Pat apparently starred in a porno at some point in his life. Jonny becomes very invested in watching it. Repeatedly.
THE WAY I (FUCK) SHOULD BE FAMOUS
“Never have I ever” was a foolish game that Jonny had never had the misfortune of playing in high school, which was the generic time for the height of its popularity, apparently, and by the time he was in college none of his peers needed a ruse like a drinking game to get into a girl’s pants and had skipped the pretense entirely.
Which was why it was such an incredible, unfortunate circumstance to find himself in when he was not only way too old for this foolish game, but also a professional hockey player.
Honestly. Didn’t they have better things to do?
Well, maybe not.
The rookies had wanted to, and there were only so many ways to entertain yourself on the road when the snowstorm outside was bordering on canceling tomorrow’s game, and really, who was Jonny to say no to a little team bonding and fun, no matter how immature it may be?
And Kaner was enjoying himself—well actually, maybe a little too much. He was already looking a little drunk. But he’d been in somewhat low spirits as of late and it almost made Jonny relieved to see him having a relatively good time. Well, a relatively good time that didn't involve falling all over himself in an inebriated stupor in incredibly public places.
“Never have I ever…” Sharpy drawled, looking way to pleased playing this game, considering his age. “Been in a threesome…”
Already, a few of the guys were resigning themselves to another shot, hollering going up in the interim.
“With another guy!” Sharpy ended gleefully. All of the shots went down.
Except for Soupy’s.
Sharpy guffawed loudly, and the table erupted into raucous laughter.
Soupy downed his vodka quickly, retorting hotly, “It was a long ass time ago, okay?!” And then, after; “Also Sharpy you’re a douche, I told you that in confidence!”
Sharpy chortled with laughter.
But at that point, the damage was already done. Beside Sopel, Laddy and Bolland were already ribbing him; good-naturedly. Well, sort of. Nothing about them was ever particularly good-natured.
Jonny was actually enjoying himself, alcohol warm and making him pleasantly drowsy as he leaned in his chair and watched the rest of his friends and teammates go at it, basking in the camaraderie. He was almost half asleep when he heard it, dozing lightly against the wall, head lolling a bit and eyes low and lazy.
“Hmm…” Crow mused from down the table, swishing his shot around as he rubbed at his chin. “Well, I’ve never been in porn.”
“That’s dumb,” Duncs was quick to return. “Crow, the point is to get us drunk, you gotta pick a good one that everyone’ll have—
He stopped, though, because Seabs had literally elbowed him in the gut. Duncs choked, and moved to grab Seabs in a headlock in retaliation, when he stopped too, his eyes growing comically wide.
“Peekaboo?!” Sharpy howled delightedly, and the entire table stayed relatively silent as Kaner’s entire face turned red all at once, cheeks burning as he snapped the shot back, not looking anyone in the eye.
Seabs mouth dropped open. “No,” He denied, immediately, marveling. “No, no, no fucking way.”
Sharpy was uncontrollable at this point, tipped back in his chair, laughing so hard he could barely spit out the words, sputtering, “What was your stage name, Kaner? Lil’ Peeks?”
“Baby Peeks.” Burish chortled. He and Sharpy fist-bumped.
Jonny was one of the many too stunned to do much than stare impolitely at the blonde. He would’ve called foul—there was no way Kaner had starred in porn, what the fuck. It was Kaner, who would want to watch that?—but Kaner was genuinely embarrassed. He wasn’t meeting anyone’s eye, and if possible, grew even redder, flush creeping down his neck.
Jonny wondered how far down it went.
The game started after that.
Well, it was wasn’t as much a game as it was an exalted, religious search throughout the porn industry to find that one elusive video starring Patrick Kane. Hilariously, Sharpy had managed to weed out of Kaner that it was, in fact, on the internet. If anything this only spurred the team on more. Burish had even come up with some sort of search pattern—the rookies had to search through all the shitty, pop-up filled websites, while he and Sharpy were to, “nightly prowl on redtube”. Duncs and Seabs had claimed pornhub. Soupy had claimed the entire domain of ‘xhamster’, whatever the fuck that was, and Leddy and Bolland were sorting through bustnow. Jonny felt a little foolish, not knowing half these websites even though he was far from unacquainted with the wonderful world of his left hand and the internet, but definitely wasn’t about to let that fact be known. Or be a part of it.
In fact, Jonny flatly refused to get involved.
“But we need your help, Tazer!” Sharpy implored, whining, bounding up to him and wrapping an arm around him as they planned their next search after Kaner had left the locker room.
“No way,” Jon protested, shoving Sharpy off. “And how would you search it, anyway? There must be a thousand short blonde dudes in porn.”
“It’s a hard job,” Sharpy agreed solemnly. “But someone has to do it.”
“Right,” He muttered.
Sure, it was kinda funny. But he was here to play hockey, not scour the internet for a clip of Kaner’s naked ass. It was ludicrous that the team was even searching for that—hell, it was always on display in the locker room, and when he said always he meant obnoxiously always. He was pretty done with this long-winded joke.
