Empty Net (18 page)

He looked up while he played with Isaac’s cock, and slid his hand over the spit-slicked shaft. Isaac’s skin was flushed, and he was breathing hard, bracing himself with both elbows now so he could watch Laurent. He reached down, took his cock in hand, and stroked it slowly. Laurent watched with rapt attention.

“Suck on my balls,” Isaac said, and Laurent lowered his head and took Isaac’s sac in his mouth. He worked it with his tongue, and he liked that he could feel Isaac’s hand on his down stroke.

Laurent knew Isaac’s body language by then well enough to know that he was about to come, and he took his mouth off Isaac’s balls and pushed roughly at Isaac’s wrist. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Isaac groaned and fisted Laurent’s hair, and Laurent took Isaac’s cock back in his mouth and sucked hard at the head. Then he made himself take the whole thing. He choked again, but he practiced inhaling through his nose so he could keep doing it. It didn’t take much before Isaac muttered, “I’m coming.” And then came hot down Laurent’s throat.

Laurent swallowed and then pulled back and took a moment to get his breathing under control. Isaac was panting and had one arm flung over his eyes as he too, caught his breath. Eventually he moved his arm and blinked at Laurent with drowsy blue eyes. “That was—wow. So good, Saint. You did so good.”

“I learned from the best,” Laurent said and moved up the bed. He paused and then kissed Isaac. “Is it okay….?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Isaac murmured, and kissed him with his usual eagerness, his tongue boldly invading Laurent’s mouth. “Okay. Your turn. On your back, Saint.”

Laurent obediently moved as bidden, took his pants off, and sighed in relief as his cock was released from the constraints of his jeans. As usual Isaac was an appreciative audience and liked how Laurent looked in his boxer briefs so much that he made Laurent keep them on at first. That was annoying, until Isaac breathed out against the cotton, traced wicked patterns on the cloth with his tongue, and placing little sucking kisses until the fabric was damp. By the time he had Laurent’s cock in his mouth, Laurent was nearly delirious with pleasure and so badly wanted to come that he asked for it in a low, heated voice as Isaac sucked him.

Suddenly he felt Isaac’s fingers rubbing over his balls and then lower, and he heard the sound of a cap opening. Laurent opened his eyes and struggled to sit up and look down at Isaac, who was managing to suck his cock and open a bottle of lube at the same time. The goalie hand-eye coordination was a goddamn blessing, Laurent thought, and he was dazed as he felt Isaac’s fingers rubbing at him again.

“Gonna play with your ass a little, Saint,” Isaac said when he took his mouth off Laurent’s cock. “Make sure you like it before I fuck you.”

“Okay,” said Laurent a little wildly.

“Tell me if you don’t like it, and I’ll stop.” Isaac put his mouth back on Laurent’s cock and gently pressed a finger inside of him.

Laurent went tense immediately at the strange sensation, but he said, “It’s—don’t stop. Not yet,” because he knew if Isaac was ever going to fuck him, he had to be okay with what was happening. And it didn’t hurt. It was just weird. Different. Then again everything Isaac did to Laurent was different, and so far he’d liked all of it. He made himself relax as Isaac kept on sucking him, playing with the head of his cock, and deliberately running the lip ring under the crown. It made Laurent shudder hard and moan, and he barely noticed when Isaac put another finger inside him.

He did notice when Isaac crooked his fingers and rubbed over his prostate, though. Because he came so hard and so suddenly that all he could do was give a half shout as his hips snapped up. His mind whited out with pleasure, and as much as he’d liked everything they’d done up until then, getting off had never, ever felt like that. Even the aftershocks felt amazing.

Isaac took it like a champ, as always, and when Laurent managed to come down from the high of his orgasm, he was wiping his fingers with a tissue and a smug look. “That’s why I always feel bad for guys who make jokes about taking it in the ass. They have no idea what they’re missing.”

Laurent’s only response was a wheeze.

ISAAC PULLED
his Jeep into the parking lot, switched off the ignition, and worried at his lip ring. He checked his phone for the third time to make sure the address was correct and his appointment with Liz Park, licensed clinical therapist, was still at two thirty. He still wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he had to do something.

