by A. E. Wasp
“He’s really good.” Vicky leaned his elbows against the boards. “Why isn’t he competing anymore? Too old?”
“He is old for the highest competition, yes, but is not the only reason. It is very expensive to compete in figure skating. They practice harder than we do. Much better skaters. And very strong.” He touched Vicky’s lower back in two places. “All the jumps bad for the spine. Compression fractures, stress fractures in spine. Not good.”
“Should he be doing that, then?” He pointed to Alex twirling in the air.
Alex landed his triple salchow perfectly, gliding away with his leg outstretched behind him. He did it in hockey skates and made it look easy.
“That is not too hard. I can do that.” He stopped, reconsidering. “Well, a double maybe. In different skates.”
A new song started, something Sergei didn’t recognize, but it had a sultry sound and a strong beat that he liked a lot.
Alex skated up to Sergei with a big smile on his face. “I think this is our song. Listen,” he said at Sergei’s confused expression.
Sergei listened carefully, giving a loud laugh when he realized the woman was singing about the new rules she had for dealing with her man.
Alex held out both hands to Sergei, swiveling his feet to the beat. “Dance with me.” His eyes flashed with heat, and his smile made Sergei want to kiss him again.
“We should give Vicky his lesson. Maybe he start a game someday soon.”
Vicky spread his hands in indignation. “Hey, don’t drag me while I’m standing right here. Go dance with your boy there. Show me some moves, old man.”
Sergei let Alex pull him away. “Nothing too fancy. I only wear hockey skates. No toe picks.”
“Cross my heart,” Alex said, matching movement to the words.
“How do you managed to make a light blue tracksuit looks sexy?” Alex positioned Sergei’s hands the way he wanted them. His eyes lost focus as he listens to the music, feeling the beat and planning some moves in his head. “A little salsa, maybe?”
“Okay. I do what you tell me.”
“Oh, really?” Alex said with a smirk.
“Oh, yes. I listen to all your rules.”
It took them a few turns to find their rhythm together. They ended up skating with Sergei mostly acting as a center around which Alex danced. Holding his hand, Sergei whipped Alex out to the end of his arm. Alex spiraled back in, ending up wrapped in Sergei’s arm with his back to Sergei’s chest.
Sergei slid one hand down Alex’s side. “You are almost naked in those pants,” he growled into Alex’s ear. “Why do I not notice before?”
“Truly?” Alex batted his eyelashes. “You never noticed? Not even once?”
“Maybe once,” Sergei admitted. “Or twice.”
The murmuring of people rose and fell around them. Children of varying ages skated while their coaches shouted instructions over the music. Sergei barely noticed any of it. Alex had turned in his arms, resting his hands on Sergei’s shoulders and skating effortlessly backward.
He wrapped one leg around Sergei’s hips and bent his back in a graceful curve, arms reaching over his head to the ice, trusting Sergei to hold him up.
It took all of Sergei’s restraint not to slide his hands around to Alex’s ass and lift him off the ice to kiss him senseless.
His fingers tightened on Alex’s hips, the thin fabric no barrier to the heat of Alex’s skin. Sergei groaned softly. One night with Alex had set free all the desire he had banked during his years of celibacy.
All he wanted to do was drag Alex into his bed and keep him there. Maybe Alex was right. He was a caveman. A caveman with not much idea what to do with Alex after he’d gotten him in bed. But that was okay. Sergei had good hands, and he was a quick learner. If they had to practice every day, he was willing to do the work.
“I like skating with you,” Alex said, smiling sweetly. He looked happier than he had in the last forty-eight hours.
“I very much like skating with you.” Making sure no one was looking directly at them, Sergei risked a quick graze of his palms over Alex’s strong ass.
Alex laughed when he groaned. “I have new rule,” Sergei said as the song ended. “Alex does not wear stretch pants while dancing.”
“In public,” Alex added with a grin.
“Da. In public.”
“Feel up to a death spiral?” Alex asked.
“You trust me?”
“With my life.”
