“It does, but I think it will help you understand why this is important to me. Yes, I’m being selfish because I don’t want you to go, but I also don’t want you to have the same regrets I did.”
“Okay then. Tell me.”
He clears his throat maybe three times, then takes a deep, shaken breath that shifts both our bodies. “I loved hockey, Cory. Like. I loved it. When I was a kid I never fit in. I was always on the outside. Always struggling to be accepted ‘cause I just didn’t know how to be like the others. I didn’t smile like they did. I didn’t understand why they were smiling in the first place. Dad was great, he taught me how to read expressions, and showed me that sometimes people did things that were the opposite of what they felt, like laughing when they are scared or intimidated, or crying when they are happy. Anyway, when Mom died, and we moved back to the States, one of the first things he did was enroll me and Dyl in hockey. Dylan was in an all abilities league and I was in peewee. I was weird, the biggest and worst skater, so they shoved me in goals and kind of ignored me.”
“Pfft. That’s mean. And dumb. Goalies are amazing skaters.”
“They are. And I became one, really quickly. For the first time ever I was good at something. I didn’t feel awkward or out of place. When I stopped a goal, I got head taps from the other kids and then at the end, I got the goalie cuddles and head taps. I loved it, Cubs.”
Fuck. His eyes are glistening with tears, and I want to hug him so badly. I can see on his face he needs to get this out, though, so instead of reaching out, I tuck my hands beneath my thighs and press them into the cushion. “So, what changed?”
“Money did. As you know, hockey is expensive. Having a child with disabilities is too, especially with our fucked up medical system. Then there was Faith the super brainiac, who was going to college when all her friends were Juniors. Her age meant it was hard for her to get more than a partial scholarship. I was fifteen, I knew things were tight but I didn’t know how tight, ‘til I heard Dad on the phone one day. He was talking to Mom’s sister, my Aunt Dianne, about selling his burial plot. The one next to my mom. He was crying so heavily it was hard to make out everything he was saying but I heard Dylan, insurance, college and hockey. Dylan needed to be cared for. Faith had to go to school. I didn’t need hockey.”
And that’s it. I can sit on my hands no more. I pull them free and proceed to flap them around my head in ridiculous outrage.
“So what, you just quit?”
“Yup. That night at dinner I had a meltdown that was essentially a tantrum. Told Dad I hated hockey, and was only playing to please him. To top it off, I sprinkled in a little of the homophobic taunts so casually tossed around the locker room. He wanted me to fight. To keep playing, but I convinced him quitting was what I wanted.”
“Jesus, Jamie. That really blows.”
He breaks in to an unexpected laugh then turns to face me. “It really did, kid. But it had to be done. Regret, loving and missing something so wholeheartedly while simultaneously knowing it was the right thing to do, is a cruel kind of pain I never want you to experience. So, you will move in to my apartment. You will pay for whatever utilities you can. And you will finish school.”
“I will, will I?”
“Yes. You will.” He shifts closer, cupping my face in his strong hand and brushing his nose against mine. “And do you know what else you’ll do?”
“Does it have something to do with the way you’re touching me?”
“Yup.” He nods. “You’re going to kiss me.”
“Iwant to fuck, James.”
“I want that, too.” Swiftly he stands, plucking me off the sofa like I weigh nothing, and holding me to him like I mean everything. The desperate slut I am, I wrap my legs around his waist, and begin rolling my hips, seeking out the friction we both need more than air. “You’re so beautiful,” he sighs, lips pressed against mine in an exchange of air more than a kiss. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”
“Me either, Jamie.”
He groans, thrusting into me. “Fuck I love it when you call me Jamie.”
“Jamie,” I repeat. “My Jamie.”
Over the last few weeks, the fractured pieces of who I thought I was, wanted to be, and had to be, have begun slotting back into place. But this, the way Jamie kisses me now, needy and deep like the next moment he has with me may be his last, binds them all together.
Here. Now. With Jamie. I am whole. I am me.
Lips only parting so I can pull his jersey over his head, he carries me to his bed, tosses me down then crawls over me on all fours, hard dick straining to be freed, dragging along my legs. Pausing when our cocks are aligned, he rolls against me then hooks his fingers beneath the waist band of my sweats.
“Can I?”
“Fuck, yes. Take them off. Fucking burn them, just get me naked.” With a chuckle he tugs them and my briefs down, then shifts around to do the same with his own.
Had I known this was to be the outcome of my visits I’d have worn a sexy jock or silky thong.Next time.I think to myself. Because there will be next time. I don’t care if we have to exist in the shadows, I am never letting the light this man’s touch ignites in me dull again.
“Cory.” Hovering above me, Jamie smiles then proceeds to kiss down my neck, focusing on a spot just below my ear that has me writhing and giggling like a fool. “Have you read any other sex scenes in my fic?”
“All of them.” I sigh, barely able to respond at all.
“What’s your favorite?”
