The bass of the music thrums through the walls as the warm, wet lips around my cock suck me into their willing mouth. There is probably a line forming outside the bathroom given it’s the only one downstairs in the house, but right now I don’t give a fuck, not until I blow my load down Brianna’s throat and release some of this postgame tension. Honestly, I could have given the whole party scene a miss tonight. I’m tired from our first game of the season, but the rest of the Flyers were in the mood to party after bagging our first win. As Captain I have to make sure the team is happy, so here we are.
I fist my hand into the puck bunny’s hair and thrust myself into her throat making her gag, but it’s still not enough. Brianna is one of the better lays out of the usual girls, but she has too many ideals in her head to take things any further than casual. It’s been a while since I have gone all the way with her because she kept getting too clingy, but I thought a blowjob from her was easier than patrolling for another girl.
Usually fucking her face is enough to clear my mind, but something about tonight just feels off, and she knows it too. Her exaggerated moans around my shaft are proof of that. She is putting on an unnecessary performance for someone whose mouth is filled with cock, but I just keep my focus on the feel of her tongue against my shaft. Noticing my lack of enthusiasm, she presses her hands into my abs, stroking them like it might affect me and make me come faster.
Spoiler alert – it won’t.
Pushing her hands off me, I rise to my full height from where I was leaning on the counter, and take over completely. Gripping both sides of her face to keep her still as I fuck her mouth hard and fast, relishing in the spit that drips from the corner of it, and the water spilling from her eyes. This, this is what I needed, a mindless release. Something to make me forget about my mom’s latest diagnosis and all the other shit going on in my life. Right now, the only thing that matters is that I won my first game as Captain, and that I am about to come down a pretty girl’s throat.
My cock slides along her tongue and with every moan she lets free it vibrates around my shaft. I feel that familiar tingle at the base of my spine and my dick begins to throb. Several more thrusts later and my cock explodes in her mouth, unleashing my cum down her throat. Fucking finally.
Stepping back as soon as I am finished, I let my cock fall from her mouth and tuck myself away, ignoring her completely as she struggles to keep my load in her mouth and scramble to her feet. I turn to wash my hands in the sink, internally rolling my eyes at how greasy they are from all the product in her hair. I pray she just leaves without another word, but just as I finish scrubbing them, I feel her arms curl around my waist. I huff, taking a deep breath to not lose my temper at her. She knows the rules, no touching once I’m done. She knows how much I hate it, but still every single time she tries. Pushing her off me for the second time tonight, I step away from her and move to dry my hands.
“Really, Nova? Are we still doing this? You can fuck my mouth but I can’t touch you?” Her tone is whiny and annoying, but after two years of her hanging around me and the team I am more than used to it.
“You know the rules, B,” I remind her with a shrug, which does nothing but piss her off more.
“Seriously?” she asks, staring pointedly at me, and when I still don’t say anything she scoffs and turns to leave. “God, you’re such a fucking asshole, Nova!” I don’t bother reminding her that she is already fully aware of that fact, and yet still chooses to suck my cock, I’m not that much of an asshole.
Okay, maybe I am, but I choose silence over anything else, as she moves towards the door and rips it open revealing Josh fucking Peters. She is too pissed off at me to care about his presence, and just pushes past him completely and disappears back to the party.
My teammate turns to me and sneers, “You know you don’t have to fuck all the puck bunnies right?” I’d probably find his disgust ironic and funny since he has also fucked Brianna here and there, but there is no common ground I will ever find between me and the team’s fucking golden boy.
I paint my usual sarcastic smile on my face as I approach him and reply, “Well I didn’t see your sister anywhere tonight, Peters, so I had to settle.” It’s a well known fact that Josh declared a no touching rule on his little sister the second she arrived here, which is hilarious to me because I don’t think anyone could get close to Princess Peters with that stick so far up her pampered ass.
“Watch your fucking mouth when you talk about her,” he warns, and I laugh, enjoying getting a rise out of the usually cool and collected Josh Peters.
“Where is Princess Peters tonight, Joshy?” I move towards him and take pleasure in towering over him as much as I do. The hatred between us is real and always will be, but it’s been turned up a notch since he was overlooked as Captain and it went to me. I guess daddy’s check book can’t buy him everything.
He eyes me with pure contempt as he spits, “None of your goddamn business!”
A huffed laugh leaves me as I shake my head, and decide to play on this shit between us. “Hmmm, let me guess.” I make a show of tapping my chin as if I am really thinking about it. “I bet she’s at that big business party your daddy is throwing right? What’s the fundraiser for this time? New wheels for his fucking Rolls?”
“Fuck off, Darkmore!”
Knowing I have more than hit my target with him, I smile as I purr, “With pleasure.” I push past him with more force than necessary, but as usual the golden boy knows better than to fuck with me. In fact, the only time he ever even says shit back to me is if it concerns his sister, and I only do that to piss him off.
There is no love lost between the Peters family and mine, not since the esteemed and pompous Mayor Hugo Peters decided to fuck his secretary on the side, which just so happened to be my mom. I was around enough to see the bullshit fake love he fed her, from the flowers and love notes, to the secret weekends away. My mom fell for him hard and fast, worshipping the ground he fucking walked on, especially considering my dad was a piece of shit that left her when I was a baby, so he could continue his dream of going pro.
He has since moved on and married some twenty-five-year old, while my mom was left up to her eyeballs in debt with a kid to raise. My dad tries to call me every now and then to talk about hockey since his own career has washed up, but I’ve no interest in building a relationship with him. It was bad enough watching my mom struggle after he left, I don’t need to add bringing him around again to her life. I’ve helped her where I can since I have been old enough, and we would have been fine if Hugo Peters kept his fucking hands to himself.
