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Cliff Marleau was undoubtedly a ladies man. It was something that he and his best friend, Ilya Rozanov, had in common. They would regularly prowl the bars and nightclubs of the towns they played their hockey games in to pick up girls together. They used to do the same at home in Boston but then Ilya started changing his patterns. He still would go out with Cliff on most nights but game nights, their most sacred hunting night, had become a blackout for Ilya. Cliff had tried teasing his friend about it but got shut down every time. He didn’t put it together until much later but Cliff started to get it somewhat the summer that Ilya’s little brother got accepted to a Boston college and moved in. Nothing was ever going to be the same.
To be fair to Cliff, Ilya hadn’t told any of the guys that his little brother had moved in. Apparently he’d settled in during their sparse few weeks off before summer training began, specifically so Ilya could be around. With pre-season practice picking up, so did the team hangouts. They rotated whose house they were at so no one got overloaded. Not that Ilya didn’t take a good half of the game watching parties anyway. And today was just another one of those days. Or at least, it started that way.
Cliff, as alternate captain, usually showed up before the rest of the team to check in with Ilya about what they were going over that day. Because they were close friends, Cliff didn’t wait for Ilya to answer the door (not after their second season playing together); he knew the combination to the keypad. He let himself in and dropped his gym bag in the front entry. Ilya and Cliff usually worked out together after these watch parties assuming it didn’t become an actual party.
When he didn’t see Ilya in the kitchen or living room, he figured the other man was in the shower. Cliff was going to just drop onto the couch and fire up the tv while he waited but got immediately distracted by movement out on the back patio. The floor to ceiling windows were doing God’s work as Cliff caught sight of Ilya. He was on the back patio in short spandex shorts and a baggy crop tee shirt doing what appeared to be yoga. Since when the hell did Ilya do yoga?’
He thought about knocking on the glass or calling out to Ilya but something about the smooth movements as he moved from pose to pose made him pause. He simply stood there, watching for who knows how long. He finally got startled out of his daze by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He jumped and spun to find his friend actually behind him, still damp from a shower.
“Marly, cat got your tongue?” Ilya smirked at him.
“Since when do you have a twin?” Cliff stuttered out, looking back out at the figure on the patio. The young man had stood up and turned to actually face the windows and Cliff could see the subtle differences in their faces. This man was a touch younger. His features were no less sharp but his skin seemed softer. His hair was a brighter blond than Ilya’s and he could now see it was longer but pulled back in a short ponytail. He had the same slim build that Ilya did but he didn’t have the same bulk to his muscles, more whipcord than thick.
“Liam? Not a twin, Marly. My little brother,” Ilya answered, smacking Cliff on the back before moving into the kitchen area, rubbing at his own mess of curls with a towel. “He’s going to school here in Boston. I said he could stay here to save money.”
Cliff still hadn’t moved from where he was stuck watching this other version of his best friend roll up his yoga mat. “Since when do you have a little brother?”
When Cliff heard Ilya hum thoughtfully, he tore his eyes away from–what was his name? Liam?–and followed his captain into the kitchen. Ilya was unloading various sodas and bottles of water from the fridge. Cliff couldn’t help but notice it was everyone’s preferred drink on the team. Ilya was such a hardass but he was also the most considerate captain Cliff had ever worked with.
“He left home young. Studied in France for most of school,” Ilya added, not looking Cliff in the eye. Ah. He didn’t know much about the Rozanov family but he knew enough to know that this study abroad was likely not for good opportunities. “When he gets mad at me he switches to French. He knows I don’t understand and he thinks it is funny.”
“I dunno, Roz,” Cliff said, smirking. “Sounds pretty funny to me.”
“Shut the hell up, Marly. Take these over to the table. I’m not letting them touch the beer until after our last game recap.”
“Aye aye, captain,” Cliff joked, saluting Ilya jokingly. He almost didn’t notice the slight twitch in Ilya’s shoulders at the movement, but he’d been making a point of keeping a closer eye on his friend since the Sochi Olympics. Something had changed in him. It wasn’t all bad, given it helped take their team to their first cup win. But there were more moments of quiet or unease. It was almost like when they first met. Not outwardly. Just in the little moments when he thought no one was looking.
He gathered up the sodas and waters and took them into the livingroom, spreading them out for people to grab as they showed up. He’d just dropped the last bottle when the door to the patio slid open. Cliff couldn’t help looking up to see the source of the noise and was met with the breathtaking blue eyes that would haunt his dreams. Where Ilya had very icy blue eyes, Liam’s eyes held a darker tint, like the lower levels of an iceberg. Where Cliff was surprised to suddenly be face to face with Liam, Liam didn’t seem phased by Cliff at all.
