Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

CAULDER

My ass twinges. I'm relieved Lo didn't try for sex. Though he fingered me again as soon as we finished showering, and fuck if I didn't come like a fucking faucet.

It made me brave enough to do the same to him. I wanted to see if it made him feel as good as it did me. In case anyone is wondering, yes it did. Lo enjoys being fingered.

As we're washing in the shower for—what, the eighth time?—I ask, "Do you normally top or bottom? I can't get a read on you."

Lo laughs as he turns his face up into the water. "Honestly, I don't have a preference. It kind of changes depending on who I'm hooking up with." He pulls me against him and his fingers dip between my ass cheeks to brush my hole. I flush. "I really want to bury myself in your ass, but I'm just as happy to ride your dick if you prefer not to."

I don't answer. I'm not sure I have an answer right now.

He smirks, his usual, casual, sexy smirk. "You don't need to decide now, Caulder. We'll talk about it tonight. See where you're at. I really don't have a preference, so I'm good with either."

Lo's good with either. What if I'm not ready for either?

His mouth covers mine and for a minute, he kisses me under the water. "Where'd you go just now?" he asks.

"What?"

He chuckles. "You got very quiet and serious. What happened? I mean it, I don't care about being top or bottom. I'm good either way."

I nod and force a smile. "Kay."

He's not convinced. Sighing, I wrap my arms around his waist and align our dicks. Can you believe those fuckers are already chubbing again?

"It's fine. We'll talk about it later. I don't have an answer for you right now. That's all."

Lo studies me. Staring into my eyes and then my entire face. "You know there's no pressure at all, right?" he asks, the perceptive fucker. "You can say no to both, and we can continue to fuck around. I think we've proven that we're quite good at finding ways to orgasm without penetration."

My cheeks flush and I dip my head. "Yeah, I know."

He kisses along my jaw until he reaches my ear and sucks on my lobe for a minute. "This weekend is about not having to hide and the freedom that brings us," he says. His arms around me lose all sexual pretense as he hugs me. "It's not about fucking, even if that's what we've made it about. I'm stupidly relieved to come back here in the evenings and not have to pretend with you. I might miss the orgasms, but if that's what you'd rather do—just sit in peace knowing you don't have to pretend—we can do that, Caulder."

I sigh, a smile falling into place. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"I didn't mean to put pressure on you."

"No, no. You didn't. Don't think that. Sex is a… touchy subject. But it's fine."

"Then we don't?—"

"Stop. I'm not saying I don't want to. I'm just saying I don't have an answer for you right now. That's all. You haven't pressured me, and I hope I haven't pressured you. This has been fun. Amazing. Everything about it."

His arms come around me more firmly and for several long minutes, we remain wrapped around each other. Until I hear my phone ring and realize we're going to miss food if we don't hurry the fuck up.

"We should make some time for more of this," Lo says as he takes a step back and I step out of the shower. "I'm totally a touched starved boy."

I laugh, glancing at him over my shoulder. His playful smirk is back in place, but my heart twinges. "Yeah, I am too."

"Byproduct of hiding."

I nod. Yes, it is. The lack of touch in my life is going to feel very loud when we leave here. When this ends.

"There's a lot of freedom in not telling people too," Lo continues as he turns off the water and joins me. I hand him a towel. "In anonymous hookups. No expectations on you. No strings. No complicated feelings. No worrying about whether they're interested in you or your money."

"Tell me about it," I mutter. Not because I share that experience, but because I agree either way. The embodiment of that last concern is puck bunnies and other jersey chasers. You know damn well they're there because of your career. Your fame and fortune. How can it be any other reason when that is the very thing that's made them look at you to begin with?

I toss the towel over the top frame of the shower and turn to leave. Lo wraps his arm around my stomach and pulls my back to his chest. His lips press against my neck. I lean back into him, letting him take some of my weight. "We can fuck around tonight, but let's make some time for this too. I forgot how much I miss having someone hold me until I get a taste of it again."

"That's why you were staring at Ethan, Creed, and Jakub last night," I say.

"Mmm," he agrees. "Exactly. I was longing for a hug like that."

My phone rings again and I sigh. "We'll have to hug later or someone's going to be busting up in here if I don't answer."

Lo laughs and lets me go. I catch the phone right before the call ends. "Yeah?"

