by Avon Gale
Sometime during the pleasant drug haze, after he had the X-ray and they wrapped his ankle and elevated it, Laurent showed up. He was showered and dressed and holding a stuffed animal in his hand.
“Tell me,” Isaac said.
“Five to one.” Laurent answered the question Isaac didn’t even have to finish. Which was good, because Isaac had discovered it’s hard to speak when you’re stoned out of your mind on opiates. Laurent shoved the stuffed animal at Isaac. “Here.”
Isaac took it and tried not to laugh when he saw what it was. “A stuffed duck?”
Laurent mumbled something, and Isaac had to make him repeat it, because it all came out a pleasant garble of words spoken in Laurent’s warm, low voice as he addressed the floor.
“I said, it reminded me of the lake. Okay?” Laurent slumped down in his seat and crossed his arms. “It scared the shit out of me when you didn’t get up after that hit.”
Before Isaac could say anything, the door to his room opened, and Misha came in with the doctor. Misha put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder for a moment. Then he patted it twice.
“The good news is your ankle isn’t broken,” the doctor said. She was a serious-looking woman who didn’t even raise an eyebrow at Laurent’s scowl or the fact that Isaac was holding a stuffed duck. “The bad news is, you’re going to have to be off it for a few weeks. You’ll be on crutches for the first few days. I’m sorry. I know you’re in the middle of playoffs.” She smiled briefly. “Go Spitfires. I hate the Ravens.”
“So there’s no chance I’ll be able to play any more this season?” Isaac asked, trying not to sound as devastated as he felt.
“I’m sorry, but it’s extremely unlikely.” The doctor gave him a sympathetic look. “You’ll be healed up fine by next season, but unless you want to risk permanent injury, I’d say no. Even if it feels better, you need to give it time.”
Well, fuck. Isaac groaned. “Tell me they suspended Simon.”
“It was two hours ago,” Laurent reminded him. “But I’m sure they will. He wasn’t even carrying the puck.”
“He’ll have a hearing, or I will personally see that he does not play again,” Misha said, grimly. His fingers tightened briefly on Isaac’s shoulder, and then he pulled his hand away.
“Misha, don’t kill anyone,” Isaac murmured as he looked up at his coach.
“You don’t even sound like you mean that,” said Laurent.
“You’ll need to do physical therapy a few days a week after the initial swelling goes down.” Misha gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “I’m sorry, Isaac. I know how much you wanted to win this series.”
Apparently uncaring of his audience, Laurent leaned in and took Isaac’s face in his hands. They were trembling, but Laurent’s voice was firm. “They’re not scoring a goal. Not for the rest of the series. I promise, Isaac.”
Isaac kissed him and practically swooned like a heroine in a gothic romance, and when he stopped, he and Laurent were alone in the room once more.
They didn’t speak, but Laurent stayed with him until it was time to go home.
Chapter Seventeen
IF ANYTHING gave Laurent the courage to face his old team and the determination to win, it was the knowledge that it should be Isaac in goal instead of him.
He knew his father had put Simon up to the little stunt that had resulted in Isaac’s badly sprained ankle. It wouldn’t have been the first time his father gave “incentives” to his players to take out someone on the opposition. Last year he’d tried to do the same thing to Riley Hunter during the conference finals and offered a bonus to whoever would make it happen. Laurent tried not to feel guilty because he should have spoken up and said something. But to whom? The general manager was in his father’s pocket, and the team’s owner was content to let the staff manage the team.
Tyler Simon was not on the bench for the Ravens, as he’d been suspended indefinitely for his hit on Drake. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered to Laurent was keeping his promise to Isaac. And Laurent intended to make sure not a single goal was scored for the duration of their series with the Ravens.
For the first time in his whole life, Laurent played the game out of love instead of hate. But it wasn’t his love of hockey that kept him focused in net.
Every time a puck came toward him and he made a save, he thought, “This is for Isaac.” Every time one of his dickhead former teammates snarled something insulting or called him names, he ignored them and thought about Isaac calling him Saint. He thought about Isaac’s dumb blue hair dye that had left a stain in Laurent’s shower and that lip ring that drove Laurent crazy. He thought about the lake and eating a Twinkie on Isaac’s floor. He thought about Isaac saying he loved him.
