Save of the Game

by Avon Gale

  “Yeah,” he said, and nodded. “There is.” Ethan put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “Thanks, Ma. For everything.”

  “Oh, stop,” she muttered, but hugged him back just as tightly. They sat like that for a long time, and finally she kissed him on the temple and went back inside. Ethan lit another cigarette and looked up when Riley came out to join him. He laughed because Riley trying to fold his tall frame out the window and onto the fire escape was sort of hilarious.

  “Hi.” Riley gave him a cautious smile. “I bet you’re mad. I knew you would be.”

  “Well, I was. But I shouldn’t be,” Ethan muttered, grabbed him, pulled him in, and kissed him. “Thanks. I’m sorry I acted like a dick.”

  “It’s okay. I should have asked you, but I didn’t want you to say no.”

  Ethan studied him and then knocked him with his shoulder. “So what if I did? You know, you can argue with me. You being quiet doesn’t mean you’re mad, and me being loud… well, that’s pretty much me all the time.” He grabbed Riley’s arm and pulled it around his shoulders. He was freezing. Jacksonville was thinning his blood.

  Riley’s expression became way too serious. “I meant what I said, you know. I would give anything for what you have.”

  “Well, you asked for it,” Ethan told him. “Ma’s gonna start sending you e-mails and asking if you’ve done your laundry or balanced your checkbook. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

  “Nope.” Riley gave him that small, happy smile that Ethan liked so much. “Will it bother you if I want to spend every holiday with your family?”

  “Do I have to be there?”

  Riley leaned in and bit him on the neck. “Yes. Sleeping on the floor wouldn’t be as much fun without you.”

  “True,” Ethan said. He smiled and leaned in to kiss Riley and wished they could do something else. “But you know… maybe you should at least text your family and tell them Merry Christmas. Yeah?”

  Riley had his stubborn look on again. “I’d rather just make out,” he groused, but he sighed. “I’ll text my sister. Happy?”

  “Yup,” Ethan said and climbed in his lap.

  “I said you two should talk, not end up in a Cinemax movie,” his mother called from the house.

  Riley turned bright red, but Ethan had absolutely no sympathy for him. He wanted two sisters and a bossy mom? That’s what it was like.

  “Hey,” Ethan said as they went back into the house. “You know when we go to that game tomorrow and you watch the Devils get their ass kicked by my team?”

  “You mean, the game tomorrow where your team loses?”

  “Whatever. The Devils suck. But after that maybe you could use your millions to get us a hotel room? I got one more Christmas present for you.”

  Riley helped him in through the window. “Oh yeah?” he asked, looking intrigued. “What is it?”

  Ethan leaned up and bit his ear gently. “Me,” he said and then pulled back with a very, very smug grin.

  Chapter Fifteen

  RILEY HAD been nervous plenty of times—the first time he started in goal, his first shoot-out, the conference finals last year when they lost to the Renegades. He knew that nervous, aggressive feeling in his stomach. Like butterflies, but less cute. Angry moths maybe.

  It wasn’t quite the same as being nervous about having sex with Ethan. Mostly because when he was in goal, Riley at least knew what he was doing. Theoretically.

  “You’re—”

  “Hunter, if you ask me one more time if I’m sure about this, I’m gonna punch you,” Ethan said from across the room. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked mad.

  Riley sat on the bed, his hands pressed flat against the mattress on either side of him. He tried some breathing exercises. They didn’t work. “Then why are you all the way over there? Come over here. We can make out. We’re good at that.”

  “Just make out? What is this? August?” Ethan’s chin lifted. “You want me, come get me. I’ve seen the porn you like. Don’t pretend you’re not into that.”

  Riley put his face in his hands. “Problem solved. Who was I kidding?” He got up, walked across the room, grabbed Ethan’s arm, and pulled him toward the bed. “I want you to want it,” he said because, while he did like pinning Ethan to the bed and climbing on him, it wasn’t quite the same if Ethan wasn’t into it. “That’s kind of important.”

  “Then make me, idiot,” Ethan said, and pushed his hips up so Riley could feel he was hard. He rolled his eyes. “You know how easy I am. Come on.”

