Page 84 of Puck the Coach's Son
He starts at my face. Works down. My throat. My chest. My stomach. My cock. My thighs. My knees. My feet. And all the way back up, slower.
“You,” he says. And then nothing.
He undoes his jeans. He steps out of them. He's naked and he's hard and he's bigger than I let myself remember. He reaches to the nightstand drawer and pulls out a bottle and a foil square and he sets them on the bed beside my hip where I can see them.
“That,” he says, tapping the bottle, “is for you. That,” tapping the foil, “is for me. You're going to watch me put this on. You're going to watch me work it in. You're going to tell me if anything is too much. You got that?”
“Yes.”
He waits. Two fingers under my chin, tilting my face up to his.
“Say it back.”
“Tell you if it's too much.”
“Good.”
He climbs up on the bed over me. He settles between my knees. He cups the back of my thigh and lifts it. He uncaps the bottle one-handed. The click is loud in the room.
And then his hand's wet and warm and he's touching me there. I flinch and he stops and waits, just his hand resting, until I breathe out. Then he starts again. A fingertip. Just circling. Not in. He leans down and he kisses the inside of my knee while he does it. He's being careful in a way I didn't know he could be careful.
“Breathe.”
I breathe.
His fingertip works in to the first knuckle and my whole body clenches, and he waits. He kisses my knee again. He waits until I go soft around him and then he goes in further.
It doesn't hurt. It's strange. It's a pressure I've never felt and a heat I've never felt and my cock's leaking against my stomach and I can't keep my eyes open.
“Look at me.”
I look.
His face above me isn't the face from the bench. Not the face from the closet. It's focused and dark and intent and absolutely on me.
“Stay with me.”
“Yes.”
His finger eases a fraction deeper. My whole body loosens.
“Say my name.”
“Maddox.”
He shakes his head. One slow shake. A smile underneath.
“Try again.”
I know what he wants. I've been waiting for him to want it. Half the team calls him it and I've said it to myself in the shower and I've never said it out loud to him.
“Mad Dog.”
His eyes go darker.
“Again.”
“Mad Dog.”