Everything checked out. He could see her sign on the door, so he had no excuse but to go in.

Except that your boyfriend will probably kill you.

The thing was, Isaac wasn’t sure he cared anymore if Laurent got mad at him. He’d tried bringing it up casually, and he’d tried having a conversation after blowing Laurent, when he was a little more receptive and less inclined toward asshole behavior, but to no avail.

With that thought in mind, Isaac got out of the Jeep, pocketed his keys, and headed into the office building. Liz Park’s door was the first one on the right when he walked in, and Isaac squared his shoulders and pushed the door open with aggressive intent.

Which in hindsight wasn’t a good idea. He wasn’t playing hockey, and he looked like a crazy person with blue hair and a facial piercing barging into a therapist’s office.

But Liz Park—if that’s who she was—just looked up from her desk with her eyebrows slightly raised and said, “Hello. You must be Isaac.”

Isaac nodded, embarrassed. “Sorry about the door, I… uh.” He didn’t know what to say, so he just shrugged. It was already awkward, and they hadn’t even started yet.

Liz smiled. “It’s all right.” She made a gesture toward a small room adjacent to the waiting area, with the stereotypical therapist couch and low lighting. “Would you like to have a seat? I’ll be with you in a moment. Can I get you any water?”

Isaac shook his head, went into the room, sat on the couch nervously, and looked around. He’d been in a therapist’s office exactly one time, when he first told his parents he was gay. It was a Christian therapist, recommended by the church, and there were biblical sayings and Christian books in the bookcase, in the vein of
How to Renounce Satan’s Influence and Embrace God’s Plan for Heterosexuality.

Liz Park’s books were about coming to terms with your inner self, disordered thinking, and the value of meditation and journaling. Not a religious title or symbol in sight. He relaxed a fraction of an inch, but tensed as Liz came in the room and closed the door.

She was a woman in perhaps her midforties, with bright red hair and ginger eyebrows that suggested the color was either natural or only slightly enhanced in a salon. She wore a trendy, loose-flowing skirt and a lot of colorful jewelry, and as she settled into her chair, she gave Isaac the warmest of smiles. “So, Isaac. You said on the phone when you made the appointment that you had concerns about someone you know possibly having an eating disorder?”

There was no possibly about it. Laurent threw up way too much for it to be anything else, and he had weird rules about food and eating that went beyond mere hockey-player superstitions. But suddenly, confronted with the reality of saying that to someone else and betraying Laurent’s confidence, Isaac felt awkward and uncertain about what to do. “Umm. Yeah. It’s my… my boyfriend,” he said with his chin raised a notch. If Liz had a problem with that, he’d be out of there like a shot, and she could fuck herself with his $20 copay.

But Liz just nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I’m—we’re—hockey players,” Isaac started. “For the Spartanburg Spitfires.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh. I’ve been to a few games. Those are fun. What position are you?”

“The goalie. My boyfriend is the, uh, the other goalie.”

Her eyes sparkled. “That must be quite the story.”

He gave a slight chuckle. “You have no idea. And yeah. He throws up a lot.” Isaac winced as he realized how that sounded. “I don’t know. I feel kind of stupid, but he won’t talk about it, and he pretends like he has a reason when he totally doesn’t. I mean, getting drunk is one thing, but he hardly ever drinks. None of us do, especially during the season.” Isaac found that her warm and open gaze made it easy to talk, and he found himself telling her about all the little idiosyncrasies he’d noticed about Laurent when it came to food. But the final straw, as far as Isaac was concerned, was when Laurent passed out during practice the week before. “I tried to talk about it, but he’s… well, he’s not easy to talk to. He comes from a bad home.”

Isaac wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Liz all about Laurent’s home life, but it was hard to stop talking once he started. “I don’t know anything about eating disorders, but I looked some stuff up, and I think he has one.” Isaac cleared his throat. “To be clear, I promise I am talking about my boyfriend and not, like, me. I had a cheeseburger on my way over here.”

She smiled kindly at him. “People with eating disorders can eat cheeseburgers, Isaac. It’s less about the actual food consumption and more about the thought process behind it.” She handed him a couple of brochures. “Here’s some information you might want to look at, about how to talk to him and bring up your concerns in a constructive way. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like, at the very least, he has some disordered thoughts about eating.”