When everything blew up in the Mayor’s face he made a choice to stay with his wife, leaving my mom jobless, and unable to afford the rent on our house. That left us sharing a one bedroom apartment until I graduated high school and got my scholarship to FU. My mom was alone and unhappy, stuck in a dead end diner job, while he rode off into the sunset with his wife by his side, and his public image barely tarnished. It’s amazing what those green bills can do for people. It’s been a few years since all that happened, but you don’t forget that shit easily. Especially when his kids are just as stuck up and conceited as him, and in my face all the time as a reminder.
I’m stuck sharing not just a college but a team with Josh fucking Peters, and even though Coach tries not to sub us onto the ice at the same time, knowing our history, it’s still hard to put up with him and his shit. I’m just lucky his sister isn’t around as much as he is. The two of them together are like carbon copies of their parents, with their fake smiles and stuck-up attitudes. They act like life is perfect and there are no problems in the world, when really they just hide behind their daddy’s money, nothing ever hitting them. It’s fucking bullshit.
Shaking off the memories of the past and the Peters family, I push through the writhing bodies in the living room until I make it to the kitchen, and find my best friend and teammate, Archer Gray. He is throwing daggers at everyone in his vicinity, and I almost smile when I see him. He’s as dark and fucked-up as I am, and has been by my side since we both started here our freshman year. He plays on the same line as I do and we make a wicked team out on the ice, and an even better one off it, especially with the ladies.
When he spies my sour expression he cocks a brow at me. “Done so soon, Darkmore? I thought you had more stamina than that.” He probably knows me better than anyone in this place, and he’s the only one who knows about my mom. It’s rare to find good and honest people these days, but despite his reputation, Archer Gray is one of the best.
“Fuck off, Gray, and pass me a beer, trust me I need it.” The bastard just chuckles, but pulls a cold one from the ice bucket by the island and tosses it my way.
Moving to stand beside him, I join him in surveying the rest of the party. Our spot in the open plan kitchen gives us a perfect view of all of the living room, and the double patio doors that lead out onto the back deck. It’s pretty packed in here tonight considering this was a last minute, post-game invite, but I’m not surprised. Our house always seems to be the main spot for when there is a team party, despite there being multiple other hockey houses on our row.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, but I’m in no rush to check it. I know my mom is working her shift at the diner tonight, plus I already spoke to her after the game so it won’t be her. Anyone else can wait. I take a few sips of beer, watching everyone lose themselves in the music and alcohol pumping through them, and finally I feel myself relax for the first time since I stepped off the ice earlier.
Hockey is in my blood, whether I like admitting that or not, and I never feel more at peace than when I step out onto that frosted rink with a puck at my feet. When Coach called me into his office a couple of weeks ago and handed me that captain patch, I swear I felt my eyes burn. I had to swallow down the lump in my throat as he shook my hand and told me I earned it. It was the proof I needed to know how good I am, to know that despite people like Josh Peters and his fucking money, I can still make something of myself.
I finish off the rest of my beer and when I spy Brianna giving me the stink eye from across the room with her friends, I know it’s time to call it a night. Tossing my bottle into the recycling bin in the corner, I pat Archer on the shoulder and bid him a goodnight.
“I’m off to bed,” I say, and he nods with a smirk, having already spied Brianna himself. He has been there too, so he knows exactly what she can get like, and tonight, or maybe even just this year, I can’t be bothered dealing with it. She isn’t that good a lay, and I need to keep my head in the game.
His stare flicks from her to me before he responds, “How about some real cardio in the morning?”
His question makes me smile, because we pretty much go for a run together every single morning before we hit the gym, and that’s usually before classes even start. Sometimes a few other members of the team tag along if they can drag their asses out of bed, but most of the time it’s just the two of us. I follow his stare back to Brianna, but she’s now talking to our other teammate Daemon Forbes, and I notice Archer’s frown, but I don’t bother asking him what’s up. If he wanted to tell me he would.
“Sure man, sounds good.” I give him a nod before I retreat towards the stairs and make my way to my room, ignoring the multiple couples making out along the way.
When I get there, I make sure to lock my door behind me, before I reach for the back of my shirt and pull it off from over my head. Moving towards my bed, I empty my pockets onto my nightstand before unbuckling my jeans and switching them out for shorts, before I lie down. As soon as my back hits my headboard, my phone lights up and I am reminded of the message I ignored earlier. Huffing at whoever it is, I reach over and grab it, opening a new thread from a number I don’t recognise.
Unknown: Do you ever feel so lonely and unseen that you feel like you might die?
Damn, that’s a can of worms no one should ever open, and I wonder what kind of person sent such a message. Are they as fucked up in the head as I feel? Unlikely, I doubt anyone is that messed up. I tap out a quick response and then toss my phone back to the bed, leaning back to close my eyes.
Usually after a game I spend this time going over my plays in my head, working out what I could have done better, and thinking of ways to improve my shot at being drafted by the NHL. It’s part of my game day ritual, but just as with the theme of tonight, it doesn’t seem to be working, and worse, my thoughts stray back to the question in the text and how accurate their words are.
My name is well known across campus, and people from all across town come to my games to see me play, but none of them really know me, see who I am without my stick. Even in an arena full of people I know what it’s like to feel completely nothing, to feel as if not a single person cares about who I am when I rip that number nineteen jersey off my back. I think about all the games, all the fans, all the bunnies, and worse, all my fucking problems, and I wonder if the stranger is right. Can you feel so lonely and unseen that you feel like you might die?
