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Kissing Laurent was both a good idea and a bad one.
Isaac had no idea what he was doing with Laurent on a personal level, but professionally they were in competition. Laurent’s goaltending was getting better and better, because he’d apparently decided to show up and play, after all. Which was great, but Isaac was having to step up his game.
And he liked it, he realized. The competition wasn’t vicious—since Laurent was being way less of a dickhead—but it was intense.
The more intense it got, the more intense the kissing got too. Isaac continued to wonder if he was getting in over his head.
“So you’re spending a lot of time with Saint,” Hux said, when they were playing video games at his and Murph’s place.
“And isn’t it better for everyone?” Isaac made his on-screen character shoot the puck. He liked playing forward on video games, even though everyone expected him to be the goalie.
“Not talking about the team, bro,” said Hux. He, on the other hand, played a defenseman, just like he did on the ice. He also liked to try and get in fights. Hux was a man secure and happy with his role in their shared sport, that was for sure.
“You fucking him?” Murph asked, wandering in with a beer.
“Murph thinks he’s gay,” Hux said, as if that needed explaining.
Isaac stared at the screen and tried to make Mike Fisher do some kind of spin-o-rama move. Instead Hux’s team stole the puck and scored off the turnover. Being a Predators fan was hard in any reality—real or pixelated. “I’m not fucking him.”
His friends stared at him, but Isaac tried not to let anything show on his face. Things were too complicated to talk about.
“Holy shit. Ha. I was right. My gaydar is better than yours, dude,” Murph crowed, smacking Isaac on the back of the head.
“Ow. Would you stop? I told you I wasn’t fucking him.”
“Yeah. But you’re getting some,” Murph prodded. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not,” Isaac said. Firmly. “Believe me. Can we not talk about this?”
“Nope.” Hux paused the game. “Spill it. Are you guys dating?”
Isaac was two seconds away from snapping “I’m going home” and throwing the controller like he was a sulky twelve-year-old. Instead he took a deep breath and said, “Guys, can we not talk about Saint and just play the game?”
Murph and Hux exchanged a look, but they didn’t say anything else about it. Isaac didn’t trust that look at all, but he kept it to himself. He couldn’t say he didn’t want to talk about it and then start talking about it.
Making out with Laurent and trying to be friends with him didn’t necessarily make it easier to like him. He still rubbed a lot of the guys the wrong way, and though Isaac understood that dickhead Laurent was a result of him feeling insecure or defensive, no one else did. Yet there was a guy worth knowing under the mask. Isaac was sure of it.
Which was why, when Coach Samarin told them about an outreach opportunity at a local school, Isaac signed them both up without asking Laurent.
“You want me to talk to kids?” Laurent stared at him incredulously. “I can barely handle talking to people my own age, and you think this is a good idea?”
Isaac shrugged and then flashed a grin. “Probably not, but you gotta learn sometime. Right?”
Laurent didn’t look convinced. “I’m not ever having children,” he said in a flat voice.
“Stop making everything so dramatic,” Isaac responded. “You’re going.”
The outreach was about getting kids interested in hockey without the use of one of Belsey’s 80’s-music-themed ad campaigns. He and Laurent wore a few pieces of their gear—mostly to emphasize the importance of safety, and because kids thought their masks were cool—and stood in front of some nets while the kids were organized into two groups, and then tried to score with a giant nerf ball and what looked to be an oversized golf club.
Isaac wasn’t used to kids, but he had fun flailing around and pretending to stop goals. Each kid took shots until they scored a goal, which was basically just Isaac letting one in when the kid looked frustrated or stopped giggling.
One of the teachers paused the shootout and came up to Isaac. “Umm. Could you maybe tell your teammate that this is supposed to be fun?”
Laurent was apparently taking his position too seriously, as usual. Isaac reassured the harried-looking teacher and went over to Laurent. “It’s not the Stanley Cup playoffs,” he said. “You’re not supposed to make other guys cry.”
Laurent’s dark gaze was cool and unreadable. Isaac had been told more than once that he had the crazy, “come and try it, asshole” goalie stare beneath his mask when he was in net. Not for the first time, Isaac noticed that Laurent’s stare looked like nobody was home—like he was just an extension of the net instead of a person.
No wonder he didn’t like hockey or playing goalie. Shutting down hotshot shooters was supposed to give you a feeling of glee. Just not when they were seven.
“My father never—”
“I swear to—uh, gosh. If you mention your dad, I will deck you with one of those Nerf things.” Isaac looked around and made sure he was smiling wildly in case a small child overheard him. “Now stop being a prick and make these kids have fun.”
Isaac yanked his mask back down, went to his side of the makeshift court, and took his spot back in goal.
A few minutes later he heard some cheers and giggling, so Isaac figured Laurent had gotten with the program.
