Chapter Twenty-Three

A knock at the door of Scott’s hotel room. Then a louder one. He lifted the pillow off his face just long enough to shout, “Go away!” before wincing and hiding from the light. He hadn’t closed the blinds properly, and sunlight cut like a glaring blade straight across the bed.

Too much tequila at night, followed by too much sun in the morning, was a very bad mix. Top all that with a black eye and there was no way he was dragging his ass out of bed. Not for anyone who was currently in New York anyway.

As if Zach will show. He’s probably…

From what Scott had seen last night, Zach wasn’t with Zovko. Unless Tyler was okay with his bed getting pretty fucking crowded. Of course, the kid usually shared his bed with two women, and now he was banging Zovko, so who knew?

You goddamn well know Tyler wouldn’t do that to you.

He did know, but he couldn’t quite get over seeing Tyler throwing himself at his worst enemy. Actually, everyone seemed cool with Raif now. Things hadn’t been so bad when the bastard was shunned by every man in the locker room, but that had changed quick. He understood the game had to come first, and yet… How was he supposed to focus on playing when he had to see Zach’s first love almost every fucking day? To have to face the fact that things weren’t over between him and Zovko?

There was more knocking, followed by shouting. “Damn it, Demyan, it’s Hunt! You alive in there?”

“Yes! Now…ugh.” Talking loud made Scott’s head pound. A wince made his eyes hurt. He was in bad shape. And the rookie goalie was partially to blame.

“Open the door, man! I’m not going anywhere until I make sure I didn’t fuck you up too bad.” Hunt banged on the door again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fucking hit you. I was aiming for Carter.”

Great, now Scott felt guilty for making the kid feel guilty. He tossed the pillow, crawling out of bed, feeling like he was about a hundred years old. His lips still tasted like lemon and salt. He made his way to the door, opened it, then trudged across the room to grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge. The floor next to the fridge looked like the perfect place to land, so he plunked his ass down right there.

Coming over to crouch in front of Scott, Hunt whistled. And noisily dropped a bucket of ice on the ground. The boy really wanted to die. But he didn’t seem to realize he was cracking Scott’s skull open with every sound.

“Nice shiner.” The idiot didn’t even talk quietly. He had no mercy. “Brought you some ice for it. And I’ll order room service while you take a shower. You’ll feel better after you eat.”

“I got a better idea. You go away and I’ll get back in bed.” The bed was too far. Scott leaned his head against the wall. The floor it is. “Thanks for the ice.”

Hunt, being the annoying little—okay, not little but whatever—shit that he was, ignored Scott and went to the phone, still talking way too loud as he ordered enough breakfast for half the team. Except most of the team wouldn’t eat the crap Hunt ordered. Scott wasn’t even sure what buckwheat bread was, he wasn’t touching the grapefruit, and who the hell asked for chicken breast and boiled eggs?

When he heard Hunt asking if they had any Fiber One, he forgot about his pounding headache and fell over laughing. And groaning because that made his head hurt even worse. He lay on the floor on his back. “I hope that stuff was for you. I’ve never been less hungry in my life.”

Hunt hung up the phone and sat cross-legged beside Scott. “You might feel that way now, but you’ll thank me later.” He leaned over and poked under Scott’s eye, frowning and ignoring Scott’s curse. “Did you ice it at all?”

“I’m fine, Hunt. Be a good boy and find someone else to torture. Doesn’t Richards need you to feed him?”

“He’s hanging out with White again.” Hunt scowled and pushed to his feet. He walked away and Scott rolled over, annoyed with himself for being a jerk to the kid when he was just trying to help. He attempted to stand, but before he could, Hunt was back with a face cloth. And still scowling as he sat back down to dump some ice into the cloth. “He’s not in much better shape than you are. He was drinking beer all night in White’s room and I couldn’t get him out of bed this morning. So I came here.”

Lucky me. But Scott would prefer Hunt in here chatting with him—no matter how painful sound was—than out around the hotel, possibly running into Rangers’ fans and getting in a fight because he was in a bad mood. After the fight with Luke, Hunt needed to keep his head down. A skill he hadn’t quite mastered yet.

“Not up to you to babysit the rookie anyway.” Scott closed his eyes and patted Hunt’s forearm. “White will keep him out of trouble.”

“Sure he will. Guess the ankle monitor will make sure they can both be found anyway.”

“He can’t leave the hotel. What are you worried about?”

The cloth full of ice was pressed over Scott’s eye. A little too hard. Scott took it before Hunt did permanent damage and pushed back into a sitting position out of reach.

Hunt put his hands on his knees. “I liked White, but he brought Richards to see some asshole cop and…fuck, I don’t know. The kid’s confused. I was trying to help him.”

Well, looked like there was plenty of drama to go around. Scott would much rather focus on someone else’s, rather than his own, so he cocked his head. Gestured impatiently when Hunt didn’t continue. “Trying to help him…?”

“Explore his options I guess. He had his pick of some really hot chicks, but he wasn’t interested.” Hunt stared at the floor. “I just don’t want things to be hard for him, but…I don’t think there’s anything I can do, ’cept be his friend. And kick anyone’s ass that starts shit with him.”

All right, that was clear as mud. Scott carefully tried to place the disjointed bits of info. “Is he dating the cop’s daughter? Because kicking a cop’s ass is never a good idea.”

“No, he’s—” Hunt rubbed a hand over his face. “I really can’t tell you.”

“Okay, I got it. But you gotta know you’re right about just being his friend. If he knows you’re there, things will be easier for him, no matter what the issue is.” Scott glanced over at the door at a knock. “Let’s eat. And then I should probably give you shit about groping half-naked bunnies in front of my daughter.”

“Umm…yeah. Sorry about that.” Hunt shot him a sheepish smile on the way to the door. He returned a minute later with two covered trays of food which he set on the floor between them. He lifted the covers even as he finished his lame apology. “I tried to explain to her about the girls.”

“Yes. I heard.” Scott sighed as he looked over the trays. No coffee. He settled on one of the glasses of orange juice. “Next time…okay, no next time. But if you ever feel like explaining anything to her again, come ask me first.”

“Will do.” Hunt fixed up one of the plates with some of everything and handed it to Scott. “Eat up.”

Just to make Hunt happy, Scott took a few bites. Then distracted the younger man with speculations about whether Bower was hurt badly and if they had a chance against Philly. Hunt insisted Bower would be fine, but “just in case” he was doing extra work with the goalie coach. And spending a few more hours at the gym tonight if Scott wanted to join him.

The very idea of keeping up with Hunt at the gym made Scott tired. But it would be a good distraction. After a nice long nap.

He gave up on the pleasant idea of more sleep at another knock at the door. Sighed and rose to his feet. “I don’t suppose you’ll go away if I ask?”

Silence, then Zach, speaking barely loud enough to be heard through the door. “No. I think it’s time that we talk.”

“He’s right.” Hunt sidled past Scott with his plate and bowl of cereal on one of the trays before Scott could stop him. He opened the door, stepping aside so Zach could pass. “Make sure he eats. Work this shit out. You piss him off and I’ll find you. We clear?”

Zach arched a brow, then looked at Scott.

Scott rolled his eyes and nudged Hunt the rest of the way out of the room. “Threatening teammates is on our new list of you not acting like a crazy person. I’ll give you a call later, kid. We’ll hit the gym.”

“Sounds good.” Hunt shot one last warning glare at Zach, then headed off to his room.

The door was still open. Scott moved his hand as Zach faced him and gently pushed the door shut behind them. This was the first time they’d been alone in a long time, and Scott wasn’t sure what hurt worse. How much he missed this, or the fact that he wasn’t sure he wanted Zach here at all. He couldn’t think with the man so close, so he went back into the main room, straight past the bed to the only chair, a stiff black office chair by the desk.

