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“Hollander! Get that cute ass over here!”
Harris Drover was in rare form tonight. He was drunk. Shane had been nursing the same beer for the last hour, and when he made it over to the tables that had been smashed together to make room for everyone, the bubbly socials manager replaced it with a fresh bottle of cider.
“We are going to play a game,” he whispered mischievously.
Shane looked around the table with a giddy nervousness rising in his chest. He had a feeling he knew exactly what kind of game it was.
When Eric Bennett and his boyfriend announced they were getting married, Shane and Ilya had been excited for them, and that was about it. Ilya knew Eric pretty well, and Kyle by extension, but not attend-your-quiet-gay-wedding well. They certainly hadn’t expected to be invited to New York for the ceremony, and they were even more surprised when they learned who wasn’t going to be there.
Neither of the grooms’ respective families would show face; Bennett’s was a bit too distant, and his partner Kyle’s a bit too bigoted. So instead, Ilya had received a text from Scott Hunter that there would be a get-together at the Kingfisher in September. The two of them were going to say a few words, kiss like crazy, and then the bar would be wide open the rest of the night. Easiest wedding they’d ever heard of.
And it turned out exactly as they’d thought. A handful of people in attendance, short, sweet, impactful vows, and a stunner of a kiss while the entire room hooped and hollered for them. Shane had held Ilya’s hand the entire time, focusing on the way his own wedding ring felt on his finger.
It felt really fucking good.
But now, a streak of anxiety rose in him. The men gathered around this table weren’t people he knew very well at all. Harris, he had a familiarity with, but the rest of them were more Ilya’s crowd.
One of the newlyweds, Kyle, sat across from him with a tray of drinks on the table. He passed a glass of champagne to Kip Grady, Hunter’s husband who took it thankfully, and a colorful cocktail to Fabian Salah, who Shane had been to dinner with a few times when he and his partner Ryan Price had been in Montreal for hockey camp. Between all of them, Shane had only spent a few hours in conversation. Kip and Kyle, locals to New York, hardly any.
“A-are you sure you don’t want me to grab Ilya?” Shane offered, even as he sat down next to Harris. “This kind of thing is more his speed.”
“Uh-uh baby, he’s keeping the husbands on track right now,” Fabian told him with a nod at the bar where Ilya was in rare form, listening to Hunter tell a story about Bennett while their boyfriends and husband listened on. “We love Ilya, but right now, we want to talk to you.”
“We don’t know hardly anything about you, Shane, and I have a feeling we’re gonna be seeing tons of each other at the hockey camps,” Kyle offered as he set another drink in front of Harris. “Plus, I want to see Kip get drunk at my wedding.”
“Oh fuck you, I’m not gonna get drunk,” Kip insisted at his side. “You’ve done more freaky shit than me, sweetie.”
Kyle made a joking kissy face at him, but Shane was caught up on what he’d said.
“Sorry, freaky shit?”
“Oh, did Harris not tell you?” Fabian asked. “We’re gonna play Never Have I Ever and see who gets wasted fastest. Total college party maneuver.”
“Oh.” Shane had heard of it, sure, but he’d never actually played. Too many early nights in high school and too many early practices in his career meant he didn’t make a habit out of drinking games. But tonight…
He looked over at Ilya who was beaming at something Price was saying. His smile, the cut of his suit, the fact that he’d practically eaten Shane alive in the hotel shower before they showed face tonight… Maybe he should let loose a little more. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it well enough.
“I, uh… I might need someone to teach me how to play,” he admitted, taking a perfunctory sip of his cider. It was surprisingly good, didn't even taste like alcohol. He reminded himself to complement Harris on it later.
“That's all good,” Kip assured, looking around that everyone had a drink. “You’ll pick it up super quick. The goal of the game is to say something you haven't done that you think other people have. The more people who have, the better. Just two rules. If someone says something, and you've done it, take a drink. If not, don’t drink. Easy peasy, right?”
“Right,” Shane said, hoping he could instill himself with more confidence than he felt. “Who goes first?”
“I vote for the man of the hour!” Fabian teased. “Kyle, is there anything you haven't done?”
“Plenty, baby,” the groom smiled with his tongue stuck out at his friend. “Let's see… never have I ever… been to Paris.”
All the men at the table giggled and tittered at that, but only Fabian drank. The others all made loud noises that gave Shane the distinct impression that he was missing a joke.
“Does that mean something?” He asked Harris in a whisper. Thankfully, Harris was nice enough not to point and laugh. Shane had been seriously concerned.
“Oh, it means you've been in between two guys like the Eiffel Tower. One behind and one in front.” He made a crude gesture with his hands that gave Shane the right idea.
“Oh! I haven't done that.”