After the kids were finished shooting at the goalies, they were allowed to take turns in net. Isaac was momentarily horrified at how that would play out with Laurent. He worried that he’d just consigned about ten kids to therapy. But Laurent was surprisingly good at that part. At one point Isaac looked over to check on him and saw Laurent bestow an honest-to-God smile on a kid and ruffle his hair.
That’s when Isaac decided they needed to go on a date—a real one that maybe ended in more than kissing. Because there was something about that gesture, about seeing Laurent St. Savoy drop all his attitude and be a regular guy having a good time and showing the affection he’d probably never had as a child. And Isaac needed to know if the thing between them was leading somewhere or if they were just going to be friends who sometimes petted each other’s hair, but no more than that.
“See. Wasn’t that fun?” Isaac asked on the way back. Laurent looked as relaxed as Isaac had ever seen him.
“It wasn’t bad,” Laurent said.
“You want to go get some dinner?” Isaac tried not to sound too eager.
“It’s four thirty,” Laurent said. “Are we going for a senior citizen’s discount?”
“Well, I meant later. But you know we don’t get paid all that much.” Isaac grinned. “Don’t expect me to take you anywhere fancy. I meant like, Olive Garden or something.”
“I don’t like Olive Garden.”
Isaac sighed and took the turn toward Laurent’s apartment. One step at a time. “We can go somewhere else. The important part was the one where I asked you out. On a date.”
“Okay.”
That was all he got, but Isaac said, “I’ll pick you up at seven thirty” and watched as Laurent climbed out of the Jeep without a backward glance.
––––––––
What the hell was he supposed to wear on a date?
Laurent stood, freshly showered and in nothing but a pair of underwear, and stared at the admittedly small amount of clothing he’d brought with him to Spartanburg. He never expected to need anything to wear out on a date.
He definitely never expected to go on a date with Isaac Drake.
Laurent chewed on his lip, fought his nerves and reminded himself that he’d kissed Isaac more than once and liked it. That clearly meant he was... something. Gay? Bisexual? How was he supposed to know? Getting off by himself was as awkward as always, but for the first time he had something to think about.
Not something. Someone. Isaac, and that lip ring. Thinking about sucking on that ring—which Laurent had been brave enough to try the last time and Isaac had sounded as if he’d really liked—made him flush and his cock tent out the front of his underwear.
Laurent went with a pair of dark washed jeans and a plain white dress shirt that he left untucked. That seemed like a concession to casual. Was he supposed to dress casual? He had no idea. His nerves were shot, and was there anything less appealing than going out to dinner when all he wanted to do was stay home with his comics and his sketchbook?
Laurent made himself stop with a firm mental reminder that he liked Isaac—liked being around him, liked the ease with which his moods rolled off Isaac like water off stone, liked that for once someone wasn’t letting him get away with his terrible attitude. Isaac apparently expected better of him. And when Laurent gave it to him, Isaac was proud. And Isaac was so good at kissing.
It just means he’s going to hate you when you fuck this up. He’s the best person you’ve ever met. Why do you think you’re anything near good enough for him?
Laurent grabbed his phone and thought about texting Isaac and telling him to fuck off, that he wasn’t going out to dinner with some fag, or whatever mean thing he could say so Isaac would want nothing to do with him. But the thought of using that word suddenly made Laurent intensely angry. At himself, for all the times he’d ever said it.
He never meant it as anything other than a way to rile someone up or hurt them or make them back off, but he realized that wasn’t how other people used it. People like his father. They meant it as an insult. They thought people like Isaac were somehow less because of who they loved.
People like Laurent. Because the evidence was pretty strong that he too was gay or bisexual. Maybe his father had always known, and that was just one more thing he wanted to take away from Laurent, like he took away hockey.
Laurent always had a hard time standing up to his father, but if he canceled his date because he was afraid he wasn’t good enough for Isaac, then his father would win. Again.
No.
Laurent put his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, ran a comb through his hair, and stared at himself in the mirror. Isaac thought he was hot, and Laurent was glad. He noticed his own good looks with detached objectivity, aware that people found him attractive. He’d heard people say how it was a good thing he looked like his mom, because his father was a great goalie but not the least bit attractive. And he knew that was also a sore spot with Denis, as if he might have liked his son if he hadn’t dared to be born with the same good looks that had drawn Denis to Laurent’s mother.
His phone buzzed, and there was a text from Isaac.
Want to come down?
Laurent stood up, grabbed his keys and his wallet, and left.
He was surprised to see Mrs. Bowen at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair was in curlers, and she was wearing a housecoat like it was bedtime. She probably had eaten dinner at four thirty.
“You look nice,” she said and gave him a sly smile. “Do you have a date?”
“Yes,” Laurent said, surprising himself. But he remembered that hot plate, and how she let him move in without a deposit when no one else would.
