Fifteen
Blaine
I’ve never been annoyed to see the team jet before.
Even though I dislike some aspects of road trip games, I’m usually filled with excitement over being able to play hockey and having the chance to hook up with new people in a different city.
My favorite duo for many years has always been hockey and hook-ups.
But now?
That favorite duo has now changed to hockey and Alex.
Now, I’m grumbling like a grumpy bear who lost his oatmeal as I step onto the tarmac at the private terminal at O’Hare International because I don’t want to play hockey or hook up with people in another city.
I want to be able to play on home ice, ask Alex to come and watch me play, and see if he’ll gift me one of his beautiful smiles.
The same Alex who left me so hard I could’ve put a dent in my car door if I’d whipped my cock out the other night.
The sounds of his soft moans and whimpers as I took his mouth, the flush of his cheeks, and his lust-filled eyes…
It was a fucking amazing feat that I didn’t convince him to let me inside his house or fuck him in the back seat of my car.
I give my self-restraint a solid nine out of ten.
“Blaine Olsen, what are you wearing?”
I look up at the sound of my brother's voice. Elliot’s standing by the open door of the team jet, holding up a phone, while the team’s PR manager, Colleen, stands next to him, sporting a bemused expression.
I laugh under my breath and shake my head.
I don’t think Elliot has a serious bone in his body aside from his pre-game ritual. Touch his pads or stick before a game, and you’ll feel the wrath of Elliot Olsen.
He ambles down a few steps, still holding the phone out, obviously recording something, and waits until I start to climb the stairs.
He puts on his best David Attenborough impression and announces, “And here we have Blaine Olsen, the less attractive and talented of the Olsen brothers.”
I scoff, flipping him the middle finger.
Elliot pushes my obscene gesture away with his hand. “Tell the fans what you’re wearing and whether you’re excited to head to the west coast?”
I climb the stairs slowly, mainly so he doesn’t trip and hurt himself. I don’t think I could deal with that on my conscience.
“I don’t know what I’m wearing; I went to a suit store and got fitted, and yeah, I fucking love the west coast.” I grin, knowing they won’t be able to use whatever footage now because I cursed.
Elliot groans. “Fuck's sake, Blaine! Now Colleen’s definitely not gonna include my parts on the team's socials.”
He frowns and stomps up the stairs, handing the phone back to Colleen in a huff.
She laughs, rolling her eyes at his dramatics. “Don’t tell him this, but I wasn't going to include it anyway.”
“Sometimes you just gotta entertain him, kind of like you would with a child.”
She lets out a loud hoot of laughter. We exchange a high-five, and I make my way onto the plane.
We have a routine on the jet—the same seat, same seatmate. Some of the guys play cards, some like to sleep, others watch movies or read a book. I like to use the time to take a nap or catch up on whatever series I’m binging.
I remove my headphones and iPad from my bag, dropping them in my seat before placing my bag in the overhead compartment along with my jacket, then sit down next to Zach.
He glances up from his Switch. His eyes are red, and the dark shadows underneath wash out his complexion. “Hey, man.”
“Hey, bud. Are you okay?”
His blink is slow, and he gives me a tired nod. “I slept like shit last night. It’s like my body knows that I’m gonna have to deal with hotel beds for the next week, so instead of giving me one night of blissful sleep, I’m tortured.”
At six-foot-six, he often finds hotel beds too small, and his feet end up hanging over the end. He’s even had a custom bed made for his apartment because nothing was big enough for him.
“That's the downfall of being a giant, I guess.” I joke.
He gives me the finger and picks his Switch back up.
Zach’s one of the best guys I’ve ever met. The kind of guy who deserves the world. Due to his size, he often gets shit on the ice as people try to pick a fight, but he’s a big softie. He doesn’t like to fight.
Whereas me? I’ll happily pick fights any day.
Zach settles back into his seat, his thumbs busying away on his Switch. Slipping my phone out of my pants pocket, I read through the messages I exchanged with Alex yesterday.
To say I was shocked to hear from him after I dropped him home would be an understatement. I thought I might’ve scared him off with my parting demand, but no, it seems that he loved it.
