Page 74 of Goalie Interference

But even that morning I didn’t dread anything. That morning didn’t come with so many unknowns. I knew what I was waking up to and it sucked. It was heartbreak and disappointment and anger, fueling me to snap right back into training to prepare to redeem ourselves this season. And we’ve been doing quite well. But lying next to me right now is the one person who could possibly derail me in my task.

Which makes today filled with nothing but questions. Where do Ander and I go from here? Was this a one-off? Or was this the start of something more?

I know what I’d like it to be. Something more. But does he feel the same? More importantly, if he does feel the same way, how are we supposed to proceed?

That’s the biggest question of all.

I’m not ready to figure out the answer. I need five more minutes of lying cramped in this bed with my legs tangled around Ander’s, my right arm wrapped around his torso, and his thick brown hair tickling my nose. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for me to have this simple indulgence of lounging with him under this blanket wearing nothing but our underwear.

Or maybe it is. Because it’s at this moment that Ander rolls over in his sleep and slips off the edge of the bed, taking me with him.

We land with a thud onto the floor. Thankfully for me he cushioned my fall. But we did disturb Shutzie’s sleep. He barks at us twice, then lays back down in his bed.

“Hi,” Ander says, grinning up at me, completely unfazed by our crash.

“Are you alright?” I support myself with one hand, then use my other to turn his head to the side to check and make sure he didn’t crack it open. The air mattress didn’t do much to cushion our fall. He could be bleeding. Or worse, have a concussion.

But he’s not looking at me like he has a concussion. He’s looking at me with wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and a large goofy grin.

Okay. That could be his concussion face, but I doubt it.

“Me?” he asks. “I’m fine. Not the first crack to the noggin I’ve had. Not even the first one this year.” He slides his hand to my neck and pulls my head down, bringing our lips to a mere inch apart. “But if you’re worried, you could always kiss me all over and make it better.”

“Is that invitation?”

“Definitely. Make sure you start with my dick. I think that hit the floor the hardest.” His goofy smile transforms into a playful smirk, and his wide eyes shut slightly. He no longer looks concussed and oblivious.

“Really?” I ask as I dip down and start to kiss around his neck and his jaw. Into his ear, I whisper, “Your dick feels fine to me.” Then, to emphasize my statement, I rock my hips against his, pressing our clothed erections together.

His moan rumbles through his chest and up his throat. How boring and empty will my mornings be from here on out without that sound to wake up to?

I kiss his lips, then make my way down his body.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

Resting my chin on his hip bone, I look up at him. “Checking your cock for damages,” I say, then pull his briefs down enough so that his cock springs free.

He’s rock hard already and I waste no time wrapping my lips around it, swallowing half down his thick shaft. As I bob my head up and down, swirl my tongue around the sensitive head, and lightly jerk and twist his base, I do it all with one goal in mind. To get him to come as hard as I can so I can taste him one last time before I need to say goodbye and let him go.

“Fuck. Nikolai,” he says, way too loudly.

Still working his cock, I reach my hand up onto the bed beside us and pull the pillow down, dropping it onto his face.

He barks out a laugh, then immediately muffles it with the pillow. Soon, as I quicken my pace, his laughter is replaced by soft moans and mewls. His hips begin to rise off the floor, like he’s searching out more of my mouth with his dick. I let him, taking more of him into my mouth, as much as I can handle without skipping a beat as I encourage him to find his release.

His breathing picks up and he lets out a muffled cry into the pillow. With his hand, he taps me on the shoulder and I hear him quietly mumble that he’s about to come.

I don’t care. There is no way I’m pulling my mouth off his cock at this moment. I want it. I want to swallow him down. I want to take some of him with me when I leave, because who knows when I’ll be able to experience this again.

When he finally comes, it’s thick and warm on my tongue. Slightly bitter, but also smooth and soothing as I swallow.

Once I’ve drunk every last drop he has to offer, I finally pull off him.

He removes the pillow and looks down at me like he’s drunk. His eyes are hooded and sleepy. His mouth is hanging slightly ajar. His cheeks are more flushed than I have ever seen them. And that blush doesn’t stop at his cheeks. He’s pink down his neck and across his perfect, muscular chest.

He reaches down and places his hand on my cheek. His thumb gently glides over my slick lips. He looks at peace, but behind that expression, I can see the same worry I have. He’s the one who voices it. “What are we going to do now?”

“I do not know,” I say honestly. Because I don’t know. I will never know. This is unchartered territory. A position that is near impossible to be in.