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By Vera d'Auriac
Normally, Scott liked being in Montreal. It was a gorgeous city, and Voyageurs fans knew their hockey. He also appreciated that Montreal had such a huge star with Shane Hollander that he wasn’t the biggest attraction on the ice, and it was nice to have a night off from that once in a while. Tonight, however, he liked nothing about being here. The weather was crap and it had taken the team twice as long to get from the hotel to the arena. Then one of the Zambonis broke, so resurfacing the ice was taking forever. The fans were in a bad mood from the delays and bad traffic to get here, circumstances not making this terribly fun even for the home team.
And worst of all, the Admirals were losing. Badly.
It was the middle of the third period and the Voyageurs were up by three goals. Scott and everyone else in an Admirals uniform were skating like shit, not working together, and taking stupid penalties. It technically wasn’t impossible to score three goals in just under ten minutes, but Scott was pretty sure your average junior hockey team wouldn’t have trouble keeping them from scoring tonight.
But Scott would never give up before the end of a game, stranger things than a three-goal deficit this late in the game decorating the annals of the NHL. Still, it was hard to believe that somehow not only would the Admirals get it together, but that the Voyageurs, who were playing tight hockey under Hollander’s leadership this season, would also fall apart. Maybe it was this futility mixed with the exhaustion of being at the end of an eight-day road trip that caused Scott not to see Boiziau, the huge Voyageurs defenseman, skating after him into the boards.
It was clean hit, but it caught Scott by surprise, and he slammed into the boards more awkwardly than usual, his head bouncing off the glass. At the same time, Hollander was flying up on his other side, ready to make off with the puck sitting lifelessly at Scott’s feet. But he skated hard into Scott first, twisting and pinning him between Boiziau and the boards. Scott lost his balance, and when Hollander and the defenseman pushed off and away, Scott crashed to the ice, landing elbow-first.
It was the least humorous direct hit to his funny bone ever. And while that pain radiated up his arm, his back thwacked onto the ice, knocking all the air out of him. He’d taken plenty of hits, and ended up on his ass regularly since he was a kid, but this hurt, a lot, and in a way this sort of fall usually didn’t. He wanted to get up, to skate after Hollander before he could get a damned hattrick, but that just wasn’t happening. He couldn’t breathe, and fuck if his arm wasn’t killing him.
He thought he heard a whistle blow, but his private world of pain was really taking up most of his attention so he could say for sure.
“Hey, Hunter, what the hell man? Are you really going to hold up the end of this shitshow by laying there?” It was Vaughan staring down at him, wearing a smile Scott hadn’t seen on his face since the team headed out to the bus in the snowstorm. That worried Scott almost as much as not being able to breathe.
Scott opened his mouth, but only gasped awkwardly, no words coming out.
“Help him sit up. The wind’s been knocked out of him.” Scott couldn’t turn to see who had said it, but he was pretty sure the speaker was Hollander. When the other team’s captain came over to see how you were, that was definitely never a good sign.
But Vaughan took the suggestion, Huff swinging over a second later to help, and they got him sitting upright. However, Huff had grabbed Scott by the elbow that had taken most of his weight in the fall, and the scream he unleashed let everyone know he had his breath back. Scott leaned his head forward, afraid he might actually puke from the sharp pain.
“Would you two not doctors get the fuck away from him?” Vaughan and Huff jumped back, replaced by the team doctor, Jun Liao, a man who took no shit from anyone. He was the diminutive son of Chinese immigrants who’d grown up in New York loving hockey, even though he was way too small to be able to play at a serious level. But he was more than smart enough to excel at med school, and in spite of being a foot shorter than everyone on the Admirals and at least 100 pounds lighter, he commanded respect the second he walked into any conversation.
“Don’t be too hard on them, doc. They’ve taken a lot of blows to the head,” Scott said through his gritted teeth.
Doc Liao squatted in front of Scott and looked him hard in the eye. “You just did, too. How’s your brain feeling?”
