Five for Hooking

By Stephani Hecht

Recipe for a Kris ‘n’ Good Books choose your own M/M Adventure

Required Ingredients:

1. The setting ~ a small town bar which is more than it seems.

2. Some background to one of the main protags ~ one of the main characters' father is a drag

queen.

3. Another character~ a female gay romance writer who keeps watching and taking notes.

4. A conflict ~a team bus breaks down in the middle of “bumfuck nowhere.”

5. An object/phrase to be mentioned in the story somewhere ~ a tshirt which says “I support

Sidney Crosby of the Pittsburgh Penguins and anyone else who plays against Steve Yzerman of

the Wings”

Mix in with four random comments from the original blog post, stir and enjoy

As if it weren’t bad enough that he’d just had his ass handed to him by the

Pittsburg frigging Penguins, the team bus had broken down in the middle of bumfuck

nowhere.

Steven Anderson blew into his hands in a lame attempt to warm them up as he

hoofed it up the long drive leading to some bar. Since the ground consisted of icy dirt,

he slid more than once. He almost fell on his ass at one instance, saving himself by

grabbing onto a nearby parked car. He let out a loud, foul curse that echoed off the trees

as he thought about the sheer irony of a professional hockey player nearly slipping and

falling on his way to a bar.

He squinted at the small wooden structure. If what lay ahead of him could even

be called a bar - it looked more like a shack with a neon sign slapped on. Still, it had to

be better than where the rest of his team had gone—a nude girly bar that served

watered-down drinks and two–for-one lap dances.

Not that he wasn’t used to the isolation. As one of the few openly gay players in

the NHL, he’d long ago gotten used to the snubs and mean comments. The only reason

his team put up with him at all was because of his ninety-three percent save rate and

the fact he’d been named rookie of the year. There wasn’t a better goaltender to be

found and they damn well knew it.

He slid three more times before finally reaching the bright red door, where

Peacocks was stenciled in pink. An unwanted laugh burst from his lips. He’d been to a

bar by that name in Detroit, but he had a feeling the clientele would be a lot different

here. Somehow he imagined this place would be packed with burly, tobacco-chewing

good ol’ boys, not packed with gay men dancing and secretly looking for Mr. Right.

He opened the door, welcoming the blast of heat that hit his face. As soon as his

eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he could barely hide his surprise. The inside of

the place looked nothing like the exterior. He even took a step back outside to make

sure his eyes had not been deceiving him. Nope, still the same crappy building, with

wood that looked like it had been logged sometime during the Prohibition Era. .

Sleek black marble floors covered the entire length of the bar. Near the back, a

space had been cleared for a dance floor. Steven shook his head in amazement as he

noted they even had a big silver disco ball and strobe lights mounted overhead. This

setup was nearly as elaborate as its namesake in Detroit, and it appeared to be just as

popular. Despite its isolated location, the bar was filled to near capacity. Most of the

blue leather booths and matching tall pub tables were occupied. The only open spots

were a few stools at the bar.

Lady Gaga blasted through the speakers, nearly drowning out the hum of

conversation from the crowd. Steven blinked a few times, once again shocked as he

noticed that nearly everyone in the place was male. What’s more, a lot of them seemed

to be there together.

A really cute young couple was making out in one booth. Something good must

have been going on under the table, because he couldn’t see their hands at all. Another

pair was snuggled together deep in conversation as they gazed lovingly at each other.

Other couples filled the dance floor, not letting the music’s fast tempo stop them from

wrapping their arms around each other and swaying together intimately.

He said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d managed to stumble across a gay bar

in the middle of this winter wasteland. Finally his luck must have changed. He scanned

the bar again, only this time instead of looking for flaws, he looked for potential hook-

ups. He spotted plenty of good candidates, too.

He took off his coat and then moved forward toward the long bar on his right.

His spirits lifted, the hottest guy he’d ever seen was working behind the bar, slinging

drinks with an efficiency that suggested years of experience. With short dark hair that

fell in a perfect wave over dark green eyes, a strong jaw, and a perfectly shaped nose, he

immediately caught and kept Steven’s attention.

Steven had reached the bar and raised his hand to order when he spotted

something that made him gasp in horror. There, taped proudly to a dartboard, was a

picture of…dear God…him! It was his official team photo. He had an aw-shucks smile,

no helmet, and his sandy, blond hair was slightly spiked in the front. His mom used to

say that he had the cutest baby blue eyes, now they were pierced by numerous tiny

holes from all of the darts that had obviously been thrown at his photo.