I waited and watched in my car until I saw he was safely inside before I left.
I made it as far as the parking lot, and my dick was in my hand before the engine was off.
It only took a few strokes for me to spill my load, the evidence hitting the steering wheel and the window.
I found some wet wipes in the glove box, and I cleaned up before anyone could see.
Bravo, hindsight of past-Blaine. Ten out of ten.
“How did your date with Alex go?” Ethan asks, sitting down in the row across from me.
“Really good.” I nod.
When he doesn't respond, I turn to look at him. He’s wearing a smug grin, and I know exactly what’s coming.
I roll my eyes. “What? Spit it out!”
“I told you.”
“Yeah, you did. Well done! The great Yoda Ethan comes through with solid advice. Gee, you should become a captain or something,” I say sarcastically.
He punches my shoulder. “Fuck off with that Yoda crap.”
“Hey, don’t call Yoda crap,” Zach pipes up, scowling at Ethan.
“Whatever.” Ethan waves him off.
Zach harrumphs.
“Blaine, I’m proud of you. It’s like you’ve finally leveled up to maturity. I never thought the day would come.”
I narrow my eyes at Ethan, trying to pretend that he’s starting to piss me off, but inside I’m fucking buzzing.
Praise from Ethan is like catnip. We all fucking want it, and when we get it, we’re high as fuck.
“Thanks, man.”
“Are you going to see him again when you get back?”
The plane doors close once the final person steps on board, and the flight attendant begins to run through the safety procedure.
I lower my voice so I don’t interrupt. “Yeah, I hope so. I’m just worried I’m going to fuck up somehow.” I sigh, smoothing my hand over my bouncing knee. “I’m not good at this shit.”
I want to be better.
I will be better.
Ethan nods understandingly. “What about something casual? Go for a walk on the pier before it gets too cold, get a hot dog, sit in the park, cook dinner for him. Just get to know each other, spend time together. It doesn’t have to be big, grand gestures every time, because that gets old fast. Dating is about getting to know one another, developing that connection. ”
I make a mental note of everything he’s just listed. That’s doable. I can do that. It wouldn’t be flashing my bank balance in his face, and I can still make it feel special.
“Are you sure you’re not Yoda, oh wise one?”
Ethan chuckles. “Secret, shall I tell you? Grand Master of Hockey Captain Order am I.” He winks before opening his book, letting me know that he’s done with this conversation.
* * *
The whistle blows for a TV timeout and the ice crew appears with shovels to clear the ice. I squirt some water into my mouth, and, at the sound of cheers and claps, I glance over my shoulder toward Elliot as music filters through the sound system.
I know what’s coming.
The fans know what’s coming.
We all know what’s coming because this is what he’s known for.
It all started in senior year of high school when he completely forgot where he was and started dancing to the music between plays, and ever since, it’s become iconic.
Every game—home and away—fans wait in anticipation to see what Elliot will dance to next or serenade his goal posts to—he’s been known to crouch down and sing a bit of Taylor Swift to the iron—and they will send him endless song requests on social media.
A bubble of laughter escapes me as Elliot shimmies his shoulders under his pads as "Da Ya Think I’m Sexy” echoes through the arena before removing his mask and placing it on top of the net.
He was always a dancer as a kid, dancing to commercials on TV, or begging our mom to let him go on those dance machines whenever we passed an arcade.
The crowd gets louder as Elliot places his stick, glove, and blocker on top of the net, and then starts to dance. We crack up laughing on the bench, his bright smile visible as he gyrates his hips the best he can with his pads on and places his hands on the back of his sweaty head.
“We think you’re sexy, Elliot!” One fan screams.
I shake my head, my cheeks aching from laughing.
Once the song changes to another, he waves at the crowd and skates over to us, shimmying his body to the music. I slap him on his padded shoulder and pass him a drink when he reaches us.
Coach is trying not to laugh, but the way his lips keep twitching is betraying his usual stoic facade. “Olsen, I’d say let’s not give up the goaltending gig just yet. You might be popular with the crowd, but I’m not sure you’ll make it onto Broadway.”
