Page 10 of Goaltender Interference

Aiden looked up, ran his tongue over the head of his cock. Too light, too teasing.

Matt said, “Fuckthis,” and pushed forward.

Aiden stopped fucking around and swallowed him down. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable position—his wrists hurt, his shoulder ached, Matt was rough enough that Aiden choked a little—but he closed his eyes and breathed through his nose and relaxed into the discomfort, the familiarity of it.

“God,” Matt was saying, above him, “god,god—”

It had been a while since Aiden had done this, either with a boyfriend or a casual hookup, but the weight of Matt in his mouth, the way he felt at the back of Aiden’s throat, the way Aiden’s eyes watered when Matt’s body thrust forward, the broken sounds Matt made, the bruising weight of Matt’s hands on his wrists...he fucking loved it. He moved his tongue when he could, relaxed his throat when he couldn’t, and justtook it, because he didn’t have any other choice.

Because he’d already made his choice.

Matt fell forward with his weight on his hands when he came, gasping. Aiden gagged again, not quite able to swallow everything at that angle. Did his best anyway. His whole body buzzed, the kind of endorphin high he hadn’t felt in longer than he wanted to think about.

Matt pulled out, shifted so his weight was back on Aiden’s hips, and before Aiden could wipe away the mess with his aching arms, Matt was kissing him, lips trailing down the side of Aiden’s mouth, his warm tongue cleaning up what he’d left behind.

Aiden closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Matt after that.

“What do you want? Hand or mouth?”

“Your mouth.” Aiden’s voice sounded wrecked, hoarse and scratchy. “It—it’s not going to be long now.”

“I forgot just how fucked up you get from sucking cock,” Matt said, too soft, yanking Aiden’s underwear down and looking at the painful situation he had going, the wet spot on the fabric and the sticky streaks on his skin, how absolutely desperate he was, hips hitching up in search ofanything. Matt’s thumb traced the cut below Aiden’s abs, a touch so gentle that Aiden thrashed under him, like that could somehow get him more. “How could I forget—Jesus, Aiden—”

Aiden shoved his head down so he’d stoptalking, and Matt snorted but didn’t fight him. Matt’s mouth on him felt like being thrown backward in time, like dying, like the best thing Aiden had ever felt. He struggled up onto his elbows so he could watch Matt doing it, because he was ruthless, cheeks hollowed out, looking up with something almost like defiance. He couldn’t tell for sure, but it was probably only a minute or two before his body seized up and his brain shorted out.

When he opened his eyes again, Matt was crouched over him, looking down with the same cocky little smile he used to getsometimes, if Aiden had especially embarrassed himself. “Still easy,” he murmured.

Aiden, panting, tried to get his stuttering brain back online. It didn’t quite connect.

“Aiden—”

Aiden, still trapped underneath the full weight of him, pushed at his chest. “You should go.”

“You don’t—”

“You shouldgo.”

Matt moved away from him and stood. Aiden tried not to be too obvious about staring as Matt leaned forward to grab his underwear and pants, turning away as he struggled into them and went to search for his shirt.

Aiden watched him do it in silence. He shrugged his jacket on. His face looked the same way it did when he first showed up on Aiden’s doorstep, lost and furious and so fucking sad.

“Aiden?”

“Don’t. I’mtellingyou to go.”

Matt’s shoulders slumped, but he opened the door, and left without another word.

Aiden took a while to get up from the couch. He wasn’t really sure what was going on in his head. It felt like screaming static, a whiteout without any thoughts or feelings.

Eventually, he stood up and put his boxers back on. His phone rang. Gabe. He shouldn’t answer, but the last thing he wanted right now was for the kid to turn up on his doorstep again. When he could think again, when he could—function—he had to talk to Gabe about boundaries, apologize for any wrong ideas he might have inadvertently given him.

“Hello?” His voice sounded just as bad as it had right after Matt finished.

“Soup? I just—you haven’t been answering my texts, and I was really worried about you after the other night.”

“I’m fine. Gabe, you need to, you just need to give me some space, okay?”

“You don’t sound okay, Soupy, and you’re, uh, really important to me, so—”

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