Chapter 11 Minns
eleven
Minns
Two weeks later
Isat in the locker room, waiting for the team to file in.
Coach had just given me the all clear to train with them again.
I was riding a high, and not just because I was making my way back from the dark place I’d been in.
V had texted me back this morning, wishing me luck for my first session with the team.
I looked down at my cell phone and read the message again.
Good luck today, boy. Or is it break a leg?
I responded,
No, there won’t be breaking of anything. But thank you.
Kam replied,
That’s almost as bad as saying the team can W. I. N.
I shuddered. She was close to jinxing us.
Hush. Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.
I loved the banter between us. V’s response was quick as a whip.
How’s this then? Train well and I’ll reward you.
I grinned shamelessly.
Better. But how?
With my dick in your ass until you’re screaming my name and losing your load without even touching your dick again.
I cleared my throat and looked around the locker room, making sure I was still alone, then adjusted my dick.
That’ll do it.
Train hard, boy. I’m thinking of you.
I swooned. The butterflies that appeared whenever I thought of our masked man took flight and did loop de loops in my belly. Even just looking at his messages had my heart beating a little harder and faster.
I turned off the screen when I heard noise outside in the corridor. I was kitted up already, my skates on and my muscles stretched. All I needed was the team.
“Minns,” Gauthier greeted me. I stood up, and he shook my hand then pulled me in for a back-slapping hug. “Coach gave you the all clear?”
“He did.” I grinned, my gut flip-flopping for a whole new reason. I was back at the game I loved.
Mironov double fist-bumped me and gestured with a tilt of his head to his linemate. They’d struggled to gel on and off the ice. Mironov was an acquired taste for most, but we were tight.
“You and me, we get back to first line, yes?”
“Absolutely.”
He grinned and nodded, happy that we were both on the same wavelength.
Hux stepped forward, and the room went silent. His lips were drawn in a straight line, but his eyes sparkled.
“Stop making the team panic, dude,” I warned with a strained laugh.
“Glad to have you back, man.”
He pulled me in for a hug and I wrapped my arms around him, holding on tight.
I’d fucked up with him. I’d hurt Alec, and the media had punished him for something he didn’t do.
I’d put out a half-assed statement when we’d returned from Fiji, but it had barely made a dent, garnering very few views online and being ignored by most media outlets.
Hux had forgiven me. I didn’t know why or how, and I certainly didn’t deserve it, but he’d gone above and beyond.
Both he and Gauthier were there for me when I’d needed them.
I’d been at Gauthier’s rink with them for a large part of the summer, and then when the season started, they’d both made time to skate with me.
It meant the world to know they had my back.
“Glad to be back training.”
“We doing this?” Gauthier asked once they were all geared up.
Getting back on the ice was like coming home.
The ozone smell was as familiar as the reek of sweaty socks that permeated the locker rooms no matter how good the ventilation was in there.
The crispness of the air and the chill sank into me, and I instantly found myself sinking into the zone.
Coach wanted to run crossover drills—the team’s passing in the last game had been off—but getting back to basics suited me just fine.
Gauthier started, and we followed. I sped up, pushing myself hard. My skates carried me over the ice like a rocket, the blades cutting into the surface as the wrister Hewitt slung to me hit my tape. I set up my shot and took it, blocking everything out except that puck and my teammates.
The puck found Hux’s stick, and he effortlessly shot it back to Cohen, who passed it to Agosta, and then he sent it flying to me.
I slapped it to Gauthier, and he shot it back lightning quick.
The puck was moving so fast, it was a blur, but I was still in the zone.
I caught it with my tape and flung it back toward Nieminen, our third line center.
I dug hard into the tight turn behind goal and shot out the other side, taking the pass and leading the drill back up the ice.
Once we were all sweating and out of breath, Coach blew the whistle and skated out to us. “Good play, team. Scrimmage now. Let’s hustle.”
The team split into three groups—the starting, second, and third lines. “Minns, you’re with Mironov on the third line.”
“Yes, Coach,” I called out.
Our two assistant coaches split, and Sawchuck joined our group. “Right, let’s give ’em a run for their money,” he challenged.
“First and second lines, you’re up first,” Coach ordered.
I was over the boards and watching from behind the plexiglass with a bottle of water in my hand within seconds.
Coach blew the whistle, and they faced up, ready for the puck drop.
I held my breath and watched as Wilson snatched the puck from Gauthier.
Hewitt tried to intercept the pass, but he missed.
Hux shouldered past Bauer to get the puck to Gauthier.
It was a game of cat and mouse, passes meeting their targets most of the time, but opportunities to score were few and far between.
Then Hux intercepted a pass, and he screamed up the ice lightning fast. He shot, and Agosta shouldered into him, sending him flying into the boards.
Coach blew his whistle, but the puck had already found its mark, and Gauthier wristed it straight through Rune’s legs. The lamp lit up and the buzzer sounded.
“Penalty, Agosta. Clean up your act,” Coach warned, gesturing with his thumb for Agosta to get off the ice. “Switch lines. First for third.”
I hit the ice, and Nieminen and Wilson faced off for the puck drop. My muscles were coiled tight, ready to explode into action. The puck fell from Coach’s hand, and I launched forward with as much speed and power as I possessed.
Wilson moved with the speed of a bullet, stealing the puck from Nieminen before he had even moved his stick. I clocked the way Wilson angled his stick and made for Popov, shouldering into him as the puck sailed toward us.
I intercepted it, taking the puck into our offensive zone in a split second.
I passed it to Mironov, and it was as if we’d never been apart.
Mironov worked his magic, squeezing past the second line’s defense before slapping a wrister to our forwards.
