The Play of His Life

by Amy Aislin

  Two and a half days actually, seeing as his flight was midmorning on the third. But fuck it. He wasn’t going to think about that tonight. Wasn’t going to think about how much it would suck to get on that plane. Wasn’t going to think about how it would hurt so bad to go back to being just friends with Riley.

  He wasn’t any closer to figuring out what Riley wanted than he had been a week and a half ago. They’d fallen into their old rhythms and patterns, like they’d never been apart. But When you go back to BC Riley had said on Christmas Eve. The words kept bouncing around Christian’s brain, making him think Riley was fine with him heading back to Vancouver in a couple of days.

  Don’t think about it. Right. Things he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to think about. Not tonight. Tonight was for celebrating.

  Christian looked over at Riley and found him with a slight smile on his face. That smile had been absent the past few days. Ever since the night Riley had noticed Christian’s tattoo he’d been upset about something. But he wouldn’t say much other than he’d had something that held a lot of sentimental value and he’d lost it. Whatever it was, he was sad enough that he closed himself in his bathroom that night when he thought Christian was asleep and cried softly. He was still sniffly when he came back to bed and Christian had been at a loss. All he could do was hold Riley until he fell asleep. It was only this morning that he’d finally snapped out of his funk.

  They were off the highway now, driving south on Trafalgar toward home. There were hardly any other cars on the road. With the threat of crashing minimized and with only minutes left until they pulled into Riley’s driveway, Christian took the opportunity to do what he’d wanted to do since Riley showed up at his door hours earlier.

  Unbuckling his seatbelt, ignoring Riley’s “What are you doing?” he reached over and unzipped Riley’s jeans.

  “Jesus!” Riley’s hips thrust up when Christian dug into his underwear to palm him. He was already half hard. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

  “With pleasure, maybe.”

  Riley rolled his eyes. Even Christian could admit that was a bad joke.

  “What if we run into RIDE?” Riley asked.

  Christian leaned over the console and took Riley’s dick out of his underwear. RIDE. The Reduce Impaired Driving Everywhere program. They’d be out in force tonight. Christian was surprised they hadn’t come across one yet.

  “Give me a heads up if we do,” he said to Christian. “Kind of like your head is up.” He gave Riley’s dick a waggle.

  “Oh my God.” Riley groaned. “Your jokes are getting worse as the night goes—oh, fuck!” He interrupted himself to swear when Christian bent to suck Riley’s now-hard dick into his mouth.

  Riley was warm and salty. Christian ran his tongue along the underside of Riley’s cock head, licking up pre-come as it came dribbling out. He used one hand to hold Riley’s dick steady. The other squeezed Riley’s balls.

  Riley swore like a sailor. Christian could feel the twists and turns of the car, which meant they must be almost home. A thought that was confirmed when the car stopped and Riley’s hands fisted in Christian’s hair.

  “T. Shit.” He seemed incapable of more words.

  Now that they were stopped, Christian opened up his throat, allowing Riley all the way in, knowing that this would do it for him. He hummed, and Riley came into his throat with a moan, one hand still in Christian’s hair, the other squeezing the steering wheel.

  Christian licked Riley clean, then tucked his softened dick back into his underwear and zipped up his jeans like nothing had happened.

  Except Riley was panting and sweating and his eyes were glazed. He turned to look at Christian. “How horny are you right now?”

  Was that a trick question? Christian glanced down at the dick in his own pants that was trying to make an escape then to Riley’s dazed expression. “I just blew you in the car,” he said by way of explanation.

  Riley chuckled. “Come on.”

  Inside the house, they left their coats and boots by the front door. Riley headed down the hall toward the bedroom. Christian admired his backside: broad shoulders, tapered waist, goalie ass, muscled thighs. Christian rearranged his dick in his boxer briefs to alleviate the pressure. Hopefully, they’d be getting naked any second. There was only fifteen minutes until midnight, and they’d vowed to ring in the New Year by making metaphorical fireworks in bed. He felt heated from the inside and little tingles of electricity spread upward from his balls.

