Chapter Twenty-One

The men burst into the locker room, shouting and giving each other high fives like they’d already won the game. First two periods had leaned in the Cobras favor—the Rangers were out of sync—but Tyler wouldn’t consider this one in the bag until they’d secured the win. The score being 3-0 after the second period didn’t mean shit. He looked over at Callahan who was talking to Roger Shero, the old guy who Tyler had thought was a reporter, who Richter had introduced to them all before the game as the new head coach. Walrye being fired should have been more of a shock, but they’d all expected it. The shock was Callahan not taking the job, but Shero had insisted nothing much would change, he’d leave them in the capable hands of the leader they knew. And he hadn’t lied. He was more observant than anything behind the bench—though he had stopped Callahan from jumping up on the bench at one point after a questionable call by the refs.

Shero didn’t seem out of place anymore, and the guys were relaxed around him. Ramos, who usually didn’t do much PDA, casually wrapped his arms around Luke from behind while they trash-talked the officials. Tyler considered going over to join the discussion, but he tried not to let the way the game was called affect his play, so he didn’t want to dwell. He kinda wanted to hang out with Raif, but the man had disappeared into one of the offices after taking a call.

White was at the other side of the room, looking like he was teaching Richards how to fight. Tyler shook his head, grinning as he remembered how sore his jaw had been the last time he’d asked for a few pointers from White. He’d keep his distance this time. But Pischlar wasn’t doing anything. He’d shed most of his equipment and his shirt and was rubbing something with a crisp minty scent on his shoulders.

As Tyler approached, Pischlar held up his hands, laughing at himself. “Mind helping me out, kid? Kinda did things half-ass backward. Need to get some lotion on my new ink, and this cooling gel is hard to get off my hands.”

“Sure.” Tyler grabbed the vitamin E lotion out of Pischlar’s bag, trying not to stare as Pischlar leaned back on his arms, making all the muscles in his chest and stomach harden. The man was fucking ripped and his ink was awesome. The new tattoo was on his ribs, words in white ink, and Tyler read them even as he carefully spread the lotion over the red, swollen flesh. “‘It was fate that intertwined our destinies.’” Tyler ran his thumb under the tattoo. “I’ve heard that somewhere.”

“Not surprised. You like Transformers?” Pischlar smiled when Tyler nodded. “Bruiser’s go-to movie. I could quote half of it by heart after how often I’ve watched it at his place.”

“Oh…” Tyler put the cap back on the lotion. The meaning behind the tattoo hit him, and he glanced over at White who had Richards in a headlock. “Does he know?”

Pischlar chuckled, his tone light and low enough for only Tyler to hear. “Know what? My messed-up feeling aren’t his problem. I’m not an idiot, Vanek. He needs me to be his friend. Looking for more would be all kinds of complicated, and I don’t do complicated. The words got to me, and now they’re mine. That’s it.”

How could Pischlar be so cool with something that damn depressing? Tyler shook his head. “But you want—”

“To win this game. To go back to my room tonight and have a nice cold beer. Maybe find a pretty boy with a tight ass to play with for a little bit.” Pischlar gave Tyler a lazy smile. “I’m easy.”

“No fucking kidding.” Tyler looked at the tattoo stretching across Pischlar’s collarbone and had to fight not to reach out and touch it. Angel wings and roses surrounding a sugar skull, a fucking awesome piece of art. Pischlar had gotten it recently… Tyler was sure he hadn’t had it before Tim’s—he pressed his fist to the bench at either side of him. “What’s it mean?”

Bringing his hand to his chest, Pischlar took a deep breath. “I…well, you know I didn’t have so much ink before, right? Or the piercings?” He looked down after Tyler nodded. “I tried to fit in as a kid. My grandfather was my biggest supporter with me playing hockey when I was young, but when I came out, he said I was dead to him. My parents were cool with my choices, but I got my ass kicked at school all the time, and he used to make my mom cry telling her I deserved to be bullied. Then he got really sick. Diabetes, his organs started failing and one of his legs was amputated up to the knee. He was such a miserable bastard, no one went to see him much. I did because…I remember him taking me out to the rink almost every day when I was little. My parents both worked full-time, so if he hadn’t…anyway, wasn’t real pleasant. He called me every name in the book.”