Laurent played the best two games of hockey he’d ever played in his life, and the Asheville Ravens didn’t score a single goal.
In the fifth game of their series, the buzzer sounded, and the Ravens’ home crowd booed their bewildered team, who finally saw just how good a goalie Laurent St. Savoy was. After mobbing Laurent at his end of the ice, the triumphant Spitfires skated out to center ice for the handshake. But the Ravens went down the tunnel and didn’t come back. Denis St. Savoy was as graceless in defeat as he was in victory.
The Ravens might not have raised their sticks and saluted their fans, but Laurent raised his own—to his team, and to the blue-haired goalie sitting behind the visitor’s bench who wore a Spitfires jersey and tried to stand up and cheer while on crutches.
His team gave him stick taps, and Isaac nearly fell over trying to bang his crutch like a hockey stick up in the stands.
“LET’S WATCH that save you made on Matthews again,” Isaac said from his spot on Laurent’s bed as he messed around on his laptop. His ankle was healing, and he didn’t need the crutches anymore, but he hated that Laurent still had to help him up the stairs. “I like how much attitude you gloved that puck with. It got me hard.”
Laurent still blushed when Isaac said stuff like that. But unlike before, his immediate response wasn’t to get angry or say something mean. “You’re a horny bastard,” he offered. “So there’s that.”
Isaac grinned at him and winked. “Are you done drawing cartoons yet?” He patted the bed next to him. “We should celebrate.”
“Your ankle—”
“Isn’t the part of me that wants to celebrate,” Isaac said.
Laurent looked down at the paper on which he was drawing and smiled. It was a fairly good approximation of Isaac wobbling on crutches and yelling his head off.
“Fine. I’ll just keep watching more game highlights and getting hot for you until you’re ready to stop being Picasso.” All of a sudden, Isaac’s voice sounded suspiciously choked—less like he was getting hot and more like he was upset. Laurent immediately looked up.
Isaac was watching the screen with the same smile on his face that Laurent probably had when he was looking down at the paper a moment before. “Someone filmed your little stick salute. Jesus, Laurent.”
Laurent’s face heated, but he was still glad he’d done that—even if the team made fun of him the whole way back to Spartanburg because of it. “Great.”
“You know how bad I wanted to blow you when you did that?”
“Bad enough to kneel even though you have a broken ankle?”
“It’s not broken. Stop trying to say something mean, so I’ll stop telling you how romantic that was.”
Laurent put his pencil down, stood up, stretched, and rolled his neck. “It wasn’t romantic. I was flipping you off under my glove.”
Isaac burst out laughing. “Get over here, Saint. I can blow you on the bed with my sprained ankle. You can do the kneeling, right over my face. How’s that?”
“Probably easier than when you tried it on the bus,” Laurent agreed and moved to where Isaac lay propped up on his bed. He moved the laptop and climbed on top of Isaac. Then he leaned down and bit him on the mouth. “I want you to fuck me.”
Isaac went still, and his voice turned husky with want. “Okay. That might be a little tricky with the ankle. Goddammit.”
Laurent stayed where he was, his mouth only slightly touching Isaac’s. “I’ve looked some stuff up. Since you gave me your Cockyboys login and all.”
“I’m so glad we have the kind of relationship where we can talk about porn.” Isaac’s mouth against Laurent’s curved up into a smile. “What’d you look up?”
“How to ride you,” Laurent said. He was proud of himself when he heard Isaac’s answering groan. “If you keep still, it should be fine.”
“It should be fine, he says.” Isaac reached out to pull at Laurent’s shirt. “You know I’m fine with blowjobs.”
“You’re more than fine with blowjobs. Remember? You’re an expert.” When Isaac went tense, Laurent read the body language and wondered if he’d been missing that all along whenever he made idle references to Isaac’s sex-worker past. “Hey. Does it bother you when I say that?”
“No,” Isaac said, too quickly for Laurent to believe him. “Not really.”
