Crack In The Ice - Chapter 19: Chapter 19
You are reading Crack In The Ice, Chapter 19: Chapter 19. Read more chapters of Crack In The Ice.
If I had to characterize hell, this would be it.
For years, memories of my reunion with Eli in Beijing have plagued my mind almost every waking and sleeping second. The few hours we shared, with a single hotel room as backdrop. I should have known this would happen.
When Chloe and I had to fly back to Beijin for the 2025 ISU Challenger Series, a small alarm bell rang in my head when Helga booked us rooms at the same hotel as last time. But the Grand Emerald Hotel is pretty big, and the rooms we booked weren't even on the same floor.
My dad runs a resort, though. I should have fucking known better. These big hotels work with copy paste lay-outs. So, obviously, even though my room isn't even on the same floor, it's an exact replica of the room where I let Eli unravel me for the first time.
It was hard enough to keep the memories at bay when I was half a world away. But here, everything is a reminder.
The bathroom where he let me coax him into staying. The shower, where he knelt down for me - wet hair, parted lips and eager eyes. The bed where he took me without ever really claiming control.
That's something about Eli. He can be very assertive when we're together, taking what he wants from me, when and how he wants it. But he's also never resistant whenever I take the reigns. Over the years, I've come to the conclusion he might even like it. Being handled, instructed, ordered. Even when he's the taker, he has no problem following my lead, my pace, my requests.
Very few things in life beat that feeling. The feeling of total and complete control over someone. Knowing he's mine, even if for only a few stolen moments and only when we're like that. Having him completely at my mercy and knowing it's what he wants too.
I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, like that's going to make the images go away. I can't be going down this path. Not alone at a hotel room, when I should be focusing on the competition ahead.
I take out my phone, looking for distraction. Chloe is the most immediate one.
It was a long shot anyway.
I open the Instagram app, knowing it's dangerous territory. Stories, though. Eli is not an active story poster. I should be fine.
Mack's the first that shows up. A photo of an ice-cream cone in front of a San Francisco sunrise.
I open her DMs.
I stare at my phone screen. That wasn't the distraction I was hoping for.
I throw my phone on the mattress and reach for the TV control. I hope they have anything in English. Or English subtitles. Maybe I can teach myself Mandarin from TV. That should busy my brain, right?
Wrong.
Skating helps. When I skate I'm focused. Training is the only thing that gives my head a brake from the stream of Eli thoughts. I can't skate right now, but I can work out.
I jump off the bed, leaving the TV on. I do some push-ups on the floor, trying to break a sweat. My mind cheats me and summons a vision of Eli lying down underneath me, so I roll over and do some sit-ups. I can feel myself heating up, but instead of clearing my brain it seems to bring back even more images. Eli at my feet. His face hovering above mine when I lean back.
I try to picture Helga behind me, yelling instructions. Maybe that's the key factor in my training sessions that helps me focus. I imagine Chloe next to me with an unimpressed look on her face. A treacherous conjured up image of Eli kneeling between my legs dissolves all of that.
I fall back onto the floor with a groan. Why am I this pathetic?
My skin's on fire, my stomach all liquid lava, my chest swelled to the size of a planet, and my groin screaming for attention. It's like the more I try to distract myself, the more I turn myself on.
With that thought on my mind, I return to my bed with the intention of giving into it. It wouldn't be the first time I jerk off to thoughts of Eli during a restless night. This time, it doesn't seem to work, though.
I pull a pillow over my head and wonder if I could smother myself with it. That doesn't work either, so I go for the next best thing and reach for my phone again.
He picks up faster than I expected.
"Mh," a groggy sound reaches me from across the line.
"Were you asleep?" I look at the digital clock on my nightstand. "It's past seven-thirty in Calgary."
"Yeah, but I'm in San Jose. It's six-forty-eight here," Eli says, voice rough with sleep. The sound of his morning voice has been far too rare of a treat for me, over the years. It throws me off and makes me stupid every time I hear it.
"Oh." I clear my throat. "Sorry. Wanna hang up and go back to sleep?"
"S'okay." I hear ruffling, like he's getting off his bed. I think he sleeps in his underwear. Or naked. That's an image I didn't want, but will definitely keep. "I'm up now."
"Right. Uhm. Why are you in San Jose?"
I can hear him walk, like he's moving to a different place. "Early season vacation. What do you think?" Even though he's still whispering, the acoustics sounds different, like he's talking from inside the bathroom.
"Right. You're playing the San Jose... whales?"
"Sharks."
"They're all animals. It was a good guess."
"The Flames aren't an animal."
I smile. "That's 'cause you're special."
"Did you need something, Liam?"
"No." My fingers find a lose thread on the comforter and play with it.
"Then, why'd you call before seven-AM pacific time?"
"Because it's almost eleven-PM in Chinese time and I can't sleep."
There's a pause.
"Why not?"
A flash of Eli's bare muscular arm assaults my mind.
"Chloe and I are competing at an ISU Challenger event. In Beijing." A glimpse of hazel-grey eyes darkened by lust, rumpled honey-brown hair splayed over the pillow.
