Point Shot 01 - Two Man Advantage (6 page)

Dan glowered but his lips compressed. I leaned my hip against the boards. He remained rigid, only moving to pass his weight from one skate to the other.

“Now, why are you being such a bitch about this?” I asked.

He shoved me onto my ass. I sat there gaping up at the rugged little runt. I was torn between getting up and punching him in the face or taking him back to our hotel room to fuck him again.

“That a bitch move?” he barked, crouching down to stare into my eyes. “I might be gay but I am not a pussy. I will whip your ass if you say I’m a woman again.”

“Fucking A,” I grumbled as I got to my skates.

Dan lifted his chin. I towered over the man and yet he was not intimidated. I really liked that he didn’t take my shit. Most people did. Fucking him right there on the ice would be so hot.

“My bad,” I mumbled, making a lunge for him. He met the move with an elbow to the mouth. My bottom lip split. Blood filled my mouth. My balls felt heavier. “You are a fucking lunatic,” I said, then spat a mouthful of blood onto the ice.

“Remember that. I don’t take being treated like a whore. Now you going to be yourself tonight when we get back to the hotel, or are you going to be a human being? I will not be treated like I’m just a fucking orifice, Kalinski,” Dan snarled.

I nodded.

“Yes you’re going to be a douche, or yes you’re going to treat me like the man you want to share a room with?”

“The second,” I said softly, my pride rebelling loudly.

“Good. You’re bottoming tonight,” he announced before skating away.

Okay, how the fuck had I just got ranked down to bottom? And why the hell was I so aroused by the thought?

Chapter Seven

We barely made it into the hotel room. I’m so not shitting. This thing—this new, wild, incendiary, insane hot thing—was so overwhelming that Dan and I were on his freshly made bed, teeth grinding and hands grasping, before the door was closed tight. You’d think the 9-2 loss to the Wasps would have dulled our desire. Not a chance. Dan was all over me, trying to assert his dominance early. I was a gyration away from creaming my shorts. Even so, I fought him throughout. Clothes were ripped free then thrown aside. We jostled and wrestled, bare skin abrading against bare skin, cocks bumping, balls rubbing. I assaulted his mouth. He ravaged mine. Who knew what Buttonwood could hear, and who cared? I slapped a hand to Dan’s wrist in an attempt to flip him over onto his stomach. He arched upward. We landed on the floor in a heap.

He chuckled, bit my shoulder, then manhandled me into a position he liked. I was kneeling on the floor, clawing at the bedding the upper half of my body lay on, trying to gain purchase. Then Arou laid his sweaty body over my back. His dick was like a white-hot iron poker fresh from the coals against my ass cheek. He reached between us. I shivered with anticipation despite the mild panic welling up inside. His mouth was beside my ear.

“Relax,” he whispered, his accent thickening with passion. “Relax, Vic—let me love you. I’ll be gentle. It won’t hurt too badly, I promise.”

I found myself believing him. It took every ounce of intestinal fortitude, or whatever you want to call it, for me to lie there, waiting for him to lube up to penetrate me. Giving people the power to hurt me is something I do not allow. Not since my fourteenth birthday.

He was gentle. Maybe he could taste my unease. He should have been able to. It was oozing from my pores. He wanted me where I was. I consented. His fingers slowly eased into me. I allowed. He stretched and teased. I enjoyed. He asked. I begged. I came into my hand just as he entered me. He wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me as spasm after spasm rattled through my body.

I threw myself forward. Dan held on, going deeper with each of my convulsions. My orgasm rolled on and on. My knees were sore from the stiff carpeting. Dan had covered my mouth with his hand to minimize the sex sounds. I screamed and moaned as he began moving inside me. Pinning my back to his chest, he pushed his hips upward. My spine cracked. I suckled on his middle finger. He pumped in and out, demanding to hear me admit he was a man. I did. I whimpered it over and over around his finger. Each time I did so he picked up his pace. I slid from the bedding. Dan fucked me across the room. When he found his release, I was breathless, rug-burned and so well-loved my legs collapsed. He jerked me back up and held me there until his body stopped filling mine.

“I can’t feel my fucking kneecaps,” Dan said when he could speak. I had flattened out again by that time. He lay on top of me, my cheek smashed to the dirty carpeting. There was nothing for me to say, so I groaned in reply. Dan made a sound of approval deep in his throat, then dropped several wet kisses to my back. “You want to shower with me?”

