Fire and Ice - Chapter 29
Jack makes a new friend.
Pairing: Ennis/Jack
Setting: AU/AU
Rating: NC-17 for the whole story
Disclaimer: The characters of Ennis and Jack belong to the fabulously talented Annie Proulx. No disrespect is intended. Any OCs are mine.
Summary: Ennis del Mar is a defenseman and Jack Twist a left wing on a minor-league hockey team who meet when Ennis is assigned to Jack’s team.
Feedback: Yes, please. Always welcome.
Warnings: M/m smex, drinking, homophobia, foul language, angst, injuries, more smex, and occasionally some hockey thrown in.
Thanks to: Fizzerbass, rmina, bcatjr, samtyr, cynical21-you all rock!
Special Awards and Recognition to the Best Little Wannabe Zamboni Driver out there-Heidi.
J If you ask Mike nicely, he might let you ride the Zam with Mu-tang.
Dedicated to: former NHLer John Kordic. Miss you, buddy.
Chapter 29
After the win over Michiwaga, Jeff and Pierre tried to get Jack to go to the hotel bar with them but he didn’t want to go. He was still feeling so low over Ennis that he knew he wouldn’t be good company, so he turned them down.
He sat on his bed propped up against the pillows, staring into space and flipping the TV remote in his hand. He scrolled through the online guide, but there was nothing he wanted to watch, not even porn. Picking up a book, he tried to concentrate, but the words swam in front of his eyes.
I wonder what he’s doing right now.
Jack looked at his watch. It’s 9 p.m. there, he realized. I bet he’s hanging around the house with his parents, or out with his friends. Maybe he’s not up to going out yet. Maybe he’s just sitting around…like me…maybe he’s thinking about me?
No, don’t even think about it, he cautioned himself as he looked at the texting feature on his phone. Do not text him. Don’t call him, don’t do anything. This is up to him. Come on, asshole- have some pride. He’s the one who was going to leave without even saying anything. He needs to make the first step.
If he ever does.
Jack looked at his watch again. Fuck this shit. He picked up the phone and dialed “0” for the front desk.
“This is Cherie, how may I help you?”
“Hi, this is Jack Twist in 612. Can you call me a cab, please?”
“Certainly, sir. Should I call you and let you know when it arrives?”
“Yes, thank you.” He hung up and went to the closet and changed into jeans, a tight black t-shirt and a red sweater, still wondering what the hell had happened to his red coffee shop t-shirt; he hadn’t been able to find it for a couple of weeks and figured he’d left it in some hotel on the road.
He washed his face and combed his hair, and then stared at himself in the mirror.
This is it. Time to move on. It’s over with him; I have to accept that now. He’s been gone over two months…two months with no phone calls, no word, no nothing. He’s made it so I have to hear everything about him and his surgery through the team. If that’s what he really wants, then I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.
The phone rang, announcing his cab. He went down to the lobby and out the doors, and once inside the cab, he asked the driver to take him to the nearest gay bar. Without batting an eye, the driver pulled away from the curb, leaving Jack’s heart behind at the hotel.
***
Jack was nursing a double Crown on the rocks when the bartender, a friendly, doughy sort, put another drink in front of him.
“I didn’t order this,” Jack looked up at him.
“The gentleman in the booth over there did,” the bartender pointed, “and wanted me to ask you if you would like to join him.”
Jack’s head swiveled and he squinted in the direction of the pointed finger of the bartender. In a million years he never would have guessed who’d sent him the drink, even if it had been printed on a marquee with blinking lights and a siren.
He turned back to his drink, shock and surprise careening through his body. What the hell is he doing here? was his first thought, and Duh, it’s a gay bar, was his second. But then the thought occurred to him that maybe the other man didn’t know it was a gay bar. Jack glanced around surreptitiously. A few men were sitting alone at tables while others played darts; a seemingly-lesbian couple was sitting on the same side of a booth, eating appetizers and watching videos on the big screen TV; and a small group of men sitting at the bar was being flirted with by the other, younger bartender. Oh yeah, he has to know, thought Jack. He ran his finger in circles on the bar, thinking about going over, weighing his alternatives. I can leave right now-just nod, thank him for the drink, and leave. It wouldn’t be rude. Or send him one back and say thanks but no thanks. Or…
He didn’t even want to think about the third option, even as he found himself sliding off the barstool and taking his drink to join his host.
He looked down as he reached the table and announced the other man’s name. “Brady McKay.”
“Jack Twist,” replied the other man with a big smile, extending his hand so he could shake Jack’s. “Good game tonight.”
“Maybe for you, but I sucked,” admitted Jack as he slid onto the circular leather banquette, careful to keep some distance between himself and Brady. He still found it disconcerting that he was sitting in a gay bar with a man he had played against only an hour before.
“Yeah, you did,” Brady chuckled, and that made Jack laugh. “Why?”
“Huh?” asked Jack.
“Why did you suck so bad?” asked Brady. “Shit, you were like a lost puppy out there, four steps behind everyone else. It’s not like you to have a game like that.”
