Hockey Holidays

by Toni Aleo

  “Okay, so do I get an advantage since you totally tanked that simple trick yesterday?” Shaun skated at my side as I made a couple passes.

  “A good friend would have forgotten that,” I said as we sailed past the sin bin, skates gliding over ice, the sound as familiar to me as my own pulse. I stopped at the home net.

  “Hard to forget.” He reached out and pressed his cold thumb to my bottom lip. The pressure of his finger was pain/pleasure, sending a jagged bolt of lust to my balls. When his thumb slipped off, I missed it. “So, yeah, hockey. Woohoo. I think you should not be able to use your stick.”

  “Fine.” I turned and laid my fat paddle on the top of the net then plunked my helmet on my head. “I can block your shots blindfolded.”

  Shaun’s mouth dropped open. Then he grinned wickedly and skated to center ice.

  “Wait. I have to work the ice.”

  “Really? You’re doing that silliness with a one-on-one game?”

  I folded my arms over my chest, catcher resting on my pectoral, blocker tight to the roaring Cougar on my sweater.

  “Ice prep is not silly.” I started plowing up the ice with my skates while Shaun stood at the red line and complained about goalies being weird and hung up on routines. Smiling to myself, I took a long time getting the ice in the crease just so.

  “Dude!”

  “Okay, stop shouting.” I settled into my butterfly stance, bringing my catcher mitt up. Not having my stick in my right hand was unsettling. Losing your stick in a game makes you feel vulnerable in a way. But, I’d been cocky, so playing without a stick was my payback.

  “Can I shoot now?”

  “If you remember how.”

  The slap shot hit me dead center of the chest. It stung, nothing like a slap shot from McGarrity or Kalinski. Victor had a slap shot that would knock the air out of your lungs if it hit you right. Good thing he was a coach, and his time on ice was limited to showing players what to do. I’d have a permanent bruise if he were on the ice shooting at me all the time.

  I threw the puck back at him. He skated out, took the puck back to center ice, and drew back for another slap shot.

  “Okay, you suck,” Shaun shouted after we’d done that like ten times.

  “No, I do not suck. You suck. You’re not aiming over my shoulder or between my legs. You’re hitting the emblem.” I slapped the big cougar on my sweater. “I’ll block that shot every time. Try coming at me and being slippery.”

  I reached back for my stick. Shaun picked up the puck at the red line and raced at me, telegraphing his intention to shoot left a second before he did. I got my blocker up and the puck bounced off it. I kicked it away.

  “You’re easy as a Dick and Jane primer to read,” I chirped as he sailed behind my net.

  “Least I didn’t fall on my face,” he replied then lost his edge and went down like a bag of rocks, the puck rolling one way and his stick skittering across the ice. “Fuck karma, I mean it.”

  I howled at him lying there on the ice, his helmet strap dangling free.

  After that, things got a little more serious, at least competition wise. Shaun got some decent shots in and excelled at trying to sneak in a wraparound, but he was so blatant that I was a move ahead of him for the hour we were on the ice.

  “Okay, I admit it, you are a better hockey player than I am.” Shaun collapsed onto the away bench, sprawling out to lay down on it, arms dangling, helmet on the floor, hair soaking wet and lying flat on his head.

  “I hope so since I kind of do this for a living.” I sat down by his head, took off my mask, and plunked it down on the bench to my right. “You’re better on a snowboard than me.”

  “I hope so since I kind of do that for a living.”

  We spent a few minutes there, relaxing and catching our breath. Well, Shaun was catching his breath. I’d not really worked too hard dealing with only one skater who only put on skates once every two years.

  “Okay, so, we stop at the shop to do Grandma’s stuff, and then we go home and watch Jabberjaw while eating leftovers. How does that sound?”

  Shaun tipped his head back to look at me. Man, he was cute, even when he was sweaty. In a way, the sweat added to his appeal.

  “Dibs on the stuffing,” I said.

  “You always dib the stuffing.”

  “Your mom makes amazing stuffing.”

  “Truth.”

