Page 32 of Two Guys One Puck (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #2)

THIRTY-TWO

SEABORN

J anuary is the worst. We don’t get to see each other at all and it’s painful after waking up to him so many days in row. There’s not enough time and I feel greedy with his but I don’t want to show it. I don’t want Ktytor to get sick of my neediness.

Seaborn: Call me. I want to see your face.

Ktytor: You’re not out?

Seaborn: No.

Ktytor: I’m surprised.

Seaborn: Do you not want to see me?

He’s being strange, and I don’t know if it’s strange because we’ve both been busy coming back from break. It’s put us into a grueling grind towards the post season. We’re both training hard and getting into classes, and the stress of it weighs on me.

Ktytor: I do.

Seaborn: Are you going to call?

I’m too stressed, and he’s the only one I want to talk to. My dad seems better, but that doesn’t mean he won’t go downhill again at any moment, and it’s constantly in the back of my mind. Every time my phone buzzes, I expect it to be bad news.

And if I’m really being honest, I don’t enjoy myself when I’m out. It’s turned into more trouble than it’s worth, and trying to explain why I don’t want to sleep with anyone is going to blow my cover.

My phone finally rings, and it’s a video call.

“Hi.” I sit back, exhaling some of my stress.

“You look tired.”

“Thanks.” I roll my eyes.

“Is truth. You sleeping enough?”

“Just because it’s the truth doesn’t mean you have to say it.” I lift my shoulders. “Just stress.”

“Is your father okay? I like him. Almost better than you.”

“Fucking rude!” I have to laugh.

“Are you jealous? Is he thinking of adopting me already because I’m better at hockey and I cook for them?” He grins even wider and fuck, he’s hot.

“I think my family misses you more than they miss me. They keep asking if you’re coming for spring break and what you’re going to cook.” I push my fingers into my hair, feeling better just seeing his dickish face.

“Is easy to win men with their stomachs and dicks.” Ktytor winks.

“Hey, you better not be fucking everyone in my family.” I wrinkle my nose.

“I’m not the whore between us.”

I hold up my middle finger, and he opens his mouth like he’d suck it. I groan, way too horny for the mental image. “Are you trying to kill me slowly?”

“Is not my fault our schedules don’t line up. You will have to take that up with the commissioner, Сонце.”

“You still haven’t told me what that means.” I tried putting it into Google translate, but he’s only said it out loud, and since his damn language is all consonants, I can’t even come close to figuring out how to spell it.

“What what means?” he asks, wearing the hint of a smirk.

I try to say it, but my mouth cannot make those sounds.

“Is cute when you try to say things. Your poor Duolingo owl. Have you killed him yet?”

I ignore him. My owl is doing just fine, even if my learning Ukrainian is not. “You said it when we were talking to Emily.”

“I call you so many things, honey bear. I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit. What does it mean?” It’s not only driving me crazy, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me to know, which makes me more curious. What could be so bad?

“Do you expect me to remember every pet name I call you, angel baby? Because I use them indiscriminately.”

“That one means something.”

“If you say so, Сонце.”

I grunt. “You’re doing this to piss me off, aren’t you?”

“You’re hot when you’re mad. I like to be fucked into the mattress.” He flicks his tongue over his lips like a fucking tease.

“I can’t fuck you into the mattress when you’re states away.”

“This is a tragedy. You should fix it.”

“I wish I could.” Why do we have to be so far away? “I’ve looked at tickets, but we’re both too busy heading into the end of the season.”

And it’s not going to get any better. The teams with the top ten draft picks are all over the country and Canada.

We could end up fucking anywhere. I even tried to figure out who might need a center and an enforcer, but it’s too convoluted, and teams are unpredictable with their picks. There’s no way to even try to guess.

“At least we’ll both be drafted with the way our teams are playing. Then, money will no longer be an issue.” Ktytor seems so unbothered.

How does nothing get to him? Does he fucking care about a single thing other than winning?

“Our first contracts won’t be that good.” Maybe I shouldn’t let it stress me out, but it seems like everything is hitting all at the same time, and I can’t catch a break.

“We will be able to afford a train or plane ticket, Seaborn.” His tone is patronizing.

“I guess you’re right. But how much time will we really have off?”

“Enough, and we can spend summers together.” Ktytor sounds almost dreamy. “Is like you want to be stressed out about this.”

“I don’t want to be stressed—I am stressed.” I blow out a breath. “You won’t go back home?”

“No. I will send money, and if my brother wants to come here, I will help him.”

“What about your mother?”

“I don’t know if she’ll ever leave. I can hope but I would never ask her to.” Ktytor puts his arm over his head.

I lose my train of thought for a minute. “What? I thought the point of you having enough money was to help her escape?”

“To help her, yes. To escape, no.” He doesn’t seem upset about it either.

I can’t imagine being so far away from my family. Being as far as I am is already hard. “Why would she want to stay? Isn’t she close to bombings and all that shit?”

“Is her home. She loves it. I love it. No one wants to be driven from their home.” He shakes his head. “We aren’t a people who will just abandon our country because is easier. Even the women and children who have left want to go back. We will keep fighting for our home.”