Sergei judged the space they had. “What kind?”
“Forward inside?”
“Okay.” Pushing forward with powerful strides, he swung Alex out to the end of his arm, lifting their joined hands and guiding him through a spin until they both faced forward. Holding Alex’s left hand with his right, Sergei swung his leg around, starting his spin. Alex’s body stretched out in a long graceful line, head lowering nearer to the ice as Sergei sunk down into a near sit spin.
Sergei spun Alex in a circle around him, admiring the strength it took for Alex to hold himself in that position.
With a silent prayer that his hard-working knees did what he asked them to, Sergei levered both himself and Alex up to standing position.
Vicky whistled and cheered from the sidelines. Scattered applause came from the parents sitting in the stands, freezing their toes and fingers while they waited for their kids to finish class.
So many mornings, this had been Sergei and his parents. Though he trained longer and harder than most of these kids ever would. That was good. Though he wouldn’t trade lives with anyone, a part of him envied their normal childhoods.
Another coach waved Alex over, and Sergei skated back to Vicky.
“Damn, guys, you melted the ice.” He slapped Sergei on the back. “I’m going to need a cold shower after that. Pergs, I didn’t know you had that kind of game. Not sure I can look at you the same way anymore.”
McVicker let his hand linger on Sergei’s back. It slipped up to Sergei’s shoulder as he glided in front of Sergei. “I keep forgetting how damn tall you are. What are you six-six?”
“Six foot eight,” Sergei answered absently. His attention was on Alex. Not in a creepy way; he just couldn’t seem to stop looking at him, especially when he was on the ice.
“Hmm.” Vicky looked over at Alex, and then back at Sergei.
Alex spoke with his whole body when he was excited. He threw his arms around wildly, rocked back and forth on his skates, and laughed with his head thrown back. Sergei couldn’t make out the conversation, but he smiled anyway at the sound of Alex’s laughter.
Vicky’s hands on his chest dragged his gaze off Alex. “What are you doing?”
Vicky brushed his hair away from his face, keeping one hand wrapped around Sergei’s biceps. “How much do you lift?”
“Why? You want new workout routine?”
Vicky smiled up at Sergei, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Are you sure you and Alex are just friends?”
“We have been friends long time.” It was not a lie.
Alex flew over from across the rink and skidded to a stop in front of them in a flurry of ice crystals that cascaded in a perfect arc over the bottom of Vicky’s pants. Alex ‘tripped’ and fell against Sergei, not so coincidentally pushing him away from Vicky. “Sorry,” he said insincerely.
Vicky just laughed. “That’s what I thought. Friends.” He dropped an arm over Alex’s shoulders. “Come on. Teach me your ways, Sensei. Pergov’s got to retire at some point, and I need to be ready. Think you can make me sweat?” He waggled his eyebrows in mock seduction.
Alex rolled his eyes, but Sergei could tell he was holding back a smile. “Come on, big boy. Half an hour with me, and you’ll be crying for your momma.”
“Hey,” Vicky protested as Alex shoved him to the middle of the rink. “Doesn’t Pergs have to drill, too?”
Alex looked at Sergei. “You skating?”
“No. I work enough today.” He ignored Alex’s snort of disbelief. One day off work w
ouldn’t hurt him or the team. When they got home later, he would review some video of the Devils to get ready for the game tomorrow.
The Devils were Eastern Conference, and the Thunder only faced them twice in a season. He wasn’t as caught up with their playing this season as he should be. Maybe Rhodes would have some notes in those journals he kept. Despite the learning disabilities working against him, Robbie was one of the most cerebral players Sergei had ever met. He kept meticulous notes on every team they had played and some they hadn’t yet.
“You want to go home, and I’ll get a ride later and meet you there?” Alex asked.
Sergei caught Vicky’s raised eyebrow and smirk. “I can take your boy home later if you want.”
Alex smacked Vicky on the chest.
“Ow!” He rubbed the spot Alex had hit. “What was that for?”
“First of all, I’m older than you. And second, I’m nobody’s boy. Got it?” Alex’s glare threatened to melt the ice.