She winked. “With the young man in the Jeep? He looks nervous. That’s good. Keep ’em on their toes,” she said. And then before Laurent could even think of what to say, she said, “Have fun and don’t let him drink and drive.”
She disappeared into her apartment and left Laurent staring in shock at her door.
One more assumption he’d made that he clearly shouldn’t have—that Mrs. Bowen would care he was dating a guy just because she was old. Laurent gave a shake of his head and went outside.
Isaac wasn’t nervous. Ever. Laurent opened the passenger-side door.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” Isaac said, and his eyes lingered appreciatively in a way that Laurent didn’t mind as he climbed in the Jeep. He’d never been glad to be attractive before, but it was nice that something about him was pleasing and didn’t involve as much work as it took to change his attitude.
Though Laurent was in the car with Isaac often enough, including earlier that day, he wondered if he was supposed to say something date-like and had no idea what that would be.
Well. If Isaac wanted someone good at dating, he wouldn’t have asked Laurent out.
Even Isaac was quiet as he drove, but Laurent was used to silence and didn’t mind. He covertly studied Isaac as best he could, which wasn’t much, given how dark it was outside. He was also wearing jeans and what looked like a dark blue shirt. His hair was spiked up as usual, and it was even brighter blue than normal.
“Your hair,” Laurent said. “It’s... uh. Blue. Bluer.”
Isaac gave a quick grin as he merged lanes. “I re-dyed it this afternoon just for you. Feel special.”
Laurent let that one go without comment, but he did feel that way. Special. And it made him wary and nervous. “What’s your real hair color?”
“Eh. Boring. It’s like, mousy brown or something. I like having it a color you can’t find in nature. I think it’s more fun, and you know... it’s just hair.”
“Why would you want it to be unnatural?”
“’Cause my hair’s not as pretty as yours?” Isaac laughed. “I don’t know. I started doing it in high school. My parents thought being gay was unnatural, so I thought it was appropriate to have unnatural hair. Also I think someone dared me at a party. Why? Don’t you like it?”
“I like it,” Laurent said, but it came out defensive instead of complimentary. He sighed and hoped he hadn’t ruined their date already.
They went to a place called Dudley’s, which wasn’t a chain and appeared to be pretty busy for a Wednesday. Laurent knew people might think he was on a date, but the nice thing about spending so much time antagonizing people was that he was used to it, so he didn’t care what they thought.
They had a brief wait for a table, and in the low light of the restaurant, Laurent could see Isaac a little more clearly. Laurent thought he was maybe wearing eyeliner. Just a little, but the smudge brought out the midnight blue of his eyes. They looked like the sky right before night took over and made everything dark.
“You ever had fried green tomatoes?” Isaac asked once they were seated.
“What?” Laurent looked up from the menu he’d ostensibly been studying and tried to look at Isaac’s eyes and not his lip ring. He wanted to lean over and suck on it.
Isaac tugged at the ring with his teeth for a moment, which made Laurent wonder how obvious he was. “Fried green tomatoes. You’re Canadian. They don’t have those there. Do they?”
“I’m American,” Laurent reminded him. “I only speak French because of my father. But I was born in America.”
“So, rule for this date—don’t talk about your dad. Not even once. If I asked you something, and he’s the answer, tap the table twice. Or something.” Isaac took a sip of his water. “I’m on a date with you, not your dad. Thank God, since that’s not the kind of prick I like.”
“Hi. Welcome to Dudley’s. My name’s Kyle.” Out of nowhere their server appeared next to the table. “Can I get you anything to drink? Also, so you know, I don’t have a problem with you being on a date. My brother’s gay. So you don’t have to pretend or anything.”
Isaac and Laurent exchanged a look at Kyle’s bluntness.
“That’s good.”
Kyle carded Isaac when he ordered a beer, which made Laurent smirk at Isaac across the table.
Laurent tried to stick with water, but Isaac made a face at him and then ordered the same beer he was having.
“I don’t know if I’ll like that,” Laurent protested.
“It’s a beer.” Isaac leaned back in his chair. “Relax, Saint.”
The name worked, as it always did, but Laurent still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do on a date. People usually talked about themselves, didn’t they? Laurent hated that. Still, talking about hockey seemed less like a date, and Laurent also didn’t want to think or talk about hockey. He was bad at it already, and the date had just started.
“So did you read that comic series Hux gave you? I saw the movie with him, the old Judge Dredd with Stallone. Ugh. He wouldn’t shut up about comic inaccuracies. He might be a scary-looking dude with muscles who’s a hockey enforcer, but he’s just a huge geek.”
“I did,” Laurent said. “I liked it.” He cast about for something else to say. “I’ve never seen that one, but I did see the new movie. It was better.”
Isaac grinned at him. “You’re bad at this.”
Laurent scowled. “I’ve never been on a date before. Also you’re kind of a dick.”
