Point Shot 02 - Game Misconduct (7 page)

“I got him,” Dan snapped at the team captain. Mike backed off.

“It’s just a cut,” I complained out loud, but deep down having Dan’s arm around me felt real nice.

“I’m taking him to the medic. Why don’t you do something about that assclown before I get back and beat the shit out of him?” Dan nodded his sodden head in the direction of where Phil was lying.

“Fucking stupid Polack,” Prescott muttered groggily. If I hadn’t been bleeding all over the ice I would have jumped back onto him.

The paramedic on call arrived from wherever he had been. Dan and I made our way off the ice. I glanced back to see Brooks following us like a gosling follows Mom and Dad goose. We piled into the medical office.

“Have a seat,” Mr. Medic said. I climbed up onto a table, warm red liquid coating my hand and soaking into my pants and socks. “You two related to him?” the paramedic asked casually as he gathered his suturing materials from several cabinets. It took him a few minutes to locate everything.

“I’m his partner,” Dan said boldly.

The paramedic cracked his gum, then nodded at Brooks in the corner as he peeled me out of my sweater and compression top.

“He has to wait outside,” the medic said. The door closed silently behind Brooks. “Let’s see what we have here. Dr. Stoner is down in Florida for a week. He’s the head trainer for this rink. Name’s Brad, in case you wanted to know. Nice clean cut. You want something to numb it?”

“Nah, just sew it up, Brad.”

Brad blew a big pink bubble then turned to wash up. I looked over at Dan. He was upset. The man was as easy to read as a kindergarten primer.

“It’s fine, stop worrying,” I said to Dan.

He shook his head. Several long black strands stuck to his high cheekbones.

“Go get me a soda. Don’t come back until he’s done.”

“I don’t think he should be chewing bubblegum while he works on you.”

“Dan?”

Arou glanced from Brad’s back to me, then down at my forearm, then back at Brad, and finally those baby-blues met my gaze.

“Soda,” I reminded him.

“Right, a Coke, regular. I’ll be outside with Brooks,” he mumbled, then clunked out to find me a drink. I winced with every strike of blade on concrete.

Brad spat his gum into a trash can beside the sink, pulled on a mask and gloves, then wheeled over to me.

“Stoner said to expect bumps and bruises from blocked shots, maybe some pulled muscles or general aches and pains,” Brad said as he gently examined the wound. I grunted and his pale-green eyes found my face. “Are you sure you don’t want something to numb it? This is going to require a lot of stitches.”

“Just get to work. I really want that Coke.”

“Okay. So I used to play a bit of hockey back in the day.” He started talking as he held up a fine curved needle and threaded it. “Goalie mostly, and, man, did I love it. Then my mother found out—”

“Brad, nothing personal, but I couldn’t give two wild shits about your five minutes tending. Got anything else?”

Brad blinked at my comment.

“I could tell you about the time three of my friends and I went abroad during the summer before our senior year in college.”

“Is there sex in this tale?” I asked as he began dousing the wound with something that made my teeth grind.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, then poked and prodded to get the flap of skin where he wanted it. I closed my eyes when he brought the needle into contact with my arm.

“Then tell me about that trip. And don’t leave out one juicy— Fuck!”

“Coke is great stuff,” I sighed after downing half a can in two gulps. Dan stood across the room. He looked damn good even if he did have helmet hair and no skates on his feet. He was working the inside of his bottom lip with his teeth. I wanted to nibble it for him but kept that suggestion to myself. “So did you get yourself something to drink?”

He nodded. The motion sent a shank of sweat-dried hair into his right eye. He tossed it aside. The need to roll my eyes was freaking overwhelming. Seemed he was in one of his reflective moods. I should have asked Brad the medic to hang around after the stitchery was completed. At least he’d talked.

“Diet root beer, right?” I said to try to lure him into making wordage happen.

“Yeah, diet root beer.”

“I knew it. That’s your go-to drink when you’re stewing.”

His plump lips flattened. “I’m not stewing.”

“Oh yeah, you are. What I don’t get is what you’re stewing about.”