  Ten minutes later we were headed out the door, backing out to be honest, thanking Gus for the ice time and promising him some Cougars merchandise when I got home. It was a little after nine at night and the streets of Liberty were deserted. Christmas Day in this town meant every store was closed, so our neighbors were home with their families.

  We parked in front of the quilt shop, and Shaun unlocked the front door then relocked it after we were in. Not that crime was a big problem in Liberty.

  “I keep telling her she needs a better security system,” Shaun said, flicking on a small light over the register in the corner. The shop was packed with bolts of fabric, ceiling to floor, shelves and shelves of them. There were racks of that held more bolts all over the place, so walking through the store was always this kind of jig and dance, turn left, turn right, do-si-do, and do not spin your partner round and round.

  “Good luck with that,” I replied, padding to the tables by the front window to gather up several bolts of holiday material in my arms. Shaun joined me, and I handed mine to him and picked up eight more. A couple trips should do it. Then we could go to Shaun’s parent’s house and vegetate while enjoying Jabber and the gang. Sounded like a perfect way to end a perfect day.

  “I know, but come on, someday some tourist punk kid is going to break in just to be a dick.”

  “Probably.” There was no arguing that fact. “Still, I don’t see her installing anything without a fight.”

  “That’s all truth. Watch the steps down, okay?” He kicked open the cellar door which sat behind the register. The hinges cried out. “They’re old and super steep.”

  “I remember.”

  I led, going down only after Shaun had hit the light switch with his elbow. The basement was dry, wide, and filled with material, sewing stuff, and a couple old sewing machines on equally old sewing machine stands. It always smelled a little off down here or something. Not super gross but just off. Dusty and dank. Like old dirt or something.

  We stacked the bolts on a table, filled our arms with Valentine’s material, and climbed back up the stairs. We did that four times. On the final trip down, we paused and looked at each other across the long folding table heaped high with holiday colors.

  “You think we’re ugly corporate types, hauling out Valentine’s Day stuff when Christmas isn’t even over yet?” I enquired.

  “You know those quilting ladies. They like to get a head start.”

  “Guess so.”

  “Remember the last time we were down here?”

  I shoved at a bolt trying to slip off the mound then looked at Shaun. “Like four minutes ago? Yeah.”

  “No, not that time before. The time before two years ago.”

  “Oh.”

  The lonely naked bulb by the stairs threw Shaun into all kinds of shadow. It worked for him, giving his lush mouth and cheekbones some alluring valleys and accents.

  “I was so happy then. Like, floating on air. I’d told my parents that I was gay, and they were so cool about it. And then you pulled into town with all your goofy smiles and those cute ears, and all the Hanna-Barbera love, and I got swept into the feelings that I’d been carrying around for you.”

  “Got to love Jonny,” I nervously joked, plucking at my Jonny Quest t-shirt.

  Shaun came around the table. I stood my ground; the dry and dank air now ripe with heat and want. You could taste desire filling the cellar, feel it.

  “I made a move and kissed you. You were so stiff, so scared, and I knew as soon as I’d done it that I’d ruined things for us.”

  “No, you didn’t. I was just
…that kiss confused me.”

  He now stood in front of me, the smell of Shaun mingling with the hot pheromones slipping into my sinuses. Need coursed through me, plumping up my cock. I stared at his mouth.

  “I know. I handled things badly. I just—it was just stupid of me to do that. I didn’t give you any chance to say no, or anything. I just kissed you. So, like, now, if you wanted to say no, I would be fine with that. We don’t have to kiss now, or even ever. I mean, I’d like to kiss you now or maybe sometime later, and maybe date and talk about travel and hold hands and—”

  “You’re talking too much.” I grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to mine. It was kind of funny to feel him stiffen momentarily, as I had a couple of years ago. Then the shock melted away, and his arms slid around me. His lips were soft and pliant under mine, opening on a hot exhalation when I shifted my hip to the side a bit. I could faintly taste blood from my split lip.

