Chapter Twelve

Tyler knew he’d made too much coffee, but part of him was still hoping Laura would eventually show up. She wasn’t working until tonight and he’d figured they could talk—they needed to talk before Chicklet came home. For some reason Laura seemed to be getting mad at him a lot lately, and having sex with her without really working things out bugged him. What if she felt used? She’d acted weird after, teasing him about Raif, but maybe she thought his being all messed up over the other man was the only reason he’d wanted her.

But it wasn’t…was it?

Fuck no, but there was no way to make her understand if they didn’t discuss what had happened. After coming back from a ridiculously short visit with his mom, he’d wanted one of those mornings where they sat together and enjoyed a couple cups of coffee. Went over their week and acted like they were actually friends. Those times were happening less and less. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d come home and asked him to pick a Disney movie because, as she always said, she needed laughter and color and a guaranteed happily ever after. Used to be a weekly thing. Must have been at least a month.

Relax, it’s been a crazy month. This wasn’t the first time Chicklet had gone to help her dad out at their bar, the crimes Laura had been dealing with were especially nasty, and…well, over the last week two of those “crimes” had involved Tyler. Not serious ones, but Laura was stressing and he couldn’t blame her. With what she went through every day—yeah, he could never be a cop.

Maybe he’d bring up watching a movie this time, instead of waiting for her to do it. She’d mentioned The Little Mermaid the other day. Tomorrow, he’d make a chocolate cake—she’d never tried the cake he, Luke, and Scott had made for Casey one weekend when it was crappy outside and they were all bored. She’d love it and they could snuggle on the couch and stuff their faces and sing all the songs they both knew by heart.

Looked like he’d be flying solo this morning though. The team had a short practice at eleven, and tonight was his first game back after his suspension. He glanced over at his phone on the kitchen table as he took a sip of coffee. 8:30 a.m. Maybe he should just get ready and head to the Forum early. Except, the rest of the team had played last night, so no one else would be there.

Well, Luke and Scott…maybe. He picked up his phone. Put it down as he recalled the warning from his manager. He had to stay away from his friends—at least for a little while. Long enough for everyone to forget all the trouble they’d gotten into.

No one told you to stay away from White and Pischlar. He grinned as he picked up his phone again and texted White. Pischlar wasn’t really into texting, but White seemed to prefer it to talking on the phone.

Seconds later, Tyler’s phone vibrated.

White: Not doing fuck all. Come to my place. Easy’s here.

No surprise there. Tyler sometimes wondered why White and Pischlar didn’t just live together, they were always crashing at each other’s places. But he didn’t ask because it was none of his business. He looked over at the stainless-steel coffee carafe and texted back.

Me: Made a lot of coffee. You guys want some?

White: Bring it over! My turn to make a pot and I don’t feel like it. But you gotta come with us after. He wants to go shopping and I’m gonna be bored as shit. He shops like a woman.

Shopping? Ugh, Tyler wasn’t sure he was bored enough for that. He tapped his fingers on the table. The sound seemed to fill the house, making the quiet so much worse when he stopped. Hanging out at the mall while White bitched and Pischlar checked out labels on shirts and pants would be more fun than hanging out here on his own.

Unless Laura came back. He frowned and sent her a text before replying to White.

Me: Hey, sexy. What do I gotta do to get you to come here? Kinda wanna talk about the other night.

Me: Dude, you sure you two don’t wanna be alone?

He snickered, picturing White cursing him out to Pischlar while typing. He finished his coffee, leaving the phone on the table to grab the coffee carafe. Thing was just like a thermos, so he’d just bring it with him. He left it on the table by his phone, checked to see if he’d gotten any answers yet—he hadn’t—and then went to his room to put on some jeans and an old Iron Man T-shirt.

When he got back to the kitchen, coat and running shoes on, all ready to go, he looked at his phone again. And snorted.

White: What the fuck, man? Screw that, stay home. Not sure what the hell you’re talking about, but…sexy? And thanks a lot. Pisch is laughing his ass off.

Laura: ?

He’d sent the wrong messages to the wrong people. Shaking his head, he texted Laura first.

Me: Sorry, meant that for someone else.

Laura: Okay…

Me: You coming back soon?

Nothing. Then finally she replied.

Laura: I had a late night and stayed at a friend’s. It would be rude to leave right now. But we can hang out tomorrow?

Me: Sure. Talk later?

Laura: Yep. Good luck with the game tonight.

All right, looked like she didn’t plan to see him at all today, but they were on for tomorrow. He agreed and then quickly texted White to clear things up and let the man know he’d be there soon. Stuffed his phone in his back pocket and headed out.

On the drive, he hummed to himself, flipping through the stations, needing something to fill the silence. He hadn’t realized how used to being around people he’d gotten. When he’d been a kid, he’d spent plenty of time alone and hadn’t minded. Preferred it actually, because if Mom was home alone she’d either been crying because of some man or in her room just…quiet. She’d been sad a lot and he’d never known how to help her. Some days he went to her room and just hugged her and let her talk about how much she hated being all by herself.

He’d never understood then. Being alone meant there wasn’t a man around to hurt her. Or well-intentioned friends or neighbors sitting for hours with her at the kitchen table, preaching at her, telling her she had to pull it together for him. Those people would always tell him to go and watch TV when he’d come in the room. They made her feel like shit because she wasn’t doing enough to give her son a “stable environment,” but they didn’t want him around.

Messed up, but whatever. He’d gotten good at entertaining himself. Mom always made sure he had his favorite movies and didn’t mind if he watched them over and over again. A lot of the time she’d even come watch them with him when everyone was gone.

He was thinking way too much. He changed the stereo to play music from his iPhone. “Strangers Like Me” by Phil Collins came on and he grinned, singing along as he drove. Luke and Scott teased him about having Disney soundtracks, but both of them knew all the songs now too and would sing with him when Casey was with them. There weren’t many other people he’d be cool singing stuff like this around. Chicklet and Laura—they lived with him, knew him, so he didn’t need to hide his weirdness. Chicklet actually loved to hear him sing. White and Pischlar? Maybe if he was drunk.

For some reason, the words of the song had him thinking about Raif. Raif holding him against the wall, the feel of his lips…

Tyler shook his head as he pulled up in front of White’s place. He was still singing, but quietly as he realized he’d be fine with Raif hearing him. Actually, he wanted to know how Raif would react. Would he laugh like Luke and Scott? Like Chicklet, who leaned back in her seat by his side with a small smile on her lips? Or maybe Raif would just roll his eyes like Laura and put up with it until they got where they were going.

No matter how messed up things were between him and Raif, Tyler had to admit he couldn’t wait to see Raif again. But first he had to figure out how to show the man what he wanted from him. Clearly enough that Raif wouldn’t need to hear the words. Because Tyler still couldn’t say what Raif had asked him to. Which was stupid and Tyler knew it.

Hard banging on his door had him sitting up straight and staring out the melted snowflake-splattered window. He took his keys out of the ignition and opened the door, handing White the coffee carafe as he got out.

“You all right? Me and Easy were watching you sit here for like ten minutes. I told him you were probably jerking off, thinking about me.” White walked with Tyler to the front door of his duplex. Kicking snow off his shoes, White opened the door for Tyler, then followed him inside the first-floor unit. White took off his shoes, then strode across the open space just a few feet away from the entryway. He laughed and shoved Pischlar’s feet off the coffee table before going to sit beside him on the puffy, dark blue sofa. “You were right, he was just sitting there, spacing out. Something’s probably bugging him.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t blame him if I was wrong.” Pischlar dropped his arm over the back of the sofa, behind White, and smiled at Tyler as White grunted at him. He put his feet back on the coffee table as Tyler dropped into the big gray armchair by the sofa. “White will grab some mugs and stuff for the coffee. You sit and tell me what’s up.”

White shook his head, but stood again, this time stepping over Pischlar’s legs before heading to the kitchen. He grumbled something, then called back over his shoulder. “You ain’t a guest anymore, Easy. No reason you can’t get off your ass.”

“Right, well, last time I was nice and served you coffee and biscuits and gravy for breakfast, you told me, ‘You don’t gotta do that, man.’” Pischlar winked at Tyler as he put the carafe on the coffee table. “What happened to you ‘not needing a wife’?”

“Maybe I was wrong!” White shouted from the kitchen. “Did you see this kitchen? Fuck, I gotta wash the mugs.”

Pischlar sighed. “You have a dishwasher.”

