Eventually, I find the strength to pull back, breathing hard as our eyes meet once more. He looks thoroughly debauched, and I know I can’t be much better off. The evidence is practically ripping out of my boxers.
I hook my fingers in the pockets of his sweatpants and tug downward, pausing when the front refuses to pull past his thick bulge. I’d felt the size of him that night we frotted together, and I have caught glimpses here and there, but none of that has prepared me for the pure awe I feel as I watch, rapt, as the waistband of his sweatpants fights his towering cock. Ultimately, the pants tug free with a soft snap, and I let go so they fall to his ankles.
Hendrix’s hands grab my hips and pull me close, the matching tents in our boxers nearly brushing. “Tahegin,” he murmurs as he tilts his head up. Mouth at my chin, he nips at the stubble I’ve let grow over the last few days.
“Hmm?” I hum distractedly, angling my head to give him more access to my neck.
His fingers splay on my sides, and a thumb finds my navel. It teasingly rounds the edge before pressing down to rub in deliberately smooth and careful circles. The sensitive nerves alight, pulling a gasp and a guttural moan from my mouth. My body twitches and writhes reflexively in response as shocking bites of pleasure shoot down, down, down to deep within my balls and the core of my shaft. I cry out, grabbing one handful of his hair and one of his muscular pecs. “Shower with me.” His whispered request sends goose bumps down my arms.
I can only nod and stumble toward the glass door separating us from the hot water. Hendrix’s presence behind me is so distracting I completely forget about my boxers until they’re becoming heavy with water. When I glance over my shoulder, I feel my eyes go wide at the sight of him fully naked in the shower with me.
“Hey,” Hendrix says, trying to clear his voice of the gravel and rasp it has adopted in response to his arousal. One hand moves to close over his cockhead, holding it down and to the side so his forearm modestly covers the rest of him. “We don’t have to do anything if you—”
“I want to,” I quickly interject.
The corner of his mouth twitches into a soft smile. “I was going to say that we don’t have to do anything if you’re in too much pain. Trust me, I am fully aware of how much you want to.” He gives my tented crotch a pointed look.
“I’m fine,” I rush to tell him. Trying to prove that fact, I strip my soaked boxers off in one swoop from my hips to my ankles, forgetting my injured hamstring in my haste. It pulls tight as I bend over, and I hide the pained wince as best I can manage.
Hendrix’s frowning face when I return to full height makes it clear he isn’t convinced. With the hand not covering his junk, he caresses my wrist, then gently slides his fingers up my arm, over my shoulder, where he gives a firm squeeze, and to my neck. He holds my jaw in his palm, stormy grey eyes pulling me in like a whirlpool. “Tahegin,” he breathes, hand adjusting on my cheek. “Babe.” I melt at the endearment. “I don’t want you hurting worse. There has to be—well, I don’t know. I assume there’s a way . . . Ugh.” What began as a confident declaration trails off, and he hangs his head with a sigh. “I really should watch some gay porn at some point. I’m not well versed on any of . . . this.” He gestures between our somewhat flagging erections.
Amusement has me throwing my head back and laughing without restraint. If the shower wasn’t spraying over us, the tears in the corners of my eyes would be clear to see. When I’m finished, Hendrix is standing with his arms crossed, a pinched, put-out look on his face. His nose is so adorable all scrunched up like that I just have to dart in to drop a kiss on its tip. “You’re cute, Rix.”
Huffing, he fans his hands in front of his face, waving me off and sputtering, “I’m not cute!”
“Rix.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I tug him close, completely unashamed as my cock brushes the trail of hair beneath his navel. At the contact, I quickly harden once more. “It’s cute that you think you need to do research, but the thing is you don’t.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I catch his eye and cut him off. “How old are you?”
He scowls, whether because he’s sure I already know or because he thinks I am trying to use our—small—age difference to prove a point. Spoiler alert, it’s neither. “Twenty-two.”
“Right. You’ve had twenty-two years to get acquainted with your dick.”
Flushing, he opens his mouth only to close it again a second later.
I press our foreheads together and let my eyelids fall closed, feeling him against me as my hips naturally begin to roll, seeking the friction of his hard abs against the underside of my shaft. I softly gasp against his lips with pleasure. “You know what feels good,” I murmur. “Friction. And I’m sure you know a lot of ways to get it, don’t you, baby?”
He responds like I’d hoped he would, mirroring my movements until his hard, thick, long length is grinding against my belly. One stray thrust brings our cocks side by side, the heat of them mingling, the silky soft skin rubbing with—yes—glorious friction. He grunts with satisfaction, but I’m louder—a blessing and a curse. I cry out with a moan so high-pitched I’ll be embarrassed about it later. Right now, all I can focus on is my dick haphazardly bumping against his. It’s just enough to tease, torture, and drive me mad.
Throwing all caution and slowness to the wind, I let out a frustrated growl of need and reach behind Hendrix to fumble along the built-in shelf, accidentally knocking multiple bottles to the ground with a half-thought prayer that they are all capped. My fingers close around the intended bottle, and I quickly flick open the cap to pool some of the contents into my palm. Then, I’m wrapping a hand around the both of us, squeezing, stroking, tipping my head back with a throaty groan of ecstasy, the noise bouncing off the tile walls.
