Straight Shooter (Rear Entrance Video, #3)

by Heidi Belleau

  Liam appeared at the bedroom door, still naked with his cock hanging huge but limp between his legs.

  It still made Austin’s mouth water. That was, until he realized Liam had Austin’s phone in his hand.

  “What is it?” Austin asked carefully, heart thrashing, like he had something to be afraid of or feel guilty for. He didn’t, of course.

  “It kept buzzing. You got like eighteen texts from some bloke . . .” He lifted the phone and squinted at the screen. “Warren?” He tossed the phone at the bed, and even in his dopey state, Austin’s reflexes were quick enough to catch it. “I didn’t read them.”

  “He’s my—the SFU hockey team captain.” Austin didn’t want to look at the texts, but Liam was waiting, so he did it anyway.

  9:04 p.m. I prayed about what happened

  9:04 p.m. And talked to my pastor

  Oh, great. Austin looked to Liam for strength, and Liam—obviously sensing his need—sat beside him and wrapped an arm around Austin’s shoulders, tilting his head so he could read along.

  9:07 p.m. He said I already knew what to do

  9:08 p.m. And I do

  9:08 p.m. You were out of line talking like that, but Ortega goaded you into it

  9:09 p.m. You had your back to the wall so of course you fought

  9:09 p.m. I would have too

  9:10 p.m. I don’t know if ur actually gay or if you were just saying that

  9:10 p.m. But it doesn’t matter. Coach says the school has antidiscrimination policies and we all have to follow them

  9:11 p.m. So I expect u at practice monday morning ready to help us win our next game

  9:12 p.m. Leave the guys to me

  “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Liam asked, tentatively chipper.

  Austin groaned, tossing the phone down to the end of the bed and putting his head in his hands. “Are you kidding me? My life is over. You think school antidiscrimination policies mean jack shit on the ice?” He couldn’t help but say antidiscrimination policies in a mocking, whiny tone, like they were a pathetic joke, because that was exactly what they were. “You think because there’s antidiscrimination policies, my team is gonna march in a gay pride parade now? C’mon, man, you played hockey. You know how it is. It’s over.”

  “No, I know how it was. You know, before school-wide antidiscrimination policies?” He gave Austin’s shoulder a brisk rub. Kissed his temple. “And it’s true. I stayed in the closet the entire time I was on the SFU hockey team, and I never considered going into the NHL, because I had to choose between my sexuality or a hockey career, and the choice was easy. I don’t regret it. But you don’t have to choose, Austin. You have to take advantage of that.”

  “What, and spend the rest of my fucking life getting bullied? Seriously. It’s hockey. There’s no room for guys like us. Especially not a guy like me, with my history of popping a boner every time someone calls me a sissy.” He turned, grabbing both of Liam’s hands. Looked him in the eye, as sincere as Beverly and Sandra had been during their wedding vows. “So maybe I don’t have to make a choice, but I’m gonna anyway. I choose you, Liam. I choose being yours.”

  “God, buddy, you don’t know how flattered I am, and how much that means to me, but you’re still wrong. You’re wrong about having to choose, and you’re wrong about there being no room for us, and I’m gonna prove it to you. But first . . .” He swept his hand through Austin’s bangs. “First, I want to give you something. I thought it might help you with at least part of your hockey problem, and to show that I still most definitely want you to be mine. And as for the rest, well, I’ll help you through it. That’s what I’m here for.” He ruffled Austin’s hair affectionately. “Now, wait here a minute.”

  Austin didn’t understand how a guy who had quit hockey out of fear of homophobia could stand here and tell Austin that he had go through the exact thing he’d opted out of. And damn if Austin wasn’t going to call him out on that. As soon as he got back.

  When Liam returned, though, he didn’t sit on the bed; he knelt on the floor between Austin’s knees, which startled Austin into forgetting what he was about to accuse Liam of.

  Seemed like it was unnecessary, anyway, because Liam beat him to the punch. “I know what you’re thinking, Austin. You’re mad at me, right? Think I’m a hypocrite? Maybe I am. Or maybe I believe in you. Look, if I’m going to be your master, that means more than just fucking you until you beg for mercy. It means guiding you. It means giving you everything you need. You need to play hockey, buddy. I can’t promise you the NHL or the Stanley Cup or the Canadian Olympic team, but I can promise to help you give it your best shot. If you don’t succeed, then you don’t, but we’ll both know you’ve tried. And we’ll both know I did everything in my power to help. Which is where this comes in.” He reached down, picking up a black cardboard box about the size a watch might come in.

