Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Ryan
“Aren’t we supposed to be napping?” Brandon says to me as I walk him backwards into the hotel room mattress. He falls onto it once his knees hit the edge.
“You have never once cared about a nap,” I say. “Don’t you dare start now.”
He looks up at me. “It’s always been important to you.”
“And it still is.” I stare at him with wide, annoyed eyes. My nostrils flare as impatience rises through me. “I intend on passing out literally the second after I get off. So let’s get this going.”
“Damn. Where’d the romance go?”
“Bullshit. This is plenty romantic.” I lean down and kiss his neck, a place that I am learning drives him wild. His body squirms beneath mine as I feast. It feels fantastic.
“Yes,” he groans. “Quickies between games and practices screams romance.”
I lift away from his neck then stare down at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to take you to dinner first?”
“Fuck, no,” he laughs.
“Then what’s the problem?”
He shrugs. “There is no problem. It’s just funny that we’ve had our room assignment for all of eight minutes and we’re already tearing each other’s clothes off.”
“You might be onto something.” I grin down at him. “I bet we can do it in five next time.” Lifting up to give him more space, I reach between us and tug at the hem of his shirt, eager to feel his skin under my palms. “Now take this off.”
He blissfully complies and I quickly throw mine to the floor beside his. From there, I grab onto the elastic waist of his shorts and begin to tug them off. He lifts his hips from the bed to help me.
“See how much easier this is?” I say as I toss his shorts to the side. “When you’re not being a brat.”
“I thought you liked it when I was a brat.”
“What on earth would ever give you that idea?”
“You called me that the other day,” he laughs. “Besides, I’ve always been Ander’s bratty little brother.”
“No one in the history of hockey—up until this moment—has ever called you Ander’s bratty little brother. We always called you Baby. Now, for fuck’s sake, take your underwear off and come here so we can get each other’s cocks in our mouths.”
He smirks at me and makes no effort to remove his underwear. Then, with heavy sarcasm he says, “When you put it that way, there’s no chance I’ll ever resist.”
Brandon
So teasing Ryan before sex is almost as much fun as having sex with him.
Maybe it’s because he was my first crush.
Maybe it’s because I always assumed there was zero chance of something like this ever happening.
Maybe it’s because now that it is happening every spare moment that we have is spent in various states of nakedness together.
Like right now. Lying on a bed with him, his dick in my mouth, mine in his, is something only my wildest dreams could have ever come up with.
But damn it, I’ve been enjoying it every chance I can get.
And thank God, I know I’m not dreaming. There’s zero way this isn’t real.
Because if this isn’t real, then neither is my career as an NHL player.
Neither is the incredible run the Mules have gone on since the trade deadline that brought me and Coach Chris to St. Louis.
Neither is the fact that we are hours away from playing in our first playoff game against the Winnipeg Brown Bears.
With my eagerness for tonight’s game lingering in my mind, I channel that energy and begin to work Ryan over with my mouth and my hand harder and faster. I’m getting close as it is, and I want to bring Ryan with me over the edge.
“Fuck,” he moans around my dick as he licks and sucks. The vibration of his moan ripples through me. It’s enough to make me teeter further into bliss.
My hips begin to move, needing to take some control to help me reach the finish line. He starts to do the same.
I can sense our competitive natures coming out and it’s becoming a race to see who can get the other off faster.
It’s like a switch has flipped in us. Our sixty-nine session started the same, taking our time in an attempt to draw out pleasure.
But now that we’re both getting close, the challenge begins. Who can get who off first?
I want to win. So I start to flick my tongue back and forth under the head of his cock as fast as I can while I take him in and out of my mouth, working in tandem with my fist. I can feel the moment when he’s about to blow.
Everything from his cock to his balls gets taut and draws up closer to his body.
I swirl my tongue over the head, and I’m rewarded with his salty, creamy release coating my tongue, followed immediately by me spilling into his.
My lips lift into a dopey and dazed smile when I release his cock from between them. I swallow his load, then say, “I win.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs between labored breaths. “It was a tie.”
Ryan
“Here,” I say as I flip Brandon’s helmet off of him in the tunnel, then hold it out in front of him. “You might need this.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I’m aware. As it was just on my head. Where it’s supposed to be.”
“Not if you’re going to throw up,” Danton says as he comes up behind me.
“I’m not going to throw up!” Brandon exclaims.
Danton and I both look at each other, then take our gazes back to Brandon. Even in these dim lights, it’s easy to see that he is his typical pregame shade of green.
“We should get him two helmets,” Danton says.