“Me neither, babe; I'm not bendy enough for it.” He laughed and clinked his bottleneck against Shane’s. Maybe it was the half a beer, but he felt all warm inside at Harris’s kindness. Being called babe. Feeling like these guys wouldn't judge him for asking questions.
“Your turn, dear,” Kyle pointed at Fabian with his martini glass.
“Hmm, okay,” Fabian thought for a second before coming around. “Never have I ever… been whipped in bed.”
Shane watched as all the other men in the circle took a drink, all crowing appreciatively. Kyle pointed at Kip expectantly. “Harris I knew about, but you?”
“Tristan, in college,” he said with a sigh. “We tried some stuff with a belt, but I wasn't into it.”
A flashbulb went off in Shane’s head. “Wait, I thought it was just like… whips. Do belts count?”
The others looked at him a little shocked. “Yeah, I'd say so?” Fabian nodded excitedly. “Have you ever been spanked with a belt, Shane?”
Fuck, how was he supposed to answer that? He couldn't exactly tell them about how he and Ilya had tried a few things like that at the cottage two summers ago. And how he’d relished the bruises for days. But that was the game, right? You didn't have to explain yourself.
Shane took a timid sip of his cider.
The table went ballistic. “Oh, that's so good!” Kip exclaimed. “Good for you, Shane.”
They all toasted him, and although Shane could feel the blush creeping over his cheeks, he didn't mind it one bit.
“Okay, okay!” Harris perked up, next in the circle. “Never have I ever… slept with a woman.”
Shane took a sip of his drink, remembering the unfortunate two and a half times he and Rose had hooked up. He hoped for her sake she was getting laid a lot better now.
No one else took a drink, but Kyle looked like he was thinking hard. “Does it count if she’s a woman now?”
Harris thought about this for a second. “Yeah, sure! Why not?”
Kyle toasted his drink to Shane’s and took a swig before all eyes fell on him. “Your turn, Hollywood,” Harris poked.
Shit. What the hell was he supposed to say to these guys? Something he’s never done in the bedroom?
“Uh… never have I ever… topped, I guess?”
Every mouth in the circle was open. Shane felt like he was a bug under a big, gay microscope. Fuck, he didn't know how to be cool.
“Wait, like ever?” Kip asked curiously. “Like not even to try it out?”
“No, I… I never really got the appeal.”
Fabian grinned at him across the table. “Good for you, baby. You know what you like.” He clinked his fancy glass against Shane’s bottle, as did each of them in turn before they all drank.
“Very good play, man,” Kip spoke up, thankfully taking the attention away from Shane, “Okay, never have I ever… used a cage.”
“On me or someone else?” Kyle asked, eyeing the level of his drink.
“On yourself,” Kip nodded sagely.
Shane looked carefully from each man to the next when only Fabian and Kyle took a drink. He thought he knew what they were asking, but he needed to know for sure, and was just tipsy enough to ask. “Do you...” he leaned into Kip, feeling like a kid asking teacher for help. “Do you mean like a dog cage?”
He shook his head a little. “Like a cock cage. Like a metal thing that goes over your dick to keep you from touching.”
Everyone looked at Shane for a moment as he thought before whispering again. “Does it have to be metal? Or can it be… like plastic?”
Kip gave him a barely suppressed grin as color crept into his face. “No, baby, it can be different things.”
Shane’s cheeks burned as he took a deep swig of his cider. Each of the men around him giggled appreciatively, without judgement. Shane wondered how they’d feel if they knew Ilya had slipped one on him before they showed up tonight.
God, this was a really gay bar.
Kyle took up the mantle again, raising his half-empty martini glass. “Never have I ever… had sex stoned.”
“Damn, never?” Fabian asked as he took a drink.
“Not my thing,” Kyle shrugged. “I like a clear head. You guys?”
Kip drank. Harris didn’t. Shane hesitated.
“Do you mean like full-on sex or just…” he made a gesture that he hoped conveyed his meaning. He was quickly realizing that just because he couldn’t taste the alcohol didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
“If someone came, it’s sex,” Kyle determined regally. Shane drank.
“Ooh, bad boy of the NHL over here,” Fabian teased. Shane cracked a smile at the table. If only the NHL knew what he and Ilya got up to in the off-season, they wouldn’t call him the golden boy of the league any more.
“Okay, my go,” Fabian said, eyeing each of the men around him. “Never have I ever… kissed a coworker.”
“That’s targeted,” Harris smirked goodnaturedly as both he and Shane drank. Ilya and Troy Barrett, Harris’s boyfriend and lead right wing on the Centaurs, were posted up at the bar with the others, laughing and enjoying each other while Shane realized he might be a little less conventional than he thought.
