Power Play Read Online Free

vegetarian nachos. They’re made with beans. You want those instead?”
    “Sure,” Max said, handing over his menu. If Misha didn’t want them, he’d put them in a box and bring them to work the next day instead of a sandwich. Or he’d forget and leave the box at the restaurant, which is what he usually did with leftovers.
    “So why are you a vegetarian? Animal lover or health nut?” Max asked once they were alone again. He realized how it sounded and winced. “Sorry. That’s probably not any of my business.”
    Misha just shrugged. “It’s all right. Neither really. My father was a butcher.”
    Max nodded. “Of course. Your father was a butcher, so you don’t eat meat. Is that like, the Russian version of teenage rebellion?”
    That got him the slightest of smiles. “Maybe a bit.”
    All Max knew of Russia was secondhand information from movies and playing hockey with other Russians. “You’re actually Russian, though. Right? From Russia.”
    Misha gave him a strange look. “Yes.”
    “It’s just, one time on the ice, I called this guy a Russian, and he got pissed,” Max explained. “He hit me.”
    “Did you call him a communist? Or a Marxist?”
    “Huh?” Max scowled. “No. I think I just called him a cocksucking Russian. Russkie maybe.” Thinking about cocksucking suddenly made Max remember the trip he took a few years before to Mexico. It was supposed to be his honeymoon, but after Emma left, he decided to just make it a trip with some friends, instead.
    He showed up at the all-inclusive resort determined to get laid and drink a lot. And that’s exactly what happened—only Max found himself on his knees blowing the very hot male bartender instead of hooking up with random hot girls, as was the plan.
    I went to Mexico and all I got was a sunburn and cocksucking lessons. After the upheaval of the past few years, that was a surprise, but not entirely an unwelcome one. So he liked blowing dudes. Lots of people experimented on vacation…. Didn’t they?
    With drugs, usually. But okay.
    “Then why was he insulted?” Misha asked—and wow, Max should really stop thinking about sucking cock.
    “He was Ukrainian. I guess they don’t like being called Russians.” Max considered that. “Or maybe he didn’t like me calling him a cocksucker. But who doesn’t get called a cocksucker on the ice?”
    Misha looked down at the table. “It could have been either. Probably it was the first. But it is not…. That is frowned upon in Russia.”
    “Being Ukrainian?”
    “Well. By some.” Misha’s mouth turned up at the corner for the briefest of moments. “Mostly I meant the other thing.”
    “Calling someone a cocksucker? Or being one?” Why was he still talking about that?
    “Yes. Being one.” Misha’s expression was inscrutable. Any hint of amusement was long gone. “It is illegal in Russia.”
    “Really? That’s stupid.” Max had played hockey with gay guys before, and while he wasn’t sure if liking to suck dick sometimes made him gay, bi, or what, he still didn’t want to deal with homophobia on top of all the other problems the Spitfires had.
    He crossed his arms and gave Misha what he hoped was an imposing glare. “I’m not going to care about that. If any of our players are cocksuckers.” He cleared his throat. “I mean… you know what I mean. If they suck cock, like, for real.”
    He heard a throat-clearing noise from beside the table. “Your drinks are…. Here you go.” Kyle set the drinks down and then drew himself up. He looked to be about seventeen, maybe a little older. High school kid working a summer job, probably. “My brother’s gay. If you say anything homophobic, I’ll charge you for those nachos. I really will. They’re not technically on the half-price appetizer menu, but I was trying to be nice.”
    “I’m not homophobic,” Max protested. He looked at Misha. “I’m just checking to make sure he’s not.”
    “Shouldn’t you have figured that out