Page 66 of Common Goal
Kyle’s grip was loose, his fingertips lightly brushing against Eric’s shaft. Eric thrust his hips a couple of times, needing more. Kyle laughed and took his hand away. “You’re desperate for it. Why don’t you get undressed and meet me on the bed?”
Eric had never gotten his clothes off faster. He’d been naked in front of other men so many times in his life that he wasn’t a bit bashful about being on full display now. He gazed at Kyle, wanting his reaction. Wanting his approval.
“Jesus.” Kyle sounded horrified. It wasn’t encouraging. But then Kyle lightly touched Eric’s chest, over a bruise that had formed after Eric had taken a slap shot there during the game in Toronto.
“It’s nothing,” Eric said, not wanting any distractions.
“There are so many,” Kyle said quietly. He trailed his fingers over to another bruise. And another one.
“Part of the job. I barely feel them anymore.”
Then Kyle was tracing the lines of his surgery scars on his shoulder. “I’ll bet you felt this one.”
“Just some repairs. Everything is in working order now.”
Kyle kissed the scar tissue, which was shockingly sensual, and made Eric’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth go slack. Kyle’s lips lingered, gently tracing the thin line of the scar while Eric struggled to breathe. It was just a scar—it didn’t even have an interesting story—but what Kyle was doing felt so intimate and adoring that Eric lost himself in it.
Then, Kyle’s lips were gone, and when Eric opened his eyes he saw that he had stepped back to pull his own T-shirt off. Kyle’s body wasn’t bruised and blemished, it was exactly as Eric had remembered it from seeing him half undressed in his guest bedroom: perfect. His flat stomach and toned pecs with that trail of hair Eric hadn’t been able to stop thinking about were on full display, and this time Eric could admire as much as he liked.
He sat on the end of the bed and watched as Kyle opened his jeans and slid them down over his slim hips. He looked like a model as he stood in front of Eric in nothing but his royal-blue boxer briefs.
A model with a very obvious erection straining the fabric of his underwear.
Kyle stood between Eric’s legs and tipped his chin up. “Take them off,” he instructed.
In the hockey world, Eric was known for his steady hands, and for generally remaining calm in the face of pressure. But he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling a bit as he reached for Kyle now. He placed his palms on Kyle’s waist and slid them down over his warm, smooth skin, to the waistband of his briefs. He glanced up, and Kyle nodded his approval, so Eric hooked his thumbs into the waistband and tugged the briefs down an inch or so. Then he paused and leaned in so he could press his lips to Kyle’s stomach. He kissed across his abdomen and then down to where the trail of dark blond hair started.
“That’s good,” Kyle murmured. “Take your time.”
Eric flicked his gaze back up and found Kyle watching him intently. “You’re beautiful,” Eric said, because he’d never told Kyle that before and he thought he should know. He kissed his bellybutton.
Kyle combed his fingers through Eric’s hair. “Thank you.”
Eric pulled the briefs down until the tip of Kyle’s cock was visible. He pinned it there, against Kyle’s belly, with the waistband. For a few seconds he just stared at it, mesmerized. He was really about to touch another man’s cock.
“Having second thoughts?” Kyle asked. His tone was playful, but Eric suspected he was concerned.
“No,” Eric said. He met Kyle’s eyes. “I just can’t believe how lucky I am.”
They both smiled, and then Eric pulled Kyle’s underwear down over his thighs and let it fall to the floor. Kyle’s cock bobbed in front of his face, long and narrow with a distinct curve upward, like a ski jump. It was perfect, but Eric wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it.
“Anything you want, gorgeous,” Kyle said, likely noticing the uncertainty on Eric’s face.
Heat crept up the back of Eric’s neck. “Could you...tellme what to do? I like it when, um...”
Kyle’s smile was wicked. “You want me to be in charge?”
Eric nodded.
“We can play that way. I’ll even go easy on you. Why don’t you put your hands on my thighs and go back to kissing my stomach? I liked that.”
Eric placed his palms above Kyle’s knees and stroked, slowly, up toward his hips. He relished the feeling of soft hair and muscular flesh beneath his hands, and the firmness of Kyle’s belly against his lips.
“Fuck, I love how your beard feels against my skin,” Kyle said, so Eric rubbed his cheek against his stomach, and then down toward the base of his cock. He could feel Kyle’s abs flexing in response. Eric kept rubbing his palms up and down, and his thumbs stretched out to press into the crease of Kyle’s thighs.
“Play with my balls,” Kyle instructed. “However you want. I fucking love that.”
There was something about being told what to do that made all of this easier. Eric carefully cupped Kyle’s balls in one hand, rubbing a thumb over the tight, wrinkled skin that, he noticed, seemed to be meticulously waxed or shaved or something. Should Eric be waxing his own balls? It wasn’t something he had considered doing before.
