Alle Kapitel von PUCKING MY ROOMMATE : Kapitel 81 – Kapitel 90

CHAPTER 81Raphael’s hips were already twitching, rolling forward to sink into Liam’s open mouth, when a sound shattered the moment.BANG! BANG! BANG!"YO! CAPTAIN! RAPH! OPEN UP!"Marcus’s booming voice echoed straight through the wood of the front door, rattling the thin drywall of the apartment.Shit! Shut! Shit!Liam’s brain completely short-circuited. He immediately started panicking, instantly wiping out the heavy, hazy lust that was clawing at him seconds ago. He didn't just pull back—he practically threw himself backward across the mattress, his elbows slipping on the sheets as he scrambled madly away from Raphael’s wet, leaking cock.Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"I brought pizza to apologize!" Marcus bellowed from the hallway, hammering on the door again. "Come on, I know you guys are in there! Raph’s car is parked outside!"Liam frantically wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his pulse hammering against his eardrums so hard he felt nauseous. His mind was screaming in

CHAPTER 833:14 AM.The red numbers on the nightstand digital clock cast little rays into the darkness, and Liam was four seconds away from exploding from overthinking.He was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince his lungs to breathe normally. Next to him—literally ten feet away across a tiny patch of hardwood—Raphael was breathing deeply. Sleeping like a fucking baby.How? How the hell is he sleeping right now?Liam’s brain was a live wire, sparking and short-circuiting in the dark. It wouldn't turn off. He had been playing the last twenty four hours on an endless, agonizing loop until his eyes burned and his head throbbed.Raphael’s hands on his hips. The locker room. Raphael’s mouth on his neck. His own fingers wrapped around Raphael’s cock. The slick, sickening heat of it. Marcus knocking on the fucking door. Marcus sitting at the counter. Raphael’s hand inside his shorts, stroking him while Marcus babbled about whatever.Fuck.Liam shoved his face into his

CHAPTER 85The steam from the locker was thick enough to taste, heavy with the sharp reek of sweat, damp wool, and copper.Liam sat on the wooden bench, his chest rising and falling in shallow, jagged beats. His fingers were stiff inside his gloves, completely numb, yet his heart pounded so violently against his ribs it made his teeth ache.Across the room, Marcus was still barking with laughter, tossing a rolled-up roll of grip tape across the carpet. "I'm telling you, Miller, you flew three feet! Captain hit you so hard your ancestors felt it!""Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Marcus," Miller spat from his stall, ripping his shoulder pads off with an ugly, bitter yank. His face was flushed blotchy red, his left shoulder already blooming purple from the boards. "It’s easy to look like a tough guy when you’re throwing cheap shots during a non-contact drill.""Cheap shot?" Fred snorted, throwing his head back. "Dude, you got leveled fair and square. Give it a rest."A couple of the guys on th

CHAPTER 87"Lannister. Thorne. My office. Now."Coach’s voice bellowed from the podium. They'd barely even turned on the lights after game tape, barely even stood up from their chairs.Liam’s boots locked to the floor. Fuck. The terror he’d managed to bury during game tape came roaring back, hot and suffocating in his throat. Why both of us? Why now? Had coach noticed how Raphael's eyes locked on me all through the game against the shadow Reapers? Or had someone seen the way Raphael’s hand had stayed glued to his thigh under the desk for twenty minutes?He knows, Liam’s brain screamed, the panic spiraling out of control. He knows about Raph. He knows about the past few days. He knows what I am.He felt Raphael shift beside him, infuriatingly calm, like a shadow stepping into place. Liam squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, forcing his pulse down. Stop it. Stop fucking spiraling. You’re the Captain. If you look guilty, you are guilty. Walk.He forced his chin up, squared

CHAPTER 89By eleven o'clock, the suffocating mood from Coach’s office had finally worn off.Their heavy hockey bags were dumped by the front door, the steam from two back-to-back showers had cleared out of the hallway, and an open box of sausage and pepper pizza sat on the kitchen island. Liam sat on a barstool in a faded gray hoodie and soft sweatpants, his damp dark hair sticking to his forehead. He picked at the crust of his second slice, staring blankly at the grease soaking through the cardboard base.He’d tried to let it go. Trust me, he'd tried. He’d tried to listen to Raphael in the car when he told him to take a breath and chill out. But Liam’s brain was built like a film-room projector—it couldn't just turn off, and right now, it was replaying the day on a loop.Liam set his crust down, picked up a paper towel, and wiped his fingers. "I know you said it's simple, Raph. I know you told me to chill out in the car. But we need an actual, solid excuse for Monday. We can't jus