by R J Scott
“Which is?”
“Which is what?”
“What is Noah’s age of majority?”
“Eighteen,” Lester said.
Why use the fancy language when he could have just said eighteen to start off with?
“And?” I prompted.
“The codicil, quite right,” Lester murmured, as if he wasn’t on the phone with me, but talking to himself. I’d met him once, all belly and bluster, but he at least seemed to know what he was doing. “Yes, yes,” he said.
Noah bounced in his seat and squished the remainder of his biscuit in his hand, squealing at the excitement of it all. I wished I was in a seat being fed rusks and bananas and generally not having to deal with lawyers.
“What happens when Noah is eighteen?” I prompted again. Frustration must have slipped into my tone, because Lester did this tutting thing that had me rolling my eyes.
“All normal,” Lester said. “Financial responsibility, college funds and so on.”
Jesus, when was this man actually going to talk to me in plain speech?
“I’m covering all that; I’ll be setting up a trust and depositing money into it for a college fund.” As soon as I got to the bank to do so.
“Absolutely. Quite so, responsibility and all that.”
And then there was silence.
“Lester, when do I get the paperwork?”
“Soon. I’d like to arrange a meeting.”
More meetings. More money. I wished I knew more so I could call him on it, but who was I to know what was right and wrong? Maybe divorce and primary-carer status did need me to attend the glass high-rise of Lester, Lester and Merrin, for the ninth time.
“When?”
“Would Friday suit?”
Away game. Shit. “Not a good day for me.” I didn’t bother explaining the concept of an away game after the last time, when Lester had helpfully suggested that the team could put on a substitute. I hadn’t explained that wasn’t how it happened, that we didn’t have such a thing in hockey and players being called up wasn’t easy.
Lester tutted again. “Monday?”
I glanced at the calendar on the wall. Monday was clear. “I could do that.”
“Ten forty-five, final papers to sign, Mr. Gunnarsson. Almost there.”
Wow, is he actually attempting to reassure me?
Something hit me in the face, and without thinking I wiped at it. Mashed rusk. I ended the call and faced Noah.
At least, somewhere under the milk and biscuit was Noah.
“C’mon, little man, we have cleaning up to do.”
I lifted him from his chair and checked the clock. Amy would be here in sixty, Stan not long afterward. I might as well get one last baby bath in at this place, me and Noah and the dribble-splurt of a shitty shower hose. Noah loved water, and he bobbed in my arms in excitement when I turned it on. The water was warm, the pressure pathetic, but he was clean, and I even managed to wash my hands and face. Dressed in the last clothes I’d left out, I stood in the middle of the apartment and tried to feel nostalgic. Inhaling the smell of cat pee, though, I decided that nostalgia was overrated.
Amy arrived at ten, took Noah off me, and then it was just me in the apartment. Me and my boxes of stuff.
Ten thirty, and Stan was at the door. Along with Ten, Jared, Toly, Charlie and Dieter, who all crowded in, making me realize that this small space was so not set up for two hockey players, let alone a whole group of them.
“Jeez, this place stinks,” Adler announced, and winced when Ten poked him in the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“You’re right, it does.”
“I’m ask help,” Stan announced, and picked up the first box. “Quick for cat smell.”
I fist-bumped and thanked everyone, and in three trips between us, we had the rented van loaded with mine and Noah’s gear. Amy was coming with us as well, but she was moving in seperately.
“You sure you want to share with No-English here?” Ten quipped, and ducked when Stan went to cuff him around the head.
Jared held him and Stan poked at him, and there was laughter, and fuck, it hit me right then, I really could have friends on this team.
We arrived at Stan’s as a convoy of van and cars, all stopping in the circle outside the house. Stan opened one of the garages and gestured inside. “Storing,” he explained. “Rest to inside.”
Everyone followed my instructions. Some of the boxes could be stored here, but all the baby stuff and clothes needed to go to wherever Stan wanted me to stay.