"You nervous?"
"No."
I'm not. Even if the fluttering beneath my rib cage feels suspiciously like nerves, I know it's not about tomorrow's event. It's connected to the image of the ridged surface of Eli's stomach trembling with an unstable breath. Or the memory of the taste of the skin on his neck, and the sight of the bruise my lips left behind.
Maybe calling was not a smart move.
"So what's keeping you up then?"
I think back to strong, defined arms wrapping around my torso possessively as Eli's hips sunk into me on a bed just like this. Fuck.
I swallow around a dry throat. "Did you know all the rooms at the Grand Emerald Hotel apparently have the same lay-out?" My voice sounds rough.
Eli doesn't reply and I think back to a strong masculine hand reaching over my head to grip the headboard with punishing force. Is he thinking the same thing? Does he have similar images running through his head on his side of the world? Is this desperation I've been feeling something we share?
"This one doesn't have a broken headboard, though," I say.
"It was already loose when I grabbed it," he murmurs. And it might be wishful thinking, but I think his voice sounds shaky.
I smile. "Sure it was, stud."
Eli snorts.
I close my eyes. The ghosts of that night only flash more vividly inside my mind then, but now I find comfort in knowing Eli's thinking about it too. Even if it's just because I brought it up.
"I'm going a little insane here," I confess. "That's why I called."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I sigh. "It's been over three months," that comes out sounding needier than I intended.
"I know," Eli doesn't sound too steady himself. But it's too stiff, though. Reigned in. Cautious.
"Jesus." I laugh. "You're giving me nothing, man."
"What do you want from me?"
One day, that'll become our mantra. What do I want from him?
"I want..." I trail off with a sigh. One day he'll ask and I'll be honest. One day he'll ask and I won't be able to hold back. One day he'll ask and I'll fail to hide my true intentions behind vague replies.
Not today, though.
"I want a pause button."
"A pause button?"
"Mhm. Just press pause and stop the time."
"What for?"
To get on a plane and meet you wherever you are, see you without schedules to follow and flights to catch and watching eyes to escape, I wanted to say. Not today, though. Neither of us is ready.
"Whatever I feel like," I say instead.
"Don't you just do that anyway?"
I laugh, but it's not funny. "I guess you're right."
I can hear a faint knock on Eli's side of the connection. Eli says something, voice muffled like he has the phone against his chest. An even more diffuse voice says something back in the background and then the call ends.
I stare at my phone until a text comes through.
Yeah.
Yeah, I definitely should.
For years, memories of my reunion with Eli in Beijing have plagued my mind almost every waking and sleeping second. The few hours we shared, with a single hotel room as backdrop. I should have known this would happen.
When Chloe and I had to fly back to Beijin for the 2025 ISU Challenger Series, a small alarm bell rang in my head when Helga booked us rooms at the same hotel as last time. But the Grand Emerald Hotel is pretty big, and the rooms we booked weren't even on the same floor.
My dad runs a resort, though. I should have fucking known better. These big hotels work with copy paste lay-outs. So, obviously, even though my room isn't even on the same floor, it's an exact replica of the room where I let Eli unravel me for the first time.
It was hard enough to keep the memories at bay when I was half a world away. But here, everything is a reminder.
The bathroom where he let me coax him into staying. The shower, where he knelt down for me - wet hair, parted lips and eager eyes. The bed where he took me without ever really claiming control.
That's something about Eli. He can be very assertive when we're together, taking what he wants from me, when and how he wants it. But he's also never resistant whenever I take the reigns. Over the years, I've come to the conclusion he might even like it. Being handled, instructed, ordered. Even when he's the taker, he has no problem following my lead, my pace, my requests.
Very few things in life beat that feeling. The feeling of total and complete control over someone. Knowing he's mine, even if for only a few stolen moments and only when we're like that. Having him completely at my mercy and knowing it's what he wants too.
I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, like that's going to make the images go away. I can't be going down this path. Not alone at a hotel room, when I should be focusing on the competition ahead.
I take out my phone, looking for distraction. Chloe is the most immediate one.
It was a long shot anyway.
I open the Instagram app, knowing it's dangerous territory. Stories, though. Eli is not an active story poster. I should be fine.
Mack's the first that shows up. A photo of an ice-cream cone in front of a San Francisco sunrise.
I open her DMs.
I stare at my phone screen. That wasn't the distraction I was hoping for.
I throw my phone on the mattress and reach for the TV control. I hope they have anything in English. Or English subtitles. Maybe I can teach myself Mandarin from TV. That should busy my brain, right?
Wrong.
Skating helps. When I skate I'm focused. Training is the only thing that gives my head a brake from the stream of Eli thoughts. I can't skate right now, but I can work out.
I jump off the bed, leaving the TV on. I do some push-ups on the floor, trying to break a sweat. My mind cheats me and summons a vision of Eli lying down underneath me, so I roll over and do some sit-ups. I can feel myself heating up, but instead of clearing my brain it seems to bring back even more images. Eli at my feet. His face hovering above mine when I lean back.
