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“Where did they find these guys?”
I shrugged and gulped down some lukewarm energy drink. Dan nudged me in the side and asked again.
“Dan, man, I don’t know where they found them. The dumpster behind Hockey Players ‘R Us?”
“They’re a pack of skating chimps,” Mario chimed in. Mike, on the other side of me, chuckled at the chirps flowing from the Cougars bench. We had a six-goal lead, and we were feeling superior.
“Yeah, a team of dorks,” Buttonwood chortled.
“Who the fuck taught you people how to chirp?” Victor asked from his usual spot behind his husband. I think they liked the back to thigh touch during the game. “I mean, these jibes are pathetic. Be creative. Call them clown-fucking eel monkeys or a mob of degenerate idiots. Pretty fucking sad when a brain-dead goat-fucker like me can out chirp you guys with the snappy brain pans.”
“Coach K., I worship at the gates of your sarcastic excellence,” I said then gave Vic a few quick seated bows.
“That there is the most intelligent thing that has ever come out of your gob-hole, March.” Vic patted Dan’s helmet then sauntered off to converse with Coach Hart.
We sailed through the remaining six minutes of play, and went to the away dressing room to relax, talk strategy, and use the head before the third period rolled around.
Coach Dewey was telling us to keep doing what we were doing aka playing tight defensive hockey and not allowing turnovers or scoring chances. He’d just walked out, followed by the other coach’s, when my phone vibrated inside my suit jacket. I fished it out, intending on turning it off before I got reamed out, when I saw that it was Noah Coombs calling. Not texting. Calling. I looked around the room as my phone danced in my hand.
“Gotta shit,” I said to whoever was listening, which was no one. I pushed into a stall in the nearby bathroom, locked the door, and sat down on the toilet to take the call.
“Noah, hey man, what’s up?” I whispered, hoping like hell none of the coaches came back to use the head and caught me on the phone. “Is Mat sick or something?”
“No, he’s good. It’s just...”
He stopped talking. I fidgeted for about ten seconds then sort of snapped.
“Noah, for fuck’s sake, spit it out. I’m not supposed to be on my cell during a game.”
“You’re not on the ice, are you?”
“No, of course not, but our head coach has a hard-on about cell phones, so can you talk fast?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Uh, see, I thought Mateo was going to ask you last week, but he didn’t. And then he kept saying he would, but he kept forgetting. He forgets easy. Always has.”
I was so close to wrapping my hands around the Samsung in my hands and squeezing...
“Noah, dude, quick talk, okay buddy?” I said instead of throttling.
“Would you ever consider modeling with Mat for me?”
Oh. Oh shit. “Modeling like striking a pose? That kind of modeling?”
“Yeah, for the new manga.”
“The gay stuff, right?” He mumbled something that I didn’t hear over McGarrity running his fat mouth over at the urinal.
“Yeah, the gay stuff.”
“Sure, I can do that.” I stood up and flushed to make it sound like I’d done something important.
“Thanks. Bye.”
“Dude, I need to know when and...and he’s gone.” Frigging artists were so fucking weird. I yanked the door of the stall open and saw Mitch washing his picture of Snagglepuss off with a damp little pink sponge. He looked at me staring at him. The dude was still sporting some major dark roots in that mop of golden hair on his head.
“Thought you were attending to those roots.”
Mitch’s blue eyes narrowed and then widened. “Oh, yeah. I decided to let it grow out. I’m tired of the upkeep, and my hair is super dry. This guy I know from back home in Liberty Springs...he’s a snowboarder. He used to say he liked my hair dark. Told me it made my eyes pop. Shaun’s killer on that board. We used to be super tight then something happened.” He kind of drifted then, rubbing at his pink pussycat with a faraway look.
Maybe good old Mitch wasn’t as straight an arrow as I had thought. Or he was just goalie odd. Being inquisitive I had to poke around a little.
“So, you and Shaun? Did you two hook up or something?”
Mitch drifted back from lusty land, his gaze thick with some serious want. “Define hooking up.”
Really? I had no time for this, but fuck me, I had to know. “Did either of your dicks enter the orifice of the other?”
