27. Gabe #2
“You can put your fingers back to work,” Gabe requested, pleased when Brandon wasted no time getting his fingers slicked back up.
Getting fucked by Brandon’s cock was amazing, a full-body experience.
The intimacy was unmatched. Nothing got him out of his head the way getting fucked did.
But fingers brought a different level of precision.
It took a moment for Brandon to reacclimatize himself to the task, but once he did, Gabe was back to involuntary moans.
Just when he thought he was going to have to use his left hand to jerk himself off, Brandon closed his lips around Gabe’s cock, working Gabe up and down as his fingers continued to massage his prostate.
“Baby, I’m coming,” Gabe said, words a struggle so close to the edge.
He came into Brandon’s mouth with Brandon’s fingers pressed firmly inside of him.
He covered his face with his bad hand, surprised as always that he still had a splint on it, peeking through his fingers just in time to watch Brandon swallow, slipping his fingers out and wiping them on the sheet.
“Look at you swallowing that all down,” Gabe said, just to get Brandon to blush. He was rewarded with the full cuteness of Brandon’s pink cheeks, along with a contrasting naughty lick of his lips.
“You know what they say. Practice makes swallowing,” he said, rolling his eyes at Gabe. He grabbed a washcloth from the en suite bathroom and climbed back into bed with Gabe, pulling him into a cuddle while he simultaneously cleaned the two of them up. It wasn’t efficient, but it was sweet.
“Do you feel like you have any virginity left in you?” Gabe asked.
“Um, the other way, I guess.”
“Baby, if you’re into it, I will make sure you get it. Whatever you want to try,” Gabe promised.
“I love you,” Brandon said. It might have been about the thirtieth time that day, but hearing it never got old.
“I love you too, babe.”
Just as Gabe felt on the edge of falling asleep in Brandon’s warm arms, he slipped away to grab his laptop.
“Module is due at midnight,” he said, grabbing Gabe’s iPad for him so he could continue his reading, too.
Brandon leaned against the headboard, laptop on his lap, the deep look of concentration right back on his face.
It was the look he had when he had his fingers inside Gabe, trying his hardest to make him feel good.
Fuck the history reading. Gabe could do that the next day after Brandon hit the road again.
He opened Procreate and started a new canvas.
He couldn’t hold a pen or move his wrist very well, but it was a touch screen, and he had his fingers still.
Plus, he was restless from the injury. He felt like he’d chew the couch up if he couldn’t draw somehow.
He sat on the corner of the bed to face Brandon.
His motions were sloppy, not as refined as he could be when using a tool, but he used a fingertip to block out the shape of the bed in one color, then blocked in the shape of Brandon in another.
He added some sketchy lines for a background to anchor his drawing in a place, then zoomed in a bit to work on his face, the furrow of his brow and the set of his jaw.
According to the part of his brain that was used to being overworked and underrested, if he had to do his final project on the iPad with a fingertip, he could probably manage it.
He reminded himself that he deserved to make his senior show when he healed.
“Your reading must be interesting,” Brandon said, looking up from his computer. His concentration face was gone, something more suspicious in its place. Gabe wanted to draw that one, too.
“Sí,” Gabe said, sticking his tongue out.
He took French in high school and ASL in college, so that was about the upper limit of his Spanish.
He flipped his iPad over so Brandon could see what he was working on.
It wasn’t the same as his usual style, which relied on lines that looked messy and uncontrolled but were actually carefully placed, in favor of chunkier lines and patches of color.
“That’s sick, actually. God, you’re good at fucking everything,” Brandon said, naked awe in his voice. Gabe loved being around people who couldn’t draw. It was nice that the bar to impress his man was low.
“Thanks, baby.”
“Put it on Instagram.”
“Your dick is covered in this.”
“Don’t put it on your sexy one, then, put it on the other one,” Brandon said, like it was obvious.
“You’re okay with that?”
“I kinda like being your favorite subject.”
“Hurts to type on my phone.” Gabe was in his voice note era.
“I’ll make the post and you can tell me what to say. If you want.”
“Let me finish it first,” Gabe said, hurrying up. Something about posting his drawings of Brandon on his safe-for-work Instagram, even though they were still anonymous, felt validating of their relationship. A new step.
