Chapter 434: Foppa XXIX—A Different Sort of Hunt

After the game, and the press, and the showers and piling onto the bus, Peter barely found time to breathe, or relax, didn’t even find time to get something to eat. Fortunately, Derek Morris, affable as ever, gave him a couple energy bars to snack on and damned if those things didn’t take a huge edge out of his hunger. When they got to the hotel in San Jose, then there would be just enough time to get some dinner and then go to bed. God how he hated back to back game days, but at least they were only a team bus journey apart and not across three states.

He closed his eyes to nap, listening to Derek talk across the aisle to Drury who sat next to him. The aggravated, unfulfilled yearning in his gut refused to let him drop off, however. True, the hunger pangs had stopped, but the psychological want continued. He’d never be satisfied on a powdery bar of food; he wanted something tasty and inviting. Still, he kept his eyes closed, anyone wanting to converse with him would only meet with an irritated boor, and if Blake wanted to play a prank on him, well at least he’d be able to catch him in the act.

Thinking of pranks, however, reminded him of what Drury had done to his computer. It reminded him of the photographs he’d not thought of deleting. The look on Chris’s face, on all of their faces looking at those pictures, and it had brought to his nose the intense pride he’d taken in letting everyone see that Josefina belonged with him, that he and he alone had the pleasure of her body. And then telling them she was gone, the look on their faces, he wondered briefly if they had been more horrified than him at the split. No, there wasn’t a way anyone could feel it more than him.

Yes it still hurt.

What’s more, he could blame so much on her now. Being provided with an easy excuse for losing his self control, having sex with a child, having sex with another man, a week ago, hell his entire life and he would never have thought of himself as capable of going through with something like that. Sure, he’d thought about it plenty, but how could one woman be capable of making him erase the fine line between fantasy and action so completely.

Deep within his belly, warm in his thighs he felt it, an urge, and in his mind he felt a strange mix of Josefina’s strong legs pressing into his ribs, and the tight trembling warmth of that child, and the complete and utter violence of Patrick finishing his ecstasy. All of this circled him around to a new beginning, even though he’d been here emotionally before. Yeah he could remember that well enough, clearly enough.

He’d told Jo all about it, and aside from Markus, aside from that girl, the only soul that knew. He wondered how she carried that with her now, who else would she tell it to, sleepy eyed and tangled in sheets. Ah and how quickly would she find someone else to mess up that bed, and the thought sent blistering waves of heat into his cheeks and neck and he hated Josefina all over again for tossing him over so completely and sharing his secrets. Of course, he had to wonder, if she wondered, if he were doing the same thing, and was he wondering it as well.

Oh God I could kill her, I could kill myself just to make it stop in my head!

But people didn’t kill each other over things like that, not normal people anyway.

Whose turn first? The order often switched in Peter’s brain, first Markus and than him or first she on his lap before she turned to Markus, during that time her blouse opening wider, her breasts seeming larger, the tips more pink, the skin more cool. To a teenage boy, to two teenage boys, the ultimate in being had been right there, just… just right there.

Funnily enough, he’d never once looked at Markus after that experience in high school, in private, on the ice, he’d never looked at him and felt the need to touch him or taste him like they had with that girl who at the time had seemed such a woman. But now, oh just right now he had to wonder, what would have happened then, if he’d just pressed his lips to Naslund’s shoulder, his best friend, his bare skin, and just let him know that he was willing to try pleasure in any way. What would that girl have done?

She probably would have laughed and teased them, two spot faced, milky, skinny boys too young for her to be seen in public with. Just old enough that they were only a dirty secret and not a crime, besides, she couldn’t have been much older than them at the time. He wondered if Jo ever wondered about that girl, if she ever wondered if Peter ever thought about her at all. Did women get jealous of memories?

Ah, but what would it matter now? Jo was gone as was that girl from so long ago, his first taste of a woman came from that girl, Markus' first as well. What had begun with her had been the need to hunt. Oh he waited a few more years, Markus a little longer than that, but the seed germinated, grew and both boys unleashed onto the girls, insatiable, playful, and curious. Had it calmed down for Markus? Peter really didn't know. What he did know was that it had never stopped for him, sniffing, hunting, taking, tasting, he'd been almost frantic about it at times, and really he'd thought with Josefina that maybe, just maybe, he'd been satiated enough to settle down with her, the excitement had been so real.

