Page 144 of Friendzone Hockey
But I get it now. I’m responsible, the fact that I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off Dash for a long time doesn’t change that.
The front door shuts. I think I’m gonna attack Dash and sink my cock into him immediately, but he kiboshes those plans when he struts his ass over to my bedroom, a place I know zero sexual activities are taking place. No matter. I can toss him over my shoulder again. I fully intend to do just that, but then he’s in my closet. I halt beside him with my arms crossed.
“Wha’cha doin’, sweetheart?”
“Aha, here it is.” He pulls one of my lighter cotton plaid shirts from its hanger and hands it to me. “Make sure you roll the sleeves up to your biceps.”
My forehead wrinkles into my hairline. “Are you dressing me?”
“Yep. Biceps, don’t forget.” He spins and heads out of the room.
What the…? I follow him to his with the shirt in hand. We’re in his closet now. He finds a T-shirt, which used to be one of mine.
“What are we doing? You’re not supposed to get dressed, I want you undressed.” I toss the shirt onto his bed and tug him to me by the waistband of his shorts.
“I want that, but later.”
“Later? Dash, what could be so important that we have to address it right now?”
“Dirk. He’s up to something, and I want to know what.”
“You caught that too, huh?”
“We’ve known each other since we were five. Whatever’s going on, I only missed it because I was too obsessed with my own love life. Now that my life’s sorted out, it’s time to meddle in his.”
I laugh, trapping him in my arms from behind. “We can’t meddle in his life.”
“Yes, we can. He meddles in mine all the time. Turnabout’s fair play.”
I can’t argue with that. Our group’s toxic trait is that we meddle when we think one of us needs it.
“And if he gives us reason to, we insert ourselves, but not before.” I drag him over to the bed. He’s a willing victim. The bed bounces with his weight, and I work on divesting him of his shorts, tugging, and then slowly sliding them down his legs. I trail soft kisses down his calf as I loop his shorts off his ankle, pressing more kisses into every toe.
He shivers.
“Dirk was wearing a shirt the other day. I thought it looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. It hit me—it’s Dad’s Creed concert T-shirt. I think my brain short-circuited at the idea that someone other than Dad would be wearing that shirt, and it didn’t compute then.”
I kiss his sole. “So?” I murmur into it. “Maybe he spilled something on one of his so Trav lent it to him.”
“Wildly unlikely. It’s more likely he accidentally put it on in a rush, but fine. Let’s say that’s the reason. I went up to Dad’s apartment to talk to him about you, and Dirk was up there helping him move a dresser he was selling on Marketplace.”
“But … your dad never gets rid of anything.”
“Exactly. After that, they were plain weird. Dad asked him to stay to help with the dresser, but ‘help with the dresser’ was starting to sound like code.”
“You don’t think they’re…?”
“It’s not enough to prove anything, but it’s enough to raise fucking suspicion, which is why I want to follow him. Either way, they’re both acting weird.”
“Not gonna lie, that’s a fucking tempting lead to follow, but Dashie, there’s nothing more tempting in the world than you.”
He’s naked under his shorts. I told him when he put them on that he wouldn’t need boxers today. My ministrations affect him, sending blood flow to his beautiful cock.
“L-Losing my interest, too, baby.”
“I love it when you call me baby.” I rip my shorts off. My cock’s ready for him, but as much as I’d love to plow into him, I wanna take my time more.
I kneel on the bed, his hand curls around the back of my neck. It’s like we’ve been doing this for a thousand years instead of just one night. We move with each other’s tides. I know what he wants without him saying it.