“Does it have to be a dick in an orifice?” He was being sincere and not sarcastic, or so it seemed. If he was dicking around with me, the academy needed to get his name on the ballot for best new actor. “Could it be a tongue?”
“Depends on which orifice that tongue is in. See, if it’s in a dude’s ass, then I’d consider that hooking up. If it’s in his mouth that could just be a kiss. See the difference?” I replied, leaning on the wall as he gently washed Snagglepuss.
“Okay, then we didn’t hook up. It was just a kiss.” His gaze sharpened a bit, the dreamy foggy look lifting. “It was when I was still in college though, so is that experimenting?”
“Well, if you ran into Shaun the Snowboarder now, would you still want to have tongues in orifices, his asshole in particular?”
“I think so,” he mused while washing his pink puma. “I kind of beat off to images like that.”
“Then I’d say it’s a bit past curious teenage experimenting.”
“Cool. I’m bisexual.” He looked at me wearing a wistful smile. I shrugged.
“I mean, maybe, but maybe you’re pan. Far be it from me to tell another man what his sexuality is. You’ll work it out and, to be honest, the labels aren’t all that important.”
“I’ll have to get a shirt like Victor wears.”
I thought to tell him that no-one should have anything like Kalinski but jumped that to ask another imperative question. “So, what’s with the mask bath?” Asking was imperative. I was far too curious, I know that.
“He gets sweaty during the game,” he said then returned to bathing his helmet.
With a pink sponge. That he must carry with him to specifically wash his pink cartoon cougar. Okay, so goalies beat manga artists for weird behavior but not by much.
* * *
Fortunately, Mat got involved in the modeling situation and got me straight on the time and place. I was to show up the Saturday we rolled back into Cayuga, do the pictures with Mat, and then chill out for the night with some heavy game playing and a meal cooked by Noah. Mat assured me that his man cooked as well as he drew.
Sleeping on the floor didn’t really appeal, but hanging out with the two of them did. Even Noah’s quirky personality kind of charmed me. I rolled up to their place in Varick around noon Saturday. Mat and Noah were all wound up about the sleep over. I thought calling it that made it sound like we were the cast members of Stranger Things or something, but I kept that to myself.
“Noah makes the best chicken pad Thai nachos,” Mat informed me as he took my overnight bag and threw it in the corner of the living room.
I looked around the apartment but saw no sign of Noah. “Where’s Noah?”
“Oh, he’s in our room working on the trace table.”
“Oh okay.” I had no clue what a trace table was but figured it was comic—I mean manga—related.
“I’ll go poke him. Have a seat and fire up the game.” Mat jogged off. I watched him go, enjoying the way his jeans cupped his ass. And then I remembered that he was going to get his boyfriend. Fuck, but I needed to get this attraction to them under control.
They both returned to the living room a couple minutes later. I had the game waiting and my controller in my hand. Mat leaped over the back of the sofa, sat with his hip tight to mine, and grabbed his controller from the coffee table. Noah gave me a soft sort of ‘Hey’ and then sat down on the floor, his back to the wall, and pulled out his cell phone. He snapped a couple of pictures.
“Dude, what’s with the camera?” I asked Noah as Fields of Death roared to life on the TV.
“Just some preliminary shots from various angles,” he replied.
“Oh, okay.” I threw a look at Mat, but he seemed oblivious to the cute guy taking pictures of us. Maybe this happened a lot here. I tried to ignore the click-click-click and just play my game, but it wasn’t easy. We played for about an hour. Noah would snap some pictures, leave, come back, snap some more, and leave again.
“What the fuck is he doing?” I finally asked Mat during a break in game play to find a better server.
He sat back on the sofa, reaching under his Daddy Yankee t-shirt to scratch his stomach. The action hiked up the gray cotton, revealing some damn tight abs and a thick line of dark hair sneaking into the worn denim.
“Working. Getting panels laid out in his sketch pad probably. You hungry?”
Yeah, I was. For some of that that firm flesh he was unconscious of showing. “I could eat.”
“Yeah, we’ll get him out here and get the shoot over with. He’ll want us lean, so our bellies aren’t all rounded and chubby. Gordo.” He patted his flat belly. “That means fat boy.”
