by A. E. Wasp
No, of course not. So why would Alex want to spend time with Chuck and not Sergei? What did he have to offer that Sergei didn’t?
Sex, a small voice in his head that sounded like Alex answered almost immediately.
Was sex so important that Alex would rather spend time with a jerk who wanted to have sex with him than with his best friend who didn’t?
You sure about that last part? the voice in his head asked skeptically.
Yes? Maybe? Sergei rubbed his temples. Normally, Sergei didn’t want to have sex with anyone. But lately, he couldn’t stop obsessively wondering what Chuck and Alex did in bed? And if was honest with himself, there was a helping of arousal mixed in with the anger. Alex would probably tell him he needed to get laid, but the idea of sleeping with a stranger was better than a cold shower.
Whatever the reason, one thing was for sure: he didn’t want Chuck to touch Alex in anyway.
Maybe he should just go home, take care of himself, and go to sleep. Or read a book. Or take the car out on the highway and open her up.
A text from Alex interrupted his frustrating musing. A gif of Sergei at the moment his stomach hit the ice popped up on his phone. Glad to see the skating lessons are paying off.
A second text came on the heels of the first one. Charles canceled Xmas dinner. U hungry? Me and the cats all are dressed up with no one to impress.
A selfie of Alex with both of his hairless Sphynx cats on his lap followed. He wore a t-shirt three sizes too big for him with a picture of Santa Claus decked out in hockey gear on it. The text above Santa read I’m making a fist and checking you twice. His shoulder-length blond hair was piled on top of his head in a messy bun.
The cats had on what Sergei called their pajamas. Torvill had a black t-shirt with a pink mouse print. Dean sported a pink cotton number with a black fish skeleton print.
Sergei grinned. That was the best news he’d heard in a while. Be there ASAP, he replied. Need anything?
A smack in the head for being a moron? Wine? Red.
You cooked yes? Sergei asked.
Oui. Beaucoup. Alex sent a picture of a beautifully set table spread with enough food for an army including an entire rack of lamb.
Then I will be there
Be here in ten minutes, or I’m giving the lamb to the cats
Smiling, all the tension in his back suddenly gone, Sergei put the car into gear and headed to Alex.
3
Sergei
Worry creased Sergei’s brow as he hurried down the hallway to Alex’s condo. Alex hadn’t answered the buzzer and wasn’t answering his phone. Sergei had only gotten in the building by holding the security door open for a woman whose hands were full with grocery bags.
He could hear yelling and the sound of glass breaking even before he reached the apartment. Breaking into a run, he pushed through the partially-opened door.
Like a scene from a bad movie, Sergei had to duck when a wine glass came flying towards his head. It smashed into the wall, splattering red wine all over the white wallpaper. “Get! Out!” Alex yelled.
The cats took off running down the hall toward the bathroom.
Sergei was stunned. What had happened to make Alex so angry in the last fifteen minutes? It took him a moment to realize Chuck was standing there, hands raised, begging for Alex to listen to him.
Alex yelled at Chuck in rapid-fire French as he searched for something else to throw at the man. Sergei couldn’t exactly follow what Alex was saying, but from what he could understand Alex had just found out that Charles was not, in fact, divorced, but still married and living with his wife.
Alex was nothing more than his mistress.
That bastard. Sergei wanted to punch the asshole more now than he ever had. And he’d wanted to punch Charles many, many times.
Alex reached for a plate to throw, and Sergei rushed across the room to stop him. “Alex, no!” He grabbed Alex’s arm, holding it immobile.
“But he’s married! The estie de menteur bâtard d’enfant de chienne, is married!” There were tears in Alex’s furious eyes.
“So I gathered. But do not make the beavers pay for his lies.” He took the plate out of Alex’s hand and placed it back on the table. Then he stood between Alex and Charles, arms crossed over his chest. He used every inch of his six foot six height to loom over Charles. “Is true? You are married?”
Charles took a step back. Most people who weren’t hockey players did when faced with an angry giant. Hockey players just slammed right into him even when he was in the net.
