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Brock Faber had his eyes on Jack Hughes long before the Olympics.
He'd followed Jack's journey from the moment he was drafted, always knowing, deep down, that he was destined for greatness—and he turned out to be right.
Jack's baby blue eyes were enough to make anyone want to get to know him, but for Brock, it went beyond that. There was something magnetic about Jack, something that pulled at him in a way he couldn't quite explain. Or maybe he could, but he didn’t want to.
Every time Quinn mentioned Jack—something that happened a lot—Brock had to work hard to hide how captivated he was. He didn't want to let it show, but it was getting harder.
Brock treasured every moment when their teams faced off, or when Jack came to visit Quinn. Those fleeting moments—quick smiles, teasing jabs, the shared space between them—were all he needed to feel closer to him.
When he found out the three of them had been selected to represent Team USA at the Olympics, Brock couldn't have been more thrilled.
The way the team came together, dominating on the ice, fueled something deep inside him. He got to see Jack in his element— in their element. Same team. Same jerseys. Together.
They shared a thousand unspoken moments—looks, celebrations. Even a quick kiss on the helmet from Jack to Brock. It ignited something in him. The chemistry was undeniable, and Brock felt it.
He knew Jack was rooming with Quinn, so he didn't expect anything to happen. But he needed Jack to know that he was thinking about it. All of it.
"You're out to lunch, Faber," Jack teased, noticing his teammate zoning out. "It's really something, being here. I get it."
Brock smirked, snapping back to reality. "Oh, you're forgetting this isn't my first rodeo. But yeah, even for the second time around, it's pretty incredible. Not trying to downplay it."
Jack flashed him a half-smile—one that could've made Brock's knees buckle if he hadn't been sitting.
"I forgot," Jack admitted. "It's just... surreal. Especially getting to play with Quinn too is absolutely wild. No pun intended."
Brock chuckled, trying to fight the urge to look too long into Jack's eyes. "Oh, you've got jokes now, huh? Can't wait to raise hell with you out there on the ice."
It might've been a dumb cheesy Devils joke, but the smile Jack gave him made it feel worth it. In that moment, it was all that mattered.
But Brock knew there weren't many more moments like this left.
They were either playing on the ice or with Quinn, separately, never truly alone. So, Brock took a chance. He felt like it had been now or never.
"I keep hearing reports that they're running low on condoms here," Brock said, as casually as he could muster.
Jack leaned back on the lounge sofa, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow. "Not surprised. I mean, it's the fucking Olympics."
Brock kept his tone nonchalant. "Have you hooked up with anyone?"
Jack gave him a curious look. "No. Have you?"
"Yes."
Jack blinked. "Here in Milan?"
"Yes," Brock answered, his voice steady, almost daring Jack to ask more. He knew he would.
"Would I know who it is?"
Brock stood up, but kept his distance—just enough to leave room for Jack to react how he wanted.
"Oh, definitely."
He could tell his vagueness was driving Jack crazy.
"Come on man just spit it out. Who is it?"
"I can't give you a name. But..someone from Team Canada."
Jack covered his face with a hand, partially in disbelief. "Damn, man. Sleeping with the enemy? At least not from the women's hockey team, right?"
Brock's confidence wavered slightly as Jack continued to probe. He wasn't sure he could hold on to this bravado much longer.
"No..." Brock mumbled, his voice dropping.
"Thank God-"
"Worse."
Jack stood, now fully engaged, his eyes narrowing. "Worse? How could it be worse? We play for gold against Canada tomorrow. Wait—wait no. No?"
Brock pushed up his glasses, heart racing, allowing Jack to take a moment to process putting all the puzzle pieces together.
"Yeah. Exactly why I can't tell you who it is. We share the same secret. And I didn't 'sleep with' the enemy; pretty much did everything else though."
Jack's jaw hung open for what felt like an eternity. No words came. So, Brock pushed forward.
"I'm telling you this for a reason," Brock said, glancing around to make sure they were still alone—a rare luxury in the village.
Jack cleared his throat, but his voice was shaky.
"And what reason would that be?"
Brock shrugged, trying to ease the tension, but his own nerves were mounting. The "now or never" voice was louder than ever.
"I think... you know," he stammered. "Unless this place has me going crazy. You feel it too. Between us. Right?"
Jack crossed his arms, standing firm, but his posture was tight, defensive.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Faber."
Brock's shoulders sank as he stared at the ground. "You do," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I can't be the only one who feels it. I see the way you look at m—"
Jack cut him off, his face hardening.
"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck you, Brock. We can't do this here. I'm not doing this shit with you."
And with that, Jack stormed off, leaving Brock standing alone in the silence.
*******
After winning the gold, everything had changed for the both of them.
The rush of victory, the celebrations, the media frenzy... it was all intoxicating. They had felt like they were on top of the world. The feeling was indescribable.
Jack was so busy being happy in his own bubble, he kind of forgot he was trying to avoid Brock.
They hadn't said much of anything to each other since their previous conversation, but on their last night at the Olympics after a few celebratory drinks, that tension finally brewed to the surface.
