Linemates (First Time Gay Hockey Romance)

by Van Barrett

  More sympathetic head shakes and tuts from the reporters.

  “That's too bad. And I think that has to change. Our culture has to shift. We have to be more accepting of each other.”

  Heads bob with agreement.

  “Because I doubt Callan is the only gay athlete in this league. In fact, I know he's not. The truth is –”

  Vance pauses to look left and right at his teammates. My eyes widen and I give him a look. Shit, Vance! No! Don't do it! Save yourself!

  “The truth is, I'm one of 'em.”

  The crowd gasps. Our teammates look at each other, shocked and confused, wondering if Vance is playing some kind of fucked up prank.

  “It's true.”

  Cameras flicker all over again. Vance nods stoically and proudly stands tall before the podium.

  “As you can probably tell by my teammates' expressions, they're just learning this at the same time you are.”

  Vance waits for the crowd to quiet.

  “I've kept this a secret from everyone – friends, family, teammates – for years. If it weren't for Callan, I wouldn't have the courage to admit this today. I'd have waited until my career was over, when I could finally live some obscure life in a quiet place, and only hope to find love – with my best years already behind me.

  “Like Callan, my contract also expires at the end of this year. I don't know what the future holds for me, either. But right now, my goal – our goal, as a team – is to win the Cup. And so that's all we're going to focus on for the next week, until this series is over.”

  Vance clasps his hands together. “Alright. That's it. No questions please.”

  We turn and leave the room, heading right back for the dressing room. I think I'm as stunned as my teammates. Why the hell did he do that?

  We get into the room. It's just us players. Everyone's talking excitedly, huddled around Vance.

  “Is it really true?” “Did you just make that shit up?” “No way, really?”

  “It's true, guys,” he says.

  Whoa, everyone seems to say at the same time.

  “So, again. Last chance. You can either get on board with what we're trying to do here or you can leave. I won't have any hard feelings.”

  Everyone looks around the room. No one dares to leave.

  At last Donovan steps forward.

  “Hell,” he says. “I didn't like Jonesy here 'cause he made me look dumb as hell when I missed him with that hit and crushed Fresno, alright? I don't care if he's gay, or if Vance is gay ... I don't want people thinkin' I'm a bigot.”

  Tyler nods. “Nobody thinks that, Don-o.”

  Nelson pipes up. “So our two best players are gay? Shit, if it meant scoring a few more goals a year, I'd suck some dick too!”

  Boos, jeers and laughs come from all over. A roll of tape flies at Nelson's head and he ducks it.

  “Kidding! Kidding! Sheesh!”

  Coach Stevens and GM Doug come in next. They shake my hand, and then Tyler's, whispering compliments about our bravery.

  Doug takes center of the room and addresses the team. “What a show of courage by these two guys today, gentlemen. Let's head home, rest up, and get ready to win this damned series.”

  Go Hawks! The room cheers.

  49.

  Tease

  Tyler

  Callan and I ride the bus back to the hotel with everyone else. Even though we've both just dropped bomb-shells on this poor team, it actually seems to be just what the doctor ordered. After a roller-coaster season, the rumors as of late really started to bring down team morale.

  But clearing the air has everyone excited again. Okay, so what, they have a gay teammate. Two, actually! Big deal. The cat is finally out of the bag and it feels like there's nothing left but to play the goddamn hockey games and hand out the Cup.

  Sure, the media will badger us relentlessly before and after games – it's a hot story, after all – but we don't have anything to hide anymore. So let 'em ask. We can just politely say, no comment, not your business, next.

  And that'll be that.

  I can tell Callan has a whole lot he wants to ask me. But it has to wait until we're apart from the team. The team agrees on a spot in Winnipeg for team dinner – per Cal's recommendation – and we agree to meet there at 6 PM. Until then, we split ways and head to our rooms.

  Me and Cal race to our room. The second that door shuts, he throws me up against the wall and gives me a deep, soulful kiss – as if he just had to get it out of the way. Then he peels himself off me with a frustrated grunt and shakes me by the lapels of my suit jacket.

  “What the hell was that for, Ty! Why'd you do that!”

