Twenty-Eight
OREN
I love waking up wrapped up in Adak’s arms. Whether we’re spooning or tangled chest to chest, I never want to wake up any other way for the rest of my life than this. I love it. I love everything about it.
He’s almost always awake before I am. I’ve never considered myself a late sleeper, but I suppose that maybe my sleeping habits were dictated by my environment more than a natural pattern.
It’s been peaceful these last couple weeks. I don’t know if it’s because hockey is over and so the loud homophobic protests concerning gay coaches and players have quieted until hockey picks up again. I’d like to think they’re just losing steam. But I don’t know for sure.
There’s a chance that my family didn’t know that I was friends with Shelton in more than a supposed employee/employer role. He’s very loudly gay and does nothing to hide it or shield it from anyone. So I know my father knew, and I’d never heard him once comment on it or Shelton.
I’m also confident that he knew Huntley is gay, and that’s where he had the cops pick me up from when he forced me to go back home at nineteen. He never once mentioned it. There wasn’t even a question about Huntley.
Not from him, anyway. Dane used both of them as another reason to think I’m disgusting and a disappointment. While Frankie used both as cannon fodder in his verbal abuse.
But as much as I think back about it, I didn’t get any indication from my father one way or the other whether he was homophobic. I wouldn’t dream of considering him an ally, but I really kind of thought he was indifferent.
I’m not even entirely convinced otherwise now. I think he’s looking for ways to hurt me and force me to do what he wants. It’s manipulation. A control tactic.
Either way, the world around us has quieted down. I try not to allow myself to get comfortable with the quiet because I know there’s a chance that it won’t last. I’m more than convinced it won’t. Like a ticking time bomb… something is going to happen.
But today, none of that can touch me. Not when I’m comfortable and warm and pressed against Adak as his fingers lightly glide through my hair. His other hand is tickling the skin just below where my underwear falls.
I won’t admit it to Albie, but the underwear he sent me has not only altered how I see myself but the way Adak looks at me and touches me when I wear them has a way of boosting my self-image like nothing else.
It wasn’t that I considered myself ugly before.
Like most things, I was probably indifferent to how I looked.
Frankie would constantly comment on how ugly I was, but honestly, I think it was his own insecurities.
His nose alone has been broken like three times from hockey fights.
Not even a puck, but a punch. It didn’t do him any favors.
A happy sigh leaves me and I bury my face in Adak’s chest. The soft feeling of his hair against my skin and that masculine scent that belongs to Adak alone is almost enough to make me dopey. There’s nothing I love more than this.
I even love that we can just lie together with his hands on my body and it doesn’t have to lead to sex. I have a new hunger for sex, sure, but I love this just as much. Maybe more. It feels like it means something deeper. Something that sex alone can’t create or define.
Adak sighs. “Should probably get up,” he says quietly. “Or I’m going to be late.”
He has another meeting with the team management.
I feel bad that he has to go since there’s a guy there that’s always an ass and he comes home grumpy.
But I’m not sure there’s anything to be done about that.
For some reason, even though Adak says it seems like everyone seems to agree with him when it comes to this guy, he still has a job.
I guess he must be really good at whatever it is he does. Adak says it’s numbers. I’m not sure what that means.
“Okay,” I say.
“Want to take a shower with me?”
Chills race down my body as I inhale sharply. I’ve never seen Adak naked. Never.
Yes, I make it sound like we’ve been together for years instead of weeks, but he’s seen me naked plenty of times. He’s seen me in a lot of different states. But I’ve never seen him completely unclothed.
I nod. There aren’t enough words to say just how much I want to shower with him.
He kisses my forehead and pushes the blankets back. I slowly follow him into the bathroom. The water is already on as he leans over the sink to brush his teeth. I join him and he smiles at me around the toothbrush in his mouth.
There’s something wholesome about this. About doing something as domestic and simple as brushing our teeth together. I’m not sure why, but every time we do, something inside me just feels warmer.
I turn first and drop my underwear, keeping my eyes anywhere but on Adak next to me. We climb in the shower together and for a minute, we stand under the hot water and don’t speak.
There are two shower heads in the shower, one on each side. Then overhead is a long rain shower head. He has one set of wall heads on and the rain head from over us. It feels good to be so thoroughly surrounded by heat.
“Do you think it’ll be a good meeting?” I ask.
“We’re talking about the draft. While it shouldn’t inherently lead to the asshole being a dick, I can pretty much guarantee it will.”
I wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry.”
Adak kisses my head. “It’s fine. I get to come home to you, so I’ll just have to use that as a mantra to remind myself. It’ll help to get me through it.”
A grin spreads up my face. My fingers trail over his back, following the path of the water. They pause at the hill of his ass because I’m not sure if I’m allowed to touch him. I want to. I want to ask and I know I’m supposed to ask, but I don’t want to put any kind of pressure on him.
Adak releases me, and his hands twist behind him to grip mine. Before I can apologize, he very firmly places them on his ass. I grin and bow my head to hide it. “Sorry,” I mutter.
“Don’t be so careful. I’m a grown ass man. I know how to tell someone I don’t like what they’re doing.”
“But that’s kind of the thing,” I say, keeping my hands firmly on his toned globes as I lean back to look at him. “I don’t want to do something that’s going to make you need to say something at all.”
“We’re still learning each other,” Adak says, kissing my nose. “There’s going to be things we figure out we don’t like—together or individually. But we’re not going to know where that line is if we don’t get close enough to see it.”
“You’re so wise,” I say, honestly, but also teasing.
Adak grins. “You’re allowed to touch me, Oren. I will tell you if I don’t like it. And I won’t be upset about it because I know you’re not forcing it on me.”
