Page 59 of Two for Charging

Chris had never heard him sound so thready and strung out. Had he missed something? “Is it okay?” he asked. “Can I make you feel better?”

Luca whimpered and came all over Chris’s fist.

After, Chris washed his hands and got a few damp paper towels for the bits of mess on Luca’s belly. Luca splayed on the couch, apparently satisfied to just lie there.

“How are you feeling?” he asked when Chris sat next to him.

Chris considered. He’d enjoyed seeing Luca all needy and desperate. He was flattered Luca trusted him to get him off, despite having zero experience with men. And he appreciated that Luca hadn’t minded him not wanting to do anything himself. “Good,” he said. “As long as you’re, um, satisfied, Coach.”

Luca stretched and then settled his head on Chris’s thigh as he reached for the remote. “I am very satisfied.”

Chapter Ten

“‘Anyone can play hockey’ is a nice concept, but the unfortunate truth is it falls short in a number of crucial ways. One of the least talked about ones is the Russian problem. While most members of the NHL are Canadian or American, more than six percent of players are Russian. You might say, ‘Six percent? That’s nothing.’ But let’s do the math.

Thirty-two teams with twenty-three players in the house for every game makes 736 players in total in the NHL at minimum, not even counting short-term call-ups from the minors. Six percent of 736 is over 44 players. Let me repeat, 44 guys who, no matter what they personally think of the issue, can’t afford to go on record with an anti-homophobia campaign.

We offer professional athletes work visas, not citizenships, and most Russians intend to return home when their NHL careers end—understandably, since coaching, commentating, and so on are all easier in your native language. Russian athletes living in North America are aware they are representing Russia, meaning they can’t say anything outwardly at odds with Putin’s government. Otherwise, they run the risk of being stalled from leaving Russia in time for the next NHL season or, worse, barred from returning home in the first place and left a refugee, not to mention what might happen to their families at home. Looking at it from their point of view, it’s not worth standing in front of a camera just to say something as bland as ‘Anyone can play hockey’ whether you believe it or not, especially when, year for year, the NHL fails to back up the words with actions.”

(From “Who is ‘Anyone can play hockey’ For?” Posted on sfhockeyftw.blogspot.com on 07/14/2025)

In theory, offering to be Chris’s sex coach was the best idea Luca had ever had. He could get his obsession out of his system while doing something good for Chris, and Chris would never have to know Luca had fallen for him.

In practice, “coaching” Chris ranked among the most destabilizing experiences of Luca’s life. Chris didn’t need to learn how to go down on a woman or French kiss without slobbering all over her face. Chris wasn’t bad at sex; he was simply uninterested in some aspects of it. And far from coaching him, Luca had become putty in his hands, begging to be touched.

It wasn’t that embarrassing. He’d only almost slipped up and called Chris amore and then come in three minutes flat.

All right, so he’d downright humiliated himself, and it would have bothered him. But afterward, Chris had seemed content as they’d watched a movie that Luca had only registered a grand total of five minutes of. How was Luca expected to follow the plot while Chris’s fingers stroked rhythmically through his hair? He might have remembered the characters’ names, but then Chris slid down the cushions and wrapped his arms around Luca, holding him.

The experience did nothing to temper Luca’s feelings, romantic or sexual. With that part of his original aim a decided failure, he hoped it would at least make Chris feel more confident in himself.

Perhaps it was lucky for Luca’s sanity that a repeat was not in the cards in the week following. The day after, they played their home opener against Seattle, which meant morning skate followed by a teal carpet walk-in. (Someone needed to let Kayleigh from PR know that, even though teal and navy might be the team colors, she was allowed to use red for the carpet.)

The opener meant more press, longer warm-ups, and ceremonial shit. The new GM met them in person in the locker room, meaning everyone had to be on their best behavior and listen to a speech by someone who had never so much as skated with the team.

They won the game in a hard-fought three–two. Luca got his first assist of the season, and Howie got another goal. Afterward, more locker room speeches followed, first a brief one from Tom and then a much longer one from Lindy about starting how you meant to continue.

As if any of them wanted to lose games.

Because they had a back-to-back against Anaheim the following day, Chris and Luca both went straight to bed. In the morning, they did the same thing all over, minus the stupid carpet. No opportunity for so much as a kiss before they went out the door.

They beat Anaheim 5–0. Luca scored off Chris’s assist; Fedorov got his third point in a row; and Dmitriyev got his fourth career shutout. Of course, the team went out following such a showing. Opportunities this good didn’t come around often, especially in their home barn with the whole team healthy, uninjured, and excited. They would be on the road for the entire next week, playing in New York and Buffalo, and Lindy’s curfew would be in effect again. If there was a time to celebrate starting the season on a win streak, it was now. Over copious amounts of beer and vodka, Mooney taught Fedorov the term “dick trick,” which caused hilarity all around, and for once, even Vanderbilt didn’t get high or go looking for infidelity.

The road trip gave them another win, an OT win, and during their last stop in Buffalo, a 2–1 buzzer beater. When the final goal hit the net twelve seconds before the clock ran out, Luca spotted Lindy and Phil hugging and jumping up and down in their game-day suits.

After, Luca was so high on adrenaline he nearly pushed his luck, almost asked Chris for more. But Chris had said no to doing anything while they were on the road, and Luca felt guilty enough about how much he wanted Chris without pushing at his boundaries. Instead, Luca found a pizza place two blocks from their hotel in New York—Yelp reviews calling it “authentic”—and he took Chris out for a slice.

Anyway, the team was more important than mind-bending, if one-sided, sex. They had started the season 7–0–0, a franchise record. Everyone was riding high on their success when Howie stood up on the plane ride home to San Francisco to remind them all of the upcoming Halloween party’s dress code: “Costumes or stay home!”

Luca had managed to repress the event entirely.

He closed his eyes. He would have to buy the least awful option at Target. Or he could skip the party. That sounded appealing. Howie would be disappointed, but he would survive to plan another stupid team party.

“Don’t worry, bro.” Chris, sitting in the row behind Luca and Mooney, clapped him on the shoulder. “I got you covered.”

Luca tried not to swallow his own tongue at the contact. It was the most he’d had all week, and he wanted to get Chris alone again as soon as possible, if only for a hug without the prohibitive layers of hockey gear. “Thank you.”

Mooney, immersed in his phone, snorted. “Don’t thank him, man. You’re gonna be Mario and Luigi or some shit.”