Chapter Sixteen

 

 

ETHAN LEANED against the boards, waiting his turn for their next drill and listening while Sloany and Becker debated who was hotter—Kesha or schoolgirl-era Britney Spears.

“Britney had on a schoolgirl skirt,” Becker said. “And she had a snake. That snake was badass.”

Ryan scoffed. “Dude, she didn’t have them both in the same video. You can’t bring a snake to school.”

“My vote is Kesha. Because of the hot pants. And the roller skates. And those, Becker, were in the same video. At least, I’m pretty sure they were.” Ryan nudged Ethan with his elbow. “What about you, Kennedy? Who’s hotter, Kesha in the hot pants, or Britney in the skirt?”

Ethan might be in love with—and happily enjoying getting fucked by—a guy, but no way was he unable to appreciate and ruminate over the very important question being posed by his teammates. “Well, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about that video, Sloany, but I’m still gonna go with Kesha. The roller skates make me think about her playing hockey, and that’d be hot as fuck.”

“Especially if she had a snake,” said Becker.

“I think you have a thing with snakes,” Ryan said.

“I thought that was Kennedy,” said Bennett Halley, who skated up to join them in line for the drill.

“Snakes are badass,” Becker muttered, getting ready to skate down the ice and take his shot. “That’s why Britney wins.”

Ryan shouted after him, “I keep telling you, the snake isn’t supposed to be involved.”

“Yeah, Kennedy,” Halley said snidely and loudly, as if he were annoyed no one was getting his obvious reference to cock.

“Captain Sloan,” Coach yelled. “Stop talking about invertebrates and up-tempo dance numbers and motivate your team to stop slacking the fuck off. We play the goddamn Ice Dogs next week, and they’ve won six of their last ten games.”

“Don’t suck, guys,” Ryan yelled by way of encouragement. “You’re up, Kennedy.”

Ethan wasn’t fond of shooting drills in practice, because he was a defenseman and he’d only scored three goals in his entire professional career. And while he successfully quit smoking for a few weeks after New Year’s—mainly because he smoked so many cigarettes at the New Years’ party that he felt like his lungs had turned into an ashtray—he ended up buying a pack during their last road trip.

Sharing a room with Halley was stressful. And Ethan really did like smoking.

But smoking did not like Ethan. Or rather, Ethan’s hockey playing did not like smoking. As he went down the ice, he could feel his breathing get all fucked up. He’d like to think that was because he was getting close to Riley, and Riley was so hot playing hockey that watching him was like sex. No wonder Ethan needed to smoke so much. But that wasn’t the reason.

He didn’t score, but he never did. Riley smirked at him, and Ethan smirked back and thought about blow jobs and—because now he couldn’t help it—snakes and up-tempo dance numbers.

He was still thinking about that when he saw Halley skate down the ice for his next attempt. Ethan stopped thinking so he could watch Riley deny Halley, because he took a perverse sort of glee in that. Like always.

This time, though, it almost looked like maybe Halley had scored. Enough that Halley threw his arms up in victory… until Riley opened his glove, dropped the puck on the ice, and then nonchalantly kicked it with his skate.

Halley skated up to get it, and when he straightened, he moved closer to Riley and said something that Ethan couldn’t hear.

And Riley skated out of the goal crease and tackled Halley to the ice.

Ethan had no idea what was going on, but he was caught between feeling proud of Riley for knocking someone over, and jealous of Halley for being underneath Riley. It was very confusing, but then Riley threw a punch, and Ethan was just confused and vaguely turned on.

The entire Jacksonville Sea Storm stood in openmouthed surprise, absolutely silent as they watched their calm, even-tempered goalie whaling on Halley until Coach Spencer—who apparently also needed a minute to wrap his mind around what he was seeing—finally skated out to break them up.

Riley looked furious, and that had Ethan’s eyes narrowing in suspicion. Halley was clearly at fault, because Riley didn’t act like that. Ethan did, but not Riley.

Spence yelled something nonsensical about soccer hooligans and sent both Riley and Halley to the locker room. Riley skated to the tunnel and marched off like he was going to war. Ethan wondered if it was weird that he was half-hard, and had to think about something else before it got worse.

“Sloan, get this goddamn team practicing,” Spence shouted, and Ryan motioned for everyone to go back to the drill as Vazov came off the bench and took Riley’s spot in goal.

Ethan wasn’t that great at drills when he wasn’t distracted, so he was useless for the rest of practice. Neither Halley nor Riley came back to the ice, and Spence’s tactic was to threaten a bag skate if anyone so much as looked like they were thinking about asking what happened. That was the most dreaded drill in all of hockey, so no one wanted to risk it.

Ethan caught a ride home with Sloany, and found Riley stretching in the living room. The minute he saw Ethan, he stood up and held his hand out. “Can I have a cigarette?”

