Page 38 of Gamechanger

“Moose, please—” he pleaded. His mind was already starting to drift up into the clouds while I started to suck—bobbing my face forward and back.

Having Finn in my mouth was a phenomenal experience. I didn't want it to ever end. I gripped one of his thighs and started to stroke the base of his cock with the other hand.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. He arched his back, pushing his muscular chest up and forward. I couldn't resist reaching up and gripping a nipple, teasing and lightly tugging.

As I continued to suck and pump Finn's cock, I began to flick his head with my tongue. He gasped for breath and wiggled.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he gasped.

I couldn't speak with a mouthful of Finn, but I would have said the same thing.

It didn’t take much longer for him to reach the edge. He was ready to explode. “Moose—oh, fuck—I’m gonna come. I’m so—close.”

I couldn't wait to see Finn's entire body wracked by a convulsive orgasm. I wanted to feel him erupt in my mouth.

A few seconds after my fingers began to stroke faster, he jerked, and his head rolled back. Two more waves of involuntary muscle contractions swept through his body before I felt his milky cum on my tongue.

“Oh, fuck—damn—Moose!” Finn yelled.

I sucked hard. I didn’t want to miss a single drop. After swallowing, I pulled myself onto the bed at Finn's side and shared a feverish kiss

Minutes later, we lay tangled in the sheets, our breathing slowly returning to normal. Finn's head rested on my chest, and I ran my fingers through his sweat-dampened curls.

"That was..." Finn trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Yeah," I agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

We fell into a comfortable silence, the gentle hum of the furnace the only sound in the room. As I held Finn close, I felt the last of my doubts melting away. This—us—it was right. And I was done letting my fears get in the way.

"I love you," I whispered into the quiet room.

Finn propped himself up on an elbow, his eyes shining in the dim light. "I love you too, Moose. So much."

Later, as we lay entwined in my bed, sheets twisted around us, I traced patterns on Finn's skin. The streetlights outside cast a soft glow through the curtains, painting his face in shadows and light.

"I want to do something special for Valentine's Day," I murmured. "Nothing big, just... us."

Finn smiled, his eyes half-closed with contentment. "That sounds perfect."

I woke up early the next morning, my mind already buzzing with ideas for Valentine's Day. Finn's warmth beside me was a reminder of what I had to lose, and what I was fighting for. I carefully extricated myself from his embrace, padding quietly to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

As the rich aroma filled the air, I pulled out a notepad and started jotting down ideas. I wanted this to be fun, but not over-the-top. Something that screamed "us" without being cliché.

First on the list: food. Finn had once mentioned a small Italian place back in Minnesota that made the best chicken parmesan he'd ever tasted. I couldn't recreate that exactly, but I could try my hand at making it from scratch. I scribbled down a grocery list, making a mental note to stop by the specialty Italian market across town.

Decorations were next. I didn't want to go full Hallmark explosion, but a few touches here and there would set the mood. I remembered the string of fairy lights stuffed in the back of my closet that I used to decorate my form room. Those couldwork. And maybe some candles? Not rose-scented though—Finn always wrinkled his nose at overly floral smells.

As I sipped my coffee, an idea struck me. Finn always complained about how cold the rink was during practice. What if I knitted him a scarf in Lumberjacks colors? It would be personal, practical, and a way to show him I'd been thinking about him even during our rough patch.

I dug out my knitting needles and yarn, running my fingers over the soft wool. It had been weeks since I'd touched them, but the familiar motions came back easily. I cast on, the quiet click-clack of the needles soothing my lingering nerves.

Music. We needed music. I opened my laptop and started curating a playlist. No cheesy love songs allowed. Finn would roll his eyes so hard they'd get stuck. Instead, I chose a mix of indie rock and acoustic covers, songs that reminded me of lazy Sunday mornings and long drives with the windows down.

As I worked, I realized I was smiling. For the first time in weeks, I felt hopeful. Excited, even. This Valentine's Day wasn't just about romance; it was a new beginning for us.

I heard Finn stirring in the bedroom and quickly hid the scarf-in-progress. As he shuffled into the kitchen, hair adorably mussed from sleep, I felt a surge of affection.

"Morning," he mumbled, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

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