Look, I could sure use some validation that this isn't terrible.
Summary: This is the first couple pages of the first draft of what will be a book based around a fictional juniors Team Canada and their friendship as adults. (Based off my fic He's My Plus One (be nice))
Eli was pretty sure he was totally fucked the first time he saw Ben Brodsky.
They were warming up pre-game, and Eli knew he needed to focus, but his eyes kept drifting to Ben gliding around the rink or Ben on his hands and knees, stretching or Ben tipping his head back for a long drink of water. To distract himself from the curve of Ben’s back as he stretched, Eli ran through what he knew about him. 24, played in AHL for 4 seasons before getting called up by the Ottawa Wild Cats earlier that year. Fast, one of the fastest skaters in the league. Great ass. Fucking hell, Van Hoven, chill.
The first face off, Eli had taken his spot in the centre, then because he couldn’t help himself, glanced up at Ben to the left. Ben had given him the cutest smile, then the puck was dropping. He lost the face off (and played like shit to be honest), but he didn’t really care, he just knew he needed to make contact with Ben.
As soon as he was showered and dressed, he texted his old friend who played for the Wild Cats.
Eli: hey, are you guys going out? Mind if I tag along?
Matty: of course!
Eli found his juniors’ teammate at a hole in the wall bar near their hotel. Matty pulled him in for an enthusiastic hug, as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, rather than three weeks ago at their last Team Canada meet up. As they chatted, Eli’s eyes scanned the dim room. Most of the Wild Cats were playing pool in the back corner, but he didn’t spot Ben’s dark hair.
Matty was in the middle of telling Eli all about the old truck he was restoring, when Ben came out from the narrow corridor leading to the bathroom, heading to the bar. Eli listened with half an ear for another few minutes, before making an excuse to go get a drink.
He took the open spot next to Ben, who turned and smiled at him. His hair and eyes were the same shade of brown, like dark chocolate or a fresh cup of coffee. His hair was shaggy, one missed haircut away from a true hockey mullet. It looked silky soft and Eli’s fingers twitched to stroke it. He was tall, the same height as Eli, his body slim with lean muscles.
“Hi,” Eli said. “Good game tonight.”
Ben’s smile broadened. “Thanks.”
“I’m Eli,” he said.
“Ben. Can I get you a beer?” he asked, looking down at Eli’s empty glass.
Eli’s pulse kicked up. “Please.”
Ben motioned to the bartender, and Eli lay his palms on the bar. He suddenly felt a bit sweaty between his shoulder blades.
“So how are you liking Ottawa?” Eli asked, as the bartender slid two glasses in front of them.
“It’s nice, very pretty.” Ben glanced down and seemed to clock the hand lying on the bar between them.
“Good! I know a lot of people give it shit but I love it.” Eli smiled sheepishly. “I might be biased though, it’s my hometown.”
“So what’s your favourite spot?” Ben laid his own hand on the bar, leaving an inch of space between their hands.
“I don’t know, the Byward Market?” Eli slid his hand a fraction of an inch towards Ben’s. “I love what they’ve done at Lansdowne Park too, the farmer’s market is awesome.”
Ben’s hand was now close enough that Eli could feel it like a static charge. “Mm, I like those too. Maybe next time you’re in Ottawa we could go to Zak’s for milkshakes.”
Eli curled his pinky finger to stroke against Ben’s. “That would be great. Maybe you should give me your number.”
“Sure, it could be fun to text each other pictures.”
Eli inhaled sharply. “Like what?”
“Oh you know, places you visit, people you see, clothing you wear.” Ben looked into Eli’s eye meaningfully and dropped his voice to almost a whisper. “Or not wearing.”
“Do you want to get out of here?” Eli asked quietly. Ben nodded once. “I’m going to leave first, meet me on the corner.”
As soon as Eli’s front door closed, they fell back against it, already wrapped up in each other, lips locked, hands grabbing. Ben’s hand shot out to brace himself against the wall as Eli dropped to his knees, yanking at his belt.
