Chapter 20 The Movie
The Movie
“Armstrong, stop by my office before you head out,” Coach called out from behind him.
Fletcher turned and gave her a thumbs up.
“Oh shit,” Douglas quipped. “Are you in trouble?” He let out a snicker and slapped Fletcher on the back.
“Probably,” Fletcher shook his head and rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Yesterday was my mom’s birthday. I didn’t call. She must’ve told on me.” Fletcher explained to Douglas how his mom and Coach were practically best friends.
“So you’re telling me you knew coach before you were traded?” he asked.
Fletcher made an embarrassed look. “She kind of changed my diapers when I was a baby. It’s always awkward when my mom tries to use her as a middle-man when I refuse to pick up their calls.”
Douglas frowned. “That sucks, man. I hate that your family’s so messed up. I can’t believe you still turned out so… good or whatever.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Trust me, I’m just as messed up as they are. I’m just better at hiding it.” It came out like a joke, but Fletcher wasn’t lying. You could probably write a book on all of the different shades of fucked up Fletcher could be. Not even his therapist growing up could help.
Fletcher was a troubled kid. He didn’t get the right kind of attention at home, so he would act out to try and provoke his parents.
Getting into fights at school, getting caught with girls he snuck into his room, forcing his parents to pay people off if they had any uncompromising pictures of him.
It was really easy to make his mom snap, so he usually ended up targeting his dad.
The thing about Sean Armstrong was that he wouldn’t show his anger out in public. He would wait until they were in the car or at home to berate Fletcher. And for some reason, he would just keep trying to antagonize his dad. Because any attention was good attention if you never got any growing up.
Not even being good at hockey helped his case.
He never made his parents proud. He never shocked them with how stealthy he was on the ice.
It didn’t matter. Fletcher Armstrong was great at hockey.
But his dad was better. Even better than his pops.
Sean Armstrong was the best, and Fletcher would never be able to impress him.
He would never be able to live up to his family’s legacy.
Fletcher took a seat on the chair in front of the desk in Coach’s office.
“You’ve been doing really well here,” she told him. Fletcher smiled.
“I really like it here. I think it’s been really good for me.”
Coach raised her mug to her lips and took a sip of her coffee, but quickly made a disgusted face. “It’s cold. I swear I brewed it like ten minutes ago,” she complained. She got up and opened the microwave on the table near the window to reheat her coffee.
“Am I in trouble?” Fletcher asked curtly. It came out ruder than he intended, but it was because he already knew exactly what Coach was going to tell him.
“Yesterday was your mom’s birthday,” she said with a hint of conviction in her tone. The microwave beeped and she removed the mug before sitting back down to face Fletcher.
“I don’t want to talk to her. Or him. I have nothing to say,” he told her sharply, folding his arms across his chest.
Coach tiled her head down slightly. “Don’t be narrow minded, kid. I know they can be a lot, but they really care about you.”
Fletcher gave her a look of disbelief. “Sure, sure.”
She leaned in and gave him a pleading look. “Call your mom, kid. Do it for me.”
“Fine,” Fletcher quickly said, not intending to follow through with it. He stood up and gave her a polite smile before leaving.
* * *
Every time Fletcher had his parents on his mind, it messed up his mood for the rest of the day. Luckily, he had something to look forward to when he got home later that afternoon.
Taylor sat on his couch with his legs propped up on the coffee table.
As Fletcher opened the door, he looked and smiled.
Fletcher took his shoes off and dropped his bag before walking over to the couch and leaning in to kiss Taylor.
“I’m sorry you had to wait,” he said apologetically.
“Coach thinks she can control me on behalf of my parents.”
He plopped down on the couch next to Taylor and let out a groan. “Do you want to talk about it?” Taylor asked softly.
“Nope,” Fletcher said, popping the “p.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Taylor asked, trying to offer him a distraction.
Fletcher turned and smiled. “Which movie?” He quickly hopped up and scoured his pantry for gluten-free pretzels and a new bag of M&Ms he got for Taylor on a whim the other day. Fletcher wasn’t much of a sweets person, but he knew Taylor liked them occasionally.
He grabbed two beers from the fridge and placed everything on the coffee table while Taylor clicked through different movies.
“What kind of movies do you like to watch?” he asked Fletcher, reaching over to open the bag of M&Ms and taking a handful out. He put them into his mouth all at once and started chewing.
“Something funny. Like Stepbrothers or Talladega Nights. Anything with Will Ferrell, I guess.” He looked over to Taylor and smiled at the sight of him with a mouthful of chocolate. “Good?” he asked.
Taylor nodded as he swallowed them. “Anything chocolate is good. Except chocolate covered cherries. My grandad really liked them but I always thought they were nasty.”
“Do your brother and sister still live with him?” Fletcher asked curiously. He didn’t know much about Taylor’s family situation apart from the small bits of information he’d managed to squeeze out of him these past few months.
Taylor’s face fell. “He’s in hospice. He has ALS. It progressed really quickly.”
Fletcher frowned. “Shit, that sucks. I’m so sorry.” Taylor gave him a weak smile and shrugged.
“He’s lived a good life. He told me before I left to leave and never turn back, so that’s kind of what I’m doing I guess.” Fletcher’s heart clenched for him. He couldn’t imagine how it felt to have someone so close get sick like that.
