Coach clapped him on the back, not sensing Liam’s awkwardness. “Yep, this here is Liam Williams, not that I expect any of you sorry bastards to know that. Don’t expect you to know your sticks from your dicks, after what I just saw. Williams here was my star centre back in the day, weren’t you, Williams?”
Liam didn’t reply. Was staring at Austin, eyes all big and watery, giving himself away.
Austin turned his head, finding some speck on the wall to focus on instead.
Coach continued. “Won us our last university cup in—what was it, again?”
“Two thousand one,” Liam replied, his voice scratchy.
Brimming with so much emotion, Austin’s skin prickled.
No.
“So, how’s that, huh? You gonna apologize to Williams for taking a piss all over his legacy tonight, or are you gonna sit there staring at the walls like a bunch of sissies?”
“Why should we have to apologize?” Ortega shouted. Because of course it was Ortega. Austin flinched in advance. “Make Austin apologize. He’s the one who screwed us tonight. We never played this bad when Drew was on the team.” A rumble of agreement went through Austin’s teammates.
And all he could think was not in front of Liam, please not in front of Liam.
“Fucking narc pussy ruined our game,” Ortega rambled, jumping to his feet when he realized no one was standing up to him this time. “Him and his butt buddy Calabresi.”
Oh for fuck’s—
Before Austin knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, too. “Can you fuck off with the fucking homophobic bullshit, Ortega? Look, fine, Calabresi’s green and he didn’t play as well tonight as I’d hoped. I’m fucking sorry.” Sorry Liam has to see me like this, had to see me play so fucking bad and now has to see my team turn on me, calling me out as a fag, ruining every last shred of credibility I had. “But I didn’t give him Drew’s spot because we’re fucking, all right? So cut it the fuck out. I gave him Drew’s spot because I thought he was the best man for the job. Maybe he’s not. And maybe I’m not the best man for this job.” He reached down, fingers scrabbling at the edge of the A badge sewn to his jersey. Gave it a tug, but it didn’t tear. His hands were shaking too bad.
“Sit down, Austin,” Liam commanded.
That steady, calm, powerful voice. Austin dropped down to the bench instantly.
“And you,” Liam said, turning. “What was your name, again? Ortega? Maybe in your little gay panic you didn’t notice Austin was the only one on this sorry fucking team to score a goal tonight. Maybe instead of worrying he might want to fuck your ass, you could try wrapping your head around the fact that the way he played tonight makes him one of the best players on your fucking team.”
Ortega returned to his seat, sulking, arms crossed over his chest, and muttered under his breath: “What, did that fag suck your dick, too?”
Oh, that was fucking it. The fag that broke the camel’s back. “What,” Austin barked, the rage inside him boiling over as he shot to his feet again, “is your fucking problem, Ortega? So what if I was sucking his dick, huh? I still scored more fucking goals than you. I still got this team into shape over the summer after Drew nearly fucking sank us. As far as I’m concerned, as long as I play good hockey I can suck as many dicks as I want. I can suck fifty fucking dicks, and as long as I’m the team’s strongest scorer, then there’s nothing you can say or do about it.” He made a circle with one hand, jerking off an invisible dick while he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Ortega snarled, but still shrank into the wall like the coward he was. Austin dropped his hand. “And if you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out of this locker room right fucking now and go see how many NHL scouts Drew has on speed dial.”
Warren stepped in between them with his arms spread, but he really didn’t need to, because no way was Austin risking a suspension fighting a scumbag like Ortega. “Okay!” he shouted. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. Both of you. I think we already embarrassed ourselves enough tonight on the ice.” He gave Austin an earnest, wide-eyed stare. “Let’s not embarrass ourselves in the changeroom, too.”
“Who’s embarrassed?” Austin scoffed, turning away and returning to his seat to finish unlacing his skates.
“I’m hitting the fucking showers,” Ortega announced. He rounded on Austin, jabbing the air with one finger. “Puett better fuckin’ stay here, or else I won’t be held responsible for what I do the first time I catch him checking out my dick.”
