Coach's Challenge

by Avon Gale

  “Yeah. We got that in common.” Shane immediately reached out, curled his fingers around Troy’s cock, and jacked it roughly. “Seriously. You’re not fucking me without lube.”

  Troy glared down at him. “We’re not fucking or we’ll wake up Matthews.”

  “We’re… gonna get naked and snipe at each other? We do that every single goddamn time we fuck, Troy.”

  “We need to be quiet. And that means your mouth needs to be full—”

  “Hey, Mr. I Could Have Been a Dirty-Talk Coach for Porn Stars, you know you—”

  Troy clapped his hand over Shane’s mouth. “And I’m gonna make sure mine is. You following, or you want me to call Coach fucking Quinn and have him draw a goddamn diagram, since that’s the only thing he’s any fucking good at?”

  Shane gave a rough nod, but he couldn’t resist saying “Do me a solid and never mention Coach Quinn when we’re naked and sex of any kind is involved. Okay? Actually, never mention him at all when we’re naked. New rule.”

  “Shane, we make rules, and then we just break them,” said Troy as he swung around so he was on all fours above Shane and facing away from him.

  “That was the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever—ah,” Shane gasped as Troy’s hot mouth closed around his cock. His eyes crossed as Troy took him deep. He let himself enjoy the sensation of Troy sucking him while he ran his hands up and down Troy’s muscular thighs.

  Troy pulled off Shane’s cock and held it steady with his hand. “Get your mouth on my dick, North.”

  “You got it, Coach.” Shane used his hand to position Troy where he wanted him. He thought idly about rimming him but then decided to save that for a time they didn’t have to be quiet and he could revel in the dirty talk it would surely produce.

  Shane had done the mutual dick-sucking thing before, once or twice, but it was often awkward unless you were the same height, and even then it was easy to get distracted by the guy sucking your cock and forget you were supposed to return the favor. But this was Troy, and given their inherently competitive natures, focus wasn’t the problem. Being quiet was a problem, though. There were a lot of gasping and choking sounds, and occasionally one or both of them let a moan slip through. They could have fucked more quietly, but… yeah.

  Shane knew what Troy liked when it came to having his cock sucked, and he knew he liked it sloppy and wet and liked Shane to choke on it—because it was Troy. Shane knew he couldn’t make the choking noises, so he played with Troy’s ass instead and fingered him just enough to make Troy’s thighs tremble. Troy retaliated by palming Shane’s balls and kneading them with the perfect amount of roughness that Shane liked. But Shane still got Troy off first and grinned like he’d won the goddamn Stanley Cup as Troy came in his mouth.

  Until, of course, Troy’s response made Shane come and he had to turn and press his face into Troy’s calf muscle to muffle his own groan. It was an intense orgasm, even with the late hour and the beer he’d had. In fact, if he hadn’t had beer and played in a hockey game and stayed up too late, there was likely no way he could have been quiet.

  Troy climbed off him and sat on the edge of the bed. His face was flushed, but his eyes weren’t as sharp as usual, and he looked… sort of like he had on New Year’s Eve, when they did that jigsaw puzzle. His expression was unguarded, as though he were trying to figure out what piece of the puzzle Shane was and where he was supposed to fit.

  Shane groaned quietly and put his arm over his eyes. He was still catching his breath, but he wanted to say something, wanted to ask… what? He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought about it as he watched Troy dress in the relaxed quiet of the room. When he was finished, Shane got up on legs that still weren’t quite steady and pulled on his running pants.

  Shane went to Troy, took him by the back of the neck, and kissed him. It wasn’t aggressive, and it wasn’t exactly sweet. It was somewhere in between. There was no point pretending it was just sex, not anymore. “I’m not fucking around with anyone else, and I don’t want you to either.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on it.” Troy tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe this happened.”

  Shane wasn’t sure he bought that at all. “Really? You can’t believe two contrary people who thought they were just gonna have sex every now and then decided to have feelings?”

  “When you put it that way, maybe it’s not such a surprise.” Troy looked like he wanted to say something, but the sound of someone puking in the bathroom put an end to their discussion.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “HEY, COACH. Got a minute?”

