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took the younger man in his mouth again, running his tongue up and around the cockhead before sinking farther. Jason shifted, pushing his dick inside, and Patrick had to back off or gag. “Easy, kid.”
“Not a kid.” Jason scored his teeth ever-so-gently on Patrick’s shaft like he wanted to prove that point, and Patrick moaned, then moaned again as more precum seeped from the head of the younger man’s cock.
No more words were needed as each worked the other with lips, teeth, and tongues. Jason was the first to go over, spurting down Patrick’s throat. The vibrations from the incoherent noises Jason made as he came sent Patrick over the edge, a second deluge coming when he spotted his spunk leaking from the corner of Jason’s mouth.
He pulled himself around and attacked Jason, pulling the larger man on top of him as he pushed a hand into Jason’s hair and his tongue into his mouth, tasting himself there. Jason wasn’t a passive participant as he sucked Patrick’s tongue and then bit his bottom lip, soothing the ache with quick swipes of his tongue.
Patrick rolled but misjudged and nearly sent both of them toppling off the bed. The spell was broken as both men scrambled, laughing. “I guess that move needs some work, or I’m not as coordinated as I used to be.”
“Or we need a bigger bed.”
Thinking of his California king back home, Patrick groaned.
“Not that I’m—”
“I know, I know.” With regret, Patrick stood and began to dress. “We scratched an itch, that’s all this was.”
“Uh, okay.”
For a moment Patrick thought he’d hurt the man’s feelings, but when Jason lifted his head and looked at Patrick, anything that might’ve been in his eyes had cleared.
“Sure. Well, I’m pretty tired…”
“Yeah, me too.” Without another word, Patrick tucked himself back into his clothes and left. As he returned to his own room and got ready for bed, he was dogged by the feeling that he’d fucked up. Things were already so complicated. He’d risked so much. Had it been worth it? With a sigh, Patrick turned off the light and rolled on to his side.

Chapter Three
    Jason was seriously losing his mind. That and developing carpal tunnel syndrome in his right hand and forearm. He couldn’t stop thinking about Patrick and how hot it had been to be in the other man’s arms. The number of times he’d relived that mutual suck-off in his hotel room could only be considered embarrassing.
    The season had begun, and the Olympics were three months away. Jason had hoped that the time and space between him in New Jersey and Patrick in Philadelphia would give him an opportunity to get over this—crush? obsession?—but it didn’t look likely at this point. At least he had something to focus on.
    This year Jason was expected to be one-half of New Jersey’s shut-down defensive pairing while also potting forty to fifty points. He was fine with increased expectations and responsibility. It made coming to the rink every day a challenge. So while he was at the rink, things were fine. But those long plane rides and the endless periods of time the team spent waiting for something: a bus, their luggage, whatever—that’s when the memories hit him in the face.
    The team had just returned from a short road trip up to Boston and Montreal to start the season. They’d won one and lost one, not a bad record for the road, but Jason wasn’t happy with his play. After practice the next day, he stayed out on the ice with one of the assistant coaches, working on his positioning. He hadn’t forgotten what Patrick had said about that, either, or what other advice the older man had given him.
    Now he was standing underneath the hot spray in the shower of the locker room, his head bent as water cascaded down his neck and then his back.
I want to call him.
     
He made a derisive sound. Yeah, that wouldn’t look desperate.
     
Why hasn’t he called me?
    Jason wondered if Patrick hooked up with a lot of guys and then just