by RJ Scott
“Fucked up! Fucked up!” Frank squawked and clicked his beak.
Tate grimaced. “Oh man, I’m sorry. I didn’t think he would pick that up.”
“It’s fine,” I said, my gaze roaming over his face, settling on his mouth and how pink and full his lower lip was. “He says worse. I know that Tennant is not your man, I am, yes?”
“Yeah, if you want to be.” He tossed a grape into his mouth, trying to be nonchalant but the tension was obvious in the set of his shoulders. I placed a hand to his neck, rubbing at the tense muscles.
“I would like to be very much. But we cannot be out. We must be discreet, for the safety of others, not for me. If it were for me I would announce our romance to the world.” A winsome smile lifted his lips. “I would lay you down and feed you grapes and cover your flesh with kisses.”
The tender smile blossomed into something sinful. He slid his hand into mine and pulled me to my bedroom, moving around me when we were near the bed.
“Do it.” He handed me the grapes, the stem warmed from being between his fingers. “Do it all. Lay me down, feed me grapes, cover my flesh with kisses.”
“Are you sure you want to continue this with me? You could be with another man or woman who would be out with you, living without secrets.”
“I’m sure. Now stop dawdling and feed me grapes.”
I cupped a hand around his neck, then led his mouth to mine. His lips were sweeter than any fruit on the planet. As was his body, which I bared slowly, peeling his clothes from him much as one would the delicate skin of a grape. I kissed his brow, then slipped a grape between his lips. Then I kissed his nose and fed him another grape. Then I tasted his lips, his chin, his throat, his chest, his tight nipples, each point of adoration followed by a taste of grape. His movements were brash, aggressive, lusty as I stretched out the lovemaking, teasing and tasting, licking a hot path down the inside of his thigh, worshipping his ankle and the arch of his foot before nibbling my way back upward, suckling on his balls until he cried out in frustration, then made the same languid path up and down the other leg.
“We have a few grapes left,” I stated as I nuzzled his sac, lifting it out of the way so I could tongue the space between his nuts and his tight hole.
“Oh for fuck…forget the grapes. I’m…ahhh, shit Vlad, yes, do that again.” He purred like a cat with cream. I placed my hands on his thighs and pushed them wider, angling my shoulders between his powerful legs. Tempted beyond rational thought, I longed to take one of those round fruits and insert it into him, then fish it out with my tongue. Instead I used a finger, slippery with spit, and began working him open as I sucked on his balls. His cock was stiff, the head plum-colored and slick with pre-cum. “I’m going to suck on the head of your cock. Look at it, look how red it is, how wet, how it yearns to be in my mouth. Watch me sucking you while I stretch your ass.”
Brown eyes hot with lust settled on me, his lips parted, his tongue between his white teeth. He hissed and spasmed when I pulled just the head of him between my lips. My finger went deeper, another joined it, and then a third as I swirled my tongue around his cockhead. His fingers dug into the bedding, pulling the sheets upward into mounds. A burst of pre-cum hit my mouth so I pulled off and out, lapping my way up his body, stopping only to tug at his nipples. He was frantic beneath me, clawing at the bed or at my back, his strong legs tilting his ass up from the mattress, his mouth moving over my arms, biting gently on my shoulder as I settled over him.
“Do you like my cock in your ass, Zvedva moya?”
“Love it…give it to me now, please?”
“So pushy. Have you forgotten who is in charge?”
He shook his head, his lips too tempting to not crush with mine. His tongue met mine, parried and danced with it. I slid my arms around him and threw my weight to the side, rolling us over with a grunt. The kiss broke. He settled on my thighs, his cock resting on my belly, mine nestled between those tasty round orbs of his.
“I know who’s in charge,” he replied breathlessly, moving his hips back and forth, rubbing his cock over me as my prick slipped over up and down the crack of his ass. For a man who had never been with another man before, he was a natural cock tease.
