9. Paul

Plenty of peoplewould wake up after winning a major award and seek out a glimpse of that trophy just to remind them they had, in fact, won.

Most people weren't me, it seemed, for when I blinked into consciousness the morning after the awards ceremony, I sought out Roth. Flopping to my side, I reached to the left only to find a Pomapoo sleeping on his pillow. Amadeus woke up with all the energy of a tiny dog, his head snapping up as soon as I mumbled something about rawhide breath. He leapt from the pillow, all wagging tail and happy tongues. I rolled onto my back. He tap danced on my chest while I snorted in amusement while trying to not let his tongue go up my nose.

"Okay, okay, I'm happy to see you—ouch!" I yelped when Amadeus gave my beard a tug. Off the bed he went like a shot out of a cannon, streaking into the bathroom.

I pushed up to my elbows, eyebrows damp from dog kisses, and called out to Roth. A head wrapped in a plush hotel towel peeked around the doorway.

"Hi," he said, his tone lackluster. I sat up quickly, his downcast expression instantly ringing my worry bells. He pattered out into the room wearing a thick white robe supplied by the hotel, along with the towel, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I hope it was okay to order some coffee and breakfast for the room without asking for permission."

"Yeah, of course, you can order anything you want," I replied, sitting straight now, the mussed covers slipping to puddle in my lap. "What's wrong?"

He bit down on his lower lip, sighed, and released his lip. "So okay, so Amadeus…" He began to fiddle with the sash of the robe, rolling it into a tiny spiral like a cotton Nautilus seashell. "So…I woke up a few hours ago to go pee. I drank too much sparkling water last night at the parties."

"Okay," I tentatively said, tipping my head to see if I could see into his eyes, but he kept averting them. Finally, I reached out to take his cute, round chin between my fingers. "Roth, you're kind of freaking me out here."

"Sorry, I'm just…" He drew in a deep breath—one that expanded his chest and belly—then let it out with a rush of words that I had trouble keeping up with. "So I woke up to pee and when I came back to bed you were snoring. Nothing bad, not bad at all, but I'm not used to that sound, so I had some trouble going back to sleep, so I thought to check my online store once more to see all those orders. That would be good, happy thoughts. But when I got online…social media was…Paul, the things people are saying about us. About you…about me…"

Shit. "Roth, people are assholes."

He nodded, fully aware of that, I was sure. You didn't present as a feminine man in this stupid society of ours and not learn those hard knock life lessons. Then a tear tracked down his face and I lost whatever reasonableness that I possessed.

"Okay, who the hell was talking shit about you?" I asked, kicking the covers aside with such force several pillows flew to the floor, giving Amadeus a fright. I was up and on my feet in a flash, naked as a newborn aardvark, hoping to find the bastards that had made Roth cry. "Give me their websites, and I'll—" I spun when Roth started snickering. The snigger turned into a giggle and then bloomed into a full on laugh attack. Amadeus and I exchanged confused looks. "I'm not sure what's so damn funny." I stood looking down at Roth rolling on the bed with my most intimidating angry Viking expression. He glanced up at me, snorted, and fell back to the sheets into peals of laughter. Holding his belly, guffaws racked his lean frame. I wasn't sure exactly what was so humorous. Someone had slighted him, and I was not going to let that pass. "I'm confused," I finally admitted.

"Oh…oh shit," Roth gasped, working to sit up, his robe delightfully exposing a slender shoulder. One that was fresh from the shower, dewy and soft, smelling of my body wash. "Oh my gosh, I swear I love you so much right now."

Amadeus decided we humans were all fools and pulled a pillow under the bed to curl up with or perhaps hump in privacy…who knew.

"I'm not sure what is so damn funny," I repeated, arms still crossed over my chest. Then his words hit me. He…he loved me. Like…loved me? "You love me for real?"

"Yeah, I think so," he softly replied, using the sleeve of his robe to dry his face. That admission took all the berserker out of me. "You're so amazing. Really. Like, you jumped up ready to make war on my account, uncaring that your dick was showing and that you have a hickey on your ass." Wait, what? I had a hickey on my ass!? "Like you were some knight and I was a lady misjudged and maligned. I don't think…no," he dabbed at his nose with the sash of his robe, "no, I know that I have never had a man stand up for me like that. It's so sweet, and I love it so much but what are you going to do, fight the internet? Go door-to-door and punch every bigot in the nose?"