That was the problem with hockey players-they could always tell right away when someone was having an off-night.
“Uh, just some personal crap going on. It’ll pass,” Jack replied more casually than he felt, wanting to change the conversation.
“Mm,” mused Brady, pointing at Jack’s glass. “That stuff helping?”
Jack looked at him with a level stare. “Helps me forget.”
Brady raised his glass in a toast. “That it does,” he agreed, downing his vodka. “Nothing like a good stiff shot to help you forget whoever it is you want to forget.”
“Who said it was a ‘who’?” asked Jack in irritation. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure. Although ‘why are you here?’ is probably a moot question at this point,” Brady noted carefully, looking up at Jack from under his eyelashes, which Jack noticed fringed very attractive green eyes.
“Yeah. I’m guessing we’re beyond ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’.”
Brady nodded. “Never knew you were,” he said, looking at Jack over the rim of his glass, not having to explain what he meant.
“You either. This your hangout?” Jack looked around at the dark wood and furnishings that reminded him of an old English pub.
“Yeah, I guess. It does the trick,” Brady countered. He was smooth, Jack had to give him that, but he never would have guessed that Brady McKay, darling of the USHL, was gay. He was the poster boy for the league, 24 years old, dark-haired and handsome, willing to do just about anything to promote his game and his team. His triple-threat ability to score, fight and ignite the crowd made him a fan favorite, and from what Jack had heard, he was quite the ladies’ man. Guess I heard wrong on that last one.
“Aren’t you taking an awfully big chance, being in a gay bar in your own town?” asked Jack, curious to know.
Brady sighed. “You know, I really don’t care,” he admitted. “I’m not keeping it a huge secret, obviously. Someone’s going to see me and say something eventually. But I just can’t worry about it anymore. I kind of live by the ‘live and let live’ credo. If someone wants to out me, there’s not much I can do about it. But I’m not going to deny it, either.”
“Aren’t you afraid of losing your career?” asked Jack, realizing he sounded just like Ennis.
“Sure,” the other man replied. “But I can do two things: act like it’s no big deal and maybe it won’t be, or I can leave with my tail between my legs. I won’t know till it happens, and until then, c’est la vie.”
Jack had to admire his guts. “Does everyone here,” Jack gestured around the bar, “know who you are?”
“I guess,” Brady shrugged. “But it’s a small community. We kind of keep to ourselves and so far no one’s given me any hassle.”
Jack sighed, mulling over Brady’s words. He then picked up his glass and drained it.
“You’re upset about something,” Brady noticed.
“Thanks, Sherlock,” Jack said sarcastically as he made move to leave. “Look, thanks for the drink, but I gotta go.”
Brady stopped him with a strong hand on his arm. “Go where?” he asked plainly, leaving his hand where it was when Jack didn’t move, and lowered his voice. “Back to your hotel so you can lay in your bed alone, thinking about whoever it is you don’t want to be thinking about, deciding whether jerking off over him is a good idea or not?” He sighed when Jack shot him a venomous glare. “Sorry. You just look like you’re in a lot of pain and I thought…”
“What? You thought you’d take advantage of it?” shot Jack.
“No,” Brady countered. “Look, I was as shocked to see you in here as you were to see me, so we’re even. But I just thought you might want to talk or…whatever.” He paused, signaling to the bartender for more drinks. “Never mind. Sorry I asked.”
Jack stared at him, rolling everything over in his mind until the drinks were brought to the table and the bartender left. “What exactly were you asking?”
Brady smirked. “You know what I’m asking. But you’re not in the mood, so forget it.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Jack snapped harshly, and then immediately regretted it. It wasn’t Brady’s fault his heart was broken and only one person could put it back together. “Look, I’m getting over...something. Just so you know. It’s been a bad couple of months.”
“I can see that,” he countered. “I just thought that maybe, for a little while, we could both feel better. After all, we could’ve gone to any bar if we’d just wanted to get shit-faced, but we both ended up here.”
Jack couldn’t argue with that logic. It was a gay bar, after all, and that’s what he had asked the cab driver for. He looked over at Brady, who actually had quite a nice smile, and he was grateful it didn’t resemble one belonging to a certain blondish defenseman with a quirky dimple and chocolate brown eyes. “Where did you say your place was?” he asked directly.
“I didn’t,” Brady replied, draining his drink in three gulps. He leaned closer to Jack, who felt the other man’s thigh move against his under the table. “But it’s close by and I drive fast.”
Jack stared down into his drink, almost saying no, wanting desperately to say no. Despising himself for what he was about to do, he found himself able to think only one thought: God dammit, I hate you, Ennis del Mar.
“Let’s go,” he said.
***
Brady opened the door to his apartment and let Jack in first. He turned to the table by the door and threw his keys on it as Jack looked around suspiciously.
“Don’t worry,” Brady said, “I don’t have a roommate. Too much hassle.”
“Tell me about it,” Jack murmured unhappily.