Dan padded over to where I sat on the gurney. He looked even shorter than his five-foot-six-inches with me seated up so high. He was one sexy fucking Hobbit. Buggery in the Shire. I could get into that big time.

“He could have kicked you in the face, blinded you, or worse, hit you in the neck.”

“Pfft,” I countered. Dan’s scowl deepened. “That ignorant dickhead is still trying to recall his rudimentary English. Did you see how fucked up he was after I introduced his thick skull to the floor? Fucking homophobic bastard will think twice before calling you a fag, if he can even think once from now on.”

“Is that what started that? Him calling me a fag?”

“Yeah.”

I tipped up my soda can to drain it. When I’d finished it off, I found Dan staring at me with some emotion I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Concern or maybe confusion, if I had to guess.

“You call me a fag all the time,” he said softly.

“It’s a term of endearment when I call you a sexy little fag in bed,” I replied, then tossed my empty into a trash can in the far corner. “Boom! Nothing but net, sweets.”

When he didn’t reply, I glanced from the trash to him. Okay, he was starting to jazz me up just a little. His eyes were shifting pools of blue, one minute filled with compassion, the next worry, and now, if I was reading them right, passion.

“Dan, you’ve got to know that no one talks bad about you within earshot of me. I’ll kill the motherfucker who dares to run you down.”

I slid off the gurney to my stocking-covered feet. My skates lay beside me on the table, taken off courtesy of Brad the medic.

“He could have blinded you.”

Dan moved fast. His hands fastened onto my head and he tugged my mouth down over his.
Oh. Hell. Yeah.
I was totally on board for this. I wrapped my arms around him and jerked him against my chest. The breath left him when his body slammed into mine. I sucked in that breath, took it deep into my lungs. His tongue slid over mine in a possessive manner that instantly sparked my dominant nature. The kiss fired up, engulfed us and became a battle that we both lost—or won. Depends on your POV. For me it was a major win. I backed him against a cabinet, then dove deeper into his mouth. He finally groaned. I’d been waiting for that sound and I broke the kiss so I could suckle on his salty neck. My hands roamed under his shirt and padding. His did the same. My cock was so hard it throbbed with each racing beat of my heart. I needed to be inside him.

“He could have blinded you,” Dan panted as he worked to get his hand down the front of my pants.

“You worry too much. Fuck, Dan, I missed you, missed this.” I buried my face in his neck, rubbed my rough cheek over the dark whiskers on his jaw and tasted his mouth repeatedly. He eagerly pawed for my dick. If he was up for this, then I would take him right there, bent over the gurney, without a second thought. He was about one cup from the prize when someone knocked discreetly on the door and coughed. It was a light cough, but Dan stiffened in my arms and jerked his fingers out of my pants.

“Brooks is waiting outside,” he huffed, his lips swollen from me assaulting his mouth. I ran my tongue over my lip to gather the faint traces of Dan’s taste lingering on it, my brow resting on his. “We shouldn’t have done this anyway. There’s too much shit between us still that has to be fixed.”

“Fuck Brooks, and fuck saying this shouldn’t have happened. This always happens with us, from the first time we roomed together.” I kissed him gently, trying to ease him into being more pliable and open to my suggestions. It never worked but I always had to try. “This is you and me, Dan. This is why no other man is ever going to take your place. No woman, either. I fucking swear it.” This time it was
me
cupping
his
face between my hands. “Please let me tell you my side of things. I need you back with me, Dan. Just give me an hour.”

“If I asked you to beg me on bended knee for an hour, would you?”

“Yeah, I’d beg,” I whispered.

Dan rose up to kiss me. “I’m sharing a room with my cousin. You got a single?”

“Like anyone beside you would room with me.”

I had to get one more taste before I let him go. It was a good sampling of Dan Arou’s charms, let me tell you. His tongue and mine swirled around each other, my hand on the clammy small of his back, his fingers resting on the band of my padded pants.

“Will you give me an hour?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess an hour,” he whispered, his eyes lazy with lust.

