Empty Net (15 page)

Isaac watched him carefully as he unbuttoned Laurent’s jeans and eased the zipper down. Laurent was breathing hard but didn’t look panicked. One of his hands rested on Isaac’s shoulder, and the other was buried in Isaac’s hair.

“You don’t have to be careful with me or anything,” Isaac told him when their eyes met. “I can take it.”

Laurent just stared at him, clearly waiting for Isaac to stop talking and put his mouth on him. But Isaac didn’t do it right away, because it was more fun to tease Laurent and feel Laurent’s fingers twitch in his hair.

“You don’t have to be careful with me either,” Laurent informed him breathlessly, and Isaac grinned up at him and winked as he opened his mouth and slid it down over Laurent’s cock.

“Oh,” Laurent moaned, lifting his hips as though he couldn’t help himself, and his cock immediately hit the back of Isaac’s throat. Isaac thought it would take Laurent longer to work up to that, but one glance upward showed he was already lost in the pleasure of having Isaac’s mouth on him and probably wasn’t paying much attention to what he was doing.

God, Isaac loved that—loved that he was doing it for Laurent and that it was Laurent’s first time. Even if that wasn’t usually a turn-on, he loved that Laurent had abandoned all that strict self-control for once and was letting himself feel good. He also loved how Laurent grabbed his hair harder and harder, the gasping sounds he made while Isaac sucked him, and how he could barely form words and once even muttered something in French.

“Isaac,” Laurent groaned when Isaac deep-throated him. Isaac was good at that, and proud of it. But whatever he was going to say was lost in another groan as Isaac swallowed around him, his tongue working beneath the head, and his fingers playing with Laurent’s balls.

Isaac rubbed Laurent’s jean-clad thigh with his free hand to let Laurent know it was okay to thrust into his mouth. Laurent held Isaac’s head with both of his hands, and he lifted his hips off the seat as he pushed himself harder down Isaac’s throat. “God, that feels so good,” Laurent moaned, and Isaac had to drop one hand and rub it over his own erection for a moment of relief, because watching Laurent losing it while getting his dick sucked was so hot it was insane.

Laurent didn’t last very long, and usually that was Isaac’s goal when he did it for money. But he would have enjoyed doing it for Laurent a lot longer, even though it was hot as hell how fast the blowjob got Laurent off. He did try and warn Isaac. He pushed sharply at Isaac’s head and muttered something that vaguely sounded like “Hey,” but Isaac kept sucking him and not-so-gently palmed Laurent’s balls. Laurent came down Isaac’s throat with a loud cry.

He was panting when it was over, and as hard as Isaac was and as much as he wanted to get off, he enjoyed watching Laurent sprawled on the seat and totally out of it, his cock softened and his jeans still unbuttoned.

Laurent’s eyes finally opened. “That was the best thing I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”

The honesty of it took Isaac aback and stole the words from his throat—some cheesy line about how the fogged-up windows reminded him of that scene from
Titanic
. He just smiled. “Good. I’m glad.”

Laurent reached up and ran his fingers over Isaac’s mouth. They were trembling. “That lip piercing. I thought it was hot when you kissed me, but when you had your mouth on me, it was amazing. Holy fuck, man.”

Isaac laughed and mouthed at Laurent’s fingers. He nipped at them, caught Laurent’s wrist, and sucked on Laurent’s fingers in earnest.

Laurent watched him, all dark-eyed and still flushed. “I’d say I bet you undercharged for those, but I want you to do it again sometime.”

Isaac rolled his eyes and reached down to undo the button on his own jeans. He worked his cock free and continued to suck and lick Laurent’s fingers. When they were nice and wet, he carried them down to wrap around his cock. Laurent shifted so he could get a better, firmer grip, and started to move his hand up and down and rub his thumb over the head. Isaac had shown him how he liked it, and Laurent was an attentive student.

“I want to do that. To you. Make you feel good,” Laurent said, their faces close together as he worked over Isaac hard and Isaac chased his own release.

Fuck. Isaac wanted that too. But it wasn’t going to take him long. He was already so close, and hearing Laurent say that just pushed him closer to the edge of orgasm. “You do make me feel good,” Isaac said and kissed him hotly. He pushed his hips forward as much as he could and reached down to wrap his hand around Laurent’s. He tightened Laurent’s grip and shuddered hard as Laurent picked up the speed and kept the pressure like Isaac wanted.

