Between the Pipes (Offsides #3)

by J.J. Mulder

In a fit of madness, I call him back before he can turn the corner into the hallway. “I’ll come with you. We can take the food back to my place.” The look this earns me is lascivious and I choose to ignore it. I don’t know what game he’s playing.

He doesn’t wait for me, but strolls confidently toward the kitchen, like this isn’t only the second time he’s been here. I don’t know whether to be bothered or charmed.

When I go to move past Anthony, in the direction of the refrigerator, I place an unthinking hand on his hip. He leans into the touch and I pull away hastily. This close, I can smell sandalwood on his skin, even over the smell of Indian food.

Beneath the table, he kicks his legs out until they are pressed against mine. I eye him over my plate, uneasy. He told me, just yesterday, that he was straight. Either he was lying, or he’s fucking with me. I try to move my legs, sitting at an angle. He follows, resting his lower legs against mine, and I give up. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.

I really have no idea what I’m doing. I feel like a marionette, my limbs operating completely outside of my control. All I know is, there is something about Nico that draws me to him; I’m craving contact, seeking out his body with single-minded intensity. I know I need to tone it down, but I can’t. Jesus, but I fucking want him.

His mouth tries to shape itself into a semblance of a smile, and he waves fingers in the direction of his face. Frowning, I look at him. Really look at him. At the dusting of light brown scruff on his jaw, and the slightly crooked nose; at the perfectly styled hair and heavy brows over lovely, clear green eyes. I look at his lips, and the long column of his throat.

“I like your face,” I tell him decisively. He sits back in his chair, silently weighing my words. I feel like I’ve been pretty obvious in my flirting today, but maybe not. “I don’t know why, since you’re a disagreeable sort of bastard, but I like you. Maybe…maybe we could do dinner again sometime, but as an actual date.”

“And you told me that we should date each other,” I point out. “I wasn’t being serious, Anthony.” He puts a forkful of food into his mouth, jaw working in irritation. “Weren’t you, Nico?” I know I can’t be the only one who feels this. It’s been a long time since anyone looked at me with the level of interest that he looks at me with. There is no way this is one-sided.

Before he can walk by me and leave the room, I press my palm flat against his stomach, stopping him. His eyes snap to mine, flaring with heat, and I slide my hand down a couple inches until it comes to rest low on his abdomen.

Since he obviously doesn’t believe me when I say I’m interested, maybe I need to show him.

With my free hand, I reach up and brush my thumb over the ridges. Curling my fingers over his shoulder, I skim that same thumb up the line of his throat and back down again. Still, no reaction from Nico beyond a quickening in his breathing. He hasn’t told me to stop, so I indulge myself and do it again.

His facial hair scratches the pad of my thumb, and I want nothing more than to feel it against my lips. I feel partially removed from my body; a semi déjà vu state, where I feel as though I’ve done this before, while simultaneously being aware that this is all new to me.

Wrapping my fingers around the nape of his neck, I angle my face up and kiss the underside of his jaw. He flinches, which, admittedly, isn’t the reaction I was hoping for.

and the scratch of stubble on my lips is exactly as sexy as I thought it would be. I want to kiss his damn mouth, but he’s too tall for me to do so without physically pulling his face down and he doesn’t seem inclined to do so on his own.

I can’t think straight, with my hands all over him, and his stubble tickling my face.

The other, I leave inside his shirt. A man has to have something to live for.

He licks his lips, and fucking hell, I want to kiss him so bad.

And I like you fine, when you’re not being difficult. Honestly, I like you even then. And you’re right, I’ve never been attracted to a man before.” I glide my hand around to cup his hip, discovering that the skin here on his side is just as soft as it is at the front. I wonder if I’ll get the chance to compare it with other places. “But in my defense, I only just met you. And I am definitely attracted to you. God only knows why.”

Mentally, I’m smacking myself. Nico has given few signs of being interested in me, sexually or otherwise; in fact, he’s given every indication of not liking me at all. I’d gotten too caught up in my own attraction, and let myself get ahead of the situation.

Well, I suppose I should appreciate the honesty, even though it makes me feel like shit. I pull my hand away, doing my best to smile indifferently.

We need to just fuck and get it over with; this extended foreplay thing isn’t doing it for me.

And if it makes me smile like a fool, there’s no one here to see it but me.

In the safe, comfortable quiet of my home, it hadn’t seemed like a bad idea. Not when he was skimming exploratory hands over my skin, and kissing my jaw. But now, under the glaring light of the practice rink, it feels like a gross overstep on my part.

