Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ETHAN
In the end, Jamie picks the loft apartment. It seems to take a while for him to make the decision, but the idea of buying new furniture and decorating the bigger space at this point in the season ends up being the deciding factor.
The unit is available at the beginning of December, so we make plans as a team to help him move after our next road trip. Over the course of a few flights, he picks out furniture on the IKEA website – kitchen stuff, rugs, couches, and a king-sized bed for the loft.
I try not to picture him in the king-sized bed too often.
I was worried about how he'd react after our sexting adventures in Vancouver, but he's clearly decided to pretend it never happened. I wish I could do the same, but I find myself skipping my usual hookups on the road in favor of my right hand and picturing him on the ice.
The Sunday after we return from the road trip – on which we pick up two wins and an overtime loss, further cementing our place at the top of the division – we gather at Jamie's new apartment.
Some of the married guys have brought paintbrushes and ladders, while the rookies show up with cases of beer in hand.
Jamie's new Subaru is already parked on the street outside, so we head to the door and knock. He comes to let us in and ushers us up the half-flight of stairs to the inside of the loft. As he shows the other guys around, they ooh and aah over the high ceilings and natural light.
“Damn, Cap! I’m gonna talk to you before I get a place!” says Matty, who is still paying a lease on an apartment in Des Moines.
“I’m a little surprised you picked this neighborhood, Cap.” Nate Sutter, our first-line center and my assistant captain says quietly next to me.
Sutter is from Minneapolis originally, so he may have caught on to what the others have missed in terms of Loring Park's history.
“Oh?” Sutter's never seemed overtly homophobic, but the bar is low in this sport, and I can never be sure.
“Yeah. You seemed pretty...un-chill...about the gay thing earlier this season. You know this is kind of a...gayborhood, right?” Oh. Oh, shit. He thinks I'm the homophobic one.
I mean, he's got a point.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I was kind of a dickhead earlier, blaming stuff on Carter instead of the press. I think...I hope we're in a better place now.”
He gives me a small upnod, and leaves with a quiet, “Good.”
We spend the first hour moving around the boxes and luggage from Jamie's car and cataloging any repairs the place needs.
At noon, the IKEA delivery arrives and suddenly fifteen grown-ass men are competitively assembling flat-pack furniture in the living space.
Afraid I'll lose an eye to an Allen wrench, I help Jamie with the kitchen stuff – unpackaging it, washing it, and putting it away.
“You know the first time my mom comes, she's gonna reorganize all of this.” he says as he puts away something that resembles a Medieval torture device.
“Oh yeah? You think she'll visit often?” My dad never comes, although he requires a visit every time the team is in New York City for more than twelve consecutive hours.
“I mean, probably. She's a teacher, so I'll probably see her more in the summer, but she'll come up whenever she can. Benefits of being an only child.”
“Mm.” I, too, am an only child, but I can't say I've ever thought of it as an advantage.
Before long, I've finished putting away Jamie's new plates in the cabinets. As he finishes up the silverware, I head to the pile of boxes in the dining room. I definitely can't put all of these away, but I figure I can at least get them to the right rooms.
The first few are easy – two marked “movies and games” are taken to the living room, where Lindy and Alexei are racing to see who can build their half of the entertainment center quicker.
Another says “linen”, so I take it upstairs to the linen closet in the full bath.
The next box doesn't have a label on it, so I take the top off to look inside.
Just as my eyes catch sight of black silicone, I see movement at the archway connecting the kitchen to the dining area.
“What are you doing?” Jamie whispers urgently, walking up to me.
I stand frozen, still looking at the plug sitting next to a bottle of lube and several other toys. Quickly, I slam the lid back on the box.
“I was, uh, helping move boxes to the right rooms. This one didn't have a label.” I feel my cheeks grow hot as I avoid Jamie's gaze.
“What the fuck should I have labeled it, Ethan? 'Jamie Carter's sex toys – please photograph for The Neutral Zone?'“ His face is just inches from mine, his whisper urgent in my ear.
The thought of the blog usually makes my heart race, but for a second all I can think of is how ridiculous the story would be. A smile on my lips, I turn my head to Jamie.
“Jamie Carter Goes Deep?”
He purses his lips. I try again.