Liam shoulder-checked him on his way past. “Hey, kid, speaking as a real live fag? I promise you, nobody’s checking out your two-inch micropenis for anything but a laugh, so rest easy.”
Ortega snarled wordlessly at him and stormed out.
A minute or so later, Austin’s teammates kicked out of their skates and followed after him.
Not one of them made eye contact with Austin before they did, not even Warren.
Coach just stood there and gawked.
“Great start to the season,” Austin joked, voice quaking.
Coach gave his head a bewildered shake, then nodded. “Nice goal tonight, Puett,” he managed to say, still looking stunned. “Keep it up.”
And then he wandered out, leaving Austin and Liam alone.
Adrenaline gone, Austin slumped forward, head between his knees, as his body shook and his heart pounded and his poor brain tried to figure out what the fuck he’d just done.
Oh God oh God oh God oh God.
He’d fucking ruined himself. He’d ruined himself.
And for what?
His fucking dignity, that was what. Because he was tired of his teammates treating him this way. Treating anyone this way, really, even people he didn’t like anymore, like Liam.
He was sick of the talk. Sick of the way they used words like fag and pussy to put people down, put them in their place.
When the truth was, Liam, who really was a real live fag in their eyes, was more of a fucking man than they could ever hope to be. And a hockey star, too. Shit. Not that Austin hadn’t suspected, but still. Holy shit.
And now here he was, crouched in front of Austin, draped over him, arms wrapped around him in a gentle, comforting hug, as warm and safe as the Canucks blanket on his couch.
“It’s okay, kiddo,” he said into Austin’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Wait, wait, wait. Liam and Austin weren’t fucking together anymore. What the hell did Liam think he was talking about, saying shit like that? And why the fuck was he here?
Austin pushed him off. He sat up straight, putting his shoulders back. “Yeah,” he said, giving Liam a hard glare. “It is okay. It’s fine, actually. I’m fine. I don’t know why you’re here right now, because I don’t . . .” His mouth firmed into a hard line. “It’s fine, because I realized something. I don’t need you anymore.”
Liam didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He gave Austin that calm, in control look he was so good at. “Oh?”
I don’t have to fucking explain myself to you, Austin thought, but then his mouth opened and the words came out anyway. “Yeah. That’s right. I don’t need you anymore. Because I realized something tonight. Originally I came to you because my life was out of control. I was getting turned on when my teammates trash-talked me, and I was scared of being gay, and it was making me treat my friends bad because I thought it was their fault. I was hoping you could cure me. Maybe you did, because I’m cured. Trash talk doesn’t turn me on anymore. It just fucking makes me angry, you know?” His chest heaved. He was breathing hard, as hard as he’d been at the end of the third period, after fighting to the very last buzzer. He pressed on. “Because it turns out there’s a difference between when they call me fag and when you do it. You do it to make me feel good and give me something I need and let me feel something I need to feel, and that turns me on, and that’s okay. B-but they do it to put me down and make feel like I’m less than them when I’m not. I wouldn’t be less than them if they were wrong about m
e being a fag, but you know what? I’m still not less than them even though they’re right.”
Liam didn’t argue. Didn’t try to talk him out of what he was saying. Didn’t put him down or tell him to slow down or take it easy. He crouched there, listening. Respectful.
“So . . . so I’m cured. Shit, before tonight my life was actually back on track. I don’t need you any more, Liam. I don’t.”
Now Liam winced, but then he nodded and smiled, laying a gentle hand on Austin’s knee. He was about to pull it away when Austin reached down, covering Liam’s hand with his own.
“But maybe . . .” He grunted in frustration. “I don’t need you, Liam. Hear me? But maybe . . . maybe I want you,” he admitted. Because I might be cured, but I really do like the things you do to me, and if there’s nothing wrong with that—and there isn’t—why should I deny myself? What makes want less valid than need, anyway?
Liam didn’t smile. Didn’t kiss him.
Instead he flinched and pulled away. “I’m glad to hear that, Austin. Really, I am. But you should go take a shower. Fix things with your team before it’s too late. Don’t let Ortega get them on his side.”
