by Avon Gale
“I did think it was hot,” Laurent admitted, because he had. “It was just stupid. You could have seriously fucked shit up for yourself, and I don’t want that.”
“I know,” Isaac said. “But maybe knowing what it feels like to have someone hit him will keep his goddamn mouth shut in the future.”
“It won’t, but it’s cute that you think it will.”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Cute? Really?”
“Some people don’t change, Isaac. Sometimes they’re just hopeless.” Laurent sat down heavily on Isaac’s bed. He stared at the floor, half-convinced he was one of those people. It didn’t matter what anyone said. He felt as worthless as his father always said he was.
Isaac came over and stood by the bed, arms crossed over his bare chest. “I’m glad I hit him. And hey, Saint? Your father is never, ever putting his hands on you again.”
Laurent blinked up at Isaac, at a loss for words. The conviction in his voice, the utter certainty made Laurent think maybe he wasn’t so worthless, after all. Not if someone like Isaac Drake would stand up for him.
“Don’t you dare say something like ‘Oh, but Isaac, I don’t deserve that,’ or ‘I’m not worth it,’ or—”
“I love you,” Laurent blurted.
Isaac’s eyes went wide. “Oh. That’s… I love you too.” He smiled slightly. “Move over.”
Laurent obligingly moved so he was stretched out on the bed, and Isaac climbed in and lay down so they were facing each other. He held Isaac’s words close to him. He felt them seep into his blood and ease some of the coldness from a lifetime of his father’s disdain.
Isaac put his face between Laurent’s neck and shoulder. “I’ve never been in love before. I didn’t think it would involve bar fights.”
“I didn’t think it would involve me,” Laurent said, shifting closer. “I’m too difficult for anyone to be in love with.”
Isaac laughed softly against his skin and bit gently at Laurent’s ear. Laurent shivered in response. “That must be what I’m into.”
“Must be.” Laurent took a deep breath. “Isaac?”
“Yeah?”
Laurent spoke the words before he could overthink them. “I want you to fuck me.”
Isaac went still. “Saint—”
“You want to, don’t you?” Laurent demanded. He reached down to rub his hand over Isaac’s cock through the jeans he was still wearing.
“Of course I do.” Isaac’s hips twitched, and he pushed slightly against Laurent’s palm. “But I don’t think it’s the right time.”
Laurent groaned and rolled onto his back. “I hate you.”
“I thought you loved me.” Isaac propped himself up and stroked his fingers over Laurent’s stomach. “Listen. I want this. A lot. But it’s late, and our coaches are downstairs, and I want to do this somewhere when it’s just us. When it’s private.”
“Are you afraid I’m going to cry or something?” Laurent demanded, feeling a little hurt at being rejected.
“No. It’s actually not about you this time.” Isaac rubbed soothingly at Laurent’s belly, which felt nice but wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. “It’s about how I’ve never been with someone I’m in love with, and I don’t want to rush it or have to be quiet. And you’re not going to cry, but you are gonna be loud. Trust me.”
Laurent spared a smile for that. “Cocky bastard.”
“You love it.” Isaac kissed him. “If you want to suck me off, though, I’m totally okay with that.” Isaac leaned back a little and started undoing his jeans. “I want you to suck me,” he said huskily as he shoved his jeans off and kicked them to the floor. “Because goddammit, Saint. I want that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”
Laurent still wasn’t used to Isaac’s skill with dirty talk, and he certainly didn’t possess any of his own. He blushed at the comment, and reached down to take Isaac’s cock in his hand and started to fist it slowly. “I don’t know how to do this. You’ll have to tell me.”
“That’s not a problem. I like telling you what to do. Especially when you listen.” Isaac gently dislodged Laurent’s hand and pushed off his boxers, then sprawled naked on his back and reached for him. “Come here.”
Laurent kissed him as Isaac spread his legs and made room for Laurent to settle between them. It felt good to be on top of Isaac, who was all lean and wiry strength beneath him. Laurent ran his hands over Isaac’s shoulders, down his chest and his stomach, and skimmed his fingers over the cock that was lying hard and flushed on his stomach.