“This story sucks, Pisch. I mean, you’re a great guy, but—”

“Let me finish!” Pischlar punched Tyler’s shoulder. Then continued. “The day before he died he asked me why I bothered with him. I told him the truth. Nothing got to me more than never being able to make him proud. I’d never be the man he wanted me to be.” Tears wet Pischlar’s lashes. He didn’t bother wiping them away. “He told me I was right. He’d wanted me to be someone else. But I was better. And I shouldn’t give a shit about making an ignorant fuck like him proud. He’d grown up in a different world, and he still didn’t understand the one we’re living in. He said he was proud though. Made me promise to keep being exactly who I was, whether the world was ready for me or not.”

Tyler didn’t know what to say. He wanted to hug Pischlar and be all supportive. But he didn’t think the man needed comforting. He missed his grandfather, but those memories weren’t about his death. They were about Pischlar having done everything he’d tried to accomplish. His relationship with his grandfather had been renewed the day before he died. A pretty fucking awesome reason for a tattoo.

“Fuck, what did you say to him, Vanek?” White came over, covered with sweat from roughhousing with the rookie. And he looked ready to start a real fight as Pischlar quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Easy don’t ever cry.”

“And you don’t either, eh, Bruiser?” Pischlar used his foot in the middle of White’s stomach to push him back a few feet. “We were talking about the Backstreet Boys’ reunion tour. Got me all emotional.”

White snorted and dropped onto the bench on the other side of Pischlar, draping an arm over his shoulders. “You’re so weird. We cool?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Pischlar asked, as if White hadn’t told him to fuck off in so many words over the last few days.

“Just making sure. Gotta keep an eye on the baby. You know him and Hunt are living together? I gotta bring the kid to McDonalds so he can have a fucking burger. He’s only allowed to have ‘all-natural.’ He told me Hunt’s got this menu his dad wrote out for him of ‘acceptable’ food.” White pulled a rubber elastic off his wrist and tied his shoulder-length brown hair at the nape of his neck, his nostrils flaring with disgust. “Our baby goalie is a fucking head case. He’s gonna ruin the kid.”

“Naw, Richards is a smart boy. And you’ll steer him straight.”

“Yeah…hey, Pisch, I wanted to ask you…” White glanced over at Tyler, shrugging as though he’d decided it was okay to talk in front of him. “How old were you when you, like, figured things out?”

Pischlar sat up, his brow furrowed. “What things?”

Red spread across the top of White’s cheeks. “Ah…that you like guys.”

“I’ve always known. Guys, girls, never really made a difference.” Pischlar shrugged White’s arm off his shoulders. “Why’d you ask?”

“Just curious. Stuff comes up a lot, you know?” White flashed a toothy grin as Callahan shouted for them to get ready to play. “Let’s finish this!”

Fuck, White was brain-dead. Pischlar had been fine talking about his grandfather, but he looked troubled as White went back to Richards. Tyler wasn’t sure what was going on, but he couldn’t worry about that when they had a game to win. He went back to his stall to put his jersey back on and let Pischlar get dressed. Then he followed the team out to the ice.

Callahan sent Tyler out with Luke and Scott to face the Rangers’ first line. Scott won the face-off and Tyler easily snagged the pass and lurched forward, speeding around the Rangers’ forwards like they were pylons. He passed the blue line, then snapped the puck to Luke, who was open, for a clean shot.

One of the Rangers’ forwards slashed at Luke’s hands so hard Luke dropped his stick. No call. The play quickly shifted and the Rangers plowed into the Cobras’ zone, their crisp passes putting them on a three-on-one against Kral, who dove to block a snapshot. The puck hit Kral in the face, but the refs didn’t stop the play even though he was slow to rise. The Rangers recovered the puck and drove hard to the net. Bower dove to block the first shot, but the rebound flew over him.

3-1. Tyler cursed as he went to the bench so Pischlar’s line could go on. He watched Pischlar set Pearce up for a smooth shot. The sound of the puck ringing off the post had the whole Cobra bench groaning. This time, the Rangers were facing Mason and Ramos. Tyler held on to the boards, not breathing until Bower snatched the puck out of the air. But then a Ranger forward slammed into him. The net came loose and the ref blew the whistle.

Bower was on his knees. He took off his helmet and bent over, his hands on his leg. The leg he’d had surgery on. Tyler stood as Bower failed to get up on his skates. Ramos shouted for the trainer.