Much to Shane’s surprise, Kyle and Kip looked at each other awkwardly before both taking a drink. He was happy to remain curious, but Fabian’s jaw dropped dramatically to his chest.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Nothing,” Kip said, much too quickly.
“Bullshit, nothing, what was that fucking look?” Shane watched on as Fabian nearly climbed on top of the little table to look the two of them in the eyes. “Ahh! When did you two kiss??”
“I mean technically we weren’t coworkers yet?” Kyle grinned sheepishly. “It was when you and Scott were fighting and I was trying to help you get home.”
“I was really drunk,” Kip rationalized.
“And I was really crushing on you,” Kyle added. “But I’d say it all worked out for us, yeah?” He smiled at his friend and tipped their glasses together, and for the first time all night, Shane felt a weight lift off of him.
He was used to being public about his and Ilya’s relationship after so many years, but the feeling of people in the same boat as him, people able to listen and talk with him… He realized somewhere around his third bottle of cider that this was what community was. Hockey was a spectacular, if sometimes flawed kinship, but this one was so different. So accepting.
It made Shane feel so… good.
“Ilya, come get your husband,” Harris called toward the bar. “We drank him under the table!”
Shane was wasted. Not buzzed, not drunk, but well and truly fucked up. He felt himself listing over toward Kip, who welcomed him with open arms and a sweet laugh. The game had gone so well.
It turns out that Shane was a lot more… kinky than he realized. He thought that he and Ilya had a fairly standard, if dynamic sex life, but when the four men around the table had started listing off specific acts, specific scenarios… Shane finally had names for a lot of the things they’d tried. And it turns out they’d strayed far past experimenting and into degenerate territory.
Fuck, he was plastered.
“What have you done to my husband?” Ilya said dramatically, tugging Shane off of Kip’s shoulder. “Oh, he’ll never recover from such a night.”
“Did you get Golden Boy over here drunk?” Bennett asked, wrapping himself around a tipsy Kyle. Or at least Shane thought it was Bennett. His eyes wouldn’t quite focus.
“If we wanna get technical, he got himself drunk being a slut,” Fabian teased, standing up and wobbling over to Price at the bar. The enormous defenseman caught his boyfriend easily and held him steady. “Ilya, you better take him home and put some of those toys to good use.”
“You told them about our toys?” Ilya asked incredulously. He wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed as far as Shane could tell, just surprised. But now Shane knew that every single one of the men in that room had a sex toy collection. He and Fabian even had a couple brands in common.
“Only a few of them,” he slurred, burying his face in his husband’s neck. God he smelled good. Like vodka and sweat and cologne and the cigarette he’d snuck out for. “I didn’t say anything about the spreading bar thing, or-”
“Okay, time for coffee for you!” he cut Shane off laughing. Probably for the best. God, what if he said something embarrassing? Like how bad he’d wanted Ilya to put that cigarette out on him. “Can you walk?”
Shane’s head lolled back so he could look up at Ilya properly, but it just made him laugh and shake his head. His legs felt like tungsten weights underneath him. “Uh-uh, Prince Charming, you’ve gotta carry me, I think.”
Ilya rolled his eyes to look over at the spouses gathered around the table with their partners. Hunter and Kip had wrapped themselves up in each other, and Troy was practically sitting in Harris’s lap taking swigs from his bottle of cider.
“Thank you for making him feel welcome,” he said earnestly to the group, and Shane could feel his heart doing little flips in his chest. He felt Ilya nod toward Kyle and Bennet. “Enjoy married life, thank you always for having us here. Good night beautiful people, I love you.”
Shane heard a chorus of ‘I love you’s from a room full of hockey players and their boyfriends, and not for the first time that night, his heart swelled with pride. He was so, so happy that here, nothing about his and Ilya’s relationship would be outlandish, or even questioned if he didn’t want it to be. Although, he was learning how much fun it was to share.
“I love you guys,” he garbled as Ilya hoisted him into a carry. Normally, they kept their hands to themselves, but he felt supportive hands cupping his ass, and he didn’t even mind it. He just delighted in the sound of his friends around the table and the feeling of his husband’s body against his.
“You are very drunk, huh sweetheart?” Ilya whispered in his ear when they stepped into the chilly September night.
“Did you know the dog thing we did a couple years ago is called puppy play?” Shane offered. He had so many new facts in his head.
“You are very drunk,” Ilya laughed. As his husband loaded him into their car with a warm kiss, Shane allowed himself to slump against the cool glass of the window. He’d had so much fun, talked to so many new people, and even gotten a few ideas of things to try out once he sobered up a little.
As he drifted off to the sound of Ilya driving them back to their hotel, he made a promise to himself to share a little more with the people in his life. Maybe not all the details, but it seemed like he was genuinely wanted tonight.
Never had he ever felt so… welcome.