Another soft knock made me mumble dirty words. I stepped away from my addiction. Hardest. Thing. Ever. Dan and I shared a long look before he went to meet his cousin. I could barely walk when he left the room a moment later. I grabbed my stiff dick and tried to get it hidden behind my cup so I could get to the locker room without drawing comments from the peanut gallery. I lingered for a bit, since my boner was not interested in being folded in half to stay inside my cup. My mind wanted to drift to erotic memoires of Dan and me. It took all I possessed to pace that room and think about anything other than feeling Dan writhing beneath me.

Once I had things under control, I headed for the locker room. The rink was quiet. I paused to look at the ice. The Zamboni had been over it. I love the look of new ice. All the gouges and flaws filled in with fresh ice gave me hope for my relationship with Dan. If only a person could drive a Zamboni over the pockmarks and divots in their personality. I turned from the ice and padded to the locker room. I could smell myself. I didn’t smell honkingly gorgeous by any means.

The small locker room was empty save for Buttonwood, who had showered and changed. I cocked an eyebrow at him as I began peeling off my gear. Each layer removed made the stink of unwashed hockey player grow exponentially. When I was down to my balls in the wind, I turned to look at our captain.

“What do you want?” I asked, my bottle of shampoo and my bar of soap in my hands.

“I just wanted to let you know that Prescott has been sent home.” He couldn’t look at me, it seemed, for his eyes danced around the locker room as he spoke.

“Man, you are really uncomfortable with us alternate lifestyle folks, aren’t you?”

His gaze flew from the cart of dirty towels to my face.

“A little, but I’m working on it. Just thought you’d like to know,” he said, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Wasn’t necessary to send him packing,” I threw over my shoulder as I headed to the showers.

“Well, he had a concussion, so yeah, he did have to go. But even if you hadn’t bruised that acorn he calls a brain, I would have sent him off. Professional ice hockey has no place for that kind of bigoted hatred.”

I stopped and turned to face Buttonwood. “You secretly want to join me and Dan, don’t you?” Mike’s eyebrows twitched and the corner of his mouth began ticking wildly. I snorted at his battle not to vomit into his mouth. “Dude, I was kidding. I know you’re as straight as McGarrity’s mother. Very cool sentiment. As one of the letters in LGBT, you have my thanks. Now get out of here before I kiss you on the mouth, you sexy fucking stud-horse you.”

“You don’t really want to kiss me, do you?” he asked, his skin growing more ashen with every passing second.

I glanced down at my limp dick then back at Buttonwood. The man was this close to gagging or passing out.

“Guess not, or little Vic would be all Chuck Connors.”

“Chuck Connors?”

“Standing tall? Fucking A, Buttonwood, if I have to explain the jokes they lose all the yuk-yuk. I’m outie,” I said, then disappeared into the showers.

When I emerged ten minutes later, bandage on my forearm wet and nuts sparkling clean, I found the place deserted. I dressed slowly, easing the wounded arm into a Metallica T-shirt. Jeans up over ass, then feet pushed into sneakers sockless went slowly. My arm hurt more than I would ever admit.

If I were smart, I would go to my hotel room, OD on Tylenol and sleep until I got bedsores. Being Victor Kalinski I was not going to do any of that. Well, maybe the acetaminophen abuse would happen, but none of the other goodness. There were explanations and amends to make. I could rest and recuperate when I was dead.

It was me versus the roll of white gauze when Dan knocked on my door around eight that night. I tossed the unrolled wad onto the bed. Knowing who was on the other side of the door, and the magnitude of what was at stake in the next hour, made me stop and suck in a deep breath before opening the door. Good thing I had. Dan looked like I always picture him in my G-rated memories. Camo shorts, green beater, short white socks and his black Reeboks. His hair had been gelled, by the looks.

“I’m not sure that’s a good look for you,” I said as he lingered in the hall.

“Bite me,” he countered perfectly as he bulled past me to enter my room. I was smiling when I closed the door. It looked like he was going to assert himself right off.