“Yeah, and he’s a lazy S.O.B.”

Okay, seeing White and Pischlar acting like an old married couple alone made coming here worth it. Tyler laughed and put his feet up on the end of the coffee table. He folded his arms behind his head and watched the highlights from last night’s game on TV as he and Pischlar waited for White to return.

Tyler had watched the replay of the game, but he’d been alone. Watching the highlights with Pischlar gave him a chance to comment about how often the rookies hogged the puck, point out sloppy plays and missed calls by the refs.

“I would’ve had that.”

“Yeah, you would’ve.” Pischlar’s lips thinned. For the first time Tyler noticed the bruises on Pischlar’s jaw and under his eyes. The ones Tyler couldn’t see were probably worse since Pischlar had missed the game too. “Too bad you were suspended.”

White walked into the room and set a tray with the three mugs, a jug of milk, and half a bag of sugar on the table. He scowled at Pischlar. “Take it easy on the kid, Pisch. Shit happens. He’ll be with us tonight.”

“Don’t you have a sugar dish?” Pischlar poured some coffee in a mug, then added a splash of milk. He looked over the tray. “Or a spoon?”

“Fuck, you’re one naggy bitch.”

“I’m a ‘bitch’ now?” Pischlar sighed and walked out of the room. The water ran in the kitchen. There was the faint whoosh and clinks of dishes being washed.

Tyler stopped finding the arguing so funny. He followed White’s example and scooped a bit of sugar out of the bag with his fingers to dump into his coffee. Once he added some milk he took a few sips, wondering if he should make an excuse to leave.

After playfully kicking Tyler’s foot, White laughed. “Give him a few minutes, he’ll get over it. He’s just pissed about the loss. Doc made him take the night off and I was with my lawyer, working shit out so I can play. The team needs all of us. They’ll have us tonight.” White pulled up the leg of his faded blue jeans, showing Tyler the ankle monitor he was wearing. “The team lawyer got me out on bail. Pischlar put in the cash because he’s a big sweetheart.”

“Why’d Pisch have to pay?” Tyler cleared his throat when White dropped his pants leg and picked up his mug to frown into it. “I mean, it’s none of my business, but—”

“I wasn’t expecting to need that kinda money. My grandmother’s treatment is kinda expensive at the nursing home. And I’ve been flying back and forth every chance I get so she won’t forget me.” White’s brow furrowed. “I won’t be able to do that anymore.”

Pischlar came into the room, put an empty sugar dish and a spoon on the table, then went to stand in front of White and squeeze his shoulder. “You’ve got her the best care, and she’ll have a good day next time you go down. I told you I’d come with you.”

“Yeah—yeah, that will be cool. I think you’ll like her.”

“And I forgive you for being a slob. Hard to be mad at you when you call me a ‘sweetheart.’” Pischlar patted White’s shoulder before dropping onto the sofa beside him. After he’d filled the sugar dish, Pischlar put a spoonful into his own coffee and focused on Tyler. “He’s right, the team needs us and it’ll be good to get back on the ice. No more bringing up the past. You doing okay, Vanek?”

The question caught Tyler off guard. He answered without thinking. “Laura didn’t come home last night, and I’m thinking I shouldn’t have had sex with her without Chicklet around, but I was messed up and—” He cut himself off. Holy shit, shut up!

Both Pischlar and White stared at him. His cheeks went hot. He moved to stand.

“Stay.” Pischlar leaned forward, his tone calm as Tyler froze on the edge of his seat. “You were messed up? Because of Raif?”

White punched Pischlar’s shoulder. “Ease off, Easy.” He jerked his chin at Tyler. “You don’t gotta tell us, man.”

“Shut up, Ian.” Pischlar fixed Tyler with a level look, one he probably knew Tyler couldn’t ignore. “Go ahead, Tyler.”

Fuck, we’re on first names now? Tyler so didn’t want Pischlar pulling out the Dom card, but—okay, maybe he did. Pischlar might be able to help him with Raif, and Tyler needed all the help he could get. He glanced over at Ian—White—and shrugged to let the man know it wasn’t a big deal.

Then told them both everything that had happened between him and Raif the night after the fight. He hesitated before adding Laura’s suggestions, but ended up just spilling everything.

“Fuck, I’m glad I’m single.” White drained the rest of his coffee, then refilled his mug. “But if you need advice, Easy’s the best person to talk to.”

Tyler nodded. “That’s what I thought, but I get if it’s weird.”

“It’s not.” Pischlar set his cup on the table and smiled. “Neither of your friends are Doms, and this isn’t something you could discuss with just anyone. What did Chicklet say about the situation with Raif?”

“To make him want me.”

“Sounds simple, but you can’t just tell him. And she’s with her father, so you don’t want to bother her by asking how to get by this little obstacle.”

Exactly, but Tyler wasn’t sure it was such a “little” obstacle. Telling Raif was more like a great big, mental police blockade, and Tyler knew he should just open his mouth and say the words. But he couldn’t do it.

“She don’t always make me say things. Not all direct like if I’m uncomfortable with telling her, you know?” Tyler clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Raif ain’t like that. So I’m stuck.”

“You can’t just say ‘fuck me’?” White made an irritated sound when Pischlar frowned at him. “What? I don’t get it.”

“You’re not a sub. I’ve had subs that need to be spanked, but will act out rather than ask for it. Yes, talking can be good, but sometimes, as a Dom, you have to realize the words aren’t necessary.” Pischlar rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I think, since Tyler isn’t sure exactly what he wants from Raif, he needs to—you need to—keep showing him.”

“Yeah, but how?” Tyler gulped the rest of his coffee then put down his mug. “What would work with you?”

Pischlar blinked at Tyler, his lips twisting as though Tyler had just told him they were having a pop quiz instead of a game tonight. He set his hands on his thighs and shook his head. “Good question. I’ve never let things get that complicated.”

“That’s why they call him ‘Easy,’ you know.” White snorted and slapped Pischlar’s shoulder. But he studied Tyler as though considering the question himself. “From the look of the guys he goes for, he wouldn’t touch you while you’re dressed like you’re about fucking twelve.”

“Says the man who needed me to help him dress for his last date. Transformers are classier than Iron Man, Bruiser?” Pischlar grinned at Tyler before cocking his head to wait for White’s reply.

“Hey, met the chick outside the Forum and she was wearing nothing but my jersey.” White winked at Tyler. “Literally. She’s got a fucking amazing mouth though, so I had to go for date number two.”

“Getting your dick sucked in the parking lot doesn’t count as a date.”

“Says who? And we ain’t talking about me. Zovko’s all classy and shit. If he sees Vanek as a kid that’s confused, he won’t want anything to do with him. But if he sees Vanek as a man…” White hooked an arm over the back of Pischlar’s neck, pulling him forward so they were both looking at Tyler. “Picture him, all done up like a grown-up, giving off the ‘come get me, big boy’ vibes. You said we gotta go pick up some new shirts and stuff—”

“It’s spring. And more importantly, you gained about ten pounds. You’re starting to look like you’ll tear through all your shirts like the Incredible Hulk.” Pischlar patted White’s forearm, then stood. “But you’re right.”

“I know I am.” White flexed his biceps, proving Pischlar’s point as the material of his dark blue V-neck T-shirt strained over the muscles. “This oughta make your day. You get to play dress-up with us both.”

If it would help Tyler make some headway with Raif, shopping wouldn’t be so bad. But Pischlar didn’t look too enthusiastic about the trip. Tyler took Pischlar’s lead and went to the entryway to put his boots back on, silent as Pischlar pulled on his coat. They both stood there as White dressed in a worn, black and blue ski jacket and a pair of sneakers. Pischlar was wearing a nice, long leather jacket and cool leather boots that went almost up to his knees. Just seeing White pull on his shoes seemed painful to the other man.

“If having Vanek there will keep you from whining, it’ll be worth it. And I’ll fucking pay you to throw out those shoes.” Pischlar sighed when White shook his head and walked out the front door without answering. He waited for Tyler to pass, then locked the door behind them. “Please tell me you’ll take my advice seriously, Tyler. And not only about what to wear. White has a good point, but Zovko needs you to be straight with him. If he’s backing off, it’s because he cares too much to push anything you’ll regret in the end.”

“I won’t regret it, Pisch.” Tyler stopped on the sidewalk, a little shocked at how certain he sounded. And felt. He couldn’t say how long things with him and Raif would last, but he wanted to see what they could have. He needed to give Raif everything, and the idea of what that meant was scary as hell, but it was the truth.

