Coach's Challenge

by Avon Gale

  “I’ll do my best, Coach Cally.”

  When the Ravens were announced and skated out on the ice, the entire arena erupted into boos so loud it almost shook the Kelly Cup banner out of the rafters. Troy had expected it, although even he had to admit he didn’t expect a minor league hockey team in South Carolina to bring the hate quite so strongly. He was almost impressed.

  “This is like Kings-Ducks level of despising the other team,” Shane murmured, as they stood for the anthem.

  “No one cares about your stupid California teams,” Troy murmured. “This is Rangers-Devils shit.” He saw Shane’s fierce grin from the corner of his eye.

  It wasn’t a bad game, even though the Ravens lost 6-0. Troy knew their goalie, Wes Kelly, was pissed as hell about the lack of net-front defense that caused him to up six goals. There were some good things about the game. The Ravens took substantially fewer penalties, and when they did, it was for things like high-sticking or tripping, not trash talking or bullying. But they weren’t better or worse than the Spitfires, and while he couldn’t say his team looked like they were having fun, they didn’t have the grim carrion-eating countenances of their namesakes. So that was something.

  The Spitfires faithful didn’t let up on the booing, not even once. It definitely affected his team, and Troy wondered if he should hire some people to come boo them during practice before the next game. No one managed to score on Drake, who played like the Kelly Cup was on the line instead of two regular-season points. When the game was over, Troy waited until they were on the bus home to address their play and the problems he’d noted. There were a lot of them, at least when it came to the fundamentals. He only waited because he knew they were shaken by the vehemence of the crowd, the demoralizing loss, and Drake’s shutout. All of which made them, for once, understandably quiet.

  Troy let them mope, but only for so long.

  “That defense was so holey we could slap it on a piece of bread with some mayo and roast beef and have a sandwich,” Troy said, turned backward in his seat as they set off for home. He went over the major issues and then segued into the things they’d done well. There were a few. “Better offensive plays, that’s for sure, even if you were too distracted to connect the passes like we practiced. Better communication out there, especially the third line. And your drop passes didn’t make me want to kick puppies.”

  “I thought you guys put up a good effort,” piped up Quinn. “But Coach Callahan is right about the defense. We’ll definitely be working on that.”

  Even if reiterating everything Troy said didn’t technically count as “coaching,” it was something.

  Asheville was only about an hour drive from Spartanburg. It took a while to get the bus unloaded and the gear unpacked, and then the guys filtered out of the locker room to their cars. Troy was a night owl by nature, so he took off his suit jacket and his tie, unbuttoned his collar and the first few buttons of his shirt, and went into his office to flip open his laptop.

  He took out his notebook, looked over his game notes, and felt the familiar satisfaction of his job overtake the minor annoyances of his team’s less-than-perfect play. He had a lot of thoughts about how to address the fundamentals that were lacking and he wanted to get them down as soon as he could. They had a lot of work to do. He wasn’t entirely ruling out the whole “hiring people to boo” thing, for one, and he was going to email Gabe and tell him to look into Drake’s contract. He made a note to speak with Wes privately after practice, because he’d taken the loss particularly hard, as any goalie would when he gave up six goals. It hadn’t been all his fault, of course, but a few were soft goals he really should have had.

  Troy finished up with his notes, put his jacket on, and draped his tie over his shoulder as he headed out to his car. He was surprised to see Shane in the parking lot, cursing up a storm and looking under the hood of his little red Volkswagen.

  “You all right there, North?”

  Shane looked over his shoulder. “Sure. Just thought I’d end my night of being booed constantly with a car that doesn’t fucking run. I’m great, Coach. How’re you?”

  Now that they weren’t in the midst of an important rivalry game, Troy could appreciate the sight of Shane bent over the car and how his ass looked in the suit pants he wore. Troy stood next to him and peered at the engine as though he had some idea what to do. “Is it just not starting?”

  Shane’s look was as chilly as the air. “What do you think?”

  That I want to fuck you over this stupid death trap of yours. And that you need to spend some money and buy a better car. All Troy said was “I’ve got jumper cables.”