Before Jack knew it, Brady had him up against the wall, his lips burning Jack’s, his hands roaming dangerously close to Jack’s zipper.
Brady’s lips roamed over Jack’s neck. “God, you taste good.”
Jack closed his eyes and tried to give in. He had to hand it to Brady: his only talents weren’t on the ice. His fingers on Jack’s stomach were warm and skilled; his mouth left a trail of fire.
But it’s not him.
As he grabbed Brady’s ass, Jack shook the thought of Ennis from his mind, but like a ghost it kept haunting him.
I hate you, Ennis. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You did this to me.
There was no response.
There was, however, response from the man who currently had Jack pushed up against the wall, his groin grinding into Jack’s hip. Brady’s hand grabbed Jack’s and placed it squarely on his crotch.
“You wanna do this?” he whispered.
Do I? Do I want someone else, someone who wants me, even if it’s only one night? Jack closed his eyes, then opened them and looked at Brady. Fuck you, Ennis.
“Yeah,” Jack grunted, grabbing Brady’s hair and pulling his head back. “Where?”
Brady pulled him from the wall and propelled him down the hallway to his bedroom, where he sat Jack on the bed. Brady got down on his knees and before Jack knew what was happening, his jeans were down around his ankles and Brady’s dark head was between his thighs, and he felt his cock being engulfed in hot, wet enticement.
“Fuuuuck,” Jack rasped, grabbing Brady’s hair again. It didn’t stop him; in fact, the pain from having his hair pulled seemed to urge Brady on. He dipped and licked and tugged like he’d been sucking cock all his life, and it worked. Jack felt himself harden, wanting it and not wanting it at the same time, wondering if he’d ever feel Ennis’s mouth on him like this ever again. He closed his eyes and cursed the spell Ennis had put on him.
I hate you Ennis, he thought again as Brady urged him faster and faster toward the brink. Just please let me hate you so I can go on with my life.
Suddenly Brady pulled off and wiped his mouth. “I don’t want to waste this on a blow job. You top or bottom?”
Jack winced, remembering those same words coming from the man he couldn’t stop loving and couldn’t stop thinking about. But he couldn’t hesitate now; even though he wasn’t with the man he wanted to be with, he was with a man who was interested and was attractive in his own right.
“Top,” said Jack authoritatively. Brady grinned and grabbed a condom and lube from his bedside drawer.
“You want me to put it on?” he offered with youthful enthusiasm. Jack shook his head no and, taking the items from Brady, got himself ready. When Brady was naked, Jack grabbed him roughly and pushed him down on the bed on his hands and knees.
Brady mumbled something as Jack primed his ass with lube. Jack didn’t ask what he’d said; he didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear anything from anyone but Ennis, and he knew that wasn’t going to happen, probably ever again. Goddammit, am I ever going to be able to be with anyone else and not compare them to him?
Brady pushed back as Jack parted his ass and eased a finger in. “Two,” Brady gasped, and Jack put another finger in. He searched until he found Brady’s prostate and stroked it, and the other man moaned.
“Fuck, Jack…that feels great.”
Jack was silent; he knew it wasn’t fair to Brady but he didn’t care. He wasn’t here to talk or cuddle or make love; he was here to fuck someone, and fuck someone else out of his system. He made a mental note to apologize to Brady later, but for right now, all he wanted to do was get in, get off, and get out.
He pulled his fingers out roughly, but Brady didn’t seem to mind, judging from his shuddering reaction. Jack felt sick at his indifference to Brady, but it couldn’t be helped.
“You want me to fuck you?” he asked roughly.
“Yeah. Hard.”
So maybe he’s feeling the same way, Jack thought. Maybe he’s just here to fuck, too. That made it easier. Jack lubed himself up and pushed in, popping past the ring of muscle and thrusting hard.
“That what you want?” he asked dispassionately.
“Yeah. Goddamn, Jack, you’re fucking big,” Brady grunted as he pushed back, meeting him thrust for thrust. “We shoulda…hooked up a long…time ago.”
“I was busy.”
“I bet.”
They continued thrusting and fucking for a while, and then Jack felt a familiar rush. He slammed into Brady a few more times, emptying himself inside the condom, feeling Brady shake and call out as his own orgasm consumed him. They collapsed, sweating and shaking, onto the big bed, Jack pulling out and turning away from Brady, trying to collect himself and deal with the immediate shame and disgust that followed. Brady was a nice guy and all, Jack reasoned, and handsome as hell; good in the sack too. And his attitude about being gay appealed to Jack. But he wasn’t---dammit, stop thinking about him. It’s over. Just stop it.
He felt the other man’s hand smooth down his hip. “That was great,” whispered Brady. “A bit quick, but-hey, you know.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“I’m not blaming you. Obviously it’s been awhile for both of us. Sometimes you just have to get that first one out of the way,” he laughed, but Jack didn’t join him. First one? thought Jack. Does he really think we’re going to do this again?
