Page 94 of Trade Deadline

“Fuck, I love this bossy side of you.” His demanding tone goes straight to my dick, and once I remove my boxers, I let out a sigh of relief when my dick is finally free. I take my hard length in my hand, lazily stroking up and down, circling over the weeping head.

Alex doesn’t even blink; he just licks his lips and watches my hand as I give my dick a squeeze.

“Fuck, I want you so bad.” Alex whispers.

I angle my dick to my phone. “Open up.”

He opens his mouth and brings his phone closer, so his mouth is all I see. I laugh, then let out a groan when he moves his phone to rest on his bedside table.

I watch avidly as he smooths his palm down his lean torso. The lighting from his bedside lamp showcases the subtle outline of muscle, and his brown nipples beg for my mouth.

He stands up, his crotch perfectly in line with the camera, and he pushes down his boxers. His hard cock springs into view, a pearly drop of precome beading at the red, angry tip.

“Fuck, Alex. I wanna taste you.” My words come out strained.

He lies back on the bed, camera positioned just perfectly so that I can see his gorgeous face and that equally gorgeous cock. “Stroke it for me, slowly.”

He wraps his fist around his hard length, following my instructions. He slowly pumps through the tight grip, and strokes over the tip. His chest rises and falls in quick pants, and his lips part on a whimper. “Blaine…”

“Fuck, baby, does it feel good?” I grip my cock, squeezing the head. I’m so close to blowing my load already.

He jerks his head in a nod. “Y—yeah.”

Our eyes lock through the screen, our hands pumping our erections in rhythm, and I come the second Alex moans my name, watching his release spill over his stomach and hand.

We clean ourselves up, and when Alex reappears on the screen, his smile is sleepy.

“I hate away games now.” I frown.

“Me too, but at least we can FaceTime every night.”

“I know, but it’s not the same as being with you and being able to fall asleep with you.”

Alex’s eyes go soft. “I’ve been counting down the days and hours until you’re home since you left your apartment.”

Fucking away games—now I definitely hate them.

Thirty

Blaine

The soundof the TV filters down the hallway as I open the door to my apartment, wheeling my suitcase behind me. Our flight was delayed by an hour, and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to ring in the new year with Alex, but I made it home with six minutes to spare.

Leaving my luggage by the door, I take off my jacket and toss it onto the kitchen counter when I pass, then stop in my tracks when I see Alex asleep on the couch. His arm is flung above his head, the other resting on his stomach next to his phone. ESPN is playing highlights of tonight's game, and the light illuminates the soft features of his face.

Quietly taking off my shoes, I crouch down in front of him and run my fingers through his hair. His long blond eyelashes cast a shadow across the top of his cheekbones, and I gently stroke my thumb over his cheeks, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He looks so peaceful. I don’t want to wake him, but at the same time, I’ve missed him so much the past few days that all I want is to see those beautiful blue eyes and kiss him at the stroke of midnight.

Alex stirs as I sit back on my haunches and watch when he blinks a few times.

“Blaine?” His croaks, his voice all sleepy and tired.

“Hey, baby.” I smile, leaning in and capturing his lips in a kiss. “I’m sorry I’m late, our flight was delayed.”

“It’s okay,” he says with a yawn. “What time is it?”

I tap the screen of his phone. “It’s eleven fifty-nine.”

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