“I guess I don’t fully understand.” I pause, trying to figure out how to word what I want to say. “But you left.”

“Because I can make money and make their lives better. I love hockey, but it wasn’t my first choice.

I’d never ask her to leave. I’d never ask my grandparents to leave.

I’d never ask my brothers to leave. This is the only home they have ever known.

I left so they could remain.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

“Will you ever go back?” Maybe my question is selfish.

“I don’t know what my future holds.”

“Sorry for making this conversation take such a fucked up turn.” I feel bad for dredging it all up.

“Is okay. You can’t know what is like if you don’t live it. I like that you want to know me.” His words make my chest warm.

“I like knowing you.”

“I would hope so.” He rubs his tongue inside his cheek. “I almost forgot, I told Happy and Sleepy I think I’m gay.”

“What?” I sit up. “What did they say?”

“They said they thought I was asexual.” He doesn’t seem bothered by that either. “I guess I understand why they would say this. Maybe it makes more sense than gay.”

I’m reeling, trying to process his words. “Wait, are you asexual? Because we fuck like a lot. Not that it’s a bad thing, but isn’t that like where you don’t enjoy sex?” Now I’m doubting I fully understand what we’re talking about.

“No, is not always about sex. Lots of asexual people have sex. But I don’t think I’m… What would you say? Maybe…fully. I looked it up after they said it. I think is demisexual.” He waves me off. “Not a big deal. I like your cock. Yes?”

“Not a big deal at all…but thank you for telling me.” I think about the word before deciding to ask. “I’ve heard demisexual before but I cannot, for the life of me, recall what it means. That’s on the ace spectrum, right?”

“I guess basically means I am not really sexually attracted to someone unless we have an emotional connection.”

“So you’re attracted to me because you hate me?” I try not to laugh but fail.

“Hate is a strong emotion.” He winks.

I roll my eyes. “You better not still hate me.”

“It’s not all hate now, so don’t feel pity for yourself.”

“But there is some?” I ask, trying not to let my annoyance show.

“Are you feeling a little insecure, Seaborn?”

“No!” I huff.

“Are you sure? I can stroke your ego while you stroke your cock and make you feel better.”

I turn the camera around. “Jokes on you. I’ve been stroking my cock this whole conversation.”

“You started without me?”

I shrug. “Not my fault, seeing your face makes me need to come.”

“It is a nice face. Now I have to catch up.” He sets his phone up on his nightstand and gets his beautiful fucking dick out.

“But how did it go telling them? How did they react?” I wet my lips with my tongue, really wanting him in my mouth.

“They don’t care.” He chuckles. “I love when you get that look in your eyes.”

“What look?”

“Like you’re going to devour me.” He still reads me so well. But I don’t hate it anymore.

My breath catches. “Did you tell them about us?”

“Christ, no. I’m not that dumb.”

“Two of mine know.” I squeeze my dick and then smear the fluid leaking from my slit around my head, knowing it drives him crazy.

“Is not my fault the big goalie is basically your stalker.” He’s not wrong.

“What made you want to tell them?”

“I’m tired of my friends not knowing me. I wanted them to know. It felt cathartic to admit out loud.”

“I can see that.”I scoot down in the bed, watching the way he works his cock trying not to get fully distracted.

“Have you talked about it more with your friends?”

“A little bit. Archangel told me I’m a victim of compulsory heterosexuality.” I don’t know why it still makes me uncomfortable to talk about when I’m clearly comfortable doing it. It’s not being with him I’m having a hard time with. It’s everything else.

It’s like trying to make a relationship work on different teams, and being with a guy just adds another layer of difficulty to it. And most days I’m so frustrated by it, I could scream.

“What is this?”

I explained the concept to him as best I could.

“Do you think that’s true?” he asks, licking his palm before going back to stroking.

“This is the best way to have a conversation.” I groan, trying to come up with my answer.

“I don’t know what’s true. I don’t want to have to fucking label it or come out.

” I just want to live in a fucking world where this isn’t an issue.

No one should care who I’m with or like to fuck, and it shouldn’t have a damn thing to do with my job.

“I understand.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way.”

“I know.” He closes his eyes, sucking in a breath and moving his hand faster.

“Come with me.” I whisper.

“Make me.” He throws back.

“Squeeze your dick tighter and play with your balls.”

He does as I ask, and exhilaration ignites my chest.

“That’s right. Rub your thumb through your pre-cum.”

He immediately does.

“Fuck, that’s hot. You’re so hot.”

“I know I’m hot, and I like making you cum.”

“By putting on a show?” I ask because that makes me impossibly harder.

“Yes. Among other things.”

“Move your hand faster and roll it. Show me, Leontiy.”

“I like when you say my name.”

Ktytor’s cock throbs in his hand, and finally he comes, and I follow shortly after.

We clean up and talk more about our classes and teams, games we’ve played, and other stuff.

But before he hangs up, he says, “Be ready for our game. I’m not going easy on you because I like your cock.”