Offside

by Bianca Sommerland

  The door to the hotel room opened. Closed. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. The new collective bargaining agreement between the players and the league granted each player their own room on the road. Keane had to give them the option, but Tim took it on himself to encourage the men to pair up as much as possible. Not so much to save the team money, but to instill the closeness rooming together on the road provided. For some, it wasn’t an issue. Ramos and Carter.

  Zach and Scott.

  “You ready to talk?” Scott leaned against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, his black shirt and tie giving him a bad boy appeal, but his expression completely no-nonsense. He watched Zach through the reflection of the mirror above the sink, then sighed as Zach braced his hands on the edge of the sink and nodded. “What about listen?”

  The porcelain warmed under Zach’s hands, but goose bumps rose on his flesh from the cooled air around him. “I guess you’ve spoken to her? That’s good that . . . that she has you.” He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “All this time I was worried about you hurting her.”

  “So you finally done sulking? Ready to face that storming out of her place and not letting her explain herself was a dumbass move?”

  Brow furrowed, Zach looked at Scott over his shoulder. “Yeah. Rub it in why don’t you.”

  “Naw, I’m done.” Scott’s lips twitched at the edges. “It’s a relief actually. I’ve been practicing a whole bunch of speeches—none of them were all that good.” He pushed away from the doorframe and stepped up behind Zach. Wrapped his arms around Zach’s waist. “We all get second chances. Even you.”

  Letting out a rough laugh, Zach met Scott’s eyes in the mirror. “I don’t think flowers are going to cut it.”

  “Nope.”

  “I could go home.” The idea warmed him a little. So did Scott’s solid hold. “Stand on her doorstep and refuse to leave until she speaks to me. Short of that—”

  “Tim will kill you if you leave. And you’ll make her believe you think you have to give the game up for her.” Scott grazed Zach’s throat with his teeth. His breath was hot on Zach’s skin, but the frisson of pleasure made him shudder. Scott spoke low, close to his ear. “That’s not what she wants.”

  “I know.” Zach had to struggle not to pant as Scott kissed his throat, hands moving down to undo the top button of Zach’s pants. Drag the zipper down over his rapidly swelling cock. He practically strangled on his words as Scott traced a finger above the waistband of his boxer briefs. “I’m not sure I know what she wants.”

  Scott chuckled, nipping Zach’s earlobe hard enough to add an edge of pain to the sensations already on the verge of driving him mad. “She wants the same thing I do. You. Just you.”

  Zach shook his head. Scott didn’t understand. “She needs more. She needs a Dom who can teach her how to trust, who can see when she’s holding back, who can—”

  “It’s still you. Her Dom is the man she loves, not someone separate.” Scott slid his hand into Zach’s boxer briefs, then fisted it around Zach’s dick. “Now shut up. I’m fucking tired of you pushing me away because you can’t deal with your shit.” He bit the curve between Zach’s neck and his shoulder, breathing hard. “Not going to let you do that anymore.”

  Gritting his teeth, Zach moved to turn, to face Scott. He let out a rough sound when Scott pressed his hand down between his shoulder blades, forcing him to stay as he was, with his hands gripping the sink.

  “Don’t move. Sir.” Scott gave him a feral smile in the mirror, then pulled something out of the pocket of his black slacks. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger. A small black package. He opened it and inside was a condom and a sample of lube. “It’s my turn.”

  Arms shaking slightly, Zach struggled to stay in place, to not shove back and twist around to grab Scott. Make the arrogant fucker get on his knees. Zach didn’t bottom often. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, but he found it difficult to guide a sub from such a submissive position. The effort it took to give directions when he just wanted to be fucked ruined it almost every time.

  But Scott wasn’t a sub. He didn’t ask permission before pushing Zach’s pants down over his ass. He held Zach’s gaze as he lubed up his fingers. As he pressed them against Zach’s tight hole. As he thrust them in deep.

  Groaning, Zach jammed his hips backward, needing more. Now. The rough, burning feeling of Scott stretching him was exquisite. His whole body was humming. His cock twitched, the head swollen and hot. He pressed his eyes shut, turning all his focus to hauling himself back from the climax that already tempted him.

