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Not a Heart of Gold

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“In the back of a black limousine/I don’t care much for the money but you spend it on me/in the back of your black limousine/we got the time for a little bit of luxury/you’re paying for my company, babe”

It all starts - well, actually, Jonny’s not one hundred per cent sure when it all officially starts. Possibly the moment he first laid eyes on Patrick Kane, not that he’d known it at the time. Possibly in tiny increments during the years they’d known each other, a little bit here and there, slipping seamlessly under Jonny’s skin so that he never even notices. Possibly the time he found the porn on Kaner’s laptop...but no. No, he could analyse the fuck out of it, has analysed the fuck out of it, it doesn’t get him anywhere. It’s easier, neater to say -

It all starts with fucking Sharpy.

It’s just locker room bullshit, the kind of dumb conversation that they have all the time before and after skating. Talking shit just to make conversation, just to rile each other up. It shouldn’t - it doesn’t mean anything. It never means anything. Most of the time Jonny doesn’t even pay attention.

“Would you ever have sex for money?”

It’s Sharpy, obviously, the fucking instigator. He’s looking at Kaner with a dumb grin on his face, and Kaner’s just rolling his eyes and snorting.

“Probably? I’d have sex for free, dude.”

Jonny rolls his own eyes. Who would pay to have sex with Kaner?

“Okay, what about with a guy?” Sharpy asks, still with the grin, undoing his laces with one hand. Kaner starts going red.

“A guy? No.”

Jonny leans against the wall, frowning a little, arms folded. Kaner’s cheeks are red, and he’s not looking at Sharpy, and Sharpy’s laughing at him, still pressing.

“What about for five hundred dollars?”

Kaner shakes his head. “Pff, no.”

Sharpy glances at Jonny, smirks at him, and then looks back at Kaner.

“A thousand?”

And Jonny has to cut in at this point, because seriously. “Who the fuck would pay a thousand dollars to have sex with Kaner?” It comes out snappier than he means, but whatever. It’s a valid question.

Kane looks up at him in surprise. “Hey!” he says, mildly offended, but then shakes his head at Sharpy. “But still no.”

“Five thousand?” Sharpy shoots it back without even hesitating, and Kaner...Kaner looks like he’s actually starting to think about it.

“I dunno. That’s still pretty cheap,” he says dubiously, glancing up at Jonny as if for confirmation. Jonny keeps his mouth shut.

Sharpy leans back against his locker. “Okay, ten thousand, yes or no.”

Kaner is definitely red now, from his ears down to his chest. Jonny is morbidly fascinated, holds his breath as he waits for the answer.

“Yeah, ten thousand, fine, whatever.” Kaner pauses for a second, thinking about it. “But fucking...pitching only, and no head.”

Jonny feels his frown deepen. “Patrick Kane’s working out his gay hooker contract now,” he says, deadpan. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

And this whole thing is hilarious to Sharpy, obviously, because he will just not let up. “How much to take it, Peeks?” he says, laughing like an asshole. Jonny’s weirdly pissed off. This is stupid, the whole conversation is stupid, no one is going to pay Patrick Kane ten thousand dollars to fuck them, who in the world would be that pathetic, seriously.

“Why are you so interested?” he says to Sharpy. “You in the market?”

Sharpy turns his smirk back on Jonny. “Not me, but you know, we could maybe start up a pool or-”

But then Kaner pipes up with the most ridiculous bullshit Jonny has ever heard.

“Double. I’d take it for twenty grand.”

Which is it for Sharpy, he cracks up laughing, and Jonny can already tell that at some point Sharpy is going to start up a pool and try to raise the money and then Kaner will be fucked - ha, ha - and Jonny will have to get him out of it.

But really, all Jonny can think about - all he can care about - is Kaner’s mouth and the way it moved around the words I’d take it.


And that’s when he knows he’s going to be obsessed. He’s pissed off and uncomfortable, feeling kind of...protective? No, that isn’t it, but something like that. Feeling kind of caught up in his head and okay, weirdly, just a little turned on, and it’s going to be a thing, and damn it, why was his life so goddamned hard.

So when Sharpy says “So what about you Jonny, how much -” Jonny just snaps “No,” and that’s it, conversation over, and he storms out of the locker room towards the showers like a man on a mission. He stares at himself in the mirror for a while, frowning at his reflection, and tries to figure out what the fuck is wrong with him.

He doesn’t quite get it yet, but seriously, fuck Sharpy, this is all his fault and everything sucks.


Later that night him and Kaner are alone together in their hotel room and Jonny’s feeling a little calmer, a little less insane. He still can’t stop being weird and staring at the side of Kaner’s head over the top of his laptop, though. The way Kaner goes red again under the scrutiny is vaguely satisfying.

“Jesus, what?” Kaner finally sighs, turning to look at him, and Jonny shrugs like nothing’s up and lets Kaner turn back to the TV before saying, “Dudes, huh?”

And Kaner scowls and pouts a little, pursing his lips out and sighing elaborately and making a big show of it. “For twenty thousand dollars.”

But Sharpy isn’t the only one who can be a pushy asshole. “You’re a millionaire, Kaner. Twenty grand is still pretty cheap.”

“Your face is cheap,” Kaner mutters back at him, which is exactly the level of riposte Jonny has come to expect. And then Kaner does a Jonny and disappears into the bathroom for about twenty minutes while Jonny stares creepily at the door and frowns.

The thing is, he thinks he knows something about Kaner. Maybe. He’s not sure because for real, you can’t judge a man by the kind of porn he watches (at least if there’s any sort of god in heaven you can’t); and finding a whole bunch of Corbin Fisher twink vids that time he got bored and accidentally searched through the browser history on Kaner’s laptop, that might not mean anything. Besides, he’s seen Kaner with girls, on occasion, so obviously that’s a thing, or at least it would be if Kaner could ever get his game together. So.

But still, there’s a maybe there. And it’s never mattered before, of course, but now?



As predicted, Jonny starts obsessing over the whole thing.

He’s not like, staring into his cornflakes every morning thinking about Kaner getting on his back for money, obviously, but the idea does pop up in his head more than it should. It should have been forgotten the second they walked out of the locker room because it was stupid and meaningless and Jonny didn’t have time in his life for things that were stupid and meaningless.

Except for how now when he jerks off he doesn’t use any of his normal go-to fantasies. He’s thinking about - not exactly Kaner, that’s too fucking weird, he doesn’t let himself do that. Just the idea of paying for it. Of shelling out money and owning someone, just for the night. Of having that kind of power, not Kaner. Not over Kaner. No one could do that to Kaner, no one would, who fucking - and anyway, twenty thousand is too cheap, obviously, and at the same exact time way too expensive, because who would do that? Who would pay to have Kaner, who would buy Kaner, he can’t even - someone having that power, someone owning him...

It makes him furious and uncomfortable and weirdly fucking turned on all at the same time.

But he’s obsessing over the idea of it, not the specifics. If he keeps flashing back to Kaner saying I’d take it then whatever, he doesn’t need to overthink himself all the fucking time, he’s a growing boy and shit’s bound to get weird sometimes. He’s not - it’s not like he’s into Kaner. He’s not even gay, probably.

The fact that he watched a bunch of the gay porn he found on Kaner’s laptop, and came so hard after that he thought he was going to die, that doesn’t actually mean anything. Porn is porn, right? Yeah, that’s what he’d told himself as he clicked on link after link, thinking about Kaner looking at that stuff, getting off to it. He’d been a little surprised it’d gotten him so hard, but when he’d jerked off it hadn’t seemed to matter. It was hot. It didn’t have to mean anything, he didn’t have to let it.

This is the same thing. So fuck it, if this is what his brain is doing to him at this time, well, Jonny’ll just figure it out. He’ll work a way around it, get it out of his system and move on. It’s not like it’s a big deal.

And in the meantime if he keeps coming with Kaner’s stupid fucking face in his head, well, he’ll just have to roll with the punches.


He’s jerking off alone in his room, fresh from the shower and loose and warm and relaxed. He’s not thinking about anything much, just enjoying the lazy slide of his spit-slicked hand up and down his cock. He didn’t even bother with porn, he’s just...letting himself go, half resigned to falling asleep before he even manages to nut one out but figuring he’ll give it a go anyway.

He closes his eyes, chews on his bottom lip, struggles to keep his mind blank. He feels good, so fucking good, that’s all he needs, doesn’t need to think about - anything, doesn’t need to think about...

Well yeah, okay, he can think about porn, porn’s okay. Even gay porn, fine, whatever, it works for him, that’s fine. He strokes faster, spits in his other hand and rubs it over the head. The images are coming thick and fast now, no holding them back. Someone sucking his dick shifts into someone on their hands and knees for him, open for him, begging for it...

And now - fuck, now it’s Kaner’s face again, saying “I’d take it”, now it’s Kaner on his knees like one of the boys from those videos he watches, Kaner on his back, someone covering him, hooking their hands under his knees and spreading him open...

“Fuuuck,” Jonny moans, because that’s not even the worst part of the fantasy. The worst part - which is also the best part - is when Jonny replaces the guy about to fuck Kaner, when he just muscles his way in between Kaner’s legs and tells him ‘mine’ and Kaner looks up at him with his dirty, lazy gaze and says ‘Yeah, Tazer, yeah, come on...’

