Page 32 of Total Assist (For Puck’s Sake #13)

DASAN

I love these new apps. Caress specifically.

I’m not sure when Shively finds the time to write all these journal entries, but it’s only been a handful of days and there are more than a dozen.

His very first one was hesitant. While I’ve never seen anything he’s written besides his punishment paper, I could almost feel his hesitation in it.

We had a very long sex-a-thon in which I praised him nonstop, not only for his sexy little cum hole but also for his journal entry. I also lifted his orgasm denial and allowed him to come as often as the need arose.

I named him omega correctly. My man can come like a damn geyser on repeat. It’s lovely. Intoxicating. Addicting. While I continued to praise him, I also drove on and on, just to see how many times I could get him to come for me.

I’m pretty sure it’s in large part thanks to my piercing. It’s always lent me some sidekick assistance in sex, but with Shively, it’s almost exaggeratingly heightened. Add in a few toys here and there, and my man is a needy little mess in the sexiest fucking way.

There’s simply nothing better than seeing this man—who is all refined business and exact lines in everyday life—writhe, whine, and beg beneath me while I fuck him.

The way little tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

How his back arches. To see him covered in his own release until he’s practically made himself a sweater. It’s the hottest shit ever.

But that was just the first journal entry.

I realized back when I put our morning rituals into place that worship of that particular area for a couple hours truly has him seeing things a little differently. He’s not entirely self-conscious about physical features, but there are some that make him insecure.

It had surprised me when one of the first things he’d told me he was insecure about was his cock. I’ve now instated Omega Dick Worship Hour every week or so to make sure he understands how much I love his cock.

We recently enjoyed Omega Ass Worship Hour right before we left Kala when he shared that he didn’t like his ass. Granted, I might have concentrated on his hole a little more than necessary, but I think he got the point. His ass is a masterpiece.

However, since reading his journal entries, a more profound trust spans between us. Everything between us feels more… Stronger isn’t quite the word I’m looking for, though I think that’s accurate. Our relationship has flourished. Our bond is deeper.

Sometimes, we talk about things that he’s shared. Sometimes, we don’t. I will simply create a new rule or ritual in response so we can work on it together. Especially when it appears to be something that he’s struggling with.

Journaling has also made him more confident. I see that confidence bloom constantly, particularly when we’re home but also when we’re not. He has a safe space where he can share his emotions, his fears, his fantasies, his goals. All without judgment. With unwavering support.

I may have sucked him dry yesterday afternoon when he voiced his first want to me. His want. When I asked him what he wanted, he answered with his very own want. The first journal entry I opened this morning on the bus had a new want in the first paragraph.

My man doesn’t learn from discipline. He learns and grows from positive reinforcement.

What’s surprised me in all his journal entries is how much he wants to take care of me. Some of the words are very lifestyle, so I know they’re things he learned at the meet-up. He wants to embrace the service sub role, so I let him bring me dinner the other night and clean up.

He was absolutely voracious after, loving that I let him do those things.

The comfort he’s found in our relationship after these few changes has been the best thing in the entire world. It also makes me realize that maybe we need to find a way to attend meet-ups more regularly, which can get tricky since we need to hide what we’re doing.

I adjust in the plane seat so I’m sitting sideways with my back against the window and my leg bent while I scroll to the next unread journal entry.

I’m not worried about someone catching a peek at what I’m reading.

There’s nothing at all in here that would be telling as to who wrote it.

Neither our names nor hockey is mentioned at all.

I’m Alpha, Shively is omega, and hockey is work. Simple as that.

However, I’m addicted to these little peeks into my omega’s mind. They’re pretty and personal, and it means everything to me that he trusts me with this.

We’re flying to Pittsburgh for a game tonight, so it’s relatively early. My team surrounds me, and I’m in clear view of Shively, especially sitting sideways in my seat like this.

The team is quiet for the most part, but I can tell when Willits gets bored since he pops his head over the back of my seat to look at me. “What’re you doing?”

“Reading,” I answer.

“What’re you reading?”

“Omegaverse.”

His eyebrows knit together. “What does that mean?”

“Look it up.”

