Four
OWEN
A yawn wakes me. My eyes blink open and then close right away. Too bright. Far too bright. How early is it? Another yawn overtakes me and I roll over, reaching for the body that’s not there.
My eyes blink open again and I’m looking at a rumpled but otherwise empty side of the bed. Running my hand across the sheet, I find it cold.
Sighing, I sit up and look around. All signs of Zak are gone.
His clothing, his boots. Frowning, I stretch and let myself fall backward to stare up at my ceiling again.
The amount of disappointment that hits me is surprising.
It’s not like we exchanged many words. It was far too loud on the dance floor to speak and once we got in the car and then my home, there were other things that had our attention.
Still, I’m disappointed he’s not here. At the very least, I’d have gotten his number. Guess I should have had the foresight to ask for it last night.
When a third yawn nearly makes my jaw snap, I decide it’s time to get up. It’s not a surprise I’m exhausted. We’d barely made it home last night from our away game when Linden and Menlo dragged me out to celebrate the new year.
Until I met Zak, I would have said that I’d have much rather stayed home. I’m glad I didn’t. Even if he managed to sneak out this morning without a word.
I move slowly through the shower, letting the warm water wake me up.
When I pad back into my bedroom, something beyond the door catches my eye.
I pause and study the object on my floor in the living room.
A grin splits my face and I quickly pull on shorts.
Those are boots and they don’t belong to me.
That means Zak is still here.
I’m quiet as I leave my bedroom. He’s not in the living room, that much is easy to see. I head for the kitchen, but see the door to my trophy room is open. I find Zak inside, staring at a poster hanging above a bookshelf.
I usually keep this room closed. When people see you have a room dedicated to everything you, they immediately think you’re conceited.
That’s not really the case. These are moments I’m proud of.
My first All Star jersey. My rookie award.
The banner of me that hung from the arena when I was first traded to New York.
Everything holds a memory. Something happy and positive that’s happened to me in my life.
Just because it all revolves around hockey doesn’t actually mean that I’m bragging.
It means that I’ve dedicated so much of my damn life to the sport that there wasn’t much time for anything else.
I even missed my prom because I had an away game and we didn’t make it back in time.
I knew what I was giving up when I continued playing in high school.
Since most of my friends were on the hockey team, it didn’t matter much to me.
Traveling for games and coming from a place where hockey was king meant that I had a kind of celebrity status, so finding girlfriends and hookups wasn’t difficult either.
But I didn’t have a typical high school experience. My life was hockey. This room is not only everything I’m proudest of, but also a reminder that until I retire, hockey is my life. It dominates my priorities.
Seeing Zak in this room that very literally defines me, I can do nothing but stare.
In the daylight, I can see what he’s wearing more clearly.
The way his overalls dip at the side to show off his narrow waist. He’s in profile, so I can see just how thin he is.
His hip bone and his ribs are visible, making me frown.
But the look of awe on his face brings a smile to mine.
His eyes are wide as he stares at the poster.
It’s not a new one. It was during my third year of playing professionally.
I’d been traded from my draft team to Detroit and ended up having my best year up to that point.
I thought Carolina was probably kicking themselves for letting me go.
Especially when who they traded me for got injured within the first month and was benched for the rest of the season.
When Zak shifts and turns his attention to another poster, I watch him closely. Watch the way his thoughts move across his face. I'm not sure what he’s thinking but there’s almost words gliding through his eyes as if he’s reading and the print is reflected back.
Then his head snaps in my direction, his lips part and he sucks in a breath.
“Good morning,” I say.
“I wasn’t snooping,” he says right away. “The door was cracked and I… I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to intrude. I swear.”
Crossing the room, I press my lips to his. “Good morning,” I repeat.
Sighing, Zak says, “Good morning.”
“That’s better.” I kiss him again, delighted that he’s actually here. “It’s fine that you’re in here. I usually keep the door shut, but I dropped something in here yesterday, so I’m not surprised you found it open.”
