Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

17. Watermelon Jolly Ranchers

Chapter 17

Watermelon Jolly Ranchers

Sutter

A bag of watermelon Jolly Ranchers taunts me from my dresser drawer. The only place I could find them was Theo Meyer’s online candy shop. But after being pathetic enough to go for poutine because I was missing Casey, this was the next logical step. I’m going to contract a cavity sucking on these things, but I need to taste him.

One. Just one. I shove the rectangular-shaped candy in my mouth and suck, swirling it around my tongue. Great. Now I’m making out with candy like he does, but this is what his mouth tastes like as if it’s permanently flavored watermelon, and I’m fucking craving him.

I can’t go on like this. Something’s gotta give. I might be in too deep already. Could it work between us? Even if we could get along for five minutes, our logistics are fucked. We’d barely see each other. I know his friend Jack and Jack’s man Mercy are doing the long-distance thing, but they have a kid so there’s more pressure to make it work.

Or something.

Don’t really know much about that situation, nor do I give a fuck to, but Casey’s mentioned it in passing. Something about Mercy’s dad. Something about Mercy’s dad being highly irresponsible. It’s too much of a soap opera, I can’t keep track, and I’m not into that shit at all. If they’re happy, though, good for them. Point is, they’re making all that work, and if they can do that, Alderchuck and I can manage just us two.

Right?

I’m not sure I know how to boyfriend, though. The last time I was majorly serious with anyone was high school. It’s been hockey, hockey, hockey ever since. I have dated a string of men at various times throughout my hockey career, but things were still too casual to label it more than what Casey and I have going on now: Almost exclusive fucking.

What I shouldn’t be doing is feeling a pull to check on him. Make sure he’s with someone. Make sure someone’s taking care of him when I can’t. But I think—no, I know—I’ve figured out the second piece of Casey that he’s only partially aware of.

Casey doesn’t like being alone.

I’ve noticed a few times that when his brother’s out, he stays with someone. Was kinda just something that stood out to me. It was harder to see in the summer because he lived in a house with several people. The occurrence of someone being home was more likely and I didn’t think anything of it. Even his staying with Jack when he was in New York, could be passed off as visiting with a friend, I guess, but I don’t think that was it. I guess none of this is proof enough, I have to label it as Casey Theory, but it feels right. I intend on cornering one of his pals the first chance I get, to confirm my theory.

I’ll even be bold and add that I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it.

Call me an assuming asshole, but I’m so sure of this and my other bit of Casey Theory, that he needs physical affection like it’s his source of life force, I was willing to let him cuddle up to Jack when he should only be cuddling up with me.

Fuck. Now I’m gonna worry about him all night. I need to get my mind off him; I need the gym. I tape up my hands and use the private facility in my building. Punching the shit out of a heavy bag is the perfect therapy. Convince me I’m wrong.

My body’s drenched with sweat by the time I return, and I’m lighter. Clearheaded. I don’t have the urge to make out with any more Jolly Ranchers.

I’m undressed with a towel around my waist, ready to hop into the shower, but my phone lights up.

Kitten

What’s your deal, Sutter? How dare you buy Theo’s last bag of watermelon Jolly Ranchers. You don’t even like sweets. Was this just to fuck with me?

It takes me a minute to make him make sense, but then I do, and my insides glow. I don’t know what’s more terrifying, that Casey’s starting to make perfect sense to me, or how much I like figuring him out. And fucking with him was the last thing on my mind when I bought those forsaken sugar cubes. I wanted to be close to him. Taste him. Devour him.

But if fucking with him’s handed to me on a silver platter, I will gladly fuck with him.

Me

I’m holding them hostage. If you want them, you’ll have to come get them.

Kitten

Not cute, Sutter. And here I was prepared to offer video sex.

Video sex isn’t my thing. I’m a hands-on kind of guy. But as much as I hate to admit it, I’m hard up. And not just generally—for him. I can have anyone I want, but all I seem to want these days is him. I fucking need him like air and, if video sex is all that’s available right now, I’ll take it.

Me

Do something cute for me, and I’ll think about sending them to you.

The video call comes through immediately. I answer from my laptop so I can see him better.

“Do you always walk around in the buff like that, Sutter?”

I let my towel drop. My dick’s already rising to the occasion, so I give it a few strokes. “Why, you like it? You should have less clothes on.”