  Riley leaned down and kissed him, and he thought about saying something like “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” but he wasn’t sure he could say it without breaking into nervous giggles. And that was definitely not sexy.

  Riley decided to distract Ethan with a blow job, because that had worked since the very first. He also liked the way Ethan moaned and writhed around on their king-size bed—the way he thrust his hips up and choked Riley and gasped an apology, even though he didn’t stop doing it.

  When Riley reached down to stroke two fingers over him, Ethan tensed immediately, and Riley wasn’t sure what to do. Even if he didn’t like it, Ethan wouldn’t stop him—just on principle—and Riley couldn’t let him do that. “Ethan.”

  Ethan pushed up on his elbows and looked down at Riley. “Yeah?”

  Riley gently brushed over him again with his fingers. “Is this… um? Weird?”

  “You’re gonna put your fingers in my ass, dude,” Ethan said. “Of course it’s weird. That’s why you should still be distracting me by sucking my cock. See? This really isn’t that hard, boyfriend.”

  Riley pressed his face against Ethan’s stomach. “Maybe we should wait.”

  “Maybe you should shut up,” Ethan chirped. “What happened to taking care of me? I need you to fuck me. So get to it.”

  Ethan didn’t sound worried or unhappy, so Riley took a deep breath and went back to sucking Ethan’s cock. Then he tentatively pressed his fingers against Ethan and eased one inside.

  It was weird, and doing it made Riley blush. But he took Ethan’s cock in his mouth again and deep-throated him. Those Internet videos he watched on sucking cock were turning out to be very helpful, indeed. It took him a few tries to get the hang of relaxing his jaw, but the noise Ethan made was totally worth the brief discomfort. While Ethan made happy, incoherent sounds, Riley gently began moving his finger in and out, glancing up to see if Ethan liked it.

  “It’s not bad or anything,” Ethan reassured him. It was the least sexy thing he could have said.

  “Good. I’m glad it’s tolerable.” Riley felt Ethan’s laugh as it vibrated through him. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Ethan’s thigh and added another finger.

  He remembered something he learned and crooked his fingers slightly, so when he pulled them out, they brushed over something that made Ethan’s back snap up off the bed and make a noise that sounded like a howl.

  Riley tried not to feel too smug about that and failed utterly.

  With the help of some lube, Riley progressed to three fingers, and he stopped sucking him off just so he could watch Ethan react to what he was doing. Ethan writhed on the bed and cursed a lot. If there was anything weird about that, it was lost in how hot Ethan looked while Riley fucked him with his fingers.

  Ethan’s eyes were all blurry as he blinked up at Riley, his face flushed as he gasped for breath. “Fuck me, Hunter. Come on.”

  Riley might have made him wait for it, just for being so bossy, but he really wanted to know how all that tight heat would feel around his cock. So he bit Ethan on the thigh again and reached for the lube, still fucking him with his fingers while he slicked himself up.

  It wasn’t the most graceful first time, and they had to stop and make some adjustments once or twice, but Riley was nothing if not patient. It felt amazing when he finally got inside Ethan, who was on his back with his legs pushed up to his chest, staring up at Riley with wide, hot eyes, and gripping Riley’s
shoulders tightly.

  It was obviously uncomfortable for Ethan at first, but he growled, “Don’t you dare stop. This is going to be great.” And all the trust Ethan was putting in him to make it good made Riley feel like he could do anything. It gave him the sense of control he felt in goal. He settled into a rhythm like he did when he had a perfect game and it was all instinct and movement. He watched and anticipated and trusted his body to do what it needed.

  Maybe it was a little less graceful as it got harder and faster. Ethan moaned, and the headboard knocked against the wall as Riley found a rhythm and hit whatever that spot was that his fingers had found earlier. He managed to get one hand on Ethan’s cock and keep himself braced with his other hand. Ethan came with a shout, and his muscles gripped Riley’s cock so tightly that Riley lost his balance, collapsed on Ethan, and came—all at the same time.

  Afterward, Ethan, sprawled naked in all his sweaty, sticky, tattooed glory, grinned lazily up at Riley and said, “I have good ideas.”

