“I want to, yeah,” I confess and nerves seize my heart. “But I mean maybe not tonight. I just…”
He pulls my mouth to his again. He kisses me hard, his tongue sliding over mine. He tastes like toothpaste and I realize he brushed his teeth at the rink. “I know. It’s a big deal. It’s fine. I think I want you to see how good it is first. And then, you know one day, we’ll swap.”
“It’s good?”
“It’s fucking incredible when it’s with the right person,” Luke replies and his fingers slide down my neck and to my nipple rings. He gives the left one a gentle tug. “And you’re the right person for me.”
Oh God, I hope he means that. Because that’s how I feel. But I don’t reply. I just kiss him again and he reaches for the lube and I slip my fingers between his taut ass cheeks.
It takes a while of prepping, which is anything but a chore, but then Luke’s on his back, his knees bent on either side of my ribs and my cock is nudging his hole. I ease in, just the tip, and a white hot rush of heat explodes inside my body. This is not like vaginal sex. This is tighter and rougher and gentler all at the same time. As my cock pushes deeper and Luke’s breathing starts to hitch and stars explode in the corners of my vision, I realize I will not last long. By the time I’m fully inside him, we’re also torso to torso. My elbows cage his head and he reaches up with his free hand and sifts it through my hair and whispers, “Fuck me, rookie.”
I start to move and I hate how right I am. I am not going to last. His hand tugs my hair and his other beats out a frenetic rhythm around his own cock and I know I’ve got the angle right when he groans and pants “Baby” with every thrust. And then he stiffens, and I quake and come so hard I howl like a wolf at a full moon. It’s breathtaking, life-changing, and mind-melting.
I collapse onto him only after he finishes his own orgasm. And then it’s several long minutes before we move again. He eventually pushes on my shoulders, so I grab the base of my cock, making sure to hold the condom and slip out of him. Very gracelessly I manage to yank it off, tie it, and stumble my way into his bathroom to dispose of it and clean up.
He walks in a second later and turns on the shower, pulling me in with him when the temperature is right. We kiss lazily as the water washes over us. Finally I speak. “Was I okay?”
“Best I’ve ever had,” Luke replies firmly. “No fucking lie that was…”
“Quick. I mean, if you let me practice, I can develop a bit of stamina,” I promise, and he laughs.
“If you want to do it again, I promise not to say no.” Luke nips my earlobes.
“I want to do it again, and I want you to do it,” I say and then I swallow down air and pray for courage.
“Like I said, rookie, you call the shots.”
I pull back to look him in the eye. Water droplets pepper his cheeks and eyelashes. His dark hair is wet and curling around the nape of his neck. I play with it and hold my breath. “So if I call the shots, then I also want to tell you that, when I do let you fuck me, it’s not the end.”
“The end?”
“My to-do list may eventually have all its boxes ticked,” I swallow forcing myself to hold his gaze, “but we… you with me… that box won’t be ticked. If I get to call the shots, then I’m telling you now I’m not giving you up.”
He nods slowly and closes his eyes and when he opens them I feel relief at the gentle way he takes me in. The relief I see on his face. “I was hoping you would say that, rookie.”
“Good.” I smile, and he pulls me closer, until every part of his body is flush against mine and his face is buried in my neck. “But that rookie thing can stop any time.”
“Okay then, Bambi.”
“Rookie it is!” I announce and he nips at my neck, and I laugh, pushing him off me.
“Hey, happy New Year,” he says, his tone growing more serious.
“I think it’s going to be a good one.”
“I think it already is,” Luke murmurs and pulls me to him again.
Yeah. It is. We’re seconds into it and it’s the best year ever.
EPILOGUE - LUKE
This is the worst fucking feeling in the entire world. I not only want to crawl out of my own skin, I want to melt into the ice under my feet and disappear from this world entirely. My eyes land on Noah who is resting his chin on the butt of his stick, his face as glum as my own. Our eyes lock momentarily and I realize that watching the Vancouver Comets win the game and kick us out of the Western Conference finals, in overtime, isn't the worst feeling in the world. Looking at Noah and knowing he's no longer mine still feels worse.
After the obligatory handshake line, Noah starts it. I should have, as the captain, but he does. He skates a little away from the bench, but keeping clear of the Comet's celebration, and he lifts his stick to the fans. A thank you. I do it too, but damn him for being the one to do it first. Reminding me once again, that he's better than me. He really is. And he deserves better than me. The crowd roars and I fight tears, but this time for more than just self-pity. They get it. They know we tried. We left it all on ice. They know we're sorry. Fuck. I hate this.
“Let’s go,” the coach commands gently and motions for us to leave the ice.
We all push and stumble our way down the tunnel and to the painfully quiet dressing room. All the equipment managers, trainers, and supplementary staff have disappeared. No one plays music. No champagne corks are popping. Nothing. We were so fucking close, one game away, but we didn't do it. We won't be in the Stanley Cup Final.