  “I don’t think it’s the battery. I don’t know. This car is fucking falling apart. The weather here isn’t that great,” Shane continued huffily, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe that’s the problem. The altitude. Something.”

  The weather wasn’t that bad. Especially compared to Hartford, it was practically tropical. But Troy didn’t point that out. “You’re sure it’s not the battery?”

  “No.” Shane glared at him. “I’m not.”

  Troy fought back a grin. “And you don’t want me to get my jumper cables because you would hate me to be right?”

  Shane rolled his eyes, but the tension in his stance eased somewhat. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Let’s see.”

  Troy maneuvered his Audi in front of Shane’s car and hooked everything up. After a few failed attempts to revive the stalled engine, Shane finally grumbled that he’d call for a tow, and Troy disconnected the cables and put them away. “Here. Sit in here while you call for a tow. It’ll be warmer for your weak California blood.”

  “Alani told me not to drive that damn car to Asheville, but did I listen? No. No I did not.” Shane sat in the passenger seat and pulled out his cell phone. At Troy’s snort of nonsurprise, he said hotly, “Oh, what? Like you would have listened to someone who told you not to do something?”

  “Probably not, but that does not make it a good idea.” Troy settled back in his seat, aware of Shane’s proximity in a car that, until then, had seemed fairly roomy. Shane smelled like shower soap and maybe just a little like sweat, but not in a bad way. Definitely not in a bad way.

  Shane slumped down in the seat and groaned. “I know I should just buy another car, but it’s like, the only thing from San Diego I could bring with me?”

  He seemed surprisingly vulnerable, and Troy felt a rush of sympathy for him. “Well, hopefully it’ll be cheap to fix.” Sympathy was one thing, expressing it was another. He wasn’t very good at it.

  But Shane didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah. I hope.”

  Shane called for a tow and gave his information to the dispatcher. When he hung up, he glanced at Troy and said, “There was an accident on I-26, so they said it might be a while. I can wait back in the arena if you’re in a hurry.”

  “I’m not,” said Troy. “It’s fine.”

  The silence wasn’t awkward as much as it was charged, and Troy had a feeling his determination to keep his hands off Shane North was going to be severely tested in the next few minutes.

  “You played well tonight.” Troy figured hockey was the safest thing they could talk about. “You set up some good passes.”

  “They weren’t connecting for shit.” Shane leaned his head back against the seat and frowned. “And I worked how long, last practice, on that forechecking drill? They forgot every one of those attack angles, I swear.”

  Nope. It turned out that talking about hockey did not make Troy want to fuck Shane any less. Goddammit. “It’s better than running our mouths and throwing out cheap insults, though.”

  Shane half turned in his seat so they faced each other. “You ran your mouth plenty, Cally. I heard you.”

  “Because that’s my job,” said Troy, and they were so close that their breath mingled. Troy’s heart raced, the low burn of arousal flared hotter, and his cock stirred in his pants. “Yours is to shut up and listen. Which is what you should be doing right now, when I
tell you to sit there and be quiet while you wait for that tow truck.”

  “Yeah?” Shane shifted closer. He leaned in so they were nose-to-nose, separated only by the car console. “Make me.”

  It was as though someone had written Guaranteed Ways to Get Troy Callahan Hot For It and handed it to Shane with a goddamn bow on top of it. There was no point pretending it wasn’t going to happen, and they both knew it. Troy’s brain was cloudy with lust, and all the reasons to back away seemed to evaporate completely.

  Bad idea or not, Troy wouldn’t make the first move. It was a bad idea, but maybe less so if Shane started it. “You want something here, North?”

  “Oh yeah.” Shane’s low voice went right to Troy’s cock.

  “Then show some initiative and take it.”

  Shane took that for the invitation it was, and grabbed Troy by the back of the neck to pull him in and kiss him. The second their mouths met, the heat and desire between them sparked into an inferno. They kissed like they were still trying to argue, and it was as good as Troy knew it would be, even if he’d tried to deny it. Shane’s mouth was hot and tasted a little like cinnamon candy, and he made a sound in his throat that drove Troy crazy.