Brady reached over the side of the bed, grabbed tissues and cleaned himself off, and then offered Jack some. Jack wiped up and took off the condom, tying it and tossing it in the trash. He turned back to see Brady, his big arm supporting his head, laying there buck-naked and looking sexy. He was staring at Jack.
“What?” Jack asked, irritated, not wanting to get into conversation.
“Who are you trying to forget?” he asked bluntly.
Jack sighed, knowing conversation was inevitable. “No one you know.”
“So it’s not Ennis?”
Jack froze. “What? How did you know-“ He stopped, knowing he had said too much.
Brady flashed a knowing smile. “So it’s true about you guys?”
“N-no,” Jack stammered, turning red. “No, it’s not true. Hell no.”
Brady sat up and Jack noticed his huge thighs for the first time. To Jack’s surprise, he laughed. “That’s got to be the lamest denial I’ve ever heard. Come on, everyone knows about you guys.”
Jack felt his chest tighten. Feeling like his lungs had turned into blocks of concrete, he just stared at Brady, depressed and scared.
Brady leaned over and put his hand on Jack’s thigh in comfort, but he pulled it away when Jack flinched. “I’m sorry to tell you, but people have been talking about this for awhile. When Ennis got hurt, your game hit the shits. It didn’t take a math professor to add two and two and come up with four. You guys lived together, and rumor has it you didn’t see one without the other. Is that true?”
Jack’s lips trembled, and he looked down at the bed so Brady wouldn’t see. Shit, he knows…everyone knows…Ennis would be shitting bricks if he heard all this...
“There’s nothing wrong with having a broken heart,” Brady assured him. “Does he know how you feel?”
Jack wasn’t sure how much to say. “I told him. He said he felt the same.” He looked at Brady and knew from the look on his face that he could trust him. “Then he fucking got scared and left.”
“Have you guys been together for awhile?” asked Brady.
Jack sighed. “Yeah. Ennis and I had kind of come to a conclusion that there was nothing we could do until we were out of hockey. Then-he changed. He got weird again, just before he got hurt. And then he gave me some bullshit story about going home to have his knee done by his surgeon back home, and he fucking left.”
“And I take it you haven’t heard from him,” Brady replied.
Jack shook his head.
“Where’s he at?”
“Calgary.”
“That’s a bitch,” Brady mused. “Jack, I don’t know what to tell you. Some guys are completely freaked out about anyone knowing about them. I mean, with us being athletes, we have it harder than other gay guys, even. It sounds like Ennis is scared and can’t deal with it.” He paused. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. I wish I could find someone like you did.”
“Yeah, for whatever it was worth,” Jack said sadly. He felt a little better talking to someone about it, someone else who was gay and who could understand. Something, though, was bothering Jack. “How’d you know about us?”
“Ah, the usual rumors and suspicions,” Brady replied casually, like it was no big deal. “You know about Cagney and Lacey, right?”
Jack nodded.
“There’s a rumor that Paul Dilson on the Bees is one of us. And Eric James, Alain Desmarais... oh, and I think just maybe we might have Ben Patterson on our team too.”
Jack sat there, open-mouthed, and Brady laughed.
“Ben Patterson?” asked Jack in surprise.
“Oh yeah! Now, that’s just a rumor, but I’m thinkin’ he likes a bit of the ass-action.”
Jack laughed out loud at that. “Isn’t he married?”
Brady nodded, a shit-eating grin on his face. “He was. The rumour is that his wife caught him in what is called a compromising situation. With a dude. In their bed.”
Jack laughed again. “Holy shit. Wait till I tell En-“
His face fell, and Brady noticed.
“Jack,” he said, reaching out to touch him on the arm, “I hope everything works out for you guys. I can see how this is hurting you.”
He grinned, albeit sadly. “So-did you lie in the bar about not taking advantage of me, if you knew Ennis was gone?”
Brady held up his thumb and index finger about a quarter inch apart. “Okay, I lied this much.”
Jack looked down at the bedclothes as he chuckled.
“What can I say?” Brady shrugged, grinning. “I was shocked to see you in the bar, but you’re hot so I figured it was worth a shot.”
“Thanks,” Jack managed, smiling up at him. “You’re not so bad yourself. And listen-I’m sorry if I was kind of a dick. Like I said, I’m still dealing with this bullshit.”
Brady waved a hand. “Consider it forgotten.” He paused. “And I probably shouldn’t say this, but what the fuck-if you guys end up apart, give me a call, okay?” He smiled at him, and Jack managed to smile back as Brady turned and grabbed a pen and paper off the bedside table, offering Jack a great view of his tight, hard butt. “Here’s my number. Maybe we can hook up when we play each other again…get dinner or something.”
“Or something,” Jack replied, taking the paper from him. “Gimme that- I’ll give you mine.”
As he wrote down his number, he couldn’t believe that he was actually doing it-giving another man his number. But if anyone knew what he could be going through, it would be Brady McKay, and Jack figured that he couldn’t have too many friends. Even if they just ended up being fuck-buddies, it wasn’t as bad as having sex alone, and that’s all he was destined to have since the one person in the world he had loved had left him.
