Chapter 13: The First Light

Sebastian woke to grey light filtering through the curtains and the weight of Julian's head on his shoulder.

He did not move. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the slow rhythm of Julian's breathing. Their hands were still intertwined from the night before. The pillows that were supposed to be a barrier were scattered on the floor.

Julian shifted, made a soft sound, and his eyes opened.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Julian looked at Sebastian, and Sebastian looked back. The morning light made Julian's face look younger, softer. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, but they seemed less heavy.

"Morning," Julian said. His voice was rough with sleep.

"Morning."

Julian sat up slowly, careful of his knee. He looked at the pillows on the floor, then at Sebastian.

"The pillows fell," Julian said.

"They did."

"We should probably put them back."

"Probably."

Neither of them moved.

Sebastian reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Julian's ear. Julian closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

"We should talk about this," Julian said.

"Probably."

"But not right now."

"No. Not right now."

Julian opened his eyes and smiled. It was a small smile, but real.

"Okay," Julian said. "Then what now?"

Sebastian looked at the window. Snow was falling, thick and fast. The mountains outside were barely visible through the white.

"I think we are stuck here," Sebastian said.

Julian followed his gaze. "A blizzard?"

"Looks like it."

Julian got out of bed and limped to the window. He pressed his hand against the cold glass. The snow was already piled high against the sill.

"The clinic starts today," Julian said. "The kids are supposed to arrive this morning."

Sebastian joined him at the window. "They are not driving up in this."

"No." Julian turned to face him. "So it is just us. For now."

The words hung in the air. Just us. No cameras. No reporters. No Richard Frost. Just the two of them and the snow and the silence.

Sebastian felt something loosen in his chest. "Are you okay with that?"

Julian looked at him for a long moment. Then he nodded.

“I’ve been waiting seven years to have you to myself,” he said, voice low. “I can handle a few more days.”

The air changed between them, sharp and electric. Sebastian stepped in, cupped Julian’s face with both hands—thumbs brushing the stubble along his jaw like he was memorizing it.

Julian’s breath caught, and then Sebastian kissed him, hard and desperate, all the years of holding back pouring out at once.

Julian groaned into his mouth and opened up immediately, tongue sliding against Sebastian’s with raw need. Their teeth bumped once, twice, but neither of them slowed down. Sebastian walked him backward until Julian’s back hit the icy window. The shock of cold against his skin made him arch and swear softly against Sebastian’s lips.

Sebastian’s hands moved down, shoving under the thin shirt, palms dragging over Julian’s chest. He caught a nipple between thumb and finger, rolling it, and Julian moaned, hips jerking forward like he couldn’t help it.

“Fuck, Seb—” Julian gasped when they broke for air.

Sebastian just bit down on his lower lip and sucked it hard. Julian’s fingers twisted in Sebastian’s hair, yanking him closer, while his other hand shoved straight into Sebastian’s sweats, wrapping around his cock—already hard and leaking—and stroking with that perfect, rough grip that always wrecked him.

Sebastian growled, yanked Julian’s shirt up and off in one rough motion. He ducked his head and sucked a mark into the side of Julian’s neck while his hands explored every inch of warm skin he could reach—abs, hips, the waistband of those loose sweats. He pushed them down just far enough to free Julian’s cock. It slapped heavy against his stomach, flushed and wet at the tip.

Sebastian wrapped his fingers around it, matching Julian’s rhythm, stroking him fast and tight.

They stayed pressed forehead to forehead, breathing hard, mouths brushing every time one of them gasped. Julian fucked into Sebastian’s fist while his own hand worked Sebastian faster, the wet sounds of skin on skin filling the little room. Snow hammered the glass behind Julian, but neither of them felt the cold anymore. Just heat. Just the frantic slide of hands and the years finally cracking open.

“Seven fucking years,” Sebastian panted against Julian’s mouth, twisting his wrist just right until Julian’s knees actually buckled. “I’m not wasting another second.”

Julian answered with a broken moan and a kiss so deep it tasted like relief and hunger and home all at once. Their bodies moved together, messy and urgent, hands relentless, the storm outside completely forgotten.

---

Afterward they made breakfast together.

Julian found eggs in the fridge and a loaf of bread in the freezer. Sebastian dug out a pan that wasn’t too rusty and set it on the stove. They moved around each other in the tiny kitchen, shoulders bumping every time they turned, trading half-smiles and quiet jokes like they’d been doing this for years instead of just now starting.

"You are not bad at this," Julian said, watching Sebastian flip an egg.

"Do not sound so surprised."

"I am just used to you being good at hockey. Not eggs."

"Eggs are easier than hockey. Fewer people hitting you."

Julian laughed. The sound filled the cabin, warm and bright. Sebastian wanted to hear it again.

They ate at the small table by the window, watching the snow fall. The eggs were overdone and the toast was burnt, but Sebastian did not care. He was sitting across from Julian, and Julian was smiling, and the world outside did not exist.

"What happens after?" Julian asked, pushing a piece of toast around his plate.

"After what?"

"After the cabin. After the suspension. After all of this."