“Tonight you are, my star. Tonight, I throw my arms up and let you lead. Tonight, I give myself to you, all of me,” I whispered, reaching over my head to wrap my fingers around the posts of my headboard. His eyes rounded for a moment, then the passion took over, and so did he. Tate rolled the condom on me, then slicked it up, rising up with one hand on my chest to press a glob of lube into his ass. I groaned at the image. His head dropping down, his eyes closed, his mouth parted as he fingered his own hole for me. “Go slow, it will be deep. Do not hurt…fucking hell, Tate.”
He impaled himself. A huff of pain escaped him. I tightened my hold on the bed, knowing that if I grasped his hips as I longed to do, I would fuck him into a coma. He eased up, the tightness around his jaw lessening as he rose, then slowly went back down.
“Plow horse…definitely a Russian plow horse,” he gasped when he sat, my cock buried to the hilt inside him.
“Mm, the best things…are Russian,” I replied around a moan.
Then the talking ceased. It was replaced with short bursts of growls and grunts, sighs and cries, and then the sounds of two men tumbling over the edge. Tate came on my chest and belly with just the slightest touch of my hand to his prick. He collapsed over me, convulsing around me, and I jerked as my orgasm swept over me. One hand on the headboard, the other finding his ass, I pushed my heels into the bed to get that extra inch. He whined as he lay atop me, his body shuddering as his cock pulsed jet after jet of cum between us.
“Oh my God,” he whimpered as we lay there too spent to move. His lips moved tenderly up and down my shoulder, then my neck, and then skipped over my whiskery cheek to my mouth. He licked inside. I released his ass and carded my fingers through his hair, both hands, locking his lips to mine as I reveled in his taste.
“I agree,” I sighed when the kissing slowed. “You must move.” I patted his sweaty ass.
He slithered off me, settling on the bed like a bag of wet wheat. I gave his bare shoulder a kiss, then rolled off the bed, removing the condom and knotting it as I padded into the bathroom. I tossed the condom, washed my chest and belly, and then returned to Tate with a warm cloth. He rolled to his side, his gaze dreamy and soft. I fell right then. Totally. I’d been balancing on the cusp of loving the man fully, but seeing him like this, open and trusting, well-loved, I toppled completely. Somehow it would work. I would make it work. We would make it work.
“We have much to talk about,” I said as I wiped at the drying spunk on his chest. He murmured something. I tossed the cloth to the floor and stretched out beside him, facing him, letting myself get lost in chocolate eyes. “Tell me one thing tonight and I will tell you something you wish to know about me. Is that fair?”
“Mm, yeah.” He looked sleepy, his eyes heavy, his face restful. He threw out tremendous body heat. I liked it.
“Why did you ever propose to Lacey?”
That question wiped all that lazy, groggy afterglow from him in a hurry.
Chapter Thirteen
Tate
Why did I propose to Lacey?
That was both the easiest and hardest question of my entire life. How could I explain why I’d done what I’d done without coming over as stupid, or flippant about the institution of marriage, something I held sacred. For me marriage meant forever, with family, and I was far from stupid.
Gullible maybe, too sensitive, yes, but not stupid.
Where did I start?
“Lacey was a team-mandated responsibility,” I began, and then wriggled free of Vlad’s hold and sat cross-legged with pillows behind me.
He copied me, propping himself up on the opposite end of the bed so we could talk. I kind of wanted him to lie down and shut his eyes to listen, but it was clear I had an avid audience.
“It was in your c
ontract to marry her?” He was confused, and I realized that maybe this wasn’t how I needed to start the conversation.
“The Railers were getting heat, externally from some of the more bigoted fans, but they’re up in PA and their fan base for the most was supportive, and you know, and I know, that they’ll stay supportive all the time that the Railers keep putting the points up. The minute the team dips, you know what will happen, losses will get blamed on whatever they think is the weakest link. It could be racial, gender-specific, it could be sexuality. Dallas weren’t flying the flag for equality as much as the Railers.”
“Okay?”
“But Dallas was never worried about me.”
Vlad ticked off on his fingers.“White, straight, brilliant player.”
“Yep, all of that, I mean, Colorado is right, I’m properly apple-pie-flag-waving perfect. Until I met Tom. He was a new kid, apprentice to the support team, really cool guy and we got talking about Star Wars, and one thing led to another, someone saw us, and suddenly my bisexuality was an issue.”