Steven swallowed hard as he realized he wasn’t the most popular guy in this

area. Maybe it was because three games ago he’d shut out their home team, the

Penguins, allowing the Wings to beat them 5-0. Or it could have been that time he’d

turned around in the net and smacked his own ass at the Penguins’ beloved captain.

Glad that he’d worn his favorite dark blue baseball hat, he pulled the bill down

over his eyes, hoping nobody would recognize him. The last thing he needed was to

add being on the receiving end of a public hanging to his been-through-that-have-the-t-

shirt-to-prove-it list.

To play it safe, he took a stool next to one of the few females in the joint, a short,

overly thin twenty-something with a riot of brown hair. Her pinched face looked even

harsher thanks to a pair of cat-eyed glasses that Steven felt certain had gone out of style

years ago. She had a large notebook spread out in front of her and she kept glancing

up, then lowering her head and scribbling. Steven would have sworn that she was

taking notes on all the activities surrounding her. That couldn’t be possible, though,

because who in their right mind would go to a gay bar in order to do research? Even if

she was, what could she use her newfound knowledge for?

Steven dismissed her from his mind and focused on more important things -

namely, the tall, dark and drinkable bartender. Steven looked up from under the bill of

his cap as he watched the man approach. How could someone make mere walking look

so fuckable? Every movement seemed to scream sex, from the way the muscles moved

under the tight dark blue t-shirt to the loose way he held his hands at his sides, as if he

didn’t have a care in the world.

“What can I get for you, Mr. Anderson?” the bartender asked, a wickedly

knowing grin curving his lips.

Busted!

Steven smiled back to hide the unpleasant jolt of shock that went through his

body. “You know who I am?”

The man nodded over to the unfortunate picture in the corner. “Kind of hard to

miss when I’m staring at that every damn night.”

“Right,” Steven replied slowly as he felt a heat come over his cheeks. “So, since

you already know who I am, I think it’s only fair you at least tell me your name.”

He tried hard to keep his composure casual even as the bartender studied him

with a flat expression. It didn’t help that the brunette continued to make notes, the

sound of her pencil scratching over the paper intrusive even over the music.

“How do you figure I owe you that?” Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding demanded.

Steven fumbled for an answer for a few seconds before the brunette cut in,

“Because it’s the polite thing to do, you lunkhead.”

She turned and offered her hand to Steven. “Hi, my name is Jill and he’s

Wayne.”

“As in Wayne Gretzky?” Steven blurted, hoping that maybe the rude bartender

had some other redeeming qualities about him other than killer looks.

“Yeah, my father was a huge hockey nut,” Wayne explained as he tilted his head

toward another picture, which was free of holes and protected by a glass frame.

Steven blinked a few times, wondering if maybe his eyeballs had gotten

frostbitten on the walk over and stopped working properly. “Did you say father?”

He really didn’t mean to offend Wayne, but the person in the picture had on a

red sequined dress, black stiletto heels and a platinum blond wig. Or at least Steven

assumed it was a wig since the hair looked too perfectly colored and styled to be

natural.

Jill let out a stifled sound that may have been a gasp as she bent over her

notebook again.

Wayne’s face grew tight, his gaze nearly burning a hole in Steven. “Yeah, you

have a problem with that?”

Steven quickly shook his head. “No, he’s very pretty.”

“Was,” Wayne cut in blandly. “Dad died last year.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Debbie went to a minor league hockey game. Since the team doesn’t have much

of a following he was able to get rink-side seats.”

“Debbie?” Steven echoed, confused.

“That was my Dad’s name.”

“Ah.”

Jill continued to take notes, her pencil making an insistent scratch, scratch. Steven

decided the sound ranked even lower than nails on a chalkboard.

“Debbie must have been so excited about the seats. She sounds like a big fan,”

Steven said, trying his best to ignore Jill.

“She was until she took a puck to the head halfway through the third period and

died.”

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

“Oh, no! That’s horrible,” Steven sympathized.

“Well, the rink did have signs up all over the place, warning spectators about

flying pucks,” Wayne pointed out as he moved forward and rested his elbows on the

bar.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Steven couldn’t hide his shock at Wayne’s callous behavior. “Still, that doesn’t

mean someone should die just because they neglect to follow a safety warning.”