Mason grabbed the forward who’d nailed Bower and punched him in the face. The Rangers went after Mason. Pischlar hauled one guy off Mason, Pearce grabbed another. Ramos left Bower to the trainer and muscled the last man grabbing at Mason away from him, making it an even fight. There were fists flying everywhere, but Mason lost his helmet, then his balance, and the refs separated the fighters, dragging them both to the penalty box.

Absently knocking his stick on the boards to cheer Mason for the fight, Tyler watched the trainer help Bower to the bench, then beyond. Hunt got ready to take Bower’s place, looking more prepared to kill someone than to guard the net.

Two more lines and Tyler was able to get back on. He positioned himself close to the goal as Luke and Scott swiftly passed the puck back and forth between them. An elbow caught him in the mouth and he glanced over at the ref.

No call, and he’d missed Scott’s pass. His lungs burned as he raced across the rink. He got there just in time to see Hunt drop to his knees. The puck sailed over Hunt’s shoulder. The red light went off.

3-2. Center ice face-off. Scott was thrown out, so Tyler took his place. Wasn’t fast enough. The Rangers had the puck and they were already behind Tyler, leaving him to chase them as they whipped the puck across the ice. The penalty ended and Mason came on. He checked the forward who had the puck.

Tyler recovered it and sent it across the ice, not seeing anyone open. Icing. He was winded and now they were stuck in their own zone. He rammed into the man facing him as the Rangers won the face-off against Scott. The edge of his blade skidded on a turn, and he was on his knees as the Rangers took a shot from the point.

And Hunt missed it. The young goalie hung his head as the fans roared. They were tied.

The game went by fast and Tyler barely sat before he was sent back out. Even score as the buzzer sounded. They went into overtime. Tyler was aching everywhere, he couldn’t make his legs move fast enough, and for some reason the Cobras were doing nothing but running after the Rangers. They couldn’t complete a single setup. The Rangers were all over Hunt, and Hunt swore at the ref when he was knocked on his ass and goalie interference wasn’t called. Seconds later, the Rangers took a shot right off the face-off.

It went in. And Hunt lost his mind.

He threw his stick and went after the ref. Scott latched on to the cage of Hunt’s mask and practically dragged him to the bench. Didn’t let him go until they were in the locker room.

“That was fucking bullshit!” Hunt tossed the bottle of Gatorade a trainer handed him and cracked his mask into the wall. “I’m going to—”

“Stay in here to lose your shit.” Scott blocked Hunt, but wisely didn’t get too close as Hunt tore off his equipment, tossing it every which way. “We don’t need you getting suspended.”

“I didn’t know the refs played for the Rangers! They made sure we lost!” Hunt punched the wall, then went over to the refreshment table to tip the whole thing over. “Say goodbye to the playoff, guys! We’re fucking done!”

Yep, because that’s what we need to hear. Tyler shoved his stuff in his bag, doing his best to ignore the unstable rookie goalie. But if Bower was hurt bad, he couldn’t help but think Hunt was right. No way could that kid handle the playoff, even if they did make it that far.

“Fuck off, Hunt!” Luke flung his helmet toward his bag and stepped up to the goalie. “We all played hard. The Rangers were better, but we’ll be ready next time. None of us need to listen to you bitching because you couldn’t hack it out there.”

Hunt tackled Luke. Scott jumped in, catching a fist right in the eye as he wrestled Hunt away from Luke. Ramos muscled Luke to his feet and firmly made him sit at his stall.

“Not another word, niño.” He rose to his full height as Hunt got loose from Scott. His tone was a whiplash as he faced the younger man. “You will control yourself, Hunt. Or I will do it for you.”

Hunt was too far gone to back off. He shoved Ramos. Ramos rammed his hand into the center of Hunt’s bare chest and sent him flying.

“Well, this is an interesting way to take a loss.” Shero stepped over Hunt, arching a brow at Ramos, who looked ready to follow through with his threat. Shero smiled when Ramos inclined his head and went to sit with Luke. “You are passionate about the game, and I appreciate that, but remember these men are your teammates. You have two days before the next game in Philly. Please try not to break one another before then.”

With that, Shero walked out of the locker room.

Callahan took his place, looking them over before holding out his hand to Hunt and pulling him to his feet. “Go to the hotel, all of you. I don’t care what you do tonight, but if any of you are in public, I better not hear about any of this shit happening. You fucking embarrassed yourselves, and not out there. Right here. Just because the public doesn’t see it doesn’t make it all right.” He glared at Hunt. “We need to talk, boy.”