  I grin. “Why not? Like I told you before. The only way to push Burkhardt out of the media spotlight was to own up to it. Cut him out of the story entirely. I'd say you pretty much did that – but my confession sure sealed the deal.”

  “You're nuts, man! I can't believe you ... was any of that true? You knew you were gay for years?”

  I make a face at him. “You fell for that? C'mon – no, of course not. I didn't know until you came into my life, you fucker.” I throw him up against the wall and give him a kiss, claiming his lips. “At least, I didn't consciously know I was gay. But they don't need to know all the technicalities.”

  He pushes me back, and we wrestle until we fall on his bed together. With me on top of him.

  “You know how much shit you're gonna go through now? On and off the ice?” he asks.

  “No, not really.” I shrug. “But I don't really care.”

  I unbuckle his belt and whip his trousers open.

  “God damn it, Vance,” he grins.

  “You gave a great speech,” I coo at him quietly while I pull his dick out of his boxers. It's already growing, his warmth pumping up against my jaw. “Had no idea you were such a word-smith. Maybe after your hockey career, you could be a motivational speaker?”

  “Yeah right,” he laughs. “Could you hear how nervous I was? How my voice cracked and wavered?”

  “Nuh-uh.” But my words are muffled on his manhood as I push him deeper into my mouth.

  “Oh, goddamn,” he pants, his length still growing in my throat.

  As I've started to learn recently with Callan – nothing makes me happier than pleasing my man. There's nothing quite like having him in my mouth. The way his softness pumps up between my cheeks. The feel of his heart-beat through his thick, veiny shaft. The way he gasps in a short little burst when I do something he really likes, his hard little abs squeezing and trembling. His cute, tawny nipples – which are so fun to pinch and squeeze and make him squirm all over.

  The best part of giving head? The feel that all of him is in that hard flesh – his feel, his taste, his scent – all wrapped up in my lusciously wet and burning cheeks. Each thrust down his hard dick, and each sloppy pull up his length ... makes him swell up harder, fatter. His cock's kind of amazing in that regard. He goes from zero to sixty in no time.

  And before you know it, he's grunting oh no, oh no, oh no!, and his toes are curling at the bedsheets, his balls are rising, his glans is throbbing ...

  “Uuuuuah!” he grunts, and streaks splatter inside my mouth; they splash the back of my throat, they shoot upwards and hit the roof of my mouth, they splatter my tongue. And I swirl my tongue all over him, fluttering it on his length, milking him and coaxing him for his every last drop of seed. And I swallow it all down.

  I love to do all that to him. I love to suck him clean, his cock going soft in my mouth. I love to see him reduced to a trembling mess, barely able to lift himself from the bedsheets until the spasms have stopped rolling up and down his body.

  “Damn, I'm jealous,” I laugh. “If I could cum like you ...”

  I massage his half-hard cock in my hands. It's pumping back up again. I shake my head with disbelief at the sight.

  “Or, hell, if I could recover like you ...”

  He pants. “We'd ... never ... get anything done ...”

/>   “Damn straight.” I lick my lips at the sight of his swelling manhood and plunge down on it.

  I can't resist.

  WE MANAGE TO PULL OURSELVES out of bed just in time to make it to team dinner.

  “Heyy, there they are!” everybody cheers when they see us walking through the restaurant. We split apart, finding the only two open spots at the long table.

  “You guys see what the media's been saying about your press conference?” Nelson asks us.

  “No,” Callan blurts out. “I've learned to stop paying attention to all that.”

  Nelson looks at me inquisitively.

  I shake my head. “Same here, Nelson.”

  “Dude. You guys are heroes. You oughtta see the way they're talking about Burky and this guy Jason ... it's hilarious!”

  “Whaaa'?” Callan leans back from the table. “What's going on?”

  “Uh, talk about hockey villain number one right now – Burky's taking a ton of heat. Even the Jets fans are wondering what the hell kind of guy follows another guy into a gay bar to film him ... I mean, talk about creep city! Sounds like something you'd expect from deep south Georgia. Shit, what was he wearing, a Klansman outfit?”

