Authors: Cassandra Carr
With Christmas finished, the Olympics were bearing down on Patrick. The team would meet in Boston with the rest of the Team USA contingent in a couple of weeks, and then fly over to Geneva from there. The idea of being in the same vicinity with Jason for three weeks during the Games was both exciting and nerve-racking.
But he had to get through New Year’s Eve first.
One of the well-meaning wives of one of the other staff members from Philly, Carol, seemed to have made it her life’s mission to get Patrick hooked up with a woman. He’d gotten a lot of “why aren’t you married, a sweet guy like you” and “you’re so hot, and you have a stable job, I can’t understand why women aren’t flocking to you” comments from her over the past few years but had ignored them—until she started mentioning her single friends. Patrick had been with Philly as a scout ever since his retirement, and it was becoming impossible to deflect her attempts at match making.
On this particular evening the team was throwing a party. The owner figured if the players were somewhere they could be monitored, they’d be less likely to get into trouble, so they’d all been encouraged—forced, more like, management and staff included—to don tuxes and gather in the banquet room of a local restaurant. Fortunately the couple who owned the restaurant insisted on discretion from its staff, and they hadn’t had all manner of people trying to sneak into the party, but several “friends” had managed to find their way in, including two different women who happened to know Carol.
Janette was a willowy blonde of about forty-five who kept running her fingertips up the sleeve of Patrick’s jacket. Each time she did, it was all he could do not to flinch. It wasn’t that women disgusted him, but the calculated, hungry look in her eyes scared the hell out of him. The other, Brittany, was a brunette with a sweet smile, and that was almost worse. It was easier to politely repel the attentions of the obvious Janette than it was the subtle niceness displayed by Brittany.
All Patrick wanted to do was leave, drive to New Jersey, and sink inside Jason. His team hadn’t made the players come to a cheesy party, and Jason was currently in Manhattan. Patrick’s phone chimed, and he turned away to discreetly pull it out.
So what’s it like over there?
Patrick smiled.
A morgue. How is it where you are?
He felt a hand on his arm and brushed it away, tired of being polite.
Watching as teammates drink like fishes and fuck random women in the bathroom. All in all, a screaming good time.
Ah, so maybe this party wasn’t so bad in comparison.
Ugh, that sucks.
He sighed. This whole thing sucked.
I’d rather you were here sucking me.
With a chuckle Patrick replied.
I bet you do.
He was trying to keep things light, but the lure of the door was strong. If the team wasn’t playing the next day, Patrick would’ve hightailed it into New York City and found a way to fuck his man six ways to Sunday. His man?
Shit
. He needed to face the fact he was getting in deeper with Jason than he should be, but the young man’s magnetism was drawing him in. With the Olympics coming up, Patrick was at a loss for what to do. If they got caught together during the Olympics…
Patrick’s stomach churned.
But I’m not giving him up. No fucking way.
With a little smile he tapped out another message.
What I wanna do is bend you over and fuck the hell out of you right now. Sucking that nice thick cock off sounds pretty fantastic too.
Patrick’s cock twitched, and he quickly glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to him.
Don’t say shit like that when I’m in a roomful of people. It’s not that easy to cover a stiffy with a beer bottle, you know.
A brief flash of Jason on his knees with his mouth stuffed full of Patrick’s dick came into his mind and forced his eyes closed. He needed to get control of himself, now, before someone noticed. This was a team function, and even texting back and forth like they were was a dangerous game. Then the thought of Janette seeing his erection and thinking it was because of her doused the fire pretty good, but Patrick still wondered if he could just leave so he could jerk off in the privacy of his own home.
Patrick’s eyebrows shot up.
What the hell does
that
mean?
With bated breath, he waited for the
other man’s answer. Were they breaking up as he sat at this shitty party? He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, and quickly turned a little more away from the room.
I’m just frustrated. I hate lying. The guys keep asking me why I don’t want some chick to suck my dick. I can’t exactly tell them I’d rather have a dude do it.
