Chapter Thirty
SIX WEEKS LATER
Dustin
Portland was quiet. But anything would be quiet compared to the start of the season.
He’d spent three weeks in Vancouver, lounging around Jordan’s house in a pair of flannel pajamas, where his only responsibility was to check in with his psych and get May to and from school occasionally. It was obscene. He even read a book.
He didn’t think of himself as ‘recovered’ – but he believed he was recovering.
He checked in with his doctors every day, and met with them weekly.
He went to Force, and on the days he didn’t, he walked, or cooked, or sometimes met Tom for a beer.
He’d been picking his brain about how to get into personal training.
He shopped at the market he and Elliot had been to, and from there, began expanding the circle of what he knew in Portland. He read up on the history of the town and its problems. He read up on the histories of other towns and theirs. He thought about ways he could get involved in the community.
Jordan was right: there was life outside hockey.
He was starting to get…a little bored with it.
Two weeks after the first game of the season, Roddy FaceTimed him. They’d texted every day, but it was the first chance they’d had to talk properly since the season started, and Roddy looked wrecked.
“Hey, kid.” Dustin propped the phone against his fist on his bare chest and bent an arm behind his head. “Damn, you look like you got hit by a bus.”
Elliot’s face filled the frame – hair damp from a late shower, wearing a black t-shirt and the same big smile Dustin had fallen in love with the day he watched him skate. “Excuse me,” he said, “you look like a fucking lumberjack, Papi.”
Dustin tilted up his chin and scrubbed under it as Elliot climbed onto his bed. He’d been letting the beard grow out – seemed fitting for a retirement in the Pacific Northwest. “You don’t like it?” he said. “I guess I could shave…”
Elliot looked daggers at him. “Don’t you dare.”
Dustin smiled and watched him settling into the pillows in whatever hotel room he was in in Chicago. “How’s that bed?”
A knowing little smirk. “Too big for only one person. How’s Portland?”
“Quiet. Watched the Avalanche start without me. Felt weirdly okay about it.” Elliot yawned, looking so adorably sleepy Dustin wanted to wrap him up and keep him in bed for a week. “How’s being the first Elliot Rodriguez?”
“Exhausting. I did an event with some kids before the game tonight.” Elliot rubbed his forehead with his wrist. “Which, fine, I’m happy to, but it’s like…
emotionally draining now, on top of being physically exhausting.
” He pitched up his voice to sound like a white girl. “Telling my story. Ugh, I’m so brave.”
“You are,” said Dustin. “I’m proud of you.” Elliot rolled his eyes, but he blushed and smiled too. So cute. He watched him adjusting the angle of the phone. “How’s Reef?”
Elliot tilted the phone to grin down into it as he shifted to pull a pillow out from behind him. “Hates me. I texted you about his little tantrum yesterday? He sat in the press box tonight. They didn’t even let him on the ice.”
“Awesome.”
“It is, right? I don’t think I expected the league to like…actually enforce stuff.”
“Yeah. It’s a good sign. When are you back in Tampa?”
“This weekend. Home game Friday night.” Elliot paused and a glint came into his eye as he set the phone up against a pillow beside him. “I actually…have Saturday off…”
Dustin lifted an eyebrow. “Oh really? A whole day.”
“A whole day.” The glint sparkled. “So…I don’t know what you’re doing this weekend…”
“Sounds like I’m flying to Tampa. Can I see the game Friday?”
“Yes! Really? You’re coming?”
“Sure.”
“Bro. You can meet Diego. He’s gonna shit himself.”
Dustin laughed and watched Elliot settle onto his side, with one arm under his head and the phone propped in front of him. “You should sleep,” he said.
Elliot waved it off. “I got a flight tomorrow. I can sleep on the plane.” He gazed at Dustin for a long time, looking sleepy and smiling, and Dustin felt like he wanted to climb into the phone to get to him. “Miss you,” said Elliot.
“Miss you too.”
“Yeah?” His eyes narrowed and Dustin felt a shift come down the line like a current under still water. “What do you miss?”
His mouth curved. “Oh, this is why you don’t wanna go to sleep.”
“I need to wind down from the game! I’m a very valuable player, Papi, I need special treatment. Plus, it’s been like, two weeks.”
“You haven’t done anything in two weeks?!”
“No, obviously – I’ve…done it, but you know. We haven’t.”
“Mmm…” Dustin’s cock stirred under the sheets. “You like it better when I do it?”
Elliot was blushing and his voice went husky. “Yes. Claro.”
Dustin’s hand was already moving – he gripped himself through the sheet. “Tell me how you like it.”
“Ay come on, you know I can’t.”
“Sure you can. You do it so good when you stop being shy.”
Elliot scowled, looking cross and adorable. Because as much as he hated being forced to talk, he loved being told how good he was. “You first. Then maybe.”
“Okay.” Dustin began to rub himself over the sheet. “What do I miss?” He ran his eyes over what he could see of Elliot’s chest. “Miss your hands.”
“Mm.” Elliot smiled. “What else?”
“Miss the way you touch me.”
A sassy look. “That’s the same thing. Doesn’t count. What else?”
“Miss your…mouth on my neck. Miss the way you say my name.”
Elliot hummed a sigh. His eyes closed and Dustin saw his hand slide out of the frame. His voice dropped to a murmur. “Keep going.”
Dustin pushed the sheet down and took himself bare in his hand. “Miss your lips. Miss your…” –his mouth quirked– “Grand Canyon.”