Eventually, they made it to the bedroom. Eli lay on his back, moaning as Ben dragged his mouth across his chest, kissing and nipping as he went. He slid back up to capture Eli’s mouth again, swallowing each other’s sounds.
“How did you know?” Ben murmured into Eli’s jaw.
“I didn’t,” Eli gasped. “I just really fucking hoped, I wanted you so fucking bad.”
“Mm,” Ben hummed, his teeth scraping against the skin under his ear. “Well, you’ve got me. What are you going to do with me?”
“Make you mine,” he breathed, so quiet Ben probably didn’t even hear him, as he flipped their positions and roughly pushed Ben’s thighs apart. Ben purred at the manhandling, bringing his knees up and apart.
The sky was grey with early dawn when they made it out of bed again. Eli pulled Ben into the shower and they washed each other, memorizing each other’s bodies before the night was over.
“So what now?” Ben asked, as Eli ran a soapy hand down his back.
“What do you want?” Eli didn’t want a one night stand. There was something completely electrifying about him, the way he moved, the way he purred in pleasure when Eli had been on top of him, his filthy fucking mouth that had murmured words that sent shivers down his spine.
“Can I see you next time you’re in Ottawa?”
The words sent a flush through him. “Of course, yes, of course, please.”
Ben chuckled and grinned, tipping his head back into the spray. Water droplets caught in his eyelashes and on his lips. “Great, I’ll buy you a milkshake.”
Eli crowded him against the tiles and sucked a fat water drop off his earlobe, pulling a satisfied hum from him. “Same deal next time you’re in Jersey?”
“Mm-hm,” Ben murmured. He took Eli’s hand, turning them so they switched spots, and pushed him against the tiles. He kissed him, nibbling his bottom lip. Eli buried his fingers in Ben’s hair. Finally, they separated. “Come on, I’m going to miss my flight.”
“Text, call, Facetime, whatever,” Ben said, handing Eli his phone back. He was only half-dressed in his shirt and underwear; he bent over, looking for the rest of his clothes. “Have you seen my pants?”
“I’ll check the foyer,” Eli said.
When Eli got out of morning skate, he found a text from Ben. He bit his lip in an attempt to hide his grin.
Ben: Ottawa says hi
Attached was a photo taken out the window of the team jet of the Ottawa skyline. Eli chewed on his lip for a second, before taking a selfie. He tilted his face just right so the fluorescences overhead caught the bags under his eyes. He typed, “Some asshole kept me up all night” and sent it.
He was putting on his jacket when his phone buzzed again.
Ben: hey, that asshole has a name!
Ben: Besides, you weren’t complaining, how many times did you cum?
Eli glanced around furtively and shoved his phone into his pocket. When he was alone in his car, he answered.
Eli: Not as many times as you
Ben: I am young and virile, old man
Eli: I’m 3 years older than you
Ben: See? Ancient
Ben: What are you doing today?
Eli: Weight training and meal prep, you?
Ben: sitting on an ice pack
Eli: oh
Ben: hey, I’m not complaining
_______________
It was fun being horny with Ben.
They sent each other filthy messages and naked photos and flirted constantly. It couldn’t be more than that, of course. Two closeted pro athletes who lived in different countries? It would be impossible.
It didn't matter that every time he saw Ben’s name pop up, his heart raced, and they talked more often than he did with anyone, that they texted good morning and goodnight and a dozen other times throughout the day.
It didn’t matter that on Canadian Thanksgiving, Eli opted to eat dinner on Facetime with Ben, instead of going to join a few of his fellow Canadian teammates who were gathering.
It didn’t matter that they had accidentally fallen asleep on Facetime more than once, and when Eli had woken up to see the call still connected at 2 am, he hadn’t hung up.
It didn’t matter that Ben had taken to calling Eli babygirl and Eli called him sweetheart.
It certainly didn’t matter that Eli had spent hours online picking out the perfect birthday gift for Ben.
And it didn’t fucking matter at all that they spent a whole weekend talking about meeting in Montreal for 42 hours together over Christmas.
They were friends, nothing more than that.
