Jett
Tension aside, hanging out with Harrison at his private rink was turning into Jett’s favourite pastime. He was different when he wasn’t around strangers or bickering with his cousin. Harrison’s gruff demeanour went from standoffish to playful in a way that had his toes curling in his skates from giddiness.
The banter was top-tier. The trash talk was immaculate. The view of Killinger in tight sweatpants was the best Canada had to offer.
But as their first week coexisting with each other ended, and Monday began, Jett had to keep reminding himself that this wouldn’t last forever. His ticket to Saskatchewan was booked for the following week, and he had to be on that plane or risk the head coach, who was arguably crazy, coming to find him.
Harrison seemed more antsy too, and Jett wanted to think he wasn’t looking forward to him leaving either, but it was hard to tell.
Jett dropped his three pucks around the net and wiped the sweat from his eyes. He was so fucking close. He could almost pull off the Killinger twice in a row now, and he usually didn’t miss. He was determined to nail the third time, even if their friendship felt solid by this point.
Jett wasn’t doing it for that; he was doing it for the burning look in Harrison’s eyes whenever he almost got the third attempt in the net. He wanted that sexy smirk directed at him every time he put the puck in the net. Helivedfor that goddamn smirk.
He had Harrison wrapped around his finger. It wasn’t the ideal time to find out he had a major praise kink, but Harrison wasn’t shy about giving his approval either.
The sexual tension was amping up, and although Harrison was more reserved with showing his interest, it was there. And the time they both spent in their rooms taking long showers was getting ridiculous.
Jett’s brain kept painting pictures of being fucked on kitchen counters and whispering about all the praise he would get if he could learnto control his gag reflex. He could see himself kneeling as Harrison coached him through a face-fucking. He could practically hear Killinger’s deep voice growling in his ear as he opened him up and worked him through his first experience with penetrative sex.
Fuck, he wanted both. Friendship and sex. That was a thing, wasn’t it?
He was so worked up that he missed all three shots, only managing to skim the top of the net on the third one. He smacked his stick off the ice in frustration, earning a chuckle from Harrison’s direction.
“Are you and the ice having a disagreement?” Harrison asked loudly. “Did it find out that you were having an affair with the locker room floor?”
Jett laughed because he couldn’t help it. Harrison’s jokes were fucking annoying, but they were funny enough to keep him from getting mad.
“This move is bullshit,” said Jett. “Agree to be my friend so I can stop embarrassing myself already.”
“I don’t think us being friends is going to help you be less embarrassing.”
“Fuck you, Killinger.”
Harrison’s smirk made his knees shaky.
“Come over here, then. Give it a try, Fraser.”
Was he daring him to make a move? Shit, why couldn’t he read minds?
When he hesitated for too long, Harrison shrugged and chuckled lowly. “I think we should call it a day. We can start fresh tomorrow and see if your mood improves along with your accuracy.”
Jett leaned against his stick and smiled, ignoring the taunt. “You going to cook me supper tonight for doing a good job this week?”
“Yeah,” said Harrison. “How about barbecue with a side of arsenic?”
Wow, that was cold. Jett still laughed because Harrison once again managed to get the last word in.
He went back to the bench and took his skates and gloves off. At least with all this time on the ice, he would be in great shape this comingseason. He’d been taking advantage of the gym and the lake, not pushing himself, just doing basic maintenance work.
Harrison never pushed him too hard, and he was generous with his breaks. His body felt amazing thanks to the fresh air, sleep and all the healthy food he was eating. He was going to be on fire when he saw his team again.
There were no windows in the warehouse other than limited skylights, so Jett didn’t know it was raining until he stepped into a downpour that instantly soaked his clothes. He ran for the house, cursing when his shoes slipped on the porch steps.
“Holy fuck,” said Jett as he opened the door and bolted inside. “Where did this come from?”
Harrison was in the kitchen talking on the phone. He turned to look at Jett, gave his drenched appearance a thumbs up, and returned to his conversation.
“Tell Arlo I said hi,” Jett told him as he sloshed his way loudly to his room, ignoring the laugh Harrison let out as he watched him leave.
