“Of course it is.” He smiles at me. Not overbearingly, but again with endless patience and understanding. He squeezes my shoulder again. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Luke. Don’t look for ways that disqualify you as an ace person. The need to get off is a natural urge. It’s healthy. There’s nothing wrong with doing what feels good.” He pauses, looking over my shoulder, out ofthe window. “That’s why I don’t have sex anymore. It didn’t feel good.”
“So… it’s all about what feels good?” I’m trying to wrap my mind around what he’s saying. I’ve never thought about it like this before. I’ve always viewed masturbation as part of sex. As part of discovering your sexuality. But maybe it’s not. Maybe Cody is right. Perhaps it’s just a natural urge.
“Yes,” he muses, looking back at me. “About what feels good and right foryou.” A smile grows on his face and somehow, I feel our roles are reversed. Cody may be the rookie on our team, but when it comes to matters of sexuality, I’m the rookie. I think I have to get used to this feeling. It’s new to me. Shit, I didn’t mean for this to get so heavy, so fast. I return his smile, placing my hand on top of his that’s still resting on my shoulder.
“So…” he smirks, a playful spark in his eyes. “Who do you jack off to?”Fuck. Me.“Is it that Antoine of yours?” he grins.
“Uhm… yeah… mostly,” I mumble. It’s not. Not anymore. Sorry, Antoine, but you’ve been replaced by a gorgeous hockey player with gray eyes and blond hair.
“Just as long as you don’t call me Grizou when we make out,” he winks.
“Grizou?” I smirk. “You looked him up?” Cody blushes adorably, shrugging.
“Yeah… I mean, I gotta know who I’m up against, right? You know, my competition and all.” Jeez, this guy. He’s the cutest.
“It’s not a competition,” I murmur. “Never will be.”
“No?” he whispers, his eyes growing wide.
“No. Never.” I lean in and kiss his chin, his familiar scent enveloping me. “What about you?” I ask, holding my breath. “Who do you think about when you get off?” I want him so badly to sayyou, and I want him so badly not to at the same time, because I think I’ll explode into a million little pieces if he does.
His smile widens even more, and his eyes turn dark gray, bordering on black. He digs his front teeth into his bottom lip, his teeth so white against the puffy pink.
“You,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I always think of you, Lucky, when I touch myself.” Fuck, that name on his lips. That name he’s chosen for me. It’s like a promise that we’ll be okay. No matter what happens, we’ll be good. His cheeks turn a bright red, and he looks down at the blanket beneath us, his fingers toying with a loose thread, shaking slightly.
“You do?” my heart soars in my chest as what feels like a band of wild horses takes flight in my stomach. Shame and fear are instantly replaced with exhilaration. And calm. A strange calm in my head. “You think of me?” I ask needily, my gaze fixated on him. He looks back up, the answer lingering in his eyes.
“Yes,” he whispers. “I only ever think of you, Luke.”Fuck. Me.
“Yeah?” I ask with that needy voice of mine that, until lately, I’ve never heard before. A lot of firsts, I guess. “What do you think about?”
“Your eyes,” he smiles, a glassy sheen to his own. “That deep chocolate brown. How it changes color with the light, from golden honey in the morning when I wait for you to wake up and you finally do, and the sun hits them just right. And then, at night, they’re an almost black coffee color. Like these… I don’t know. Like these pools of dark brown, swimming before me when you get tired.” He scoots closer to me, brushing the tips of his fingers along my lips. “And your mouth. How soft your lips are when you kiss me. How good you taste on my tongue.” He pauses, leaning all the way in, spelling the words out on my lips. “You always taste so fucking good, Lucky.” He closes the gap and presses a barely there kiss against my lips. “Like pink Gatorade and Reese’s cups,” he pants. He fucking pants.
“I do like my Reese’s,” I whimper, my fingers tingling with the need to touch him.
“You do,” he laughs, and his laughter so fresh and crisp like cool, cool water.
“What else?” I beg, because apparently, my neediness knows no boundaries. I have zero shame at this point.
“Your hair,” he says, sweeping his fingers through the hair at my temples, pushing it behind my ears. “I’ve never seen such gorgeous hair,” he sighs. “You know how many times I thought about touching it? All those times I watched you on TV. Even when it was hidden under that helmet. I still thought about it. I can’t wait until it gets warmer, and you swap your beanie for a cap. I bet you wear it backward, don’t you? I know you’ll look fine doing it. So fine. Can’t wait to ruffle my hands through your hair when I pull off that cap. Find out how it feels.”
“Yeah? How will it feel then?”
“Like fucking heaven, babe. Everything about you feels like fucking heaven, Luke.”Babe.It’s the first time he’s used that small endearment and from how wide his eyes grow, it also surprises the shit out of him. As much as I adore the nameLuckyon his lips, to the outside world, it’s neutral. We could be anyone to each other. Roomies, teammates, friends. Butbabe.It’s so…affectionate. Tender.
“I’m ababe,” I grin stupidly. I’m thebabe! Obviously, I’m the fuckingbabe.
“Uhm… yeah,” he mumbles. “Is that okay?” Doubt creeps into his voice and I hate that. I hate all the people who’ve ever made him doubt anything about himself.
“Of course, it’s okay. It’s more than okay,” I reassure him. “I like it.”
“Yeah?” Relief washes across his face, and my belly makes a weird flip, like it’s excited, too.
“Yes. Now I just gotta think of one more for you,” I smirk.
“Oh God, no,” he groans, leaning in and resting his forehead against mine. I laugh against his lips, the tips of our noses rubbing against each other. I’m going to find the best pet name for him. For my Cody. Well, the second best becausebabycame so effortlessly that it will always be my favorite for him. Shit, I’m so far gone for this man. If I was any more gone, I would be invisible. An invisible hockey player. Huh.
“Can you see me?” I ask without even thinking.
