My introduction to Ascent’s monthly Fetish Night was to have Derick tug my shirt off over my head, press a leather chest harness into my hands and point me in the direction of the bar.

Sudden-but, okay. I could take things in stride.

I was still fiddling with the harness straps when Rusty wandered ( Read more... )

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I could hear Jonathan shivering. The night was silent and still and I could hear him trembling, shaking beneath the blankets of his hotel bed; his teeth chattering violently and quiet little whimpers escaping him as the snow fell softly outside. I didn't feel the chill as deeply as he obviously did, but then I had more bodyfat than he; the ( Read more... )

          When Rick flipped on the dim desk lamp of their room, Nikolai was forced to smile, leaning his hip against the doorjamb and folding his arms across his chest as he took in the pleasing sight in front of him.

Sergei, their blond, gentle Russian lover, was curled up at the foot of their shared oversized bed, his eyes closed in ( Read more... )

          He was eighteen years old, two years younger than I; though in a few months he would be nineteen. He was tall and lanky and always seemed to be unaccustomed to his still-maturing body, eating voraciously to fuel his growing build, still seeming clumsy, unsure of what his six-foot-four frame could do. Nonetheless, most of the time he was ( Read more... )

          Nikolai isn’t cooperating.

When we had gotten word that Sergei Fedorov, Russian superstar of Stanley, Hart, Pearson and Selke fame, was going to be coming to Columbus in a trade, our shy little Ukrainian wunderkind had immediately cornered Rusty the first chance he had. The first ever draft pick of the Columbus Blue Jackets, my ( Read more... )

          I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten to this point. After yet another shitty practice, Sergei had just given me a Look; one that said, ‘Come. Now.’ He was older, he was wiser, and I might be stronger but he sure as hell could outwit me any day, so I just nodded dumbly and went along.

And I had ended up here, in Sergei’s apartment. ( Read more... )

          Rusty is in the midst of retrieving his forgotten gear from the trainer’s room when he hears the noises.

Soft moans. Murmured voices. Breathy gasps and the wet sound of lips on lips on flesh. And it’s coming from the locker room-the supposedly vacant locker room, since as far as he knows only a few other players were still ( Read more... )

          It’s early. The room is dark, lit only by red-blue light from the sun inching over the horizon.

Dany is wrapped in my arms, his breath soft against my neck. He stirs a little and presses his nose against my chest with a half-awake inquiry.

“’lya, whassa time?”

I look at the clock staring balefully at us from ( Read more... )

          “It’s hot.”

I didn’t bother to reply. I was sprawled in Rick’s recliner chair, in Rick’s backyard, with a bag of ice (also Rick’s) on my forehead. The ice had already melted a fourth of the way in the five minutes I’d had it on, and water was trickling down my neck. At least, I think it was water. It might have been sweat, but I ( Read more... )

          I can feel the tension at times; sometimes even see it. A sharp glance here, an acidic comment there, and even the occasional silent treatment of one by the other. Sergei becomes cool and distantly icy, his eyes reflecting the personal level on which he has been affected. In contrast, Nikolai turns fiery and sharp, a self-contained roil ( Read more... )