And Pischlar’s level gaze showed he saw that truth in Tyler’s eyes. He smiled and nudged Tyler toward one of the cars parked in front of the house. “Then let’s do this, kid. Raif won’t know what hit him.”

Tyler had to force himself to breathe slow and not let off how nervous he was about Pischlar being right. But he was done playing around. Raif saw him as a boy, but even as her sub, Chicklet had always made Tyler feel like a man.

It was time to show Raif he was dealing with a man who knew what he wanted. And if that didn’t work…

It has to. Tyler had gotten past a career-ending injury. He’d fallen in love and lost the woman to three other men. He’d given his heart to a woman who made him stronger by having him kneel at her feet.

Pischlar had said it best.

Raif won’t know what hit him.

* * * *

Scott, hell, even Cort, had that fancy image consultant to dress them. Worked real good for suits and stuff, but Laura did a good job making sure Tyler had nice suits. Normal clothes though? Tyler was pretty sure he couldn’t have done better than having Pischlar help him out. He was getting more looks than usual as he strode across the lower level of the Forum.

But it wasn’t until he got to the player’s lounge that the wardrobe change seemed like it might make a difference. Both Luke’s and Scott’s eyes widened a little. Pischlar glanced over from where he was shoving spinach leaves in the blender in the small kitchen area. A big grin spread across his lips.

They weren’t the only ones who noticed. A few of the guys did double takes when he walked by, either smiling or acting like they hadn’t just looked at him like they weren’t sure who he was. Tyler played it cool, going over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

White hooked his arm around Tyler’s neck, mussing up Tyler’s freshly trimmed and styled curls with his knuckles, talking like he hadn’t been with Tyler during the whole transformation. “Damn, kid. You just come from a photo shoot? Looking good.”

Don’t fucking blush! Tyler ducked under White’s arm and smoothed his hands over the front of his snug white V-neck shirt. Wasn’t like he’d dressed like a damn slob before, but he was glad he’d done everything Pischlar had told him to. He knew he looked pretty damn good. Not like a kid who didn’t give a shit. He shrugged at White, going along with the act as he took a gulp of water. “My agent’s been on my ass about my image.”

“He ain’t got nothing to complain about anymore.” Pischlar poured his nasty green concoction in a glass and plopped a straw in the mess. He gave Tyler a pointed look, glancing over to the other side of the room.

Tyler followed his gaze. Almost choked on his next mouthful of water as he caught Raif’s hooded eyes going over him. He did choke when Raif’s lips curved because Tyler was staring. Real fucking smooth.

Thing was, Raif always wore nice stuff, but he did it all the time so it was expected. Damn effortless. And even though the way he was looking at Tyler was exactly what Tyler wanted, it shouldn’t be so obvious to him that he’d prompted the change. The man was a Dom and he already had all the power. He’d turned Tyler down again and again.

About time Tyler took some of that power back.

Not that he had the first clue how.

Scott, being a good buddy and all, stepped up to help him out. Lounging on one of the three sofas in the main area, he slid his legs to the floor and waved Tyler over. “Watching highlights of the Islanders’ last game. Come check it out.”

Plunking down on the sofa, Tyler took a deep breath and waited, knowing Scott would have a plan. But he almost threw himself off the sofa when Scott’s fingers skimmed over his hair, one slipping into the strands to toy with a curl.

“What are you doing?” Tyler asked under his breath.

Smirking, Scott shifted closer, speaking just as low. “Just go with it.” He gave the curl a little tug and raised his voice. “White’s right. You look good.”

“Thanks.” Tyler chewed on one side of his bottom lip, not sure how he was supposed to “go with it.” The way Scott was looking at him, like he was edible, was kinda scary. His thin shirt started feeling like a damn parka. He tugged at the neckline. “Uh, I should go take a shower. Didn’t get much sleep and I’m all groggy—or maybe it’s just hot in here. Don’t know.”

“You don’t wanna go out on the ice with your hair all wet.” Scott cocked his head, smiling slowly as he continued to play with Tyler’s hair. “Take off your shirt. Should help you cool off.”

“Uh—”

“Take it off, Tyler.” Scott’s tone was low and husky. His friend must have missed the way Pearce was glaring at him. And Raif’s cold stare.

Be cool. It’s fucking hot in here. Not like guys didn’t walk around half-naked most of the time. Tyler gave Scott a jerky nod and quickly peeled off his shirt. He leaned back on the sofa, glad taking his shirt off had forced Scott to stop playing with his hair. That kinda attention from his best friends would never stop being weird. Dudes just shouldn’t be touching each other all casually like that. If the line was gonna be crossed, the line he’d let Raif trample over a few times, it should mean something.

His brow furrowed as he saw Scott watching him. His friend was hurting, and this was his way of lashing out at the men who’d hurt him. The touching being weird wasn’t a good enough reason to ask Scott to stop if it was helping him even a little. Which was the only thing that kept Tyler from jumping off the sofa when Scott fingered his nipple piercings.

“They healed well. Do you regret getting them?”

“No. Was a good night.” Right on, me! Tyler leaned his head back on the sofa, pleased with how relaxed he sounded despite how sensitive his nipples were. His eyes were half closed as he focused on Scott twisting one end of the long stud going through his flesh. “Worth the beating I got for messing with a body that doesn’t belong to me.”

“Hmm…guess I should talk to Chicklet then.” Scott ran his thumb over Tyler’s nipple, tonguing his bottom lip when Tyler hissed in a breath. “I wanna be there when you get your first tattoo.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t see Chicklet minding. She’ll like you talking to her first.”

“Always will, boy. I respect your Mistress.”

The “boy,” said with the slightest bit of authority, scrambled something in Tyler’s brain. He hadn’t scened with Chicklet in way too long. The few times Raif had gone all Dom-like on him weren’t enough. Scott wasn’t a Master, but he was alpha enough to give Tyler a hint of what submitting to him would be like. Which was confusing as hell, but Tyler’s body wasn’t picky. This wasn’t just flirting to get a reaction anymore. His own physical response denied his brain of the oxygen and blood it needed. His dick was semi-erect from just Scott’s finger slipping back and forth over his tightening flesh.

He lifted his head just in time to catch the pain in Pearce’s eyes before Pearce headed into the locker room. And the rage in Raif’s. Which made his cock fucking wilt.

Then Callahan came through the same door both men had walked through, holding it open as he surveyed the room with his lips in a thin line. Tyler sat up straight. So did Scott.

Not fast enough.

“Both of you in my office.” Callahan’s teeth made an audible grinding sound. The team dentist was not gonna be happy. His tone snapped when they didn’t move. “Now.”

Tyler scrambled off the sofa and headed to Callahan’s office, just past the locker room, Scott close behind him. When they got inside the office, Callahan didn’t ask them to sit. He closed the door, then moved to stand in front of them.

“You two are friends. What the fuck is going on?” He held up his hand before either of them could answer. “Wait. I’m not sure I want to know. Demyan, you’re year-to-year. Don’t fuck this up because we need you out there. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Pearce. I talked to him about being so friendly with Zovko in the locker room…” Callahan trailed off, rubbing his face with one hand when Scott’s jaw hardened. “Shit, maybe the head coach is right. Maybe this shit—the relationship stuff…maybe if it was a bit more private…”

Scott’s lips parted. He looked ready to hit their coach. “You didn’t just fucking say that. Like what, ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’?”

“I have nothing against gay men, Demyan, don’t twist my words. You love who you love, but it shouldn’t affect how you do your job. I guess you think no fraternizing with coworkers is some kind of violation too?”

“So long as we’re not fucking in the locker room, it’s no one’s business,” Scott said.

Callahan threw his hands up in the air. “I’ve seen how you guys react when the man you’re with gets hurt. It’s a puck, not a bullet. I wouldn’t want to see how you’d do if your lives were on the line. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Yes.” Tyler had to clarify, but he couldn’t meet their eyes when they both stared at him like they’d forgotten he was there. He inhaled roughly, then just said what he had to. “During the game, I react no matter who is hurt. That don’t mean I wanna fuck them, whether or not I’m straight. You see that on every team. If we were at war…fuck, these guys would be keeping me alive. You ain’t thinking sex when you’re trying to get the puck in the net. I’m thinking, if you could die, the last thing on your mind is getting laid. Those men are your brothers. Making sure you’re all going home when it’s all over is all that counts.”