He scooted closer to Taylor, who threw an arm around him and pulled him in even closer. Fletcher loved it. He was close enough to smell Taylor’s cologne and his aftershave. Both very woodsy scents. Cedarwood, sandalwood, pine. Maybe a hint of Oud. It suited him perfectly.
“I’ve never seen Stepbrothers,” Taylor told him softly.
“Let’s watch it.”
They sat together on the couch and watched the movie together.
Sometimes Fletcher would ask him questions, sometimes Taylor would do the asking.
Taylor told him about the time where his family went to the zoo before his dad passed and they convinced his younger brother that they were going to leave him there with the monkeys.
Jesse cried so hard that he threw up in his stroller, which made Taylor throw up after witnessing it.
Fletcher told him about how he taught himself how to swim when he was really young. His older cousins were all able to go into the deep end of the pool, and he practiced and practiced until he was able to swim from one end to the other.
“If only your family was a swimmer family,” Taylor joked.
“I love to swim, but I could never imagine doing it competitively. I prefer contact sports.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Taylor laughed.
Fletcher nudged Taylor’s jaw with his nose. Taylor turned his head slightly and leaned down to kiss him softly. He tasted like beer and chocolate, which combined normally repulsed Fletcher. But the taste of it on Taylor’s mouth meant it was his new favorite taste.
He slid his hand up Taylor’s chest as Taylor gripped his jaw to hold his head in place. Fletcher’s thumb brushed over the sensitive skin in the hollow of Taylor’s throat before sliding back down to cup his growing erection through his shorts.
“Fuck, Fletch,” Taylor groaned as Fletcher squeezed him. He loosened his grip on Fletcher’s jaw, and Fletcher immediately slid off the couch and kneeled between Taylor’s legs. He kissed Taylor’s knees before kissing his way up his thighs until he reached the waistband of Taylor’s shorts.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband and Taylor lifted his hips so Fletcher could pull them down a little. He gripped Taylor’s cock in his hand and leaned down to spit on the tip, using his hands to jerk him. “Can I taste you?” Fletcher asked with a lusty look in his eye.
Taylor eagerly nodded. “I’ll pause the movie,” he said quickly. Fletcher chuckled before shaking his head.
“Keep watching it,” he smirked. “You’ll barely even notice I’m down here.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Taylor said through strained breaths. Fletcher slowly leaned in and took his tip into his mouth. He sucked on the crown, lapping up the salty precome that started to leak from the tip.
Taylor’s breathing became unsteady as Fletcher continued to work his way down Taylor’s length. His mouth was open wider than it ever had been. Taylor was so big that he barely even fit. Like unnaturally big.
He slowly moved his head up and down, saliva dripping down his chin as he ran his tongue up and down Taylor’s cock.
Taylor ran a hand through Fletcher’s hair and tried to push his head down. Fletcher pulled off. “Are you watching it?” he asked, sounding insistent.
“I’m watching you,” he said huskily. “Fuck, Fletch. There’s drool all over your chin.”
“Watch the movie, Tay,” Fletcher ordered. He cupped Taylor’s balls and looked up at him as he licked him base-to-tip. “If you don’t then I’ll stop.” He loved seeing Taylor squirm.
Taylor’s jaw clenched. “Okay,” he whispered. Fletcher waited until he looked back up at the TV before he took Taylor back into his mouth.
“Mhmm,” he hummed around him. He relaxed the back of his throat as he took Taylor deeper. He used his tongue to taste him. To memorize the way he felt in his mouth. Fletcher breathed through his nose as he started to suck. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.
He looked back up at Taylor, who was still watching the movie. Or pretending to watch it. His chest rose and fell as he tried to keep his composure. Fletcher smirked with satisfaction as he focused his attention back on Taylor’s cock.
Fletcher used his hands to jerk him as he went back to focusing on the tip. Taylor’s legs jolted slightly. “That feels good,” Taylor croaked as Fletcher slurped and licked his crown.
“Yeah, baby?” Fletcher purred. “You wanna watch me take your load?”
“Jesus, Fletch.” Taylor whipped his head to look down at Fletcher.
Fletcher began to bob his head up and down faster. He played with Taylor’s balls as he took Taylor as deep as possible, causing him to gag. Tears fell from his eyes as he focused exclusively on bringing Taylor to completion.
Taylor’s legs started to shake more, and Fletcher knew that he was close.
He lifted his head and continued to jerk Taylor until he came.
Fletcher opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out so Taylor could see himself shoot into Fletcher’s mouth.
“Fuck,” Taylor grunted as he came in bursts.
Fletcher could taste the saltiness on his tongue.
He gave Taylor a satisfied look as he locked eyes with him and swallowed.
“Holy shit,” Taylor choked. He ran his hand through Fletcher’s curls as he looked down in amazement. He cupped Fletcher’s jaw and used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the saliva that had dripped down his chin and neck before pulling his shorts back up.
“Thank you, baby,” Fletcher said softly as he leaned up to kiss Taylor again.
“Hmm,” Taylor hummed. He swiped his tongue over Fletcher’s. “Thank you,” he laughed in disbelief. “Fuck, man. That was…” He laughed again.
“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” Fletcher admitted. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“Oh yeah?” Taylor smirked. He kissed Fletcher again. “You’re perfect, Fletch. So fucking perfect,” he cooed.
Fletcher gave him a giddy grin as he climbed back up on the couch and rested his head on Taylor’s shoulder and forced him to finish watching the movie before dropping to his knees to taste him again when the end credits rolled.