He’s fully dressed. A white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He shrugs out of the t-shirt. I’ve never been so turned on by bare skin in my life. Fuck, maybe I should get laid before I fuck with Alderchuck, so I’m not a horny bitch.

NHL Hockey’s been good to him. He’s put on a little size in his chest and shoulders this season. His muscles are more defined. Everything chiseled to perfection. My fingers ache to run through those bouncy locks of his.

I sit back in my desk chair, legs spread for him, making myself as lewd as possible. “Stand up and turn around, Alderchuck. I want to see your ass when you take those off.”

“M’kay,” he breathes. He’s affected, too. Good to know. Maybe this call wasn’t as Jolly Rancher inspired as he’s making it out to be. Is it delusional to think that maybe he was craving me too?

He turns around, standing in front of his sofa chair, unbuttoning his jeans. His fingers slip under the waistband, and then his jeans slide over his perfect bubble ass, taking his boxers down with them.

“Yeah, just like that, kitten.”

Wait, is that a bruise on his ass? It is. A big fucking purple bruise. What the fuck? That ass belongs to me. Rage bubbles to a rolling boil, turning my blood into lava.

“You’re quiet back there, Sutter.” He turns around.

“Who put that bruise on your ass?”

He smirks. “Why? You jealous?”

“Answer the damn question.”

“Whoa, relax. You remember that I play hockey for a living, right?”

“ Alderchuck .” Hopefully, he catches on to my lack of patience. Something deep and primal’s gripped me. The need to possess the fuck out of him’s taken over.

He sighs. “Hayes. The Calgary game. I took a few bad hits. Hit the deck on this one. I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Oh, no. He’s not making light of this one. But what am I gonna do? Hunt down every last man who does this to him? He’s got a point about the hockey thing. We’re bruised up every night we play. Hell, often I’m doing the bruising to him and him right back at me.

Know what? Fuck it. I would love to beat the living crap out of anyone who marks him up. Alderchuck’s mine and every guy in the national hockey league’s gonna know it. When Gretzky played, he had enforcers on the ice protecting him.

I know that Casey can protect himself on the ice, so I’m gonna do something slightly different. I’m going to stake my fucking claim by pounding on people who touch him. You want to fuck with Casey? Go ahead, but there’s a penalty that goes along with it. Sutter’s penalty.

That sorted, I smile.

“Oh no. I don’t like that smile. What are you planning, Sutter?”

“None of your damn business. Turn around and show me that ass, kitten.”

“Fuck that’s so hot. Fine, but don’t think I’m gonna forget about this. Can I touch my dick?”

“No. Get some lube and keep it handy.”

He has to move out of the screen for a second, but then he’s back, and I’ve got my very own live porn doll to play with. Why didn’t I like this before? I reach into my desk drawer where I keep some spare lube in case I come across some really good online porn.

Casey laughs. “Such a boy scout, Sutter. Always prepared.”

“You’re damn right. C’mon, kitten. I wanna see you greased up with lube. Rub some on your nipples and pull your dick out, but then leave it alone.”

“Fuck.” His breathing’s all over the place. His dick springs out of his boxers and I see why he’s struggling, he’s hard as nails. Leaking. He uses his palm—the whole palm, even the fingers—to slather lube over his body, pinching and tweaking his nipples.

“Harder, Alderchuck. I wanna hear you scream.”

He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, twisting his nipples hard. He cries out and my dick throbs. I love having him at my command. Miss having all that force between my hands. Okay, that’s still a strike against this being via video, but it’s still fucking good.

“Alright, stroke your cock a little. Get a little precum smeared between your fingers and then shove them in your mouth.”

He strokes and moans until he builds himself into a frenzy. Straining not to come.

“You know what I want, kitten.”

“Please don’t make me stop.”

“Now.”

“Ungh.” He licks his fingers and then stuffs his mouth with them. I get a nice dollop of lube and pump my cock. It’s hard staving off my orgasm and I haven’t done half of what I wanna do to him.

“Grab your nuts. Twist them … there you go. Tease your hole a little.”

Casey’s obedient for a change. Sex is the only time he’s obedient.

His middle finger finds his hole, and he circles it, looking at me for approval.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Get rid of your clothes, now. I want to see all of you. Beautiful.”

I’ve seen Casey naked a lot of times now, but there seems to be something new today. Maybe it’s doing the video sex, I dunno, but there’s an extra shine to him. I wish I could take him with my cock. That gives me an idea.

