Page 22 of Goalie interference

Fuck–I was so hard.

“Never mind,” he chuckled, pinching my neck gently until I refocused on him–stopped groaning. “Still, there are tons of things you can be aside from gay. Here, is that,” he hummed, nudging his head down at my waist, “for me or just because you like this?”

“Both,” I breathed, my vision tunneling on Thayer in a way that was almost disorienting…as if this whole thing weren’t disorienting.

Thayer seemed surprised, his eyebrows shooting up and his breathing catching for a second. He was sure I was going to deny it, but I couldn’t.

It made no sense to even me, but I was into him. I had no idea what that meant for me or for us or whatever, but all of this was for him, not just what he was doing for me.

“I’m going to let go–”

“No!” I forced out, finally finding something in my arm to reach up and cover his hand–to stop him from letting go.

I wasn’t ready.

“Hey,” he whispered, taking hold of my chin again to stop my tantrum. “I have to, okay? I know you like it–I like it, too…I just need some answers from you–if you still want it when we’re done, then…we’ll see.”

My hold on his hand was unrelenting, especially after his less-than-promising answer. I didn’t want this to stop–I didn't like how I felt after.

In the shower, walking out–I didn't like any of it. I liked this so much, but after?

That was painful and vulnerable, and I refused to feel that again–at least not yet.

“Ash,” he said softly, letting go of my chin and covering my hand with his to work it open. “I’m not going anywhere–I promise. I just need you to talk to me.”

“I’ll talk,” I whined, dropping my hand from his, but only so I could hold onto his knee. “Please,” I barely whispered, leaning forward to rest my head on his chest.

“Ash,” he sighed, covering the back of my head with his other hand, comforting and firm. “I just really want to touch you, and I need an actual yes from you–not loopy-you.”

That was it?

I was too out of it to consent to him?

I was about two minutes away from humping his leg, and he was worried about me not really meaning my yes?

Fuck.

There was no way I could tell him that my yes was a resounding fuck yes, especially not right now. I could think it all I wanted, but my mouth was bound to sentences made up of four words or fewer, and only if they were easy words.

Consciously, I was here. I was curious and confused and present, but physically, I was pretty out of it. It honestly just felt so good that I was floating in it all, but I was aware of what I’d be saying yes to.

I’d be saying yes to a man touching me–my coach.

I’d be saying yes to him and the power imbalance and the fucked-upness of it all…and it was still a pretty loud yes.

My mouth wouldn’t make the words, so I did what I could–if he was worried about touching me, then I’d do it myself. I found life in my other arm, lazily dropping it to my lap and forming my hand around the outline of my dick.

And nothing could have prepared me for that–fuck.

My eyes rolled back, and a hoarse groan forced its way out of my mouth. I was just trying to show him I was into it, but I was too into it–my nerves were on fucking fire.

Every stroke of my hand felt like the sweetest relief I’d ever known. I knew I was hard and that I wanted this, but I didn’t even know I could be this turned on–my hand over my pants felt better than any mouth or pussy I’d ever had.

“Ash,” Thayer said sternly, pinching my neck and picking my head up to look at him. “Stop it.”

My hand was unrelenting, jerking me off through my pants like it was the best thing. All the blood in my head rushed to my cock, making me lightheaded and happy and just so into it that I couldn't stop, even with Thayer's sexy voice telling me to.

“Ash!” he said sharply, taking hold of my wrist and pulling it away, making me let out a pathetic cry for him.