Butterfly Page 3

  “I play safe,” Felix protested.

  “Not what I meant and you know it.” Saint was every inch the captain as he regarded Felix, a worried frown creasing his perfect brow. “I just… don’t want you putting a bandaid over your broken heart and pretending everything’s fine.”

  Felix scowled. “Just because you’re in love and things are rosy doesn’t mean you get to tell me how to live my life.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” Saint protested. “Felix, I know what P—”

  “Do not say his name,” Felix hissed.

  Saint visibly regrouped. “I saw you, after,” he said, under the noise of the bar. “I know what you went through.”

  “You don’t know anything,” Felix snapped. Guilt lurched in his stomach when Saint flinched, but he bit back the apology and pushed at Kasha on his other side to let him out. Kasha, built like a still-growing brick wall, barely budged, and Felix bit back a snarl and jabbed him in the ribs. “Move,” he snarled.

  Kasha jumped and scrambled out of the way. Felix slid from the booth and left without looking back.

  If life were kind to him, he would have made it out of the parking lot without at least one of his teammates chasing him down.

  Life was rarely kind to him.

  Vanya got there first, skidding around the side of the building with his big eyes wide with worry. “You okay, Butterfly?” he panted.

  Felix sighed and forced a smile. “I’m fine, Vanya. Just tired of socializing. Go back inside.”

  But Kasha was right behind Vanya, just as distressed, and on their heels was Carmine, brow furrowed. Felix threw his hands in the air.

  “If my team could just once stop being a pack of meddling grandmothers, that would be fucking fantastic!”

  Kasha stopped dead and Carmine ran into him.

  Felix spun on his heel and took off before they could sort themselves out.

  He caught the first taxi he saw and dragged out his phone. He needed to stop thinking, stop seeing Saint’s worried face, stop—

  My evening opened up, he texted. You free?

  Fisher’s reply took less than a minute. Come on over :)

  Felix gave the cab driver the address and sat back, knee jiggling as he stared out the window, chewing on his lip.

  5

  He took the steps to Fisher’s house in a single jump and Fisher was swinging the door open before Felix had his fist raised to knock. Felix took a quick step and a hop. Fisher caught him effortlessly and Felix kissed him hard, wrapping his legs around Fisher’s waist. Fisher’s mouth was hot and wet and he kissed back without hesitation, swinging the door shut and carrying Felix down the hall. He took him through the living room, Felix barely sparing a glance at their surroundings, and into the bedroom, where he toppled him onto the bed.

  Felix landed with a bounce and Fisher was there immediately, crawling on top of him, knees and elbows bracketing Felix’s frame.

  “What do you want?” he asked, kissing down the side of Felix’s jaw.

  Felix shivered at the drag of his lips against stubble. “Oh—calisse, I want—”

  Fisher made an encouraging noise, dragging Felix’s shirt aside and latching on over his collarbone, sucking hard.

  “Fuck—” Felix gasped, writhing. He was already hard, uncomfortable in his dress pants, and when Fisher brushed the back of one hand over his erection, Felix jolted. “I want to come,” he managed finally. “I want—I want to stop thinking. Please.”

  Fisher hummed and rolled off to strip. Felix did the same, kicking his tangled pants off to the side and falling back to the bed as Fisher crawled on again, eyes dark with purpose.

  He reached past Felix and dropped a strip of condoms on the bedspread. Felix wrapped his arms around Fisher’s neck, pulling him down into another kiss, this one even more heated and searing. Fisher’s cock was hard against Felix’s thigh, and he groaned into Felix’s mouth.

  “God, you’re—” He tore away, panting for air.

  Felix couldn’t help preening. “I’m what?”

  “So fucking hot,” Fisher said, kissing him again hard before sitting up to grab the condoms. “And somehow the fact that you know it doesn’t make you any less hot.”

  Felix’s laugh turned into a yelp as Fisher rolled the condom into place with his mouth. He brought his hands up, tangling them in Fisher’s hair, and he groaned as Fisher sank down, taking his length all the way in, until the head was bumping against the back of his throat.

