Strings Attached
#42 of Hockey Hunk Season 5
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Hello, and welcome to the Hockey Hunk! It is a pleasure to see you all here, and I hope you'll have an interesting read! It has been a fun season so far, and I have great plans for the future, too, so do remember to stay tuned!
As always, all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
Cheers!
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...
"...so did she just kill the dude with sex or something?" I asked, gawking at the TV where mysterious events unfolded in gilded rooms to furs wearing expensive silk and lace nightgowns.
Peter chuckled and rumbled, with a nasal twist, seated on the plastic-covered couch next to me, legs propped up for the maximum comfort.
"Apoplexy by coitus," the cougar declared, "or something."
I frowned.
"...so is that mom character more shocked about the fact she had it on with the Turkish dude rather than the fact that he's lying dead in her bed?" I rubbed my chin while I wondered on the intricacies of this show Peter insisted we should from the DVD.
"Well she has lost her virtue..." Peter mused, still purring.
"Well there's that..." I nodded, still watching, though the talk of virtue made me glance quickly at my left paw, and especially the ring finger there which had a small white band around it, courtesies of the conspicuously named Dermatology Clinic and their rapid HIV test. My after-work dash there and having to stand all the questionnaires, the poking, the needdles and the swab in the butt had been nerve-wracking enough, but at least the HIV test was negative, which apparently meant that unless I had caught it during the past six weeks, I didn't have it. The rest of the test results would come in next week, but at least having that off the list was a relief.
I could've almost cried when I texted the results to Victor, who had already made his own secret lunch hour visit to the very same clinic and gotten his own fingerprick done, showing an equally good result.
For once it was a positive thing to be negative.
I felt almost giddy still. I could've bounced around. I could've went over to Victor's place and grabbed his muzzle and pulled him into a great big non-STD-transmitting kiss. Work that tongue...oh yeah...oh yeah...
...but no. There was Cobb there, and Victor was probably as tired and frayed as I was after having his genitals poked and blood drawn from his veins, he likely just wanted to sit down with a beer and cool it down, now that the imminent stress could finally be released. And I didn't really know if such a thing as post-STD-scare sex existed...well....it had to, but if there was something different to it, like, say, make-up sex existed, and could be interesting...well...I suppose that was a bit of a different thing, though.
Still would've been nice to share that big couch there. Not that I didn't mind Peter's company and his couch. It'd been a while, after all, and the cougar needed me too. I needed him as well. He'd listened to my troubles again, and if I could give him something back by lavishing him with my attention, I'd gladly do that, and catch up. He'd had his own interesting times over the weekend, after all.
"...shame he didn't get it on with Thomas, the evil gay footman," Peter mused, breaking my trail of thought.
"Which one was that again?" I asked.
Peter snorted.
"The guy who tried to grope the Turk and then blackmailed him to show him where Lady Mary's room is," Peter replied.
"Oh, right," I said, "I wasn't sure who you were talking about, there're so many characters..."
Peter chuckled.
"Were you hoping for more gay characters? Some hot Victorian sodomy action?" the cougar suggested.
I snorted.
"I thought it was the Edwardian era," I replied, "they're in...1912, or something?"
Now he giggled.
"I bet you're more for...Victorian sodomy..."
I frowned.
"That's awful," I said.
"Well now that you're proven to not be the Typhoid Rory, I'm sure it could be arranged."
I cringed at his awful, horrible pun.
"Right."
"Awww, I thought you were one big somdomite," Peter spoke innocently.
I shook my head.
"I thought Nicholas would be more of an Oscar Wilde sort than I am," I pouted at the idea of me prancing around in outrageous clothes and shooting out ageless aphorisms and one-liners out of my dainty muzzle.
Well, which is exactly what Peter and I did during our college days and were quietly envious of Nicholas because he always seemed to do it without much conscious effort whatsoever. Guess that was the difference between us, me, Peter, and Nicholas. We played, or pretended, and he just...breathed, I guess.
"I can't make the Victorian sodomy joke about him, though," Peter replied.
"That's still cheap," I said, "I'm surprised you didn't joke about it before."
"I've been waiting for an opportunity," he smiled too cheerfully, "this seemed like a good occasion."
"Even though there's no buggery going on," I noted, nodding towards the TV where the numerous repercussions of finding a dead Turk in your bed slowly unfolded.
"I'm not sure it's that kind of a show. Though the British apparently don't mind including it, according to Nicholas."
"He must've practiced a lot of it, then," I mused, "considering he stayed there for so long."
