Page 47 of Delay of Game

It was almost enough to push Zach over the edge himself, but he made a valiant effort to hold on for those last few thrusts, until Nate’s pained whine and white-knuckled fists were the cue it was too much.

“You feel—so—fucking—shit, baby, I’m just—”

Zach pressed his face against Nate’s back and shivered. It was one of those orgasms with aftershocks. The kind of thing he’d want to write a song about if he had any kind of musical talent whatsoever. As it was, he kind of lost his balance and shoved Nate down flat against the bed, still shaking his way through it and making some noises that, if he was at all capable of self-reflection or shame, would have beenreallyhumiliating.

“Ow,” Nate rasped. He didn’t try to push Zach away. He was still taking these gasping, heaving breaths that Zach could feel like they were his own.

“Sorry,” Zach managed, once he remembered how to speak. It probably took him a few minutes longer than it should have. Gingerly, he pulled out, flopping over onto his side and pulling the condom off. He should get up and throw it in the trash can. He should get up and wash himself off. Be a gentleman and wash Nate off. There were a lot of things he should have done, but Nate was looking at him. He still looked tired, dark smudges under his eyes, but he was grinning, wide and loopy and unselfconscious, and Zach leaned forward to kiss the stupid smile off his face.

“You good?”

“Uh...” Nate closed his eyes. He was still smiling, despite Zach’s best efforts. “I feel...uh. Um.”

“Full sentences, Nate. C’mon, I believe in you. I know you got it in you.”

“Uh... That’s not what I had. In me.”

“Did you just make ajoke?” Zach demanded, delighted.

Instead of responding, Nate ducked his head and half head-butted, half pressed himself into Zach’s chest. Which, okay. Reflexively, Zach put his arm over Nate’s side and pulled him in closer.

“You wanna—” he started, before realizing that Nate’s eyes were closed, and he was asleep. And, okay, now he really couldn’t move. He dropped the tied-off condom on the floor. It was gross, and they would both definitely regret it in the morning, but he stroked one hand along Nate’s hip and then smoothed the hair out of his face and figured there were worse things he could do than to just fall asleep now.

This was absolutely fine, though.

He was making good and healthy decisions with his life.

Absolutely nothing wrong with any of it.

In the morning, he pushed Nate into the shower and blew him there before they had to rush to morning skate, where Nate was slow and awkward on the ice to the point that Netty started teasing him about a lower body injury and Coach told him to sit it out, and there was nothing wrong with that either.

Nothing wrong at all.

This was fine and Zach was fine.

Nate tried not to think about what he’d asked for and what he’d done, but essentially that just ensured that he thought about it all the fucking time. The elephant in the room. He’d thought about it a lot before he did it too, and he wasn’tashamedof—well. Of wanting to get fucked. It was just there had been a lot of recalibrating in his head, about what he knew about himself and what he wanted.

He hadn’t known what to expect. It wasn’t like it hurt. It had been awkward at first, and kind of uncomfortable. And then it had been really good, good enough that he couldn’t even really be all that embarrassed by the fact that he’d completely lost his shit. It had been kind of a comfort that Zach, however experienced he might have been, had seemed just as fucked up by it. It had been...really good.

At least until he’d tried to skate afterward and realized that maybe he hadn’t thought the entire plan through. He made it through the game against the Northern Lights, but it wasn’t exactly a comfortable way to play. He wondered if it got easier the more you did it and then thought,don’t put the cart before the horse, you dumb bastard.

That lingering, nagging fear remained. That Zach would suddenly realize that whatever they were doing had nothing to do with the fact that they were winning hockey games, that there was an expiration date he was unaware of when Zach would realize or remember how far out of Nate’s league he was...that was what had driven him to take the risk of asking in the first place. On the one hand, he couldn’t regret that he’d done it. And on the other hand, it had made things so infinitely more complicated that Nate’s head felt it was spinning whenever he tried to parse out what he thought and felt about it.

It was easier to try not to think about it, even if it wasn’t easy toactuallynot think about it.

When they got back to Philly from the Midwest, usually the guys were kind of glad to get a break from each other. Nate and Zach had always been the exception, always living out of each other’s pockets, but Nate nudged Zach’s shoulder as they got off the plane, shook his head a little to sayno, I’m going home alone today, and that was that. At this point, Zach just got it, even without words.

And that left Nate, on his own again to try to get his head together.

In between games and travel, there were sometimes a day or two off that Nate usually used for errands. He knew a lot of the guys had people to clean their houses for them or used meal services, but he had been raised by a bus driver and a longshoreman and couldn’t bring himself to do it. So his days off were spent grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning. It wasn’t exactly restful, but it was relaxing. And it saved him the awkwardness of feeling guilty about paying someone else to do his own damn chores for him.

Nate browsed his way through the aisles at the Pennsylvania Avenue Whole Foods and found himself stopping in the aisle with organic dog food and other pet supplies. He remembered Zach telling him how much he missed Hank and Dolly when he was on the road. But sometimes when they were at home, Zach spent just as much time at Nate’s house as he did at his own place. Sometimes Zach brought the dogs, but they usually had to either go back for dinner or he’d just have to leave and come over without them.

Almost without thinking about it Nate picked out some bowls and threw them in his cart along with a bag of dry food. Was that what the dogs ate? Who knew? It was a stupid impulse, and he didn’t want to think about it too much.

It was actually a good day. The kind of day where once he got home and had made sure the house wasn’t falling apart, he was able to spend a good couple of hours marinating chicken or preparing the ingredients for the kind of indulgent winter dinner that he would carefully portion control. And he needed the kind of project that was going to occupy at least three hours of his evening.

what do you even do on days off anymore, Zach texted him, while Nate was chopping an onion.im bored asf.

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