Tbc…
Pairing: Ennis/Jack
Setting: AU/AU
Rating: NC-17 for the whole story
Disclaimer: The characters of Ennis and Jack belong to the fabulously talented Annie Proulx. No disrespect is intended. Any OCs are mine.
Summary: Ennis del Mar is a defenseman and Jack Twist a left wing on a minor-league hockey team who meet when Ennis is assigned to Jack’s team.
Feedback: Yes, please. Always welcome.
Warnings: M/m smex, drinking, homophobia, foul language, angst, injuries, more smex, and occasionally some hockey thrown in.
Thanks to: Fizzerbass, rmina, bcatjr, samtyr, cynical21-you all rock!
Special Awards and Recognition to the Best Little Wannabe Zamboni Driver out there-Heidi.
J If you ask Mike nicely, he might let you ride the Zam with Mu-tang.
Dedicated to: former NHLer John Kordic. Miss you, buddy.
Chapter 29
After the win over Michiwaga, Jeff and Pierre tried to get Jack to go to the hotel bar with them but he didn’t want to go. He was still feeling so low over Ennis that he knew he wouldn’t be good company, so he turned them down.
He sat on his bed propped up against the pillows, staring into space and flipping the TV remote in his hand. He scrolled through the online guide, but there was nothing he wanted to watch, not even porn. Picking up a book, he tried to concentrate, but the words swam in front of his eyes.
I wonder what he’s doing right now.
Jack looked at his watch. It’s 9 p.m. there, he realized. I bet he’s hanging around the house with his parents, or out with his friends. Maybe he’s not up to going out yet. Maybe he’s just sitting around…like me…maybe he’s thinking about me?
No, don’t even think about it, he cautioned himself as he looked at the texting feature on his phone. Do not text him. Don’t call him, don’t do anything. This is up to him. Come on, asshole- have some pride. He’s the one who was going to leave without even saying anything. He needs to make the first step.
If he ever does.
Jack looked at his watch again. Fuck this shit. He picked up the phone and dialed “0” for the front desk.
“This is Cherie, how may I help you?”
“Hi, this is Jack Twist in 612. Can you call me a cab, please?”
“Certainly, sir. Should I call you and let you know when it arrives?”
“Yes, thank you.” He hung up and went to the closet and changed into jeans, a tight black t-shirt and a red sweater, still wondering what the hell had happened to his red coffee shop t-shirt; he hadn’t been able to find it for a couple of weeks and figured he’d left it in some hotel on the road.
He washed his face and combed his hair, and then stared at himself in the mirror.
This is it. Time to move on. It’s over with him; I have to accept that now. He’s been gone over two months…two months with no phone calls, no word, no nothing. He’s made it so I have to hear everything about him and his surgery through the team. If that’s what he really wants, then I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.
The phone rang, announcing his cab. He went down to the lobby and out the doors, and once inside the cab, he asked the driver to take him to the nearest gay bar. Without batting an eye, the driver pulled away from the curb, leaving Jack’s heart behind at the hotel.
***
Jack was nursing a double Crown on the rocks when the bartender, a friendly, doughy sort, put another drink in front of him.
“I didn’t order this,” Jack looked up at him.
“The gentleman in the booth over there did,” the bartender pointed, “and wanted me to ask you if you would like to join him.”
Jack’s head swiveled and he squinted in the direction of the pointed finger of the bartender. In a million years he never would have guessed who’d sent him the drink, even if it had been printed on a marquee with blinking lights and a siren.
He turned back to his drink, shock and surprise careening through his body. What the hell is he doing here? was his first thought, and Duh, it’s a gay bar, was his second. But then the thought occurred to him that maybe the other man didn’t know it was a gay bar. Jack glanced around surreptitiously. A few men were sitting alone at tables while others played darts; a seemingly-lesbian couple was sitting on the same side of a booth, eating appetizers and watching videos on the big screen TV; and a small group of men sitting at the bar was being flirted with by the other, younger bartender. Oh yeah, he has to know, thought Jack. He ran his finger in circles on the bar, thinking about going over, weighing his alternatives. I can leave right now-just nod, thank him for the drink, and leave. It wouldn’t be rude. Or send him one back and say thanks but no thanks. Or…
He didn’t even want to think about the third option, even as he found himself sliding off the barstool and taking his drink to join his host.
He looked down as he reached the table and announced the other man’s name. “Brady McKay.”
“Jack Twist,” replied the other man with a big smile, extending his hand so he could shake Jack’s. “Good game tonight.”
“Maybe for you, but I sucked,” admitted Jack as he slid onto the circular leather banquette, careful to keep some distance between himself and Brady. He still found it disconcerting that he was sitting in a gay bar with a man he had played against only an hour before.
“Yeah, you did,” Brady chuckled, and that made Jack laugh. “Why?”
“Huh?” asked Jack.
“Why did you suck so bad?” asked Brady. “Shit, you were like a lost puppy out there, four steps behind everyone else. It’s not like you to have a game like that.”