Vicky held up his hands to pacify Alex. “Okay, okay. Got it.”
“Bag skate,” Sergei coughed into his fist.
Vicky blanched at Alex’s laugh. “Aw, come on, dude. You’re not gonna make me do that, are you?”
“We’ll see.” Alex nodded at Sergei. “Are you staying or going?”
“I will wait here until you are done torturing baby goalie. Maybe I will get some hot chocolate.”
In truth, Sergei was looking forward to some time to read. Two of his favorite authors had released new books in the last few days, and they were calling to him from his phone. At home, he still preferred print books, but in public, he always read on his phone. No way did he want the guys to know what he was reading.
One of the new books featured the little sister of the main guy from the author’s previous book, and Sergei was dying to see how she was going to end up with the hot single dad at her child’s school.
He had no doubt they would end up getting their happily ever after. That’s how romances worked, right?
13
Sergei
Thirty years ago, when he was two years old, Sergei strapped on his first pair of skates. He’d stepped onto the ice for the first time as the starting goaltender for a professional hockey team twenty years later.
He’d played home games packed with screaming fans and been heckled by name by the crowd at away games. He’d faced former teammates and friends, represented Canada at the Olympic Games, and he had never been as aware of the people in the stands as he was tonight.
Alex was watching him from the stands.
It was funny how much one kiss could change everything. Well, kissing and whatever else he could get away with. He loved finding ways around the rules or seeing how much he could get away with while still technically staying within bounds.
Alex had typed up a list of the rules and taped them to the inside of the door that held Sergei’s coffee mugs and tea cups. “This way I know we’ll see it at least once a day.”
“In case I forget?” Sergei pulled Alex’s hand toward him, tracing light patterns over his wrist and palm in the same way Alex had tortured him the other night.
“Bastard,” Alex said, yanking his hand away. He darted in for a quick kiss. “In case I forget.”
Then last night after dinner, he’d come up behind Alex in the kitchen while he was washing dishes, and keeping his hands above the waist and over the clothes, lifted up Alex’s gorgeous hair and kissed the back and sides of his neck until Alex begged him to touch him. “Just a little. Please? Just my stomach.”
“Rules say no hands under clothing,” Sergei said, voice heavy with regret. “You made rules.”
Without another word, Alex slid out from under Sergei. Grabbing a pen from the junk drawer, he stomped the few feet to the cabinet, opened the cabinet, and crossed off the word ‘clothing.’ He wrote ‘pants’ above it, handwriting sloppy.
Slamming the door, he marched back to Sergei. “Better?”
Sergei yanked Alex against him, face to face this time. He slid his hands up the back of Alex’s shirt. His skin was softer than he had ever imagined and so warm. “Much better,” he growled, then pushed Alex up against the counter. They kissed until Sergei’s lips were numb and his cock was so hard it hurt.
He couldn’t stop himself from grinding against Alex, loving how slender and strong he was. Needing to get closer, he lifted Alex up onto the edge of the countertop.
Alex wrapped his arms around Sergei’s neck. “Are you going to do that a lot?” His shirt was rucked up under his arms from Sergei’s hands.
“Probably,” Sergei answered, rubbing his hands up and down Alex’s back, fingers trailing up the bumps of his spine.
“Thank God.” Alex dragged Sergei’s head back down to his mouth.
By the time Alex pushed him away, Sergei was trembling with the need to come.
Panting, Alex pushed his hand hard against his own erection. Glaring at Sergei, eyes dark with desire, he opened his mouth as if he were going to speak. Shaking his head, he closed it again and backed out of the room.
Sergei had barely made it to the bathroom before he had his hand wrapped around himself.
And now here he was, on the ice feeling like it was the first time, just because Alex was up there watching him.
Alex could spout on all he wanted about how romance wasn’t real, and that love was only some kind of friends with benefits on steroids. Sergei knew better. Love changed everything.
