Ray paced back and forth across the front room of the boarding house, edgy and wired. Three steps past the phone booth toward the door, three steps back and a glance through the glass door at Gardie, three steps past in the other direction. It was late, and the house was quiet except for them. They probably wouldn't be caught, and anyway this wasn't junior; they weren't actually forbidden to make mid-week phone calls, and the house mother wasn't going to report Gardie to Coach. Formally. But it was frowned upon, and Ray didn't want Gardie losing ice time--not during the playoffs, not when the two of them were clicking like they were.
Gardie had started out loud, and Ray had started out leaning in the doorway--watching the hallway--and still able to hear every word. After every pause to listen, Gardie had gotten quieter, and Ray had come closer. Now Gardie was silent, and Ray couldn't keep still. He knew what was happening in the phone booth, and there was nothing he could do to stop it now that it had started. Ray paused in front of the glass door again, just as Gardie slumped against the wall like he couldn't stand on his own. When he hung up the phone, it didn't make a sound, and Gardie just leaned there, staring at the receiver.
Ray sighed and pulled the door open. "I told you," he said softly, because it was better than silence.
Gardie winced and shut his eyes. "Yeah," he muttered. "You told me."
Ray's Stella was a college girl too, just like Gardie's Annemarie, and Ray had told Gardie over and over--all through the game and after, while Gardie had been hatching this stupid plan--that calling her at night in the middle of the week, in the middle of finals, was not going to fix whatever they were fighting about by letters and Sunday phone calls. Sure enough, calling had only made everything worse, and Annemarie was going back to her books now. It was up to Ray to fix Gardie.
"Come on, then," Ray said, reaching in and pulling on Gardie's arm until he tipped away from the wall and toward Ray. He struck heavily, knocking Ray back a step, but Ray threw an arm around Gardie's waist as Gardie slung an arm over his shoulders.
"Sorry," Gardie muttered, and Ray just shook his head, towing Gardie toward the stairs. Anyone looking at them would have thought Gardie was drunk, or that they both were, the way they held onto each other as they walked, but it wasn't that. Ray had felt what Gardie was feeling now, understood why Gardie had to clutch his shoulder to walk: he'd been knocked flat by a girl five hundred miles away. Somehow girls always managed to catch a guy with his head down.
Drinking might've helped, but it was already too late to go anywhere, and anyway they were in the playoffs. Coach might not hear about a long-distance phone call, but he'd be sure to find out about an unauthorized trip to the bar. Ray and Gardie would both end up benched, and the team couldn't afford to lose them now. So Ray was going to have to do something else: because Gardie wouldn't be any good to the team if he were still reeling from Annemarie, and because Gardie was his buddy, and Ray couldn't just leave him like this.
When they got up to the tiny, dingy room they shared, Ray shut the door and flipped the lock, and then turned to hug Gardie in the dark. Gardie's arms instantly closed around him, clinging to Ray, his head tucked against Ray's shoulder, and Ray pressed his cheek against Gardie's hair and held on right back. After a while Ray closed his eyes, because there was nothing to see; all his awareness was taken up by Gardie's body big and solid against his, the damp heat of Gardie's breath, perfectly even, the pressure of Gardie's fists clenched in the back Ray's shirt. Ray ran one hand slowly up and down Gardie's back, waiting to see whether this would be all, because he could plan strategies as much as he wanted, but if Gardie broke left when Ray needed him to break right, they'd just be skating in circles.
Gardie's hands opened against Ray's back, and one palm moved up and down Ray's spine as Gardie turned his head, pressing his face against Ray's throat. His hips pressed in closer, one foot sliding between Ray's, and Ray could feel Gardie's dick hardening against him. "Ko," he said, barely a whisper, but Ray heard him loud and clear. No matter how Gardie had gotten knocked around, the two of them were thinking on the same track, just like always, and if Gardie could follow him this far, maybe tonight they could go farther. Ray shifted his own stance, lining his dick up alongside Gardie's, his edginess settling into certainty. He could fix Gardie now: Gardie would let him.
"I got it," Ray said, squeezing Gardie tighter for a second and then dropping his arms, shifting half an inch back and clearing his throat before he made the play. "Go lie down." Gardie's arms stayed around him for a second, and Ray waited for Gardie to ask why, to say something--Gardie's cheek was against his, Gardie was breathing in his ear--but then Gardie let go. He felt his way past Ray in the dark, a hand on his hip and then nothing but the sound of him shuffling along and kicking things out of the way.
Ray felt cold without the heat of Gardie's body all around him, but his heart beat faster, anticipating, and he could still hear Gardie--practically feel him--just out of reach across their small dark room. Ray felt his way along the wall to his dresser, and rummaged blindly among the tangle of socks until he found what he needed. His dick twitched as his hand closed on the little jar, and then he heard the thump of Gardie's sweater hitting the ground, and the soft sound of Gardie sitting down on his bed. Gardie would have heard him, too, the slide of the drawer and the sound of him feeling around; Gardie would know what he was doing here.
