Eastshore Tigers 01 - Strong Side (16 page)

I laugh. “Yeah, he had me watching receivers making friends with the ground. Motivating.”

It was, in a way. I know better than to let myself get outmatched, for one. One of their guys is especially handsy, and will likely try to grab the ball from me. In this game, I know it’s going to be better to focus on fundamentals and not try any of the fancy shit we got away with in the past.

But I’m still nervous, and hearing that Hawk is, too, makes me feel a little better.

As it turns out, Coach Garvey’s scare tactics are really fucking effective.

Either that, or everybody else on the team can taste the chance for an amazing season as much as Hawk and I. Everybody’s on point, and while it isn’t the world’s most exciting game in terms of trick plays or turnovers or really putting up big points, we manage to outplay Tennessee.

It’s good, by the numbers ball-playing. I didn’t even manage to score, but I don’t care. When we go back to the locker room after the final whistle blows, I feel like that tentative sense of excitement has grown into confident energy. All the guys around me aren’t just wondering if we have a shot now. They’re sure we do.

So is the press, apparently, because it takes hours for us to be released back to our hotel. The game was an upset in our conference, and the sportscasters are all over it. So much so that Coach Garvey ends up calling a press conference in one of the hotel’s larger rooms, and a bunch of us have to sit through an hour and a half of questions about our season, our past, and our potential future.

By the time Hawk and I get back to our room, the adrenaline high of winning the game is pretty much tapped out and replaced by fatigue. We showered in the locker room, so we both just sort of slump into our own beds and fall into a deep sleep.

When I wake up, it’s to a slight weight on top of me, and something soft and wet and warm against my jaw.

My eyes open and my vision focuses enough to see Hawk. I can feel his breath, the pressure of his lips, and finally realize he’s kissing me. Marking a trail along my jaw. I make a soft sound of pleasure, still half-asleep, and he stops for a moment.

Not exactly what I wanted that sound to encourage.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says before he goes back to it, kissing my neck.

His hand moves down my body, and the rest of me starts to wake up before my mind really gets with the program.

“What time is it?” I ask groggily. Because I’m an idiot, apparently. What does it matter what time it is? Hawk is on top of me.

“Around three.”

I groan, and not in pleasure. We barely conked out an hour ago. No wonder I’m dragging. Or at least, my brain is dragging. My dick is already starting to respond to the indirect attention.

“Been thinking about it all week,” he says, and he runs his teeth over my earlobe in that way he knows drives me crazy.

I shudder predictably, helpless to do anything but let him have his way with me. Not that it’s a terrible way to go.

“’Bout what,” I murmur, my English skills not so great when I’m half asleep, apparently. “Molesting me in my sleep?”

I’m lucky I manage to crack an eye open long enough to catch his grin. It makes me smile.

“How do you know I haven’t already done that?”

I laugh softly. “Good point. Knock it off, though. I want to be awake for the good stuff.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do now.”

His lips skim down my bare chest, and I gasp when his tongue flicks over my nipple. Damn him. I’m stuck between that painful place of really wanting to go back to sleep, and really wanting to get off, and it only gets worse when his hand starts to move down my thigh.

I’m only wearing boxers, so he has an unfair amount of access. He uses it fully, slipping his hand under the loose leg and palming me skin to skin.

“Jesus,” I manage, lifting my hips against him. “Okay, you made your point.”

I get my hand in his hair and tug him up to meet me, waking up a little more when we kiss. It’s still a little slow and languid, and I feel like I’m stumbling a little, but as my body starts to heat up, my mind starts to work right, too.

“Derek,” he says after breaking the kiss. He’s started using my first name more now, but it still sends a little thrill through me every time, “I want you to fuck me.”

Holy shit. That wakes me up.

For a long minute I just stare at him, and he stares back at me. He’s waiting for me to say something. Do something. And like an idiot I’m not doing either of those things.

“Are you sure?” I manage to croak out, my throat suddenly scratchy.

Jesus. I’m going to make him not want me before I even get the chance to suit up.

“Been sure for a while,” he says, then kisses me again.

Holy shit.

Jason Hawkins wants me to fuck him.

When we started this—and even when I fantasized about it—I always imagined he’d top. I’ve only bottomed a couple times in my life. Mostly because the guys I’ve met always seemed to prefer the role, and since I enjoy either, I just ended up topping more often than not.

But I never figured Hawk would be the kind of guy who would be into getting fucked, or even curious about it. He’s huge. Bigger than me, built with endless muscle and definitely not what someone would imagine the stereotypical bottom to look like.

Then again, there’s nothing stereotypical about either of us, and if Jason really wants to be fucked—even just once to know what it’s like—I’m definitely not going to deny him.

He kisses a path down my body, and I know exactly what he’s going for before he gets there. My breath still catches in my throat when he takes my cock in his mouth and sucks me hard, though, and my fingers tighten in his hair.

There’s nothing slow or experimental about it this time. He has a goal in mind, and that’s getting me hard and ready to roll as quickly as possible. He does a good job of it, too. Between his expert sucking and my own thoughts, I firm up quickly.

As if realizing that, Jason pushes himself up. He’s straddling my hips, and I run my hands over his thighs as he pulls his shirt off. I watch his muscles flex in the dim light, and groan when he gets off of me to pull down his boxer briefs, too.

By the time I lose my own boxers, he’s on top of me again, and his dick rubs against mine. I moan wantonly, dropping my head back. He covers my lips with his, and we grind together until my dick is aching and my mind is filled with the intense desire to be inside of him.