But he figured that if it wasn’t affecting Kaner’s game, there wasn’t any real reason to get involved. Although to that end, Kaner seemed pretty embarrassed about it; almost strangely out of character actually, when Jonny really thought on it. He’d have figured Kaner would be bragging about getting it in on camera, if only as proof to everyone who still ribbed him for being a tiny baby virgin. Instead, he’d been weirdly quiet about it, ducking out of the room whenever the guys delved into their nightly plans to find Kaner’s alternate porn-star personality.
That night they all went out to a bar, and Jonny kept one eye on Kaner the whole time. He seemed… a little subdued? He took the ribbing as graciously as anyone in his position would, which was odd, and didn’t do much else beside nurse his one beer all night long. And there was so much wrong with that sentence. Firstly, nothing about Kaner was ever gracious, and secondly, the idea of him and one beer was as laughable as the idea of people wanting to see Kaner nail a chick on the internet.
Jonny shook his head.
It wasn’t like it was any of his business.
And anyway, the team would get over it eventually.
And by eventually, Jonny actually meant three years.
He supposed it was around three years, anyway, because the last he’d heard Sharpy speak of it was earlier this year to the new rookies—well, it was debatable if Shawzy and Hayes were still considered ‘new’—who had been so excited they’d started a new search.
Over the years since their Stanley Cup win, Sharpy took it upon himself to explain to the new trades and rookies that yes, somewhere in the vast expanse of kinky porn, lay a video of Kaner so hilariously embarrassing that Kaner refused to even speak of it. Generally it only took one look at Kaner’s face—which had never stopped going red, no matter how vocal he’d got at denying it over the years—to validate the truth of Sharpy’s claim. And after that, there was a general period of a month or so where the new guys, and sometimes some of the veterans, prowled the internet for that elusive clip of Kaner’s porn.
But in three years, no one had ever found it, and the interest eventually waned off.
Jonny hadn’t heard anything of Shawsy and Hayes going on porn excursions in a few months, so he assumed that the two had grown bored with their exploration for Kaner and porn. They’d worked through everything from foot fetishes to MILFs to Asians to bondage, but never once found one starring Kaner; they appeared to have enjoyed their search either way, but it was clear there was only so many blindfolds and handcuffs they could take before it started getting repetitive.
So of course, three years later, the one person who never actively searched for it would be the one to find it.
Jonny was so surprised, so blindsided by the familiar blonde at screen that his hands literally stopped moving, jaw growing slack.
He immediately took his hand off his dick, because no, rubbing one off to your best friend’s porn was definitely crossing some kind of line.
(Not that this was stopping his dick, or for that matter, his hind-brain from finding it stupidly hot)
Because out of all the fetishes, all the kinky sex, all the bondage and bloodplay and whipping and whatever crazy genres his teammates came up with for Kaner to secretly be into, they’d never touched his niche. It was half the reason Jonny had never bothered to join in on the fun, and half the reason Jonny had never been particularly interested, anyway.
Because Jonny was gay.
And apparently, so was Kaner.
What was possibly the most astonishing thing about it was how good it was, how hot Kaner was. Objectively, there was nothing particularly hot about Kaner. Jonny had seen him naked enough times to be completely uninterested in further inspection. He wasn’t built the way hockey players were, not big enough, or tall enough, but he was lean and defined, and Jonny had never paid much attention to that until he was caught off guard by the site of Kaner on his hands and knees.
And suddenly, Kaner was gorgeous: he looked so good like that. And Jonny’ s dick was nothing but subjective.
But okay, he had to stop this. He had to pause this video, because there was no way he was getting hard for his best friend, no way he was going to sit here and watch fifteen minutes of what was definitely going to be Kaner getting slammed into the headboard of that bed, no way he was going to get off on watching Kaner getting fucked, Kaner taking it, Kaner on his knees—
And, oh, oh. Wait, yes. Yes, he most definitely was.
It only took an embarrassing minute and half for him to blow his load. And the worst of it was—nothing of legitimate interest was even going on in the video aside from Kaner getting fingered in the most entirely boring and vanilla way possible.
Really though, there was nothing vanilla about that face. Jonny himself wasn’t entirely sure what he’d blown his load for: the way Kaner was on his hands in knees getting finger fucked or the way his face looked when he was getting finger fucked, biting on his lip like a mouthguard and flushing down to his chest, eyes closed with an expression nothing short of wanton and letting out sounds that sounded like sin.
Although now that he’d taken the edge off, and his arousal wasn’t an overbearing presence threatening to completely overwhelm him, he actually started to pay attention to it.
The first thing he noticed was the camera angle. It wasn’t first person, as most porno’s were, but stuck in the corner, sort of, wedged between something because there was a dark, nondescript blur that had hovered over one side of the screen. The angle never moved, either, suggesting that the camera was stationary and… appeared to be haphazardly propped up with a variety of household appliances.
And fortunately; from some combination of this, the poor lighting, the shitty camera, and the really awful quality, it was really difficult to tell just who was the main star. The last thing they needed was for Kaner’s big porno—no, not only that, his big gay porno—to get released to Deadspin, so that was probably for the best. Now that he was looking at him though, truly looking at him, he was a little stunned with how young Kaner was. Hell, he looked so small in this, even more than normal, skinny in a way hockey player’s shouldn’t be and with the hilariously effeminate features of eighteen-year old Kaner’s face that Jonny used to tease him relentlessly for but now found strangely hot. Really, really hot. Had Kaner always been that hot at that age? Was he being stockholmed right now?
