32: The One Where Håkon Realizes Miloš is a Huge Flirt

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Mature content - not really - kinda. Mom you know the drill, open up the chapter bar and click chapter 33. 

HÅKON

My eyes are on him as he walks me through downtown Washington DC, we're playing the Capitals tomorrow. We're going to get coffee before a team meeting tonight about the game. It's an important one and it's going to be a difficult one.

Now, I could get my game mindset on if it wasn't for this damn guy. He's talking to me about something but I'm not really paying attention. I mean, I am, but I'm paying more attention to him, practically taunting me right here.

Some days are definitely worse than others with him. Some days it's all cute and innocent and some days I'm stuck between real life and a daydream with him. I don't think my body has felt like this since I was probably 17. This feels like the brunt of puberty all over again.

"You're staring off into space again." Rocket nudges my side and then pulls me into a coffee shop.

"Yep." Is all I can manage in response. "You know my order, right?"

"Uh-huh," I hand him my card and he shrugs it off. "I'll get it."

"Fine, but I pay next time."

"Works for me." I find us a seat and try to refocus on my phone, but he's flirting with the barista, so I look up and pay attention.

"Where are you two going in suits at this time of day?" She asks, starting to put together the order.

He lets out a little laugh. "Oh, you know, team meeting the night before a big game against the Capitals."

She just laughs at that. "Oh, you business guys keep getting better at this, did you know, last week I had a guy come in here and joke that he was in the FBI? I know it's DC, but that just doesn't happen."

"And he told you?" Rocket shakes his head, leaning his elbows on the counter to get a little closer. "Gosh, what a bad spy, out there flaunting his titles like that."

"Right?" She sets one cup on the table, a blush toying at her cheeks. "I told him it wasn't a great idea to just tell people that."

"Ah, that's when you act like you're going to feel up his chest, if your hand his shirt and skin, he's a liar, if your hand hits his shirt and then kevlar instead..."

She giggles at this. "And what would I hit if I touched you? Hopefully not kevlar, right?"

Rocket grins. "Oh, no, baby, shirt and then pro hockey."

"You can't convince me you're a hockey player, keep trying though, it's cute."

"What part of it are you not believing?" He wiggles his eyebrows at her. "Am I not handsome enough to be?"

She laughs. "No, you're too cute."

That makes him pout. "Is there a cuteness benchmark for hockey? Am I not allowed to be cute and good at stick and puck?"

She sets the second coffee on the table, giving him a full smile, toying with her hat. "Aren't all hockey players missing teeth? You're giving me quite a big smile for hockey."

"Baby, I'm the goalie," he gives her a smirk. "I don't get into the dirty stuff. I get to lie back and watch."

She thinks about it for a second, then asks him a question. "Does getting hit with pucks hurt?"

"Depends on who's asking," he doesn't break eye contact with her, though he's clearly doing a good job of getting her flustered. "I mean, if I was going to try to impress you, I would say no, not at all, but if I'm being honest, yes, if they catch you in the wrong spot."

She furrows her eyebrows. "Have you ever gotten hit in the head?"

"Yeah, does a wonder to clear your sinuses," he laughs. "Now, I gotta go before my grumpy Swedish friend over there goes all abominable snowman on me, but hey, tune in tomorrow. The world could use more Wolves fans." He winks, then hops back over to me with the coffee in hand.

"Abominable snowman, huh." I mumble, bringing the coffee up to my mouth. "Rude."

"Hey." he laughs. "I bet you're just mad because I was flirting."

"Maybe." I grumble. "Alright, we gotta go, we're going to be late if we don't."

"Fine, fine." Rocket stands back up again and I hold the door for him on our way out of the coffee shop.

We make our way back to the hotel room and one of the function rooms inside of it. Rocket sits down across the circular table from me, facing the front of the room. Mostly everyone it here for the little talk over. Steph's running a little late and he comes in and sits next to Rocket. Fen's on my left and Greenie on my right. The boys are all here but Nico. She's up front.