Sighing, Patrick rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. He knew exactly how Jason felt. He’d been doing the same thing for years, way longer than Jason, in fact.
I understand, and I wish it was different.
Patrick picked up the drink next to him on the table and slammed it in one swallow. They weren’t exactly making strong drinks at this farce of a celebration, so he wasn’t worried about getting drunk.
Yeah, but it’s not. Anyway, I need to get back. Grabowski’s about to fall over. I should get him home.
Being the sober one only made things worse, Patrick guessed.
Okay. I’m getting out of here soon too. I’ll call you later.
After disconnecting the call, Patrick lifted his head and looked for his boss, the team’s general manager. Spying him, he quickly made his way over and said his good-byes, then left before Janette could get her claws into him. He could feel her staring daggers into his back and shuddered, but nothing was going to stop him from getting the hell out of there. His phone chimed again.
Yeah, call me.
Luckily Patrick was in his car within minutes. It was only a little after eleven, and he hoped Jason might make it home in time to receive his call at midnight. It felt kind of corny to want to talk to him just as the New Year struck, but that’s all Patrick could think about.
Right before the clock rang in the New Year, Patrick dialed Jason.
“Hey, man.”
“Hey. I got Grabowski home, but I’m stuck right before the Holland Tunnel. Probably gonna lose you soon.”
Patrick nodded and then realized Jason couldn’t see him. “Okay. I just wanted to say Happy New Year, and that I wish you were here.”
“You know we can’t do that.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t like the thought of you there with girls hanging all over you while I sat here at mine with my thumb up my ass.”
“That didn’t happen, though of course a couple tried. Just like you, no doubt. I’m pretty good at deflecting female attention. I had a couple of beers and watched my teammates get stupid drunk.”
Patrick heard Jason sigh.
“Look, the tunnel’s coming up. Can we talk about this shit later?”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t be mad.”
That’s not the problem. You’re drifting away, and I’m fucking panicking.
“I’ll let you go. Talk soon.”
“Later.”
He hung up and lay back in bed, feeling completely bereft and wondering if Jason was experiencing the same kind of melancholy. Patrick jumped to his feet, trapping his legs in the covers and nearly falling on his ass.
I’m in love with him. Fuck fuck fuck. I’m in love with the kid.
Pacing, Patrick tried to reconcile himself to what he knew to be true. He didn’t just want Jason, he
needed
him. He counted on Jason to make him happy. Jason was about the only thing that made him happy these days, in fact.
He didn’t even want to think about the ramifications of his revelation but knew he’d have to, and sooner rather than later. If they went to Geneva with this much unresolved crap between them, it could lead to trouble. Patrick didn’t have a clue how Jason felt. Maybe he was just getting his rocks off. That thought made him want to puke.
And he felt badly about what he’d said and how he’d treated Jason earlier. It wasn’t normal for him to act like a jealous bitch. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep with things the way they were, so he pulled out his phone once more and texted Jason.
I’m sorry. I was a dick. You didn’t deserve that.
A moment later Jason returned the text.
Don’t worry about it. The situation sucks, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Go to sleep. Talk tomorrow.
Patrick smiled. At least he hadn’t fucked everything up.
Okay, talk tomorrow. Sleep well. Happy New Year, baby.
Almost immediately his phone buzzed.
You too. See you soon!
With a sigh, Patrick turned off his bedside light and slid under the covers. He was fucked.
The dueling feelings of dread and excitement didn’t taper off a bit as Patrick left for Boston a few weeks later. Team USA was convening as a whole—all the sports—and having a day of meetings before flying over to Geneva. Patrick had been involved in the Olympics both as a player and as an advisor, but it never failed to bring a swell of pride when he walked into the hotel grand ballroom and saw everybody decked out in red, white, and blue.