“True, but it’s hard not to at least partially blame Debbie since she never did

bother to follow any rules but her own. Besides, she’d been to enough hockey games to

know to always be on the lookout for flying pucks.”

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Steven had to admit Wayne did have a point. Every veteran hockey fan lived by

that rule. Or as was Debbie’s case, didn’t. Then he frowned as something occurred to

him. “How is it that I hadn’t heard about this? You’d think that a drag queen getting

killed by a puck to the head would have made national news.”

Wayne stared at him for several moments, his face unreadable. A cold sweat

broke out over Steven’s body as he worried that his big mouth had managed to get him

into trouble once again. Fuck knows it wouldn’t be the first time. The tension grew so

thick that Jill looked up from her writing, pencil poised halfway in the air.

“Okay, I’ll admit, Debbie’s still alive. I just wanted to see what your reaction

would be,” Wayne finally said, a grin covering his face.

“You had me for a second there,” admitted Steven as he let out a relieved sigh.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Steven glanced over, annoyed to see that Jill had started back up. He felt tempted

to look over her shoulder to see what in the hell she was writing, but he’d been taught

never to snoop.

“Hey, I couldn’t go too easy on you. No matter how hot you are.” Wayne leaned

even more on the bar, so their faces were only inches apart. “Not since you’ve been

making it such a point to give our hockey team such a hard time.”

“I didn’t realize you guys were such big hockey buffs in this state.”

In Detroit and in Michigan, hockey was huge. He couldn’t go anywhere without

being recognized. Since he’d grown up there and never played anywhere else, he’d

always just assumed it was a Michigan anomaly.

“Does that tell you how much we like the sport?” Wayne pointed to a tall,

chubby blond man, two tables over.

Steven’s mouth almost dropped when he read the bright orange letters stretched

across the man’s black t-shirt, I support Sidney Crosby of the Pittsburgh Penguins and

anyone else who plays against Steve Yzerman of the Wings.

“Doesn’t he know that Stevie is retired?” Steven asked as he turned his attention

back to Wayne.

Wayne shook his head, a look of mock sadness going over his face. “Poor Steve.

He doesn’t even play anymore and he still can’t catch a little bit of love. Let me guess -

you were named after him, weren’t you?”

The only thing that saved Steven from another round of blushing was the burst

of annoyance that went through him when Jill started writing harder and faster. He

shot her a sideways glare before nodding to Wayne. “Yeah, my dad’s a hockey buff, too.

Although these days, the most glamorous thing he wears is a ratty bathrobe and

slippers. No dresses or heels for him.”

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

“So, in other words, he’s just no fun.”

“Nope, that might break his tough, macho, deer hunting image...yadda, yadda,

yadda. You know how it goes.”

Wayne smiled and leaned in even closer. If Steven wanted to, he could have

reached in for a kiss. Ah, the hell with it. What did he have to lose, besides warmth and

shelter from the cold if Wayne decided to take offense and throw his ass out? Stretching

forward to close the last bit of space between them, Steven licked his lips in

anticipation. The welcoming spark in Wayne’s eyes let Steven know that he wouldn’t be

getting the boot after all. A warm buzz of anticipation went through Steven as he

parted his mouth and…

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Steven pulled away and finally gave Jill his full attention again. “Not to be rude,

but what in the heck have you been writing about all this time?”

“You,” she replied, bluntly, never looking up from her wretched notebook.

He put a finger to his chest. “Me? Why, because I’m a hockey player?”

She rolled her eyes and gestured dismissively toward the television, which just

happened to be playing the highlights from the evening games. “Not hockey!

Personally, I don’t even know what it is. All I do know is it confuses me because it

sounds like a sport, which I know nothing about. The only reason I chose the Penguins

is because I like real life penguins.”

Steven cocked a brow. Just when he thought this evening could not go more into

the Twilight Zone… “You mean you picked a team to follow just because you like the

animal they’re named after?”

“Sure, why not?” She shrugged before making another sweeping gesture at the

screen. “Don’t judge me too harshly. I mean, oh come on, I don’t know who any of

these people are!”

“But, you’re taking notes on them?”

“Not them, you,” she pointed out. “More specifically, you and Wayne.”

Steven still didn’t get it. “Why?”

“I write Male/Male romance books and I have been having a ball watching the

two of you circle each other. It’s been hot, sexy and damn funny at times. You have

given me some great stuff to use in my next novel.”

“Thank you?” Steven didn’t know quite how to respond to that kind of

statement. Was it even a compliment?

