***
The all-star game was going strong. The excitement raged on in Florida, and tremors echoed to all corners of North America. On the opposite side of the continent, a young man watched the proceedings glumly. He sat on the side of a bed in a large, airy bedroom, wearing his boxers; the rest of his clothing was strewn across the floor. Without realizing it, he was also wearing a frown as he studied the television.
However, this man was not generally one to stay discontent, and his brow cleared as he heaved a sigh.
I wouldn’t be there even if I could play, he thought to himself. So there’s really no point in being upset about it.
The game went to one of many commercial breaks, and the young man flopped backward onto the bed. He studied the patterns in the paint on the ceiling, and allowed himself to smile.
Besides, he continued to muse. If by some way I WAS there, I wouldn’t be here now… and here is a pretty nice place to be.
He absently ran his fingers back and forth across the bare skin of his stomach. The skin was cool beneath his fingertips as the air conditioning whispered into the room. It really was nice to be some place warm in February. It was even nicer to have come to spend time with one person in particular…
“OOF!” The young man expelled his breath in a rush as 216 pounds of muscle leaped onto him out of nowhere.
“Not sleepy, are you?” The man who had suddenly materialized looked down quizzically, calmly lying outstretched upon him. No answer was made, however, as the young man was still trying to find his breath.
Finally he was able to wheeze out a word. “Scott…”
“That’s me,” he replied, not moving from atop the younger man. “Didn’t I tell you if you came to San Jose I’d have you calling out my name?”
Another word made its way out. “Asshole…”
Scott grinned. “I think we talked about that, too.”
The young man had regained enough breath by this point to be able to struggle. He pushed up against Scott, bare skin fighting against the tough denim of jeans and the soft cotton of a T-shirt.
“Get off me!” he gasped.
“As for getting off,” Scott responded solemnly, looking for all the world like a professor getting ready to deliver a lecture. “I believe it’s time we did that again. I… OOF!”
The young man had dug deep into the considerable reserves of strength in his body, and had managed to flip Scott up and over to the side. Immediately he winced, reaching down toward his left knee.
Scott sat up quickly, all traces of his smartass self gone from his face.
“Fuck, Jiri,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? I forgot about your knee. I just didn’t think about it.”
“You don’t think about a lot.” Jiri gave Scott a tight grin. “But no, it was not you. I pulled on it trying to get your fat ass off me.”
Scott stuck out his tongue, and Jiri leaned over quickly to lick at it.
“And as for “fuck Jiri”,” he continued, now wearing a wicked grin. “Yes, I think it is time for that.”
The television, continuing to play on in the background at a low volume, roared with the sounds of a crowd cheering. Both men flickered their eyes to the screen. Dany Heatley had just scored. This time, it was Scott’s turn to frown at the TV. Jiri wasn’t the only one who wanted to be playing.
Jiri saw the frown lines on Scott’s face. He leaned over to lick him again, this time using his tongue to smooth out the lines on his lover’s brow. It worked, as Scott broke into a smile. The two leaned in close for a kiss.
“OH!” Scott burst out, and Jiri jumped in surprise. A second later he jumped again, this time because the bed bounced violently as Scott leaped off of it.
“Wha- Scott, what the fuck?”
“I just thought of something!”
“I thought I smelled something burning. Congratulations. Don’t try to do it again; you don’t want to strain yourself.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Cheli,” Scott said disapprovingly. “He’s a bad influence. Unlike me.”
Jiri snorted.
“Anyway, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, I just thought of something. It’s a game we can play, since we can’t be there.” He pointed at the TV. “I’ll be right back.”
He left the room, and Jiri flopped onto his back again. He half-listened to the game as the minutes went by, wondering what Scott had in mind. He didn’t have to wonder for long.
“Ta-da!” came the herald from the doorway. Jiri turned his head and burst out laughing. Scott stood there, his arms full of items he’d apparently retrieved from his kitchen. He was also wearing a bright smile on his face and nothing else.
“That’s no way to greet the bearer of gifts,” Scott said calmly as Jiri continued to giggle. Scott sauntered to the bedside table and carefully placed the items in a row. There were five: a cereal bowl, a small plastic container filled with honey, a bottle of maple syrup, chocolate sauce, and a can of whipped cream.
Jiri’s eyes glowed as he studied the objects.
“What are those for?” He tried to keep his expression innocent.
Scott’s expression was nowhere even close to innocent. “I said I thought of a game we could play. What did you think I meant, Twister?” He opened the drawer to the bedside table and withdrew a long strip of red silk.