“So you’re going to tell me you’d react to Demyan, or Carter, or Zovko getting hurt the same way you’d react to Richards or White?” Callahan raked his fingers through his hair, looking like he really wanted to understand. He wasn’t judging. He was probably looking at it like he would if it was Oriana out there. Like having her as a distraction would be too much.

But Callahan wasn’t like other coaches. Yeah, he’d said something stupid and ignorant. He was in a good place to learn though. Tyler cocked his head, his lips quirking slightly.

“I would. I’m weird that way.” Now time to push it a bit. “If it was Max…could you say the same?”

“Fuck you, Vanek.” Callahan growled before punching Tyler’s shoulder. “I ain’t all up on him in the locker room. We ain’t like that.”

“Does it matter? You have a job to do. So does he.”

“So does Oriana. She’s in the locker room sometimes. I don’t have her shirtless out there with my hands on her tits.”

“Wasn’t like that, Coach.” Tyler looked over at Scott, who was being real quiet. Scott’s face was pale and his eyes were red. Not good. So Tyler kept going. “I get it. The way we were joking wasn’t appropriate. We’ll stop.”

“Okay. Good.” Callahan went to sit behind his desk. Put his head in his hands and groaned. “Can you…don’t tell anyone I even implied…fuck! I don’t think guys in the military should pretend to be straight. It’s just… Richter making it clear all kinds are welcome with the Cobras is good, but I have to make sure everyone is comfortable. And I ain’t sure how to do that. I just know guys kissing in the locker room makes people uncomfortable. And I don’t know whether to tell them to deal or whether to tell everyone to just fucking stop. You and Pearce are open, Demyan, but you’ve kept it low-key. No one wants to be called a fucking bigot, but you haven’t been flaunting anything. And I get the guys wondering why it would be okay for you, but not them. And to make it worse, if any of them are cheaters, they wouldn’t bring it here. So what do I do? It’s just—”

“I’m not cheating on Zach.” Scott pressed his eyes shut, his face white, as though he’d just realized that’s exactly what everyone would think. “I’m just being real friendly. And it’s not okay for me to do it because I hate that’s he’s doing it.”

“He’s not anymore, Demyan. I’ve spoken to him—he’s the first man to come out, and flirting with Zovko made him look bad. I don’t think he meant to, but either way, it stopped.”

“Don’t change nothing, but I won’t let this fuck up the team.” Scott glared at the wall and let out a bitter laugh. “He’s being private. Gotta respect that. Zovko is a better actor than Zach is though. All those phone calls…”

Callahan put his hand on Scott’s arm. “I’d give you time off if I could, Scott. The playoff are too close and we need you. If it would help…you can come stay at my place.”

“I won’t leave Becky. Or Casey. But thank you.” Scott let out a bitter laugh. “Whatever Zach’s doing, we’ll get through the season.”

“But you’re hitting on Vanek.” Callahan put his other hand on Tyler’s shoulder, like he was innocent in all this. And he kept talking like Tyler needed to be protected. “Chicklet loves head games. I don’t think she expected you to get messed up in them.”

Scott’s jaw hardened, but he wouldn’t rat Tyler out.

And Tyler wouldn’t let Scott take the fall. His chin jutted up. “Raif thinks I’m an innocent virgin boy. Don’t make his mistake, Coach. I asked Scott to help me out. Make Raif see who I really am. I shouldn’t have done it here. And I’m sorry.”

“You’re trying to get Zovko’s attention?” Callahan’s eyes widened. “Does Chicklet know?”

“Yeah.”

“Wonderful.” Callahan dropped into the chair behind his desk. “Fine. Not here. At the club…well, I pity you if you wanna play games with him, but you’re not a kid anymore, Tyler.” Callahan using his first name meant the coach, the man he’d shared a woman with, the man he’d hated for so long for the kink that had left him on the outside looking in, finally saw him as an equal. “I’m not a sub. I can’t see things like you do. But I’ve cared for enough subs—no, I care enough about you to say be careful. You’ve shied away from talk about guys fucking, like it made you uncomfortable. You’re not open about being a sub. To get with Zovko, you might have to be open about both.”

“I don’t care.” And he didn’t. But he should. His life wasn’t his own right before the playoff. Every choice he made could mean a win or a loss. But life kept going afterward. And that had to mean something. “Coach, I’m all about the game right now. I might explore, but…damn, you’ve seen me in action. And you’ve seen Raif. When we’re out there—”

“No. Tyler, that’s the problem. You’re both in each other’s heads and the game isn’t coming first. Prove me wrong.” Callahan slapped his shoulder. “I want to be wrong.”

“You’re wrong. Watch me prove it.” Tyler had wanted Raif to come talk to him after he and Scott had been all weird. But the game was coming down on them. The rest would have to wait.

“I believe you.” Callahan looked from him to Scott. And squared his shoulders. “I’m all in. Show me what you’ve got.”

* * * *

Raif picked up his stick from its spot in the row of sticks along the wall. Dropped it even as he turned and spotted Tyler. The boy didn’t even look at him. At least he was wearing his practice jersey over layers of equipment, but his freshly shaven face and those tight, soft golden curls on his head gave Raif the urge to trap him against the wall to explore all the subtle changes. He’d been a naughty cherub before, looking so young with his hair a little wild, his smooth jaw making him look untouched. Strangely enough, the polished style was enough to bring out the strong angle of his jaw and cheekbones. His hair was a darker golden shade, his blue eyes a little harder—even his stride was more that of a man than a boy.

All good changes, but…Raif wondered what had been lost in the transformation. When Tyler had first come into the room there had been a hint of the young man Raif knew. The one who’d been speechless when they’d first met and had gone from adoring to defiant and back so often Raif never knew what he’d get when they found themselves alone.

The last time had clearly pushed Tyler too far. He was looking elsewhere to delve into his newfound curiosity in the same sex. To Demyan, who would ruin him. So much for being a reformed player because he had Zach and Becky and a child in his life now. Rather than fight for the man he claimed to love, Demyan was exploring his options.

Tyler is not an option for him.

Easy to say, but Tyler hadn’t seemed to mind being fondled in the player’s lounge. In front of the entire team. His Mistress had let him off his leash and he was running wild. And he was going to get hurt.

Laura had appeared to be the biggest threat, but that was negligible compared to what Tyler was mixed up in now. Becky would fight for Scott. So would Zach. Not only would Raif’s boy end up feeling used, but he’d make enemies of his own teammates. But he didn’t seem to know or care about the consequences.

I did this. Raif snatched up his stick, then backed up to let Demyan pass. A surge of rage had him grabbing Demyan’s arm before he’d fully thought through what he would say. The two goaltenders, Hunt and Bower, stopped behind Demyan as the man glared at Raif.

“If you were ever Tyler’s friend, you will leave him be.” Raif focused on Demyan, but he was aware of Hunt stepping forward and Bower moving to block the young backup goalie. “You will not use him because you fear what Zach and I had.”

Demyan jerked away from him and smirked. “The kid don’t belong to you, Zovko. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with him.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it.” Raif took a deep breath, resisting the urge to punch the cocky bastard right in his pretty, smug mouth. “But it’s good that you are done hiding who you really are. Perhaps it’s not too late for Zach and Becky to protect their daughter from—”

White hot pain slashed through Raif’s jaw as Demyan’s fist connected with his face. A big arm crossed his throat as Hunt hauled him back. Bower picked Demyan up by the front of his jersey and threw him into the rack of sticks, sending most of the spares tumbling to the floor as Demyan fell.

“You thinking of cheating on my sister, Demyan? Or hurting my niece because you’re fucking bored?” Bower stepped forward and Hunt released Raif to grab the huge goalie. “I’ll fucking destroy you, you pathetic piece of shit!”

“I’d never cheat on Becky! And I love Casey, you know that!” Demyan’s eyes glistened and he turned away from them, swiping at his cheek with his gloved hand. “Shit, this is fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Callahan came down the hall, his face red, and threw his hands up in the air. “What now! Why aren’t you all on the ice?”

“It’s fine, Coach.” Hunt growled as Bower struggled against him. “You better fucking cool it, old man, or I’ll fucking drop you.”