“Not sure he’s got one of those,” Vaughan chimed in.
But Scott laughed and shook his head. “Helmet and visor did their job. Head’s fine.”
“Then why are you still sitting on your ass, Mr. Big Shot Hockey Star? Tell me what hurts.”
“I couldn’t get up at first, because the wind was knocked out of me, but I landed hard on my elbow. Not going to lie—it hurts a lot.” As he was explaining, he finally was gathering his wits enough to start getting nervous. If he’d broken something, he would be out for a long while. Then there was the worry about how it would heal and if he would be able to shoot for shit when he got back. How ridiculous would it be to suffer a career-ending injury on a nothing body check in an unimportant game that was damned near a blowout.
“Which one?”
“Right.”
Doc Liao slowly pulled his glove off that hand and held it gently in his own. “Can you wiggle your fingers?”
It hurt like hell, but Scott managed it, barely.
“So, maybe not broken, but let’s go get some x-rays. You weren’t playing very well tonight, anyway.”
Scott gave a sad chuckle. “I wasn’t, was I?”
The doc stood up and pointed at Vaughan. “You, help me get him up. You,” he pointed at Huff, “get out of my way.” They both did as told, Vaughan on Scott’s left and Doc Liao handling his delicate right side. But then Huff was grabbing him around the waist as he almost slid right back down on the ice. Scott ground his teeth together to repress the yelp that very nearly left his lips.
“You fuck up your legs, too, and not tell me?” the doc asked. “Do we need a damned stretcher?”
“Sorry,” Scott panted out in pain. “Elbow hurt so much I didn’t notice my left knee until I tried to put weight on it.”
Vaughan wrapped Scott’s left arm around his shoulder. “You don’t have to put weight on shit. You lean on me, and Huff will push from behind.”
“I could get a stretcher,” the doc repeated.
“Nah. We got him,” answered Huff as he and Vaughan dragged him across the ice. They made their way past Hollander and Boiziau who nodded, and Scott managed to nod back, all while the crowd politely clapped. But when they reached the edge of the ice, they stopped and looked awkwardly at each other. Of course Vaughan and Huff couldn’t actually skate him back to the locker room, so they had to stand there. And wait for a stretcher.
***
Somehow, Scott hadn’t broken anything, but when the plane landed back in New York, a wheelchair was waiting to take him to his car. The knee was only sprained and should get better on its own with rest and anti-inflammatories. The elbow was bruised, which hadn’t sounded so bad to Scott until Doc Liao said, “The bone is what’s bruised. That’s why it hurts like hell.” This, also, just required rest, so his arm was in a sling, hence the wheelchair, since he didn’t have two good arms to work crutches.
He was feeling pretty dejected as Huff wheeled him out of the arena to his waiting car and driver. He’d be out for at least two weeks, maybe more, and he didn’t know that the team would hold onto their second place spot in the division without him. But wishing could change nothing.
“Hey Mopey,” Huff said. “Looks like you’ve got a surprise.”
Scott looked up to see that Huff had stopped in front of a car, not from his usual service, but his own SUV, Kip leaning against the hood.
“Kip. Wow. I…wow. Didn’t expect you here.”
“You damned near broke my heart in addition to almost breaking your head.” Kips took two long strides to reach him and kissed him hard on the cheek. “Of course, I’m going to pick you up.”
“But don’t you have class?”
“Just a paper due, and the professor was fine with me emailing it and skipping class when I told what I needed to do.”
“But I hate for you to miss class because of me.”
Huff sighed loudly behind him. “Kip, you’ve never been around him before when he had an injury bad enough to miss some games. Warning—he’s a pain in the ass with all the stuff he doesn’t want you to do for him.”
“Good to know,” Kip answered. “And even better that I have a high tolerance for ignoring people who are being stupid.”
Huff had to help Scott into the car, and he immediately started worrying about how he would get out at the condo, Kip possibly not strong enough on his own. But as if reading his mind, Kip said, “I talked with the doorman before I left. He’ll be waiting for us to help.”