I try to picture Helga behind me, yelling instructions. Maybe that's the key factor in my training sessions that helps me focus. I imagine Chloe next to me with an unimpressed look on her face. A treacherous conjured up image of Eli kneeling between my legs dissolves all of that.
I fall back onto the floor with a groan. Why am I this pathetic?
My skin's on fire, my stomach all liquid lava, my chest swelled to the size of a planet, and my groin screaming for attention. It's like the more I try to distract myself, the more I turn myself on.
With that thought on my mind, I return to my bed with the intention of giving into it. It wouldn't be the first time I jerk off to thoughts of Eli during a restless night. This time, it doesn't seem to work, though.
I pull a pillow over my head and wonder if I could smother myself with it. That doesn't work either, so I go for the next best thing and reach for my phone again.
He picks up faster than I expected.
"Mh," a groggy sound reaches me from across the line.
"Were you asleep?" I look at the digital clock on my nightstand. "It's past seven-thirty in Calgary."
"Yeah, but I'm in San Jose. It's six-forty-eight here," Eli says, voice rough with sleep. The sound of his morning voice has been far too rare of a treat for me, over the years. It throws me off and makes me stupid every time I hear it.
"Oh." I clear my throat. "Sorry. Wanna hang up and go back to sleep?"
"S'okay." I hear ruffling, like he's getting off his bed. I think he sleeps in his underwear. Or naked. That's an image I didn't want, but will definitely keep. "I'm up now."
"Right. Uhm. Why are you in San Jose?"
I can hear him walk, like he's moving to a different place. "Early season vacation. What do you think?" Even though he's still whispering, the acoustics sounds different, like he's talking from inside the bathroom.
"Right. You're playing the San Jose... whales?"
"Sharks."
"They're all animals. It was a good guess."
"The Flames aren't an animal."
I smile. "That's 'cause you're special."
"Did you need something, Liam?"
"No." My fingers find a lose thread on the comforter and play with it.
"Then, why'd you call before seven-AM pacific time?"
"Because it's almost eleven-PM in Chinese time and I can't sleep."
There's a pause.
"Why not?"
A flash of Eli's bare muscular arm assaults my mind.
"Chloe and I are competing at an ISU Challenger event. In Beijing." A glimpse of hazel-grey eyes darkened by lust, rumpled honey-brown hair splayed over the pillow.
"You nervous?"
"No."
I'm not. Even if the fluttering beneath my rib cage feels suspiciously like nerves, I know it's not about tomorrow's event. It's connected to the image of the ridged surface of Eli's stomach trembling with an unstable breath. Or the memory of the taste of the skin on his neck, and the sight of the bruise my lips left behind.
Maybe calling was not a smart move.
"So what's keeping you up then?"
I think back to strong, defined arms wrapping around my torso possessively as Eli's hips sunk into me on a bed just like this. Fuck.
I swallow around a dry throat. "Did you know all the rooms at the Grand Emerald Hotel apparently have the same lay-out?" My voice sounds rough.
Eli doesn't reply and I think back to a strong masculine hand reaching over my head to grip the headboard with punishing force. Is he thinking the same thing? Does he have similar images running through his head on his side of the world? Is this desperation I've been feeling something we share?
"This one doesn't have a broken headboard, though," I say.
"It was already loose when I grabbed it," he murmurs. And it might be wishful thinking, but I think his voice sounds shaky.
I smile. "Sure it was, stud."
Eli snorts.
I close my eyes. The ghosts of that night only flash more vividly inside my mind then, but now I find comfort in knowing Eli's thinking about it too. Even if it's just because I brought it up.
"I'm going a little insane here," I confess. "That's why I called."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I sigh. "It's been over three months," that comes out sounding needier than I intended.
"I know," Eli doesn't sound too steady himself. But it's too stiff, though. Reigned in. Cautious.
"Jesus." I laugh. "You're giving me nothing, man."
"What do you want from me?"
One day, that'll become our mantra. What do I want from him?
"I want..." I trail off with a sigh. One day he'll ask and I'll be honest. One day he'll ask and I won't be able to hold back. One day he'll ask and I'll fail to hide my true intentions behind vague replies.
Not today, though.
"I want a pause button."
"A pause button?"
"Mhm. Just press pause and stop the time."
"What for?"
To get on a plane and meet you wherever you are, see you without schedules to follow and flights to catch and watching eyes to escape, I wanted to say. Not today, though. Neither of us is ready.
"Whatever I feel like," I say instead.
"Don't you just do that anyway?"
I laugh, but it's not funny. "I guess you're right."
I can hear a faint knock on Eli's side of the connection. Eli says something, voice muffled like he has the phone against his chest. An even more diffuse voice says something back in the background and then the call ends.
I stare at my phone until a text comes through.
Yeah.
Yeah, I definitely should.
End of Crack In The Ice Chapter 19. Continue reading Chapter 20 or return to Crack In The Ice book page.