I find enough sense to back Hendrix out of the spray of water, lest our lubrication be washed away, and he sucks in a sharp hiss of air as his bare back makes contact with the chilly tile wall. The cold is almost immediately forgotten as I twist my wrist and pump our cockheads with rapid motions. Beneath the pleasure sizzling in every nerve, I savor the moment—touching Hendrix like this for the first time, feeling how hard and hot and veiny and thick he is. God damn, he is going to feel so fucking good inside me. I have never had anyone as big as him, but I am more than ready to take him. I’m not one to back down from a challenge.
Something sharp nips my shoulder, and I return to the moment, bringing my head down to gaze at Hendrix again, who looks quite pleased with himself. Or maybe he’s just enjoying the handie.
God, he looks so hot and rugged with his hair wet and dark, water dripping down his face and caught in his lashes and on his lips. He’s been biting the lower one; I can tell by how dark and puffy it is. Heavy breaths puff from his mouth, and I suck in his exhale as I attack his mouth with mine. I lick the water from his lips and nibble on the thickest part of the bottom one. My tongue slips in to taste him, drink him, keep him here forever.
Growling under my breath, I give in to the carnal desire to wrap my arms around his waist, hold him tight against me, and thrust into the slick, tight space between our bellies. I have to widen my legs and crouch slightly, lifting him up to get the best angle. The move fucks with my hamstring, so I can only hold out for a minute or two before I’m forced to relent. Using my hand again, I jack us off for all I’m worth, until our kisses devolve into heavy panting against each other’s mouths.
Hendrix’s hands roam everywhere, testing for my hotspots and admiring the ones he finds attractive. He must have a thing for my back muscles because more than once, he rakes his nails down either side of my spine, scraping the skin hard enough there might actually be visible marks on my bronze-colored flesh when this is all over. His teeth come into play, too, not quite biting but grazing my mouth, chin, jaw, neck, and shoulders. “Fuck. T. Yes,” he hisses breathlessly, thrusting into the tight clamp of my hand around us. I feel him harden under my fingers, his body warning us of his impending release.
“You close, Rix?” I purr. “You gonna come for me?”
“Tahegin.”
“Mm,” I hum with wicked pleasure, smiling against his lax mouth. I love how he’s falling apart for me. I revel in it. And because I’m feeling cocky, I keep talking. “You like how I make you feel, baby? You like having another man get you off? Feel me, Rix.” My free hand grabs his and presses it against my hard abs, so different from the soft belly of a woman. “Feel my cock.” I squeeze our shafts tighter together, stroking long and hard and fervorous.
He swears under his breath, nails digging into my abs before he seems to remember my weakness. Easing off with the nails, he dedicates his efforts to my navel. “Meet me there,” he grits out through lust-clenched teeth.
I tip my head back, crying out with every new circle of pressure he makes on my navel until the electricity shooting from it to my balls has them drawing impossibly tight to my body, my shaft hardening painfully. With a guttural shout—yet another noise for me to be embarrassed about later—I erupt, the ring of my fingers flying rapidly over our crowns and catching the sensitive, mushroomed heads with each pass.
Hendrix comes with an entire tightening of his body, his thumb forced to press harder on my navel by his spasming muscles as he finds release with me. That extra pressure has a late spurt of come bursting from my slit, drawing out my orgasm. I let out an unintelligible curse as Hendrix collapses against me. His head drops onto my shoulder, and his body goes completely relaxed in the aftermath of pleasure.
Falling into him, too, I rely on the wall at his back to keep us up while I try to catch my breath and regain my bearings. Small tremors rack my arms and legs, a mixture of satisfaction and not having worked up a sweat like that all week.
Chuckling has me tuning back into our shower, and I realize Hendrix is smiling against my collarbone. He shifts to look down at our softening cocks dripping our combined messes, which also lingers on our stomachs, rolling into our deep come gutters. “Did you,” he pants and laughs in disbelief. “Did you use conditioner as lube?”
Now, I smile and laugh and gasp for air, barely managing to summon an exhausted smirk. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Hendrix beams up at me, and it finally registers that we’ve gone bare dick to bare dick and he isn’t running away. It’s a victory I will gladly accept. “Yeah, it did.”
CHAPTER 25
HENDRIX AVERY
On Wednesday, the head of the team’s physical therapy department calls Tahegin and asks him to come to the training facility. With our season over, our extensive practices have dwindled, so the facility is nearly deserted as Tahegin limps down the hallway, stubbornly refusing my offer to help him.
We have been enjoying our extended time together, exploring more with our hands in the days following that mind-blowing shower, but I have noticed him struggling on his leg. I’m concerned, of course, that what we’ve been doing has hindered his healing, but I’m even more worried that his injury just simply isn’t getting better on its own. That maybe it was worse than a strain. The therapists who have been coming to his house seem to think so, too. I can see it in the pinch of their brows and the frowns on their mouths.
Tahegin knocks on Dr. Valentine’s office door once we reach it, and the therapist instructs him to enter. When I start toward a waiting room chair, Tahegin’s hand catches my bicep. He nods for me to come inside the office with him, so I oblige. If he needs support, I will wholeheartedly be there for him.