“Carter Scores Solo?”
One corner of his mouth twitches. I've almost got him.
“Carter: Top Line, Bottom Energy?”
The laughter erupts from him so loudly that several of the guys in the living room look up. Johnny MacKenzie is the only one to say anything.
“Yo Ethan, stop dicking around and come help me! Someone's gotta defend the honor of d-men.”
I slide my eyes over to Jamie, wondering if he's thinking of a “d-men” joke as raunchy as the one flying through my mind right now. The mischief in his eyes says yes.
“I'll, uh, take this upstairs. You help rescue my living room furniture.”
Sure enough, Mac has the whole bookshelf messed up – the bottom is on the top, and at least half of the shelves are upside down or backwards.
“Dude. How are you this bad at this?”
Johnny grimaces at me, scratching his blond hair. “Man, I don't know. Hailey always takes care of this shit for us.”
Johnny and his girlfriend Hailey have been together as long as I've known him – longer than he's even been in the NHL. I smack him gently upside the head.
“Dude, you'd be lost without that girl. Better make sure you keep her around.”
One side of his mouth quirks up and he nods, embarrassed. “Yeah, I know.”
Eventually, we finish the bookshelf, by which time the rest of the guys have finished the other furniture.
The place isn't quite done, but it's down to jobs Jamie can more easily do himself.
I call in a pizza order from the place down the street and soon enough, we're sitting around the place eating and drinking beers from cases the rookies brought.
This is the first time since the preseason that we've had a chance to sit down together and just...
be. The season's gotten off to a solid start, picking up points with a couple of overtime losses and a good handful of wins.
As I sit on Jamie's new couch, surrounded by the team chirping one another, I realize how different the team feels compared to the last few years. How...cohesive we've become.
Inevitably, a couple of the rookies have a few too many, and as snow starts to fall outside, I realize they probably shouldn't be driving themselves home.
Still, I'm enjoying this moment, this warmth, and I'm not particularly eager to leave right now.
I look next to me, where Alexei is finishing his fifth slice of supreme pizza.
“Hey, Kovy, if you and Sutter can help get the rookies home, I'll stick around and help Carter clean up.”
Alexei holds my eye for a moment and I feel a blush build in my cheeks.
“Sure, Ethan. I'll do that.”
As the last rookie heads out the door, I start going through the living space, putting all the cardboard into a neat pile for the recycling dumpster.
Jamie starts turning off lights and closing the curtains facing onto the street.
With the cardboard done, I start gathering empties and consolidating them in the kitchen.
Once I think I have them all, I start rinsing them out.
“You don't have to do that.”
“Nah, you don't want to wake up in your new place for the first time with a big mess. I'm almost done.”
He hums and starts putting away the dishes from the boys.
“Can I...” Jamie gestures to the cabinet above my head.
“Oh, sure.” I say, thinking to move out of his way. Instead, he reaches above my head, bringing the front of his body to the back of mine. Just when I think I should say something, should move anyway, his hand finds my waist and his breath whispers on the back of my neck.
Suddenly, the only move I want to make is to turn in his arms and bring my body closer to his. I do it, and as his body slides back down mine, I meet his eyes. A question lies within them.
“You should tell me to leave, Jamie.”
He takes in a deep breath, and I feel the movement of air against my lips.
“Is that what you want to do, Ethan? Leave?”
“No.”
“Then stay.”
With those words, I cannot help myself. I bring my hands to his face and my lips to his, and he responds immediately. I feel his soft lips give way under mine, allowing my tongue to slip into his mouth. The experience could not be more different from our first kiss.
As his tongue teases mine, he moans deep in his throat. The sound overwhelms me, and suddenly I'm pushing him up against the wall, running my hands from his face down his chest and to the hem of his shirt, where they reach the warmth of his skin.
“Tell me to stop, Jamie.”
Instead, he uses his hands to move mine under his shirt, over those abs I've been remembering, covered in his cum. I move my lips from his mouth to his ear to his neck, where my tongue and teeth trace the line of his collarbone.
“Don't stop, Ethan.”
I pull back, knowing I have to. I need to. I really fucking should.
But in his blown pupils, I see my own desire reflected, and suddenly I can't.