Ethan gaped at him for a moment, wondering if somehow they’d switched places. He grew up with two sisters, a VCR, and a lot of old movies on VHS—including Freaky Friday. Maybe this was just like that, only with boys, hockey, and sex. “Seriously?”

“Ethan”—Riley used his don’t-argue voice that made Ethan feel contrary and also got him hot—“just let me have one.”

“Well, you did knock out Halley,” Ethan said agreeably. He found his cigarettes and handed one to Riley. He could barely talk himself out of smoking; he wasn’t going to try to talk anyone else out of it. “Let’s go outside.”

Riley wasn’t very good at smoking, and Ethan finally had to light the cigarette for him. Riley took a drag, coughed, and then made a face. “This is gross, Ethan. Why do you do this?”

Ethan shrugged. “It looks cool?”

“Maybe when you do it,” Riley muttered.

“You gonna tell me why you decked Halley?”

“He said something stupid,” Riley answered and tried to take a drag of his cigarette. “I think what you like about this is the deep breathing.”

“Pretty sure what I like about it is the nicotine, Riles. Seriously. What did he say?” Ethan leaned against the glass door. “Was it about your parents?”

Riley looked at him in surprise. “Why would you think it was about my parents?”

Ethan ashed his cigarette. “I know how you hate people saying shit about your family being rich or whatever.”

“It wasn’t that.” Riley stared out at the ocean. “It was about you.”

Ethan scowled. He hated being the reason someone upset Riley. “What? That I snored?”

“I already know that,” Riley said with a slight smile. “And no. Not that.” Riley stubbed the cigarette out on the railing. There were at least two, three more drags left. Damn nonsmokers.

“Riley, seriously,” Ethan said, stubbing out his own and throwing it in the empty coffee can he used as an ashtray. “Come on. If it’s about me, you have to tell me.”

“I don’t have to,” Riley said, stubborn as always. “It was dumb.”

“Well, duh. He’s an idiot. Was it dumber than when I hit him for saying you were from Montana?”

Riley tilted his head thoughtfully. “I don’t know. That was pretty dumb, so maybe not. And it wasn’t everything he was saying, just the last thing.”

“Wait,” Ethan interrupted. “Most of it? You mean it was more than one thing?”

“Oh, yeah. He’d been running his mouth all practice. He always does during shooting drills. Most of you do,” Riley said dryly. “I usually just ignore it.”

“What other shit was he saying?”

“Well, the first one was about how, maybe if he wanted to score, he should, and I quote, ‘Go five hole on you like Kennedy does.’”

Ethan gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Okay. That’s sort of funny.”

“I thought so too,” Riley said. He nudged Ethan. “Even though you haven’t done that yet.”

That was true. They didn’t fuck all that often, because they still had hockey to play and both of them enjoyed blow jobs quite a bit. When they did, though, Riley fucked Ethan. Ethan was fine with it being the other way around, in theory. In reality, though, he was being kind of selfish because he liked Riley fucking him a lot. So much that he couldn’t believe he’d ever been hesitant about it at all.

“Quit stalling, Hunter. I’m guessing whatever he said was supremely douchey or else you wouldn’t have punched him.”

Riley nodded. “I hope that was an okay punch. I kept my thumb out of my fist just like you showed me, so I didn’t break it.”

Ethan felt a warm rush at that, which mixed oddly with the lingering tension and cold anger he was feeling about Halley. It was a weird combination—like mixing Jameson’s with a flat Diet Pepsi. “It was. Stop stalling.”

Riley’s gaze went cold. That was his goalie face. “He said he’s not surprised you’re such a pussy, since that’s all you were around growing up.”

Ethan waited for the blinding rush of anger, that red-hot rage that should accompany hearing that slur on his family. But oddly it never came. He was annoyed certainly, but all he said was, “I’m glad he didn’t score a goal after he said that.”

Riley looked at him. “You’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m… yeah. Of course. I’m low-level mad about something, usually all the time,” Ethan reminded him. There was something else there, though. Beneath the anger, there was something that got down in his bones and rushed like blood through his veins, straight to his heart. “That’s why you hit him? For saying that. About me and my family.”

“I like your family. They don’t deserve that. Neither do you. It’s not anyone’s fault Halley can’t score but his.” Riley gazed at him curiously. “I thought you’d be a lot angrier. I’m not going to lie.” Riley leaned back against the railing, arms braced on either side, looking tall and lean and muscled. The wind from the ocean breeze ruffled his thick, dark hair.

Ethan shook his head and felt that strange something burning through his blood and gathering in his throat, behind his eyes. “I’m usually the one who gets mad. No one ever….”