Laurent stared down at him and waited. He held the hem of his shirt in his fingers and paused, as if promising to continue only when Isaac started to talk.
“It’s weird. It never used to bother me. I mean, I’m not… I’m not proud of it. Right? Because I wish I would’ve had a better introduction to sex that wasn’t being scared and kneeling in an alley. But I don’t hate myself or anything. You can take your shirt off now.” Isaac looked at him hopefully.
Laurent shook his head. “You’re not saying something. Believe me, I can tell. I’m the expert at that.”
Isaac gave a long-suffering sigh and threw his hands up. “I don’t want you to think it’s the same. What I did with them and what I do with you.”
“I know that,” Laurent said, because he did.
Isaac’s drawn expression eased somewhat. “It’s so much better now, with someone I want. And I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not like it was always a chore. But nothing in the world is as hot as watching you lose it for me,” Isaac said huskily. He reached out and traced his fingers over Laurent’s mouth. “I guess part of me wishes all my experiences were like that.”
“Well. I didn’t have any experiences before you. So maybe yours weren’t that way, but mine were. Because of you. So.” Laurent pulled his shirt off, because Isaac was giving him the same look as he had when he watched that stick salute. “If that matters.”
“Yeah. Actually it does.” Isaac pulled him down to kiss him. “It matters a lot. You’ve gotten a lot better at talking.”
That surprised a genuine laugh out of Laurent. He’d gotten a lot better at that too. “So can we do this?”
“So romantic.” Isaac smiled, and all trace of his earlier seriousness vanished. “Hell yeah. We can do this.” He paused. “I’ve never done it like this. With anyone. Most guys wanted—well, it doesn’t matter. But you’re the first who’s ever wanted to ride my cock. And I’m glad.”
Laurent wondered if Isaac would ever understand what it was like for him to hear stuff like that. No matter what his father had done to him and all the inventive ways he came up to punish Laurent physically, none of them were vicious as his words. When Isaac said those things to him, Laurent could feel the empty places made hollow by his father’s cruelty as they filled up and mended into something whole.
He wished he could express that to Isaac. Maybe he could show him, instead.
Isaac was wearing track pants, so it was easy to take them off and not disturb his ankle, though he did twinge a bit when he moved it. When Laurent paused he waved a hand and said, “Don’t worry. It’s fine.”
Laurent saw that Isaac’s cock was hard and figured Isaac wouldn’t be able to get it up if his ankle hurt too badly. Though maybe that wasn’t true. Isaac really was a horny bastard.
“You’re smiling at nothing. Look how far we’ve come.” Isaac grinned at him. “And now you’re scowling. Aw.”
Laurent shut him up by putting his mouth on Isaac’s cock and taking him deep. He was careful to straddle him so he wasn’t touching Isaac’s ankle. His flexibility came in handy. It was a little awkward, but it made Isaac stop being infuriating, so it was worth it. He pulled off and looked up at Isaac. “You have to get me ready.”
With that he turned so he was on all fours above Isaac, facing away from him. He felt exposed and vulnerable, but his cock was hard, and he wanted it. “There’s lube under the pillow.”
“That seems dangerous,” Isaac murmured.
“The one I don’t sleep on.” Laurent leaned down and nuzzled at Isaac’s cock. He licked a long, slow line up the shaft.
“Oh, is that how it is? Saint, I don’t need lube quite yet to get you ready.” Isaac’s voice was all rough and turned on, but still had an edge that made Laurent suck on the head of Isaac’s cock with renewed purpose. Competitive bastard.
It took a fair bit of maneuvering, given their height difference and the need to keep Isaac’s ankle slightly elevated and immobile, but soon Laurent felt Isaac’s hands on either side of his ass gently spread him open. Heat flashed through him, and he distracted himself by sucking on Isaac’s cock, until he felt Isaac’s tongue flickering lightly at his hole.
He could feel Isaac’s laugh when Laurent gave a startled squeak. But it quickly turned into a low, deep-throated moan as Isaac began fucking in and out of him with his tongue. “Isaac—”
“Keep up,” Isaac said and went back to it.