Jonny comes with a groan, spilling all over his stomach and chest. It feels amazing, like the guilt is just another aspect of the pleasure.

“So fucked up,” he whispers out loud. He’s not - he wasn’t supposed to think about Kaner. That’s not part of the plan. But the plan doesn’t seem to be working.

It doesn’t go away.


Like all young men - he assumes - Jonny sometimes relies on good old fashioned porn to help get him through stress. So he does the obvious thing and turns to redtube to get him through his latest crisis.

But searching for ‘hooker porn’ doesn’t really help. He watches a few videos, trying to get into it, but the fakeness of it doesn’ could get him off, but it’s not right, it’s not what he wants. Blonde chicks in stripper heels, bad acting, hairy guys trying to talk dirty. It’s just porn, it doesn’t have that extra kick he’s after.

He tries a few different combinations, and then gives up and diligently deletes his browser history. He sits at his desk for a little while, tapping his fingers and frowning. He’s hard, because he’s twenty three and he just watched a bunch of hot chicks get fucked. He wants to jerk off, but he knows what he’ll be thinking about while he does.

He sighs and types in something else, and...yeah, that’s maybe a little closer. Still not right, but closer.

He strokes his cock while watching some kid with dirty blond hair take it on his knees hard from a guy who’s bigger than him, darker. It’s hot, it’s...fuck, it’s working. Slut, the guy on screen is saying. You wanna take that cock? Jonny groans and closes his eyes, feeling the heat in his cheeks, blushing even though he’s all alone.

He comes just listening, replacing the images on the screen with the ones in his head. You wanna take that?

You want it, Kaner?


He’s struck later by what about it felt right and what didn’t, and he tries to make himself figure it out, going over it like he’d go over game plays. He wants - it’s the hooker part of the porn that matters. He wants to be in charge of someone, wants to own them. It’s not just sex, he could go out and pick up a girl if it was that, he could find someone to come home with him. But the thing that’s sparking him, the thing that’s fucking with his head, is the idea of paying someone. He doesn’t know why.

Or if he does, he doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to give it any more attention than he already has.

Coming while thinking about Patrick Kane belonging to him is already hard enough to deal with, maybe.


Jonny’s too self-aware not to notice what he starts doing next, but he can honestly say that he didn’t start doing it on purpose. At least not consciously.

Subconsciously...who the fuck knows, he’s getting sick of trying to analyse himself, it’s not getting him anywhere and Jesus, can’t he just pay someone else to do that for him too?

Anyway. It happens the first time while they’re in the locker room after a tight win and Jonny is feeling the stress of the almost-loss way more than the triumph of the close victory. He’s trying to decompress, to get his head together and calm down, but Kaner’s there and he will not shut up.

He’s sitting next to Jonny at their stalls, and he’s been fucking rapping since they came off the ice. Or trying, anyway, who the fuck told Kaner that he could rap? Jonny means generally, in life, as well as specifically right then, because he is honestly terrible. Jonny is almost as irritated by the shitty quality as he is by Kaner’s inability to keep quiet for five fucking seconds.

“Kaner,” he says softly, eyes closed. “Give it a rest.”

“Lighten up, Captain Serious,” Kaner shoots back, and that only pisses Jonny off more, because Kaner only ever calls him that when he’s actively trying to be an asshole.

“Don’t think I won’t fucking murder you,” Jonny says, opening his eyes to glare.

Kaner grins, wide and crooked. “The people of Chicago would never forgive you, man.”

Jonny just looks at him steadily. “The people of Chicago would thank me.”

Kane holds his gaze for a moment, then opens his mouth and starts rapping again, and he’s - he’s fucking getting all the words to Superman wrong deliberately, and Jonny is starting to get desperate.

“Fucking - look, I will give you ten bucks if you just keep your mouth shut for ten minutes. I’m serious.”

Kaner pauses, looking like an idiot with his mouth still hanging open. “Really?”

“Really.” Jonny rummages through his bag until he finds his wallet, pulls out a ten dollar bill and holds it up. “Here.”

Kaner reaches out, but Jonny snatches it back and raises his eyebrows. “Ten minutes,” he reiterates. “Or I want my money back.”

Kaner shrugs. “Sure, I can do that, Jonny.” He takes the bill and shoves in his bag, immediately opens and closes his mouth a few times, already looking kind of constipated. Jonny shakes a finger at him, and Kaner shrugs again, sighs, settles.

It’s fucking heaven.

Jonny leans back against his locker and closes his eyes again, half listening to the general locker-room chatter, half in his own head, thinking through the game, thinking through the team. Kaner doesn’t say a word, but he’s not exactly silent, fiddling around with his gear, rearranging his bag, tapping his feet a little. Jonny doesn’t mind though. It’s kind of comforting. He’s super aware of Kaner’s entire existence, actually, but not in a bad way. It’s all good.

He could totally get used to this.

At one point Bolly comes up to ask Kaner a question, and Jonny slits his eyes open to watch Kaner grimace in frustration at him and Bolly blink in confusion back. Jonny just smirks at them and shuts his eyes again as Shawsy, ever helpful, pipes up. “Kaner’s on time out.”

Bolly laughs, like, oh, right, and Jonny mumbles, “Five more minutes,” as he wanders away.

He’s not exactly sure why he’s enjoying this so much, but shit, he’ll take it while he can.

With about two minutes to go, Sharpy calls out to Kaner from the other side of the locker room. Kaner stands up to go see what he wants, but Jonny automatically grabs his wrist, holding him in place. He shakes his head.

“Stay here.”

Kaner’s look of righteous, if impotent, outrage is priceless.

“I paid for ten minutes of you not talking,” Jonny continues evenly. “And it still counts as you talking even if you’re doing it somewhere I can’t hear you.”

Kaner squints at him furiously, but Jonny doesn’t let up and eventually he drops back down onto the bench, wrenching his arm away and pointedly staring at his wristwatch.

“Good,” Jonny says, but his mouth has gone a little dry, and he needs to take a couple of sips from his water bottle and maybe stop staring at Kaner like a crazy person, how about that? Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

Except for how it’s an awful plan and he doesn’t do it. Fuck Kaner. He can be stared at and he can like it.

In the end, Kaner does stay silent for the entire ten minutes but as soon as his time’s up, he jabs a finger in Jonny’s face. “You’re a control freak.”

Jonny nods. “Yep,” he says, because it’s true, and it’s something he’s made his peace with, not a character flaw. “Good job, Kaner. Worth it.”

Kaner just gets up. “So can I go now, your highness?”

Jonny can’t help but smile. “I’ve got another ten dollars if you -” but Kaner’s already off, bolting over to Sharpy, probably to whine about Jonny as if Sharpy’s gonna do anything about it other than mock Kaner for being a cry-baby.

Whatever. Jonny’s a lot calmer now, feeling better about the win, and he’s ready to be in a good mood.

He’s also ready to go home and jerk off for as long as he can make himself last, because he suddenly realises he’s horny as fuck.

But that’s okay. Wining always gets him hot, that’s pretty par for the course. It’s got nothing to do with the way Kaner had just spent ten whole minutes with his mouth shut, doing as he was told just because Jonny’d dangled some cash in his face. What was hot about that?

Nothing, obviously.


To say it becomes a bit of a habit might be an understatement.

Jonny knows he’s just transferring his new sexual crisis thing onto the only person dumb enough to put up with it, but he can’t make himself stop. Kaner’s pretty easy for it, and Jonny’s easy for how easy Kaner is, so he ends up in this weird cycle of paying Kaner money to do whatever Jonny wants. Stupid shit, small shit, but it’s still something. There’s still that secret thrill of, of...ownership, of Kaner being Jonny’s because he’s been bought and paid for.

“Kaner, five bucks if you go find me a blue Gatorade.” “There’s a twenty in it for you if you don’t sing that song for the rest of the day.” “Go get us some coffee and you can keep the change.”

And Kaner goes along with it every time, which is just - amazing to Jonny. Even when Jonny tries to push a little, making him stay on the exercise bike for an extra fifteen minutes, say, or keep his mouth shut in the hotel room for a solid hour (that had cost him a full hundred but fuck it had been worth it. So worth it that after forty five minutes Jonny had had to escape into the shower and jerk off, biting the inside of his bicep to stay quiet enough to hear Kaner being quiet). Yeah Kaner bitches and moans, but once he’s taken the money, Jonny always gets what he’s paid for.

If Kaner wasn’t a millionaire, Jonny would be worrying about his financial situation. Being Jonny’s pseudo-whore is starting to earn him serious bank, and he doesn't even have to work all that hard for it. That line of thinking just leads Jonny back to how this all began, though - Kaner saying he’d let a guy fuck him for twenty grand - and that always gets Jonny all worked up and weird and turned on, so.


It’s not even the gayness of it that’s bothering him. Being attracted - maybe, possibly, probably - to Kaner is way more of a problem than being attracted to guys in general, and Jonny figures he needs to tackle all of this one step at a time. Get Kaner out of his system and get the stupid obsession with paying for sex out of his system, and maybe then he can freak out about being bisexual or whatever the fuck he is.