"Dude, you going to eat before we have to leave or what? You've got like twenty minutes," Creed says without a greeting.

I pull my phone away and look at the time. It's an hour later than I thought. "Fuck. Order us something?"

"Yep. What do you want?"

"Any allergies, Lo?" I call.

"No."

"Anything fast. Don't care. On our way down."

"Hurry your asses up," he says and hangs up.

I toss my phone aside and then wince, hoping it didn't just land in cum. I dress quickly and strip the bed while Lo dresses. It's less than ten minutes later that we're walking into the restaurant, just as a waitress is bringing over two sandwiches. I pull up the card app on my phone, but Creed waves me off.

"Already paid. You can buy lunch when we get back home. You fall back asleep?"

Lo glances at me as I sit in the chair beside Creed. Lo takes a chair on the opposite side, a few guys down.

"Watching movies," I say, shrugging. "Honestly, I thought the clock said an hour earlier than it did. Thanks for the call."

Creed nods and starts talking about the upcoming games. The first is between the Central and Metropolitan divisions, which means we're just going to be hanging out in the locker room for a bit. Which is fine.

I'm not in a seat with Creed on the bus today. He's sitting with Ethan and Jakub is with Azure as they continue a conversation they were having during lunch. That means Lo sits beside me, moving in a little closer than what's necessary, but I don't slide away.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out. I look at him and he smirks. "Good movie, no?"

I roll my eyes and kick him before turning my attention out the window. We don't speak on the ride. His hand drops onto the seat next to mine. Our fingers brush and I glance at him, raising a brow. Lo sits forward and pulls his hoodie off, dropping it into his lap. He shoves it over so it's covering both of our legs and then takes my hand under it.

It's a struggle not to smile. His fingers twist with mine and I lean my head back and close my eyes. Honestly, I'm fucking wiped. Did we sleep at all last night?

Atlantic is in teal and Pacific is in maroon. We're not truly split up within the locker room because it's only so big. However, I do cross lines into Pacific territory to give Coach Adak a hug. He's the head coach for the Pacific team.

"Good to see you, Caulder," he says, hugging me tightly. "I'm so proud of your career. You're amazing to watch and I get to tell everyone that I coached you in college."

I laugh. "Me?! Look at what you're doing with Carolina! You finished first in the Central Division last season! I still think you should have won the Cup."

"And you're going to make it to the playoffs this year, too," Lamar adds with a grin. "The guys are going to be so jealous that you're coaching us for the day."

Adak bows his head. "You boys are good for the soul."

"All right," Brian Teethis says. "On your own side, Haines. You can catch up after we kick your ass."

I roll my eyes. His comment leads to banter filling the locker room, which is only magnified when the two celebrity coaches join us. Atlantic has Marlon Dario, an actor that's just won some shiny award from what I hear. Pacific has rockstar, Royalty Zayn. I absently wonder whether their daughter will be the one to interview them. I've always thought it was funny that the child of a huge rockstar and an A-list actor ended up being a sports anchor.

We lazily talk strategy in a huddle while the game between Central and Metropolitan takes place on the ice. But the locker room is mostly quiet as we watch the game on the television and chat during the intermission.

These games are held in a tournament style. Instead of best four out of seven full-length games, these are short, one-shots. Each game has two ten-minute periods, and a ten-minute intermission between them. If they end in a tie, they go right to shootout. The games are played three-on-three.

At the end of the first half between Central and Metro, they're tied 1-1, Ji?í having scored for Central and Menlo for Metro. While there is $1 million on the line, we're definitely interested in winning. But there's only so much strategy we can play in this short a time. There isn't a lot of time to gel with the other players, or whatever.

The second half of Central vs. Metro ends in a tie with two more scores each—Thomas and Ji?í for Central, and Larson and Niklas for Metro—so they go directly into a shootout.

Drick stops Menlo's shot. Trustein stops Ji?í. Drick stops Leroy's attempt. Trustein stops Thomas's shot. But fucking Max brings home the win, scoring on Drick and ending the game.

Then we're on the ice.

It's me, Stark, and Ethan on the ice first with Davies in the goal. I'm standing across from Laurent and the damn man smirks at me. I smile in return because I'm about to show him how to compartmentalize and focus on hockey alone.

Turning my attention to Ethan, he glances my way. Then he looks at Stark. There's a single nod that passes between them. The puck's dropped and I skate around Lo as Ethan pulls the puck to Stark. Stark sends it my way and Lo tries to get in my face, but I pass it back to Ethan.

