Chapter Eighteen

THEIR FIRST playoff opponents were the Rattlers from Orlando. The Storm had handled them easily enough during the season, but their playoff series wasn’t an easy victory by far. It went to six games, which was longer than anyone expected or wanted. Especially when the Renegades won their first series in four games.

The Rattlers had a good young goalie, but their real strength was their defense. It was a grueling series. Riley had to be on top of his game, because the scoring was so low there was no room for error. One sloppy goal could cost them the series, and Riley was absolutely not going to let that happen.

The sixth game was scoreless, with two minutes left in the third, and it looked like they were going to go into overtime tied at zero. It was a tense game—for the fans as well as the players—but Halley finally ended by scoring a goal with ten seconds left in regulation time.

Everyone was a little bummed they’d be playing the Renegades in the second round, instead of the conference finals like the year before. Regardless, Riley was ready to vanquish their rivals and concentrate on playing the Ice Dogs, who were first place in their conference and heavily favored to win the division and the Cup. Even if no one in Athens knew or cared about that.

Not surprisingly the Ice Dogs demolished their opponents four games to one, while the Renegades and Sea Storm series went to five games. The Sea Storm were determined to win at home in Jacksonville to make up for the previous year’s loss in the conference finals on home ice. And it wasn’t just the fans who wanted to see a win. There was a certain former Sea Storm player who was just as eager to see his old team triumph over their rivals.

And with him was last year’s Kelly Cup Championship MVP, wearing last year’s obnoxious Renegades’ Eastern Conference Champions hat.

“I wouldn’t let him come in the locker room wearing that,” Lane said, and gave Riley a hug. Lane had put on about twenty pounds of muscle, and it looked good on him. He also looked happy, and it was hard to remember the lanky kid with the horrible social skills who first showed up for training camp.

At least until Lane said, “Even though this isn’t the conference championships, so it’s not really as important,” proving twenty pounds of muscle, a stellar AHL season, and a few big-league call-ups with the Maple Leafs hadn’t changed him.

Everyone was glad to see Lane, even though Riley hoped Halley didn’t have an insecurity fit because of it. He was playing better and even scored on Riley in practice, though it was sort of a fluke goal. Halley was skating down to take his shot, Ethan made some kind of Angry Birds noise, and Halley was laughing when he shot the puck.

Halley didn’t throw his arms up in victory, but Ethan did. Apparently he’d decided to forgive Halley. On their last road trip, he texted—with the key-clack noise turned off—that Halley had his game on mute. They were apparently friends then, because that was just how Ethan was. Riley loved that about him, even if he didn’t understand how Ethan did it.

It made Riley think about his parents. His birthday was a few weeks earlier, and he received a card that was clearly sent by his father’s assistant, and a check that he almost tore up and threw away. Instead he donated the amount to an antibullying organization, which had made Ethan kiss him and then suck him off during a Devils game. Overall a pretty excellent birthday.

He wondered what would happen if he called his mother and said, “I wish you’d just call me instead of giving me money.” Sometimes he wondered how his life would be different if he did the equivalent of skating out of the crease every now and then. Goalies got in fights sometimes. Just ask Patrick Roy and Chris Osgood.

He was surprised to get a text from his sister, Madison, wishing him a happy birthday. That was unexpected and maybe the best part of his day—though he didn’t want to tell Ethan that. Ethan gave him a blow job on his knees with his head freshly shaved, wearing jeans, those Doc Martens, and no shirt, and Riley wouldn’t want him to think his gift was unappreciated. Because it wasn’t. Definitely not.

Riley wasn’t one for talking much before games, so he told Lane to tell Jared to shove his hat somewhere unpleasant and went out for warm-ups.

The atmosphere wasn’t nearly as charged as the year before, but Riley was barely aware of anything but the ice. He’d never been so focused during a game. He was still able to appreciate Ethan’s fight with Wynn and to smile behind his mask when he saw the two of them exchange a discreet fist bump as the linesmen separated them. Determined not to dwell on his record-low goals-against average for the playoffs, Riley played at the top of his game. It wasn’t about him. It was about the team.

Last season’s conference final had gone to seven games and overtime on top of that. The Storm were up 2-0 by the first intermission of game five, and 3-0 by the second. But the previous year, the Renegades had come back to win. So Riley—and the rest of the team—weren’t taking any chances.

In the end the Storm held on to their lead and vanquished their rivals 3-0 in the fifth game of their series. Not surprisingly Riley was named the game’s first star, and even the disappointed Renegades praised him in the handshake line after the game. With some mean names thrown in, but Riley didn’t mind that.