Willits rolls his eyes. “When are you going to tell us where you disappeared to over break?”

“I went to an orgy.”

“That lasted all week?”

“Yep.” My eyes flick to Shively. He stares at me, licks his lips, and turns his attention back to his laptop, but I don’t miss his hand going to his neck, touching his invisible collar. I smirk and turn my attention back to my phone screen.

“Where did you find a week-long orgy?”

“Online. You can find anything online.”

“The girls were hot, huh?”

“Could have been guys,” Felton says. “If he went to an orgy, he wasn’t the only guy there.”

“Right. Hot girls and guys,” Willits agrees. “You get a lot, huh?”

“Yep,” I agree.

“You didn’t really go to an orgy, did you?” Felton asks, leaning across the aisle one row back and popping his head around the empty seat beside me.

“Why not? I could have.”

Felton studies me, but he knows I didn’t. “Right. Does the guy you’re seeing know you went to an orgy?”

“Guy?” Marion asks from a couple rows behind us.

Felton winces. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

I laugh, waving him off. “No big deal.”

“It is a big deal to out someone,” he mutters, staring at me with big glassy eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I?—”

“Felton,” I say, leaning forward to kiss his forehead in the middle of the aisle. “It’s cool. I haven’t shared it because it hasn’t come up. Not because I’m hiding it.”

He continues to look miserable as he sits back in his seat, turning his attention to Ren. Ren takes him in his arms, encouraging Felton to tuck in close, then meets my eyes. I hope I clearly convey that I’m not upset.

Perhaps I should be, but I’m not.

I sit back again, my eyes meeting Shively, who’s watching me as if he’s seen a ghost. Slightly startled, mostly terrified, a little green. Pulling out my phone, I send him a quick text message.

Me

Willits and Felton know I’m seeing someone. They have no idea who and haven’t asked. I haven’t volunteered. Take a breath, omega.

His phone is silent, but I see the moment he feels the notification. He jumps slightly and almost visibly shakes himself out of the moment.

“So… now that that’s out of the bag,” Willits says. “You two go away somewhere?”

I keep Shively in my peripheral vision. “Maybe I stayed home and shut off my phone.”

He gives me an amused look. “Right.”

Marion appears in the aisle and bats my feet out of the empty seat. He looks at me with a beaming smile. “You see guy?”

“I am.”

“Cool.”

“Are you excited because you want to see a man?”

“Maybe. I am professional athlete. I should try all things. That is rich boy privilege.”

I laugh, partly at his words but also because he’s truly playing up his Greek language barrier right now. It’s always amusing when he goes deep into not being a native English speaker.

“You do that and report back.”

“I will. Where you pick someone up?”

“At a fancy gala but there are easier ways.”

“What ways?”

“Have you ever heard of the Isle of Kala?”

“Yes!” Felton says, sitting back up. “My friends and I stop there for a few days almost every summer.”

Marion looks at me with his eyebrows raised. “What is Isle of Kala?”

“A queer resort. Check it out. It’d be like going to a gay club to find your hookup, but instead you have like eight islands filled with queer folk.”

His eyes go wide, and Felton laughs giddily. I grin because hearing a big man like Felton giggle is not something you can keep a straight face with.

“Huh.” Marion gets to his feet as he pulls out his phone. “I will look. Do I need some kind of gay… proof for entrance?”

“Oh my god,” Denny mutters, laughing.

“Like a gay license?” Felton asks excitedly. “That would be cool.”

Ren gives him a bemused look while I shake my head.

“No,” I answer Marion. “I think as long as you’re not there spreading hate, hypocritical religious doctrine, and bigotry, or trying to overtake the resort for the straights, they don’t really care.”

“I have it on good authority that even the straights that make a visit end up hooking up with men,” Felton says, grinning.

“Oh yeah?” I ask.

“You could ask Deryke Schneider,” Felton says, shrugging. “He’d visited Kala for years as a straight man before he stumbled upon Max in his banishment. Now, he’s turned to dick and is never going back.”

“Remember that you’re on a plane with thirty others and not everyone wants to be privy to this conversation,” Coach says.

“They can join in,” Willits says.

