Chapter Eleven

 

The flight to Vegas was bumpy and nausea-inducing. I was also anxious that I hadn’t been able to get in touch with Todd prior to my flight and check he was okay, what with the breaking news about his mystery boyfriend.

As soon as I arrived at Caesar’s Palace I flopped on the enormous bed. After a ten-minute lie-down to disperse the nausea, I called Todd. This time he answered on the second ring.

“How’s your dad?” I asked.

“Better. The doctor scripted him stronger antibiotics and steroids. Said he’ll visit again tomorrow. Dad’s made a fuss about the money but I wasn’t having any of it. It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

“Are you still at his place?”

“Yeah, thought I might as well stay. I can make sure he takes his medicine and eats something other than fucking Cheerios.”

“Good plan.” I hesitated, wondering how to break the news.

“You get to Vegas?”

“Yeah, flight was rocky but I’m here now.” I sighed. “I’m guessing you’ve seen the New York Post?”

“Yeah, Max called me first thing. It’s created a shit storm but we knew it would.”

“What else they saying?”

“The League’s been silent. That’ll change tomorrow when they’ve had their emergency meetings. That’s what Max said.”

“You think it’ll be positive, their statement?”

“I hope so.” He paused. “Oh, and Jake called to see how I was doing. Told me to look at the LGBT sport blogs.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, they’re fucking made up with the story, think they can make me their poster boy or something.”

“Bloody hell. Are you okay with that?”

“Well, it wasn’t my plan.”

“Shit, I know, I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I just am, for being here in Vegas and not with you while this is going on. I could cancel and come back to New York.”

“I’d rather be with you right now, too, but no, you’ve got work. I’m disrupting your life enough with all this shit.”

“It’s okay, it’s worth it, for you.”

He was quiet for a moment. “But I like it, the picture, in the paper.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, it’s the first picture of us together. Might even put it in a frame.”

A shocked burst of laughter erupted from my chest. “Not what I’d been expecting you to say.”

“It is what it is. Can’t change it, might as well go with it.”

“You’re much calmer than I thought you would be.” Worryingly calm almost. He really did keep his cool when things heated up.

“You forget I’m used to press invasion,” he said. “It’s irritating but it’s there. And I’m not embarrassed to be caught kissing you, Matthew, I love you. I want to kiss you.”

My heart stuttered. “You love me?

He laughed. “Surely you can tell?”

God, I love him so much.

“Todd, I…” That damn open wound of vulnerability was there again. I wanted to say it back so badly but the words stuck in my throat. “Er, has your dad said anything else about me?”

He hesitated, then, “Yeah, he asked me your name, what you did for a living, how old you were, that sort of thing. I took that as a good sign.”

My heart was thumping I was staring at a framed picture on the wall of kings playing poker, adorned in jeweled robes and splendid crowns. “Yeah, that’s a good sign. Listen, I’m going to grab something to eat. I felt sick on the plane so didn’t eat anything and I’m starving now.”

“Okay, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

The line clicked off.

I didn’t go and find food. Instead I stripped and got into bed and wondered why those three little words had stalled in my mouth. Apart from family I’d only ever told Tony I loved him. No one else. And Tony had stopped loving me. He hadn’t wanted my love.

Gareth’s words came back to me. Todd isn’t Tony. Don’t compare.

“Todd, I love you, too,” I whispered into the darkness. “So much it’s scaring the shit out of me.”

 

*****

 

I spent the following day sweating my ass off in the damn desert. Vogue had requested girls in cowgirl costumes riding horseback with the Hoover Dam in the distance. Except the costumes were tasseled bikinis and Stetsons and the horses appeared to be a bunch of wild stallions. The girls couldn’t ride and soon got hot, dusty and snarky. The horses spent the majority of the time with their ears flattened back and their teeth bared at one another. I barely took a dozen shots that would be useable.

Back in my room, all I wanted to do was call Todd. But I waited until I’d showered and eaten the chicken fajitas I’d ordered from room service. I watched TV for an hour and finally a little after ten picked up my cell.

But I didn’t call him. Instead I just sent a text. Those three little words.

I love you.

My cell rang instantly.

“Great text,” Todd said.

I could hear the smile on his face and my heart did a flip of happiness. It felt good to let him know my feelings. “Sorry I didn’t say it last night.”

“I didn’t say it to hear it back.”

“I miss you. I hate Vegas, can’t wait to get back to New York.”

“You’ve only got tonight and tomorrow and then you’ll be in your own bed.”

“But you won’t be there, and it feels empty without you now.”

“I know what you mean.” He paused. “You got a laptop handy?”

“Yeah.”