Lane was so happy the Storm won that he kissed Riley right on the mouth. Which he said was allowed because, quote, “You like dudes now, so it shouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t use tongue or anything. Nice shutout, Hunter. But why couldn’t you have done that last year?”

Jared smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s great. He can congratulate you and annoy you all at once. It’s his gift, along with his killer abs and his inability to think before he says shit that makes you want to punch him.”

Riley laughed and went to shower and change. They were going out to celebrate, and a few of the Renegades players were coming along. Mainly just Wynn, Leblanc, and the goalie, Zubarev, who were all guys who played with Jared on last year’s championship team.

Riley rarely drank, but both Vazov and Zubarev ganged up on him and gave him drinks with obscene amounts of vodka. They were pretty good, and Riley had more than he should have—so much that it took him a few minutes to realize Vaz and Zub were both speaking Russian and that’s why he couldn’t understand a goddamn thing they were saying.

“How’s being gay going?” Lane asked him at one point, and Zoe immediately lectured him about ignoring the existence of bisexuals. Lane listened like a hockey player getting a lecture from his coach and then turned back to Riley and said, “So?”

Zoe sighed. “This is when I don’t miss you.”

“Obviously you can’t miss me if I’m right here.” Lane winked at her. “You’ll cry when I go back, Zoe. You did in Toronto when you came to see me play.”

“Shut up, Laney. I told you I had something in my eye.” Zoe patted Riley on the shoulder. “Bisexuality is a real thing, Riley.”

“I know,” Riley said, and then, because he was drunk, “Maybe I like dick better than I thought, though.”

“Well, you and me both,” Zoe drawled, giggling.

“Me three, but we all knew that already,” Lane added, putting an arm around Zoe. “So it’s good, is what I’m getting?”

Riley nodded. “Yeah. It’s good.” He smiled—a little drunk and a lot happy. When Ethan reappeared, Riley smiled at him brightly and told Ethan that his black eye was hot.

“Oh, man. You never get drunk,” Ethan laughed. “How’d that happen?”

Riley pointed at the two goalies. “That’s how.”

When they were saying good-bye, Riley was so drunk, he asked Jared, “Remember when you told me one time on the ice that ‘My boyfriend thinks you should blow me’?”

Jared laughed. “Yeah. I remember. He still thinks that.”

“Yeah. Well, my boyfriend thinks you should blow him,” Riley said, and was delighted at Jared’s sudden blush.

“Are you sure that’s right, and he didn’t mean Lane should blow him? I mean, come on, Hunter. Lane looks like a male model, and I look like an aging Irish boxer,” Jared muttered, but he gave Riley an evil grin. “Lane’d go for it, though. Either way. He’s a kinky motherfucker.”

Now it was Riley’s turn to blush, but he shook his head with a rueful laugh. “The only threesome Ethan and I have mutually agreed upon having involves Jennifer Lawrence.”

“Who’s that?” Lane asked as he appeared next to Jared. “Is she here?”

“See. I told you,” Jared said, elbowing Lane. “Next he’ll ask if he can watch. Kinky.”

“She’s that chick from The Hunger Games,” Riley answered.

“Are those on ESPN?” Lane asked, and both Riley and Jared cracked up, even though Lane probably wasn’t joking.

When they got home, Riley was horny and happy from winning, so he threw caution to the wind, backed Ethan up against the wall, kissed him hotly, and said, “Can I tie your wrists behind your back and make you choke on my cock?”

All that talk about being kinky had put ideas in his head.

Riley felt Ethan go still, and he also felt Ethan getting hard, so he knew Ethan’s muttered “Fuck” meant he was into it. In case it wasn’t clear, Ethan followed that up with “Hell yeah. You can.”

It was hard not to think about the year before, when they lost to the Renegades and Riley went home, locked himself in his room, and watched porn from his “bad game” folder. This time he wouldn’t have to hide in a subfolder.

It wasn’t as easy to tie someone up as the Internet made it seem. They stopped and started while Riley tried to find something suitable to tie with. Ethan, who was stripped down to only his jeans and boots, leaned against the wall and smoked a cigarette because Riley told him to. If Riley should feel guilty about anything, it was encouraging Ethan’s bad habits and fucking up their security deposit—though Ethan looked so hot that the latter was definitely more than worth it.

“Thought you wanted to tie me up,” Ethan drawled, exhaling. “Be more prepared, Hunter.”

Riley finally went into his room and found some new, unused skate laces and brought them back into the living room. Ethan’s eyes widened, and he flashed his fighter’s grin at him and said, “Nicely done. Now I’m gonna get a hard-on every time I lace up my skates. Thanks, Riley.”