“Just being honest,” I said. Dan picked up the wad of gauze from the coverlet. “I like your hair in your face, or wadded up in my fist while I’m fucking you from behind.”

His thick shoulder muscles twitched. He turned and tossed the gauze to me. Actually, his hair did look good pushed back from his face. It made his Inuit cheekbones that much more pronounced. And man, did it bring your attention to those eyes of his. I dreamed of those lapis eyes, hand to God.

“Don’t make this about sex.”

“I wasn’t,” I said, then tried to wrap my forearm again.

“No, fuck-nuts, you can’t just put the fucking gauze on the stitches. It will stick and pull them out. Stupid damn Pole,” he grumbled, and stalked over to where I stood. He smelled nice and clean, like soap and Dan. A perfect combo guaranteed to make my blood head south just like a goose in winter. “Give me that and sit down on the bed.”

I did as he asked without saying a word. Yes, I expect a gold star. Dan grabbed an upholstered chair from the corner and dragged it over. He sat across from me, my arm resting on my elbow as he fiddled with the medical supplies I’d picked up on the way from the rink.

“I got a call from Lambert about half an hour ago,” Dan said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Seems Buttonwood filled him in on the ‘situation’. Let me see your arm.” I extended my left arm. The gash was red and tender. Dan’s hand cradling my forearm was warm and just a little damp. I guessed he was nervous. “Lambert says we—and that means all those who aren’t het—are safe in his locker room. He seemed genuinely upset about the shit with Prescott.”

“I suspect old Phil the Homophobe will be doing some mandatory counseling.”

“This looks really sore,” Dan noted as he turned my arm slightly one way then the other. He wasn’t making eye contact, so my assumption about him being nervous seemed to be on the mark. “Do you think counseling will help?”

“Not in the least. Yeah, don’t poke it, okay? That hurts.”

“Sorry,” he whispered. He quit prodding at the neat black sutures and picked up a white paper package.

“To your question, no, I don’t think counseling will help. You don’t just erase a lifetime of hatred with a team-mandated ten hours of talking to Dr. Veronica Mindprod.”

I enjoyed seeing him play nurse. He tore open the packet and extracted a white square.

“True. Hold that in place. You need two. Every time I see this it pisses me off all over again.”

Dan ripped open another package then slapped the second bandage into place. I hissed. His gaze leaped from my left arm to my face. We fixated on each other. Gazes locked, we sat there stupidly staring into each other’s eyes. The fucking Lifetime weekly chick flicks had nothing on us. If I hadn’t been so overwhelmed with a billion things to say, I would have been disgusted by how menstrual I was acting.

“I’m sorry about everything, Dan. I know you weren’t ready to come out yet. If we hadn’t been fighting about the trouble my dick gets me into it—”

“Stop using your dick as an excuse for poor judgment.” He jerked his gaze from mine and returned to futzing over my arm.

“Right, yeah, true words there. I guess I chose to bang Heather that night just like I chose to stay as drunk as I could manage after you left me.” I really wanted to grab him and shake him to make him hear me.

Dan nodded as he slowly began wrapping the nasty gash on my forearm.

“I’m trying to make better decisions now.”

His gaze flickered to mine.

“Seriously,” I added.

Dan looked back down. I unconsciously sucked in some air between my teeth. He shuddered.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Dan, I know I fucked up. I guess I didn’t really consider us to be in a relationship. I mean, we wanted each other bad, and there was something starting, but you were gone. I didn’t know if we would ever be together again, and I was weak. I fell into a pattern that I knew from my childhood even though I had sworn I would never act like her.”

“Your mother, you mean,” he said as he worked with incredible tenderness. “We’re products of our environments, babe.”

A thrill ran through me to hear him use that word. That was in-the-dark-of-the-night wordage there. It was what he whispered to me as we held each other after sex, what he cooed into my ear in private. I called him “sweets” in those special, intimate times. He called me “babe”.

“Guess so. Anyway, no excuses, I fucked up. I know that. I want you back, Dan. I love you.”

He stopped wrapping for a moment and I found myself drowning in lapis.