  Troy looked up from his desk and saw Quinn standing with his easy slouch and his hands in his pockets. It was nearing the middle of March, and they’d never managed to quite gel as coaches. Troy was determined to have Shane coach with him next year and was thinking how to bring that up with Gabe—and also tell Gabe he was maybe also dating Shane—when Quinn decided to come for a chat.

  “Sure, Quinn. Have a seat.” Troy tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but maybe it just wasn’t possible.

  “I think I’ll stand.”

  Troy’s metaphorical hackles rose at the unusual tone in Quinn’s voice. Oh, God. “Up to you. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to talk a bit about next year.”

  Maybe he was going to go ahead and resign. The thought cheered Troy up considerably, but he kept his expression neutral. “All right.”

  “More specifically how you’ll be resigning and I’ll be taking over your job duties.”

  There was a moment where Troy thought he hadn’t heard correctly, because he understood the words but not the sentence in which Quinn had used them. “Excuse me?”

  “I said you’d be resigning and recommending I take over,” said Quinn, as though that were extremely reasonable and hadn’t just come out of left field.

  “Very fucking funny.” Damn if Quinn didn’t look dead serious, though. And as far as Troy knew, Quinn had never made a joke before—at least not on purpose.

  “I’m not joking, Troy. Let me explain to you how this is going to work,” Quinn continued. “You’re going to tell Bow that you appreciate the opportunity and that you’re satisfied you’ve turned things around in the locker room. Then you’re going to express your desire to return to the AHL or take that job with the NHL. I don’t care which. And you’re going to tell him that I’m fully equipped and capable to take over as head coach.”

  Fully equipped and capable? What was he, a robot? Or delusional? “Oh yeah? Or what?” Troy leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “What happens if I don’t do that, Brian?”

  Quinn smiled at him, and that was the second Troy realized he’d completely and utterly misjudged Brian Quinn—and that it was going to be a major fucking pain in his ass that he had. “Or I’m going to tell Bow how you’re fucking a player. And make sure everyone else knows it too.” Quinn held up a hand. “And before you deny it, don’t bother. I saw you—well, I heard you once, and I saw you once, and that’s enough.”

  Well, Troy had noticed Quinn’s car that night he’d fucked Shane over his desk, hadn’t he? “You do know I’ve never been shy about the fact I’m gay, right?”

  “It’s not about you being gay, Troy. It’s about you having an inappropriate relationship with a player and hiding it.” Quinn shrugged. “Actually it’s not about that at all. It’s about me getting the head coach’s job, the one I should have had when they canned St. Savoy.”

  “With all that experience you don’t have?” Troy laughed. “Quinn, you can’t be serious.”

  Unfortunately Quinn appeared to be very serious. “What’s it matter to you, anyway? North isn’t staying here after this season, so he can go wherever you get hired. And you will, unless I start talking. How many teams want to hire a gay coach who sleeps with a player? Especially in the NHL. I’m not a homophobe, but plenty of people are.”

  Troy gave an incredulous shake of his head. Who
got blackmailed not once, but twice? “Unbelievable. I’m almost impressed, Quinn. I guess you really did learn something from St. Savoy. It just wasn’t anything about how to coach hockey.”

  “Spare me the lectures, Cally. Look, this isn’t personal. If it matters at all, I’ve learned a lot more from you about being a coach than St. Savoy. Basically he just taught me to keep my mouth shut and my head down.”

  That, right there, told Troy that Quinn had known exactly what was going on last year in the Ravens’ locker room, and he was so mad he wanted to punch something. Preferably Quinn. “Okay. First of all? Don’t fucking call me Cally ever again, you lying sack of shit. Just the fact you knew what St. Savoy was doing and didn’t try and stop it, that’s enough for me to want you the fuck out of my office and away from my goddamn team.”

  “Oh, and what should I have done, huh? The old GM was in St. Savoy’s pocket. He bought that motherfucker a Ferrari. What was he going to do about anything? And it didn’t matter anyway. St. Savoy’s freak son went ahead and got rid of him for me.”