“Get your dildo out. I want a good visual of me fucking you.” He knows the one I’m talking about. I bought him a dildo over the summer after I began getting an idea of what he was into. I told him it was for when he was bad and didn’t deserve my cock. Fuck those were some hot times. I still fucked him anyway, after he begged enough.

“Thinking about all the times you made me beg for your dick with this thing, Sutter?” He’s back, and my hand may have been working my dick over a little harder.

“What makes you think you’re not gonna beg for it now? Mount the chair. Get yourself ready for me.”

“Such a bastard,” he bitches.

But he kneels on the sofa chair, his round cheeks facing me, arching his back and sticking his ass out like he’s an experienced porn star. He slathers himself with lube. I’d love to be the one to pry those cheeks open. Slide my finger inside. I have to settle for him doing it.

“Pretend the fake cock’s me. Show me how you’d fuck my dick.”

He lines himself up with the silicone head, peering over his shoulder with enough smugness for both of us. He must know. He knows, doesn’t he? He has me wrapped around his finger right now.

Inching himself down the long shaft, that’s what he does. It’s not quite the size of my dick—don’t want him having free access to something like that unless it’s actually my dick. He pulls off of it, letting it slide out, and then sinks down the fat silicone. His ass sinks back at the same time and then he extends from his hips, standing on his knees.

It’s an erotic show, watching him fuck that dildo. Jesus. It mostly distracts me from the bruises on his ass. Fucking Hayes. The pounding I’m gonna give him next time we’re on the ice together.

For now, it’s Alderchuck’s cheeks prying open, splitting for hard silicone, and long moans. His shoulder-length hockey hair drapes over his shoulder, and I know it’s light brown, but it looks golden with the warm sunlight glinting off it.

“Oh God, oh fuck. Sutter, please. Lemme play with my cock.”

“You can play with it, so long as you don’t stop fucking that dildo.”

Watching him fuck that dildo is still one of the hottest things I’ll ever see. My hand moves faster over my cock, my hips buck forward, and I squeeze my inner thighs, choking off the orgasm threatening to shoot out of my cock. I don’t wanna cum yet. I want to watch this forever.

Little squelching sounds. Breathy moans. My heart pounding in my ears. That dildo splitting him in half. No. Not quite. Only I do that.

“I’m gonna own that ass of yours next time I see you, kitten. You wanna cum?”

“Yes. Yes, alright? Please say I can.”

“You’re so good for me.” I see the “fuck you” in his body language, but he knows better. He wants to hear me say yes. Wants the permission. He’s got to refrain from being a brat for five seconds to get it. “Go ahead, baby.”

I dunno where that “baby” comes from, but it’s out there now. Hopefully, like with all my nightmares and other weird shit, he’ll leave it alone.

“Fuck, Sutter.” Faster breathing, louder skin slapping skin. He slams himself on the dildo over and over, letting go some of the dirtiest strings of profanities I’ve ever heard out of his mouth.

My orgasm hits me in a sudden wave. I fall over that precipice with him, cum spilling over my hand, leaking into the creases of my thighs. I can’t wipe it all over him, so I paint my abs with it.

He flops over, breathing hard. “You made me work for that one, Sutter. Fucking a dildo ain’t easy. Plus, I think I broke my dick.”

“I’ll be sure to kiss it better for you when I see you.”

“You’d better also have a bag of watermelon Jolly Ranchers in your travel suitcase.”

Right, those. I think I need another one already. Video sex was phenomenal, but I couldn’t taste him or touch him—at least I can taste him. Things are awkward like they always are when we’re done playing with each other’s dicks. Least I can just press end, but I don’t want to.

“You’re not really gonna hurt Hayes, are you?” he asks.

“I told you that was none of your business.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I am a dick.” He can complain all he wants. Some things will never be negotiable with me.

Casey sets the dildo aside, studying me in a way that has nothing to do with me pounding on Hayes. His protests on that are nominal at best. He’ll probably watch the replays.

“Sutter we should probably?—”

“I have to go.” I hit end. His fucking gorgeous face leaves the screen, and I immediately feel like a dick. But that gut-wrenching ache’s only half as bad as the uncontrolled sensation of free-falling I get every time Casey tries to be serious.

Well, look at that. I have some flight in me after all.

I stare at my phone begging myself to call him the fuck back. Baby. You called him baby, Sutter.

I could play it off and lie, but I know how I meant it.

I’ve been missing him. Pining for him.

