“They’re gonna love you. But if you want to go home, I’ll take you home. At any point, if you want to leave, just tell me. We can say your head hurts or something.”
Semka shook his head and reached for the cake box between his feet. He appreciated that about Tyson. He never made him feel stupid or ashamed, but he was being ridiculous. “Am big boy, yes? Can handle meeting new people. People who you say are nice. What I have to be nervous for?”
And then Tyson was ringing the doorbell, opening the door, and stepping into the cool interior of his friends’ house. “Luuuu-cy, I’m home,” he called with some fake silly accent. Semka followed, charmed.
Ashley and Jonah appeared and introductions were made. Semka was instantly welcomed.
He held out the pink box. “Traditional Russian Christmas dessert. Called Kiev Cake.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to. You know that, right?” Ashley handed the box to Jonah. “Any friend of Tyson’s is a friend of ours. We’re so glad you came. Can I hug you?”
Nothing about anything other than friendship. No teasing about Tyson finally bringing a boyfriend home. Semka relaxed further. He nodded and immediately found himself enveloped in a hug. Loops of strawberry-scented hair escaped the precarious mass of gold on Ashley’s head and tickled Semka’s nose. Long arms held him close for longer than he expected. He hugged back loosely.
“She’s a hugger,” said Jonah from behind her.
“Hey!” she said, pulling away, laughing. “I recently read that people should have thirteen hugs a day and that they should last for twenty seconds or longer for maximum effectiveness. You look like a guy who could use a few more hugs.”
“Is true,” Semka replied and shrugged. “Hockey hugs good, but they don’t last long enough. Might get delay of game penalty if hug too long during celly. Can’t afford more penalty minutes.”
Everyone laughed.
“What’s a celly,” Ashley asked, looking curious.
“That when player do celebration routine after he score goal.”
“Celly, huh?”
Semka shrugged and smiled.
“C’mon kids.” Jonah herded them into a large kitchen that overlooked a covered deck and a tidy if spare yard. The table outside was set and decorated with Christmas China and candles. He handed out drinks and, before Semka knew it, he was drinking his second glass of wine and meeting Mark, another member of their small circle of friends. Dinner was served, and the five of them trooped outside with overflowing plates to sit in the pleasant Vegas weather.
The food was delicious and the company warm and kind and so very welcoming. Semka hated to miss a moment. Unfortunately, calls of nature couldn’t be put off forever.
Scooting to the end of his chair, Semka looked to Tyson. “Where is restroom?”
“Oh, I’ll show you.” Tyson rose and collected some of the dishes.
“Bring more wine,” requested Ashley, twirling her glass in the air, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from the alcohol she’d already consumed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Semka followed Tyson’s lead and grabbed several empty plates and serving dishes. After setting everything on the counter, Tyson said, “Right this way.”
Semka trailed him through the living room and into the hallway.
Tyson pointed. “First door on the left.”
Semka emerged feeling much relieved; Tyson leaned against the wall.
“You need go too?”
“I used the bathroom in Jonah and Ashley’s room. I was waiting for you.”
Semka’s heart rate picked up. “House is not so big. I can find way back.”
Tyson smiled winsomely and Semka’s heart lurched hard. Tyson looked up, compelling Semka to look up too. Their gazes met and the bottom dropped out of Semka’s stomach. Mistletoe.
“I’d very much like to kiss you.”
Semka’s mouth went dry. He wanted that very much too. He glanced toward the main part of the house. The lack of chatter indicated that everyone was still outside. If they came inside, there’d be plenty of noise as a warning.
Kissing Tyson was dangerous and scary and absolutely the last thing Semka should do. This was the chance he needed and he wanted to kiss Tyson more than he’d wanted anything else in a long while. Maybe even more than he wanted to get back on the ice.
“I very much want you kiss me,” Semka whispered, as if giving voice to his desire too loudly might call forth fire and brimstone.