Which turned out to be what Ten described at the west wing. Less a wing and more a whole side of the house that was empty, there was a room for me, and a connecting nursery. It was the nursery that had me stopping and staring in shock. I had been expecting a simple, plain room, but this had been made into a nursery. A real one. Painted a pale blue, one wall had a huge mural of a family of rabbits having a picnic. The detail was incredible. I could see the sun, and birds, and a hedgehog; the whole picture was a story. There was a fully assembled crib, which put my travel crib to shame, white bedding, and a huge changing table cupboard with shelves above full of stuffed toys.
“You like?” Stan said, and he sounded nervous, as if he thought maybe he’d overstepped, or that I would hate it.
“Wow,” was all I said, and I did a full three-sixty to check it all out. This was the room my son deserved; this was what I wanted to give him.
Stan pointed to the mural. “Galina painted,” he said.
“I hope it’s okay,” a soft voice said to the left of me, and I realized Stan’s sister Galina was in the room with Noah on her hip.
“You painted that?”
She nodded and wrinkled her nose a little, just as Stan did when he was embarrassed.
“It’s gorgeous; you’re so talented.”
She shrugged, but at least she smiled at me. “And the rest? I asked Amy, and she gave me a list of what Noah needed, but if there is anything missing…”
I hugged her as best I could with Noah there as well. “It’s all too much,” I said.
“Never much big for little rabbit,” Stan said, and held out his arms for Noah, who was happy to be transferred, bumping at Stan’s nose with his fist.
The guys all stayed for pizza, but I spent some time in the nursery sorting through clothes instead of joining them for beers. I needed that space, the time to watch my son sleep in his crib and to get used to the idea of living here.
Stan had offered me space, and I desperately needed not to be on my own. I didn’t expect monetary help—I wanted to pay my way, and I wanted to be the one who was up with Noah—but I’d seen the main bedroom that was mine, decorated in muted colors. There was a huge, solid oak bed, with pale blue bedding and a lamp on each side. I craved being in there with Stan.
Would it just be my bed? Or would Stan join me? Was it our room? Had he clearly told Galina that we were together?
I switched on the baby monitor and went into my room, half closing the door and checking I could hear the soft, muted tones of the mobile as they wound down through the receiver. Then, because I abruptly needed company rather than silence, I made my way downstairs. I couldn’t see Dieter or Toly, but Ten and Jared were still there, Ten with his legs up on Jared’s lap, laughing at something someone had just said.
“Help me with these, man.”
I turned to see who it was, smiling on seeing Arvy limping on crutches but up and mobile. I took the beers from him and hovered by him as he made his way to the sofa, Galina not far behind him, bearing all kinds of snacks on a tray. I set the monitor on the table along with the beers, and sat next to Stan on one of the sofas. There was so much space between us that I couldn’t touch him, but that was okay, because everyone would be going home soon.
Galina helped Arvy to sit, then curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. There might have been space between us, but I could have sworn I heard Stan growl.
“Football is bigger money,” St
an muttered, and swallowed some beer, coughing when it clearly went down the wrong way. “Not broken hockey man.”
Galina frowned at him and laced her fingers with Arvy’s. Oh, so this was a thing, then, Galina and Arvy.
“Don’t start, Stanislav,” Galina said, in plain English.
Stan answered with something that sounded very Russian, and I swear it held a couple of swear words.
Galina stiffened next to Arvy, and she looked angry. I guessed whatever Stan had said hadn’t been welcoming Arvy into the bosom of the family. Then she deliberately leaned up, cupped Arvy’s face, and kissed him deeply. Arvy flailed a little at first, evidently not expecting that, then he slipped an arm around her and held her close after the kiss. Stan stared at them and tilted his head, and Arvy cleared his throat.
“I love Arvy,” Galina announced dramatically.
Arvy’s eyes widened and he looked down at her. “You do?” he asked, his voice incredulous.
“I do, I love you,” she repeated.
“God, I love you too,” he said, and they kissed again.
Stan muttered something. Then, glowering, with his arms crossed over his chest, he made a statement to underline the whole thing. “You hurt, I kill.”