Oh, hell no. Liam wasn’t avoiding a confrontation with Austin this time. He cupped Liam’s cheeks in both hands, forcing his head straight. “Don’t even try it, man. Fuck Ortega. Fuck my team. It’s over. Didn’t you hear me? I want you.” He swallowed hard, heart thrashing, waiting for Liam to respond, to say something, Oh God, please say something, and then, when Liam didn’t, it hit him. “Don’t you . . . oh God. You don’t want me.”
He pulled back. This time Liam caught his hands. “Oh, buddy. Oh buddy. Oh buddy, buddy, buddy. You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“You kicked me out of your place. You stopped talking to me. I threw away my hockey career, and you don’t even want me. But then— Why are you here if you don’t want me? I don’t get it. I don’t get it.”
“Shh, shh, shh.” Liam leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.
Austin couldn’t resist that, couldn’t resist that familiar touch, couldn’t fight the calming effect of it.
“I’m here because I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to see you play, buddy. Wanted to cheer you on, even if you didn’t know I was there—until your coach spotted me in the bleachers, anyway.” His smile wobbled. “I’m here because I do want you. That’s the problem, Austin. I want you way too much. Like I said. I want what you can’t give me.”
Austin narrowed his eyes in confusion. “But I did give you—”
“Yeah, you let me fuck you that night. I know. Thanks for that, but that’s not what I meant. Don’t get me wrong, I did want that from you, still do, but that’s not the thing I’m talking about when I say I want something you can’t give.” He laughed, briefly, the sound as sad as a cough. “Honestly, after the blowjobs, I figured sex would only be a matter of time. And I thought—I thought that was okay. I mean, I thought we could just have sex. After all, I’m in porn. It’s not like I don’t have ample experience with no-strings-attached sex.”
Austin laughed weakly.
“But at the risk of being completely cliché, you were different from the start. You were a project, and you needed me, and fuck, I loved that. But then you turned out to be this sweet kid with a good heart and you were so trusting and so giving and— Shit, you were a Canucks fan too!”
And you were good from the start, too. You made me feel good. You helped me trust. You taught me it was okay to give all the things I had to give. You taught me how great it was to watch a years-old hockey game. “So why did you send me away?”
“Because—” He sighed, pulling Austin into another hug, but this time he didn’t draw back. He crouched there with Austin in his arms, holding him. “Because of that word you used. You probably don’t remember it, and that’s half the problem. You called me Master, Austin. Nobody’s ever done that. The subs I have on set, that’s one of the things I tell them they can’t do in a scene. It’s not a word you throw around. Not to me. It’s not like Coach or Sir or Daddy, not for me. It’s a word that means commitment. Means that we’re bound to each other. Beyond sex.”
Austin relaxed against Liam’s body, closing his eyes. He should have been afraid to say what he said next, but in Liam’s arms, eyes closed, feeling that familiar sense of safety—he can help me fly, and he’ll never let me fall—he couldn’t feel anything but calm and sure. “What if I want that?”
Liam stiffened. Let Austin go. “I don’t think you understand what you’re saying, buddy. I’m not talking about us regularly hooking up like we were. That was great while it lasted, but this is so much more. I’d want to be 24/7 with you, Austin. Not boyfriends, exactly, but committed just the same. Master and boy, that’s a commitment, and I don’t think you’re really capable of that. I don’t think that’s what you want.” He put a hand to Austin’s lips before he could argue. “What we’ve been doing, it’s a thrill and a kink for you, and that’s okay. Nothing wrong with a bit of thrill. It doesn’t need to be more to be real and valid. But I . . . I want more. I tried to deny it, I tried to ignore it, I tried to dial it back, but then that night you submitted so beautifully and called me Master, I realized that it wasn’t enough anymore. Not with you. It could never be enough, and you could never give me what I needed from you. Which is why it had to stop. So I sent you away.”