  He must have had it in his hand when he’d walked into the room and Austin had been too angry to notice. Well, he noticed it now.

  Liam pulled the lid off the box. Inside it, nestled in white tissue paper, was something made of a clear, plastic-looking material, or maybe silicone. And a tiny gold padlock. Austin’s brow furrowed.

  “Here,” Liam said with a paternal smile, and gently took Austin’s soft cock and balls in one hand. In the other, he picked up the clear silicone . . . whatever it was. “I honestly think you’ve cured yourself of the whole getting-boners-you-don’t-want thing, so maybe this isn’t necessary, per se, but maybe it will help with your confidence. Whether or not you need it, it’ll be there.” And then he slipped the silicone thing over Austin’s cock. It was a sheath, sort of, with a little hole in the end over the head of his dick and a ring that went back around his balls. Now Austin realized. A cock cage. It was a cock cage. To keep him from getting hard. And now Liam was locking it. The key was nowhere to be seen. He settled back, looking at his handiwork, and said, “Okay? You need to safeword?”

  Austin stared down at it, at the stiff material covering his cock, keeping it small and soft and . . . yes, secure. Safe and secure. He shook his head. “It’s okay.”

  Liam grinned in relief. “Oh, good. I’ve always wanted to put one of these on a boy, but never really been in the position to ask for it. But you, you’re all mine, aren’t you, buddy? You like control. You like giving me control.”

  God, it was true. And the teasing way Liam said the words . . . Austin squirmed, his dick trying to rise in its unrelenting cage. He bit his lip, cheeks going hot. He didn’t safeword.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t abuse my power. Much.” Liam’s grin turned to a smirk as he reached up, grabbing Austin by the hair at the back of his head, and yanked him down into a hard, demanding kiss.

  Austin moaned into his mouth . . . and once again felt his dick pinch inside the cage.

  “Beautiful,” Liam said, watching it, watching Austin’s dick filling the tight space and squishing up against the barrier of the clear silicone.

  “I’m happy, Master,” he said, because he thought he should. “Thank you. But I still don’t believe you about the hockey thing.”

  Liam cupped and rolled Austin’s balls, weighing them thoughtfully. “That’s okay. You will.”

  Austin didn’t believe Liam one bit, but he did agree to give it a chance. For his master’s sake. To help his master take care of him the way he needed, Austin had to cooperate. So he did. He went to practice that Monday, which was awkward as fuck, but not unbearable. The insults were few and far between, though, and the word “fag” didn’t get dropped once. Ortega glowered at him nearly constantly, but Austin really didn’t give a fuck, because Austin was alternate captain and Ortega wasn’t shit. And despite Ortega’s attempts to turn them against him, Austin’s team did seem to acknowledge—however grudgingly—that he really was their best scorer. No matter what had gone down with Drew or with Austin’s sexuality, his skill as a hockey player wasn’t in doubt.

  They didn’t ask. He didn’t tell. And on the da
ys he didn’t have to shower with his team, his cock was nestled safely in its cage, Liam’s wordless promise to give Austin whatever he needed so he could have the best shot possible at realizing his dreams.

  Then that Saturday, Liam asked him to meet at their usual sushi place after his day shift at Rear Entrance Video, but when Austin arrived there, Liam wasn’t alone. Eleven guys, including Austin.

  Liam beamed at him. “Have a seat, buddy. Guys, this is Austin.”

  “Hi, Austin,” the men around the table all greeted. Mostly big, burly dudes with moustaches and beards, a couple muscular, a couple kinda fat, but there were two skinny little fuckers as well.

  “So, Austin,” Liam said. “This is Dave, our goalie.” A man with a goatee and a shaved head raised his hand. “And next to him on the left, that’s our centre, Mike.” He went around the table like that. “John, left defence. Andy, right defence. Loren, our star right-winger—”

  “That’s on the ice, not politically,” Loren butted in, which got a laugh.

  “Ken, our left-winger . . .”

  He went on, introducing all the players and alternates. A hockey team. Austin was sitting with a hockey team. Amateur, definitely, like a house league team, but a hockey team just the same.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, when the introductions were through.

  Dave, the goalie, flashed Austin a cocky smile. “What, Liam here didn’t tell you? We’re the Davie Street Gay Men’s hockey team.”

  “Excuse you,” John hissed. “Gay? I thought we voted to change it to queer, seeing as we’re not all gay?”

  “You’re not gay?” Austin asked in disbelief.