The distance between them disappeared. Tyson cupped his face and gently drew him forward. The brush of his lips was whisper soft, the pressure easy, until it wasn’t. Semka’s hands landed on Tyson’s trim waist and his lips parted in invitation. Tyson tilted his head to slot their mouths together fully. The gentle probe of his tongue sent a shockwave of want through Semka and he pulled Tyson flush, kissing him for all he was worth.
His blood was thrumming and his heart was beating and his breath was heaving in his chest when they separated. High color stained Tyson’s cheeks and Semka’s probably looked the same.
“God, Semka,” Tyson whispered, “that was—”
“Mmm hmm.” The next kiss was deeper, more urgent. Semka poured all his pent-up feelings into it.
“We gotta go back,” Tyson said when the kiss ended, both of them breathing harder than a trip to the restroom warranted.
“You first.”
“They’re not going to be fooled, you know, but they won’t say anything.”
“Not worried about that. Just need a few moments to gather my brains.”
The corner of Tyson’s mouth quirked up. “Your wits, you mean?”
“Yes.” Semka made a sweeping motion with his hands. “Go.”
Tyson disappeared around the corner and Semka collapsed against the wall, pressing his fists to his face. What had he done?
For the first time in years, he’d kissed a man. Kissing was personal. Kissing was intimate. He never kissed the men he picked up in clubs. Kissing Tyson might have been the most foolish thing he’d ever done. He took a breath and tugged at his shirt.
He wasn’t sorry.
* * * * *
“You want come up?” Semka asked before he got out of Tyson’s car. The set of Russian nesting dolls painted like members of his team from Jonah and Ashley were clutched in his hand.
The day had gone fine. No one had given any indication that they’d been gone too long or that they suspected Tyson and Semka had kissed for those few blissful moments in time.
A beautiful auburn eyebrow arched over Tyson’s left eye. “If I come up, I’m not leaving until after breakfast.”
Roller coasters loop-de-looped in Semka’s stomach. He nodded once. “I want.”
Chapter Five
Nervousness wormed its way into Semka on the elevator ride and he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the trembling. It took him two tries to get the key in the lock, but then they were in.
Tyson ambled into the living room and plugged in the Christmas tree lights. Semka followed.
“Merry Christmas.” Tyson’s hands were like a brand on their way up his arms to their perch atop Semka’s shoulders.
Semka cleared his throat before he could return the sentiment.
Tyson canted his head, considered. “If you don’t want this, I’ll go.”
Semka huffed. “Is not matter of want. Want so much. Also trust you, but this very dangerous for me to do.” Semka flexed his trembling hands once before resting them on Tyson’s hips. If anyone had told him his Christmas present was a man in his bed, he’d have laughed himself silly, yet here he was.
Tyson crossed his heart with his index finger. “What happens in your condo, stays in your condo.”
Though the gesture was that of a child, the solemnity with which Tyson offered it was genuine and Semka offered a single nod. “Okay. Thank you for taking serious.”
“Of course.” Hand-in-hand, Tyson led Semka to his room.
Semka was never more grateful f
or his king-sized bed than now, mess that it was.
Tyson plugged in the string of lights he’d strung around the sliding glass door of Semka’s bedroom. He toed out of his shoes and stripped slowly, folding his clothes and setting them in a neat pile on the dresser.
Part of Semka wanted to turn on every light and look his fill. Part of him liked the atmosphere as it was. Not so dark as to imply hiding or shame, but soft and colorful. Celebratory but delicate, like the moment itself. Something to be remembered and cherished.
Tyson star-fished on the bed, his skin pale against the dark sheets. Saliva pooled in Semka’s mouth. His fingers twitched. He wanted to touch and taste, but more importantly, he wanted to feel. The experience of his life was his for the taking. Semka undressed. “Been long time since I have sex with someone I know.”
Tyson made a face. “Jesus, Semka, you’re killing me. Come here.”
* * * * *
Semka woke to the smell of coffee and the feeling of being satisfied and very well fucked. Everything came rushing back to him and his heart barrel rolled. The night had been fantastic, and Tyson a skilled and enthusiastic lover.