Did I mention that some days are worse than others with Rocket? Today he's pissing me off.

We need to stop giving him so much shit for being skinny. Everyone likes to pick on him for being lanky but he's filling out his suit perfectly, his shoulders squared off under the navy fabric, a tie laying nicely across the slight folds in his shirt from his chest. He's skinny compared to the rest of us, but seeing him out in the city with the majority of the population, I was reminded again that my calibration of skinny might not actually be true. First off, he's six foot three, six inches above national average. I'm nine inches above average. We're massive while out amongst the fray. Second off, he's got a build to him, everything from the way you can see his bicep fold the sleeve of his suit to how his shoulders stretch it just right in the back. Third, I don't know, he's just the right amount of cocky and carefree to be weird and fun in the locker room but cool and flirty and stupid attractive while walking city streets. I'm not blind, people stare at him, a lot. Girls and even one guy while we stood at the light waiting to cross. I can't tell if it makes me mad that people are looking at him or if it's 

He catches my eye across the table, lips on the lid of the coffee container, held there. We're frozen in action, staring at each other for a long few seconds. My body is tense with the same frustrating sex drive that's been killing me for days on end.

Everything about me is after him. After that night with him he's all my body has wanted. His mouth on me.

I catch myself staring off into space, imagining him. He looks good in a suit right now, but he'd look better flustered and alone with me. He'd look better when I push his jacket to the floor. Better yet when I'm unbuttoning his dress shirt. Better yet if I grabbed his belt loops and pulled his hips against mine. I want my hands on his skin, it's soft, he's soft to the touch, but the second you press in, everything under the first layer of skin is tough and taught with muscle-

"Did someone slip something into your coffee?" Fen nudges my side. "You normally pay attention during these."

I shake my head, trying to get my focus back. "No, no, I'm good."

"Alright, whatever you say."

I'm chewing on my coffee stir, trying not to get into my head too much. Rod is drawling on about how we have to play tomorrow, just like normal.

I shift in my seat, struggling to find a subtle way to readjust my pants so my current state is less obvious to anyone that might look. I end up acting like I'm fixing my belt, instead fixing everything down low.

I'm doing better for a moment or two, able to pay attention just a little. Then Rocket's foot hits mine under the table and my body involuntarily shudders with a shot of electricity. Fuck. Fuuuuuck. I'm aching all over, aching.

"Captains, any input?" Nico calls to our table.

Fen shrugs. "I think it's a really good point, we need to up the reaction time to a couple different players. Though I'd like to know everyone's opinions on the intent to double team Laughlin tomorrow. It's a messy idea and it frees up one of their players at all times during that line."

Nico nods. "I think we should single team him but put all focus on him as a player. That defenseman wouldn't pay attention to much of anything else but Laughlin."

"Input?" Fen turns to me but I have no idea what's going on, which is annoying because I normally pay attention to these.

I'm caught off guard by the attention on me. "I, uh, no, I-"

Fen frowns a little.

"I guess," I start, then clear my throat. "Situational double teaming could be a good idea." I pull that out of my ass.

"What do you mean? How would we pull that off?" Nico asks.

I shrug, putting one leg up so my ankle rests on my knee, hiding behind it. "Single player focus defense would be a good idea, but maybe double teaming him when it's needed."

Fen takes up the conversation and I relax back into my seat, shifting a little trying to calm my body down. Despite that speech being incredibly embarrassing, I'm still in sexual hyperdrive for no fucking reason.

I turn my attention to Rocket for a moment and my head develops another set of images and sensations so I look away again, staring down at my shoes.

That lasts for about fifteen seconds. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end and I get another shiver, causing the hair up the back of my head to bristle. I look up and look around, then see the reason why. He's staring at me, rolling his coffee stir between his teeth and tongue, eyes on me. He quirks an eyebrow at me as if to as me if I'm alright. I'm not, I'm very not.

