Page 71 of Forbidden Hockey
“I guess I don’t love how I got them, but most of them happened during low times, which is when you learn the most, so I got the lessons written in ink.” I turn my hand so he can focus on the moth tattoo he’s seen a million times. “A reminder not to chase fire—destruction. The time I got this scar was the same time I was arrested for aggravated assault. I was collecting debts for the club. I didn’t need to go as far as I did, but the guy was egging me on, because he knew I was just a hot-tempered kid with a skewed moral compass.”
He runs a thumb over it. “I love them. I have scars, too. Just from hockey fights, but they tell stories.”
I’m sure they do, and I’m sure it’s gonna be a lot harder watching him get clobbered on the ice, but I don’t wanna think about that right now.
“And you drew them? Dash,” he says when he sees the question in my eyes. I don’t go around telling everyone that.
“Most of them, not all.” I lean in and nibble on his ear. “So, why me?” I whisper.
“Why you what?”
“I kinda assumed you’d prefer to top. You’ve been begging me to stick my dick in you—you’ve been very specific about that.”
His cheeks heat. “Um, yeah, that. Well, I mean, I’m … look, topping is expected from a guy like me. Y’know? And don’t get me wrong, I like it, but I’d rather be…”
“Taken?” I supply. Because what I just did to him? That was a fucking taking.
A wistful smile spreads all the way to his eyes. “Yeah. I needed you to do it, Trav. It’s an energy thing for me. You’ve got the energy I need. I’ve craved it.”
“Probably helps that I’m bigger than you,” I muse out loud.
“Honestly? Yeah. I swear I’ve tried with smaller guys who claimed to have dominating energy. I’m not saying they didn’t or can’t do it—they clearly worked for some—but they didn’t do it for me.”
“Nothing wrong with that. We like what we like. You shouldn’t have to feel bad about seeking what you need.”
“Agreed. And I might have felt bad for a minute, which is why I gave it a shot, but it didn’t work. I decided I don’t really give a fuck what other people think. It’s my life and my desires. I mean, I guess it makes me blush a little with how needy you make me, but I need a massive, domineering lion of a man to top me, or it doesn’t work. I love the way you can throw me around for real.”
I won’t tease him now, but he doesn’t just blush a little, he blushes so hard I’ve seen cherries less red than his cheeks. I make him more than a little needy, and I’m wearing that as a damn victory badge.
“It better not be just any lion of a man.”
“There’s only one lion man in my life, baby.” He toys with the hair on my chest a little shyly. It’s fucking cute.
“Lion man, I fucking love that. Also, you should know that I’ve decided this lion’s cock is the last cock you’ll ever have.” I press my lips against his neck. He gets quiet. Too quiet. “I hope you’re not dreaming of some other guy’s cock.”
He laughs. “No, but now that I’m coming down from the sex high, reality’s setting in. I’m still having no luck with Hunt. I need him to accept us, Trav.” The joy in his voice is gone, and he trembles in my arms. “It’s just … I want us forever. You might as well know that. Especially after whatever the fuck just happened between us. Oh god, did you feel it too? Please tell me you felt it too. Or am I fucking lovesick?”
I don’t mean to laugh at his plight, but he’s kind of a-fucking-dorable. I lace my fingers with his and hold him tighter so he can’t go anywhere.
“Didn’t I just say my cock was the last cock you’ll ever have?”
“Not the same thing, asshole.”
“Speaking of assholes, how’s yours? Is it sore?” I reach my fingers down to play with it.
“It’s fine, jeeeez. I’m not a porcelain doll.”
But he lets me continue to inspect it.
“Hmmm, not sore? Let’s change that. I want you feeling me on the first day of training camp.”
He spins in my arms to face me. “Wait. I want you to say it, Trav. You didn’t fucking say it.” He grits his teeth.
Dirk’s perceptive and smarter than he’s given credit for. People assume that silence means lack of intelligence. It’s the same for me—people think I’m stupid because of my tattoos, how I keep my hair, and I’m quiet unless I have something meaningful to say.
So I’m not surprised that Dirk’s caught my attempt to get out of making my own admission. Because I won’t lie to him or insult him by giving him the truth without honesty. But I can’t help the kernel of doubt, niggling at my chest about us. I’m certain about how I feel—that’s not in question—but unsettled about how things are gonna play out. I’ll feel a lot better once Hunter’s on board, that’s assuming he ever is.
The rest of it … for him, I’ll find a way to deal with it.
