Chapter 22 The Teasing Game
The Teasing Game
They won their game against Edmonton. Easily.
Twelve to four. Fletcher scored a hat trick, Sánchez was the goalie for the whole game for the very first time.
Taylor only got thrown into the sin bin twice.
Roca was announced as the new assistant captain since Leering was traded to Detroit.
Bolving got the winning puck in the locker room.
The team was in high spirits knowing they very well were on their way to touching the cup. They felt unstoppable.
“We are going out!” Douglas shouted on the bus. Most of the guys cheered and whistled. “Someone find a bar. I can’t believe we’re stuck in fucking Edmonton for the night,” Douglas groaned as he sat back down in his seat.
“Don’t worry, man. I’ll find a good place,” Sánchez assured him.
“Hell yeah,” Douglas cheered, raising his fist for Sánchez to bump it with his own.
Fletcher felt a chill down his spine as Taylor inconspicuously leaned in to whisper in his ear. “You wanna stay in?” he asked seductively.
“I need a beer and so do you,” he told Taylor. He hated the way his heart clenched every time he looked at him. It wasn’t fair. They were keeping things casual, but Fletcher was absolutely hooked. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to keep his feelings in check.
Taylor gave him a disappointed look. “One beer and then hotel?”
Fletcher laughed and shook his head incredulously. “Needy, needy,” he teased. “Let’s see how long you can control yourself tonight, big guy.”
Taylor’s body stiffened, clearly trying to hide his arousal. “You suck,” he groaned.
“Yeah I do,” Fletcher mouthed to him with a lustful look on his face.
* * *
Beers were handed out, glasses clinked, and chugging contests were had. Fletcher loved it. He loved having such a great team. He loved having great friends. He loved whatever arrangement he and Taylor had. It was perfect.
Never in his life would he consider anything to be perfect. But Fletcher finally felt like he belonged and was needed.
“I can’t believe you dragged us to a fucking country music bar,” Taylor groaned to Sánchez. “I think my ears are bleeding.”
“Hermano, you’ve been in a pissy mood since we got here. Fix the attitude or I’ll deck you.”
Fletcher chuckled, knowing exactly why Taylor was in such a bad mood. He couldn’t complain. It was hot seeing him this way. They’d been there an hour and Taylor had already asked him to go to the bathroom twice.
“C’mon, babe,” Taylor said lowly into his ear.
Heat gathered in Fletcher’s body. Taylor had never called him a pet name before.
It was always Armstrong, Fletch, Fletcher.
But something about Taylor calling him “babe” really excited him.
Because it gave Fletcher hope that maybe this thing they had wasn’t as one-sided as Fletcher thought.
Taylor was warming up to the idea of them being something more. Fletcher felt it in his chest. He was slowly chipping away at the wall Taylor kept up, preventing anything more than a casual hookup from happening.
Fletcher was going crazy not knowing what Taylor felt like.
He wanted nothing more than Taylor to bend him down and fuck him.
It was all he could think about these days.
As far as he knew, penetrative sex was off the table.
He knew Taylor wasn’t the kind of guy to have casual sex.
But Fletcher’s excitement grew by the day.
He felt it in his bones. There was such a loud voice inside of him, telling him to just give it time.
Taylor needed time to come to terms with it.
Fletcher needed to be patient. So he would be.
“You haven’t even finished your beer,” Fletcher told him with a smirk.
Taylor quickly brought the glass to his lips and chugged the rest of his drink. He slammed it back down on the table.
“Ready?” he asked impatiently.
Fletcher shook his head, loving to see him squirm like this. As much as he wanted to let Taylor grab him by the arm and drag him out of there, he knew getting Taylor wound up would make it feel all the better. “Not yet. I’m having fun. You know I love country music.”
Taylor scoffed. “I’m going to get another pitcher,” he groaned, leaving Fletcher at the high-top table with Sánchez, Roca, Douglas, Pancek, and Bolving.
Fletcher expected him to come back right after getting his second beer, but when Douglas suddenly started whistling in the direction of the bar, Fletcher turned his head and his blood boiled.
“Looks like you’ll be bunking with us for the night, Little Armstrong,” Douglas snickered.
Taylor was at the bar. Talking to a girl. He poured beer into an empty glass for her before holding it up to cheers.
“Holy shit,” Bolving quipped. “I’ve never seen him pick a chick up before. Go Piers,” he chuckled as he took a sip of his beer.
“Usually it’s Little Armstrong,” Roca scoffed. “Hey man, you should go get in on that,” he nodded towards the bar. “Maybe he’ll share.” Everyone around them started laughing and patting Fletcher on the back.