Not that it’s even that much of a surprise, not if he’s honest. He guesses that if he was one hundred per cent straight he would have just...shut Kaner’s laptop and moved on, that time. He’s not an idiot. Jerking off to some kid called Josh getting fucked up the ass is not exactly the most heterosexual thing he’s ever done in his life.

It’s not being into guys, he’s theoretically okay with being into guys. And he can’t - he’s not gonna even think about fucking Kaner, that’s not an option. So where does that leave him?

And that’s when he realises what he’s gonna have to do. The porn didn’t work, and treating Kaner like a personal butler is just making things worse. He wants – he needs – something more, but…

He can’t pay Kaner for sex.

So he’s going to have to pay someone else.

He’s looked at it from every angle, and it’s the only thing he can come up with. The only way to deal with this is to face it front on and take it like a man and get someone to hire him a secret gay hooker.

Fucking Sharpy.


He calls Jason, who’s a cross between a PR guy, a personal assistant, and a friend, because if anyone can deal with what Jonny’s about to dump on them it’s him. And Jonny can’t deal with the thought of doing this by himself, he’d fuck it up and end up front page news in five seconds flat. Jase has been there through all kinds of shit - strange rashes, embarrassing car accidents, ill-advised hook-ups, pregnancy scares that weren’t orchestrated by dickhead teammates... He’s trustworthy.

Also, he’s gay, which...actually, Jonny doesn’t think that’s likely to help much in this situation. It’ll probably just make Jason judge him more. But whatever, he’s got limited options here. How many people in his life would be willing to help him hire a hooker? How many people in his life would he trust to hire him a hooker? Yeah, no. It’s basically a pool of one.

“So, hi,” he starts, after spending pretty much an entire week working up the sac to call. “I want to have sex with a guy.”

“Jesus Christ, Tazer.” Jason’s voice is kind of weak, and Jonny wonders if maybe he should have eased into it a little. But no. It’s always best to rip the Band-Aid straight off, right?

“Can you help me out?”

Jason laughs. “I assume that’s not an offer? Because that’s flattering, but you know me and Steve have been together for years.”

Jonny can feel himself getting red (redder, seriously, he’d been blushing since before he even made the call), because he is just not equipped for normal human interaction at the best of times, and this is not normal, there are no sporting clichés or sound bites he could have prepared for this.

He just takes a deep breath and barrels on, though. In for a penny...

“No, not you, I mean, it’ll have to be an escort. I need a male escort, okay?”

And Jonny has come to Jase with a lot of problems over the years, so Jase only needs a moment to process before he figures out what a giant pain in the ass this is going to be.

“Really? You’re straight, Jonny. Can’t you straight?”

“I want to try something new,” Jonny says stubbornly. “I figured this would be a better plan than, like, trawling gay bars for hook-ups.” Jonny has no actual idea how to even go about that, but it freaks Jase out all the same.

“Jeez, no, don’t,” he says hurriedly. “But seriously? Can’t you just watch some gay porn or something? Fuck a girl with short hair and no tits?”

But Jonny’s not backing down now, so Jase promises to take care of it, says he’ll organise it anonymously, book him a hotel, get a non-disclosure form ready. It sounds like a lot of effort to Jonny. He is so glad he didn’t trust this to Steeger, or someone.

“Saturday?” he asks, when Jase asks him when. “Can we do it this Saturday?” It’s less than a week away, but any longer and Jonny thinks he might lose his nerve. Jase agrees, though, and then the hard questions start.

“ have any idea what you want?”

“What I want?”

“What kind of guy you want,” Jase explains patiently. “You get to pick.”

And of course Jonny does know what kind of guy he wants. It’s pretty specific, actually. But saying ‘someone who looks exactly like Patrick Kane, or is Patrick Kane, please’ will probably not go down so well.

“Uh...blond?” he starts, face burning. “Short - shorter than me. Smaller. Blue eyes would be, uh, good.” It’s humiliating, and he’s not sure how specific he ought to be, but he figures it’s better to overshare now than have things fuck up later. “So like. I like - in bed.” He’s having trouble getting this out, but Jase is just waiting in non-judgemental silence, because he’s a saint, and Jonny finally blurts out, “Look, I won’t know what I’m doing, but I like to be in charge, okay? Will that be okay? I’m kind of bossy.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Jase asks, but his voice is gentle and he’s obviously noting all of this down, so Jonny’s kind of comforted. “Yeah, that’s okay, Jonny, leave it with me. And if you want my advice? You’ll watch a lot of gay porn between now and Saturday. Get some idea of what you’re getting yourself into.” He pauses for a second. “Just don’t let Patrick find out.”

Jonny’s startled, not expecting to hear Kaner’s name. It throws him off balance a little. “What’s Kaner got to do with any of this?” he snaps, glaring aimlessly around his kitchen.

Jase’s voice is still really gentle when he replies. “Really? Okay, then. Nothing, Jonny, nothing at all.”

And then they hang up and Jonny’s all alone in his kitchen and suddenly he’s going to be having sex with an actual guy in just a few days, and shit, he’s so worked up and stressed out and turned on that he basically can’t stop himself jerking off, and this time he doesn’t even try to resist the fantasy of dropping twenty grand in Kaner’s lap and bending him over and fucking him until he’s coming and crying and calling Jonny’s name.


Typically, because Jonny’s life is a complete comedy, Kaner shows up uninvited to Jonny’s place that Saturday fifteen minutes before Jonny was planning on leaving. He’s standing in Jonny’s doorway with a six pack of lite beer and a bag of chips, and Jonny can only stare at him. Because he’s spent all afternoon gearing himself up to have gay sex for the first time and now Kaner is in front of him with a hopeful look in his eyes and Jonny thinks he’s justified in feeling like the universe is fucking with him.

“I’m going out,” he says as Kaner ignores him and heads towards the kitchen and the fridge. “You can’t stay.”

“Where’re you going?” Kaner asks dubiously. Whatever, Jonny has friends outside the team, he could be going somewhere.

Out,” he says. “What, you want me to run my schedule past you now? Go bother one of the rookies.”

“But I had my heart set on bothering you.” Kaner rolls his eyes, and Jonny’s heart would almost be warmed if he didn’t know that Kaner only shows up so much because it’s a less than five minute walk and Kaner hates driving anywhere.

“Too bad,” he says shortly, grabbing his wallet and keys. “I was just about to leave, dude.”

Kaner looks annoyed, which - whatever, it’s his fault for showing up unannounced. “My Xbox has red ring of death,” he says grumpily. “My apartment is like a fucking mausoleum right now.”

Jonny shakes his head. “And here I thought you cared,” he says. “I’m still going. But I guess you can let yourself out whenever.”

Kaner drops onto the couch and doesn’t look at him as he opens a beer and takes a swig. “Where are you going?” he asks again.  “I’ll come.” Jonny’s not even gonna let himself go there. Or like, at least not while Kaner is sitting right in front of him.

“You can’t come. I’m going to see an old friend who’s visiting from Winnipeg, okay, you’d hate it.” He hesitates at the door, looking at Kaner not looking at him. He shouldn’t do this. He really shouldn’t.

“I’ll pay you,” he adds softly, and watches Kaner’s head jerk around. “I’ll pay you not to fuck with any of my shit.”

Kaner’s not gonna fuck with his shit anyway, he’s a grown man, not a thirteen year old. But Jonny can’t think of any other reason, can’t think of any other excuse. And he wants to pay Kaner for something right now.

God, he’s so fucked up.

“Gimme a twenty,” Kaner says, voice equally soft. “I’ll order takeout and sit here and play Call of Duty all night, okay?”

What are we doing? Jonny thinks, as he pulls his wallet back out of his pocket. What is this?

But Kaner just takes the money, eyes back on the television, without a word. He lifts his hips to shove the bill in his back pocket, and Jonny very carefully doesn’t watch, doesn’t let it affect him. Instead he just leaves, because it’s either leave or break down and do something completely stupid.


Mostly Jonny is just relieved that the night isn’t a complete failure.

The guy’s name is Shaun, and he doesn’t really look much like Kaner, which Jonny decides is probably a good thing. His blond hair is straight and short, and while he’s more defined all over, he’s a lot smaller than Kaner, slight and wiry, with Abercrombie-model abs that make Jonny wanna get out of there and hit the gym.

He doesn’t look a lot like Kaner, but it’s obvious Jase made an effort, and Jonny appreciates that. And he’s gotta be honest, it’s not the only thing he appreciates about the kid.

“So I’m Shaun and you’re Jonny,” is the first thing he says, with a grin that makes his eyes light up. He leans in the doorway of Jonny’s hotel room. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Jonny replies automatically, and doesn’t know where to go from there. Shaun’s looking at him expectantly, waiting for Jonny to invite him in, and Jonny’s just staring back like he’s gotten a puck to the head. Shaun bites his lip, looks over Jonny’s shoulder into the room, and finally something in Jonny kicks into gear.

This is it.

“Hey,” Jonny says and reaches for Shaun, hooking a finger in the belt loop of his jeans and pulling him into the room, nudging the door shut with his foot. “So I’ve never done this before,” he says bluntly, because honesty is probably the best policy. Shaun keeps his grin as he wraps his arms around Jonny’s neck.