“I need to give him a bigger Christmas bonus this year.”
“Yes, you do,” Kip said with a laugh, starting up the SUV. “Fuck, can I just say how happy I am to have you home?”
Hot air from the vents blasted into Scott’s face, but he didn’t think that was what made him feel warm. “Can I get a kiss?”
“Of course.”
Kip leaned across the center console and lightly pressed his lips to Scott’s ever so sweetly. And tastily. Scott couldn’t help a smile. “Are you wearing some sort of chapstick?”
Kip grinned, and only then did Scott notice that his lips had a slightly pinker hue than usual. “Candy apple flavored lipstick. Do you like it?”
“I love it. Get me home so I can kiss it all off you.”
***
Kip was as good as his word, and when they arrived at his condo his doorman was there, along with one of the maintenance workers for the building, ready to help Scott down and into his wheelchair. They were incredibly polite and swore that they were just happy to help, but Scott insisted on pinning them down for a night they could use two tickets to an Admirals game.
“Well,” hesitated the doorman, Don, a solid New York native with an accent much like Kip’s. He clearly took pride in being professional, and Scott could see him wondering if he should really accept. “When do you think you’ll be back? Wouldn’t want to go to an Admirals game if you’re not playing.”
Scott laughed. “At least two weeks. How about a Saturday in April? To be on the safe side?”
“That would be great,” he beamed, and Scott was glad he could make the man happy by doing something so simple that cost him nothing.
“And what about you?” Scott asked the maintenance worker, whose name, he discovered, was Jim.
“I, well, I would hate to put you out.” He was young and thin, and Scott guessed not used to talking to the people who lived in this fancy building. “I really don’t need tickets.”
“He won’t say,” jumped in Don, “but he’s hesitating because you offered a pair of tickets and he has two kids, and he’s not sure how he could pick which to take. They’re both hockey mad girls, and I think they have a crush on you.”
Scott blushed, never quite used to fans having a crush on him. But now that he knew the situation, there was only one obvious solution. “If that’s all, three tickets will be no problem,” Scott smiled. “Do you have a wife as well who might want to come, too? I can make it four.”
“No,” Jim laughed. “No, that is, just three. My wife wouldn’t want to go. Not a sports fan, and, well, if there are still tickets to next Sunday’s game, she’ll be out of town at her mother’s and it would be the perfect time to take my girls.”
“Consider it done. I’ll call the ticket office and have them hold three for you under my name.”
Just as that was all settled, Kip came skipping up from parking the SUV in the garage. “Ready to head up?” Kip asked.
His cheeks were flush from the cold and racing from where he’d parked. It matched his lipstick in a way that had Scott getting hard in his pants. Not a state he relished experiencing in front of Don and Jim. “Yes, please.”
As soon as Kip had him pushed into the elevator and the door closed, he leaned over and held Scott’s jaw as he kissed him slow and deep, just as Scott had been hoping for.
“Did you put on more lipstick?”
“Yeah,” Kip answered in that deep Brooklyn drawl that set Scott’s heart on fire. “You seemed to like it.”
“I do. Just don’t let it distract me too much—I promised the doorman and Jim I’d get them tickets as a thank you for helping.”
“I have the best boyfriend ever.”
Reception in the elevator was always terrible, so he made a quick note on his phone about the tickets. He knew as soon as the doors opened and they were inside, he and Kip would be far too busy for him to actually make a phone call, but he didn’t want to forget. And Kip would definitely make him forget everything. The truth was, he’d been feeling down ever since Doc Liao had told him how long he would be on the injured list. That was until he’d seen Kip in the parking lot. The time had been that hockey was his life, his whole life, but now Kip was not just a part of it, but something every bit as important as hockey. More important.
“What are you grinning at?” Kip asked with a grin of his own when Scott put his phone away and the elevator door opened.
