♡ I want to make him suffer ♡

They have a couple hours before the game; most of the guys will use it to nap, Jo knows. Nate, however, wastes no time in laying out a pillow and towel, directing Jo to strip and lay on his stomach next to Nate. 

“Uh…” Jo tries, pillowing his arms under his head. “Not that I’m complaining, but uh– what are we doing?” 

“We gotta make you cum before the game,” Nate says off handily, standing to grab something from his bag. 

“R-right…” Jo says, turning his head to watch as Nate comes back to the bed, bottle of lube and prostate massager in hand, along with another towel. “But… the cage?”

“What about the cage?” 

“Uh… Nate? I can’t cum with it on.” Jo maybe new to wearing a cock cage, but this much he is sure of. 

And yet – regardless of Jo’s confidence on the matter – Nate just snorts, spreading Jo’s cheeks and getting the toy in, turning it to a low pulse right off the bat. 

It makes him moan into his arms, his prostate swollen and sensitive from the torture of the previous day. Not that the toy cares, the pressure relentless as it pulses its own mechanical heartbeat, Jo’s breath hitching in time with it. 

His cock strains against the metal cage, already sore from where it presses against the metal bars. 

“Nate,” Jo says with a gasp, turning his head to talk to the other man. “I can’t– Nate– I can’t cum like this–” Jo bites himself off with another groan as Nate turns the pulsing up, Jo’s legs shaking as the massage does what it should; driving Jo to the brink of madness in its relentless pleasure. 

“Okay, baby,” Nate says dismissively, more or less ignoring Jo’s complaint. “Turn over, though,” he adds, patting at Jo’s hip. “I wanna see.” 

Jo shakes his head, unable to comply with the way his body trembles. It doesn’t seem like Nate is asking, shifting so that he can flip Jo himself, Jo landing on his back with the towel under him. 

The change shifts the toy ever so slightly off his prostate, Jo heaving a breath as he gets a slight break, legs falling open as they stop shaking. 

Nate, the asshole, is quick to notice, hand coming down in a harsh slap to Jo’s thigh before sliding back between his legs, adjusting the toy and clicking it up another notch. 

It makes Jo shout, eyes rolling back in his head as he thrashes, overwhelmed by the onslaught that has nowhere to go, cock still unable to get hard despite Jo’s best efforts. 

Nate is saying something, words washing over Jo without sticking as he tries to ride out the waves of pleasure being forced over him. 

He feels Nate reach down, thrusting the toy the barest amount, twitching it against Jo’s prostate. Jo wants to be hard. Wants to stroke his cock. Wants to cum; but can’t, can only take it as the waves mount, shaky breaths turning rapid as he feels the pressure build.

It feels like he’s on the edge, as impossible as it is, cock soft in it’s cage as the prostate massager mercilessly toys with him. He feels like he does when Nate edges him, so close to the brink, even if he knows he won’t actually get there. 

Nate grasps at his cock, stroking a thumb across his taught balls, soft coos as he encourages Jo to chase his pleasure to some unknown peak. 

Jo knows he’s going to cum as Nate forces the toy harder against his prostate with one hand, the other softly stroking at Jo’s cock – he just doesn’t know how. 

Not that ignorance will save him; not as he feels the pleasure crest, body locking as his cock kicks, the feeling of his orgasm unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. 

He dribbles cum onto his stomach as his hole clenches, the feeling quickly becoming too-much as he shouts, body going from locked and straining to shaking, hands flailing out for Nate, needing some form of comfort. 

Nate is quick to turn the toy off, pulling it from Jo in a smooth motion, eyes locked to Jo’s trembling form. Jo watches the way his blue eyes narrow in on the puddle near Jo’s navel, watery cum coating the cock cage from where it was forced out of Jo. 

 Nate reaches his hand out, dragging his fingers through the fluid. 

“Open your mouth, Jo,” Nate says, coating his fingers in Jo’s cum. 

Jo shakes his head, eyes watching the way his cum drips from the man's calloused fingers. 

“Open your mouth before I open it for you.” 

Jo does, watching in an almost detached way as Nate brings his fingers to Jo’s lips, the salty taste of his own cum coating his tongue. 

Nate fucks his fingers past Jo’s lips for a couple moments, pads of his fingers exploring Jo’s mouth, before he pulls them out, returning back to the puddle on Jo’s stomach to re-coat his fingers. 

Jo closes his mouth, trying to swallow the bitter taste down. 

“What did I just say?” Nate brings his hand back up, rubbing his fingers against Jo’s lip. 

He opens his mouth again, and again, and again, until all of his cum is gone, the salt of his own ejaculate mixing with the salt on Nate’s skin as the other man feeds it to him. 

Jo just thinks that it's hazing at first, the fact that no one will help him.

He's jumping around, kinda wiggling, trying to get his shirt back either on or off -- just something other than this over the head thing!

He feels someone come up behind him, tries to turn toward them, a,

"Hey, can you," on the tip of his tounge, only to be cut off as the person spins him, forcing him to face away from whoever it is and straight into-- someone else?

Someone who is grabbing his chest to stabilize him?

No, someone who just grabbing at his chest, thumbs rubbing his nipples?

The hand changes from groping to pinching, and yeah, no, Jo was right. One of his team mates is playing with his chest, pinching and tugging on his nipples until Jo is gasping with it.

"What-"

"-sh, drou, we're just playing," Nates voice comes in front of him, a harsh pinch making Jo arch in his bestfriend.