  “It mattered,” said Troy quietly. He thought about Laurent St. Savoy, sitting with a book in the stands instead of dressed in his gear between the pipes. The video of Isaac Drake when Tyler Simon ran him in the goal and almost broke his ankle, how Isaac had been escorted off the ice amidst the eerie quiet. “You asshole. It mattered a lot.”

  “It’s over and done with, Troy. And look. I’m not saying you can’t be proud of turning the team identity around. Hell, it’ll get you a job a lot quicker than being known as the coach who fucks his players will. Listen, this isn’t a hard choice. You leave, get a better job, take your boyfriend with you, and forget about this team. It’s what you’d do eventually. I just want you to do it now.”

  “Why? You could just wait out my tenure, you know. I’ve only got a three-year contract.”

  “I’ve waited long enough, and besides, don’t fuck with me. You were gonna tell Bow I wasn’t cut out to be here next year, and you know it.”

  “Because you aren’t.” Troy went around his desk and approached Quinn without caring that his height was an intimidation tactic. It never would work on Shane, but on guys like Brian Quinn? Different story. “You’re not qualified to be the assistant coach, much less the head coach. Why the hell would I want you to take over the team I’ve spent all season rebuilding? Huh? I don’t even want you here now.”

  Quinn smirked at him. “You know you’re going to do what I want. So bluster all you want, Callahan. I’m not blackmailing you. I’m just telling you how it’s going to be. You can choose to go the easy or the hard way. That’s up to you.”

  “You don’t get to do this to me,” Troy said very carefully. “I did not work this hard to have some cowardly, lazy little fuck threaten me into giving up my career. You are never going to intimidate me into doing what you want, so go resign and save yourself the embarrassment.”

  “Shane’s not out, is he?” Quinn asked, nonchalantly, as though he hadn’t heard any of that. He met Troy’s eyes and smiled. “Yet.”

  The implication was clear, and it made Troy want to reach out and strangle Quinn in his knock-off-brand polo shirt. “You want to ruin someone’s career. Is that it? Does it make you feel powerful? Well, don’t worry. Someone’s career is going to be ruined, but it’s not mine, and it isn’t Shane’s.” He paused. “It’s yours, Brian. I know you’re not good at subtlety, so I’ll just go ahead and spare you the mental fucking mathematics it’d take for you to figure out what I mean.”

  There was nothing in Quinn’s expression that suggested he was anything but confident his stupid scheme would work, which showed just how delusional he really was. “Oh, Troy. I know you like to think you’re the big bad, but listen to me when I tell you no one will touch you or your boyfriend after this. You’ll be finished. And for what? An ECHL team? You could have been the assistant coach for the Rangers. You still could. Why don’t you think of it this way. I’m doing you a favor, giving you a reason to leave that won’t weigh on your conscience. And think about Shane. What’s he going to do? Everyone already knows the kid is a failure. Is this going to help him? They’ll say he was fucking an ECHL coach to get playing time. How depressing.”

  Goddammit. The only thing—the only thing—that kept Troy from calling Gabriel Bow right then and recounting the whole conversation, word-for-word, was what it would mean for Shane. He knew how much pride Shane had and how much it meant to him to end his career on his own terms. He could very easily tell Quinn to go fuck himself—and would in fact love to do just that—but he couldn’t make that decision for Shane. Troy would be damned if Brian fucking Quinn, of all people, forced Shane to come out before he was ready.

  Clearly Quinn took Troy’s silence as a sign that he’d found—and hit—his mark. “I have the upper hand here, Troy. I’m shooting at a wide-open net, and you know it. Why don’t you take a few days and think about it? I’m sure once you spend some more time with your boyfriend, you’ll realize he’s more important than this job. But I’ll want this to be handled as soon as possible, so the official announcement can be made before the season ends.” Quinn pulled his phone out of his pocket and examined it. “Shall we say, I’ll check back in a week?”

  “Sure,” said Troy. “And feel free to give this up entirely before then, Quinn. It’s not going to end well for you.”