“Tom,” Vlad said, with an ominous tone, and I kicked out at his foot.
“Kissing, Vlad, just kissing.”
He grumbled low in his throat, and I kicked him again. “Stop with the jealous shit, this was two years gone. Tom is now very happily settled with Laura and Mike.”
“Hmmm,” he muttered, and then turned even more serious. “So, all this began because the Mr. Perfect Hockey image, with the hair product line and the power to sell merchandise, was in jeopardy?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He huffed and then crawled up the bed to me and kissed me. “You have the softest hair and the prettiest eyes.”
I shoved him back, after I had gotten my fill of a hotly possessive kiss. “Stop interrupting me,” I ordered.
He gave me a fake salute, which would have been funny, only he was crossing his legs again and flashing everything and I was suddenly in a hurry to forget the story and get back to the sexing. The bastard knew it as well, taking his time to settle before waving me to carry on.
“I got pulled in the office one day, just for a chat, kind of a how-you-doing type thing, but Dallas wasn’t doing so well. Let’s face it, we were in the middle of a rebuild year, and trading players away in bad deals. Management had lost control and left me and some of the remaining guys exposed. They looked to me as the skater to get the focus back on the playing and not on the bad deals, or the fact that my salary was one of the reasons we were up at cap space.”
“So they made you date Lacey?”
“No. That wasn’t why I dated her. I liked her, met her at a random pizza night with the team, she’s actually the half-sister of Marco Ruiz, winger, third line.”
“I know who Marco Ruiz is,” he muttered. “Pain in my ass pushy asshole forward, likes to shove his stick where it shouldn’t go.”
“Yep, that’s Marco, scrappy player, good guy, and we used to be friends. He introduced Lacey, we got talking, she seemed nice, we fooled around a bit, only the team thought this was the coolest thing since hockey was invented. If you listened to them, me, Tate Collins, wonder-boy, could fall in love, refocus the entire franchise, and save everything.” I exaggerated my hand movements and gave my best Superman impersonation, even with arms crossed over my chest, but I could tell Vlad wasn’t really getting the reference, and made a mental note to add the Man of Steel to my movie list for my own personal man of steel.
“Kissing this Lacey wasn’t going to turn the Dallas game around, you were having a very bad year.”
“Says the captain of the Craptors,” I deadpanned, and he launched himself at me, tickling me into submission.
“I give! I give! Uncle!”
He stayed next to me as I continued the story and I curled into his hold, because the next part of this story wasn’t so easy to tell.
“We dated a while, but she was fragile, easy to cry, and I felt as if I couldn’t say anything to make her talk to someone, as if it wasn’t my place. The whole thing had almost run it’s course, but she…”
“What?”
“When I suggested we separate, she said she had no reason to live, I mean, what was I going to do? I could see her pain, and it wasn’t just on me, I know that, but before we could even come to terms with everything, she was picked up for the hockey girlfriend show. She started saying things on camera, sharing chats that friends had shared with me in confidence, or secrets about me, stupid secrets. She would never come out with anything directly, but it was insinuated, and when the episodes aired, well the shit hit the fan in the locker room. Any trust I had in there, with all these new guys, was gone and the room was toxic, so I got an ultimatum.”
“From Coach?”
“Coach? Yeah, him and the players, management, and the loss of two endorsement contracts that had once made the team look good. The message was clear, sort it out with Lacey. If I didn’t love her, then I should finish it, and get it done. Move on. I knew I didn’t love her, but to be so cold, that is not me.” I glanced up at him, realizing I needed him to believe me, to tell me that I wasn’t a bad guy.
“It’s not you, it never would be.”
That meant so much that I was stupidly happy, but maybe the rest of the story wouldn’t make him so proud.
“So I go and see her, she’s crying, and I can’t stand seeing people upset, and I hug her and we start to talk about life and how I felt, and then she tells me she’s pregnant.”
Vlad went incredibly still, where before he’d been stroking my back, his hand didn’t move and I felt him hold his breath. I was probably going to fuck things up now.