Maybe he was, but god Kaner’s face when he pulled his fingers out, how he bit his bottom lip and whimpered quietly; it made twinges of arousal race down into his cock, still oversensitive but definitely making its way back to interested.
The guy—Jonny couldn’t tell who it was—wrapped up, and pushed Kaner’s head into the bed, until his cheek was rubbing against the sheets, and pulled his ass way up.
And really, this was some awful porn. You couldn’t even see the guy fucking him, couldn’t see the way he opened Kaner up at all, how his dick looked when he pressed inside. But what you could see was Kaner, the way his eyes scrunched closed and his mouth dropped open in a silent cry when he slid all the way in, nothing gentle about it, just a ruthless shove of his hips to start a brutal pace.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,”
Oh hell, there was dirty talk?
“You’re so tight, baby, so fucking tight,” The guy grunted, shoving Kaner forward with the force of his thrusts. He rubbed a hand down Kaner’s back, squeezing the globe of his ass, the other gripping Kaner’s hip, keeping him in place while he fucked up into him. “God I love the way you look when I’m fucking you, y’know? You look so good like that, so good on my cock…”
This was not… this was not turning Jonny on. He rubbed a hand over his face, as if to snap himself out of whatever trance had gotten a hold of him, to wake himself up to the reality of this heinously bad porn.
“Tell me how it feels, yeah?” He panted, and when Kaner didn’t reply, slapped a stinger right on his ass, loud and clear through the audio. Kaner gasped at the contact, a wet, sultry sound as he turned his face up from the sheets, mouth open and inviting.
“It’s good…” Kaner panted, breathlessly, the hand next to his face clutching and twisting against the sheets. “It’s so good baby, you fuck me so good…”
There was nothing about this that should be turning him on; Jonny would be the first to admit that his standards in pornography were hilariously high considering the genre in question - nothing short of quality cinematography was going to get him anything approaching interested. And this was the exact opposite of that - actually, this was probably the definition of classless amateur porn. It shouldn't be turning him on: except it totally, totally was.
In the porn industry, yeah, the angle was some shit. But it was really doing it for Jonny. Kaner’s face was really doing it for Jonny. Kaner was really what was doing it for Jonny, and that was the real crux of the matter. The way he looked like that, on his hands and knees on that bed—he really did take it well, it was downright lewd really, how good he looked like that, spread open on that guy’s cock, looking like he was made for it.
On screen, Kaner had managed to pull himself onto his elbows, panting wetly and writhing against the bed, “Fuck, fuck, yeah right there, fuck—
His hand had found it’s way back to his cock, rubbing against the head and somehow, impossibly, feeling him grow hard again.
Yes, he thought, resigned and disparaging, it was Kaner that really did it for him.
He wasn’t sure how long he was backed into his chair, mesmerized by this stunning, rapturous nymph that had somehow evolved out of Kaner but he was entranced. He was captivated by Kaner’s sultry, lidded gaze, the portrait of his face in the throngs of ecstasy. And how loud he was. Hell, if Kaner didn’t want his day job anymore he had a lucrative career in the pornographic industry with a mouth like that. Those rasping, filthy noises that came out of his mouth could rip the orgasm right out of him if Jonny wasn’t careful.
Jonny bit his lip, cock already standing at full attention again.
But maybe what really did him in was thinking about his Kaner, the arrogant Kaner in the locker room, making lewd inappropriate jokes, a loudly obnoxious presence by his side; imagining what it would be like to debauch him like this, to pin him down on the bed like this guy and ravage him, fuck him hard until he couldn’t take it anymore, until he was crying from it, wet and dripping with Jonny’s come, rip those obscene noises right out of his mouth. He gripped himself harder, movements speeding up as he thought about what Kaner would look like wrapped around his cock, how tight he would be, how soft the plush of his ass would be when he was completely inside him. And how he’d sound when Jonny fucked him, how his name would sound on those lips.
And oh, there it goes.
He slumped bonelessly against the back of his chair, spent and sweating like he’d just had a bag skate, the orgasm literally wrung out of him.
Jonny wasn’t sure what he was more embarrassed over; how easy he was, or how easy he was for Kaner. Worse, Kaner didn’t even know it. Kaner on screen kept right on, his moans loud and arousing through Jonny’s speakers. But seriously, he thought, more than a little mind-fucked by it all, who would have thought he could sound that seductive? Mostly, Jonny sort of thought Kaner’s voice was a little annoying, the way he drawled out each word, lazy and languid. Everything about Kaner was a little annoying to him, even though he was his best friend. How there was always something torpid about him, that brash cockiness that could—and often did—come off too arrogant.
Nothing like the Kaner on screen, looking thoroughly well-fucked and euphoric. There was nothing of that cockiness, nothing but rapturous delirium, like Kaner didn’t want to be anywhere else but on that bed, taking that cock.
Okay, so maybe Jonny was confusing ‘annoyance’ with ‘arousal’.
Halfway through the video Jonny shut the screen, suddenly unable to watch anymore. He wasn’t foolish enough to exit the browser and forever lose the elusive video to the whims of his History button and the fickle pornhub search engine, but he wasn’t sure if he could take any more of Kaner’s smoldering blue eyes, or what they were doing to his cock and general well being. Those eyes, coupled with that truly sinful and immoral mouth had probably taken off a good few years of his life.
