Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Brandon
I’ll admit, to anyone who asks except the cops, that slap shot I took to Ryan’s parents’ living room window felt good. Better than good. It felt fucking great.
“Did you all have fun?” Coach Chris asks us from the doorway of the coach’s office in the Dallas visitors’ locker room.
Okay. Maybe I won’t admit it to him. I look over at Ryan beside me. He’s focused on taping his stick handle like he has no idea what Coach is talking about.
“Fuck, yeah, we had fun!” Roysy yells out across the room.
I turn to look at him, shocked. What the fuck is he doing?
Coach Chris looks at him and shakes his head. “You’re all lucky that the owners of the random, unconnected-to-us-in-any-way house aren’t pressing charges, or taking this to the press.”
“Why would they?” Ryan speaks up as he lays his stick across his legs. “Doing that would mean them having to admit I’m their son.”
He grabs another roll of tape and begins working on the blade. Everything about him right now is calm, casual, and confident. He’s gearing up for a monster game. I can feel it.
“You’re the only one who gets a pass in this,” Coach says as he comes over and sticks his fist out for Ryan to bump. After Ryan hits it, Coach takes his attention to Danton. “I’m guessing this adventure was your idea. What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Team bonding,” Danton states on the other side of me. “A little boost to get us hyped for tonight’s game.”
“And are you feeling hyped? Because you all got shellacked game one.”
“I know I am,” Danton says, gesturing at himself. “What about the rest of you boys?”
“I am ready,” Ivanov says in a murderous tone with an equally murderous look on his face.
Clemmers claps Ivanov on the shoulder but he’s looking at Coach in the center of the room. “Don’t worry about us, Coach. We’re out for blood tonight.”
“You better be,” he says, as his lips start to pull up at the corners. His mad dad facade is beginning to fade. “Because you better believe we’re going to the finals! Even if we have to outrun the cops to get there!”
Ryan
This round is ours and it’s not even close. Dallas may have won the first game, but we’ve beaten them the last three, and we’re about to end this round by winning again tonight.
Danton’s team bonding exercise did the trick.
Though if I’m being honest, we’re already bonded.
But I appreciate Danton calling it team bonding; it gives a name to their way of telling me that the Mules are my family now.
I may have lost my sisters, but I’ve gained twenty-three brothers. And that’s something special.
“We are twenty minutes away from punching our ticket to the finals, boys!” Coach Chris says as we gather around for the period to start.
He’s been doing this countdown all night. It was one game, then three periods, then two, one.
He’s a good coach. The best I’ve ever had, in more ways than one.
“Christianson! Your line is up!”
I lightly knock Brandon’s and O’Shea’s helmets with my fist, then skate away, leading them to center ice. Like Coach said, twenty more minutes. And those twenty minutes start the moment I win this draw.
Brandon
This round has been a whirlwind. Our bodies, but more so our emotions, have been put through the wringer. It’s all been worth it for this moment right here. We did it. We’re going to the Stanley Cup Finals against the Buffalo Blizzards.
But first, we have to get through the presentation of this trophy for winning the Western Conference without any of us touching the damn thing.
I’m nervous as I watch my teammates circle around it for a post-win photo. Smartly, I’m sticking to the outside. I don’t want to be the one responsible for accidentally tapping it with my elbow. I will not be responsible for cursing us before we even get to game one of the final round.
Ryan, however, is thoroughly enjoying himself.
He’s getting as close to the trophy as one can without touching it.
I’m trying to contain my nerves. One stumble on the carpet that’s being laid out for people who aren’t wearing skates to come celebrate with us is all it could take to ruin our chances at true glory.
“Ryan Christianson!” Danton yells out like he’s scolding one of his children. “You’re making me nervous. Quit fucking around near that thing.”
Ryan fakes touching it, but I can see his hand is being held about an inch away from the trophy’s wooden pedestal.
“Brandon!” Danton calls for me. “Go get control of him, would you?”
“Yeah,” Roysy says, giving me a friendly nudge with his elbow. “Get control of your man.”
