Page 31 of Total Assist (For Puck’s Sake #13)

SHIVELY

I hate being home. I hate Dasan not being here. I hate that I scheduled conditioning for my team since I’m the reason he’s not here.

Or at least, part of the reason. I also know that he’s hanging out with his friends after. Glancing at the time, I know that he’s already with them.

I’m not jealous that he’s with his friends. I’m glad he’s hanging out with them.

Sighing, I lean back on the couch and open one of the new apps on my phone. Dasan found apps specifically designed for what we’re doing. The first, Caress, is a journaling app. There’s a habit tracker and prompts, and our accounts are connected.

There’s an option to make entries private, but we agreed that I would never use that. And I won’t. Breaking trust means another essay, and I’m not going to do that again if I can help it.

The second app is called Submit. Shocking, right?

But it performs the way I’d mentioned regarding rules—keeping them in one place where I can access them easily.

Dasan enters rules and the punishments correlated to breaking them.

There’s also a place for to-do lists, such as my morning body-image check, daily journaling, and checking in four times a day, and you can set them up as recurring.

I’d been comfortable with just having the rules and expectations laid out the last day on Kala, but having this in place makes me feel firmly comfortable.

If I ever have a question, I have something to look at.

When Dasan adds something—either a brand-new something or something that he’d forgotten to add initially—I receive a notification.

And he receives notification that I’ve looked at it.

I absently touch my neck for maybe the hundredth time since being home alone.

There’s going to be a raw spot where I keep touching.

I never would have thought that I wanted a collar before, but since seeing those boys with collars on and hearing how happy—and proud—they were to be owned… It’s all I can think about.

I feel like I’m owned too, but I don’t have the proof around my neck. Instead, I was collarless like the boys who didn’t have a dom of their own. It felt… dizzy. There was nothing I liked about that moment.

It’s not difficult to admit that Dasan had been right about the meet-up. While I hadn’t thought I’d take anything away from seeing other subs, I sure as fuck did. I now know exactly what I’m not. Not a slave, not a brat, not a Little, not a pet. The “not” list is rather extensive.

But there’s more on the “I am” list than I thought. Mostly because I didn’t realize there were more nuances to being a sub than there is. It’s not as simple as just doing as I’m told. There are different kinds of subs and different aspects to subbing.

For instance, Benji was telling me about his bedroom submissive role, and while he does exactly what I do, they also play with ropes and impact and stuff. Not going to lie, I’m as terrified of those things as I am excited by the idea.

I wrote about these thoughts for the first time this morning when I knew Dasan was busy and couldn’t talk to me about them yet. I’m not sure we’ll explore those things because I don’t know how Dasan feels about it.

I don’t get notified when he reads my journal entries, and he doesn’t always bring them up. I have a dozen already because when I’m sitting here doing nothing, I begin typing whatever I’m thinking of, as if I have a whole lot bottled up that I need to get out.

It helps that I don’t have to say the words out loud.

I wrote that in one of my journal entries, and a new rule appeared in the other app stating that if speaking something was too much for me, I could write it into my journal.

It would be addressed directly if necessary, but otherwise, Dasan would address it without bringing it to my attention.

The only other thing he truly brought up was my musings on topping.

That was a side tangent from a conversation with Esmond in the kitchen.

He said he loved being a needy little bottom, but he also loved topping.

I was just writing in whatever without thinking about it, which I’ve been praised for repeatedly in the last forty-eight hours since using the app.

We talked about it, and Dasan said he’d be down for trying.

He’s never bottomed before, though he’s been fingered.

The way my entire body heated up told me I was definitely into the idea of topping him.

Being inside him feels… big. Like a supernatural entity is lowering themselves to a mere mortal in a very vulnerable way. He’s trusting me with that.

Not right now, though. He said if I’d brought it up at the beginning of our Kala trip, we could have messed around, but he doesn’t want anything to interfere with his game. Being sore in ways he doesn’t know might screw up his game.