“So what are you going to do next?” An expectant glint came to her eyes.

“I don’t know about you, but Steven and I are going back to my office for a few

minutes.” Wayne came around the bar and grabbed Steven’s hand, pulling him to his

feet.

When Jill made to follow, Wayne shook his head. “I don’t think so, cupcake.”

“But it’s for research,” she whined.

“Then go buy some porn. We’re not going to give you a live show”

Steven’s heart hammered as he realized Wayne had all but said the two of them

would be going at it within minutes. Little slut that he was, it turned him on like a red

light going off behind the net after a goal, too.

Wayne didn’t say anything else as he led Steven to the back of the building. The

way he just assumed that this was a sure thing should have insulted Steven, but it did

the opposite, it gave him a heady feeling to let go and let somebody dominate him like

this.

So Steven kept his yap shut in return as he stumbled after Wayne. The entire

time he checked out the bartender’s ass. Daaayyyymmm…that had to be the finest piece

of rump in this side of the States, rounded, taut and perfectly bitable.

Once they reached a small, cluttered office, Wayne all but shoved him inside

before turning to close and lock the door. He slowly turned and a shiver of desire

skated down Steven’s spine as he saw the predatory glint in the man’s eyes.

Steven swallowed a few times in an attempt to work some spit into his dry

mouth before asking, “Won’t you get in trouble for taking an unscheduled break like

this?”

“Since I own the place, I don’t think that’s going to be much of an issue.” Wayne

began to slowly walk toward Steven.

“Oh, wow, a business man. That’s not easy to do in this economy.” Steven

winced as he realized how lame that comment sounded.

Wayne undid the top button of his pants, revealing the top of a pair of black

briefs. Steven blinked, a fresh wave of desire making his cock press painfully against his

own zipper.

“Wow, I just knew you’d be wearing black,” Steven continued to babble a’la

idiot.

Shut up! Shut up! You’re coming off as a dork.

“You sure do say wow a lot,” Wayne observed with a soft, teasing smile.

“And I just realized something.”

“What’s that?” Steven asked, breathlessly.

With each word either of them spoke, Wayne drew nearer. It was taking

everything Steven had in him not to reach out for the bartender. Somehow, he had a

feeling that Wayne wouldn’t allow Steven to have any control in this situation.

“That once you get off the ice, all the cockiness leaves you. Deep down, you’re

still a small town boy who’s barely old enough to drink and still doesn’t know his way

around the scene.”

That comment stung a bit because it was so true. All his life, Steven had been so

focused on hockey and getting into the NHL that he’d only had a handful of sexual

experiences. He wasn’t about to let that get in the way now, though. Licking his lips, he

took a deep breath for courage before saying, “So why don’t you show me?”

Wayne moved so quickly that Steven didn’t have time to react before he found

his back slammed into a nearby wall. He bit back a small yelp of pain, before letting out

a moan of arousal. Wayne leaned in until their lips were a mere breath apart. “Is this

how you wanted it, pup?”

All Steven could do was nod like some kind of demented bobble head. He

strained to roll his hips just a bit, so he could grind his aching cock against Wayne. The

bartender’s iron hold prevented much movement, though. After a few feeble attempts,

Steven gave a small whine as he conceded defeat.

“You are an eager little thing, I’ll give you that,” Wayne observed.

He took off Steven’s hat and tossed it to the side. Running his fingers through

Steven’s hair, Wayne paid special attention to the front… almost as if he was styling it.

Steven’s suspicions were confirmed when Wayne declared, “There, now you look just

like your picture. If you only knew how hard it was to watch them deface your

gorgeous face.”

Steven couldn’t repress what he bet was a dopey grin. “You like my picture?”

Wayne lightly brushed his lips over Steven’s mouth., the gesture more a tease

than anything. “I fucking love it. When I saw you actually in the flesh, walking in

tonight, I almost jumped the bar to get at you.”

“That would have been so hot.”

Steven tilted his head some, desperate to get at Wayne’s lips. Just one kiss and

then maybe he’d be satisfied. When Wayne continued to elude his attempts, Steven

couldn’t hold back another frustrated whimper. “Please.”

“Not until I give you permission.”

With a self-satisfied smirk, Wayne grabbed Steven by the front of his shirt and

nearly threw him on top of the nearby desk. “You have ten seconds to get your shoes,

pants and underwear off.”

With fumbling fingers, Steven rushed to obey. Once he was nude, save for his t-

shirt, he sat on the edge of the desk, his feet swinging slightly. “Is this how you wanted

me?”