“Yeah, like that. Fuck, that’s good,” Isaac panted. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. “Faster, mmm—”

“Hey. Look at me when you come,” Laurent said softly. “I want to see your face.”

Isaac gave a strangled gasp, did as Laurent wanted and tried as hard as he could to keep his eyes open as he finally came over Laurent’s fist. He slumped forward when the last pulse of pleasure faded and caught his breath with his face buried against Laurent’s shoulder. They were both quiet, and even though Laurent had released Isaac’s cock after he came, they were somehow still holding hands.

Which was sweet, but also sticky.

THE SPITFIRES
were the unlucky team that had to play a game on the day after Thanksgiving, so the team’s abbreviated celebration was a party at the coach’s house after they won. Laurent’s father, being Canadian, had not celebrated the American holiday, so Laurent didn’t think much about missing it. But apparently the year prior, they’d had a large get-together that included Coach Ashford’s parents. Laurent, a little intimidated by the idea of a huge meal and a lot of people, was just fine with the pizza and beer provided by the coaches.

The better holiday was Christmas, because for the first time in his life, Laurent didn’t have to accompany his father to Montreal and spend it with family neither of them liked. It made his father’s mood dangerous, and Laurent still had scars on his back from two years before, when the shirt he’d been instructed to buy for his cousin was too small and made Denis look stupid.

So he spent the holiday with Isaac. They could have stayed at Isaac’s house, since Coach Samarin went with Coach Ashford to visit Coach Ashford’s family. But instead they spent it in Laurent’s apartment. They watched movies, fooled around, and Laurent spent a lot of time drawing and even showed Isaac some of his original comics. They were planning on having takeout Chinese for Christmas dinner, but Mrs. Bowen found out they were there and insisted on making them dinner. It ended up being more entertaining than either Laurent or Isaac thought it would be, as Mrs. Bowen showed pictures of her and Harold and regaled them with stories of a vaguely scandalous nature. Laurent and Isaac did the dishes, and she sent them home with food after they all watched the world’s oldest version of
A Christmas Carol.

For New Year’s they went to a party at Jack Belsey’s. It was a palatial and tacky house, but there was free booze and an indoor pool, which Laurent wouldn’t go near. And despite others being pushed in, his teammates didn’t have quite the nerve to try that with him yet. Thank God. It was a strange party, but Isaac kissed him at midnight, and no one seemed to care at all. So Laurent sent up a fervent hope that the New Year would bring more of the same and that he could finally sever ties with his old life.

Speaking of… they were getting ready to play the Ravens in two days.

Laurent was already regretting the promise he’d made to Isaac, which was to go out and celebrate with the team if they won.

That wasn’t fair, because Isaac had been blowing him when he made Laurent promise. First he bit the inside of Laurent’s thighs and nearly made him come without putting his mouth any closer to Laurent’s dick. And then, when he was deep-throating him, he stopped, pulled off, and said something like, “Promise you’ll come out after the Ravens game if we win.”

Laurent had said something that was a cross between “fine,” and “fuck you,” and a moan, but Isaac took it for a yes, and Laurent was stuck and couldn’t get out of it. He was going to have to go be social with Isaac and his teammates—his teammates, who of course knew they were together.

Laurent learned that when Hux and Murph cornered him in the locker room—though it was, thankfully, nothing like the first time—and brought it up.

“So, you and Drake,” Murph said. He sighed. “I should have guessed. Even I think you’re pretty, and I’m straight.”

“We just want to make sure you’re not being, like, sneakily evil or something,” said Hux. He crossed his tattooed arms over his massive chest and scowled. “Don’t. Okay? Isaac is a good guy. And I like borrowing your comics, so don’t be a dick. On purpose,” Hux added. “Sometimes I think you can’t help yourself.”

Laurent had no idea what to say, so he just shrugged, ignored that he was blushing, and promised he wasn’t trying to do anything evil. They seemed to believe him.

The game against the Ravens—which Isaac was in goal for—was tense, and it came down to the wire and a five-minute overtime period. Crowder’s goal two minutes in gave the Spitfires the win, and while Laurent was glad about that, he also dreaded the inevitable forced merriment he’d agreed to attend thanks to Isaac’s skill with his mouth.

