Streak - 12. Chapter 12

September 20, 2002

Boston

 

JJ

 

We sat in the limousine, stuck in traffic as everyone tried to exit Fleet Center at the same time. I was usually able to insulate my life from the masses, but during these public events, sometimes you just had to sit back and deal. I briefly fantasized about how nice it would be to have an expensive express exit that most people couldn’t afford. I glanced over at the car next to us, and saw an obese couple singing loudly with their radio as they played Billy Joel’s ‘Big Shot’. That was my least favorite song he sang, so it made sense that those two would like it.

“What a wonderful night!” Alex said. “I must thank you for bringing me here.”

“I had a blast,” I said, although that had more to do with being with him. “So who did you like better?”

“I should probably be a loyal Briton and choose Sir Elton John, but that would be a lie, as I enjoyed Billy Joel much more.” I loved his smooth voice, and his sexy accent. “And whom did you prefer?”

“I’m the opposite. I liked Elton John,” I told him.

“That was interesting, going backstage and meeting him,” Alex said. “I did not know you were friends.”

“Actually, Stef is his friend,” I explained. “They’ve known each other for a long time. When my father and Robbie had their commitment ceremony, he sang at that; and when we had Robbie’s memorial, he sang again.” Remembering that made me sad, something that didn’t happen all that often. I tried to stop my mood from deflating, from enduring that depressing feeling, but it was unavoidable. I paused and looked away from him and wiped away a tear.

“JJ,” he said, trying to get me to look at him, but I didn’t. At least not on my own. I felt his hand on my chin as he gently forced it around so I was looking at him. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” I said, smiling weakly. “Every once in a while, when I remember Robbie or my mother, I get sad. Will, Darius, and my father all seem to have it beat, but it still happens to me.”

“Maybe that is because you bury your feelings deeper than they do,” he said in a soothing way.

“I’m definitely more reserved than Will,” I said, rolling my eyes. Alex laughed at that.

“That is obvious even to me, and I haven’t known him that long.”

“Darius has major shields. I don’t think I bury my feelings deeper than him,” I mused.

“I am not qualified to say, one way or the other, but there are times when you get moody, and when I look at you, it seems as though your emotions are so strong they are boiling over.”

“I don’t know how to cure that,” I said. “I think it’s just part of my bitchy personality.”

He smiled and shook his head. “There is nothing to cure, and I do not think you have a bitchy personality.”

“I think you’re wrong,” I said with a grin, making him chuckle. It was amazing, how he could pull me out of my bad mood so quickly, and how I opened up to him so easily.

“This is the second time you have taken me out on the town,” he mused. “I think that if I am to maintain any semblance of good manners, I must reciprocate.” I loved how he did that, how he talked like he was a much older dude. It made him seem so sophisticated.

“I’ve just enjoyed your company,” I said. I didn’t want him to think he had to take me to events. I just wanted to be with him.

“Does that mean you will not accompany me to the symphony?” he asked.

“Seriously?” I asked, completely enthused. Darius had no use for classical music, while for Will it was just something quirky he’d listen to every once in a while; in fact, Grand and Grandmaman were the only ones in the family who were fans, besides me.

“I was hoping you enjoyed classical music.”

“I love classical music,” I exclaimed, probably a little too exuberantly. But I was getting used to him, and I was getting to the point where I didn’t embarrass myself quite as bad as I used to. “It’s pretty much what we have to skate to, at least for most of our programs.”

“Perhaps that is one of the reasons why I find skating competitions so enjoyable,” he said with a smile.

“You mean it’s not because you can watch me?” I asked, flirting. That seemed to surprise him, since I didn’t do that very often.

“That is most definitely an added bonus,” he said. “I am glad you want to accompany me. It should be quite splendid, since it is opening night. Perhaps we can do dinner before as well?”

“That sounds fantastic,” I said. I was on cloud nine. I had another ‘date’ with Alex in less than a week.