“Flick it on. Check out the New York Post.”

The fajitas did an unpleasant roll in my stomach as my laptop woke. What homophobic headline would we be dealing with today?

“I can’t see anything,” I said as I found the Post’s website.

“Page three.”
I scrolled to page three.

Man Hunt! Who knows the identity of Todd “Pretty” Carty’s mystery man? There was a sketched silhouette of a head, hair very short like mine, and a question mark over the face. The couple enjoyed a meal with Viper defenseman Raven Starr and his fiancée Fiona Wrigley just before the shot of them kissing was taken. But no one knows the six-foot hunk’s name and certainly the world of hockey is keeping quiet about his identity.

“Six-foot hunk,” I said. “Fuck, no one has described me as that before.”

“You sure about that?” Todd said.

“Yeah.” I stared at the article. “At least it’s not front-page news.”

“Nothing’s front page for long. There’s always some other poor bastard they get their claws into. It was front page on plenty of others nationwide though, not that I’ve looked. Max is keeping an eye on it and has been warding off reporters with a no comment statement.”

“Are you okay about being a national sensation for something other than hockey?”

“I am. What about you? This New York Post article is about you more than me.”

“I guess, but it’s hardly an issue if the press find out who I am. It’s not going to shock any friends, family or work associates that I’m gay. They’ll be impressed that I’ve bagged myself a hot hockey player but that’s it.”

Todd laughed. “God, you’re so fucking cool.”

“Has the League said anything?”

“Yeah, a short statement of support and the Rangers have backed it with a show of solidarity and a speech about athletic ability and character being the focus on players not sexual orientation. I’m sure they’ll have more to say, but that’s their first reaction.”

“Well that’s positive.”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

I set the laptop on the table in front of me. Sat back on the low cream sofa. “So did you get to practice today?”

“Yeah, I left Dad midafternoon, hit the ice for a few hours and then came home. Zhirov wasn’t there, he had a physical therapy appointment or something.”

“Will he be there tomorrow?”

“Yep, but Jake said he won’t step out of line. Fuck knows what he’s said to him but he’s still behaving.”

“One less thing to worry about this week.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “I said I’d go back to my dad’s place tomorrow after practice with takeout and a movie.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah, he smiled when I suggested it and it’s good to spend time with him, especially with this going on. He needs my support more than I need his.”

“I can understand that.”

“Armani called, though.”

“They did?”

“Yep they’ve gone for the very last shot to lead the campaign. The one on the Intrepid in the rain.”

“Armani, fuck, did they mention the Post?” Shit, it hadn’t entered my mind that they might have issues with the face of their campaign coming out right before the multimillion dollar launch. A horrible itching feeling went over my scalp. Damn, how could I have not thought of that?

“Nah, and I’m guessing that’s ’cause I haven’t made an official statement yet. But when I spoke to Max last week, prepared him for all of this, he had my lawyer go through the contracts again. Apparently there’s some kind of morals clause in there. It could cause problems.”

“A morals clause? Damn, I have no idea what that will entail but it sounds complicated.”

“You worry too much. I have an excellent team of people around me, looking out for me. It’ll work out.” He paused. “I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” I sighed, thinking about how I really felt, deep inside. “I know this is a pile of shit to get through, but I haven’t felt so happy in a long time.”

“Me, too. And damn, I keep thinking about the elevator. That was so hot. Jesus, Matthew.” His voice became a little lower, a little breathy. “So fucking intense. I came so hard I couldn’t even stay standing. It makes me even more sure what I’m doing is right.”

“That worked for you then?” I asked, a heavy feeling settling in my groin. “My brand of blowjob.”

“God, your tongue, your mouth. Fuck, when you sucked me in like that, the pressure.” He paused. “I’m getting hard thinking about it now.”

So am I.

“You in bed?” I asked.

“No, living room, on the sofa.”

“Blinds shut?”

“Yep.”

“So take your cock out. Tell me how hard you are,” I said.

There was a pause. “You got a camera on your laptop?”

“Yeah.”

“I can do better than tell you. I can show you.”

Oh fuck, now my jeans were really uncomfortable.

Quickly we connected our laptops and a surprisingly sharp image of Todd sitting bare-chested on his cherry-red sofa arrived in my Vegas hotel room.

“You’ve caught the sun on your face,” he said, peering at an image of me on his screen.

I automatically touched my cheeks. They were warm, it was true. But I suspected it was partially because I was turned-on and hot with the anticipation of seeing Todd’s cock—watching him stroke it, for me.

“You’ve still got too much on,” I said, admiring his wide chest and the way his nipples tilted ever so slightly downward because of the bulk of his pectoral muscles.