Jonny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, finally coming back down to Earth to the situation before him; at some point, the sun had set and cast the room into inky darkness, nothing but the flickering light of his computer’s charger to disrupt the blackness. And he was still slumped against his chair, two orgasm’s worth of come already itchy on his skin.
One way or another, on the ice or on the screen, Kaner was going to be the death of him.
To say it became a thing after that would be a heinous understatement.
Jonny wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to continue to function in Kaner’s presence, but he knew his newfound awkwardness (or additional awkwardness) hadn’t gone unnoticed. Kaner threw him surreptitious looks from the corner of his eye whenever Jonny stared for too long, growing more and more wary of Jonny the longer Jonny spent secretly jerking off to Kaner getting fucked on the internet. Fortunately he managed to completely compartmentalize porno Kaner from actual Kaner, or at least actual Kaner on the ice, and it hadn’t affected their play. Jonny didn't know what he could do with his life if he was thinking of Kaner like this in the middle of a play, a breakaway, a penalty kill. Retire early and become a hermit in the wilds of Manitoba, most likely. Living off the land in a small hut nestled beneath an indistinct mountain, with nothing but the clothes on his back and farming tools - and his computer, obviously, so he could forever watch his best friend star in what could only be described as the worst porno to ever be wrought upon the earth.
Jonny wasn’t sure how he’d explain their sudden loss of equilibrium to coach if this obsession got any worse.
The amount of times he’d rubbed one out to Kaner’s porno was downright criminal. And objectively, it wasn’t even good porn. He should probably feel guilty about it, really, considering the guy was his best fucking friend. Mostly though he was too turned on to care, too enticed by the idea of watching it again to truly feel any actual shame for so blatantly invading his friend’s privacy. Though to that end, if Kaner wanted to keep that private he probably shouldn’t have put it on the internet.
He didn’t want it to become an obsession, but it kind of was.
Worse still, Kaner was completely aware that something was up, and looking like he was growing more and more irritated the more Jonny tried to avoid him.
It was pretty inevitable that the blonde would corner him eventually.
They’d just won the through a truly hideous shootout goal by Kaner, and after such a long, winding game all Jonny wanted was an eternity of sleep. Unfortunately, Kaner had other ideas.
The knock to his door at this hour was unexpected, and he was already too tired to think much on who could possibly be bothering him at this hour after a game like that and come up with the obvious answer. Jonny almost shut the door when he saw who it was, but Kaner lodged a foot at the bottom, staring up at him with an uncharacteristically austere visage.
Jonny stared. Kaner stared back.
“Do we have to talk about this?” He asked finally, after they spent a disproportionate amount of time staring into each other’s eyes.
Jonny attempted ignorance. “Talk about what?”
Kaner narrowed his eyes, clearly seeing right through his transparent attempt. Right now, worn and weary and so incredibly serious he looked nothing like the other Kaner Jonny was quickly becoming well acquainted with.
“Was it something I did?”
You have no idea.
“Because I’m sorry,” He soldiered on, sounding so sad and small. “I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’m really fucking sorry, okay? Just, just tell me what. I’ll fix it.”
No, Jonny thought, suffering and resigned, There’s only one way to fix this, and if it hasn’t happened in the five years we’ve known each other, it probably won’t happen now.
Because in the half-decade Jonny had been glued to the man named Patrick Kane, he’d never once realized that he was into guys. There was an entire, enormous part of Patrick Kane that he didn’t fucking know, had never realized existed, and mostly it made him feel like shitty best friend. It almost made him feel like bending him over and fucking him on his kitchen table. Regardless, he was pretty sure Kaner was aware of which way he swung, so if he hadn’t made a move in the past five years they’d known each other, he probably never was.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Kaner,” He sighed. “I’m just going through shit right now, aright? Just haven’t felt like hanging out.”
“With me," Kaner added. "You haven’t felt like hanging out with me. Because you seem just fine with everyone else.” He pointed out, looking hurt and a little mutinous.
His eyes were searching, wide and—and scared? Of what?
Jonny swallowed. “This really isn’t your fault. Kaner, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just, being a giant Canadian weirdo, I guess.” He said with quotations, referencing one of Kaner’s favorite insult for him. He at least got a slight smile for his troubles. “We’re fine, I swear. I really am working shit out.”
Kaner’s burning eyes were still on him; so intense they seemed to see right through him, to all that he wanted to hide. “You’re sure?” He whispered, finally, so soft and unsure.
“Yes,” Jonny breathed. “Yes.”
He wasn’t prepared for the hug, so blindsided by the feel of Kaner pressed up against him, even through layers of clothes that he almost forgot to hug back. They usually didn’t go for the really physical shows of affection—the most Jonny had ever gotten was a couple hearty back-slaps, or if he was lucky, a drunken one-armed bro hug. Like this, Kaner’s nose was pressed up to his neck, startlingly cold, his fingertips on his shoulder blades. He placed his hands somewhat awkwardly on the blonde’s shoulders, standing rigid and putting most of his attention into diverting all thoughts of how awesome this would feel, naked.
“Come over tomorrow,” He said, or rather, demanded, once he pulled away.
Jonny smiled sappily at him, completely unable to deny Kaner anything, ever. “Okay.”
