Page 86 of Two for Roughing

“He’s nice.”

Breezy shot him a wink. Good to know he still kept what remained of Kilian’s secrets.

“I should probably go see if he needs help,” Kilian said. “But it was great to talk to you guys.”

“You too!” That was Jax, smiling maniacally. Kilian had to check his socials to see what he’d done.

“Call anytime!” Breezy sounded so earnest about it.

“I will,” Kilian promised.

“We will destroy you on New Year’s.”

Kilian groaned. “Never change, Luca.”

“We’re so proud of you, Kilian,” Tom said.

Kilian abruptly lost the ability to answer. He should be over it, but hearing those words from Tom hit different. He nodded, smiled, and ended the call.

He took a breath and pushed to his feet. The material of the panties scratched against his skin, reminding him they were there. His dick plumped up against the restriction, remembering the hungry way Damir had eyed him. Kilian hoped dinner would need a while to cook unattended, and they could revisit the subject of spanking. Time marched on relentlessly; they only had one day left of Christmas break.

Would Damir be open to expanding sex during hockey breaks to the All-Star week in February as well? Kilian might break his own heart by doing it, sure, but he was twenty. He was supposed to make stupid choices and get his heart broken.

Delicious smells wafted through the apartment, the rich scent of onions fried in butter. Kilian’s stomach growled. It had been a long time since bannock for breakfast. He really needed to find a way to thank Damir for all the home-cooked meals. Maybe Damir would accept blow jobs. Or…

Kilian headed back to his room and rifled through one of the half-empty boxes. At the bottom he found his shiny, untouched toolbox, his first purchase after moving into his own place in San Francisco. He’d never used it, too busy with everything else. “Chicago Kilian” wouldn’t accept a tricky door for a full year when he could fix it. Chicago Kilian would do better. He pulled out the star-tip hex key set and stuffed it into the pocket of his sweatpants before heading toward the kitchen.

On his way, he opened Instagram and typed Jax’s account into the search bar, ignoring all the messages in his inbox.

When he saw what Jax had done, Kilian burst out laughing. “Oh shit. He’s going to get in so much trouble.”

Damir, standing at the stove with an apron over his bare chest, turned just far enough that his raised eyebrow became visible.

Kilian showed him the picture Jax had posted to Instagram of himself kissing Tom’s cheek, with the dog in a rare moment of stillness at their feet. The caption read, “Can confirm the Sea Lions are gay af. If you’re looking for the team that trades players for being lgbtqia+, it’s the Magpies.”

Damir’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, him and Tom have been dating for, like, a year.”

“Hm.”

What a typical Damir sound. A cut-off grunt with no further elaboration on his thoughts and feelings even though they both knew Damir had massive amounts of both. He turned back to the stove, hiding whatever facial expression he was making.

“What?” Kilian asked. He felt along the side of the dishwasher, looking for what had to be… There it was, a loose screw dangling between the cover and the machine. He pulled it out carefully before finding its counterpart on the other side so he knew what height to look for the hole.

“Nothing.”

How was Damir such a terrible liar? Did people fall for his “I have no emotions” schtick?

“Daaaamir,” Kilian prodded. He got to his knees beside the dishwasher and began screwing the cover back into place. He nearly missed Damir’s headshake in response, but looked up just in time. “I’m going to start guessing.”

Damir grunted again.

“It bothers you that more people are coming out, and you can’t,” Kilian tried. It would bother him. He finished with the screw and tested the cover. Much better.

Damir shrugged. “I don’t care what other people do. Thank you for that. I didn’t know what tool to use.”

“Star tip.” Kilian showed him the hex key before sliding it back into its proper hole in the set. “Even designer kitchens like to fuck with you by throwing in a weird type of screw every now and again.”