by A. E. Wasp
Paul and Robbie turned out to be two young guys, both gorgeous in a disgustingly strong, healthy, All-American way. They were also disgustingly in love. Oh, they worked hard to hide it, being careful not to touch each other or sit too close. But their eyes gave them away. They couldn’t stop looking at each other. Alex half expected to see little cartoon hearts swirling around their heads. Robbie was laid up on the couch with a sprained ankle. The drunker he got, the handsier he got. Alex found it hilarious.
The big news was the unexpected appearance of Bryce Lowery with an armful of presents and his younger boyfriend.
Alex had never met Bryce, since the former center and team captain had been injured before the start of the season and had retired before playing a single game. Dakota Wellington, the handsome blond man he’d brought with him, had apparently been the cause of his retirement.
Over the course of the party, various people made it up to Paul’s third-level solarium to take in the view and, if Alex’s instincts were correct, make out. At least, that’s what he and Sergei did. He also made Sergei give him the scoop on the tall, dark, and adorable Lowery.
They sat on one of the convenient padded seats lining the huge windows, Alex’s back to Sergei’s chest.
Alex’s eyebrows rose as he watched the video of Bryce kissing his boyfriend on the kiss-cam during a Colorado ECHL game a month ago. He handed the phone back to Sergei with a whistle. “And he’d never said anything about liking guys before?”
“Not that I had ever heard. He was with Nikki for a long time.”
“That hot brunette that’s with Jake now?”
Sergei’s brow furrowed. “Nikki is not ‘with’ Jake.”
Alex reached his hand back and patted Sergei’s cheek. “Oh, babe. They are. Just like those two sexy defensemen of yours are together.”
Sergei nodded, not trying to deny it.
As the night rolled on, other people came and went. Alex spoke to each of the players, partially in hopes of getting more work and partially to get to know Sergei’s teammates better.
By midnight, the party had wound down until there were just eight of them left. Alex and Sergei, Bryce and Dakota, Paul and Robbie, and Nikki and Jake. Alex took over mixing cocktails, despite not drinking any himself.
“Habit,” he admitted. “Too many calories. Figure skating is worse than ballet with the anorexia. You can never be too thin. Makes it easier for someone to pick you up.”
The whole room laughed at that. “She-et,” Paul drawled. “You ain’t bigger than a minute. I could pick you up one-handed.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. “I’d love to see you try it, country boy.”
Sergei got to Alex first. Without a word, he scooped Alex up with an arm around his hips. With a quiet yup, he bent down, got his hand under Alex’s butt, and lifted him up to shoulder height.
Eyes wide and laughing, Alex braced one hand on Sergei’s head. Wow. That was sexy. He got an immediate and vivid image of Sergei holding him up and fucking him against a wall. As he cock stirred at the thought, the tight red jeans he had worn to tease Sergei seemed like a really bad idea.
“Damn, Serge, you’re a monster,” Robbie called into the slightly-stunned silence.
Alex patted Sergei on the head. “You can put me down now, Sergei Ivanovich.”
Sergei lowered Alex gently with a smile. Alex felt a little flushed and he walked back to the section of the kitchen counter set up as a bar without making eye contact.
Robbie must have been drunker than he looked because he started asking Bryce some pointed personal questions about coming out and the repercussions it would have on him personally and the team. Alex tried to make it look like he was concentrating on straightening up the left-over food and not hanging on every word. He hadn’t realized Robbie was out to the team. And Bryce was out to the world.
If Robbie didn’t stop eye-fucking Paul, they were going to out themselves without any help from anyone else. He needed to show Paul and Robbie a thing or two about tracking themselves on social media. Apparently, they didn’t even check twitter. How did they survive?
Maybe Sergei introducing Alex as his boyfriend wouldn’t be such a big deal after all.
Feeling celebratory, Alex spread some pickle slices on a plate, broke out the good vodka, and asked Nikki to help him carry the shot glasses into the living room.
Sinking to the floor in front of Sergei’s chair, he set up the glasses. All eyes turned to him.
