DISCLAIMER - No matter how many times I close my eyes and make a wish I still don't own these beautiful boys... more's the pity. This is purely a work of fiction, not intended to imply anything about these guys or their lives.


Michael thumbed the remote, turning off the VCR - at his insistence, they'd just watched a tape of Tom's latest TV appearance. Tom had squirmed uncomfortably on the couch through the whole thing, grimacing every time Michael sniggered at something he'd said.

"So, you want to learn to play ice hockey, do you?" Michael asked after watching Tom fidget for another few moments.

Tom shot him a dirty look. "I couldn't come up with anything else to say. Anyway, I was thinking about you at the time so it was the first sport that came into my head."

"I must be doing something wrong if hockey's the sport that comes to mind when you think of me." Michael's hand sneaked down to squeeze Tom's crotch, lingering when he felt Tom's cock begin to respond to the touch.

Tom gasped, then grinned. "Well, I was really imagining us playing tonsil hockey... I didn't think I should mention that, though."

Michael laughed. "That's okay then, I was worried that I was losing my touch." He stroked a little harder, watching Tom's face for a reaction.

"God, no, your touch is just fine," Tom assured him, arching up off the couch.

"That's good to know." Michael leaned in closer, his face just inches from Tom's. At the same time his fingers slowly began to edge Tom's zipper down.

Breathing harder, Tom slid a hand across the front of Michael's shirt, his fingertips searching out the bare skin underneath. "But you look pretty hot on skates too," he whispered.

"Yeah, you think so?" Michael's hand dipped into the open fly of Tom's jeans.

Tom's first answer was an inarticulate moan.

"Mmm, maybe you could give me lessons. In skating," Tom added when Michael's eyebrows quirked upwards.

"You want to learn to skate?" Michael's fingers had stilled and he sounded distinctly sceptical.

"Think about it." Tom gave him a sly look. "You'd have to keep grabbing hold of me to stop me from falling on my ass. It would be the perfect opportunity for you to grope me in public."

Nodding his approval of the idea, Michael resumed his private groping.

Tom smiled, angling his head so that his lips were almost touching Michael's. "Then, once I've got the hang of skating, you could let me play with your stick. And maybe, if we're lucky, we'll get sent to the sin bin together."

Michael chuckled softly. "I think you just gave me a whole new appreciation of hockey," he said approvingly, his hand still busy on Tom's cock.

"That's good to know," Tom said, his voice beginning to sound strained. His fingers grasped Michael's shirt and he drew in a long, shuddering breath.

A few more strokes and Tom was coming. He gasped, hips jerking as he spilled over Michael's hand.

"Who needs the sin bin?" Michael asked with a quick, smug grin, closing the remaining distance between their mouths.

Any answer Tom might have given was swallowed by Michael's kiss.


Home