Page 54 of Playing His Game

Adam let him slip a couple of inches before thrusting back inside. Mo’s head made a loudthunkagainst the wall when he did, and his nails bit into Adam’s shoulder. “Fuck!” But he recovered quickly. “Yeah, right there. So fucking good. Harder.”

Adam used his grip on Mo’s thighs to fuck Mo toward him. His arms and legs burned with the workout. His abs clenched. Adam had never fucked anyone like this—had always been too conscious of his strength and size. Now he had permission to use them to their full extent, and it made him wild.

It made him so fucking horny, he was going to lose control.

He closed his eyes and rutted, chasing the high he could taste just around the corner. Mo’s breath came in hot, wet puffs against his chest and shoulder, spurring him on.

Somehow, Mo must’ve known Adam was close, because the hand in his hair tightened and pulled back so Adam had to arch his neck. “Feels good, huh?” Mo squirmed against him, scraped his teeth over Adam’s nipple. “No one’s ever let you have it like this, I bet.”

An involuntary sound escaped Adam’s mouth. His biceps and thighs trembled with exertion.

“You’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you, stud?” Mo forced Adam’s head down again, until suddenly, they were eye to eye. “You’re gonna make me come first.”

The entitlement should’ve made Adam angry. Instead, it twigged something else in the back of his brain. He needed to make Mo come—needed to hear it, see it, feel the contraction of his body and the spill of come against his stomach. He just needed to?—

Mo’s head hit the wall again when Adam shifted to a one-handed grip so he could wrap the other around Mo’s dick. Just the right size for Adam’s hand to cover almost completely. He could touch so much of him at once.

“Fuck.” Mo closed his eyes and his mouth fell open. “Yeah, come on. Just like that. Give me that nice fat cock. Fill me up with it. Do you feel how hard you make me?”

Adam bit his own lip in a bid for control as Mo’s words lit him up. He rubbed his thumb roughly against the underside of the head.

“Fuck,” Mo said again, and this time, Adam felt the ratcheting tension in his body reach its breaking point. “Yeah, yeah, God, you’re making me come?—”

Adam wrenched his eyes open to watch Mo spill hot over his fingers, between their bodies. Then the sensation registered—the forceful involuntary clench and release of Mo’s hole around his dick. Adam lost control and slammed forward into Mo’s body, once, twice?—

Orgasm hit him like a blind check, overwhelming his nervous system and whiting out his vision. Only the help of the wall and years of experience on the ice kept him on his feet as months of pent-up irritation flooded out of him. Miraculously, Mo held still, like he knew the slightest movement would send them both tumbling to the floor in a sticky, uncoordinated heap.

Finally, with every muscle in his body burning, Adam eased Mo off his softening cock and back onto his feet.

Sort of. Mo held the position for two seconds before he folded to the ground like wet laundry.

No point pretending to be macho, then. Adam sat too. Maybe in a minute, his legs would stop shaking.

For a few heartbeats, Mo didn’t say anything. He only stared at the kitchen wall opposite them with an expression that was somehow both blank and thoughtful.

After a moment Adam asked, “So did it work?”

Slowly, Mo turned to him. His face registered nothing but confusion.

Adam hated to bring it up, but—“Wall sex as, like, anger management.”

A noise escaped Mo’s mouth. It took Adam’s brain an extra beat to recognize it as a laugh—involuntary, slipping out through his nose. “Yeah,” he said, laughing openly now if a little disbelievingly. “It worked. Good job.”

Adam nodded seriously, as though he weren’t experiencing it from a thousand miles away. “My pleasure.”

Their eyes caught. There was that weird, strangled laugh again, only this time in stereo as Adam joined in.

“Okay,” Mo said finally. “I need to get up. You need help getting off the floor, stud?”

Adam considered his legs. Considered the practice he had to go to tomorrow morning. Told his ego to stuff it. “Yes,” he decided. He could work out how he felt about the pet name after he ate.

Mo climbed to his feet and offered him a hand. The strength in that wiry body no longer surprised Adam. “Okay. Here’s the plan. Shower.”

Adam nodded. Sensible.

“Snack.”

As if on cue, Adam’s stomach rumbled to remind him that he had not fed it the required number of calories. “Snack,” he repeated.