37. Xander

Xander

This was the moment, my debut. To put icing on the cake, we had home ice advantage against the Tallahassee Tridents, a team that boasted a formidable defensive lineup. Though I wasn"t leading the charge onto the ice, adrenaline coursed through my veins like an electric current. The arena pulsed with the heartbeats of twenty thousand ardent fans, their faces painted in our colors, black, orange and gold, their cheers a thunderstorm. Tally fans were there in large numbers as well, their navy blue and aqua jerseys standing out in the crowd, waving flags and banners to support their team.

The puck dropped, and I watched intently as our first line hit the ice with purpose. They glided effortlessly, their movements fluid and calculated. The sound of skates carving into the ice filled the air.

As I sat on the bench with my linemates, I tried to keep my nerves at bay. Johnson"s deep voice rumbled beside me, his words a mix of encouragement and strategy. Thompson chimed in with a quick observation. I responded with a silent bob of my head, my fingers tightening around the rough tape on my stick. Johnson's words kept playing back in my mind. "It's about positioning and timing." His advice was as clear as the ice beneath our teammates" skates.

Anticipation coursed through me, sharpening every sense. My breath frosted in the cold air, the sharp sting filling my lungs. The glare off the pristine ice was blinding, but I couldn"t look away from the thrilling chaos unfolding before me. Every sound and movement was magnified in the electric atmosphere of the arena.

Our forwards darted around like lightning bolts on skates, trading blows with Tally's defensemen while our goaltender stood tall and unflinching in front of our net.

Penalties were called; players got banished to that purgatory, the sin bin, their faces twisted in frustration or defiance as they served their time. Fisticuffs broke out frequently – a dance as old as hockey itself – adding fuel to an already roaring fire.

In between shifts, I found myself scanning the sea of spectators for one face in particular – Ry"s. He was 2700 miles away with the Grizzlies, but I couldn"t help wishing he could share this experience with me.

And then finally, fucking finally, Coach Phil called my line onto the ice. This was it. I was about to hit the ice for my first game as a full-time NAPH player. My heart hammered a frantic tempo against my ribs as I glided onto the ice, its chill nipping at my cheeks. Stay focused, Xander. Play your game.

The speed and intensity were overwhelming at first, but then something within me snapped into place and I found my rhythm. I made a few good plays, demonstrating my skill and earning nods of approval from teammates. I was in the zone, feeling the thrill of playing the game I loved.

Seizing an ill-placed pass from one of Trident"s defensemen like a hawk snatching prey mid-flight, I whipped the puck towards our advancing forward with a swift flick of my wrist. The puck sliced through the air before nestling flawlessly against his stick blade.

Positioning myself near the Tridents" net, I anticipated the next move, ready to intercept or create scoring opportunities. Though the scoreboard said 0-0, the energy on the ice was a hundred times that.

The first period was a blur of ice and adrenaline. I dug my skates in, pushing myself to the brink as I tried to anticipate the Tridents" every move. The puck was an elusive creature beneath my stick, darting in and out of sight. My body absorbed each brutal hit from the opposing team"s defensemen like a sponge, but I refused to let it rattle me.

The rink echoed with Tom"s shout of triumph as he fired home our first goal, all thanks to a play I"d set up. His words of praise ricocheted around in my head, stoking the flames of my confidence.

As we huddled close during the break between periods, Coach Phil"s voice cut through the cacophony of cheering Eagles fans and disgruntled Tridents supporters. He laid out his strategy with precision and authority – we were going to exploit the Tridents" defensive weaknesses and ramp up our offensive game.

Coach's words resonated within me: "We"re playing well... Keep up the pressure."

We managed to cling onto our slender lead until disaster struck at the start of the final period – a quick counterattack from the Tridents resulted in an equalizer. The roar from their fans was deafening; it felt like a physical blow that left us reeling.

With tensions running high, my line was thrust back into action for those last agonizing minutes. Every second on that ice was an eternity – every pass made, every shot taken was a potential game-changer.

Then came that critical moment when everything slowed down. The puck slid towards me across a sea of white; I could hear nothing but my own heartbeat pounding in my ears as I lined up for what could be our winning shot.

I felt more than saw my linemates moving into position around me, creating openings amidst the wall of Tridents players blocking our path to victory. A penalty was called on one of the Tridents, and he skated off to the sin bin, leaving a gap in their defense.

With a rush of adrenaline, I took my chance. The slap of my stick against the puck echoed around the arena as it rocketed towards the goal. The goaltender lunged desperately but it was too late – the puck found its mark and the buzzer sounded our victory.