They were good after that. No, perhaps that was not accurate. Kaner was content. Jonny continued to silently freak the fuck out whenever Kaner accidentally brushed a leg against his. Jonny hung out with Kaner, played an unnecessary amount of first person shooters, completed the entire campaign of Borderlands 2, and watched a disgusting amount of poorly scripted movies on Kaner’s couch. It felt good. Normal.
And then everything turned into a total shit show when Kaner walked into his hotel room and saw himself getting fucked on the screen of Jonny’s laptop.
Jonny swore his heart stopped beating when he opened the bathroom door, dressed in a new pair of boxers because the other pair were... unusable— to see Kaner staring impassively at his computer. That, or it had just ripped right out of his chest and landed somewhere he wouldn’t be able to find it. He’d just finished beating off to his favorite part of Kaner’s fifteen minute long claim to fame, wherein the random dude (who’s name he still didn’t know and wasn’t to keen on finding out) that Jonny usually replaced with himself pulled out and fingered Kaner a little longer, just to watch him writhe against the bed sheets, or maybe because, like Jonny, he just really liked the noises Kaner made when he was embarrassed but too turned on to care. Not that Jonny had ever heard it in person.
Or would ever, from the looks of it.
He didn’t even know what to say, what defense or excuse he could possibly come up with to make this into anything but Jonny getting off on Kaner getting fucked.
The silence was poison clawing at his throat, down to his heart, which had completely stopped and become useless but was still able to twist painfully in his chest.
“Sharpy’ll have a field day with this,” He cut him off, looking disturbingly composed.
“It’s not… I didn’t—
“I wondered how long it would take until someone found it; I honestly didn’t think it would take this long.” Kaner still wasn’t looking at him, gaze stasis on the screen. And oh fuck, the volume was up, the strangled, muffled sound of Kaner gasping into the pillow as he was fingered morbid in the gloom of the hotel room. Real Kaner’s face remained inscrutable, not even a grimace at the noise.
Well, there didn’t seem to be any point in denying he was aware of its existence at this point.
“Why?” The question startled even himself, and he immediately berated himself for asking something so stupid.
Kaner turned to him, finally, blinking owlishly.
He’d already dug himself this far down. “Why would you do it?” He reiterated.
“Why would I have sex?” Kaner raised a brow, folding his arms. “Are you really asking this question?”
“No,” He scowled, gesturing towards his laptop which was still, unbelievably, streaming Kaner’s porn. “Why would you—” His throat worked audibly. “Why film it? Why put it on the internet?”
And here, finally, some emotion. Kaner seemed to look at him then, truly focus on him, face contorting into incredulity. “Jonny,” He said at length. “Do you really think I would want to film it? That I would want it on fucking pornhub?”
Jonny blinked. “I…” No? But current evidence suggested otherwise?
“I didn’t know I was being filmed,” He explained, sounding exasperated, like he was frustrated with a slow, dim-witted child. “Jonny, the camera is in a fucking closet. And I never once acknowledge its existence. And anyway, what kind of porn is shot from only one camera angle, unless the cameraman is the one fucking?”
“Amateur porn…?” He threw out. “Fuck, I don’t know. It’s porn, Kaner. Sorry I was a little distracted by that fact.”
Kaner snorted. “Yeah, I’d say,” He looked tellingly towards the bathroom where Jonny had left his soiled boxers on the floor, and then back to Jonny’s red face.
Jonny flushed, but didn’t back down. “What, do you want me to apologize?”
Kaner shrugged, which really wasn’t much of an answer.
He turned back to the screen, which finally, mercifully, had stopped streaming the video. From the sound of all the pop-ups, it was probably over.
“When did you find it?”
Kaner turned back to him. “When did you find it?” He repeated. And then, as if reading Jonny’s mind, “Don’t lie.”
Jonny swallowed. He could probably play it off that he’d been looking to get off to sleep better and had just stumbled on it and didn’t have the heart to turn it off. That he’d just found it, he only watched it once. But Kaner’s hooded, apathetic gaze was more concerning than if he’d thrown a bitch fit and destroyed all the furniture in Jonny’s hotel room.
“A while ago.” He admitted, truthfully. “I don’t really know how long.”
There was a flicker of expression at that, the barest hint of a smile. But Jonny could have simply imagined it from wishing so hard. “Well,” He drawled at length. “At least you didn’t lie about it.”
Jonny tilted his head in confusion, opening his mouth to ask but Kaner elaborated for him. “It shows how many times you’ve viewed it in the bottom right corner.”
Jonny felt his face flame.
“I’d say a few months?” Kaner continued on, coolly. And then, his eyes slid from the screen back to Jonny. “Unless there were multiple times in a day.” He added, wryly.
There really wasn’t much he could say to that—Kaner had already pretty much figured it all out himself.
He decided to plead the fifth.
“I don’t get you, Jonny.” Kaner sighed.
Jonny steeled himself, preparing for the worst.
“Why would you spend so much goddamn time watching that shitty porno when I’ve been here the whole time?”
And then gaped.
He stepped closer, dropping his arms. There was something vulnerable to the way he looked in front of Jonny, more open and genuine than any expression he’d ever made in the video.
A smile flickered across his face, and this time, Jonny was positive he hadn’t made it up. “The real thing’s right here, you know.”
