Hooking the Hockey Player Ch. 03

Our main characters are above 18. They are male so if this is not what you are looking for then please do not continue. This is the continuation of a story and I would suggest reading the previous chapters. Additionally there is some violence in this chapter, not a gratuitous amount but I feel as if I should let you know. Thank you and I live for your comments - Artie

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I recognize that Buffalo is not the hottest place in the world; even at the end of summer it only gets up to the mid-seventies on average. Nevertheless, it was way too hot to even consider wearing a turtleneck to hide the massive hickey that had blossomed on my neck. Humiliation at my parents reactions stayed with me but overnight the mark had deepened. I put iron on my mom's grocery list, maybe if I could be less anemic I wouldn't bruise as easily.

The hope for a less colorful future wasn't going to help me at school so I tried on the few polo shirts I possessed but they came nowhere close to concealing the blemish. Irritation warred with the pleased knowledge that Owen had marked me. It might seem primal but I liked the idea of him claiming me however the rational side of my mind was pissed.

I briefly considered getting into my mother's make up to try and conceal the mark. That idea went out the window when I imagined the ass kicking I would get if Liam or Kyle thought I was wearing make-up even just to make the mark less noticeable. Full leg casts are never a good look.

So with a grin and bear it attitude I waited for Owen to come pick me up in a normal t-shirt with my neck fully exposed. As his car pulled down the street I debated whether I should show him I was annoyed. I decided on slightly peeved, remembering his anger from yesterday. No need to poke the sleeping bear with full blown annoyance.

Slipping into the car, Owen's clean masculine scent washed over me. Damn him, he looked like sin incarnate. With a black t-shirt from a band I had never heard of and a pair of black jeans, he looked like the temptation he was. Completing the look, his stubble had grown in darkening the area around his full lips.

He leaned towards me eyes bright and I allowed myself to be kissed. Well, not so much allowed as was a full party to the kiss. He tasted fresh, like a toothpaste he could easily be doing ads for. He broke the kiss with a chuckle before sitting back looking at me appraisingly.

"Got you good," he said starting his car with a hint of self-satisfaction coloring his tone. I groaned, I had only been in his presence for moments and he already had noticed the hickey. I was doomed to the scrutiny that would come at school and he didn't seem in the least bothered.

"You aren't seriously proud of yourself, are you?"

He chuckled, pulling out of my driveway smoothly, "I'm not mad at myself." His bearing was edging on cocky and I had to remind myself that I was annoyed. His pleased looks were easily battling my ire.

Trying to not look like a pouting child, I turned my back on Owen and watched the trees as we whizzed down the streets. Sure giving someone the cold shoulder wasn't the most mature thing I could do but if I had looked at him for too long I would have stopped being mad.

Pulling into the relatively deserted parking lot, I finally sucked it up and turned to him. I was shocked that he looked slightly contrite—still amused—but slightly contrite. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have given you a hickey where people could see it."

"My parents saw it," I told him dully still holding on to the last bit of annoyance though his apology had obliterated most of it. He dutifully tried to look sorry but his face got red as he forced back his smile eventually he gave up and started laughing. Owen's laughter, against my will, was contagious.

His mirth made his blue eyes alight and his handsome face look even more attractive, I leaned in kiss him, running my hand along his jawline. I only got a brief brush of the lips before he pulled away. I looked at him questioningly, "I told you, I was going to prove that I want you for more than sex. That means we aren't having sex."

Devastation filled me, how could he cut me off like that? In the past two days I had gone from not having even my first kiss to being fully ready for whatever Owen wanted. With dread in my stomach I argued, "Kissing is not the same as having sex."

"True," he murmured looking me deep in the eye, "but if I kiss you, I'm going to have a really hard time not having sex with you."

That didn't sound at all bad to me, I leaned toward him my intent clear. He laughed, ducking my lips brushing his across my cheek before opening his door. "Nice try."

I'd like to say that I handled being relegated to light kisses well. I didn't. We went out to lunch on Wednesday and Thursday, both times to Whole Foods. To make him happy I even got some vegetarian curry once: not as good as pizza but it wasn't horrible. He held my hand as we walked around the store; I saw a few girls shoot me disparaging looks but I was over the moon: they could suck it.