Zach stood in the middle of the room, hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans, his gaze on the tray still on the floor. He cleared his throat, bending down to pick up the tray, putting it on the desk as though he had to do something.

Rocking idly back and forth on the chair, Scott folded his arms over his chest, simply waiting for Zach to say whatever he’d come to say. The man wasn’t stupid, so he wasn’t going to tell Scott to eat like Hunt had suggested.

Finally, Zach sighed and went to stand by the window. “We…we can’t go on like this, Scott.”

And…? Scott waited for more, but Zach remained silent. Rolling his eyes, Scott laughed and leaned his head on the back of the chair. “That it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Is he fucking serious? Scott shoved the chair back, letting it hit the desk as he strode up to Zach and fisted his hand in Zach’s wrinkled, plain white T-shirt. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The dark circles under Zach’s eyes, the fact that he clearly hadn’t shaved or showered, had concern smothering Scott’s rage. This wasn’t the first time Zach looked like he’d slept in his clothes.

“What is wrong with you? Damn it, Zach, I don’t know why this is happening! We had a good life, and all of a sudden he shows up and you’re ready to throw it all away. I believed you when you told me things were over between you, but you’ve done nothing but lie to me since!” He shook Zach. Let him go and backed away before he gave in to the urge to punch him because even though he looked utterly drained, he was still so fucking calm. There could be bombs going off outside and his expression probably wouldn’t change and it was driving Scott insane. “Is it me? If it is, just tell me! You’re hurting Becky and Casey now, and I’d rather you tell me I’m not who you want than see them dealing with this anymore.”

Quickly shaking his head, Zach stepped forward, his hands out like he wanted to grab Scott. But he stopped out of arm’s reach. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Please just…just give me time to fix this. You have to trust me to—”

“Trust you?” Scott threw his arms up in the air, then latched his fingers behind his neck. He paced away from Zach. Came back. “You tell me that you’d trust me if I was pulling even half the shit you have.”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! I’m the one who was a fucking whore! I’m the one who was so messed up I still don’t know why anyone would put up with me!” That had to be it. Scott could see Zovko being an easier choice. He was calm like Zach. Stable. He didn’t have all the disgusting baggage.

Zach moved so fast Scott didn’t have a chance to react. Suddenly he was trapped against the wall with Zach’s hands on his face. So close he could feel the heat of Zach’s breath. “I can’t tell you why this is happening, Scott. All I can tell you is I need time, and I love you so fucking much it kills me to know how much I’m hurting you.”

“Then stop!” Scott wrapped his arms around the back of Zach’s neck, kissing him, knowing it was pathetic but needing to remind the man he loved that they’d once had something—that they still could. Maybe he hadn’t fought hard enough. Maybe he should have done this when he’d first felt Zach slipping away.

A groan escaped Zach’s lips, full of a desperation that Scott couldn’t understand. His fingers delved into Scott’s hair, tugging enough to make his scalp ache. Their dicks rubbed through their jeans, and he shuddered when Scott reached between them to rub him, not even caring how stupid this was. He should stay mad and ignore how good it felt to touch Zach. To know Zach wouldn’t stop him.

He unzipped Zach’s jeans, stroking him, scraping his teeth down Zach’s throat as he tipped his head back. Precum beaded at the slit of Zach’s cock, and Scott slid his thumb through the moisture, surprised at the painful hiss of need so close to his ear. If Zach had been fucking Raif, he wouldn’t be this on edge from a simple touch.

“It’s been a long time.” Scott stroked slowly, his arousal dwindling away at Zach’s nod. He withdrew his hand and rested his head on Zach’s shoulder. “Please tell me the truth. You know I think you’re cheating on me, but…if I keep jerking you off, you’ll come and that’s not like you. You’re a Dom, and you pride yourself on your control. If it’s something else, we can—”

Zach went still. Lifted his head and looked Scott straight in the eye. “Maybe it’s just you, Scott. It has been a long time.”

The final blow, and Scott wasn’t just going to stand here and take it. He’d read things all wrong. Maybe Zach and Zovko were going through a dry spell because of Tyler. Well, too fucking bad. He wouldn’t be used—Zach had taught him that he deserved better.

He inclined his head and slid past Zach. Every damn step made him feel like he’d ripped his heart from his chest and was crushing it under his feet, but he made it across the room. Got to the door and held it wide open. “Get out.”

If Zach had hesitated, or said…anything, Scott would have changed his mind and asked him to stay. He wanted some reason to believe they could get past this. A glimmer of hope would be enough.

But Zach left the room. He gave Scott nothing.

Alone, still standing with the door open, Scott nodded to himself. He should have been prepared for this. He’d learned real young how quickly he could be cast aside when he’d served his purpose. And he’d done that, hadn’t he?

I can’t lose Becky too. Or…or my little girl. Scott let go of the door. Fell against it as pain tore into his chest. He gulped in air, releasing it in a sob. I need to go home. Need to go before it’s not mine anymore.

* * * *

Wednesday, two days after the game in New York, the team took a bus to Philadelphia, hustling off when they arrived without saying much to one another. Tyler was relieved that he could spend a few minutes just hanging out with Raif at the hotel and avoid the uncomfortable tension hanging over all the players. He hated Scott being sent home as much as anyone, but he was more worried about his friend being all right than the loss of one of their best power forwards.

He sighed as he changed into his suit, dropping onto one of the beds to stare at the ceiling and just chilling while Raif finished his shower. A few of the guys grumbling about how Scott had abandoned them had pissed off Luke so much that he’d gotten right in their faces, looking for a fight. Callahan had threatened to suspend him, which had shut Luke up, but he’d been quiet and moody since. Tyler wished he could do something to help his friends, but he was at a loss. He just tried his best not to lose his own temper. And hoped he played well enough to bring the guys’ spirits up with a win.

Of course he’d been all set on winning the last game, and look at how well that had turned out.

Coming out of the bathroom in only a towel, Raif stopped at the end of the bed and shook his head. “You’ll wrinkle your suit like that, Ty. Sit up.”

Tyler sat up, wiping the scowl off his face at Raif’s dark look. “Sorry, Sir.”

“Don’t be. I’d simply like you to present yourself well. And I’d prefer it if you didn’t mope quite so much. It makes me feel like I’m the only one grateful for all we have gained.” His lips slanted when Tyler’s brow furrowed. “I love you. Chicklet is happy for us and is already trying to convince me to move in with the three of you. Last week I wasn’t sure how long I would be with this team. Or if I wanted to consider extending my contract. Today, I am willing to do anything to stay. I have a reason to make a life in Dartmouth. With you.”

“I want that.” Tyler shot to his feet and hugged Raif, laughing when Raif muttered something about getting water stains on his suit. It was like he’d been sitting in a dark room, a switch had been flipped, and the light was suddenly on. “Did you tell her you’d move in? You can share my room, I’ll clean it up and stop being so messy. I told my mom about us and she can’t wait to meet you. She’ll come down this summer, and we can go sailing because she really likes that—”

“From depressing to exhausting.” Raif planted a solid kiss on Tyler’s lips. “I’d love to meet her. I take it things are going better with her and the man you don’t like?”

“I just got in a good mood, I don’t want to talk about him.” Tyler hadn’t told Raif much about Jules, but he’d let a bit slip after the last time he’d talked to his mom. Enough to make it a nonissue. As a Dom, Raif was always keeping an eye out for potential triggers, but there weren’t any for him to worry about. Tyler went to grab his phone off the bed and checked the time. “We don’t have to be anywhere for…”

“You’re not sore anymore?” Raif came up behind Tyler, his lips brushing his ear. “You do realize you may be tender every time I take you for a while.”