“Yeah, well, I’m here to help you figure stuff out, I guess?”

Jonny sucks in a deep breath. It’s the first time he’s ever been in this position with another guy - well, okay, that’s maybe a lie, he’s in this position with other hockey players all the fucking time. But this is different, a different kind of intimacy. He puts his hands hesitantly on Shaun’s waist, feels how hard it is, how it’s so unlike holding a woman.


“I don’t,” he starts, but Shaun’s looking up at him with big blue eyes, and Jonny feels like he has to step up here. He can’t hide from it, he can’t not take this chance, he can’t pussy out. And that’s when it hits him, really fucking hits him, that Shaun is his for the next two hours, literally bought and paid for. Yeah, that’s what he was looking for, that’s what he wants. He’s been so worked up and stressed out and turned on all week, and he took Jason’s advice and watched a lot of porn, and shit, there’s just so much he wants to try.

He doesn’t really know how to not take the lead.

He unwinds Shaun’s arms from around his neck and holds him lightly by the wrists. “Tell me if I do something really fucking dumb,” he says, voice steady, walking backwards towards the bed and pulling Shaun with him. Shaun nods. His cheeks are a little red, and he goes easily, looking Jonny in the eye.

“Sure thing, Jonny,” he says in a low voice, and Jonny tightens his grip, just a little.

“Call me Tazer,” he says, and drops back onto the bed, pulling Shaun between his spread knees.

Shaun licks his lips, and for the first time, Jonny’s cock twitches. Yeah, he can do this. He owns this.

“Whatever you want, Tazer,” Shaun whispers, and leans in, pausing right before his lips touch Jonny’s like he’s waiting for Jonny to say it’s okay.

Jonny smiles, just a little. Yeah. He’s got this.


So it’s fine, it’s great. He’s not one hundred per cent awesome in every way, but he knows his limitations, knows when he has to work on things, and Shaun is a fucking professional. He’s really good at making suggestions while still making it seem like Jonny’s in charge. And Jonny’s into it, he really is, any final reservations he’d had about being with a guy dissolve under Shaun’s mouth and hands and tongue.

And if it’s weird that he makes Shaun call him Tazer, who the fuck cares when he’s got Shaun on all fours, pumping into him with deep, hard thrusts. He shoves his fingers in and out of Shaun’s mouth and - fuck - bites his lip on Kaner’s name when Shaun starts whimpering, begging. And when Shaun says, “Tazer, yeah, come on please,” Jonny comes so hard he almost sees stars.


Kaner’s gone when Jonny gets home, his takeout shoved in the trash, his glasses and cutlery loaded into the dishwasher. Jonny stands in the middle of his empty apartment and looks around and waits to feel different.

He’s still waiting when he gets into the shower to wash away the scent of Shaun’s cologne, still waiting when he crawls into bed, and probably still waiting when he falls asleep, exhausted and sated and still completely unable to get Patrick Kane out of his head.


A week goes by and everything is basically the same, despite Jonny’s big gay hooker sex experience. He kind of feels like everyone in the entire world has to know, just by looking at him, but that obviously isn’t true and life goes on.

Nothing changes.

The first time Kaner holds out his hand for a fiver when Jonny asked him to pass the Gatorade, Jonny reaches for his wallet automatically, doesn’t even think about it until after Kaner’s taken the money. And there’s that little thrill, there’s that fission of want, and shit, wasn’t that supposed to have gone now? He’d gotten it out of his system, he’d paid for actual sex from an actual guy, he wasn’t supposed to want Kaner anymore, that wasn’t part of the game plan. But then Kaner hands him the bottle with a little smirk on his lips, and in that instant Jonny knows that no, it still hasn’t worked.

It keeps not working.


The following Saturday, Kaner’s invited himself over to Jonny’s place with beer again, and this time Jonny just lets him in without a word, snagging one of them as Kaner heads towards the fridge.

“You need a friend,” he says absently, dropping back down onto the couch and grabbing the remote. “Maybe you should pick up a hobby or something, man.”

“Maybe you should go fuck yourself,” Kaner suggests, and slumps down next to Jonny with a beer of his own. “How’s that for a plan?”

“Whatever,” Jonny says dismissively, and drinks half his beer in one go before looking at it thoughtfully. Kaner’s watching him, a wry smile on his face.

“The night for it, huh?”

And yeah. It kind of is.


The beers are gone and against his better judgement Jonny’s broken out the special-occasion only whiskey. He’s just pouring them out their second shots when Kaner gets that determined, constipated look like he’s trying to make a thought happen. Jonny mentally braces himself.

“So,” Kaner starts, sitting sideways on the couch so he can look determinedly at the side of Jonny’s head. “So last week.”

Jonny holds his breath. He doesn’t want to talk about last week. There’s nothing they could possibly talk about that happened last week that would be a good plan. They lost both their games and Jonny had sex with a male escort in a hotel room, okay, he’s not wasting the good whiskey on those conversations. Probably. Kaner is looking pretty stubborn.

“What about last week?”

“You left your laptop on.”

And that throws Jonny for a loop, because that was not in his ‘bad things from last week’ list, and all he can do is stare at Kaner in confusion, like, so? So what?

“So I mean, I know I said I wasn’t gonna fuck with your shit, but it was on and I was bored, so…” He pauses and takes another sip, like he needs the fortification, and suddenly it hits Jonny where this is going. Oh. Ohhhh.

“Corbin Fisher, huh?”

And Jonny has two options here. He can be embarrassed and awkward about having like twenty gay porn vids on his hard drive and try to deny it and swear at Kaner and generally make a big deal about it. That’s option number one, and it’s looking pretty fucking inviting and he can feel his cheeks going warm and yeah, option number one – definitely on the table.

Or. He can decide that he’s too fucking drunk on beer and good whiskey to be embarrassed and just go with it. It’s not like Kaner can judge him, and weird shit aside, Kaner is still his best friend, and if you can’t, while under the influence, admit to your best friend that sometimes you watch gay porn, then when the hell can you?

Uh, never? The small voice of sobriety pipes up, but Jonny decides to fuck that voice. He’s gonna be a man.

“I guess,” he shrugs, playing it cool. “I was trying something new.”

And Kaner hmmms, and Jonny doesn’t think it’s a judging hmmm, but it’s not exactly a raucous show of support and understanding, either, so he gathers up the balls to add, “Besides, I only even know what Corbin Fisher porn is from finding it on your computer. So.”

Kaner stares at him for a second longer, and then reaches for the whiskey, bypassing a glass completely and just taking a swig from the bottle. “Oh, right,” he mumbles, lips all wet with booze and red and fuck, no, Jonny’s not doing that to himself right now.

“Shit, Tazer,” Kaner says eventually, after taking another long swallow. “I guess I was trying something new as well.”

And Jonny’s just drunk and ballsy enough to ask a question that’s been on his mind for a while. Not the one about giving Kaner a large sum of money to have sex with him, no, but still, it’s pretty important.

“Kaner…are you gay?”

Kaner sighs, doesn’t look particularly surprised by the question. “I dunno, man. Probably not, I mean, I guess I like both?” He’s mumbling into his chest, not looking at Jonny, and Jonny twists around on the couch to face him properly. “I like fucking girls,” Kaner adds. “But I guess I like gay porn. I’ve never, though – not with a guy.”

And Jonny’s an idiot and a bad person, because instead of giving the Captain speech about tolerance and equality and support, he blurts out, “But you would for twenty grand, right?” and then immediately wants to kick himself in the face.

Kaner stares up at him, a bit of a smirk twisting his lips. “You’re really kinda hung up on that, huh?”

Jonny just shrugs and stays silent, because talking is obviously not a strong point of his right now.

After a minute of passing the bottle back and forth, Kaner picks up the slack.

“You. You’re not gay though, are you? I mean, I’ve literally seen you fucking chicks,” Jonny snorts, because it’s true, Kaner has the worst timing ever when it comes to getting back to the hotel room. “And you and Rachael were together for ages man, and she was gorgeous, don’t tell me you weren’t tapping that.”

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Mostly straight. I thought.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “Been figuring out some stuff lately.”


“Yeah, I mean...” Jonny pauses, makes a decision that he thinks he might regret.’s Kaner. Despite everything else, it’s Kaner. They’ve been in it together for years, they’ve shared so much. Things over the last few weeks have been a little weird, sure, but Jonny thinks it’s mostly just weird in his own head. They’re still them. Jonny still doesn’t want to keep anything from him.

And telling him part of it might relieve some of the building pressure to tell him all of it.

So he sets the whiskey down on the floor and shifts in his seat a little, looking Kaner in the eye. “I’m gonna tell you something kind of huge, okay? But you can’t tell anyone, it has to stay between us.”

“What are we, twelve?” Kaner grins, shaking his head. “You can tell me anything, and then I promise I’ll braid your hair and we can update out diaries together. Pinky swear.”

“You’re a fuckwit,” Jonny says sincerely, but he feels some of the tension released, feels a lot easier in his chest.

He takes a deep breath, puts his game face on. “I. Was with a guy.” No going back now. “I fucked a guy.”

