Page 48 of Two for Holding
He’dkissedJax.
No, that wasn’t right.Jax had kissedhim.Jax had kissed him thoroughly and deeply, right here in this room.Jax put his hands all over Tom, over his shirt, sure, but still.He’d run his fingers through Tom’s hair.Experimentally, Tom ran fingers through his hair.It felt good, but it didn’t make him shiver.He trailed his fingers down his sides.Nice, a little ticklish.It didn’t make him melt.He traced a fingertip across his neck.It sent a little spark down his spine, but it didn’t make him groan.
He’d rather have a pale imitation of Jax’s touch than lie in the dark, trying and failing to sleep.He let his fingers continue their journey across his skin, skating lightly over places on his body he’d never touched with intent.His hand, warm on his bad hip, soothed the ache.The touch of his fingertips on his ribs sent goosebumps in their wake.
Eventually, Tom realized he was hard.He hadn’t noticed getting there, but he was unmistakably extremely erect, straining against the fabric of his boxers, tenting his sweats.When he dragged his hand across his chest, his fingernail caught on a nipple, and his cock twitched.
Carefully, delicately, he trailed his fingertips across the outline of his dick.The touch, so light he could barely feel it, made him strain upward for more.He kept his right hand there, barely touching the swell of his cock with his index and middle finger.With the left, he retraced all the places Jax had been: up his sides, through his hair, down his neck, across his swollen, sensitive lips.
It should have been nothing, those light, delicate touches.Tom was used to being checked into the boards or slammed from all sides with teammates to celebrate a goal.Surely, his body shouldn’t even react to such gentle handling.
But something about being kissed the way Jax had kissed him, as though he was precious, as though he was worth taking time over, had awoken a tender craving for softness within him.If he had managed to say something, if Jax had stayed, could they have tried it in this position, lying on the bed?Tom underneath Jax, Jax with his big, strong hands barely skimming over Tom’s body?
His cock gave a painful throb, and Tom gave in to temptation, pushing his clothes down far enough to pull it out.He stroked along the underside with the pads of two fingers, and that barest of touches drove him insane.
It wasn’t as if he’d never been desperate for someone else to touch him.It had been such a long time, and toys ordered off Amazon could only do so much for him.His one experience had been fumbling and over so fast.Before tonight, Tom had never realized what a difference it would make for someone else to evoke these feelings in him.He’d never known how different it could be to long for someone specific to touch him, or how startling it was when they did.He hadn’t known to want any of Jax’s touches.His body’s reaction had been so natural, so unhindered by expectation.
He wrapped his fist around his cock and stroked, properly, the way he did at home in the shower when he wanted to get it over with so he could go to sleep and stop feeling restless.
After all the buildup, he reached the edge in seconds.
And then he stopped.Trailed his fingers across the head again and gasped, loud in the quiet room.Pressed his other hand to his lips, remembered how Jax had tasted, how he’d felt, crowding in close to Tom.
Tom pictured him in bed, above him.He imagined Jax grinning at him, teasing and happy, the dimple in his cheek popping.He imagined Jax pushing him down into the sheets and kissing him again just like before, and then he came all over the bottom of his T-shirt in long, shuddering pulses that left him wrung out and hollow, satisfied but aching for more.
He rolled onto his side, clutched the second pillow tightly to his chest and went to sleep.
The next day, they played Toronto, Tom’s least favorite game every year.He was thankful he played in a different conference, so he only had one day of dread leading up to it.
This year, he’d been distracted, preoccupied by other things.Coming out to Jax.Fixing the power play and fucking up the team.Kissing Jax.
He managed to forget all the way onto the team plane, still thinking about that last thing and wondering if he needed to talk to Jax about it and, if so, what he ought to say.Thank you?Please do it again?
And then his mom texted.
Mom:Hi honey, we’ll be waiting for you by the dressing rooms.Got a table at the Italian place we always go to.Good luck tonight!
Nothing unusual or particularly noteworthy, but it made his stomach sink.Not least because hardly anything at most Italian restaurants was compatible with his diet.
With a sigh, Tom dropped his phone into his lap and surveyed the plane.
Hayes and Vanderbilt sat together in stony silence.Breezy had nabbed one of the four-way seats usually occupied by the vets, and he, Luca, Mooney, and Jax were laughing loudly at something on one of their phones.The coaches occupied the other four-way seats, all of them on their tablets, firmly ignoring one another.
Howie sat alone at the rear of the plane.
Tom wanted to stay in his seat, maybe put in his headphones so everyone would think he was listening to music, and then spend the flight staring out the window and thinking about last night.It wouldn’t destroy his resolution to be different, to be more present as a captain and as a human being.Previously, he’d never conceived of having anything like last night to think about.But peeking over at Jax, he could see the tension in his body and the strained way he smiled.Jax would be disappointed if he didn’t at least try.
So, Tom heaved himself up and joined Howie.
“I’m sorry,” Howie said before Tom finished sitting down.
Tom studied him.Kilian Howard wasn’t overly laden with dignity.For some awful reason, he’d chosen to shave the sides of his head, leaving his curly hair an unkempt mess on the top.He had helmet acne.He struggled to keep on the weight he needed for hockey.By March, he’d be mainlining protein shakes to stay upright on his skates.He compensated for it by being a pest on the ice, goading other players into taking penalties.
Unwillingly, Tom felt a sort of kinship rise up in him.At nineteen, he hadn’t been too different from Howie.He wasn’t an agitator; he’d never had the personality for it, preferring to be as unseen as possible in the fishbowl of the NHL.But he, too, had been a mess of insecurities and bad skincare choices.
“What are you sorry for?”
“For saying…you know.”
