Percy didn’t date, which wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for an athlete of his stature. Lots of athletes preferred to use their name and reputation to talk pretty girls into bed, but Percy didn’t do that either. There was probably a lot to unpack there if he really afforded himself the time to think about it. He’d had passing, fleeting “crushes” on girls in middle school, girlfriends he’d held hands with when they were too young to know anything about anything, and then he’d firmly decided at the mature age of 13 that he needed to set his sights on a bigger, brighter future. Hockey became his entire reason for existing, and all the way through high school and until college that had been the case. And then he’d met Holden.
His greatest champion had also been his greatest distraction.
The only person Percy had ever kissed was stood mere inches away from him, his wrist in a tender grip as his lips chased Percy’s skin for the first time in about 9 years. Only this time he wasn’t trying to kiss him but instead was trying to chase some kind of sick and twisted high that the two had conjured up of their own accord. They were both acting on nothing but pure, unconcentrated arousal, and shame seemed to be trying its hardest to creep its way inside of Percy’s chest to reclaim its home there.
“It’s not the Slovaks I’m interested in,” Percy found himself breathing, almost against his will.
His lids were heavy as he stared back at Holden, maintaining full eye contact as Holden slowly, erotically wrapped his lips around Percy’s thumb. He could feel heat pooling between his thighs as the other man’s tongue glided along his digit, the sheer rasp of his moan tickling along Percy’s skin, sending a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cool, Milano air. There was nothing he could say or do, his body rooted to the spot as he quietly wondered just how far Holden could take this. How far did Percy want him to take this?
As though answering his own, silent question, he carefully withdrew, pulling his hand back as a soft pop echoed through the tiny space between them as he freed his thumb. It was slick with saliva, a detail that should have made him feel uncomfortable, but the sight of it only further stoked the fire that was now building in his chest. Delicately, he swiped his wet thumb along the line of Holden’s jaw, his own head dropping low as he pressed their foreheads together.
He could smell the familiar scent of his old friend, their breath forming soft, icy whisps in the air, nutella wafting through it so sharp he could practically taste it. His own breathing was shallow as it seemed to slow to match Holden’s, their pulses racing as one. It was a silly, childish whim, a sentiment he’d probably loathe himself for come morning. All Percy had to do was tip his head just so, and he could have everything he’d ever wanted, but something made him pause. Fear, or maybe self-preservation, he had no idea, but he hoped he could overcome whatever it was sooner rather than later.
“I’ve missed you, man.” The words left him in a flash, surprising Percy with how entirely true they were. He had missed Holden, so much so that he’d barely even noticed that there was still a growing cavern in his chest from where his best friend had once resided.
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