5. Aiden
Chapter five
Aiden
S weat, ice, and the constant threat of failure. Every practice a battle, every play a chance to prove I belong here.
Things are even more intense as we gear up for the start of the season. The minors are in my rearview, but my path is far from clear. One wrong move and I’m back right back where I started.
This is my shot.
My chance to show I’m not just another washed-up has-been. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone or anything fuck that up.
I grunt in annoyance when Rogers slams into me. If the fucker weren’t on my team, I’d crash his ass into the ice. I shake it off and push off, ready to run another play. This practice is grueling, and I’m already over it.
Positions haven’t even been completely decided, let alone the starting line. At least, not that I know of. When I ask Jax about it, he’s just as clueless as I am, which keeps me from vibrating out of my damn skin.
It’s fucking maddening, and this coach is harder to read than anyone else I’ve ever met. With my last one, I was at least able to glean an inkling based on his interactions with my teammates, but this guy is playing things close to his chest.
It’s like trying to read a damn brick wall. Every time I think I’ve got a handle on what Coach wants–he switches it up. It’s driving me insane, but I can’t let it show. Can’t let anyone see me sweat — figuratively, at least. Literally, I’m drowning in the stuff. But this uncertainty, this constant pressure? It’s familiar.
It’s what I’ve been dealing with my whole damn life. Always having to prove myself, always one misstep away from losing everything. And now here I am at the precipice of my career. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be able to just... breathe. But I know who I am. And Aiden Weller thrives under pressure. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Three hours later, I am damn near choking on sweat as I trudge my exhausted ass to the locker rooms. I know it won’t be empty, but I hope to at least be able to grab a shower quickly before heading back to the house. My shit luck continues unabated when I walk over and see all of them occupied.
“Son of a bitch,” I grumble under my breath before shoving my shit back into my bag. I’ll just have to shower back at the house. I’m not in the mood to shoot the shit while waiting my turn. The heat outside sucks, especially with me already sweating, but it’s a necessary evil.
It isn’t just the heat, though. Ever since the conversation about Turner, Aurora’s been acting strangely subdued. I think maybe it’s just because she found out about him being engaged, so I’ve given her some space.
But it’s been a week, and she’s still walking around damn near mopey. I’m not sure if it’s because she’d hoped they would one day get back together or what. She’s too good for him, but people go back to shitty relationships all the time even when they shouldn’t. Hell, it’s how I came into being in the first fucking place.
“Where you headed?” Tyson asks from beside me. Other than Jax, he’s probably my closest friend on the team. We both came in from the minors, so I think there’s an understanding there that the others who started in the majors couldn’t understand.
It’s nice to talk with someone who knows exactly how it feels and why I’m going as hard as I am. Jax sort of gets it, but he won’t ever really understand.
“Home,” I say as I swing my bag strap over my head. Showers are full, and I’m not tryin’ to wait around and let this sweat crust on my fucking skin. “You meeting up with us at O’Keefe’s later?”
Tyson gives me a thumbs-up. “Yeah, man. Got to get some enjoyment before the season starts, then we’ll lock that shit down hard.”
“Facts.”
I nod to a few other teammates before making my way out of the stadium. It’s one of the few times I’ve driven separately from Jax, but I find myself enjoying the ride across town and back to the house that has somehow transformed into home.
I thought moving to a small town would be boring, but I’m enjoying the slower pace. Maybe it’s all the fresh air, but I feel a lot less restless than usual. People are a lot nicer too. I can tell some of it is that brand of fake niceness you do when you’re being watched and can’t tell people to fuck off without consequences. But there are a lot of times when people are being nice just because. It’s so weird, but I’m starting to like it.
I let myself into the house and make a beeline straight for the shower without bothering to call out a hello. I know Jax is still at the arena, and I assume Aurora’s there too.
I still don’t know what exactly a social media manager does, but she seems to be doing alright for herself.