That got him a smirk and another suck on that lip ring. It was distracting. Everything about Isaac was distracting, apparently.
“You’re staring at me, dude. Like we’re on the ice. And I’m trying to score on you.” Isaac winked.
Laurent flushed, but he was perfectly capable of being blunt. “I’m trying to figure out if I think you’re hot.”
There was a discreet cough. “Your beers,” their server, Kyle, said. “Blind date?”
“Did we ask you?” Laurent snapped before he could think better of it.
“Don’t mind him,” Isaac interjected smoothly. “He’s nervous, and he acts like a jackass when he’s nervous.”
“I am not nervous,” Laurent said, turning his irritation back on Isaac.
“Tell him you’re sorry,” Isaac said. There was no glint of amusement in his eyes, no half smile, no hint that he was teasing at all. “Saint. Guy doesn’t need you snapping at him at work.”
“Hey man. It’s no big deal.”
Laurent looked up at Kyle. “I’m sorry,” he said. It wasn’t as gracious as it could be, but Isaac would have to do something drastic to make it sound better. “I’m pretty much an asshole all the time.”
“Until you get to know him,” Isaac put in. “Then he’s all right.”
“Did you guys meet on Grindr?” Kyle asked as he handed over their beers. He gave an easy shrug. “And don’t worry about it. You want an appetizer?”
Isaac ordered whatever those tomato things were, and Laurent sipped the beer he hadn’t wanted and wondered why, instead of embarrassing him, the fact that Isaac made him apologize to the waiter had been strangely reassuring. “I don’t know why I act like that.”
“I do,” said Isaac. He tapped his fingers twice on the table.
Laurent smiled. “I still don’t understand why you’re bothering with me,” he said, honestly. “I can’t be that hot that I’m worth all this effort. I’m a jerk, I don’t know if I’m attracted to you, and I have literally no idea how to behave around other people.”
“Well, first of all you are that hot. But believe me, that’s not enough. Not for a date, anyway,” Isaac said. “And I don’t know, Saint. I guess I just feel like somewhere in there, there’s somebody worth knowing. But if you’re not into me, we can just be friends.” Isaac took a drink of his beer. “But if that’s true, we’re splitting the check.”
“I didn’t even want this beer,” Laurent said, but without any heat.
Isaac smiled. “Fine. Then the beers are on me, if we’re buddies. I’m still going to be your friend. Or try to, because it’s not easy. But there you go. I thought maybe there might be something else we could be. But no pressure. Still I should tell you that I’m very attracted to you, and I don’t want to lie about it or anything.”
Laurent, who was beginning to think about people who were not himself, suddenly wondered what it must take for Isaac to sit across the table from him. Not only was Laurent’s past behavior abhorrent, they were in competition on their team and Laurent had just told him he wasn’t sure if he thought Isaac was hot—when they were on a date.
He wouldn’t let my father bully him. Not like I do.
Without thinking Laurent tapped the table twice.
“Hey,” Isaac said, his voice quiet. “It’s okay. I can still pick up the tab.”
That surprised an honest laugh out of Laurent. It made Isaac happy, he could tell, both that he’d laughed and that he’d followed the instructions about tapping the table.
“I think you’re brave,” Laurent blurted out awkwardly. He couldn’t look at Isaac. “I didn’t do anything to be attractive. But you had to. To be brave.” He picked up his beer and mumbled into it, “And I like your lip ring.”
He chanced a glance up at Isaac, who smiled at him. It wasn’t his usual grin, not a smirk, and certainly not that fierce, angry baring of teeth that Laurent remembered from their fight on the ice. It was a smile, and it did weird things to Laurent when he saw it.
“You’re a mess,” Isaac said. He reached across to stroke the back of Laurent’s hand, the one he’d tapped on the table. Laurent had clenched it into a fist, and he relaxed it gradually as Isaac slowly ghosted his fingertips over Laurent’s skin. It made him shiver pleasantly too.
“I know,” Laurent said softly, and he dared to curl his fingers around Isaac’s for several heartbeats. “Believe me. I know.”
They talked about other things, like comics and, because it was inevitable, the team. They talked about hockey, but just in general. It wasn’t a continuous conversation, and it was certainly not without pauses or Laurent being awkward, but despite his utter distaste of whatever “pimentos” were, it was a pretty good date.
Not that he had anything to compare it to. But still.
When the check came, Kyle studied them both. “I tried to figure out what was going on here, but let me tell you, I can’t tell if you guys are gonna be best friends, end up married, or hate each other. But half the girls on the wait staff want you to make out, so.” He put the little folder with the bill down on the table between them. “I’m just gonna leave this here.”
Laurent reached for the check before Isaac could ask him anything and then pulled out his wallet. “I’ve got it.”
“I did not see that coming,” said Kyle.
“Really?” Laurent handed over his debit card. “Why not?”