I did. Rather desperately. We got on each other again in the shower. Crack. Fucking. Cocaine. Somehow we managed to get our spent asses into the big bed we had made by pushing the two twins together. Lying beside him in the dark, I was thinking about getting under the covers to suck him off when he asked me what I thought about the team.

I shrugged the shoulder his dark head rested on. “They suck, man.” I ran my tongue over my teeth.

“Think so, do you?” he enquired. “I hate that sound you make when you suck air through your teeth.”

“Um, yah,” I snorted, my palm resting on his shoulder. “I mean, no offense, but if not for you that bunch of losers wouldn’t have the few wins they do. And tough shit about the teeth sounds.”

Dan’s exhalation blew over my nipple. It puckered up into a tiny pink bead. I really wanted to get oral on this man. He seemed to be chatty, though. I didn’t dare comment on how girly that was. My ass was still recovering from the last slur against his manhood I’d made.

“You’re right,” he confessed, sitting up against my wishes to turn on the light. I squeezed my eyes shut and bitched about the wattage. “You think you could help us out?”

My nose wrinkled. “Dan, man, look, maybe if I were going to be here for the season, yeah, I’d be happy to pass along what tricks I’ve learned. But this trip is just for a week or two.” I had hoped he would drop it as soon as I weaseled around. He didn’t. His blue eyes stayed glued to me. “Arou, man, don’t make this harder than it is. Why don’t you just turn out the light, lie down and let me get you off again?”

I saw the desire flare up in his gaze. “I’d consider it a favor if you gave the other guys a hand. They’re buddies, you know?”

“Whose buddies? Not mine. They all fucking hate me,” I countered, pulling him back to the bed.

He flopped down with a sigh of exasperation. I rolled over him and began tasting his neck. He was just as bound up in this crazy thing we shared as I was. His neck and jaw tightened as he worked to fight the fire trail where my tongue and lips moved over him, but the nudge of his erection against my stomach showed he couldn’t control the need for me any more than I could handle my need for him.

“That’s because you’re a dick,” he ground out as I tongued his navel.

I agreed, then licked a long trail across his belly until I had the engorged head of his cock between my lips. My fingers raked through his pubic hair as I sucked his smooth head as hard as I could. Dan bucked, his thigh muscles clenching tightly to my ribs. I wanted…no, I fucking
needed
him to come in my mouth.

“Faster. Shit yes!” Dan panted, his fingers kneading my scalp.

I swatted his hands away, nipped at the underside of his prick, then suckled his balls and fingered his ass until he blew apart. Like some starving mutt, I devoured his dick when he flew to bits. He was hot, thick, salty perfection on my tongue. Lapping up the creamy droplets as he came back to me, I imagined how nice it would be to have him in Boston when I came home from long road trips. I nibbled my way back to his mouth. He took over willingly. I fell to my back on wadded-up bedding.

“Hey,” I said between long, searching kisses, “you should come to Boston.”

Dan stopped flicking my pink nipple with his tongue. He lifted his head. The hand fondling my nuts stalled. I looked down at him. The lamplight made his complexion seem even darker than usual. I wondered if he had some Native blood in his family tree. That would account for his glorious cheekbones and kind of wide nose. And those lips…man, those lips had been made by a god of some sort, no doubt in my mind. Why not give the credit to an Inuit god for such a glorious creation?

“That is really nice, Kalinski!” he snapped, then threw himself from our bed. I sat up, very aware of the thumping hard-on he had left rudely unattended. Eying the wall, I considered driving my head into it. “You think I haven’t been trying to get to Boston? Or New York? Or even San fucking Jose? I don’t care which city it is, as long as a pro team picks me up! Fuck, you’re such a—”

“Look, Bilbo, if this is going to be another Midol moment, just go find a tampon and spare me.”

The taunt was out before I could get a collar on it. He pounced onto the bed. I threw my fists up just in case. He was a fast little fuck. Obviously sometime in his athletic past he had wrestled. And I mean real wrestling, not the hyped-up shit on TV every Tuesday night at nine. I did manage to get a knee up and into his gut, but he wiggled around me, avoiding my street-brawler style of retaliation. The beds rolled apart. We fell down into the crack, landing with me on my face and Dan Arou performing a splendid half nelson. With my arm pinned under me, I flopped around like a pickerel.

“You are one thick-headed Pole, Kalinski,” he said, his hand on the back of my neck forcing my tender lip into the filthy carpet. “You must like bottoming more than you let on.”

