Breakaway (12 page)

There was something in a frame hanging over the mantle. Lane went to read it. He felt Jared coming up behind him, and his whole body was immediately on
fire
. “You went to the Flyers training camp?”

“Mmmhmm.” Jared put his hands on Lane’s hips and leaned in, mouthing at the back of his neck. “Are you hungry?”

Lane really didn’t like the squeaking noise he made when Jared touched him. “Do you mean hungry like, for food? Because, yeah, I am, I just had some coconut water and a protein bar and some cheese and crackers before the game. But I don’t think it was real cheese. Or are you talking about sex stuff? Because yeah, I definitely want that.”

Jared went still behind him and then turned him around so they were facing each other. Lane very tentatively put his hands on Jared’s waist and Jared pulled him closer. “Which one are you hungrier for, Lane?”

“You can’t have sex and pizza at the same time. Right?” Lane cleared his throat. “Pretend I didn’t ask that.”

Jared stopped pulling him closer and shook his head. His smile made Lane want something else, something more than sex and food, but just as necessary. “You want to hear something crazy?”

“Depends. Is it good or…?”

“You tell me. I missed you.” Jared leaned in and kissed him right beneath his ear.

They stood very close together. Lane tried not to push his hips against Jared’s, but he had to take a slow breath before he could answer. “Umm. I think that’s…. I missed you too,” he said sort of helplessly. “Is that not good? I really can’t answer questions right now. Sorry.”

“It’s good. Yeah,” Jared said, and then leaned in to kiss him. Lane saw a brief flash of something in Jared’s eyes. They looked almost sad, and Lane didn’t like that. The only time Jared should be sad was when Lane’s team beat his, which was going to happen the next day—in regulation time—so they could make out before the bus left.

“You figure out which one you want more yet?” Jared walked them backward, still kissing him.

“You’re going to walk into the wall,” Lane warned. He leaned his weight slightly to the side, like he was on skates and trying to turn. “And yeah, I’m going with sex. But maybe you could order a pizza first? Because it’s not going to take me very long, and I’m
really
hungry.”

Jared stopped in the middle of his hallway. That sad thing was still in his eyes, but he kissed Lane so hard that Lane couldn’t think about it anymore.

They needed blowjobs.

“That’s a good idea.”

“Blowjobs? I know. See, those make everyone happy. But maybe could you order the pizza? I’m not kidding, Jared. It’s
really
not going to take me long.”

“I meant about the pizza. When did we get to blowjobs? Or is this one of those conversations you have with yourself and then forget that no one else can hear?” Jared looked suddenly sheepish. “You do that.”

“I know,” Lane said, sighing.

Jared looked like he wanted to ask him something, but instead he pulled Lane into his bedroom and pushed him toward the bed. “Take your jeans off.”

Lane paused. “But my shoes are still on.”

“Push them down then.”

“My shoes?”

“Your—never mind.” Jared suddenly pulled at Lane’s jeans and kissed him, then rolled on top of him when he had Lane’s pants out of the way. His weight pushed Lane into the mattress, and he put his hands on him and his fingers in his… mouth?

“Mmmph?”

“Suck,” Jared told him, and he did. That made Lane almost come, because hearing him say that was hot and Jared’s hips bucked hard against his when Lane complied. It felt really, really good.

Jared reached between them and paused. He looked at Lane with a question, but Lane couldn’t answer because he was too turned on to figure out what it was. “What? What? Seriously what?”

Jared’s grin was quick and bright. “If I touch your cock, are you going to come?”

“Isn’t that how it works?” Lane looked at Jared hopefully. “Tell me that’s how it works, Jared.”

“Lane,” Jared said, and now
he
sounded almost desperate. But he didn’t say anything else. He just kept grinding down against him.

No wonder Ryan had sex with girls a lot, if it felt this good for him. Sex was
great
and Lane suddenly wanted everyone he knew to have it.

Lane grabbed Jared’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him hotly and push up against him. He was so close, he was amazed that he hadn’t come yet.

“I want to fuck you so goddamn bad,” Jared said, and that was it. Lane arched hard off the bed and saw stars or diamonds or something bright and flashing and awesome. Lane kept saying “yes, please,” over and over, just so Jared got the message.