  Riley snorted and hit Ethan on the arm. “We should shower.”

  “Wait. Why?” Ethan put one arm behind his back and reached down to lazily stroke his cock with the other. “We have this room all night, Riles. You’re only going to fuck me once? Lame.”

  “What if you’re sore, though?”

  Ethan leveled a stare at him. “You remember our last four games? I got in a fight in every single one of them. This was like that but with an orgasm. Who cares if I’m sore?”

  “I do,” Riley said, reaching out to run his fingers over Ethan’s mouth and jaw, down to his chest, and over his tattoos.

  Ethan caught his hand with his own and laced their fingers together. He looked startlingly vulnerable. More so than Riley had ever seen. “It’s easier for me to say ‘I love you’ than to let you take care of me. You know that. Right?”

  “Yeah.” Riley did know that. Ethan wasn’t exactly subtle. “I figured that out from the millions of hints you’ve given me.”

  “If you say ‘problem solved,’ you asshole, I will punch you in the dick.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that,” Riley said, but they both knew that was a lie.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ETHAN LEANED against the boards, waiting his turn for their next drill and listening while Sloany and Becker debated who was hotter—Kesha or schoolgirl-era Britney Spears.

  “Britney had on a schoolgirl skirt,” Becker said. “And she had a snake. That snake was badass.”

  Ryan scoffed. “Dude, she didn’t have them both in the same video. You can’t bring a snake to school.”

  “My vote is Kesha. Because of the hot pants. And the roller skates. And those, Becker, were in the same video. At least, I’m pretty sure they were.” Ryan nudged Ethan with his elbow. “What about you, Kennedy? Who’s hotter, Kesha in the hot pants, or Britney in the skirt?”

  Ethan might be in love with—and happily enjoying getting fucked by—a guy, but no way was he unable to appreciate and ruminate over the very important question being posed by his teammates. “Well, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about that video, Sloany, but I’m still gonna go with Kesha. The roller skates make me think about her playing hockey, and that’d be hot as fuck.”

  “Especially if she had a snake,” said Becker.

  “I think you have a thing with snakes,” Ryan said.

  “I thought that was Kennedy,” said Bennett Halley, who skated up to join them in line for the drill.

  “Snakes are badass,” Becker muttered, getting ready to skate down the ice and take his shot. “That’s why Britney wins.”

  Ryan shouted after him, “I keep telling you, the snake isn’t supposed to be involved.”

  “Yeah, Kennedy,” Halley said snidely and loudly, as if he were annoyed no one was getting his obvious reference to cock.

  “Captain Sloan,” Coach yelled. “Stop talking about invertebrates and up-tempo dance numbers and motivate your team to stop slacking the fuck off. We play the goddamn Ice Dogs next week, and they’ve won six of their last ten games.”

  “Don’t suck, guys,” Ryan yelled by way of encouragement. “You’re up, Kennedy.”

  Ethan wasn’t fond of shooting drills in practice, because he was a defenseman and he’d only scored three goals in his entire professional career. And while he successfully quit smoking for a few weeks after New Year’s—mainly because he smoked so many cigarettes at the New Years’ party that he felt like his lungs had turned into an ashtray—he ended up buying a pack during their last road trip.

  Sharing a room with Halley was stressful. And Ethan really did like smoking.

  But smoking did not like Ethan. Or rather, Ethan’s hockey playing did not like smoking. As he went down the ice, he could feel his breathing get all fucked up. He’d like to think that was because he was getting close to Riley, and Riley was so hot playing hockey that watching him was like sex. No wonder Ethan needed to smoke so much. But that wasn’t the reason.

  He didn’t score, but he never did. Riley smirked at him, and Ethan smirked back and thought about blow jobs and—because now he couldn’t help it—snakes and up-tempo dance numbers.

  He was still thinking about that when he saw Halley skate down the ice for his next attempt. Ethan stopped thinking so he could watch Riley deny Halley, because he took a perverse sort of glee in that. Like always.

  This time, though, it almost looked like maybe Halley had scored. Enough that Halley threw his arms up in victory… until Riley opened his glove, dropped the puck on the ice, and then nonchalantly kicked it with his skate.