That was the problem with hockey players-they could always tell right away when someone was having an off-night.
“Uh, just some personal crap going on. It’ll pass,” Jack replied more casually than he felt, wanting to change the conversation.
“Mm,” mused Brady, pointing at Jack’s glass. “That stuff helping?”
Jack looked at him with a level stare. “Helps me forget.”
Brady raised his glass in a toast. “That it does,” he agreed, downing his vodka. “Nothing like a good stiff shot to help you forget whoever it is you want to forget.”
“Who said it was a ‘who’?” asked Jack in irritation. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure. Although ‘why are you here?’ is probably a moot question at this point,” Brady noted carefully, looking up at Jack from under his eyelashes, which Jack noticed fringed very attractive green eyes.
“Yeah. I’m guessing we’re beyond ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’.”
Brady nodded. “Never knew you were,” he said, looking at Jack over the rim of his glass, not having to explain what he meant.
“You either. This your hangout?” Jack looked around at the dark wood and furnishings that reminded him of an old English pub.
“Yeah, I guess. It does the trick,” Brady countered. He was smooth, Jack had to give him that, but he never would have guessed that Brady McKay, darling of the USHL, was gay. He was the poster boy for the league, 24 years old, dark-haired and handsome, willing to do just about anything to promote his game and his team. His triple-threat ability to score, fight and ignite the crowd made him a fan favorite, and from what Jack had heard, he was quite the ladies’ man. Guess I heard wrong on that last one.
“Aren’t you taking an awfully big chance, being in a gay bar in your own town?” asked Jack, curious to know.
Brady sighed. “You know, I really don’t care,” he admitted. “I’m not keeping it a huge secret, obviously. Someone’s going to see me and say something eventually. But I just can’t worry about it anymore. I kind of live by the ‘live and let live’ credo. If someone wants to out me, there’s not much I can do about it. But I’m not going to deny it, either.”
“Aren’t you afraid of losing your career?” asked Jack, realizing he sounded just like Ennis.
“Sure,” the other man replied. “But I can do two things: act like it’s no big deal and maybe it won’t be, or I can leave with my tail between my legs. I won’t know till it happens, and until then, c’est la vie.”
Jack had to admire his guts. “Does everyone here,” Jack gestured around the bar, “know who you are?”
“I guess,” Brady shrugged. “But it’s a small community. We kind of keep to ourselves and so far no one’s given me any hassle.”
Jack sighed, mulling over Brady’s words. He then picked up his glass and drained it.
“You’re upset about something,” Brady noticed.
“Thanks, Sherlock,” Jack said sarcastically as he made move to leave. “Look, thanks for the drink, but I gotta go.”
Brady stopped him with a strong hand on his arm. “Go where?” he asked plainly, leaving his hand where it was when Jack didn’t move, and lowered his voice. “Back to your hotel so you can lay in your bed alone, thinking about whoever it is you don’t want to be thinking about, deciding whether jerking off over him is a good idea or not?” He sighed when Jack shot him a venomous glare. “Sorry. You just look like you’re in a lot of pain and I thought…”
“What? You thought you’d take advantage of it?” shot Jack.
“No,” Brady countered. “Look, I was as shocked to see you in here as you were to see me, so we’re even. But I just thought you might want to talk or…whatever.” He paused, signaling to the bartender for more drinks. “Never mind. Sorry I asked.”
Jack stared at him, rolling everything over in his mind until the drinks were brought to the table and the bartender left. “What exactly were you asking?”
Brady smirked. “You know what I’m asking. But you’re not in the mood, so forget it.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Jack snapped harshly, and then immediately regretted it. It wasn’t Brady’s fault his heart was broken and only one person could put it back together. “Look, I’m getting over...something. Just so you know. It’s been a bad couple of months.”
“I can see that,” he countered. “I just thought that maybe, for a little while, we could both feel better. After all, we could’ve gone to any bar if we’d just wanted to get shit-faced, but we both ended up here.”
Jack couldn’t argue with that logic. It was a gay bar, after all, and that’s what he had asked the cab driver for. He looked over at Brady, who actually had quite a nice smile, and he was grateful it didn’t resemble one belonging to a certain blondish defenseman with a quirky dimple and chocolate brown eyes. “Where did you say your place was?” he asked directly.
“I didn’t,” Brady replied, draining his drink in three gulps. He leaned closer to Jack, who felt the other man’s thigh move against his under the table. “But it’s close by and I drive fast.”
Jack stared down into his drink, almost saying no, wanting desperately to say no. Despising himself for what he was about to do, he found himself able to think only one thought: God dammit, I hate you, Ennis del Mar.
“Let’s go,” he said.
***
Brady opened the door to his apartment and let Jack in first. He turned to the table by the door and threw his keys on it as Jack looked around suspiciously.
“Don’t worry,” Brady said, “I don’t have a roommate. Too much hassle.”
“Tell me about it,” Jack murmured unhappily.
Before Jack knew it, Brady had him up against the wall, his lips burning Jack’s, his hands roaming dangerously close to Jack’s zipper.
