Page 164 of Heartbreak Hockey

I’m easy to distract. All it takes is for him to move and I’m lit up from the inside. I couldn’t care less if the world was ending. He reduces me to a live wire of sensation, and I buck in time with his thrusts as we slowly devolve into hump-happy teenagers worried our parents could discover us at any second.

I come apart in breathy moans as he fucks me and jacks my dick at the same time, my cum searing hot on my belly and then he flips me, drilling me like an animal. Here’s to hoping that the sharp slap of his hips against my ass is rhythmic enough not to jolt the baby from his sleep.

Merc cums with a sharp gust of my name from his lips—Jack—and then falls beside me more worn out from that than a single one of our practices, which were much more taxing. It’s a testament to how dead he is. I’m no better, my eyes about to flicker closed, totally fine with sleeping in my own jizz if it means I don’t have to move again for the next hour.

There’s a pounding on the door before I can sail off into the Land of Nod. The baby wakes busting out a cry to wake the damn dead.

God dammit, we have a man-child now. Already forgot about him.

I cover my head with a pillow while Mercy covers himself in a robe and lifts Stanley into his arms.

“What?” he calls to the closed door.

“I need a shower, but there’s no way I can use what’s in there on my skin. I’ll dry up like a raisin.”

“You’re up, Leslie,” Mercy says as if he’s telling me to get onto the ice.

“Me? I don’t know shit about skin products.”

“I don’t imagine you do, but I have a feeling he’ll know just fine. You’re Mr. Moneybags now, sugar daddy. I’m tapped out on extras for the rest of the month.”

Oh, God. “Can’t I just be the writing-a-check kind of foster brother-parent? He’s old enough to drive himself and with the Maps app on his phone, he’s all set.” I’m up though. Logan’s never been to Vancouver before. The kind thing to do is take him where he needs to go, once, and then he can go his fucking self forever more.

Mercy laughs, cooing at the baby who’s fully awake now—but at least not crying—as I hunt for a towel to wipe the cum off of … everywhere.

“Coming!” I shout at the door.

“Pretty sure you already did!” Logan shouts back. There’s a snicker and then footsteps walking away.

“Do they like figure skaters in Switzerland? With all the money I have, we could ship him there. Nothing says building character like fending for yourself with the money given to you by your brother’s rich boyfriend while you’re in Switzerland.”

Mercy laughs some more because he knows I’m joking.

Mostly.

* * *

Mercy’s Log

Here we are, buttercup. On the precipice. Might sound strange calling where we’re at this moment in time a precipice when we’ve already climbed up and down so many mountains, but that’s where we are. Every day I chase the magical trail that leads me to you. The end of the path might be the same, but then you show me something new and astonishing and I’m left with the same awe as to what it means to call you mine.

My only issue—other than when you leave all the damn cupboard doors open—is that I never feel close enough to you and I wondered why that could be. I wonderedhowit could be. The answer finally hit me today when I stared down at you, cock in your ass, as close as I could possibly be and yet I still didn’t feel close enough. It’s because I’m always supposed to chase you and chasing, by definition, means being in pursuit of. If you catch up to what you’re chasing, you’re not chasing it anymore. I’m not supposed to ever feel close enough to you because if I do, the chase is over, and I never ever want it to be over. The chase is what pulls me further into you, deeper, and deeper. Soon as I’m about to reach out and catch you at one destination, you take off for another and I’m running after you again, finding new ways to be closer to you.

If by chance I should ever capture you, don’t let me know, okay? Or let it only be for one sweet fleeting second so that I’m left forever craving that moment again. Make me chase you. Make me work for you. Give your love to me easily but let me hunger for you without end to maintain the beautiful suffering of pursuit.

* * *