“Shhh,” Riley said, trying to keep a straight face. There was no laughing in the video, but then again, Ethan wasn’t in the video. He cracked Riley up all the time, and that was a good thing. “Finish that.”

Ethan finished his cigarette, but he went right back to leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his bare chest. “You gonna do something with those any time soon, Hunter?”

In answer to that, Riley grabbed Ethan, spun him around, and shoved him up against the wall. Riley was still tipsy and definitely excited, and it made him a little rougher than he should be, so he pressed a quick kiss beneath Ethan’s ear. “You okay?”

Ethan was quiet for a minute. Then he turned to look over his shoulder. “I get off thinking about that video too,” he said. Riley filtered those words through his lust and the vodka and blinked, not sure he understood. Ethan tilted his head back a little so he could look into Riley’s eyes. “I want this, Riley. That’s what I’m saying. I want you to have it like you want. Don’t… don’t ask if I’m okay, or if it’s too much. All right? I know it won’t be. I trust you. So you gotta trust me when I tell you I want it. Just do it.”

Riley would have smiled, but the heat momentarily overwhelmed him, and he found it too difficult to do anything but pant against Ethan’s neck. “Yeah. Okay. Fight me.”

Riley was close enough to hear Ethan’s breath hitch, and then Ethan started fighting. And he wasn’t fucking around either. He wasn’t angry, like during their fight about the checks, but he definitely wasn’t giving it up. It took Riley more than one try to get Ethan’s arms pinned, and after the first time he managed it, he dropped the laces and Ethan managed to wriggle free.

Riley caught him and shoved him back against the wall, but the laces had to wait because there was a lot of kissing. Riley flipped him around again and was finally able to get one lace around Ethan’s wrist.

“You’re so hot,” Ethan said. “I never want anyone to win, you know. Just you.”

Riley’s fingers fumbled with the laces because that was the hottest thing he’d ever heard. “Good,” he said. Then he flipped them around so Ethan was on his knees and Riley’s back was to the wall.

Riley moaned as he looked down at Ethan—all flushed and bare-chested, with the beginning scruff of beard and his wrists tied behind his back. “Fuck, Ethan.”

Ethan smirked up at him with his mouth closed, and Riley was confused until he realized Ethan was trying to get Riley to make him open it. Riley managed to get his pants undone, and the first touch of his fingers on his cock made him gasp and stroke himself a few times to take the edge off.

He grabbed Ethan by the back of the neck, reached out with his free hand, and locked his fingers on either side of Ethan’s chin to pull his mouth open. Ethan’s eyes flashed, and Riley could see his shoulders move as he pulled against the laces. Ethan didn’t open his mouth until Riley applied a little more pressure to his jaw.

He rolled his eyes when Riley finally pushed his cock in. He went slowly at first, and Ethan’s expression clearly said “Really?” Riley just kept going, tightening his fingers on the back of Ethan’s neck and watching his cock slide slowly in and out of Ethan’s mouth.

“Take it like I want to give it to you,” Riley said, and Ethan made a sound like a moan around his cock and wriggled more. His erection was obvious and pressed up hard against the fabric of his jeans. Riley smirked. “You aren’t going to get yourself off this time,” he said, remembering the first time they did it and how Ethan took care of himself while sucking Riley off.

Ethan kicked the floor with a booted foot and looked so hot Riley nearly came right then and there. Instead he started fucking Ethan’s mouth harder and faster, and it was thrilling to feel how Ethan’s throat closed around him as he struggled to take it and breathe, and how he looked pulling and twisting against the restraints around his wrists. It was a messy-as-fuck blow job, because Ethan was choking and Riley was sure Ethan’s eyes were watering, but he trusted Ethan meant it when he told him to go for it—so he did.

The whole thing was hotter than Riley could have imagined, but it wasn’t just the admittedly amazing sight of Ethan Kennedy tied up on his knees choking on Riley’s cock. It wasn’t even how good it felt, which was very good—maybe the best it’d ever been. It was something that video couldn’t express. All the control Riley had, which he loved, he had because Ethan gave it to him. When Ethan finally stopped pulling and twisting and just took it, his jaw relaxed and he looked fierce and trusting. His expression clearly said “You won” and Riley came so hard he couldn’t stand up when it was over.

Ethan was panting, a sweaty mess, trying to wipe his mouth with his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but he looked relaxed and really pleased with himself, and Riley couldn’t blame him. Riley finally pushed himself up on his knees so he was facing Ethan, took his face in his hands, and kissed him hotly.