Stripping off my clothes feels good, as does the hot pinpricks of water that hit my skin. I groan as I force my muscles to relax. Being pent up is going to be the death of me, but I still need to talk to Jax about bringing girls back before I just show up with some random on my arm. And I guess that includes clearing it with Aurora. She’s a fellow roommate, after all. Still, I feel weird about talking to her about bringing some chick back to the house for a good time.
I’m not ashamed of fucking. I enjoy it and always make sure my partners enjoy it too, but it feels grubby doing it in front of someone who just ended their engagement.
But that’s a worry for another time. For now, while I have the house to myself, I can at least enjoy some one-handed action. Once the season starts up, I’ll have to figure out a way to get what I need with as little fuss as possible.
The water is relaxing as it beats down on my back. I prop myself up with one hand on the wall before leaning over and gripping my soft cock. It’s a familiar weight, and while my own hand feels good, I can’t deny that someone else’s would be better. Hell, a mouth would be even more welcome instead of the warm water trickling over my skin.
I close my eyes against the steam as I slowly slide my hand over my skin. I groan, not bothering to keep my sounds quiet as my cock hardens. I don’t have the energy to make it last, so I go with my old tried-and-true rhythm, letting my hand glide over my skin and imagining a pair of soft, cherry-red lips wrapped around the head of my dick.
“Fuck,” I groan again as my balls twitch. Being celibate isn’t something I enjoy, and I know I’m going to need to find more moments for me to at least pull myself off if I’m going to take a longer hiatus from finding someone else to warm my bed.
Puck bunnies are plentiful, even with a team as new and a town as small as ours, but they also come chock full of crazy that could be life-ruining if you’re not careful. You always hear stories of someone popping up where they shouldn’t be or poking holes in condoms. I’m not trying to get caught up and be on the hook for payments for the next eighteen years.
It’s not just the risk that keeps me from diving into the bunny pool. There’s something about the whole scene that leaves me cold these days. Maybe it’s all those years in the minors, watching guys chase that high of being wanted, of feeling like they’ve made it. I’ve seen how quickly it can all come crashing down.
One bad game, one injury, and suddenly you’re yesterday’s news. These girls, they’re not here for me. They’re here for the idea of me, the hockey player, the potential star. And fuck if that doesn’t make me feel more alone than actually being alone.
Squeezing my hand tighter around my cock, I think about how good it would feel to slide the head of my dick over someone’s tongue or, even better, to be buried balls deep in their pussy. Slowly the vague figure in my mind shifts and changes, growing shapely curves that I know would feel so good to grip tightly as I slam deep. I love the contrast of soft skin on my calloused hands. There’s something about that connection that makes me hard beyond belief. Never mind the slick sounds of good pussy being fucked into nice and deep.
Even watching the ripples slide over skin with each thrust is enough to do it for me. The thoughts have me breathing harder as the phantom sounds of skin meeting skin circle around in my brain. I widen my stance like I would if I were fucking someone from behind, ready to shoot off. At the last moment, a face appears in my mind with rosy cheeks and lips made for kissing.
Aurora.
“Fuck.”
I grit my teeth and squeeze the head of my dick as it pulses, painting the wall in front of me with my cum. It takes a moment for me to catch my breath and come down from the high, but when I do, I have to run my clean hand over my face. If I’m being honest, it’s not the first time I have come with her face in my mind, but it’s the first time in a while.
This isn’t just a quick fantasy anymore. It’s Aurora. Jax’s little sister. The girl I’ve known for years. She’s off-limits in about a hundred different ways. It’s not just her body - though fuck, that’s part of it. It’s the way she laughs, how she calls me out on my bullshit—she just has a lightness, a clarity to her.
I know I shouldn’t. But Aurora? She’s always had a way of slipping past my defenses. And that scares the shit out of me. And standing there in that towel earlier, looking at me with those big brown eyes... It’s like seeing her for the first time all over again.
The water rinses the cum from my hand, and I shift so it can hit the wall too. I’m the only one who uses this bathroom, but I still don’t want to create a biohazard. I probably only have a few minutes before my energy completely crashes, so I shower quickly and wash my hair before getting out.