We got back to the house and walked through the great room, pausing to say hello to Matt and Wade. Wade was studying, while Matt was watching “Will and Grace” on television. “Did you guys have a good time?” Wade asked.

“It was brilliant!” Alex said. “We were introduced to Sir Elton.”

“He’s a pretty cool dude,” Matt said, even as he pretended he was super involved in his show.

“I’m tired,” I said. I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to stick around and talk to Matt and Wade.

“As am I,” Alex said. We walked back to the elevator, and took it up to the fourth floor. We stepped into the small lobby and just stood there.

“Thanks for going with me,” I said, as I gazed into his eyes.

He reached out and held both of my hands, his touch sending shockwaves up my arms. “It is I who must thank you for such a splendid date.”

“So this was a date?” I asked him coyly. I felt myself blushing, even as I did.

“Possibly,” he said. He moved closer to me ever so slowly, and I watched him until I could feel his breath on my face, then I closed my eyes. I felt his lips meet mine, and I responded, somehow managing to remain as calm as he did, even though my feelings and hormones were flying out of control. It was a soft, gentle kiss, and it was so loving and meaningful, it damn near paralyzed me. He broke it off and smiled at me. “Definitely a date.”

“Wow,” I just said, as I stood there, completely dazed.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, and vanished into his room. I was smiling, and I was so pumped up I was damn near giddy. I went into my room and danced around, acting like I was on the ice, just enjoying the euphoria. Alex kissed me! He actually kissed me!

 

September 20, 2002

Honolulu

 

Zach

 

I was sharing a room with this dude named Hensen. He was a wide receiver, but he wasn’t all that good, so he didn’t get to play very often. He would have been a totally mismatched roommate for me but for one thing: he was a religious nutcase. Since that was my act, they’d decided to put us together. He spent more time praying than anyone I’d ever met. It was just a little strange. “I’m going to go get some fresh air,” I told him. He waved his hand to tell me that was OK, even as he continued to pray.

I snuck out of my room, being careful to make sure no one saw me. I had the perfect setup here, because our room was only two doors from the stairwell. I’d done a careful survey of where rooms had been assigned for everyone on our team, especially the coaches. Most of us were on the seventh floor, while a few guys were on the eighth floor. The coaches were close to us. But of course, there were parents and other relatives, and they’d been scattered all over the hotel. But it didn’t seem like anyone was on the fourth floor. So I’d told Will that’s the floor he needed to request, and I’d given him a couple of room numbers, both of them close to the stairs. He’d manage to nab one of them.

My ankle was still pretty sore, but not so sore that I couldn’t walk down three flights of stairs to see Will. I went down like a ninja, silently looking out for anyone who might see me. When I got to the fourth floor, I peeked in, making sure no one was in the hall, and then I walked in and knocked on Will’s door. He was expecting me, so he opened it right away, and pulled me in. “Dude, it is so good to see you!” he said, and gave me a massive kiss.

I bonded with him through our mouths for a bit, and then I pulled away from him. “It is good to see you too!”

“Before I forget…” he said, then handed me a key card. There was a big red ‘X’ on it. “That’s so you can tell which one is the key to my room.” How totally like him to have things organized.

“Thanks,” I said.

“How much time do you have?” he asked me.

“Why?”

He pulled out some handcuffs and handed them to me, grinning. “I picked these up.”

“Where did you get them?” I asked, smiling.

“I went to an adult book store that has sex toys,” he said. I cracked up.

“What else did you buy?”

“I’ll show you when we get home,” he said, in his slutty voice.

I looked at his bed, which was the same as mine. It had wooden slats as part of the headboard. “You want to lock me up?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said with a grin. We both stripped off our clothes, and then he made me lie down on the bed. He attached the handcuffs to my right wrist, then wound the chain around the headboard, then secured the other end to my left wrist.

“Now what are you going to do to me?” I asked. I lay there, completely powerless and at his mercy. It was so fucking hot, my dick was throbbing.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he said, as he nibbled on my right nipple. I didn’t like having them pinched or bitten, but there wasn’t much I could do about it, so I just recoiled to the degree that I could. Even though it hurt, it was erotic as hell, because it just showed how totally in his control I was.