  “We’ll see,” said Quinn as he pocketed his phone. He gave a cheery fake smile and a wave. “Have a great weekend, Coach.”

  Fuck you, asshole. Troy stared at him without responding, and Quinn left Troy’s office humming under his breath. He really thought he was going to get away with it.

  Troy shook his head and pulled his phone out to call Shane. Quinn was convinced that Troy would go along with his plan to keep Shane’s secret—and he absolutely would, if it came to that.

  But Troy knew it wouldn’t. It wasn’t just him that Quinn had severely underestimated, it was Shane. By the time Quinn figured out just how much, it’d be too late.

  “WAIT, WAIT,” Shane said once he stopped laughing. “Let me get this straight. Brian Quinn, ineffectual assistant coach, whose greatest team contribution is holding a dry-erase board, thinks he can blackmail you?”

  “Yeah,” said Troy. “Well, and you too. Don’t forget that.” He eyed Shane suspiciously. Troy hadn’t known exactly how Shane would react when he told him the news, but he’d erred more on the pissed-off side than the amused.

  “My favorite is how I’m so lame, I’d fuck a coach for playing time. I mean, just because it worked, doesn’t mean it was my goal. Ow.” He rubbed his hand over the top of his head where Troy had reached over and hit him. “Wow. I fuck you for playing time, and I let you hit me. What happened to all my self-esteem? I guess I lost it with all my potential.”

  “You liked it last night when I smacked your smart mouth while I fucked you,” Troy pointed out. He also hated when Shane said that about his potential, because it was bullshit. Nothing about Shane North was lost or wasted. He was exactly who he was supposed to be, and that’s how Troy knew he’d never let that little pissant, Quinn, blackmail either of them.

  “Wait. That was supposed to be a smack?” Shane’s eyes glinted. “Do better, Coach.”

  “Would you be fucking serious for a second?” Troy snapped, but he did file away that little nugget of information for later. “We really do have to come up with some way to address this situation, you know.”

  That did make Shane stop laughing, at least. “I know. I’m just shocked, I guess. I never thought I’d be used as blackmail. And how the fuck did you get so unlucky to have this happen twice?”

  Troy didn’t bother to mention that he’d wondered the exact same thing. “Because you gave me head on the team bus, you moron. Really this is all your fault.”

  “You’re the one who fucked me over a desk in your doorless office,” Shane pointed out. He gave a low laugh. “I bet he jacked off watching. Or at least got a hard-on. I don’t see how an
yone couldn’t, with you bending me over in that suit and—hey!”

  Troy straddled Shane on the couch and gave Shane’s shoulders a slight shake. “I know you hate taking anything seriously, Shane, but you’re going to have to. We have to figure out what to do about this.”

  “What do you mean, what to do about this? We tell him to fuck himself. That’s what we do about this.”

  “And then you get outed,” Troy reminded him. “You okay with that?”

  “Does it really matter?” Shane asked—which was what Troy hated, that Shane wouldn’t have a choice. “There’s no way you’re going to let him do this to you. So, whatever. I’ll deal with it.”

  Troy stared down at him. “You’re not getting what I’m saying, Shane. If you don’t want to be out, tell me.”

  “And what, you’ll just walk away and let him have the job?”

  “Yes,” Troy said without hesitation. “I know what it’s like to have to come out before you’re ready. I won’t let that happen to you if I can stop it.”

  That got Shane to stop laughing. In fact it seemed like Shane stopped breathing. His eyes went very wide. “I—what? No. You wouldn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t like it, but I’d do it.” Troy stared down at him. Shane’s body was warm and firm beneath him. He noticed how at home Shane was in his condo, how easily they fit together. Like puzzle pieces.

  “Troy, you know there’s no way in fucking hell I’d ever, in a million years, be okay with someone using me like that, don’t you?”

  “I figured. But it’s still the sort of thing you want to run by a guy,” said Troy. “It’s not just about me. Not this time.”

  “Yeah. I can’t believe you’d… I mean, dude, if you’d really just up and let that jerkoff blackmail you for me? Troy, I don’t know if that makes you romantic or pathetic.”