20. Cameron

TWENTY

CAMERON

Cameron was doing a delicate dance of falling in love with someone who was grieving…him. The only thing that was fair to Zacky was prioritizing the weird feelings he was going through. Cameron could put on a brave face and say the right things when Zacky swung from giggly happiness straight into a pit of grief and frustration, but it was still fucking hard. It was hard to know that the person he loved looked at him and saw…him of course. And also someone else.

From the beginning, what made the most sense was that Zacky’s brain flooded with scattered memories after the impact, and what he was left with was a timeline that didn’t quite make sense and relationships that were interpreted…creatively. Mostly, he operated as though the Cameron Zacky was missing was him. This Cameron. That there was only one. He understood that the explanation that made the most sense to him wasn’t the one that was Zacky’s reality.

But there had been moments where Zacky knew things that he wouldn’t have any other reason or ability to know.

Cameron was processing the events that were happening as well as he could expect of himself.

Still, even though connecting with Zacky like this was the clearest window into what the rest of his life would look like—continuing to be obsessed with his best friend—he worried that at some point, he would say or do something that wasn’t in line with what Zacky’s husband would have done, and there would be a dissonance. Resentment. Would he be in competition to someone who was either A) literally him or B) a person on a different…celestial plane…forever?

In order to do well on the ice, you had to have a short memory. You couldn’t puff up too much after a win streak, and you couldn’t let a loss drag you down. All Cameron could do was enjoy the good and be there by Zacky’s side through the not-so-good.

After Zacky had a fraught morning of looking for his notebook, Cameron put him in charge of ordering in for lunch as he cleaned up the boxes in Zacky’s room. They could delete this room from the floor plan and neither of them would notice. After the notebook was located, Zacky placed it purposefully right back where Cameron had put it, with Cameron’s sort of matching one. Maybe that was a good sign.

They ate sushi for lunch, and when Cameron would have normally lain down for a nap, he could tell Zacky was still anxious, keyed up from the unsettled morning and the upcoming game he had to attend, now that he was deemed physically capable.

“Let’s watch something,” Cameron said, changing into his pajamas even though he wasn’t going to take a nap. “Get comfy and pick something out.”

Zacky was in these tiny boxers that made Cameron want to bite his ass and a roomy shirt that he wanted Zacky to pull over both their heads.

When Cameron made it out to the living room, there was a hockey game on TV.

“I have a lot to catch up on,” Zacky reasoned. It was a St. Louis-at-Los Angeles game, and if Cameron wasn’t going to be sleeping during it, he would at least be lying down. Their couch was oversized and bulky, and Cameron arranged the two of them close enough to spoon without Zacky falling off the edge. Cameron soaked up the warmth of Zacky’s body and didn’t bother trying to position the two of them so he could see. He wanted to tuck his face into Zacky’s neck and doze. He’d set an alarm on his phone and everything.

“Tell me about LA’s goaltending this year,” Zacky asked, and Cameron knew his little half nap wouldn’t be successful.

“They’re committing to the tandem,” Cameron said. “I think it’s frustrating for both Lancing and Petrov. Petrov is probably playing better right now, but they both deserve starter treatment.”

“Hmm,” Zacky mused as the sounds of the game filled their apartment. Hockey sounds—skates on ice, crowd cheers, the calm, even voice of the announcer who only got excited for goals and fights, even the sharp whistle—were calming to Cameron. They were safe sounds.

He kept answering Zacky’s questions, filling him in on who had been traded to what team and who the rookies everyone had their eyes on were.

Meanwhile, if he couldn’t take a nap, he might as well entertain himself. When they had settled on the couch, he’d snaked an arm around Zacky’s middle to keep them snug together. His hand had started out flat over his heart, the barrier of Zacky’s shirt between them.

As Zacky got more distracted by the men on the ice, Cameron slipped his hand up under Zacky’s shirt, resting it on the same place over Zacky’s heart. He’d hummed a content little sigh when Cameron did that, like he also liked that soft, comforting feeling of being attached to each other. Heat radiated between them, like they were being welded together, and it didn’t take long for Cameron to get bored. He had a mental block when it came to LA because one of their forwards, Nick Whelan, a guy a year older than Cameron and Zacky, once leveled Zacky on open ice for no reason when they were in the OHL together. He had split Zacky’s lip. And while he knew Zacky didn’t care about that anymore, Cameron would carry that grudge with him until he died. It was all he could think about when he watched this team.

He kept the hand on Zacky’s chest still for a bit before he started stroking his chest, skin smooth under Cameron’s fingers. He knew Zacky shaved it, and that he kept his other body hair neat. It was another thing Cameron had always had a passing interest in that he was discovering was actually attraction.