Jason must feel it, too, because as he moves his hips against mine again he asks, breathlessly, “Got any condoms with you?”

“In my bag,” I manage, and the words trail right into a pained groan as he gets up to grab them.

Fuck me for dropping my bag right by the door instead of within reaching distance. But it does give me a chance to clear my head just a little bit. Instead of being totally consumed by lust and playing by the whims of my dick, I’m able to think about what we’re doing here.

“Grab the lube in there, too.”

When he comes back, I can see a little bit of apprehension in his eyes. That beautiful blue is still glazed over by lust, but he can’t hide his nerves from me, and I’m glad for it.

I sit up, then gesture for him to sit beside me. He hands me the lube and a condom he tore off from a strip, but I just hold them both in my hand.

“You ever used any toys or anything? Or just your finger?”

“Finger once, yeah, just to see what it would feel like.”

I grin a little. “What did it feel like?”

“Like I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.”

I laugh, then give him a quick kiss. “Lie back.”

If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

- Jason -

I do as he says, and my heart starts to hammer. As much as I want this, I'm a little nervous, too. Fucking around on my own is way different than actually letting another guy stick his finger inside of me, and worlds away from having him fuck me.

But this is something I want. I have to try it at least once, just to see if I like it. Worst case, I'll hate it and Griff and I will figure something else out. I trust him to take it easy and to give me some time if I need him to slow down or stop.

And it's that thought that ultimately sets me at ease as he climbs beside me on the bed and lays on his side. With my hands folded on my chest, I watch him lube up one finger, and then a second one. My brow arches, and he chuckles.

"Just in case." He kisses me again, and I can feel his smile on my lips. "Bend one of your knees a little bit."

"Feels like I'm at the doctor," I joke.

He smacks my chest lightly. "Asshole. See if I try to make it comfortable for you again."

I expect him to start prodding at places I've never had anyone else prod, but instead he starts kissing me again. It’s slow and lacking the urgency of our usual kisses, and I realize he's trying to relax me. His other hand runs up and down my body, and he even grasps my cock and gives me a few slow strokes.

I relax back into the bed, and once he seems satisfied, I feel his other hand drift downward. He cups my balls and I shudder, then feel him skim along the sensitive skin leading to my hole.

He takes it easy with me, pressing in a little bit at a time. At first it feels exactly the way it did when I did it on my own. A little painful, and a lot weird. He whispers soothingly, telling me to relax, and I focus on breathing as he pushes in deeper.

With the lube and the fact that I'm not clenching, it isn’t too bad, it's just a pressure I'm not used to feeling. He slides in deeper, and it's like his finger is at least three times bigger than I remember it. How I'm going to take his cock, I have no idea.

But I know if I let myself worry about this, it's never going to happen. So I try not to think about it, and focus on his lips instead. He still tastes a little like the drinks we had last night, and I remember the high of winning that game. It helps me relax even more, to the point where I can barely feel the pressure.

And then, suddenly, I feel something else. A burst of pleasure that explodes within me.

"Holy shit," I say, my voice shaky.

Derek just grins, apparently not feeling like he needs to explain what just happened. I guess he's going to demonstrate, instead, because I can feel his finger inside of me, stroking something, and it's the most amazing feeling I've ever had.

I don't even know how to describe it. It's a deeper pleasure than getting a blowjob or even fucking someone. Maybe it's just because it's more intimate, but I know if he keeps this up, I'm not going to last very long. Already I'm writhing and moaning against him, pressing my ass against his hand, encouraging him to do more.

When he slips in the second finger, stretching me a little wider, I shudder. The discomfort is quickly replaced by an intense pleasure as the digit finger joints the first.

I devolve into a mess of swears and pleas, until Derek slowly pulls out of me.

I groan, immediately feeling the loss, but when I hear him rip open the condom packet, my body seems to realize that it's going to get exactly what it wants.

"We’ll go slow, okay?"

"If you can manage to do whatever you just did again, I don't care how fast you go."

He chuckles, and I watch him roll the condom over his cock. He lubes it up, then applies some of the lube to me, as well. His fingers return, and so do my moans, my back pressing into the bed.

The next time he removes them, he gets into place between my legs, and I can feel the tip of him pressing against me. I hold my breath on reflex, then remember to let it out.

His hand moves up to my chest and he caresses me in slow circles. My heart squeezes as our eyes meet, and I rest my hand against his wrist, holding him to me. Something passes between us in that moment, and I can tell he feels it, too. When he pushes inside of me, he does it so slowly, so carefully at first. I’m grateful for that, because his cock is way bigger than his fingers, and I need time to adjust.

Once my body relaxes, though, I have to shift my hips forward a little to get him to move more.

I feel him, inch by inch inside of me, and it’s fucking incredible. When he starts to move and his dick rubs against that sensitive spot within me, I almost lose it completely. I clutch his arm hard, while my other hand grips the sheets.

“Oh, fuck, Derek,” I moan as he slowly pushes in and out of me.

“Feels good?”

“Feels amazing.”

I run my hand up his arm, feeling the soft hair underneath my fingertips. Gripping his shoulder, my fingers curl against his skin. I pull him toward me and he leans close enough for me to kiss him. It’s needy and a little distracted as he continues to move inside of me, and I settle for just having his lips near mine, breathing in his gasps and grunts and groans.

“Harder,” I beg, and he finally starts moving in earnest. “Need more.”

“Anything you want, baby,” he murmurs against my lips.

I’ve never been a fan of endearments. Especially endearments like that. But coming from Derek as he’s fucking me, it sounds like the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, and I moan softly as he hits just the right spot.