“Mmhmm.” Tyler wasn’t sure he cared. He leaned back against Raif, closing his eyes as Raif kissed his throat. “You gonna make me wait until after the game?”

“Yes,” Raif said, but his tone was husky and he didn’t stop lightly sucking and biting along Tyler’s throat. He brought one hand to the front of Tyler’s neck and the other down to squeeze his ass. “I won’t toy with you first though. I’ll drive myself mad.”

“Not seeing a problem with that.” Tyler reached behind him, hooking his thumb to the towel at Raif’s hip. His phone vibrated in his hand, and he tried to ignore it, but then Raif’s phone chimed on the dresser where he’d left it with his neatly folded clothes.

Tyler checked the text and saw it had gone out to the whole team. A time and place for them all to meet for a “required team activity.” The bus would be heading out in fifteen minutes.

So much for having some time to rest before the game tonight. Tyler sighed as Raif moved away from him, dressing so fast that Tyler didn’t have much of a chance to enjoy the view. He put on his shoes and went out to wait for Raif in the hall.

A few of the other guys were gathered near the elevator only a few feet away from the room. There wasn’t much conversation, but the atmosphere was more anticipation than pessimism. Only the rookies looked worried. Brad Kelly, who’d been called up from the minors for the second time this season to replace Scott, stuck close to Kral and eyed Mason like he thought the big man might come over and beat the crap out of him any second. Hunt stood by Callahan, clearly not by choice. He was glowering at the assistant coach—nothing new there. Richards was practically attached to White’s hip, nodding at everything White said to him and trying to look all cool and relaxed. The way he practically bounced in place ruined the effort.

Coach Shero came out of his room, smiling and inclining his head to the veterans as he made his way through the crowd. The team split into three separate elevators, getting off on the parking level and quickly boarding the waiting bus. The bus stayed idle for about ten minutes to give stragglers a chance to catch up. Ramos and Luke didn’t make it, but Tyler figured Ramos would make sure they weren’t late for the team activity. Bower was also missing. Not a good sign.

After a short drive, they reached their destination—which was a sports complex the Flyers used in New Jersey. Tyler had never been to this one…there was no ice, just a spread of green used for soccer and football. Good for running on and stuff, but—he wrinkled his nose as he looked over the chairs, tables, pylons, balls, and nets littering every inch of the indoor field—didn’t look like anyone had planned for them to do conditioning here.

Right outside the office at the front of the field, Shero spoke softly to Callahan, who nodded and went to the whiteboard, writing out player names in three groups of seven. Grinning at the men’s obvious confusion, Callahan went to his sports bag and pulled out three blindfolds and three short lengths of rope.

“Coach Shero thought you could all use a team-building exercise, and I couldn’t agree more. So we’re sending you out into a minefield.” Callahan gestured at the chaotic spread. “One man at a time goes through as fast as he can, then returns to tag in the next player. Fall and you’re dead. Bumping into things won’t kill you, but might hurt a bit. And you’ll run the course blindfolded.”

“But…” Kelly ducked his head when Kral frowned at him.

Callahan held a hand up, exchanging a look with Kral before speaking. “Go ahead, Kelly.”

Kelly stared out at the field. “Are we supposed to feel our way? I don’t get it.”

“Your hands will be tied behind your back, so feeling your way would be difficult.”

“Tied?” Kelly paled. “Someone’s going to get hurt.”

“Maybe, but I haven’t told you the best part yet. You’ll be listening for instructions from your teammates. You’re allowed to spread out, so long as you don’t step onto the course and there’s someone waiting at the starting point. You will work together to get each player through safely. The losing teams will be cleaning up this mess.” Callahan seemed to enjoy the low grumbling as the men took in the “mess.” He grinned as they finally quieted down. “The winning team will get a steak dinner before the game. You have five minutes to discuss strategy with your group.”

The groups quickly split. Tyler found himself matched up with Kelly, Kral, Luke—whom he hadn’t seen come in—Richards, Keaton Manning, an Irish forward who’d been with the team forever, and Vadim Zetsev, a Russian right-winger who kept to himself and wasn’t friendly with anyone.

Manning grabbed the pile of orange mesh pinnies and started handing them out, his lilt adding to his chipper tone. “We’ve got this, lads. All the old guys are on the other teams. All we have to do is move fast and listen close. Three of us have accents, so we have the advantage.”

Kral pulled on his pinnie and laughed. “I don’t have an accent. I’ve lived in the states for almost ten years!”

Okay, Tyler hadn’t really noticed before, but if he listened closely, he could catch a hint of Kral’s German inflection. He grinned and put his hand on Kral’s shoulder. “You’re wrong, but Manning is right. It’s a good thing.”

“I guess,” Kral said.

Luke leaned his forearm on Tyler’s shoulder. “What about me?”

“You talk so much no one will have a problem recognizing your voice.” Snorting as Luke gave him the finger, Kral looked over Tyler, Kelly, and Richards. “And you three sound like you’re about twelve, so that helps.”

“Exactly.” Manning gave Kelly a one-armed hug. “Tyler will go first, since he’s been with the team long enough to hear the difference between us all. Kelly, you stay here. Richards, you go to the other end and watch from there. The rest of us will spread out along the side and talk only when we can clearly see what’s in front of him. Good?”

Sounded like a plan. Tyler glanced over at the other groups, pleased to see Raif had taken charge of his, even though it could mean a loss for Tyler’s. He tried not to laugh as he watched Pischlar calmly shake his head at whatever Mason, who’d decided to lead the last group, was saying.

The groups gathered at the starting line and Tyler put on the blindfold. He wasn’t sure who tied his wrists behind his back, but the knots were secure and he lost track of what he was supposed to be doing as he tested his restraints. A whistle blew and he heard Raif shout “slow down!” But he hadn’t been moving, so…

So he had to listen to his own group. He took a few steps.

“Sharp left, Vanek. Directly to your left two steps, then walk straight.” Kral’s voice.

Tyler nodded and quickly followed the directions. There was a lot of yelling, but he blocked everything out aside from Kral.

“Step to your right, you’ve got a pylon right in front of you. Don’t go too far because there’s a table about a foot away. Perfect. Manning is taking over now.”

“You’re ahead of the others, lad. Keep going! Wait!” Manning laughed. “To the left, about six feet. Good. Now straight. Watch that ball!”

Stumbling as his foot clipped something heavy, Tyler blinked behind the blindfold and tried to gain his bearings. He’d turned a little with the near fall. The “ball” must have been a weighted one.

“There you go, well done. Sorry ’bout that.” Manning was silent, so Tyler didn’t move until he spoke again. “You’re facing the wrong way. Turn about forty-five degrees to your right. Yes! Okay, now step to the left. You’re clear for about three feet. Carter has you.”

Luke guided Tyler around a few obstacles, then let him know he was in Zetsev’s area. Zetsev’s tone was sharp, but his instructions were clear and suddenly Tyler felt hands on his shoulders. Heard Richards as he was spun around. “We’re fucking owning them all, Vanek. Take three steps. Listen for Zets.”

One man, then another, guided Tyler back to the starting line. He exhaled as Kelly pulled off the blindfold and slapped his back. “You rock! Mason’s team already lost a guy. Wish me luck!”

After Kelly untied his wrists, Tyler helped him with the blindfold and tried to tie the younger man up good enough so the trainer who was watching them didn’t have to come over. Raif’s group had just gotten a two-minute delay because one of their guys had slipped his restraints.