“No, I want you on your back, gasping my name as I pound into you, but this is

a good start.”

“Fuck,” Steven moaned, his hand going to his hard cock.

Wayne reached out and batted his fingers away. “Oh, no you don’t. You’ll only

get relief when I tell you it’s okay. Just so you know, those little whimpers aren’t going

to help you get your way, either, because I love the sound of them too much to do

anything that might make them stop.”

Steven might have let one out then, but Wayne had finally moved in for a deep,

hard kiss. Delighted to finally be getting something he wanted, Steven returned the kiss

in earnest, his fingers plowing through Wayne’s dark hair. The man’s lips and tongue

tasted faintly of whiskey and Steven soon became hooked, delving back in again and

again.

“On your back,” Wayne commanded as he broke the kiss with a firm hand to the

center of Steven’s chest.

As Steven fell back on the desk, Wayne reached into a drawer and pulled out a

condom and small tube of lubricant. Despite the earlier rough guy act, Wayne surprised

Steven by taking time and care to get him stretched and ready. By the time Wayne

pulled his fingers out, Steven had been reduced to a babbling mess again, begging to be

fucked.

“My desk has never looked better,” Wayne said, as he finished undoing his jeans

and pulled his cock out. Ripping open the condom package, he slid the condom on in

one smooth movement.

Steven gulped as he saw the enormous size of Wayne’s dick. “Wow.”

“And there we go with that word again.”

Wayne ran his palms down the inside of Steven’s thighs, moving lower before he

scooped Steven’s legs over his shoulders.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll still feel me inside you for days,” Wayne

promised before he thrust into Steven.

Steven let out a cry of pleasure as Wayne buried himself all the way, the sound of

flesh hitting flesh filling the room. Before he even had time to recover, Wayne pulled

partially out and thrust in again. He then set up a rhythm so fast and bruising that

Steven had to grip the sides of the desk to stay in place.

It was hard. It was messy. It was sweaty. It was everything Steven had always

wanted from a good fuck. Then Wayne shifted the position of his strokes so the tip of

his cock brushed against Steven’s sweet spot and the pleasure went to previously

unmatched levels.

“I’m sorry. I can’t hold back anymore,” warned Steven.

“Then come for me,” Wayne said, his voice strangely soothing.

Steven let out a loud groan as he shot, thick ropes of cum coating his shirt. At the

same moment, Wayne let out a muffled cry, his cock pulsating as it filled the condom.

“Ah, fuck, that was good,” Wayne whispered as he lowered his weight onto

Steven.

Even though Wayne was heavy, Steven didn’t complain, instead he gently

stroked Wayne’s back for several minutes, while they both caught their breath. He felt a

small twinge of disappointment when Wayne finally did get up and go to a small

bathroom at the back of the office.

By the time he came back out, Steven had pulled on his pants and underwear.

Embarrassed, he gestured at his now cum-stained shirt. “I don’t suppose you have

something I could wipe this up with?”

Wayne went over to a box, pulled out a black shirt and handed it to Steven.

“Here, you can keep it.”

Steven unfolded it, smiling at the bright pink letters spelling Peacocks. “Did you

know there was a bar by this name in Detroit?”

“Yeah, my brother and I own both of them. He runs the one in Detroit and I take

care of business here.” Wayne sat down in one of the chairs by the desk.

“You never go to Detroit?” Steven tired hard to keep the hopefulness out of his

voice.

“Nope, never had a reason to. Besides, I’m a Penguins fan all the way.”

“Oh.” Steven ducked his head, sure his expression gave away his

disappointment.

“I think I may have been too hasty with that decision, though.”

Steven looked up, his stomach doing a flip of excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah, suddenly the Detroit Red Wings have a whole new appeal to me.” Wayne

crooked his finger.

Steven obeyed the summons, even going so far as to climb onto Wayne’s lap,

straddling him so they faced each other. Wayne reached up and ran the back of his

knuckles against Steven’s cheek.

“So, do you think maybe we could do this again?” Wayne asked.

“Are you kidding? Me being seen with a Penguin’s fan? I’d never live it down,”

teased Steven, before kissing Wayne. “Seriously, I can’t wait until we can do this again.”

“How about we get a head start now, then?” Wayne asked as he started to undo

Steven’s pants. As Steven got lost in passion again, he counted his blessings that the

team bus had broken down in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.