Page 49 of Goaltender Interference

“Yes—Jesus, you look—”

Aiden’s cock twitched again, just from the rough edge to Matt’s voice, from the force of his regard, which he could feel even if he couldn’t see it. He wanted to turn, wanted to look at Matt so fucking badly, but he forced himself to stay still. “Howdo I look?”

“Eager,” Matt murmured, and laughed.

“Oh fuckoff.”

The first thing Aiden felt was Matt’s finger feather-light against the curve of his foot. He twitched, ticklish and sensitive, and Matt said, “No, Aiden, no,” and kept touching him, barely brushing the skin. Aiden held his breath, shivering, as Matt leaned forward again.

It was his mouth, this time, hot and wet against Aiden’s calf, the muscles bunched and tense. He moved slowly up the line of Aiden’s leg. Aiden gasped, trying to hold back, but it was hard when Matt pressed his teeth along the inside of Aiden’s thigh, the tender places that made him want to jerk away. When he switched from one leg to the other and Aiden couldn’t predict where he was going to touch next. Matt’s mouth where Aiden’s leg met his torso. The sensitive skin on the underside of his dick. Aiden squirmed, legs falling before he could stop them.

Matt immediately pulled back and Aiden whined a strangled noise of protest.

“Matt—”

“What did I tell you?” His voice wasn’t steady at all, the only consolation in this. The kind of even that could shake apart at any moment.

“You said not to move, but...”

“Nobuts. Maybe I’ll just, just leave you here.”

“No—I won’t move, I promise—”

Matt let him stew anyway. Aiden couldn’t accurately gauge how long it was; when you couldn’t see, any amount of time felt like ages. All he knew was Matt wasn’t touching him and Matt could have doneanything: left him tied, walked away, even left the condo or invited someone else inside, and Aiden would have been completely helpless. He tried not to twist too restlessly, thinking about that, about all of the ways Matt could have made him sorry.

Then: Matt’s hand, thumb stroking Aiden’s lip. Aiden’s mouth opened under it, tonguing it the same way he would have tongued Matt’s cock, rewarded by the ragged groan that still did nothing to settle the bone-deep ache inside of him.

Matt’s mouth on one of Aiden’s nipples, gentle at first and then a sharp bite, an electric shock that had him straining against the tie, muscles screaming as he desperately tried to keep still. Matt tortured him that way, mouth and hands a shock and surprise each time, until Aiden could barely contain himself. He jerked his leg to the side, instinctively trying to get away. Matt’s hand came down hard on the inside of his thigh, the crack of a hand against skin, and the groan that tore itself from Aiden’s mouth was embarrassing but couldn’t be helped.

He was so hard it hurt, only the sheer force of his own will holding him back from coming.

“Forgot how much you like that,” Matt muttered, and did it again, slapping Aiden’s other thigh, palm flat, fingers spread. Not as hard as Aiden knew he could do it, but it still stung.

“Matty—please.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No—come on, do it again, do it again, harder—”

Matt kept slapping him, his hand slamming against the same area of Aiden’s thigh—twice, then three times—until his skin was flushed and stinging and Aiden was straining against the tie again. The breath hissed from his mouth, muscles trembling, holding himself back.

“Do you want me to stop?” Matt asked, voice completely wrecked. Like Aiden, tied and helpless and sweaty, his skin red from Matt’s hands, was somehow taking him apart the same way.

“Matt—”

“Do you want me to stop?God, look at you.”

“Please—”

“Tell me, you have to say it.”

“Hit me, comeon—”

The blows rained down, shifting so he wouldn’t know where they’d fall, harder and harder. He couldn’t help whimpering: ithurt, even if he had never liked to admit it. His legs were on fire with the force of trying to keep himself still, with Matt’s relentless hands hitting parts of him that already burned. He burned with the way Matt talked to him, a constant stream of nonsensical words and endearments, and then the wet heat of Matt’s mouth on his dick, knocking the breath from his chest. The way Matt’s fingers pressed inexorably inside of him. The noise Aiden made was obscene, but he couldn’t care.

It was all too much: the effort of holding himself back, the effort of trying not to come. At this rate, Aiden was going to shake himself apart despite the anchor of Matt on top of him, trembling in counterforce.

“Matt, Ican’t.”

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