"I'm flying out tomorrow," Jack said, approaching Brock with a hesitant look in his eyes.
Brock raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
He knew Quinn wasn't flying out until middle of the week so it just struck him as odd.
"I um," he swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "I don't know if you have any plans or whatever. Before we jump back into regular life. But.. I think I'm ready to have that conversation. If.. you still want to talk."
Brock thought maybe it was the alcohol talking but Jack didn't seem drunk at all. And he was several drinks away from even being close to drunk.
"Of course, Jack, yeah. I do."
It was almost a perfect coincidence that Brock's roommate already went home to be with his family before the next regular season game. He and Jack could finally be alone.
They stayed at the party for a while longer, mingled, and left separately.
Jack took in a deep calming breath before he knocked on Brock's door, just shy of one in the morning; a half hour passed the time they agreed to meet.
"Come on in," Brock said, closing the door behind them.
Jack looked visibly uncomfortable and it silently destroyed Brock. He decided to let his lateness slide. He was just happy he showed up.
"Hey," he said softly, trying to ease the tension. "Why don't we go sit?"
Jack nodded and followed Brock over to the bed; the only place to sit down in the small room. They sat not too close but also not too far.
"Sorry. I- I fucking don't even know where to start. I know this was my idea but now that I’m here..I don't think I want to talk at all..."
Brock chewed at his bottom lip. Head spinning, trying to calculate exactly what to say.
"We don't have to talk," he said with a certain husk to his voice.
He slid a bit closer to Jack on the bed. "What do you want? Just tell me that."
His eyes were so bright, the bluest he's ever seen them.
"You. I fucking want you, okay? But.. I'm scared," he admitted.
Brock reached out for Jack's hand. He let him touch it. He didn't move, didn't pull away.
"What are you scared of?" He asked gently.
He put his other hand under Jack's chin, forcing him to look at him. "Jack?"
"Fuck," was all Jack whispered as he made eye contact. "I've never.. I don't- Brock, this is crazy."
Brock knew this whole thing wasn't easy for Jack. But he also wasn't a mind reader either. All he could do was guess.
"Are you scared to have sex? Or you think if we do that it makes you gay? Or scared of like..what it means for us?"
Jack's cheeks turned a light shade of pink. He didn't take long to answer.
"All of the above."
Brock cupped Jack's cheek in his large, strong hand. He needed him to feel safe. To feel something, anything, other than fear.
"Okay," he said gently. "Jack, I'm going to say a bunch of things. So just listen for a minute. First of all, it's valid to be scared. I understand that. Trust me, I've been there. But just so you know.. nothing that we do or don't do makes either of us gay or straight. We don't need to put a label on ourselves or anything. What we do is our private business, and we own that, nobody else. And.. having sex doesn't need to be on the table if you don't want it to be. I don't want to do anything that you don't want to do. I mean that."
Jack ignored the stinging in his eyes and made a split second decision to eliminate the space between them. He climbed into Brock's lap and kissed him, grabbing onto his face, nearly knocking his glasses off his head.
Brock let Jack take the lead, let him feel in control; he knew he needed it, and he was willing to give it up.
He let Jack's hands wander wherever they wanted to go. They landed at the hem of his shirt, taking a pause from kissing to make sure it was ok to take it off.
Brock nodded and removed his glasses, putting them on the side table to let Jack take off his shirt. He kissed down his neck and chest, slowing things down just a little. The older man felt a tightening sensation in his pants and let out a small moan.
"Can I?" Brock asked, with his own hands on Jack's shirt.
Jack said nothing, he only took off the shirt himself instead, letting it fall to the floor.
Brock took a moment to admire Jack's naked torso. He'd seen it plenty of times, but not like this. His body was perfect, not a single ounce of body fat. All muscle.
Brock couldn't help himself from sliding his hands slowly up and down his surprisingly soft skin.
Jack started to fumble with Brock's pants but the angle they were in made it impossible.
Brock laid his body down to again let Jack take control. He was so hard in his pants already, he couldn't believe how turned on he was just from Jack kissing and touching him.
"Holy shit," was all Jack said as he pulled Brock's pants down and off. "You're fucking leaking through your-"
"Fuck Jack!" Brock breathed out. "This is what you do to me."
Jack undid his own pants and slid them down, revealing he too was hard as a rock. He pressed their clothed dicks together and rocked his hips back and forth.
Brock was enjoying himself way too much to be wondering how in the hell Jack never did this before. It was in the way back of his mind though.
"This feels so good," Jack said, "but I want more."
Brock kissed his lips before sitting his body up, back against his pillows.
"Can I suck you?"
Jack nodded and slowly took off his boxers. He stood over Brock on the bed and placed his hands on the wall to brace himself. There was no space to do much of anything but they were doing the best they could.
Brock leaned forward and took Jack's cock in his hand, dragging his tongue across the length of him. He didn't tease him for too long, but he also didn't want him to get what he wanted right away. He was enjoying it way too much.
Jack's knees started to give out as Brock hollowed his cheeks and took him all the way down his throat. He reached down into his own boxers, stroking himself to get some relief while he serviced him.