  It was Shaun that touched the tip of his tongue to my lower lip, running it over the split, easing back on the pressure I was applying in my fumbling rabid need to get him close. I lapped at his tongue gliding over the injury. He tipped his head, my fingers still pressed to his cheeks. There was no hesitation on my part. I opened wide, twisting in his embrace, my body now thumping with lust. His cock was a long, hard ridge against my hip bone. With his tongue teasing mine, I wiggled in, pushing my pelvis to his, grabbing at his hips frantically.

  He walked me back. My ass hit the bannister, the old wood creaking as he jacked me up against the thick beam. I sucked on his tongue, my brain flooding with primal signals. His hands moved to my ass, lifting me up higher, to get my dick and his aligned. Then he began rubbing his cock against mine, and my entire body came alive. I groaned into his mouth. Shaun left my mouth then, trailing kisses down my cheek to my jaw. I slipped my leg between his. He grunted and hauled me even higher and closer, his fingers biting into my ass.

  “God, oh God,” I panted, my spine riding that beam as Shaun rode my leg. “We... I’m going to—”

  Never got the last word of that statement out before coming so hard my head flew back and hit the beam, nearly concussing myself. I clung to Shaun as my dick jerked, balls contracting, spunk soaking into my briefs. He never let go, not once, as I thrashed and bucked in his arms. He was strong, able to handle the rough mauling I was giving him. Another huge turn-on if you ask me.

  “I got you,” he whispered beside my ear as I shuddered. “I got you.”

  “Shit. Oh shit that is…I haven’t done that in…” He covered my mouth with his, sweeping deep and passionately.

  “Do you have any idea how hot you are?” he asked after the kiss ended.

  I shook my head and forced my eyes to open. Shaun’s hold on me softened, his fingers now cupping my ass gently, keeping me pressed to him yet.

  “That’s uh, yeah, a first for me,” I murmured before putting my lips to his. He purred like a big cat, all deep and rough. And I began to wonder how it was that I had never once known the heat of that sound in my ear or the beauty of a hard body working yours and pulling an orgasm from you with such raw, powerful passion. “I mean, coming for a man, not creaming my shorts.”

  Shaun chuckled as he dropped a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Did you like it?” I heard the subtle hint of worry in his voice. “The coming for a man part, not the creaming your shorts part.”

  “I loved it.” I turned my head to chase his mouth for another kiss. This one was less heated, softer, and peppered with breaks for him to lower me to the floor or rub his erection into my hip one final time. “You need me to…you know?”

  “Mm, not tonight. I want this to be just for you. You good with this? Us? What happened? Are you freaked out or feeling like it was a mistake?” He chucked my chin upward with a finger, pulling my greedy gaze from the bulge in his jeans. “My eyes are up here.”

  I smiled sheepishly. “I came here wanting more, and I’m still wanting more.”

  Shaun’s worried brow eased. “Me too. Let’s do this right, okay? Tomorrow we do a date, like a true date. Dinner…a movie, talking, holding hands. Feeling out how you are with people seeing you engaging in some light PDA’s with another man. Are you good with that? If not, please be honest. I will not push you into anything that you’re not ready for. I want you to know that.”

  “What time and where?” I asked. I got an affectionate peck and a date for the next night at seven sharp.

  Chapter Four

  I was working on my tie when my mother came down the stairs. She threw a sour look at the TV, which was louder than she liked.

  “Mitch, really?” she yelled over Space Ghost. I found the remote on the bed and muted the TV quickly. “I came down to see if you wanted some leftovers for dinner, but it looks like you’re going out. Here, let me. It’s kind of nice it just being you, me, and dad now that everyone has gone back home.”

  She brushed my fingers aside and pulled out the sloppy knot I’d made. I was nervous and fumble-fingered.

  “Yeah, I’m going out.”

  “You look very handsome. A tie and a sports jacket over new jeans.” Her inquisitive eyes lifted from the neat Windsor she was making. “Are you going out on a date?”

  I swallowed and grimaced. She smiled at me, expectation in her gaze. I could lie, but she knew me too well. My lying skills were about nil when it came to my parents. Also, if this thing with Shaun grew as I hoped it would, they needed to know.