  Halfway to the bedroom, Riley turned, his smile wide and wicked, “You want to take me right here, don’t you?”

  Christian couldn’t do anything but nod. Riley walked backward toward the bedroom, eyes on Christian’s. He was hard again, probably as hard as Christian, who hadn’t had the luxury of an orgasm yet.

  Riley beckoned him with a finger. “Coming?”

  Yes. Hopefully in more ways than one.

  Lured by some invisible force between them, Christian trailed after Riley, following him into the bedroom. Riley took off his sweater and all that bared skin broke something in Christian. Rushing forward, he pulled Riley to him and slanted his mouth over Riley’s in a kiss that started out hot and just kept heating. He lifted one of Riley’s legs around his hip and tumbled them onto the bed, landing on top of Riley. He wanted to take his time with Riley but something was making him rush. Something created a sense of urgency that only served to remind him he’d be gone soon.

  Riley didn’t seem to mind his pace. His hands found their way into Christian’s pants and underneath his underwear to squeeze his ass. Christian moaned into Riley’s mouth. Riley tasted like sugar, like sex. Like Riley.

  Christian’s legs were tangled in the pants and underwear Riley was desperately trying to remove and he couldn’t help but rest his forehead on Riley’s shoulder and chuckle.

  “What?” Riley asked, out of breath.

  “Just us.” They were so hot for each other Christian didn’t doubt they’d be willing to rip at clothes to get naked.

  Riley’s hands swept up Christian’s back, taking his T-shirt with it. Everything in Riley froze then as he cupped Christian’s T necklace in the palm of his hand. For some reason, every time he saw Christian wearing it, it caused his whole being to soften.

  “One of these days,” Christian growled, nipping Riley’s chin, “you’re going to tell me what it means.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” Christian kissed Riley’s neck, his collarbone.

  “No.”

  An idea formed and Christian lifted his head to look at Riley. “Can I guess? Will you tell me if I guess right?”

  Riley looked intrigued by the idea and he nodded. “Okay. But you’re not gonna get it.”

  “We’ll see. Is it…tall?” He bit Riley’s nipple.

  Riley snorted a laugh. “No.”

  “Tantalizing?”

  “No.”

  Christian pressed a fast kiss to Riley’s lips. “Tasty?”

  Riley was smiling at him. “No.”

  “Hmm.” Christian made his way down Riley’s chest, laved at his belly button. Riley gasped. “Trendy?”

  “No. That’s a good one, though. Your hairstyle’s certainly trendy.”

  Christian stopped what he was doing to peer up at Riley with a frown. “What’s wrong my hairstyle?”

  “Nothing. I like it. Suits you.” Riley pressed on Christian’s head. “Keep doing what you were doing.”

  Grunting, Christian pulled Riley’s pants and underwear off in one smooth motion, then reached into the night table for the lube. Spread out like this, just for him, Riley was strong and glorious. His hard dick curved up toward his belly, his balls were tight, his thigh muscles rippled. Christian knelt between his thighs and pressed a lubed thumb to Riley’s hole.

  “Does it stand for…tight?”

  Riley sucked in a breath at the intrusion. “No.”

  Crouching over Riley, Christian met his eyes. “Talented?” he asked,
and licked a path from Riley’s balls to the tip of his dick.

  “Yes,” Riley said through gritted teeth, head thrown back. “Yes, that must be it.”

  Scissoring his lubed fingers, Christian watched Riley’s hole widen. Sweat drip down his neck, between his shoulder blades. Riley moaned and spread his legs even wider, gaze meeting Christian’s. With those eyes on his, Christian leaned over and licked Riley’s dick from root to tip again.

  “Fuck T, enough. I’m ready.”

  Taking him at his word, Christian lathered up his own erection with some lube. Resting one hand on Riley’s abdomen, he lined himself up with Riley’s hole with the other and pushed in slowly. God, Riley was tight and perfect and his body took his like they were meant to be. Straightening up, he rested his hands on Riley’s thighs and started to pump.

