Off the Ice

by Avon Gale

  One of the assistant coaches started chucking pucks onto the ice as the team split into smaller groups.

  Tristan moved to his usual position at the point opposite Morley. Within seconds, he fell into his familiar routine, his brain switching over to hockey mode. And when Bellzie skated by to bump his shoulder, shooting Tristan a blinding smile as he passed, Tristan was able to return it without having to pretend.

  * * *

  After practice and showers, he and Ryu bowed out of the larger team lunch to meet at their favorite Thai restaurant.

  Ryu scrutinized him over plates of fragrant appetizers and cups of hot tea. “Are you all right? I thought you were going to pass out when that song started playing. I would’ve tried to stop him if I’d known what he planned.”

  Tristan stirred the peanut dipping sauce with a piece of his spring roll. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I realized pretty quickly it wasn’t meant to be malicious. Morley is Morley, you know?”

  “Oh, yes, I do know,” Ryu said, dry as dust.

  “I think he’s trying to be supportive in his own way. I’d rather have him joking with me than ignoring me like some of the other guys.” Tristan sighed. “But, I mean, it’s all brand-new. No one’s been really awful or anything. It could be a lot worse.”

  “True.” Ryu tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “When I was in college, several of the guys on the team knew about me. A few of them gave me grief, but my college was fairly liberal, so for the most part, it wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be. We go out there, we play our games like everybody else.”

  “Yeah. I wish it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe someday it won’t be. I’m still the same guy.”

  “I’ve thought about doing it too. Coming out.” Ryu smiled wryly. “For moral support, if nothing else.”

  Tristan shook his head. “You don’t have to do that for me. It’s like you told me before: do it only if and when you’re ready.”

  “It wouldn’t be for you. Not entirely anyway. But maybe I’ll wait until I find my own Professor Cruz.”

  Tristan grinned. “I’m sure we can locate another scowly gay Puerto Rican if we look hard enough.”

  “Ha.” Ryu’s lips twisted. “From what you’ve told me, he and I are way too alike. We’d strangle each other in a week. What I need is someone more like you.”

  Tristan’s face warmed, and he ducked his head. How Ryu had him pegged, he couldn’t guess. Maybe it was his weird goalie senses. Sometimes Ryu seemed all-knowing.

  “Yeah.” Ryu’s voice sounded almost wistful. “Like you. But maybe brattier. I do enjoy a good challenge.”

  Tristan didn’t even know what to say to that, so he stuffed another spring roll into his mouth, making Ryu chuckle.

  “That’s a pretty blush. I’ve wanted to tell you before.”

  Tristan looked up, startled, to find Ryu smirking at him, his dark eyes gleaming.

  “I love how bashful you are sometimes,” Ryu said. “Those sweet reactions are like catnip to a certain type of man, and from what I’ve heard about your Professor Cruz, I think we have similar tastes.”

  Ryu nodded sagely, his feathery bangs falling over his forehead. His hair was long enough now he often wore it in a little bun during practice. Tristan thought it made him appear even more rock star-ish. He wondered if Ryu knew he had a following on Twitter for his “water bottle porn” moments—the times he removed his mask during stoppages of play to cool himself off by squirting water over his head and then shaking out his thick, wet hair. The NHL had twice included shots of it in their “Slo-Mo Monday” compilations. Tristan had never admitted it aloud, but with Ryu’s perfect cheekbones and strong, angular jaw, he agreed it looked seductive as fuck.

  Still. Tristan flicked a chunk of cabbage across the table at him, which Ryu, of course, dodged. “Asshole.”

  “Guilty as charged.” Ryu’s expression turned serious. “I’m proud of you, though. Truly. You’ve had a lot going on with the classes and everything. Now you’ve come out to your family and the team. You’re one of the good guys, Tristan. You deserve good things.”

  Tristan blushed again, but this time, he held Ryu’s gaze. “Thanks. You do too.”

  “Okay, enough with the sappiness. It’s as uncomfortable for me as it is for you. I feel like I have to go be rude to someone to make up for it.”

