by Rachel Reid
“Tell me if I do something wrong,” Ryan said, then he kissed and sucked at Fabian’s neck. Fabian tilted his head back eagerly. He loved having his neck kissed.
“Fuck, that is the opposite of wrong,” Fabian said. “Love how your beard feels against my skin.”
Ryan grunted in response, which was probably the most Fabian was going to get out of him. He would love Ryan to murmur filthy things to him. God, what would that be like? He tried to imagine sweet, shy Ryan talking dirty in his soft, South Shore accent. The thought made Fabian’s dick twitch in his hand.
Good thing Fabian was chatty enough for both of them.
“I want your cock in my mouth again. Whenever you want. Open invitation. I’ve never had one so big before. I want to work up to deep throating you. I’ll bet I could do it.”
He was possibly talking total bullshit, but he really did want to try to take Ryan all the way down to the root.
“Think so?” Ryan said, then he captured Fabian’s nipple piercing in his teeth. He tugged just hard enough that a sweet jolt of pain and pleasure shot through Fabian’s body, down to his toes. He yelped, and Ryan laughed.
“You’re obsessed with that thing,” Fabian said.
“I’ve never seen one up close.”
“Well I strive to be educational.”
Ryan played with the jewelry with his tongue for another minute while Fabian writhed on the bed. He didn’t want to push him, but Fabian really wouldn’t mind some part of Ryan making contact with Fabian’s cock. Soon. He lifted his hips so his erection bumped lightly against Ryan’s chest, hoping he would take the hint.
He may have understood, or it may have been a coincidence that Ryan finally started to trail kisses down Fabian’s stomach, pausing when he reached his cock.
“Can I—?”
“Yes!” Fabian practically yelled. He slapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed. “I mean, yes. You may. Please.”
“It’s been a while, so if I don’t—”
“Ry-annnn,” Fabian whined.
Ryan’s brow furrowed as he stared at Fabian’s cock, like he was trying to figure out how to approach it. Then, mercifully, he just dove in, wrapping his lips around the head and sliding down.
“Oh fuck yes. Holy shit, Ryan. Just like that.”
The truth was, it took almost nothing to get Fabian off, but he could still appreciate Ryan’s technique. It wasn’t showy, or even practiced, but it was so earnest that Fabian couldn’t help but be charmed.
Also, Ryan’s beard was tickling his balls, which was pretty excellent.
After what couldn’t have been more than three minutes, Fabian warned, “If you don’t want me to shoot in your mouth, you’d better pull off.”
Ryan did pull off, but then he said, “What?” And then Fabian ejaculated all over his confused face.
“I’m so fucking sorry. Oh my god.” Fabian knew his giddy laughter didn’t make him sound very sorry. “I was trying to warn you.”
Ryan wiped a hand over his beard, removing most of the mess, and then he smiled. “That was okay, then?”
“That was perfect.” Fabian covered his own face with a pillow and groaned. Ryan pulled the pillow away.
“It’s fine. I liked seeing that. I was just surprised.” He stood and started walking toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”
Was this going well? Fabian wasn’t sure. He certainly enjoyed waking up to Ryan, and he got the impression that Ryan was having a reasonably good time, but he had no idea what would happen after he left Ryan’s apartment later.
“How about I have another go at making you come?” Fabian suggested when Ryan returned to the bedroom.
Ryan’s smile died. “I’m actually really hungry. Aren’t you?”
Fabian eyed him warily. “I could eat, I guess.”
“I have stuff. I can make breakfast. Or we can go somewhere, if you’d rather.”
Fabian sat up. “I’m afraid I have nothing to wear to a restaurant.” He gestured to his small pile of gross, sweaty club clothes on the floor.
“Oh. I could wash your clothes for you, so you at least don’t have to put dirty clothes on to walk home later.”
That actually made a lot of sense, so Fabian accepted. Clean underwear was too tempting to pass up. Ryan rummaged around in his closet and pulled something out.