  “Riles…”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Riley chanted in time with Christian’s thrusts. He held out a hand and grabbed Christian’s wrist. “You’re too far.”

  Yes. Yes, he was. Leaning over, chest to chest, Christian planted his left elbow on the mattress and buried that hand in Riley’s hair. The other hand gripped Riley’s ass so hard he was sure he’d leave imprints. Riley’s fingernails dug into Christian’s lower back and the top of his ass.

  Christian loomed above Riley, locking their eyes. He couldn’t wait to see Riley’s explode with passion. Christian continued to pump; Riley’s words still kept time with Christian’s thrusting.

  “Fuck, yes. Fuck, yes. T…I gotta come.”

  “So come,” Christian said, voice like rocks over gravel. Riley gripped him so good he almost lost his rhythm a couple times.

  “I can’t… I need…”

  Yeah, Christian knew. The hand gripping Riley’s ass moved to his thigh. Christian lifted it up so that Riley’s knee was by his ear. The change in angle was, apparently, just enough. If he judged by Riley’s howl that was.

  Christian knew he was hitting Riley’s prostate because it was like Riley’d been electrocuted. His whole body spasmed, nails digging into Christian’s back. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard Christian automatically gentled his thrusts.

  “Look at me,” he said. Riley’s eyes snapped to his and his hips lifted to meet Christian’s. The added pressure had Christian’s vision narrowing.

  “Gonna come?”

  “Yes,” Riley whispered. And came all over their stomachs with a silent yell, mouth open, eyes wide. His squeezing ass milked Christian so hard he, too, came with a strangled curse, head buried in Riley’s shoulder.

  Still panting, Riley dug a hand into Christian’s hair and lifted Christian’s head to bring his mouth to his own. What followed was a kiss so heart-wrenchingly beautiful, Christian felt his stomach leap. Riley was calming him with this kiss, gentling him. He was speaking with this kiss and even though Christian was afraid to hope, afraid to let himself believe, he thought maybe this was Riley’s way of telling him without words that he was wanted.

  “Happy New Year,” Christian said when they pulled apart.

  “Happy New Year, T.”

  Christian kissed him again with all of the foolish hope in his heart.

  It wasn’t until Christian poked him in the shoulder that Riley woke and realized his phone was pinging like crazy.

  Christian groaned and hid his face under the covers. “Make it stop.”

  Too half-asleep to be amused by him, Riley reached for his phone on the nightstand to silence it.

  A quiet knock at his front door.

  What the fuck? What time was it anyway?

  Figuring the knocking had something to do with the texts, he cracked an eye open and then abruptly closed it against the phone’s glare. Jesus, it was only three thirty in the morning. What the hell was the emergency? He braved a second peek at his phone.

  I’m at your front door.

  Open up.

  I need your mixer.

  Helllooooooooooo?

  I don’t have all day!

  Also it’s cold. Come let me in.

  Sam. Needed his mixer. In the middle of the night. There was obviously something he wasn’t getting.

  Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he reluctantly crawled out of his warm bed and yanked on the first items of clothing his hand came into contact with on the floor. The boxers and T-shirt both turned out to be Christian’s, but who cared? They smelled like him and Riley brought the collar of the T-shirt up to his nose to breathe in Christian’s scent on his shuffle down the hall to answer the door.

  “Fuck, it’s cold!” he said by way of greeting.

  “Good morning to you, too.” Sam breezed right in, smiling sunnily as if it wasn’t oh-my-God too early. “Where’s your mixer?”

  “Where’s your mixer?” Riley countered, cranky with the woken-in-the-middle-of-the-night blues. He closed the door behind her.

  The look she gave him was wholly unimpressed. “In my car. I need extra ones at the shop today so I can make extra bread for the two-for-one sale. We talked about this. Remember?”

  He quite clearly did not. “Why did we decide to do this the day after New Year’s Day?”

  “It was your idea.”

  Was it? There was probably something witty he could say here, but he was too tired to banter and all he wanted was to get back into bed with Christian.

  “Don’t you need extra ovens if you’re making all that extra dough?” he asked as he headed down the hall.