“There you go treating me like a kid again,” Austin snapped, but he wasn’t angry, not even about that night Liam had sent him home. Not anymore. He felt like he was about to laugh, actually. Because it was all so simple and so straightforward and in hindsight, he didn’t understand how it had taken so fucking long. “Pretending like you know best, not giving me a say. Did it ever occur to you to fucking ask me what I was willing to give you, huh? I mean, isn’t that what you’ve been doing for me this whole time? Teaching me it’s okay to ask for what I need? And then giving me it? So how come you won’t ask me for what you need? How come you won’t let me have the chance to give that to you?”
“You’re straight,” Liam sputtered. Austin had never seen the guy look so pathetically outmaneuvered.
He rolled his eyes. “This from the guy who spent weeks convincing me things weren’t so black and white, that the world couldn’t be divided into straight and gay no matter how much I tried. Look, you were right. Things aren’t just gay and straight. Sometimes you’re something in between. Sometimes there’s exceptions. Sometimes people don’t follow the rules. Well, newsflash, I don’t follow the rules.” And to prove it, Austin lunged forward and kissed Liam square on the mouth. Hard and fearless and real. By Austin’s old rules, it was possibly the gayest thing he’d ever done. Gayer than sucking dick. Gayer than getting it up the ass. Because fuck, it was romantic. It wasn’t humiliation, and it wasn’t animal need.
It was sweet and perfect and giving, everything Austin wanted to be for Liam, and give to Liam, all those emotions he’d been so afraid to feel—so afraid to be emasculated by—before Liam had come and changed everything.
It was love.
Even if Austin couldn’t name it aloud quite yet.
Liam pulled back, mouth swollen, eyes wide and startled and a little sad. “Kiddo, I’m touched, I really am, but do you understand the ramifications of this? Yes, I said straight and gay weren’t black and white. And I meant it. I still mean it. I believe it. I’m glad you believe it too. But the rest of the world—your team especially—isn’t going to see it that way. And before you suggest it, if we took it to the next level . . . If it stopped being just sex . . .” He looked briefly hopeful, but then his expression hardened, determined. “I have too much self-respect to be any bi-curious jock’s dirty little secret, you get me?”
Austin laughed and shook his head. “Who said anything about keeping you a secret? In fact, I, uh—I have a thing. Tomorrow. A public, kinda formal thing. I’d like you to come with me.” He wet his lips. No going back, now. He didn’t want to. “As my date.”
Because
it’s not just sex for me either.
I’m not sure it ever was.
Liam’s hand curled around the back of Austin’s neck, drawing him close. Their foreheads touched.
But this time Liam followed through on the familiar gesture; he gathered Austin in the rest of the way and finally kissed him, like Austin realized he’d meant to all along.
“With this ring, I promise to respect our differences of opinion. I promise not to get too mad when you leave your nail polish all over the house.” Sandra gave Beverly’s orange nails a meaningful look as she clasped Beverly’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “I promise to kiss you every single day, regardless of whether or not you’ve brushed your teeth. I promise to never talk over you. I promise to listen. I promise to never let money get in the way of loving you. I promise to be there for you, no matter what happens: if this remission ends, if your store fails or if it becomes a wild success, if Vancouver falls into the sea . . . if your nephew can’t find a teaching job and winds up moving in with us.”
Christian barked out a laugh, which had the rest of the wedding party and the guests all laughing too. At Austin’s side, Bobby sniffed, dabbing at his eyes, then returned the wadded up tissue to the neckline of his puffy orange dress.
Beverly took a deep, tremulous breath as Christian handed her the second wedding band. She slipped it onto Sandra’s hand, staring into her face like there was nothing in the world she’d rather look at. “With this ring, I promise to let you cook. I promise not to complain about your cooking. I promise to go with you to all your favourite stores, even if they don’t sell my size. I promise not to spend the whole time complaining that they don’t have my size. I promise to braid your hair when you’re sick. I promise to ask your opinion. I promise to fight for you and for what we have together, whether it means fighting the world or fighting my own body. I promise not to take you for granted.”
Now it was Sandra’s turn to break down, and she paused to fan her eyes a moment before taking over the vows again, concluding, “I promise to love and respect you, and give you as much of myself as I can for as long as I can.”
Straight Shooter (Rear Entrance Video, #3) Page 21