The roar from our fans was deafening, drowning out everything else. But amidst that sea of noise and celebration, I could only hear one thing: the sweet sound of victory.

The locker room was filled with jubilation, the air thick with the scent of sweat and victory. High-fives flew around like confetti, and laughter bounced off the tiled walls. I was in the eye of this storm, my debut game ending with the winning goal. My heart pounded like a drum, matching the rhythm of our celebration. It was surreal – a dream start to my career in the majors.

"A toast to our rookie!" AJ"s voice cut through the cacophony. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he raised his water bottle high. "First game and you score us the winner? Drinks are on you tonight, X-Man!" Laughter roared around me.

I grinned at AJ"s good-natured ribbing. But beneath it all, there was an ache for Ry – wishing he could have been here to share this moment.

We decided to head to a local pub, The Rusty Puck, owned by a retired Eagles' player to celebrate our victory. Apparently it was the pub where our fans headed when we won on home ice. The place was alive with chatter and cheer, bathed in warm hues from hanging lanterns that gave it an intimate glow against the winter chill outside.

The Rusty Puck smelled of worn leather seats, spiced fries sizzling in the kitchen, and draft beer fresh from the tap. Fans swarmed around us, their excitement palpable as they clinked glasses with us.

We huddled together at a corner spot, ordering pints of amber ale that foamed over frosted mugs and plates piled high with sticky chicken wings and golden onion rings – food that tasted even better after a hard-fought win on home ice.

As I bit into a wing smothered in tangy barbecue sauce and laughed at one of AJ's outrageous stories, I was sure in time, I would be truly a part of the team – no longer just the new guy, but an integral piece of this family.

But even as I reveled in the celebration, my mind kept drifting back to Ry. His absence was like a missing note in a symphony – not noticeable to my teammates, but glaringly obvious to me. The joy of the night was tinged with nostalgia, and I found myself reaching for my phone, eager to share this moment with him. But then I hesitated, reminding myself that tonight was about bonding with my teammates – about being present. Yet, despite the laughter and camaraderie around me, I couldn"t shake off the feeling that something – someone – important was missing.

Suddenly, there he was. Ry. His tall, sexy frame silhouetted by the entrance to the pub, his eyes locked onto mine. My heart stuttered in my chest before revving up again, disbelief and overwhelming joy crashing over me. For a moment, I was frozen, the world around me fading into a blur. It was as if my deepest wish had been plucked from my thoughts and made real in an instant.

His smile widened, and he waved something at me – a slip of paper? Squinting against the distance, it took me a moment to make out what it was: half of a game ticket. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins. Without a second thought, I was moving towards him, propelled by a force that felt as inevitable as gravity. Each step quickened as the gap between us closed, my teammates" cheers and the pub"s noise fading into the background.

By the time I reached him, the euphoria of seeing Ry here, in this place, was almost too much to contain. My arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace, grounding me in this perfect, unexpected reality. The world around us faded into white noise; all that existed was Ry and me – my Berry, here against all odds. It felt like the universe had conspired to grant this one wish I hadn"t even dared articulate.

But then reality intruded again as we were jostled by patrons clad in Eagles colors heading into the pub. Ry"s hand slipped into mine and he steered us around the corner where the noise receded into a dull murmur in the crisp night air.

His green eyes sparkled with mischief under his tousled brown hair.

"You were here for the game?"

"Yes, Sunshine, I saw you on the ice and you were incredible. You killed it out there. I'm super proud of you."

A wave of shock hit me. Ry had come for my debut despite having his own game that night!

My heart was overwhelmed. "I can"t believe you were there," I murmured incredulously while he brushed stray strands of hair off my face with his finger. Ry was right there watching me play.

His chuckle was low and warm against my ear as he replied, "Took me forever and a day to get out of the arena."

"But how?" I still couldn't believe he was here when he should have been at his game with the Grizzlies."You didn't give me a clue, even though we FaceTimed last night."

Ry cupped my cheek and used the pad of his thumb to caress it. "Then it wouldn't have been much of a surprise."

Ry wasn"t exactly flush with money and so concern gnawed at my happiness.

"I can hear you thinking, baby. We would talk about it, but first… kiss me."

And we kissed passionately.

Ry's lips met in a heated kiss that tasted like homecoming. Through half-lidded eyes I watched Ry"s face – flushed with desire and mirroring the same raw need that twisted like a knot in the pit of my stomach. His breath hitched slightly against my lips as I pulled him closer still – an unspoken promise that there was more to come.