“Yeah,” Charles admitted. “But come on. You can’t tell me he didn’t know. What does it even matter? It don’t change anything.”
Alex tried to get to Charles around Sergei. Sergei easily held him back with one hand. “I didn’t know!” Alex cried. “And it matters to me, you piece of shit. It would matter to Allie, too, if she knew!”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Kid, she would not care. She’s probably glad I’m not bugging her for sex anymore. Come on, Lexi,” he wheedled, “be reasonable. We have fun, right?”
“Get out,” Alex said again.
“It’s my condo, remember?” Charles said angrily. Normally, Sergei could admit that Charles was good-looking in a generic, moneyed way, but the sneer on his face turned him ugly. “So why don’t you leave. No sweat off my back. Aging twinks like you are a dime a dozen. I could go down to any gay bar in town and find a younger, hotter guy just gagging for what I could give him. Your ass is sweet, but other than that, you’re nothing special.”
Nothing special? Sergei had always known Chuckles was a dick, but he was obviously stupid as well. Alex was very special. A hot flare of jealousy when he realized Charles had seen Alex’s naked ass many time took Sergei by surprise.
Charles jerked his chin at Alex. “How you gonna pay for yourself, huh? Maybe you can hock that gold medal you’re so proud of. Not a lot of jobs for has-been figure skaters, or should I say losing-their-figure skaters?” he said with a pointed look at Alex’s stomach.
That was it. Sergei hadn’t spent years coaxing Alex back from the edge of eating disorders only to have this asshole push him over. Screw the team’s reputation. The PR department was going kill him, but he was going to hit Charles.
He cocked his arm back, but before he could land a punch that would have knocked the man to the floor, Alex launched himself at Sergei. He jumped onto his back, legs locked on his hips and arms wrapped around his neck. “No, Sergei. Don’t. It’s not worth it.”
“Yeah, Sergei, he’s not worth it,” Charles mocked with a shaky leer even as he backed out of Sergei’s reach.
Sergei advanced on Charles like Alex wasn’t even there. “Alex is very special. And he is worth everything. He is worth a thousand of you. You do not deserve Alex at all.” He barely registered Alex sliding off his back.
“Sergei,” Alex whispered.
He had never been this angry before. Everything he saw was tinged with red. He had thought that was just an expression, but no, it was a true thing. “You should be grateful he lowers himself to be with you. I do not know why he does. He could have so much better. He deserves so much better.”
Alex stared at Sergei with wide eyes and a hand over his mouth. There was a look in his eyes Sergei had never seen before. He found himself speaking to Alex instead of Charles. “If I were lucky enough to have Alex, I would be thanking him every day. I would show him off every chance I got and treasure him.”
A harsh laugh from Charles broke their connection. “Oh, that’s rich. If you’d really wanted him, you could have been screwing him for years. But you don’t have the balls. Jesus Christ, you’re all he talks about. The great Sergei Pergov. Sergei this, Sergei that.”
Charles waved his hand dismissively at Sergei. “You, hockey, ice skating and those damn cats. That’s all he freakin’ talks about. Sometimes I fuck him just to shut him up. Then again, that doesn’t really shut you up, does it Alex?” he said with a leer. “You’re a loud boy
.”
Sergei lunged at Charles again, forcing him to step back, but his brain was whirling with the impact of the man’s words.
Chuckles was right about one thing; Sergei was lucky enough to have Alex in his life. He had Alex as a best friend for years. But could he have something more with Alex? Did he want that? Did Alex? He looked at Alex for some sign.
Alex’s face was pale, and his eyes wide. There would be no help from him right now. Sergei wanted to scoop Alex up with one arm and beat Charles to death with the other.
“You didn’t know, did you?” Charles shook his head. “Morons the both of you. Well, he’s all yours now. He’s kind of expensive, I’m warning you. And he had better be gone by tomorrow because I’m changing the locks before I go on vacation.” He directed this to Sergei, as if Sergei was Alex’s keeper. To Alex he said, “If you leave any of your crap here, I’m throwing it out.”