“I know this isn’t really your style, but I bought these for Colleen and she’s closer to your size than I am.” He handed Fabian a small stack of Toronto Guardians clothes. It appeared to be a hoodie and some pajama pants. “Just until your clothes are clean.”
The horror Fabian felt must have been clear on his face, because Ryan laughed and said, “I promise I won’t take photos.”
Fabian shook his head, disgusted with himself. “I’m being a snob. Sorry. Thank you for the clothes, they look very...soft.”
“If you like them, you can keep them. Do you like eggs?”
“If they’re scrambled, I do.”
Ryan kissed his cheek. “Scrambled eggs. Coming right up.”
* * *
Ryan wasn’t at all prepared for what the sight of Fabian wearing official team-licensed clothing would do to him.
He emerged from the bedroom as Ryan was stirring eggs on the stovetop, his slender, bare feet peeking out from the bottoms of the flannel Guardians pajama pants. There was a definite wrongness about Fabian wearing hockey fan gear, but Ryan’s heart fluttered anyway. He liked seeing Fabian in his colors. In his home.
“How do I look?” Fabian asked sardonically.
“Comfortable.”
Fabian shoved his hands in the pocket of the hoodie. “They are quite cozy. I can’t lie.”
Ryan chewed his lip, and then turned back to the eggs.
“What?” Fabian asked. “I know I look stupid, but—”
“No. I, ah.” Ryan’s face heated. “I’m a little turned on. Seeing you in those clothes. I know that’s awful.”
Fabian smiled and sauntered over to him, then wrapped his arms around his waist. “Well, in that case, go team go.”
Ryan laughed. “Have a seat.” He gestured with the spatula to the high stools that lined the breakfast counter. “You want toast with your eggs?”
Fabian hoisted himself onto one of the stools. “That would be wonderful.”
“Coffee? Tea? I’m mostly a tea drinker, but I like coffee in the morning.”
“I love tea, but yes. Coffee, please. Would you like me to make it?”
“Nope. You just sit.” And before he could stop himself, he added, “If you stand any closer I’ll get distracted and burn the eggs.”
Fabian laughed at that. Ryan loved the sound of Fabian’s musical laughter. He really couldn’t believe that Fabian was actually here, in his kitchen, after an incredible night and morning of exploring each other’s bodies. It didn’t matter that they’d only fooled around a little, or that Ryan hadn’t gotten off—it had absolutely been the best thing that had ever happened to him. And he was a Stanley Cup champion.
When the eggs were done and the toast had popped, Ryan split everything between two plates and set them on the counter. He poured them each a coffee, and hoped Fabian didn’t take cream in his because Ryan still hadn’t bought any. But if Fabian liked cream, Ryan would fill his fridge with it.
“Do you take anything in your coffee?”
“Nope. Black is perfect,” Fabian said cheerfully. He waved his nose over the steaming mug. “This smells divine.”
Ryan laughed. “It’s just Folgers.”
“Actual brand-name Folgers? Not the knockoff generic stuff? Okay, moneybags.”
Ryan stood at the counter directly opposite Fabian. “Wait’ll you see the brand-name dish soap I use to clean up with later.”
“Stop. You’ll spoil me.”
Ryan bea
med, then leaned across the counter and kissed him. “You’re a better kissing height now.”
Fabian smiled back at him, then pushed his plate away. “I’m suddenly full.”
“You haven’t touched your food. Eat.”
Fabian rolled his eyes dramatically as he retrieved his plate. “Fine.”
As they ate, Ryan marveled at how comfortable he was in Fabian’s company. Even when they’d been teenagers, and even with the terrifying attraction he’d always had for him, Ryan had often felt at ease with him. He knew it hadn’t been easy for Fabian to see past his prejudice toward hockey players—a prejudice that Ryan could completely understand because he’d heard countless homophobic slurs during his hockey career. He’d seen the way high school hockey players treated boys who were like Fabian. But Fabian had seen Ryan, even back then. Not just another jock, not a threat, but a person worth sharing small parts of himself with.