“You can join in too, Coach,” I say. He looks at me, and I smirk. I add a wink and watch as he tries like hell not to smile at me. His lips twitch, so I know he wants to. “We’re not leaving anyone out of our conversation if they’d like to join.”

“Thanks, Ukiah.”

“Always trying to be inclusive,” I add, keeping my smile wide.

“Actually, I have a question,” Beethoven Morris says. We shift in our seats to look behind us as Tove pokes his head up. “Is it just a party place? Like a club but on islands? I’m picturing like, Key West or Daytona Beach during spring break.”

“Yes,” Felton says while I say, “No.”

Felton looks at me, blinks a few times. “Have you been there?”

“I have, and I haven’t partied at all.”

“Okay, then let me clarify. There are definitely parties like spring break,” Felton says. “Lots to choose from. Many, many hot men in skimpy… pieces of fabric under hot sun and cool water. There are also women, though there are less of them.”

“I thought it is a gay resort,” Marion says.

“It is. Women can be gay too,” I say, amused.

Marion opens his mouth and tilts his head. “Oh. You mean lesbians.”

Laugher surrounds us as I nod. “Right. I mean lesbians. And pansexual women. And bisexual women. And many others who don’t necessarily identify as women or men. It’s a queer resort. Not a gay resort. Just because it’s overrun with men doesn’t mean that it’s only men.”

“Note had,” Marion says. “Continue with Tove’s question now.”

Felton gives me an amused look before he turns back to Tove.

“Yes, there are parties. But there are a lot of excursions as well. Take all the best parts from resorts, vacations, and summer sun, add a rainbow flag, remove all technology, and make everyone sign iron-clad NDAs before stepping on the island, and that’s the Isle of Kala. ”

“No technology?” Tove asks, frowning.

“Trust me when I tell you, you won’t miss it,” Felton says. I nod in agreement. “The point is anonymity. It’s a true safe space for everyone . There’s no chance of leaked pictures or videos or shit.”

“It’s safe,” I add.

“Huh,” Tove says. “What happens if there’s a family emergency?”

“The island has technology, but it’s restricted. No guests have access to it. There’s a number to call, and then the staff will relay the message,” Felton says.

“This is wild,” Marion notes. “I want to visit.”

“It’ll be fun,” Felton says, grinning. “You should totally visit. Even if you decide not to hook up, there’s so much freedom in just being there. Lots of fun. People. Peace, if you choose it.”

“Look at website,” Marion says. “Looks very fun, Tove. We can go together.”

Tove’s cheeks flush. “Uh… thanks.”

Marion plays oblivious to Tove’s blush, and I chuckle as I turn back in my seat and listen to them talk about the Isle of Kala for a while longer.

I love hockey. Truly. But this is probably one of the first times in my life that I’ve wished it wasn’t so damn consuming. What I wouldn’t give for more of that private, uninterrupted alone time with Shively. I’ve never made such great memories as those of us on the island together.

That’s where we’re heading this summer. Decision made. All summer, maybe. To hell with other responsibilities.

“I think we should have a queer resort on the mainland,” Felton says, breaking into my thoughts.

“You have all that space behind your house,” Willits says, standing over the back of my seat. “I think that’s big enough for a resort.”

“You want me to quit hockey to build a queer resort behind my house?” I ask.

“Isak Lokken quit to film porn,” Zenia says. “This is probably more wholesome.”

Denny snorts.

“I thought it was place to bury bodies,” Marion says.

“Bury bodies in the foundation,” Willits suggests.

“You could rent the land to a farm, and their big tractors with those claws that go into the ground will turn their bodies into mush and fertilize the soil,” Nason pipes in.

“How many times have I said we don’t talk about murder, boys?” Coach asks.

“We’re not talking about murder, Coach,” I respond. “We’re talking about dead bodies. Maybe someone dropped them on my lawn, and we’re just taking care of them.”

“As I learned in a meme,” Reno says, “if you bury a body under endangered tropical plants, it’s illegal to dig them up, so no one can find the body under them.”

The plane turns silent as we all shift to look at our assistant coach. He grins and turns his attention back to his tablet.

Well… okay then.