Elliot grins, squirting some water into his mouth before he flicks some in the air, his eyes trailing every droplet. “No problemo, Coachio. Between the posts is where my heart lies, and where it shall remain, ‘til death do us part.”
The game in Anaheim ends six to one. A major win for us.
The locker room is buzzing with electricity as we enjoy our post-W singalong and hit the showers.
It’s always good to start a long stretch on a high.
We’ll be heading to Los Angeles next, before San Jose, Seattle, and then Vancouver before making our way back to the windy city.
We load up our bags onto the waiting coach and make the drive to Los Angeles for the game tomorrow night.
Once we’re checked in, some guys head to the bar for a drink, while others head straight to their assigned room.
I flop down on the bed, groaning into the sheets.
Damn, my body aches. Kicking off my shoes, I slip my phone out of my pocket and text Alex.
Blaine
Hey, are you awake?
His reply is almost instant.
Alex
Yeah, I am.
Alex
Congrats on the win! :)
Blaine
Thank you! It feels good to start the road trip with a win.
Blaine
Can we FaceTime?
Alex
Yeah, of course.
I hit the FaceTime button, and it only takes one ring before his gorgeous face fills my phone screen. His bright smile lights up my insides like never before.
“Hey, great game tonight!”
I preen like a peacock. “Thanks, hot stuff. I dedicated my goal to you.”
“Wow, thank you, I’m honored.” He laughs, his bare shoulders peeking into view as he lays back onto what looks like a pillow.
“Are you in bed?”
He nods, his teeth grazing over his bottom lip. “Yeah, I just got out of the shower.”
“Fuck, Alex,” I groan, hitting my head back against the headboard. “You can’t just say that. I can’t stop thinking about you. I keep wondering what you must have sounded like the other night when you moaned my name when you came. I bet it was fucking amazing.”
I palm my thickening cock through my pants. Even with the low lighting from his bedside lamp, I see the soft flush of his cheeks. That tongue that I can still taste from two nights ago sweeps across his lower lip, and I wish I could take that lip between my teeth and drive him wild.
“Tell me how your day’s been because if you don’t distract me from being pretty much naked in bed, I’m gonna want phone sex, and I’m trying to be good here.”
His laughter coats me like a warm blanket. “It’s been busy; we almost had another sell out today and finished up a custom order, then went to the gym to work out with Nate.”
Fucking Nate.
I hate that I’m going all green-eyed monster over the fact that he gets to spend time with Alex when I’m over two thousand miles away. Spotting him while he squats, watching that peachy ass stretch his shorts, seeing those biceps pop.
Ugh!
A weird sensation bubbles up in my stomach. I’ve never experienced this kind of jealousy over someone.
And the fact that I’m not freaking out about it is making me freak out a little, which is becoming a common occurrence.
“I want to work out with you,” I grumble.
“I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.” He grins, clearly picking up on my jealous streak. “I lost a lot of muscle mass after college. I’m trying to build it back up again, so I think you would destroy me.”
“Fuck yeah, I would, and I don’t mean in the gym.” I wiggle my eyebrows, a wicked grin spreading across my face.
Alex tries to hide his shy smile, the tips of his ears turning the deepest shade of pink. He raises his hand to cover a yawn, and once again I feel like an asshole for keeping him awake knowing how early he gets up for work.
“I’ll let you sleep; it’s like one in the morning there.” I chew on my bottom lip, not wanting to push my luck but knowing I don’t wanna wait another week to see his face. “Can I call you again tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” He smiles. His eyes grow tired as another yawn escapes him. “Good luck for the game tomorrow.”
“Will you be watching?” I hold my breath as I wait for his answer.
“Yeah, I will. Goodnight, Blaine.”
Pride blooms in my chest.
“Goodnight, Alex.”
The call disconnects, and I rub at the weird knot in my chest.
Part of my brain is screaming at me to run. To end things before I develop feelings and have my heart broken again when Alex leaves me.
Because it will happen.
But for now, as I get undressed, settle into the hotel bed and close my eyes, listening to the soft sound of sirens in the distance, I realize that Alex might be worth the risk.