Kelly started forward, opening and closing his hands before walking into the side of a table Tyler tried to warn him about. Callahan ran over and adjusted the ropes before pulling Kelly back to the start.

Callahan glanced over at Tyler. “A little too tight.”

“Sorry, Kelly!” Tyler laughed as Kelly surged forward. “Stop! Okay, to the left. Perfect!”

They went through six men, maintaining the lead. Manning went last and he managed to hit every obstacle as they all tried to direct him ahead of Raif’s group, who’d finally found their rhythm. Manning lunged over the finish line just a step before Raif.

Kral pulled off Manning’s blindfold without undoing his restraints and lifted him up as they all hugged the Irishman. The last group stopped, but Callahan shouted that no one was going anywhere until they finished, so the entire team came together, cheering as Pischlar reached the end.

They’d all had fun and the losing groups didn’t complain as they began to pick up the “minefield.” But Tyler didn’t feel right about taking off to have a nice dinner while the other men cleaned up. He looked over at the rest of his group, who all seemed to feel the same.

Kelly came over as Tyler upended a table to fold it. “You thinking what I am?”

Tyler nodded. “We’re a team. We do this quick and we can all go eat. I’ll put in some cash to cover the other guys.”

“Me too.”

After carrying the table with Kelly to the storage room, they headed out for more, meeting Manning as he came in with an armful of medicine balls and dumped them in a bin. Tyler patted his shoulder. “Me and Kelly decided there’s not gonna be a loser.”

“Fair enough—me and Kral were just discussing the same thing.”

Once the room was back in order, Manning went to Callahan and Shero to tell him what they decided. Callahan was smiling and Shero looked pleased. The announcement brought deafening cheers from all the Cobras.

About an hour later, as they finally sat down to eat at a local steakhouse, Shero stood and raised his wineglass. He regarded each man at the table with a big grin on his weathered face. “A few of you paid for this learning experience with some bumps and bruises, but you all won. In two hours, we will show the Flyers who we are. A team that was dismissed too soon. A team that hasn’t given up the fight!”

Banging on the table, the Cobras all shouted their agreement. Some Flyers fans at the other side of the restaurant booed, but none of the guys even glanced their way.

Tyler chewed on a piece of steak, feeling damn proud to be part of this team. But he almost choked on the meat when he saw Luke snatch a bone from Ramos’s plate to add to the utensils and condiments he was using to show Kelly and Richards a game plan he’d come up with.

Ramos casually replaced the bone with a bun so he could finish the meat, and slid the saltshaker over a few inches. “Your defense is too far over, niño.”

Luke frowned, then nodded. “You’re right. Okay, so if you pass to Richards here…”

About three hours later, sitting on the bench in the Wells Fargo Center, well into the third period, Tyler watched Luke’s supper play set up smoothly on the ice. They were leading 1-0 against the Flyers, and the Cobras had taken a beating physically, but their passes were flawless and the score would be much more one-sided if the Flyers’ goalie wasn’t robbing them blind. The puck flew across the rink, from one defenseman to the other, then up to Kelly, who whipped it over to Richards. He took a shot, intentionally wide of the net. Luke snatched up the rebound and drilled it over the sprawling goalie’s shoulder.

The ping of the post. The puck dropped right over the goal line.

Tyler whooped as he jumped to his feet. He fist-bumped the guys as they skated by the bench, then vaulted over the boards to take the face-off at center ice.

A clean win of 3-0. Tyler only had one assist, but even scoring wouldn’t have felt better than knowing they’d done this as a team. The locker room was alive with excitement, guys chatting about the last road game in Minnesota, others joking and making plans for the night. No one was in a rush to leave.

Neither was Tyler, until he saw Raif slip out of the locker room with Pearce. He trusted Raif, so he wouldn’t dwell on it too much, but he couldn’t ignore the undertone of suspicion that filled the room, rancid after all the progress they’d made, like a rotten egg being smashed open on the floor.

Pischlar came over and nudged Tyler toward the door. “Come on, there’s a teen room in the hotel with some games I wanna try. You ever play Infinity?”

“Yeah, Casey has it.” Tyler grabbed his bag and led the way. The team bus wouldn’t leave for at least half an hour, so they took a cab. In the teen room, he managed to get into the game as he showed Pischlar all the tricks the different Disney characters could do.

Was almost enough to get him to stop wondering where Raif had gone with Pearce.

They were in the middle of racing when Coach Shero came in. He motioned for them to finish, his lips slanted with amusement as they got back into the game, bumping each other and shouting to try to gain the advantage. Pischlar toed off his dress shoes and suddenly his foot was stroking the back of Tyler’s calf.

Tyler went over a cliff and Pischlar took the lead.

“Son of a bitch!” Tyler tossed his controller on the couch and pulled Pischlar into a headlock as the man did a seated victory dance.

Shero chuckled and stood. “I’m glad you boys are in good spirits. I hate to disturb you, but would you be able to tell me where Richards is? I’d like to speak to him and he’s not in his room or responding to texts or calls…unless he is a heavy sleeper?”

“Richards doesn’t go to bed this early. He’s probably hanging out with some of the guys.” Tyler grunted as Pischlar shoved him back by the forehead while rising from the couch. “We’ll find him for you, Coach.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Shero shook both their hands, then left.

Pischlar pulled Tyler to his feet, his playfulness fading as he headed out to go to the elevator. “He’s probably with White. They’re drinking buddies now.”

Tyler shrugged. “White don’t drink that much.”

“He didn’t used to. But ever since…” Pischlar’s lips thinned, and he didn’t complete the sentence—Tyler had a feeling he had been about to say Tim’s death. But he waited for Pischlar to continue. “Let’s just say, I don’t think he’s the best influence.”

They got off the elevator and went to knock on White’s door. Loud music and rhythmic banging made it obvious someone was in there. But they probably hadn’t heard the knock over the noise. There’d be complaints if they didn’t turn it down soon—it was already after ten.

Pounding at the door, Tyler spoke as loud as he could without shouting. “Richards, get your ass out here! It’s important!”

The music died. Second later, the door opened to reveal Richards. Naked, with only a towel held in front of his dick in a pathetic attempt at modesty. His face was red and beaded with sweat and he reeked of beer.

“Hey, Vanek. Pischlar.” He gave them a jerky nod. “Umm…what’s up?”

Beside Tyler, Pischlar stumbled back a few steps. So not good.

Scowling at the rookie, Tyler moved away from the door. “Coach is looking for you. You might want to just call him though because you smell like a fucking brewery. You’re lucky we ain’t playing tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I—”

“Get your ass back in here, Braxton!” White shouted. The music came back on.

Richards flashed Tyler an apologetic smile. “I’ll call him. Thanks for the message.”

He closed the door in Tyler’s face.

Pischlar had already made it halfway down the hall. Tyler hurried to catch up with him, not sure what he could say to make this okay. Being in love with your best friend, who’s completely straight when you’re not, couldn’t be easy. Finding that friend fucking another man…too messed up. He waited for Pischlar to curse or punch a wall. To turn around and go back to the room to confront White. Any of those things would force Tyler to react fast and he could handle that.

Instead, Pischlar simply pulled out his key card and turned to give Tyler a stiff smile. “I had fun. We should do that again sometime.”

A beep as Pischlar slid his card into the card reader. He opened the door, stepped inside, then paused, looking over his shoulder with clear dismissal in his blue-gray eyes.

