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The thing is, I did tell myself I was buying the team to fuck with him, but I’m either the least evil person in existence, or I need to read more supervillain comics because I’m low on ideas. Ideally, I’d ostracize Connor from his entire team and give him a taste of what being truly alone feels like, but I’d have no clue how to do that.
“Really?” Knox sounds skeptical. “Connor Kikishkin is having a massive existential crisis because his brother told him to stop meddling and someone from high school called him a bully?” Knox doesn’t get it. I’m not sure anyone will. Hell, I barely understand this new sense of … pointlessness.
“And if it turns out I’m every bit the possessive guy who acts first and thinks later?” The image of us in the locker room flips so that I’m in East’s position and Connor is pulling someone off me in a possessive, jealous rage. It’s a struggle to keep my voice even when I say, “Then you have to find someone who’ll appreciate being possessed. And some people really, really like it.”
“Nah, you’ll be fine. Like I said, all you have to do is find that one person who likes possessiveness in a partner. Then, you focus all your toxic behavior on them. Win-win.” “I’d rather not be toxic at all.” Parker lifts one shoulder. “Eh, a little toxicity can be fun.”
And why do I keep replaying the look on Parker’s face when he said all I have to do is find someone who likes my possessive side? The gleam in his eye, the small smile on his lips … the way his skin turned a shade of pink … or was that from the lights of the arena? For whatever reason, when I think back on him saying that, I get the impression he meant he would like my possessive side, but that doesn’t make sense because he still hates me.
I just jerked off over a man who, with one sentence, has made me question everything.
“I don’t think he would have given me what I wanted.” “It’s not like I am either.” “Actually, you’re giving me something no one has in a while.” “A high school make-out session?” I scoff. “We both know I didn’t have any of those.” “Break my heart some more.” Thankfully, I can recognize that’s his mostly teasing voice.
Bottom line is I want to kiss Parker Duchene. Holy fuck, that’s the weirdest sentence I’ve ever thought of, but it doesn’t make it any less true.
This is probably where I’m supposed to panic. Where I’ll assume that if everyone found out about me, our family, the team, and anyone else in our circle could be ridiculed. I should be worried about that, but I’m not. The only thing I’m thinking about is how mad I am that I didn’t know this about myself
Why was it this one nerdy boy from my past that seemed to flip that switch? I think back to that day in high school when I saw Parker and Easton talking. Possibly even flirting. I’ve always maintained that I stepped in because I didn’t like the way Parker was interacting with East. East had a future, one he shouldn’t screw up. But looking back now, is it possible that something, somewhere buried deep down, when my subconscious said “mine,” it was not, in fact, talking about East?
have to tell myself to stop trying to figure it out because it’s not going to be as easy as saying, “Oh, I rubbed up against another dick this morning until I came, so obviously, I’m queer. Where are my rainbow pom-poms?” Or maybe it is that easy? I don’t fucking know.
Hooking up with Connor should cover my urges for a good two to four business months, but somehow, I want sex more than ever.
What am I supposed to say here? Yes, I do have that voice in the back of my head saying he’s mine, and I want to spend every moment together, and I want to see where this can go, but it’s a bit soon to be getting all claimy. Right?
“I was once spit-roasted by random guys I met on an app. I think I can handle just about anything.” Pure shock crosses his face. “You … I’m sorry. What?” My lips pull at a smile. Then I sink to my knees. “I want to suck your cock.” “Parker …” Connor groans. “Stop this.” “Stop what?” “Stop confusing all my opinions of you. It’s too …” “Confusing?” I smirk. “Hot.”
Green light on the blowjob, then. I’m not going to make it easy on him, not when this is something I’ve hated wanting for so long. I used to hate touching myself to the thought of him. Used to beat myself up for not having an ounce of self-respect. As I lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft and Connor lets out the most deliciously shaky exhale, I come to a very rational conclusion: self-respect is overrated.
At the end of the day, I get sex with my dream man, and that’s a perfectly fucking fair trade-off to me.
Easton clips me on the shoulder. “I do not need to see my two brothers’ hanging brain. We’re just going to a bar.” Maybe I was reading into his tone earlier. Except when we meet up with Lachie on our way out, he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. “Aww, did my big bwovers get their asses kicked by the littlest Kiki to ever Kiki?”
I swallow hard. Easton’s going to push me into the deep end without a life jacket, and Lachie will be there to witness me drown. Fun.
I want to bottle this moment. This brief flicker of time where my place feels full for the first time since I bought it. How can Connor ever feel lonely when this is his life? My gaze slides back to where he’s standing. If I kept him, this would be my life too.
Easton’s gray eyes meet mine. “And just when I thought old media-image Connor was gone.” He turns to Parker. “I’m sorry if my comments about your potential sex life were offensive. Here at Kikishkin Incorporated, we don’t have personalities or make jokes, so we were as shocked as you that those words came out of my mouth.”
I want him to be mine to cherish, to dote on, to own, but at the same time, I’m too worried about letting that out. About being too much. Too fast. So I hold back that instinct to unleash on him. But damn, it takes nearly all of my focus to do that.
Spooning a pillow isn’t the same. Hello, infatuation, and welcome back from that five-second vacation you took.