“I can fix that.” His hair was flopped forward in its shower-fresh, no-product state. He shoved his hand through the long strands and I swear a hint of lemon hit my nostrils as I remembered the smell of his shampoo.

He stood and briefly his head went from view. But my gaze was drawn elsewhere. He was slowly, agonizingly slowly, popping open the buttons on his jeans. The bulge beneath looked dense and solid, and when he finally shoved the pants down I could make out the thick outline of his shaft through his white boxers. I could almost see the tip peeking out of the waistband.

God, I was going to have my damn zipper imprinted on my shaft if I didn’t get my own jeans off.

In one brisk move, I pushed them and my boxers down to my ankles. Fisted my t-shirt between my shoulder blades and dragged it over my head.

In a small two-inch box at the base of the screen, I could see an image of myself. My skin was pale against the tan sofa, the black hairs on my body thick and wiry and my cock—my cock was an angry flushed red standing to attention.

“Very nice,” Todd said, sitting back down, as naked as I was and his cock also rod-straight and arrowed upward.

For a moment we just looked at each other. Todd was without a doubt a perfect specimen of a man—and my job had made me an expert. Every millimeter of his body was honed and toned and shone like gold. My mouth watered to taste him, my fingers itched to touch him and my cock—damn, my cock wanted me to bend him over and push into his hole, bury deep, fuck him like I’d never fucked anyone before. My cock was getting impatient to feel his ass squeezing around its base, taking it all, milking it through orgasm.

The thought of penetrating Todd was a powerful one. My heart rate increased and my own butt hole trembled. I was aware of a drip of cum escaping my dick. I took a deep breath and allowed my legs to flop open slightly.

“What you want me to do?” Todd asked, a teasing, sexy grin on his face.

“Slide your hand up and down your cock,” I said. “Pretend it’s me doing it to you, the way I touched you in the elevator.”

He did as I asked.

My cock bobbed at the erotic sight, its need for a fist around it almost painful. I gave in and grabbed it, working my shaft the same way Todd was his—firm, slow strokes and sliding my thumb over the glans.

“Ah, yeah,” Todd said, “it’s so fucking hot to see you do that to yourself.”

“I’m imagining it’s you jerking me off.” I shut my eyes and tilted my head back.

“Fuck, yeah, play with your balls, Matthew, let me see you do that, too.”

The excitement in his voice was an aphrodisiac all in itself. I dropped my legs a little wider and shifted my butt forward on the sofa. Cupped my balls in my free hand and began to roll them, squeezing and caressing almost to the point of discomfort, just the way I liked it. I looked at myself on the screen, made sure Todd was getting a good view of what I was doing—he was. The image was so rude, so in your face. Me writhing on the sofa, hands busy, genitals aroused.

“Fuck, yeah,” he gasped. “That’s it.”

“You, too. Roll your balls. Like this.”

My heart was trip-trapping and my breaths shallow. But when Todd lifted one leg, bent it onto the sofa so I could see not just his balls but also the shadow of his asshole, I thought I might expire.

I groaned. My cock was humming with need. So damn greedy. “Ah yeah, show me more.”

The sound of friction, skin on skin, my fist whacking into my pubes, increased. Todd was touching his balls, too, cupping them, holding them. I did the same to mine, wished I were holding his and the other way ’round.

God, I can’t wait to fuck him for real.

“Ah, Matthew, I want you so fucking bad. I wish you were here to touch me like this.”

“Touch you where?”

“Everywhere.”

“Show me.”

“My cock.” He was working his shaft faster now, his rapid movements jerking his whole body. “I want you to touch my cock.”

“Where else?” More pre-cum leaked from me and I used it as natural lube to slick between my cock and palm.

“Ah, my balls. I loved it when you touched them.”

“Where else?” I demanded. “Tell me where else you want me.”

“Ah, I’m coming,” he gasped.

“No, don’t come yet.” My voice was stern. “Tell me where else you want me to touch you? Where else you want me to fuck you?”

“Here, oh yeah, just here. Fuck me here, Matthew.”

His legs parted farther, and there it was. I got the briefest glimpse of his finger skimming over the dot of his anus before his butt clenched, his hips arched off the sofa and long pearly strings of cum shot from the head of his dick and splattered onto his stomach.

I couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe. Each heartbeat was like a roll of thunder. My orgasm was there, sharp and desperate. Every muscle in my body tensed and my ribs expanded fully. In one almighty surge, semen rushed up my cock, releasing all that bliss I’d been storing. “Oh, yes, yes,” I hissed, jet after jet of warmth landing on my abdomen.