“You’re the pretty one,” Isaac said. “Maybe he expected me to buy.”
“Dude, that kind of gender stereotyping isn’t cool. I’d expect a gay guy to know better,” Kyle chastised.
“I could be bi,” Isaac shot back. “Is it the eyeliner? Is that what makes you think I’m gay?”
“Didn’t I just say that gender stereotyping isn’t cool?”
“Should I leave you two alone?” Laurent asked.
The waiter took the hint and left with Laurent’s credit card. Laurent took a deep breath and turned to Isaac. “I think that I think you’re hot.”
“Progress,” said Isaac. “Don’t worry. I’ve a got a few drills up my sleeve to help us figure it out. If you’re up for it.” Isaac smirked, all heat and playfulness. “I know I am.”
Kyle brought the check back, and Laurent left him a 35 percent tip.
––––––––
When they got into the Jeep, Isaac turned to him. “Where to?” he asked casually.
Laurent ignored the unpleasant churn of nerves in his stomach and wondered if he could ever just have one normal thing in his goddamn life. Though for all he knew, everyone felt that way on a first date. Maybe it was normal. “Home.”
Isaac nodded, and that gave Laurent the entirety of the drive to figure out how to ask Isaac to come upstairs to his apartment. Unfortunately there wasn’t a lot of traffic, and Isaac hit every green light between Dudley’s and his place.
When the Jeep stopped at the curb, Laurent unhooked his seatbelt, leaned over and pressed a very awkward kiss to Isaac’s mouth. “Come in.”
Isaac smiled against his mouth. “I get to see the Batcave. Cool.”
Laurent rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat. “You’re gonna be disappointed,” he said, forcing away the ominous alarm those words set off.
“Are you gonna take your shirt off? Because if you do that, I won’t be. And if you’re still worried, you can take off your pants.” Isaac turned the Jeep off and opened his door. “And if you think I’m not going to make comments about how hot you are just because I might possibly be on my way to liking you as a person, think again.”
Laurent was glad it was dark, because he was blushing.
When he and Isaac walked into the foyer, Mrs. Bowen emerged from her apartment. Laurent wondered if that was good timing or if she waited up for him. That was stupid. Why would she care enough about Laurent to do that?
“Well, looks like that was a good date,” she said, and Laurent’s blush intensified. “Oh, my Harold used to wear a bit of my eyeliner back in the day. We would go to the men’s club, you know. I’d wear his suits, so I looked like a boy. Quite a few memories. Roomy booths with nice cushions.”
Isaac was grinning in pure delight, and he reached out a hand. “Hi. I’m Isaac Drake, and I’m an orphan. Can you adopt me?”
“An orphan? How sad to lose your parents so young.” She shook his hand, then paused with it between two of hers. “Or did you lose them because of the eyeliner?”
“The eyeliner. Yup,” Isaac said.
She patted his hand. “What a sad world we live in. I always wanted children but couldn’t have them. Though probably we wouldn’t have made it to that club so often if we did, so maybe it was for the best. And I have a dog. I think it’s probably about the same thing.”
“What about Harold?” Isaac asked. “He still wear eyeliner?”
“Oh, he went on,” she said. Her eyes grew suspiciously bright. “We were married for sixty-five years, and it felt like five. I miss him something awful, but I figure he’s up there with some of those folks we used to pal around with, in a big ol’ booth, just waiting for me to join him.” She let go of Isaac’s hand. “Be nice to Lawrence, here. He has sad eyes.”
With that, she patted Laurent on the shoulder and went into her apartment.
“Did that just happen?” Isaac asked as they headed upstairs. “Your landlady... she’s like, eightysomething. And unless I’m wrong, she dressed up in her husband’s suits and pretended to be a boy so they could have bi threesomes in a booth at whatever a boy’s club is.”
“Sounds like it,” Laurent agreed.
“You don’t even seem surprised,” Isaac said as he followed Laurent into the small studio.
Laurent shrugged. “No one’s all that normal, no matter what they look like or how old they are.” He closed the door and indicated his apartment with a wave. “This is it. See? Not very exciting.”
“Oh. I don’t know.” Isaac moved in closer, and suddenly Laurent had his back to the door and Isaac’s lean frame very nearly pressed against his own. “I bet I can find something to get excited about.”
“Do these lines usually work for you?” Laurent asked. “Because they’re kind of cheesy. I mean, I’m not an expert or anything. But still.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? So I think my pick-up lines worked.” Isaac reached up to get a hand around the back of Laurent’s neck. “Mine are better than yours.” He gave a soft laugh and kissed Laurent.
Laurent kissed him but gently pushed him back. Mostly to see if Isaac would stop if Laurent wanted him to.
He did immediately and moved away to give Laurent some space.
“We don’t usually do this standing up.” Laurent was surprised to hear how rough his voice sounded.