  “God, yeah,” Shane muttered and bit gently at Troy’s lower lip. He dropped his hand to Troy’s lap and unerringly found his cock and rubbed it through the fabric of Troy’s suit pants. “You want to hear how hard I came thinking about you, that night you blue balled me at the bar?”

  Yes. Yes, he did. But Troy just pulled Shane’s mouth back to his, kissed him again, and reached down to pinch Shane’s nipples through his shirt. He had a feeling Shane might like that, and Shane responded by gasping into Troy’s mouth and writhing against the leather seat.

  “Fuck, Troy.” Shane panted and shoved his hands under Troy’s jacket to grab fistfuls of his shirt.

  “I want to shove my cock down your throat first.” Troy pinched hard at Shane’s nipples again, and a moan caught behind his teeth as Shane palmed his cock with perfect pressure.

  “Oh… hell yeah.” Shane suddenly went still. “Headlights. Probably the tow truck. That was quick.” He moved himself back to his own seat. His shirt was mussed, his eyes were blurry, and his mouth was open and wet as he fought to catch his breath. “Goddamn, Troy.”

  Goddamn is right. Troy struggled to even out his own breathing, but he was uncomfortably hard as he watched the tow truck amble over toward the stalled car. Eventually Shane opened the door, and the cold air replaced the steam inside the Audi.

  “I’ll wait,” said Troy curtly, and Shane swore under his breath, raked his hand through his short hair, and got out of the car.

  It took about ten minutes for the driver to get the car up on the tow truck, and after a brief discussion, Shane came back. His skin was flushed red from the wind, but his gaze was still all heat as he climbed in next to Troy.

  “They’re taking it to Mulligan’s Motors. Apparently they specialize in Volkswagens.” Shane buckled his seat belt. “I said I’d come by tomorrow morning and fill out the paperwork so they can let me know what’s wrong with it.”

  They both watched as the truck towed the car out of the parking lot.

  “So,” Shane said after a moment. “You gonna take me home, or you gonna take me to your place and fuck me?”

  “Depends which one you want,” Troy said as he put the car in gear. He could feel Shane’s gaze, as weighty as his hand on Troy’s cock, and kept his attention on not driving into a light post. Good thing he didn’t live that far away.

  “Like you need to ask.”

  Troy glanced at him. “I don’t need to. But I want to. And I want you to answer.”

  Shane’s breath hitched, and he gave a little laugh. “Take me to your place and fuck me, Troy.”

  “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” Troy said bluntly. But knowing that didn’t make him change his mind. “Figures it’d be your fault, North.”

  Shane snorted. “Sweet-talker.” He settled his hand on Troy’s knee. “Want me to suck you on the way home?”

  Troy grabbed Shane’s wrist and pushed it away. Of course he wanted that, but he didn’t trust himself to drive while Shane blew him. He had a feeling Shane wasn’t just all talk when it came to those suggestive comments, and the thought of Shane’s full mouth on Troy’s dick was making him dizzy. “Hands to yourself until I tell you otherwise.”

  “Sure. I can keep my hands to myself. No problem.”

  Troy didn’t trust the easy acquiescence, and sure enough, when he glanced over, Shane was stroking himself through his pants with one hand and twisting his nipple through the fabric of his shirt with the other.

  Troy didn’t have it in him to tell him to stop. He just drove faster.

  Chapter Seven

  IF HE’D ever done anything quite so questionable in his entire hockey career, Shane couldn’t imagine what it might be.

  It could be because he was palming his cock through his pants on the drive and thinking about Troy fucking him, which made it hard to concentrate. Or yeah, okay. Maybe it really was the most questionable thing he’d ever done. But, hell. Why not? Shane was old enough to know what he was doing, and Troy could make his own decisions. And if the sex was as good as that kiss….

  Shane moved his hand away from his cock so he didn’t come in his pants. He had no idea where they were going, but he hoped they got there fast.

  Troy lived in a condo near the university, a short drive—thank God—from the arena. It was a nice place, well kept and quiet, with a pretty view and what looked like a pool behind a white painted fence. The interior of the condo was exactly what Shane would have pictured—simple and clean, no-frills design, modern furniture, and very little clutter or mess.