He lubed up my ass and then drove into me slowly, making me gasp at the sudden intrusion of his huge cock into my body. But I adapted quickly, and in no time at all, I was with him, moving my hips to enjoy his assault on my prostate. Usually when we fucked the first time, we didn’t last real long. That used to bother me, but now I got that was how things were. It was part of being young and having a short fuse. Even taking that into consideration, it seemed like Will was pushing himself to blow pretty fast, and he did. When he was done, he gently pulled out, smiling as I gasped at losing him. Before I could adapt to him being gone, his fingers were there, digging into my ass, trying to grab as much of his load as he could.

He put his cum-soaked hand on my cock and started stroking me, and it was so hot, I damn near blew on the spot. But he was pretty in tune to my body, and just when I was close, he backed off, and made me lick some of his cum off his fingers. I lay there, pretty much immobilized what with my hands being tied up and my ankle still pretty sore, as he stroked me to within an inch of an orgasm, then stopped and made me eat some more of his cum. He brought me to the edge seven times, and when he pulled his hand away on the seventh, my body arched away from the bed almost on its own, trying to get back to his hand.

“We’re out of lube,” he said, smiling at me as he referred to his own cum. We had plenty of regular lube. He poured some of that on his dick, and started fucking me again. He got me so fucking close, but he kept it slow enough that I couldn’t blow. My whole body was tingling, my dick was throbbing, and I was desperate to cum.

“God, Will, you have to make me cum,” I said, but it sounded like I was pleading.

“After me,” he said, and then tensed up as he blew his second load into my ass. He did the same thing he did before, working it out of my hole, pausing to feed me some while he used the rest as a lubricant to jack me off.

“I have to cum,” I said, and this time, I was begging.

“You ready to blow?” he asked, as he whispered into my ear.

“So ready,” I said, gasping. Only he stopped again, then laughed at my pissed off expression.

“Damn it,” I said, and not real nicely. This was really really hot, but it was starting to get to the point where it was annoying. I should have known he’d figure that out.

He got up and walked into the bathroom and came out with a washcloth, which he rolled up and stuffed into my mouth. “Don’t want the neighbors to hear you when you shoot this massive load,” he said, whispering that in my ear in his most sultry voice.

I tried to thank him for thinking of that, but I couldn’t talk with the washcloth in my mouth. I bit down on it hard, even as Will started stroking my cock. I felt myself building up like a volcano, ready to explode. I got to the point where he’d stopped before, but he kept on going, and I knew now he was going to bring me off.

“Come on, baby,” he cooed. “Shoot that load.” And then I did. I let out a roar so loud the washcloth probably didn’t come close to muffling it, even as I looked down and saw the first shot of my load blast out, hitting me right in the face. I fucking came forever, or so it seemed, until I lay there, completely spent and totally content. I spit out the washcloth so I could talk to him.

“Dude,” I said. “That was fucking amazing.”

“I thought so,” he said. He said. He licked the cum off my body, pausing to kiss me and transfer some into my mouth.

“Time to let you go,” he said.

“I need to get back,” I said, realizing I’d already been gone longer than I’d planned. He pulled out the key, put it in the lock, turned it, and the key broke off.

“Shit!” he said. He just stared at the broken off end of the key, and at the handcuffs. Then the horror of the situation broke over me: I was chained to his bed, naked, and we had no way to get the handcuffs off.

“Fuck!” I said, starting to panic. “Do something!”

“I’m thinking,” he said, sounding a little panicked himself.

“What did you do, buy the cheapest fucking handcuffs around? What the fuck?” I demanded, getting pretty irate.

He just shook his head. “Fuck.”

“You have to get me out of these things!” I said emphatically. I was really starting to lose it. I started to visualize a locksmith coming in here and seeing me like this. Fuck.

“Maybe we can rip the bar off the headboard,” he said.