“What’s on your mind?” Fabian asked, because Ryan was probably staring at him with a dreamy expression on his face.
“Nothing.” Ryan shoveled the last of his eggs into his mouth.
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“I was just thinking about before. Back when we were young.”
“I’m still young. But if you mean when we were teenagers, I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately myself.”
“I guess our cards are on the table now, so I’ll just tell you: I was obsessed with you back then.”
Fabian rested his chin in his palm and smiled. “Obsessed?”
“Pretty much. I just thought you were so...beautiful.”
Fabian waved a hand. “I was a skinny, awkward teenager who was trying way too hard to be edgy.”
“No. You were amazing. You’re still amazing.”
Fabian preened a bit, then said, “Well then, Ryan Price, let me tell you what I thought of you.”
“Oh, that’s all ri—”
“Do you remember when we first met? You had just arrived at our house, and Mom called me into the living room so she could introduce me to the latest hockey player who would be invading my life.”
“I remember you didn’t shake my hand.”
“My nails were wet.”
Ryan lit up. “Was that the reason?”
Fabian shrugged. “Yes. I mean, I can’t promise I would have been friendlier even if that hadn’t been the case, but I honestly was concerned about my nails.”
Ryan laughed. “I thought you hated me.”
“I did. I mean, I didn’t know you, but I assumed you’d be an asshole. The other ones were. And you were so tall and my parents were gazing at you like you were a god. Like you were the son they’d always wanted.”
Ryan’s heart clenched. “No, they—”
“It’s fine. They hardly made a secret of it. So I was prepared to hate you, but then you spoke and your voice was so soft. And you had that adorable shy smile. Yes, that one.”
Ryan flushed, but he couldn’t help but smile more. “I’d never seen anyone who looked like you before.”
“Lebanese?” Fabian teased.
“No. I mean all sophisticated and glamorous.”
Fabian barked out a laugh. “Glamorous? Oh my god, you really were sheltered.”
“You just...looked like someone from Panic! At The Disco or something.”
Ryan was worried Fabian was going to fall off his stool. “Stop! Holy fuck,” he gasped. “I was a fucking band nerd who was wearing cheap nail polish.”
“You had nice hair.”
“Well,” Fabian said when he’d stopped laughing, “you looked like Archie Andrews. But you didn’t look at me with disgust, and I couldn’t help but find that...intriguing.”
“I think the last thing I felt when I looked at you was disgust.”
“It’s a shame you never told me.”
Ryan took both of their plates to the sink. “I was still figuring myself out.”
“So you’d never kissed anyone before?”
“A girl. Back in Ross Harbour. We were at a party and it seemed like something I should do. I was the star hockey player, so I got a lot of attention from girls back then.”
“Were there boys you would have rather been kissing?”
“Not really. Not until—” Ryan stopped himself. Even after everything they’d admitted, this seemed like too much.
Fabian came to stand beside him at the sink. He rested a hand on Ryan’s arm. “Not until what?”
Ryan bit his lip, then said, “Not until you.”
When Fabian didn’t reply, Ryan chanced looking down at him. He was shocked to see tears in Fabian’s eyes.
“Oh god. Are you okay?”
Fabian nodded, his lips pressed tight together.
“I’m sorry if—”
“No. I cry easily,” Fabian said. “That was just really sweet. I didn’t know.” He exhaled loudly. “I had never kissed anyone when I’d met you. I told you that already, I guess. But I’d had crushes on friends who...couldn’t return them. And it made it hard to keep being friends with some of them. But I never expected to have those kinds of feelings for a hockey player. For the enemy.” He rolled his eyes. “I was such a judgmental prick.”
“I understand. Believe me. I’ve never really fit in with my teammates.”
“I’ll admit, even now, I’m surprised that I—” He sighed, then looked at the floor.
Ryan could guess the rest of that sentence. I’m surprised I’m attracted to someone like you. He wasn’t offended because he couldn’t believe it either.
