Hard Contact - An LGBTQ Roleplay

Chapter 13

Summary:

Caleb gets his first look at Blake's childhood bedroom, something Blake is particularly distressed about.

Caleb

Blake's childhood bedroom was boyish. It held all the childhood charm of a kid intensely into sports and perhaps not so much girls. A hockey stick hung over a checkered bed on the farthest end of the room, a collection of vintage sports illustrated magazine covers framed and propped on top of a bookcase. Caleb snorted at the poster of Mark Recchi, former Montreal Canadiens superstar in '97, plastered on the wall. "Guessing you liked hockey? Just a lil'?" he teased. "Why didn't you try for the league?" While opening one of Blake's nightstand drawers, already thoroughly enjoying his quest to find incriminating material, he added, "Not good enough? Eh, not everyone can be a star, or even somewhat decent enough to warm the bench."

Blake

Blake's face was right out of a cartoon as his mouth dropped open when the man next to him jumped on sharing a bed that evening. There was no room for protest when his mom clapped her hands together like an excited toddler a moment later and announced all of the eccentricities of a house that the trainer hadn't even bothered to give Caleb a proper tour of. His father and brother swept in just behind, shaking rain off their clothes and the chill out of their bones. Blake still had no room for protest given that his father pressed in and extended his arm for another handshake with the famed player. "Thanks for joining us and for keeping this one in line during the season," he offered with a soft smile, motioning to his youngest son. The trainer tossed up his hands and disappeared into the fridge for another beer before bed. It was the only thing going to get him through the night at this rate. Once the rest of the family had disappeared up the stairs and Caleb made his latest smart remark, Blake found himself sneering at the hockey player's back. Maybe it was in his own best interest to sleep on the couch.

Deciding that he wouldn't be chased out of his own bed by Caleb of all people, Blake polished off his final beer and headed up to his room. The attic hadn't always been intended to play third bedroom to a young Blake. When they'd moved into the house in his infancy, he'd gone from sleeping in a crib in his parent's room to sharing a room with his older brother. That had lasted until they were ten and fourteen, doing what brothers did: fighting. At each other's throats at all hours of the night and throwing in a daughter on the verge of being a teenager, the Watsons had their hands full. And so Blake had scoped out the space at the very top of the house, dragging up his Looney Toons sheets and excessive jersey collection. The attic had belonged to him ever since.

It'd changed over the years, his stick and puck collection disappearing in the form of donations to his brother's children's collections. The sheets had been subbed for solid navy and his closet had dwindled to summer clothes only, all of his professional outfits relocated to his home in Jersey. His mother hadn't allowed him to take everything, not wanting it to be bare should he return home, so the bedroom was still fairly reminiscent of the boy he had once been. It killed Blake to know that he'd be inviting Caleb into that space. With the meeting of his family, this was the last part of himself that Blake had been allowed to cling to that Caleb hadn't forced his way into. It felt like the forward was getting too close, like they'd arrived at a step where he needed to start pushing back. The option wasn't available when he was inviting the guy to slide into bed with him.

The trainer was perched on the bed in just his boxers when his sleepover buddy finally joined him, outfitted in only a towel. He glanced up from his phone, scowling as the man took a stroll through his room like it was a Blake Watson museum. It made his blood boil to hear Caleb ask questions about his childhood like he thought a poster on the wall welcomed him to ask about such a personal story. "Yeah? Well, not everyone can be a big star." He was on his feet as drawers started opening and quickly slammed his hip into it, forcing the nosy forward out. "Clothes on the bed." Blake whipped his head in the direction of a pair of boxers, basketball shorts, and a t-shirt he'd laid out. He'd only known Caleb to be naked in bed and given that they wouldn't be going down that path, he'd left the forward's options open so that the man wouldn't do exactly what he'd tried to the second he'd walked into the room: poking around Blake's life. He wasn't welcome. The trainer stayed perched against the dresser, using every ounce of body language to indicate that Caleb was to stay out. His mom had invited Caleb into this house and into his room. Blake didn't need to welcome him in return.