“Here’s the game,” Scott was already half-hard as he kneeled on the bed above Jiri. His hand trailed over his skin as Jiri’s had done earlier, and his gaze was admiring. Jiri squiggled, and felt himself hardening to match Scott.
“I blindfold you. Then I put one of these-” He jerked his head toward the items on the table. “On your body, and I lick it off. Then I kiss you, and you have to guess which one it was. Okay?”
Jiri smiled, his blue eyes showing the desire already betrayed by his cock. “What do I get if I win?”
“Guess,” Scott said, his voice low and throaty. He bent and nipped gently at Jiri’s lower lip before kissing him deeply.
“And what if I don’t pick the right flavor?” Jiri asked breathlessly as Scott came up for air.
“Well, in that case,” said Scott, straddling Jiri and scooting backward. “Since I don’t have the ability NOT to fuck you…”
Jiri grinned.
“…I guess I won’t take you to the beach tomorrow.”
“Hey!” exclaimed Jiri, upset. His grin was wiped away. “But you said you would! You promised we… ohhhh…” He broke off, ending his sentence in a low moan as Scott pressed his lips to the front of his boxers. His cock throbbed with impatience, and Jiri arched his hips upward.
Scott slid his fingers into the waistband of Jiri’s boxers and eased them over his cock. Scott kissed the skin he exposed softly, and quickly Jiri lay naked beneath him.
“Okay,” Scott said, flushed and breathing heavily. He trailed the bit of silk he held up Jiri’s body. “Game time.”
Jiri allowed himself to be blindfolded. When he opened his eyes, he found that the world had become a soft red haze of light and shadow. The dark figure that hovered above him moved, and there was a soft pop as a cap was pulled loose.
Jiri shivered in lust and anticipation. He had never been blindfolded before, and he found that being deprived of his sight had heightened his other senses. Everywhere Scott touched him was alive with humming nerves, and the tiniest change in sound caught his attention. It was incredibly exciting. He heard the undertone of the television continue as he and Scott began their own game.
A sharp hiss cut through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of whipped cream leaving a pressurized can. However, no new sensations resulted from the sound. Jiri stretched his body.
“Did you miss?” he asked sarcastically.
“I put it in the bowl, smartass,” Scott answered. “I don’t want the sound to give it away. I’m not going to go easy on you.” More pops sounded in the air, each followed by a click as caps were set down onto the table.
Jiri snickered. “I wondered what the bowl was for. Very clever.”
“Naturally,” Scott replied, and suddenly Jiri felt Scott’s fingers trailing a cool, thick liquid across his chest, achingly slowly. Jiri whimpered as the cool liquid was met by the wet heat that was Scott’s mouth. Scott trailed lazily along Jiri’s skin, licking at the liquid and sucking it from both nipples. Jiri moved his hands down to stroke the backs of Scott’s shoulders, and felt him shift his body upwards. Jiri’s moans were stopped with a slow kiss that made his senses reel.
“Mmmm…” said Jiri. He heard Scott panting as he pulled away. “Chocolate kiss.”
“Correct,” Scott said. He ground his pelvis lightly against Jiri’s and both men gasped as their cocks brushed. Scott allowed himself to rub for a few seconds longer before moving away.
The next liquid Scott placed on Jiri was cool also, but more viscous than the first. This time Scott brushed it over Jiri’s stomach, sliding a thumb over his navel, and stopping just above where his cock arched upward.
Scott licked him again, faster this time, and sucking with a purpose. He made certain to press his body against Jiri’s cock while he licked up the liquid, and rubbed his own against Jiri’s leg. He flicked his tongue into Jiri’s navel, eliciting a deep moan. Scott finished all the liquid, somewhat impatiently, and slid his body up against Jiri’s. He kissed him urgently, and Jiri returned the favor. Scott’s body shuddered in pleasure as their tongues slid against one another.
“Honey,” Jiri moaned, as Scott moved his lips to flutter kisses at the base of his throat.
“Yes, darling?” he replied.
Jiri laughed, and the dark figure moved as Scott reached again toward the bedside table. Jiri cried out as he felt Scott’s fingers, covered again with a cool stickiness, massage the insides of his thighs. Jiri spread his legs, allowing him freer access. Scott took the hint. He ran his hands upward and very lightly brushed the sides of his balls.