He then reached over to slap my stomach a few times. My eyes rounded a bit. I got that sinful smile and a wink before he jumped up and went to pull Noah from his sketchings or whatever his process was.
The two of them emerged from the bedroom/manga den. Mat minus his shirt and Noah with his phone. My gaze locked on warm brown skin lightly coated with brown hair. My cock tingled as blood began to flow into it. I stood up, controller in my hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Let’s open the drapes,” Noah said, his tone firm and professional.
Gone was the shy young man. He was in his element now. He directed us to stand here and then there, looking at each other, talking, moving our hands as if we were in an angry conversation. He slipped around us, taking picture after picture, fully in command of the shoot and his models. He obviously knew what he wanted from us.
“Okay, I need you to hold each other. Chest to chest. No shirts.” Noah lowered the camera as I nodded then removed my old college sweater. I tossed it to the couch, folded my arms over my chest, and found them both fixated on me. I let my arms fall to my sides.
“I know how you feel,” Mat said with a reassuring smile. “The first time I modeled for him, I felt so vulnerable. And he’d seen me naked before that. I don’t know. Something about the camera or something.”
“Yeah, well, let’s do this.” It was kind of chilly in here minus my shirt.
Noah ran a hand over his jaw and then murmured something only God could hear.
“Babe, speak up.” Mat shoved his fingers into his loose curls, fluffing them up. The sun coming through the sliding door made his skin glow like highly-buffed copper. I so wanted to touch him...
“Can you uh...hug him? Chest to chest.” Noah seemed a little rattled now too. The whole aura of things had shifted slightly. Mat walked up to me, gave me a waggle of his brow, and then slid his arms around me.
“Relax,” Mat whispered beside my ear. Noah gently touched me, lifting my arms, one at a time with just two fingers, to place them around Mat. Fuck, but the man felt good. His skin was hot as a convection oven, all that warm skin oozed scented blue soap. I had the urge to rock forward and shove my rapidly swelling dick into him.
Noah remained silent now, walking around us, snapping pictures as Mat and I stared at each other, his lips mere inches from mine. His breath was moist and smelled like bubble gum. Our gazes held for the longest time, until Noah pressed my head forward. Mat reached up to cup the base of my skull. Noah whispered something to himself as he snapped away.
My muscles began to soften as he held me in that tender embrace. I leaned into him bit by bit, feeling his strong arms and legs easily taking my weight. His neck was soft and corded. It took all the willpower I possessed not to taste of it or nibble along his thumping jugular.
“From behind.” That was Noah speaking. His voice sounded choked. I didn’t want to leave Mat’s arms, but I did, my cock fully hard now. I spun around, facing the wall, hoping the two men behind me wouldn’t see how aroused I was. “Uh...hold him from behind.”
Mat did, his hands skimming over my sides and cinching around my middle. He stepped close, his chest warm and firm against my back, his hands flat on my belly, and his long, stiff prick nestled between my ass cheeks. A shiver ran down my spine despite the heat of Mateo Castillo plastered to my back.
Noah moved my head, tipping it to the left, his fingers moving down my jaw and throat then disappearing. My eyelids dropped when his touch danced over my flesh. Then Mat was pressing his lips to me, right where the shoulder and neck meet. I inhaled in surprise then bit back a moan of bliss. I’d always imagined what it might be like to be in a poly relationship, but most of my exes were adamantly against even discussing it. Dan had always pitched a fit when I’d bring up inviting a third to our bed just to see what it was like.
“So hot,” Noah mumbled, the snap of his camera blurring into the white noise of the apartment. I hardly noticed the clicking sound now. All I could focus on was Mateo dropping tiny kisses to my neck while his fingers dug into my stomach. Eyes closed, I let myself fall into the fantasy moment. This was not just a photo shoot for a gay manga. This was real life. The man behind me was my lover as was the man taking the pictures. This was a sex game, one that we played all the time. Soon, Mat would reach into my jeans and spring my cock from the confines of heavy denim.