After Callahan and Hunt disappeared into the coach’s office, Tyler scowled at his bag. Kicked it because he was pissed and wasn’t sure what else to do. “I didn’t fucking do nothin’. ‘We’ embarrassed ourselves?”

“We are a team, Ty.” Raif sat beside Tyler and bumped his shoulder with his own. “The game is over. We have two days.”

“Yeah.” Tyler still couldn’t believe they’d lost this one. And he couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. “Guess we should get rested up and ready for the next one.”

“Tomorrow, yes.” Raif took hold of the back of Tyler’s neck. Whispered in his ear, “But you won’t get much rest tonight.”

* * * *

The bus the team took back to the Marriott hotel was stuck in the crawling New York City traffic for over an hour, and the ride wasn’t a pleasant one. Players who weren’t completely silent snapped at one another, and the trainers who tried to keep the peace looked absolutely fed up with the time they exited the bus. Raif hesitated in the lobby as the crowd broke in two, some of the men headed straight to the bar, Demyan and Carter among them. He could exert his control over Tyler and order him straight up to the room, but this had to be Tyler’s choice. Raif wouldn’t fault the young man needing to unwind with his friends after the pressure of the game. And disappointment from the loss.

Already halfway across the lobby, clearly not having noticed Raif slowing to give him the option to stay, Tyler spun around. His lips slanted in a mischievous smile as he undid his tie. Then a few buttons of his white dress shirt. “I’m so fucking worn out from the game, I need to get out of this suit and into a bed.” He put the end of the tie in his mouth and Raif couldn’t help but stare at those soft lips toying with the material between them. Tyler let the material fall, calling out, “I’ll see you guys in the morning!”

Over at the bar, Demyan threw back a shot and gave Tyler the middle finger. Hunt pulled up a stool beside him, and Raif observed Cam observing Demyan from a table near the back. The team’s new watchdog also kept a close eye on Zach, who was sitting alone at a corner table. Zach isolating himself bothered Raif, but there was nothing he could do to improve that situation. His friend was safe. That had to be enough.

Carter, meanwhile, was in a heated conversation with Ramos and didn’t seem to have heard Tyler. And Raif wasn’t too concerned about the rest of the team. He returned his focus to Tyler, with his shirt now untucked, and decided he had his answer.

And a very impatient sub. I should get him out of the lobby before his teasing becomes indecent.

Riding on the elevator with a crowd consisting of White, Richards, and Pischlar would not have been an issue, but a family of four joined them at the last minute, forcing Raif to keep his distance. The young boy was wearing a Rangers ball cap and he immediately recognized the men. The mother, who was holding a tiny, fussing infant, tried to get her son off the elevator at their stop. He protested, sitting right between the doors to keep them from closing.

“Daddy, tell her who they are! I need their autographs!”

Pischlar took off the pale gold and black Cobra hat he was wearing and pulled a pen out of the pocket of his light gray jacket. “You’ve got it, kid. But if we give you this, you have to swear you’ll be good for your mom and dad.”

The hat was handed around, each player signing it before White put it on the boy’s head.

His father gave them all a grateful look as his son bounced to his feet and ran after his mother. “Thanks. And good game. Hope to see you guys make the playoff.”

Tyler shook the man’s hand. “We plan on it.”

A few floors later they all got off, Pischlar and White going to their separate rooms, Richards disappearing into the one he likely shared with one of the veterans. Raif walked with Tyler, key card in hand, blood pumping to his dick in anticipation of finally getting him alone.

He opened the door and let Tyler in first, giving himself a moment in the hall to put a stranglehold on his libido. He wanted nothing more than to go into the room and ravish his boy, but the very thing that had made him second-guess getting involved with Tyler at all was more of an issue now than ever. Tyler had been with two women, had experimented more than most men his age, but Raif still considered him a virgin in the only way that mattered tonight. And he would treat him with the same care he would any lover, male or female, who was giving a part of themselves they’d given no other.

Not that Raif had much experience in dealing with virgins. He’d never been a woman’s first, but he had been one man’s. Zach’s.

And Raif had made a mess of that. He’d been young. Selfish. Not that the sex hadn’t been incredible, but he wanted so much more with Tyler. He wanted to give him a night they’d both remember, with no regrets.

He went into the room, smiling and shaking his head as he spotted Tyler’s shirt on the floor. Shoes and socks scattered carelessly. Then his pants. Raif half expected Tyler to be kneeling by the bed, waiting for his command. Being submissive gave Tyler a way to skip the uncertainty, but he should have known his boy wouldn’t take the easy way out.