Bad. This is really bad. He almost wanted Pischlar to get mad. Or upset. Or at least say something! Tyler held the door open as Pischlar entered the room, unbuttoning his jacket, hanging it up, then doing the same with his dress shirt. The man was not okay. Tyler should probably leave him alone to deal with what had happened in his own way, but that didn’t feel right.

He glanced down the hall. Back at Pischlar. Scratched his jaw. “Hey, you want to come hang out in my room? Raif should be back soon, and we can all watch a movie or…”

Pischlar went still, hands on his belt buckle. He met Tyler’s eyes. “Or?”

All right, he wanted to be there for Pischlar, but…offering anything without Chicklet’s or Raif’s approval would not end well. He couldn’t call Chicklet because she went to bed early when she stayed with her dad. She usually called in the morning—or he did if he was up first. They had a routine which was comforting when they were apart.

But Raif was here. Somewhere. And Tyler wanted what he’d said to be true. He would be back soon…

“Thinking so hard, kid. I’m sorry.” Pischlar came over and ruffled Tyler’s hair much like Raif did. Which made Tyler think of Raif even more. Damn it, couldn’t he have at least told Tyler where he was going? How long he’d be? Tyler would have given him that respect.

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do nothing wrong.” Tyler retreated from the door. From Pischlar. Maybe going to his room alone would be best, but then he’d just sit there and get more pissed off. “Was a good day and it’s ending…well, all fucked up.”

“Have you seen The Lego Movie?”

Random much? Tyler stared at Pischlar.

Pischlar laughed and tugged him down the hall, letting his door shut on its own. “I know you like that kinda movie and I saw some previews. I’m curious.”

“Yeah…Casey wanted to see it, but I wasn’t sure and she’s observant, so she told me I had to go to the next good movie and made Demyan and Pearce bring her. I think Luke went too.”

“We can watch something else.”

“Sure. Whatever you’re into.” Tyler swiped his card and let Pischlar into his room. He took off his jacket and tossed it toward the dresser. “Not like I only watch kids movies. They’re just…relaxing. You can enjoy them and not think too much.”

“I like that. And…hell, I need that right now.” Pischlar grabbed the remote off Raif’s bed and sat down to scroll through recent movies. “I wish…I wish we hadn’t gone to White’s room.”

Finally, a reaction. Tyler sat beside Pischlar, watching the preview for The Lego Movie and agreeing it might be entertaining at least. He wasn’t sure what to do when the movie started and Pischlar slid up on the bed to recline on the pile of pillows he set up. Would be easier if Pischlar was fully dressed, but Tyler kept finding himself staring at the big tattoo on Pischlar’s chest. Glancing over to read the white ink on his ribs again. But Pischlar didn’t seem to notice, or mind, his looking. So he propped himself on an elbow and admired the old-style compass on Pischlar’s wrist.

Plain black and white, but it was cool. Made Tyler want his own ink. He should probably ask Chicklet first though…

Or maybe not. She’d been mad about his getting his nipples pierced in a bar. But she always wanted him to be safe and…well, that hadn’t been. He filed away the thought and looked at the tattoo on Pischlar’s pelvis. His pants covered most of it. All except for the wings.

Look, but don’t touch. Tyler was pretty sure he understood Chicklet’s rules. She was the one who usually blurred the lines. But now Raif could do that too. But he wasn’t here.

“You learn quickly, zlato moje. I almost feel selfish having you only sucking my dick since you do it so well.”

Tyler wet his lips with his tongue, looking over at the TV when he caught Pischlar watching him. His cheeks grew hot, and he hoped the other man couldn’t guess the direction his thoughts had gone.

“You’re in for it now, angel. Your man isn’t greedy. I can just see you now, surrounded by men while they each take their turn with you.”

Yeah, Chicklet wouldn’t have a problem with Raif sharing Tyler. The idea of being shared had scared him, but so had some of the past scenes she’d suggested. He’d never been completely comfortable with Laura being handed off to random men, but that was between her and their Mistress. Neither had asked for his opinion.

But he knew Raif would want to talk before he brought in another play partner. And if given the choice, Tyler would want someone he was comfortable with. And who better than Pischlar? Pischlar wasn’t a threat to their relationship, and fooling around might cheer him up.

That or a few drinks. Since when do you offer sex to your buddies when they’ve had a rough day?

Never. And he wouldn’t start now. Especially without Raif around.

Drinks it is. But he couldn’t resist drawing his finger along the tip of the wings. Pischlar hissed in a breath, then laughed. “Damn, you’ve come a long way. Few weeks ago you wouldn’t have been so comfortable touching me.”

“Still shouldn’t be.” But Tyler didn’t move his hand. His pulse quickened as Pischlar’s muscles hardened under his fingertips. He heard the door open and close. Met Pischlar’s questioning gaze. “I like your tattoos. They all done by the same person?”

“Mmm…most of them.” Pischlar gave him a hooded look. “Why, you want one?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Think long and hard. I wouldn’t want you doing something you’d regret.”

Raif stepped up to the end of the bed, his arms folded over his chest. He looked damn sexy in his dark blue suit. But not too happy. “Should I apologize for interrupting?”

Maybe if Tyler got off the bed and knelt at Raif’s feet, he could salvage the night. Pretend this was all innocent. But he knew Raif would prefer honesty. Tyler refused to be sneaky, and he hadn’t really done anything wrong. His relationship with Chicklet and Laura had lasted so long because they were truthful with one another about their needs. His relationship with Raif would be no different.

“You didn’t interrupt anything. I asked Pischlar to come hang out. Thought he needed a drink because…well, he can tell you more if he wants to.” Tyler sat up, lowering his gaze at Raif’s hard look. “I was thinking about what you said when we were with Chicklet and…yes.”

The edge of Raif’s lips curved slightly. He moved closer and tipped Tyler’s chin up with a finger. “You have a strange way of asking for permission, boy. You’re lucky you are with a man—a Dom—I trust. We will work on your negotiation skills.”

“You weren’t here to negotiate anything with.” Tyler winced as Raif framed his jaw with enough pressure to keep him from backing away. “I wouldn’t have done anything—”

“I am aware of that, but proceed with caution, Tyler. We have a…unique arrangement. However, my absence isn’t an excuse.”

“You’re right.”

“Yes. And from now on, you will refrain from touching or kissing anyone without first clearing it with me or Chicklet.” Raif relaxed his hold on Tyler’s face. Smiled as he patted Tyler’s cheek. “No harm done. You may continue with your movie. I have some calls to make.”

“Should I fix us all some drinks?”

Raif already had his phone out, but he nodded even as he brought it to his ear. And held up two fingers.

As Tyler went to take out a few small bottles of rum from the minibar and cans of Coke from the small fridge, Pischlar paused the movie and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder.

“What is this, Vanek? I don’t want your pity.”

“This isn’t pity, this is… Fuck, I probably should have said something. Now it’s all awkward. Chicklet and Raif brought up me…doing stuff. With another guy.” Awkward wasn’t the word for discussing all this. Tyler was shaking and he knew his face was red, and he knocked over the first plastic cup twice as he tried to pour the soda. “I wasn’t really planning anything, but I kinda assumed—”

“I’m easy.” Pischlar chuckled and took the small bottle of rum from Tyler’s hand. “Chill out, kid. You let your Dom know you want to try something. You’ve got nothing else to worry about. You have no say in what happens from here on.”

And that was supposed to help him “chill out”? Tyler was pretty damn sure he’d gotten in way over his head. People should not let him decide anything more complicated than what color boxers he put on in the morning.

Handing him a cup of rum and Coke, Pischlar took a sip from his own, his gaze never leaving Tyler’s face. “Can I ask what the two was about?”

