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Honestly, just walking is paradise after not being able to for several weeks. You never realize how much you move throughout the day until you suddenly can’t. Everything from cooking to going to the bathroom, to just trying to find the damn TV remote, becomes a whole production when you have to do it on one leg. Don’t even get me started on how hard it is to actually stand up off the couch with one leg and a set of crutches.
Finally putting my skates on and taking the goal, even just for practice, was like having this oppressive weight lifted off my chest. It didn’t just make me feel independent again the way walking did, it was the difference between a wheezing breath and filling your lungs full of air. Feeling whole. If I’m being honest, the void I felt from not getting on the ice was considerably smaller than it would’ve been if I didn’t have Tripp. So much so, a part of me is kind of dreading this road trip we’re about to go on.
I’m excited to play again, but for the first time in my professional career, I’m not amped about the travel part of playing hockey. After years of staying in hotels, I prefer my own bed, but hotels aside, I usually look forward to seeing new places. It can be grueling, yet it can also be a great way to bond with my teammates. That was when I had no one to say goodbye to, no one waiting for me at home. Now, I do.
Between getting back on the ice and having Tripp move in, I’m privileged to say there’s nothing I could want that I don’t have, which makes it difficult to admit I’m a little sad about leaving for this road trip.
I’m practical enough to realize that means my love for Tripp might surpass my love of the game, and given my age... Let’s just say, I’ll have some deep thinking to do at the end of the season. For now, I just need to get through the next four days.
I toss some sweats, similar to the ones I’m wearing, in my duffel and open the dresser drawer to find some t-shirts while Tripp watches me from his perch on the bed.
“Don’t you have to be all fancy and shit when you travel?” he asks.
“We have to dress up to go to the arena, but we can be comfortable the rest of the time. Fortunately, we go straight to the hotel when we land so I don’t have to travel in a suit.”
“Do you have to travel in gray sweatpants, though?”
“What's wrong with gray sweatpants?”
Tripp’s jaw nearly drops to the floor. “They’re the equivalent of kryptonite for anyone who likes cock, man or woman.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He gives me an exasperated look. “Plus, I don’t think they’re very conducive to hiding that monster between your legs, and I definitely don’t want people posting pictures of my second favorite cock all over social media.”
“I follow the second favorite thing since yours is obviously your first, but you lost me at social media.”
“Omigod, seriously? You don’t know that people will take pictures and zoom in on the crotch and talk about how big the package behind the zipper is? Since those sweats don’t have a zipper they won’t leave nearly as much to the imagination.”
I glance down my body, noting that from different angles he may have a point. Still, it seems crazy to me that people might take such an interest in how I look in my pants. The cross look on Tripp’s face tells me I’m the one who’s under-reacting.
“Should I wear a pair of jeans?”
“You’ll probably still look hot as fuck, but I suppose that’s better than broadcasting your assets,” he grumbles as he reclines against the headboard.
“Help me understand this,” I say as I ditch the sweats and pull on a pair of jeans. “You’ve been speculating about the size of my cock for the better part of a year, yet you’re worried about other people doing that same thing? Why?”
“That cock is mine to ogle, no one else’s.”
“Oh my gosh.” I pause with the pants resting on my hips, still unfastened. “You’re possessive.”
“What? Am not.”
“You totally are.” A giant grin spreads over my face as I cross the room to sit on the bed, right at his hip, and lean in to nip at his chin. “You want me all to yourself.”
“That doesn’t make me possessive.” He tilts his head so I can kiss his neck.
“No? What does it make you?”
“Protective,” he says resolutely. “You wouldn’t believe some of the comments people make. Depending on the angle, people could imply that you’re woefully inadequate or hiding a can of Pringles. I’m saving you from rampant mischaracterization.”
“You know the only opinion that matters is yours, right?” I cup the back of his head and tease my fingers through his hair as I give his earlobe a playful bite. “I don’t care what people say about me or my body.”
“Yes, well a man’s penis is sacred. It shouldn’t be seen by just anyone.”
That statement gives me pause, and I pull back to look him in the eye. “I know you believe that first part, but the second is a little out of character. If you could legally do it, you’d charge admission to let people take a peek at yours. What’s this really about?”
Tripp rolls his eyes with an audible huff. “I wouldn’t do that now. And nothing’s going on.”