Tyler stood in the center of the room, watching Raif, his tongue wetting his bottom lip, his gaze drinking Raif in like a man dying of thirst with a tall glass of water just out of reach. He took a step forward, his eyes searching Raif’s. His submissive side kept him from being too bold.

Which suited Raif just fine. He closed the distance between them, catching Tyler’s face in his hands and pressing their lips together. He loved the way Tyler opened to him, not passive, but letting him take the lead. He gave Raif his tongue, moaning as Raif palmed his ass and ground against him. The material of Tyler’s black boxers irritated Raif to no end, so he shoved them down, deepening his kiss as he squeezed the soft, warm flesh.

Raif felt Tyler tense as he spread his ass cheeks. Keeping a hold on him, Raif met Tyler’s eyes. “This isn’t a scene. All you have to say is no.”

“I don’t want to say no. I want this.” Tyler took a deep breath. His whole body shook hard. “I…if it’s not a scene, can I have a drink?”

Smart of his boy to focus on how the rules would not apply. Raif considered for a moment, then nodded. “You may have two. Not so much that I feel that I am taking advantage of you, but enough to help you relax.” He kissed Tyler again and felt tension ebb from the wiry muscles pressed up against him. “Sit on the bed. I’ll see what our options are.”

He waited for Tyler to do as he’d instructed, then went to the minibar to grab a few small bottles of liquor. Tequila and rum. He almost dropped the bottles as a flash of Zach tipping a much bigger bottle of tequila to his lips came to him. Together they’d finished off the bottle, along with most of a twelve-pack of beer. Not a drink or two to reduce inhibitions, but an excess to completely eliminate fear of the forbidden. Blame any regrets on the alcohol.

Tonight, there will be no regrets. I already know what Tyler means to me.

Unlike with Zach, he hadn’t waited to figure it out until it was too late.

Raif uncapped one of the bottles, tipping it to his lips as he handed Tyler the others. The way Tyler licked his lips after gulping back the rum made Raif want to throw caution to the wind. Tyler wasn’t innocent. Or fragile. He’d made it clear he wanted everything Raif could give him.

But he was not much older than Zach had been. Or Raif himself when they’d put their friendship and their careers on the line for the first time. Back then they’d both have been overlooked by the draft for being interested in other men. Now, no league would dare judge a man for his preferences. Things had changed.

Raif had changed. He opened another bottle, holding it to Tyler’s lips, forcing him to swallow fast even as half the tequila spilled over his lips. He tossed the bottle and licked the moisture from Tyler’s chin, from his mouth. The alcohol didn’t take long to bring a flush to Tyler’s lips, but his eyes were clear, determination glowing though the pale blue. There was nothing angelic about the man who tugged at Raif’s belt. Nothing innocent as he pulled Raif over him and blindly undid the belt, and Raif’s pants, so he could take hold of his dick. Raif rose up on his elbows, his hands in Tyler’s hair as he thrust into the firm grip on his dick.

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d make me wait.” Tyler slid his hand over Raif’s dick, shifting restlessly beneath him. “Wasn’t sure I could focus on the game, but I did. I gave it my all.”

“You did. I couldn’t ask for more.” Raif wasn’t sure why Tyler’s boxers were still between them, but he wasted no time shoving them down the rest of the way and kicking them aside. “There will be other games.”

“Yeah, but this one’s over and I’m not thinking about playing anymore. It was damn hard not to let everyone know how bad I wanted you.”

“You weren’t exactly subtle in the lobby. I’d rather you not start stripping in public.”

“You liked it.” Tyler opened his hand enough to press his dick against Raif’s so they slid together in his loose hold. “I think you worry too much.”

Raif sucked on Tyler’s bottom lip before letting out a breathless laugh. “Did you see the marks those little girls left on Zach?”

“Don’t talk about him, Raif. Not now.” There was pain in Tyler’s eyes as his movements faltered. Such an offhand comment, but Tyler was aware of what Zach had been to Raif.

And he needed assurance that he didn’t come second to anyone. Raif wished his boy didn’t have any reason to worry, but at the very least he could reassure him that Zach wasn’t a threat. Hopefully, Tyler would never know of the other person in their life who put everything he was so sure of at risk. Laura was Chicklet’s concern at the moment. Tyler was Raif’s to care for.