  Everyone at the table cracks up.

  “I think I would've seen him if he was wearing one of those, Nels!” Cal replies.

  “Anyway,” Nelson continues, “Jason's YouTube channel is apparently being swamped by thousands of people who are calling him an extortionist and an opportunist and all this. He's already made a video saying he's sorry for the trouble he's caused you and your fans. And he says that from now on, his channel will be dedicated to encouraging other gay athletes to come out of the closet.”

  “What the hell?” I laugh. “Guess he's turned a new leaf.”

  “Apparently Burky's being hounded by a ton of journalists and media outlets. His PR people have already issued an apology to the gay community for his actions. I don't think that's gonna be enough, though. The media is tar and feathering that guy for being a coward and a bully.”

  “Holy crap,” Cal blinks. “I don't want him to get in any trouble, though.”

  “Seriously?” Brickley raises an eye at him. “I would. I do. Fuck that asshole.”

  Cal shrugs. “He's kind of an ass, but ... I dunno ... whatever. I forgive 'em. Best to move on, boys. I don't wanna carry a grudge around with me for the rest of my life. I just wanna play some hockey and win the goddamn Cup!”

  “Cheers to that,” I say, holding up my glass of beer. “To the goddamn Cup!”

  “To the goddamn Cup!” the team roars, raising their glasses.

  And that's the end of that. For the rest of the night, not one more peep from the boys about me or Callan being gay. I'm both surprised and impressed. I'm sure they probably wanna know a lot more about it – especially what two gay teammates do when they're roommates on the road, too.

  But they've gotten the message that that's our personal life and it's time to move on, it's time to focus on hockey.

  Instead, it feels like old times again: when I was a young player on a young team, full of promise and potential, battling for the Cup.

  We're down 1-0 in our best-of-seven series. But there's still plenty more hockey to play.

  AFTER DINNER, THE TEAM heads back to the hotel and we retire to our rooms.

  Cal and I throw off our clothes. He keeps a healthy distance from me, watching me cautiously from across the room as we strip off all but our boxers.

  “Now listen,” Cal says, holding up a stern finger at me. “You know we got a big game tomorrow ...”

  Ha ha. I know just what he's getting at. “Uh huh.”

  “I can't be up all night, Ty.”

  “Yeah, I agree. We need our rest.”

  “That's why I think we should sleep in separate beds tonight.”

  My bottom lip juts out in agreement. “Yeah, totally.” I jump on top of my bed and stretch out.

  “You do?” Cal asks incredulously. He climbs into his own bed. “Whew, okay – I thought for sure you'd be all over me ...”

  “Don't lie, Cal, you love it.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, of course I do. But maybe this isn't the smartest arrangement, y'know? Two horny guys holed up in a hotel together? Only about to play the most important games of their lives, when they can't stop thinking about suckin' and fuckin' each other?”

  “Unh. Why do you have to put it like that ...” I grunt. I spread my legs apart and rub myself through my boxers.

  “Fuck you, Vance! Don't you dare!”

  “What?” I tease. “Don't do what?”

  My boxers bunch up with a swell in the crotch. A long, fat shape inches down my thigh.

  “Oh, c'mon! Vance! Stop!”

  But Cal can't look away. He bites his lip, his brow arching. He wants something he can't have. And soon his own hand sneaks under his waistband and between his legs.

  “Ungh,” he grunts in frustration while his hand works up and down under his boxers. “You're supposed to be the role model ... the guy who leads by example ... look at what you're making me do.”

  “I'm not making you do anything, Cal.”

  The head of my cock snakes out of the bottom leg of my boxers. Cal sighs when he sees it emerge.

  “Oh, fuck. No. C'mon. You can't. You can't do this to me.”

  He starts to get up, but I raise a finger at him. “Ah-ah, no sir. You stay over there. We're staying in separate beds tonight.”

  His head falls back, dramatically crashing into his pillow.

  “Man!” he sighs under his breath. I have to stifle a laugh.

  Then I wiggle out of my boxers and fling them between our beds.

  “Fuck,” he sighs quietly. He's accepted his fate now. All he can do is stare helplessly with bitter disappointment.