Peter appeared thoughtful in the profile, as I watched him for a bit. His eyes glimmered with reflected light from the TV, while he made his considerations.
"Perhaps he did."
"Have you heard from him today?" I asked.
"No," Peter shook his head, "I suppose I should call, see how he's doing Whether PTSD has kicked in."
"Maybe you should," I said. "He might need it."
"I guess so," Peter rubbed his arm, the perpetually scratchy one. "Perhaps later tonight."
I still shuddered at the thought, the very fact that it could've as well been Peter...or even me, if we'd been there instead of Nicholas, or with him, for that matter. Maybe that'd made headlines...'A Bunch of Queens Battered' or something.
"I do hope he's fine," I said quietly.
"I'm sure he's coping," Peter said. "I don't think he's quite as fragile as you might think."
"I do hope so," I said, "wouldn't hope that kind of a thing for anyone."
Peter shrugged.
"We don't make him feel better by talking about it in hushed voices among ourselves," he said, "it is not productive."
I batted the side of the couch with my tail and nodded.
"Well you're right, of course."
"I'll call him," Peter mused, "I can tell him now that I've converted you to a Downton Abbey fan."
"I didn't say I was a fan yet," I said, "though I suppose I can see the appeal..."
"The drama of Lady Mary's burgeoning sexuality the society tries to suppress..."
"And aren't they trying to make her marry her cousin?" I asked.
"That's because Matthew is set to inherit the mansion and the lands because no woman can inherit a title or the land and it doesn't matter that Lord Grantham has daughters because they can't be heirs. So, to prevent from becoming destitute, they hope to marry off the two youngsters so that the money stays in the house."
"It does make being a rich bastard sound less and less attractive by the moment," I mused.
Peter chuckled and batted my leg with his tail.
"Oh I'm sure being a rich heterosexual male bastard was quite alright even back then," he replied, "being a woman sucked, though. Even if you got pretty clothes and your biggest concern was which brooch to wear for dinner."
"That's not much of a life," I said.
"Nope," Peter blinked while watching the TV attentively once more.
"Well at least it's better now."
"It's still only perfect if you're a heterosexual male from a good family," Peter replied, "the rest have to fight a little bit more for everything."
"We've gone a long way from that time," I pointed at the TV, "they can't throw us in prison anymore."
"There's still a hundred countries where they can."
"And we can get married," I said, "they just passed the law in the state, didn't they?"
I could tell that his furs bristled a little. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it. I remembered how all three of us had talked about it often enough...me, Peter, George...how, when the law passed, they would make it official, like that. They'd joked about buying nicer rings...they already had rings, ones they'd exchanged wholly unofficially, but it was the sentiment that counted, and it had made for a nice party, too. It was lovely. Their love was...lovely. I hoped I hadn't caused Peter's mood to plummet with my mention, now.
"They did," Peter's jaws seemed tight when he spoke.
I wasn't sure how to proceed without throwing both of us into a deep hole.
"So that's a good thing, yeah?" I said.
"Would you marry Victor?" he wasn't looking at me when he spoke, but he did speak.
I felt a jolt in my belly. It was so sudden...indeed...unexpected to no end.
"Well it's a bit early to speak about that is it?" I tried, speaking what was in my mind, because sure I had an opinion about it...why wouldn't I. "We barely know each other."
"He seems alright. You already went through a lot."
"It's only been a couple of months, though," I continued. "Can you get to know someone in such a time?"
"Not really," he said. "You can pretend but...not really."
"I know," I said.
He looked at me, then, and his eyes were hard to read.
"And if he was perfect, and everything would be fine, in, say, two years from now?"
"Why wouldn't I, then?" I replied. "Isn't it just the natural thing to do, if you're in a settled, long term relationship?"
"Someone could argue that the love that daren't speak its name isn't natural to begin with."
"I don't think that argument stands between us," I said, not sure where he was taking this, talking like this.
"So would you?"
I rubbed my muzzle.
"With the right fur, yes. Why not? If 'm allowed to, and it feels right...why not?" I replied. "I don't see why it shouldn't mean anything more than anything less than what it means to those furs who really want one another."
"Like Britney Spears' marriage that lasted about three days?"
I chuckled.
"Are we really going to debate the sanctimony of marriage tonight?" I suggested.
"I don't really feel like it, no," Peter said, "I'm not drunk enough, and I'm not allowed to drink alcohol at all to begin with, so the chances are slim."
"Oh well," I said.
Peter chuckled.
"How'd we end up here?"
"I've no idea anymore," I smiled.