I die the second I hit Send. Is that too presumptive? Too stalkerish? Six days, nine hours, and fifty-two minutes until we land and I can drag you back to my sex cave. I drop my face in my hand. What the hell have I done?
Relief melts through the tension in my muscles. Then, another message quickly follows, and it takes me a moment to work out what I’m looking at. It’s a photo. Of his abs. Connor’s abs. On my phone.
My mind turns to an endless stream of gah urg ma haahhhh as I try to figure out if he sent the picture to turn me on, and if he did, does he know what I’m planning to do with that later? Me: That photo is mine now. Connor: Thought it might tide you over until we’re home again.
“Aww, poor Connor need a big, strong man to kiss him better?” I frown at him. He tilts his head with a “Really?” expression across his face. “Relax. The guys can’t hear me, and even if they did, they wouldn’t know it could happen.” It’s only then I realize I was frowning at the wrong thing. It should’ve been because his snark could out me to the team, but it was actually because Parker isn’t big or strong. I thought he was saying I should go find a big, strong man … who isn’t Parker.
Is it because it’s fun and new, and he’s like a shiny toy? Is it because what we have speaks to that primal level of me that pisses my brothers off? Will it eventually piss him off? I’m like a giant walking red flag of obsessiveness. Parker should be getting ready to fill out a restraining order.
“You coming to this Queer Collective dinner with me, then?” he asks. I rub my shoulder where I took out Dex Mitchell earlier. “Yes. I need to tell Dex that his body is like cement, and he should probably check to see if his bones are made of metal. Remind me next time we play Vegas that I’ll let Dex get away with anything.”
Then he leans in suddenly, hand gripping my hip while his lips land near my ear. “Parker, if another man tries to touch you, I’ll break every bone in his fucking hand.” My eyes are huge as I snap my head toward him. The intense look on Connor’s face should maybe scare me, but it doesn’t. In some messed-up ways, it makes me feel seen. Wanted. Needed. I think I could live the rest of my life with him looking at me like that.
“When I say we’re dating,” he says, stroking my cheek, “I mean you’re mine.” “Okay.” I’m way too excited about that. “And you’re mine too?”
His exhale is heavy. “Yeah. I’m keeping you.” Those words give me a special kind of high. No one can promise forever, it’s impossible, but I like that at least in this moment, he really does see me as his.
I have Connor Kikishkin inside me, and I’m going to shamelessly revel in years’ worth of unrequited lust coming to life.
When I come back from the high, I lean down with a smile and drag my lips over his. “Don’t worry. We can do that as many times as you want.” He flips us quickly so I’m on my back again, and when his dick slips out, his fingers press back inside. “In that case, we better keep this hole nice and lubed, then. I’m just getting started.”
Sex is awesome, but I’m quickly realizing that cuddling is the best. It turns out I’m a real cuddle whore. I can’t get enough.
We hang up, and I’m left grinning. I put the game back on, absently sketching in my notebook, and when I look down, I find that I’ve doodled Parker Kikishkin and Connor Duchene all around the edge. I quickly scribble them out. I’m nowhere near thinking about marriage, and neither of us is close to thinking about it with each other. My crush is crushing strong tonight.
My eyes close for a second, and I remind myself that Connor is not saying he wants to run out and tell the world. He’s just … falling for me. Holy mother of fuck, what is wrong with him? My eyes snap open, and I find Connor studying me. His expression leaves no doubt that he knows what I’m really freaking out over, but how can he not get it? Isn’t he scared? Like, falling for someone is a lot, and what if he doesn’t mean it? His big hand comes up to cup my face. “I’m falling for you, Park.”
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“Answer the question.” “Fine. Yes. I want it. I want us to work out and be end goals and keep making each other happy. I selfishly want the Connor Kikishkin who I built up in my head to be mine and the real Connor to be even more mine. I want you to keep looking at me how you always look at me, and I want to keep being there for you while you find the best version of yourself. I want it all too much, and that’s why it scares me.”
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“Then let’s try this again.” His voice has deepened, and when he steps forward, I step back until he has me pressed up against the wall, his fingers hooked under my chin so I have no choice but to meet his gaze. “I have feelings for you, Parker. I’m falling for you. I want all of those things and more, and from this point forward, you’re mine. Not only in the claimy, possessive, caveman sex kind of way. In every way. Got it?” My brain has gone stupid again. Never, ever in my life have I felt as wanted as I do in this moment. “You won’t regret it?” His grip on my chin tightens. “Got it?” “Yes.
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“I know that I can come out, but people still can’t know about me and Parker. And that’s messed up. It’s … it’s not worth it anymore. The training, the travel, not being able to give my relationship my all, and knowing that if I do come out, it’s going to add even more attention and pressure to not only me but Easton and Lachie too. At what point does it become okay to say that I’ve had enough?”
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I turn to Parker. “I bet your dad is looking down on us, so fucking happy for you.” Parker slaps his hand over my mouth. “I thought hockey players were superstitious.” I pull his hand away. “In the words of Michael Scott, I’m not superstitious, but I am a little stitious. Besides. I’m not a hockey player anymore.” “Still. Don’t jinx my team, dude.” “Aww. Dude. Team. Next thing you’ll be like Miles and Bilson calling everyone bro.” I run my hand over Parker’s neat hair and mess it up. “My little jocky dude bro.”
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