Page 58 of Full Body Hit: Part 2
This time.
Chase gasped wetly, alternating between staring at his dick, at Auston, and closing his eyes as if too overwhelmed by it all. Auston glanced at his watch. “One minute thirty.”
“Fuck,” Chase whined, hand moving even faster.
Auston decided to be nice.
He shuffled forwards, making Chase snap his eyes open, hand stopping entirely. Taking advantage, Auston leaned in and spit right on the head of Chase’s dick.
“Oh my God,” Chase breathed, palm shifting automatically to collect and spread the moisture.
“That’s it. Good boy, baby. I know you can do it. Let me see you come,” Auston cooed.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, God.” Chase’s whole demeanour changed, both melting—shoulders, chest, neck—and tensing—abs, thighs, toes. His hips pumped up desperately, the tip of his cock shiny and red, the smell of slick thick in the air.
“Good boy,” Auston repeated, and that was all it took.
The orgasm looked painful, Chase throwing his head back, mouth wide open as his body went taut. Come shot across his chest and dribbled down his hand in smaller spurts, his thighs shaking.
Auston palmed his own hard cock at the sight.Fuck. He needed to find some fucking control, though, and he went quickly to the bathroom to grab a wet towel.
“There you go. Feel better?” Auston teased as he cleaned Chase up.
Chase let out a garbled noise. Auston laughed, tossing the towel away, divesting Chase of his soiled shirt, and encouraging him under the sheets.
Auston followed him, cradling Chase and kissing his forehead.
Chase mumbled incoherently into Auston’s chest and then detached long enough to say, “What about you, Daddy?”
Auston’s hardness was more than obvious between them. “It’s fine. I have some actual self-control.”
Chase huffed. “Not my fault I’m young.”
Auston pinched his bare ass, which did nothing to calm them as Chase yelped and wiggled closer. “What if you…what if you just put it in. You don’t even have to fuck me. You could just leave it there while we sleep.”
Auston had to shut his eyes against a burst of honest-to-God vertigo as his blood left his brain. “Jesus Christ. Just…go to fucking sleep.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Chase said innocently, but Auston could hear the evil grin in his voice.
Goddamn menace. Auston deserved a fucking award.
***
Auston squirted water on his face, trying to cool down. It was the second period, and already his legs were protesting with lactic acid, the scent of alpha-saturated ice putting him on edge.
There were too many goddamn Alphas in this league.
There was no fucking way the Salem Cats were going to shut them out. That was just fucking embarrassing—the Cats were at the bottom of the standings. The two goals they’d scored had been stupid, bouncing puck-luck, made worse because the Spirits were playing a good game—had spent most of the two periods in the Cats’ zone, almost doubling them in shots on goal.
He sat on the bench as the commercial break went on, watching Chase skate idly. The Omega’s cheeks were flushed, eyes hard and set, frown pulling his eyebrows harshly. It was something he would have completely missed a few months ago. It was pathetic how much he’d missed, like he’d been somnambulating since the start of the season, living inside his head.
Now, having pulled said head out of his goddamn ass, he could see how miserable everybody looked. They had more than a period to go, but the team was acting as if their defeat were a forgone conclusion. Everybody except Chase was surrounded by a miasma of frustrated scents.
And Chase, well, nobody should need a nose to figure him out—his lips were chewed to shit, bleeding a little in the cold air, mouthguard in his hand as if that wasn’t enough to bite on—as if he had to do some damage to his body for it to count.
“Hey,” Auston called. Chase flinched, head snapping up, eyes wide. Auston paused, startled by the extreme reaction, but then the referees were calling the lines on the ice to one of the face-off circles, and Chase was skating away.
That scared, caught expression rattled in Auston’s empty chest as the second intermission hit.
