Ishould not have come here. I definitely shouldn’t have worn these shorts, and I super extra triple shouldn’t have let my eyes navigate Cory’s wet body like Columbus did the Atlantic.
I already can’t stop thinking about slash jerking off in the shower, in bed, and regrettably behind my locked office door while thinking of him. If things keep going the way they are, I’m going to be severely dehydrated and have crippling RSI.
Oh, and no job.
Why did I listen to Faith? “You need to be part of the team.” She insisted. “I saw how much you enjoyed talking with Brady and Cory. Put yourself out there, get to know them. You can’t lock yourself up in the basement forever.”
With the thoughts of a certain young winger I’ve been having of late, isolated in a dungeon is exactly where I deserve to be.
I’m a staff member in a position of trust. Cory is a student. This … whatever this fantasy is, it can’t happen. Yet still, I find myself protective, maybe even jealous of the female hands reaching from windows, roaming his stomach, their eyes ogling those nipples pressed against the glass, wet and juicy.
I have been known to become obsessive, going through periods of fixation with songs, or a movie—Hairspray for example—and occasionally people. Not to a weird stalker extent or anything, it all stays in my head. But yeah. It can be problematic. Like it was with Brandon. Distance from that relationship has left me wondering if I was truly in love, or if he was just another fixation. A costly one at that.
Watching Cory now, what I feel, feels different.
Physicality has a lot to do with my admiration. As do his hockey skills, because there’s nothing more attractive than a man confident in his abilities, and on the ice, Captain Cory is confidence-personified. But the overwhelming issue, the most complex complication is far more difficult to ignore.
I like that he’s figuring himself out and I’m willing to take chances in that process.
I like that he’s open to new things.
I like his tenacity.
I like his ridiculous wardrobe.
I like him.
Worse than that I care about him. After I took him home, sleep evaded me ‘til the wee hours. The plight of his family consumed my thoughts. Hockey is an expensive sport. One I gave away to spare my family the burden of cost, but I could only do that because I overheard my dad. Cory’s never been given that chance to do the same or even chip in, which in truth is both a blessing and a curse. As much as it would have helped his family, I would hate to see him face a decision like I did. Would hate to see the world deprived of his talent.
Perhaps the situation isn’t as dire as his sister made out. He seems happy enough today. Then again, I’ve the feeling even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Cory would stand taller than ever, like the load was nothing more than a mere feather.
I like that, too.
“You going to stand around looking pretty or are you going to help?”
I jump, but can’t stop my smile from spreading. Maintaining my Mr. Grumpy persona around this team is becoming harder and harder.
“Morning, Brady.” Turning to greet him, I come face to face with not only Brady, but his partners Quinn and Troye.
“Plummy, you’ve met Quinny, but this is Troye.” Troye commands my hand as Brady continues. “James is Faith’s brother and the Bear’s new student physio.” On the best of days meeting a colleague’s partner can be daunting, but I’ve got two for one, one being a NHL rookie, the other my boss’s daughter. I hope the fuck Cory doesn’t come over here. I don’t think I’m strong enough to take in that belly button under so much scrutiny. So yeah, I perform the perfunctory handshake then freeze. Thankfully, of the three people before me, Brady seems the most introverted and practically Miley Cyrus compared to me.
“Dad never shuts up about you and your magic hands, James. Apparently his shoulder hasn’t felt so good since he was a rookie.”
Under the gaze of six intensely focused eyes, I drop my head and nod. “It’s all in the stretching.”
“Don’t be so modest. Plummy.” I roll my eyes at Brady’s nick name. “He’s a muscle relaxation demon. I’ve never seen someone so flexible. Used to be a goalie, too.”
“Is that so? Always been a big fan of flexible goalies.” Smirks Troye before sending a heated look and wink, I’m almost embarrassed to witness Brady, who the innuendo seems lost on.
“Hey, we should see if Noah and Shane are on for a little three-on-three.” He beams. “Shit that would be great.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” While I force a smile, the entirety of my digestive system clenches. A bit of three-on-three does sound fun. A lot if I’m honest. But it’s also a terrifying prospect for someone with my level of introversion. It’s been years since I played, or since I’ve spent that amount of time with anyone other than family or colleagues.
Can I be personable for that long? Then there’s the … Hmm. Sweat forms on my brow as I self-consciously pat my soft belly. Maybe I could get there early and change before anyone else arrives.
“You okay, Doc?” A freezing cold palm belonging to the last person I need close right now, comes to rest on my forearm, fingers softly tracing a prominent vein. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
I feel like it too. “I’m fine. Just skipped breakfast.”