Popov passed back to Korhonen. Nieminen was in the open and moved to scoop it up as Korhonen shot it to him.
But Cohen’s stick touched the puck, changing its trajectory.
I spun on a dime and intercepted. There was clear ice in front of me, nothing between me and the net only a few feet away.
I slapped the puck straight up the center and held my breath as Austin reached for it.
He batted it away easily, and I cursed, but Mironov was there, slapping my back and cheering.
“Minns, you’re on the third line this week with Mironov,” Coach called out.
“We’re back,” Mironov roared, and I high-fived him.
I was riding a high, my laugh echoing around the training rink. I skated to the benches as Coach directed and the scrimmage continued.
When Coach finally called us off the ice, steam was billowing from my pads. My compression gear was soaked, and sweat ran down my face and back in rivulets. My muscles had that well-used ache, and I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face.
Mironov was right. I was back doing the thing I loved most. I fucking loved my life.
The locker room was buzzing with energy, and I floated on the high. Our next game was in LA, and I was going to be there, watching it from the bench rather than the stands, and actually getting ice time too.
The guys stripped off their gear, but I just sat and soaked it in. I didn’t want this to end, but I needed to warm down.
Hux sat down beside me, dressed only in his compression leggings, and knocked his shoulder against mine. “You did well for your first session back. The hours you’ve put in have been worth it.”
“Thanks, man.” I paused for a moment and said, “I’m sorry, you know.”
“We’ve been over this, Minns. We’re good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Now come on. Get out of that gear so we can warm down.”
I was the last one back in the locker room after our session. I stripped off and unfolded my towel, but before I could hit the showers, my cell buzzed. I unlocked the screen to check it and saw a message from Kamirah to our group chat with V.
After I’d asked him once and he hadn’t shared his name, I hadn’t asked again.
I was fine knowing him as Vigilante. I knew enough about him anyway—I trusted him, both with my sexuality and with Kam.
I knew he’d never hurt her. He’d shared parts of himself with us too—he’d grown up in Ottawa, he had two siblings and loved dogs but didn’t have one because he travelled a lot for work.
I knew he loved the beaches in California, too, heading there whenever he could.
I wanted to see him again, but we hadn’t been able to make it happen. Yet. But we would.
I caught up on the messages Kamirah and V had exchanged, and my brows hit my hairline.
I got a call today. Warrior Pups got a $100k donation! The note said it was because of my work that the donation was made. The board asked me to come back as an official spokesperson.
Congratulations, sweet thing!
It's enough for the new training we wanted to implement
Three dots appeared, then disappeared over and over again. It was as if V was trying to think up something to say back. I called him out on it.
You don't happen to know anything about it, do you?
Oh, look at the time
My breath caught. He did that for her? He knew how much it meant to Kam and how devastated she was to have been quietly let go as the charity’s ambassador. She’d put her heart and soul into it and loved the work they did. Having them ask her back would have had her in tears.
Kamirah’s response was short, but I could feel the emotion behind it.
V... thank you. It means everything
You deserve it, sweet thing
How was training, boy?
Excellent. Coach has me on the third line so I'm playing this week. I've been training with Gauthier like I told you, and Hux too. I’m back with Mironov so we’ll get ice time.
Your next game is against LA
It is
And sweet thing, will you be at that game too?
I will
Maybe you should stay the night in LA then. Might need to chase you down
I grinned and asked,
And what will you do when you catch us?
Fuck you six ways from Sunday. My dick misses my pretty pussy and my tight ass
I sucked in a harsh breath and closed my eyes before responding,
We miss you too
V’s response was immediate.
Show me how much
Panic warred with desire in the pit of my stomach and I glanced around the room. It was empty, but my teammates were in the shower room right next door.
Now?
Now
A photo popped up on my screen a moment later.
That beautiful thick dick I’d gone wild for was hard and leaking.
V had his hand wrapped around it, a bead of precum at the slit.
I could see his steering wheel in the image.
Knowing he was out somewhere, hard and touching himself, was a fucking turn-on.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara. Fuck me, I wanted that cock.
A second later, another image came through. Kam was lying on our bed, naked from the waist down. Her knees were up, and she had dipped her fingers into her pussy. I could see her juices coating her fingers as she rode them.
I was hard and raring to go. Jesus, I wanted them. The knowledge that I could get caught both terrified me and ratcheted up the desire, heightening my need.
I threw my oversized towel over my shoulder and pulled the front of it down to hide my erection.
There was no way I could walk into the shower room.
We had separate stalls, but they were low enough that we could talk to one another.
I was not jacking off and videoing myself doing it with my teammates standing in the stalls next to me.
I hid my cell phone in the folds of my towel and walked to the toilets.
I closed the stall door behind me and opened the message thread again.
Those two images were smoldering hot. I wanted V inside my ass, and I wanted to be buried so deep in Kamirah that the three of us merged into one writhing mass of ecstasy.
My ass clenched. I was so empty. I needed to be filled.
I jacked off, my eyes locked on the two images before me. The showers turned off one by one, and there was laughter and bantering. I didn’t even care if it drowned out the sound of me working my cock. My balls drew up tight, and precum pooled at my slit. I took photos, one after another.
Another message popped up.
I’m waiting…
I gasped and hit Send on some of the photos, my hand shaking as I worked my dick.
The tingling started at the base of my spine, and I flipped over to video. My breathing was labored, my cock an angry red as I pumped my fist over it.
Then I was coming, pulse after pulse of cum emptying from my balls and shooting onto the purple dividers between the toilet stalls. I slumped back against the other divider and hit Send on the video.
Only a second later, another message came through. This one had a photo too—V’s spent cock in his hand, cum all over his belly.
Good boy