And Kaner – Kaner’s mouth just drops open in shock. “What?” he squawks. “When?” Like he’s personally offended that Jonny would just go out and fuck a guy without clearing it with Kaner first. Jonny’s almost touched.

“Last week,” he starts, but before he can elaborate Kaner rolls right over the top of him, looking kind of panicky.

“Are you fucking insane? Did you hit your head really hard? Am I gonna find pictures of this on the internet, Jesus Christ, Jonny.”

“Settle the fuck down, okay?” Jonny interrupts, embarrassed. “No pictures, no press. It was - I got Jase to organise a, you know. Escort. At a hotel,” He rubs at his burning cheeks. “There was a non-disclosure form, so that’s, that’s fine.”

“Last week?” Kaner says faintly, and Jonny nods.

“Yeah, that night you came over.”

He’s watching Kaner’s face closely, the way his cheeks are red from more than just the booze, the way he keeps licking his lips like he does when he’s nervous. Waiting for a reaction.

“Oh, right.” Kaner starts, face blank with surprise. He doesn’t seem to know how to go on. “So…how did that work out for you?”

His voice is weirdly polite, like he’s asking about a new training regime or brand of protein shake or something. Jonny wonders how the special occasion whiskey could have led them to this place after all. Fuck.

“It was good, I guess,” he says, marvelling at the way words just keep, like, coming out of his mouth.  “I mean, I liked some parts better than others.” He decides he’s not drunk enough to add ‘I liked the part where he kind of looked a little bit like you,’ but the fact that he’s even thinking it tells him it might be time to put away the bottle.

“Which parts?” Kaner demands, and when Jonny raises his eyebrows at him, he scowls defensively. “What? I’m curious. I’ve been into the idea for ages and I never thought to try anything like this. You fucking over-achiever.” He manages a weak grin, and Jonny laughs because yeah, that’s true, he accepts that. And then he tries to think of something to tell Kaner about that night that doesn’t make him sound like a complete freak.

All he can come up with is, “With a guy you don’t have to be so careful.” Kaner waits, and Jonny thinks for a bit before elaborating. “He was…strong, you know? Like, he could take it. I could be rough.”

Great, he thinks. Great work in not sounding like a freak there, Tazer. A-plus job.

But Kaner…Kaner’s looking a little flustered, bright red, still licking his lips in that way that is incredibly distracting and unfair to Jonny. “You like it rough, eh?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

“I like to be in charge,” Jonny agrees. His voice is low, and he doesn’t know when the conversation became this charged, this intense. “I mean, I’m always like that anyway, though.”

Kaner nods and clears his throat. He’s fiddling with the bottle of whiskey, and won’t look at Jonny when he says, “You’ve been – lately, with me.”

Which isn’t actually a sentence, so Jonny just holds his breath and waits.

“You know. You’ve been more…you. And like, the constant paying me?”

Jonny sighs. “I know. I’m sorry. I guess I’ve just been caught up in this whole thing, working stuff out.”

Which isn’t an answer, but Kaner seems to accept it, at least for now. “So much was it? Was it expensive?”

And Jonny...Jonny is just about drunk enough to say “A lot cheaper than twenty grand,” the words slipping out of his mouth before he can grab them and haul them back. He looks at Kaner wide-eyed, but Kaner, Kaner just laughs at him, drunk and open, blue eyes hooded.

“You get what you fucking pay for, dude,” he says, and shit, now they’re just staring at each other with those words hanging in the air between them, and Jonny can admit that he was an idiot to think anything at all was out of his system.

He wants Kaner so fucking bad.

He wants to have him, wants to own him, wants to do all the things he did with Shaun but be better at them. Wants to hear Kaner say the words ‘I’m yours’, wants to - shit, wants to love him, wants to have his love. Wants it all.

And he’s just about to say something moronic like I’ll write you a cheque, when Kaner breaks eye contact, setting the bottle down gently on the table.

“Maybe, maybe I should get going. It’s pretty late.” His voice is rough and low, and Jonny has to shut down this little freak-out now or he’s going to lose everything.

“Don’t be stupid, man, take the spare room. It’s like two in the morning.”

Kaner looks up at him, smiling strangely. “Yeah? How much will you pay me?”

It hits him like a punch to the gut. “Kaner...” There’s a tremble in Jonny’s voice that he prays only he can hear, and for a fucking change it looks like his prayers are answered, because Kaner starts smiling and then laughing and then throwing pillows at him, and the tension’s broken and everything’s back to normal. Or as normal as it ever gets with the two of them these days.

So Kaner takes the spare room, and when Jonny goes to bed and jerks off, he makes more of an effort than usual to keep himself silent, hyper-aware of Kaner in the next room.

Hyper-aware of the urge to walk in there and say I’ll pay before straddling Kaner’s chest, holding him down and just fucking his dick into that stupid, perfect mouth.


So they dance around the issue for a while, yeah, that’s probably one way of putting it. Jonny can feel the new tension between them, at practise, hanging out with the guys. It keeps him on edge, riding a constant thread of uneasy arousal. He can tell Kaner knows something’s up, too, can see it in the way he looks at him, like he’s expecting...something, fuck if Jonny knows what. Jonny to grow a second head, maybe, or finally go insane.

He doesn’t let up on ordering Kaner around, though, doesn’t quit paying him. Keeps his hand constantly in his wallet and shit, he doesn’t even want to try to add up how much he must have given him by now. It’s kind of a scary thought. But yeah, he’s pushing it, and Kaner’s starting to push back, asking him how much Jonny’ll pay him for this and that, negotiating prices, holding his hand out more and more like he just expects it, like he wants it.

Jonny fucking loves it. There’s no point in denying it, no matter how messed up it is, he loves it. Loves how Kaner seems to love it too. And absolutely nothing is getting worked out of his system, he’s given up on that plan and started on plan B, which is apparently all about enabling the fuck out of himself until he has a mental breakdown in the locker room or something.

The fact that he gets so irrationally furious when Sharpy brings up the twenty thousand for Kaner’s ass, joking about how well the pool’s going - yeah, that’s probably a problem. The way he still gets grumpy and moody and snappy at the thought of anyone else putting their hands on Kaner, that’s a problem as well. But by now Jonny is starting to think fuck it. He’s got all sorts of problems, what’re another one or two?


It can’t last, obviously.

It comes to a head not too long after, when the tension between them finally reaches breaking point and spills out onto the ice. They have a screaming match after a lost game, going toe-to-toe in the locker room like they haven’t for years, getting in each other’s faces, Sharpy and Seabs loitering nearby ready to step in as needed.

“Fucking – that was shit out there, Kaner, you need to get it the fuck together,” Jonny’s yelling, shoving at Kaner’s chest, ignoring Sharpy’s hand on his shoulder. Kaner looks angrier than Jonny’s ever seen him, and his face closes down, eyes narrowing when he replies.

“Yeah well you can’t pay me to be better out on the ice though, can you Tazer? Is that your real fucking problem?” He’s shaking and Jonny wants to just grab him and slam him into something hard. Wants to hold him and hold him together, wants to get it through his thick fucking skull that Jonny knows how good he is, knows how good they can be.

But he doesn’t do any of that, he’s already too close to the edge. And he’s pissed, frustrated with their game, frustrated with Kaner. Frustrated with himself, most of all, and the way it feels like he’s slowly losing his mind over this. So instead of stepping away and diffusing the situation, he snaps back.

“If I could,” he hisses, knowing he means it to hurt, “I fucking would.”

And then he storms off, ignoring the way Kaner looks like he’s just been punched, ignoring the barrage of fuck you’s streaming after him. Ignoring the way the guys give him a wide berth, like he might have just crossed a line.

And he has, he knows that. He crossed it weeks ago, months ago. Crossed it when he was dumb enough to fall in love with his best friend.

He feels like absolute shit for the rest of the night, sulking alone in his apartment. The next morning he barrels through optional skate avoiding Kaner as much as possible and doesn’t calm down until he’s home that afternoon with a day off looming in front of him. Another day alone, without the prospect of anything being resolved.

Unless he nuts up and apologises, because it’s pretty clear that he’s in the wrong, pretty clear that he’s fucking insane over Kaner. Pretty clear that Kaner knows it, too.


“Hey man. About - about the other day. I.” Jonny’s stammering into his phone, sitting on his couch with his elbows in his knees and staring at his blank TV screen. It’d taken him the whole afternoon to work up the courage to call, and now he doesn’t even know what to say. “Shit.” He gives up and sighs. “You wanna come over?”

Kaner takes a minute to reply. Jonny can hear him shuffling around on his end of the phone, clanking dishes around. Jonny’s just about to speak again, maybe use the word ‘sorry’ in a sentence, when Kaner finally speaks up.

“You want me to replace that fancy-ass scotch we drank the other week?”

Jonny laughs in relief. “If you want, man. I guess we’ve got tomorrow off.”


Jonny waits, chewing on his lip. “Pat?”

“Yeah, okay Jonny, I’ll be over in a few.”


“Can I come in?” Kaner asks, when Jonny just looks at him for a few seconds after opening his door. He’s swinging the bottle of scotch a little nervously, and Jonny sighs, shakes his head at himself.