This was the first time since Christmas he and Jason would see each other. Nearly a month had gone by since then, with both of them busy traveling as the NHL schedule pushed on. Patrick didn’t want to admit how much he was anticipating even a glimpse of the man. Over the past couple of weeks, after countless hours of arguing with himself, pacing his house like a caged lion, and trying to fool himself into thinking a real, permanent relationship with Jason could work, Patrick had finally decided it wouldn’t do any good to continue to consider every angle until he could talk to Jason. And there was no fucking way that was going to happen until after the Olympics.
He was sitting with the other hockey coaches and advisors and knew he needed to play it cool, lest someone notice his particular interest in one of the players. As he waited, Patrick’s stomach churned, and despite the cool of the room, a bead of sweat rolled down his back. It had been weeks since he’d even set eyes on Jason. How the hell would he make it through weeks of being in close proximity with the man?
Several entrances to the ballroom were available, and all of them were behind Patrick, so there was no way to watch for Jason. His leg began to bounce the closer the time got to the start of the meeting with no sign of him or several other players. He was about to ask if someone should go out searching for the men when they walked in en masse. Patrick smiled, not surprised they were traveling in a pack. It wasn’t that hockey players weren’t friendly; they just liked to stick together.
In the middle of the group was Jason, looking fresh from a shower with his hair still damp and curling at the ends. He was clad in the same clothing as the other players, a tracksuit in USA colors and bright blue sneakers that had been given to every Team USA member by one of the major shoe manufacturers. Despite the fact that he was dressed identically to the other guys, Patrick knew exactly what the body underneath the vinyl suit looked like, and like a freaking Pavlov dog, his mouth watered.
He realized he’d been staring at the group when one of the other advisors leaned over and said, “Are they all here? You doing a count?”
Patrick hastily did one, his face flaming. “They’re moving around, so it’s tough, but I think so.” Clearing his throat, he added, “Maybe when they sit down it’ll be easier.”
The other man nodded, and Patrick closed his eyes. He needed to get a grip before someone put one and one together and came up with him and Jason. Sighing, he turned his attention to the front of the room and the director of Team USA, who had just approached the microphone.
After a couple of hours of stuff being handed out and directions being given, the members scattered in all directions, and Patrick had to laugh. Each sport got its own meeting room at the hotel, outfitted with their particular pins, T-shirts, hats, and other memorabilia. Athletes could go from room to room, collecting whatever they wanted, and they went after the swag with a vengeance, several of them getting down to their skivvies to try things on. Patrick already had more than enough Team USA paraphernalia, so along with most of the other hockey staff, he found himself in the hotel’s bar.
Let me know when you’re done and if you can meet up.
A few minutes later his phone vibrated. Patrick discreetly checked it under the table.
Not sure. Guys are talking about hanging out.
Patrick considered for a moment. There was no team dinner scheduled for that evening, since the staff had figured the group would be spending enough time together at the actual Games, but it was likely that he would get invited to go out with the guys sitting around him. He really wanted to see Jason, though, and as he responded, he couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in his gut.
Okay. If you have some time, try me. I might be around.
Jason sent back a one-word answer, and Patrick sat back with a sigh. He’d been half-hard since seeing the younger man a couple of hours ago and had been hoping for some relief. At least he was also clad in a tracksuit that was roomy enough his erection wasn’t immediately apparent.
He stayed at the bar with the other men through two more pitchers of beer and then excused himself, going upstairs to his room. If he had any hope of not losing his mind, he figured he’d better take himself in hand. Patrick had just lain on the bed and pushed his pants and briefs to his knees when his phone rang. Glancing at it, he saw Jason’s number.
“I have a half hour. Where are you?”
“Room 3416.”
A few minutes later there was a rapping at the door. Patrick answered, and Jason pushed past him.
“Didn’t want anyone to see me coming in here.” He turned toward Patrick. “I needed to see you.”
“Me too.” His dick was pounding in his pants, but he ignored it, sinking to his knees. “I needed this.” Pulling Jason’s pants and boxers down, he engulfed the already stiff cock he loved so much, and Jason’s knees locked as a guttural moan left his mouth.