“Even if we do, I’ll still have handcuffs on,” I said. “It will look like I was either doing something kinky, or arrested. No matter which one they think I did, I’m fucked.” I struggled against them, pulling with my arms, like I was strong enough to rip them off.

“Stop it,” he said firmly. “You’re making too much fucking noise.”

“We have to do something!” I said. I had gone way beyond near panic, and now I was totally freaking out. He thought about it, ignoring my ranting, and then put his hand on my chest.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.”

“Do something!” I said, almost shouted.

“Shut up and listen,” he snapped at me, even as he stroked my chest. “I’m going to try to get it open.”

“How the fuck are you going to do that?” I asked, sounding hysterical.

“Will you calm the fuck down?” he shot back. “You’re only making things worse.” He got up and walked away, and that really freaked me out. He wouldn’t get pissed off and just leave me here, would he? Just when I was about to lose my mind, he came back in, carrying tweezers.

“Tweezers?” I asked, thinking he was fucking crazy.

“Tweezers,” he said. He sat next to me, with his naked body right by my head. Even though I was freaked out, it was hard not to stare at his dick. “Hold still.”

“What good will that do?” I asked, as I tried to tug them off again.

He grabbed my cheeks, squeezing them between his thumb and finger, and he didn’t do it gently. “If you don’t lie there, and be still, I’m going to let you stay here by yourself for thirty minutes until you fucking calm down. Now chill the fuck out!” He was almost shouting by the time he was finished with that sentence. But his anger, and the feeling of his hands on my face, finally broke through.

“Fine,” I said. He took the tweezers and calmly tried to turn the key. The part of the key that you used to turn it had broken off, but it had evidently left enough metal behind that he thought he could get a grip on it and still make it work. He adjusted the cuff to ease the pressure on the lock, but I almost automatically pulled away. “Knock it off!”

“Sorry,” I said. “It was just sort of a knee jerk reaction.”

He smiled at me, since I’d lost some of my paranoia. “Let me work this. I think I can get it off.” Then he started dicking around with the tweezers again. It was taking for-fucking-ever for him to do this, and I was getting frustrated and starting to panic again. Hensen would wonder what I’d been up to. I distracted my mind by thinking of lies I could feed him to explain why I was late.

“Maybe we should try something else?” I asked.

“What else would you like me to try?” he asked acidly, even as he kept on working.

“Maybe a hacksaw?”

“Oh yeah,” he said sarcastically. “I always pack one of those.” I was just about to go off on him when I felt the cuff click open. I anxiously pulled my hand out of it, pulled the chain out of the headboard, and sat up.

“Good job,” I said, smiling weakly at him.

“I have to try and do the other one,” he said. He used the tweezers to pull the key out of the lock, and then inserted it carefully into the other one.

“I can do that,” I said, convinced that I could do it faster than he could.

“Fine,” he said, and gave me the tweezers. I worked on it for a few minutes, and then realized I was getting nowhere. I was too freaked out.

“Can you do it?” I asked nicely.

I expected him to really give me some shit about that, but he didn’t. “Sure.” I watched the clock, and it took him seven minutes to finally get the other one off.

I jumped up, grabbed a towel to wipe my body off, then started putting my clothes on as fast as I could. I was just about to charge out of the room, at least to the degree that I could with my fucked up ankle, when his voice stopped me. “What?” I asked.

“Let me check to make sure no one is in the hall,” he said. He was being so calm, and so together, but here I was, so freaked out I was about to charge out of his room without even saying goodbye.

I stopped him when he was walking by me. “Hey. Thanks for keeping your cool.”

“I’m sorry they were fucked up,” he said, referring to the handcuffs. “I thought it would be fun.”

After reaching the logical conclusion that spending another minute here wouldn’t make any difference, I leaned in and kissed him. “It was fun. It was awesome. But I have to go.”

“You think you can come back?”

“Next chance I get,” I said, making him smile. He looked out, making sure the hallway was clear, and then I hobbled out of his room and up three flights of stairs.