"Need to be in that hole. When are you free?"

Which. Is crude. And yet, somehow does it for Jo. So. Maybe that says more about Jo than it does Nate.

He ends up begging off that he doesn't do one night stands, expecting Nate to give up.

But late night texts turn into weeks of daily messages, until Jo finally agrees to a date.

Jo is just so nervous. He know how to do this. He's never been on a date with someone he likes a guy before.

He played hard to get because he was scared and now he's in some sports bar off a dave and busters with a guy who he's kissed. Who he's planning to kiss again, if the night goes well.

It doesn't even feel real.

He's so nervous that he can't possibly be a fun date, but Nate doesn't seem to notice, just orders some appetizers for them both, before making commentary on the game playing above their heads.

Jo's would have never taken a first date to a place like this. But then again, the first dates Jo usually goes on can't hold a conversation about hockey, let alone other sports.

He does relax, eventually, even laughs when Nate drops a Buffalo wing and gets blue cheese all over his jacket.

At some point they end up leaving the bar, getting little debit card like things that are, apparently, full of tokens. Nate pays, even though they both know that Jo must make more than him as an NHL player.

He's never had a date pay before. Offer, sure, but he's a gentleman, so he's never taken anyone up on their offer, even just to split it.

With Nate he doesn't really get the option, the man just pulling his card out and swiping.

It makes Jo blush.

Jo finds out that Nate is, somehow, equally competitive as Jo is. Jo is better at physical games, but Nate is better at first person shooters. They both suck at ax throwing, but go neck and neck at skeeball.

By the end of the night, his stomach hurts from laughing, his shoulder is a little tight from throwing things with too much effort sans a warm up, and he almost forgets that its supposes to be a date.

It feels like hanging out with someone he's known his whole life.

It feels like hanging out with his bestfriend.

Nate walks him back to his car, kissing him in a way that again has Jo gasping for breath, hands grasping at Nates shoulders, a little dizzy with how good it is.

Jo isn't sure if he asks or if Nate offers, but he lets Nate take him home. Let's Nate do everything he promised he would.

It's better than Jo is expecting, no less mind blowing than the first time. Nate still doesn't fuck him, says they need to work up to that, but he does finger Jo. They both learn that Jo can come just from having his prostate played with -- and that Nate is super into it, cuming moments later while fisting his own cock, swearing about what a perfect pussy Jo has.

Jo thinks he can't get out of his head because he's afraid of doms or maybe he isn't a masochist like other people are, he doesn't get the feel good side of the pain so he avoids it entirely?

And then Nate is like "yeah but just let me try" and maybe he spanks jo or maybe he spits on him or maybe he forces Jo to lick his boots, or whatever mean thing he does.

And jo at first is like "I don't like this, I don't like pain, I don't do humiliation."

Nate forces his head back, prying Jo's mouth open and spitting into it without warning, a line of drool connecting them before their first kiss.

Nate covers Jo's mouth with his hand, giving his head a shake. "I don't care. To be frank, Jo, what you're doing isn't fucking working. So we're gonna try it my way, and if you really don't like it, tap out. Otherwise get on your fucking knees and listen for once in your bratty life."

Jo is dizzy with it, the firm voice, the warm spit still on his tongue, the hand at his mouth. He drops like a rock, unable to do anything else.

----

He watches as Nate rounds the car, jumping into the driver's side. He pats Jo’s knee, giving him an offhanded reminder to, “get bucked, Jo,” that does nothing to soothe the way Jo’s instincts are flaring. 

“You don’t have to remind me, dude. I’m not your omega, I do know how to take care of myself,” Jo snaps, feathers a little more ruffled than he’d like to admit.

Nate glances at him out of the corner of his eye before throwing his blinker on, getting ready to pull out of the crowded pickup lot. “Okay,” he says with a shrug, waiting for an opening in the line of cars already on a mission to leave the airport.

The easy dismissal makes Jo bristle, even if it probably shouldn’t. Nate probably isn’t trying to piss Jo off–Jo is just too used to being alone, not having shared a space with another Alpha in a while. 

He takes a few deep breaths, lungfuls of air that feel so different this high up, and tries to calm his scent. The acrid smell of oversteeped tea and burnt berries mixes with the smoke and salt well-worn into the car, the combination flooding the whole place with a scent like a failed science experiment. 

The rest of the ride is silent, no music or chatter to fill the dead air. Nate keeps his eyes firmly on the road.

It makes Jo uncomfortable and anxious, something in his mind screaming at him that he’s already pissed Nate off, that he fucked up, got in his own head about Nate being kind to him and fucked everything up.

He looked the gift horse in the mouth, and may as well have spit on it while he was at it.

The silence drags until they’re pulling off the interstate, onto a more residential road. 

Jo doesn’t want Nate to think he’s ungrateful for everything he’s done, and doesn't want to start off their time together already in the dog house. 

“Uh…” Jo hesitates, fidgeting with a thread on his pants. “I’m– uh– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, snap at you or anything.” Jo sneaks a glance at Nate, whose mouth is drawn into a thin line. “....Thank you for all you’re doing for me. Getting me here and picking me up all that. I appreciate it.”

Nate releases a breath he’d been invisibly holding, nodding minutely at Jo’s apology. He reaches out, once again patting Jo’s knee. “That’s okay, Joey. I know travel days are rough. We can all be a little bitchy sometimes.”