…gets mad for me. Ethan didn’t say it, but Riley always did seem to understand the things Ethan wanted to say but couldn’t.

Problem solved. What the fuck.

Ethan tangled a hand in Riley’s shirt and hauled him closer to kiss him. “Thanks,” he mumbled against Riley’s mouth. It wasn’t really enough, but it was all he could seem to say.

Riley pulled back a little. “You don’t have to thank me. By the way, Halley and I both got scratched for the next three games.”

“Cool. You can keep me company on the bench. Together we can make Halley really uncomfortable. It’ll be great.” Ethan was suddenly full of energy, and he playfully turned them and gave Riley a shove toward the door leading to his bedroom. “Unless I get kicked off the team for smothering Halley with a pillow in his sleep.”

Riley stopped in the open doorway. He faced Ethan with his eyes narrowed, making him look fierce and hot and unmovable. “You’re not smothering him. He’s not worth it.”

“Yeah. Besides….” Ethan grinned, and he felt lighter. Almost as if some long-held weight had finally been lifted and cast aside. “My boyfriend already beat him up for me.” He gave Riley another playful push into the bedroom and then another onto the bed so he could climb on top of him.

“Damn right, he did.” Riley smiled up at him and settled beneath Ethan with his arms behind his head. “Know what he’s gonna do now?”

“If it’s up to me, probably get a blow job.” Ethan leaned down and bit him on the chest. “But only if he stops talking about himself in the third person, because… dude.”

“Well, I like blow jobs, but there’s something else I’d rather have.”

Ethan, who was trying to get Riley’s pants and shirt off at the same time, raised his head in concern. “Really?”

Riley leaned up on his elbows and nodded. “Yeah. Fuck me.”

Oh. Oh. Ethan grinned. “So what you’re saying is, you want me to go five hole on you, huh?” Ethan pulled at Riley’s shirt and tugged it over his head. He kissed him, settled his weight over Riley’s hips, and grinned down at him. “That’s really what Halley’s problem is. He’s just jealous ’cause he wants to fuck you.”

Riley gave him a flat stare. “Bennett Halley is not fucking me. Ever. No one is fucking me but you.”

Ethan’s mouth went dry, and he paused on Riley’s belt. “That was really hot.”

“You think it’s hot when I say someone’s not going to fuck me?”

“Sure.” Ethan went back to the belt buckle, smirking. “Would you let him blow you?”

“No,” Riley said, and reached out to stop Ethan from taking his belt off. “Why would you ask me that?”

Ethan, who was barely aware of what he was saying, had to get his focus off Riley’s dick and back to the conversation they were having about Riley’s dick. “Uh.” He felt his face flush. “I just—you know…. You can’t just be into me? Right?”

“Why not?”

Ethan wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “You have to think other guys are hot. I don’t think you’re, like, Ethan-sexual.”

Riley snorted. “Ethan-sexual. Wow.”

Ethan hit him on the arm. “I just meant, if you like my dick, you might like other guys’ dicks too.”

“Right. But Halley is a dick.”

“Who has a dick,” Ethan pointed out.

“Ethan, is there something you want to tell me about Halley’s dick?” Riley groaned and flopped back on the bed. “I don’t want to know the answer to that.”

“Nah. He’s not my type. I’m not that into blonds.” Ethan laughed at Riley’s long-suffering expression. “Told you that you’d get tired of me.”

“I’m not tired of you. I want you to fuck me. Are you stalling?” Riley’s dark gaze was penetrating. “You’re worried you’re not going to be good at it. Aren’t you.”

“No. I wasn’t. But now I am, so thanks for that.” Ethan unbuckled Riley’s belt. “I don’t want you to be stuck with me, is all. What if you think other guys are hot? What if I’m keeping you from them?”

“I do think other guys are hot, and you are keeping me from them. Because I like you better.” Riley stared at the ceiling. “Or I would, if you’d take my pants off.”

“Who do you think is hot?” Ethan demanded. “Anyone on the team?”

“I tried to play this game with Lane, and he wouldn’t do it because he had a boyfriend.” Riley cleared his throat. “Now I see why.”

“Would you fuck him? Lane?” Ethan leaned down and kissed him quickly. “I won’t get mad. I just want to know.”

“Of course not. We have a thing with feelings. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Riley made a face up at him. “This is not what I meant when I told you to fuck me.”

Ethan rubbed his hand over Riley’s dick through his jeans as Riley bucked his hips up. “I know. But if you didn’t have me, would you fuck him?”

“He lives in Canada,” Riley said, which was avoiding the question.

Ethan tried a different tactic as he unzipped Riley’s jeans and tugged them over his lean hips. “What about Zoe?”

“She lives here. Or wait, do you mean would I fuck her?” Riley smiled. “Yeah. The tattoos are hot. And the accent.”

