Blue Line Collection #1 by V.L. Locey

Author:V.L. Locey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: V.L. Locey
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Let’s go, Rotties!”

The chant made me wince internally. Several months later and I still ached for the dream that would never come true. I wiggled on my seat, my hands between my thighs, watching Preston working up the crowd for the first championship game between Rock Point and Allegheny State.

“The concession lines are beyond insane!” Hillary huffed before handing me a steaming Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate. My toes ached into the bone. They always did whenever they got cold now. She sat down beside me, her three little ponytails hidden under a knit cap that she had made. Yes, it had a pom-pom on the top, just like Preston’s. So did the one that I wore. They really are hideous hats. “You feeling good about things?”

I nodded, my nose close to blowing an olfactory nut over the smell of the cocoa. My eyes followed Preston. Occasionally I looked around the rink for Cole out of habit. He never came anymore. He also never acknowledged me, which kind of hurt, but then again, I understood. Who wants to buddy-buddy around with a gay, washed-up hockey player with suicidal tendencies? I mean, besides a twink, some lesbians, a queer pigskin player and Gunnery Sergeant Hillary, that is.

A rolled-up Rottie T-shirt sailed over my head. A gift from the mascot to the crowd. I took a tentative sip once my attention came back to Hillary and my cup, not in that order.

“I’m good,” I told her after swallowing.

It was the truth for the moment. I was good. Not great. Not terrible. Just good. Making it, one day at a time. I was much improved from that night on the dock. For a few months, it had been touch and go. I’d talked to a shit-ton of people. Good people. People who understood where I was, how there seemed to be nothing but the lure of the lake. I don’t really remember much about Christmas. A tree in the corner. Lights. Presents from my new friends. A copy of Milo & Otis from Preston that made me cry for hours. Yeah. It was a real ho-ho-ho time.

By Valentine’s Day, I’d been marginally improved. Preston and I had exchanged candy hearts and made love for the first time. Corny, I know, but I can still remember the way his body trembled that first time, as well as the sound of my name falling from him.

We had held off as long as our bodies would allow us to. Preston had led me along that night, tenderly, slowly, taking me in hand in many ways. His body was perfection. Slim and tight, his arms and legs had wound around me as I fumbled about trying to look as if I was not the moron I felt like. My lover had been gracious and kind, placing the latex-covered head of my dick at his entrance.

“Go slow, babe,” he’d sighed as I nudged his rosette. I’d nodded, unable to speak, and pushed into him gently. Preston had tensed then relaxed.

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