“Fuck you, Charles.” Alex stormed down the hallway in a torrent of angry Quebecois French.
“Alex,” Sergei called after him.
“Ferme tu yeule,” Alex snapped.
“Don’t waste your breath,” Charles said. “There’s no point trying to talk to him when he gets all French.”
“You shut the fuck up, too, Chuck,” Alex shouted.
When Sergei reached his bedroom, Alex was dragging a suitcase out from under the bed. Muttering under his breath, he grabbed clothes from the dresser and tossed them into the suitcase. The cats sat on top of the dresser, tails whipping back and forth in agitation.
“He doesn’t own any of that crap,” Charles said to Sergei, waving his hand at the clothes Alex was shoving into the suitcase. “I bought him everything.”
“Not everything,” Alex said bitterly. “Some of it Sergei Ivanovich gave to me.” He slapped a worn pair of bunny slippers down on top of the pile.
“And some I even managed to get myself believe it or not.” A sweatshirt from the 2014 Canadian Olympic Team followed the slippers. “Don’t worry. I don’t want any of those trashy rent boy clothes anyway.”
“I think you had better go,” Sergei said to Charles.
“You’re kicking me out of my own apartment?” Charles’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.
“Do you want me to call Allie to explain the situation and ask her to come get you?” Alex asked without looking up from the suitcase. “She gave me her number a few weeks ago. Just in case I needed it. I wondered why at the time.”
Charles’s mouth opened and shut. He looked like a beached fish, Sergei thought. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his thick black hair. “Look. Alex. Let’s not end it like this. Take some time. Think about things. I won’t change the locks or throw your stuff out. I’ll call you after New Year’s when I get back from vacation.”
Without missing a beat, Alex grabbed a polished rock off the dresser and hurled it at Charles.
“Fuck!” he yelled, dodging just in time. The rock slammed into the wall, denting the plaster before thudding to the ground. “You—” he strode into the room, hands reaching for Alex.
Stepping in front of Charles, Sergei grabbed him by the wrists. “Don’t touch him.”
He tried to yank away, but decades of goaltending had given Sergei a grip of iron. Add to that the six inches in height and fifty pounds of muscle he had over Charles; the man wasn’t going anywhere Sergei didn’t want him to go.
Charles glowered at Sergei, uncertainty showing in his eyes at last. “Alex. I’ll go, you stay here, and we’ll talk when I get back. You don’t have to leave.”
“Yes,” Alex said, looking at them both. “I do.”
“Where are you going to go?” Charles asked.
Alex froze, flinching as if he hadn’t thought about where he was going other than ‘away.’
“He will come with me,” Sergei said. “Alex can stay with me as long as he wants.”
Charles yanked his hands out of Sergei’s grip. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Having him at your beck and call,” Charles said, his tone implying things Sergei did not like to hear. “I hope he puts out for you more than he did for me. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure he was worth the effort.”
Once again, it was only Alex’s touch that kept Sergei from punching Charles in his face. “Please?” Sergei asked Alex, arm still cocked.
“Just take me home.” Alex sounded defeated. He snapped his suitcase shut. “Charles, you’re an asshole. Get out of my way, and never call me again,” He said, voice low and deeper than Sergei had ever heard it. “Ever. Next time, I won’t stop Sergei from hitting you.”
Charles glared between the both of them like he wanted to say more. “Fine,” he finally said, then stormed away.
Alex flinched when they heard the sound of china smashing to the ground and then the slamming of the door.
Sergei watched Alex finish gathering his things as the silence between them grew awkward. He felt like he should say something but I’m sorry didn’t feel completely honest. He was sorry that Alex was hurting, but he wasn’t sorry in the least to see Chuckles out of the picture.
Alex continued packing without making eye contact.
Torvill jumped off the bed and walked over to Sergei. She lightly touched his leg with her paw in a silent request to be picked up. He obliged her, holding her up by his face. “Go ahead, monster. I know what you want.” He lifted his chin, and the cat stretched up so she could rub her head and face all over his beard.
