Chapter 36 #2
“No. I haven’t been comfortable enough to attempt the back.”
“Mmm, that’s not entirely true, Coach,” Vox says with a laugh.
Ignoring his innuendo, I press on. “If Patterson finds out I let you out of bounds in avalanche territory two days before the Games, I’m in deep shit.”
“Deeper shit than if he finds out you’ve been fucking his golden boy?”
I wince. “Touché.”
“Come on. Haven’t I earned a fun-run?”
I cave way faster than I should, but not only is Vox irresistible, this might be a great opportunity for me to tell him about his dad. The backside will be technical, but slow, and I can pretty much guarantee no one will be within earshot of us, especially no one from the Patterson team.
“One run,” I agree. “We’ll call it a day when we get to the bottom.” I already know that the terrain will take every bit of our two hours.
“Deal,” Vox says, that wicked smile still in place. “But be warned. We’ve gotta schlep it back to base village, and it’s about half a mile.”
“I’m old, but I’m not that old. I can handle it,” I tease.
“I’m well aware of how much you can handle,” he throws back, making my dick give a throb of acknowledgment.
“Vox,” I warn. “Do not make me hard right before we drop in on a double black diamond in avi terrain.”
Vox laughs gleefully, and my chest tightens. I want to hear that sound forever.
When we get off the lift, the trail board at the top informs us that the backside of the mountain is open, and avalanche patrol blasted there this morning to shake any potential hazards loose.
Lucky us.
For terrain this steep, you have to check out with ski patrol before you go down, and you have to check in again once you’re at the bottom. If Grey finds out we were up here, he’d most likely fire me on the spot. But I guess that doesn’t really matter anymore.
“Stone!” Vox yells inside the patrol hut.
“Hey, Voxy! What’s up, man?” the guy in the red avalanche jacket calls to Vox, unclipping a GPS beacon from a wall of devices. “You going on the wild side today?”
“Yup. Last little fun run before the big competition on Saturday.”
Stone shakes his head. “Swear to God, man, only you would call this mountain’s steepest terrain and gnarliest descent a ‘little fun run.’ Crazy-ass fucker. What pocket do you want this in?” he holds the device up.
“Inside jacket,” Vox answers. Since he still has his gloves on and Stone doesn’t, the avalanche patroller unzips Vox’s outer layer and begins digging around in his clothes.
“You keep grazing my nipple like that, Stone, and I’m gonna have an appendage that matches your name.”
“Vox, for fuck’s sake,” I groan behind him.
“Down, boy,” Vox says with a smile. “Stone isn’t into dick. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
The man’s cheeks flame red, and he tries to play it off. “Maybe I’m just not into you, asshole.”
Vox scoffs. “Everyone’s into me.”
He isn’t wrong.
“You going off with him?” Stone asks me, changing the subject.
I nod, and the guy looks back at Vox.
“He knows this is super technical shit, right? You think he can handle it?”
Vox throws his head back in laughter. “Yeah, man. He’s got it in the bag, no worries.”
Stone grabs another transponder. “Where do you want yours?”
“Same place is fine.”
We check to make sure our little green dots show up on Stone’s screen, and then we’re making our way to a near-vertical drop-in on the side of a mountain that’s littered with boulders, moguls, and has never been groomed by a CAT in its entire existence.
There are only a couple sets of ski tracks up here. The patrollers won’t let anyone ski or board this alone. You have to have a group of two or more, or you don’t go.
“Fuck, this is steep,” I say, looking over the edge as I tighten my straps.
“Nervous?” Vox asks.
“A little,” I admit honestly.
“A little like the adrenaline makes you feel alive, or a little like you might throw up and don’t want to do this?” Vox clarifies.
“Can it be both?” I laugh.
“Ready?” Vox checks in again.
I nod. Here goes nothing.
Vox tips in first, and as soon as he’s over the ledge, working his way down, I know without a doubt, I’d follow him anywhere. I stay behind him, letting him set the pace and choose the route. I’m afraid that if I board next to him, he’ll try to pull ahead, always needing to be in the lead.
It takes us about thirty minutes to make it roughly a quarter of the way down the slope when we come upon a birdhouse.
“This feels random,” I say, stopping as close to Vox as I can get. The slope is so steep that we both have to lean back just to maintain an upright position against the grade.
I watch as Vox opens the lid and pulls out a bottle of bourbon.
“Ricochet’s best kept secret.” He hands me the bottle and leans down, unstrapping from his board. When he takes the bottle back, I do the same, and we plant our asses on a frozen boulder behind us.
It’s cold as fuck, but there’s not a cloud in the sky. We can see for miles.
“What do you think you want to do after racing?” I ask, my nerves starting to get the best of me, knowing I’m gearing up to tell him about his dad.
“I actually really enjoy product development.”
After listening to him discuss the modifications he wished he could make to his board, that makes sense, but I give in to the urge to fuck with him because I’m already staring down the barrel of one serious conversation, I don’t need him stressed about his future on top of that.
“I figured you’d want to do something flashy, like coaching. ”
Vox barks out in laughter. “Coaching is only flashy if your athletes are, and honestly, I don’t think I’d do so well trying to talk sense into hotheads like myself.”
“Eh, you aren’t so bad,” I say, nudging his shoulder. “Except maybe when you’re drawing mustaches on my poster.”
Vox chuckles, “Nope, not those either.”
“So, no dicks, and no mustaches. What the hell were you doing to me?” I laugh.
“Nothing that involved a Sharpie,” he says, his voice low. He takes another swig before I reach over and grab the bottle from him.
“Okay, that’s enough. We’re only a little way down this monster, and you need all your wits about you for this terrain.”
With his mouth still full of bourbon, he pulls me to him by the back of my neck and feeds me half the liquor. When some of it runs down my chin, Vox trails his tongue across my face, drinking it straight from my skin.
“How would you feel if I told you I used to jack off on your poster?” he whispers in my ear.
“On it? Or to it?” I ask, pulling back and looking at him with furrowed brows.
“On, baby. On.”
“That’s weirdly hot. I think part of me should probably be creeped out, but oddly, I’m not.”
“I used to lay it out on the floor and tuck my legs under me while my knees straddled your head and shoot my load all over your face.”
Jesus Christ.
“You’re making me hard, Vox, and I can’t board this section with a boner,” I groan.
“Fuck, I want to get you naked up here,” Vox says, his mouth moving to my neck. The conversation with his dad comes racing to the forefront of my mind, and I pull back again. I can’t take more from him with that conversation hanging between us.
“I need to tell you why I was late to practice this morning.”
“Jerk-off sesh get a little out of control?” he teases.
He’s deflecting because he knows he isn’t going to like what I have to say. What I wouldn’t give to be able to keep my mouth closed a little longer and just soak up this time together.
“I ran into your dad.”