“Where were you?” Hensen asked, as soon as I got back in my room.

“I walked outside for a bit and my ankle got pretty sore, so I sat down for a while,” I said.

“Dude, don’t fuck it up. We need you tomorrow,” he said.

“I’ll be fine,” I said dismissively. “I’m gonna take a shower.” I went in and washed the lube and cum off my body, then thought about what we’d just done, and that made me so horny I had to jack off again.

 

September 21, 2002

Aloha Stadium

Honolulu

 

Zach

 

“The attendance records show there are over 27,000 fans out there in the stands,” Coach Lad said to us as we listened to him intently. This was our pre-game meeting, and we were all hyped about the game. “This team is a powerhouse. If we’re going to beat them, we have to bring our best game. They’re bigger than us, but we’re better.” He was very serious, and that got through to us. We’d been hearing the projections about this game, and the pundits had emphasized how much bigger the dudes at St. Louis High School were. They weren’t convinced that we could win this one, and one of the bastards had actually predicted that our win streak would end with game 126. This was game 127.

The coach had worked hard to build our team into a unit, a group that supported each other, and relied on each other. That wasn’t my deal, but I played along with it because that’s how things were. I could see the other dudes wrap their simple minds around that concept. We were united, and that got them pumped. That was all fine and good, but that wasn’t what had riled me up. There were two things that had really gotten me motivated. The first one was all the comments by the critics, telling us that we were going down. That was a clear challenge, and it made me and most of the other guys determined to win this thing and prove those sons of bitches wrong. They said we couldn’t do it? We could. Fuck them. The second big motivator was the feeling of Will’s load leaking out of my ass. I smiled when I thought about that, about how I’d gone down to his room before we left for the stadium and he’d fucked me, while not bringing me off. So now I had his load, his essence, and I was absorbing that into my body through my bowels, while I also had my own built up load, just waiting for this game to end so I could release it. It was like I was on testosterone overload.

The coach finally finished his talk, and we all jogged out onto the field. The roar of the crowd was deafening. I’d never experienced anything like this before. We’d had maybe 8000 fans at a game before, but that was 20,000 fans less than were here now. They weren’t all our fans, to be sure, but they were fans. Their cheers just energized me even more. I cringed as I landed on my ankle wrong as I jogged out, but then I forced my mind to lock out the pain, and forced my body to pretend like my ankle wasn’t sprained at all. We got to our bench and the coach came up to me. “You going to be up to playing?” He must have seen my expression.

“I am,” I said, even as I stared into his eyes, making sure he could see my determination.

“I’m keeping you out for the first drive,” he said, and smiled at my disappointment. “I want to see what the other guys can do.”

“I’m ready to go in whenever you say, Coach,” I said. I did what I normally do when I’m at a game: I look up in the stands to see if anyone I know is there. Only this time, I knew where they’d be sitting. They had tickets right behind our bench. I zeroed in on that spot and saw them all sitting there. I had my helmet off, so they could see me smile at them: My mom and dad, Frank and Isidore, JP and Stef, Brad and Chris Mendoza, John Hobart, and Brent. And sitting in between John and Brent was Will. My smile got a little brighter for him, and I nodded to make sure he knew that I saw him. It was so awesome to see his eyes light up when I did that, to see his face break into not just a grin, but an exuberant smile. I thought, for the zillionth time, how bad it sucked that we couldn’t be together in public. Guys on the team with girlfriends could show some major attention to them in the stands. The most I could get away with was a smile and a nod, and even that was probably pushing it.

They kicked off to us, and I watched as we drove down the field. We pushed the ball almost 60 yards before they stopped us. I was tempted to go up and ask the coach to let me run it on the fourth down, but that would look too cocky, and it would piss him off. Instead, our field goal team went out and our kicker missed. All that work for nothing. We were pretty annoyed, but most of the guys tried to be supportive of the kicker, who was under a shitload of pressure. I just ignored him, because I thought that was bullshit. We were all under pressure. That’s when you were supposed to deliver.