"Yes, if that's what it takes. No one is going to run you down. Not as long as I'm your boyfriend!" Roth paused in pulling the towel from his pink hair, his mouth dropping open a bit, his nose red from crying. "I mean it. I don't care who they are if they're talking shit about you, about us, I will find them, and I will…" I paused in my Liam Neeson quote to find another less violent word. "I will flatten their noses." I punched my left palm with my right fist for emphasis.

"Oh, you noble knight. Come here." He tossed the towel to the floor. Amadeus poked his nose out from under the bed to grab the towel, then pulled it under the bed. What else was under there, I had to wonder. We'd have to look before we checked out at noon. "Come. Sit with me."

He patted the bed. My initial rage now flickering out, I shuffled over and dropped my ass to the bed. Roth turned to face me. His eyes were red from weeping but his lips now smiling. I hoped I had somehow done that, but I had no clue how I possibly could have.

"I'm sorry for all the assholes in the world," I said as I slid around to look at him, then took one of his tiny hands in mine. "I guess I can't shoulder check all of them, but I really want to. Just knowing they made you so upset lights a fire in my chest." I thumped my pectoral with the side of my fist. "I will take them all on for you."

"You and I are in some big trouble here," he said as his eyes roamed over my face. I probably still had pillow marks on my forehead. Mornings were not conducive to looking ones best.

"I don't know what you mean," I confessed, threading my fat fingers through his skinny ones. "How are we in trouble? I do not care what people say about me. If they don't like me being gay and being with a beautiful man wearing pink roses?—"

"Peonies. They're peonies."

"Oh, okay. Well, peonies then. If they don't like that, they can go fuck themselves. I'm done with the lies. They've cost me too much in the past. I refuse to make the same mistakes that I made with my previous relationships with this one."

"Is this a relationship, though? I mean, I am crazy over you but we're taking separate planes home today. In less than four hours, we're returning to our lives."

"No, we're not," I rebutted his comment flatly. His thin eyebrow arched. "We're not taking separate planes to different cities. I'm not going to let you slip away that easily."

"What are you talking about? We signed a contract for this weekend and?—"

"And that contract is fulfilled. Now we're going to start being a real couple." He gaped at me. "I mean, if you want to be a real couple. If you don't want to be a couple, then I totally understand that, and while it would gut me, I'd certainly let you go back to New Hampshire to become a world famous seamstress. Is that not the right word? No, probably not, you're a man. Well, whatever the right word is for someone who's male and makes clothes."

"You're starting to ramble on like me," he teased, moving closer and closer until he was sitting on my lap, his nose resting next to mine. "That's not supposed to happen to couples until they've been married for a billion years."

"Are you really crazy about me?" I softly asked, snaking my hands into his robe to touch his tender, warm flesh. He nodded timidly. "I am mad about you. Please, let's try out this new thing. Come with me to Chicago for the summer. You can sew anywhere, right?"

"I…I can't just not go home. I have rent to pay and…well, okay, no job per se, but what about my old Singer?"

"I'll buy you a new Singer. Or, even better, you can buy yourself a new sewing machine with the money you earned from your Elite contract." I ran my rough palms over his sides, easing my fingertips around his back to cradle his firm little ass. "Your store is online so no worries about that."

"I've dreamed of a brand new Juki for years, but I couldn't afford one," he confessed, easing one arm out of his robe and then the other. The warm cotton slithered down his sides, skimming my calves as it went to the floor.

"Now you can. And all the buttons and bobs that go with it. I have a pretty nice place on the lake and a getaway cabin near Lake Louise in Canada. We can set up sewing rooms in both places."

"Can Amadeus come?"

"Of course. I always wanted a dog."

He cupped my face in his hands, all the tears gone and replaced with a slow, simmering heat that I was coming to know well.

"If I say yes, will you promise to make love to me every day?"

"Every day, every night, and every moment in-between." I kissed him with all the affection and passion I felt for this tiny, glorious man.

"You'll be very tired," he said after the kiss ended, giving my shoulders a hard shove. My head bounced off a pillow, then settled while he reached to the nightstand to grab condoms and lube. "Maybe too tired to make hockey."

"I have enough stamina for my boyfriend and hockey, don't you worry about that," I replied, my cock throbbing even though we'd done this very thing not seven hours ago.

"We're about to find out," he purred as he flipped open the lid on the lube.

"Bring it, baby, I'm a Steelhead," I bragged.

He brought it so well the two of us barely made it to the airport to catch our flight to O'Hare.

We held hands the entire way to Illinois, his head on my shoulder as he napped. Guess this old puck pusher had more than enough get-up-and-go to please his young love. Although a nap did sound really good…