  I shut my eyes and jerk myself in front of him. It feels nice to have an audience. I've never jerked it for anybody before, man or woman. It's kind of ... sexy. Knowing that somebody is watching me get off.

  With my eyes closed, Cal thinks he can sneak up and join me. I hear him, though, and my eyes shoot open. “Nuh uh,” I reprimand him. “Big game tomorrow. You sit there and mind your own business.”

  “Fuck, Ty, c'mon. I'm hard as a rock over here. Let me help you out.”

  “I don't want your help.”

  “God damn it,” he groans quietly.

  Heh heh. I know I've almost broken him. Poor guy.

  I thrust into my fist, my ass lifting off the bed. “Oh, yeah!”

  Cal looks miserably defeated. He wears a frown, even as he jerks himself under his boxers.

  I sit up on all fours and turn my rear around to face Cal.

  “The fuck? C'mon Vance, what's this—”

  I spread my ass cheeks apart.

  “Oh, no – Vance! The hell!”

  I wet my finger and play with my asshole.

  “Is this how I do it, Cal? Oh, that feels so good.”

  “Oh, that's hot. Tyler. Oh man.”

  I hear him start to get up again and I stop him once more. “Ah-ah-ah, no no no, Cal. You stay.”

  He grumbles.

  “I want you to watch.”

  I circle my virgin entry until it's tingly and sensitive. I glance my tip over my opening and spasm with delight. My opening beckons my finger.

  “Whoa, Cal. I've never done this before. Feels good.”

  “Yeah,” he croaks.

  I push my finger against my entry. I inhale sharply as I push past the razor's edge of pain – and plunge past it into pure bliss. “Oh,” I grunt, “fuck that's good!”

  “That's it,” Cal roars, and he rushes out of bed.

  “No no no!” I protest, but he doesn't care.

  He takes two handfuls of my round, muscular ass and spreads me.

  “Oh!” I groan as he opens me. I've never been splayed open like this before for anybody ...

  I feel his breath, hot and rhythmic, on my rear. He's so close to me.

  “
What're you doing, Cal?” I gulp.

  And then I get my answer. Not in words, but with a gentle lash of his tongue. He circles my virgin hole so lightly a jolt tingles up my spine.

  “Oh!” I groan.

  His nails dig into my ass and he spreads me wider. “You're so naughty, man. You got me so fuckin' horny.”

  “Cal ...”

  His tongue licks all around my entry, circling me always – driving me mad. My ass heaves with anticipation, wishing and hoping for something I never thought I'd want ...

  His tongue goes deeper. He flicks it against me, battering my hole with the tender strength that only a tongue can offer, until I gape open for him.

  Deep, guttural noises escape me. “Ohhhh, god.”

  His hand reaches between my legs and grabs my cock. He aims my cock down, straight down, and jerks me vigorously. His tongue wiggles its way deeper, sending spasms shooting through my core.

  “Oh, fuck!” I grunt.

  Cal grabs his lube from the night stand. I feel a cool, wet drizzle glaze my ass. His finger slowly and skillfully spreads it around. And he pushes in.

  “Yes!”

  He's careful with me. He pushes in only as far as I can take. My ass tightens on his finger, gripping him. He pulls back out, slowly, gently. And then he plunges back in, giving me more, only giving as much as I can take.

  Soon I'm demanding more. A second finger.

  When he gives it to me, I bury my face in the mattress and scream.

  “FUCK!”

  It hurts. It hurts so goddamn bad.

  And yet ...

  There's a funny thing about pain. How, really, pain isn't all that far away from pleasure. Are they two opposite sides of the same coin? I don't think so – it always seemed to me that they're more closely related than that.

  Because as bad as it hurts at first, the second he starts to pull those two fingers back out, I want them right back in me again. And he takes care to make sure he's not giving it to me too hard – but I'm eager, I'm hungry and needy, and soon I'm pushing against his hand, thrusting my ass down his finger.

  “Arrgh!” I groan.

  Every thrust, every plunge, takes him deeper and opens me. Wider, deeper. I know what I'm preparing myself for. And I want it. More than anything.