“See. Why’s that okay, but saying you’d fuck Jared Shore isn’t?”

“I thought we were talking about Lane, not Jared.” Riley’s eyebrows raised to his hairline. “Something you want to tell me, Ethan?”

“I think Shore’s hot,” Ethan muttered, blushing. “I just… if I’m gonna like guys, I’m gonna like guys. Like, I’ll be attracted to them. I’m probably not gonna be, like… well, like I said. Riley-sexual.”

“You said Ethan-sexual, but I get it. I just don’t get why we’re talking about it right now.” Riley sighed again. “I don’t know why we’re talking at all. Did you miss the part where I told you I wanted you to fuck me?”

“Nope.” Ethan smacked Riley on his stomach and scooted down lower to divest Riley of his jeans. Then he took off his own pants. “I just want to make sure you’re not… y’know.”

Riley pushed up on his elbows again. He was bare-chested and flushed, and there were red marks on his skin from Ethan’s teeth. His cock was hard, heavy, and lying against his stomach. “Not what?”

Ethan was losing his train of thought. Fast. A speeding train, one of those really fast ones they had in Europe. They had those in Europe, didn’t they?

“Ethan,” Riley said calmly, “You want to make sure I’m not what?”

“Settling,” Ethan said before he could talk himself out of it. “You never even get mad, and now ’cause of me you’re getting mad and getting in a fight. Maybe you might want a boyfriend who’s not a mess all the time.”

Riley stared at him so intently that Ethan almost looked away. “I did get mad. And yeah. I got in a fight. Because you matter, idiot. I love you. That’s what it means. But if you don’t get over here and fuck me, I’m going to make you blow me while I watch that Rangers-Devils playoff game where Adam Henrique scored the winning goal in overtime.”

Ethan’s glare was fierce as he crawled back on top of Riley. “Like fuck I’m watching that. Unless we follow that up watching the Kings score six goals on your man Brodeur.” Ethan paused, hands braced on either side of Riley’s head. “You’d fuck him? Wouldn’t you? Brodeur.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Nah. Told you, I don’t really like blonds.”

“Shore’s got blond hair,” Riley pointed out.

“It’s more red than blond,” Ethan growled, and bit him on the collarbone. “And shut up. I wouldn’t fuck Brodeur.”

“You’d totally do Henrique, though. Huh?” At Ethan’s glower, Riley gave a low, masculine laugh that made Ethan’s whole body shiver with warmth and lust. “It’s like I know you.”

“You do,” Ethan said, distracted. He kneed Riley’s legs apart so he could kneel between them. “Better than I do sometimes.”

Riley grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him so hard Ethan couldn’t breathe. “Get the lube,” Riley said almost desperately, and Ethan gave himself a mental fist bump while he leaned sideways to retrieve it from the bedside table.

It was hard to throw Riley off-balance, but Ethan could do it if he tried.

Ethan liked getting fucked by Riley, so he had no doubt he would like switching it up. And he did like it. A lot. Riley was so flexible, it was amazing how far Ethan could push his knees back when he finally got to the point where he fucked Riley with his cock instead of his fingers.

Ethan almost lost his mind at how good it felt to be inside Riley. But what really got him was seeing Riley lose it in a way he almost never did, and knowing it was because of him. Riley moaned loudly, grabbed at Ethan, and practically writhed beneath him on the bed. Seeing Riley let go like that—and enjoy it—was maybe the hottest thing about it.

Ethan’s thighs burned. He was winded and having a hard time keeping himself propped up so he could fuck Riley and watch him at the same time. He tried to get a hand on Riley’s cock, but it didn’t work. He slipped and landed on Riley’s chest and knocked the wind out of him. They both laughed, and Riley tossed him a happy grin and wrapped his long legs around Ethan’s hips to pull him closer and kiss him—messy and hot.

Ethan felt Riley get a hand on himself and that was great. He buried his face in the crook of Riley’s neck and shoulder and just went for it, graceless and frantic and energetic. When Riley came, it made his muscles clench so tightly around Ethan’s cock that he gasped and came with a surprised shout and a hard, final buck of his hips.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” Ethan said later, when they were both out of the shower and lying on the couch watching hockey. “It was just…. Y’know how I am. I talk.”

“Yeah,” Riley said, looking happy and sleepy and, Ethan noticed with a smirk, ridiculous—with his hair drying in weird angles and looking exceptionally fluffy. “I know. It’s okay. I don’t actually mind hearing about guys you think are hot. It was just the timing kinda sucked.” Riley laughed evilly. “Like all the shots you take on me at practice.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Ethan said, but he probably had a point. “I’d rather score on you at home than at the rink anyway.”

Riley smirked at him. “You say that like you’ve got a choice.”