“Carpet doesn’t match the drapes, Drake.”
Isaac stared at him, openmouthed, and then burst out laughing. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you just said that. I’m not putting Manic Panic on my pubes, dude.”
Laurent smiled and moved so he was lying between Isaac’s legs, then he gently took Isaac’s warm, hard cock in his hand and looked up at him. “You’ll tell me if I’m not doing this right, won’t you?” He snorted. “Wait. Of course you will.” Laurent was nervous, because he wanted it to be good, and he hated not knowing what he was doing.
“Saint?”
Laurent looked up as Isaac’s fingers tugged briefly on his hair. “Yeah?”
“It’s gonna be good, dude. I could already come just seeing you like that. Just… don’t worry. Okay? Do what feels good to you when I do it, and trust me, it’ll be great.”
“Everything you do feels good to me,” Laurent mumbled, unable to hold Isaac’s stare. Not wanting to get emotional when the moment was supposed to be about sex, Laurent experimentally lowered his head and took Isaac’s cock in his mouth. He was surprised by how much he liked it, even if he didn’t take much in at first, and he sucked lightly and made an appreciative humming noise when Isaac shifted beneath him.
“Mmm. Yeah. See. That’s good. You’re a natural. You can use your teeth, just not too much. You like more than I do.”
That helped, and he was able to slide his mouth up and down with the correct amount of teeth that made Isaac twitch and moan some more. Filled with a newfound sense of power, Laurent cautiously took Isaac’s cock deeper and relaxed his throat.
“Fuck. Of course you’re good at—mmm. Yeah. Use your tongue. That’s perfect.” Isaac grabbed his hair and half leaned up on his other elbow to watch. “You look so hot with my cock in your mouth. You like it?”
Isaac’s assertiveness, as always, got Laurent hot. He nodded and pushed his own erection against the bed.
“Don’t come, Saint. I’m gonna try something when you’re done. After you’ve sucked me off, I’m gonna make you feel good—yeah—” Isaac broke off into nonsensical noises, and Laurent swallowed around Isaac’s cock, choked a little, and backed off to catch his breath.
He looked up while he played with Isaac’s cock, and slid his hand over the spit-slicked shaft. Isaac’s skin was flushed, and he was breathing hard, bracing himself with both elbows now so he could watch Laurent. He reached down, took his cock in hand, and stroked it slowly. Laurent watched with rapt attention.
“Suck on my balls,” Isaac said, and Laurent lowered his head and took Isaac’s sac in his mouth. He worked it with his tongue, and he liked that he could feel Isaac’s hand on his down stroke.
Laurent knew Isaac’s body language by then well enough to know that he was about to come, and he took his mouth off Isaac’s balls and pushed roughly at Isaac’s wrist. “I want you to come in my mouth.”
Isaac groaned and fisted Laurent’s hair, and Laurent took Isaac’s cock back in his mouth and sucked hard at the head. Then he made himself take the whole thing. He choked again, but he practiced inhaling through his nose so he could keep doing it. It didn’t take much before Isaac muttered, “I’m coming.” And then came hot down Laurent’s throat.
Laurent swallowed and then pulled back and took a moment to get his breathing under control. Isaac was panting and had one arm flung over his eyes as he too, caught his breath. Eventually he moved his arm and blinked at Laurent with drowsy blue ey
es. “That was—wow. So good, Saint. You did so good.”
“I learned from the best,” Laurent said and moved up the bed. He paused and then kissed Isaac. “Is it okay….?”
“Yeah. Of course,” Isaac murmured, and kissed him with his usual eagerness, his tongue boldly invading Laurent’s mouth. “Okay. Your turn. On your back, Saint.”
Laurent obediently moved as bidden, took his pants off, and sighed in relief as his cock was released from the constraints of his jeans. As usual Isaac was an appreciative audience and liked how Laurent looked in his boxer briefs so much that he made Laurent keep them on at first. That was annoying, until Isaac breathed out against the cotton, traced wicked patterns on the cloth with his tongue, and placing little sucking kisses until the fabric was damp. By the time he had Laurent’s cock in his mouth, Laurent was nearly delirious with pleasure and so badly wanted to come that he asked for it in a low, heated voice as Isaac sucked him.