Arvy nodded, then hugged Galina even closer. A brown long-haired cat jumped up and settled into the space between me and Stan, pawing at the fabric and then curling up in a contented ball. I reached out to stroke her, assuming this was Lucy, and she purred at me, a small chirrup of noise, before butting my hand. I guessed I’d caught her unawares, but when I looked up, Stan was smiling at me in approval, and I continued to stroke her for a while.
“So, Erik,” Ten said, to break the silence. “Now it’s just you and Stan who need to be snuggling.”
I shot him a look of shock, I know I did, because what he’d just said was…it was a secret… This was… Oh, hell.
Jared sighed and pinched at Ten’s jeans. “We weren’t going to say anything.”
Ten shook his head. “They’re with friends, and nothing leaves this room.”
Stan looked at me; I could see it in my peripheral vision. At this point, we could do what we did to the world outside—deny what was happening here, deny having anything other than friendship, or we could—
I couldn’t even finish that thought, because Stan picked Lucy up, cradled her close, and moved, and the sofa rocked as the big man was by my side with his arm over my shoulders and Lucy on his lap.
“In house, I’m doing,” he announced.
Stan rested his chin on my head, just like he used to in Helsinki, hugging me closer. And all I did was lean in, because hell, as I’d learned today, I was with friends.
Fourteen
Stan
Two weeks with Erik, Noah, and Galina in my house raced by. I had always dreamed of this kind of life. A huge house with family filling it. My heart was full. Mostly. We still had to get Mama to America. Yes, she was coming. All I had done was bribe her with Noah.
Explaining to her that Erik was living with me as my secret boyfriend had been simple. Trying to make her understand that he had been married to a woman and had a child? That had taken some softly explained facts about bisexuality. While she didn’t fully grasp that a person could like both sexes, she was willing to accept it as some confusing fact, like gravity. She didn’t understand that either, but she accepted it. Or how a TV worked. Also accepted without deeper knowledge of the exact specifics.
I’d tried to do paperwork for Mama, but had ended up angry and confused by the red tape and indecipherable government language. Erik had encouraged me to turn it over to the team’s lawyers, so I’d done that and hoped they would get things dealt with for Mama.
Life was filled with so much happiness now. Noah was a joy. Galina was taking an extended leave from school to tend to Arvy, and Erik was in my home, most nights in my bed. My life was so sweet and bright, and that was showing in my game. The Railers had shaken off the slump and were now playing with fire again. My goals against average was going down while my saves were climbing.
I’d not felt this good in many years, and I wanted to make sure Erik knew how special he was to me. I’d taken time searching for the perfect Valentine’s Day gift for him. Adler had many suggestions. Most involved gold and diamonds. Tennant told me to give him a gift from my heart, but I had no idea what that meant. After a game last week in Philly, I’d asked Trent for gift advice that I could find without making my brain hurt from thinking. He’d pulled me aside and showed me a little website that he liked to visit.
“Trust me, you give him this and a dozen roses and he’ll be yours for the taking.”
“I no say this for man,” I hurried to clarify. Trent reached up to pat my cheek, and walked off, his hips swaying as he went to find Dieter. It was okay that he knew even if I didn’t know how he knew. Trent would never out Erik and me, and I liked him. He had made me faster and his clothes were bright and festive.
The morning of Valentine’s Day, I woke Erik with a soft kiss to his neck that led to soft kisses on his mouth, my fingers wound in his curls, until he was as hard as I was.
“Lay back. I have good gift for you.”
His green eyes were warm as an enchanted fire I’d seen in a video game. Just as magical, too.
I left him in my bed for just a moment, grabbed the small bag from my underwear drawer, and returned to him. He moved to sit up. I put a hand on his chest and applied pressure, keeping his back to the thick mattress.
“My gift for you is reservations tonight at Le Button,” he said while pawing in the gift bag. I folded my legs under me, using my calves as a seat. His eyes narrowed a bit when he removed the tub with the silver and red ribbons dangling from it. Spinning the container around, he saw the label and smiled a sinful smile.