“Your clothes must be ready to go in the dryer,” Ryan said. “Can they go in the dryer?”
Fabian laughed, then sniffled. “My clothes are extremely cheap. They can go in the dryer.”
After that was taken care of, Ryan suggested they have more coffee in the living room. Fabian curled up on one end of the sofa, his flannel-clad legs tucked under him. Ryan sat at the other end, but turned toward him.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” he said. It was something he had wanted to say when they’d been teenagers.
Fabian traced one of the Guardians logos on his pants with a fingertip. “About what? It’s not their fault they didn’t get the son they wanted.”
“It is their fault.” Ryan considered what he’d just said, then corrected himself. “I don’t mean—I’m just trying to say that they’re stupid for not appreciating you the way that you are.”
“Well, as I like to say, their loss. But it never feels good to be so disappointing that your parents take to adopting replacement sons. Better ones.” Fabian snorted. “Year after year I was introduced to some version of their ideal son. My parents would just be bursting with pride whenever their big, jock-y wards would score a goal or be interviewed on TV. I couldn’t possibly expect to compete with that.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said.
“What on earth for?”
“For being part of the problem.”
Fabian crawled across the sofa, then placed a hand on each side of Ryan’s face and forced him to hold his gaze. “It has nothing to do with you. You are wonderful.”
Ryan lost himself for a moment in Fabian’s dark, beautiful eyes. He resurfaced when Fabian released him with a laugh. “God, listen to me. I’m thirty-one. Why am I still whining about my parents? I’m doing great, they seem to be happy, everything worked out fine.”
Ryan wanted to argue, but decided instead to pull Fabian into his lap and kiss him.
“How long until the dryer is done?” Fabian said breathlessly when Ryan finally broke their kiss.
“Thirty minutes, maybe?”
“I have an idea for how to pass the time.”
“Oh?”
“Mm. And the good news is it involves you stripping me out of all this fleece.”
&
nbsp; Chapter Eighteen
“There’s something different about Fabian,” Marcus mused.
“Hmm, new haircut?” Tarek suggested.
“No. Oh! I know! He’s just had a mind-blowing sex marathon with an NHL player.”
Fabian stuck his tongue out at Marcus. “I did not. We talked more than anything. Is there more coffee?”
“I’ll make some,” Tarek offered. “But then I want to hear everything.”
“You didn’t just talk, did you, Fabe?” Vanessa asked. “That would be tragic.”
Fabian couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips, which made Vanessa shriek. “You totally banged him! Was it amazing?”
“I didn’t actually. Technically. Depends on how you define such things.”
Vanessa set her waffle plate on the coffee table and sat back in her armchair. “You know I don’t think sex only counts if there’s penetration.”
“So we’re not being subtle, I guess,” Marcus muttered.
“Then by your definition,” Fabian said, “yes. We had sex. But...”
“Wait! Wait for me!” Tarek said, hustling back from the kitchen to join Marcus and Fabian on the futon. “The kettle is boiling. Spill.”
“Okay, so, he’s kind of anxious about sex. He has some...difficulty...getting off.”
“Sounds like a challenge,” Marcus joked.
Fabian narrowed his eyes at him, even though he had sort of thought the exact same thing.
“It’s not a challenge,” Vanessa scolded. “Lots of people have difficulty with orgasms, for lots of different reasons. Sex doesn’t have to be all about coming, you know.”
“That’s right,” Fabian agreed primly. “We had a great time. He was...very sweet. He’s an incredible kisser. And so strong and sexy.” He sighed. “I’m smitten.”
Vanessa clapped her hands together. “I love him!”
“I thought you’d bring him to brunch,” Tarek said.
“I considered it, but he had a practice or something this morning, and besides. I wanted to gush about him with you guys.”
“So are you two a couple now?” Marcus asked. “Are you actually dating an NHL player?”
Fabian’s smile faded. “I don’t exactly know.”