and it wasn’t just the physical beauty of a dazzling, decorated man that attracted him; he was in awe of their confidence. Of their bravery to openly be themselves and dare anyone to say anything about it. It turned Ryan on like nothing else.
He had been quietly out for years, which meant he didn’t actively hide his sexuality, but he didn’t talk about it either. Chatting online and hooking up in various cities had been Ryan’s go-to method of getting laid for most of his hockey career. His teammates didn’t ask him many questions about who he was hooking up with because they likely didn’t care. Playing for a different team every season had made it difficult for Ryan to form any close bonds with his teammates anyway.
And that’s how Ryan had flown under the radar as a sexually active gay NHL player for nearly a decade. And now, in this new era where Scott Hunter was kissing his boyfriend on live television after winning the Stanley Cup, it didn’t seem as necessary to hide. Hunter had been brave enough to come out first, and now being a queer NHL player was barely interesting. One of Vancouver’s goaltenders married his longtime boyfriend over the summer—a rugged older man who built cabins for a living. And a Swedish guy who played for Los Angeles had started posting photos on Instagram of him and his boyfriend, who was a model. Or an Instagram model. Or something. He was a ripped hot guy, anyway.
One thing Ryan had noticed about the boyfriends of NHL players: they were all very masculine. Scott Hunter’s boyfriend was cute, but he wasn’t what Ryan would call a twink. And twink wasn’t even an accurate description for what Ryan was into.
So maybe it was suddenly acceptable for an NHL player to have a boyfriend, but Ryan suspected that hockey players were expected to have a certain type of boyfriend. And while Ryan mostly didn’t care what other people thought—he didn’t even have an Instagram account—he really didn’t want to have to explain his choices.
His other problem was that he was fucking shy around beautiful men. He couldn’t imagine they would want to look at him, let alone touch him, so he rarely pulled the kind of men he actually wanted. He settled for men who he felt were more in his league.
There had been one guy in New Jersey—a stunning young man named Anthony—who had been surprisingly hot for Ryan. He’d seemed to love Ryan’s size, and his strength, so they were a good match for a little while. But he’d wanted Ryan to hurt him during sex. Not actually injure him, but he’d wanted pain, and Ryan couldn’t give it to him. Ryan spent too much of his life causing physical pain to others, and the thought of bringing that into the bedroom made him sick.
So that had been it for Ryan and Anthony.
He hoped Anthony had found what he needed with someone else. Someone who didn’t have Ryan’s mountain of baggage.
Ryan realized that he had zoned out, and was just blankly staring at the screen where Kamil was teasing his asshole with a vibrator. Ryan’s hand was loosely holding his softening dick, unmoving.
Damn it. He’d gotten distracted. It was over.
He released his dick and it slumped, exhausted, against his thigh.
He closed the video and slammed his laptop shut. Stupid fucking meds. Stupid fucking anxiety. Stupid fucking porn stars and their perfect functional dicks.
He scrubbed his hand over his face. What a fucking catch he was. He’d taken down his Grindr profile a few months ago, and now wondered if he should reactivate it. Maybe provide an updated description: Looking for a disappointing time with a shaggy oaf who probably won’t come even if you blow him for an hour?
Fuck it. Ryan needed to go to sleep.
“We’re trying this again tomorrow night,” he warned his dick. “You, me, and Kamil. We’re gonna do this thing.”
His dick seemed to actually retreat farther into his foreskin.
“I should chop you off, all the good you do me,” Ryan grumbled.
Tough Guy by Rachel Reid,
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Copyright © 2020 by Rachel Reid
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ISBN-13: 9781488076855
Common Goal
Copyright © 2020 by Rachelle Goguen
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