“Oh hi. Is it that late already?” Liam asked, pulling the tie out of his hair. His hair fell in a fluffy, curly poof around his head, shoulder length. “I must have taken longer than I thought. I was going to be packed up before you guys got here.”
“Uh, yeah,” Cliff said stupidly. “I mean. Maybe. I’m always here early. Alternate captain and all.”
“Ah, so you’re Marly,” Liam purred, pacing forward. He dropped his yoga mat on the back of the couch and crowded into Cliff’s space. He was an inch or two shorter than Ilya which put him almost half a foot shorter than Cliff. Taller than most of the girls Cliff pulled but short enough to tuck under his chin. Cliff was trying to figure out if he needed to step back when Liam spoke again. “I’ve heard all about you. So nice to finally meet you. I’m Liam.”
Cliff stared at the hand Liam stuck out for a moment before he reminded himself to shake it. This was way too weird. In many ways, it was like talking to his friend of seven years. However, Liam was too… pretty to be mistaken for Ilya up close. It was seriously throwing Cliff off. He didn’t say anything as Liam shook his hand, too stunned.
“Bratik, leave him alone. Ty yevo slomaesh,” Ilya scolds, appearing from around the corner with bags of chips.
Liam was still looking at Cliff, holding his hand still, as he answered, “V etom ves' smysl.”
Ilya let out a weary sigh before grabbing Cliff’s shoulder and dragging him away, continuing to mutter in Russian. Liam smirked at whatever Ilya said before wiggling his fingers at Cliff in a teasing goodbye. Liam disappeared off to the guest room (his room now) just as the rest of the team started showing up. Cliff tried to shake his head and shake off that interaction but it haunted him for the rest of the day.
*
Liam seemed to make a point out of joining the fringe of the group every time Ilya had the team over. He makes a point of choosing the sluttiest outfits he has that don’t quite cross into club attire. Short jean shorts. A short sleeve button down, completely open but tucked into his shorts. Crop tops that cut barely below his nipples. A sheer top that leaves everything covered and also on display. He tracks how the guys react. Several are flustered. Clearly most of this team is straight. No one is outright hostile or rude to Liam so he doesn’t feel the least bit shameful. He’s taken to teasing everyone who seems to take it alright but he has one favorite victim.
Cliff Marleau.
The alternate captain that his big brother calls his best friend. He’s so tall that he makes even Liam’s 5’11” seem short. It’s thrilling. He knows how strong his brother is but Cliff is even bigger. He could probably throw Liam around like he weighs nothing. The only thing stopping Liam from jumping him almost immediately is memories of the nightmare that was his last situationship in high school. He has no tolerance for closeted idiots anymore. He’s definitely caught Marly’s attention. But he can’t tell if Marly himself gets it.
He really shouldn’t mess with anyone on his brother’s hockey team. To fuck with the team and their game play would be to fuck with his brother. Ilya giving him space to stay here was too important to Liam to recklessly have at his team. But every time the team came over and Marly’s eyes followed his form across the room, Liam became more and more convinced that there’s something there. Even if it’s just a fling or a fuckbuddy, Liam was in need of a good lay. And Cliff Marleau looked like a good option.
Summer flew by as Liam prepared to start at an American university for the first time. Luckily he’d had much more time acclimating to English than his brother had, thanks to spending most of his formative years in the heart of Europe. He had no concerns about fitting in, though Ilya seemed to be worried for him. It made Liam wonder what Ilya’s first few years in America had been like, having come straight from Russia and their father’s obsessive control.
He’d made up his mind. He was going to bag Marleau at least once. He just needed to time it right.
And the time presented itself after the first game of the season. Boston killed New York, 5 to 1. The celebration was outrageous. The team all piled into Ilya’s place; as the captain, his home was always the default once season started up. Liam was grateful because he was still new to the nightlife in Boston. He could go out on his own but he didn’t want to try to pull part of his brother’s team in a public place. On home turf, he had the advantage.
The party was just as wild as Liam expected. He’d watched the game on tv and got to admire all the strategy that he’d been hearing the team discuss all summer as they rewatched old games in preparation for the new season. Clearly, it paid off. Despite playing so hard, the guys were still full of energy, like the adrenaline of the win had to be spent. And Liam was more than happy to help with that.