I told him my first time with him didn’t leave me achy at all, though the times after that I’m always achy. He laughed and said he’d been so terrified of hurting me that he probably stretched me wide enough to accommodate two of his dicks.

Not that I’d known that. All I’d felt was the wonder and pleasure of him touching me.

I nearly jump when my phone rings since I’m so focused on my journal. I quickly save the passage before answering my phone. My players don’t call me often, so Ren calling out of the blue is a little concerning. Because with Ren comes the chance that Felton’s fallen into a bad place again.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Hey, Coach. Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Felton is fine.” I smile, not surprised that he knew that’s right where my mind went. “So, Dasan and I had a conversation a while ago.”

Immediately, my heart nearly stops. Oh, fuck. God, did he figure us out?

It takes me a minute to realize he’s still talking then another minute further to figure out that this has nothing at all to do with me and Dasan. Which also means I’ve missed a few sentences.

“I’ve been talking to other minorities in the league, and we have a solid two dozen guys who are willing to be involved.

Felton has facilitated a few conversations with some of the Gays Can Play crew, and we think that, initially, we can expand on their events to include more focus on diversity within pro sports—specifically hockey since that’s where we play. ”

“That sounds great, Ren.”

“It’s good,” he agrees. “I’m calling because I’d like to ask if you’d be willing to support us when we bring it up to Winnipeg management and then further, the league.”

“Absolutely, Ren. I’d be happy to endorse the creation of this program.”

“My hope is that the league will take it on like they manage the GCP initiative. By all rights, they should. I don’t actually want to run this program, nor do I want you to. Right now, my goal is to gather support from all levels of hockey then approach those going up the ladder.”

“Understood. I would wager a guess that our entire team will help you by showing support, even if it doesn’t apply to them.”

When Ren hesitates, I ask, “Am I incorrect?”

He doesn’t answer for a minute. “I have a lot of support from my teammates.”

“But there are some who don’t want to support you,” I guess.

My hackles instantly rise. I’m aware of the privilege I have as a white man, and though I’ve only gotten into very small discussions with Dasan—primarily Thanksgiving—being with someone who faces more challenges every single day because of the color of his skin isn’t lost on me.

I know I don’t see it all. I’m not programmed to recognize it in the same way he is.

But in a passing conversation, I know it’s there.

“There are in every setting, Coach,” Ren says, his usually smooth, calm voice no different with this comment than the last.

“Who?”

“I’m not asking for your support by singling people out.

This might sound arrogant, but their lack of support doesn’t get in my way.

I can still run circles around them on the ice.

I am a better player than they are, and I know they’re just butt hurt because of it and would rather write off my position on this team as a diversity quota than admit that I’m a better player than they are. ”

From that, I can wager a guess that these players aren’t on my starting line as Ren is. Noted. I’ll be watching far more closely.

“Coach, I don’t at all want you to call anyone out. That’s the opposite of my purpose. All I’m asking for is your verbal and physical support when I’m ready to take this to management and the league.”

“You have it,” I assure him.

“And you’re not going to make a big deal with the team right now?”

I don’t answer.

“I’m not ready to go to management. There are still a few things I want to run by Dasan.”

My heart jumps. “Dasan?”

“Yeah. This was actually his idea, and I kind of jumped on it. I’ve been running thoughts by him. He’s a good sounding board, and his experience comes from being a person of color. An indigenous person. Mine comes from being the not-the-right-kind of white. From being Asian.”

“That’s all ridiculously disgusting.”

He chuckles. “I know, Coach.”

“Again, you have my support. Whatever you need. I’m happy to be there. Give me a way to support you. Whatever you need, Ren.”

“Okay, then I need for you to not call out someone on our team.”

I frown. “Why? Any kind of racism is not welcome in Winnipeg.”

“Understood, but until I brought this to your attention, it hasn’t been a problem. Correct?”

