by Avon Gale
“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.”
Chapter Seventeen
RILEY SPENT his three-game scratch on bench, watching Vazov turn out a win, a loss, and an overtime shoot-out win. Riley wasn’t mad about not playing, and it was good experience for the younger goalie, who Riley really did like. It was probably good for him to rest up, considering the playoffs were coming.
Halley didn’t apologize for running his mouth, so Riley didn’t apologize for hitting him. He just gave Halley a stony glare when Halley shot the puck at him during practice, and made sure Halley didn’t score.
Riley was half expecting Ethan to skate up to Halley and deck him. But instead Ethan just cornered Halley in the locker room and said, “If you have a problem with me, deal with me. Leave my family out of it. Oh, and by the way? My sisters could kick your ass. Not that it’s hard.”
Halley flushed darkly, but he just slammed his locker and shouldered past Ethan without a word. Riley thought Halley gave him a guilty look on his way out of the room, but he could have imagined it.
Halley had always been standoffish and sort of an asshole, and while he wasn’t the most well-liked guy on the team, no one was overtly rude to him or anything. But that changed after that confrontation in the locker room. Ethan was well liked, and everyone knew how important his family was to him. It was too close to the playoffs to ignore the guy completely—Halley was their top scorer, even if he wasn’t scoring as many goals as Lane had by this time last year—but his reception off the ice was chilly at best.
Even on the ice, when Halley scored goals, his teammates’ fist bumps lacked a bit of enthusiasm.
The team knew about Riley and Ethan, and no one ever had a problem with it. In his broken, halting English, Vazov tried to express to Riley that it wasn’t a problem. From what Riley could understand of the conversation, either Vaz had a friend or relative back in Russia who was gay, or it was a plot on a Russian television drama that he liked. Riley still wasn’t sure which of those it was, but it was nice to know his backup didn’t care he had a boyfriend.
One afternoon, on the way to one of his extra practice sessions at the rink, Ethan dropped Riley at Cruisers, and he saw Halley sitting at a table by himself, reading a book. He tried to ignore him, but for some reason, Riley thought, What would Ethan do? Then he had to ponder that for a little while, because he realized he wasn’t exactly sure what Ethan would do.
Ethan had a hair-trigger temper, but it was less aimed at people and more aimed at inanimate objects—especially technology—that didn’t do what they were supposed to. Riley had seen him repeatedly hit the remote control against the arm of the couch when it wasn’t working because the batteries had died, and Ethan yelled at his phone whenever a call got dropped or it didn’t send a text message. He was rarely angry at the guys he fought on the ice, and Riley wondered if Ethan realized he fought because of his ethics—not his temper.
Which meant that Ethan would probably say something to Halley. Except Halley had mouthed off about Ethan’s family, and that was something Ethan wouldn’t forgive lightly. Riley wasn’t sure he really had anything
to say to Halley, but it struck him that he should think of something. The playoffs were coming up, and the team needed to play together, without any outside distractions.
Riley took his Coke and walked over to the table, his mind made up. Ethan was going to be distracted if the situation weren’t addressed, and Halley might not play as well. Besides, Riley wanted to know what the guy’s problem was already.
“Hi,” Riley said when Halley looked up. “Can I sit down?”
Halley shrugged. “Free country,” he muttered, almost petulantly. He was reading a book called Journeyman by Sean Pronger, whose brother, Chris Pronger, was an infamous NHL player who’d recently retired.
“Book any good?” Riley asked as he sat down on the other side.
Halley gave him an unfriendly stare. “Yeah. What do you want, Hunter?”
So this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, then. Riley dropped the small talk. “I want to win the Kelly Cup. And to do that, you need to get over whatever your problem is.”
“Look, Kennedy—”
“No. Not with Kennedy,” Riley interrupted him firmly. “With me.”
Halley looked away. “I don’t have a problem with you.”
“Yes. You do,” Riley said, and took a sip of his soda. “You have since you got here. Why?”
“Can’t I just not like someone without getting the third degree?” Halley snapped, still not looking at Riley. “We’re teammates. We don’t have to be friends.”
“We’d be better players if we were better teammates,” Riley said. “And I really don’t know what I’ve done to piss you off so much. You got a problem with me because I have a boyfriend?”
“I got a problem with your taste in boyfriends, but I could give a shit who you fuck, Hunter.”
“Sure doesn’t sound that way,” Riley said, trying to ignore the flash of irritation at hearing that about Ethan. Maybe Riley was the one who had a temper when it came to other people.
Maybe it took Ethan to teach you how to stop ignoring things that made you angry.
“It wasn’t easy, you know,” Halley said, dragging Riley’s attention back to him. “Coming here. All I heard about was how good Courtnall was—how he was the captain and the rookie of the year. And fuck, if the team didn’t win with him on the first line, how the fuck are we gonna do it with me? I can’t even score on our own goalie in practice.”