I learned more about him like his proudest moment: scoring in the shootout of the World Juniors Championship, about the worst day of his life: the day of his mom's funeral. I learned about his triumphs and his tribulations as well as the inconsequential facts like his affinity for scarves and the color blue. He was someone that I could really admire, who worked every day to achieve his goals and was proud but humbled by his accomplishments. He listened well, and asked relevant questions to my own answers. It was such a change having someone really listen to me.

Enjoying his company more than I would like to admit to, I was pleased when he asked me to spend Saturday with him. "I'm going up to Toronto to shoot around at their pre-season camp. I'd love it if you'd come with me." I had trouble swallowing that damn veggie curry, with the shock that filled me.

"The Leafs camp?" I asked tentatively, my eyebrows almost at my hairline.

He didn't seem to notice my disbelief, "Yeah, I got invited being a prospect. I have a few good friends up there too." He looked up when I didn't say anything smirking at my slack-jawed expression. I don't know why I was so taken aback; I knew that he was good but to be invited to practice with a NHL team and that he was friends with them awed me. Hiding my blush at his skill, I told him that I would love to go.

Even with the calm affection and the hope of a road trip first date on the horizon, I was still unhappy with Owen and I's situation. His resistance to physical contact made me literally ache. Several times I pressed my body to his after he drove me home inviting him in. Each time with a reluctant smile he brushed me off and adjusted his jeans. He was just as turned on but because he felt the need to prove himself I got nothing.

By Thursday night, I was too horny to concentrate. I had gone 18 years without any sexual contact but now that I had a taste I was beyond ready for more. Two days had passed since he ate my ass and I blew him. Two days was way too long. I shook my head at my insurmountable horniness but being an 18 year old male, I wasn't going to be too hard on myself.

Convincing Owen to fuck me would be difficult, not because he wasn't attracted to me. I knew that he wanted me but he was so stuck on his path to show me he wanted to date me not just fool around. I was thrilled he wanted to date me, even if he didn't understand the danger that stalked me—us. I wanted not more than that, but close, to get lost in his body and for him to get lost in mine.

He just needed the right push, remembering his preoccupation with imagining me in swim suits, I had an idea. Digging through my pile of suits, I found the perfect one. The suit was way too small for me now, something I had worn freshman year before I had really developed.

Slipping on the suit I smiled at how it now hugged my ass tightly, exposing more skin than it covered and stretched over my cock, making it look massive as the fabric distorted. The threadbare material hinted at the flesh beneath it. Getting a picture of my ass was more difficult than I thought it was going to be, but I ended up with a few quality picture of the mostly see through material covering only half of it. I also snapped a few photos of my hard dick encased in the shiny fabric.

Grinning, I texted Owen: Can I ask you something?

His reply was almost immediate: Of course.

I paused for a few moments wondering if I was bold enough to do it. Bold enough maybe no, but I was horny enough. Yay or nay, I texted him waiting a few seconds to be sure he had his phone open when I sent him the most obscene photos I had.

I set my phone down, grinning while still sitting in the suit feeling immensely pleased with myself at my ploy. I didn't have to wait long. I had been expecting him to text back but as per usual, Owen surprised me.

I picked up the call and answered cheekily, "Yes?"

"What do you think you're doing?" He sounded amused but also frustrated. I was glad he was feeling frustrated; I was too.

"I was just asking you whether you thought I should keep the suit," I replied as nonchalantly as I could but feeling giddy.

His husky chuckle went straight to my cock, "I don't think so Jake. I think you were flaunting your tight little ass trying to get me to bite. I think you were showing your hot body, taunting me by not showing me all of it. If I was there I would be ripping that suit apart and then showing you exactly how much I liked it and what is underneath it. Or at least that's what you'd want me to do."

Shit. I wanted him here so badly. My hand slipped down to my cock as I replied, "Oh fuck me, man."

"You'd like that wouldn't you Jake? I know you liked me licking your ass. You fucking screamed when I found your g-spot with my fingers. I wonder what you will do when it's my cock stretching you open and rubbing against it. I can't wait for you to yell out my name as I take you."

"Fuck Owen," I groaned as I stroked my cock using the abundance of pre-come.

