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13: I thought you quit
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2026-10-18 05:10:13
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Puck Me Behind The Mask 13: I thought you quit
ZEKE Coach is definitely going to slaughter me. The words loops through my skull as I swing onto the bike, Kyler's weight settling behind me a second later. Twenty minutes. Maybe less. There's no way we can make it back to the rink within such a short time. I have no choice but to pull this move.The entrance to the underground pass sits behind a collapsed drainage wall two blocks from Vivian's diner, a concrete mouth choked with weeds and broken glass. I veer toward it without signaling. Kyler's grip on my jacket tightens."Zeke, what the hell….. this isn't a road.""Just trust me." I reach down and pry his fingers off my jacket, sliding them around my waist instead, pressing his palms flat against my stomach. His hands are warm even through the fabric. "Hold tight. Like, actually tight. Don't let go."The bike drops into the pass and the world narrows concrete walls on both sides, flickering industrial lights strung overhead like a dying constellation. The exhaust echoes off the t
Puck Me Behind The Mask 12: Don't put your arms around me
KYLER I stood by the edge of the ice rink, casually sipping my protein shake. To anyone passing by, I just looked like a dedicated athlete taking a breather. In reality, I was trying very hard not to lose my mind.My Red had decided it was a fantastic idea to have a quickie with his little plaything right while I was out on the ice.I’d be lying if I said my knees weren't bouncing. My hands practically itched to march over there, rip that girl away from him, and punish him for letting anyone else lay a finger on what belongs to me. My fingers tightened around the plastic bottle, nearly crushing it, as I watched him peck her cheek and help dress her after receiving whatever phone call had suddenly made him turn pale.Weeks ago, I wouldn't have reacted like this. I get it, he’s popular with the ladies, he fucks around, and he fucks Zoey good. But right now? After everything we have going on? His dick was literally in my mouth nights ago, and here he is, messing with someone else.Zeke
Puck Me Behind The Mask 11: I'll be discreet
ZEKE The ice smells like cold rubber and recycled air, that familiar rink scent that's been lodged in my sinuses for three years. Kyler carves a tight turn at the blue line, his edges biting clean, no wobble, no catch. His stride has lengthened since last week, longer pushes, deeper knee bend, the kind of mechanics that take most guys months to drill into their legs. Three days. He's been on skates for three days and he moves like he's been doing this since childhood.I shift on the aluminum bleacher seat, the cold metal biting through my gym shorts. My phone sits heavy in my jacket pocket, and I haven't pulled it out once this period. Haven't checked Instagram. Haven't scrolled to that DM from @BarnabyTheOfficialBear that I know is sitting there, unread, with a little red notification badge I can feel like a splinter under my skin.Kyler accelerates into a crossover drill, his hips dropping low, stick handling a puck through cones someone left out. His form is textbook. The guy is
Puck Me Behind The Mask 10: Sit on my face
ZEKEMy fist connects with the bear's jaw before I even register throwing the punch. The mascot head rocks sideways, a hollow plastic crack echoing off the shed wall, and Barnaby's bulk buckles. We go down together, his back hitting the grass first, my knees slamming into the damp ground on either side of him. My ribs scream. White-hot pain lances through my left side and I double forward, forehead pressing into the fake fur of his chest, breath coming in ragged gasps.The bear's paws come up. Not to hit me, to steady me. One cups the back of my neck, firm and warm through the padding. The other presses flat against my spine, holding me together while my body tries to shake itself apart."You done?" That voice. Deep, distorted through whatever speaker is built into the suit. Patient. Amused.I'm not done. I'm hard. My cock is straining against my jeans, pressed into the mascot's belly, and the shame of it burns worse than my ribs. I push myself up, arms trembling, and stare down into
Puck Me Behind The Mask 9: I'm not gay
ZEKE The bass from the speakers is a physical thing, a thumping pressure against my sternum that makes my bruised ribs ache in time with the beat. The house is packed, bodies writhing in the haze of cheap beer and sweat, but I’m miles away. My phone burns a hole in my pocket, the screen lighting up every few seconds with a notification I’m too terrified to check. It’s already 8:00 PM. The text just said Tonight, but my brain is filling in the rest, dragging me back to that rain-slicked alley and the feeling of fur against my skin.I am leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to look like I’m part of the scene, but my girlfriend doesn’t get the memo. She’s grinding against me, her ass pressing back against my groin in a rhythm that’s supposed to be sexy but just feels like friction. She’s wet with sweat and perfume, her hands roaming over my chest, but my dick is dead weight. I push her hips away gently, then harder when she doesn’t get it."Stop, I'm getting a drink," I mutter
Puck Me Behind The Mask 8: Take off your shirt
ZEKE “You don't look so excited to see me on the team,” Kyler said, skating up to me. He was fully dressed in his gear and team clothes. None of it suited him. His dark hair and pale skin made him look like Dracula's offspring, not to mention the stupid, pleasant grin he kept flashing at everyone, even though the rest of the guys were ignoring him or muttering slurs under their breath about how he bought his way in. “I'm never happy about anything,” I answered honestly, circling him on the ice. I stopped a few feet away, leaning heavily on my stick. “So, you're supposed to be good?” “Yeah, I played for my old school for a while,” he said, playing carelessly with his hockey stick. “I wouldn't say I'm the best, but I'm pretty good.” “Well, your old school was different. Let's see what you've got now.” I dug my edges into the ice and got into position. The air inside the arena was sharp, smelling of cold brine and shaved rubber, but it did absolutely nothing to cool the heat
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