“But, you…” Jonny sputtered. “You—it’s been five years. Why wouldn’t you—?”
“You didn’t seem interested.” He shrugged.
“You know I’m gay.”
“Yeah.” Kaner agreed. “But you never looked. Not at me.”
“I…” Okay, that was true. Maybe subconsciously, okay, definitely subconsciously he’d found Kaner incredibly attractive. But his actual conscious had suppressed it, probably out of self-preservation. Seeing Kaner naked that much in his lifetime would be hell if he was consciously aware he was carrying a huge, flamingly gay torch for the guy. He was indubitably aware of it now, though.
“I’m looking now.” He settled for.
“Yeah?” Kaner’s voice lowered and, oh god, he could hear it there, just a hint of the way he sounded on his hands and knees, right here in real life.
It almost made his knees week.
“Definitely looking.” He whispered, as Kaner stepped even closer.
They were so close he could feel the heat of him, smoldering, sultry blue eyes entirely focused on him. Kaner leaned in, just enough that his breath lingered on Jonny’s mouth, but not enough to touch.
“Just looking?” He asked, low.
Jonny’s entire world centered onto those lips, as if he could hear the sounds they were capable of just by looking at them. His eyes snapped up to Kaner’s. “I’d rather not.” And then, seriously, “If that’s okay with you.”
“Do I look like I’m objecting?”
Certainly not. So Jonny supposed there was no real reason to wait around any longer than he already had.
Kaner in real life was better than porno Kaner, infinitely so. Now that he was underneath him, now that he could touch, he could see how fake everything was in the video. Perhaps fake was an inaccurate word, the porn itself wasn’t fake, but from the way Kaner was reacting to him he was beginning to think eighteen-year old Kaner wasn’t really into that guy. The reality was so much sweeter, the little gasps he made when Jonny trailed his fingers down his sides so much more bewitching when Jonny knew it was him who was making Kaner sound like that. When it was his fingers that drew them out.
His fingertips skittered lightly down his chest as Jonny watched, marveling, as Kaner shivered and arched into the touch, so incredibly responsive he almost couldn’t believe it.
Somehow, Kaner could look like a total dork on the ice, in the locker room, fucking around on Jonny’s couch and sticking his feet in whenever Jonny no-scoped him, but here he absolutely captivated him, splayed out on the sheets. smoldering, half-lidded eyes watching Jonny’s every move. He looked inhuman, too enchanting to be Patrick Kane, the most annoying American Jonny ever had the pleasure of knowing. Patrick Kane didn’t stretch out sensually beneath him, didn’t pull at his bottom lip like he knew all Jonny wanted to do was bite it, didn’t run his tongue over his teeth like the best and most cliché porno Jonny’d ever seen.
But Jonny didn’t feel all that human, either, dropping his mouth to trail burning hot, open-mouthed kisses down his skin, pulled by some carnal nature.
“Fuck, Jonny.” Kaner groaned as he mouthed the skin on his stomach, biting red marks there.
Kaner swatted at him, hips lifting underneath Jonny’s hand, making an obscene noise that went straight to his cock when he bit down hard.
He probably spent more time than necessary worshipping the body in front of him, but the novelty of having Kaner beneath him, no longer immortalized on film but writhing for him on the bed had yet to wear off. But every time he ripped a moan from those lips he wanted to make another, couldn’t get enough of the way Kaner moved against him, begging for it.
“C’mon, c’mon Jonny.” He panted, entire body twisting when Jonny licked a long, slow stripe from the bottom of his cock to the tip. “What the fuck man, please—
“Please what, Kaner?” Jonny drew his head up.
Kaner stared back down at him, gasping and out of breath, looking wrecked.
“Please, please Jonny, fuck me.” He whimpered.
“Yeah?” Jonny rasped, entranced. “You want that?”
“Yes, fuck.” Kaner whined, squirming so fervently he’d pulled the sheets off the bed. “Yes, I want you to fuck me.”
Fuck, what those words did to him.
For a moment, he debated continuing the tour of Kaner’s body, contemplated teasing him, making him want it so bad he was in tears. But, he consoled himself as he moved to find a condom, he’d already gotten him to beg. That in and of itself would get him off for months.
He dug around his bag for a moment, knowing he’d stuffed a few in there somewhere, distracted heavily by the sight of Kaner naked and loose against the mussed up sheets, looking thoroughly debauched.
“Some time today, Jonny.” He bitched from the bed.
Jonny grabbed the condom, fortunate enough to have found lube in there as well. “You never stop complaining, do you?” He shook his head, fondly.
His amusement was lost though, when Kaner spread his legs as he moved to kneel in front of him.
His eyes raked down the body in front of him, before returning to his face. He smirked. “But you beg so nicely.”
Kaner, if possible, flushed further. Then he smirked. “Is it getting you off, Jonny?” He propped himself up on his hands, leaning forward until they were almost nose to nose. “Do you like it when I’m begging for your cock, begging for you to fuck me into the mattress—
Jonny made a strangled noise, squeezing the base of his cock and trying to think up the most disgusting boner killer he knew. Q in a bikini. No, Duncs in a bikini. Gah. Kaner’s arousal was evident against his leg, but clearly he was fucking with Jonny—knew what it did to him.