“You’re a hockey guy,” he says.
His words make me grin. ‘Hockey guy’ is enough to tell me he’s not a hockey fan. “I am. I play for the Lights.”
Zak’s eyes flicker to the big banner. The one announcing my trade to the Lights. “This room is incredible. You’ve done so much.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, dropping another kiss on his lips.
“Most post people think it’s a means to brag when really, I just enjoy seeing what I’ve accomplished in less than thirty years.
It reminds me of where I’ve come from and how hard I’ve worked.
” I touch the case that has my very first award in it.
When I was a Mite, we won a local competition.
A ‘Stan-ette Cup’ as they called it. They had little plastic ones made for the entire team.
“I don’t think that,” Zak says. “Most people gather their memories in a box of keepsakes. You just have a room for them.”
Grinning, I look at him. He’s facing me now, his arms wrapped around his middle. I’m not sure if he’s cold or if he’s self-conscious. “Exactly. This room is my keepsake box.”
He smiles. It’s shy and fucking adorable. A beat passes before he speaks again. His voice is quiet, and his eyes drop from mine. “I should go.”
Turning for the door, I counter, “After breakfast.”
“But I?—”
“You’re eating,” I insist, not listening to an excuse. I don’t like that I can see his ribs so clearly. At least I can get one meal in him before he takes off.
Zak follows me into the kitchen, and I nod at the chair. He sits and watches me with a flush. I enjoy his skin flushed.
“I don’t have coffee,” I tell him. “Decaf is awful and I’m not big on caffeine or hot drinks, so I didn’t get into the habit.
But I have—” Opening my fridge, I take a peek inside and nearly snort.
“I have water, sports drinks, tomato juice, orange juice, grape juice, iced tea, and… beer. I’m not sure that’s mine, though. You can still have it if you’d like.”
When I look at him around my fridge door, his arms are wrapped around himself again. I decide he must be cold. “You decide. I’ll be right back.”
Shutting the fridge, I leave the kitchen and head for my room.
From the closet, I pull one of my favorite hoodies from the hanger.
I don’t know what it is about this one, but it’s the softest and most comfortable, no matter how many times I’ve washed it.
For that reason, I bought four. None of the other styles or even colors compare.
It was the first team hoodie I bought when I came to New York. It’s a pretty light blue with the New York Lights logo on the front—an old gas lamp and crossed hockey sticks. My name and number are on the back.
Back in the kitchen, I pull it over his head and let him figure it out as I move back to the kitchen. He laughs from inside the hoodie while he wrestles to find the correct holes for his head and arms. When his head pops out, he’s grinning.
I think it’s the first genuine, big smile I’ve seen from him. It transforms his face. He’s… remarkable. Stunning.
“You didn’t have to,” he says, but he can’t hide how much he loves the feel of it. His hands rub the arms and he looks down.
“Comfortable, isn’t it?” I ask.
Zak nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt one so soft!”
“Right?! I’d love that damn thing in different colors, but the others don’t hold up.
I have a closet filled with blue ones because of it.
” His smile is soft as he huddles into the hoodie.
I’m not much taller than him. Maybe a couple inches, at most. But he drowns in my hoodie because he’s definitely thinner than I am.
By a lot. “Did you decide on what to drink?”
“Grape?” he asks.
With a nod, I get him a glass of grape juice and then pull out a pink sports drink. “Allergies? Anything you don’t like?”
Zak shakes his head, so I turn around and get to cooking. I heat my all-in-one and set about getting out the eggs and sausage. I add four patties to a pan and slide that in while I get my eggs sorted.
It isn’t long before I have four breakfast sandwiches constructed and place two in front of Zak. His eyes get wide. “I can’t eat two,” he says.
“Do the best you can,” I tell him and dig into mine.
I love breakfast sandwiches and that stupid machine makes it so easy.