He cleared his throat. “Sergei Ivanovich has graciously supplied us with this nectar of the gods,” he announced grandly, “straight from the bosom of Mother Russia, which I realize is a mixed metaphor but just roll with it. It would be unbearably rude not to drink it. As it is only to be drunk in the company of family and dear friends—a rule I made up just now—I think this is the perfect time.”
He filled the shot glasses and passed them around the room until everyone had one. “Some of you are family, some of you are dear friends, some of you are both, and some of us hope to be one or the other.”
He lifted his glass in a toast, and the others mirrored him. “To our host, the newest member of the Thunder and the one with the most adorable accent, Mr. Paul Dyson. Thank you for inviting us to your home. To Paul!”
“To Paul,” everyone echoed and drank. Alex and Sergei exhaled deeply and drank.
He passed around the plate of pickles, watching with amusement as Paul and Robbie frowned at them, but then followed everyone else’s lead and ate it.
Jake caught Paul’s eye as he passed the plate to Bryce, and stood up. “Dyson, I gotta talk to you before I have too many shots.”
Uh-oh. Someone was about to get a stern talking to. Alex fought not to turn and look at Sergei.
“Do you have to have too many shots?” Nikki asked with a grin.
“I don’t have to, but I find myself wanting to. Is that okay?” Jake smiled down at her.
“It’s not my head and stomach. You knock yourself out.”
He pointed at Alex. “Wait for me, I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, sir, your Captainness.” Alex held his hand out for Robbie. “In the meantime, let’s see if we can’t get you up to the social media speed of your average fourteen-year-old. Following what the great unwashed say about you is one of the purest forms of self-flagellation there is. If you’re into that sort of thing.”
He should know. The things people had said about him over the years. Sometimes he even agreed with them.
Things got tense when Bryce made a surprise announcement about he and Dakota getting married. Voices started to raise, and Nikki looked close to tears. Alex had no idea what was going on, but it seemed like a good time to for he and Sergei to take their leave.
They snuck out without saying goodbye.
It was chilly outside; their breath condensing in the air like smoke from a dragon’s muzzle.
“So are Robbie and Paul out as a couple? Does anyone know?” People had to know, right? Even straight people could tell those two were in love.
“No. Not officially. There is a betting pool, though.”
Of course there was. Hockey players would bet on whether the sun would rise or not. Then again, in Seattle in December, you never could be sure. “Did you bet?”
“Da. I suspected after their second game together.” They’d reached the car. Sergei pressed the key fob, and the lights flashed and horn beeped as the doors unlocked.
“That soon?” Alex was impressed. He wondered who’d made the first move. Blondie or tall, dark, and drunk.
“I think they know each other in college,” Sergei said, pulling up the gullwing door. “Will you get in the car now?”
Alex leaned over the top of the car, rubbing away the raindrops. “You know I love this car, but isn’t it a bit much for every day?”
Sergei grinned. “Yes.” He shrugged. “Maybe one day I get something new. Get something for you to drive.”
“I can’t drive this one?”
&nb
sp; Sergei laughed out loud and got into the car. “Would you want to?”
“Not really. I’ll either crash it, or just put the pedal to the metal and head for the hills,” Alex had said, running his hand lovingly across the dashboard. “And then I’ll take a turn too fast and end up at the bottom of a canyon like I’m in a Meatloaf song. So, no. If I need to go anywhere, I’ll take the bus. I still have a few days left on my Orca pass.”
Sergei was doing his usual caressing of the steering wheel. Alex didn’t even have it in him to tease Sergei about it. He got so much joy from his car; it did Alex’s heart good to see him so happy.
The shots of good Russian vodka warming him from the inside out, and the way Sergei had lifted him with one hand earlier, did a different part of his body good.
He leaned over, a hand on Sergei’s thigh. “Kiss me.”
“If I must.” Sergei twisted as best he could in the sports car.
“You know, if you had a bigger car, we could make out in it,” Alex pointed out.
“We have an entire home we can make out in. With big bed and fireplace and loud cats.”
