Page 57 of Game Misconduct

Like obviously when you invited a guy you’d been fucking to crash at your place for three days, sex was on the table. Mike had been looking forward to that, because, like, of course he was, he was only fucking human. He thought he’d known what he was getting into, thought he’d been prepared for it. But once he’d done it, once he had Danny in his bed (and on the couch and in the kitchen and in the bathroom and—) and all of the time in the world, he’d realized exactly how out of his fucking depth he was when it came to sex and exactly how far Danny had him outclassed. That first morning had just been the beginning. Part of him was a little shocked at the way Danny seemed so consistently ready to go and how often they were fucking, but part of him smugly thought,he’s like that because ofme, he wants it so often because it’sme.

On Christmas morning he was lying in his bed, a sweaty, fucked-out mess, body bruised and limp, his brain still not entirely able to connect words in actual sentences. Danny, next to him, had his eyes closed and a big dumb grin on his face that Mike couldn’t even make fun of because his was probably a million times worse.

The sex was really, really good.

Mike rolled over on his side and pressed his face into Danny’s shoulder, boneless and exhausted and still riding on an endorphin high. He’d already come like three times that morning and he wasn’t sure if he could get it up again even if he’d wanted to. Except he kind of did want to because apparently he had it just as bad as Danny did.

“Hell of a Christmas present, dude,” he mumbled into Danny’s skin.

Danny, also unable to form sentences, exhaled a noise that was almost a laugh, and allowed Mike to run his hand over Danny’s stomach and thighs while he appreciated the contrast between his black ink and Danny’s skin. Danny didn’t open his eyes, but his face had the kind of serene blankness that Mike knew was good. That look meant he wasn’t thinking about injuries or hockey or anything except Mike, and that screaming possessive demon in Mike’s head said,good, good, that’s the way it should be.

But he was thinking about it again and the words came out before he could stop them, like fucking and getting fucked until he forgot his own name for a few seconds and had cut the brain/mouth controls he had kept firmly in place for years and years. “It’s just—like—dude, I—never thought sex could be like—”

What the fuck, his brain was screaming at his mouth,shut the fuck up, you fucking moron.He managed to stop it, but it was too late.

Danny’s eyes opened. He was looking at Mike, rolled over so half of his body trapped Mike against the bed. “Why not?”

“I dunno, dude,” Mike said, squirming. “I dunno.”

Danny’s hand on his cheek, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Tell me,” he said. It was a command, but in a gentle kind of way that made Mike’s stomach turn itself inside out, because he was apparently that much of a fucking idiot when it came to Danny now.

“Tell you what?”

“Why you didn’t think sex could be like this. Is that what you were going to say?”

Mike squirmed again, not quite trying to push Danny away. It was hard to do it when the rest of his body instinctively melted into Danny’s hands. This was the kind of shit that made him uncomfortable. No, it was worse than that. It was fucking terrifying, talking about something so real.

“Come on, babe,” Danny said. His voice was low and rough from exhaustion and his thumb was gentle against one of the bruises he’d left on Mike’s throat last night, stroking, then pressing in just enough that Mike could feel the dull ache. “You can tell me.”

Mike had his eyes screwed shut, unable to look him in the eye. Kind of fucked up that Danny had seen him naked every way you could see someone naked, had his dick in Mike’s mouth and ass and the other way around, had slapped him around until Mike begged for more, made him lose control of himself so badly that he’d actually cried, kissed the tears off of his face after. And this was still the most cut-open and embarrassed Mike could remember being.

“Babe,” Danny said again, his voice like a caress, and Mike choked out, “It’s just—it’s never been like—”

He had to stop.

“Hey. Come on, open your eyes.”

It was almost painful to do it, but he tried. He looked up. Danny, his face shadowed with a few days’ worth of beard growth and his eyes warm and intent, was watching him with the kind of expression that Mike couldn’t entirely decipher but whatever was in there made his stomach do that flip again. Made his heart feel like Danny could hear it beating, it was so loud.

“It’s just...dude, okay, so. I had just barely turned seventeen when I got fucked the first time, okay?” Danny didn’t say anything, but his hand hadn’t moved from Mike’s cheek, and Mike turned his face into Danny’s palm so he didn’t have to look. “It was at some shitty house show and I was so wasted I could barely stand because that’s the only way I could, like, do anything back then, and—and he was a lot older than me, and it was—it was—”

“Hey,” Danny said, and his voice was so fucking soft Mike was frozen between the twin urges to shove him out of the bed and push his head into Danny’s chest so he didn’t have to look him in the eye. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Mike.”

“It wasn’t great,” he said finally. It wasn’t exactly true, or at least, it wasn’t an accurate way to put it. It had been worse than wasn’t great. It had kind of hurt. No, ithadhurt. He’d felt like...humiliated, but not in a good way, except he shouldn’t have, because he’d wanted it, right?

At the time he hadn’t thought about it much, because he’d been a dumb kid full of bravado and the inability to admit he might’ve made a stupid decision, even though it hadn’t really felt like a decision at all so much as something that had just happened to him. Because he was a tough guy, he should have been able to fucking handle it, but he—couldn’t. He couldn’t handle it.

He’d felt the sharp, sour shame that accompanied most of his sexual escapades at that age, had still been vaguely relieved to get it over with, because that was always going to be the first time, and no matter how bad it was, it could never be worse. He’d woken up in the morning on the floor, found some of his clothes, and made the walk of shame back to his billet, grimy and sore and hungover. He’d mostly put it out of his head after that. It wasn’t until he’d had some distance and a chance to think about it that it had felt—

“It really wasn’t great, and afterward...” Mike had to stop and collect himself for a second. He couldn’t think of the words to explain to Danny the way it had felt. “Even when it hasn’t been painful like that, it’s always been a secret because of the hockey shit, you know? I’ve been rushed. Or drunk. I’ve never fucked someone I ever wanted to hang out with again or fucked someone more than once, I’ve never gotten to know anyone—no one’s ever tried to make itgoodfor me—you just—you know what I want, it’s never felt like this. I’ve neverneeded—”

He couldn’t go on and Danny didn’t make him, just leaned forward and kissed him. His mouth was hot and wet and Mike’s opened eagerly under his tongue, without even thinking about it.

That was something else he’d never really done as a kid or even as an adult. Hadn’t really thought of it as anything worth pursuing. But kissing Danny was like...his brain went into overdrive trying to come up with words for it and failed because he wasn’t good at trying to describe things he felt. It made his stomach burn and his toes curl and his entire body melt into Danny’s, and he couldn’t even care that it felt like Danny could see right through him, just by putting his tongue in Mike’s mouth.

Danny pulled away, and when Mike opened his eyes again, he saw that Danny had pushed himself up on one arm and was looking down at him again with that Danny Look. The one that made him feel weird and shy and like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin all at the same time. But this time he couldn’t look away.

“Fuck me,” Mike said, because it was easier than saying any of the other things that were kicking around in his head and it was almost what he wanted to say anyway.

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