Brady’s lips roamed over Jack’s neck. “God, you taste good.”
Jack closed his eyes and tried to give in. He had to hand it to Brady: his only talents weren’t on the ice. His fingers on Jack’s stomach were warm and skilled; his mouth left a trail of fire.
But it’s not him.
As he grabbed Brady’s ass, Jack shook the thought of Ennis from his mind, but like a ghost it kept haunting him.
I hate you, Ennis. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You did this to me.
There was no response.
There was, however, response from the man who currently had Jack pushed up against the wall, his groin grinding into Jack’s hip. Brady’s hand grabbed Jack’s and placed it squarely on his crotch.
“You wanna do this?” he whispered.
Do I? Do I want someone else, someone who wants me, even if it’s only one night? Jack closed his eyes, then opened them and looked at Brady. Fuck you, Ennis.
“Yeah,” Jack grunted, grabbing Brady’s hair and pulling his head back. “Where?”
Brady pulled him from the wall and propelled him down the hallway to his bedroom, where he sat Jack on the bed. Brady got down on his knees and before Jack knew what was happening, his jeans were down around his ankles and Brady’s dark head was between his thighs, and he felt his cock being engulfed in hot, wet enticement.
“Fuuuuck,” Jack rasped, grabbing Brady’s hair again. It didn’t stop him; in fact, the pain from having his hair pulled seemed to urge Brady on. He dipped and licked and tugged like he’d been sucking cock all his life, and it worked. Jack felt himself harden, wanting it and not wanting it at the same time, wondering if he’d ever feel Ennis’s mouth on him like this ever again. He closed his eyes and cursed the spell Ennis had put on him.
I hate you Ennis, he thought again as Brady urged him faster and faster toward the brink. Just please let me hate you so I can go on with my life.
Suddenly Brady pulled off and wiped his mouth. “I don’t want to waste this on a blow job. You top or bottom?”
Jack winced, remembering those same words coming from the man he couldn’t stop loving and couldn’t stop thinking about. But he couldn’t hesitate now; even though he wasn’t with the man he wanted to be with, he was with a man who was interested and was attractive in his own right.
“Top,” said Jack authoritatively. Brady grinned and grabbed a condom and lube from his bedside drawer.
“You want me to put it on?” he offered with youthful enthusiasm. Jack shook his head no and, taking the items from Brady, got himself ready. When Brady was naked, Jack grabbed him roughly and pushed him down on the bed on his hands and knees.
Brady mumbled something as Jack primed his ass with lube. Jack didn’t ask what he’d said; he didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear anything from anyone but Ennis, and he knew that wasn’t going to happen, probably ever again. Goddammit, am I ever going to be able to be with anyone else and not compare them to him?
Brady pushed back as Jack parted his ass and eased a finger in. “Two,” Brady gasped, and Jack put another finger in. He searched until he found Brady’s prostate and stroked it, and the other man moaned.
“Fuck, Jack…that feels great.”
Jack was silent; he knew it wasn’t fair to Brady but he didn’t care. He wasn’t here to talk or cuddle or make love; he was here to fuck someone, and fuck someone else out of his system. He made a mental note to apologize to Brady later, but for right now, all he wanted to do was get in, get off, and get out.
He pulled his fingers out roughly, but Brady didn’t seem to mind, judging from his shuddering reaction. Jack felt sick at his indifference to Brady, but it couldn’t be helped.
“You want me to fuck you?” he asked roughly.
“Yeah. Hard.”
So maybe he’s feeling the same way, Jack thought. Maybe he’s just here to fuck, too. That made it easier. Jack lubed himself up and pushed in, popping past the ring of muscle and thrusting hard.
“That what you want?” he asked dispassionately.
“Yeah. Goddamn, Jack, you’re fucking big,” Brady grunted as he pushed back, meeting him thrust for thrust. “We shoulda…hooked up a long…time ago.”
“I was busy.”
“I bet.”
They continued thrusting and fucking for a while, and then Jack felt a familiar rush. He slammed into Brady a few more times, emptying himself inside the condom, feeling Brady shake and call out as his own orgasm consumed him. They collapsed, sweating and shaking, onto the big bed, Jack pulling out and turning away from Brady, trying to collect himself and deal with the immediate shame and disgust that followed. Brady was a nice guy and all, Jack reasoned, and handsome as hell; good in the sack too. And his attitude about being gay appealed to Jack. But he wasn’t---dammit, stop thinking about him. It’s over. Just stop it.
He felt the other man’s hand smooth down his hip. “That was great,” whispered Brady. “A bit quick, but-hey, you know.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“I’m not blaming you. Obviously it’s been awhile for both of us. Sometimes you just have to get that first one out of the way,” he laughed, but Jack didn’t join him. First one? thought Jack. Does he really think we’re going to do this again?
Brady reached over the side of the bed, grabbed tissues and cleaned himself off, and then offered Jack some. Jack wiped up and took off the condom, tying it and tossing it in the trash. He turned back to see Brady, his big arm supporting his head, laying there buck-naked and looking sexy. He was staring at Jack.