Home. Sergei’s house could be Alex’s home; he knew Sergei wanted to give him that. He’d carried his mother’s words with him all day, turning them over in his head. At the party, he’d measured his and Sergei’s interactions against Paul and Robbie’s brand-new connection, between Jake and Nikki’s possibly unacknowledged relationship.
Maybe he had been in love with Sergei for so long that he couldn’t even see it. He was a fish trying to understand water. As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be. Love without end.
It didn’t feel new, because it wasn’t new.
But the look in Sergei’s eyes when he reached for Alex? The way it took his breath away and made his heart lurch? That was new. And it was good.
Had Sergei felt the same way all this time? Was it possible? Did any of it matter, though? Even if they loved each other, it didn’t mean they were good for each other. Sergei had to understand that Alex was trying to protect him. At this point, Alex wasn’t much different from the puck bunnies and wannabes who tried to latch onto the players simply because of the money.
He was tired of living off other people’s money. He could admit he wanted Sergei, wanted to make a life with him. The thought set a flock of butterflies fluttering around his stomach. But he wasn’t going into it a kept man.
He was going to earn it. He would work hard, to become the equal partner Sergei needed. Then he would know that he wasn’t taking advantage of Sergei’s love and generous heart.
It had to be easier than making the Olympic team, right?
In the meantime, maybe he could relax the rules just a little bit. He’d earned that, right?
“Okay,” he said to Sergei. “You make a strong argument. I think you should take me home and convince me that it is better than the car.”
“If I must.”
“Your life is so hard.” Alex patted Sergei’s thigh.
Sergei grabbed Alex’s hand and pulled it between his legs. “That is not all that is hard.”
Alex gasped, a little shocked and a lot turned on. Sergei laughed and eased the low black sports car out of the parking spot. They cruised through the rain-mirrored streets with the engine purring like a jungle cat.
Anticipation sparked across his nerve endings. Maybe he’d let Sergei go a little further tonight, break some of those rules.
16
Alex
Turned out, there was no need to break any rules.
Somehow things had gotten out of Alex’s control. He’d gone from teasing Sergei in the car, to stealing kisses while they fed the cats and changed into comfortable clothes, to finding himself flat on his back in bed with Sergei hovering over him on his hands and knees.
“Shirt off,” Sergei commanded. Every cell in Alex’s body wanted to take his shirt off, but he felt paralyzed, pinned to the bed by Sergei’s gaze like a cobra in front of a mongoose.
“Is not against rules now.” Sergei sat back onto his haunches. Grabbing the hem of the shirt, he pulled it slowly up Alex’s body without touching any skin. Breathing heavily, Alex stretched his arms over his head. The shirt briefly covered his eyes, breaking the connection between them. Sergei pulled the collar of the shirt over Alex’s head, but kept his arms trapped in the material.
He kissed his way down from Alex’s mouth to his chest, wielding his tongue, teeth, and beard like weapons of mass seduction.
The time he spent tormenting Alex’s nipples with his teeth and the way his tongue turned Alex’s navel into an erogenous zone he’d never even considered before, made Alex wonder exactly what kind of videos Sergei had been watching on his laptop.
Alex’s cock strained against his pants. Every now and then, between kisses and bites, Sergei’s abs pressed down on it. Sergei’s cock slid maddeningly against the outside of Alex’s leg.
“Oh, God. Sergei,” Alex moaned. He strained against the t-shirt binding his arms. “I have to touch you.”
“No,” Sergei said not even lifting his head from Alex’s body. Grabbing Alex by the hips, Sergei shoved him farther up the bed. Friction—and a cleverly-placed knee—kept Alex’s sleep pants from moving up with him.
When Sergei set his teeth on the exposed hipbones, and then traced Alex’s abs with his tongue, Alex arched up, desperate to feel any friction against his cock.
“We are not kissing,” Sergei growled. It wasn’t a question, but even so, he seemed to be waiting for Alex to confirm that they were, indeed, not kissing in the strictest definition of both ‘they’ and ‘kissing.’
Outside of moaning and begging, Alex’s mouth was not involved in the process, so technically no, they weren’t kissing. “No. Fuck.” And wasn’t that a fucking tragedy?