Already too far gone over the edge, Bower turned on the young backup goalie and shoved him against the wall. “Old man? Listen, you cocky little shit—”

Raif lunged forward, latching on to Hunt’s wrist before he could take a swing. Callahan had moved just as fast to grab Bower. Even with the coach’s track suit and jacket making him seem smaller than Bower in all his bulky equipment, the coach was clearly a good match for the goalie. He had Bower up against the wall, his hand on Bower’s throat, a dark, dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“Let me go, Callahan.” Bower’s tone was dead calm. The calm worried Raif more than the rage had. The situation had gotten so far out of control that the mindless anger was to be expected. Could perhaps be dealt with.

But Callahan had lost his cool. Bower had snapped. The argument that had started it all seemed irrelevant now.

“Let him go, Callahan.”

Every single man in the hall went still. Turned toward the voice of calm authority that not one of them would dare ignore. One that hadn’t been heard in far too long.

Callahan released Bower. Demyan scrambled to his feet. Hunt took a big step back while staring at the floor.

Dean Richter, the team’s general manager, looked them over and shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but it’s done.” He fixed Callahan with a level stare. “Get your men on the ice. We will discuss this after practice.”

“You heard him.” Callahan rolled his shoulders, then let out a strained laugh when Hunt mumbled something under his breath. “You’re not in trouble, kid. You did good. But we’ve got to work on that temper.”

Richter snorted.

The coach scratched his jaw, looking embarrassed. “Yeah…ah, good to have you back, Richter.”

“Clearly.” Richter sighed. “Make it a short practice, Callahan. Then send them all home to get their heads on straight. We can’t afford issues like this with the playoff so close. We’re having a team meeting before the game tonight.” He put his hand on Bower’s arm as Callahan motioned the rest of them out to the ice. “You stay, Landon.”

There was a softness to Richter’s tone that Raif couldn’t quite place. Raif took his time following the others, glancing back once he’d reached the doors opening to the bench area. Bower still didn’t look happy, but then Richter slid his hand to the back of the goalie’s neck and said something that had Bower letting out a low laugh. No mistaking what that softness was now.

Not wanting to intrude on what was clearly a private moment by the way the men parted, he turned. Between the benches stood Tyler, his eyes wide from having seen the exchange. He caught Raif’s gaze for a moment and inhaled roughly.

“You all right? We heard something was going on, but the trainers wouldn’t let us go see.” Tyler frowned, looking Raif over, his expression much too serious. “Your jersey’s all crooked. Someone start with you?”

“Is that concern, Tyler? I promise you, I can take care of myself.” All right, that hadn’t been a kind thing to say, but he couldn’t forget how comfortable Tyler had been with Demyan’s hands all over him. But Tyler didn’t belong to him. And Chicklet clearly didn’t have a problem with it. “We should join the practice. You’ve missed enough time.”

Tyler stepped onto the ice with Raif and stayed close to his side. “You mad at me, man?”

“Why would I be?”

The detached answer apparently wasn’t what Tyler had expected. He gave a short nod and slowed. “No fucking reason, Raif. You’ve been pretty clear about needing shit spelled out for you. I don’t, so I’ll get out of your way.”

A sharp spin and Tyler almost knocked the rookie left winger, Braxton Richards, off his skates. The rookie had about three inches and twenty pounds on Tyler, but by the way Hunt stopped and snarled “Watch it, Vanek.” he apparently thought Richards was fragile.

Or he was itching for a fight.

Stay out of it, Zovko. Locking his jaw, Raif continued in the other direction. Every instinct had him wanting to watch over Tyler, protect him from every harsh word from the trainers, from every hard check. In a way, he understood why Chicklet left the boy to his own devices more often than not. Worrying about Tyler could easily become a full-time job.

And likely drive Raif insane.

Practice was exactly as Richter had instructed. Short, ending with instructions to come in a couple of hours before the game for a team meeting. Raif left the ice last, taking his frustration out on the post—unintentionally making them ring over and over again as he snapped the puck at bone-breaking speed toward the net. He gave up on improving his accuracy and headed to the locker room for a shower.

Tyler was just leaving the showers. Naked, using a towel to dry his hair, water droplets glistening on lightly tanned flesh. Tight muscles, a round ass not lost to muscle like some of the other men. This wasn’t the first time Raif had seen the young man naked, but never before had he looked at Tyler as someone he could have.

Sranje!

He needed to put the boy out of his thoughts. The distraction of Tyler Vanek was becoming too much to handle. Raif forced himself to look away from the tempting sight.

“Fuck, Tyler. Since when do you walk around naked? Showing off the tan you got on my balcony in Tampa?” Carter bumped into Tyler’s side as he walked next to him, laughing. “Good thing there were no cameras up there, huh?”

U pičku materinu! Raif pressed his eyes shut, willing himself to go into the shower and let some cold water take care of his swelling dick. The idea of Tyler lying naked in the sun spoiled all his intentions to remain detached. And worse, he could feel his blood boiling at the idea of Tyler on a secluded balcony with Carter and Demyan. How close were the friends? Was Ramos as free with his sub as Chicklet?

“Niño, I grow tired of the games.” Ramos sounded dangerously calm as he stepped up to Tyler and Carter in front of Tyler’s stall. “And you will not play them here.”

Tyler snorted and dropped his towel on the floor. “Chill the fuck out, Ramos. He’s joking.”

Every single man in the locker room went still, including the doctor who was taping a fresh cut White had on his forehead and the trainer icing Pischlar’s shoulder. Callahan cursed under his breath, shook his head, and disappeared into his office. Carter seemed to suddenly find the black carpet under his bare feet fascinating.

Ramos smiled and braced his hand at the top of Tyler’s stall as he leaned down. “When will Chicklet return, boy?”

Raif felt a grip on his shoulder even as he began to move forward to intercede. He glanced over his shoulder to see Mason grinning at him. Mason spoke quietly, his tone laced with amusement. “Let the kid sweat. He walked right into that one. You do know he’s trying to force your hand, right?”

Is he? Raif’s eyes narrowed as he watched Tyler pale and stutter that he wasn’t sure when Chicklet would be back. He calmed a little when Ramos simply nodded.

“Please let her know I’d like to speak to her.”

The request was enough to have Tyler nodding quickly, then dressing in silence. The rest of the players did the same, as though they recognized the underlying tension. Raif expected Tyler to hurry out of the locker room, but instead he sat there as the room emptied, staring down at his shiny new black dress shoes. He rubbed his thighs as Raif approached him, not looking up.

The strangest urge to hug the young man, or possibly shake some sense into him, kept Raif from speaking at first. He’d never dealt with a reckless, bratty sub before. But he had a feeling he was partially to blame for Tyler going so far.

“You’re too young to trash your career this way, zlato moje. Not all will understand that you’re a sub begging for attention.” Which was not something Raif should acknowledge or encourage in any way, but he couldn’t stop himself from running his fingers through Tyler’s damp curls. From tugging at them to make the boy tip his head back. “Tell me what you want from me. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

Tyler closed his eyes. Tried to nod despite Raif’s solid grip on his hair.

“Say it.”

“I can’t.” Tyler’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. “Please don’t make me. It don’t feel right to talk about how much I want…I can’t—fuck, why isn’t me showing you enough? You’re not fucking blind!”

“No, I’m not. But tell me why it’s so difficult for you.” Maybe if Raif understood why the words were so difficult for Tyler to get out, he could find a way past it.

Shoulders hunched, arms folded over his chest, Tyler huffed out a breath. “I like that Chicklet sees what I can’t say. When I ask for things, it comes out all wrong. Not even sure I should be asking for anything from you because it’s…weird. And even if it wasn’t, I’m not really the one you want, am I?”

“You’re very wrong about that, Tyler. It has been difficult to keep my hands off you.” Raif smiled when Tyler opened his eyes, lips parting slightly. He followed the path of Tyler’s tongue wetting his bottom lip. “Let us meet halfway. I intend to bring you home with me. To use you in any way I please. All you have to say is ‘yes.’”

Breathing in short bursts, as though he’d just done a sprint around the rink, Tyler met Raif’s eyes. Raif could feel Tyler shaking, which almost made him take it back. Tell Tyler he didn’t need to decide now.

Then Tyler whispered something.

Releasing Tyler’s hair, Raif put his hand on the sides of Tyler’s stall and leaned close so he would hear the answer this time. “What?”

“Yes, Raif.” Tyler shook his head, an impish grin spreading across his lips. He cocked his head. “Good enough? Because if I kiss Luke again, or let Scott feel me up, I’m gonna get my ass kicked.”

