***
I glare down at my hand for the twentieth time today. Just the site of the bandaging makes me grit my teeth in frustration. I can’t believe I’m not going to be on the ice for another week! Stupid hand. I’d hit it against the wall if it didn’t already hurt so much.
The rest of the team is playing tonight. I guess I could be there, watching from the crowd or from the back. They offered. But I really didn’t want to. I just… I guess I just don’t want to be there if I can’t be of any use. I will watch, though. I guess I’ll just be watching at home. Alone, of course.
It’s a few hours before the game’s supposed to start, and as I’m absently flipping through channels my cell phone rings. I jump, and open it awkwardly with my right hand, my good hand.
“Hello?” I am still glaring down at my left hand when the last voice in the world I expected to hear replies.
“Hi, Boyd,” he says. I know his voice, of course. When he speaks, no one else does. His voice is spell-binding, and at first I am at a loss for words.
“Hi, Steve,” I answer at last. “What’s up?”
“Not a whole lot,” he answers wryly, and I imagine him glaring down at his knee the same way I do my hand. “What about you?”
“Nothing,” I reply, still trying to figure out why he’d called. Though, really, I don’t care why he’s called. Just the fact that he did… the sound of his voice was like music, it soothed away all the frustration and pain that I felt. I wonder if he’s noticed that I sometimes close my eyes when he speaks. I can’t help it. My eyes close now. “I was just gonna chill here and watch the game.”
“Me, too,” said Steve. “In fact, I’m watching it by myself tonight.”
“So am I,” I answer, my voice breaking just a little. Could this be heading where I think it’s heading? I can hardly bear to hope. God, I’ve been worshipping his face, his voice, his movements, his smile, for so long. He has no idea what he does to me… or does he? Sometimes it seems like he knows everything… my thoughts break off as he speaks again.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Steve said, laughing softly. “Would you mind watching it with someone else?”
I gulp. “You want to watch it together?”
“Sure,” says Steve, just as smoothly if had been my idea all along. “After all, I’m not supposed to be moving around too much. Maybe you can come over and help me.”
His voice had dropped lower when he said “help me.” Just a tiny bit lower. You wouldn’t even have noticed it if you weren’t listening for it. If you didn’t listen for every single inflection in that beautiful voice, you wouldn’t have noticed how it got lower and silkier when he said that. As his voice moved lower, so did my blood, rushing right down to ignite a burning tingle in my groin. Oh God, please don’t let me be reading too much into this. I shift as I feel my cock tighten, and struggle to keep my voice even.
“Sure, that would be great, Steve,” I say. I don’t think I managed to keep the tremble out of my voice, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice.
He gives me directions to his house, and I don’t tell him that I already know where he lives. That I remember every detail I’ve ever learned about my Captain’s personal life. That would make me look like some kind of stalker, and that wouldn’t be good at all. As I drive over, I breathe deep, struggling to keep myself under control. After all, he’s just invited me over to watch a game with him. If I showed up at his door fully hard, well, that wouldn’t be good at all, either.
It turns out not to be too hard, pun intended, to distract myself, as something else soon has me upset. On my way over, I notice that the sky has turned from threatening grey to an angry threatening green. That can’t be good. I hate storms, I absolutely hate them. They scare the hell out of me, though I’d never admit it. I turn on the radio and yep, sure enough, not only are we under a thunderstorm warning, but we have a tornado watch out for the entire night. Great. One more thing to be nervous about.
His door is open as I approach, and I peep inside. I don’t see anyone, and I knock timidly.
“Come in, it’s open!” called Steve from inside. I open the screen door, shutting the heavier door behind me, and walk into the front hall. A few more steps and a turn, and I am in the living room, and he is there. He is sitting on the couch, his leg carefully wrapped and propped up in front of him. As I walk in, his eyes lazily run up my body and meet my mine. And when our gazes lock, he smiles. And just like that, I forget about the storm warnings, my nervousness, my hand, everything. I can’t even tell you my own name right now. Right now the only word that matters is his name. I say it now.
“Steve.” Inside I cringe, what a stupid way to say hello.
“Boyd.” He answers solemnly, and I can’t tell whether or not he’s making fun of me. Then he smiles, and pats the seat next to him. “Have a seat, the game’s going to start soon.”