“He is my past, Ty. A friend, nothing more.” Raif framed Tyler’s jaw with a hand as their gazes locked. “I won’t mention him again.”

“Good.” Tyler huffed out a breath and brought both his hands up to curve them around the back of Raif’s neck. “I don’t want to think about how this is gonna be anymore. Even if it hurts, I need…I need to have this with you. I keep wondering if you don’t think I can take it.”

“You don’t like pain, Ty. I can’t promise not to hurt you, but I will try.” Raif pushed up off the bed and quickly went to his suitcase. Finding condoms and lube dimmed the spontaneous rush, but in truth, they’d been planning for this moment for days. Tempting and teasing, always knowing where they would end up. Raif was already hard, painfully so, and putting on the condom gave him the time to compose himself.

He knelt on the bed, watching Tyler’s face as he poured the lube in the palm of his hand. Some men preferred to be taken facedown, as though being fucked while they were on their knees was more masculine. The position offered easier access, but Raif wanted to see Tyler’s face, needed his expression, if not his words, to tell him if the pain was too much. Submissiveness was a beautiful thing, but could be so easily abused.

Raif knelt between Tyler’s spread thighs. Laid over him, kissing him even as he pushed his slick fingers deep into his body. “You tense up with every thrust. Don’t do that when you feel me pushing against you.”

“Okay.” Tyler panted, the effort he made not to buck up against Raif’s fingers so very obvious. “But I need you to just do it.”

“Shh. Feel me.” Raif withdrew his fingers and pressed the head of his dick against Tyler. “Trust me, it won’t be unbearable.” Slow pressure, more lube. He ran his hand over the sweat-slicked flesh of Tyler’s stomach, his chest, soothing him with touch and words. “But there’s no need to rush. You’re so fucking hot. So tight. I will take my time stretching you, and you will feel every inch of me inside you.”

Tyler went still. He was still much too tight, and his shudder worried Raif. But then he closed his eyes and relaxed. “I want to feel you. All of you. Tell me I got nothing to be afraid of.”

Not a promise Raif should make, but as the head of his dick slid past the snug entrance of Tyler’s body, he was ready to offer the world. The twinge of pain in Tyler’s face stabbed him right in the center of his chest, but he held still and spoke against Tyler’s lips. “You have nothing to be afraid of. But I will stop if you ask.”

“No. Don’t hold back.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Don’t.” Tyler lifted his hips, taking Raif in deeper. “Please don’t.”

Raif felt the give in the muscles gripping him. The restless shifting as Tyler absorbed the sensation. Could see he wanted more.

So he gave it to him.

* * * *

Deeper and deeper, intense burning, different from anything Tyler had ever experienced. He put his hands on Raif’s shoulders, keeping his body relaxed as Raif leaned down and began thrusting into him with long, slow strokes. A hard thrust made him wince, but Raif quickly adjusted the motion, his lips finding Tyler’s as he gently pressed in until his balls were against Tyler’s ass.

Fuck, this is… He couldn’t find the right word to describe it. Incredible, erotic, overwhelming—they all fit. He’d never been so completely owned. The only thing that came close was when Chicklet put her collar around his neck, but even then she gave him some leeway to pleasure her. Raif had him completely pinned down, and all Tyler could do was take whatever he gave.

Raif smiled against his lips, rubbing his thigh, comforting him. “Is this so bad?”

Bad? No, bad wasn’t a word he’d use for how having Raif inside him felt. But he didn’t want to be all serious and start confessing things that Raif wouldn’t believe. So he closed his eyes and shook his head. “The only thing that’s bad is you stopped moving.”

“Is that so?” Raif pulled out and Tyler opened his eyes to watch him drizzle more lube over his dick. He pushed Tyler’s legs farther apart and entered him again, slowly going in and out, until the stretching and burning became an endless stream of pleasure. He wrapped his hand around Tyler’s cock, stroking him in the same shallow rhythm. “You’re so fucking gorgeous like this, Ty, lying here and letting me fuck you.”

“Yeah?” Tyler groaned as Raif eased in a little more, pumping his dick harder. “You ain’t fucking me though. You’re acting like you’re afraid to break me.”

“Pushy sub.” Raif chuckled and released Tyler’s dick after running his fingers through the moisture at the tip. He slid in all the way as he brought his fingers to Tyler’s mouth, slicking precum over his lips. “Touch yourself. I won’t be so gentle anymore.”