Ray stood still by the dresser, one hand still in the drawer, the other slowly stroking his dick through his jeans, eyes closed as he listened. One thud as Gardie toed off a shoe, and then a skittering series of thumps, loud in the quiet room; he'd kicked the other shoe halfway across the floor, getting it off. Ray grinned--Gardie was as nervous as Ray, or as excited--and got his own shoes off, still laced, never mind what his mom had always said about ruining his shoes. The Hawks paid him enough to buy more.
He shuffled along in his socks, feeling his way, and kicked Gardie's shoe out of the way when he came to it. After that, he didn't have to creep, because Gardie had already cleared the way. Still, Ray got one foot tangled in Gardie's clothes, stumbled and half-fell onto the bed, catching himself one-handed against Gardie's bare side as Gardie's hands caught him by one hip and the opposite arm and eased him down. Ray settled to sit on the edge of the bed, and Gardie's hands shifted to tug his shirt off him, impatient. Ray grinned and set the jar down on the night stand and then put his arms up so Gardie could push off his sweater and t-shirt. Ray dropped them behind him, on top of Gardie's clothes, and then cleared his throat and said, "So, your plan sucked."
Gardie's hand rose from his knee, and Ray heard his fingers brush along the edge of the nightstand and then shift the little jar there, where Gardie had heard him set it down. "I take it you think you've got a better one?"
"Oh yeah," Ray said, confident in the dark with Gardie, because this was them, this give-and-take, this knowing where the other was at and what the other needed. Ray reached for him, sliding a hand down Gardie's side to his boxers--he'd gotten his jeans off already, then--and running his palm over the flannel-covered bulge of his dick. "I am going to fuck you until you feel better."
Gardie puffed a single breath of laughter, but his hips twitched up under Ray's hand at the same time, and his dick was still hard, and he only sounded a little dubious when he said, "That could take a while."
Ray grinned and slid his hand up to the bare smooth skin of Gardie's stomach, and then back down under the waistband of his boxers. Gardie's breath caught as Ray's hand closed on his cock, and Ray stroked him a little as he said, "Don't worry, I'll go slow."
Gardie's hand caught Ray's wrist, not stopping him or speeding him, just holding on, and Gardie said, "Oh--okay--" and a minute later, "Ko."
Ray let go, easing Gardie's boxers down instead, and Gardie let go of his wrist. Ray heard the sheets shifting as Gardie grabbed a handful of them instead. "What do I...?"
"On your stomach," Ray said softly, tossing Gardie's boxers on the floor and pushing gently at Gardie's hip. Gardie rolled over, and Ray forced himself to take both hands away from Gardie's skin long enough to undo his own jeans and kick them and his boxers off. His hands would be slippery later, and his dick was throbbing, eager. Ray ignored it. Not his turn yet; this was about Gardie.
He reached out to the bedside table and switched on the little lamp. The light was dim and yellow, and it made Gardie look all gold and red like a painting in a book, like he was all sun and shadow instead of Ray's regular old linemate in a dingy boarding house in the middle of the night. Ray's hand moved to Gardie's skin irresistibly, and he smoothed his palm up and down Gardie's back, just to one side of his spine. The light made his skin look gold too, like this was something special and not just buddies. Just a trick of the light. Ray closed his eyes, and when he opened them it was just his hand on Gardie's back.
Gardie was tense; Ray could feel the hard trembling muscle under his hand, and he pressed down a little, reassuring, even as he reached for the jar of Vaseline with his other hand. Gardie ducked his head further against the pillow when Ray's hand moved on him, squirming around, getting comfortable. His hips rocked against the mattress, and Ray figured that meant they were still good to go, even if Gardie was a little nervous. Ray didn't blame him; he'd been nervous, too, his first time.
Ray shifted up to straddle Gardie's hips, leaving the jar sitting on the mattress by his knee, and settled both hands on Gardie's back. He rubbed hard, putting his weight into it and going nowhere near Gardie's ass, not even letting his thigh brush against the muscular curve of it. Gardie picked his head up, shifted his ass up--pale skin shifting into light from the shadow of Ray's body--and said, "Ko, hey--"
"Shh," Ray said, raising one hand to the back of Gardie's head to push it back down into the pillow. "Didn't I say I was gonna go slow? Be patient."
Gardie snorted, but nestled back down into the pillow, and his shoulders eased up under Ray's hands. Ray didn't say I'll make it good for you or I won't hurt you, because they both already knew he'd do his best, and Ray knew for a fact that hearing somebody say that stuff just made it scarier.
Instead he sat back far enough that his thighs were against Gardie's, and said, "Okay," so Gardie wouldn't be startled by the sound of the jar lid opening. Gardie shifted under him, spreading his legs, and Ray moved to let him. "Okay," Ray repeated, maybe not for Gardie this time. It wasn't like he hadn't done this before; he just hadn't done it a lot. It wasn't like he didn't know how.