My phone buzzes.

Kitten

I wasn’t gonna ask to be boyfriends just because you called me baby in the middle of sex, Sutter. I knew we were about to have our traditionally awkward “fuck yah later” and I wanted to get this out. I need to take a break from all this, just for the next little while, okay? Something came up for me, nothing to do with you. Believe it or not, my world doesn’t revolve around you, dickface. I’ll see you in Vancouver next month for another family-friendly press conference.

The best thing about Alderchuck is that he gets me. He was wrong about one thing, though. I wasn’t afraid he was gonna ask, I was afraid that I was gonna ask.

Me

Okay, cool. Pound you later, baby.

I might as well own it. He’ll think it’s a joke, and I’ll let him.

Kitten

Just wait, Sutter. I’m gonna come up with something twice as embarrassing for you.

I smile, but my dark heart clenches. What’s going on with him? If he’s got problems, I should be the one to help him with those problems. He seemed fine. He fucked that dildo like a true porn star. Unless he called me to get his mind off whatever the fuck was upsetting him.

The questions invade my mind worse than before our phone sex interlude.

Is he with someone, so that he’s not alone? Is he getting the affection he needs? Should I get on a plane and damn well make sure of it?

As much as I want to, I can’t make myself call him back, which sounds made up. Just pick up the phone and call him, Sutter. But there might as well be a solid wall of steel between me and my phone. My limbs freeze up thinking about it. It’s all in my head, I know it’s all in my head, but that doesn’t seem to make any fucking difference.

Shower. I need a shower. I make it a hot one to wash the cum off and to pump blood into my metaphorically frozen limbs. I spend a long time in the steam. But can I turn my attention to other things? No. None of it gets Casey off my mind. If I could bring myself to call him back, I’d ask him, no, demand that he tells me what’s going on with him. But if I’m gonna demand that from him, he’s gonna demand that from me.

You’re “flighting” again, Sutter.

Yeah, I know.

But I’ve got to find a way to tell Casey how I feel about him. He’s mine to look after. Mine to protect.

Mine.

If I don’t find a way to tell him that, he’ll eventually tell me to fuck off for the last time.

On the Ice

I ’m bent over, stick against my thighs, ready to face off with Rhett. “Die, Elkington.”

“That’s not very?—”

I can’t believe that worked. The puck is mine, but Rhett’s on my tail. Wham! Slammed into the boards. Being slammed into the boards by him is like getting rammed by a gorilla. Point Logan for that reference.

We lose to New York horribly anyway. Five to one, and Rhett and I convene at his place for a beer.

“If anyone bruised up your man, what would you do about it?” I ask Rhett, knowing the answer I’ll get.

He sips his greens drink, staring at Logan’s profile in the chair beside him, and then pulls Logan into his lap.

“Murder would be too kind. Probably torture and then murder.” His lips rest against Logan’s cheek. “Why? You thinking about pounding on someone?”

“Hayes. He bruised up my Alderchuck.”

My phone buzzes.

Kitten

Wow. You sucked tonight, Sutter. I don’t think I can be seen with you anymore.

I smile. What the actual fuck? Why am I smiling? I was shit tonight, hearing about it’s not supposed to make me smile.

“Lemme guess, Casey?” Logan singsongs over my shoulder. “Are you two official, yet?”

I turn the phone away from him, snarling.

Rhett drags him from my proximity. “You’re going to get eaten, darling dear.”

“But I don’t get them. All they do is talk about each other. He just referred to Casey as his Alderchuck.”

‘Cause he is my Alderchuck.

“We don’t just talk about each other,” I deny, even though he wasn’t technically speaking to me.

“Fine, you don’t, but why haven’t you made things official?”

“Rhett, please detain your man.”

“No, I agree with him on this one. Why haven’t you? At this point you practically are official.”

“I’m … thinking about it. After the season.”

“That’s not very romantic. You’re supposed to be so hot for each other that you can’t be without the other for another second,” Logan says.

When will they get that I don’t do romantic? Casey gets that. I think. Fuck, he does, doesn’t he?

Me

You know I’m not romantic, right?

Kitten

Weird fucking response to me telling you how much you suck, but okay. I know you’re the anti-Romeo, Sutter.

I show RhettLo, proudly. Casey’s right. They should be referred to as a collective. Especially if they’re gonna grind my gears together.

Kitten

You’re also lucky that I have a minor in translating superdick thanks to you. Is RhettLo bothering you?