As soon as Lo turns around, I'm skating behind the goal and come out on the other side as Ethan fakes a shot. He sends it back to me and while Lamar has his focus on Ethan, I swing the puck into the net.

I hear "GOAL" over the speaker and flash Lo a smile as I skate back to the center. We tag out, trading with Link, Ivanovich, and Darnell Clearwater. Noah Kain scores three minutes later. Stark trades out with Link and sinks the next goal. The first period ends in a tie after Noah sinks another goal three seconds before the buzzer.

We get back to the locker room to find the Metro team is there, while Pacific has been moved temporarily to the guest locker room for the intermission. I step into the room in time to hear Carolina's Niklas Zawodny telling Max and Larson how to get the perfect tight, hard glutes.

"You must engage all time so plug does not shoot out," Niklas says and I stop in my tracks.

Ethan plows into me, his arm swinging around my waist to hold me up.

"What—" Ethan starts.

"You do squats with a butt plug?" Max asks.

"Not any plug. Smaller one. You must engage glutes that way all times to ensure plug stay. And not just squats. Also all exercises. Be surprised at how many engage glutes." Niklas taps his fist on his ass. "See? Hard. Want to feel?"

Max and Larson exchange looks.

"Man, yes," Larson admits. "But my husband would lose his mind if I groped another man's ass when he's not present. Another time."

"Yes. Another time." Niklas looks at Max. "Want touch my ass?"

"This is wild," Ethan mutters.

"Nah," Max says. "In a previous life maybe, but I'm good with the ass I touch already. Thanks for the tips, though."

"This way, Atlantic," Coach Tavis Davenport from Philly calls. He pats Max on the shoulder on his way by. He's our head coach today, though he's Max's coach every day. "Good first half. We need to get out there and clean it up. They're going to be putting Dayne in goal, trading Gibbon out, so know your goalie."

I snort. Azure is a damn beast. We're dead.

We spend another few minutes talking, but again, this isn't only a short intermission, but a short game. There's no time to learn each other, so we kind of wing it when we go back out there.

The puck drops and we lose it right away. I nearly have it away from Lo, but he passes it to Mattias who gets it by Fournier, our goalie, and scores. Thankfully, Ethan evens it up within another minute. We sit out and let Link, Stark, and Ivanovich take the ice. Link and Lo both score within the next two minutes.

Back on the ice, it's a game of keep-away. Not that I particularly want to go into a shootout. It looks like we're going to be saved from that eventuality when Ethan sinks our fifth goal, leaving the score 5-4 with less than a minute on the clock.

But apparently last-minute goals are Noah's thing today, and with eighteen seconds left in the game, he sinks another past Fournier, evening us out at 5-5.

"Hat Trick!" Ethan calls, throwing his hands into the air and running into Noah. He swings Noah around as Noah tries not to fall on his face. "Nice job, Kain!"

"Bro, you're supposed to be jeering them. Not cheering them," Davies mutters, rolling his eyes.

"My bad," Ethan says. "Boo. Hiss. You suck."

Noah laughs as he glides away.

Shootout. Ethan goes out first and Azure stops it. Then Noah, who thankfully doesn't make a fourth fucking goal. Link misses. Mattias is blocked. Stark is stopped. Brian is frustrated when his shot is blocked and breaks his stick, which makes Lamar laugh as if he forgot which team he's on.

It's my turn and I try to remember the shots I managed against Azure yesterday. But I only have one shot so it's not like I can try out a couple ideas before sticking to it. I take the puck and slide his way. Faking isn't my best, but I curl my stick backwards, picking the puck up against my blade with gravity and try to swing it in.

Azure catches it, but he has to bend like a cat. When he rights himself, he looks at me and smiles. It's unsettling.

"Damn," I mutter.

He laughs. It's low and haunting.

I climb into the box over the half wall as Lo's blades hit the ice. He moves toward Fournier leisurely, dribbling the puck back and forth as he nears the crease. He feigns to the left and our goalie falls for it. When he tries to correct for the other side, Lo shoots it through his legs and the buzzer blares.

Lo just won the game.

I shouldn't be grinning like I am, but I can't stop myself. His eyes meet mine and hold for a second too long. But fuck if my chest doesn't get warm.