“I know. Remember how I said I had drills? I think it’s probably a good idea if we do some of those.” Isaac’s expression settled into more serious lines. “I think we need to figure out if you’d like doing more than just kiss me.”
“’Cause at some point, you’re gonna want to get laid?” Laurent was unable to keep the edge from his voice. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and tried to calm himself. When he went to apologize, he was surprised to find Isaac looking at him strangely.
“No. I just meant, I don’t want to end up trying to make you like something you don’t. If you’re not into guys, you’re not into guys,” Isaac said. “I’m still going to be your friend. I’ll even still pet your pretty hair.”
“Oh shut up.” Laurent edged around him and sat on the bed. He looked briefly toward the bathroom and concentrated instead on Isaac. “I—I don’t know if I’m into guys or not.” I know I’m into you. He felt way too vulnerable to say that out loud.
“That’s what I thought we’d find out.” Isaac watched him carefully. “But it means. Y’know. Clothes come off. Dicks might get touched.”
Laurent couldn’t hide the reaction that got, which was a surprised little jolt. “Right. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I get the mechanics.”
“It’s a lot different when it isn’t just mechanics. Can I sit down?”
“Could you stop treating me like I’m going to break or freak out?” Laurent shook his head, but scooted over to give Isaac room. “Stop asking me and just do whatever it is,” he said, pleading.
“No way. Not negotiable. I’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable, you just have to say something.”
“I’m trying to tell you that you being so considerate is making me uncomfortable.”
They stared at each other. Isaac’s mouth twitched. “Well, that’s a problem.”
“I know.” Laurent took a long moment to simply look at Isaac—the hair (he dyed that just for me), the lip piercing, the dark blue eyes, the smudge of black around them, Isaac’s lean body in a shirt that showed it off without being showy, and the fact he was willing to go through a lot of stress for a guy who didn’t deserve it.
For a guy who, because he was a coward, spit on him and called him a fag.
Laurent was horrified to feel himself about to cry. It was the worst date ever, probably. “I’m so sorry. About what I did during that game. I didn’t understand what it meant. But I do, now. And I’m—I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Isaac said, and straddled Laurent’s lap. His knees pressed on either side of Laurent’s thighs, and he smelled good. Spicy.
“You put on cologne.”
“Duh. It was a date. You wore a dress shirt,” Isaac countered.
“I didn’t tuck it in, though.” Laurent tried not to squeak as Isaac’s mouth moved down to his neck. It felt like someone electrocuted Laurent’s spine. He’d never felt anything like it, and he gasped out loud.
“Ah. You like that.”
“Yeah,” Laurent was too shocked by pleasure to think about lying. It felt shivery good, and he wanted more of it. “If you stop and ask me if I’m sure, I’ll suffocate you with this dress shirt.”
“I’m supposed to be the violent goalie,” Isaac said, but he kept kissing Laurent’s neck, and the drag of his lip ring against Laurent’s skin was nothing short of amazing. “So, good. That’s one drill down.”
Laurent wanted Isaac to keep doing that, but he settled back and started undoing the buttons of Laurent’s shirt.
Unease crept into Laurent’s previously pleasure-soaked senses. He reached out and put a hand over Isaac’s. “Wait.”
Isaac stopped and went still.
Laurent exhaled slowly and then gave a brief nod. “Okay. Keep going.”
“Are you sure—”
Laurent responded by leaning in and kissing Isaac and flicking his tongue over Isaac’s lip ring like he’d wanted to do since the moment Isaac picked him up. Isaac kissed him back and unbuttoned Laurent’s shirt, but instead of taking it off, he just pushed it open so it was still hanging off Laurent’s shoulders.
“Think you could lie down? This is harder than lap dancers make it look.”
“When have you—never mind,” Laurent said hastily when Isaac mimicked a terrible beat and gyrated on his lap. Laurent lay back on the bed, his shirt open all the way and falling on either side of him.
“Goddamn,” Isaac said, shaking his head. “I hope you like the rest of this as much as you liked me kissing your neck. You’re so gorgeous, Saint.”
Laurent felt a little ridiculous, lying half-undressed on the bed, but the hungry and appreciative look in Isaac’s eyes helped him get over it.
Isaac climbed back on the bed and straddled him again. “Is—”
Laurent reached up, grabbed Isaac by the neck, and pulled him down. “Did I say it wasn’t okay? No? Then don’t stop.”
Isaac peered at him from between narrowed eyes. “I couldn’t have done the obvious thing and fallen for my straight best friend? God. Even my gay drama is over the top.”
Laurent snorted a laugh. He wondered if Harold and Mrs. Bowen had laughed in bed that much. If Coach Samarin and Coach Ashford did. Were you supposed to? He had no idea.
He stopped laughing when he felt Isaac’s mouth on his skin again and the drag of the lip ring on his chest.