“They’ll have to get through me first. Not that it’s an issue any longer.” Raif grabbed a fistful of Tyler’s shirt and jerked him to his feet. He’d never had the need to be so rough or possessive in his life, but at this moment nothing would please him more than to leave marks all over Tyler’s body so none would mistake who he belonged to. “Aside from Chicklet, I will allow no other to lay hands on you.” He struggled to find the words, those in his own language feeling so much more accurate than any he could say in English. But he needed to make sure Tyler understood each and every one. “I claim you, Tyler. You have one last chance to tell me not to, because there’s no turning back. You wanted my attention and now you have it in full.”

“That’s all I want. But…I love Chicklet.” Love and loyalty shone through Tyler’s steady gaze and Raif craved that for his own. And respected it more that he could say.

“I know you do. But she told me I could have you.” Raif bent down to lick Tyler’s bottom lip, allowing himself no more than a taste. More would come very soon. “I am very happy that she’s willing to share.”

“Are you?”

“Willing to share?” Raif chuckled at Tyler’s nod. “With her. Yes. But tonight…”

Ah, the impatience of youth. Raif’s smile broadened when Tyler frowned at him. “Tonight?”

“You belong to me.”

* * * *

The condo wasn’t what Tyler had expected. A short drive, chatting about the game tonight and other stuff, had him nice and relaxed, but stepping over the threshold was nerve-wracking. Even all the nice new clothes he wore weren’t fancy enough for this place. He hadn’t expected a mess or anything—Raif was the kinda guy who had his shit together—but this might as well be a hotel.

Looking around after kicking off his shoes, Tyler fixated on the only thing in the place that proved someone actually lived here. Pictures of a man, others with a woman, and a kid—with Raif as a kid. Wasn’t hard to see they were his parents. Weird thing was, with all the pics of Raif at different ages, there was only one with him and his mom and dad. Raif looked like he was about twelve. He had a huge smile on his face, a real one. But his parents had perfect, shiny-toothed, camera ready, fake smiles plastered on their lips.

Tyler picked up the picture in its old-fashioned silver frame and glanced over at Raif. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything. Just because Raif had brought Tyler home with him, that didn’t mean Tyler could start asking stupid, personal questions.

Raif shook his head and sighed as he stepped up to Tyler’s side. “You are too easy to read, Tyler. Speak your mind. And get used to doing so.”

All right, I can do that. Tyler held up the picture of Raif with both his parents. “Are your parents divorced? They look like they don’t like each other, but it’s just a picture, so maybe I’m seeing it all wrong. They look like they like you though—I mean, love you. Of course your parents love you!”

The blank look Raif gave him had him wondering if keeping his mouth shut wouldn’t have been a better idea. But then Raif shook his head and smiled. “Divorce would have been a blessing for them both, but it wasn’t necessary. They spend little time together. And the time they have for me is well spent.”

The time they have for you? Tyler didn’t like that. But he kinda got it. His mom was great when she was single, but then she’d gone on the “you need a daddy” crusade and he was lucky to see her before leaving for school in the morning. He put the picture back on the glass shelf. “They look like good people.”

“They are. Both have done work for charities all over the world. Progress is always good and they’ve made strides for those less fortunate. I am very proud that I am their son.” Raif moved to the square, harsh sofa that looked like it belonged in a Tetris game. He sat and patted the cushion next to him. “Your parents must be very proud of you?”

“Yeah. I don’t have a dad.” Tyler sat on the sofa. Damn, it was hard. He’d rather sit on the floor, but Raif hadn’t asked him to. That would’ve been better. Would have made things clear, but they were just getting started. So he stuck with Raif’s last question. “My mom is proud of me, but my father… well, I hope he’s still in jail. He beat her and stuff. I hate him. But it’s old news.”

Raif put his hand on Tyler’s wrist, stopping him from rubbing his thighs. He’d probably noticed that Tyler wasn’t comfortable talking about this stuff, but…well, he was a Dom. It was in his nature to dig deeper. Chicklet did that sometimes, but Tyler was used to that. She had a way of doing it that made talking okay.

And she knew pretty much everything. So Tyler wasn’t sure he wanted to drag out all the stuff that was over. Not right when he and Raif had just gotten past dodging each other like forwards on an offensive rush against a dogged defense. But he’d seen how Raif was when the puck hit his stick. He wouldn’t stop until he took a shot or made a solid pass.

No passes to make here.

“Speaking of your father is a hard limit. You do not need to tell me so. I understand. And I expect certain things involving your mother are difficult as well. We will leave that for when you are more comfortable with me.” Raif’s lips slid into a slanted smile. “You’re waiting for me to lead you, Tyler, but we have reached a compromise, yes?”

Tyler liked listening to Raif talk. Didn’t matter what he said, he just had a cool accent that made Tyler hard. Nodding would work, so he did it. Reclining on the sofa wasn’t relaxing, but hearing Raif, agreeing to whatever he said, was. So Tyler went with that.

“Compromise, zlato moje. You are a lazy boy. I will have your words.”

What does that even mean? Tyler tilted his head on the back of the sofa so he could look at Raif. The man’s hair was messy, which made him sexy as hell. A grin stole across Tyler’s lips. “What kinda words do you want, Master?”

“You try my patience, Tyler. How would you like it if I took your submission as an excuse to bend you over the back of this sofa and fuck you? You’re not comfortable now.” Raif stood and took off his jacket. He was real big standing over Tyler. And the idea of him being mean and rough on this cold sofa had Tyler’s dick shrinking a few inches. Tyler sat up straight as Raif moved away from him, toward the hall, his tone casual, like they were talking about the team’s last game. “I’m sure with enough lube, I could enjoy myself, but you would be quite sore. And you do not like this room. You need to be held. Cared for. But I’m not sure where we should begin.”

Words. Okay, I can give him something. Tyler pushed off the sofa, then took off his own jacket. “The bedroom works for me. And…yeah, we can do whatever you want, but…ah, not sure I’m ready for lube.”

“You certainly aren’t ready to do without.” Raif laughed and hooked his arm around the back of Tyler’s neck, pulling him close. The rough affection was nice. Tyler wasn’t sure if Raif was joking or not, but he wasn’t scared anymore. He trusted Raif to take him to his limit without going past.

’Course, if they were gonna play, his limits would get pushed a bit. But he wasn’t worried. He grinned as Raif kissed his temple. Shuddered as Raif’s lips moved down, hot breath stirring the hair around his ear.

“From this point on, feel free to use your safe word.” Raif kissed his throat, sucking lightly on the skin under his ear. The sensation shot straight down to Tyler’s cock, and he groaned as Raif’s hand slid down his chest, over his stomach, then rubbed over where his jeans trapped his hard dick at an almost painful angle. “You will join me in my bedroom. But you will only ever enter it naked.”

“Naked?” Tyler shifted forward even as Raif released him and moved away. He knew that he’d been given an order, but the simple instructions weren’t sinking in. He just wanted Raif to keep touching him and kissing him. Why’d he stop?

“Yes. Naked. But do not leave your clothes all over the hall. I have no tolerance for messy subs.”

With that, Raif walked away, down the hall, and disappeared behind one of the three doors.

Shaking his head to clear it, Tyler quickly pulled off his shirt, trying to fold it on the coffee table while undoing his jeans. His shin hit the table as his feet tangled in his jeans, and he cursed as the stab of pain set him off-balance. His ass hit the floor, but at least that made it easier to get the rest of his clothes off. He took his time folding everything nice and neat. Then tried to regain some dignity as he scrambled to his feet and hurried down the hall. But halfway there, his socks slid on the polished wood floor and he hip checked the only partially closed bathroom door.

He was pretty sure he’d heard Raif laughing behind one of the other doors. Fuck, he’d laugh too if he didn’t know he was acting like a teenage boy getting ready to get laid for the first time. He took a few seconds to calm the fuck down, take his socks off, then tossed them in the general direction of the hamper in the bathroom. Inhaling slowly, he stepped up to Raif’s bedroom door.

And almost turned right around to grab his shit and get the fuck out of there. Being horny and wanting Raif was a lot different than actually doing something about it. If he left, he could forget ever needing anything beyond his awesome life with Chicklet and Laura. Nothing would change.

