Page 28

TWENTY-SIX

SWEETHEART

How do I walk?

What do I normally do with my hands when I arrive at the practice rink? Do I usually smile as wide when I greet the assistant coach? When I ask Jeff, our equipment manager, if we can talk later about my skates?

I’m second guessing every movement, every twitch of a muscle in my face, and by the jerky steps Nikolay’s taking next to me, he’s having the same issues.

“Just act natural,” he whispers before we enter the locker room, but only after he makes sure there’s no one around, so I guess he needs to hear his own advice, doesn’t he?

I let out a harsh breath that puffs out my cheeks and try to focus on hockey and nothing else, but it’s a challenge

He’s the one who distracted me with needy kisses this morning when I walked into the kitchen .

I was grumpy, regretting how I’d told him the night before that I was going to sleep in my own room, and then he went and brightened the whole world up for me.

We ended up having to rush through breakfast and we drank our shakes in the car instead of at the house, but it was worth it.

Then I got distracted again by how good his arms looked holding the steering wheel of his cool as fuck car, how expertly he maneuvered it all over the place.

The locker room is empty, at least it looks that way, and there are no sounds, but I don’t take any chances.

“It’s just a normal day,” I tell him quietly when we get to our cubbies. “We’re going to skate, then go to the gym then back home, and tomorrow it will be the same. And the day after that, and the day after that.”

“I know,” he says, speaking just as quietly, his brow furrowed. “I’m just nervous.”

“Me too,” I admit.

“But hey, at least the guys don’t know you well enough to know when you’re acting weird. They will know in a second if I am.”

“That’s true,” I muse, then turn to get ready when he does the same.

Like it happened throughout the entire roadie, every inch of his skin appears little by little as he undresses to get into his gear, but it doesn’t have the same effect on me as it had in our hotel rooms or in his bathroom yesterday.

I’m thankful for it, I have to admit. Getting hard in the locker room would be hard to hide, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to force myself to look away.

Nikolay’s body is strong all over, more bulky than mine, and few are.

He proved just how matched we are in every way when Laney had us do that ridiculous one-on-one months ago.

As I finish lacing up my skates, I wonder what he’s thinking about, when he speaks.

“You know I’m still jealous of all the James Norris Trophies, right?” he asks glumly.

I huff out a laugh and stand, done with taping my stick.

“And I’m still jealous of your three Stanley Cup wins.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied and standing as well. Is he grateful that we can be ridiculous together? I sure as hell am.

“First one on the ice gets the first blow job,” he says suddenly, and he’s sprinting as soon as the last word leaves his mouth. Stomping out of the locker room, he cackles at my outraged shout.

“Motherfucker,” I growl playfully, gaining on him. Using skates on the actual floor isn’t my preference, but I think I’m doing a good job when I get close enough to tug on his arm to get him out of my way.

“You really want it, huh?” he shouts vaguely. I know he probably wanted to say something else, but I’m glad he restrained himself. From what I know of him that’s not one of his strong suits. Then he’s running beside me as the rink comes into view when we turn into the tunnel .

I win by a fraction of a second, and raise my arms like I’m Rocky or some shit while Nikolay hangs his head in mock defeat.

I actually can’t fucking wait to see what it’s like, but what I’m most excited for, is to turn the tables on him eventually, make him lose his fucking mind from how good I make it for him.

Ice practice goes smoothly, and it’s the first time in Pirates territory that it does.

It feels right, working alongside Nikolay to remind the first line exactly who they’re dealing with.

It’s especially satisfying when an hour in, I once again manage to steal the puck right before it touches Jules’s stick, and I fling it over to Spiderman for him to put it in the back of the net a millisecond before Bear manages to stop it.

“Motherfucker,” Jules shouts, furious. At least furious enough to seriously lose his cool and snap his stick in half by hitting it against his raised thigh.

The entire rink goes deadly silent for a tense moment. In his ten years in the league I don’t think Jules has ever shown such anger on the ice. I have no way of knowing for sure if that translates to practices, but by the stunned faces all around us, it does.

But then it’s Nikolay—of course it’s him—who snaps everyone out of it by snickering .

“Picard,” he says, condescending. “Is Heart making you angry?” He mock pouts.

Jules’s nostrils flare at Nikolay, and picturing him going after my... whatever he is, is amusing enough that I’m willing to let it play out, but then our captain gets himself under control.

“I guess this is how other teams feel when I’m on the ice,” he quips, all anger gone and now only pure cockiness in his tone.

Nikolay throws his head back and cackles.

“It’s never too late to learn some humility,” I quip, feeling like I can—another new thing for me. It’s like I’ve been collecting badges since I moved here.