“What about Heather and the baby?”

“What about them? I’m paying for all her medical bills and for her last year of college. She’s a nursing student.” I plugged that bit of info in so that Dan could see that I’d spent a bit of time talking with the woman. His mouth flattened and he returned to playing Nurse Ratched. Did he want to hear more or not? “I’m not planning on doing the whole dad thing, Dan.”

His gaze flew from my bandaged arm to my face. “Why not?”

“Um, because I’m a fucktard with an alcohol abuse issue and a slightly abrasive personality and mouth,” I stammered after the shock wore off.

Dan shook his head and pushed my arm back against my chest then held it there. He had leaned forward slightly. His breath, which was minty clean, warmed my face.

“I don’t want you to feel weird about it? Dan, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say here.”

“Say what you’re feeling.”

“I’m fucking terrified of you, Heather, the kid and the knowledge that if I don’t produce big-time this will be my last season in the Boston franchise. I get one season to make things right or I’m a twenty-four-year-old flash in the pan.”

There. It was out. Every fucking bit of it. Gut knotted tight, pulse pounding in my ears, my entire fucked-up existence now hanging on what one short Canuck said.

“Why are you scared of me?” he asked a full thirty seconds later.

“Because you’re the only person who ever loved me and if you don’t come back to me I’m pretty much over.”

He leaned forward just another few inches. His lips settled on mine. Soft, fat, warm, moist, and so soothing, his mouth pressured mine into a response. I kissed him back passionately. Dan knew how to kiss. He knew how to incite me. His tongue flicked over mine then retreated. I lunged for him, my ass leaving the mattress. Dan was ready. He shoved me back onto the bed using the bandaged forearm still resting on my chest. I was already fighting for breath. He stood between my legs, looking down at me with fire leaping in his blue eyes.

“You promise me two things and I’ll forgive you. Don’t agree before you hear them, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” I murmured, worry beginning to nip at the edges of the lust cloud fogging my head.

“One is that you never lie to me again.”

“You don’t want a vow about cheating?”

“No, because I know you love me enough to be faithful now.”

“Fucking right,” I replied.

One side of his Elvis Presley mouth twitched upward. He believed me. Yeah, he knew he had me for as long as he could stand me, the short, sexy shit. It was all good. Now to get him out of those clothes and onto all fours so I could get balls-deep in that tight ass of—

“The second condition is that I want you to try to be a part of the baby’s life if it turns out to be yours.”

My train of thought hit a stalled gas tanker on the crossing. Big boom with lots of fire and squealing of metal wheels happened inside my head. I was surprised that smoke wasn’t leaking out of my ears.

“What?” There it was. A word.

Try linking a few more together, Victor, you moronic twatwaffle.

“Promise me you’ll try. Every kid needs a father, Vic. Imagine how different your life would have been if you’d known your dad.”

I sat up and gaped at him. “You grew up in the fucking Cleaver household, Dan. My life was screwed from the moment sperm penetrated egg. You want me to pass along all that toxic to some poor kid who’s the result of yet two more drunken assholes fucking without protection?”

“I just want you to try, Vic. Just try. You really have potential to love people deeply.”

“Arou, have you been smoking dried moose dung again, or whatever you Canadians puff?”

He dropped down into a crouch between my spread knees. His hands rested on my thighs. My balls felt heavier just seeing him in that position.

“Nah, nothing like that.” He chuckled lightly. “I think this kid could do wonders for you, Vic. How long will it take to get the results?”

“I don’t know. A couple of weeks I think the lab tech said. Depends on the backlog or something. What about you? Seeing that kid would be like poking a sore all the time. No, no way, man,” I shook my head, then reached for him, both my hands diving into his stiff hair. I ran my fingers through the dark mass. “No way I ever fuck up what we have for someone else.”

“I’m good,” he said.

It was a lie. I could tell, but I didn’t know what to do or say, so I kept pushing my fingers through his hair until his bangs fell into his eyes. That was the look I craved.