  “Yeah, it’s ah…it’s a date.”

  “I knew it. I just knew you’d bump into Jen Kinsman at the café and the sparks would fly again!” She patted the knot in my tie and then tugged on my collar and ran her hands over my shoulders. “You two were such a perfect couple all through high school.”

  “Mom, it’s not Jen.” This was ten thousand times harder than I had imagined it being.

  The light in her eyes dimmed. She began picking at imaginary lint balls on my jacket, her gaze locking with mine.

  “Oh, well that’s a shame. She’s a lovely girl. Is it Kendra? You and she kind of dated before you started seeing Jen.”

  “No, Mom, it’s not Kendra.” My tie suddenly felt restrictive. “It’s Shaun.”

  She rolled her eyes and slapped my bicep playfully. “Oh, you’re hanging out with Shaun. I was kind of hoping you’d do something instead of being attached to his side the whole time you were home. Like look up Jenny.”

  “Mom, I’m not just hanging out with Shaun tonight. We’re going on a date.”

  Her eyes kind of glazed over for a second, then her hand slipped down my arm. I grabbed her fingers and held her hand tightly.

  “Oh.”

  I had no idea what to say or do next, so I kind of started talking, my brain leaping off the tracks as it always did. I picked up a fine head of steam and proceeded to tell her everything from that kiss two years ago to the kiss less than twenty-four hours ago. I skipped informing her about the hump and grind in the cellar that ended with her son creaming his drawers. There are things that no mother needs or wants to hear. She slid her fingers between mine as I babbled, saying little, just clinging to my hand.

  When I came to the end, I stalled and waited for her to say something.

  “When did you come to the realization that you were gay?”

  “I’m not. Gay that is.” Her thin eyebrows tangled. “I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual or something like that. It’s crazy hard to put a label on. It’s Shaun. It’s just Shaun. Only Shaun.”

  She nodded and blew out a long breath, smiling that smile that mothers smile when they’re struggling but they want you to think everything is hunky dory.

  “Okay, so you and Shaun.”

  “Yeah, me and Shaun maybe. We’re just taking it slow because there’s a ton of sh-stuff that we need to work out. But yeah, if it goes like I hope it does, Shaun and me. Are you okay with that?”

  She bobbed her head and then shook it and then nodded again. “I’m a little off-balance with this all. I’ve thou
ght of Shaun as a son for years…”

  “But he’s not. He’s a friend and maybe more.”

  “I know he’s not really my son, Mitchell, but he’s been treated as one for close to twenty years.”

  “Right, sure, I get that.” I grabbed our joined hands with my free hand, wrapping her tiny fingers in my big mitts. “It wasn’t planned. It just happened, and it makes me feel so good and so happy and so…I don’t know, but I love how I feel right now. I want more of this feeling with Shaun. Please don’t hate me.”

  “Oh, baby, I could never hate you.” She started crying and that kind of undid me.

  I dropped her hand and gathered her into my chest. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “I’m fine; it’s not upset tears. Well maybe, but not for the reason you think,” she gasped, wiggling free and jogging to my nightstand to find some tissues. She stood with her back to me, blowing her nose, and I felt so small and so shitty.

  When she turned to face me, her eyes were red but dry and her nose was shiny.

  “Mitch, I wasn’t crying because you made me hate you. You’re my son, my child, my light. All of my children are precious to me.” She patted her chest, right over her heart, then dabbed at her eyes again. “I was crying because of the fear in your eyes. I was crying because the thought of any child being that terrified to tell their parents who he or she is tears my heart out. Knowing that some parents turn away from a child or throw them out…” She paused to pull in a steadying breath. “Well, it just makes me so incredibly sad.”

  “So, you’re okay with me being bi, dating Shaun?”

  “Yes, darling, I’m fine with it.” She smiled; it was shaky, but it was a smile. “I’m going to need some time to rearrange all my preconceived notions about you two, but I will, and it will be fine.”

  I exhaled loudly, feeling as if a metric ton had been lifted from my shoulders. She came over to me and reached up to place her palm to my freshly-shaved cheek.