I take a breath before asking, “Can I look at you?”
His eyebrows knit together. “Yes…?”
My cheeks flush, but not nearly as bad as they have been. “I’ve never seen you without clothes,” I say. “Completely without clothes.”
“Oh,” he says, laughing. “Now I understand your hesitation.” He kisses me again and takes a step back. Then another.
I can finally see this man. Completely. He’s… fucking glorious. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. The tone of his skin, the shape of his body. The color of his hair and how it’s waterlogged onto his forehead. His dark but warm eyes. The spattering of hair on his chest and below his navel.
And now. His soft dick hanging in front of him.
It’s not huge, but then, I’m not sure they are when soft.
I glance at mine. Mine doesn’t grow a whole lot.
It’s just… there. It gets hard and slightly thicker, but the length doesn’t change much.
Supposedly, I’m a shower but not much of a grower.
It can be misleading, as that one guy told me.
Does that mean Adak is a grower?
Adak holds out his hands and I place mine in them. He pulls me closer but just a bit so he can place my hands on his stomach. With a little pressure, he slides them down. I meet his eyes as he lets my hands go. He’s smiling softly, watching me. His slight nod gives me permission to touch him.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I let one of my hands glide down his slick skin. I’ve never touched another man’s cock like this before. It’s almost dizzying.
“Just so you know,” he says, and my hand freezes right before I touch the base of his cock. “The likelihood of me getting hard at your touch, no matter what you do, is pretty slim. Please don’t be offended or hurt.”
Maybe it’s the blood rushing through me, but his words sound confusing. “I know,” I say. It goes along with asexuality. That’s what the articles I read said, anyway. It can be forced, but I have absolutely zero intention of trying that.
His fingers brush gently on my cheek. “Touch me.”
His request sends all the hairs on my body standing on end. My eyes drop again and I let my fingers trail over his soft dick. It doesn’t move and I kind of want to laugh because, well, duh it doesn’t move!
I touch him everywhere, lifting it and feeling his balls. He spreads his legs for me to feel the spot between them that he presses on me. I don’t push because I feel like that’s a boundary. It might be part of forcing someone to get aroused and I don’t ever want to do that.
When I’ve had my fill, I look up to meet his eyes once more. I’m so fucking touched that he allowed me to feel him that I throw my arms around him and kiss him with every ounce of energy inside me. I want him to feel how meaningful it was for me to have that trust.
Eventually we wash and get out. Adak rushes to leave because we took so long in the shower, and I watch from the front door as he drives away. When I can’t see his taillights anymore, I lock it down and then move into the quiet house.
My stomach rumbles, so I go to the kitchen to find something to eat. I’m shit at cooking, something I think Adak figured out, so there are always several options for each mealtime that I can prepare myself that won’t result in setting the kitchen on fire.
It’s a real fear!
I toast a bagel, layer it with cream cheese and set it on a plate with mixed berries in a sugary dip that is entirely unnecessary but delicious. With a mug of hot tea, I head to the backyard and sit at the table there to watch the planes in the distance while I eat.
My fingers tingle. I can still feel the phantom touch of Adak’s skin. It leaves a smile on my face. I replay the moments over and over again as I munch on my food. I’m so lost in thought that the sudden roar of a plane over the house makes me yelp as I nearly fall out of my seat.
“Adak?”
I right myself only to nearly come crashing down again when a new voice calls Adak’s name. My stomach flips as I wait for Randall to show up again. I’m close enough to the sliding doors that I can get inside before he gets close. This time, I won’t make the mistake of letting him in.
But it’s not Randall. From the low fence to the right, a man appears. He’s young. Maybe my age. He’s not wearing a shirt, but gym shorts and earbuds. His brown hair is kind of fuzzy on top, and has light eyes.
He’s looking at me with concern. Then confusion. “Oh,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t know that Adak had company.”
I smile, unsure of what to do. “I’m his boyfriend,” I say, then feel a little lame at the defensive tone. He’s not looking at me in any particular way that reminds me of Randall and yet my hackles immediately rise. I am his boyfriend, dammit!
However, this man grins. He fucking beams like the sun. “Oh, that’s great! I’m Brevan. I live here”—he points with his thumb over his shoulder—“with my husband. Hold on, I’ll get him.”
The unease leaves me and I relax back into my seat. Not someone judging me. This is okay. This is good.
I’m just finishing my bagel when Brevan returns with an older man.
This man is very clearly refined. There are little touches about him, the way his graying hair is neatly combed over and perfectly styled.
His facial hair is maybe a day’s worth, but neatly trimmed, and he has pretty light eyes like Brevan’s.
There’s no mistaking he’s older. Not just in his hair color, but in the lines on his face. Subtle and distinguished, but very clearly highlighting his age.
“This is Kendrick,” Brevan says, holding up their linked hands. “We moved here a year ago and Adak’s been really kind and welcoming to us.” He points across the yard and I turn my head to see another gay couple coming toward Adak’s yard. “I texted Liam.”
Liam smiles at me while giving a bemused look at Brevan. His light brown eyes are as unique as the man with him’s vivid blue ones. This man is older than me, but I don’t think he’s as old as the man joining him.
“I’m Liam. This is Theron.”
Theron is very heavily salt and peppered, with a lot of white in his beard and at the sides of his head.
The top is dark and wildly standing up but made lighter with the frequent white strand.
Where Kendrick has classic laugh lines, his face shows signs of a man who has been business refined for a lot of his life.
Theron’s are deeper, suggesting he’s much quicker to laugh.
“I’m Oren,” I say.
That’s how I met the neighbors who end up joining me in the yard and are still there when Adak gets home.