Noah brushed past us, his arm touching my elbow. He lifted that arm, then the other, urging me silently to reach back over my head for Mat. I did, willingly, arching my spine a bit, yet pushing my ass back into that hard cock. Mat groaned against my shoulder, and the next tip of the world took place a moment later. Noah. It was Noah. Shy, quiet, Noah, who took Mat’s hand and placed it on my crotch. My eyes flew open, and I sucked in a large breath.
There was this falter in time. A sort of cosmic awakening or awareness that flashed over the three of us, changing our relationship forever. Noah kept his hand on top of Mat’s and pressed, hard. Mat was into it, that much was obvious, and he had been for some time.
No one said a thing. Maybe we didn’t know what to say, or maybe it was simply the fact that no words were needed. Mat and Noah—together—began moving their hands, rubbing my dick, applying just the right pressure over and over and over...
My head fell back on Mat’s shoulder as they worked me through my pants. The orgasm was powerful and long, rolling on and on as I gasped and rocked my hips into their palms. Mat held on tight, his one arm tight around me, his teeth scoring my neck.
All I could hear was three men panting, me the loudest, and the heater running. No camera, no dialog, no nothing. When I opened my eyes, Noah stood in front of me, his blue eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. He pulled his hand away and bolted like a hare into the bedroom.
“Jesus Christ,” Mat muttered and broke away as well. Shame flooded me. I didn’t look at him once. I tripped over my bag as I lunged for my shirt.
“I don’t know...what that...fuck,” I coughed, yanking my shirt on inside out. Who really fucking cared if the seams were showing? I had just fucked up everything. Every. Thing.
“Sander, man, listen...”
I waved Mat off without even the courtesy of a glance. “Nope, that was...I’m sorry. I let that get totally away from me. I’m going home.”
“Yeah, maybe you should.”
That got my attention. Mat had a hand in his hair, fingers tight around the bouncy curls, the other arm tight to his stomach as if he were feeling sick.
“I mean...I have to talk with Noah, right?”
“Right. Yeah.” I shoved my feet into my sneakers, the backs folding over, delaying my escape from this fucking shameful experience. Fuck, I wanted to die. Just crawl into a hole and expire. I should have let Wade shoot me when I had the chance. “I, uh...I’m sorry.”
“That wasn’t just on you, Sander. I’ve been attracted to you since we first met. Noah likes you too. It’s just...the sexual stuff is...wow. We’re...uh...we need some time. Yeah?”
He was as flustered as I was. Christ, poor Noah was locked in his room, he was so mortified. God, I had ruined this wonderful and bright thing.
“Yeah, sure. I’m totes on board with time.” I grabbed my bag and left. My coat in my hand, I snuck out the door, into the frigid cold, feeling like the biggest skank ever. There was no other song to listen to on the way home. Halsey carried me back to Cayuga belting out our shared talent of being bad at love. I mean I was so bad I had to make this long drive alone with cum gluing my pubes to my BVDs. Guess that applied to friendships or whatever the fuck it was brewing with me, Mat, and Noah too...
* * *
“Sander, hey! Sander!”
I paused on my way to my car, my wet hair freezing to my head. I hated this cold weather so damn much. Mitch ran up to me, his smile wide, and waved a paper under my icy cold nose.
“Did you see that some alternates for the AHL All-Star Game down in Boca Raton were announced an hour ago?”
“Nope.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my winter coat and trudged along, wishing the snow falling into my shoes would fucking melt already.
Mitch caught up. “Dude, you and Dan were chosen to be on the team.”
I stopped dead, more snow making its way into my shoes. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, Dan is freaking out back in the locker room.” His grin was bright as he handed me the white sheaf of paper in his hand. This was probably the best news I’d had since that fucked-up shit with Mat and Noah. Seven days had passed without a word from them. I’d royally screwed the pooch and her puppies there. The first couple days I had anxiously checked my texts hourly, hoping against hope. But now? Now I knew I’d never see either of them again, and that hurt on a cellular level. “I envy you man. A week in Florida at the end of the month? That’ll be like heaven.”
A gust carrying the deadly breath of an ice giant roared over us, whipping snow into a small dervish and battering us in the face with tiny frozen particles.