"Are you playing with yourself Jake?" His voice was low and sensual, like caramel.

"Yes," I moaned just as much a response as it was a signifier of my pleasure.

His low groan of approval heightened the intensity of the feeling of my hand. I wanted it to be him so bad. "What are you thinking about Jake? Are you thinking about my hands replacing yours, stroking your dick? Or maybe my lips rubbing and kissing all around it, then taking the tip into my mouth? I'd tease you, you know, only the lightest licks and the slightest pressure but then I would suck you down my throat. Thinking about you coming apart under my lips makes me so hard Jake."

My hand was a blur as I stroked myself imagining Owen's mouth on my cock. I was nearing my orgasm, my breath coming out in shaky spurts, "I'm so close Owen."

I could hear the sinful smile in his voice, as he told me, "Let me hear it Jake."

I couldn't deny him anything, cumming in a loud moan my sticky seed coating my hand. As my breathing returned to normal, though why with my incredible vascular system I was breathing so hard I don't know, I heard Owen murmur, "Really hot, Jake. I've got to go deal with my own problem. I'll be looking at the photos you sent me. Pick you up at seven thirty." He was off the phone before I could convince him to let me hear his orgasm too. I wanted phone sex with him, I even felt a little guilty that I was the only one to cum. I also felt immense satisfaction that Owen would be jerking off to pictures of me.

The next morning he acted like nothing had happened, our interlude wasn't something that he seemed inclined to discuss. As he drove me to school, my hints got more oblique by the word. It wasn't until I came out and asked him a direct question that he was forced to acknowledge it, "You never told me what you thought about the suit."

He rolled his eyes despite keeping them affixed to the road, "I think your teammates would have a hard time dealing with you wearing that. I know I did." My smile didn't wane as we pulled into the parking lot, I was awash with my power to get him hard. I, Jake Summers, could get Owen Holt hard with not even nude photos. I sat wondering if I would be bold enough to send him nudes, the pros and cons fought in my head and I decided to think on it before going further.

"Ready to go?" Owen asked, breaking my reverie.

"Yeah," I looked out the window dismayed to see cars quickly filling in the lot around us.

I was formulating a plan to go around the fronts of the cars to come out on the other side of the lot when I heard Owen say, "We have English together we could just walk there." Horror clashed with longing. I wanted so badly to walk with Owen to class, in my day dreams hand in hand. But the social whiplash of that decision would hurt him and I would be hurt physically.

He read my resistance easily and sighed, "Okay. I'll see you there." His mouth was set in a tight line as he opened his door not giving me a kiss goodbye. Well, shit. I scrambled from the car making my way to class. When Owen walked in he sat beside me but didn't say anything to me throughout the class.

"I'll see you later," he said quietly as he stood with the bell.

Throughout my German class, I debated whether I was doing the right thing or if I should have just thrown caution to the wind and walked with him to class. Surely someone would have noticed, Owen was still big news and I doubted he would become inconspicuous any time soon. In the middle of my severe teacher giving an entirely too rapid lecture my phone buzzed.

Owen: Can't go to lunch. Meeting with Coach. Sorry.

I sighed at his seemingly curt response, worrying that my refusal this morning had made him even madder at me. Desperate to try and bring back the playful side to him, I texted him: How sorry?

Never the most patient person, I tapped my foot waiting for his response. After what seemed like an eternity he texted me one of those smirking emoticons. Not as good as him finding a way to make it up to me but silly enough to assure me that he wasn't completely annoyed with me.

When the lunch bell tolled, I decided that I would attempt to take advantage of the unwanted alone time. I was sitting in the library attempting to recall German vocab when I felt a large presence over my shoulder. Turning with a smile, I expected Owen. An icy shiver ran the length of my spine when I saw Kyle and Gregory. Where had my innate trouble sensor gone? I had been so in tune like when animals go quiet before an impending storm. Had a little kindness made me so comfortable that I had forgotten everything that these monsters did to me?

"Gregory, how on earth did you manage to end up in the library? Are you lost?" Fear always caused me to say stupid things, like my default setting was sass. I'd like to say it was bravery but it was all bravado. Gregory's face took on a repugnant shade of puce as he registered the insult; Kyle stepped in for his friend and twisted my arm tightly behind my back. I was not flexible and my hand was almost touching my shoulder.

