Page 16

CHAPTER 16

KENO

I can’t help myself. It’s a reflex to take out my phone and open ShareIt to doomscroll. Even when I’m not seeing what’s on the screen and flipping too quickly to actually see what’s going by. It’s a compulsion in my downtime. Impulse to have that artificial glow from my screen and mindlessly look at the pretty pictures.

Rarely in this state of online boredom does much catch my attention. The one thing that does have me pausing and moving the feed back until I’m looking at a picture of me and Etna. It’s the ‘ official ’ engagement picture we posted online.

After we told our friends, we announced it to the team after practice one day, including our coach. Coach asked for us to give him a day to inform management before making it public.

I nearly shit myself when some higher-ups called us into their office. It felt like I was back in high school getting in trouble for wanking off in the bathroom. Okay, I didn’t do that, but a friend of mine did, and boy, did I laugh.

They had concerns. Of course they did. They didn’t want a romance on the team to affect team dynamics. They were concerned about a distraction. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Etna told them we’ve been together since the summer when I drunk kissed him and no one’s known. In fact, the team loves playing up our bromance. Clearly, we know how to remain professional at work.

I mean, it was only a little stretch of the truth, right? But it meant they had no argument and no leg to stand on, so the conversation was dropped. We left triumphant, but I had an uneasy feeling later. One of us was going to get traded. I could feel it.

But not right now. Right now, we’re both playing for Arizona and we’re getting married.

The picture that makes me stop scrolling is of us on the ice. We got permission from Coach to take a few pictures there. We didn’t hire a photographer, Julian took pics for us. The one we chose was of me jumping on Etna’s back, my arms hanging around his chest. One of his hands is hooked under my knee. The other—the one with a ring on it—is over mine.

My smile is huge. Like I just won president of the universe. I’m obviously so fucking proud. Maybe a little smug. Etna’s smile is softer. Confident. Beautiful. Just like he is.

We made the post two hours ago as a collaboration, so it showed up simultaneously in our primary feeds. There are only three words in the post: ‘ He said yes !’

Our discussion about what to write went on far longer than necessary. We had a whole long explanation to post, then we went with no words at all. At one point, we even had a quote. In the end, these three simple words about summed it up.

There are already over 3,000 likes, 294 comments, 84 shares. I click on the comments and smile. There’s a variety of congratulations. A lot of “I knew it!” comments. And everything in between.

But my smile fades when I see the first nasty one today.

This is sick and gross.

My gut twists and I close the app entirely. Why are people nasty? Why do they have to choose to share their gross opinions? I wish there was a way to turn off comments entirely. I love the nice ones, but at the expense of seeing the nasty ones? I’d rather not see any at all.

Maybe there’s a way and I don’t know what it is. Etna will. “Etna?” I call as I walk through the small house. We’re back at mine since his is currently being packed. You know, slowly. Since we’re here, we’re not putting much effort into packing. It’s only the first of the year. The listing doesn’t go live until tomorrow. We have some time.

I find Etna outside, watering the plants in the flower bed. The backyard has beautiful landscaping. No thanks to me. It would likely be dead if it were left to me to maintain. Which is saying something because they’re desert plants. Taking care of the foliage outside that makes the backyard an oasis is something Etna’s just done. The first day he stepped into the backyard, he picked up the hose and gave them a little water. He pulled a weed.

The next thing I knew, he was bringing in stones and mulch to refresh the beds. He told me the tall cactus was a saguaro. The fact it has three arms means that it’s well over a hundred years old. He also warned me it’s illegal to cut them down in Arizona.

I hadn’t known that, but it makes sense that there’s a dedicated perimeter around it, as though the previous owners treated it like a shrine. I swear, they worshiped this thing.

It’s pretty cool, to be honest. I’ve always thought about decorating it, but since he told me it was illegal to kill it, I’m afraid of hurting it. They survive in the desert, though. How fragile can they really be?

Nope. Not taking my chances.

The sight of Etna makes me stop. He’s shirtless, in nothing but shorts. They’re not the super long ones that hang loosely around his knees. This pair is tighter, emphasizing the shape of his ass. They’re also shorter, falling to about mid-thigh. His skin is bronzed from the sun and glistens in the afternoon rays.

I’ve seen him mostly naked countless times. Seriously, countless. We share a locker room. We sleep in the same bed. We do lake activities that require little clothing and nothing but swim trunks. We live together and have started showering together at home. This isn’t anything new.