“Yeah, it will be.” I pondered for a moment. “Wait, so we’re filling in for other players who were picked before us, right? I mean, that’s the reason for the short notice.”
“Well, yeah, but still man, you were on the list! That’s something big.”
“True. Yeah, I guess so. I’m happy to jet down to Florida and take someone’s place. His loss.”
I shoved the printout into my pocket, clapped Mitch on the shoulder, and made my way to my Toyota, already running, thank God. I slid into the warmth and sighed. Then I pulled out that paper and read it over one more time. This was a real honor. And another opportunity to be seen by the pros. I mean, they knew we were down here. They yanked us up and then sent us back like our lives meant nothing. In actuality, they didn’t. We were commodities. Living, breathing properties or goods to be shuffled around as the team saw fit. Not that it mattered for me, I had no one in my life. No husband or wife, no kids to uproot.
Still, getting a slot on the All-Star roster was big. Maybe next fall I’d be playing in Boston. I shoved the specter of my brother-in-law to the side. No way was I going to let Wade and his impending hearing darken this one fucking bright spot in an otherwise shitty week.
Hozier was playing on the stereo as I read over the team roster. Good players all of them. The skills competition should be fun, and the game itself, although tame because no one wanted to get hurt playing a meaningless game, would be entertaining. My phone vibrated next to my heart. I reached in and read the name of the caller. My heart kicked into double time when Mat’s name and number flashed at me. Fingers suddenly fat and clumsy, I hurried to hit the green phone icon. It was stupid how hard I was shaking when I placed the phone to my right ear.
“Hi,” I opened with because what else was there?
“Hey. Man, it’s good to hear your voice. We missed you.”
I kind of had a small skip in my heart rate. He missed my voice? They missed me?
“Same, man. Look...about that thing that happened—”
“No, listen, let’s not go into all that now. Noah and me, we’ve been talking. Like...a lot and for days. And we’d like to come up and talk with you. Maybe catch the game tomorrow night against Binghamton. Are you cool with that?”
Okay yes, I was stroking out here. My beats per minute had to be in the thousands.
“I am one hundred percent cool with that!”
“Nice. So, uhm, give me your address and we’ll see you in like an hour or so.”
I rattled off my address, said goodbye, and then sat there like a jackass staring at my phone. Someone pounded on the window to my left, scaring the fuck out of me. I threw a glare at the glass and then saw that it was Dan. And Victor. I put the window down and so much arctic blew in I wanted to whimper.
“Congrats, man!” Dan stuck his hand through the window. I took it and shook hard. Dan was smiling like a fool, his blue eyes glowing with pleasure. Victor, on the other hand, had little pleasure in those hazel eyes of his. When I released Dan’s hand, I offered mine to Kalinski.
“Don’t you want to shake my hand, Coach?”
“Vic, man, don’t be a dick,” Dan cajoled.
Victor rolled his eyes, put his palm over mine, and gave me one brisk pump. That was it. And man, that must have cost him because he stalked off, wind whipping his red hair, leaving Dan at my window.
“He’s happy for you. Just, well, you know.” Dan shrugged, made a stupid face, and then went off after his husband. I rushed to close the window before slipping my car into reverse and heading home to clean up the place I slept in.
As soon as I got home, I changed out of my suit and pulled on jeans and a Cougars sweatshirt. I then tossed dirty clothes on the floor into the hamper, picked up the mail and empties, and stacked the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. I had no powder to wash them, but at least they were off the counters and tables. After that big rush, I gave the apartment a dusting with a dirty sock because I also didn’t have a duster. Truthfully, I spent little time here. I was either at the rink or on the road, so shit like dish detergent and feather dusters kind of slid to the bottom of the importance list. Most of my meals were eaten out so the fridge was bare. Maybe the three of us could go out to eat. Somewhere nice, my treat, since it had been me who had come all over myself like a damn teenager.
The bell rang, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. I wished my heart would stop fluttering so irregularly. Opening the door and seeing Mat and Noah, holding hands, hair speckled with blowing snow, and smiling timidly at me made the arrhythmia even worse.