Page 91 of Gross Misconduct

Our weekday practices are grueling.The guys are in it to win it and nothing less. I want to win this game to show them that they made the right choice in bringing me onto the team.

On Thursday night, I take an ice bath when I get home. I close my eyes and think about the coaching job. What would it be like to work with college athletes? What would it also be like to deal with administrative bureaucracy? I recall my old coaches complaining about red tape with the franchise owners. I think about the chance to live and breathe hockey again.

I try to get myself psyched up about the opportunity. Yet like a guy attempting to have sex after too many whiskey sours, I just can’t get there.

A knock at the front door startles me. Because it’s such a small apartment, the sound reverberates against the bathroom walls.

I throw a towel around my waist and run to the door.

“And here I thought I was going to have to seduce you.” Griffin arrives wearing a flannel and jeans. Does this guy ever not look drop-dead sexy?

“What are you doing here?”

“Seeing you. I was on my way home from dropping off the girls, and I realized that I drive by your apartment building every time I make the trip.”

“Don’t you love geography?”

“Not as much as I love checking you out.” He scoops me into his arms, and I’m pulled into his chest, inhaling his musky, fresh scent.

I tiptoe us backward into my apartment. The last thing my neighbors need is a free sex show. We stumble backward onto my couch. My towel falls off somewhere along the journey.

“Maybe we take this to the bedroom,” he says as he kisses down my neck.

“You’re in it.”

He looks around and clocks the minimal square footage.

“You sleep on a couch?” he asks.

“It’s a pullout.”

“Fuck, you really are twenty-four.” He laughs into my lips as he plants another deep kiss, unleashing a torrent of goosebumps across my naked flesh.

My hard cock rubs against his jeans. He gives it a gentle stroke, like a handshake for an old friend.

“You’re freezing.” He wraps his arms tighter around me.

“I was taking an ice bath. We had a tough practice tonight.” I unbutton his flannel and smooth a hand over his chest and stomach, wanting every inch of it.

“Bill’s made us practice every day this week. We finally convinced him to give us today off.”

“Good. You don’t want him overworking you guys and wearing you out before the game.”

We talk between kisses. Griffin jerks me off at a leisurely pace. It’s a very domestic situation of two lovers asking each other about their day…only with less clothes on.

“Des’s shoulder has been hurting because of all the extra shooting practice.”

“Tell him twenty minutes of icing it every other hour. The doctor on one of my teams said that when you over-ice it, it slows recovery.” I pinch his nipple, making him grunt as he tongues my ear. “That with some ibuprofen should get him healed by Sunday.”

I break my train of thought with a gasp when he lightly tugs at my sack.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. That was a good gasp.” I shove his shirt off his broad shoulders. I flick my tongue over his nipple, eliciting a pull on my cock in response. We are a tangle of arms and hunched backs trying to make this position work. We collapse onto the couch.

I straddle him, letting my bare ass writhe on his tented jeans. “So how are you feeling about the game?”

I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him hard before he can answer. He gives my ass a slap and pinch. He leans back slightly so his crotch has more of a thrusting radius.

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