Square to the Puck (Offsides #2)

by J.J. Mulder

He rolls his eyes, but I see a partial smile try and peek through. He’s reclined back against the arm rest of the couch, legs stretched in front of him. After I set the Gatorade down on a pair of coasters, I pick up the bowl and hand it to him. He swings his feet off the couch and onto the floor, making room for me next to him. I settle in, leaving a foot of distance between us, and then reach down, hooking his ankles with my hands and bringing them back up and onto my lap. Leaving his socks on so he doesn’t get cold, I rub a thumb over the ball of his foot and he flinches. I pause, looking over at him. He’s watching me, wide eyed and wary—not ticklish, I realize, just distrustful of the gesture. I start again, working my thumbs into his foot, gently at first, before adding more pressure. It’s a full minute, at least, before he speaks. “What are you doing?” “Foot massage.” I glance over. He blinks at me over the massive bowl of popcorn that’s balanced on his lap. “Why?” “Because I want to touch you. Because you’re a professional athlete and hockey is hell on the ankles. Because you made me dinner.” I shrug, running my thumb from his ankle up his calf. “How many reasons do you need?” I pause, reaching over and grabbing some popcorn before continuing. He looks so fucking cute, I don’t think I’m going to be paying too much attention to the game. So far, I’ve kept my ministrations over his clothes, but his sweatpants are pretty thick and it’s hard to get at his muscles through...