“Do you like that?”
“Yeah,” Laurent panted, eyes closed. It was hard to relax, as usual, but the tension was channeling into something else he liked a whole lot more than stress. Maybe it counted as good stress. He’d heard that was a thing.
Isaac kissed down his chest and over his stomach, and then he licked and traced the corded muscles of Laurent’s abdominals with his tongue. Laurent realized he was hard and wondered if Isaac noticed. It’d happened before when they kissed, but he never mentioned it. Or checked to see if Isaac was too.
He didn’t need to check right then. Isaac was on top of him but holding most of his weight on his arms, though Laurent could feel Isaac’s hard cock against his thigh.
Tentatively Laurent reached out and smoothed his fingers through Isaac’s hair. “This isn’t going to turn my hand blue, is it?”
Isaac looked up at him. “I can’t believe the things you say. You know, your whole problem in life is a bad sense of timing.”
Laurent smiled at him. “So it’s not as bad as I always thought, then.”
Isaac snorted and bit him on the stomach. It was playful—just a nip—but Laurent felt it like he’d been hit in the face with a puck. In a good way. He even made a noise.
If nothing else, Isaac was used to reading body language. He looked up at Laurent again. “That was the most you’ve ever reacted to anything.”
He did it again, and that time, he bit. Not playfully, but an actual bite. He increased the pressure until Laurent arched up off the bed and grabbed Isaac’s hair with both hands.
Isaac bit his way up from Laurent’s stomach, over his chest, and ended up at Laurent’s mouth. Laurent was a wreck by the time Isaac kissed him again. A wreck.
He licked out and ran his tongue over Isaac’s lip ring, then sucked it into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Isaac muttered and pulled away. He was breathing hard, and he stared at Laurent like.... Laurent didn’t even know, having never been the recipient of a look like that before. “We might have to stop for a minute.”
“I don’t need you to stop, Isaac,” Laurent said, his voice husky. He was grabbing at the sheets beneath him, to keep him from... something. Maybe something he shouldn’t necessarily stop himself from doing.
“Yeah? That’s great. But I do.” Isaac climbed off him. He was all flushed, and his hair was in a disarray from Laurent having grabbed and twisted it like he was doing to the bedding.
He wanted to touch Isaac’s hair. He wanted to touch Isaac. But he sat still, breathing too fast, and waited. “Your shirt is still on.”
Laurent thought that might incite some banter, since it sounded like a challenge, but Isaac just reached down and pulled his shirt off without comment. He was lean, all whipcord and easily defined muscles, and Laurent liked that. Definitely. Laurent sat up and shrugged his own unbuttoned shirt all the way off. The material was too hot on his flushed skin, and besides, what was he trying to hide? Isaac had seen his back. Isaac had seen most every scar Laurent had, and he was still there.
Isaac rubbed his hand over Laurent’s stomach and then lower. He studied Laurent for his reaction.
Laurent made a small noise and then scowled. He shifted on the bed restlessly. He wanted that hand on his cock, but he was a little thrown by the way Isaac was looking at him. All that intensity and focus made him think about not being good enough—being judged and found lacking. He tapped the side of the bed.
“Ah, Saint,” said Isaac as he leaned in to kiss him.
That was good. Laurent reached down and curled his fingers lightly around Isaac’s wrist, but he didn’t pull his hand away or push it down. He just kept hold and tried not to buck his hips up, because that seemed desperate. But he gave a rough nod to show his consent, because he did want Isaac to keep going.
Isaac settled his hand over him, and probably nothing had ever felt that good in Laurent’s entire life. His fingers tightened briefly on Isaac’s wrist, and then he let go so he could get his jeans unbuttoned. Desperate or not, he didn’t care.
“This was definitely not on my list,” said Isaac, his voice roughened and low.
“Shut up,” said Laurent, and he lifted his hips to push his jeans down. “Roll with it.”
Isaac kissed him again, and he traced the shape of Laurent’s cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs. Laurent thought idly that he should maybe be embarrassed by the dampness on the cotton, but he couldn’t seem to care. He felt Isaac make a humming noise of approval as he rubbed his thumb over the head, and Laurent nearly came right there.
And that freaked him out. He grabbed Isaac’s wrist—hard.
Isaac went still and then pulled back a little. “You okay?”
“I don’t know,” Laurent said wildly. He looked up at Isaac and felt stupid, young, inexperienced, and awkward, and he hated that. “I’ve never had someone touch me when it felt this good.”
Isaac kissed the side of Laurent’s neck. “Want me to stop?”
“No. I just don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” Isaac smiled against his skin. “Just lie there and look pretty.”
“Oh shut up,” Laurent muttered, but he turned his head and caught Isaac’s mouth in a kiss while Isaac went back to touching him.