  Halley skated up to get it, and when he straightened, he moved closer to Riley and said something that Ethan couldn’t hear.

  And Riley skated out of the goal crease and tackled Halley to the ice.

  Ethan had no idea what was going on, but he was caught between feeling proud of Riley for knocking someone over, and jealous of Halley for being underneath Riley. It was very confusing, but then Riley threw a punch, and Ethan was just confused and vaguely turned on.

  The entire Jacksonville Sea Storm stood in openmouthed surprise, absolutely silent as they watched their calm, even-tempered goalie whaling on Halley until Coach Spencer—who apparently also needed a minute to wrap his mind around what he was seeing—finally skated out to break them up.

  Riley looked furious, and that had Ethan’s eyes narrowing in suspicion. Halley was clearly at fault, because Riley didn’t act like that. Ethan did, but not Riley.

  Spence yelled something nonsensical about soccer hooligans and sent both Riley and Halley to the locker room. Riley skated to the tunnel and marched off like he was going to war. Ethan wondered if it was weird that he was half-hard, and had to think about something else before it got worse.

  “Sloan, get this goddamn team practicing,” Spence shouted, and Ryan motioned for everyone to go back to the drill as Vazov came off the bench and took Riley’s spot in goal.

  Ethan wasn’t that great at drills when he wasn’t distracted, so he was useless for the rest of practice. Neither Halley nor Riley came back to the ice, and Spence’s tactic was to threaten a bag skate if anyone so much as looked like they were thinking about asking what happened. That was the most dreaded drill in all of hockey, so no one wanted to risk it.

  Ethan caught a ride home with Sloany, and found Riley stretching in the living room. The minute he saw Ethan, he stood up and held his hand out. “Can I have a cigarette?”

  Ethan gaped at him for a moment, wondering if somehow they’d switched places. He grew up with two sisters, a VCR, and a lot of old movies on VHS—including Freaky Friday. Maybe this was just like that, only with boys, hockey, and sex. “Seriously?”

  “Ethan”—Riley used his don’t-argue voice that made Ethan feel contrary and also got him hot—“just let me have one.”

  “Well, you did knock out Halley,” Ethan said agreeably. He found his cigarettes and handed one to Riley. He could barely talk himself out of smoking; he wasn’t going to try to talk
anyone else out of it. “Let’s go outside.”

  Riley wasn’t very good at smoking, and Ethan finally had to light the cigarette for him. Riley took a drag, coughed, and then made a face. “This is gross, Ethan. Why do you do this?”

  Ethan shrugged. “It looks cool?”

  “Maybe when you do it,” Riley muttered.

  “You gonna tell me why you decked Halley?”

  “He said something stupid,” Riley answered and tried to take a drag of his cigarette. “I think what you like about this is the deep breathing.”

  “Pretty sure what I like about it is the nicotine, Riles. Seriously. What did he say?” Ethan leaned against the glass door. “Was it about your parents?”

  Riley looked at him in surprise. “Why would you think it was about my parents?”

  Ethan ashed his cigarette. “I know how you hate people saying shit about your family being rich or whatever.”

  “It wasn’t that.” Riley stared out at the ocean. “It was about you.”

  Ethan scowled. He hated being the reason someone upset Riley. “What? That I snored?”

  “I already know that,” Riley said with a slight smile. “And no. Not that.” Riley stubbed the cigarette out on the railing. There were at least two, three more drags left. Damn nonsmokers.

  “Riley, seriously,” Ethan said, stubbing out his own and throwing it in the empty coffee can he used as an ashtray. “Come on. If it’s about me, you have to tell me.”

  “I don’t have to,” Riley said, stubborn as always. “It was dumb.”

  “Well, duh. He’s an idiot. Was it dumber than when I hit him for saying you were from Montana?”

  Riley tilted his head thoughtfully. “I don’t know. That was pretty dumb, so maybe not. And it wasn’t everything he was saying, just the last thing.”

  “Wait,” Ethan interrupted. “Most of it? You mean it was more than one thing?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’d been running his mouth all practice. He always does during shooting drills. Most of you do,” Riley said dryly. “I usually just ignore it.”