With one of my hands, I encourage him to move faster. He obeys and begins to let himself go. It doesn’t take long before thesaltiness of more of his pre-cum coats my tongue, then just as soon as I’ve swallowed that down, he’s flooding my mouth with his release. Hot, thick, and delicious. My skin heats as I swallow it all, then as soon as it’s all gone, I cry out around his softening dick and shoot my load into his eager mouth.
Connor
All I can think as I swallow is that that was hot as hell. I’m starting to understand why he’s always so obsessed with licking me clean.
He grabs my hips and flips me over onto my back then positions himself to hover over me. From this position I get to watch the remnants of his lust wear off in his post-orgasmic haze. It’s replaced immediately by deep affection that has blown his eyes wide and heavy.
“What have you done to me?” he asks then kisses me deeply. I feel a thrill course through me at the idea of the small remaining traces of each other’s releases mingling together across our tongues.
“What have I done to you?” I ask. “What have you done to me? I’m ruined.”
“No,” he says with an echo of sternness in his voice. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I smile and look into his eyes again, expecting to see his happiness reflected. Instead, I see sadness. I reach up and place my palm against his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. When he opens his eyes again, that sadness is gone, and he’s lazily smiling down at me.
Somewhere on the bed beside us, his phone chimes. Blindly, he reaches for it, finding it near my knees.
“Probably the pizza guy,” he says once he grabs it. He gives me one more kiss, then looks at the screen. He grips me with his other arm and hauls the both of us off the bed and onto our feet in one fluid motion. “Holy shit!”
“What?” I ask, panic bubbling through meagain. What if it’s another rumor about him? What if my father talked some more? What if someone close to us outed me as well? We just agreed to give this a real shot; it would be our luck that the rug would be pulled out from under us immediately. “Gavin, what is it?”
He grins at me. “My dad. He’s on his way.”
SIXTEEN
Gavin
“Dad, it’s already arranged, and it’s easier this way,” I say into my phone from my seat in the locker room. “Yeah. I know you hate it, but for fuck’s sake, get in the damn car.” I rub my forehead. “He has your ticket with him… No, they’re not on the glass. I got you cheap seats. There’s probably a support beam in front of you… Just get here… Alright. I’ll see you after the game.”
Connor snickers across the locker room at me and shakes his head. “Did he get in the car?”
“He better have,” I grumble. Leave it to my dad to be the one man on the planet to try to turn down a free ride from the airport in a luxury car that takes him straight to his son’s Olympic hockey game.
“He’ll make it,” Connor says, as he puts on his shoulder pads.
“I know.” And I do know. I left the driver that I hired to pick him up with explicit instructions to get him into the car and to the stadium, even if he has to zip tie him, then black bag him to do it.
Shaking my head and smiling to myself, I put away my phone, then concentrate on lacing up my skates. There’s only fifteen moreminutes until we have to be on the ice to warm up. With a bit of luck, my dad will be here before the first face off.
Now that I’m off the phone, I can’t help but notice how eerily quiet it is in the locker room. I look around. Everyone already has their game faces on and most of them look like they’re out for blood. Latvia is about to get picked apart out there. It’s been a long twenty-four hours for not only me, but the entirety of our team. It’s safe to say that all of us would love to give the sports world something to talk about other than who I fuck. We don’t just need a win. We need a narrative change. Because the current narrative playing on a loop on all the sports channels sucks.
Has all my rage on the ice been because I was living in the closet?
No.
Will my presence in the locker room screw up the Blizzards’ team dynamic?
No.
Does this revelation about me tarnish the Olympic Games?
Probably yes, but I don’t care. I’m not the first gay athlete to ever step onto Olympic ice by a long shot. It’s like everyone in the world has forgotten men’s figure skating exists.
Finally, Bouchard breaks the silence. “You know what we need is some crazy-ass skier to do a quadruple backflip off a cliff or some shit.”
I turn in my seat to look at him. “You say that like your crazy ass doesn’t take eighty-mile-an-hour puck shots to the dome for a living.”
He grins at me. “Says the guy who makes a living skating full speed into full-grown men. Which…” He shrugs and his face twists up with a hint of curiosity. “It’s suddenly dawning on me as something you might enjoy more than I thought.”