  John laughed. “Oh, I’m gay, all right. But Liam’s bi and Mike goes by queer, and you’re not gay either, right? Just not quite straight?” He said it so simply, condensing all of Austin’s confusion into such a gentle phrase. And it didn’t bother Austin at all. Made him feel like he was among friends, more than anything. Because it was true. He wasn’t gay, for sure. Hadn’t decided if bisexual was the right word, either. But whatever he was, he loved Liam and wanted him as a master, and he was still the same meathead hockey-playing Austin otherwise. In the end, that was all that mattered.

  Dave cleared his throat. “Gay, bi, queer, transgender, straight-with-exceptions . . . whatever, it’s all good. And we’re always looking for new players, if you’ve got time in between your big-league college games, eh?”

  It’s hockey. There’s no room for guys like us.

  So they made room.

  Suddenly, it all became clear.

  “Puck here says you’re good,” Loren added. “Are you? Because we’re headed to the rink after we’re done eating here.”

  “I don’t . . .” God, Austin didn’t even want to say it. He wanted to say yes to them, to everything they were offering him, with every fibre of his being. “I don’t have any skates with me.”

  Liam’s hand closed around his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said smoothly, “I took care of your skates and pads. I’ve got your back, don’t I?”

  Austin’s stomach twisted. His dick twitched in its cage. “Yes, you do.”

  Always. Liam would always be there for him, no matter what he needed, whether it was a pair of skates, or a guiding hand in life, keeping him safe and steady.

  Wait . . . Puck.

  Puck.

  Liam’s porn name.

  Puck. Not as in the Shakespeare character, like Mistress Titania, or maybe that too, but Puck, as in hockey puck.

  Austin turned against Liam’s chest, right there in public, and laughed until it hurt.

  Find more love and laughs at Rear Entrance Video!

  Apple Polisher

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  Wallflower

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  Welcome to Rear Entrance Video, Davie Street Village’s very own backdoor triple X store! The peep show booths are sticky, the sex toys are out of stock, and nobody’s collected any late fees in months.

  Enter the store’s new manager, uptight teacher-hopeful Christian Blake, and his four misfit college roommates from Noah Hadley’s house for wayward gay boys: reluctant landlord Noah, mysterious bad boy Max, vain jock Austin, and awkward gamer geek Rob. Together, they’ll try to run the store . . . without letting everything they’re hiding—from the world and each other—run it into the ground.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading Heidi Belleau’s Straight Shooter!

  We know your time is precious and you have many, many entertainment options, so it means a lot that you’ve chosen to spend your time reading. We really hope you enjoyed it.

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  Special thanks to Julio-Alexi Genao, who helped me with the hockey details. As it turns out, being Canadian only takes you so far. Any remaining mistakes, though, you can pretty much guarantee are mine.

  Rear Entrance Video series

  Apple Polisher

  Wallflower

  The Professor’s Rule series, with Amelia C. Gormley

  Giving an Inch

  An Inch at a Time

  Inch by Inch

  Every Inch of the Way

  To the Very Last Inch

  The Flesh Cartel, with Rachel Haimowitz

  King of Dublin, with Lisa Henry

  Bookended

  First Impressions. Second Chances

  Blasphemer, Sinner, Saint, with Sam Schooler

  (Bump in the Night anthology)

  With Violetta Vane

  Mark of the Gladiator

  Cruce de Caminos

  The Druid Stone

  Hawaiian Gothic

  Heidi Belleau was born and raised in small town New Brunswick, Canada. She now lives in the rugged oil-patch frontier of Northern BC with her husband, an Irish ex-pat whose long work hours in the trades leave her plenty of quiet time to write. She has a degree in history from Simon Fraser University with a concentration in British and Irish studies; much of her work centred on popular culture, oral folklore, and sexuality, but she was known to perplex her professors with papers on the historical roots of modern romance novel tropes. (Ask her about Highlanders!) Her writing reflects everything she loves: diverse casts of characters, a sense of history and place, equal parts witty and filthy dialogue, the occasional mythological twist, and most of all, love—in all its weird and wonderful forms. When not writing, you might catch her trying to explain British television to her daughter or sipping a caramel macchiato at her favourite coffee shop.

  She also writes queer-flavoured M/F as Heloise Belleau.

  Chat with her on Twitter using the handle @HeidiBelleau

  Browse her website at HeidiBelleau.com or HeloiseBelleau.com.

  Check out her books on Goodreads.

  Follow her Facebook and Tumblr accounts.

  Or contact her using good old-fashioned email: heidi.heloise.belleau@gmail.com

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