Of course, it’s only because Nikolay as well as Twocox and Milkman were making themselves a nuisance to the rest of the players on the first line that I could even focus fully on Jules. I can’t do what I just did—stopping the best player in the league—without some serious backup.

But now that I have that backup, I think I can finally become the player I was meant to be all my life.

“You better go apologize to Jeff,” Laney calls out from the bench and gives Jules a warning glare.

He should, actually, since Jeff is one of the most important pieces of the puzzle that is the Pirates. He makes our lives easier and he’s got the memory of an elephant, knowing exactly what type of stick each of us like, what we prefer when it comes to our skates, and our damn pants sizes. He knows all of it, and he’s always prepared .

“Switch out,” our coach screams, and we all glide to the opening of the tunnel so lines three and four can take their turn.

“That was awesome ,” I hear Benny’s whisper from behind me, and when I turn to look back, I see him huddled with the rest of our young stars, whispering to themselves.

I snicker then too, and shake my head. It was pretty awesome. I made the best and most unflappable hockey player in the world lose his shit.

“You look pleased,” Nik says when he slides up next to me on the bench. I only smile, not knowing exactly how to explain how great I feel. “We’re gonna do that to every forward in the league,” he assures me, and reminds me of the dream I’ve had all my life and the one I have yet to accomplish. I straighten on the bench, ready to fuck everyone up and fight my way to the top.

Like always, Nikolay and I are the last ones in the gym.

I hope the babies—as Nikolay calls them—take a few notes on how much extra time and discipline it takes to still be the best at our age, because this is the only way.

We do double the circuits on weights and double the time on the bikes.

I’ve still got ten more minutes to go when he’s beside me, and his hand is on my hip. My legs stop moving at the sudden contact and I almost lose my balance on the bike. The dumbass looks smug.

I take out one of my earphones and glare at him.

“Nik,” I warn low.

“No one’s here,” he says, seamlessly reverting back to the American accent he inexplicably only uses with me.

“So?” I ask, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“So...” he hedges and leans in just a little. “I miss your lips.”

I hesitate for a second, unable to stop my reaction to his little whine. It’s fucking satisfying to see and hear how much he wants me, I can’t deny that.

I’m seriously considering letting him kiss me—something we said we wouldn’t do here only last night—when we hear the door to the gym open.

He springs away and I do the same, even jump off the bike for good measure. The bike that isn’t directly visible from the entrance to the gym, but still...

My heart stops when Gab herself comes in and her eyes narrow in suspicion.

Fuck, does she know already?

No. There’s no way.

“Well, look who it is,” she drawls as she walks closer. Her eyes shift to Nik, and she has to see something there because she does a double take and her eyes narrow again.

Right, with everything going on I’d forgotten how hurt he was when he learned of the “favor” she asked of me.

“What’s up, Gab?” I ask quickly, and maybe a tad loudly, to defuse this rising tension. I don’t think right now is the moment for them to get into it.

Slowly, she shifts her gaze over to me and seems to compose herself after whatever just happened between them.

“I wanted to touch base with you,” she tells me specifically and I hold back the wince. She doesn’t want to check in with Nik at all?

“Everything’s good,” I say weakly.

“Yeah, I saw that. Practice looked good.” She smirks a little. “I had a talk with Jules just now.”

“Ah,” I say, as if that tells me everything I need to know. It doesn’t. I’m still so on edge, I can’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah, so I see you two worked things out.” She says it like a statement, not like a question, but she still looks at me expectantly. Again, why isn’t she looking at Nik for answers?

“We have,” I confirm. Understatement of the century.

“I’m glad you two saw the error of your ways.”

I know Nik is about to say something he’s going to regret, somehow I just fucking know it. So again, I speak before he can.

“Yup. And it’s all good now.” I hope to hell I don’t sound as nervous as I feel. Gab seems like someone who can smell bullshit a mile away, and right now I’m full of it.

She nods once, though, seemingly none the wiser to my internal freak-out .

“I also wanted to let you know I’m leaving for a week. I’ll be going to Atlanta to watch my nephew play in yet another Super Bowl,” she says with just enough resentment to bring me out of my panic, and I smile down at her. She looks proud despite her words. Proud as hell in fact. “Then I need to get some work done, but I’ll be back for the game against Atlanta, maybe even the one on Valentine’s Day.”

“Okay. Have a nice trip,” I say simply.

“Thank you.” She smiles at me, sends Nik another look I can’t decipher, and then she’s gone.

“Holy fuck,” I wheeze when the door closes behind her.

“It’s all right,” Nik tells me soothingly and pats my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s hit the showers and go home.”

I think for a moment, wondering whether it’s wise to say what I want to say, then I decide... what the hell.

“How about we shower at my place?”