“Just thinking how lucky I am to have you. God, I can’t even imagine how I would have managed if this had happened to me last season before we met. I guess I would have stayed with one of the guys or hired a nurse. Not that I want you to be my nurse.”
Kip had pushed him inside and quickly walked around so he could squat in front of Scott, his stupid, handsome smile spread across his face. “I suppose it’s good that you don’t want me to be your nurse, because I still have classes and a ridiculous amount of homework. But as long as I’m here, I’m yours to use as you need.”
“Mine to use?” Scott asked, his eyebrows shooting up in equal parts surprise and interest.
“Yeah. Remember how we’ve been discussing since Christmas that I wouldn’t mind if you got a little more authoritative?”
Scott thought he might blush, remembering clearly the moment the topic had first been broached at Kip’s parents’ place. The idea had gone straight to his cock then and did so again now. Still, he worried it would be a colossal failure. He thought, sure, he did well enough being in charge in certain settings—there was a reason he’d been named team captain, after all. But being in charge in the bedroom was a different matter. He didn’t feel, especially when compared to Kip, that he had the necessary experience in the bedroom to take control the way he thought Kip wanted, but the couple of times they had discussed the matter since Christmas, Kip had assured him that he had all the skills he needed to make this work.
“You just tell me what you need, and I service that need,” Kip said. “It will make you happy, and I promise you it will please me to no end.”
“I suppose we could at least give it a try.”
Kip chuckled and shook his head a little. “Yes, we should. And you should stop using words like ‘suppose.’ You’re a man who knows his mind, right?”
As much as Kip obviously wanted this, and as much as his cock was already responding to the idea and Kip’s fucking lipstick, yeah, he knew his mind very well. And he was going to speak it.
“Get me on the couch.”
“Anything you say.”
“If that’s the case, then from now on your answers should be ‘Yes, sir.’ Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Very well, sir.”
Kip gave Scott a swift kiss before racing to the back of the wheelchair so he could push Scott across the room. The place looked perfect, he noticed, now that he bothered to look around. But Kip always did his best to make it so. He said he liked for Scott to come home to something nice, not some sort of “grubby grad school housing.” It was incredibly sweet, but then again, everything about Kip was sweet. Well, maybe not everything. He didn’t expect the rest of their day to be merely sweet at all.
“Help me into the corner of the couch,” Scott instructed when they reached their target. Kip put the brakes on the chair and folded in the footrests before slipping one arm around Scott’s waist and the other under his armpits. He wasn’t quite as slick at the team doctors or PT folks, but he did a good job getting Scott into position without Scott putting weight on his left knee or jostling his right elbow. He shifted back but slouched a little so his hips would be closer to the edge of the couch.
“Do you have more of that lipstick?”
“Yes, sir,” Kip answered, pulling the shiny silver tube from his pocket. “Would you like me to put more on?”
“I would. But first, can you do something about that?” He glanced down at his obvious erection tenting his Under Armour jogging pants. “It’s not very comfortable in there.”
“Yes, sir. I can absolutely fix that problem for you.” He started by pulling the drawstring loose and then slipping one hand behind Scott’s back while placing Scott’s good arm on his shoulder for leverage. With a smooth tug, Kip was able to pull Scott’s pants and underwear over his ass, then set him back down on the soft leather couch to finish removing pants and shoes.
Once Kip was done, Scott spread his legs as far as his left knee allowed, but it was more than enough room for Kip. “Why don’t you kneel right there and put your lipstick on?”
“Yes, sir.” There was a tremble in Kip’s voice that made Scott’s cock jump. He wanted to glance down and see if Kip was hard as well, but he didn’t want to break the magic of staring Kip in the eye. Besides, he had to figure Kip was every bit as hard. How Scott would get him off, he still hadn’t decided yet, but he needed to make it good.
Kip looked obscene in the best way, there on his knees, slowly tracing his mouth with the lipstick, seemingly just as determined to keep eye contact with Scott. After applying a couple layers, he pressed his lips together to work the color around evenly, then made a wet popping sound. Scott cold see his tongue resting just behind his lower lip.