I sit down next to him, gladly. For awhile, I forget how much he affects me and I’m absorbed by the game. We both are. We talk easily about the game action, the shifts, the calls, and about how we both wish we were down there playing. Just as I was getting ready to scoff at a stupid obstruction call that had just been made, I become suddenly, incredibly aware that Steve has put his hand on my thigh, just above my knee. I hold my breath and risk a sideways glance. Steve hasn’t moved his eyes from the game, he’s just idly watching the action while he strokes my leg softly. We sit in silence, as I thank God that I’m wearing a longish sweatshirt. At least he can’t see my reaction to him, though my throbbing cock is now screaming to be touched. Unable to resist, I rub it against the rough front of my pants, trying to move as little as possible.
Suddenly the lights flicker, then dim. Steve and I look up, both suddenly aware that the wind outside has picked up, and was howling around the corners of the house. Outside it has grown very dark, although it’s not that late. The heavy stillness that’s grown in the air, unnoticed by us, is suddenly filled as the rain begins to pour down, startlingly loud against the windows. Thunder rumbles and the lights flicker again.
“It’s getting bad out,” said Steve.
“Yeah,” I say, not trusting myself to say more. If I keep going, I’d be tempted to ask if I could stay the night, since it wouldn’t really be safe to drive in weather like this…
There is a loud clap of thunder and I jump, whimpering slightly despite all my efforts not too. I clench my jaw and my good hand into a fist. This is ridiculous, I shouldn’t be scared of storms. I’m a grown man, for God’s sa-
Thunder cracks and booms out again, closer and louder this time, and again I jump. Steve looks at me and frowns.“Are you ok?” he asks. I smile shakily at him.
“I don’t like storms, very much,” I say, lamely. That was the understatement of the year. But some stubborn part of me refuses to admit, out loud, that storms scare the shit out of me. The lights flicker again, and the sound of the game is silenced. There is a red ticker going across the bottom of the screen, and a loud beeping noise accompanies it.
“Tornado warning,” Steve reads, and I shut my eyes tightly. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to know… and suddenly I’m warm. I realize, almost awestruck, that Steve has put his arms around me. I open my eyes in surprise, only to find myself looking directly into his deep brown ones.
“It’ll be ok,” he says calmly, just like he tells us in the locker room when we’ve played like shit and we’re behind. Only he doesn’t follow it up this time with a lecture on how to improve, what to watch for, or anything like that. Instead-
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
My eyes close again, and I lean into his warmth. I feel his breath on my neck, and I tilt my head toward its source. And just like that, my lips are where they’ve wanted to be for the last year. We kiss softly, slowly at first, and then he pulls me tighter against him. His tongue dips into my mouth and I shudder. My arms go around him and I cling to him as desperately as a drowning man clings to a life preserver. Pressed against him as I am, there’s no way I can hide how hard I am, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, when I nudge my cock against his leg he groans deep in his chest. His hands rush to my lower back and he pulls me in tighter, carefully avoiding his injured leg. I want him so badly, and yet I still maintain a kind of wonder that such a legend, such a man is allowing me to drown with desire in his arms. My wonder turns almost to a hazy amazement as I feel his cock pressing against my stomach, and realize that he’s panting in between our kisses. Could it be that he wants me as much as I want him?
My ears are ringing as the blood flushes my face, and dimly, through my pleasure, I hear some sort of loud, droning sound. I can’t really pay too much attention to it, though, because now my hands are moving up under his shirt, and his heartbeat is racing under my fingertips. But then he pulls away from me, and I whimper softly. I’m sure I must look like a lost puppy dog, but he smiles at me.
“We have to get underground,” he tells me breathlessly. I blink, not getting what he’s trying to say.
“Those are tornado sirens,” he says, raising his eyes to the ceiling. The loud droning noise was still sounding, and yes, they were indeed the same sirens that went off on the first Saturday of every month.
“Oh, shit!” I squeak, and my fear rushes back to me.
“It’s ok,” he says, dropping a soft kiss on my lips. “You’re just going to have to help me into the basement.”
He smiles up at me, and for the first time I realize how vulnerable he is. I help him to his feet, allowing him to lean on me, and we move slowly to the basement door. Despite the fear still clenching my stomach as the sirens continue to wail above the howling wind, we move slowly from step to step, until we are underground. Just as I help him into a large, overstuffed arm chair, all the lights go out.
“Steve?” I say uncertainly. I can’t see a damn thing.
Suddenly the darkness flashes to light, because Steve has lit a match from a packet lying on the table next to the chair. On the table also are four or five small candles, and he lights them carefully.
“There, that better?” Steve asks, smiling. His hair glows softly in the low candlelight, his eyes glow from their own inner fire. He looks absolutely beautiful.
“Much,” I say.