  Tristan laughed, a loud burst that drew the attention of the people at the surrounding tables. “Don’t worry,” he wheezed when he got himself under control. “I won’t tell anyone you were nice. Wouldn’t want to spoil your rep.”

  Ryu smiled back at him—a real, rare smile—and Tristan knew right then, deep in his heart, as long as he had the support of his friends, things were going to be fine.

  Now all he needed to do was get his man back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tristan didn’t call before he went to Sebastian’s house that night. By now, he’d memorized Sebastian’s schedule. He knew Sebastian would be home because he had an early class the next morning. But, most of all, Tristan didn’t want to risk calling and being told to stay away.

  Sebastian had obviously meant it when he said he’d give Tristan space. Tristan hadn’t heard from him for over a week, and out of respect for Sebastian’s request that he think things through, he hadn’t tried to contact Sebastian, either. Not that it hadn’t killed Tristan to go without so much as a text for all that time, but he’d owed it to both Sebastian and himself to give the situation the consideration it deserved.

  And he’d done so. He’d made his decision to come out to the team, and he’d waited to see Sebastian until after it was finished. It was nerve-racking to show up, heart in hand, without knowing what Sebastian’s response might be. Sebastian could’ve decided he didn’t want to deal with the drama of dating a hockey player after all. Tristan might’ve come out for absolutely nothing. But it had been his decision, done on his terms, and he wouldn’t regret it no matter what happened with Sebastian.

  Of course, that wasn’t to say Tristan wouldn’t be angry. But he’d done this—come out without consulting Sebastian first—so he couldn’t blame Sebastian for his own decisions afterward. Maybe there hadn’t been very many choices, true, but there were some. Tristan could’ve given up what they had and walked away to keep his secret. It might’ve broken his heart, but it was a viable option.

  Viable but not fucking endurable as far as Tristan was concerned. He loved Sebastian too much to lose him now.

  When he arrived at Sebastian’s building, Tristan lucked out and caught the door as someone was leaving. The guy looked vaguely familiar and nodded at Tristan as they crossed paths. He had to be a resident who’d seen Tristan around over the past several months, because he didn’t appear particularly concerned about allowing a stranger inside.

  With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Tristan took the elevator to Sebastian’s floor. He didn’t want to seem presumptuous, and yet not bringing a bag felt like abandoning hope somehow. Besides, he’d brought a gift for Sebastian, and he didn’t want to risk it being seen before he knew exactly where they stood. Tristan did have some pride after all.

  He knocked on Sebastian’s door and spent the next thirty seconds shifting anxiously in place. Tristan had intentionally worn a pair of the gray sweatpants Sebastian loved so much, because he knew they drove Sebastian crazy. As much as everything else, Tristan wanted proof Sebastian had missed him and still wanted him that way too. And he was hopeful, so very hopeful, the sweatpants would lead to what they normally did.

  The knob rattled. Tristan’s pulse ratcheted up as Sebastian pulled open the door. Then there he was, dressed in nothing but black lounge pants, his dark hair mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his sharp jaw shadowed by a few days’ worth of stubble. Tristan wanted to eat him alive.

  Instead, he just stared.

  “Can I come in?” he
asked after a beat of silence.

  Sebastian wordlessly stepped aside. Tristan entered the apartment and shrugged the backpack off to clutch it in front of him. If it looked like he was using the bag as a shield, well, there was some small truth to that. Tristan couldn’t deny he was terrified at the thought of what might happen here tonight.

  He turned to see Sebastian standing near the door with his arms crossed over his bare chest. Tristan searched his expression, seeking signs of welcome. “I’m sorry for not calling. I wanted to have this conversation in person.”

  Something flashed across Sebastian’s face—fear, maybe—but it was gone before Tristan could decipher it. “All right. But first, I wanted to—”

  “No...” Tristan drew in a deep breath. “Please, let me say this, okay? I need to get it out.”