The smell of something besides coffee also filled the air. He sniffed, but couldn’t sort the scents from one another although bacon was definitely involved. Tyson was cooking him—them—breakfast and the yearning that he experienced more often than not when he spent time with Tyson hummed under his skin. After a trip to the bathroom to relieve his bladder and brush his teeth, he pulled on a clean pair of boxer briefs and went in search of Tyson.
Semka stopped short in the doorway to the kitchen. Tyson stood stark naked at the sink, rinsing and loading dishes into the dishwasher. The thought of having Tyson naked in his kitchen or bedroom or anywhere, really, as a regular occurrence was both wondrous and impossible. It could never be.
“Good morning,” Semka managed past his dry throat.
The smile on Tyson’s face when he turned around nearly knocked Semka over. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.” A steaming casserole sat on the stove; a pair of champagne flutes sparkled in the shaft of sunlight from the sliding glass door.
“O—” Semka choked on the word, swallowed, tried again. “Oh. Yes. Let’s do.” He stumbled forward to help. “What I do?”
Tyson waved him off. “You go, I’ll dish up the tater tot casserole and be right in.”
Semka surveyed the large tray he hadn’t known he owned. His mouth watered at the bowl of berries covered in chocolate drizzle and powdered sugar, none of which he’d known he had either. The tater tot casserole consisted of eggs, bacon, spinach and, of the course, the tots. It looked and smelled delicious. One plate, two forks.
“Tyson?” Semka skirted the large island.
“Yeah?”
“Tyson, look to me.”
Tyson turned, more focused on the dishes at the moment.
Semka cupped his face and kissed him. “We do this? Until I’m clear to play, we do this? Be together?”
* * * * *
They fell into a routine of hanging out around Tyson’s school schedule, practice schedule, and game days and Semka’s visits to the training facilities. Semka had never been happier.
“Luuucy, I’m hoooome,” Tyson called in that silly accent he’d used at his friends’ house at Christmas and many times since.
It was ridiculous and funny and Semka loved it. He wanted to hear that every day for the rest of his life. “In the living room,” Semka called. That wasn’t going to happen, all he could do was enjoy it while it lasted.
Tyson left a trail of stuff from the doorway to the plush leather sofa where he straddled Semka’s lap, kissed him once and tugged at his shirt. “Get naked.”
Semka lifted his arms and let Tyson pull his shirt off. “What we doing?”
“Naked yoga.” Tyson yanked off his own shirt and scooted backwards, hands on his belt and fly. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
“Why?” Semka enjoyed the strip show.
Tyson tossed his clothes in a pile and went to work unrolling the yoga mats and laying them side by side. “Because I like being naked and I like you being naked and I like yoga. Why not combine them?”
Semka had never known a person like Tyson. Someone so uninhibited and unashamed. Semka wasn’t ashamed, but he was definitely constrained by the need to keep his sexuality a secret. Here in private, though, with Tyson, he had no such need. “Exercise naked?”
Tyson cast him a delighted grin. “Yes. It’s yoga, it’s not like we’re going to be doing PX90 or something.” Tyson pulled Semka to his feet, looped his arms around Semka’s shoulders and slid his finger up into Semka’s hair.
Semka melted into the touch and Tyson scratched gently.
“It’s relaxing and good for your core,” Tyson continued. “There’s this gal I like on YouTube—Adriene. She’s not naked, but we can be.” Tyson kissed him. “What do you say?”
Semka kissed Tyson back. “For you, I do this.” And for himself. For a memory he’d cherish forever, he’d do yoga naked with Tyson.
Tyson started a quick explanation of the poses, and earned himself a smirk. “You’re familiar with yoga?”
“We do yoga twice a week as part of training. But not me since I been on injured reserve, so is good I get back to it.” Semka made a face and shrugged.
Tyson pulled Semka close again and Semka relished the feel of being skin to skin, chest to knees. “Hey, what’s the face for?”
