Okay but what if, stay with me here, Cliff is the dude NHL players hook up with if they want to try some ‘gay shit’ but don’t want to be outed
Cliff’s been doing it for years he knows what signs point to someone potentially interested in dick and after the rookie awards he meets an upset Shane and they talk a bit in the elevator before both awkwardly getting out on the same floor.
And Shane is just tipsy enough to ask what Cliff’s plans for the night are.
“Nothing, just probably gonna watch a movie. Order room service. Probably jerk it before bed,” he says
“Well if you want company, my plans fell through. So,” Shane finds himself saying awkwardly.
And before he can even take it back, Cliff’s nodding, throwing an arm over Shane’s shoulders and dragging him down the opposite end of the hallway to his room.
That’s how Shane finds himself without his suit jacket, propped up against the headboard sitting next to Cliff fucking Marleau as they watch some god awful Nicolas Cage movie.
They talk about through the movie, but Cliff’s got a hand down his boxers, just relaxed, and Shane is hyperfocused on it the whole damn movie but he needs to get out cause even though the alcohol is wearing off he’s still pleasantly buzzed and realized just how good looking Marleau is.
The movie finishes and Shane stands up, grabbing his jacket, “thanks for the movie but I should probably get going..”
“Going? We didn’t even order room service or jerk off yet.”
And there’s no way Cliff Marleau said that out loud. Shane is hearing things. He must’ve been drugged at the party cause there’s no fucking way…
Cliff eyes him and stands up, slowly, like he knows any quick movement will startle Shane. And Shane can’t help but take a step back with each step forward Cliff takes, until he’s backed up against the wall.
“Listen, offer’s there. Ain’t nothing wrong with a little curiosity. Seeing if it’s something you like.”
“Curious?” Shane asks, and can’t help but hear Rozanov’s voice in his head.
“Yeah. Some of the guys in the league, not gonna name any names, but they come to me when they wanna see if they like dick,” he says with a shrug, like he didn’t just drop a bombshell on Shane.
“I’m…” Cliff rests his arm on the wall right by Shane’s head and leans in, “an equal opportunist.
“Listen, Hollander,” and oh, Marlaeu’s voice is softer, gentler, “if I got it wrong, or you’re not interested, no harm done. You can go about your night and enjoy your win, and we don’t say a word about this. But…if you want…”
Cliff looks down at the hard on Shane’s been trying, and failing, to will down since he found himself up against the wall.
There’s a beat. Shane can hear his own heartbeat in his ears. He can hear his own sweat trickling down his forehead.
Cliff smiles, his free hand comes up and cups Shane’s chin, lifting his head so their eyes meet.
When their lips touch, Shane’s first thought is to compare it how Rozanov kisses. But then after a couple minutes a large hand is cupping his clothed dick and he bucks up into the hand. His own hands find themselves on Marleau’s neck, pulling him down and deepening the kiss.
They don’t do anal, but Shane learns how to take a dick down his throat. He also learns he can come from sucking dick even after he’s already come within the hour.
The next day when he’s on a plane back to Montreal he’s dazed about last night and staring at Marleau’s number in his phone.
amandla
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