  Sebastian nodded, but his body tensed like he was preparing for a blow.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Tristan said. “I could bore you with the details, but the most important part is this—I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose us.” Tristan swallowed hard. “You know I told my parents about us because I didn’t want to keep you a secret from them. Yesterday, I came out to my team too. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to come out to the entire league, but... Well, I hope, I really hope, my teammates knowing will be enough for you.” Tristan unzipped the backpack with shaky hands and withdrew the jersey he’d brought for Sebastian. “I want you to come to my games. I want you to wear this. I want them all to know you’re with me, and that I’m proud of us, and that I... I love you.”

  He said the last part a bit helplessly. Sebastian’s expression hadn’t changed, and a knot was forming in Tristan’s belly with every passing second. Then Sebastian breathed noisily through his nose and scrubbed both hands over his face.

  “Damn,” he said, his voice muffled. “I thought you’d come here to end it. I’ve never been so afraid.” Sebastian sighed, dropping his arms to his sides and looking at Tristan with suspiciously damp eyes. “I was ready to beg you to reconsider and suggest we work out some sort of compromise. That’s what I started to say before you asked me to let you finish.” He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head as if to clear it. “I know that’s easy to say now, but fuck, Tris... In spite of everything I said the last time we saw each other, I don’t know if I could have ever really let you walk away.”

  Tristan dropped what he was holding, rushed across the room, and yanked Sebastian into his embrace. The sense of relief when Sebastian’s strong, wiry arms wrapped around him only solidified Tristan’s certainty that he’d made the right decision.

  He buried his face against Sebastian’s neck, squeezing him tight. “I don’t want it to be over. I want to be with you.”

  Sebastian laughed breathlessly. “I don’t want it to be over, either. I told you that.”

  Tristan drew back to meet his gaze. “Is it enough? That I came out to my team?”

  Sebastian reached up to cradle Tristan’s face in his palms. His dark eyes studied Tristan. “It’s more than enough. I know—I mean I don’t know, but I can imagine—how difficult it must’ve been for you. I don’t need you to come out to the world. I just... I didn’t know if I could live with having the most important people in your life thinking I’m only your friend. It hurt too much to contemplate.”

  Tristan covered Sebastian’s hands with his. “They know who you are to me now. I promise.”

  Sebastian pulled Tristan down for a gentle kiss. “Thank you. I wish you would’ve told me you were doing it. I could’ve been there to support you.”

  Tristan shook his head. “I had to do it on my own.”

  Sebastian kissed him again, deepening the contact. Tristan moaned at the feel of Sebastian’s tongue against his own. It seemed as if ages had passed since Sebastian kissed him in the car that last time. Tristan hadn’t even been able to enjoy it then. It’d felt too much like good-bye. “I missed you.”

  Sebastian bit lightly at his lower lip. “I missed you too. And I’m truly sorry I hurt you.”

  “I’m sorry I hurt you too. You know, at the restaurant when Ryu saw us.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Thank you. Now pick my jersey up off the floor, Mr. Holt.”

  Tristan flushed and went to collect the items he’d dropped. He tossed the backpack on the couch and tried to hand Sebastian the jersey.

  “Will it fit you?” Sebastian asked.

  Tristan paused, puzzled. “Sure. Might be a little snug on me, but they run large. Why?”

  “Because I’ve had fantasies about fucking you in your jersey and nothing else. I want you to put it on and get on your hands and knees for me.”

  Tristan gulped—legitimately gulped—loud enough that Sebastian grinned.

  “I think you like that idea.”

  Tristan nodded, convulsively clenching his hands on the material of the jersey. He liked the idea so much his dick was already half-hard.

  Sebastian chuckled. “Go to my bedroom, strip down, and put it on. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Tristan didn’t so much as hesitate. By the time Sebastian entered the room a few minutes later, Tristan was in the center of the bed wearing nothing but the jersey with his own name stitched on the back. His knees were bent, bare ass up and presented, waiting to be filled.

  He heard the whisper of fabric and seconds later, he felt the brush of Sebastian’s thighs against his own as Sebastian settled on the mattress behind him. Sebastian aligned his hot, hard cock with Tristan’s crease and dragged his shaft down until the slick head bumped Tristan’s balls.