“I am,” he added, then pushed up from his crouch. I buried my face against his stomach and linked my arms around his waist. “I’m good. This is bigger than what you and me want, Vic.” He started combing my short red hair with his fingers. “This kid will need us.”

“
I
need you,” I grunted, then burrowed my nose deeper into his belly. “If I say I’ll think about it, will that do you for now?”

“Yeah, yeah, it will do for now.”

I pulled his shirt up his back until the front slid up enough to show me his navel. I nipped around his bellybutton, then speared the tiny indentation with my tongue. Dan’s grip on my head intensified as I lapped at his stomach.

“Tell me what I want to hear, Dan.”

I cupped his ass and squeezed hard. His hips flexed forward. My jaw brushed against his hard-on. It was me who moaned this time.

“I wonder why I put up with you, Kalinski,” he panted before moving his hands from my hair to my shoulders.

He pushed. I fell backward. Dan climbed over me. That made thinking harder.

“Not that. Say it. Say you want me back. Say you love me. Let me hear it, Dan, please.”

His leg settled between mine. I welcomed his weight on me as he played at being top man. Dan peppered kisses along my mouth and jaw line as he gyrated against me. Hard cock scrubbed hard cock. We had worked each other into a foamy froth when the words tumbled from him.

“I forgive you,” he whispered beside my ear.

My eyes closed for a moment, just long enough to let me savor hearing that. Then I rolled him onto his back. He went willingly, no fight or tussle, no attempts to wrestle me into submission. I covered his mouth with mine. The kiss was long, hot, wet and noisy. When we broke apart, it was for two things—air and clothing removal. Shoes, socks, pants and shirts flew in different directions. When we came back together, it was slick and fevered. I was all over him, desperate to get into him. Dan, it seemed, was just as desperate to have me inside him. He pulled on my cock with firm tugs as we plundered each other’s mouths.

“Fuck me,” he whimpered several moments later. He was on his back, his hair wet with sweat, his eyes glowing and his lips puffy. “Fuck me now, Vic,” he begged. As if I could ever deny him any request.

“We need lube,” I panted, then kissed him quick and hard. He whimpered something that sounded like “Damn it”. I smiled and lowered my head so that I could suck on his dark-brown nipple. The flat nubbin peaked against my tongue. Dan trembled under me, his body tight, tanned and perfect. “Don’t worry. We’ll get each other off, sweets.”

I slithered down his body, my hands touching as my mouth tasted. Dan spread his legs for me. My knees hit the carpet and I fell on him like a half-starved hyena. I deep throated his cock. He bucked wildly. I gagged a bit, then placed a firm hand to his stomach. His fingers wrapped tightly around my forearm. I jerked my wounded arm free.

“Sorry, Vic, sorry, it’s just… Oh God, use your teeth. Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

My hand cupped his balls. I rolled, bounced and squeezed as I suckled harder and harder. Dan heaved upward when he came. Tears formed in my eyes as he pumped in and out of my mouth. The thick, salty taste of him coating my tongue and throat made me moan with delight. Nothing tastes better than Dan Arou in your mouth does. His body convulsed. I pulled back from his prick. Spunk dribbled out of him. I fisted his pulsing prick and licked it like a freezer pop.

“Damn it, Vic,” he grumbled while fighting for breath. “Fucker.”

“Not my fault you can’t hold out, Frodo,” I taunted, using my tongue to clean the round head of his dick. He pushed up to lean on his elbows. I looked right at him as I continued to mouth his cock.

“You look so good with my dick in your mouth.” Dan smiled. “Come here—let me take care of you.”

“No,” I said, then pushed his dick flat to his pelvis so I could suckle his balls. He spread his legs wider. I kneeled before him, tasting and tonguing every inch of him, from asshole to toes then slowly back up to his mouth. His hands roamed over me, touching and teasing, probing my rosette as I ran my teeth over his collarbone. “We need lube. When I come it has to be deep inside you.”

“Yeah, lube, come here.” He pulled me up, kissed me soundly, then rolled out from under me. I fell face-first into the bed, then promptly rolled over. “You sure you don’t want me to suck you off?”