  Felix swore in French, hardly aware what he was saying as Fisher kept going, dropping down and lifting up, lips and tongue working Felix’s shaft until his legs were shaking and he’d forgotten everything. The game, the fight with Saint, everything was erased in the molten white heat rolling over him.

  “Close,” he said, clawing at Fisher’s shoulder, but Fisher just took him deep again, swallowing around him, and Felix sobbed a breath and came, toes curling with the force of it.

  Fisher eased off but didn’t stop until Felix was twitching from overstimulation. Then he lifted his head, wiping his reddened mouth.

  Felix held out a hand but Fisher shook his head. He sat up and straddled Felix’s thigh, tracing appreciative fingers along the heavy muscle.

  “You don’t look this jacked with your clothes on,” he said, taking hold of himself. His other hand was still roaming as he began to stroke—over Felix’s abs, dancing along his softening cock, trailing through the hair at his groin. “You’re beautiful, French.”

  Felix swallowed hard. “Next time, will you fuck me?”

  Fisher jerked like he’d been hit, coming with a helpless noise on Felix’s stomach. He fell forward, catching himself with a hand by Felix’s head, eyes closed as he shuddered through the aftershocks.

  Felix watched him, exhaustion finally seeping in and replacing the formless frustration and anger in his head.

  “Merci,” he murmured after a minute, and Fisher bent to kiss him.

  “Feel better?”

  Felix hummed, stretching. “Can I use your shower?”

  “You’re welcome to stay a little longer,” Fisher said, but Felix smiled and wriggled out from underneath him.

  “Another time,” he said lightly. “Speaking of, do you still want to meet Sunday?”

  “God yeah,” Fisher said. He propped himself on one elbow, gloriously unselfconscious, and Felix allowed himself a good long ogle before bending to scoop up his clothes and dispose of the condom.

  Fisher was half-asleep when Felix reemerged, one long arm tucked under his head, limbs relaxed and face soft, unguarded.

  “Don’t get up,” Felix said, touching his thigh. “I’ll let myself out. You sleep.” He bent and dropped a fleeting kiss on Fisher’s mouth. “See you Sunday.”

  * * *

  In the car on the way home, he checked his phone, which had three missed calls and multiple texts. Mostly from Saint, but a few from Kasha and Vanya, and one from Carmine. Felix tapped on that one.

  He’s worried, Carmine said. Please just tell him you’re okay so he’ll stop eating himself alive.

  Felix sighed, resting his forehead against the cool glass. He didn’t want to talk to Saint, who only wanted the best for Felix, who only worried because he cared, who was the best friend Felix had ever had and didn’t deserve what Felix put him through.

  He opened Saint’s messages and tried to compose a reply. It took him most of the drive to figure out what to say and he was still only halfway through when the car pulled up in front of his house.

  Felix tipped the driver, climbed out, and gave up. He dialed Saint’s number as he trudged up the path to his door, and Saint answered immediately, despite it being three a.m.

  “Are you okay?”

  Carmine said something in the background, sounding sleepy.

  “I know,” Saint snapped. “I know, okay? I worry too much, whatever. But I need to—”

  “I’m fine,” Felix said wearily. He pushed his door open and stepped through into da
rkness. There was no sound from Henry—probably off sound asleep somewhere. Felix kicked off his shoes and padded into the kitchen. “Listen,” he said, fishing for water in the fridge. “I’m sorry.”

  “No,” Saint protested. “I pushed too hard. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse, Fee, I hate it when you’re upset.”

  “Well, I’m not anymore,” Felix said. He took a long drink of water and sighed. “I know I’m too touchy, cherry. I’m trying not to be.”

  “After what he did, you have every right,” Saint said. He sounded less strung taut. “I could kill him, I swear to God.”

  “Karma will get him,” Felix said, leaning back against the counter.

  “That’s an idea,” Saint said, sounding suddenly intrigued.

  “No,” Felix snapped. He couldn’t help the half-laugh. “You’re not sending Carmine after him either.”

  “Fine.” Saint heaved a sigh. “Je t’aime, Fee.”

  “Je t’aime aussi, cherry. Now go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow—pick you up at ten.”