If only we were alone I'd put him on one of these tables and kiss him until I bruised our lips, among other things I'd do to him. Hell, if I didn't have the better judgement, I'd pin him to the table right now, in front of the team and the coaching staff. I'd let them know that Milo is what I want right now, not some stupid long talk about defensive strategies. Hell, I don't think I'd care that they'd find out I'm gay, I really don't think I would.

The meeting keeps dragging on as I go through a hundred thoughts a second, some of them involving his long fingers pulling my belt out of it's loops, some of them not. I want to make him feel good, right here. I want him to come undone for me and I want to make him mine. Right fucking now. I never want him to think about even flirting with anyone else because he's so into me he can't be bothered by them. I want him to forget how to say anything other than my name, over and over and over. Some small crazy part of me wants to go further, to leave hickies on his neck so that they can be seen under the corner of his helmet, available for anyone watching the game tomorrow to see that he's taken, very taken.

I open my mouth and take in a deep breath. Calm the fuck down, Rex. He set clear guidelines for you and what you need to do before he lets you date him, he didn't even say anything about the next steps. You're getting ahead of yourself. I want him gasping for more at my hands. I want his nails digging into my shoulders and down my back. I want him. I want him now, tonight, tomorrow morning. I want him in this room, I want him alone in the locker room, alone in my apartment with me. I want to take him out of practice and pin him against the door of the break room. I want to pull him roughly out of his gear after a game. I want him to give in to me.

I try to shake off the feelings but I can't. I really can't. It's Rocket.

"Alright, boys, that's all for tonight, go back to your rooms and get some sleep. Morning skate is at the usual time and other than that, that's all you need to know." Nico releases us.

I'm slow to stand up, stretching and then heading toward the door. There's a hand on my arm before I can leave, though.

"You look sick, Yets." It's Nico. "You didn't seem to be paying attention and I just wanted to check in."

I clear my throat. "Not sick."

"Then what's going on? You're normally super focused on these."

"Nothing, really, just distracted."

She frowns, not believing me. "Alright, as long as you're not distracted tomorrow too."

"Uh-huh," I respond, "I'll try not to be."

"Sure." She definitely doesn't believe me. It's not my problem. I need to be alone and I need to fix everything that's going on.

Rocket and I end up alone together on the elevator. He waited for me at the bottom and then got in with me.

His eyes rest on mine for a moment, then drop, touching every part of my body, lingering on parts, not staying long on others.

"That's a pretty big party in Australia, huh." He raises his eyebrows at me and I roll my eyes back at him, physically restraining myself. "Oh, come on, no answer to that? That was funny!"

I turn to him, shoving my hands in my pockets so they stay off him. "Yeah, no answer."

"Nico's right, you look sick." He reaches out and tips my chin up, inspecting me.

"Not sick."

"What's wrong, then?"

I let out a soft groan. "Nothing."

"You can tell me, you know."

"It's nothing."

"Are you worried about the game tomorrow?"

"No."

"Then what the hell is wrong? You've been funky all day."

"How so?"

"I don't know? You're irritable and haven't been paying attention to goddamn anything. You got tense."

"Ever consider that you might be the problem?" I ask.

"Oh?"

I hear the elevator ding and I grab the front of his shirt, digging in my pockets for my room key. Then I yank him into the room and lock the door again.

"That was aggressive," he sits down on my bed, leaning back on his elbows. "So why am I the problem?"

I throw my hands up. "You really going to play stupid on me right now?"

"I want to hear you say it."

"No, I'm not going to."

He stands up. "Then there's my answer, you're still not ready."

"God, fuck, Rocket, please." I grab his arm on his way out.

"Say it."

"What?"

"Why am I the problem?"

"Because, I can't, I don't know how to?" I run a hand through my hair, pulling on it out of stress.

"Get some sleep. We'll talk about it when we get back to Regina. I'm still under the impression you're not ready." He reaches out and gently pulls my fingers out of my hair, then slips out of the room.

I groan the second he leaves. The deep part of my stomach is still tight and heavy with need, but it looks like I won't be getting relief with him tonight. I want him on me, pulling my belt out of the loops and yanking my pants down, I want him to be in charge and I want to lie there and take it.