“What?” Jack asked, irritated, not wanting to get into conversation.
“Who are you trying to forget?” he asked bluntly.
Jack sighed, knowing conversation was inevitable. “No one you know.”
“So it’s not Ennis?”
Jack froze. “What? How did you know-“ He stopped, knowing he had said too much.
Brady flashed a knowing smile. “So it’s true about you guys?”
“N-no,” Jack stammered, turning red. “No, it’s not true. Hell no.”
Brady sat up and Jack noticed his huge thighs for the first time. To Jack’s surprise, he laughed. “That’s got to be the lamest denial I’ve ever heard. Come on, everyone knows about you guys.”
Jack felt his chest tighten. Feeling like his lungs had turned into blocks of concrete, he just stared at Brady, depressed and scared.
Brady leaned over and put his hand on Jack’s thigh in comfort, but he pulled it away when Jack flinched. “I’m sorry to tell you, but people have been talking about this for awhile. When Ennis got hurt, your game hit the shits. It didn’t take a math professor to add two and two and come up with four. You guys lived together, and rumor has it you didn’t see one without the other. Is that true?”
Jack’s lips trembled, and he looked down at the bed so Brady wouldn’t see. Shit, he knows…everyone knows…Ennis would be shitting bricks if he heard all this...
“There’s nothing wrong with having a broken heart,” Brady assured him. “Does he know how you feel?”
Jack wasn’t sure how much to say. “I told him. He said he felt the same.” He looked at Brady and knew from the look on his face that he could trust him. “Then he fucking got scared and left.”
“Have you guys been together for awhile?” asked Brady.
Jack sighed. “Yeah. Ennis and I had kind of come to a conclusion that there was nothing we could do until we were out of hockey. Then-he changed. He got weird again, just before he got hurt. And then he gave me some bullshit story about going home to have his knee done by his surgeon back home, and he fucking left.”
“And I take it you haven’t heard from him,” Brady replied.
Jack shook his head.
“Where’s he at?”
“Calgary.”
“That’s a bitch,” Brady mused. “Jack, I don’t know what to tell you. Some guys are completely freaked out about anyone knowing about them. I mean, with us being athletes, we have it harder than other gay guys, even. It sounds like Ennis is scared and can’t deal with it.” He paused. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. I wish I could find someone like you did.”
“Yeah, for whatever it was worth,” Jack said sadly. He felt a little better talking to someone about it, someone else who was gay and who could understand. Something, though, was bothering Jack. “How’d you know about us?”
“Ah, the usual rumors and suspicions,” Brady replied casually, like it was no big deal. “You know about Cagney and Lacey, right?”
Jack nodded.
“There’s a rumor that Paul Dilson on the Bees is one of us. And Eric James, Alain Desmarais... oh, and I think just maybe we might have Ben Patterson on our team too.”
Jack sat there, open-mouthed, and Brady laughed.
“Ben Patterson?” asked Jack in surprise.
“Oh yeah! Now, that’s just a rumor, but I’m thinkin’ he likes a bit of the ass-action.”
Jack laughed out loud at that. “Isn’t he married?”
Brady nodded, a shit-eating grin on his face. “He was. The rumour is that his wife caught him in what is called a compromising situation. With a dude. In their bed.”
Jack laughed again. “Holy shit. Wait till I tell En-“
His face fell, and Brady noticed.
“Jack,” he said, reaching out to touch him on the arm, “I hope everything works out for you guys. I can see how this is hurting you.”
He grinned, albeit sadly. “So-did you lie in the bar about not taking advantage of me, if you knew Ennis was gone?”
Brady held up his thumb and index finger about a quarter inch apart. “Okay, I lied this much.”
Jack looked down at the bedclothes as he chuckled.
“What can I say?” Brady shrugged, grinning. “I was shocked to see you in the bar, but you’re hot so I figured it was worth a shot.”
“Thanks,” Jack managed, smiling up at him. “You’re not so bad yourself. And listen-I’m sorry if I was kind of a dick. Like I said, I’m still dealing with this bullshit.”
Brady waved a hand. “Consider it forgotten.” He paused. “And I probably shouldn’t say this, but what the fuck-if you guys end up apart, give me a call, okay?” He smiled at him, and Jack managed to smile back as Brady turned and grabbed a pen and paper off the bedside table, offering Jack a great view of his tight, hard butt. “Here’s my number. Maybe we can hook up when we play each other again…get dinner or something.”
“Or something,” Jack replied, taking the paper from him. “Gimme that- I’ll give you mine.”
As he wrote down his number, he couldn’t believe that he was actually doing it-giving another man his number. But if anyone knew what he could be going through, it would be Brady McKay, and Jack figured that he couldn’t have too many friends. Even if they just ended up being fuck-buddies, it wasn’t as bad as having sex alone, and that’s all he was destined to have since the one person in the world he had loved had left him.
Tbc…