Making The Save, MM Romance, Hockey Romance, RJ Scott, V.L. Locey

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Episode 1


One of the first things I had noticed about Finland was that it looked a great deal like Quebec. It sounded nothing like it, of course, but the verdant greens of the woodlands were quite similar. As was the brisk clean air. Pulling in a deep lungful as I meandered around the cabin while sipping champagne I could almost taste the snow on the mountains. I dearly missed Mont-Tremblant, where I had grown up. Carlisle was a dirty town, the snow in the winter always turning a disgusting gray-black within hours of falling.

“Hey, Alfie, the ceremony is about to start.” I pulled my gaze from the thick, leafy canopy overhead to look at Taz in his best suit with his hair wild as always. “What are you doing back here?”

“I was intrigued to see about the sauna. Goog informed me that all Fins are big on saunas and have them all over the place. I plan to sauna as soon as he and Sam say their vows.”

“Uhm, I’m not sure a wedding is a good place to sauna,” Taz said, his smile the one he always wore when he was trying to talk me out of something. Such a good boy he was. Well meaning, and one of the few on this team who weren’t prone to doing annoying things that irritated me on the ice. I slapped his cheek playfully then drank down the bubbly pink champagne in my glass.

“You’d be surprised how good a place a wedding is to do most things,” I chuckled, slung an arm around his wide shoulders, and led him back to the front of the cabin. It was a lovely setting the two boys had found for their nuptials. A small log home – a summer cottage – nestled deep in the woods of Hämeenkoski, a small town about a hundred kilometers from Helsinki. There was a small babbling brook that fed into a lake filled with fish that leaped out of the water in joy. Yes, Finland was a great deal like Quebec. Even the creatures were happy to live there.

I took a seat on a folding chair beside Mike, Taz’s boyfriend, and ran an eye over the guests. Mostly Rush hockey players, and some family in the front row, which I assumed belonged to Goog. Sam’s father was sitting in jail where he belonged. His hatred for his gay son a stain on our team that would never wash off. I wanted to spit in the man’s face.

Mike mumbled something to Taz who then peeked around at me. “Bonjour,” I said with a wide smile.

“You good there, my man?” Taz asked and I nodded.

“I am fine. I was thinking of spitting in someone’s face but the urge has passed.”

“Thank God,” Mike muttered. I laughed and elbowed the thin man. Mike’s grunt was heard all the way up front by both grooms and the parson who was marrying them. Heads turned. I grinned and lifted a hand.

Pardon, excusez-moi. Continue with the wedding vows, I beg of you,” I shouted and several small birds in the nearby trees took to wing.

As the pastor rambled on my attention drifted, brought back now and again to Sam or Elo speaking about love and devotion. I was a bit envious of the two of them. I was older than they were, over thirty now, and still looking for the right man to spend my life with. He would have to be strong, not just physically but mentally for I was not an easy man to live with. My mother, bless her heart, often said that I didn’t cry when I was born, I yelled obscenities at the doctor birthing me. Mostly that is true. I don’t suffer fools well, and I do not allow mealy men in my bed. Twinks do nothing for me. I need a man who will fight for control and then, when they earn it, dole it out with a commanding hand. Sadly, I’d not found many men who fit the bill.

The vows were done speedily, and we all rose and clapped, some threw bird seed at the new couple. I got to my feet and stretched, the kinks of the flight over still deep in my lower back.

After congratulating Sam and Goog, I grabbed a bottle of champagne from one of two huge tables filled with Finnish food and drink. Music from inside the cabin began to fill the air, dance tunes from old 80’s groups like Technotronic, Tone Loc, and Bobby Brown as well as many others. I drifted around the perimeter of the dancing, drinking champagne from the bottle, eating some sort of fishy tasting paste on crackers, and letting the mood of the afternoon seep into my soul. After several or so bottles of champagne, I was ready to sauna.

Goog was no good as he had not fired up the hut that came with his rental cabin so I made my way to the neighbor’s tiny sauna cabin. I shed all my clothes along the way, waving my bottle of champagne at the blue sky over Finland. When I pushed into the hot interior of the sauna, I nearly passed out. From the heat, not from the case of champagne I’d ingested. Never that!

An old man of perhaps a hundred and forty smiled at me. He had no teeth, no hair, and one white eye. I sat down beside him on a wooden bench, handed him my bottle of bubbly and grinned. We steamed ourselves well, and then, because the old man directed me with hand signals to do so, I ran from the sauna and leaped into the lake. The shock was beyond description. My balls climbed up inside my body. I shrieked in glee, the icy cold mountain water swallowing me up. With a strong push I broke the surface, hooting as the old man clapped and shouted in Finnish.

It was when I exited the lake, my dick flapping in the air, and my skin one solid goosepimple, that I saw everyone from the wedding with their phones trained on me. So, I did what any naked, drunk, Quebecer goalie would in that situation. I swung my hips widely, making my cock circle like an elephant trunk and shouted, “L’addition s’il-vous plait!”

Everyone found my request for the check highly entertaining, even the old naked Finnish man. Everyone, that is, except the Railers public relations/social media man back in Pennsylvania I later found out.

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