“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” He breathed, once he wasn’t in danger of blowing his load before they even got to the fucking. “I’m going to fuck you, Kaner.”
Jonny felt him shiver against him with the words as the blonde moved to turn around.
Jonny grabbed him by the arm before he settled on his stomach, rolling him over on his back. The blonde looked up at him, blinking.
“Not like that.” He said.
Kaner threw him an amused look. “What, don’t want to fulfill you’re fantasies? Renact the porno?”
Jonny popped the lube cap open, and Kaner’s jesting diminished into tight, quick breaths. He squeezed a generous amount on his fingers, and then after a moment of hesitation, pressed it right beneath his balls and drizzled some there. Kaner’s eyes flew open at the cold sensation, breath hitching. He pulled at Kaner’s legs, spreading them further.
“I like it better this way,” He explained languidly, as he admired the sight of Kaner splayed wide open for him. His eyes flickered back to him, and he smirked. “I want to see your face when I’m fucking you.”
Kaner groaned once, and then again when Jonny plunged a finger in, relishing the tight heat that clenched against him.
He stared down, unable to keep his eyes off of the way his finger slid in and out, how Kaner’s body opened up for him. He couldn’t count how many times he’d gotten off to Kaner being finger-fucked, how many times he’d closed his eyes and thought about what the angle would have looked like if the guy had been holding the camera, how it would have looked to see his fingers thrusting ruthlessly into Kaner’s ass. But it was nothing in comparison to the real thing, to feeling him squeeze around him when Jonny added another, and another after that. And the noises he made when Jonny pulled them apart, the way he turned his head and closed his eyes like he just couldn’t take it would have Jonny halfway in love with him if he wasn’t already.
He wanted nothing more than to ream Pat open with his fingers, watch him lose himself on Jonny’s hand, but then he’d lose the chance to do what he really wanted to.
He wrapped up quickly, slicked up, and pressed himself against Kaner’s entrance. The blonde opened his eyes, turning his head just in time for Jonny to plunge in sharply, sliding in to the hilt. He made a sound like all the breath had been knocked right out of him, which may have not been too far from the truth.
“Fuck Jonny.” Kaner gasped out, hissing in what could have been pain, but from his erection, was probably arousal.
He agreed it may not have been the best course of action, slumping over the blonde as he was overwhelmed with the tight, dripping heat, vice-like on his cock and threatening to rip the orgasm right out of him before he’d even gotten started. Kaner didn’t look any better, a rapturous look to his face as he panted wetly in Jonny’s ear. He decided it would be better to give it a moment, let Kaner adjust and for his incessant need to blow his load to subside.
It was too much though, being inside the blonde finally, after all this time waiting and thinking about it, and it wasn’t long before he was screwing Kaner in earnest, lifting his hips up to ram in deeper, loving the sight of Kaner impaled on his cock. He was torn between watching the truly obscene slide of his dick as it reamed Kaner open, and the way Kaner’s face looked as he did it. It was actually somewhat scandalous how loud Kaner was being—there’d be more than a few rumors by next morning—but really, everything about Kaner’s mouth was indecent. To that end, everything about Kaner was kind of indecent. How he moaned when Jonny fucked up into him was downright immoral.
“C’mon, please, Jonny, more—“
How shameless he was begging for it.
Jonny really was easy for Kaner. Although fortunately, it seemed Kaner was pretty easy for him too, meeting him thrust for thrust and stripping his leaking cock to the rhythm of it. It only took the blonde shuddering apart beneath him for him to follow soon after, sinking in deep and coming inside that tight heat, orgasm well and truly ripped right out of him, leaving him slumped above the blonde.
Kaner grunted at him eventually, pawing flimsily at his shoulders in an attempt not to be squished. Jonny groaned and shifted his weight onto his elbows, pulling out slowly, feeling like he could have come again just from the sound of the wet pop that followed. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to run his fingers down, trailing to Kaner’s abused entrance. The blonde made a weak mewl of protest as Jonny pressed the tip of one finger back inside, but didn’t move away.
His eyes flickered back to Kaner, but he was only watching him with burning eyes, looking thoroughly debauched. Jonny fucked him slowly, leisurely now that he wasn’t at the frantic edge of climax, and Kaner took it, squirming a little, making an embarrassed sound as he shoved his face into Jonny’s neck. He pushed another one in, widening them slowly and felt Kaner cling to his neck like an anchor as he toyed with him. He leaned in to burn hot kisses into the tendons of Kaner’s neck, his mind still sort of stuck on reboot but the rest of him enjoying the after glow.
Eventually though, he got too sensitive for Jonny’s probing fingers, shifting away to spread limply beside him, staring studiously at the ceiling.
Jonny watched him silently, unsure of where to go from here.
“So,” Kaner turned to him, cheekily. “The real thing is better, right?”
Jonny blinked, stunned, before throwing a pillow at his face.
Kaner deflected it, laughing. In the interim though, Jonny had rolled back on top of him, pinning him to the bed and kissing him lazily. “Don’t fish for compliments.” He huffed, when they finally broke apart.
Kaner pouted, and for some reason, the look was infinitely more endearing now than it usually was. Jonny felt vaguely like he’d been Stockholmed somehow.
He answered, anyway. “Yes, the real thing is better.” One of his hands reached up into Kaner’s sweaty, tousled curls. “What the fuck, how is that even a question.”