"Let's go faggot," Kyle said none too quietly while pulling on my arm using it as a lead. I gasped as agony split through my shoulder, if he had pulled any harder it would have dislocated. I had little choice but to go where he pushed me. I was glad they had left behind my books and phone, they weren't likely to get stolen and if they were on me wherever I was headed they stood to be destroyed.

We got to the senior courtyard, empty because all of our peers were out having lunch. I wished I too had made the decision to go off campus. Letting go of my arm, I had a brief moment of relief as the pain lessened before I was shoved face first onto the ground.

Shaking my head to clear the fog, I sucked in a deep breath steading myself. Gregory's ugly mug was even less attractive when he smiled. The cruel show of teeth threatened that pain was imminent and he would enjoy it. A smarter man would have curled into a ball protecting his intestines and shielding his head with his hands. I was a foolhardy man, bullies take fear and they breed on it, just a little bit like dementors. I held their gaze evenly.

"Little fag is always looking at us," Gregory alleged grabbing the top of my hair jerking my head back. Knowing you're about to get punched in the face gives you a few moments to prepare, the key is to stay loose and go with the punch. You are far less likely to break something that's relaxed and moving the direction of the force. None of that is helpful when your attacker decides to kick you in the stomach.

Air Jordans aren't exactly steel-toed boots but they still struck hard when connected to an athletically gifted body. The impact of the kick forced the air out of my lungs in a hacking cough. I was glad that I hadn't eaten lunch or that would have been spattered around. Gregory let go of my hair and I gave up the tough act as coughs and pain ripped through me. Curled up on the ground, I attempted to calm my breathing while feeling a strong camaraderie with Houdini.

I was given no respite, three kicks in a row hitting my kidney. The urge to throw up was insurmountable and I dry heaved. I closed my eyes against the pain, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing my cry out. Mind over matter, sure I would be pissing blood but they couldn't take my pride. I heard Kyle's cruel laughter and Gregory's taunts but I was more concerned with breathing evenly absorbing the pain.

When I had finally gotten the pain down to a manageable level, I opened my eyes. They were gone, I breathed a sigh of relief that I instantly regretted. Shallow breaths would be the key. Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I winced at the sharp pain around my kidneys and the more nagging pain in my shoulder and stomach. Definitely not as bad as it could have been.

I stood shifting my weight until I found a comfortable way to stand. Tugging up my shirt, I saw that my lower back was already swelling. With wry amusement, I realized it was good that Owen and I weren't having sex: he would be none too pleased to see the beginnings of the bruise.

Running with bruised kidneys was near impossible, every step felt like I was getting punched in the gut. As I wincingly jogged through the woods, I wondered if I should just stop and take my first hit of weed. Mr. Healthy would doubtless not approve if he scorned caffeine and fatty foods.

Eventually I just begged off, sitting at the curb while waiting for Owen to finish his work out. I didn't even bother to change; I hadn't gotten far enough in my run to work up a sweat. I saw Owen walking out with Kyle and Paul, my heart sank as I watched them laugh at something he had said. These were his people. I ducked behind his car as they neared. They shot the shit for a few moments, mostly talking about hockey before they went to their respective cars. I waited until they were out onto the street before I emerged.

Owen jumped as I appeared but he wisely chose not to comment on me hiding, "Hey, how was your day?" He asked kissing me lightly. I breathed in his freshly washed body, so calming.

"Better now that I'm with you," I answered truthfully trying to incite a more passionate kiss. He moved me aside though I saw the longing in his eyes that mirrored mine.

As he drove he told me about his meeting with the hockey coach, Owen still wasn't sold on playing for the high school team with several out of school leagues in the area carrying a lot of clout. There was the possibility that he could do both but he wasn't sure that he would be able to play his best hockey stretched thin. He asked me about my day and I told him about studying in the library. I wasn't going to give him reasons to not play for the school's team. Frankly we needed him but I just didn't want to be the reason that he didn't play: I really didn't need that reason for people to hate me. Their hate was the reason that as I pissed that night, the water ran pink.