Lane tried to remember how to think and breathe and do other simple things while Jared got up to order them a pizza. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his jeans were pulled up but unbuttoned. He was so hot that Lane couldn’t believe he wanted to take Lane to bed in the first place.

He wants to fuck me.
Lane covered his face with his hands because he was momentarily overwhelmed and he didn’t know what to do about it. It was like scoring six goals and winning the Stanley Cup and
Hockey Night in Canada
all at once.

“Hey, Lane, are you okay?”

Lane felt the bed give as Jared sat next to him and felt his hand cool on Lane’s flushed skin. “Lane?”

“I’m fine,” Lane said as reasonably as possible from behind his hands.

“You’re just playing peekaboo? Are you into that? Because it’s weird.”

“No. That’s silly.” Lane took another breath and waited for that feeling to go away—the one where he felt like he’d gotten something he didn’t deserve.

“Oh. Of course, that’s silly. What was I thinking?”

“About pizza? I don’t know.”

Jared tugged on his wrists. “Hey. Can’t you look at me? I mean, I know I’m not as pretty as you are. But seriously? We’re headed for some weird after-school special if you can’t. I just know it.”

Lane let his hands fall away so he could stare dumbfounded at Jared. “Have you not
seen
you?”

Jared rolled his eyes. “You’re sex-dumb right now. So clearly that’s affecting your judgment. Not that I mind.” He looked appreciatively over Lane’s body, and Lane felt a weird urge to stretch like a cat, but he resisted.

“So is ‘sex dumb’ what this is?”

“I’m not sharing your adventures, Bastian. Remember?”

“Huh?” Lane shook his head. “Are you talking about that movie with the kid and the lucky dragon?”

Jared’s laugh was warm and low. “The kid and the lucky dragon. Wow.”

Lane didn’t even spare a moment to wonder why they were discussing
The NeverEnding Story
after having sex. “I could never figure out what that name was. The one the kid shouted out of the window at the end. It was like, sixteen syllables long. I even backed up the DVD over and over again, until my mom told me to stop because I was ruining my imagination.”

Oh, great. He was talking about his mom.
This. This right here. This is an example of the weird things Zoe thinks you shouldn’t say.

“Me too. Only I had to rewind the tape, because I’m way older than you. And my mom didn’t say anything about imagination, because she probably wanted me to stop having one and do my homework.” Jared grinned and then shook his head. “Seriously. What’s the matter? You don’t…. I mean, you can take back that yes, if you want. You don’t have to—”

“Huh? Oh no. No. It’s not that. I want that. Please pretend you never had any reason to question that yes, okay? I’m just not…. I don’t know. Can we not talk about it?”

“About what? I’m lost again. It’s not easy to follow along with you when you’re
not
sex dumb.” Jared kissed him and stood up to stretch. Lane’s mouth went dry, and he wished he’d done that too, if it made him look half as goddamn hot as that. “We can definitely not talk about
The NeverEnding Story
, and
please
let’s not talk about our parents. But we’re going to talk about why you were hiding from me.”

“But that’s the thing I don’t want to talk about.” Lane fell back on the bed. He tried the stretching thing, thinking it might distract Jared.

“You okay there?”

Clearly he had to work on that. “I was just, you know. How long can I be evasive before you give up? I’m really good at it. Warning.”

“You’re funny. And try it all you want. I can make you talk. I know your weak spots now.” Jared gave an evil laugh and smirked at him, then looked very obviously at Lane’s cock.

Lane felt that horrible, overwhelming feeling coming back. “Stop,” Lane said quietly and rolled onto his side. Then he put his face in his arm like a twelve-year-old.
Go away, go away, stupid feelings. You ruin everything.

“Lane, hey.” The bed moved again. Jared sounded concerned, and that was not helping. “Something is the matter, dude, and if you don’t tell me, then we probably shouldn’t keep doing this. Are you having a gay freak-out, because I thought you’d have done that the last time if you were going to. But maybe not.” He gently rubbed Lane’s back. No one had touched Lane like that in forever, and he thought about his parents and all of that bullshit. He was the happiest he’d ever been off the ice. He couldn’t say that. He couldn’t. It was the sort of thing you just… couldn’t say.

“I’m not having a gay freak-out,” Lane said against his arm. He took a deep breath and then rolled onto his back. “You remember the last time we did this?”