Drying off, I stare at myself in the mirror. The intensity of our practices has been helping shape my body more than it has before. I scratch at the scruff on my chin before deciding to leave it until the morning. When I open the door, I expect to be alone, only to come face-to-face with the person who has just helped me, however inadvertently, paint the walls.
“Aurora, what are you doing here?”
She glances at me, her soulful brown eyes shifting up and down my frame. If anyone else looked at me like that, I would think they were checking me out.
“I live here, Aiden. Remember?”
I huff out a soft laugh before shaking my head. Drops of water shake off the strands of my hair, hitting the floor, and yet she doesn’t move away. We stand in the hallway, gazes trained on one another, the only sounds between us, the drip of the water and our own breathing. I can’t stop myself from looking at her. She has always been nice to look at, but adulthood is treating her right.
Her lips part for a moment, and my mind flashes back to the fantasy of cherry-red lips wrapped around my cock. I have to get away from her before I lose my fucking mind. Getting my dick hard twice isn’t difficult, but I’m not trying to point due north when she’s standing in front of me.
The front door opening snaps me to attention and I shake my head again as I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. The interruption seems to help Aurora snap out of it too because she moves continuing down the hall toward her bedroom disappearing through the doorway, silent as a fucking field mouse.
I stand there for a moment, not sure if I’m dreaming. It seems like we just had a moment, but Aurora and I don’t have moments. We tolerate each other for Jax’s sake. I would protect her if needed, of course, but it stops there.
When Jax steps into the hallway, he pauses, cocking his eyebrow and giving me a once-over.
“Why are you just standing in the hallway half-ass naked?”
Not having an answer to that fair question, I shake my head and make my way to my own room. Jax’s footsteps are behind me, and I hope he doesn’t want to have an extended conversation. I’m still too twitchy from coming my brains out to the thought of his sister hanging from my dick, and I’m not sure if that thought is painted all over my fucking face.
“You still planning to join us for drinks tonight?” he asks, thankfully stopping at my doorway instead of just waltzing in. We talked about respecting privacy the first week I moved in, and despite Jax being a nosy fucker, he has been good about respecting that. “Coach said you were killing it during practice and deserved to take it easy before the season starts full speed.”
That has me turning around from where I’ve been digging in my drawer. “Really? He said that?”
Jax nods, looking sincere. I hope he isn’t just paying me lip service. Then again, he isn’t really the type to do that. If you’re playing like shit, he’s the type of guy to tell you.
“Seriously. You had left already, but we got to talking about how things were going, and he had nothing but praises for you. I said you were killing it, dude. I don’t know why you act like I’m lying all the fucking time.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that I think you’re lying. I’ve just been stuck in the minors for so long—“
“Were stuck. Were. You’re not anymore, so it’s time to start celebrating.” Jax’s enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself smiling. “Starting with drinks tonight. Get to know the guys more on a casual basis. Maybe Rogers isn’t a complete asshole with a beer in his hand.”
I snort. “Nah, he’s probably even more obnoxious when liquored up. But yeah, I’ll be there, so get the fuck out so I can get dressed.”
Jax gives me a wide smile and a thumbs-up before turning and heading back down the hallway.
I close the door behind him before tossing off my towel. My cock isn’t completely soft after the run-in with Aurora, but I ignore it and pull some boxers on. I have shit to do, and I need something to get my mind off of familiar plush lips and the sound of skin meeting skin.
But as I get dressed, this nagging feeling creeps up my spine like a cold finger.
It’s like I’m on the ice seconds before a big play. Everything’s lined up, but something’s off. The team, Aurora, my own fucked-up head - they’re all moving pieces, and I can’t read the game.
Damn. When did life get more complicated than a power play? Give me a 200-pound defenseman any day over... whatever this is. At least I know how to handle that. This? This is like trying to skate on thin ice. One wrong move and I’m under. Something’s gotta give. The question is, what’ll break first — the team or my resolve,
The real kicker? Part of me is itching to see what happens if I just... let it crack.