But for some reason, my breathing gets shallow as I stare at him. The only words going through my head are he’s mine.

When did I become so possessive?

Etna looks at me over his shoulder and smiles. “Hey,” he says, turning off the hose. “What’s wrong?”

Who said anything was wrong? I’m staring at the hottest man in existence. I’m quite confident about that. Though I’ve never thought to rate men on their hotness, there’s a first for everything, right?

“Uh…” I answer. “Oh. Is there a way to turn off commenting on ShareIt?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I never tried. Did you tap the three dots on the post?”

Turning my phone back on, the post is still open. I click the three dots and read my options. Yep, there it is. Turn comments off. I hit that bitch hard, but don’t see any change in the post. When I click the little talking bubble, the line to comment and the option to reply are gone. Okay, at least it worked.

“What happened?” he asks, moving closer to me.

“Nothing. Just some bigots commenting.”

“Ah. I’ll take care of them later. Don’t read them.” He kisses my cheek and pushes me toward the house. “Back inside. We have work to do.”

I grumble, glaring at him over my shoulder. “What work?”

“We need to get back to choosing a venue and a theme. I think we’re at a standstill until we have both.”

“Oh. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Etna shrugs. “I agree, but we’ll see.”

“What do you think about a hockey theme? Is that lame?”

He grins. “I was thinking that too. And had the same question. Is it cliché for the hockey players to have a hockey-themed wedding?”

“I hear that the party and stuff are for the guests,” I point out.

“Fuck that. It’s all for us. So how do we feel about it?”

I hesitate. “I feel like people are going to think it’s tacky,” I admit. “I know it’s for us, but will we think it’s tacky in fifteen years and cringe as we look back on it?”

Etna tilts his head to the side. “We’ve spent twenty years of our lives breathing hockey. I can’t imagine we’re going to feel any different in fifteen years.”

Chuckling, I shrug. “You’re probably right.”

“Let’s leave it as an option.”

“Divide and conquer?” I suggest, grinning widely. It’s kind of become a running joke, but also something that’s working out for us. “I’ll take venue hunting, and you take theme research.”

“Done.” Etna takes his usual place on the couch while I curl up on my favorite chair and grab my tablet. I type in ‘ wedding venue Arizona ’ and see what pops up.

Oh… thousands of search results. Awesome. That was sarcastic, mind you.

Immediately, I find an issue. There are indoors and outdoors, warehouses and churches, country clubs and mansions, mountains with cactuses and on the shores of the river, hotel resorts and spas, wineries, art galleries, groves, sanctuaries, gardens…

“Okay, I’m going to need some guidance,” I say.

Etna chuckles. “Yeah?”

“Let’s break it down a little. Indoors or out? Also, are we looking to stay local?”

He nods thoughtfully. “You’re not going to like this answer, but I don’t have a preference for either question. I say if something looks good, send them an email.”

“You’re right. I don’t like that answer.” Etna smirks as I turn back to the tablet and choose a link that brings me to thirty-one of Arizona’s best wedding venues.

Yep, this only heightens my anxiety over how many options there are to choose from. I scroll for a bit before choosing a mountain resort and sending my first inquiry, asking if our date is available and that I’d like to discuss the possibility of holding our wedding there.

“Hey, look at this,” Etna says as he gets up and sits on the arm of my chair to show me his screen.

It’s a fairy-tale castle with a carriage out front and… “Is that Hector Atlas?”

He laughs. “Yeah. I searched ‘ hockey wedding ’ and this is one of the pictures that came up. I should have added ‘ theme ’ to that search, I guess. Technically speaking, there’s a hockey player in this photo, so the search result wasn’t wrong.”

I laugh. “That’s really… amazing. Look at that place.”

“Yeah, the caption said that their theme was fairy tale.”

“I can totally see that. It definitely has a fairy-tale quality to it,” I agree. “Look at what they’re wearing. That’s cute.”

“I don’t think I can pull that off”—Etna laughs—“but yeah, it fits them. The caption also says there are some subtle medieval touches that shout out to how they met when Toby worked at Medieval Company, and he saw Hector in the audience. And the fairy tale is because Hector has been quoted ‘ by someone close ’ to wanting a fairy tale happily ever after.”

“That’s really sweet. Why can’t we come up with something sentimental and elegant like that?” I complain.

Etna kisses the top of my head as he gets up and returns to his seat. “We will. We only just started looking.”