Elliot laughed and opened his eyes. He looked like he didn’t know whether to be amused, scandalized, or aroused. So hot. Dustin lifted an eyebrow, stroking.
“Too much?”
With his mouth half open and his hand slowly working, Elliot shook his head. They stroked themselves like that for a few minutes, then he whispered, “What else?”
Dustin let his voice drop. “Your noises. Your…epic finishes. Wanna watch you desecrate another rental car.” Elliot laughed and looked embarrassed. “Miss your cooking, honestly. It’s not the same when I do it.”
Elliot smiled. “What have you been cooking?”
“Ah…soup? Stir fry. Some chicken thing I found online?”
“Wow. Ambitious.”
“Uh huh.” He kept stroking and held Elliot’s gaze. “Stop trying to distract me.”
“I’m not! I think it’s cute you finally learned how to take care of yourself, Viejo.”
“Uh huh.” Dustin watched him. “Alright. Your turn.” Elliot shook his head. “Come on… Tell me what you would do if you were here.”
Elliot’s breath hitched. His eyes squeezed shut as his hand moved faster. He didn’t say anything for a while, and Dustin stroked himself patiently, waiting. Getting Roddy to talk dirty was like prying open a lockbox. You had to be so fucking careful, but it was dynamite when it worked.
“I would…suck your cock,” he said. “How you like it.”
“Mhm, how do I like it?”
“Fuck – slow. Very slow. Much too slow, it makes me crazy.”
Dustin chuckled, his breath catching.
“Then I’d push you down on the bed and…ride you slowly.
Maybe backwards, like we did in the car.
Or forwards so I can make you – ay, God – make you watch.
I’d let you flip me over and – and fuck me until I can’t see.
” Dustin sucked in a breath as Elliot blushed again.
“I want to feel you come inside me. I – want to hear you…ah, no, I can’t. ”
“Oh come on, please.”
“I want you to say you’re proud of me.”
“Fuck…” Dustin’s hand moved faster. “I am proud of you, Roddy. Listen to that filthy mouth.”
Roddy moaned and his arm flexed as he worked himself harder. Dustin matched his pace and just listened to his breath getting faster and shorter. They kept going like that. Dustin almost didn’t want it to end. The time and distance, the way the phone made it impossible to see everything.
“I can’t wait to see you,” he growled. “I’m gonna turn you inside out.”
Roddy whimpered and bit his lip.
“I’m gonna make it so good for you. You’re gonna make all the little fucking noises.” One of those little noises came out of the phone, and Dustin could tell he was already close. “Are you gonna come, Rodriguez?” he said. “Already?”
“Sí,” Elliot whispered, eyes squeezed shut. “Oh–”
Dustin smiled and watched him. And then an absolutely evil idea popped into his head.
“Wait–” he said. “Stop.”
“What?” Roddy gasped. “What?!”
“Stop!” Dustin grit his teeth and stopped and braced both hands against the headboard.
“Oh God, you fucking asshole!” Roddy took his hands off himself and bowed off the bed. “Are you serious? Why?”
“Because what is it, like two days until Friday?” Dustin panted. “Can you wait?”
“Oh, please no.”
“But it’s gonna be so good. It’s gonna come out of you like a fire hydrant.”
“I hate you so much.”
“It’s gonna fill a bathtub!”
“Goddammit.” Roddy’s chest was heaving. “Goddammit.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“I have a job, you asshole. I’m the – I’m the most valuable fucking player in the fucking NHL you fucking prick.”
“Maybe it’ll make you better. Maybe you’ll play the best hockey of your life.”
Roddy shut his eyes and tipped his head back, panting and furious. “Why are you being so cruel to me, Bendito?” he moaned. “I’ve been so nice to you.”
“I promise it’ll be worth it. I’ll make it really worth it. Please?”
“Mano, mamabicho. Hijo ‘e puta. Hijo de la gran puta y me cago en la calavera de tu madre. You fucking better.”
Ten minutes later, when Roddy had calmed down and stopped sulking, they lay face to face on their separate pillows and Dustin practiced the thing he kept thinking about saying.
He didn’t want to say it down the phone like this, so he’d gotten in the habit of saying it a few times inside his head whenever it popped in there – which was all the time now.
He figured that was a good place to start: like making eggs before you tried something complicated.
Roddy’s eyes were half-closed, and Dustin thought he might already be asleep until he mumbled, “I have a question.”
“Mm.”
“Do you think…” Roddy opened his eyes. “Do you think you would ever tell people? That my Instagram turned you bi?”
Dustin sighed. It was something he’d been thinking about.
He felt bad watching Roddy take all the scrutiny alone.
But when Roddy had made his statement, Dustin hadn’t felt ready to join him.
He’d made himself promise to focus on recovery, and having to deal with the media frenzy that would’ve ensued would’ve made that impossible.
“Do you want me to?” he said.
Elliot half shrugged. “No, I wouldn’t ask you to do that. But sometimes…” He yawned, closing his eyes again. “I don’t know. It’s nice that you’re proud of me. I want people to know.”
Dustin’s chest actually thumped. Only Elliot and Jordan could make it do that. He watched Elliot’s face as it relaxed and became peaceful and said, “I can do that. Can you give me some time to think about when?”
Elliot didn’t respond.
“Roddy?” Dustin tilted the screen. He was asleep. Smiling, Dustin reached over his head to turn off the light and lay there watching him until he fell asleep as well.