Page 20 of Flagrant Foul (Totally Pucked #3)
Teddy “T-Dog” O’Reilly
It’s a grind. A hard game that stops and starts and lacks offensive creativity. It’s a stop-and-go game that doesn’t have the flow the Blackeyes used to be known for. There are no penalties, no fights, and until the third period, no goals.
The crowd is baying and bored. Bryce passes the puck to Lewis on the left wing.
Lewis controls it and knocks it back to Sev instead of to Lockie, who’s wide open on the right.
Frustration mounts. I want to scream. The crowd does scream.
Lewis has been on this bullshit all game.
He’s an offensive player, playing defense.
Why? I don’t know. It’s clear as fucking day that that’s what he’s doing from where I’m standing, but Bryce doesn’t seem to notice it, or if he does, he doesn’t know what to do about it.
Sev takes the puck and gains eight or nine yards before sending it to Lockie. Lockie fumbles but manages to correct and get around one of the Dogs .
“Let’s go, let’s go!” I roar. The crowd does too.
And…nothing.
We lose the puck without taking a shot at the goal.
Fuck, it’s agony watching us play like this.
The only saving grace is that the Dogs are playing as badly as we are.
Actually, it’s not even that we’re playing badly.
It’s worse than that. It’s that we’re a different team now than we used to be, and not in a good way.
We lost something when Ben left. We used to make magic, now we play hockey.
I fucking hate it. It has to be the most maddening thing in the world to stand in the goal with a perfect, uninterrupted view of the game and not be able to do a goddamn thing about the fact that our synergy is fucked.
Capaldi, the Dogs’ center, gets the puck and runs with it. He blazes a trail through several of our players, cutting a path down the right side of the rink, heading straight toward me. It’s an explosion of movement and speed that is at odds with the pace of the rest of the game.
My breathing quickens. Every cell in my body reacts.
Adrenaline floods my system, and I brace for impact.
My focus sharpens. I’m aware of our players, where they are, who they are.
I’m aware of jerseys, sticks, and skates.
Particles of ice as they’re thrown into the air.
All of that exists, but only in my peripheral vision.
The only thing I see, the only thing in sharp focus, is the puck hurtling toward me on the hook of Capaldi’s stick.
Capaldi gets around Micha, our other defenseman. A blurred Sev hauls ass from his side of the rink. He’s fast, but he’s too far away. He won’t make it.
It’s me and Capaldi.
It’s me and the puck.
It’s going to be a good game.
Capaldi looks up to take aim. It’s a necessary pause, but still a mistake.
It breaks his stride and tells me a story.
A story titled: Fear and Hesitation . I dig deep with my right skate, leaning forward, and blasting out of the goal with no fear.
No hesitation. Capaldi’s eyes widen, white rings visible all the way around his pupils, as I close the space between us.
He looks frantically for a teammate and then at the goal.
It buys me the time I need to get to him.
He’s alone.
It’s me and the puck, and it’s a good game.
I close in on him and go low, hitting him so hard he flies into the air and somersaults over me. He lands in a heap to my left. His stick is to my right. I scoop up the puck and flick it to Sev. He flies down the ice with it, passing it to Bryce, all but wrapped up in a pretty bow .
It finds the back of the net with a satisfying swish.
Adrenaline is still flowing freely through my veins.
My breathing has slowed, but my heart is still beating hard from our victory.
I’m hot and sweaty. Pent up in the locker room as players fist bump me and jostle me from side to side as I take off my pads.
I love it, but I’m agitated. Too hot. Too wired.
I take my time stripping my safety gear off, stopping now and again to take a drink of water.
It does nothing to sate me.
It’s humid in the locker room thanks to the steam coming from the showers. That makes me pent up too. Sev’s in the shower right now. He probably has his head under the spout. There’s probably water flowing down his body, and there’s definitely steam all around him.
The steam I’m breathing in has probably been in the shower with Sev. The steam I’m breathing in has probably touched his skin.
Jesus fucking fuck. What is it with me and steam lately?
Sev comes sauntering out of the shower buck naked like he always does, and I realize too late that I’ve mistimed my exit.
Normally, I take considerable care to ensure I’m undressed and ready to shower at almost the exact time he’s leaving the shower.
If I keep my back turned as he walks past, I can usually mostly avoid seeing him naked.
No such luck tonight.
Fuck my entire life.
Fuck hockey and saving goals. Fuck winning games. Fuck steam and mostly fuck Sev Delorean for wearing his nudity the same way he wears a suit.
He might have a long list of personality flaws, but physically, he’s perfect.
He’s a tall, muscular dream with long legs and wet hair.
I try not to look, but…he’s right there.
Slap bang in my line of sight. He doesn’t have a stitch of clothing on or a care in the world.
His toiletry bag dangles from his hand and his towel is nowhere to be seen.
He strolls to his locker, nonchalant as you fucking please.
No. More nonchalant than that. As nonchalant as the nonchalant fucker who invented nonchalance in the first place.
I yank off my compression pants and top and deliberate what to do about my jock. On the one hand, it’s padded and tight, and probably exactly what my dick needs, but on the other, I can’t shower with it on .
Thankfully, Lockie saves me from my dilemma, coming over and plopping down next to me on my bench. He’s showered too, but unlike Sev, he doesn’t have tiny rivulets of water running down his spine. That’s because he knows how to dry himself.
I have a good mind to educate Sev on the matter. How long must we all suffer because of his ignorance? He’s twenty-eight. Why hasn’t he learned to use a towel properly yet?
Another key difference between Lockie and Sev is that Lockie understands that there’s no harm in wrapping a towel around your waist when you’re fresh out of the shower in a public space. There’s no downside to it. It hurts no one.
“That save was unreal, Tee,” says Lockie. Sev clears his throat loudly. Lockie glances in Sev’s direction and corrects. “That save was unreal, Mister Dog.”
As he says it, he bats his lashes at me and nudges his shoulder against mine. For funsies, I do it back.
If I thought Sev’s eyes were black before, they weren’t. They’re black holes now. Endless and vast. He’s staring daggers at Lockie, and it’s fucking me up.
Why does he do this shit if he doesn’t want me?
That man doesn’t know what he wants.
Oh Jesus. Not this again. I try to quiet my mind, but I’m unsuccessful thanks to Sev and his beautiful dick, which happens to be lolling between his legs as he moves, swaying casually five or six yards away from me.
I’ve never seen it hard, and thank God for small mercies.
I don’t need to see it hard to know it’s a weapon.
It’s bad enough seeing it soft. Even soft, it has a nice girth.
A nice weight. A lot of extra skin. His skin is darker there than on the rest of his body.
His balls are big. Full and heavy-looking.
Slightly pinker than usual from the heat of the shower.
His pubic hair is black, thick, and neatly trimmed.
He’s currently stepping into his suit pants despite the fact that he doesn’t have underwear on.
He does that. Goes commando when he’s wearing a suit.
It kills me stone dead.
I watch as he slides one foot into a pant leg and then the other. When he has his feet on the floor again, he uses both hands to pull his pants up, finishing off with a little hop. It’s an excessive bounce that makes his dick and balls bob. That kills me too.
Lockie taps my thigh. “So what do you say?” I look at him vacantly. I had no idea he was still next to me, much less that he was talking. “A drink? To celebrate the win. ”
“Uh.” I drop my head and scratch the back of my neck, frantically trying to organize my thoughts into something coherent. The best I can come up with is, “No. Sorry. I can’t.”
I can’t ’cause I’ve got to rush home and jack my dick until I pass out.