If he stayed, if he went into that room, everything would change. The idea that he wasn’t straight like he’d always thought didn’t bug him anymore. But not knowing what would happen tomorrow…

What if Chicklet started thinking he didn’t need her anymore? She would have told him if this would mess up their relationship, right? He’d been honest with her and she’d still told him to go for it. Even Laura had encouraged him. He wouldn’t lose them.

But Raif…well, Raif could get traded this summer. Tyler already cared about the man a lot, and getting in bed with him wouldn’t make it easier to say goodbye when the time came.

You’ve had sex without getting all serious before, Vanek. Don’t go all crazy on Raif now. Just fucking go for it. Have some fun and don’t be stupid.

Right. That made sense. All the shit about belonging to Raif only meant he didn’t want Tyler fucking around with Luke and Scott anymore. No problem there.

So what was the problem? Going through that door didn’t mean he was making some life-altering choice. He was doing what felt right tonight. He’d never been big on worrying about tomorrow. No reason to start now.

He opened the door and stepped into the room.

A few feet to his left, Raif was setting up an iPod on a dock with huge speakers. He didn’t look up as Tyler came in, so Tyler went to make himself comfy in the middle of the bed, plopping down on the pile of pillows, some harder memory foam, others feather or something. Folding a soft one under his head, Tyler watched Raif, taking in the broad expanse of his back, all thick muscle under dark tan flesh. Shirtless, but still wearing his black dress pants, Raif didn’t look much different than when he was at the club. Strong and commanding and no less all-powerful than he’d seemed when Tyler worshiped him as a boy.

The music came on, not dungeon-style music like Tyler had expected. Was more like…hell, he couldn’t put his finger on it. Wasn’t English, but it had a nice rhythm. He listened to the song, eyes hooded as Raif came to the bed, an amused slant to his lips.

“Is this in your language? It’s kinda cool.” Tyler didn’t lift his head, but he turned to face Raif as the man walked around to the side of the bed.

“Yes, this is Croatian. ‘Opet si pobijedila,’ by Tony Cetinski. A very fitting song for our situation.” Raif folded his arms over his chest. “Are you quite comfortable?”

Uh-oh. Okay, he recognized that tone. Raif wasn’t mad, but he probably wasn’t thrilled about Tyler throwing himself on his bed. Then again, Tyler wouldn’t have dared lie down if he was doing a scene with Chicklet. She’d have dumped him on the floor already. Then beaten his ass until she got bored and decided to use him.

“Sorry.” Tyler sat up. Then hopped off the bed. Then dropped to his knees. He stared at the round carpet even as his knees burned from hitting it so hard. “Wasn’t sure what you’d want me to do.”

“What you’re doing now is appropriate. But you’ll remember next time.” Raif ruffled his hair. “And kneel with the poise I know you are capable of. We shall try not to break you before the playoffs. Agreed?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now get up. I have something for you.” Raif was halfway to the closet by the time Tyler got up off his sore knees. He came back with a few thick leather belts, the look of them making Tyler wince until he realized they were connected. A harness. “Have you ever worn one of these before?”

“Yeah, Chicklet has a couple for me, but they don’t have all that metal.” No way did that thing go just over his chest. Tyler studied it, trying to figure out where all the straps were supposed to go. “And they’re smaller.”

“Simple chest harnesses then. This is a full body harness—much like one you’d wear for rock climbing, with a few extra attachments. Now face away from me.” He waited until Tyler turned, approaching him from behind, his smooth, dark tone sending a white-hot spill of lust right down Tyler’s spine. “I don’t act on impulse often, zlato moje, but I bought this only recently because I would see it on you.”

He had? But… Tyler didn’t understand. He glanced at Raif over his shoulder. “You didn’t want anything to do with me until today. How’d you know you’d see it on me?”

Raif shook his head. “My words are wrong. There was hope that I would see it on you. But you know very well my desire for you was never an issue.”

“I don’t know that. You found it pretty easy to walk away from me.”

“No. It was never easy.” Raif slid the leather up against the back of Tyler’s shoulders. “Slip your arms through the straps. We can discuss this more, but I will see this on you now.”

Tyler put his arms through the straps, staying perfectly still as Raif went around him, positioning the leather across his chest in two Vs that came out from the metal ring over his sternum. A long strap went down to his stomach, where the second ring connected to a belt and two straps that went around his upper thighs and right under his ass cheeks. Cuffs went around Tyler’s upper and lower arms, trapping them by his sides. His face heated as Raif tightened the harness and casually fitted the final ring over his cock and balls.

Before he had a chance to decide whether or not he liked the harness, Raif latched on to the ring on Tyler’s chest, jerking him forward so their lips slammed together. The scruff on Raif’s face scratched the smooth skin around Tyler’s mouth. The fingers of Raif’s other hand fisted in Tyler’s hair, and his tongue slipped into Tyler’s mouth, exploring as though learning how to take everything Tyler had to give with the bruising pressure of his lips alone. The ability to worry and wonder and question were gone with the ability or the will to do anything but give Raif exactly what he wanted in that kiss.

Absolutely everything.

The kiss lasted a long time—and not long enough. Tyler leaned into Raif as their lips parted, almost sending himself off-balance because his head was spinning and he’d forgotten his arms were trapped by his sides. But then Raif shoved him toward the bed and Tyler laughed as he landed half-on, half-off the mattress, knowing he looked ridiculous shimmying backward to keep from sliding onto the floor.

Raif smiling at him, his eyes shadowed with desire, made the awkwardness worth it. He shook his head even as he went to the bedside table and took condoms and some lube out of the drawer. “The harness has made this easier for you, hasn’t it? You hardly seem to notice your nakedness.”

“I’ve been naked around you before. But yeah… I’ve always liked harnesses. Security thing, I guess.” Shit, Raif had managed to get him talking a lot more than he was used to. Which was bad because talking dimmed the hot, shiny, sexual zone he’d almost lost himself too. And he wanted to get lost there. He licked his bottom lip slowly, giving Raif his most innocent look. “I changed my mind about the lube.”

“Have you? Is that an invitation, Ty?”

“Yeah. You don’t scare me no more, man. I wanna—”

“You really should not have said that, zlato moje.” Raif stalked forward, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He used the chest strap to drag Tyler to the middle of the bed even as he climbed up, then straddled Tyler with his hands braced at either side of his head. His smile changed as Tyler stared up at him, really wishing he could take the words back. Raif was damn scary when he wore that “I’m gonna hurt you, and enjoy it” expression.

“I’m sorry.” Tyler knew, even as he said it, that “sorry” wouldn’t save him with Raif any more than it did with Chicklet. His breaths came in short pants as Raif reached over to take two more objects out of the drawer.

“No need to be sorry. But for a boy who struggled with speaking the words I needed to hear, you are quite open with what you ‘want’ now. I shall be kind and help you resist the urge.” Raif held up a long, rubber bit gag with metal loops on either side and a leather strap to secure it behind Tyler’s head. Gags, Tyler could handle. The big black nipple clamps Raif had in his other hand? Not so much.

“Yes to the gag.” Tyler tried to sit up a bit to show how cooperative he would be. “No to the clamps?”

“Are we negotiating? I don’t recall asking if you had a preference.” Raif used his teeth to open the plastic wrapper on the clamps. “You may use your safe word of course.”

Tyler scowled. Hell, he wouldn’t wimp out over nipple clamps. He shook his head and opened his mouth, wanting the gag in before he told Raif to go fuck himself.

“Ah, we are going to be stubborn?” With a shrug when Tyler didn’t answer, Raif got the gag in Tyler’s mouth and connected it securely behind his head. “If it’s any consolation, I know you don’t enjoy excessive pain. And I will take that into account.”

How is it Doms say comforting shit in a way that’s not comforting at all? Tyler rolled his eyes and dropped back onto the pillow.

“You are a handful. Do you plan to submit to me at all, boy?”

Questions when Tyler couldn’t answer didn’t make any damn sense. Made even less sense when Tyler was here, on the bed, all strapped up with a gag in his mouth. He furrowed his brow to show Raif his confusion.

“Let me guess, I’ve really asked nothing of you yet.” Raif’s lips curved. He rested on one elbow and ran his fingers lazily along Tyler’s jaw and down his throat. “So what are you to submit to?”

Not quite, but close enough. Tyler nodded.