“Does that please you, sir?”
It was utterly perfect, Kip as handsome as ever while also being just a little naughty and wanton. Scott wished like hell he could jump on top of him and pound him into the living room rug. But that would have to wait—he filed away a mental note for once he was recovered—and for now they would have to find other pleasures.
“Fucking kiss me.”
Kip threw himself forward onto Scott’s chest, careful to stay on Scott’s left away from the sling. The important thing was that Kip found his mouth, and they kissed like they never had before. There was something extra in this kiss, and it wasn’t just the candy apple flavor. It was something just a little dirty, more daring than they usually attempted. It was the lipstick and the “Yes, sirs” and the time they had been apart. It was glorious, and so very wet.
“Would you like me to kiss you anywhere else, sir?” Kip panted against Scott’s lips.
“Get your mouth on my dick, now.”
Kip didn’t bother to say “Yes, sir”; he just wrapped his lips around Scott and swallowed him whole.
“Ah, fuck, that feels good,” Scott couldn’t stop himself from saying. He did, luckily, stop himself from pushing up into Kip’s mouth, not because he thought Kip couldn’t take it, but because that would have required putting weight on his left leg. But he did want more. If Kip wanted authority, he could do better than this. He dropped his hand on top of Kip’s head.
“You can take more, can’t you?” Scott asked. “Hum to answer yes.”
The vibration of Kip’s response radiated through all of Scott’s body. He bit his lip to keep from groaning.
“Pinch my leg if it gets to be too much, but as of now, your mouth is mine.” He laced his fingers into Kip’s thick, soft hair and pulled Kip up his dick. But before he could come all the way off, Scott pushed him back down, but not too deep. He did this a few more times to let Kip adjust, but then he shoved Kip’s face all the way down so that his lips brushed Scott’s body and the head of his cock bumped Kip’s throat.
“Oh, that’s good. Your mouth is the best fuck I’ve had in a long time. I hope you’re ready for more.”
Kip hummed contentedly again, so Scott gripped his hair tight and started forcing Kip up and down his shaft fast. He could hear Kip breathing hard through his nose, but he seemed okay, and he hadn’t pinched him. And, fuck, but it really did feel so good. Kip’s mouth was always so welcoming, and his tongue was sliding up and down his cock, and shit, he was not going to be able to hold out much longer. Somehow, he managed to go even faster, and every push down had his cock in the back of Kip’s throat and, oh, “Oh. Shit. Kip. I—”
He came as hard as he ever had, hand trembling and unable to guide Kip in any way. He shuddered and fell back into the corner of the couch, limp and spent in every way imaginable. In fact, Scott felt so exhausted, the orgasm, pain meds, and long trip all catching up with him, and he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. But he managed to keep them opened a crack, for which he was well rewarded. When Kip slumped back on his heels and let Scott’s dick fall from his red mouth, he laid his cheek on Scott’s thigh, an utterly blissed out look on his face.
“You’re so beautiful,” Scott whispered, still not sure how he had gotten this lucky.
“You’re perfect. Sir.”
Scott reached out, his position, knee brace, and sling making it all a bit awkward, so he could pat Kip’s cheek. “You can stop calling me ‘Sir’ now.”
“Should I switch to ‘Daddy’? I wouldn’t mind calling you ‘Daddy.’”
Scott’s very spent cock didn’t know how to respond to this any better than his mind did. “Maybe some other time. I’m ready to go back to just being Scott and Kip for a while. Besides, I’m going to need your help, well, helping you. There’s not a whole lot I can manage.”
“I could put a show on for you?”
But Scott shook his head. “I got enough shows over Skype while I was on the road. I want to touch you if I can.”
“In that case, how good are you with your left hand?”
Scott laughed. “I actually sprained my right wrist when I was in juniors. I learned how to do a lot with my left.”
“Then let’s get to the bedroom and take care of things.”