“Chocolate body paint?”
“Yes. I paint you and lick it off. Make fun times.”
“Thinking about doing this tonight is going to make me hot all day.”
“We do now.” I plucked the tub from his hands, spun the top off, and inhaled the scent of chocolate. Then I shook the soft paint brush from the gift bag. “Must make warm. Go nowhere.”
Thundering down the stairs with my hard dick bouncing, I threw the jar into the microwave above the stove, and waited. As soon as it pinged, I flung the door on the microwave open, grabbed the warm jar, and raced back to my room. Galina’s door was open, so I hurried by, using the jar to hide my genitals. I ran to my lover, eager to paint his body.
Stepping into the master suite, I nearly fell over my big feet when my gaze landed on Erik. He had stayed right where I had told him to. His fist worked his cock lazily. His tongue ran out to slick his lips. My cock throbbed harder.
“Hands and knees,” I said, my voice thick with desire.
He followed that order quickly, his ass up in the air, his arms spread out in front of him as he rested his nose in the covers and pillows.
“I paint your ass then lick it clean. Then your balls. Then I cover your cock and let you slide it down my throat.” I placed the warm chocolate on the nightstand, grabbed his hips, and tugged hard. When his knees were on the edge of the mattress, I took a moment to enjoy the sight of his puckered hole bared for me, of his heavy balls, and of his thick cock dangling low. I would taste all of them before the sun rose properly.
“Stan…” He was breathy and needy. I cupped a buttock, squeezed it firmly, then went for the chocolate. The brush was overloaded with sweetness. Thick drops hit the carpet and the cover. I made a wide swath of chocolate from the base of his spine down to his nuts. “Oh… that’s nice.”
“This nicer.” I poured some over the crack of his ass and watched it run down over his hole. Then, with little regard to the jar or how it sat on the bed, I went to my knees and buried my face between his slippery ass-cheeks.
“Ah, hell yeah, so much nicer!”
He pressed back as my tongue teased his entrance. I licked and lapped, pressing into his tight hole, the
n kissing it, swirling my tongue around and in, around and in, around and in, sucking and groaning. Erik was done talking. Gibberish in fractured Swedish tangled with my gruff dirty words in Russian.
I moved from his ass to his balls, pulling one tender orb into my mouth, tugging on it, sucking it hard then moving to the right. I did that many times, my fingers dipping into the jar now to coat his ass again. His hips moved up and back with more speed. I feasted on his ass and balls, using almost the whole sixteen-ounce jar. Melted chocolate was everywhere, and it was a sticky-sweet delight that I wanted more of. Fingers thick with the last of the cooling treat, I coated his cock, then sat on the floor, letting my head rest on the mattress.
I led his cock to my mouth, and he took over from there. His thrusts were deep, primal, as he balanced on the edge of an orgasm. I took my cock in hand and tugged on it, fingers slick with chocolate. Erik fucked my mouth well and hard, coming with a shout. Spunk coated my mouth and throat. I pumped my dick faster, eager to join him. The delectable taste of Erik and milk chocolate got me off. I shot on my hand and thigh, sucking madly as Erik filled my mouth with short, quick thrusts.
“God, oh God, shit…holy hell,” he panted, my tongue gliding over the smooth head of his cock as he gently slowed his pace.
“Mmm,” I hummed around his cock. He groaned and trembled. “Sweetest treat ever,” I whispered, taking the time to lick him clean.
“We need to get more of that stuff,” he chuckled, then rolled onto his back, his beautiful cock popping free of my lips. I ran my fingers through the semen on my leg, my eyes closed, dreamily lost in the afterglow of passion.
“I thank Trent most big. He show me good interweb site. Many hot sex fun things.”
“Trent rocks.”
“I think my ass glued to blanket by chocolate,” I said a moment later. Erik laughed softly above me, then crawled off the bed. I opened my eyes and found a Norse god standing over me, cock spent and soft, thighs coated with chocolate, and eyes dewy with love.