Every inch of me burned for him – from the tips of my fingers that traced patterns on his back to the pounding heartbeat echoing loudly in my ears. But this wasn't something we could take any further; we were in public, after all.

When we pulled apart for air, Ry explained how the team had chipped in for his plane ticket, and Coach Mack had pulled some strings to get him a game ticket. I could only stare at him, overwhelmed by the lengths he"d gone to to be here.

His lips claimed mine again, effectively silencing my protests before they could form. When we broke apart, I tugged him closer again, whispering, "I can't believe you're here. This is perfect."

"Yes, perfect," Ry said, but he was looking at me as if I was the one he thought was perfect. Then that made two of us because he was perfect too.

"Let's go." I held out my hand for him to take. "I'm gonna tell the guys I'm leaving."

"You're going to come out to the team?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess I am. Do you want to?"

"I'm always happy to let the world know you're mine."

We walked hand-in-hand towards my teammates, and the guys around the table fell silent. Clearing my throat, I said, "Hey everyone, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Ry."

There was a brief, tense silence before the team burst into laughter. A spark of anger ignited in my chest, burning hotter with each second. I could feel my face flush as I clenched my fists, ready to defend us. But then I noticed the laughter wasn't malicious. It was warm and filled with camaraderie.

Brandt, still smiling, said, "Dude, we know you're queer and we don't care." He raised his hand to stop me from interjecting. "It was your call to share it with the team or not. And if anyone says shit to you, let me handle it. There"s zero tolerance for homophobia here."

His words hung in the air like a shield, protecting me from the taunts and judgment that plagued other teams. My anger dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude towards Brandt and this team. The realization that they had my back, that they truly accepted me and Ry, was overwhelming.

I let out a forgotten breath, feeling the tension drain from my body. "Thanks, guys. Really."

Brandt clapped me on the back, and the rest of the team nodded in agreement, their smiles genuine.

Ry squeezed my hand, and I knew in that moment that we were exactly where we were meant to be

AJ said, "Go, spend some couple time with your man because we know he has a game coming up soon."

Before I got a chance to respond, Brandt cut in and said, "We know because we looked him up too."

And Kieran piped in, "Your boyfriend can stay over at the apartment."

Everything fell into place effortlessly. It was too good to be true but I wasn"t about to question my luck.

The moment Ry and I crossed the threshold of the apartment, there was no hesitation. Clothes were shed, discarded in a trail leading to the bedroom. The hunger gnawed at my gut as I took him in – all sinewy muscle and taut skin.

"Missed you," I breathed into his ear, my voice rough with desire. A low moan escaped him, vibrating through me.

His cock stood proud and hard, begging for attention. My mouth watered at the sight, an insatiable craving rising within me. Without preamble, I dropped to my knees and took him into my mouth, relishing the strangled gasp that slipped past his lips.

"Fuck... Xander!" His fingers tangled in my hair as he thrust into my mouth. His taste filled me – salty and sweet with an undercurrent of something uniquely Ry.

I sucked him hard, letting him fuck my mouth until he was coming undone above me. Ribbons of cum burst forth from him, spilling down my throat while he cursed above me.

"I fucking missed you," Ry growled out between gritted teeth as his orgasm subsided.

But I wasn"t done yet. Not even close.

Flipping him onto his stomach on the bed, I positioned myself behind him. My own cock throbbed with need against his ass – tight and inviting.

I lubed him up thoroughly because I wasn't going to take it easy on him.

"You ready?" My question was more breathless anticipation than actual inquiry.

"Fuck me, baby."

Enough said.

Without another word spoken between us, I plunged into his tight hole – hard and fast just how we both liked it; brutal in its intensity but laced with love beneath it all.

His moans were music to my ears as I fucked him relentlessly; each thrust meeting a curse or plea from his lips until we were both teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"Love you, Berry," I grunted out, my words punctuated by the rhythm of our bodies colliding.

With that, I came, filling him as my body shuddered with release. His own orgasm, the second in such a short time, followed suit, a strangled cry of my name echoing around us as he spilled onto the sheets below.

Panting and spent, we collapsed into each other"s arms – a tangle of sweat-slicked skin and sated desires. As our breathing slowly returned to normal, I pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

"I fucking love you too, Xander," he murmured against my skin. And with that, we drifted off into a post-coital slumber – content in the knowledge that no matter how brutal or dirty it got between us, it was always rooted in love.