Ray dipped one finger into the Vaseline, scooping up a big blob of it, and set his other hand on Gardie's ass, spreading him open. Gardie squirmed around under him, and Ray brushed his thumb back and forth on Gardie's skin as he pressed his finger against Gardie's ass, circling, giving Gardie a second to get used to the sensation before he pressed inside. There was that second Ray knew from the other side, that second of this is impossible, this isn't going to work, and then Gardie moved a fraction under him and he heard Gardie breathe out, and Ray remembered to breathe himself, and everything clicked. His finger slid into Gardie like it belonged there, held tight and hot inside.
For a second he held perfectly still, staring down at his hands, Gardie's ass, light and shadow, and then Gardie picked up his head again, took a breath that was going to turn into "Ko, come on" if Ray let it. So he moved, instead, twisting his finger as he pulled it out and pushed back in, and Gardie's breath was released as a strangled noise Ray couldn't interpret. He put his head down again, though, and Ray closed his eyes as he worked his finger in and out, trying not to think about his cock, aching, dying to be where his finger was. When he felt Gardie's ass moving under his hands, thrusting into the mattress or back into his hands, Ray pulled his finger out and got more lube, then pressed back in with two fingers. Gardie froze for a second, and then Ray pushed in deep, and Gardie bucked under him and made a loud noise, suddenly cut off.
Ray grinned, and his dick jumped at the memory of that feeling, at the knowledge that he was giving that to Gardie now. He moved his fingers faster now, deep and then shallow, twisting and wiggling, and Gardie made pillow-muffled noises non-stop, jerking under Ray's hands. More lube, and he eased three fingers in, and Gardie almost knocked him off the bed. When he said, "Ko," it was nearly a growl, and Ray's dick knew what that meant so well he had to grab himself just to slow things down. He froze for a second, one hand on his dick, three fingers buried knuckle-deep in Gardie's ass, slick and hot and tight. Ray breathed in, and out, and listened to Gardie breathing--just breathing, not saying anything, giving him a second. Ray wondered whether he'd made a sound or if Gardie just knew somehow.
When Ray was sure he wasn't going to come as soon as his dick touched Gardie, he shifted again, lowering himself over Gardie, sliding his legs down along Gardie's, hooking one foot over Gardie's ankle. He kept his slick fingers on Gardie's ass, and braced his weight on the opposite elbow, closing his eyes as he pushed--slow, slow, slow--inside. He could feel Gardie holding perfectly still beneath him, and he could hear Gardie not breathing, but Gardie felt so fucking good.
When he was all the way inside he opened his mouth to ask if this was okay, if Gardie was okay, but no sound came out. His mouth just moved uselessly on empty air, so he ducked his head as Gardie had ducked his, so that his mouth moved against the back of Gardie's neck. He couldn't talk, but he could touch, and since when did he and Gardie need words? Gardie's hand came back and settled against the back of his head, Gardie's fingers working through Ray's hair, and Ray took that for permission. He started to move, carefully, just shivering back and forth at first until Gardie was shuddering with him. Then he settled his hand properly on Gardie's hip and started to thrust, out and in, twisting around until on the third or fourth try Gardie made that noise again, bucking under Ray so hard that Ray's head snapped back.
Ray shoved his knees down into the mattress to get the leverage, then, and slammed hard into Gardie, making him feel it more, harder, every time, until Gardie was crashing into Ray with every motion, until Ray thrust deep inside and Gardie gasped and froze. Ray could feel him coming from the inside, and slid his hand under Gardie's hips to close on Gardie's cock, already wet, to stroke him through the last of it.
Ray couldn't stop moving, and Gardie still moved with him, slower now, easier, but Ray couldn't slow down. He still needed this, he still needed Gardie. Gardie's hand slid down to the back of his neck, pulling him down, and Ray's mouth found Gardie's skin again, his tongue tracing the path of sweat, teeth scraping over the nape of Gardie's neck. Gardie said, "Ko," so softly Ray barely heard it over the pounding of his heart, but it was too much for him. His hips snapped forward, his dick slamming home one more time, one last time, and everything in him rushed together as he came.
After a while, Ray noticed that he was still laying on top of Gardie. His mouth was still pressed to the nape of Gardie's neck, and Gardie's hair smelled like sweat and Ivory soap. When he tried to push himself up, his skin felt cold everywhere it pulled away from Gardie's, and Gardie's hand tightened on the back of his neck. "Hey," Gardie murmured, sounding half-asleep. "Where you going?"
Ray shut his eyes and tried to think; he wasn't completely awake himself. "Bed," he said finally. His own bed. He and Gardie screwed around, but they didn't sleep together.
"No," Gardie muttered. "Can't. I don't feel better yet."
Ray opened his eyes, but the back of Gardie's head was just the back of Gardie's head, and Gardie's hand was heavy on the back of his neck, and if Gardie didn't mind being squished it was his problem. Ray couldn't leave him if he didn't feel better yet; he'd promised. Something still wasn't right, and Ray kept blinking, trying to remember what it was. His eyes were scratchy as hell, and he really needed to sleep.
Finally he remembered, and squirmed around enough to get his hand out from under Gardie. He was a little clumsy turning out the light, but he didn't knock the lamp down, so that was all right. Ray laid his head back down against Gardie's and muttered, "Tell me when you feel better."
Gardie didn't say anything before Ray fell asleep.
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