  Henry wandered into the kitchen as Felix hung up, and Felix bent to scratch him under the chin briefly.

  “Evening, bâtard,” Felix said.

  Henry yawned, displaying sharp white teeth, then sat down and curled his tail around his paws, blinking sleepy golden eyes.

  Felix pulled his shirt off and headed for the bedroom. He stubbed his toe on the couch as he went through the living room and hopped on one foot, swearing under his breath. He was still getting used to his new place, which was smaller and had a very different layout to his old house. He didn’t need that much space when it was just him and Henry—he’d bought the other place with the money from his first signing, back when he was young and impulsive and thought a big house was a sign of wealth.

  He liked the new place better, even if the circumstances that had driven him to buying it were less than ideal. Felix snorted, pulling a T-shirt from the dresser and tugging it on over his head. ‘Less than ideal’ was a nice way of putting it.

  There were only two bedrooms in the new house, but they were both huge, with twelve foot ceilings, and Felix’s king bed looked very inviting. He flopped face-first onto the mattress and Henry leaped lightly up behind him, stepping onto Felix’s hips and flexing his claws as a rumbling purr started deep in his chest.

  Felix closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  6

  Kasha was waiting outside his apartment building when Felix pulled up the next morning, bouncing on his toes. The tip of his nose was pink with cold, and he was already talking when he slid into the car.

  “Hi Butterfly, are you okay? Where are we going? Is it zoo again? I’m gonna pet donkeys. And goats! You sure you’re okay?”

  Felix put the car in drive, careful to hide his amusement. “I’m fine, Kash. Sorry about last night. Just having an off day, I guess. And where we’re going is a surprise. Have you eaten breakfast?”

  Kasha shook his head, glossy brown curls falling over his forehead. “Too excited.”

  “You’re a professional hockey player and a growing boy, you must eat,” Felix chided, and pulled into the nearest drive-through.

  Four breakfast sandwiches later, Kasha leaned back in his seat with a satisfied sigh and looked at Felix, concentrating on traffic.

  “What happen last night?” he asked.

  Felix gripped the wheel a little tighter and forced calm into his voice. “Nothing, kid. Just… personal stuff.”

  “You’re team. Family. Can I help?” Kasha’s voice was soft, utterly serious, and Felix snuck a glance at him to see him gazing back, eyes dark and sincere.

  Felix sighed. “It is not… a happy story.”

  “I can handle,” Kasha said firmly. “I’m not little kid.”

  “I know you’re not.” Felix took the turn into Saint’s driveway, gazing unseeingly at the gate as it rolled slowly open. “I don’t like to talk about it because it wasn’t…. Some shitty stuff happened. I was stupid.”

  “What did you do?” Kasha asked, sitting up straighter.

  “I fell in love,” Felix said baldly. He parked outside the house and turned to Kasha, who looked curious and uncomprehending. “He lied to me from day one, told me he wasn’t a hockey fan, didn’t even like sports in general, had no idea who I was, when in fact I found out later he’d… well. I suppose you could say he stalked me. Found out where I would be and when, and manufactured our meeting.”

  Dismay crept over Kasha’s face.

  “He faked it really well,” Felix continued, ignoring the stab of pain at the memory. “Pretended not to care about anything to do with hockey except that it was important to me. So I bought it, yeah? Especially in a hockey town, finding someone who doesn’t care that you’re famous and make a lot of money is pretty fucking special, yes?”

  Kasha nodded, mouth drooping. Felix unbuckled and Kasha followed him out of the car as Steel, Carmine’s dog, came bounding around the corner to meet them.

  “So what happen?” Kasha asked, dropping to his knees to greet Steel properly.

  Saint opened the door before Felix could answer. “We’re almost ready, come on in.”

  Felix took the out gratefully and stepped inside, touching Saint’s shoulder as he passed. Saint looked like he hadn’t slept well, dark shadows under his eyes, but his smile was genuine and his touch unhesitating when he pulled Felix into a hug.

  “Carmine’s getting his shoes on,” he said, ushering them through into the kitchen. “Coffee? Breakfast? We have plenty.”