At some point he felt Isaac’s thumb rub under the waistband of his underwear and against his skin. It was a question, and Laurent just nodded, breathless and caught up in the pleasure of it. When Isaac wrapped his hand around skin, it wasn’t at all like touching himself. There was nothing grim and clinical about it, and he didn’t have to fight to keep his mind blank, because he couldn’t think.
All he could do was lie there and gasp and writhe around on the bed, stare sightlessly up at the ceiling, and fall apart.
When he felt himself getting close, he reached out, hooked a hand around the back of Isaac’s neck, and blindly pulled him in—but not for a kiss. He pushed Isaac’s face into the space between his neck and shoulder, and Isaac huffed a breathless laugh and did exactly what Laurent had been hoping he’d do.
He bit him hard, and Laurent came with a low moan, his fingers tight on Isaac’s neck and the other hand clenched tight in the bedding. He was shaking when it was over—shaking, panting, and also sticky—and he felt good. Better than good.
Eventually he opened his eyes, and Isaac gave him the world’s smuggest smile. But Laurent didn’t even care. He grinned back. His shoulder throbbed pleasantly from the bite, and he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He luxuriated unabashedly in the sensation of approval he could see in Isaac’s face.
Isaac ghosted over the bite marks in Laurent’s shoulder with his fingers, which made Laurent shiver. “You like being bitten.”
He nodded and wondered if he could explain it. It was the buildup of pain and the sudden release of it that he liked, how he could feel the ache even when it was over. Feel it fade.
Getting off made it even better. Which reminded him that he was the only one who’d done that. He turned toward Isaac and wondered if he should pull up his underwear before whatever happened next. “So, umm,” he started, too lazily satisfied to care about how awkward he sounded.
“Oh.” Isaac’s smug smile turned a little sheepish. “Not necessary. I, ah. Look, dude, it was hot as hell jacking you off. All right?”
Laurent glanced down to see Isaac’s jeans were open and his cock had softened. He was weirdly disappointed that Isaac had already gotten off. He wished he could have given Isaac the same pleasure Isaac had given him. But Isaac would probably rather do it himself than have Laurent fumble his way through it.
“Whatever you’re thinking is probably wrong,” Isaac said.
Laurent made a face at him. “I’m sticky.” That wasn’t what he was thinking, but it definitely wasn’t wrong.
“Yeah. Uh... sorry about your, umm... comforter.”
“Too hot for it anyway.” Laurent stretched and watched as Isaac climbed off the bed and fixed his clothing. He left his shirt off, and Laurent took a moment to study him.
“Trying to decide if I’m hot or not?”
“No. I decided that you were already. I’m just wondering why I didn’t notice. Before. That maybe I liked how guys looked without a shirt on.”
Isaac grinned and flexed his arm muscles like an idiot. “You hadn’t seen me. That’s why.”
Laurent rolled his eyes and sat up. He raked a hand through his hair and then kicked off his jeans and pulled up his underwear. He grabbed Isaac’s T-shirt and wiped the mess off his stomach.
“Not cool. I am not driving home without a shirt. I don’t care if this is South Carolina. Not doing it.”
Laurent tossed Isaac’s shirt in the general direction of his clothes basket. “You can borrow something of mine. My T-shirts are in the bottom drawer.”
Isaac went to the dresser and rummaged around. Laurent got out of bed and found a pair of sweats and pulled them on, ignoring Isaac for the moment, in favor of going to his small fridge and pulling out a couple bottles of water. He turned and saw Isaac—wearing a shirt of his that was just a shade too big for him—flipping through something.
His sketchbook.
“Wow,” Isaac said, seemingly unaware of the death glare Laurent was shooting him from across the room. “Did you draw these? They’re amazing, Saint.”
The nickname cooled his fury, but Laurent still wanted to hurl one of the bottles at Isaac’s blue head. “Who said you could look at that?”
“Nobody.” Isaac looked at him, and he did look contrite. “Sorry?”
“You are not,” Laurent huffed.
“No. But these are seriously amazing.” Isaac held up a page. “Is that me?”
Oh Christ. Laurent did not want to admit to drawing Isaac. But he wasn’t going to back down and lie about it, not when it was obvious. Still. Admitting it outright wasn’t his style. “If I’m such a great artist, you should be able to tell.”
Isaac gave him a grin that bordered on fierce. “You really are a dick. And obviously you’ve been into mine longer than you think.”
“You’re graceful and have nice body lines.”
Isaac batted his eyes at him. “You’re so full of shit.” He put the sketchbook down. “Seriously, though. Is there anything you’re not good at?”
Laurent laughed at how ridiculous that was. “Now who’s full of shit? Here.” He tossed the bottle to Isaac, who caught it deftly and twisted it open. “I like drawing.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit to liking anything,” Isaac said.
I like you.
Laurent didn’t say it, but he didn’t need to. It was probably written all over his face.