Page 82 of Slew Foot
But watching Rafe skate, watching his long reach as he snagged pucks and got them to Anker or Graham, that had been sexy.
Then again, Mickey thought now, curling his hands into fists under the blankets to stop himself from reaching up and tugging those shorts down to get at what was underneath, what wasn’t?
How was it possible to be this horny when his throat still felt raw and his nose was so plugged up he had to breathe through his mouth? It would be the worst blowjob ever.
But what had Rafe said to him?
“You want to help me?” Mickey said, desperately hoping he’d kept track of the conversational thread and was actually making sense.
“Yes.” Rafe tapped his toes against Mickey’s. “It makes me feel good when I do something for you.”
Rafe… Mickey thought helplessly. But there was nothing he could say without causing more issues for both of them. So, he nodded, sighed, and said, “Okay. Lunch would be nice.”
Mickey’s situation did not get better when Rafe returned from the kitchen a short while later, carrying their makeshift tray. He wasbeaming, clearly proud of himself, dressed like a fucking pool boy in a bad porno.
It worked for him.
Mickey finished his food and when he was done with it, he opened his mouth to tell Rafe to load the dishwasher, but he closed it again. He wasn’t in charge of Rafe, and he needed to stop acting like he was.
Even if Rafedidseem to thrive whenever he did it.
But Rafe tilted his head now, studying Mickey’s face. “You want me to put this in the dishwasher?”
Mickey nodded, a little surprised by how quickly Rafe had guessed his thoughts. But maybe he shouldn’t be. Rafe was shrewd and getting incredibly good at reading him. He’d noticed it when they were at the grocery store.
While Rafe was clearly not the mostintellectuallygifted in some ways, he was smart in so many others, and he paidattention.Especiallyto Mickey.
Once the dishwasher was loaded and their improvised tray was put away with Mickey’s other baking dishes, Rafe returned to the living room.
“Good job,” Mickey said automatically, stifling a groan when Rafe beamed again.
Great, now he knew Rafe had a praise kink. That wasn’t dangerous to his sanity at all.
But when Rafe continued to stand there, fidgeting, instead of taking a seat in his usual spot on the couch, Mickey raised an eyebrow.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Rafe shook his head.
“Is there something you need? Something you want to ask?” Mickey guessed.
“Can I …” Rafe fidgeted. “Can I put my head on your lap?”
Mickey blinked.
“I mean, I know the time before was when I was sick and driving you and Tanner crazy. Or if you’d rather put your head inmylap because you’re sick, it’s cool,” Rafe said hastily. “Or if you don’t want to at all …”
Mutely, Mickey peeled back the blanket to expose his pajama-clad thigh.
Rafe settled beside him, making a happy noise as he rested his cheek against Mickey’s leg. “Why is this so nice?” he asked.
Mickey rested a hand on the sliver of bare skin between Rafe’s shorts and shirt, thinking,Because you’re finally where you belong.
He promptly had to blow his dripping nose, which sort of ruined the moment, but maybe that was just as well.
CHAPTER TWENTY
As the team boarded the plane a week later for a road trip, Mickey was feeling much better.