After a few more seconds of the silent treatment, Sergei cleared his throat.
Alex looked up. His blue eyes swam with tears. Sergei felt the same urge to make everything better that he’d had when a skinny, twelve-year-old Alex had come home from school crying because some kids had called him un fifi before he had even known what being gay meant.
Alex smiled wanly when he heard Torvill’s purr and saw the ecstatic expression on her face as she used Sergei as a human back scratcher.
“I will clean up kitchen,” Sergei said. “Is there box for the china?”
“Leave it,” Alex said. “It doesn’t matter. My grand-mère would be very disappointed in me. She would take her china back if she could.”
“Lyosha, what Charles did is not your fault.”
Alex shook his head and wiped away a tear. “No. This is on me, too. I should have known. I’m an idiot.”
Sergei sighed deeply. He knew how Alex was when he got in this self-hating mood. He probably hadn’t eaten all day either, which always made things worse. There was no point dealing with it right now. “You are not an idiot, but we will not talk about it tonight. Tomorrow will make all things more clear, da?”
Alex forced the bulging suitcase closed. “Sure, Sergei. Tomorrow.” He sounded defeated.
Sergei couldn’t stand it. Gently placing the cat on the floor, he walked over and enveloped Alex in a giant hug. “It is okay, zaichik. Everything is okay.”
Maybe bunny wasn’t the most appropriate thing to call a grown man, but he’d been calling Alex that since the very first day they met. In his head, at least. The way young, scrawny Alex had peeked at him around the corner the first day Sergei had arrived at his home in Chicoutimi had reminded him so much of a timid little bunny that he’d felt an immediate surge of affection for the boy who would later become his best friend.
Alex sobbed against Sergei. Only five foot nine, and a hundred a thirty-five pounds, most of it muscles, the top of Alex’s head barely reached Sergei’s shoulders. Sergei’s arms wrapped completely around him. Alex had such a huge personality, and was so physically strong, Sergei always forgot how tiny he actually was.
He let Alex cry until he stopped. Sergei would hold him all night, if Alex would let him. Alex was his, damn it. It was part of his job to protect Alex, and he’d let him down. Against his better judgement, he’d let Charles have him for too long. One day had been too long. He would never let Alex get hurt again. Alex was his friend, and Sergei…well…Sergei loved him.
Oh. Holdi
ng Alex against him, it was if a veil was being slowly pulled away from Sergei’s eyes. He didn’t just love Alex. Sergei was in love with him. There was a good chance he had been for a very long time.
Oh no. He was in so much trouble.
4
Sergei
Alex’s suitcase barely managed to fit in the trunk of Sergei’s sleek black sports car. “I have some things in storage,” he told Sergei as he buckled himself in the front seat, balancing the cat carrier on his lap. The cats huddled quietly against each other. “I’ll have to come back and get them tomorrow with a bigger car.” He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.
“Da,” Sergei answered, backing carefully out of the parking lot. “I will call a friend with truck.” Or he’d pay for a mover. Alex would go back there over his dead body.
Light strobed across the car as they passed in and out of the streetlights. The car prowled through the empty city streets, engine growling like a barely-tamed beast. Inside, Alex’s angry silence filled the car like toxic smoke. Sergei didn’t know what to do, what to say to fix this.
Torvill mewled sadly, and Alex patted the side of the carrier. “It’s okay, baby.” When she settled down, Alex stared out the side window at the building slipping by.
“Are you okay?” Sergei asked, glancing over at him. Stupid question, but it was a start. Maybe Alex would just yell at him and get it out of his system and they could go back to being friends again.
“I’m fine,” Alex lied.
“Why you are with that durak in the first place? What did you see in him?”
Alex leaned his head back against the seat and blew a breath out to the ceiling of the car. “He’s good-looking, and he was funny. The sex was good, and he liked me. I told you I don’t like to be alone.”
“It is better to be alone than with someone like him.”