Suddenly he felt Isaac’s fingers rubbing over his balls and then lower, and he heard the sound of a cap opening. Laurent opened his eyes and struggled to sit up and look down at Isaac, who was managing to suck his cock and open a bottle of lube at the same time. The goalie hand-eye coordination was a goddamn blessing, Laurent thought, and he was dazed as he felt Isaac’s fingers rubbing at him again.
“Gonna play with your ass a little, Saint,” Isaac said when he took his mouth off Laurent’s cock. “Make sure you like it before I fuck you.”
“Okay,” said Laurent a little wildly.
“Tell me if you don’t like it, and I’ll stop.” Isaac put his mouth back on Laurent’s cock and gently pressed a finger inside of him.
Laurent went tense immediately at the strange sensation, but he said, “It’s—don’t stop. Not yet,” because he knew if Isaac was ever going to fuck him, he had to be okay with what was happening. And it didn’t hurt. It was just weird. Different. Then again everything Isaac did to Laurent was different, and so far he’d liked all of it. He made himself relax as Isaac kept on sucking him, playing with the head of his cock, and deliberately running the lip ring under the crown. It made Laurent shudder hard and moan, and he barely noticed when Isaac put another finger inside him.
He did notice when Isaac crooked his fingers and rubbed over his prostate, though. Because he came so hard and so suddenly that all he could do was give a half shout as his hips snapped up. His mind whited out with pleasure, and as much as he’d liked everything they’d done up until then, getting off had never, ever felt like that. Even the aftershocks felt amazing.
Isaac took it like a champ, as always, and when Laurent managed to come down from the high of his orgasm, he was wiping his fingers with a tissue and a smug look. “That’s why I always feel bad for guys who make jokes about taking it in the ass. They have no idea what they’re missing.”
Laurent’s only response was a wheeze.
Chapter Fourteen
ISAAC PULLED his Jeep into the parking lot, switched off the ignition, and worried at his lip ring. He checked his phone for the third time to make sure the address was correct and his appointment with Liz Park, licensed clinical therapist, was still at two thirty. He still wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he had to do something.
Everything checked out. He could see her sign on the door, so he had no excuse but to go in.
Except that your boyfriend will probably kill you.
The thing was, Isaac wasn’t sure he cared anymore if Laurent got mad at him. He’d tried bringing it up casually, and he’d tried having a conversation after blowing Laurent, when he was a little more receptive and less inclined toward asshole behavior, but to no avail.
With that thought in mind, Isaac got out of the Jeep, pocketed his keys, and headed into the office building. Liz Park’s door was the first one on the right when he walked in, and Isaac squared his shoulders and pushed the door open with aggressive intent.
Which in hindsight wasn’t a good idea. He wasn’t playing hockey, and he looked like a crazy person with blue hair and a facial piercing barging into a therapist’s office.
But Liz Park—if that’s who she was—just looked up from her desk with her eyebrows slightly raised and said, “Hello. You must be Isaac.”
Isaac nodded, embarrassed. “Sorry about the door, I… uh.” He didn’t know what to say, so he just shrugged. It was already awkward, and they hadn’t even started yet.
Liz smiled. “It’s all right.” She made a gesture toward a small room adjacent to the waiting area, with the stereotypical therapist couch and low lighting. “Would you like to have a seat? I’ll be with you in a moment. Can I get you any water?”
Isaac shook his head, went into the room, sat on the couch nervously, and looked around. He’d been in a therapist’s office exactly one time, when he first told his parents he was gay. It was a Christian therapist, recommended by the church, and there were biblical sayings and Christian books in the bookcase, in the vein of How to Renounce Satan’s Influence and Embrace God’s Plan for Heterosexuality.
Liz Park’s books were about coming to terms with your inner self, disordered thinking, and the value of meditation and journaling. Not a religious title or symbol in sight. He relaxed a fraction of an inch, but tensed as Liz came in the room and closed the door.