“Raif won’t let me drink before a scene, but…” Tyler gulped down his drink, positive there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to give him the liquid courage he needed to get through the night. “For anything else there’s a limit of two.”

“‘Anything else?’” Pischlar arched a brow as though he didn’t understand, but Tyler knew the man was fucking with him. The next offhanded remark proved it. “You’ve been bold so far, boy. Don’t be vague now.”

“Boy”? Tyler gaped up at Pischlar as his friend crowded him against the desk. Unless they were at the club, he rarely saw Pischlar as a Dom. But they wouldn’t do a scene. He didn’t have anything to worry about…did he?

Pischlar didn’t lay a hand on him, but his presence was enough to make Tyler feel restrained. To bring Tyler to that place where all he wanted to do was obey. He’d been turned on before because Pischlar was hot, and Tyler had a new appreciation for the male body and what the strength in all those muscles could do to him. A taste of Pischlar’s dominance had him rock hard and ready.

He chewed at his bottom lip as Pischlar continued to wait for his answer. Drew in a rough inhale. “Sex. I’m allowed two drinks before sex.”

With a positively evil grin on his lips, Pischlar took Tyler’s cup and fixed him a refill. After handing the cup to Tyler, Pischlar lifted his own in cheers. “Then you’d best drink up.” He glanced over at Raif, his fingers hovering close to Tyler’s lips. At Raif’s nod, he slid his fingers over the moisture on Tyler’s bottom lip. “I’d like to show you the rest of that tattoo.”

* * * *

Raif hung up with his agent, who’d hounded him about feeling around for offers from other teams. For the longest time, Raif couldn’t give the man a definite answer, but as he’d told Tyler, things had changed. If the Cobras would have him, he would consider Dartmouth his permanent home. He knew he could potentially play for five more years—ten with no major injuries if he remained in good condition.

His only concern had been that if things didn’t last with Tyler, his presence would be difficult for Zach. He disliked being so practical, but he wouldn’t make long-term plans without considering every angle. He’d been up front with Zach, assuring him that while their relationship was in the past, their friendship would hold strong. If Raif making himself look bad to the team to protect Zach’s secrets didn’t prove his loyalty, nothing would. Raif had put the distance between them originally, but he’d done his best to define what they would be to one another from this point on. He couldn’t leave things open for Zach to fall back on him as a lover if the man couldn’t salvage his marriage or whatever he had with Demyan.

Thankfully, Zach wanted the same. He insisted he could repair the damage he’d done. What he wouldn’t tell Raif was why he’d intentionally done the damage in the first place.

There’d been no new revelations after their chat, which left Raif frustrated, feeling useless. He’d returned to the room with his focus on Tyler, sure his boy would be waiting for him, impatient as ever, and bring his focus back to where it belonged.

Finding Tyler in bed with Pischlar had…well, not upset Raif, but he couldn’t figure out how he should react. He wasn’t jealous exactly, but he considered Tyler his, if only in part. As he’d spoken to Tyler he’d observed Pischlar’s laid-back attitude and realized that was probably exactly what had appealed to Tyler. Raif and Chicklet had planted the idea of being shared in Tyler’s head. His boy probably hadn’t thought long on the matter, he’d simply reacted to the opportunity.

In the future, Raif would be firmer about his limits, but he couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy the way Tyler toyed with the forbidden before stopping to make sure he hadn’t gone too far. Raif watched Pischlar trace his fingers across Tyler’s lips before returning to the bed. Raif avoided Tyler’s uncertain look, preferring to leave his boy wondering where they—as in he and Pischlar—would take things from here. He let his gaze travel over Pischlar, spread out across the bed, shirt off, arms folded behind his head as the movie played. Tight muscles, a long, lithe body with tattoos covering more and more of his skin every time Raif saw him. The earrings weren’t something that Raif typically found attractive, but they fit with Pischlar’s complete ownership of himself as a person. As though the ink and the metal were outward displays of how very different he was from what people might expect.

The kind of man Raif would have gone after when he was single. One with no expectations, because life had taught him the moment was all that mattered. Only, those men he could walk away from at the end of the night. Both he and Tyler would see Pischlar every day at practice. He imagined Tyler hadn’t considered that, or hadn’t considered it an issue, but Pischlar was Tyler’s friend. Tyler worried about the other man. Whatever had happened tonight, Raif had a feeling Tyler was trying to make it better.

Not horrible motivations, but Raif hadn’t wanted any potential sharing to be complicated. He could see Tyler diving in and then drowning in regret because he hadn’t thought further than giving his friend an outlet for the night. His boy had no experience with casual sex.

But Raif did. And Pischlar was known for his careless flings. The night could be enjoyable for them all, but only with the assurance that Tyler knew the experience was nothing more. Tyler had seen Chicklet share Laura. This would be handled in the same manner.

With no question about that simple fact, or they would go no further. He approached the bed, blocking Pischlar’s view of the TV. “Since we’ve decided against being vague, what do you want with my sub?”

Over by the desk, Tyler choked on his quick gulp of rum and Coke.

Pischlar gave Raif a lazy smile. “Whatever you’ll give me. I didn’t come in here with the intention of fucking him, Zovko, but I wouldn’t object.”

Raif inclined his head. He appreciated Pischlar’s bluntness. “And tomorrow?”

“I’ve played with Carter. I won’t go into details, but do you see me treating him as anything more than a friend?”

Tyler was coughing louder now. He stared at Pischlar. “You’ve…what?”

A casual shrug, and then Pischlar patted the bed beside him. “Doesn’t mean you’re not special tonight, Vanek. But once I leave this bed—all symbolically and everything—you will be the same man to me. A friend. Your Master needs to hear that. And so do I, from both of you.”

The implication was amusing. Raif wasn’t a young man to mistake lust for love. “My reputation should speak for itself, Easy.”

“Of course, because sneaking around with an old flame shows how quickly you move on.” Pischlar’s tone hadn’t changed, but his gaze was direct, and he didn’t seem to care that Raif’s eyes narrowed in response. Actually, his lips quirked slightly. “This isn’t a scene, but we’re pushing the boundaries a bit. Don’t get all pissed off because I need to hear you say you won’t want to keep me, Zovko. He’s your sub, so you’ll be in control the whole time.”

“Yes, I will.” Raif let his gaze trail over Pischlar again, a surge of desire hardening his cock and a heavy heat settling in his balls. The man’s frank assessment irked him, but he could understand the necessity. Not many Doms were comfortable submitting to another in any fashion—Pischlar would do so only temporarily. They would be equals in every way once they left this room. Raif nodded. “I’ve no desire to ‘keep you,’ Pischlar. Tyler is a handful, but he is mine because I love him. You would frustrate the hell out of me.”

“I’d do my best.” Pischlar winked, then cleared his throat. “I don’t think he’ll come when I call. Could you tell your boy to get back on the bed with me? The movie’s almost over.”

Before Raif had a chance to say a word to Tyler, his boy slammed his empty cup on the desk, making an aggravated sound as he stared at them. “This isn’t a scene. I’m his boyfriend, Pisch, not his damn dog.”

“Fine. Can I play with your boyfriend, Zovko?” Pischlar rolled while reaching out, latched on to the waist of Tyler’s pants, and tugged him until Tyler either had to climb on the bed or fall on top of him. As Tyler knelt awkwardly at the edge of the mattress, Pischlar let out a soft laugh. “I think he’s shy now that he knows what we’re going to do to him.”

Shyness wasn’t a label Raif would have ever placed on Tyler, but he could tell his boy was nervous. And frayed nerves tended to sour Tyler’s attitude. Raif moved up behind Tyler, stroking along the back of his neck and his spine as he would a skittish colt. A bit and a lead would likely ease the way, but Raif could handle Tyler just fine without. “Relax, Ty. I would like you in the same position as when I came into the room.”