A wolfish smile stretches his cheeks, and that’s all the answer I need.

“What are you doing?” Nik asks when I immediately reach for my shower gel once I’m under the spray.

I lather up the product in my hands and reach down to my armpits to wash there first.

“I’m getting clean,” I tell him, moving on to my chest.

“But—” he starts, a struck look on his face.

We raced out of the gym to get our things from our cubbies, and then to his car to get home as fast as possible. And when he parked, we raced up to my room. I thought it was obvious that this shower was going to be a real shower, not like the one yesterday.

“I want my kisses,” he whines and pouts.

I suck both lips into my mouth and when that doesn’t work to stifle my laugh I lean back and put my face right under the shower head.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he cries while I keep laughing.

“I’m going to kiss you sooner if you get clean. We both stink, Nik,” I reason with him.

“Fine,” he grumbles and grabs the shower gel as well. I reach for the shampoo and get to work on my hair before I go back in for more soap, but a surprised shout leaves me when instead of cleaning himself, his hand wraps around my dick.

“Nik,” I protest, but he doesn’t care. He’s staring down intently and already stroking me, the soap helping with the glide. I start to grow hard in seconds and have to groan at how good his hand feels on me. “So, so good,” I can’t help but praise him.

Right as I go fully hard, he takes his hand away so suddenly that I stumble forward. I open my eyes, actually offended, only to see his sexy smirk.

“I’m supposed to blow you, remember?” he taunts.

“Yes,” I hiss, and decide on a little payback.

I get more soap, make suds between my hands and get to work on washing him. I make sure to touch every part of his body, except his ass or dick, and I take my fucking time too. Enough time that I get to watch how my hands on him have him as hard and ready as I am.

I even get on my fucking knees, to wash his shins and feet way too thoroughly, and I make sure to put my mouth right near his angry-looking erection.

He stays quiet, and the only indication that he’s struggling is the way his chest rises and falls increasingly faster by the minute.

He’s clearly had enough—his fucking fault for starting this—when I stand back up, because he hauls me up to kiss the living shit out of me. Like they always seem to do all on their own, my hands go to his perfect ass, and I love how much more desperate that makes me. He brings one hand down and starts jacking me off again, while the other cups one of my ass cheeks. One of his fingers gets dangerously close to my crease and the new sensation has me gasping for breath.

“We need to get out of the shower,” I say between pants, then I shut off the water and race to get dry with Nik right behind me.

I basically sprint to the bed and throw myself in the middle. When I’m on my back, I see him walking slowly, in all his naked glory, and I have to get some relief. I take my dick in my hand and stroke myself slowly, getting off on the picture he makes alone.

“Stop that,” he growls and puts one knee on the bed, then reaches over and bats my hand away. He takes each of my legs and pushes them apart, then plops down between them on his belly.

He takes me in his hand and I hold my breath. He’s so fucking close, his mouth less than an inch away. If he just leans in a little...

Without pause, without hesitation, he sucks half of me in until the tip of my dick bumps against the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” I shout. The instant pleasure at the feel of his hot mouth, and the strength with which he sucks, it’s too much. “I’m gonna?—”

“Not yet, you’re not,” he says sharply when he pulls back.

The sudden loss of his mouth is too much, too infuriating.

“Nikolay, I swear, if you don’t—Jesus,” I cry when he repeats his actions, sucks hard once, then pulls me completely out of his mouth.

I groan and flop back down on my back.

“This is fun,” he quips.

“No, the fun part will be when I get to come in your mouth, you infuriating man.” Okay, maybe the shouting is too much, but his smirk tells me he doesn’t mind it. Hell, he might even like it.

He goes back in, sucks longer this time, even bobs his head twice, but it’s the same story. All I can do is whine and shout and complain while he brings me right to the brink then pulls me back, again and again and again until I’m a writhing mess on the bed .

My damn muscles hurt worse than after a workout for fuck’s sake.

“Nik,” I whisper, because I don’t have the energy for more. “Please,” I beg, finally caving.

“Was that so hard?” he asks, clearly smug.

“Oh, fuck—” The curse gets lodged in my mouth when he takes more of me than he has and sucks, bobs, and this time he doesn’t stop even after I warn, “Coming,” through gritted teeth.

I watch his eyes widen as I feel the first spurt of my spend come out of me. Tingles race down my legs, up my torso, and all the way to my ears and fingertips. I feel like I was just plugged into a car battery and lit all the way up.

It seems to go on, and on, and on.

When it’s finally over, I lie there, sweaty again, the sheets a mess under me thanks to how hard I fisted them and how much I moved around.

But the only thing that matters in that moment is the hum of deep satisfaction coursing through my body.

If this is what sex with another man feels like, they should all try it.