Seething now, he seethed inside, she'd left him like that and perhaps a door did close, slammed shut for him and that life, and the life he'd almost had with her. And so the beginning remained, the icy pale girl from his youth, the dark, warm pulsing woman that left him, to the raw transformation inside his body, ripped open by Patrick. Oh he had his options in front of him, a new set, but the puzzle remained how to enjoy them as thoroughly, and when standards dictated he never let anyone on the bus know about this.

Well almost everyone.

He looked at Patty, snoozing on his seat, a goalie who'd just been yanked from tonight's game. A little egotistically, Peter wondered if he had anything to do with Patrick's sub par performance, maybe the goalie couldn't shake him out of his mind. If that were the case, maybe he wouldn't mind another tryst... meh, but Patty had a wife and kids, he didn't want to imagine the short of emotional baggage that amounted to. Ick!

By the time they got to the hotel in San Jose, Peter really didn't feel in the mood to eat, and he really didn't feel like sleeping either. Appetites were funny things, and Peter knew well enough that he wanted something more than food and drink. He dropped his bags in the room, and rubbed his eyes, and he stumbled forward when Modano shoved him aside. “Sleepy or hungry Pete?”

Ah muscled, strong, powerful, Peter grinned. Still, when it came to Mike that had all been rumor hadn’t it? Too risky, far too risky. The smart thing would be to just prowl around the bars and restaurants and set to work on the trim, sweet smelling, tasty women he could have, bring one or two back and leave them gasping and begging for more. Yeah, but easy wasn’t fun, and who got anything out of life by not being, just a little risky? “Both,” Peter said and he stretched, slid onto one of the beds and smiled at Modano through half closed eyes. “So I probably won’t do either.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Mike said with a scoff. “I was gonna offer to buy dinner but seeing as…”

Peter sat up and his stomach roared. “Dinner’s good!”

Modano raised his eyebrows. “Are you feeling okay, Pete?”

“Sure,” Peter said, “Just hungry.” Dammit! His cheeks, he could feel warm rushing….”

“You’re blushing, Pete…” Mike sounded a little tentative, a little worried.

“No I’m not,” Peter said too quickly and he wanted to kick something and yell dammit. “Why would I be blushing?” And he felt even more blistering heat, he would be purple by now and by the state of Modano’s widened eyes he knew he was. Ah well, there went tonight’s initiative. It’s not like it was that important for tonight anyway, he could just use dinner to feel out the territory. Ha ha ha, as if he had a chance, right?

After dinner, wine, hell even dessert, Peter felt pretty full, tired, not even in the mood to talk much. Foremost in Peter’s mind funnily, were how soft and nice Mike’s eyes were, and his lips, well they were actually quite full and pouting like a woman’s almost. Yeah, yeah….

“So did ya just turn gay or something?”

Now that spun Peter wide awake and he looked around the hotel room, as if anyone were inside listening. Knowing Hinote and Keaner and their propensity for ever elaborate tricks Peter couldn’t be sure that something wasn’t going on. “What the hell? Mike did you have too much to drink or something, I should beat you down for that!”

Modano held his hands up. “Look, Pete, it’s, you don’t have to fear anything from me, I’m a great roommate but, hey if it like just happened to you, I just want to know that’s all.”

“Why would you even…” Peter sputtered and now he felt full out physical fear and sweat and terror. He hated himself for even imagining or thinking or having done, he regretted everything; he saw his career over, being run out of locker rooms and teams.

Modano smile sadly. “You’ve been checking me out since yesterday morning, and hell you couldn’t tear your eyes off my lips at dinner. Now that’s fine with me, okay, but that could get you into real trouble Pete. I’m telling you as a friend, you gotta look after yourself better.”

Convincing performance but he knew better. “Is Keaner putting you up to something?” Peter asked.

Modano laughed as he went into the bathroom, “Yeah he’s the last person we have to be afraid of.”

Peter swallowed and stared at the closed bathroom door. “We?” He whispered. And then slowly he smiled, now he securely stood on the floor of a different sort of hunt.