Ten

TEN

FELTON

We lose against Vancouver the day after we lost against Edmonton. I'm not in goal, so the loss doesn't hit me quite so hard. I also didn't hear from my father this morning, so I feel… okay.

Actually, I feel flustered, embarrassed, and incredibly self-conscious when I wake up to Ren in the same room that morning. I'm very conscious of him all day, though he seems indifferent to what we did the night before.

Ren saw. He saw what I was watching. He saw, and he knows that I want to be forcibly fucked by a group of big guys.

I mean, I say I do, but I think I'd chicken out. But… maybe the two things separately. I'd been mentally assembling that scene in my head for a collab for months now. A collab that will now never happen.

The team heads home on the twentieth but I don't have much time to wallow about my life or dwell on the fact that Ren now knows how stupidly depraved I am. I'm on a plane to NYC, expected at a food drive for the holidays with other Gays Can Play guys from hockey. I don't think we're mixing sports for this event. But if I remember correctly, it's an initiative all across America where different groups are gathered to encourage food donations for this time of year.

Thanksgiving is approaching. My father was sure to remind me of that the other morning. Just knowing I have to go home to him in less than a week makes me sick to my stomach.

Can't think about that right now. I can't let my life affect my public appearance. Not in front of so many people.

I spend the plane ride repeating a lot of things to myself that usually calm my nerves. Only this time, they're not just thoughts. They're words spoken in a quiet, smooth voice with a light Asian accent.

No, I don't let it get me hard. Well, not completely hard.

Two nights ago didn't really happen. It couldn't have. Why would it? I wasn't only watching gay porn but like, deep-kink gay porn and jerking off. Why would Ren take enjoyment from that? Why would he find it arousing?

No. No, no, no. I cannot be thinking about sex. Or his dick. Or the way he looked when he orgasmed. Jesus, that was hot.

No!

Stop it right now. We're not thinking about our teammate that way.

Who the hell am I even including in this ‘we'—my dick as if it has a mind of its own? I glance down at my crotch. Yeah, okay. I think cocks do to some degree. Why else would they randomly boner up throughout our life when the situation definitely doesn't call for it? Or wave like a flag during the most inappropriate times.

Thank fuck when the plane lands and I can step into the cold air of the Northeast. Except, it's slightly warm today. Though I wouldn't go so far as to call it hot out, it's not freezing. I remember being a kid and there being snow for Thanksgiving. I'm not sure I remember the last time there was snow this time of year now.

"Cock sucker!"

The entire area turns as I do to look at the voice yelling. I laugh, rolling my eyes as I wait for Larson Faulkner to catch up. I'm surprised that he has his hellion of a husband with him. Dylan's terrier-sized and a fucking diva queen if I ever saw one. He's wearing heels. Heels! On a flight.

They catch up and we exchange a bro-hug. "Hey, Ocho," I say and then offer his husband a big smile. "Queen."

Dylan gives me a pleased grin and an approving nod. I'm surprised he's not wearing a crown right now.

"Everyone's flights landing around now?" I ask, spotting Noah Kain and Elixon Kipler as they exit the terminal into baggage claim. Noah spots me and offers a wave as they approach.

"I think so," Larson says. "Noah came in from North Carolina instead of California. I was just talking to him on the plane, but I'm not sure where anyone else is right now."

It's not long before the three of us are joined by a whole bunch of hockey players, most of whom I know well. There's Ethan Wilder—he and Noah give the audience a little show of hostility since they'd been high school rivals, though you'd not know that now. Then Noah tucks himself into Lix's side and practically disappears.

Azure's here, looking cold and unimpressed with life as he looks around. The other three with us are new to our group, though not necessarily new to pro. Keno Edgewood from Arizona came out this summer after a drunken night on the beach when he was found making out with his teammate Etna Yreka and the images of them spread through the internet like wildfire.

They both handled it well, were poised and amused that people found it newsworthy. The way Keno laughs at the hateful comments enrages those commenting as well as endears people to him.

The other two are rookies—one drafted from high school and the other from college. Gray Burks-Hewitt plays for Florida. After spending the summer in the AHL training camp, they brought him to the NHL to cover an injury, and he's been there since.

Duke Andrew is the last of our party. Colorado's only rookie on the team and he's already had an impressive pro career. He's going to do great things.

"We're all here," Larson says. "Let's go beg for food so we can get home."

We split ourselves between three rideshares and arrive at the park twenty minutes later. There's already a whole long set up waiting for us there. The lady in charge is both calm and frazzled at the same time. I'm not sure which is more prevalent. Her voice is relaxed and her demeanor is slow, but she looks around and taps her clipboard as if she's waiting for a comet to hit the earth in front of her.

"Wild," Ethan says, shaking his head.

We're there simply to gain attention and interest by mingling and making ourselves visible and available for pictures, autographs, and conversation. There's a guy with a mic yelling into the park, directing everyone our way to meet the hockey players.

Dylan has a little fashion show going on with the kids. I'm not even sure I saw his suitcase in the airport, but out of it he pulls different garments and accessories, dresses up the kids, and tells them how divine they look. He shows them how to pose and takes their pictures with their phones, so they can show all their friends that they're models now.

Honestly, the rest of us need to up our game. Dylan—the only non-athlete that came with our group—is showing us all up.