“Yeah, of course you can.”

They don’t end up drinking though, just sit around in each other’s company, half watching TV, half uncertainly watching each other. Something’s coming, Jonny thinks, something has got to change.

And he wants it to. He’s sick of...whatever this weird, fucked up holding pattern is, he’s sick of hovering. He wants to either take off properly or crash and burn with Kaner at his side.

“Patrick -”

“We need to talk.” Kaner looks at him intently, then at the unopened bottle of scotch on the table. “Do we - do we need to be drunk to do this?”

“To talk?” Jonny asks, all casual, heart racing.

“You know what kind of talk, man.”

Jonny nods slowly. “What is it Kaner?”

Kaner’s jiggling his knee up and down, looking at Jonny and looking away. He bites his lip, starts to say something and seems to change his mind. Jonny waits. He’s not gonna push this, this is Kaner’s show.

“I,” Kaner starts eventually, and then rolls his eyes, apparently at himself. “I want to try it.”

Jonny’s breath catches and he has to work hard to keep his face blank, to keep the emotion out of his voice when he prompts, “Yeah?”

“I wanna. With a guy,” Kaner elaborates. His eyes dart to Jonny’s face and away. “And you’re the only person I know who’s done it, so...”

“You want my advice?” Jonny feels kind of light-headed, reckless.

“Well, yeah. Like, how’d it go with the escort, did - “

“You want my advice?” Jonny repeats, louder, cutting Kaner off. “Don’t.”

Kaner gives him a stunned look, mouth falling open, and Jonny has to glance away and gather himself before going on.

“Don’t pay for it. You shouldn’t be paying,” he elaborates softly. “You - you should be paid.”

Kaner’s eyes are huge, wide and clear, and Jonny desperately wants a drink. But he needs to do this sober, needs to lay everything out on the table with no room for misunderstanding.

So he gets up and goes to his desk, pulling out his cheque book and scrawling a number with shaking hands. He signs it was a flourish and stares at it for a second.

“Jonny. Jonny...” Kaner sounds desperate and confused, and Jonny just walks back to him and holds the cheque out, meeting his eyes.

“Twenty thousand, right?” His heart is in his throat, if Kaner says no he doesn’t - he just wouldn’t be able to deal with it. Crash and burn, he thinks, a little crazily. Fuck.

Kaner’s staring at the cheque, mouth parted a little and cheeks red, and Jonny can feel his heart stop beating in the time it takes Kaner to respond.

“It’s too much,” he says eventually, and Jonny’s heart seizes up again. “I can’t take it, Jonny. I mean, fuck, I’d do it for free.” Jonny lets out a sharp breath, like he’s been punched in the gut, and Kaner looks at him frankly. “But it’s not about that for you, is it?”

And Jonny wants to say It’s about you, Kaner, about wanting you and maybe loving you and needing to have you. But that wasn’t the whole truth, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to say it, anyway.

“Not...entirely about that,” he says instead, trying desperately to think of a way not to fuck this up, not when it’s so close. “You know I’ve got this thing. We’ve got this thing.”

Kaner smiles a little. “You wanna pay me, right Jonny?” he asks, and his voice has no right being that low, that fucking suggestive. “You wanna own me?”

Jonny nods dumbly. He feels like he’s dreaming, like maybe he did drink all the scotch and then blacked out and now he’s in some fucked up fantasy because Kaner’s shrugging and saying, “Fifty bucks,” like it’s nothing, like it’s fucking easy.

Jonny rubs a shaking hand over his face. “That’s a hell of a discount buddy,” he says. Kaner smirks at him, cocking his head, and Jonny suddenly realises that yeah, this is real.

For the first time, he reaches out and touches him, fingers light on Kaner’s cheek. “Too - too cheap, Kaner. The things I wanna do, fifty ain’t gonna cover it.”

Kaner closes his eyes and bites his lip, sways into Jonny’s touch. “How much did you pay last time?”

Jonny rubs his thumb down Kaner’s cheek, presses it into his dimple.

“Six hundred dollars,” he whispers.

Kaner opens his eyes. “Double it. Okay? Will that cover it?”

Jonny swallows, lets the lust rise up and overtake him, lets himself finally believe this is happening. “I’ll triple it,” he says. “And you can stay mine.” He pushes his thumb against the corner of Kaner’s mouth, and then hard into the middle of his bottom lip, pressing it against his teeth. “Is that what you want?”

Kaner’s reply is immediate and sure. “Write the fucking cheque, man.”

He gets all weird and precious for a minute after that, though, and won’t let Jonny touch him until he’s torn up the first cheque and written another one with the new amount. He laughs in disbelief when Jonny hands it over, and then does that move where he lifts his hips up to shove it in his back pocket. Jonny wonders if that was calculated all along, whether Kaner knew what he was doing, knew that it basically mesmerizes Jonny every time.

After it’s tucked away, he leans back into the couch, letting his thighs fall open like, all yours. And something in Jonny snaps, because this is it, this is what he’s wanted for fucking weeks, or longer, longer than he can admit. And it’s happening. Right now, it’s happening.

He straddles Kaner on the couch, knees nestling up next to Kaner’s hips, hands resting on his shoulders, and studies him for a minute, savouring it. Kaner shifts a little, puts shaking hands on Jonny’s waist.

“So are you gonna -”

And Jonny cuts him off, leaning down and kissing him, feeling Kaner’s lips move against his for a few moments like he’s still trying to talk before he gives up and goes soft and lax and pliant, kissing back.

Jonny can’t stop himself from moaning, just a little, into Kaner’s open mouth. His head is spinning, because Kaner’s lips feel even better than he’d thought they would – like, how is that possible, how can anything about Kaner be this amazing? But they’re soft and plush and wet, so full, like they’re about to burst against Jonny’s tongue. He kisses Kaner harder, wants to say mine, wants to wrap his hands around Kaner’s wrists and squeeze until they bruise, wants to sink his teeth into the skin over his heart until Kaner cries out his name... But he doesn’t, he can’t, it’s too intense. So instead he deepens the kiss more and more and tries to say everything he needs to without words. Hopefully Kaner figures it out. Hopefully the way Kaner’s responding to the kiss is his way of saying me too.

Finally, after days and weeks, Jonny pulls away, dragging his teeth lightly over Kaner’s bottom lips as he goes. He pauses for a minute, breathing hard, to assess Kaner’s face.

“Are you,” he pauses, clears his throat, tries to clear his head. “You’re sure?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Kaner groans, leaning up to kiss him again, fast and hard. “How can you - how did you not notice all this time, you’re so fuckin’ dumb.” His fingers are digging hard into Jonny’s side now, but Jonny lets them, staring stupidly into his flushed face.

“You’ve been into it the whole time?”

“I’ve been waiting for this,” Kaner says. “God, you fucking... I’ve been doing everything you wanted, I’ve been so good for you, and then you fucking went to someone else when I was right there.” He’s kind of glaring now, but still pressing kisses to Jonny’s face - lips, jaw, cheekbone - and Jonny thinks they’re okay.

“I had to be sure,” he says, gripping Kaner’s face and holding him still. “I had to know. Okay?”

“I could have made you sure,” Kaner says, stubbornly. “I wanted it. You wanted it too, I knew it. But I didn’t....” he breaks off, buries his face in Jonny’s neck. “I didn’t know if you knew.”

“It took me a while,” Jonny admits. “Shit Kaner, I got there in the end.”

“You’re here now.” Kaner bites at him gently, then looks back up into his face. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure either. But we both are now, right?” There’s something raw and desperate in his face that Jonny’s never seen before. “So don’t - you can’t. Only me from now on, right?”

Jonny closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how to deal with the intensity of this, the enormity. It’s so big, and it’s’s perfect.

Kaner’s looking at him impatiently, shifting his hips up against him a little, licking his lips like he does when he’s nervous or unsure. And if Jonny’s positive about anything, it’s that he’ll do whatever he can to make that uncertainty go away.

“I wanted it to be you,” he says slowly. “The whole time, I wished it was you. It’s so fucked up.” He laughs a little, and Kaner smiles. “But yeah, I guess it’s just gonna be you for a while, huh?” He traces Kaner’s cheekbone with his finger, then down over his jaw, down his neck. “I mean, I bought you, right? I paid for you.”

Kaner swallows hard. Jonny can feel his pulse pounding under the delicate skin of his throat. “So what are you gonna do with me,” he asks, voice low and messed up. “Now you’ve got me?”

“Just this, to start with,” Jonny says, and kisses him again, deep and hard, keeping it up until they’ve both tipped sideways and Kaner’s wedged into the back of the couch, one leg hooked over Jonny’s waist, hard cock pressing hot against his stomach. There’s no more hesitation in the kiss, just a sweet, hot urgency. They lick into each other’s mouths, opening each other up, making it dirty. Jonny shouldn’t have expected anything less, of course kissing Kaner would be like this, like fucking, like it’s the main event.