My resolve to tell him the deal is off lasts until practice ends and he steps off the ice. The look he sends me is so filled with heat, there could be no mistaking it. A weaker man than me would have trouble withstanding that look.

It’s easier to think when I can’t see that face and remember how soft his lips were.

He looks me up and down, gaze trailing slowly from my feet to my pelvis, where it lingers, and up my chest. It’s an openly sexual look, and I can feel it in my bones.

Unfortunately, it’s not exactly an environment that’s conducive to having company. It wasn’t a problem until Anthony came along, and invited himself in.

His hand is still touching my back, palm warm against me. I want to shake off the touch; it feels personal. Too intimate for this thing that’s between us. And so does making him dinner, but I can hardly sit down and eat in front of him without offering him anything. Since I fully intend on us burning off these calories later, I better make sure he’s well fed.

“Because we work together, and you’re still acting like this is a relationship and not a casual hook up. I don’t want to deal with hurt feelings when you decide you want to cuddle after we fuck. I’m not interested in that.”

Unlike earlier, this touch is neither light nor tentative. He turns me around and pushes me back against the counter, almost aggressively, as though he’s trying to prove something.

Anthony’s black eyes shine in the kitchen light, as they fix on my torso. If I hadn’t been turned on before, that look would do it for me. There’s no going back now. When he tries to step forward, I shove him back again, harder.

Anthony is looking down at me, an expression on his face that can only be described as hungry.

“No,” I answer honestly, even though my lips are swollen and my eyelashes are damp where my eyes were watering. “You didn’t hurt me. That’s what I wanted you to do.”

He clears his throat, making his voice only a little less gravely. I wish he would narrate audiobooks. I wouldn’t mind going to sleep every night with that voice in my ears.

I’d nearly forgotten, how good it feels to be touched.

“Well, I’m impressed,” I tell him, and he tips his head back to laugh. Wiping a hand over my face, I don’t fight my own laugh. When he looks back at me, I smile and his own answering grin is stunning. “Must have been good, to get you to smile like that,” he says, sounding happy and a little bit smug.

When I go home and crawl into bed, it’s that smile I think of as I fall asleep.

“So, crazy thing, I sucked my first dick last night.”

“If you heard dick sucking, then yes.” “Well, shit. How was it?” Sam sounds amused, and I can picture him smiling. I smile back. “I’m a natural.”

I have no explanation for why I even like this guy. He’s the worst. And I liked him before he blew me.”

“I’m going to be really honest here for a second: I couldn’t tell you exactly why this situation feels different, but I can tell you that I can’t stop thinking about him. Obsession-level thinking about him. It’s extremely inconvenient.”

“All right, yeah, so I might already be a little attached. Fuck.” “What are you going to do?” “I’m going to take whatever he gives me and enjoy it while I can,”

he replies, sounding so in love it makes my chest hurt a little bit.

“Just eager to spend more time with me, then?” I get nothing more than a contemptuous look for that. It’s kind of sexy.

Nico’s eyes open, and my confusion turns immediately to worry. His green eyes are clouded with pain and humiliation. When he speaks, the words come out sounding choked. “I didn’t see it because I’m almost fully blind in my right eye, and partially blind in my left eye.”

Shamelessly, I stare at the back of him as he heads inside. It’s a beautiful day, and the sun feels nice after a morning spent indoors at the rink. I don’t spend nearly the amount of time outside that I should, and certainly not as much time as Anthony apparently does—his skin is a rich brown, sun-kissed and freckled.

I’m pitifully grateful for the touch and hopeful that there might be more where that came from later, after dinner.

“Oh. Right,” Anthony says, and there is something strange in his voice. He comes back, joining me at the table with a sheepish expression on his face. “I thought you wanted to hang out, and that was your way of doing it.” My initial reaction is to shut this line of thinking down. To remind him of our arrangement and make a cutting remark. But the sun is warm on my skin, and I feel unburdened after telling him about the accident. Hurting him would be cruel beyond even my capabilities. “That just happened to work out in my favor,” I say, and watch as his eyes light up.

I spend so much time coiled tight with anxiety, I can hardly recognize comfort when it’s presented to me. Next to me, Anthony is reclined in his chair in a way that should look sloppy, but only makes me want to jump him.

He blushes. Actually blushes: a sudden bloom of color over his cheeks. Jesus Christ that’s fucking adorable. “No. God no. I would never hang anything up that I did.” He runs a hand through his hair.