"Well I'm thirsty," Peter picked up the remote and flicked the DVD on pause, "all this talking and this drama is making me want a drink. Do you want anything?"
"Just water would be fine," I said.
"Coming up!" he said as he got up from the couch.
He soon returned with two fresh bottles of lemon-flavored, vitamin C-fortified sparkling water. The top opened with a crack as I turned the stopper and it let out hissing fizz. Peter pressed 'Play' on the remote before he opened his bottle.
"I had sex with Nicholas."
I almost choked on my water.
"You didn't."
"Why do you think he was here?" Peter scowled.
He didn't...
"You..."
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," the cougar replied, sounding unhappy. "Or at least not as bad as it seems now, in retrospect."
"You..." I gawked.
"It's not like anyone was harmed, don't look at me like that," Peter grumbled.
"But..."
I mean...sex...
"I didn't really mean to," Peter spoke while watching the TV that had really now lost all interest for me, as I looked passionately at the cougar, listening to what he had to say. "But when he was here...one thing led to one another."
I swallowed what remained of the fizzy water in my maw, and made a face.
"You don't say."
"Well, maybe I wanted to, "Peter replied. "He didn't exactly object."
Oh, Peter...
"Do you like him?" I asked.
Peter chuckled before taking a thoughtful swig from his bottle of water.
"Not particularly in any particular sense you're thinking of, but has that ever stopped furs from doing it anyway?"
What a jaded thing to say. What an unhappy thing indeed. What kind of awful loneliness would have driven Peter to solicit companionship from Nicholas, someone he barely knew and who was just an acquaintance at best...Peter, who was so careful, so...pathologically careful of any physical contact, and he'd just...
...and was it exactly right that the feeling I was feeling on top of everything else, above worry and trouble, was a kind of jealousy that I probably wasn't meant to feel now. I had no exclusive rights to the body of Peter Sinclair, nor did he hold any sway upon my sorry fur and...other bits...I mean...we had spent years as friends with benefits, after all, but that didn't mean...it meant something alright. But to start feeling all huffy hearing that Peter had indulged...I wasn't really meant to. I had a...a Victor now...that really meant that I wasn't supposed to have such thoughts about Peter while I was trying to make something good with Victor.
"It hasn't," I said, "I know as much."
"We fucked," Peter stated, "it served a purpose. Don't think either of us thought more about it."
Why did he have to sound so...so...upsetting...talking about it.
I swigged down some more of the water and felt it fizz down my throat. It'd probably cause my stomach to bloat or something.
"Are you sure?" I heard myself asking.
Peter flicked an ear at me.
"About what?"
"About what you just said."
"I said that we fucked."
"I know what you said," I huffed, "I just wanted to know if you really meant that it didn't mean anything."
Peter let out a hollow chuckle.
"Are you jealous?"
Maybe I goddamn was.
"No," I lied.
"I can take care of myself," Peter rumbled. "It's about time I did, too."
But at what cost? To his self-respect, to his health, to everything, to George...
Suddenly it didn't feel very good to be sitting there on the couch.
"Alright," I muttered.
Then it was quiet and we didn't say anything more about it, and we just sat there, until my phone rang.
"It's Victor," I said, noticing the screen, "I'll just take it on the other room."
"Want me to pause the show?" Peter waved the remote at the TV.
"It's alright, you go ahead," I said as I lifted the phone up to my ear, "hello?"
I didn't hear any response from Peter as I walked into the guest room, and closed the door behind me just about when Victor gave me a hello of his own.
"How're you doing?" I asked, now in the quiet safety of the guest room.
"Alright, I guess," the Dobie replied, "And you?"
_ _
"At Peter's, like I planned to do," I said, "watching TV."
Better not to mention the near-argument...not now when we'd just managed to sort one thing out.
"Hah, sounds nice."
_ _
"It's alright."
"Good. And still feeling alright and yeah?"
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I glanced at my finger, and felt my tail flick from side to side tensely.
"Sure, sure. Really relieved, of course."
"Me too."
_ _
"Yeah, I'm so glad it all worked out."
"Well it is great, yeah."
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I smiled, just a little.
"It really is."
"Look...I just had to call you...we might have a bit of a situation."
_ _
My belly clenched painfully. What the hell could that be, not now...please not...please not be a phone call from the clinic telling that they'd had a wrong test result...or that they'd gotten some new test results and things didn't look as good as they seemed at first.
Please...please...please...
"Yeah?" I asked tensely. "What is it?"
"Cobb wants to hold another party."
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Thank you for reading my story! I hope you had a good read, and I look forward to reading your feedback. Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
See you on Friday!
Cheerio!