Semka didn’t want the good mood to end, but it was what it was. “No symptoms since last week. When I tell trainers tomorrow, they do protocols again. Will probably pass.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Tyson jiggled him gently. “I know you want hockey back. I miss winking at you on the ice.”
That pulled a quick grin from Semka, but it faded just as fast. “Want hockey back, yes, but being with you been so amazing. Not ready to lose.”
* * * * *
Tyson was loving sex on the regular himself. Enjoyed being with Semka. “It’s been what? Two and half months?”
Semka nodded
“Look at it this way. Even if you do pass, you still have to get back into playing shape right? That’ll take at least a couple of weeks, right?”
“Probably.”
“Okay, then, let’s not count our hockey pucks before they’re iced, huh?”
“That’s bad cliche,” Semka said, but the sparkle was back in his eyes, “so bad.”
“Too bad for you. Let’s do some yoga.” Tyson hit play and they focused on the routine for a while.
As if doing synchronized yoga for the Olympics, the two of them flowed backwards into Downward Facing Dog. Tyson turned his head to find Semka staring at him.
“What the fuck we doing?” he asked, but his smile was genuine.
“Yoga.”
“Naked yoga.”
“Yep.”
“Balls feel funny floating around, no support. Why we doing this?”
Adriene was urging them into a Plank, but Tyson dropped to Cow Pose and Semka followed suit.
“I told you… Because I like being naked and I like you being naked and I like yoga. Also…” Tyson leaned over and kissed him. “…it’s fun foreplay. I like to see your cock and balls floating around.” Shifting to sit on his knees and heels, Tyson stroked Semka’s cock, loving the feel of it hardening in his hand. He stroked his own too, drawing Semka’s gaze to the motion.
“Mmm, Tyson, we supposed to be exercising,” Semka said, just less than breathless. “Now what you doing?”
“Spread your knees.” Tyson moved behind him, his cock at Semka’s ass. The chirp of his cell phone startled them both. Shit. He should have turned the volume down.
“You check, must be important.”
“Not nearly as important as this,” Tyson said and ran his hands up the back of Semka’s thighs, his spreading the seam of his very fine ass. “We’re moving into the cardio-aerobic portion of the exercise routine, now, yeah?”
Semka peered at him over his shoulder with dark glittery eyes. “Da, yeah…”
Sometime later, they rolled apart, both breathing hard.
Tyson sat up and looked at Semka laid out, pale against the dark mats and the dark wood-look laminate beneath him. His chest rose and fell in an easy cadence. Tyson braided their fingers together. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
Semka hummed. “You say many times and I thank many times.” He tightened his grip in acknowledgment. “You want shower?”
The hockey-player sized stall sported two ceiling- and one wall-mounted shower head. A tankless water heater dedicated solely to the master bath ensured endless hot water.
“Hell yeah, I love your shower. Let me just check my phone on the off chance that message actually is important.”
“I start shower.” Semka rose to his feet in a graceful, fluid movement.
Tyson watched him walk away, admiring yet again that fine piece of man flesh. That he got to touch and taste, to fuck that gorgeous creature was a circumstance he would have never imagined. He dug his phone out of his shorts pocket and scanned the three texts from Dominic.
annual queers-only rave at the mansion is two saturdays after next
rsvpd us
can’t wait call me
God, Tyson loved that event, but he’d have to decline the invite. He might seem like a man whore to some, but he wasn’t a cheater. Despite there being an end date on this relationship, it still deserved faithfulness. In a few weeks, he’d pick up where he left off. Right now though, he had a smoking hot hockey player at his disposal. He tossed the phone on the coffee table and went to join Semka.
Tyson stopped in the bathroom doorway, his breath catching. Semka stood beneath the spray, hands braced against the pebbled wall, face lifted, eyes closed. His dark shoulder-length hair was plastered to his skull and his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. Fondness welled within Tyson. Semka was so special. If only the world were different. If only Semka weren’t Russian, but then of course, he wouldn’t be the Semka that Tyson knew and loved. He’d enjoy this while it lasted and then return to his regularly scheduled life.
No Protocol for Love Page 3