Two
OWEN “VINNY” VINCENT
I watch as someone walks by. They have a very nice ass. My head tilts as I watch them disappear.
“I thought you were looking at that girl for the night?”
I glance at Linden. “What girl?”
He rolls his eyes. “The blonde? Big titties?” Linden laughs at whatever face I give him. “Oh, come on. You were watching her the entire time we were in the lobby.”
“Ah,” I say, though that doesn’t really clear it up.
“Man, you’re a trip,” he says.
My teammates know that I’m an out and proud pansexual, though they really only understand that as meaning gay. I’m lumped in with the token gay guys of hockey, so to them, that just means I’m one of them. They get the rainbow is ‘our’ sign.
That’s about as far as they understand. Some try to understand more than others. Menlo, for example. He shoves Linden and reminds him, “He’s pan, dude. That means he likes girls and guys, remember?”
He means well. I know he does.
“Yeah, but… like, at the same time?” Linden asks. “How is that different from bisexual?”
“Not the place,” I tell them, placing my hand at the backs of their necks and steering them towards the door to the dome. “We can get into LGBTQIA+ education another night. In fact, I’d like that. But now is not the time.”
“You going to find that twink?” Linden asks. Menlo shakes his head with a sigh.
“Twink?” I ask, sure I don’t want to fucking know. Does he even know what a twink is?
He looks at me all proudly. “Yeah. Wasn’t the guy you were watching a twink?”
“And what is a twink?” I ask. Despite myself, I’m amused.
Linden’s eyebrows knit together. “It means a cute gay guy, right?”
Chuckling, I slap his shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Cute gay guy. But how did you know he’s gay?”
“Oh!” Linden says, looking horrified. “I thought you knew. Don’t you have like, gaydar? And you just look at the gay guys, right?”
“Oh my god,” Menlo says. “Bro, do you have a straight-dar? So you only hit on straight women?”
Linden’s stare is entirely confused.
I shove them both toward the door and hope that something else distracts them.
Although, listening to them bicker is always amusing.
They both mean well, and I never get the impression or feeling that what comes out of their mouths is for the sake of cruelty.
They’re uneducated. Just like most of the world.
I’m always happy to talk queer so people understand, but there are times and places for that. A New Year’s Eve party in the dome on the top of Riot is just not the place nor the time.
Thankfully, they’re both immediately distracted—Linden by a woman and Menlo by a prince.
I narrow my eyes at the man with the crown.
He’s not a prince. Then again, I don’t have all the world’s royalty memorized, so I suppose I could be wrong, but I’m fairly certain I’ve seen that crown on Zon.
It’s been in my cart a few times because I somehow get roped into a bunch of weird events.
You just never know when a guy needs a crown.
I grab a glass of whatever as a server walks by and survey my surroundings.
The world is being ushered into a new era, whether they like it or not.
I see self-made porn stars rubbing shoulders with actual royalty on the dance floor in front of me.
Anyone would recognize Prince Henrik. He’d done anything and everything he could think of to denounce his claim to the throne.
Much to his chagrin, his new beau might have made his father the king irate, but it also only solidified his position.
For the wrong reasons, I might add. But the king is now embracing having a gay son and trying to parade his homosexuality around like a banner. It’s kind of irritating, however, the incident is also giving others the courage to step out of the closet, too.
Part of the reason I chose to be out when I went pro was for the reason Henrik’s shenanigans created drama. I wanted the LGBTQIA+ world to see that they could do anything. They could be a pro athlete if they chose. I wanted to give young LGBTQIA+ kids a role model.
As much as some of the franchise’s events piss me off because they felt very much like Henrik’s father’s gimmicks, they’ve kept us shoved into the spotlight. Making the world see that I’m just as able to play hockey as any straight man.
Granted, there’s a lot of misunderstanding and assumptions around the LGBTQIA+ groups in sports.
For example, we’re all simply ‘gay.’ There’s nothing else to it.
Just gay. The initial label for our group together had been the ‘Gays Can Play’ and while they renamed it to something more inclusive and less cringy, that’s the title that stuck.
Anyway…
After another drink, I join the masses and dance.