“Then come here,” he says.Not needing any encouragement, I walk up to the chair, and kneel down in front of him. I’m not sure if this is what he wants, but then he grins and slides forward, so I guess he’s okay with it. He pulls his shirt off and drops it to the floor as I fumble (stupid hand!) with the button on his pants. Working together, one of us with a bad knee and one with a bad hand, we still somehow manage to get his pants and his underwear off and onto the floor. I run my hands down his chest and stroke his hips, though I won’t lie, my eyes are fixed on his cock. I lean in and kiss the tip gently, licking at the pre-come. I run my tongue gently around the sides of his cock, and fight the urge to take him into my mouth. I want to… but I’m a little nervous.
Steve groaned. “Tease,” he muttered. He lifted his hips. “Boyd, please…”
He begged. He begged! I’m suddenly more horny than I’ve ever been, and with a growl I take him all the way into my mouth, sucking in earnest. He gasps.
“Damn, Boyd…” He begins to thrust his hips upward. I come up for air, ripping my shirt off from over my head, and then I take him again. My teeth scrape lightly down his length as I slide my lips up and down. I’m a little scared by how rough I’m being, I’m not usually like this. It’s as if all the energy and danger of the tornado ripping through the streets above has flooded into my veins, and as the house trembles, so does Steve.
“Oh, God,” he moans. “Oh my… Boyd, stop!”
Immediately I raise my head, using every ounce of control I own to hold steady. “What is it?”
Steve lay back, panting, his eyes burning into me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him not completely in control. My hands grip his thighs.
“I don’t want to come yet,” he says shakily. “I want to be inside you… but, my knee-”
I stop him with a kiss and he moans into my mouth. I know what he wants.
I’m usually pretty shy about taking off my pants, but not now. I don’t know when I got so fearless. I slide my pants and my underwear to the floor, with a sigh of relief as my straining cock is finally freed. It’s a temporary relief, though. I need something more permanent, and soon.
Fully naked, I half-straddle Steve and press my body against his. His skin is like silky fire, and I whimper as I rub mine against it. We both gasp as our cocks touch and we kiss again. Both of us are desperate for release, and Steve slides his hand down my back to my ass. I feel him probe me and insert one finger carefully. Then he inserts two, and stretches me. I hiss, and drop my mouth to his neck, sucking and biting gently. Well, maybe not so gently, I really want this. After a few hard nips Steve growls.
“Ok, ok,” he says, with a strained smile. “I didn’t think you were going to be so demanding a lover, Boyd.”
A trace of embarrassment comes over me. I can’t find the words to express how he’s affected me, how I want to worship him and protect him and fuck him all at once.
“I want you,” I say simply.
Steve makes no answer, just pulls me up closer.
As I straddle him, I realize that the noise of the storm above has grown to a fury. The small windows at the top of the basement walls are rushing, dark fields of wind-driven objects. The house above is creaking and shaking, and as I slide myself down onto his cock and bury it within me, my cry is lost in the shrieking of the wind.
After letting both of us adjust for a few seconds, I move myself up and down, tilting so that he hits my sweet spot with every thrust. Steve groans and arches his hips to match my movement. I bounce faster, driving the both of us toward the edge, and I nearly reach it as Steve takes hold of my cock. He wraps his hand around it and begins to stroke roughly.
Steve is panting harshly, frowning in his need. I thought I’d never see him look more beautiful than he did when he first lit the candles. I was wrong.
“Boyd,” he groaned, and despite his knee he thrust his body up sharply. “Boyd!”
As he cries out with his orgasm I hear a loud, crashing noise come from above us, but I don’t know what it is. I don’t care. The only thing I care about is the fact that Steve is shooting deep inside of me, his body shaking as he calls my name.
“Steve!” I cry, and he stops stroking me. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him as I come, my cock spasming against his body. Screaming my pleasure above the fury of the storm, I spill hot, sticky fluid onto our stomachs and chests.
I can feel his heartbeat slow as we hold each other. He soon sinks out of me but I don’t move. There’s nowhere else in the whole world I want to be right now.
Slowly, the storm dies away, and through the haze that’s covering my mind, I remember the loud crashing noise I heard earlier.
“I think something broke on your house,” I say, pressing my lips to the top of his head.
“Who cares,” he says weakly, his head buried in my neck. His arms tighten around me. “Everything that matters is right here.”
I know this is going to sound incredibly selfish, and most of you will probably think I’m a horrible team player for saying it. But how long is it possible for me to stay on injured reserve with a broken thumb?
***