I stared at Todd’s image as I gulped in air. He, too, had a shiny mess on his stomach. He was still clutching his cock and his hair had flopped forward messily.

“That was fucking awesome,” he said, his flushed face cracking into a grin.

“Yeah, I’ve never had so much fun on my own in a hotel room.”

He laughed, reached for his underwear and wiped it across his stomach, scooping up the mess dripping around his navel. “Everything we do blows my mind,” he said breathlessly.

I left my cum on my stomach, enjoying the feeling of it cooling in the air- conditioning. “And we haven’t even got to the best bit yet.”

His heavy blue eyes settled on mine. “We’re getting near, though, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. We are, very near.”

A muscle flexed in his cheek.

“And,” I said, “I’m going to make it so good for you, Todd. When I put my dick inside you for the first time it will be fucking incredible.”

He nodded and pulled at his still semi-erect cock.

“Don’t be scared.”

His eyelids grew heavy and his gaze captured mine. “I’m not. I know you’ll make it special.”

“It’s not just me who will make it special, it’s both of us. Being together.”

His shoulders relaxed a little more and he sighed. “You’ll call tomorrow night?”

“You can count on it.”

 

*****

 

The next day of shooting in the desert was every bit as arduous as the first. The heat was intense and everyone cantankerous. To make things worse, I spoke to Todd only briefly that night because he was at his father’s and they were just starting on their second movie of the evening.

He sounded positive and upbeat despite the fact there’d been even more gossip all over the Internet about his sexuality and questions of my identity. National and international papers were all over the story, the reporters having a wild time with their sensational headlines. More gay groups had joined in the debate as well as several prominent sports personalities, a mixture of for and against gay athletes.

Before I checked out of Caesar’s on Wednesday morning, he called me. “They know who you are,” he said.

“Who does?”

“The press. I’m sorry, Matthew, I was hoping this stuff about your identity would blow over and they’d find another story to follow. But they’re like Rottweilers, once they get their teeth into something, they just don’t fucking let go.”

He sounded so distressed, his voice hard and sharp.

“It’s okay, chill.” I looked out the window at the white-hot Vegas sky.

“You’re on the front cover of the New York Post. There’s a biography of you and stuff about your work and the exhibition this weekend. I should never have dragged you into this shit.”

“Calm down, I knew what I was in for.” I paused. “Besides, so what if I’m on the front cover of the New York Post? It’s only for today and tomorrow it’ll be old news. Now they know who I am there’ll be something, someone else for them to obsess about.” I sounded calmer than I was. The thought of my face on the front page of a newspaper was unnerving. I wasn’t as used to public attention as Todd was.

“Yeah, I guess.” He sounded placated but still tense and worried

“Besides, the publicity might even benefit my exhibition.

“Do you think?”

“Yeah, lots of the images feature gay romance and some in the second wave gay erotica. If the press decide to run stories on those images it’ll be free publicity.” I laughed to try to further relieve the strain I could hear in his voice. I could just imagine his broad shoulders hunched up around his ears and a frown line plowed between his eyebrows.

“I hope so. I’d hate to think that I’d done you any damage.”

“No. We just have to weather the storm and if we can find some positives then that’s only what we deserve.”

“I’m glad you’re practical. My head’s all over the damn place today.”

It was the first time I’d heard him anything other than super-confident and bare-boned determined. It made me want to hold him all the more. But I couldn’t, not from here, and I had to accept that. “Just as well you’re not playing until tomorrow then. You’ve gotta keep up your performance on the ice. Otherwise it’ll give the press more ammunition.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to hit the gym now and burn some of this excess energy driving me nuts.” He paused. “So do you need a date for the launch on Saturday?”

I hesitated. “Well. I—”

“That was stupid,” he said. “Forget it.”

“No, no, too damn right I need a date.” I sat on the edge of the bed. Fuck, the thought of walking into the exhibition with Todd. Being surrounded by my favorite images, being with my best friends and Todd at one of the biggest events of my career. “I’d love you to come with me. There’ll be a ton of press, though. Theodore’s has already organized coverage.”

“But once there’s no big mystery around us they’ll move on. Once they’ve seen us together for real, asked their questions and taken their photographs, they’ll leave us alone.”

“Yeah, then we can be old news and just be together.”

He hesitated. “Matthew, thanks.”

“For what?”

“For always saying the right thing to me.”

“I’m glad you think so.” I smiled.

“I swear this is the longest week of my fucking life. Friday can’t come quickly enough.”

“We’ll be together before you know it. Now make sure you whoop the Penguins’ asses tomorrow.”

He laughed. “So you’ve finally seen the light.”