I humph. Yeah. I guess.

Over the next twenty minutes, I send out a dozen inquiries. One responds almost immediately, telling me the date is available, but that they only hold ceremonies. They can’t do receptions at the same place. We’d have to find a different venue for that.

I’m not necessarily opposed to that, but… no. I think we’d like the option to be able to host both at the same venue, even if we choose to do something different.

I put my tablet down and close my eyes, squirming uncomfortably in my seat. My pants feel uncomfortable. “Bro, I’m horny,” I say, looking at Etna.

He bursts out laughing, which makes me smile. Then he stops and looks at me, still kind of smiling but with wide eyes. “Oh, wait. That’s a hint.”

I roll my eyes. “Not a hint. I need to get off.”

“On it,” he declares, dropping his phone on the couch and crossing the room to me again. This time, he straddles my lap.

I’ve been close to Etna a million times. There’s never been a single time my dick’s betrayed me and gotten hard. Okay, maybe it’s plumped a little here and there when we rub together accidentally or whatever.

Now that it has permission—and I am stupidly fucking horny—my cock is ready to wave at him.

Etna leans in close and grabs the handle to recline my chair and make the footrest pop up. He stretches the chair further until it’s in a fully reclined position. Then he’s hovering over me, hands on either side of my face while my dick pushes uncomfortably in my pants.

I rarely see him nervous. Even as we navigate what we’re doing and all the first times we’ve been piling on lately. But I can see it shining in his eyes now. I can hear it in the way he breathes.

Etna licks his lips and moves one of his hands to my stomach, pushing my shirt out of the way. The feel of his fingers on my bare skin makes me shiver.

“This isn’t weird,” he murmurs. “This isn’t weird. This isn’t weird.”

I nearly snort. Or I would laugh except the tips of his fingers dip beneath the elastic of my pants and brush the head of my dick. I grunt, reflexively rolling my hips. When’s the last time I was touched at all besides by my own hand?

“Not weird,” he murmurs, turning his hand over so his palm is flat and he can grab my dick in his fist.

I groan as soon as his fist wraps around me.

“Jeez,” Etna mutters, his eyes flickering down. “How big are you?”

This time, I burst out laughing. “What?”

“No really. You’re bigger than I thought you’d be.”

“Is that an ‘ Asians have small dicks ’ joke?”

Etna meets my eyes with a wide grin. “No. I’m looking at body proportions. You’re as fat as a soda can.”

I laugh again. “Stop it. I am not.” I’m really not. He’s exaggerating. However, laughing breaks the tension and his hand moves over my dick easier.

“Lube?” he asks.

The table beside the chair usually has some in the drawer. Well, at the place before this, it did. I’m not sure what’s in there now. I reach blindly, fumbling until I find what I’m looking for. Yep. That’s it.

“Lift your hips. I need to see this anaconda.”

“You’re stroking my ego more than my dick,” I point out, but lift my hips so he can shove my pants and underwear down.

“No. No, I’m really not,” he says, staring at my dick. There’s a second of silence as he examines my hard cock laying against my stomach.

I’m not sure if I’m so fucking hard right now because it’s been a ridiculously long time since the last time someone touched me, or if it’s because Etna suddenly turns me on.

His eyes flicker to mine and he holds his hand out. I uncap the lube and squirt some into his hands. Etna rolls his eyes. “More than that. You have a big dick to cover.”

“Stop being dramatic.” I squirt some more. “You have big hands. Use them.”

He grins and sits back. This fucker does use both on me, sliding them up and down, twisting them in opposite directions. Stroking with one hand and massaging my head with the other. When he starts pulling on my dick one hand at a time in endless succession from root to tip, that’s all I can take as I writhe under him. I come everywhere.

Yep, I make a fucking mess. I think my eyes even roll back in my head.

When I open my eyes to look at him while I pant, he’s smirking at me. “Feel better?”

I nod. “Yeah. You want?—”

Etna grins. “I’m calling a rain check for now, but definitely later. Don’t move. I’ll get something to clean you up.” He backs off the chair and pauses. “And maybe some new clothes. You really made a mess. Like you’ve been holding that in just for me.”

“If I had the energy to give you the middle finger, I would.”

“From just a handie… Wait until we really get going. You’ll be my sweet, limp noodle.”

“Go away.”

Etna’s laughter follows him out of the room. A stupidly big smile covers my face and I can’t make it go away no matter how hard I try.