  “That would be nice.” Sam followed behind him. “But since I can’t conjure more space in the kitchen for an extra oven, I’m going in an hour early. Where are you going?”

  “My mixer’s in the basement.” He opened the basement door and started down.

  “Why?” Sam called to his retreating back.

  “I’ve never used it,” he called over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t even know how,” he muttered to himself.

  Fuckity fuck, it was nut-chillingly cold down here. The concrete floor was frigid under his bare feet. Goosebumps rose all over his body. Even his eyeballs were cold. Shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around himself, he headed for a corner called Crap I’ll Never Use. Sadly, his old hockey gear was in that corner, but if everything worked out like he hoped he might be pulling it out again soon.

  He found the mixer box easily and lugged it up the stairs. It was one of those five-quart, ten-speed countertop mixers. His Grandma Geneviève thought he needed one since he owned a bakery. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her that he did none of the baking.

  He set the box next to Sam’s boots by the front door, where she wasn’t waiting impatiently like he expected. Instead he found her in his living room, perusing through his new memory scrapbook.

  “This is so great,” she said. “Did your mom make this for you?”

  “No. Christian.” He wasn’t sure how he felt having her look at something so personal.

  Two thin blonde eyebrows went up. “Really?” Sam knew all about Christian. Probably knew their history better than Riley himself. “Wow, Riley… He must love you so much.”

  The way she said it—all soft and sure and sentimental—had a knot forming in his throat. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well.” She ran a hand through her short pixie cut. “Two reasons. First… I mean, look at this. It’s huge.” It was. Riley hadn’t even finished going through it yet. “He must’ve started this when you were kids. You can tell how old it is just by looking at the pages. The earlier ones are yellower, there’s more wear. The cover is starting to tear in the corners, here and here.” Riley sat next to her on the couch. “And second… Okay, I really don’t mean to drudge up a past I’m sure you and Christian have put to bed, but… Had somebody done what you did to me, disappearing after sleeping together the night after my dad’s funeral?” Riley couldn’t meet her eyes. Yes, he and Christian had put that to bed, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still ashamed of what he’d done. “I would’ve burned this damn thing.”

  Riley wanted to laugh but found he could
n’t. “Guys don’t really burn their ex’s things,” he said to throw some levity into the conversation.

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Then if I were a guy I would’ve done whatever guys do… Piss on it? Anyway, the point is not only did he not burn it, he added to it.” She flipped to the end, where there were a few blank pages waiting for Riley to fill them, and worked her way backward until she came to the last entry. “He has an actual newspaper article on the opening of Warm Glow. From October. Of this year. Not an internet printout. But an article cut out of the newspaper. How did he get this? Pretty sure the Oakville Beaver doesn’t mail to people who live in BC. So that means, what? His subscription goes to his mom’s house…and she either mails it to him every day—which would be stupid and expensive—or she keeps them for him to read when he comes back to visit?”

  No. Knowing Christian, he would’ve told his mom to keep the issues that mentioned Riley.

  “God, Riley, you’re so lucky. To have someone like this in your life who knows you and loves you and who’s there for you. Even if you didn’t know it at the time.”

  Her words made his nose and eyes burn. All the shame and guilt about how he’d left things with Christian six years ago curdled in his stomach. He’d been operating the past two weeks as if those six friendless years between them hadn’t happened. As if he hadn’t fucked up. But he had. And when they’d talked about it on Christmas Eve it had cleared the air between them but it hadn’t addressed their future or where they were going or what would happen after tomorrow.

  “He goes back to Vancouver tomorrow,” Riley whispered, stomach hollow.

  “Does he want to?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Because Christian hadn’t mentioned it and Riley hadn’t asked and he just didn’t know. He kept telling himself Christian was going back, wanted to go back, so that when he eventually did it wouldn’t hurt as much.

  “Do you want him to?”

  Sam’s understanding voice wasn’t doing anything for his emotional stability. He looked away so she wouldn’t see his chin wobble. “I don’t know what to do to get him to stay,” he admitted.