That’s what I’m here for, anyway. My teammates might want to hookup, but I’m just along for the ride.
For something to do. Otherwise, I’d be home in bed right now.
I’ve seen twenty-eight New Years in my life, and I’m sure there isn’t going to be anything special about this one.
Almost as soon as the thought manifests, the universe decides to challenge it.
The crowd around me moves as if they are a herd and we’re getting ready to stampede.
I shift my body weight and hold my ground.
Another body is shoved into my side, so I quickly grab them as they make a nosedive for the floor and bring them upright again.
When they look up, I’m suddenly anywhere but here. Dark eyes. Dark, thick brows. Messy hair on top, like they’d been pushing their hands through it all night. Or, you know, they’re covered in sweat like the rest of us and that affected their hair too.
Their jaw is narrow, smooth. I’m stuck on their lips for far too long. I’m not sure why, but I just can’t look away.
“Hi,” they say, and I’m suddenly transported back to this spot.
Oof, I’ve moved my fingers into their hair. Fuck my life.
“Hi,” I answer, licking my lips. Their eyes move to them, and they suck their bottom lip into their mouth.
“I’m Zak,” they say, and the name assigns a pronoun for me, even if it’s wrong in the assumption.
I realized when I was a kid, before I understood what pansexuality was or that I identified as such, that no one had a gender to me when I met them.
Therefore, they were always ‘they.’ Until they spoke or until I was given an indication in one way or another, and their pronouns shifted.
Sometimes I was still wrong, but usually, something just clicked inside me, and I recognized them as they were.
“Owen,” I return. “Dance with me?”
Zak nods and I pull him flush against me. It makes moving awkward, but I really don’t care. I need to have him close. I need to feel him.
When my hands finally move from his sweaty hair and glide down his body, I’m momentarily sidetracked from his lips to the fact that I can feel a lot of skin. Shifting us, I stare down at his clothes and groan at what I see.
I’m going to leave here so fucking hard.
We dance for ages. I let no one else between us. I don’t let him go. Our mouths hover a breath apart as we share oxygen. Our eyes are either locked or scanning downward. I’m thrilled that his hands seem to roam as much as mine. I need to learn his body. Every inch of it.
For a long time, I think we’re lost in our own world. There’s music. There are bodies. But it’s all dull and distant. I hardly see it, barely hear it. It isn’t until a countdown is shouted around us that I blink back into the present. Pulled back down into reality.
We stop moving as the chants continue.
“SEVEN.”
Zak bites his lip, his eyes flickering to mine.
“SIX.”
I drop my hand down his back and cup his ass, pulling him to me flush, nearly taking his feet off the ground.
“FIVE.”
Zak’s hands run up my chest, over my shoulders and around my neck.
“FOUR.”
Our mouths aren’t touching. But only barely.
“THREE.”
He’s so close he’s blurry, but I can breathe him in.
“TWO.”
Can he feel how hard I am for him? Oh… he’s hard too. Fucking hell.
“ONE. HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
Our lips crash together and the screaming and shouting fade to nothing. There are people jostling all around, knocking into us, shoving. But they’re just gnats. Or annoying mosquitos. Nothing worthy of my attention. Nothing that will draw me out of this.
It starts innocently enough. Only our lips pressed together. It takes those first few seconds to make the world around us fade away and I can just think, where has he been? But then the fire inside me burns fiercely, and I push my tongue into his mouth.
I don’t hear his moan. I taste it. It vibrates through me and he presses harder against my body. Gripping his ass tight enough that he’s leaving here with my fingertips bruised into his cheeks, I yank him off the ground so his legs wrap around me.
Before I truly comprehend what I’m doing, I’m walking away with this man in my arms. It isn’t until we’re shoved somewhat violently that our mouths break apart.
“Yo, sorry, man. So sorry. Are you okay?” a guy asks. I barely see him as I wave him off.
But he’s broken the spell. We’re standing just inside the door to the dome, staring at each other. I still have Zak in my grip, his legs locked around me.
“Come home with me?” I say.
Zak nods without hesitation.
That’s all I need. Standing him on his feet, I pull him through the door and to the elevator.
It’s blessedly open, being held by an attendant.