"We should have come better prepared," Keno comments as he watches Dylan.

"This might be the first time I've crushed on a married guy," Duke says. "He's amazing."

Larson remains very pleased and proud of his husband.

It's a long few hours, but it feels good to smile and meet people who have nice things to say about my career. There are people excited to meet me. I talk hockey and take pictures, direct people to the donation table, and joke around with my friends.

When we're finished, we grab something to eat and relax for a while. Half of us are getting back on planes tonight—I'm one of them. The others are staying. I could have stayed overnight, but I like my own bed better than a hotel room. And I'd kind of like to enjoy the day off tomorrow without having to break it up with travel. I don't care what anyone says, a day filled with travel is not a day off at all.

I fall back on my bed and close my eyes. Two flights in a single day is exhausting. It's late, close to midnight, but I'm not ready to sleep. I'm definitely tired. Overtired. Which is why I won't be able to sleep.

Pushing myself up, I head for the bathroom and run through the shower to get the day off me. Plane rides and dirty New York… it all needs to be scrubbed off.

Stepping back into my room, I contemplate making a burger. Airport food leaves something to be desired. Before I can give it too much thought, my phone rings.

At first, I'm filled with a dark, sour feeling. But then I realize what time it is and dive for the phone. Who would call me at midnight?!

I pause when I see Ren's name flashing up at me. That's… weird. Weirder still is the way my stomach dances.

"Hello?"

"Hi," he says. His voice is quiet. Always so soft and soothing. I sigh without meaning to. "You home?"

"Yeah. Just got here. Is everything okay?"

His laughter is quiet. "Yes. I realize this is a bit unorthodox, but…" he pauses. "How did your event go?"

I'm trying to figure out what's unorthodox about the question, but answer, "It was really good. I think we met the goal in the first couple hours. I guess gay hockey players really bring out the sympathy card."

He snorts. "Good. You doing okay?"

He's just being nice. This man has seen me hyperventilate several times now. That's why he's calling. Knowing this is a damper to my fluttering heart and yet not entirely. He is calling me to check in.

"I'm good," I say.

"Good to hear. Listen, I have an idea."

"What kind of idea?"

I hear him chuckle again. It's quiet. I like the tenor of it. "An idea to relieve some stress. To let you feel good in all the ways you want to without risking your career. I know you feel like you lost the one thing in your life that felt like a positive release and I've been thinking about ways to replicate it to some degree, but in a more controlled environment."

He's talking about sex. Is he going to ask me to have sex with him? Like friends with benefits? How do I feel about that?

Glancing down, I decide that at least my dick is completely on board. Shocking. It's been weeks since I've had sex with anyone. Hell, two nights ago was the first time I jacked off in weeks!

"Okay…" I say.

"Do you really want to be a part of a gang bang?" Ren asks.

Oh. My. God. Did he really just ask me that? My dick is totally listening now. I think it even grew ears.

"Yes," I blurt, and then wince. Fuck me, why would I admit to that?

As if he doesn't already know the truth.

"As the participant being fucked," Ren continues.

"Yes." My cheeks burn. What does he think of me?

"I'm only calling so late because this offer is a little time sensitive with the holidays coming. But I can arrange that for you. If you're interested. Four guys. Four dicks. You wear your mask, but we're going to need to cover your eyes too."

"I, uh…"

"For everyone's protection, Fel. No cameras. No evidence of this will ever leak. But I can make this happen if you'd like it to."

Every little cell in my body is screaming for it. Yes! Yes, I want to do this!!

"You… really?"

"Really. On the twenty-third. My place."

"Are you going to fuck me too?"

He's grinning now. "No."

I imagine he's saying not this time, but he just doesn't out loud. Wait—when did I decide I wanted to be fucked by Ren Ho?! When he started being nice to me? He's always been nice. So… what's happening right now?

"What do you think?" Ren asks.

"You'll be there?" I ask.

"I will. You'll be completely safe. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."

Fuck, the way his words make me feel all warm and… And… Wanted. I need to get a grip on myself. That's not what he's promising.

"Okay. Yes. I want that."

"There will be condoms. You won't be tied down for this. No… CNC play, okay?"

I flinch. Fuck, he must think I'm out of my mind. Nodding wildly, I whisper, "Yes."

"Do you have any hard limits? Anything you don't like?"

"I don't like degradation," I say. It's far too close to my life already. Being told every day that I'm shit is enough. I don't need it during sex too.

"No degradation."

Feeling my skin burn, I add, "No mean comments at all. Even if they think I'm ugly or hate my dick or anything."

Ren doesn't speak right away. My mind whirls with knowing he must think I'm a real piece of work.

"Of course not," Ren promises. "No one will ever insult you in my presence unless they want their teeth knocked out."

Nope. I don't get a thrill at the tone of his voice or the threat to protect me. No. Nope. Nuh uh.

"Be at my house on the twenty-third at eleven. With your mask."

"I don't have one that covers my eyes."

"I'll take care of that. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Nodding, I grip my cock in my pants. I'm ready right now! "Yes. I really, really do."

"Then I'll make it happen. Go to sleep, Felton."

Chills race over my body as I drop back onto my bed. Oh god, is this really happening? And… why am I disappointed Ren isn't going to fuck me too?