Ethan kissed him back, then growled and bit lightly at his mouth. “Still… not good… with breathing quite yet.”

“Uh-huh.” Riley pulled away. His head was reeling. It was better than drinking, maybe better than hockey. It was the sex equivalent of a shutout.

“Are you giggling?” Ethan gasped, hauling in another deep breath. “You’re so weird.”

Riley leaned back against the wall, spread his legs, and said, “Come here.”

“Not done yet, are you?” Ethan asked, his eyebrows raised.

“You’re not untied yet. Are you?”

Ethan stared at him for a few seconds, his mouth slightly parted as he still fought to catch his breath. “Fuck, Riley.” He scooted forward on his knees, but Riley took him by the shoulders, turned him around, and pushed gently so Ethan wasn’t kneeling anymore, but was instead sitting with his back to Riley’s chest.

Riley checked the skate laces and frowned at the red marks on Ethan’s skin. He slipped a finger beneath the laces, making sure they weren’t cutting off circulation too badly. Riley was going to have to do some research about rope that could be tied around someone’s extremities for a longer period of time without being dangerous. He leaned forward and mouthed at Ethan’s neck. “Gonna get you off now.”

“Yeah? Good.” Ethan settled back against him. Or he tried. It wasn’t easy with his arms in the way, but Riley liked how Ethan looked too much to take the laces off just yet.

He reached around Ethan and got his pants off, which made Ethan shiver and immediately start wriggling, twisting, and trying to thrust his cock into Riley’s hand. Riley stopped moving and bit him a little harder on the neck. “Stop that.”

“Stop? Seriously?” Ethan asked.

“You’ll hurt your wrists. Just be still.”

“Oh my God, boyfriend. Your control fetish is—wait. Actually it’s pretty awesome. Who the fuck am I kidding? I’ll try.” Ethan looked over his shoulder and grinned. “I’m giving you vodka more often, if this is what it does.”

“It’s not the vodka,” Riley said, and started to move his hand again. “It’s you.”

Ethan lowered his gaze, and Riley stopped moving his hand. “No. Don’t do that. Look at me. I want you to.”

“This isn’t that comfortable, dude,” Ethan said. “I’ll get a crick in my neck.”

“Then you better do what I say so you get off faster,” Riley said. Ethan glared, but Riley could feel Ethan’s cock pulse in his hand, as loosely as he was holding it, so he knew Ethan liked that. “You like it when I do this. Don’t you?”

“Jack me off? Yeah. Duh.”

Riley shook his head, tightened his grip, and picked up his pace. “Make you take it.”

“Didn’t you figure that out the first time we did this? When I told you I did?” Ethan groaned when Riley stopped. “Yes. Fuck. I like it.”

Riley held his hand up in front of Ethan’s face. “Lick.”

Ethan blinked and flushed red. “Vodka. Every fucking day. I’m not even kidding.” He leaned forward and ran his tongue up and down Riley’s palm. Then Riley slid his fingers into Ethan’s mouth and told him to suck.

When his hand was wet, he reached down again and slid it over Ethan’s cock, hard and fast. He brushed his thumb over the tip and rubbed at Ethan’s balls with his fingers. Ethan liked that, and the noises he made when Riley did it were hot as fuck. When Ethan moved too much and strained against the skate laces in a dangerous way, Riley stopped altogether and told Ethan to be still. Ethan reacted with cursing that was even hotter.

Riley got him to the edge two or three times, stopping once just because he wanted to. It made him laugh when Ethan cursed at him and cajoled him in the same breath, saying “You cocksucking bastard” and “Please stop being a prick and get me off, asshole.”

“You should ask nicer,” Riley said and licked up the side of Ethan’s neck.

“You should date someone else,” Ethan huffed, but his hips were pushing into the rhythm Riley set. Riley had spent a lot of time getting Ethan off, so he knew when he was close, and he let him do it. He didn’t stop until Ethan went tense, shuddered hard, and spilled over Riley’s fist. Riley stroked him until Ethan made a vague sound of protest and slumped forward. Then he gently untied Ethan’s wrists and pulled him back so he was leaning with his head on Riley’s chest, and Riley put his arms around him until they both calmed down.

“Thanks,” Riley said drowsily, his chin on the top of Ethan’s head.

“Hmm? Yeah. ’Kay. Welcome.” Ethan closed his eyes. “That what you wanted?”

You’re what I wanted. “Yeah.” They were quiet and content, and Riley didn’t think he’d ever been happier in his goddamn life.

Winning was great.