When we’re inside, I crowd Zak, his back against the mirrored wall and my mouth brushing his, our lips parted.
So desperately I need to kiss him again, but it has to wait.
The elevator pings and I rush out, dragging the breathless man behind me.
There’s already a few rideshares out front, so I jump in the first one, bringing Zak with me.
It takes no time at all to program my address and prepay with a tip, before I haul him back onto my lap and fuse my mouth to his again.
He groans as I slip my hands inside his overalls and squeeze his ass cheeks. With my hands on his perfect, round handles, I pull him down as I push my hips up. Making sure he feels exactly what I have in mind. I can’t talk right now. We will, but not right now.
I kiss him hungrily. Thoroughly. Obsessed with his taste and high on his eagerness. I drop my hand further and skim his crack, causing him to grind his cock against mine.
Pulling his mouth from mine, he says, “I bottom. Is that okay?”
Biting his lip, I nod. “Whatever you want.”
I’ve never meant those words more than I do right now.
When the car arrives at my condo, I basically throw him over my shoulder. Zak laughs, his hands fisting in my shirt to keep himself steady as I step into the elevator. We’re alone, so I slap his ass.
Zak’s whole body jerks and he moans.
“Keep making that sound, Zak.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to.”
He has no fucking idea. Once out of the elevator, I’m practically trying to break down my door.
It takes every ounce of self-restraint to line up my finger with the sensor and let it scan my fingerprint.
Three times. It takes three fucking times before the bolt retreats and allows me to shove it open.
I slam it shut behind me, barely aware enough to throw the lock before hauling this sexy ass to my bedroom. Letting his body fall to the bed, Zak laughs as he bounces. Until I’m on top of him again and swallowing that sound.
His fingers dig into my hair, his legs falling open for me. Even with clothes on, I grind my dick against his and we both shudder.
“What do you like?” I ask, distracting myself from his lips as I lick over his sweaty skin. “Or maybe, what don’t you like?”
“I like to bottom,” he says, something I already gathered. He told me that, right? Or did I make it up? “I don’t care outside of that, really.”
“Rough, slow, upside down, on top…?”
“Yes,” he answers and I chuckle. It doesn’t take me long to get him out of his clothes and then I’m left with his gorgeous body below me. I run my hand down his chest, over his ribs that I feel a little too much. Then his flat stomach.
When I reach his dick, I flicker my eyes back to his and run my thumb down its hard length. His breath catches as he squirms. “You’re…” I have no words. Perfect sounds cheesy. Flawless? Is that better?
“Undress,” he says.
Reluctantly, I pull back and strip without worrying whether I look graceful or not. Before I get back on top of him, I grab lube and a box of condoms to toss on the bed. Then I’m back, my body laying against his.
I groan, pressing my open mouth to his. “Jesus, you feel good against me.”
Zak nods. “Get inside me, Owen,” he says, breathless. “Fuck me good.”
His words make me shudder. Pulling myself back, I toss him the box of condoms and go for the lube. I’m not gentle or careful as I prep him. Right now, this is about business. I need him stretched. I need him ready to take me.
His hands move over my dick and I watch as he strokes me a few times. Rubs his thumb over my slit and just grips my head.
“You have a really nice dick,” he says. “It’s… they should make dildos of it. It’s just ideal. Perfect.”
I laugh. “Yours is more ideal.” I look at it laying against his stomach.
Zak rolls his eyes. “I’m less than average.”
“What’s average?”
“Five-something. I’m barely at five.” His cheeks are pink as he says it.
“Look at me,” I demand. My hands are busy or I’d have forced his eyes to mine. Fortunately, he brings those dark brown beauties up. “Don’t be upset about what you have. You’re exactly as you should be. Flawless just as you are.”
His breath catches and he lowers his eyes again. I’m distracted from this conversation when he unrolls the condom, pushing it into place. With a now shaking hand, he squirts lube on my crown before stroking it along my length.
When he’s done, I urge him backwards and earnestly shove my fingers deeper. Zak groans, grinding his ass on my hand. I lick my lips, forcing myself to fully prep him. No hurting this man. I can already tell, I’m going to need him more than once.