“Yeah?” Kaner breathed, happily.
Jonny rolled his eyes. “Now you’re really fishing for compliments.”
He was smiling though, now. And probably wasn’t mad, considering he was an active participant in the last thirty minutes. But, it appeared he hadn’t quite forgotten what had started this event.
“Seriously, though.” The smile disappeared, replaced by honest curiosity. “Why? If any of the other guys had found that they’d have been all over it. And even if you didn’t tell anyone else, why didn’t you say something to me?”
“I—“ Jonny paused, swallowing. His finger had managed to tangle itself in Patrick’s blonde mess of hair. He untangled it, continuing to comb through his hair as he, tried to sort through his thoughts. “I was surprised, I guess.” He decided upon. “I mean, its not every day you sit down to rub one out and end up seeing your best friend on the screen. I was going to shut it off but then… I didn’t.”
“Obviously.” Kaner snorted. He made an impatient movement with his hand.
Jonny continued. “To be honest, I hadn’t really thought of you like that. I didn’t think I was attracted to you—I mean, obviously I am,” He flushed. “But I guess, I just, didn’t know it until then? Until I saw you… like that…”
Kaner blinked up at him with wide eyes.
“You were so fucking hot like that, I couldn’t believe it was you. The way you just… fuck Pat, you don’t see yourself. The way you look when…” Jonny trailed off, flushing. “I’m pretty sure the first time I saw it I came just by looking at you.”
Pat’s mouth opened with what could have been surprise but was probably amusement.
By now his whole face was flaming, but there really wasn’t any point in stopping. “It was so fucking sexy, Pat. You’re so fucking sexy—and I didn’t even know it. Or maybe I did and I just pretended I didn’t, fuck, I don’t know. All I knew was that I wanted to be there—I wanted to be the one holding you down and fucking you.”
“And fuck Pat,” He leaned in close. “The idea of you… you and anyone else, really pissed me off.”
Kaner’s eyes glimmered with mirth, the corners of his mouth quirking to fight off a smile. “That’s very possessive of you, Jonny.”
He was probably looking at him with what Kaner had dubbed ‘his wild-eyed crazy stare’, but for once the blonde didn’t joke on it. Instead he closed the gap between their lips, whispering into Jonny’s mouth, “Good thing I’m really into giant, possessive Canadian hockey players.”
Jonny could have liked Jenna if they had met in any other circumstance that wasn’t the tedious circus that was the copyright law. She had an unnecessarily chipper voice, considering her job, but also a startling sense of humor and a very casual, conversational way of talking. Unsurprisingly, she was just as happy to see this end as he was.
“Of course, Mr. Toews,” She replied cheerily. “And we here at Mansef Inc and Interhub truly apologize with all the delays; it should be removed in the next hour or so.”
“Thank you very much, Jenna.” He said, without much gratitude. At this point though, he was too relieved to bitch. That, and he was losing his voice from all the yelling he’d been doing this morning.
But it was finally, finally over.
The door opened, and Pat stumbled in somewhat blearily, yawning, sweat towel slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t even doing anything particularly attractive, yet somehow Jonny’s eyes were already drawn to his bare shoulders. Like he hadn’t been seeing them for years.
“You were still on the phone?” He blinked, toeing off his trainers and moving to the chair which Jonny had inhabited for the better part of the morning. “But… I was at the gym for, like, hours. What were you even doing?”
Jonny shrugged. “Just cleaning up some loose ends.”
Two months later, Kaner busted open the door to his bathroom, shouting loudly, “It’s gone!”
Irritated, Jonny leaned out of the stall, giving him a scathing look. The blonde looked like he hadn’t moved from the bed yet, judging from his outrageous bedhead. “What’s gone?” He shut the door and turned back into the spray.
Kaner shucked off his clothes, opening the door again and grabbing for the soap. He slicked up, before handing it to Jonny. “My video, man.” He said, and Jonny almost dropped the bar. “I’ve been searching for it all morning! I can’t find it—I think it disappeared or something.”
“Or something.” Jonny repeated artlessly catching the soap before it fell to the floor.
Kaner turned to him with a questioning look, sudsy and halfway into washing his hair.
Suddenly, he blinked, mouth dropping open. “You took it down?” He gaped. “What? How? I tried for years Jonny but they were such assholes about it and wouldn’t do it without like, a fucking lawyer and proof of identity and all this shit.”
Jonny shrugged. “I just did a lot of yelling.” And threatened a whole lot more. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Why were you looking for it in the first place?”
Kaner flushed. “Well, I…” He turned away, vigorously scrubbing his hair. “You just—you said you were really into it. Like, me. And how I looked. And stuff. So I thought… I dunno, I thought maybe I should take another look at it, maybe learn a few things.”
Jonny didn’t know whether to feel fond or annoyed.
“Kaner, what the fuck.” Jonny harrumphed, exasperated. He pushed the blonde onto the wall, shower spraying down on both of them. Even now, Kaner was making Jonny go cross-eyed, water skittering down his cheeks and around his big, blue eyes, sliding in his parted mouth. There was something candidly sexual about Kaner, period, that couldn’t be taught and certainly didn’t have to be learned in some half-rate amateur porn.
“How many times have I told you that the real thing is better?”