Page 60 of Until He Scores

“Impatient.” I spread his cheek while he stroked his dick. The second my fingers rubbed his hole, he moaned, and my cock jerked, spilling precum. I gritted my teeth, reminding myself slow and steady. We’d done this a few times together. Used toys. But this felt bigger. More important than fooling around.

“Always when I’m with you.”

I kissed his shoulder, adding more lube while fucking him with two fingers. The delicious sounds he made went straight to my balls. I wanted to hurry up and get inside him while at the same time, keep him just like this. Commit to memory each of his expressions. The sounds he made and his sighs. The whiney pleas and reedy sobs. The way his cock turned a deep shade of red as drops of precum dribbled down his length. Most of all, I wanted the image of him, in the throes of pleasure seared into my mind as a reminder I made him feel those emotions. I brought him to the brink of orgasm.

When I was sure I wouldn’t hurt him, I donned the condom and lubed the barrier before pressing my tip to his hole. I wrapped my arm around him, holding him in place while pushing forward. His cry knotted my belly with bliss. “Easy...” I don’t know who I said the word for, me or him.

“Don’t stop,” he said, tugging my face toward his for a kiss. I slipped deeper, past that tight ring of muscle into the heat of his ass.

My eyes rolled up. My gut tightened. A soft moan fell from my lips. Nothing had ever felt so perfect. I stilled, allowing Thierry to adjust. The way he clenched around me, sent fire racing through my veins. I needed to move. My dick throbbed as he cinched down harder.

Fuck, I wasn’t going to last. That was the embarrassing part of all this. I didn’t want to be some two-pump chump for Thierry. I wanted this to last for as long as he needed me.

Yet, even as I thought of hockey statistics and the tattoos I’d planned on doing this evening at the shop, I couldn’t stop the current of gratification sparking along my spine or the way my balls drawled up in expectancy. I flexed my hips, giving a tentative roll.Thatsucked the life from my body. I was goingto die here. I knew it. “This is embarrassing.” I pressed my forehead to his neck.

“If you don’t move and let me cum,” he admonished. “We’re going to have words. Very bad words”

“I can’t move or else I’m going to cum,” I said, as the tingle of awareness arced in my gut.

“Then do it, Pope,” he murmured. “We have all the time in the world for this.”

Fuck. Why did he have to be so damn patient with me? I retreated and rocked forward reveling in the drag of my cock along the walls of his ass. I couldn’t stop the pump of my hips or the sounds I made. Feral was a good way to describe how I felt, clinging to him, fucking him in demanding strokes until we were moaning together.

“You feel so good,” I said, breathing hard. “I never knew it could be this way.”

“Yes,” he sobbed. “Pope...”

“Right there with you, Thier. I’m never getting enough of you. Never.” I pushed his hand out of his way and stroked him, matching my pace. He thrashed, bucking against me, adding to the pleasure.

Hissing his name, I tensed, unable to stop the rising tide. The stuttered curse that left my mouth as I slammed into him twice more before climaxing, would embarrass me later. For now, the roughened growl at the back of my throat accompanied the jerk of my hips as Thierry shouted, covering my fist and his belly in his release. He shuddered, pushing back onto me, drawing out one of the best orgasms I’d ever experienced outside of his mouth.

As I laid there, trying to gather my tattered wits and breathe, I gave lazy little thrusts, not wanting to lose this feeling of being inside him. “Wow...” He made a happy little noise, in the backof his throat and I chuckled, which caused him to clench on me, and I groaned. “I love you, Thierry.”

“You sure it’s not my ass you love?” The teasing in his voice had me shaking my head.

“I’ve always loved you,” I said. “I just didn’t recognize what this was in the middle of my chest.”

“Finally,” Thierry murmured. “I love you too, Pope. Always have.”

I kissed him, uncaring if my softening dick slipped out of him or if I had cum on my hand. I had to show him how much he meant to me.

I knew I found my home.

Thierry’s second alarm went off and we both groaned. “Shower then breakfast.” He kissed me again before slowly slipping out of bed.

I laid there, staring at the best ass I’d ever seen or fucked and couldn’t muster up the want to move, but knew I had to. I was dropping Thierry off at the arena then heading to the shop for another custom piece, this time for Rick. Lily-Mae gave birth to a nine-pound baby boy named Douglas, for Rick’s father, who unexpectedly passed away the night of Douglas’ birth. This was a special memorial tattoo for Rick, and their family. Something the world would see whenever Rick was on the field.

“You ready to go, Coach?” I joked, stepping into the bathroom.

Thierry faced me after setting the temp on the water. The scar on his knee might be a bit larger now, but his leg healed like Dr. Jay said it would. Took a little longer, though. “I’m nervous.”

“The guys are going to be ecstatic you’re back.” I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around him. “Don’t forget, you’re Thierry Thomas. NHL star.”

“I kind of like the sound of that,” he murmured before opening the door to the shower. “Join me?”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

I had the flat screen on in the shop while I waited for Rick. The background noise took away from the din of silence. The guys didn’t come in until three for the night shift, with Simone taking the front window space at eight. She’d raked up quite the following since she arrived, and I was glad she was there.

---