“Your scowling and eye rolling shows a great deal of disrespect. I won’t force you into a state of submission—I suspect the men you’ve dealt with have to when they punish you for acting out at the club.” Raif’s brow rose when Tyler turned his head, cheeks blazing. The rare times Chicklet let another Dom punish him, there was usually a bit of wrestling and swearing until Chicklet gave him that disappointed look. Then he behaved. Raif inclined his head, pressing lightly on Tyler’s cheek so he faced him. “You’ve only voluntarily submitted to a woman. One woman. You do not know how to respond to me if you’re not being a friend or a brat. I won’t accept that, Ty. Let’s not forget, you came to me.”

I did. And I want … but that was the problem. He’d focused too much on what he wanted from Raif. And not at all on what Raif wanted. Which was selfish and would lead to a shitty scene.

If Raif didn’t just give up on him.

A soft pat on his cheek had him gazing up at Raif. Relief filled him as he saw Raif didn’t seem ready to go anywhere.

His smile assured Tyler that he hadn’t fucked up too bad. “So easy to read. We have only begun—I will be patient, but I must see an effort from you. Save the attitude for when I will enjoy beating on you for my amusement. Until then, let us get to know one another. You are as beautiful as I knew you would be. I’m ready to toy with you now.”

Tyler didn’t think he was beautiful, but he couldn’t think beyond Raif’s last statement as those big, calloused hands stroked down his sides. Raif kissed his neck, teasing the sensitive spot under his ear with his teeth. Every soft bite made Tyler’s dick twitch and he hissed in a wet breath as Raif shifted, pushing Tyler’s legs apart to kneel between them. He couldn’t take his eyes off Raif, running his hands down over the straps, pinching Tyler’s nipples even as he watched Tyler’s face.

As Raif’s hands drifted lower, Tyler fought to keep still, letting his Dom explore his body as slowly and for as long as he pleased. Wasn’t easy because he was so damn turned on he desperately needed a solid grip on his cock to relieve the ache. When Raif’s hands returned to his nipples, rubbing and twisting, they grew more and more sensitive. Almost as though his body accepted that this was the only stimulation he’d get.

Then Raif lowered his mouth to tug one hard nipple in his mouth. The pressure of teeth and tongue had Tyler groaning and arching his back. Cold replaced the heat of Raif’s lips. He moved to Tyler’s other nipple to give it the same thorough attention.

Dried both with his thumbs before picking up the nipple clamps.

Tyler pressed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain.

“Look at me, zlato moje. I will take care not to hurt you. Do not try to take more for me, because that is not what I want. Shake your head when it’s truly too much.”

The rubber coating on the clamps made them smooth, but Tyler still cringed at the pain he expected when each one bit down. But neither did more than pinch. He twisted his lips in annoyance. Raif must think he was a total wimp. He hadn’t tightened them at all.

“I am earning your trust, Ty. I’m not done.” Raif removed one clamp and then clipped it over Tyler’s nipple again. This time it was a lot tighter. Not unbearable, but close to the limit. “There.” He did something to the clamp and it started vibrating. Tyler’s eyes shot open as the pleasure zinged through his chest and rolled right down to his balls. Once both clamps were going, his whole body shook hard with the effort not to buck his hips in response to the sensation. He gasped around the thick rubber gag when Raif tugged at the clamps. Raif chuckled. “Perfect. Now keep your eyes closed.”

Eyes closed, Tyler listened to the sound of the drawer yet again. He was starting to connect that sound with some new tool for Raif to use on him being added to the mix. It could be anything, but he didn’t let out even a whimper of protest even when he felt Raif pull something over his cock. A vibrating cock ring, the pleasant vibrations nothing new to him, nothing compared to the buzz mercilessly stimulating his nipples. But he could tell Raif had put on gloves and wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He swallowed when Raif’s gloved hands left him. Pushed against his inner thighs to spread them farther apart. For a few seconds, Raif stopped touching him at all.

Then a finger slipped over his balls, slick with lube. He inhaled, holding his breath as the finger circled his anus. Slowly pushed inside.

One of Raif’s fingers was almost the size of two of Chicklet’s. Tyler pressed against it, needing to show Raif he could do this. The vibrations, the memory of Raif claiming his mouth, then taking full control of his body, made letting him in so much easier. Before long, that one finger penetrated him fully.

Felt…good, but Raif didn’t move, and the long silence and lack of motion made staying still really, really hard. He ran his tongue over the gag. Did his best to calm his pulse. To relax his thighs.

“You’re doing very well, Ty. Very soon I won’t use restraints, or toys. I will simply take you under me and fuck you. And I won’t be so gentle as I am being now.” Raif stroked his thigh as he withdrew his finger. He moved his hand from Tyler’s thigh and more lube spilled right over Tyler’s balls, surprising him enough that he jerked and pressed his head back harder into the pillow. He lifted his ass off the bed, ready to take everything Raif offered.

Another finger joined the first, sliding in, straining past the tight ring of muscle. Still slow, but not as slow as with the first finger. He began to pump his fingers into Tyler before they’d fully penetrated and it felt fucking incredible. All his senses assaulted, no choice but to drown in them, Tyler moaned and found himself mindlessly riding Raif’s fingers, so close to coming he could feel the precum beading at the tip of his dick, cooling against the blazing hot head.

“So close to being ready for me.” Raif slammed his fingers in one last time before pulling them out. “We should rest before the game.”

A pitiful sound escaped Tyler and he struggled senselessly to free his arms so he could hold on to Raif and make all kinds of promises so long as he didn’t leave him like this. Who gave a fuck if it was pathetic? Denial was a punishment and what had Tyler done to deserve it?

“Calm down, Ty. I’m not that cruel.” Raif chuckled and his lips brushed Tyler’s hip. “This shouldn’t take long.”

More lube. A condom wrapper being ripped. Blunt pressure on Tyler’s anus.

Not fingers, too big to be fingers, but it wasn’t Raif’s dick either. The stretching came with a steady burn this time, increasing as the thing—which had to be some kind of butt plug—widened. Tyler inhaled, pushed, exhaled, and kept pushing, waiting for the narrow part to settle inside him. Only, it kept going deeper and deeper and never got smaller.

A dildo. He bit down on the gag, trying to adjust to the thick invasion. Only a bit thicker than Raif’s fingers, but he’d never had anything that deep inside him. It slid out almost all the way, grew slick with more lube, and eased back in. The pressure in Tyler’s balls increased as the tip of the dildo hit the sensitive part inside him. Sweat broke out on his skin as Raif thrust the dildo in, harder, faster.

“Agh—aah!” The orgasm hit Tyler in a sudden burst of pleasure, spasming through his thigh and stomach muscles as he bucked and let out muffled cries around the gag. Cum landed in hot spurts on his belly, and he squirmed as Raif drew out the sensation with a few more deep thrusts.

Raif removed the dildo and made quick work of cleaning Tyler up with some kind of wipe. Didn’t speak as he began to undo all the harness straps.

Completely drained, Tyler did his best to move when Raif needed him to, but Raif didn’t seem to mind his lying there like a dead person. It wasn’t until Raif climbed into the bed to lie next to him that Tyler started wondering if something was wrong. Since when was Raif this quiet?

“Are you mad at me, Raif—I mean, I mean, Sir?”

“No.” Raif frowned at Tyler, working one arm under him to pull him closer. He smoothed Tyler’s hair back and gazed into his eyes. “Why would you think that?”

Tyler shrugged. “You ain’t talking.”

Raif threw his head back, roaring out a laugh as he pressed Tyler’s head into the curve of his neck. Tyler wasn’t sure what was so funny, but being held was nice and he was glad Raif wasn’t pissed at him.

“Ty, too much discussion often bothers you, so I reasoned this would be a good time for silence. Apparently I was mistaken.” Raif ran his hand down Tyler’s bare back, still chuckling. “Would you like to talk about what just happened?”

Okay, yeah, maybe that was kinda funny. Tyler wouldn’t really have liked it if Raif had asked a whole lot of questions about his feelings and all that shit. This, just lying here in Raif’s arms, was a lot better. So he shook his head.

“I thought not. And we really should take a nap. I would have you proving to management and the fans that your time away from the game has changed nothing.”

“I could sleep.” Tyler sighed happily, snuggling closer to Raif. His body was still humming from the erotic play, but what was more important was that being with Raif felt right. More than right. He grinned and kissed Raif’s shoulder. “I love you, man.”

Raif’s sigh wasn’t as happy as Tyler’s. He hugged Tyler, then whispered in his ear, “Don’t say that again until you mean it.”

Too close to sleep to say another word, Tyler didn’t get a chance to tell Raif he did.