Page 23 of Speak in Fever
“Wrap your hand around yourself.”
His fingers twitch around his neck before he understands, moves his hand down to grip his cock.
“Want you to feel good like you’re making me feel good,” Percy whispers.
Rath’s back bows nearly in half at the first drag of his closed fist. He makes the neediest noise, and Percy matches his intensity on the other end of the call with something low and guttural and absolutely wrecked.
“I’m not gonna last,” Rath warns.
“Don’t want you to,” Percy replies. “Want you to let go for me. Cum for me. You can do it.”
Rath quickens his pace. He mewls and gnaws at his lips as the pressure builds low in his belly, winding him tight like a spring. He shimmies his legs open wider, imagines Percy slotted between them, watching Rath jerk his cock while he kisses his thighs, slides a slick, thick finger into Rath hole to work him open.
“No, no, don’t do that,” Percy says. “Don’t muffle yourself. I wanna hear you cum for me.”
Rath’s hips rock against the bed. The mattress groans. The sound of his hand working his cock, of slick skin against skin, the ragged sound of his harsh breathing and the tiny kitten noises that slip past his lips sound like thunder in the quiet apartment.Rath flushes up his chest, into his hairline. He already sounds so wanton, so needy. It makes his cock twitch as much as it makes shame claw at the back of his throat.
“You’re so amazing, Rath.”
Rath doesn’t need any further encouragement. Like a match struck against sandpaper, the gravel of Percy’s voice pulls Rath’s orgasm from him in a rush. The tug of arousal at his belly button feels like a camel pulling through the eye of a needle. He screams – he’s sure of it – feels the raw burn in his throat when he floats back down to earth. His consciousness hovers somewhere above his body, while the endorphins flow through his veins, make him feel loose, and hot, and happy.
“Fuck, Rath,” Percy says, frayed, frantic. “That’s it, baby. That’s so good. You sound so good for me. Gonna cum.”
Rath’s so spent, but he still feels a shock of heat run through him as Percy speaks. “Please, Percy,” he whispers, strung out and hoarse. “Give it to me. Cum for me.”
That’s all it takes. Percy moans over the line, and Rath revels in the sound of it, how raw it is, how carnal. It’s so close to his ear, Rath imagines what if would be like for real, to have Percy pressed that close, his breath puffing against Rath’s sensitive, overheated skin, ticking the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Fuck,” Percy groans, slow and languid as he comes back to himself. Rath hears the note of trepidation in his voice, and a lead weight settles in his belly, makes his throat feel thick, congested.
Oh god, what have they done?
The silence stretches out between them and Rath presses the heel of his free hand against his eyes.
"Seven-thirty tomorrow?" he asks, because he needs to say something and that seems safe.
"Yeah,” Percy says, and he sounds wrecked. “Yeah I'll see you then.”
Chapter 7
The horrifying realization that he will have to face his captain in person, after jerking off on the phone with him less than eight hours ago, is probably the closest Rath has been to nervous since he first tried out for the junior league. Nervous doesn't even begin to describe it. It's an anxiousness in his spine he can't quell, that extends down to his toes when he walks across the rink parking lot and to his fingertips when he opens the door.
The morning air is crisp, biting at his cheeks as he sits in his car for fifteen minutes in the parking lot, gripping the steering wheel and trying to convince himself he can do this. Just walk in. Act normal. Pretend like he hasn't spent half the night replaying every word Percy said to him, every breathless sound he made, every moment where Rath felt like something unprecedented was unfolding around him.
His reflection in the rearview mirror looks pale, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep. He jerked off twice more after hanging up with Percy, unable to get the sound of his captain's voice out ofhis head, the way he'd said Rath's name like it meant something. Like he meant something.
God, he's such an idiot.
Maybe if he were less stubborn he would call it what it is: fear. He's afraid of facing Percy after what happened. He's afraid of being mocked in person, or of him telling the guys about what happened, or of what any of that even meant. The rational part of his brain knows Percy isn't cruel enough to humiliate him publicly, but the anxious, sleep-deprived part that's been spiraling since dawn isn't listening to reason.
Yes, he's attracted to his hot hockey captain. That's been the easy part. Percy is objectively gorgeous—all sharp angles and dark eyes and that stupidly perfect jawline that Rath has spent way too much time staring at during team meetings. That's been manageable when it was just a crush, just something he could shove down and ignore.
The hard part is knowing what to do about it now that that attraction is common knowledge. At least to Percy. The phone call has stripped away any possibility of pretending his interest is purely professional, purely about hockey. Percy knows now. Percy knows exactly how Rath feels about him, has heard him come apart with Percy's name on his lips.
Is Percy... interested?
The question has been eating at him since he hung up the phone. Percy initiated the call, kept talking even when things got heated, seemed just as affected as Rath was. But Percy is also charming and confident and probably used to having that effect on people. Maybe it was just entertainment for him. Maybe Rath completely misread the situation.
The memory of Percy's sharp intake of breath when Rath moaned his name feels real though. The way Percy's voice went rough and low, the careful way he asked if Rath was touching himself—that felt real.