Eventually though, as good as it is, they break apart again, faces hot and red and damp from breathing each other’s air. Jonny’s so hard he thinks he might be on the verge of passing out. He pushes closer, shoves his hips against Kaner’s, trying for a bit of friction, trying to gauge where Kaner’s at with all this. What he’s gonna wanna do, what he’s willing to do -

“So,” Kaner says, interrupting Jonny’s thoughts. “You gonna fuck me?”

Jonny freezes, drawing a sharp breath. He’d thought Kaner saying I’d take it, just in abstract, was hot? Yeah, that was nothing. This was...shit, he has to concentrate not to cream his pants there and then.

“You - you wanna get fucked?” he asks stupidly, lips sliding across Kaner’s cheek.

Kaner laughs softly, almost just a gasp. “I want whatever you want, Jonny. If I remember right, you like being in charge.”

Jonny presses his face to Kaner’s. “God, that night. I was so close to saying something...”

“You could have,” Kaner says. “Shit, Jonny, you should have. I jerked off so hard thinking about you, about you liking it rough, being rough with me.”

“I did too, that night,” Jonny admits. It feels good to be finally saying it all out loud. “It was so hot that you were right there. Shit, Kaner, the things I wanted to do to you...”

Abruptly, Kaner wiggles out from underneath him, slipping off the couch. “Come on, then,” he says. “Quit fucking around. I’m yours.”

Jonny sits up slowly, the words hitting him like a punch to the chest. “Say that again,” he demands, and watches Kaner’s eyes droop, watches his tongue come out and wet his red lips.

“I’m yours, Jonny,” he repeats.

And that was exactly as mind-blowingly hot as Jonny had always suspected it would be.

He stands up, grabs Kaner’s wrist and starts tugging him towards the bedroom.

“So prove it, then.”


Jonny’s super aware that Kaner’s never done this before, way more aware than Kaner himself seems to be. Part of him wants to be slow and careful, wants to ease Kaner into it and make it something...special, maybe.  But Kaner’s impatient, mouthy. He tumbles them down onto the bed and kisses Jonny like they’re fighting, tugs at his clothes, squeezes him too hard, won’t keep still under Jonny’s touch.

It takes Jonny a little while to realise what he’s trying to do. He catches both of Kaner’s wrists, twists them behind his back. “Keep pushing,” he says softly in Kaner’s ear. “I’m not gonna snap.”

“Oh, damn,” Kaner replies, like he’s trying to sound sarcastic and failing. He’s panting, laying half on top of Jonny and melting into the way Jonny’s trapped him, not fighting it anymore. His cock’s rock hard against Jonny’s thigh, and he’s grinding down a little, unconsciously.

“Behave,” Jonny says, feeling a little ridiculous until Kaner grunts at the word, hips jerking down a little harder. “I’ll get you there.”

“Want it,” Kaner mumbles into Jonny’s neck. “C’mon.”


Jonny’s in charge, though, so he takes his time getting them both naked, stretching Kaner out on his stomach the way he wants him. He can’t stop himself from running his hands over Kaner’s skin, pulling his palms down his smooth, hard sides and over his hips, then skipping to his calves, up to his thighs, warm and soft. He loves that it’s finally right, exactly what he wants, no more denial, no more fantasy, just hard truth, lying here in front of him.

“Let me,” he says, voice rough, when his fingers reach Kaner’s ass, thumbs resting lightly in the crease of his thigh.

Kaner’s voice is muffled and breathless when he replies. “You don’t have to ask. I mean, I’ve never done this with anyone else.” He presses into Jonny’s touch. “But I’ve still done this.

Jonny groans at that image, resting his forehead against Kaner’s hip for a second and letting himself picture it, Kaner opening himself up, fucking himself on his fingers like that, maybe thinking about him... Yeah, it’s the push he needs to get things moving.

He’s got lube, because he’s always been a considerate boyfriend, and after he’s found it he pauses once to kiss Kaner sweetly before settling back between his spread thighs. He runs one hand over his ass then grips him hard, opening him up.

“Say it again,” he says, running a slick-wet finger feather soft over Kaner’s hole, smiling at the way Kaner whimpers a little. “Say you’re mine.”

Kaner sounds like he’s almost in tears. “I’m yours, okay, you bought me, you own me and I belong to you, just do it, please-” he breaks off on a gasp as Jonny presses one finger in, his body going still and tense.

“Come on,” Jonny says, pressing an open kiss to his thigh. He wants so desperately to be good at this, to make it good for Kaner. “Keep talking.”

“I - fuck, Jonny, fuck. You’re inside me because I’m yours and you can, okay? You can do whatever you want. Just don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” Jonny fucks him with one finger a few times, a little overwhelmed at how good it is, and then pulls out and tips the bottle right over Kaner’s ass, watching the lube drip down where he’s all pink and hot for him.

“I’d do this for free, I’d pay you, Jonny,” Kaner’s voice is rough. He’s got one knee pushed up and he’s grinding into the mattress as he alternates between burying his face in the pillow and looking over his shoulder at Jonny. He looks - fucking amazing. Jonny drinks him in, his flushed cheeks, his bitten red lips.

“That’s how yours I am,” Kaner goes on. “Don’t you get that? This is exactly what I fucking want.”

“Yeah, I get it, Kaner,” Jonny says helplessly, and then he’s got two fingers in, thrusting a little harder than he probably should. But Kaner’s obviously into it, bucking back, trying to fuck himself on Jonny’s hand.

“You like it,” Jonny says, wondering. He kneels up, reaches one handed for the condom he tossed on the bed along with the lube. He’s not going to be able to draw this out for as long as he’d planned.

“No shit, dickhead,” Kaner whines, and Jonny has to laugh, trying to tear the packet open with his teeth without stopping his fingers.

“Language, Kaner,” he says, amused, when he finally gets the condom out. Even rolling it on is almost too much to handle, he’s so close to the edge. He can’t resist giving his cock a few strokes, though, as he watches his fingers disappearing inside Kaner’s ass, watches the way Kaner’s straining for it, getting desperate.

“Fuck you, I’ve done this to myself enough times thinking about you, just -”

“Oh god, I’m gonna fuck you,” Jonny interrupts, as if it’s only just occurred to him that that’s what’s coming next. He pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his thumb, kind of hooking it into the rim, stretching, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Good, yes, fucking finally,” Kaner says, voice fucked. “Do it, Jonny.”

“Shut up now, Kaner,” Jonny says absently. He dribbles lube on his dick, because you can never have too much, staring in fascination at the way Kaner’s open and flexing for him.

“Shut up? How much will you give me?” Kaner breaks off with a strangled moan as Jonny presses the head of his cock against his ass, just barely nudging it in.

“Don’t have to give you anything,” Jonny grits out. “I paid for this, it’s mine now. So if I tell you to shut up and take it...” He pushes in a little further, going as slow as he can make himself. “You’ll shut the fuck up and take it.”

Nothing but harsh, panting breaths from Kaner for a moment, and then, “...I think I’m gonna come.”

Jonny goes still, body taut where he’s holding himself above Kaner, dick still only halfway in.


“Maybe,” Kaner admits, sounding a little apologetic. His cheek is pressed into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth is so wet that Jonny wonders if he’s been literally drooling for it.

His cock twitches. Jonny wants in, wants to make this happen. He leans down into Kaner and whispers in his ear.

“Not. Yet.”


It’s not actually like Jonny is some kind of everlasting sex god, though. He will be, but he figures he can take a few practice runs before going for the figurative gold.

Tonight isn't about that, anyway. It’s about Kaner, about having Kaner, finally getting what he wants. What they both want.

It’s still pretty fucking awesome.

Kaner ends up on his knees, because it’s easier, face squashed down into the pillow. Jonny still wants to touch him all over, catalogue every inch of his body, but after about ninety seconds of actual fucking it’s all he can do to grip Kaner’s hips and hang on for the ride. He lets his eyes roam instead, lets his gaze sweep over Kaner’s back, his shoulders, the way his sweaty curls stick to his neck. It’s amazing, it’s more than amazing. He doesn’t know why he ever bothered denying this, because it’s so obvious now that this is what he’s wanted for...shit, years maybe. Forever.

“Oh my god, Kaner,” he says, trailing his eyes down Kaner’s spine to the swell of his ass. “You drive me insane.”

“You’re already insane,” Kaner mumbles back. “Let me come you fucking psycho.”

“Shush, I’m having a moment.” Jonny almost laughs again, because aside from everything else, sex with Kaner is just as ridiculous as he should have known it’d be.

“Fuck your moment, Jonny, I’ve waited long enough to come on your cock so give it to me, give it-”

“Shut up,” Jonny grunts, and yeah, the moment’s gone, but that’s okay, because he thinks another, better one is coming.

He leans over Kaner’s back and fists one hand in his hair, feels his unsteady rhythm get worse as he gets closer to the edge.

“Fine, shut up and come, then,” he says. “Jerk yourself off and come for me.”

Kaner drops to one shoulder as he reaches for his dick, face red and desperate.

“Jonny,” he gasps, “Jonny, fuck you, Jonny I’m gonna.”

“Yeah, I said you could.”

And then Kaner is, his whole body jerking and shuddering, teeth sinking hard into his bottom lip. Jonny can feel it, in Kaner’s muscles, in Kaner’s ass, the way it clenches tight around Jonny’s cock. It’s too good. It’s too much.