Laurent had disordered thoughts about a lot of things, but Isaac kept that to himself. He flipped through the little brochure and winced inwardly at how many of Laurent’s behaviors he recognized. The way Laurent refused to go out and eat with the team, his strict portion control when he did allow himself to eat, the lack of anything resembling a snack in the fridge in his apartment, the throwing up, the self-hate and the recriminations, even the absurd number of mouthwash bottles he owned—regular and travel sized. “Why would he do this?” Isaac asked, more to himself than Liz. “I mean, I always thought eating disorders were—” He blushed as he realized what he was about to say and how it sounded.

Liz finished the thought for him. “For women?” She shook her head. “I’d say it’s not as common in men. But you know, I wonder often how much of it is because of that attitude right there. I’m not trying to criticize you for having it,” she assured him. “It’s a common one among most people. But it might be the thing that stops men—like your boyfriend—from getting help or even recognizing they have a problem in the first place. And most people with eating disorders don’t think of them that way. They think they’re not good enough at whatever it is they’re doing—restricting, purging—to consider it an eating disorder in the first place.”

Isaac closed the brochure and looked at Liz. “What can I do to make him stop doing it?”

“Well, you can’t make him do anything. But by coming here, by expressing your concern and learning more, getting information…. That’s a good step. You must care about him very much.”

Ugh. That made him blush so hot, he wanted to die. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do, though.”

“From what you’ve said, his restrictions and purging could lead to significant issues with his health, especially given the nature of your sport,” she said. She leaned forward. “I think you need to suggest he seek help. From me or a professional he might feel comfortable with.”

Laurent didn’t feel comfortable with anyone but him. He said as much.

Liz shook her head. “That might be true. But Isaac? As much as I can tell you love him and want to help him, you’re not responsible for fixing this for him. That’s a difficult burden for anyone to have to carry. And you can help him, and so could I, but he has to be willing to do the work. And to do that, he has to see that it’s a problem.” She smiled sadly. “But from past experience, I can tell you that this is going to be very difficult for him to hear. He’ll argue, he’ll rationalize, and he’ll turn it back on you.”

Isaac snorted despite himself. “Believe me, I’m used to that. How do I… I mean, what should I say? Just hand him a pamphlet and tell him to come see you?”

“You have to talk from the heart and hope he listens.”

Great. “I’ll try,” Isaac said. He stood up and shook her hand.

Back at home Isaac spent some time looking over the pamphlets and wondering how to bring up the subject to Laurent. The playoffs weren’t that far away, and more than that, Isaac wanted to help Laurent. But he was starting to think Laurent needed a lot more help than he had to offer. He needed someone who knew specifically about the kind of abuse Laurent had suffered, who might give him better ways of dealing with his stress.

The portion control was one thing, but the throwing up… how many times had Isaac heard him and just thought Laurent was being dramatic? How many times had Laurent done it when Isaac
hadn’t
heard him? That was the crux of the problem, because if he was doing it enough to pass out from dehydration, then he was hiding it from Isaac.

Isaac knew Laurent well enough to know how spectacularly wrong it could go, and how very angry Laurent was going to be at him. Because there was only one thing Isaac could think to do that would make Laurent get help, and he knew Laurent wasn’t going to like it.

“YOU’RE BREAKING
up with me, aren’t you?”

Isaac knocked Laurent’s shoulder with his own. “No. This is our place. Remember? Where I gave you a blowjob for the first time? It’s supposed to be magical.”

Laurent looked sideways at him. “Magical.”

“Yeah. Remember the s’mores?” Isaac tried for a smile, but he was too nervous about the conversation they needed to have. Maybe coming there was a mistake, but he’d been nervous the last time about the whole turning-tricks-for-cash thing, and that had worked out all right.

“I remember that we couldn’t manage to make any. What’s wrong, Isaac? This is like the ‘Laurent, we need to talk’
place.” At Isaac’s guilty stare, Laurent stopped walking. “Can you just promise me that if we break up, you won’t do it here? I have nice memories, and I don’t have those a lot of places.”