Page 35 of Puck Your Feelings
My imagination runs like a wild animal—Kane's hand sliding down his cock, his face slack with pleasure, his body tense and then releasing. The way he would look completely undone, all that careful control shattered.
Would he look at me like that? If I were the one touching him? Would he make those same sounds, or would he be louder? Would he tell me what he wanted, or would I have to figure it out myself?
Fuck.
My hand speeds up, grip tightening. I'm close already.
I think about Kane's hands. Those long fingers. The scar across his thumb I've been noticing. Those hands on me, or me on him, or—
The orgasm hits me like a freight train.
I barely manage to catch it in my fist, my other hand clamped over my mouth to muffle any sound. Pleasure crashes through me in waves, so intense I see stars behind my closed eyelids. My hips jerk involuntarily, cock pulsing in my grip as I come harder than I have in months.
Holy shit.
I lie there in the aftermath, heart pounding, cum cooling on my fingers, trying to process what just happened.
I jerked off to the sound of Kane jerking off.
That's what I just did.
That's the choice I just made.
I wince at my cum sticking my fingers, then wipe it off on the sheets. No fucking way I’m getting up to clean myself up now.
My heart’s still pounding as I’m staring at the dark ceiling, my body finally relaxed but my mind racing at a thousand miles per hour.
Kane is annoying. Kane is uptight. Kane talks like a hockey textbook and organizes his life with the precision of a military operation.
Kane is not someone I should be attracted to.
This is a problem.
This is a huge fucking problem.
Below me, Kane sleeps peacefully, completely unaware that he just accidentally destroyed any remaining illusion I had that my feelings toward him were purely professional irritation.
I don't sleep for the rest of the night.
Every time I close my eyes, I hear those sounds. Those quiet, desperate gasps. And my traitorous body responds immediately, ready to go again.
By the time Kane's first alarm goes off at 5, I'm exhausted, confused, and pretty sure I've made a terrible mistake.
Not the jerking off part.
The catching…feelings part.
No. Not feelings. Fuck the feelings.
What the fuck do I do now?
CHAPTER 8
Kane
I WAKE UP feeling better than I have in days, which is my first clue that something's wrong.
My body's loose, relaxed, the tension that's been living in my shoulders for the past week mysteriously absent. I stretch, feeling the pleasant ache of muscles properly used, and then my brain catches up to my body.