  Instead of a table, the dining room had a treadmill and a television mounted on the opposite wall. A set of stairs presumably led to the bedrooms, but Troy didn’t appear to want to wait that long. He immediately shoved Shane toward the couch, hands all over him, and the two of them stumbled as they tried to discard clothes and kiss each other senseless.

  “I want you to fuck me,” Shane panted as he toed off his dress shoes and tried not to skid on the hardwood floor in his sock feet. Talk about embarrassing.

  “Yeah? Well, I want your mouth on my dick, so we’re doing that first.” Troy sounded like he did on the ice or in practice, and that was a lot more of a turn-on than Shane expected.

  “Yeah?” Shane grinned against Troy’s mouth and then deliberately sucked Troy’s lower lip into his mouth. “That so?”

  “Yeah. So get on your goddamn knees and open your mouth.” Troy leaned in for another brief, hard kiss. “If you’re not into something, tell me and we’ll stop. All right?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t into it.” Shane bit at Troy’s mouth and turned the brief kiss into a hot, messy one. “And I already figured you’d be a loudmouth control freak in bed, like you are on the ice, so no surprise there.”

  Troy growled and pulled his mouth away, but only so he could nip at Shane’s ear. “I can dial it down.”

  Oddly touched, Shane took Troy’s hand and pressed it against his own straining erection. “No need. Apparently it gets me going. Now sit on the couch so I can get you going. Jesus, if you make me wait any longer to get my mouth on your dick, I’m going to knee you in the junk.”

  “That’s the least sexy thing anyone’s ever said to me who wanted my pants off, Shane.”

  Shane shrugged and watched as Troy pushed the coffee table out of the way and sat on the couch, legs spread, so Shane could kneel between them. “It wasn’t supposed to be sexy. It was the truth.” He settled between Troy’s knees, hands on Troy’s thighs, and immediately helped Troy get his belt undone. He could see the hard ridge of Troy’s erection through his pants, and God, there was a damp spot on the fabric, and that… fuck, that was hot.

  Troy made a rough noise and shoved his fingers inside Shane’s mouth. “Show me how good you’re going to suc
k my cock.”

  God, he really was bossy. It was such a fucking turn-on. Shane obediently sucked and licked at Troy’s fingers just like he wanted to that night at the bar. He took them deep and pulled back slowly with little flicks of his tongue and then did it all again.

  “Show-off,” Troy muttered, but his voice was thick and he clearly didn’t mind because he fucked Shane’s mouth with his fingers and slowly fisted his own cock with his other hand.

  Shane responded by biting at the pads of Troy’s fingers. Troy muttered and yanked his hand away, grabbed Shane by the back of the hair, and unceremoniously replaced his fingers with his dick. It was a lot bigger than his fingers, but Shane did his best to relax his jaw and let Troy fuck in as deep and hard as he wanted—which was very deep and very hard, very fast.

  “Don’t you dare fucking touch your cock,” Troy growled. “And look at me while you suck me off. Yeah….”

  Troy stared so intently at him that Shane couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to. He did gag a few times, because Troy didn’t let up or go easy on him… but Shane knew that if he gave any indication it was too much, Troy would stop. Troy’s ability to be rough and still in control made it hard for Shane to keep his hand off his own cock.

  “This isn’t going to last that long.” Troy thrust harder into Shane’s mouth and kept him right where he wanted him with a hand gripping each side of Shane’s head. “You got me too worked up. You like that? Like knowing how fucking bad I wanted my cock in your mouth, wanted to fuck your throat?”

  Shane moaned. He was going to have to up his dirty-talk game when it was his turn. He tilted his head and tried to catch his breath. Somehow Troy knew, because he backed off just a little and let Shane draw in a much-needed breath.

  “Suck on the head,” Troy panted.

  Shane eased off and played with the head of Troy’s dick. He ran his tongue under the bottom, licked the slit, and did everything but suck until he heard Troy say, “Suck, goddammit, Shane.”