St. Louis came out and took over after our fucked up field goal attempt, but they couldn’t make anything happen, and went three and out. Their size didn’t seem to be helping them out against the sheer determination of our defense. They punted to us, and we managed to bring the ball back to our own 37-yard line.

“You’re in, Hayes,” I heard the coach say. I nodded, and didn’t say anything; I just jogged out onto the field. We were supposed to just run the ball, but it looked like as soon as I came out, they reoriented themselves to either stop me, or rush the passer. That was flattering and annoying at the same time. We had a little bit of time, since we had just taken possession of the ball. Cecil, the quarterback, jogged over to the bench and talked to the coach, then came out to huddle with us.

“Coach called a screen pass,” he said. “Hayes, get out as fast as you can, before those bastards can break through.” Screens were tricky, because if we fucked it up and they intercepted it, there wouldn’t be many guys there to stop them. Like Cecil said, we had to be fast, so Cecil could get the ball away before he was tackled.

“You got it,” I said. I nodded to Gehrlich and Schmidt; we made a good trio, and we’d practiced this play about a million times or so it seemed. We lined up, with our receivers acting like they were going for the long bomb. I tried to act uninterested, as if I was just a distraction so the receivers could get down the field. It was fun to see those tools from St. Louis High fall for it.

We lined up, listening intently to Cecil’s countdown, and when he said “four”, the center hiked the ball, and we hurled ourselves forward, rushing into their line. There wasn’t a team out there who had figured out how to get a faster jump off the line than De La Salle. Cecil dropped back like he was going to throw the long bomb, while I fought my way past their line, and the blockers that were on me. I went ten yards, turned, and there was the ball, right in front of me. Cecil nailed it perfectly. I plucked it from the air and started running. Gehrlich and Schmidt were with me, fending off the dudes who tried to tackle me. Their cornerbacks and safeties converged on me, and I had a decision to make: I could both pour on the speed and try to make it on my own, or I could dial it back and keep my blockers with me. I lost Schmidt when he took out a safety, and that made my choice clear. I ramped up my speed, running as fast as I could, ignoring the fucking pain that ripped through my ankle. I used my peripheral vision to watch for their players; I didn’t need to look behind me. None of the guys I’d left back there could even dream of catching me. A cornerback came at me from the right field. I angled left, hoping I could work around him, but a gauge of the distance told me he’d catch me. But he didn’t know I’d figured that out yet. I waited until he was almost to me, and in front of me, then I pivoted right. That fucked him up, because he couldn’t change direction as quickly as I could, and because it was tougher for him to maneuver back in the direction he’d just come from. I blew past him, feeling his fingertips graze my arm, and drove straight into the end zone. The roar of the crowd was more potent than a line of cocaine. It seared through my ears and into my brain, giving me a rush that was like an orgasm.

My ankle hurt, but I didn’t care. I spiked the ball and jumped up to high-five Gehrlich and Schmidt, who’d finally caught up with me again. “Fucking awesome, Hayes!” Gehrlich said.

“I had some good blocks,” I said, remembering to stroke their egos.

I started walking toward the bench, only now that the adrenaline rush had faded, my ankle hurt like a motherfucker. I tried to make it look like I wasn’t limping, but it was no good. “Fucked up your ankle?” Gehrlich asked.

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound depressed.

“Dude, you did your part,” he told me. “You got us on the board. Now it’s up to us.”

We got to the sidelines and the coach was there. “Nice run, Hayes,” he said.

“I got a good pass, and had some great blocking,” I said. I really didn’t think that those guys deserved that much credit for me getting the touchdown, but I knew the coach was into us being one big happy team, so I was basically jerking him off.

“Have the doc look at your ankle,” he said. I hobbled over to the bench, and my eyes flashed into the stands and locked onto Will. We didn’t say anything; we just talked with our eyes. Only one of the linebackers had seen us, a douchebag named Parnell.

“I see your boyfriend made it to Hawaii,” he said with a sneer.

“Fuck off,” I told him, but he worried me.