“Don’t hate me,” I murmured against his warm skin.
“Why would I hate you?” he choked out, but I could hear the gears in his head and I knew he had a hundred questions. “If there is a child then I will love it as yours.”
My heart filled. “I proposed, immediately, call me old-fashioned but I wanted my baby to have two parents. I tried really hard, but I wasn’t in love with her, but for the baby…”
“Ya ponimayu,” he murmured, and I didn’t know what it meant but it was reassuring. “I understand,” he added after a short pause.
“I wanted to go to every test, because even though I didn’t love her, I was convinced that one day I could make everything right. It was my baby as well. She convinced me that we should plan for the future, that she loved me, I even set up an account, put a million in, for the baby, for the future, I was so excited and I was blown away by it all. The secret made me play harder, and better, and I was carrying the team on my back just because I had this insane hope for the future.”
“That was the money you sent her, for your baby.”
“But there never was a baby,” I whispered. “She said she’d lost it, then a few days later she admitted she’d lied…” Emotion tightened in my chest, leaving it hard to breathe.
He went back to soothing strokes on my back. “I’m so sorry.”
“So the million became nothing more than a way to stop her talking. I didn’t want it back, and that was our understanding. Everything fell apart, with the team, Marco had known about the baby, the non-baby, she never corrected him. He lost it and wailed on me at a practice, and then told everyone I’d been the one responsible for her losing the baby, paying her off. Jesus, I just lay there and took it all.”
“Why?”
“Because Lacey… she’s…” Fuck, how the hell did I explain this? “There’s something about her, fragility, a sensitivity that maybe only I saw? She once told me she’d tried to take pills, to end everything. What could I do? I don’t know, but we agreed, she would leave the show, keep the money, but she would get counseling. Then there was that post, about me hurting her, on her Instagram, and I don’t know why she’s doing it. Is it for money? For notoriety? Is it the pain that Marco feels that is making her do it? I’m furious, and sad, and overwhelmed, broken-hearted all at the same time, but I’m trying desperately to understand what she is do
ing.”
“We need to talk to her,” Vlad said.
“I’m not bullying her into—”
“Talk. Find out what is in her head. Help her if she needs it.”
Shit. He’d done it. In one sentence of pure understanding and support he’d made me lose my heart, I didn’t care if this relationship never stepped out of the closet, I had to tell him.
“I love you,” I clung to him and he rolled us so I was sprawled across his chest. He cradled my face and I braced my arms for him to say that it was too soon, or that it was impossible, and then he smiled that beautiful smile I knew so well.
“And I love you.”
This new love was a secret, something I held close in my heart, and I could let it out at my lowest points and know that I had Vlad in my corner. The Raptors were climbing the league, still out of the Cup race, but higher than last year. Only the last three games had been less than stellar.
Or in Colorado’s words, “this is the worst shit that has ever fucked up shit, in any shitty fucked-up arena ever”. He was off his game, prone to stalking around looking as if he wanted to blame someone for something, and I couldn’t help but think that his ire would turn on me after tonight’s mess-up, one point for an overtime loss in Tampa, no points for a loss in regulation time in Carolina, and now we were a goal down against freaking Dallas in their arena, and I ached in places I didn’t know could ache.
Because this was my first game back at my old team, they played a video of my highlights, the crowd had clapped, but it wasn’t real, none of it was. All the players in green were respectful apart from Marco, but then he appeared to have a lot to say in my ear every time we got close.
“What is he saying?” Vlad asked me as I slid along the bench ready for my next shift.
“Same shit, different day,” was all I had time to say before I got the tap to go over the boards and join a rush.
But Marco didn’t stop and even though I’d promised myself that I knew the story, his constant harassment was enough to rattle me. In the locker room after the second period with only one more twenty-minute session to go I was the center of attention, and not in a good way. Coach pulled out all the typical stuff, Xs, Os and everything in between. Our D was sloppy, our forwards were making too many mistakes, we weren’t playing Raptors Hockey, we needed to pull our heads out of our asses, oh and none of us were to rise to the Dallas bullshit.