“You tell me. Has it been?”

His laughter is low. “It has not. There aren’t many on our team who view me, Dasan, or the others of the wrong whiteness or nonwhite as anything other than an equal teammate. Thus, it’s a non-issue.”

“At least until we get this off the ground,” I counter.

“Actually, I’m part of a protected class, so I’m protected from discrimination in my job regardless of how anyone on the team feels.

However, this isn’t about my rights as an employee.

It’s about visibility, equality, and diversity on a bigger, broader, more obvious scale to the public.

It’s about getting out there so that other people of the wrong whiteness or of color can see that there’s a place for us in pro sports—and everywhere—in the same way that the league is doing with the LGBTQIA+ community. ”

“All beautifully said. This must be why you’re the spokesperson.”

I enjoy his quiet chuckle. “No. It’s because…

” Ren trails off. “Honestly, I don’t know.

I’m innately a quiet person, but sometimes, being quiet doesn’t work when there’s a loud crowd who overpower your voice and the voices of those like you.

It’s important that people like me, kids who look like me, know that they can be great at hockey too. ”

“It is,” I agree. “And those who look like Dasan. Wiley. Everyone else.”

“Exactly.”

“You have my word. I won’t even mention it or glare at anyone until I have the go ahead.”

Ren’s laughter is louder now. “Thank you, Coach. Thanks for taking my call.”

“Always, Ren.”

The call ends, and I’m left sitting on my couch, staring at nothing while I think about our conversation. I’d like to call Dasan and talk to him about it, but he’s with his friends.

So instead, I send him a text, and after reading it over a few times, adjusting it where I need to, I hit send.

Me

I know it’s my job to earn your pride, Alpha, but I want you to know that I’m so very proud of you.

It’s not long before Dasan responds.

Alpha DU

Thank you, sweetheart, but what have I done to earn your praise?

Me

Ren called to talk to me about the diversity inclusion program that he’s working on with your help. It’s important, and I’m so proud of you for being involved in it.

I don’t receive a text back for several minutes. I’m about to open my journaling app again when he calls me instead. My breath catches because I always feel short of breath when I’m about to see Dasan or hear his voice.

“Hello, Alpha,” I greet when I answer.

“Hello, my omega. Tell me about this call. I was unaware that Ren was going to talk to you about it.”

“Are you angry?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“He just told me about what you’re trying to do and asked if I’d support you when he took it to management and the league.

I know that you are who you are and you’re very proud of being who you are, but I think it’s very important that other people like you and Ren can see more readily that you’re as able, important, and skilled as any man. You deserve to be here.”

“Thank you, darling,” he says, voice quiet. “I…That means a lot to hear.”

“You’re welcome, Alpha.”

“Thank you for supporting us.”

I don’t think I offered that I agreed, but I’m glad he knows me well enough to know that I will do anything to support them. Him, specifically, but also everyone who needs more support to fight the hate and prejudices still running rampant in the world.

“You’re welcome. You didn’t need to call me. Are you having fun with your friends?”

“I wanted to hear your voice. I keep touching my chest, but you’re not here to see it.”

I grin and let my hand fall from where it was just resting on my neck as if ringing where a collar would be. “I understand that.”

“I’m having a good time with my friends. I’ll be over in a few hours. Why don’t you walk around naked for me until I get there?”

Shivers run down my spine. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Is your collar on?”

As if his words made the collar appear around the base of my dick, I’m suddenly aware that it’s there. “Yes, Alpha. Always.”

“Good boy. Strip down for me. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Yes, Alpha. Have fun.”

“You too.”

The call ends, and I walk to my room so I can put away the clothes I’m wearing. When I pick up my phone again, there’s a new notification from the Submit app that reads:

Submit

No clothes until instructed otherwise

I grin and open the app so I can mark it as complete. The only thing I’ll wear today is my collar and my alpha when he gets here later.