Sebastian set down his fork. "We go back. We face your father. We face the media. We face whatever comes."

"And us?"

Sebastian reached across the table and took Julian's hand.

"We figure it out. Together."

Julian looked down at their hands. His thumb traced the lines on Sebastian's palm.

"My father is going to try to destroy you," Julian said. "He is going to use every weapon he has. The team, the media, the league. He might even go after your mom."

"Let him try."

"You keep saying that."

"Because I mean it." Sebastian squeezed his hand. "I have spent my whole life fighting for everything I have. I fought to get noticed. I fought to make the team. I fought to become captain. I am not going to stop fighting now. Not for you."

Julian's eyes were bright. "You really are not scared of him."

"I am scared of losing you. That is the only thing I am scared of."

Julian stood up, walked around the table, and sat on Sebastian's lap. He put his arms around Sebastian's neck and rested his forehead against Sebastian's.

"You are not going to lose me," Julian said. "I have been yours since I was sixteen. That is not going to change."

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Julian's waist and pulled him closer.

"I love you," Sebastian said.

Julian's breath caught. "You have never said that. Not since the camp."

"I know. But I remember how it felt. And I feel it now. I love you, Julian."

Julian kissed him. Soft and slow and deep. When they pulled apart, his cheeks were wet.

"I love you too," Julian said. "I have always loved you."

---

The snow did not stop.

They spent the morning exploring the cabin. There was a small loft upstairs with a dusty old couch. A basement with a washer and dryer. A shed out back with firewood and old hockey sticks.

Julian found a deck of cards in the kitchen drawer. They played poker for hours, using matches as chips. Sebastian won most of the hands, but Julian accused him of cheating.

"I am not cheating. You are just bad at poker."

"I am not bad. You are lucky."

"Luck is just skill with a better name."

Julian threw a pillow at him. Sebastian caught it and threw it back. Soon they were laughing, wrestling on the floor, the cards scattered everywhere.

Sebastian pinned Julian to the rug, holding his wrists above his head. Julian was breathless, his face flushed, his eyes dark.

"Okay," Julian said. "Maybe you are a little lucky."

Sebastian leaned down and kissed him. "Maybe."

---

The afternoon brought more snow and a call from the clinic coordinator.

The phone was old, mounted on the wall in the kitchen. Julian answered. Sebastian watched his face as he listened.

"The roads are closed," Julian said after hanging up. "They are not sending the kids until the storm passes. Could be three days. Could be a week."

"A week? Just us?"

Julian smiled. "Just us."

Sebastian felt a thrill run through him. A week alone with Julian. No distractions. No obligations. Just the cabin and the snow and the fire.

"What do you want to do first?" Sebastian asked.

Julian walked over to him and put his hands on Sebastian's chest.

"I want to hear more about the camp," Julian said. "What you remember. What you do not. I want to tell you everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything. The good parts and the bad parts. The parts that made me fall in love with you and the parts that made me want to give up."

Sebastian put his hands on Julian's hips. "Tell me."

Julian led him to the couch. They sat close, facing each other, knees touching.

"It started with the weights," Julian said. "You were so serious. So focused. Like the world would end if you missed a rep."

Sebastian listened as Julian talked. The weight room. The lake. The first time they held hands. The first kiss, nervous and sweet. The last night, when Sebastian had promised forever.

The memories were still blurry, but they were coming. Not in pictures, but in feelings. The warmth of Julian's hand. The sound of his laugh. The way the stars looked reflected in the water.

"I remember the stars," Sebastian said. "I remember thinking I had never seen anything so beautiful."

Julian smiled. "And then you looked at me and said except you."

Sebastian felt his face warm. "I said that?"

"You were smooth when you wanted to be."

"I am still smooth."

Julian laughed. "You are many things, Sebastian. Smooth is not one of them."

Sebastian pulled Julian closer and kissed him. "Shut up."

"Make me."

Sebastian did by kissing him again till he couldn’t breathe properly.

---

That night, the fire burned low and the wind howled outside.

Sebastian lay on the couch with Julian curled against his side, his head on Sebastian's chest, his leg propped up on a pillow. The cabin was dark except for the glow of the embers.

"Are you warm enough?" Sebastian asked.

Julian nodded. "Your chest is like a furnace."

"Good. I am useful for something."

"You are useful for many things."

"Name three."

Julian tilted his head up. "You make good eggs. You are good at poker. And you are very good at kissing."

Sebastian grinned. "I will take it."

Julian settled back down. His hand found Sebastian's and held it.

"Sebastian."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for not running. After I told you everything. You could have walked away. You could have pretended it did not matter. But you stayed."

Sebastian kissed the top of Julian's head. "I am done running. I ran for five years. I am tired."

"Me too."

They lay in silence, the snow falling, the fire dying, the world outside forgotten.

Sebastian thought about the road ahead. Richard Frost. The team. The media. All of it waiting for them when the snow melted.

But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, there was just Julian. Warm and safe in his arms.

He closed his eyes and let himself drift.

For the first time in seven years, he was exactly where he wanted to be.