They are, but only because they’re right. All I have to do is utter three little words. But I can’t. I don’t see Alderchuck doing it a second time, otherwise I’d remain a coward until he broke first.

Unless.

“One of you text Casey and tell him to ask me. I’ll say yes, and it’ll be done.” I can’t even say what I want them to tell him to ask me. That’s probably a bad sign.

The pair of them burst into hysterics. Yeah, okay, but it’s not that funny.

“Oh, fuck. You’re serious. Yeah, no. You can’t do that and if you don’t know why, I’m not going to let Casey say yes to you,” Logan says, crossing his arms.

“I don’t have the same stakes in the Sutterchuck ship as my husband does, but yeah, it’s gotta be you,” Rhett agrees.

I rub a hand over my face. I down some more beer.

“Is it something that can be done through text?”

Logan shakes his judge-y head. “Yeah, you’re a dick, Sutter. If you do that, I’m canceling you.”

“Tell me how, then.”

“I can’t. It’s gotta be something very you two.”

“We don’t have anything ‘us two’. We get naked, I pound his ass, we pass out until his stomach wakes us up, I feed him, we do it all again.”

“Yeah, that’s lame. You can’t do that. Maybe do something opposite of you two,” Logan says.

“Or you could make him his favorite meal,” Rhett says.

“Yeah, do that,” Logan agrees. “You’re so good at being romantic, baby.” Logan plants a kiss on his cheek. They link their stupid pinkies as if it’s some secret love language between them. I’ll never be that fucking sappy, so help me God.

They’re still in their honeymoon phase, and they didn’t get an actual honeymoon yet, so I let their disgustingness go. Plus, I think they’re onto something.

“I’d better not have to tell you his favorite meal,” Logan threatens.

“Poutine,” I say. Logan’s mouth opens to tell me off. “Just fucking with you. Most people think that because of the tattoo, but that’s not why he has the tattoo, even though he does love poutine. It’s mac ‘n’ cheese—specifically four boxes of Kraft Dinner mac ‘n’ cheese—with a Northwest Territories-sized serving of ketchup on it. Not just any ketchup either, French’s. Don’t overcook the noodles, either, or he’ll blow a gasket and refuse to speak to you for the rest of the night.”

Ask me how I fucking know.

Rhett shivers. “Every time I see him pull out that ketchup bottle, blech . That’s how I know it’s true love for you, Mitchell.”

Kitten

You haven’t responded. What have they done to you? Oh, God, is Rhett gloating about his stats again? ISTFG, his head’s gonna explode if it gets any bigger.

I’m still caught on that word Rhett said. Love. Am I in love with Casey? I can’t be. I’ve been actively preventing that from happening. You only fall in love if you want to and I sure as fuck don’t want to.

Wish you were fucking here, kitten … I type, but I don’t send it. I delete and prepare to type something else, but I get a text from him instead.

Kitten

Remember the shit I needed to deal with? That’s this week. I’ll be radio silent, jsyk.

Wait, what the fuck? He’s for real about that? He doesn’t even wanna talk to me? I know he said it’s personal shit, which implied it wasn’t to do with me, but this makes me feel like it is to do with me. Fine.

Me

Yeah. Do you, man.

I shove my phone into my pocket. I can’t deal with relationship shit, and this is exactly why I don’t. Now I’m in a bad fucking mood. I look around the room for an exit, as if I don’t know where the one door to Rhett’s apartment is.

“Whoa, Mitchell. You alright?” Rhett says.

I scrub my hands over my face and take a breath. This is why Casey and I are fuck buddies. If he wants to leave, he can leave. No skin off my back. “Yeah, fine. I think it’s time for me to go, though.”

They’re analyzing me—my coiled muscles and grinding teeth, hands curling into fists, itching to punch something. Rhett opens his mouth to say something but closes it instead.

“Sutter—” Logan starts.

“I’m good.” I’m grabbing my jacket and sliding into my high-top sneakers before I know I’m doing it. “I’ll catch you both next time.”

Rhett’s an Elkington. They don’t give up so easily. He nods, but he’ll be calling me tomorrow.

“His favorite meal,” Logan yells from behind me, chasing after me, until Rhett slings an arm around him from behind, trapping him in big arms. “Don’t forget!”

The door shuts. I need to pound on something. I guess a late-night boxing sesh in my condo’s gym’s gonna be what the doctor ordered.