Garrett puts his hands on my shoulders and I feel his lips press to the back of my neck gently. “Quickie?”
“Not tonight dude.” I sigh and walk away, moving slowly to the door again. “I’m sorry. There’s just this thing with my teammate I need to resolve.”
In actuality, what I need to do is jerk off to a replay of the confession Noah just blurted out. I could be with Garrett. I could let him suck my cock, or suck his and pretend it’s Noah’s, but that feels wrong. Why? It’s not like I’m cheating on Noah. I barely even know the guy. I mean I love his brother Justin like he’s my own. Noah… well, back when we were teens I thought he was good looking but straight and homophobic, so I tried not to think of him at all. That wasn’t an issue because he wasn’t on my team. Now… well, as his little confrontation shows, I wasn’t handling it great.
Because the fact is Noah has only gotten hotter over the years. It was an easy thing to ignore when he was just my college roommate’s brother, or another guy behind a helmet and visor on the opposite side of the ice but now… I can’t ignore him. He’s everywhere I go. Literally. On the ice. On the team bus. The team plane. In the locker room. In the showers. And I don’t tolerate homophobes in general, but hot ones —like push every single one of my hormones hot—that’s intolerable. I have used every single ounce of my energy making sure he knows I don’t want him here.
I know my teammates noticed. My alternate captains have both said, more than once, that I need to “ease-up on the new guy”. The coach asked me if I could maybe be a little less cold to him. So yeah, it’s not a secret I don’t like him.
The only secret, I guess, was why. I hadn’t told anyone that Noah Prince walked in on my first real gay sexual experience and then made me feel like he thought I was a disgusting loser for having it. Nope. Haven’t told anyone that. Not even Justin.
Maybe if I hadn’t internalized that, and just told Justin what happened, he would have informed me my opinion of his brother was off. But then I would have had to tell Justin I was gay, which I didn’t want to do. I think he’s guessed, being that I’ve never had a girlfriend, but I haven’t said it and he hasn’t asked. I know, though, Justin would be nothing but cool about it. But Noah and Justin are two different people. Justin doesn’t fantasize about giving me head, for one thing.
Oh God, how am I going to get through dinner tonight? I thought it was going to be hard because of the animosity I felt toward Noah. But that’s been annihilated and now I’m left with a very confusing, very strong urge to let him find out what it’s like to give me head.
Three excruciating hours later, I’m on the tail end of dinner with Justin, his dad Kent, and Noah, who has spent the night sitting next to me alternating between shooting me glares when no one is looking and pretending I’m not even there. Good times.
“Although I hate you guys are still all the way over on the other side of the country, I’m pumped you’re actually on the same team,” Justin says with a grin.
He’s been grinning all night and normally I would be too—easily. I love hanging out with Justin. And his dad is great. He’s like the dad I never had. I mean, I had a dad… still do, technically, but he disowned me when I came out in college. But Noah’s presence is beyond distracting. I’m hyper-aware of everything he does, and the fact that his body is so fucking close to mine. We’re on the banquet side of a table, with Justin and his dad across from us on chairs. Putting two hockey players on one bench was bound to be tight. But two with hot tempers who hate each other…
“Luke what is up with you tonight?”
You mean besides my dick? I shrug at Justin. “Nothing. Why?”
“You’re worried about the game, aren’t you?” Kent says with a sympathetic smile. “Last game before the holiday break and you guys are on the verge of being on top of the division.”
“A win would definitely give us the top spot and give us a reason to celebrate,” I admit, and Noah grunts in agreement beside me.
“I’ve always thought you two were so similar,” Justin surmises as he leans back in his chair sipping the last of his coffee. Both Noah and I went for an herbal tea instead. “Both so into hockey. Both so focused and driven. I’m psyched you guys are finally hanging out together.”
“He’s on my team and my captain. We’re co-workers,” Noah mumbles and both his dad and brother raise their eyebrows. “He’s your friend. Not mine.”
Noah must take after his mom because he’s fair. Like full-on natural blond. I happened to notice the pubes and his thick and golden treasure trail in the shower once, by accident of course. But both Justin and his dad have darker hair. A shade lighter than chestnut. They’re also shorter than Noah, both probably about five-ten.
“I mean, I’ve got a lot of responsibility as captain, and not a lot of time to socialize.” I try to clean up the messy statement Noah just dropped. He’s clearly still pissed. “But I think about Noah a lot.”
Not a lie. He kind of tenses at that. I can feel his thigh tighten next to mine, so I do the most ridiculous, foolish, asinine thing ever. I move my hand from my own thigh to his. I do it as I reposition my ass on the bench, so no one notices the shift. Except Noah. His thigh turns from tight to concrete-hard under my palm. I keep my eyes focused on his family. “I’ve decided my New Year’s resolution is to make more time for him. To hang out. I mean, he’s the newest member of the team so I should go out of my way. But he’s not struggling. He’s got so many friends on the team already.”
My hand moves slowly up Noah’s thigh under the checkered tablecloth. Justin shakes his head. “You’ve known Noah since we were in college. You guys should be besties by now.”
His dad and brother shift their attention Noah. “I hang out with Iverson a lot. He was in my dorm when I was at U of Maine before I was drafted. He’s been a great friend and introduced me to all the guys.”
He does hang out with Jamie Iverson, our back-up goalie, a lot. Wait… just how close are they? Is he… do him and Noah…? I’m suddenly, ferociously jealous. Noah said he didn’t know if he was gay. But he didn’t say he’d never experimented to find out.
“Luke and I only really met that one Christmas when you brought him home,” Noah goes on. “And we barely even talked.”
“Right.” His dad nods and gets a wistful smile. “You were in a mood that holiday. God, I don’t miss teenagers.”
Everyone chuckles, even me, but it’s strained.
I spread my fingers across the inside of Noah’s upper thigh and press them into the hard muscle. “Like I said, my New Year’s resolution is to hang out with Noah more. Mentor him on and off the ice.”
“That’d be great!” Justin says with an enthusiastic smile.
Justin has no idea the double entendre happening, but Noah gets it. He drops a hand on top of mine but he doesn’t try to push my hand away. His fingers flex, and then he presses his hand down, pushing mine harder into his thigh.
His dad flags the waitress for the check. I shift again, using my free hand to pull my wallet from my back pocket. “This one is on me.”