Instead, I fall to my knees in his kitchen, holding his eyes as I do. I bring my hands to his waist, working my fingers under the waistband of the shorts he's wearing.
“May I?” I whisper, worried that he'll finally see reason.
Instead, he nods. “Do it.”
I pull down his shorts and boxers, finally revealing that beautiful cock from our texts, long and slim and nestled in a neatly-trimmed nest of blond hair.
I bring my nose to the crease where his leg meets his groin and draw a long inhale.
His head falls back against the wall as his fingers thread through my hair.
With a gentle tug, he pulls my head back, meeting my gaze once more, this time with hooded eyes and parted lips.
I put us both out of our misery, grabbing the base of his cock with one hand and bringing it to my mouth.
I run my tongue around the head, tasting his salty precum as I get to his slit.
I run my tongue along it, poking in to get every last drop.
He keens, a long, whining sound, and his hand gently pulls at my hair.
Getting the message, I suck him deep in my mouth, bringing my other hand to his balls, pulling gently at each.
“Fuck, Ethan. Don't stop. Don't ever stop.”
I pull off, running my hand over his cock, playing with the ridge where the head meets the shaft. He fucks into my hand, fingers tugging again on my hair. All too happy to oblige, I move my mouth back to his cock, getting into a rhythm of push and pull, not too fast and not too slow.
Jamie clearly disagrees, as his whining has become whispered pleading.
“Please, Ethan. Oh, God. You do that so good, please don't stop.”
Determined to show him just how good I can be, I take him deeper, pushing past the resistance at the back of my throat. The whining returns, and his hips are moving of their own volition, fucking into my throat. I feel my own cock swell in my jeans, pushing against the zipper.
“Ethan. Ethan, I'm gonna come.” He pulls at my hair, this time trying to pull me off of him.
Not a chance. If I get one try at this, I'm going to finish the job properly.
With just a few more sucks, he cries out, shooting down my throat. I take it, continuing to suck him until he goes hypersensitive and pushes me off.
I rise to my feet, catching his heavy-lidded gaze. I kiss one cheek, then the other, then his mouth reaches for mine. I wonder if he can taste himself on my lips, my tongue. If so, he doesn't seem to mind.
“Let me help you with that,” he offers, as his hand reaches for my cock. He bends his knees, as though he is going to kneel, but I press into him.
“No, like this.” I push up his shirt, running my hands over his perfect skin again.
I put my hand over his on my cock and pull.
He gets the idea, spitting in his hand and wrapping it around me as I return my lips to his.
Before long, I'm fucking his hand, feeling the tip of my cock rubbing up against his tight abs.
I pull my lips away, resting my forehead against his instead.
“So close, Jamie. Feels so good.”
“Yeah? You like that?”
His hand picks up speed and I know it won't be long.
I use one hand to push his shirt up again, moving it out of the way just in time.
I come in long spurts, the friction from his hand and stomach drawing out my pleasure until I am empty and sated.
I look down and see his painted abs once again.
But this time, it's my cum all over them.
The thought makes my cock give a valiant twitch.
I lean my head against his shoulder, pressing him into the wall. For a moment, I feel nothing more than peace, here with the smell of his aftershave around me and the taste of him still on my tongue. But as a car passes by outside, I feel the weight of the world settle on me.
What have I done? Why, just as everything was falling into place, did I feel the need to ruin it all?
“Hey Ethan?”
Jamie's voice is tentative, and I wonder if he can hear the thoughts running through my head. I pick my head up off of his shoulder, look him in the eye.
“Yeah?”
“Don't...please don't make this weird. I...I like playing for the Huskies a lot more when you and I are friends. If this is gonna get in the way of that, we gotta stop. Is it gonna be a problem?”
Am I that obvious? Can he hear the thoughts running through my head right now?
“I...yeah. Our friendship is important to me, too.”
A wrinkle appears between his eyes and I realize – I haven't answered his question. Probably because I don't have an answer.
“I'll, uh, see you at practice, yeah?”
I see the worry in my mind echoed in his own eyes, and I wish more than anything that I could wipe it away.
“See you at practice.”
With that, I head to the door and walk outside. After the warmth of Jamie's apartment, the cold is biting. As I turn to walk home, the wind hits me in the face and it feels...
...it feels like what I deserve.