“Oh, fuck…” Jiri groaned, and Scott began to lick him again. He attended to one leg, and then the other. Encouraged by the small sounds Jiri was making in his throat, Scott brushed his tongue over Jiri’s balls, and sucked them gently.
“Scott,” Jiri said, reaching out blindly to touch him. “Please…”
Scott’s breathing was coming in gasps as he slid once more up against Jiri’s body, and captured his mouth with his own. Everywhere Scott’s body was set Jiri’s on fire, and the rushing pleasure distracted him from the sweet taste of the kiss.
Scott lifted his upper body from Jiri.
“Well?” he rasped, after Jiri made no response.
“Uh…” Jiri was having trouble thinking clearly; his four remaining senses were overloading him with information. The air held the sweet scent of what was being applied to his skin, combined with the musky odor the two of them were making together. Heat flooded from Scott’s skin to his, and every gasp and moan from Scott stood out sharply against the drone of the television. It didn’t help his thought process when Scott reached down and took hold of his cock, but Jiri didn’t mind in the slightest. He cried out as Scott wrapped his hand around him and began to stroke evenly. Jiri arched his head back, his mouth open.
“Scott… I’m gonna…” And then the answer was there. “Cream… whipped cream.”
“Very good,” Scott said, his voice showing signs of cracking. “But not yet you’re gonna.” He moved away once more.
Despite Scott’s statement to the contrary, Jiri almost came as the final liquid touched him. He gave a strangled cry as Scott rubbed yet another thick, cool substance onto his cock. Jiri’s blood rushed in his ears.
There’s only one left, thought Jiri through the haze that was his consciousness. So I guess this would be-
“Scott!” he cried out, as Scott’s lips trailed up his shaft. Scott swirled his tongue around the head, licking, before at last taking him fully into his mouth. He began to suck, and exquisite pleasure ripped through Jiri. He reached behind him and gripped the headboard of the bed until his knuckles turned white.
With a last cry Jiri’s world of sound and scent and taste and touch exploded. The red haze of his vision burst into swirling spots of light that ricocheted behind his eyes. There was nothing in the universe now but the sounds of his breathing, the pounding of his heart, and the incredible feelings spiraling through him… a pleasure so intense it was almost pain.
And then, Scott was with him again, lying against him.
“Beautiful,” he muttered, his lips inches from Jiri’s. “You’re so beautiful.” He kissed him then, with a desperation that was no doubt fueled by the erection that still pressed against Jiri.
“Syrup,” replied Jiri, his voice happy and spent. “Syrup and me.” He pulled the blindfold off, blinking in the sudden brightness. He smiled up at Scott, finally getting the chance to see his lover clearly. Scott’s expression was almost pained, his desire making his eyes burn.
Jiri reached up and put his hand on the back of Scott’s neck, pulling his head downward. “You’re beautiful, too,” he said softly, and brushed his lips against Scott’s.
Swiftly Jiri flipped him onto his back, and moved his mouth downward. He knew that Scott was close, and so he wasted little time. He slid his lips down around Scott’s cock as he took him into his mouth. Scott cried out at arched his hips, trying to get as much of himself inside Jiri as possible. Jiri moved his tongue expertly over Scott as he sucked him; after all, Chelios had taught his young protégé much more than just the finer points of defense.
Scott gave an inarticulate groan and came, his body tensing to become as rigid as the part that was inside Jiri’s mouth. Jiri held still as he rode out his orgasm, and swallowed all that he could.
“Jiri,” whimpered Scott. Jiri pulled away, licking the last of the cum from Scott, and moved to lie beside him. They wrapped their arms around each other, Scott burying his face in Jiri’s neck.
“Game over.” Jiri smiled sleepily. “I think you taste the best of all.”
Scott chuckled and they lay quietly, listening to the sound of the television proclaiming the game.
“And yay,” Jiri added. “I got them all. Now you have to take me to the beach tomorrow.”
“I was going to take you anyway, you big dork,” Scott said. He yawned and tried to move. “Get away from me, you’re sticky.”
Jiri immediately rolled on top of him.
“Oh yeah?” he asked his weakly struggling lover. “I’m a dork?”
“No, you’re not a dork,” Scott gasped from beneath him. “You’re a big, sticky dork. Get off me!”
Jiri’s face took on a solemn expression. “As for getting off,” he began.
Scott groaned. “Shut up!”
“Make me!” Jiri fired back.
The argument, punctuated with laughter (and squeaking, once Scott resorted to tickling), continued as the horn sounded on the television. The first period was over.