  “You don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.” Sebastian’s voice was quiet, almost reverent.

  Tristan groaned, reaching between his thighs to grip his own dick. “I think I do.”

  Sebastian trailed his hands from Tristan’s shoulders to his ass cheeks. He palmed them, squeezed once, and spread them wide to expose Tristan’s hole. “I missed touching you.”

  Tristan shivered and buried his heated face in Sebastian’s pillow, inhaling the familiar scent. He wanted to cover himself in that smell, wanted Sebastian on every inch of his skin. “I missed having you inside me.” Tristan flushed as he said it, but it was worth the embarrassment to hear Sebastian’s soft, pleased sound.

  Sebastian continued exploring him—tugging gently on Tristan’s balls, kneading Tristan’s thighs, running his fingertips along the backs of Tristan’s calves. He even trailed his nails lightly along the soles of Tristan’s feet.

  Tristan could only describe Sebastian’s touches as worshipful. He pushed into every caress, craving each point of contact. He basked in the attention, moaning incoherently when Sebastian’s mouth got involved in the proceedings.

  Sebastian bit one of his ass cheeks, fiercely enough that Tristan choked on a cry. He sucked on Tristan’s sac and licked a path to his hole. Once there, he lingered, teasing Tristan with slick lashes of his tongue until Tristan was covered in sweat, bumping his hips back, and chanting “Fuck me” under his breath.

  He felt Sebastian trembling as he got the condom on, slicked up, and held Tristan open so he could work his way inside. Blindly, Tristan reached a hand back. Sebastian’s fingers threaded through his and gripped tightly. A sharp pang of emotion shot through Tristan’s chest, and his moan verged on a sob when Sebastian finally started to move. “I love you so much.”

  Sebastian leaned over him to place a kiss on the nape of his neck, right above the collar of the jersey. “I love you more.”

  Any tenderness ended there. Sebastian knew the way Tristan liked to be fucked, and he gave it to him hard, an almost constant, grinding pressure against Tristan’s hole that propelled him toward his orgasm with every deep, aggressive thrust.

  The jersey tightened around Tristan’s waist, and he realized Sebastian had fisted a handful of the material and was using it
to hold him in place. The mental visual was too much for Tristan to handle. He yanked at his cock and came in a shuddering rush, his muscles clamping around Sebastian’s dick with enough force to draw groans from them both.

  “Fuck, yes. Baby. Choke that fucking dick.” Sebastian pressed Tristan down so he was flat on the bed. He covered Tristan’s body with his and worked his hips in quick, shallow jabs until he stiffened, muttering something unintelligible as he found his own release.

  “God, I needed that,” Tristan murmured once he regained the ability to speak.

  Sebastian laughed and rolled off him. “Me too.” He fell onto his back against the pillows, still struggling to catch his breath, and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand so he could deal with the condom.

  Tristan turned his head to look at him more fully. For a couple of minutes they lay there, staring at each other with soft, intimate smiles. It was ridiculously sappy, and something Tristan could’ve never imagined happening when he first saw Sebastian Cruz in that lecture hall all those months ago.

  He loved it.

  “Come here.” Sebastian held out an arm.

  Tristan moved closer and snuggled into Sebastian’s embrace.

  Sebastian stroked his hair, a light, gentle touch, and rested their foreheads together. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his breath warm on Tristan’s lips. “I’m with you every step of the way, whatever happens from here on out. Whatever you need.”

  Tristan’s eyes stung. He nodded, managing to croak a “Thank you” past the rawness in his throat. So far, coming out to his team had gone a lot more smoothly than he’d ever anticipated. There would still be hurdles. Tristan wasn’t naïve enough to think otherwise. They’d deal with those issues when and if they came to pass.

  The future was a lot less frightening, knowing he’d have Sebastian at his side.

  Epilogue

  Sebastian could recall few things as stressful as dating a hockey player during the playoffs. Even his comps for his PhD program hadn’t been this intense. Or, okay, maybe they’d been as intense, but there was one main difference—Sebastian had some say in the outcome.