Tyler shivered as he reclined on the bed on his side, low enough to get a close look at the tattoo on Pischlar’s pelvis. Raif settled his hand on Tyler’s nape as Pischlar undid his belt, his pants, and pushed them down just to expose the swallow and the coordinates beneath it. The waistband of his white boxers held his dick out of sight, but he was clearly hardening under the restraining material.

The tattoo seemed to fascinate Tyler. He stopped trembling as he traced his fingers over the body of the bird. His thumb went over the numbers. “What do these mean?”

“They are the coordinates for Villach, Austria. Where I was born.” Pischlar rested his head on the pillow, hands open against the bed, forearms tense. “Fuck, Vanek…”

“What?” Tyler lifted his head, sliding his fingers down past the tattoo. He licked his lips and slipped his fingertips under the elastic waistband. “This doesn’t look comfortable.”

This time, Pischlar’s laugh was strained. “Nervensäge!”

Raif’s German was rusty, but he was pretty sure Pischlar had just called Tyler a brat. He wouldn’t be the first. Raif chuckled as Tyler continued to toy with a sensitive spot he found near the bird’s beak. “I think my ‘boyfriend’ intends to play with you, Easy.”

“He gonna do more than play?” Pischlar hooked his thumbs to his boxers and lifted his ass to pull them down and reveal his cock. Long and hooded with foreskin, which seemed to give Tyler pause. Raif had noticed in locker room that Pischlar wasn’t circumcised; he didn’t make a habit of staring at other men since straight ones became uncomfortable, but a cursory glance was all he’d needed and Pischlar spent more time naked than most players.

Tyler likely kept his gaze above waist-level when he was in the showers. But he didn’t hesitate for long before wrapping his hand around Pischlar’s cock, loosely stroking while he watched the other man’s face. Pischlar groaned and pressed his eyes shut.

Watching Tyler adjust his grip as he leaned over Pischlar, nervousness giving way to his need to please, was fucking sexy. Raif cupped the back of Tyler’s head, urging him down as he pressed his lips to the head of Pischlar’s cock. The sight of Tyler slowly taking another man’s dick into his mouth sent blood pulsing into Raif’s own length. He could almost feel that first tentative glide of Tyler’s hot mouth, the way his tongue explored the smooth flesh, the veins, his gaze unwavering as he focused on every reaction.

Pischlar fisted his hands in the blankets, breathing hard, completely lost to the sensation. Raif tugged at Tyler’s hair, stopping him for a moment so he could wrap his own hand around the base of Pischlar’s cock. “Only your mouth, zlato moje. I’d like to test our friend’s restraint.”

“Du Hurensohn!” The muscles in Pischlar’s neck strained as he bucked his hips in response to Raif’s rougher strokes, which kept rhythm with Tyler’s long, wet slide.

“Leave my mother out of this, Pischlar.” Raif smirked as he met Pischlar’s eyes, enjoying how the man struggled to retain some control. “If you impress me, I’ll let you fuck him. While I fuck you.”

Sweat beaded on Pischlar’s flesh, and he used the back of his hand to wipe it away from his eyes. His jaw hardened and he gave a jerky nod. As Raif encouraged Tyler to move faster, he could have sworn he heard Pischlar mumbling a prayer.

As soon as Raif sensed Pischlar couldn’t hold back anymore, he pulled Tyler away. There was no mistaking the look Pischlar gave him even before he spoke. “That so counted, but… Damn it, I want him, Raif, but if either of you aren’t comfortable with this…”

Raif glanced over at Tyler, who was drying the slickness of saliva off his lips with his thumb, appearing quite pleased with himself. No doubt there that Raif could see. There was only one issue left to address.

“Do you mind performing for an audience?” Raif grinned as Tyler’s cheeks reddened and Pischlar’s brow furrowed. “Chicklet would like a video for her personal viewing.”

A bark of laughter and Pischlar shot to his feet, kicking aside the boxers that had fallen around his ankles. He combed his fingers into Tyler’s hair, tipping his head back and teasing his lips with gentle little bites. “Take a picture and send it to her now. Then I’ll give you something worth watching.” He continued to kiss Tyler as Raif took out his phone and snapped a few photos for his boy’s Mistress, speaking against Tyler’s lips. “But I want a copy.”

* * * *

Tyler had never tried drugs, he’d joined the league young and staying healthy and toking didn’t mix, but right now he felt high as a kite. Restraints and light beatings had given him this sensation in the past—so had intense scenes when he settled so deeply into the submissive headspace he lost the will or the ability to think for himself. But kissing and foreplay—hell, even sex had never been enough alone.

But this went beyond sex. Raif helping him suck off Pischlar reminded Tyler who was in charge. A flash from the corner of his eye as Pischlar’s tongue slid into his mouth made him feel like Chicklet wasn’t being left out. He’d known she watched all kinds of kinky shit to get herself off; she enjoyed her own body and he’d been lucky enough to see her spread out on the bed fucking herself with her fingers. But knowing she’d be watching him again and again, that she’d decided to let him play the same way she and Laura had for so long…?

All his reservations where gone. He kissed Pischlar back with passion that wasn’t only for the fucking hot man who’d gone from being an awesome friend to goddamn irresistible. He knew what Pischlar was like and didn’t expect anything beyond tonight, but…but he did want tonight. If there was ever a drug invented that could give you a rush without any damage if you inhaled just once, it would be called Shawn “Easy” Pischlar.

“Come on, Vanek. I think you need a shower,” Pischlar said in a stage whisper before shifting away.

A shower? Tyler wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not. He didn’t stink or anything. He frowned at Pischlar. “I took one after the game.”

“I know. I was there.” Pischlar nudged Tyler toward the bathroom. “But you need to be very clean for what I have planned.”

Yeah, there was only so much a shower could do if Pischlar was asking what Tyler thought he was. “I, umm, had blood tests just last month. And no offense, but even Raif uses a condom and—”

“I don’t fuck anyone without protection, so no worries there. We all had the same tests, kid. I know you’re clean.” Pischlar turned Tyler to face him in the center of the small bathroom. He quickly unbuttoned Tyler’s shirt, then pulled it off and hung it on the doorknob. “Now you’re ruining the dialogue. You take showers with me all the time—”

“Not the same.”

“Very true.” Pischlar tugged roughly on Tyler’s belt to undo it, a smirk on his lips. “Would be uncomfortable for the other guys if I soaped you up and jerked you off in front of them.”

Tyler’s cock throbbed as Pischlar shoved his pants down with his boxers. This had to be revenge or something because just the dirty talk had Tyler so fucking turned on he was gonna embarrass himself. He inhaled, holding his breath as he looked over at Raif. Who still had the phone in his hand, held up for the perfect angle.

Not only Chicklet would see this. Raif was watching him now. Embarrassing himself would be bad, but failing to show the restraint Chicklet had spent two years teaching him, that Raif expected…no way in hell would he disappoint them. So he took a stranglehold on the surge of lust, grateful for the seconds of distance from Pischlar as the other man turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature.

A gesture from Pischlar and Tyler stepped under the wide spray, loving the way the heat eased all the tension from his body. He felt Pischlar step up behind him and tipped his head back as Pischlar’s arms surrounded him. Hands splayed over his chest, Pischlar grazed his teeth along his throat. Kissed down his spine even as he held his hand out and Raif passed him a small bottle of body wash.