His hand made a path south, and he smiled when Zacky’s treasure trail started below his belly button. Cameron’s mouth was dry. It took so little for Zacky to work him up. He was sure Zacky could feel Cameron’s erection growing against his ass.

Slowly, Cameron slipped a couple of fingers under the waistband of his boxers, teasing the edge of the fabric. Zacky let out a breath that wasn’t a sigh or a moan. Yet.

Instead of continuing under the fabric, his hand skated over the fabric, cupping Zacky’s erection as it grew and feeling the weight of Zacky’s balls in his hand. Zacky had a nice dick, and getting to touch it was still novel to Cameron.

His own cock throbbed against Zacky’s ass as Zacky tried to take Cameron’s hand and guide it under the fabric.

“What are you doing?” Cameron asked.

“Trying to give you some gentle direction. I’ve heard you’re coachable.”

“We’re watching the game,” Cameron countered, taking Zacky’s hand and folding both their hands back against his chest where it had been. He waited a few moments, keeping his hand on Zacky’s sternum innocently before letting it slide back down. Once again, he touched Zacky through his boxers, which were so soft. Cameron should steal some. He stroked Zacky leisurely until Zacky’s hips started getting a mind of their own. Then his hand went back up to rest on Zacky’s chest.

“You are so annoying,” Zacky whined. “You know I’m not even watching this game anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Cameron asked innocently. “Why not?”

“I could get up and take care of this myself, you know.”

“No, you can’t.” Cameron hugged Zacky close, and Zacky gave him a struggle so weak Cameron knew he didn’t want to get up. He kissed the back of Zacky’s neck. “Watch the game, babe.”

Cameron waited longer this time, and when his hand slid down Zacky’s chest, he finally slipped it under the elastic of Zacky’s boxers until it was bare skin on bare skin. Zacky was hot in his hand and was getting hard again after softening in the break Cameron imposed.

There was a tenderness in getting to touch another man’s soft cock. Something almost innocent. Of course, there was nothing innocent about what was on Cameron’s mind that afternoon.

“Can you help me out, here?” he whispered into Zacky’s ear, raising his hand up to Zacky’s mouth so he could lick it, then returning it to his underwear. Zacky spread his legs a bit, giving Cameron better access. Cameron’s sexual experience with other men began and ended with curiosity-driven “hand stuff.” But Zacky wasn’t complaining about Cameron’s contributions to their sex life so far.

They should shove some lube in the couch or the coffee table for moments like these because Cameron knew it would feel better if there was less friction. But he kept up his gentle touches as Zacky shivered in his arms, his ass grinding back against Cameron’s erection, breath coming in short staccato bursts.

It didn’t take much for Zacky to turn Cameron on. He had the perfect body, denser than Cameron’s lithe muscles, and getting to rub his erection up against Zacky’s round, firm ass was doing a whole lot for him.

“God, that feels good,” Zacky said, words coming out as a strained whisper. In the background, the game continued on, and Cameron wondered how many hockey games Zacky had been jerked off during already. He had a zing of jealousy that he had to push away because the jealousy was for himself. A version of himself.

He drew it out, not rushing toward the finish line. They had plenty of time, and Cameron was going to take it. And every moment he took jerking off Zacky was time Zacky wasn’t anxious about going to the game that night.

“Ah, please, please,” Zacky breathed, finally approaching the point of no return. Cameron gave him what he wanted, speeding his movements up, Zacky’s hips thrusting to meet his hand. When he came, he cried out, the soft punched-out sound going straight to Cameron’s dick. When the aftershocks died down, Cameron pulled his hand out of Zacky’s shorts and wiped it on the front of his shirt.

“Gross,” Zacky complained, flipping around to slide his hand down Cameron’s pajama pants. Zacky’s grip was firm and sure, and Cameron wrapped an arm around his back to keep him from falling off the couch as he stroked Cameron quickly. There was nothing inherently romantic about exchanging a couple couch handies, but it didn’t matter that there wasn’t champagne and rose petals. Every single moment with Zacky was special.

How on earth did it take Cameron so long to realize what his feelings for his friend meant?

He pressed his lips to Zacky’s as he came, regretting how sticky their decisions had made them, and nothing else. Zacky wiped his own hand off on his already soiled shirt and reluctantly broke their kiss before he fell off the couch.

“Do you want to try for a nap for real?” Zacky asked as he got up, holding out a hand to pull Cameron up from the couch after him. Yeah, there was some…evidence left over.

So, it wasn’t the cleanest orgasm he’d ever had, but it was worth having to get a wet rag and some dish soap to get it out of the couch.

It was a short nap, but Cameron didn’t mind.