It frustrates me more, makes the ache deepen.

I drop my outer coat to the floor, hanging my suit coat up on a chair, then my hands work down my buttons and pull my tie off. My body is begging for relief and I need to find it before all the aching becomes full-on pain.

I drop my trousers and pull off my shoes, then turn on the shower, setting my head and forearm against the tile, hand slipping down my stomach.

"Fuck!" I groan. It's gone. All that ache is gone, just like that. I'd been desperate all day and the second I've got time alone it's not there anymore. I try to get it back but it's just not there, instead, my brain is foggy with a different feeling.

I spent the whole day in the worst heat I've ever been in, every move he made just made it painful for me. I lost track of how many different instances it had been at noon. Now I'm alone in the shower, finally able to relieve all of it and I can't. My body just shut down.

And I know why too. I've never been so helplessly into a guy. I've never been so desperate over someone. Never in my entire life have I had a day like today. Then he turned me down. Said I wasn't ready. My body is. That's all I want, he's all I want.

Then he said no to me, it was like a kill switch.

What the hell is wrong with you?

I wipe off a square of the glass pane on the shower and stare at myself in the mirror across the room. Gay. I'm gay. I'm into men. I'm turned on by men and that's who I want to pursue a relationship with.

My confidence falters with the thought.

Gay. Your career could be over because of it, people could kill you because of it, but it wouldn't matter, you can't change it. It's who you are.

I run a hand through my wet hair, ice cold water rolling down my back.

It's just who you are.

His words travel back and forth through my head.

Because when life strips you bare of everything else, when it tears you down and doesn't fucking let you breathe, the one thing you can always look toward is hope

I think about it for a long minute, then remember more of what he said that day.

I can try and try and try but just like you, I can't fucking change that about myself.

I run my hands through my hair, working in some shampoo, just trying to think. Just trying to think my way around this.

I know the shit it's done to you because it's done it all to me.

I think about it, he did it all alone. He learned to accept it all on his own. He had the strength it took to tell himself it wasn't going to change, that it wasn't going to go away, no matter how much he hated it.

He did all that, and here I am, a full grown man, crying in the shower over it. Still unable to look himself in the eyes and say it.

I run my hands back and forth through my hair. I'm gay. That's all there is to that. I've never been into a woman and I've never thought about one like that. I like guys.

I like guys. I like them and their short and fluffy hair. I like them and their deep voices. I like them and their rough features. I like it when their boxer line is above the waistband of their pants. I like it when they run their fingers through their hair. I like it when they're sleepy and try to talk to you with groggy voice. I like that they don't get complicated with their feelings and I like it when they think with their stomachs. It's cute. I like it when they kiss you and you can feel a little bit of stubble on their chin. I like it when they play sports and I like it when they're driving.

I stare at my foggy reflection in the shower glass.

I like it when they hold your hand and I like it when they laugh at a stupid joke.

I wipe some of the fog away, drawing shapes on the glass.

I like it when he looks at me when he thinks I don't know he's looking. I like it when he wraps his arms around my neck while cuddling me because my shoulders are too big for him to get a good grip on. I like it when he talks in his sleep. I like it when he drives too fast and picks on me for not finding it fun. I like it when he shakes out his legs and arms to get his gear to settle right. I like it when he forgets to shave and has a little scruff on the bottom of his chin. I like it when he chews his lip while trying to decide on something. I like it when he drums his fingers on his leg or taps his foot or gets fidgety. I like it when he yawns and his nose scrunches up like that. I like it when he tips my chin up so I'm looking at him. I like it when he melts into my arms at the end of a long day. I like it when he sets his head on my shoulder on the plane. I like it when it's just us and we can be quiet and still somehow conversing. I'm absolutely crazy over his little czech drawl and I love it when he says my real name.

I love it when he looks around a crowded spot and grins when he sees me. I love it when he hops from foot to foot because he's excited. I love it when he dresses up for something and I love it when I know he's comfortable in sweatpants. I love it when he talks to

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