  If Scott wanted revenge for all the times Zach had made him wait, he was close to getting it. Zach cursed as Scott’s fingers left him, pressing his eyes shut as Scott reached around him to wash his hands. The throbbing in his dick was almost painful. He heard the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being ripped. Then the pressure as Scott slowly pushed inside him.

  So fucking full. Rough friction as Scott eased in all the way, showing he’d used just enough lube to slick Zach up, but not enough for him to feel nothing but the wet glide. The Dom in Zach took note, knowing most gave what they liked to receive. If the notes had been physical ones, they would have been barely legible scribbles. Zach’s hand slipped on the sink as he tried to reach for Scott’s hip. To get him moving.

  “No, Sir.” Scott put his hands over Zach’s, rocking his hips at a languorous pace. “I want to take my time.” He flatted his chest against Zach’s back. His silk tie stuck to the sweat beading up on Zach’s flesh. “You’re not in charge.”

  Snapping his teeth together and his eyes open, Zach glared at Scott in the mirror. “Then stop calling me ‘Sir.’”

  “I thought you liked it.” Scott thrust in a bit harder. Then he dragged out, panting with his lips on the side of Zach’s neck. “Fuck, you feel good.”

  Scott smiled at him, still cocky as ever, but there was something different in his eyes. Something that stole the urge from Zach to rush things. He was looking at Zach as though he’d found everything he would ever need right here. Right now.

  Pressure built up gradually at the base of Zach’s spine, in his balls, as Scott slid and out, his rhythm faltering before long. His grip on Zach’s hands tightened. He groaned as he pistoned faster and faster, still staring at Zach in the mirror. Pleasure rushed through Zach’s core, barely contained, like a can of soda shaken up with the top cracked but not opened completely. He could feel it sizzling, ready to burst.

  Scott slammed in and brought one hand to Zach’s dick, stroking even as he came. Zach tensed, letting out a sharp cry as the climax erupted, stealing the strength from his arms and legs. His cum spurted into the sink, and he clenched down on Scott as the nerves inside him ignited. He held on to the sink with everything he had left so he wouldn’t crack his head on the porcelain on his way to the floor. Which didn’t seem all that solid at the moment.

  “Fuck, ah . . .” Scott rested his head on the back of Zach’s neck, gasping for air. “Don’t . . . don’t move for a bit.”

  “Not sure I can.” Zach laughed breathlessly, feeling like he’d just finished a double shift—or maybe a triple—on the ice, going full speed without stopping. And some asshole had iced the puck, trapping him there. “Damn it, I’m glad you’re not a sub.”

  “Yeah?” Scott took a deep breath, wincing as he eased out. He braced one hand on the sink beside Zach’s. “Why’s that?”

  “Because I needed that. Needed to not be in control.” Zach straightened, kicking off his pants and boxers so he could take a shower. A quick one because he needed to crash. Hopefully in the bed. If he made it that far. He gave Scott a rueful smile, sure he’d shocked him. “Strange thing for a Dom to say, huh?”

  Scott shrugged. “Not sure why. You sign up somewhere agreeing to be a Dom and nothing else?”

  Strange question. “Of course not.”

  “Then, the way I see it, we had some hot fucking sex. Me and you. No one surrendering, not
one of us giving while the other takes. I get kink. I get that some people need it all the time to get off and that’s cool.” He moved in close and gave Zach a lazy kiss. “Not so sure you’re one of them. And neither is Becky.” He smirked against Zach’s lips. “Which works out pretty damn good for me.”

  “Clearly.” Zach snorted, shaking his head. “I’m going to take a shower. Alone.” He added when Scott’s lips curved. “Get some sleep.”

  After his shower, Zach climbed into bed, pleased to see Scott was still awake. Waiting for him. Zach pulled Scott close, aligning their bodies. He loved the feeling of Scott next to him, all that solid muscle relaxed, the tough guy gone, leaving one who actually like to snuggle.

  This guy was easy to talk to. Zach didn’t have to hold anything back. “You’re getting to know me pretty well, Scott. How about you tell me what I’m gonna say next.”

  Scott laid his head on Zach’s chest and let out a contented sigh. “’You’re a very wise man, Scott. I don’t know why I would ever argue with you—you’re pretty much always right.’” He paused. “’And I love you.’”

