Page 41 of Bad Pucking Roommate

By some unspoken agreement we haven’t talked about what happened the night I brought him home. How I bathed him and held him all night. For all I know, he doesn’t remember the specifics anyway, and even if he does, we also seemed to silently agree that despite knowing something’s different now, we aren’t going to acknowledge it or put itinto words.

Words mean truths we can’t admit, promises we can’t keep, and oaths to our teammates broken. Even though that means we’re existing in limbo, not quite lovers and not quite platonic friends or teammates, it’s the safest place to be. And it might be inconvenient or incomplete compared to what some of our friends and teammates have, but it’s all that’s available to us right now. Personally, I’m okay with that.

A few weeks ago, the only thing on my radar was hockey. That’s still my motivation behind everything I do, although privately I can admit it’s not the only one. That doesn’t change the fact that this thing with me and Justus, whatever it is, has to either co-exist or take a back seat to the game. To anyone else that would be a deal-breaker, I’m sure. But he gets it. He’s living it. He won’t think I’m an asshole because everything outside the rink has to come in second.

The fact that Justus can respect where hockey fits in my life… I think that’s why things have evolved the way they have between us. There’s no guilt about the amount of time spent on the ice, no competition between the game and life outside of it. We’re both benefiting from the closeness and camaraderie that comes with sleeping together without having to deal with the emotional turmoil of balancing hockey with life. Everything is just easy. It’s the perfect solution.

“Have they issued your fine for fighting yet?” Justus’s question takes me out of my internal rambling.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Ouch.”

“What do you mean ouch? I make over five times that per game. Not including endorsements.”

“You’re so ostentatious.” I can actually feel the eye roll despite him being hundreds of miles away. I might be offended if I couldn’t also hear his begrudging smile. “Twenty thousand is a lot of money.”

“Play in the NHL for over a decade and it’s really not.”

“Of course, it is. You can’t even buy a car for that anymore.”

I crinkle my nose. “Why would I want to? It’d probably be some old junker without navigation or CarPlay. You’d have to listen to fifteen minutes of commercials to hear five minutes of music. No thank you.”

“You do understand that most people don’t just plunk down a wad of cash for a car. They make payments on it, and a twenty-thousand-dollar car would cost just shy of four hundred a month for five years, not including interest.”

“Four hundred a month doesn’t sound so bad,” I reason.

“You’re missing the point. I’m saying it’s all relative. For you twenty grand is nothing. For lots of other people it’s too big a number to contemplate.”

I have a strong suspicion Justus’s family is the incentive for his stance on this issue—part of me gets it, since I didn’t exactly grow up in the lap of luxury—which is all the more reason for him to let loose a little now that he’s making at least twenty grand per game.

“I still say it’s money well spent,” I mutter under my breath.

“You’re incorrigible.” He bites back a laugh.

“I am,” I say smugly. “And just so you know, I’d do it again. No one gets to take cheap shots at you because their skills are inferior.”

“So, you’re saying you’ll defend my honor?”

“Damn right. You’d defend mine too, wouldn’t you?”

He clicks his tongue. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

This time I’m the one rolling my eyes. “How do you end up in a sport as brutal as hockey with that attitude? Another grandpa saying, I assume?”

“You know it.” I hear the proud grin. “And like you said, with enough skill, I don’t have to be brutal.”

“That’s not what I said at all. Not even close.” My face actually hurts from smiling.When was the last time that happened?

“Well, that's what I heard.”

I stifle a laugh, wondering when Justus’s perpetual positivity turned from annoying to endearing. Sometime between learning to trust him with my secrets and getting acquainted with his cock, I imagine.

“Now Justus, are you claiming to have superior skill?” I tease. “That’s a bold statement considering the company you keep.”

“I didn’t… I mean, I’m only as good as the guys around me.” I imagine him turning a bright red as he tries to downplay the ability he has every right to boast about.

“Don’t be humble with me. You’re incredible. You make me incredible.” I hear his sharp intake of breath, a sound similar to the one he makes when I take his cock in my mouth. It makes me wish he was right here so I could do just that. Instead, I re-direct us to safer topics. “So, did Xander and Tripp come check on you?”

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