Fisting his hand around his own dick, Tyler swore as Raif lifted his ass right off the bed, the thick muscles of his arms under Tyler’s knees. Dragging out and slamming in without another warning. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t do anything but jerk himself off and cry out as pleasure rammed into him with each rough thrust. The motion slid him across the bed, but Raif pulled him back into place without slowing.

Harder, faster, then Raif adjusted the angle and Tyler came. He shouted as the pleasure rolled through him like thunder, deafening, tearing the world apart, lightning sizzled along the edges of reality. A final, merciless thrust had Tyler crying out again because he was so fucking raw he wasn’t sure he could take much more. Raw in a good way, but maybe Raif had been right to worry about breaking him. There didn’t seem like much would be left to put back together.

Still, he protested as Raif climbed off him. “You didn’t—”

“I did. You undid me with the taunt to fuck you harder.” Raif grinned and shook his head, continuing as he went to the bathroom, returning seconds later with the condom gone and a wet facecloth in his hand. “Which you will likely regret in the morning.”

The quick, efficient way Raif cleaned Tyler had him clamping his lips shut, too embarrassed to come up with a smart-assed reply. He covered himself with the sheet while Raif disposed of the facecloth, tempted to pretend to sleep so he didn’t end up having to talk about his feelings or something. There was only one thing he wanted to say to Raif, and he knew the man wouldn’t want to hear it.

Raif sat on the side of the bed, his brow furrowing as he studied Tyler’s face. “Do you regret—?”

“Fuck no! Where’d you get a stupid idea like that?” Tyler’s eyes widened as Raif’s fingers raked into his hair, his other hand slamming on his shoulder, pinning him to the bed, but not in a sexy way.

“Careful, boy. We may enjoy each other, but you will speak to me with respect.” Raif loosened his grip on Tyler’s hair. “Has your curiosity been satisfied?”

Tyler knew better than to be mouthy with a Dom, but Raif’s question pissed him off. He shoved at Raif’s chest. “Yeah, I was real curious, that’s why I did this. You don’t wanna hear anything else, so believe what you want. Get the fuck off me.”

“No.” Raif latched on to Tyler’s wrists and used the weight of his much bigger body to hold Tyler still. “What should I believe, zlato moje?”

Twisting, knowing he had no chance to get away, Tyler finally gave up and just glared at Raif. “I love you!”

Raif went still. Inhaled slowly, then nodded. “You’re right, I didn’t want to hear that. I’ve only been in love once—”

“Holy shit, you want to talk about him now? Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyler was going to punch Raif. And then he was going to walk down the hall and punch Zach too. Fuck being reasonable, he wasn’t sure he remembered how. “You know what, I was wrong. I fucking hate you!”

“Having a conversation with you would be much easier if I kept a gag on hand.” Raif sighed and framed Tyler’s face with his hands. “I’ve only been in love once before, Ty. I ruined that relationship. I would not give you the words unless I was sure, but I am. I love you, and it would be so much easier if I’d fallen for you first because if this doesn’t work out, I would be the only one to suffer.”

He loves me. Tyler groaned and grabbed fistfuls of Raif’s hair, kissing him hard. He would forgive Raif for being stupid, being in love made you stupid. Nothing wrong with that. “You’ll suffer for falling in love with me, Raif. I’m going to drive you nuts. Just ask Chicklet.”

“Should that make me feel better?” Raif kissed him back, not questioning Tyler’s sudden shift from angry to joking, which was good. If Raif couldn’t keep up, they were gonna have a problem.

“Nope, I just figured you deserved fair warning. Do you want a sandwich? I’m starving.”

“A sandwich?” Raif pushed off him and looked over at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s past midnight.”

“So what? I’m always hungry after great sex. And if you’re eating, you ain’t making me talk about shit.” Tyler rolled off the bed and walked naked to the desk to grab the room service menu. “You can tell me you love me again though. I like hearing it.”

Raif laughed and came up behind Tyler, wrapping his arms over his chest. “I love you.”

Phone ringing in his ear, Tyler grinned. “Sorry, I missed that.”

“I am going to beat you. Order me some steak. I will need all my energy.” Raif kissed Tyler’s throat, then went back to bed. The mood was light as they waited for the food, not talking about anything more serious than the next game.

After they ate, Tyler plunked down on the bed and closed his eyes. But he couldn’t sleep until Raif pulled him close, surrounding him with strength and warmth. Softly repeating the words Tyler needed to hear, over and over, leaving him no reason to question them anymore.

“I love you.”