She was a woman in perhaps her midforties, with bright red hair and ginger eyebrows that suggested the color was either natural or only slightly enhanced in a salon. She wore a trendy, loose-flowing skirt and a lot of colorful jewelry, and as she settled into her chair, she gave Isaac the warmest of smiles. “So, Isaac. You said on the phone when you made the appointment that you had concerns about someone you know possibly having an eating disorder?”
There was no possibly about it. Laurent threw up way too much for it to be anything else, and he had weird rules about food and eating that went beyond mere hockey-player superstitions. But suddenly, confronted with the reality of saying that to someone else and betraying Laurent’s confidence, Isaac felt awkward and uncertain about what to do. “Umm. Yeah. It’s my… my boyfriend,” he said with his chin raised a notch. If Liz had a problem with that, he’d be out of there like a shot, and she could fuck herself with his $20 copay.
But Liz just nodded and waited for him to continue.
“I’m—we’re—hockey players,” Isaac started. “For the Spartanburg Spitfires.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh. I’ve been to a few games. Those are fun. What position are you?”
“The goalie. My boyfriend is the, uh, the other goalie.”
Her eyes sparkled. “That must be quite the story.”
He gave a slight chuckle. “You have no idea. And yeah. He throws up a lot.” Isaac winced as he realized how that sounded. “I don’t know. I feel kind of stupid, but he won’t talk about it, and he pretends like he has a reason when he totally doesn’t. I mean, getting drunk is one thing, but he hardly ever drinks. None of us do, especially during the season.” Isaac found that her warm and open gaze made it easy to talk, and he found himself telling her about all the little idiosyncrasies he’d noticed about Laurent when it came to food. But the final straw, as far as Isaac was concerned, was when Laurent passed out during practice the week before. “I tried to talk about it, but he’s… well, he’s not easy to talk to. He comes from a bad home.”
Isaac wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Liz all about Laurent’s home life, but it was hard to stop talking once he started. “I don’t know anything about eating disorders, but I looked some stuff up, and I think he has one.” Isaac cleared his throat. “To be clear, I promise I am talking about my boyfriend and not, like, me. I had a cheeseburger on my way over here.”
She smiled kindly at him. “People with eating disorders can eat cheeseburgers, Isaac. It’s less about the actual food consumption and more about the thought process behind it.” She handed him a couple of brochures. “Here’s some information you might want to look at, about how to talk to him and bring up your concerns in a constructive way. From what y
ou’ve told me, it sounds like, at the very least, he has some disordered thoughts about eating.”
Laurent had disordered thoughts about a lot of things, but Isaac kept that to himself. He flipped through the little brochure and winced inwardly at how many of Laurent’s behaviors he recognized. The way Laurent refused to go out and eat with the team, his strict portion control when he did allow himself to eat, the lack of anything resembling a snack in the fridge in his apartment, the throwing up, the self-hate and the recriminations, even the absurd number of mouthwash bottles he owned—regular and travel sized. “Why would he do this?” Isaac asked, more to himself than Liz. “I mean, I always thought eating disorders were—” He blushed as he realized what he was about to say and how it sounded.
Liz finished the thought for him. “For women?” She shook her head. “I’d say it’s not as common in men. But you know, I wonder often how much of it is because of that attitude right there. I’m not trying to criticize you for having it,” she assured him. “It’s a common one among most people. But it might be the thing that stops men—like your boyfriend—from getting help or even recognizing they have a problem in the first place. And most people with eating disorders don’t think of them that way. They think they’re not good enough at whatever it is they’re doing—restricting, purging—to consider it an eating disorder in the first place.”
Isaac closed the brochure and looked at Liz. “What can I do to make him stop doing it?”
“Well, you can’t make him do anything. But by coming here, by expressing your concern and learning more, getting information…. That’s a good step. You must care about him very much.”
Ugh. That made him blush so hot, he wanted to die. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do, though.”
“From what you’ve said, his restrictions and purging could lead to significant issues with his health, especially given the nature of your sport,” she said. She leaned forward. “I think you need to suggest he seek help. From me or a professional he might feel comfortable with.”