One tool. Countless things. It even has a toaster setting, so I toasted my New York style bagels before putting the goods on.
That thing was worth every penny and likely the best money I’ve ever spent.
I watch Zak eat and he does so with an appetite. He makes it halfway through his second sandwich before he gives in. “I tried. I hate to waste it, though.”
“No worries. I have three stomachs.” Maybe an exaggeration but I have never met a time when I’m actually feeling too full to finish something. So I polish off his sandwich too.
Sticking our plates into the dishwasher, I turn back to him. He’s gone back to looking bashful. “I should go,” he says, his eyes not meeting mine.
The thing is, I don’t want him to leave. I’d really like to keep him here where I can look at him. Enjoy him.
“Or,” I say and his eyes flick to mine, “I can fuck you until you can’t move. Wash you. Feed you again. Then you can go.”
I watch as his lips part, his eyes get wide as he stares at me.
While I’m quite aware that the heat in my condo didn’t just randomly go up, it suddenly feels hotter as our gazes remain locked.
As Zak licks his lips, my eyes trail the tip of his pink tongue.
It’s difficult to keep myself where I am and not touch him.
If he actually wants to go, I’ll let him. I’m not about keeping him my prisoner.
Finally, Zak nods.
I’m across the room in an instant, like I’m on skates again and I’m just there. With my hand on the back of his head, I bring his mouth to mine and kiss him. His fingers dig into my chest, making me groan.
Pulling him from the stool, we stumble our way back to my bedroom. This time, I pull our clothing off before we hit the bed. I follow him down, keeping my mouth glued to his until I have us halfway up the bed. Then I move down his body, dragging my tongue along his skin as I go.
He’s covered in dried sweat and cum, but I don’t care in the least. In fact, I fucking love this flavor on him. I dig my teeth gently into his skin, making him groan. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough that I feel his muscles dance under my lips.
I bypass his cock, dragging only the tip of my tongue along its length. He whines. The sound makes my dick drip in excitement. But there’s no urgency now. Not like last night. Today, I’m going to taste him and do all the dirty things to him. Beginning with that sweet, round ass.
He laughs when I suddenly bend him in half and then his moan cuts through the air when I press my face between his crack.
His hands dig into my hair when I begin moving my tongue over his hole.
He tastes like lube. Not the best flavor in the world, but definitely not the worst. Not enough to keep me from feasting.
I swear, he’s got some wolf in him. As I take my fill and feed a completely different hunger, I listen to his howls change cadence as I lick, bite, and suck his sensitive flesh. When I’ve had my fill, I continue to slurp up his taint until I suck one of his balls into my mouth.
Zak’s body jerks, his howl changing to something more like a cat’s mewling. All these animal noises coming from this man are fucking erotic.
When I finally make my way to his cock, Zak is more than flushed. He’s panting, his eyes wide, and pupils blown like they’ve just been dilated. I’m not sure he sees me at all, even as he looks at me. It’s so fucking hot, I nearly abandon my mission to get his dick in my mouth and get to fucking.
But as soon as my mouth touches his dick, he makes the most beautiful sounds and I’m invested in hearing them for as long as I can. I suck him, tease him, squeeze him until he’s leaking all over and I’m pretty sure I’ve edged him for the past hour. He’s whiny. So fucking whiny and I love it.
I wrap my cock and waste no time pushing inside him.
One thrust. I’ve lost my patience now and need to bury myself inside this man.
He moans the entire time. His back arches beautifully.
Zak’s head rolls back, showing me the sexy length of his neck.
Then his arms grip the bed above his head and his legs fall open wide.
Once my pelvis is pressed to his sexy ass cheeks, I simply stare at him. I’ve never seen another person more… exquisite. He’s breathtaking. Erotic. Addictive. All I can do is stare as he begins rocking on my dick, fucking himself on me since I’ve stopped moving.
I let him for a while solely so I can memorize everything about this man. There will never be another person like Zak. No one this… flawless.