“Oh, shit,” Jonny gasps, and then he’s gone, shoving in as hard as he can one last time before going still, letting his orgasm rip through him. He’s never felt anything like it in his life, and Kaner, Kaner’s right there with him, beneath him, surrounding him. Owning Jonny just as much as Jonny owns him.

“Fuck, Jonny,” Kaner groans as Jonny collapses forwards onto his back, bearing him down into the mattress. “That was fucking awesome. You’re amazing, that was - ow, jesus, get off me you heavy motherfucker, I can’t breath-”

“Quiet, Kaner,” Jonny says, slipping out and half-heartedly tying off the condom before tossing it over Kaner’s side of the bed. He settles onto his side, and wraps his arms possessively around Kaner’s waist. “Just shut up and enjoy it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kaner says with a smile, and if it’s kind of indulgent, who cares. Jonny figures he can ignore that for now. “Whatever you say, Jonny.”

“Whatever you want, Kaner,” Jonny says back sleepily, maybe kind of nonsensically. But Kaner seems to get it.

“We’re gonna be good for each other, man,” he says, shifting around in Jonny’s arms to get comfortable. “I always thought so.”

“Always?” Jonny mostly wants to fall asleep, but he tries to keep the thread for a little longer. “How long?”

Kaner shrugs and hides his face a little in Jonny’s arm. “I dunno. A while, I guess. Doesn’t matter.”

Jonny’s heart skips at the idea of Kaner wanting him for that long. It’s incredible and unbelievable and ridiculous all at once.

“Lucky I finally got with the program then, huh.” He knows he sounds stupid, words really aren’t his strength, but he feels like he has to make an effort.
Kaner rolls his eyes and snorts. “You moron, you’ve been into me for ages too. You were just too dumb to figure it out for yourself.”

There’s a lot of bravado there, but Jonny knows how it feels to think maybe and not be sure. The fact that Kaner was right, that he could have done something, doesn’t matter. Like Jonny said, they got there in the end.

“Alright, fine,” he mumbles. “I’ve been subconsciously into your dick since we were rookies, whatever.”

Kaner smiles, smugly, still with his face buried in Jonny’s arm. “Good to hear.”

“Kaner?” Jonny slides a hand over Kaner’s cheek and into his damp hair.

“Yeah, Jonny?”

“Shut up.”

And Kaner laughs, and does as he’s told.



They’re sitting in a bar a few weeks later, having a few quiet drinks with some of the guys. It’s nothing fancy, but Jonny’s feeling loose and happy. They won a game the day before and have a couple of days till the next one, Kaner’s smiling and laughing, pressed lightly against his side, Sharpy’s off buying the next round, and everything’s pretty fucking spectacular as far as Jonny’s concerned.

“What are you so happy about?” Kaner asks, like Jonny’s good mood is a matter of national importance. Jonny shrugs.

“Nothing much,” he says, watching Sharpy at the bar. Corey and Stally are busy being whipped by Shawzer and Jimmy at the pool table, and Hammer’s being roped into signing things for a bunch of hot girls who don’t seem particularly interested in hockey. Kaner and Jonny have the booth to themselves for the minute, and Jonny takes advantage, sliding his hand up Kaner’s thigh and squeezing.

He laughs at the look on Kaner’s face as he tries to wiggle away.

“Jesus, relax.”

“Relax? Oh sure, Jonny, feel free to school me on how to relax.” Kaner rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling, so Jonny laughs again, giving him another squeeze before pulling his hand away.

“Hey, so, I’ve got a question,” he says, a little out of the blue to be able to pull it off as casual. But he’s been waiting for a moment like this, when they’re both easy and a little buzzed and happy.

“The answer’s probably yes,” Kaner replies, with his best sleazy grin. Jonny snorts and whacks him lightly on the arm.

“Shut up. Um.”

He pauses, and Kaner looks at him expectantly. “Spit it out if you’re gonna, dude. Hammer’s gonna come back in a sec.”

Jonny glances over and then back at Kaner, feeling stupidly awkward. “Oh. It’s just. I wondered.” He meets Kaner’s eyes and lowers his voice. “What did you do with the money?”

It’s been niggling at him for a while. He mostly figured that what he’d paid Kaner would have just vanished into his bank account, but he couldn’t get rid of the idea that maybe Kaner’d bought something special, something with Jonny’s money in mind. It was...Jonny didn’t know why he thought that was hot, but when it came to Kaner, he was learning to trust his instincts.

Kaner looks at him blankly for a few seconds, and then a slow flush creeps over his cheeks, just visible in the dim light of the bar.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah, I...” he fiddles around with the label on his empty beer bottle and grins at Jonny sheepishly. “I never cashed it, man.”

Jonny’s a little surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Kaner pushes the bottle aside and reaches for his wallet. “Don’t fuckin’ laugh at me,” he warns, and with a quick glance around, he pulls something out. “Here.”

It’s the cheque, of course. Creased and a little ragged around the edges, like it’s been handled a lot, like Kaner’s taken it out a lot to...what?

“Why?” Jonny asks, running his finger over the amount scribbled there in his handwriting.

Kaner shrugs. “I dunno. I just wanted to keep it. I guess it means something.” He’s still looking sheepish, and Jonny feels his heart swell and warm, is just about to say something ridiculous like it means everything, Kaner, when Kaner gets his filthy grin back.

“Sometimes I jerk off looking at it,” he says casually, and a spike of lust shoots through Jonny, because fuck yeah, that’s hot, that’s hotter than anything else he could have thought of Kaner doing with the money, that’s -

“Hey.” Sharpy plonks their drinks down on the table and slips into the booth. “Whatcha got there?”

“Nothing,” Kaner snaps, shoving the cheque back in his wallet as quick as he can. “Gotta piss!” And then he’s up and out of the booth, practically jogging as he high-fives Hammer on the way to the bathroom.

“He’s all class, eh?” Jonny remarks dryly, but Sharpy’s grinning at him knowingly, and that’s never a good sign.

“Jonny,” he says, shaking his head. “Jonny, Jonny.”

“What?” Jonny asks, irritated and uneasy. He wonders what Sharpy saw, or thinks he saw, and takes a drink to give himself something to do with his hands. Fucking Sharpy.

“I hope,” Sharpy says, leaning back in his seat, grin getting wider and more obnoxious, “that he at least gave you a good discount, man.”

Jonny almost chokes on his drink as Sharpy goes on, cheerfully ignoring him. “You know, buddies rates. Something like that.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Jonny says as bluntly as he can. Sharpy doesn’t know shit, he’s just fucking with him, like always. Jonny’s not giving him anything.

“Of course you don’t,” Sharpy says pityingly. “That wasn’t a cheque for -”

“I lost a bet,” Jonny interrupts loudly. Hammer’s finally walking back over, thank God. It looks like he’s got a couple phone numbers scrawled on the inside of his arm. “I bet Kaner that you couldn’t be any more of an asshole.” Jonny looks back at Sharpy. “I was obviously wrong.”

Sharpy smirks as Hammer sinks down besides him and reaches for a beer, looking at little desperate. Jonny starts talking to him about the girls, maybe a bit louder than necessary, and then the other guys are back, Shawzer and Hayes crowing about their win and inviting the next challengers. Jonny’s pretty certain that Sharpy’s gonna leave it alone, but it turns out he was right about one thing - Sharpy can always be more of an asshole.

He gets up to play against the rookies, but before he goes he leans over the table to whisper in Jonny’s ear.

“So does this mean I should call off the pool?”

Fucking Sharpy.

Jonny gets a tight feeling in his gut, knows he’s blushing like crazy as he remembers. Twenty grand to fuck Kaner. Twenty grand and anyone could have him. The thought of it used to get him weirdly hot, before he really knew why. But now? It just pisses him off.

He looks over Sharpy’s shoulder and sees Kaner heading back from the bathroom. He’s got his big smile on, and his hair is stick out in stupid curls from under his douchey backwards baseball cap, and also, his shirt’s too big for him. Jonny feels a curl of fierce, protective love slice through him, deep enough to hurt.

He turns back to Sharpy, looks into his laughing eyes. “Yeah, you should,” he says, seriously. “That sounds like a great fucking idea.”

Sharpy raises his eyebrows, but, miracle of miracles, doesn’t push it. “Okay, Jonny,” he says mildly, and goes to start his game, slapping Kaner on the shoulder as they pass each other in the middle of the dance floor.

Jonny spreads his arm out on the back of the booth as Kaner sits back down next to him, not close enough to be obvious, but still close enough to feel.

“What was all that about?” Kaner asks, reaching for his new drink.

“Nothing,” Jonny replies, and turns his face into the side of Kaner’s head. The music is maybe just loud enough for him to get away with it, if he doesn’t draw it out. “I like that you kept it,” he says, voice rough in Kaner’s ear. “I...It does mean something. Right?”

“Right,” Kaner says, and the way he looks at Jonny, like there’s no one else in the bar, no one else that Kaner could possibly give a shit about, is enough to take Jonny’s breath away. “Yeah, it means I’m yours.”

“Yours, too,” Jonny says, before he loses his nerve, and Kaner’s grin makes it all worth it.