“Ugh…” I groan as I skate over to grab him by the elbow that is farthest away from the trophy. “Come on,” I say under my breath. “If you touch that thing, you’re not getting a celebratory blow job tonight.”
He leans in close to my ear. “That’s convenient,” he says. “Because that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.”
“Oh, really,” I say, still pulling him away.
“Yup,” he says. “Get ready, Brandon. I’m in the mood to fuck you tonight.”
I wet my lips with my tongue, then gulp. I no longer care if anyone touches that damn trophy. Let’s just hurry up and get the fuck out of here.
Ryan
I think the best part of winning might be the sex that comes after it.
I swear, my dick has been hard since the final goal horn went off, announcing the end of the game.
All through the trophy presentation, and then the locker room celebration afterwards, all I could think about was getting Brandon back to our hotel room so we could fuck.
And I mean truly fuck. Down and dirty. Enough of this sweetness, I need to claim him tonight.
So once I have him laid out on the bed with our clothes off, I flip him over onto his belly, then spread his cheeks and go to town.
The moan Brandon lets out when I slide my tongue across his hole is music to my ears, better than any goal song.
He tastes delicious. Like victory and cheap Irish Spring locker room soap.
Honestly, though, the mood I’m in, the urgency I feel humming all throughout my body, making every nerve sing, I’d be down here licking him clean even if he hadn’t showered back at the arena.
That shower was brutal. Watching him soap himself up and wash himself off. Watching his hair drip rivulets of water over his shoulders when he was drying off. Watching him get dressed back into his suit.
I don’t even care that my teammates probably noticed I was leering. They know about us. Who cares?
I don’t. Not anymore. Not when I’m finally getting everything I’ve ever wanted. Family. Acceptance. Someone I can be myself around and share all the little parts of me with.
Someone who cries out my name and begs for me to fuck him while I rim his hole.
“Ryan. Please,” he says, his voice muffled by his arm. He lifts his hips higher.
The motion frees his dick underneath him. I bring my hand to it and start to stroke him in pace with my licks.
“Oh… fuck…” he stutters, then flips himself over, freeing himself from my hand and my tongue.
I rub the sides of his thighs with my hands. “You alright?”
“Too alright,” he says. His eyes are wild and blown wide open. He gestures for me to come to him and when I do, he grabs my face and pulls me down for a kiss. “Fuck me, please. Before I come all over these sheets without you.”
I grin at him, then kiss his lips again. He doesn’t have to ask me twice.
Pulling away, I reach for the lube on the bedside table, then squeeze a heavy amount onto my palm. I spread it across my dick first, then use the remainder on his hole. He’s already pliant underneath my fingers.
Satisfied that he’s ready, I place a pillow underneath his hips. He’s already stroking his dick as he spreads his legs for me.
Looking down at him, I press the head of my cock against his hole. His eyes are relaxed, like he’s the one who’s getting what he’s wanted for years. Like taking my dick is what he was made for.
I shiver as I push inside, and he takes me all the way to the hilt with ease. I pause and enjoy the feel of him warm and tight all around me.
He’s staring right up at me, his eyes hooded, his mouth slightly open, his cheeks flushed, his hand slowly working his swollen dick. He reaches up for me with his free hand and pulls me down, bringing our lips together again.
“I’m yours,” he says when he breaks our kiss. “Own me right now.”
And own him I do. My thrusts start out slow.
I want to drag out every push and pull so I’ll never forget what he felt like the first time.
I listen intently to his moans, so I know what he sounds like when he’s giving himself over to me.
I kiss him again and slide my tongue into his mouth, so I remember how he tastes.
I look down at him as my pace begins to quicken, so I can commit to memory what he looks like when I make him come.
Beautiful. That’s what. His bright blue eyes widen as his orgasm hits. And as tempted as I am to look between us so I can watch him shoot his load across his stomach, I can’t look away.
And I’m so glad that I don’t. Because it’s his blissful, carefree smile as his orgasm ends that pushes me over the edge. With a final snap of my hips, with his hole clenching and unclenching around my dick, I come harder than I ever have, deep inside of him, forever making him mine.