“Vanya,” I murmured.
“Mm.”
“I, uh…I need to, um…to get washed up.”
He pulled away agonizingly slowly, a drag of his fingers that made me want to chase the touch. I swallowed heavily, then grazed a touch downward to ensure that however thick my cock had gotten, it wasn’t obvious.
Luckily, it was still hanging heavily between my legs. But I couldn’t help wondering about his.
Was he hard now? Was he going to jerk off tonight? The thought of him touching himself while thinking of me was almost too much, and I had to turn away in order to get clean.
Lathering soap in my hands, I scrubbed my hair, then turned my face out of the water spray. “So, not to be rude, but what are you doing here?”
“Helping you shower,” he said absently.
Oh my god, this fucking guy. “No. Like, why are you in Salem tonight?”
“Oh! I watch game. Very good! Shutout! I haven’t done that in a long time.”
He was being modest. Not that I was going to saythat and give myself away and admit that I’d been listening to all his games. “Whatever. It was all luck.”
“Mm, no. Was very good skills. You have to teach me to listen better when we train.”
“Is that why you’re here? For training?”
“No. I like watching PPHL games. I visit Boden too, watch him win. He’s very good winger. Very vicious.”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t help but smile. “He was born with hockey in his blood. I’m Canadian, so I was born with hockey, spite, anxiety, and a need to prove my mother wrong.” Shit. I was giving away too fucking much. I held my breath, waiting for Vanya to ask about her, but he didn’t.
“In Russia, you play hockey. Maybe figure skating. Fish…” He hummed as he thought. “A lot of things, but is very different from Canada. Very different from Boston. No Montreal bagels here,” he lamented.
I burst into laughter as I turned the shower off. I hated that he made his presence so easy, but I also never wanted him to stop being himself. “Hand me a towel?”
He shuffled around, and then a moment later, the soft towel hit my hand, and I grabbed my things, tracing a touch along the wall as I made my way back to my stall. He followed, the soft padding of his feet an echo of mine, and I heard the bench across from me creak from his weight.
He was a bigger guy—larger than most goalies, but just as flexible. I would never forget the way hisbody moved beneath me while we were in Alexio’s car. That was something I would take with me for the rest of my life.
Everything about him was so big, so overwhelming. So intense.
God, why was he still here?
“So, like, did you need something from me?”
“No. Just want to say hi. Show off my new English skills. I learned some slang today,” he said. He was quiet for a beat, then said, “Six-seven.”
“Oh my god, I will fucking kill you.”
He burst into laughter. “No, no. I’m only joking. My tutor show me joking videos on Instagram.”
Pulling my shirt over my head, I tried to order my hair, then touched my phone when I realized I had messages on there waiting for me, but I didn’t know where my earbuds were, and I didn’t want to play them in front of Vanya.
“Well, I’m impressed.”
“You just saying that because you want me to leave.”
I swallowed. “No. I…the company was nice. Thanks.”
“Thanks? Was difficult to say?”