“You mean the only time we’ve done this, before this one? Yeah,” Jared answered, his hand a comforting weight on Lane’s chest. “I remember.”

“I told you about the waitress who brought me home?”

“Yeah?” Jared was clearly confused. “This is not where I thought you were going.”

“Try harder to follow along, Bastian,” Lane muttered, and then looked up at the ceiling again. “She’s my best friend.”

“…Yeah. Sorry, Atreyu. I’ve got nothing. Umm. Good?”

Lane closed his eyes. It didn’t make it easier. Why couldn’t the pizza arrive in a perfectly timely manner and spare him the conversation? “I’ve never had a best friend before.”

“I’m going to skip any more references to that movie, because I don’t remember any more character names.”

“Artex, but he was a horse. There was also that really cranky giant turtle, but I don’t remember its name.” Lane opened his eyes. “You’re laughing at me.”

Jared threw his hands up in the air. “You’d get that if you could be on my side of this conversation.”

Lane grabbed Jared’s hand and put it back on his chest. But when he heard Jared inhale sharply he thought maybe he was pushing for something he couldn’t have. He tried to push Jared’s hand off, but Jared wouldn’t let him, and they ended up in a weird scuffle that turned into the two of them wrestling. Jared won, because even though he was shorter, he had at least twenty pounds of muscle on Lane.

Lane ended up on his stomach with Jared on his back, and he liked a lot about that, or would, if he weren’t mad at having lost. He was a little competitive. “Damn it.”

“Just tell me what the hell is going on, Lane.”

Lane twisted—partly because he liked how it felt to not be able to get away. Or maybe that was the only reason. “See? Now you sound upset. And that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Jared leaned down and bit him on the back of the neck. Hard. And he kept biting. Lane fought him, because
ow
, and twisted around so he was on his back and Jared was pinning his wrists to the bed. Oh, he was mad. He was so
angry
. But instead of kneeing Jared in the crotch—he was mad, not stupid—or yelling or being obstinately silent, he snapped, “I really
like
you.”

Nothing happened for a minute. Lane didn’t know what Jared was thinking, because Lane’s eyes were closed so tightly light couldn’t get through.

“Lane?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you open your eyes and look at me, please?”

Lane opened his eyes on an exhale and waited. Jared’s eyes were dark, but he smiled and said, “I like you too,” and kissed him gently on the mouth. Then he let him up, sat back on the bed, and watched him.

“Oh.” Lane nodded. He was embarrassed as hell, but apparently that was okay. He took Jared’s hand and put it back on his chest, and they quietly stayed like that until the doorbell rang.

I REALLY
like you.

By all measurable standards, Jared had had a fantastic day. He’d never gotten a hat trick in his professional career, and he’d won the shootout
and
been named as the first star of the game. A rivalry game, at that.

The Renegades were first place in their division, and even if it was just for a day, it was all because of Jared. And if that weren’t great enough, he’d followed that up by having really good sex with a hot guy who thought
he
was hot and who wanted Jared to fuck him later. And now he was having pizza and a cold beer, and the hot guy was sitting across from him in his apartment with his hair sticking up and no shirt on. Saying weird things and making Jared want to hit him in the mouth sometimes. That was all right.

But it wasn’t all right that every time he thought about Lane with his hands over his face like that, he remembered how his stomach had dropped to his feet and he’d kept telling himself, “Just let it go. This is sex. It doesn’t matter.” Except it did matter, and when he thought about Lane saying “I really like you,” it made Jared want to hide behind
his
hands.

He’d been avoiding anything like that for almost thirteen years. Oh, he remembered how great it felt at first, falling for someone. But he also remembered how goddamn awful it was when it ended. And when Lane said that, made that confession, Jared almost,
almost
told him something like, “I like you too, kid, especially that mouth of yours on my dick.” Something that downplayed what Lane was telling him.

But he didn’t. He liked Lane too. A lot. More than he expected to, considering they barely knew each other. He was a lot older, and this thing couldn’t possibly go anywhere. But then he remembered thinking his career was over one day, and then being the first star and scoring a hat trick a week later. He decided, what the hell, why not go for it? He was terrified, but waiting to shoot that puck during the shootout was also terrifying—not that he’d admit that to anyone—and that had turned out okay.