Despite his anxiety about partying with his teammates, Laurent might have cheered a little loudly when Crowder scored. He liked seeing his father angry across the ice. He liked seeing his father
lose
. And the way Isaac looked when he skated up to the bench and took off his helmet, all sweaty and smug, made Laurent want to climb on his lap.

Right there. So his asshole father could see.

The mood in the locker room after the game was jubilant, even if it wasn’t the playoffs, because the Ravens were their archrivals, and everyone hated them—even without Laurent on their team. Laurent quietly changed out of his uniform. He enjoyed how happy everyone was and that Isaac was the recipient of enthusiastic backslaps and
hell yeah, Drake
’s. Laurent got his helmet taps on the ice when they won a game, but the team clearly wanted to win against the Ravens with Isaac in net. Laurent couldn’t blame them. He wanted that too.

He wasn’t surprised to see his father waiting out in the parking lot. Nor was he surprised to see Coach Samarin’s car with its headlights on, directly across from Isaac’s Jeep.

“Laurent,” his father hissed in French. “You will stop pretending I don’t exist. I don’t know what you’re doing, but it stops now. You will speak to me.”

“Gotta go,” Isaac interrupted. He yanked the door to the Jeep open so forcefully that Laurent was surprised it was still attached to its hinges. “C’mon, Saint.”

“
Laurent.
”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Laurent said to his father. He wanted that to come out strong and forceful, like Isaac would say it. But it didn’t. It sounded reedy and whiny, but his heart was hammering, and his mouth was so dry it was hard to speak. He inched closer to the Jeep and toward Isaac. Toward safety.

His father flicked a dismissive glance at Isaac and then glared once more at Laurent. “You’re going to be sorry for this,” he said coldly, still speaking French. “I won’t have you and that coach making a fool of me. Now get over here and tell that—”

“Shut up,” Laurent said, feeling oddly like he was watching someone else do it, like it was an out-of-body experience. “Just leave me alone. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Denis St. Savoy smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Because, son. I’m your father. And it’s not about what you want.”

“Saint, let’s go,” Isaac said. He was glaring at Laurent’s father, and Laurent knew that Isaac would do something stupid if he didn’t get in the Jeep—something on his behalf. And Laurent didn’t want that. Isaac would probably try and hit him, and Denis would have him arrested and thrown in jail for assault.

“You’re pathetic,” his father spat, using words to hurt, since he couldn’t use anything else. Not like he needed to. “You need a lesson on what happens when you disobey me.”

“Get. In. The. Goddamn. Jeep,” Isaac said very softly. “Or I’m gonna end up suspended for the rest of the season.”

Oh no.

Denis narrowed his eyes, and Laurent went to the Jeep, grabbed the door handle, and pulled. He practically fell over himself getting in, but when Isaac didn’t immediately go around to the driver’s side, he said, “Isaac,
please.
”

“Begging. You’re so pathetic,” his father sneered, in English that time. “You bending over for that fag and taking it from him? Hmm? You beg for that, don’t you? You’re a sorry excuse for a man
and
a son.”

“Yeah. Well, you’re a sorry excuse for a father
and
a coach,” Isaac snapped. Then he added, “Your team sucks,” climbed in the Jeep, and slammed the door shut.

“I hate him,” Isaac said, and his eyes were slitted in anger. His face was flushed, and he was so tense that his jaw looked like it might crack.

For
him
. He was that angry for Laurent.

Laurent nodded. “I hate him too.” He leaned over and kissed Isaac, right there in the parking lot. He hoped his father saw it. He slowly breathed out and pressed his forehead to Isaac’s. “Can we please go?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, and suddenly he didn’t sound quite so angry. He ran his fingers through Laurent’s hair, then kissed him gently on the forehead, and sat back. “We can.”

Laurent sat quietly shaking in the passenger seat. He felt like he’d just declared war.

Isaac reached over and took his hand. He didn’t say anything. He just held it tight in his own, all the way home.

THE BAR
they went to was called Sidelines, and apparently it was the usual postgame hangout bar. The place had a few Spitfires pennants on the wall, the previous and current years’ team posters, and a schedule of games. Isaac got a round of applause when he and Laurent walked in, and that made Isaac grin and sweep a theatrical bow.