Page 43 of Penalty Zone

I used to covet this office, thinking it was the ultimate career goal.

“Reminiscing?” the GM asks from beside me.

“There are a lot of great memories here,” I concede, and follow his lead to sit in the chair in front of his desk. “This is a courtesy visit before I give my notice and the news breaks.” I concentrate on relaxing my muscles to appear confident.

“Notice?”

“I won’t be returning as the announcer for the Wolves. I’m moving to New York permanently. The Montreal Wolves have had my heart and I’ve given you my best for years, and now it’s time to do the same for my son. I’ve missed too many important milestones and want to rectify that.” I exhale and wait while he processes my statement.

He frowns. “The schedule is tough on families. We encourage everyone to use the off season wisely. I would hate for you to leave us when there are opportunities for you here.”

Although it sounds promising, he’s been saying the same thing for the last five years. I no longer believe him, and this team isn’t my priority.

“I appreciate every opportunity this team has given me.” I placate him since I more than earned my position. “If something opens up that would be a good fit for me, I’ll apply as any other candidate would.” I remain firm and can tell he’s caught by surprise.

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” he offers, but it’s more of an empty platitude than a real chance at something different.

I stand and extend my hand. “Thank you for everything.”

“Your loyalties aren’t switching to the Enforcers, are they?” He grips my hand harder than necessary.

“This team has my loyalty, and so does my son,” I say noncommittally. I gave my blood, sweat, and tears to this organization, and nothing will change that.

Back in my Montreal home, I’m positive I made the right choice today. I have access to the Enforcers video so I can watch the entire game, and it focuses on our players, so it’s better than the broadcast.

Mason played about nine minutes and had an assist. And incredible game coming back from a minor injury. He took a hit and shook it off, appearing to function at a hundred percent.

I call him, but the phone goes to voicemail. He’s probably out celebrating the win.

Rewinding the game, I watch Caleb on the bench back-slapping and encouraging his teammates. Liska let in two goals in the second period, and Coach put Caleb in the game for the third. The camera doesn’t stay on the bench, but I can see him put his game face on and prepare himself to play.

I find myself at the edge of the couch, wishing I could climb through the screen and be there in person. He closes his eyes, and I hear his rhythmic humming to ground himself. As he cracks his neck, he checks the rope with one of his stones. A surge of guilt hits me, and I hope he wasn’t looking for the bloodstone.

There’s a close-up of him before he puts his helmet on, and the determination in his expression is fierce. His first save is magnificent. He drops down quicker than should be humanly possible to stop a puck going faster than most people could track.

I raise my arms up in victory, even though I’ve already seen this. I convinced myself I was rewatching it to see Mason’s assist again. Lying to myself is the worst part. Caleb’s mask prevents me from seeing the smile I know is on his face.

As the game ends, and Caleb removes his helmet and tosses his curls, my cock throbs.

I search for the remote to turn off the game, pretending Caleb isn’t the reason my dick’s begging for attention.

In his hotel room, I envisioned him dropping to his knees as he stood between my legs. He’s so responsive to my commands; I imagine how he’d open his mouth and wait for me to allow him to swallow me down.

Precum stains my sweatpants, so I retreat to the bedroom and strip them off. I close my eyes and remember my last encounter with a man. My hand closes around my cock and strokes. At the time, his facial hair excited me as he buried his face in my balls, but now it’s not right. Neither is the vision of my favorite porn video.

Without thought, my mind locks on to Caleb’s sweet face and bright green eyes. My eyes drift shut as I imagine how he’d look on his knees, blinking up at me with his mouth stuffed full of my cock. I double over, caught off guard by the pleasure electrocuting my senses. Caleb’s all-consuming, and I smell his sweat and patchouli scent.

My hand moves down to my balls, squeezing to extend this phenomenon. It’s wrong, but I’m not stopping myself. I’ll burn for Caleb, scorch my life to experience this bliss with him. I reach out as if he’s here and I can touch him. His hair would be soft under my fingers. I’d tell him his orgasms belong to me from now on and he’s not allowed to come without my approval. Caleb would agree, nodding and swallowing my cock all the way down his throat.

I twist my dick and Caleb’s name escapes me as ropes of cum spill over my hand and onto my chest. White light flashes in my brain as every cell in my body convulses with the fantasy of Caleb drinking every drop of my cum, lapping it up off my abdomen with his perfect grin.

“My Good Boy,” I whisper to no one but know he’d love the praise. I’d tell him the truth. That I’d never come so hard. That he’s irresistible. And when he’d beg, I’d let him come.

My limp body reforms on my bed, and the reality of what I’ve done sinks in. I should be ashamed and hate myself, but I don’t.

Times have changed thanks to men like Liska, Drake, and Lucky. My sexuality won’t make headlines since I’m retired. My fears about my legacy were unfounded. The fear stemmed from my upbringing and past hockey culture, but the barriers barely exist now. Caleb’s not worried about being in a relationship with a man. I could choose differently.

There’s no denying how much I desire Caleb. The only question is if I can have him and my son in my life. It’s greedy to ask for them both, but that doesn’t stop me from grabbing my phone to text him.

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