Brandon went back to his homework, concentration face in full force, and Gabe fiddled with his piece for a while, until he couldn’t figure out anything more to add or change.
Some folks poured hours and hours into everything they did, but Gabe had a tendency to overwork and ruin things if he didn’t stop while things were good.
They heard the garage door open, then the giggles of Ryan and Jackson, Lola in tow. They’d gone to a friend’s house for a combination dinner party and puppy play date.
“If we go down there now, there’s a ninety percent chance Ryan will make a snack,” Brandon said. Gabe would never turn his nose up to a snack.
Gabe partook in his current favorite indulgence, which was wearing Brandon’s clothes even though he had his own here.
Clean ones, even. But Brandon’s were slouchy and pleasantly oversized, and the way Brandon always looked at him in his pajama pants and big hoodie was enough for Gabe to wear any garment on earth.
Brandon put back on the athletic shorts he’d been wearing before Gabe had talked him out of them, chest still bare.
Gabe was happy to delay their journey downstairs momentarily so Brandon could push him against the door, hands sliding up under the hoodie to smooth over his hips and stomach, to the dip of his lower back, then down to his ass.
“You’re perfect,” Brandon whispered before pressing his lips to Gabe’s again. Gabe didn’t quite agree with that, but he was happy to let Brandon think so. Happy to be appreciated in such specific and concrete ways, Brandon’s hands telling him a lot about his favorite parts of Gabe’s body.
Aimlessly kissing his boyfriend, knowing he was going to go eat a snack, sleep in Brandon’s bed, and not have anything on the schedule for the next day, was a feeling of lightness he hadn’t had in ages.
Sure, he should finish his reading, and eventually he would have to go back to work.
He was restless from not being able to draw or do much of anything with his right hand, but he was aware he needed to be forced to rest. He might as well try to enjoy it.
“Okay, beautiful,” Brandon said, trying to stop kissing Gabe, but not doing a great job at it. “Let’s go downstairs.”
It took another five minutes of trying to break their kiss before they got the strength to break apart and head downstairs. As predicted, Ryan had a food processor out and was, from what Gabe gleaned from the empty can of garbanzo beans on the counter next to him, making homemade hummus.
“Did you have fun at dinner?” Gabe asked, giving Lola the greeting pets she requested before she moved on to Brandon. Ryan and Jackson were giving Gabe a knowing look.
“Not as much fun as it looks like you two had,” Jackson said, giggling as Ryan swatted him with a towel.
“Fuck, is my hair all messed up?” He turned to Brandon to be his eyes, and Brandon sheepishly fixed his hair for him, readjusting the loose collar of his oversized hoodie to conceal what Gabe assumed was a bite mark he didn’t remember.
“Dinner was great, but we actually ate hours ago,” Ryan said, like he ever needed an excuse to make food around hockey players. Gabe might not need as many calories as Brandon and Jackson, but he liked a snack all the same.
“We played a board game, and I learned how little patience Ryan has for them.”
“If it takes an hour to learn a game, I’m not interested,” Ryan said, finding a tray of cut-up veggies in the fridge, then scooping his hummus into a bowl. The four of them crowded around it.
“You’re just mad because you came in last,” Jackson said as he crunched a carrot.
“What do you think of tahini in pancakes?” Ryan asked, swiftly changing the subject.
“I will eat anything you make, baby,” Jackson said, his bright eyes fixed lovingly on his husband. Brandon came up behind Gabe and looped an arm around his middle, holding them close and pressing a kiss behind his ear.
Gabe had few examples of relationships he wanted to emulate. His mom didn’t stick around past his own toddlerhood, and the other people in his life of his parents’ generation based their humor entirely on how horrible being married was. None of his friends had found The One.
Ryan and Jackson, however, were how he wanted to be. Supportive and loving. Genuinely kind to each other. Partners in every sense of the word. Jackson still launched himself at Ryan when he came home from road trips, like being apart was unbearable.
The next day, Ryan and Jackson would leave to go to the All-Star Game, and Brandon was getting sent back down to the AHL, and they’d be apart for two weeks until All-Star Break and the bye week were over.
He had a flight to San Jose in the morning, where he’d meet the Iowa Stars.
Someday soon, Brandon would have a contract that meant he couldn’t be sent down, and Gabe couldn’t wait.
He knew all about how unbearable distance was.