Deep down, I had to figure I did, but I wasn’t going to admit that to Dan Arou or anyone else.

* * * * *

Ten days and five games later, we were ten minutes away from the last leg of this God-awful road trip. I’ll be the first to admit that I got royally spoiled being in the pros. This shit of riding on a cheap bus cramped up for hours on end sucked, but the tires were meeting the road, so points for our bouncy mode of transportation. The hotels were roach havens in comparison to the five stars the ‘cudas used. The food we ingested was subpar to the meals we had been fed in the pros. The only good thing about the trip through the heartland of this great country was sharing a room with Arou. Rooming with a man for over two weeks teaches you a lot about yourself and the dude you’re balling.

One thing I learned was that thinking about going back to that hotel room I had rented alone in Cayuga made me feel strangely agitated. Deciding to use the agitation to my advantage, I left the dressing room fully outfitted for our game against the Mount Royal Mounties that night. Knowing we would not only lose, but lose spectacularly to last year’s champs, I didn’t feel I was required to listen to Lambert trying to instill confidence in his losing team. Talk about wasting your breath.

I lingered in the corridor that housed the away team locker room, my cell phone tight to my left ear. Someone had obviously forgotten to hit me up about my return date. Pacing back and forth along the carpeted hall, I tried to get my call put through to my head coach back in Boston. I kept getting shuffled from one assistant coach to another. Finally, in a small pique, I told our video coach, Hal Reynolds, that he had better tell me what was up or I would not only date his eighteen-year-old daughter Holly, who had offered me a blowjob at the last Barracuda charity function, I would take her up on the offer of fellatio. The threat worked like a charm.

“Okay, but you did not hear this from me,” Hal whispered. I gave him a “Yeah, yeah” and then felt the hallway closing in on me. Seemed the announcement would come tomorrow that I was being left in the minors for the duration of the season. When the season ended, my contract, which expired at the end of July, would not be picked up by the Boston Barracuda organization unless I showed major improvement in my mental health.

“Sorry, Vic, it’s a tough break. Try to learn something under Lambert,” Hal said into my numb ear. The connection went dead. So did I. My hands were shaking when I tossed my cell to the floor then ground my left skate into it.

“Hey, you okay?”

I nodded as Dan appeared on my left. He didn’t seem convinced. He folded his arms over his sweater, cocked his head like a cocker spaniel, and stared at me, wearing a small frown.

“You don’t look okay.” Christ, but he was one persistent Munchkin.

“Dan, don’t fucking start,” I said slowly, pushing each word at him. His blue eyes widened. The team came out then, effectively cutting off his retort. I stalked to the ice, bumping off my fellow Cougars without acknowledging them. Once my skates hit the ice, my eyes went to the Mounties’ goal. Dwayne was doing that sideways net-tender dance on the new ice. Goalies go back and forth across the crease to work the ice, hoping to get better traction while maybe slowing the puck down. With his helmet off he looked like some sort of California surfer dude, all long gold hair and that sort of shit. I cruised around our net, my eyes darting to Dwayne on each pass of the blue line. The man had enormous balls coming out as he had. Dude like that should be respected. Shame I’d have to get in his face all night. Arou appeared beside me. I looked down at the man. He said nothing verbally but his eyes were speaking far too loudly. We made another couple silent laps side by side, then returned to our bench.

I couldn’t concentrate on anything. My head felt as if it were packed with sand. This nightmare was not going to go away. I was not only stuck here for the rest of the season, I was going to be waivered in the summer unless I started playing nice-nice with everyone. Thrown away like some shitty used plunger or an unwanted kitten. Lambert patted my back as he walked behind me spouting words. What he said was white noise, Charlie Brown teacher-talk to me. I fisted and relaxed my fingers several times. Arou sat beside me. I stared at my skates. He shook a Gatorade bottle under my long nose.

“Take a drink. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” he said, his voice low and secretive. Our eyes met. I couldn’t believe what he had just run out of his mouth-hole. What kind of stupid fuck says something like that to another man who’s just lost everything? I had the strongest urge to punch him in the throat. I didn’t, but man, did I want to. Instead of getting into it with my teammate…roommate…man-fuck…whatever Arou was becoming to me, I aimed all my nasty shit, and there was a ton of it, right at the Mount Royal Mounties. The national anthem couldn’t be sung quickly enough. I was waiting like a two-dollar whore on Friday night shore leave for my line to go out. As soon as we did, I flew into the gameplay like a man possessed.