Fletcher was seething. Anger was an understatement. He had complete tunnel vision, setting his sights on the whore who was trying to steal his… Taylor. Fuck.
Fletcher chugged the rest of his beer before storming over to the bar.
Taylor turned his head and gave Fletcher a knowing look. That fucker.
“Look who it is!” Taylor smirked. Grinning like a fucking wolf in sheep’s skin. “Hey Armstrong, this is…” He pointed towards the girl, snapping his fingers fingers as he tried to remember her name.
“Michelle,” the girl answered innocently.
Taylor looked at her and smiled. “Right. Michelle. This is my teammate. Fletch Armstrong.”
She smiled at Fletcher. “I know who he is. I love hockey. I’m a huge fan of your dad,” she told him.
“He’s one of the greats,” Taylor smirked. “Solid guy. Just like his son here.”
“You’ve met him?” She gushed to Taylor.
“Oh yeah,” he answered, not looking away from Fletcher. “Little Armstrong’s my best bud. We’re like brothers.” He turned to look at the girl and give her another shit-eating grin.
“Shut up! That’s adorable,” she said.
“Can I have the room key?” Fletcher asked him curtly. “I’m pretty tired after the game. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
“So early?” Taylor fake pouted. “You’ve had what, like three beers? We’ve only been here an hour, man. Don’t cut the night short. We gotta celebrate that hat trick.”
“Oh, that’s right! I was at the game,” the girl—Michelle told him. “That was really something.”
Fletcher gave her a polite smile. As polite as he could muster considering she was dragging an arm up and down Taylor’s bicep. “Thanks,” he said plainly. “Room key,” he said, turning to Taylor.
“Go tell the guys we’re heading back,” Taylor told him. He turned back to the girl as he stood up. “Gotta make sure my boy here gets back safely. He has a tendency of cutting the night short if he’s wound up. From the game,” he clarified.
“Of course,” she smiled, looking a little disappointed. “Thanks for the beer.”
Fletcher left the bar as he walked back over to their friends and tapped Douglas on the shoulder. “We’re heading back for the night. Taylor said he’s done for the night.”
“Is he okay?” Pancek asked, sounding like a concerned father. Fletcher quickly nodded and gave him a reassuring smile.
“He’s tired. He didn’t get much sleep before the game.” Which wasn’t a lie.
“Okay. Get him back safely, kid.” Pancek said.
“Will do, Cap.”
Taylor was waiting for him by the entrance. Fletcher walked out past him, so Taylor quickly trailed behind him.
“That was fun,” Taylor said sarcastically as he caught up with Fletcher.
“Don’t talk to me,” Fletcher bit out. “I’m not happy with you.” God, he sounded just like his dad saying that.
“Oh, c’mon, babe,” Taylor goaded. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” Fletcher muttered. He definitely was, though. Jealous and feeling possessive. “Did you call an Uber?”
“Yeah, just wait here,” Taylor said. He reached out to pull Fletcher’s arm.
Fletcher quickly shrugged him off. “How long?”
“Two minutes,” he answered.
Fletcher refused to look or talk to Taylor as they waited on the sidewalk. It was chilly outside, and Fletcher wished he had brought a jacket with him.
Taylor must’ve noticed him shiver, because he pulled his hoodie off and handed it to Fletcher.
“I don’t need it,” Fletcher told him bitterly.
“Take it,” Taylor told him sharply. “Put it on,” he ordered.
Fletcher couldn’t pretend the authoritativeness in Taylor’s voice didn’t do something to him. He swallowed his pride and took the hoodie and slid it on over his head. It smelled like Taylor. It was warm like Taylor. “Thank you,” Fletcher said softly.
The Uber pulled up and parked on the curb for them. Taylor opened the back door and gestured for Fletcher to get in before sliding in next to him. The driver didn’t speak as they pulled back onto the road. The hotel was a fifteen minute drive away.
“Music okay?” The driver asked in a thick accent. Haitian, Fletcher guessed.
“Sure, man. Go ahead,” Taylor told him.
The driver turned up some sort of French rap music, which wasn’t terrible. The car was dark, only having the light from the streetlights and the radio producing faint shadows of the seats in front of them.
Taylor reached over and placed a hand on Fletcher’s thigh. Fletcher gulped nervously as he tried to remove Taylor’s hand, but Taylor squeezed his thigh and wouldn’t let go.
Fletcher sighed and leaned his forehead against the cold glass of the window for the entire car ride.
“Thank you,” Taylor told him as they slipped out of the car and slammed the door shut.
He walked ahead of Fletcher, who followed him to the elevator. Once the two of them were inside and slowly moving up, Taylor roughly grabbed Fletcher’s jaw and leaned down to kiss him. Fletcher let out a whimper after being blindsided by the kiss.