  Smiling, Zach buried his face in Scott’s mussed up hair, breathing in his clean, masculine scent. Then he whispered, “Close enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chugging down coffee between periods wasn’t Scott’s thing, but he couldn’t seem to shake that sleepy feeling. He drank two cups, careful to tip the mug at the side of his mouth that wasn’t taped. Florida was playing pretty rough, like they wanted to leave an impact. His whole body felt like one huge aching, throbbing bruise.

  He grinned at White as Doc cleaned up his bloody knuckles. That last dirty check might have stunned Scott, might have left him looking like a rag doll tossed on the ice, but the other guy looked much worse after White was done with him.

  White gave him a salute, then held still as Doc taped a cut under his eye.

  Tim paced back and forth across the locker room, his suit rumpled, his eyes snapping with rage. “We’re holding our own. It’s tied up at one, but they’re walking all over you out there. How about we try throwing some checks instead of just scooping ourselves off the ice after they nail us into the boards?”

  Carter hunched over, holding a bag of ice to one of his two black eyes. He chewed hard on his mouthpiece and scowled. “Sorry, Coach. You said discipline, right?”

  Stroking his jaw, Tim observed the men for a moment. He stopped in the center of the room, then hooked his thumbs to the pockets of his grey slacks, giving an offhand shrug. “Be hard on the forecheck. Don’t let up. They may have some brutes, but you guys are faster. Wear them out, and if you can figure out how to make them hurt without spending time in the box—” he directed a pointed look straight at White “—do so.” He squared his shoulders, eyes narrowing slightly. “Vanek.”

  Vanek froze with his water bottle halfway to his mouth. “Yeah, Coach?”

  “You don’t get more points for the goal being pretty. Shoot or fucking pass.” Tim waited for his nod, then turned to Richards, giving the kid’s shoulder a squeeze. “That goal was perfect. On and off your stick, nice and clean. Keep it up.”

  Richards ducked his head, his cheeks flushed. “Thanks, Coach.”

  “All right, boys, get back out there!” Tim’s face broke into a wide smile as he regarded them all like he knew they wouldn’t disappoint him. “You’re playing a tight game—better than you’ve played so far. Bring it home!”

  The men shouted and cheered, hustling back out to the ice. Scott bumped shoulders with Zach in the hall, pumped up and ready to win their last preseason game. Zach grinned at him, lightly tapping his helmet before they sidled onto the bench. Second shift, Scott took the face-off to Hunt’s left. The young goalie had made some awesome saves. Tim had met with him before the game, and whatever he’d said had restored the kid’s confidence. Hell, Scott was pretty sure he’d seen the kid crack a smile once or twice.

  Head up, Scott waited for the signal from the ref. He felt rather than saw the puck touch his stick, then swept it back to Palladino, his right winger. A smooth pass to Pischlar and the three of them were racing across the rink with the Panthers on their heels, one defenseman all that stood between them and the goalie. Pischlar slid the puck over to Scott. Anticipated him picking up speed and crossed the zone a step ahead of the puck.

  Offside. Face-off in the neutral zone. Scott won again and cut straight through the offense, skidding the puck through the defenseman’s legs. Pischlar cupped the pass. Lifted the puck high. It soared over the goalie’s shoulder.

  Goal! Scott and Palladino slammed into Pischlar. They skated by the Cobra’s bench to knock fists with all the players. The next line hit the ice, practically trampling the Panthers after Manning won the faceoff. The Panther’s goalie made a miraculous save, passing on the puck rather than freezing it. Scott sat forward on the bench as the Panthers’ top line cut straight across the ice. Zach swiped the puck, legs pumping as he sped across the neutral zone. A Panthers’ defenseman skidded into his path, sending him flying with a low hip-check. Scott tensed as Zach dropped to the ice, holding his breath when the man stayed there. His heart stuttered, but then Zach pushed to his feet, quickly catching up with the play. In their zone.

  Too late. Richards had traded places with Carter. Fumbled the puck when Hunt stopped a soft shot and let off a rebound. A crowd hit the net, stabbing at the puck, the Cobras trying to clear it, the Panthers trying to poke it past Hunt.

