Page 15 of Misconduct Zone

“How about a movie?” He hands me my drink and sits on the cushion next to me instead of the other side. He looks at me from under his lashes, and I nod, not exactly sure what I am agreeing to because, in this light, the gold flecks shimmer like stars in his eyes.

He breaks eye contact to pick up the remote and scrolls, stopping on a sports channel. “How about the highlights instead?”

I am afraid my voice will give away the longing I have for him, so I nod again. He settles back, and our shoulders brush each other.

“Sorry,” he apologizes after his arm bumps me.

“Not to worry,” I say, and my elbow gently connects with his arm as I take a drink. Constant contact will break me so I switch my drink to my left hand and rest it on the arm of the couch. He’s careful about where he sits while eating and drinking since he’s lefthanded. This is the first time I’ve seen him forget that.

The TV’s on and I’m facing the screen, but I can’t hear what the sports analysts are saying. It’s all static, and the picture is a blur. The only thing on my mind is Dylon’s body centimeters away.

“I’m tired. Practice was brutal today.” His head melts into the cushion.

“Coach wants us too tired to fight.” I sip my drink.

“Probably.” He yawns.

On the way home, we discussed Richardson’s negative assessment of our teammates and his announcement he deserves to be on the starting line. When Ace voiced our concerns about the team dynamic, Coach brushed it off and basically said “Toughen up. You’re hockey players.” That ended the conversation.

I turn my body to talk to Dylon about it, but he’s asleep.

His long lashes fan over his cheeks, and his mouth hangs slightly open. I gently remove his sports drink from his hand and take it to the kitchen.

If I were smart, I’d wake him up and tell him to go to bed. But my repressed desire for him clouds my judgment, and I sit next to him with our shoulders gently touching each other. It’s barely noticeable, except all of me craves more.

There’s an urge to plaster us together from our feet to our heads. I don’t move, barely breathing, only soaking in his nearness. There is no way for me to stop staring at him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. The way his hair covers half of his ears and has the imprint of his cap like a crown.

Suddenly his head bobs, and he tilts to the side until his head’s on my shoulder and his breath tickles my arm.

Selfishly, I want more nights like this. The two of us joking around and leaning on each other.

In the tiniest corner of my heart blooms the hope that he could return my feelings. But that wouldn’t be in our best interest. We’re teammates, linemates. They would break us apart, and that would hurt the team.

But looking down at his sleeping face, all those reasons seem trivial.

Dylon

My pillow smells extra good, but it’s hard and I rub my face to get comfortable. When I pitch forward and open my eyes, I’m in Lars’s lap—face so close to his dick.

“Shit, fuck, sorry.” I launch myself on the floor, hit his feet, and roll to my side in shame and pain.

“That was extreme,” Lars deadpans.

“Why didn’t you push me off?” Out of habit, I try to straighten my cap, but it’s not on my head.

“You need your sleep, and I didn’t mind until you snored louder than a chainsaw.” He smiles, and damn, my stomach explodes with butterflies.

“I do not snore.” I search for my hat, but my gaze snags on Lars’s crotch. He’s hard. My head was in his lap, and he’s hard. I repeat it to myself again in disbelief.But the most likely explanation is incidental contact. Dicks don’t know the sex of a head.

Lars continues to grin, and I’m unsure what to do. He’s sleepy and relaxed and won’t take his eyes off me. I’ve been half hard all night, and seeing his bulge triggers my dick to rise like an inflatable Santa before Christmas.

Gray sweatpants were a poor choice. They accentuate my cock instead of hiding it. Fuck my life. Lars will never let me hear the end of it. I know it won’t upset him, but it’s embarrassing. But what can I say? Hey, sorry, I stuck my face in your lap and popped a boner. Happens between all best bros, am I right? Never in this lifetime will I say those words out loud.

No witty remark saves me. And when I glance at Lars, his erection is tenting his sweats as well. In my head, I make lots of snarky comments about jacking off together, but it’s not a joke.

I really want that. See him in the flesh and hard for me. See what his face looks like when he comes.

Fuck, I could come from the thought and roll myself into a ball. “Cramp.” I grab my leg and hold it to my chest.

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