He actually lost track of time, focused only on Nate’s mouth, the sounds he made when Zach’s hands explored his body, the way his legs tightened around Zach’s hips when it seemed like he might pull away even when he wasn’t trying to end things, just undress Nate.

“Baby,” Zach said, finally, as he propped himself up on his hands, and he could feel Nate’s dick jerk in response. Nate looked fucked up, and it was all because of him. His mouth was red and swollen and his hair was a mess and his eyes weren’t focusing properly. It was fucking something, all right. “Baby,” he tried again, rewarded with a small noise in response, “Let me take these off, okay?”

“Yeah,” Nate agreed breathlessly. “Okay, oh...”

They were both naked now. The thing about Nate that drove Zach absolutely insane was that Nate really didn’t seem to have any idea how hot he was. He was always kind of awkward in the locker room, turning away from cameras and anyone who looked at him for too long, even though he had basically a perfect body for hockey or, well, anything else.

Zach by this point had memorized every inch of him, every stupid scar he’d picked up from errant skates and sticks and hits and surgeries, every freckle in unexpected places, every thick line of muscle on his hips or thighs, his solid barrel torso. And that wasn’t even going into his stupid fucking face, which Zach loved and hated looking at in almost equal measure most days, because he knew he always looked like a dumbstruck fool when he did.

Nate was squirming now, probably embarrassed by how intently Zach was staring at him. But, like, Zach didn’t really know how often this was going to happen, and he was determined to remember every single second of the time he had. Zach reached out and caught one of Nate’s wrists, pinned it down on the bed at the same time he trapped one of Nate’s thighs beneath his knee. Nate was so still then, his chest heaving, and Zach said and thought exactly the same thing.

“Jesus, fuck.”

“What do you...?”

“You just, I’m going to do it for you this time, okay?”

“I, uh—okay. Oh, god.”

Zach had taken advantage of the moment of stillness to scramble his way down Nate’s body and slide his fingers around Nate’s dick. Later on he’d remember the rest of it in an almost dreamlike way, little screenshots of sense memory. The way Nate’s head slammed back against the bed when Zach took him in his mouth. The bitten-off noises Nate tried to stifle but couldn’t. How responsive he was to the smallest, lightest touches. It was almost too much, and despite his best intentions part of Zach’s brain blocked out too many of the little details. The way Nate tasted, the way he felt pressed against the back of Zach’s throat, the way his thighs clenched almost painfully around Zach’s head when he came.

The way he lay there, panting, trying to recover, his eyelashes wet and clumpy looking against his cheeks, and Zach felt a weird sensation in his chest, almost physical pain.

Which, by the way, what the fuck?

It took Nate a few minutes to regain control of himself and struggle into a sitting position. His eyes were that dark fucking blue again, and for once he didn’t look nervous, just intent, like he knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was Zach.

It was a lot.

“Okay, let me.” Nate’s hands were big and warm and all-encompassing and when he wrapped his fingers around Zach, it was like—

It was like someone had punched him. Just the warmth of Nate’s hand, and everything else preceding it, built up in him without an outlet, and he was coming, his head buried in the crook of Nate’s neck. And it was intense too, wrung out of him, the kind of orgasm that left you boneless and incoherent afterward.

Nate, thank god, didn’t fucking say anything. The last time Zach had felt that humiliated, he had been about twelve years old, had just touched a tit for the first time, and come in his pants. This was honestly worse, considering how much time had gone by, how much experience he’d had since.

“I—uh—that’s—” he gasped, finally. “That’s—never happened to me before. I mean—like—as an adult, I just—I—never—”

Nate stared at him, hand still wrapped around Zach’s dick. There was come all over his fist, rapidly drying, tacky to touch. Objectively, it was gross. Subjectively, it was so fucking hot. Nate’s thumb brushed over the head of Zach’s dick and Zach shuddered convulsively. It was too much, he was too sensitive, but he didn’t really want Nate to stop.

“Oh my god.”

“Um,” Nate said, and took his hand away.

“It’s just,” Zach was still saying desperately, like if he explained enough, Nate wouldn’t find this whole thing as pathetic as it was. “I was really—I didn’t—I wanted this to be—”

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