Laurent couldn’t do anything but shudder and try to keep his balance as the sensation of Isaac’s tongue overwhelmed him. He immediately wanted to do it right back, but the angle was all wrong, so he just got Isaac’s cock in his mouth and moaned around it as Isaac continued to rim him.
“Mmm. You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to fuck you,” Isaac panted, and Laurent could hear the click of the lube. Isaac had one hand on Laurent’s back, and with his fingers slick with lube, he was playing with Laurent’s hole. “So you should stop sucking me, or it’s going to be over way too fast.”
“Lame,” Laurent said, in a rough voice. He braced himself on the bed with his hands and panted as Isaac eased his fingers in and out of him. “That—what you did with your tongue?”
“Mmmhmm?” Isaac’s voice wasn’t quite as wrecked, but it sounded breathless with anticipation, and that got Laurent’s cock even harder and made him shift restlessly and push back on the two fingers Isaac was fucking him with. “You liked it?”
“Good to know there are other ways you can run your mouth that I like—ah,” Laurent cried out as Isaac found his prostate and rubbed his fingers over it. He’d done that a few times—enough that Laurent knew it was going to feel amazing when they finally fucked and it was Isaac’s cock instead of his fingers. “God. That’s so good.”
“Oh, Saint. All this time all you needed was a rim job.”
Laurent, despite the shocks of pleasure streaking through him, managed to say, “Who knew,” in response.
There was a pause, and then Isaac choked out, “Murph.”
Laurent shook with helpless laughter. “Then let’s not disappoint him. Go back to fingerfucking me.”
“Bossy,” Isaac chastised, but he obligingly replaced two fingers with three. In no time at all, Laurent lost the last of his inhibitions, pushed back hard, and rode Isaac’s fingers with abandon.
His cock was hard and slick, but he couldn’t take it in his hand because he had to keep his balance. “My cock,” he gasped out, as Isaac rubbed unceasingly over his prostate.
“Is awesome. What about it?” Isaac reached down with his other hand to play with Laurent’s balls. “You want me to touch it? Stroke it? Make you come?”
Laurent groaned and nodded. He teased the head of Isaac’s cock with his tongue. “Want you to do it while I ride you.”
“Then get up here and ride me. Get my cock nice and wet first.” Isaac pushed his hips slightly as though he were trying to g
et it in Laurent’s mouth.
Laurent obliged him and took it in. He sucked messily and pulled off when Isaac leaned up and bit him right where the curve of his ass met his thigh. He very nearly fell over at the sharp pain and the continual, lingering shocks of pleasure from being fingered so hard. But he managed to climb off Isaac, turn around, and swing his leg back over Isaac’s prone form in one graceful motion.
Isaac’s face was flushed, and his blue eyes were wide and blurry. His hair was damp with sweat, and Laurent was too turned on to care that he was going to end up with blue Manic Panic dye on his pillowcase. He settled himself and checked to make sure he wasn’t in danger of kicking Isaac’s ankle. Then he shifted his weight so he was braced with one hand on the mattress.
Isaac finished putting on a condom, tossed the empty wrapper aside, and grabbed the lube. He opened it, but ignored Laurent’s proffered hand and just drizzled it down over his cock.
“You are way hotter than all those porn videos I watched.” Laurent reached out to slide his hand over Isaac’s cock and get it nice and lubed up.
“You are too.” Isaac gave him the wild grin that still drove Laurent crazy. “We got a side career if hockey doesn’t work out.”
Laurent didn’t want to even think about hockey at that moment, so he moved into the position he needed to be in so he could take Isaac’s cock. He reached back with his now lube-covered fingers and worked them in and out of his hole. He shivered. “It feels good when I do this by myself, but not as good as when you do it.”
Isaac made a strangled noise. “Put it in before I come all over you and we have to wait twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?” Laurent shifted again, took Isaac’s cock in his hand, and positioned it as best he could.
“I’m not seventeen.” Isaac reached down and helped him guide it. He groaned when Laurent rubbed the slick head of his cock up and down over his hole without entering it. “Saint. Maybe I should call you Sinner.”