Sergei wondered how Alex was introducing himself to Lipe’s wife Suzanne, who sat next to him. As Sergei’s old friend? Boyfriend? As the skating coach for the team? Out on the rink for the pre-game warmup, he could see Alex smiling and chatting with the people around him. He imagined he could hear his laughter over the scrape of skates on ice and the music and mutterings of the crowd.
He had never understood why the guys cared if their girlfriends were there. It’s not like they paid much attention to the crowd. But knowing Alex was watching him now, gave him a warm feeling inside and plastered a smile on his face.
“What are you so happy about, Pergs?” Vicky skated up to the net, graceful despite the twenty pounds of padding he wore. He dropped down to the ice and started stretching with Sergei. “You didn’t even do your whole goalie thing.”
McVicker was a great goalie. Too bad for him Sergei was better. On many other teams, he would have been the one starting in the net. But Sergei knew he’d get his chance eventually. Everyone did.
He pointed his stick at the stands. “Alex is watching tonight.”
“Alex?” Vicky lifted his head from the deep stretch, searching for one face among thousands.
“Yes.” Sergei smiled as Alex stood up waved wildly to let him know where he was sitting. As if Sergei couldn’t pick him out of any crowd, anywhere.
Vicky dropped down in the butterfly stretch that would eventually put too much stress on their hips and knees. Already, Sergei ached for hours after a game. He very much appreciated the hot tubs and team masseuses.
“Is he gonna punch me for talking to you?” Vicky smiled behind his cage.
“Why would he do that?” Sergei turned his head away on the pretense of stretching to hide his smile. He had called Alex ‘caveman’ the rest of the day for his tiny display of possessiveness at the rink.
Vicky scoffed. “Don’t even try to front, dude. He’s small, but he’s tough. He’s got his claim on you. If you actually believe you’re just friends, I have some news for you.”
Sergei smacked Vicky’s closest pad with his stick, sliding him a few inches away. “Go bother someone else.”
Laughing, Vicky hopped up and skated away with the graceful yet lumbering glide of a fully decked out goalie.
Sergei closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He did need to find his way into the zone. Netminding was ninety percent mental. That was the point of a goalie’s pre-game routine.
More than superstitions, a tendie’s individual rituals alerted the mind and spirit,
centering and focusing them on the demands about to be placed on them, the way the familiar sequence of warmup drills did for the body.
Sergei pushed his awareness of Alex back into the recess of his heart and brain, compressing it to a banked ember that warmed him and held the promise of fire that would blaze up with the smallest of breaths.
He studied the players, both his and the other team as they warmed up, evaluating them for strengths and weaknesses. He took his spot in the net, and the guys spiraled around him in a deceptively lazy looking cascade of pucks.
Music blasting from the arena speakers and the thundering of more than fifteen thousand fans marching up and down the stadium steps poured over him from above. The scrape of blades and the clacking of sticks on ice blended with the scent of the ice and the heat and sweat already coming off his skin. Adrenaline buzzed through his body, sharpening his senses and readying him for action.
This was his favorite feeling in the world, though other sensations were starting to catch up.
Jake Donovan, Gabriel Jansson, and Daniel Lipe looked good: in the zone, focused yet relaxed. The Thunder’s usual first offensive line, they had played with and against each other often before they had all ended up being brought together by the Thunder expansion draft four years ago. Steady, seasoned professionals, they could be counted on to bring a consistently good game.
Sergei blocked pucks coming at him from three directions at once, and Lipe raised his stick in recognition as he swooped around the back of the net.
His youngest d-men, Robbie and Paul, were starting in the first line tonight for the first time. They were taking their opportunity to shine seriously, and the energy between them crackled with determination. He was proud of his boys, as he thought of them.
The other four dressed d-men were focused and on point, too.
Their offense was a bit of a different story.
The roster had shifted as guys went on and off the IR or took a healthy scratch for one reason or the other. With as many as fifty contracted players, twenty-three active players on the roster, and only spots for twenty to get dressed and sit on the bench, there were always a few guys in suits cheering on their team from behind the bench.