I nod my head. “One for the game.”
“And one for just before,” Danton finishes.
“Not funny,” Brandon says. “And come on, Ryan. Danton is the only one of us who’s old enough to be quoting The Cutting Edge at me.”
Danton grins wildly and points at him. “But you have seen it.”
“Of course I’ve seen it,” he huffs. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to throw up!”
“You might,” Roysy says as he joins us.
Ivanov turns to face us from where he’s standing and waiting at the front of the tunnel. “Is this a family thing?” he asks. “Your brother? He get sick too?”
“No!” Brandon exclaims. He puts his helmet back on his head and secures the chin strap. “I hate all of you!”
“No you don’t,” I tell him as I rest my gloved hand on the top of his head, then lean forward bumping the visors of our helmets together.
He attempts to glare at me but fails quickly. “Fine,” he says, then grins playfully. “I don’t hate Ivanov.”
“Because I’m the best,” Ivanov says. He claps his blocker hand into his goalie glove. “Now let’s go kick some Brown Bear ass!”
At Ivanov’s command, we follow him out of the tunnel for warmups. Winnipeg’s fans are on their feet, booing us as we take the ice.
So this is the playoffs. This is what they mean when they say everything gets turned up. That the game becomes more intense.
I’m not surprised. I’ve played in big games before, just never at an NHL level. But as we skate out onto the ice, it is very clear that while competing and winning silver at World Juniors was intense, the stakes here are even higher. I’m loving it already, and we haven’t even dropped the puck.
I skate over to Brandon, who’s loosening up his hands by swirling a puck around one of the logos on the ice. “Pretty wild, huh?” I ask him as I grab one of the other nearby pucks to play with.
“Insane,” he says. I can barely hear him over the crowd.
I lean in closer. “I can’t wait to experience this in our barn.”
“Same.” He smiles at me and loses control of the puck.
I catch it with my stick, then slide it back to him.
He skates a circle around me while dragging the puck with the toe of his stick.
Then, once he’s a few feet away, he slides it back to me.
It lands on my tape, and I spin a quarter turn, then flick it towards Ivanov in our net.
He easily catches it in his glove, then drops it to the ground as he waits for the next puck to come his way.
Brandon chips one towards him this time, and again, he catches it.
“Nothing’s getting past me tonight,” he says.
“Let’s hope not,” I say and send another puck his way. “It’d be great if we could get a shut—”
“Ryan! No!” half my team shouts at me in unison.
Brandon
Okay, so a shutout’s not happening. But that doesn’t mean we’re not about to win this game. The score is currently four to three and we’re down to the final minute and a half of play. All we need to do is hold on and follow Coach Chris’s explicit instructions.
“Bouchard! O’Shea!” he calls out from the bench at the same moment I see Winnipeg pull their goalie so they can put an extra forward on the ice, making us play five on six.
O’Shea and I skate with abandon to our bench and practically throw ourselves over the boards at the same time Roysy and Reinhold hurl themselves over and onto the ice.
This is their specialty. They’ll do whatever they can to make sure Winnipeg can’t get a shot off, and if they do, they’ll be there to stand in front of it.
And if Winnipeg starts to think about playing dirty, well, these two will put a stop to that.
They are our Swiss Army knives. Players who can play any role, do pretty much anything, except consistently score goals.
That’s what my line is for. Although Ryan gets to stay out there right now because Ryan is an expert at one other thing. Face offs.
He is the king.
And we’re going to get to see it, as Ivanov has just gloved down the puck, putting a stop to play.
The ref grabs it from him, and everyone takes their places around the face-off dot to the left of Ivanov’s net.
He’s the first person I look at, mostly because I do not envy his job right now.
Out of everyone on the ice at the moment, he’s the one who most needs to lock in.
Everyone else in a Mules jersey at the moment is here to support him.
To keep the puck and the pressure as far away from him as possible.
Right now, he looks locked in, focused and confident.
I let out a breath and focus on Ryan. He’s crouched and ready, and wearing a goddamn smirk like he knows he’s about to strip Winnipeg of any hope they have of gaining possession of this puck and tying this game.
When the ref drops the puck, Ryan is lightning-quick with his hands on his stick. Winnipeg’s center didn’t stand a chance. He doesn’t even see where Ryan sent it. But I do.
The puck slides directly to Reinhold. He passes it to Roysy, who skates it to the neutral zone as Ryan catches up with him. All six of Winnipeg’s players are chasing them. But there’s no use. Ryan has a clear shot on a completely empty net.
This first game of the playoffs is ours.