Page 73 of Trade Deadline

Nothing could ever compare to this.

Not even lifting the Stanley Cup.

It’s like he was made for me.

I piston my hips, my cock brushing his prostate. That fucking blush stretches down his neck to his chest, spreading across his porcelain skin. Dipping my head, I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, pressing wet kisses under his jaw before sliding my lips over his.

“Touch me, please,” he begs.

Bracing my weight on one arm, I reach down to take his cock in my hand. He’s like steel wrapped in silk. He’s leaking, causing my hand to become slick with his precome as I coax him with jerky strokes.

I nearly blew my load when I had him in my mouth, loving the weight of him on my tongue. He tasted like perfection.

He feels like perfection.

I think this is my new favorite place, and I don’t ever want to leave.

“Fuck,” I grunt, mentally running through my stats to ward off my release.

“Blaine,” he moans, his legs squeezing my waist. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby.”

I let go of his cock and place both hands on either side of his head, my thrusts turning frantic as the skin slapping skin fills the room. My balls are drawn up so tight I can’t hold back anymore. I come with a wild cry, releasing into the condom, while Alex moans with his own release.

His moans are like ecstasy, and I’m addicted.

His come lands on his stomach and chest, and I collapse on top of him, both of us gasping for air.

I’m lightheaded, dizzy from the most incredible orgasm I’ve ever experienced.

I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.

My body melts as Alex runs his fingers through my hair, his nails scratching my scalp. I’m aware his come is currently squished between us, but I’m unable to move, my body trembling with post-orgasmic shakes.

“As much as I don’t want you to move, you’re kinda heavy,” Alex says with a strained laugh.

I roll off of him, running my fingers through the remnants of his release on my chest, and bring it up to my mouth to lick it off.

“Mmm.”

He tastes so fucking delicious that my spent cock gives a tired but appreciative twitch.

When I can finally feel my legs again, I head into the bathroom and retrieve a wet washcloth. Realization hits me, knocking the breath from my lungs like I’ve just been boarded by a two-hundred-and-forty-pound D-man.

I brought him to my room.

I had sex with him inmy room.

Nobody ever comes into my bedroom. This is my safe haven. All my hookups have happened in my spare bedroom, so I can keep things separate. But what shocks me most of all is how it doesn’t bother me.

Looking over at Alex, I like the sight of him in my bed. How the bright moon shines through the windows, highlighting the soft features of his face, cascading down that exquisite body of his. And I really like how he looks tangled up in my sheets.

I should be freaking out and thinking of ways to ask him to leave, but instead I’m hoping this isn’t the last time I see his blond hair in a blissed-out mess against the pillow.

I absentmindedly rub the pleasant ache in my chest when his voice pulls me out of it.

“Blaine?”

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