  “We ate on the way,” Felix said.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” Saint asked.

  “Japanese gardens,” Felix told him.

  Kasha perked up. “I’m never go there before! And you can tell me more about this ex, yes?”

  Felix glanced at Saint, who raised an eyebrow. Felix shook his head, and Saint nodded infinitesimally.

  “Sure thing,” Felix said to Kasha as warmth spread in his chest. Saint had his back. He’d help distract Kasha anytime he remembered to ask for the story. Felix wouldn’t have to lay his pain out for anyone else to pick through.

  * * *

  He was still thinking about that when he got home. He liked Fisher—a lot. Henry wound between his legs and Felix bent to pet him absently. Fisher seemed solid. Safe. But Felix bore the scars of “solid and safe”. He wasn’t risking that again. He needed to lay down some ground rules.

  * * *

  Practice was the normal circus. Felix’s hip was still sore from Fall’s hit, so after Coach dismissed them, he stopped by the trainers’ room. He spent an hour getting worked over, the trainer helping him open his hip adductors and regain flexibility, and when she was done, he was a pleasant puddle on the table.

  He levered himself upright, gave her a fistbump, and headed out.

  A quick stop at home to grab a sandwich and feed Henry, and he was out the door and heading for Fisher’s house.

  Fisher answered the door in a pair of soft, weathered jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that did a lot to showcase his very excellent arms and chest. Felix gave him an appreciative once-over and Fisher’s lips quirked as he stepped back to give him room to come inside.

  The house was as spotless as ever but there was one difference this time—Felix rounded the corner and stopped dead at the sight of a sleek greyhound asleep in front of the fireplace.

  “You have a dog!” he said, delighted.

  “I do,” Fisher rumbled, putting a hand on Felix’s lower back and urging him forward a step so he could slip past him. “Her name is Maya, and as you can see, she’s an excellent guard dog. Are you hungry?”

  “Can I pet her?” Felix asked. Maya had raised her head at the sound of voices and was examining Felix intently. She was a solid nut-brown, with a white chest and white toes like she’d stepped in paint. “Hi, mon pitou,” Felix told her, and she rose languidly to her feet, yawning and displaying rows of very white teeth before padding over to sniff the hand he held out.
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  “That’s more her decision than mine, as you can see,” Fisher said, sounding amused. “Would you like some lunch?”

  “I actually already ate,” Felix said. Maya was as silky soft as she looked, leaning rapturously against Felix’s leg as he rubbed her ears. “How come I’ve never met you before, eh?” he asked her, and Maya licked his hand, her tail wagging in graceful sweeps.

  “Well, to be fair, you’ve only been here late at night when she was already kenneled, and you’ve already discovered that she doesn’t really give a shit about who’s in my house.”

  “You’re perfect, don’t listen to him,” Felix told Maya, and Fisher laughed.

  “Can I at least get you something to drink?”

  “Sure,” Felix said, straightening reluctantly to follow him into the kitchen. Maya tagged along and Felix sat down at the table in the corner as Fisher rummaged in the refrigerator. Maya put her head on Felix’s knee and Felix went back to petting her.

  “Water? Juice? Soda?”

  “Water’s fine,” Felix said. He accepted the glass Fisher handed him and took a quick sip, marshalling his thoughts. “So I think we need to talk.”

  Fisher raised an eyebrow, sinking into the chair opposite him. “Already?” He pitched his voice high. “Baby please, I can change, I promise, I’ll do better. Just tell me what to do.”

  Felix kicked at him, smothering a laugh. “Shut up, you ass. I just want to make sure we are on the same page, yes?”

  Fisher grinned at him and made a go-ahead motion.

  “This—” Felix gestured between them. “It’s just sex.”

  Fisher arched that dark brow again and inclined his head.

  “Nothing more, I mean,” Felix continued.

  “No relationship,” Fisher offered.

  “Yes, exactly. I don’t want—” Felix swallowed. “I’m not ready for that. I may not ever be. So I think it’s best if we keep personal details to a minimum. You don’t ask me what I do. I won’t ask what you do. No names other than what we’ve already given each other.”