“Then pants do not have to stay on.” He tugged Alex’s pants down over his hard cock. It popped up, slapping against his stomach. Sergei cursed in Russian. “So beautiful, my Alex,” he whispered. “Never have I seen anyone so beautiful.”
Alex whined, tears pricking his eyes. Oh God. Sergei couldn’t say things like that. He turned his head to the side, so he didn’t have to look at Sergei.
Sergei’s arms strained as his fingers dug into the sheets. “My hands stay outside of pants.”
Alex trembled from more than just arousal. He wasn’t used to being the object of all this focused attention. Underneath the arousal, he burned with embarrassment. He didn’t deserve it. He should be showing Sergei how amazing he was, and how much Alex appreciated everything he had done for him.
Sergei sat back on his heels again. Thank God for flexible goalies. “We are not having serious discussion now, correct?” His voice sounded like he’d been gargling gravel; he sounded almost angry.
Alex shook his head. He could barely form words, let alone have any kind of discussion. For the first time in a long time, he was afraid he would come without any touch to his dick. But he really hoped Sergei would touch him, anyway.
What Sergei did was worse. “Then I can touch myself.” Sergei stuck his hand down his pants and grabbed his cock. His eyelids fluttered shut, and he groaned and cursed in Russian.
Alex’s hips bucked up off the bed, as he sought any kind of friction. But Sergei sat too far back, his weight over Alex’s thighs and not his cock like he desperately needed. With a broken groan, Alex yanked his shirt off, freeing his hands.
“Let me see,” he begged. “I have to see.” He had felt the length of Sergei’s cock pressed against him, but had yet to see it, let alone touch it.
“Is not breaking rules?” Sergei panted, moaning as his hand did something Alex wished with all his heart he could see.
“I don’t give a fuck about the fucking rules,” Alex forced out. “Let me see your dick, you fucking Russian tease.”
Grinning, eyes dark with lust, Sergei pulled his pants down. His cock was gorgeous. Long, thick, and uncut, it was a dick Alex could write poems about. He wanted to get his mouth ar
ound it more than he wanted air in his lungs. He wanted to ride it like a pony.
“Alex.” Sergei’s voice was strained. He stared into Alex’s eyes, silently pleading for direction or permission. Something, anything.
But Alex had nothing. The things he wanted Sergei to give him, he didn’t have the right to ask for. The things he wanted to give Sergei, he hadn’t earned the right to give.
Sergei’s gaze focused, taking on the determined expression Alex had only ever seen on him when he was in the net. “Lyosha,” he whispered, and then he bent down and licked Alex’s cock.
Alex shouted and almost came. “Oh fuck, fuck!” Thank God for goalie flexibility.
Sergei’s mouth chased Alex’s hard cock. Every time his mouth touched it, it jerked hard, sliding away.
“Calisse de tabernak,” Alex swore. He grabbed his cock with one hand, steadying it, and put his other on Sergei’s head, forcing his mouth down over the top.
Sergei kept his tongue moving and jaw slack as Alex shoved his cock in and out. The heat was crazy, intense, and yet Sergei’s mouth on Alex’s cock and Alex’s hand in Sergei’s hair were the only two places their bodies touched.
Just when Alex thought it couldn’t get any hotter, Sergei started jerking himself off.
Alex’s hand tightened in Sergei’s hair, and he came without warning, partially because he was caught unawares, partially because Sergei didn’t deserve a warning, the bastard. His orgasm felt like it was being yanked out of him, pleasure lasting so long it bordered on pain.
Sergei swallowed like he’d been doing it his whole life, sucking Alex until he pushed Sergei off his over-sensitive cock.
Sergei looked like he had just seen God. “Oh, Lyosha,” he whispered. Arms trembling, he pushed up onto his knees, straddling Alex and fisting his cock.
“My mouth,” Alex begged. “Put it in my mouth.”
Sergei groaned and shot all over Alex’s stomach and chest, jackknifing as if he’d been stabbed in the gut.