It was that perfect time after the alcohol had kicked in but before everyone was truly too sloppy. Liam spotted Marleau stepping out back onto the patio. The same place Liam had been doing yoga that first day when he met the man. It seemed maybe Marleau might be thinking about him too. If he wasn’t, that was about to change.
Liam slid out the back door, quietly sliding it closed. No one seemed to notice they were outside but he still knew he needed to maneuver Marleau away from the windows. Whether the man knew he was some kind of queer or not, he knew he wouldn’t want to the team to see.
“Congratulations on that awesome victory tonight,” Liam offered up as he approached, hands clasped behind his back to keep them to himself.
Marleau looked at him, his eyes seeming to take on a fuzzy quality that Liam couldn’t quite identify. Maybe Marleau had already had too much to drink for this to be a good idea. Liam was absolute on consent. Especially after a classmate in high school had tried to throw a mutual hook up back at him after the fact. Then Marleau’s eyes suddenly sharpened.
“Thanks. Did you watch?” he asked, taking a swig off of the can of beer in his hand.
“Yeah,” Liam answered, stepping a bit closer, only a few centimeters between their elbows. “I’ve seen bits of Ilya’s hockey for years but never really took the time to pay attention until this summer. It really is incredible.”
“Yeah. That brother of yours is an amazing player,” Marleau answered, looking back over the dark yard.
Liam hummed, finding his in easier than he expected. “I’m used to watching him. I’m not used to seeing the rest of you. You in particular are quite the… force on the ice. It’s enthralling.”
It was dark on the patio, the only light coming from the large windows into the house, but Liam was almost sure he could see a blush on Marleau’s face. Perfect. Now to just push a little bit more.
“Have you ever gotten celebration head after a win?”
“Have I–what?” Marleau sputtered, whipping back to stare at Liam, searching his face for something. He must have found it because the tension in his shoulders slowly eased away. “I mean, yeah. Hot girls at parties love to hook up with winning hockey players.”
“I imagine you have quite the herd of puck bunnies,” Liam said, releasing and reclasping his hands in front of him. “But girls can only do so much. Have you ever experienced someone with more… personal experience?”
“I don’t…” Marleau couldn’t take his eyes off of Liam, his gaze flicking between Liam’s eyes and his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you want to learn? I’m happy to teach,” Liam muttered, his tone low and personal. He placed a hand on the forearm that was supporting Marleau’s drink. He felt the muscles move under his skin. “No one has to know. Just let me show you how much I appreciate your hard work.”
“I don’t…”
“Don’t think too hard. Just follow me,” Liam whispered, curving his fingers over Marleau’s forearm to pull him around the side of the house. It would be nice if they could go inside to Liam’s room but there were too many people in the way. Maybe next time he could catch him in a place that that would work. In the meantime, he pulled the hockey player behind the large set of bushes the lined the yard, far enough from the patio that no one would notice them immediately if they came outside.
He pushed Marleau against the side of the house gently. The man may have been huge but he went easily.
“Don’t worry. Don’t think. Just feel, okay?” Liam whispered, reaching up on his toes to finally capture Marleau’s lips. It took a split second but then there was a large hand buried in Liam’s hair. He was particularly glad he left it down now. He loved hands in his hair. Marleau dragged Liam closer, bending down to dive deep into his mouth. It was exactly the kind of breath stealing kiss that Liam had been hoping for.
Liam gave back just as good as he got, his hands curving over Marleau’s broad shoulders, almost climbing the man to get closer to that kiss. A thud and wet sound came from over Liam’s shoulder. He tried to turn to see what it was but then Marleau’s other hand was on his waist, curving around his lower back. Ah. It was the last of the man’s beer.
When his lips felt sore from stubble burn and his breathing had become ragged from the short pauses they took to breathe, Liam finally pulled back, settling back on his heels. Marleau tried to follow but then Liam’s hand found the front of his sweatpants. Clearly the large man was large everywhere. Liam couldn’t help the shiver of excitement at the thought of all the ways he could enjoy the girth currently in his hand. Marleau’s head thumped back against the side of the house and he bit off a groan.
“There you are,” Liam muttered. “Let me take care of you.”
He dropped to his knees, glad he wore shorts so he could easily brush off any dirt when he was done. He pulled Marleau’s waistband down, nosing at the still boxer covered cock he found. When a hand made its way back into his hair, Liam hissed a soft yes as he mouthed at the cloth covered cock. The fingers tightened momentarily before releasing, softly petting at his hair. That just wouldn’t do.
Liam rocked back on his heels so he could look up at Marleau. Once he caught his eye, he said, “No. Please. I love the feeling. You won’t hurt me.”
