Chapter 3

Zeke 

The heavy thud of padded knees the wet pavement vibrates through the soles of my boots. The Bear doesn't hesitate, dropping down in front of me like he’s taking a face-off on the ice.

"Since you aren't into guys," the deep voice rumbles from inside the mask, slightly muffled by the foam and fur, "Don't worry, captain. I’m just a giant teddy bear. Technically, it doesn't count.”

"Fuck," I hiss, the syllable sharp in the damp air. My fingers move on their own, fumbling with the leather belt of my jeans. The metal buckle clinks, loud in the quiet alley, sounding like a starting gun I can't stop.

My brain is screaming at me. This is insane. I’m the team captain, a few feet away from the arena exit, about to let a giant plush mascot suck my dick. If a security guard or a reporter bursts out that door right now, if they find me balls deep in the mouth of the team’s fucking bear, I’m done. 

But instead of terror, a hot, jagged spike of lust shoots down my spine. My cock throbs against the denim, harder than it’s been in months. The depravity of it, the lunacy, has me leaking pre-cum before my pants are even down. I definitely need a psych ward after this. Or maybe just a goalie mask to hide my face.

"This is... this is my first time," I mutter, staring down at the shiny, dead glass eyes reflecting the flickering streetlamp. "Getting sucked off by a man."

"I'll be gentle," the Bear rumbles, a dry, sarcastic edge to the tone.

I shove my jeans and boxers down just enough. The cold night air hits my skin, making me hiss, but the heat radiating from my groin is overwhelming. My cock springs free, slapping against my lower abs, heavy, thick, and angry. It looks obscene against the backdrop of the dirty brick wall and the creamy faux-fur.

For a second, reality crashes back in. This is ridiculous. I’m about to tuck it back in, grab my bag, and sprint for my car. I can’t do this. I’m not—

Wet warmth engulfs the crown of my dick.

"Jesus fuck!" I gasp, my knees buckling. 

My hand flies out, slamming against the rough brick behind me to keep from toppling over. The sensation is electric, wet, soft, and impossibly hot. I almost blow my load right then, the orgasm coiling tight at the base of my spine like a wound-up slapshot.

The Bear doesn't stop. Those plush, lips wrap around the head of my cock, creating a tight seal, while a very human tongue swirls over the sensitive slit. The contrast is maddening, the rough texture of the fur brushing against my thighs and balls, and the slick, velvety heat of the mouth taking me in.

I look down. The open mouth of the mask is stretched wide, the glass eyes staring blankly up at me. It’s dehumanizing, anonymous, and perfect.

The tongue teases me, flicking against the underside of the head, tracing the ridge. My hips jerk forward involuntarily. I lose control. The frustration of the game, the aching throb of my bruised ribs, the crowd’s mockery, it all channels into my groin. I need to fucking destroy something.

I grip the top of the Bear’s head with my free hand, my fingers tangling in the coarse synthetic fur. I’m careful, terrified of ripping the mask off and breaking the spell, but I need leverage. I thrust forward, burying my cock deeper into that wet heat.

The Bear takes it. He doesn't gag. He just opens wider, the throat relaxing to welcome me in.

"Yeah," I grunt, the sound guttural and raw. "Take it."

I start to move, fucking his mouth with short, aggressive jabs. The wet sounds of suction echo in the alley, slurping, gagging slightly, the wet slap of my hips hitting the padded snout. It’s filthy. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.

He deepthroats me, the muscles of his throat constricting around the shaft, massaging me in waves. My balls draw up tight, slapping against the fur of his chin. I can feel the tongue working overtime, not just on my shaft but dipping low, teasing that sensitive strip of skin between my cock and my balls. It drives me crazy. It’s too much sensation, too focused, too precise.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," I warn, my voice cracking.

I don't hold back. I slam my hips forward, driving myself as deep as I can go, my hand tightening in the fur. The pressure in my balls explodes, white-hot and blinding. I cum hard, my whole body seizing up against the wall.

"Ungh, fuck!"

I spurt and spurt, painting the inside of his mouth, coating his tongue. It feels endless, the release draining every ounce of rage from my muscles. The Bear swallows it all, the throat muscles working around me, milking me for every drop until I’m dry and trembling.

I slump back against the wall, gasping for air, my chest heaving. The cold air feels good on my sweat-slicked skin.

The Bear pulls off slowly, his lips making a wet pop as they release my softening cock. He stands up, the suit rustling with the movement, adjusting his bulk as he towers over me again.

“Look, man," I start, tucking myself back into my jeans with fumbling fingers. The guilt is already creeping in, cold and sharp. "I'm sorry. I was too rough. I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, please, I like a guy who plays rough," the Bear cuts me off, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly purr that makes my stomach do a dangerous flip. 

"Consider it a complimentary service from the team mascot. Next time, I'm charging you by the minute."He steps back into the shadows, the glass eyes glinting under the buzzing streetlamp. 

Before I can even process the audacity of what he just said, the giant, fluffy creature tilts his head, blows me a dramatic, theatrical cartoon kiss with both paws, "I'll see you next game, McKinney," he rumbles, a smirk practically audible in his voice. 

Then he turns, the heavy footsteps fading away down the alley, leaving me alone with the smell of rain, fur, and my own fading adrenaline.