  Richards fell into Hunt. The puck glided over the goal line.

  The Panthers whooped. Hunt shoved Richards, growling something. Richards shook his head, pointing at the celebrating Panthers.

  “Time-out!” Tim called. He gestured at the ref, then put one foot on the bench beside Mason as the men gathered around and in front of the bench. His eyes were on Hunt. “Take a deep fucking breath, Hunt. You’re a fucking professional. Act like one.”

  “Kinda hard to do my job with that stupid shit sitting in my fucking lap!” Hunt jabbed his stick at Richards. “You’re seriously going to blame me?”

  “He’s not throwing a fit. Ingerslov’s out with the same flu Mason had, but I’m more than willing to give Sampson a shot.” Tim nodded toward the backup goalie, brought up from the minors just for this game. “Calm down or I’m pulling you.”

  “You can’t fucking pull me with five minutes left to the game!”

  Tim gave the kid a level look. “Watch me.”

  With the time-out over, the third line resumed the play. But the atmosphere seemed to have changed. Scott tried to focus on the game, but it was hard with the trainer and the assistant coach talking to Zach about who knew what. He lifted his head, watching as the trainer helped Zach stand, then walked with him away from the bench and out of sight. Only a hand on Scott’s shoulder kept him from following.

  “Go see him after the game, Demyan.” Mason kept his gaze on the ice, but his lips slanted slightly, as though he understood. He patted Scott’s back when Tim called for a line change. “Tell him all about the win.”

  Win. Right. Scott hopped over the boards, taking a deep inhale of the fresh, ice-nipped air. He tapped his stick on the ice and Carter sent him a swift, precise pass. They both lunged forward, Vanek only a pace behind. Scott sent the puck back to Stills, who snapped it to Vanek. Vanek did some fancy stick work, twisting around a Panthers’ defenseman. Then shocked Scott by passing the puck over. He jumped when Scott riffled a shot stick side on the Panthers’ goalie. The goalie knocked it down. Carter dove to catch the rebound with the tip of his stick.

  The puck crept over the line. The goalie dropped to stop it.

  A little too late.

  More hugging and cheering. Carter even knocked his helmet with Vanek’s, all forgiven.

  Vanek laughed, skating with Carter to the bench. “Facedown, ass up. You’re a needy fuck, Carter.”

  “Damn straight.” Carter snorted, giving Vanek a quick face wash with his smelly glove. “Don’t be jealous, kid. Yo
u’ll see Chicklet soon, and I know what kind of toys she’s got.”

  “Fuck you, you fucking perv!”

  Scott rolled his eyes as they all got to the bench and he heard Carter whisper something like “Ask my Master, pretty boy.”

  “You guys better stop it.” Scott’s lips twisted as the two young men stared at him. Yeah, he was being the mature one. “Makes the other guys uncomfortable when we talk about that stuff. Keep it off the bench at least, ‘kay?”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Mason inclined his head to Scott, giving Carter and Vanek a look that would likely shut them both up for the rest of the night.

  At the other end of the bench, Ramos shook his head, shoulders shaking like he was laughing. The mood seemed to have improved a bit. Winning elated the men and there was a lot more friendly chatter in the locker room after than there had been in a long time. The guys were still split into their own little groups, but no one was fighting. A definite improvement.

  Good enough for Scott. His face hurt from grinning, and he couldn’t wait to tell Zach everything. But he couldn’t find him anywhere. His grin faded as he went to the coaches’ office, waiting outside as Tim packed up his things, nodding at whatever the assistant was saying.

  “It was better, but the team’s still disconnected. I want to have a few morning skates. Another team meeting.” Tim sighed. “Work out whatever issues they’ve got.”

  “I’ll tell you what the issue is.” The assistant slapped his briefcase on the desk and leaned over it. “Perron was the goddamn heart of this team. Losing Callahan was bad enough, but both?”

  Tim lowered his voice. Scott held his breath to hear him. “There’s no guarantee that we’ve lost Perron. I won’t get their hopes up, but he dislocated his shoulder at a rodeo in Calgary. He hasn’t signed yet and there are rumors that he fired his agent. I have a feeling he wasn’t so sure about leaving. My brother and Keane have been talking to him directly.”