Marleau bit his lip, still looking slightly unsure but his hand rethreaded into Liam’s curls. Liam couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head into that hand, eyes closing briefly at the lovely, soft feeling. Once he knew Marleau wasn’t going to take his hand away, he returned to his task at hand, pulling down those now damp boxers that were hiding his prize. Marleau’s gasp at the outside air was short-lived as Liam immediately took the head of his cock into his mouth. The tight grip on his hair made him whine in satisfaction. This was exactly what Liam had wanted since the first day he met the alternate captain of his brother’s team.
Marleau being a large man applied to every part of him. Liam knew he wouldn’t be able to take all of his cock into his mouth and throat without a bit of practice but he was determined to take as much as he could now. His hands worked the parts he couldn’t reach, often with one hand on the base of his cock and the other scratching red lines into his thighs. Marleau’s groans of pleasure only drove Liam on.
When his breathing changed, Liam knew he was close. He almost wanted to play a bit longer but he knew his jaw would be sore after this. Hopefully, they could repeat this and he could build up the muscle, build up the skill. He now was determined to be able to deep throat Marleau. A stutter of the other man’s hips reminded him that it couldn’t happen today. But he was able to press his tongue to the slit of Marleau’s cock, the softest brush of his teeth along the curve of the head.
A sharp, painful tightening of his hand in his hair cued Liam in that he was there. Liam pulled back enough to leave space in his mouth but kept his lips closed around the head of Marleau’s cock. He was absolutely not going to miss any of his prize. Marleau’s cries as he came were slightly muffled. From what Liam could tell, Marleau had shoved the back of his own hand into his mouth to stifle the noise. Liam closed his eyes and enjoyed the bitter salty taste that flooded his senses. He had to swallow several times to keep it all down. He thought the other man was done but one last spurt landed on his cheek as he pulled back.
Liam couldn’t resist the giggle that broke out of his slightly sore throat. He was painfully hard in his shorts but he was also floating on the satisfaction of getting someone off. He’d always enjoyed giving other people pleasure. He wasn’t expecting anything back from Marleau, happy to take care of himself after the other returned to the party. However, that’s not how it went.
Liam was suddenly being hauled to his feet but a hand under each shoulder. Marleau’s lips found his again and seemed determined to take his spend back. The taste of Marleau’s beer mixed with his spend to make a cocktail that was so specific to this kind of hook up. He was surprised when one large hand cradled the back of his head, holding him to the kiss, and the other slipped down the front of his shorts. He gasped loudly but Marleau’s mouth swallowed it.
“Can I?” Marleau asked, his own voice ragged.
Liam nodded, scrabbling to unbutton and unzip the tight jean shorts. He needed room. Marleau was able to get a full hand around his cock then, almost dwarfing him. Liam hissed at the contact, his hips bucking as he muttered, “Yes. Yes, please. Please!”
“Good boy,” Marleau rumbled. Liam was surprised by the zing of pleasure that shot down his spine, settling in his core. “Just be good and let me take care of you.”
Liam couldn’t stop the whines that crawled up his throat as he clawed at Marleau’s shoulders, trying to find something to hold onto. He bit at the other man’s lip, dragging him down. Marleau was not put off by the aggression in the least, seemed to take it as encouragement even. Liam’s hips thrust into Marleau’s tightening grip. He could feel the edge coming at him faster than he could have expected. It felt like it could hit any second but also just out of reach. Then the most insane, magical thing happened.
Marleau growled in his ear, “Come for me, pretty boy. Show me how good you are.”
As if it was a command, Liam found himself crashing over the edge. He buried his face in Marleau’s chest, trying to stifle his own cries. He hadn’t expected that he of all people would be the one to worry about noise but it was too late now. He bit at Marleau’s shirt, trying to not dig his teeth into the other man’s pec. When the waves of pleasure finally died down, he unkinked his fingers from where they had dug themselves into the broad shoulders. A final sigh escaped his lips as he shifted back to look Marleau in the face again. The other man slipped his hand out of Liam’s shorts and, much to Liam’s immense surprise, started licking his fingers clean.
Liam gasped at the sight, his dick twitching. Was his intuition right? Did he find a kinky hockey player? If he was and was open to doing this again, Liam felt he’d struck gold.
“What? You think you’re the only one who likes a taste?” Marleau teased, smirking as he licked his last finger clean. Liam groaned and dropped his forehead against Marleau’s chest. He might have gotten in over his head. And he couldn’t be happier.