"Fuck Brock!" Jack moaned, closing his eyes and banging his fist on the wall. "Stop stop."
Brock tensed up and immediately pulled off of him, quickly wiping his mouth. "Shit Jack did I do something wrong?"
"No, no! I didn't want to come- I.. was about to."
Brock relaxed his shoulders, smiling more to himself than to Jack. "You don't want to come yet?"
Jack shook his head. "No. I.. want to touch you."
Brock locked eyes with Jack as he pulled his boxers down to his ankles. His cock was twitching with anticipation.
He could tell Jack was slightly apprehensive but he didn't waste too much time before taking Brock in his hand and tugging on him. Up and down. Creating the best and worst kind of friction.
Brock closed his eyes and lifted his hips up, thrusting into Jack's hand as he stroked. His eyes shot open when he felt Jack's wet tongue at the head of his cock.
He pushed Jack's hair back so he could see his face while he went down on him.
"Wow," he breathed out.
Jack tried to do his best, not having any idea what to do. He mimicked what Brock had done to him to the best of his ability. He gagged a few times but Brock didn’t seem to mind his technique.
Brock pulled his mouth off of him gently.
Jack looked up at him with his eyes glazed over, tearing up in the corners from taking him so deep.
"Was that terrible?"
Brock smiled and shook his head, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. That simple touch made Jack's heart pound out of his chest; he was realizing just how much he loved having Brock's hands on him. "Farthest thing from it."
Jack bit his lip to stop himself from grinning too wide. He leaned over to grab Brock's face in his hands, crashing their lips together in such a way that their teeth clicked.
Brock instinctively squeezed Jack's ass while they kissed.
"I think," Jack breathed in between kissing Brock's lips and neck. "I want to have sex. But I’ve never.."
Brock honestly had no expectations. He was willing to get off any way Jack wanted, and he really didn't think they would go all the way. Jack had been full of surprises and Brock was here for it.
"Have you ever touched yourself here?" Brock asked, giving his cheek another squeeze.
Jack shook his head.
Brock made the decision for him in that moment.
"Jack," he said softly, trying to find the right words. "Even if I did.. try to loosen you up, it's going to hurt. And that's not your fault. You're still figuring it out and that's ok. But I can't.."
Jack furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly confused.
"Brock. I just spat out my fucking teeth on the ice. You think I can't handle a dick up my ass?"
Brock gripped Jack's hips. "It's not about you 'handling' it, Jack. I.." he paused. "Go into that drawer next to you and get me what's in there. Please."
Jack did as he was told without words. He pulled out a small bottle of lube and a sleeve of condoms, tearing one off.
Brock took the condom from him and to Jack's surprise he didn't put it on himself.
"Wait- What are you doing?"
Brock thought the answer to that was clear. Especially since Jack's eyes were tracking exactly what he was doing.
"Next time.. if you want there to be a next time, we can try having you on the bottom. When we have more space, more privacy, more time. It's one of the great things about sex with guys, there's many ways to do it," he said, slicking up Jack with a very generous amount of lube. "That being said, I’m going to fucking explode if you don't get inside of me right now."
Jack wrapped Brock's dick in his hand as he used his other to slowly and carefully guide himself in. He watched as Brock squeezed his eyes shut, and didn't open them for a moment.
"Fuck, are you ok?"
Brock nodded, eyes still closed. "Yeah. Keep going, you're good. Just.. your dick is so big and.. it's been a while."
Jack pumped Brock's dick, which was still insanely hard, as he pushed himself all the way in. Brock's back arched up off the bed and he groaned out Jack's name.
"You're fucking squeezing my dick, Brock. Fuck."
Brock smiled through the pain and pulled Jack in for a kiss. "I'm not going to last.." Jack muttered, slightly embarrassed.
"If you keep jerking me off like that, I won't either."
Jack slowly built up his pace and watched Brock's facial expressions to make sure he was ok. His eyes were open and alert, his cock leaking in his hand.
Brock sucked on Jack's bottom lip while he thrusted into him; every move starting to feel better and better.
"Oh my god! Right there. Right there Jack don't fucking stop," Brock couldn't control himself.
Jack repeatedly hit his sweet spot and he was in no condition to stop what was about to happen. He screamed out as his orgasm washed over him, losing any control he thought he had.
"Fuck Brock," Jack moaned against his mouth. "I'm gonna come."
He gave a few more deep thrusts into Brock to help him ride out his orgasm before pulling out, taking the condom off and exploding all over Brock's stomach.
He could barely catch his breath, he was panting harder than he ever had after sex before. His long hair was stuck with sweat to his neck and forehead.
"That was.." Jack pushed his wet hair away from his eyes. "Fucking unreal."
He collapsed next to Brock, not touching him.
"No regrets, right?"
Jack turned his body to face Brock.
"None at all. You were amazing. That was amazing. I um," he swallowed before he spoke again. "I do.. want there to be a next time. Like, for sure."
Brock let out a sigh of relief and pulled Jack into a headlock type of hug.
The feeling in his gut that he felt meant just as much, if not more to him as winning the gold.