Suds gathered as Pischlar rubbed his hands together with his arms still around Tyler. He dropped the bottle and ran his hands over Tyler’s chest. His stomach. Then all the way down to his cock. He stroked like he had all the time in the world, but Tyler shuddered with his attempt to ignore the current zipping through his cock and into his balls. His sack felt so tight and heavy all he could do was lean his head back against Pischlar’s chest and try to think of anything that would keep him from coming. He started seeing characters from Disney movies, but he’d perved too many erotic pictures of every single princess for that to do any good. So he pictured Luke, setting up the play over dinner. The game. A solid hit from a big, ugly player who had spit hanging from his bottom lip.

Much better.

Pischlar curved his hands over Tyler’s ass, massaging in a way that was almost relaxing. Until he slipped two fingers down. He pressed into Tyler. Tyler’s breath caught and he groaned as the pressure disappeared, then returned, slippery and sliding in easily. But burning—fuck, soap burned a lot worse than the lube Raif had used.

“Put your hands on the wall, Vanek.”

His knees shook, and he panted as he tried to ignore the stinging sensation, but he braced his feet at either side of the bath and positioned his hands. Pischlar’s fingers went deep enough to stretch, withdrew, and suddenly a handful of water was rinsing away all the soap. Slowly, the burning lessened, becoming tolerable.

He couldn’t feel Pischlar for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Pischlar kneeling behind him. Spreading him open and…

A loud moan escaped Tyler’s lips as he felt the tip of Pischlar’s tongue circling, pressing against him, into him. His legs shook and he dropped his head, gasping for air. All the nerves within were sparking and shooting off white-hot surges of electricity that went right through him. His dick twitched against his stomach, and he knew if anyone touched it, he’d fucking come so hard they’d have to carry him out on a stretcher. He might never be able to move again.

“Jebi ga,” Raif murmured, somewhere off to the left.

Tyler had tried to stifle his moaning and groaning, but as he thought of the video they were making for Chicklet, he let all the sounds out. His throat was sore by the time Pischlar’s tongue left him. He stumbled as Pischlar helped him out of the shower. Need was throbbing so hard in his dick he spun around, hoping if he kissed Pischlar the man would give him some relief.

Pressing a finger to Tyler’s lips, Pischlar shook his head. “Go tend to your Master. I’ll be right with you.”

Swallowing and shaking, not sure he could manage another step, Tyler followed Raif, looking back once to see Pischlar opening a small bottle of mouthwash.

Raif took hold of Tyler’s wrist and drew him close. He studied Tyler’s face, then smiled. “I should have said not quite a scene. Sit on the bed and calm yourself a little. I will position the camera so our ladies can enjoy the rest of the show.”

The bed was nice and solid. Sitting on it required no effort. And the water cooling on Tyler’s flesh did the same to his blood. By the time Raif set up the phone, stripped, and made himself comfortable on the middle of the bed, Tyler was a bit further from ignition.

Palming his own thick erection, Raif beckoned Tyler over. “On your hands and knees. Give me your mouth.”

No need to ask him twice. Tyler crawled onto the bed and swept his tongue over the head of Raif’s dick. He let out a soft grunt as Raif roughly jerked his head up.

“Kiss me first, Ty. We aren’t casual lovers. I want to be sure you haven’t forgotten.”

The rapid beating of his heart overwhelmed the pulse in his cock as he met Raif’s eyes. He moved closer, putting one hand on the side of Raif’s throat as he kissed him. “I haven’t. I know how this works. I meant it when I said I love you.”

“So did I. Remember that, no matter what happens.” Raif deepened the kiss, moaning into Tyler’s mouth as Tyler cupped his balls. “Fuck! You make it difficult to have a conversation, boy.”

“Schedule them better. I want to suck you. I want you to fuck Pischlar while he fucks me. I want you both to feel as wild as I do.” There wasn’t anything else to talk about anyway. Nothing bad would happen. Tyler’s life might be fucking crazy, but he was enjoying every minute. He took Raif’s throbbing cock in his mouth even as he heard Pischlar walk out of the bathroom.

“Say the word, Zovko,” Pischlar said, laying his hand on the center of Tyler’s spine. “This still cool?”

Raif let out a low growl as Tyler deepthroated him. “Condoms and lube are in the zipper part of my suitcase. This is more than ‘cool.’ You may back out if you’d like, but this is your only opportunity with him. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.”

All his attention on sucking and stroking Raif’s dick, Tyler hardly noticed when Pischlar got on his knees behind him. But the cool drizzle of lube made his steady pace falter. He gasped around Raif’s cock as the blunt head of Pischlar’s dick pressed against him. He let Raif slip from his mouth as the stretching increased. Made himself relax as Pischlar spoke softly and stroked his thigh. Pischlar eased out, added more lube, then slipped in farther.

A hand on his cheek distracted him from the uncomfortable pressure. Raif kissed him again. “I need to see him fucking you. I need to use him while he’s using you. Do you want this?”

Breathing wasn’t easy, but Tyler gulped in air and nodded, hoping it would be enough.

It was. Raif rose from the bed and moved out of sight. Tyler tensed a little, but thoughts of Chicklet stifled the panic. They both trusted Raif. Raif was here and she would be watching all this very soon. He wanted to be with her the first time she saw the video, wanted her to spread her legs and hold him against her as she cried out over and over with every erotic scene. He relaxed a little more, pushing back against Pischlar as the pressure increased. He felt Pischlar’s thighs against his. Heard Raif whisper something before Pischlar’s muscles tensed. A hot breath ruffled his hair as Pischlar leaned over him.

The slapping of flesh on flesh echoing through the room was double-timed with the thrusts of Pischlar’s dick slamming into his ass. Tyler jerked as Pischlar braced himself on one hand and used the other to stroke Tyler’s cock. Harder, faster, until Tyler cried out with a fierce, uncontrollable orgasm. He came, bucking forward, arching back, locking his arms so he wouldn’t fall on his face. He came with the force of being thrown into the boards and being knocked out cold, only he didn’t see black and he hadn’t dropped to the cold ice. He was burning up in a fucking sauna, dick first into blazing coals that felt amazing on his skin.

He didn’t move when Pischlar pulled out. Wasn’t sure he could. But when Raif joined him on the bed, he needed to be close to him. He practically collapsed next to Raif, only finding the strength to drag himself up to rest his head on Raif’s shoulder.

Raif speaking ruined the quiet buzz in his brain, but he’d deal. “Stay, Pischlar. Tomorrow—”

“It is tomorrow, Zovko.” Pischlar let out a tired laugh. “This was awesome, but I need my space. If I wasn’t okay, I’d stay. I’m good. Better than good. I needed this.”

“Understood. Sleep well, Pischlar.”

“I’m gonna pass out as soon as I get to my bed. Couldn’t say that earlier,” Pischlar said. “G’night, guys.”

Tyler said goodnight, or tried to anyway, but he wasn’t sure Pischlar had heard him. But he believed that Pischlar was okay. Which made all good in the world. And passing out was an awesome idea.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to talk right now, zlato moje?”

Tyler shrugged. “If you want to. That was awesome. He’s okay. Think he needs to talk to White, but that’s not my business. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with shit like that. We all know where we stand.”

Holding Tyler close, Raif spoke quietly. “‘We’?”

“Me, you, Chicklet, and Laura. If things weren’t stable, playing with other people would…well, make things worse. But that don’t happen. Not to say I never get jealous about the scenes they do without me, but I get it now. We all have our own fun.”

“That would be ideal.”

Tyler smiled, hearing a bit more of Raif’s accent in his tone and sure that he was too worn out to say anything in the proper tense. “That is ideal” was what he’d meant to say. And he was right. Laura constantly used the word “perfect” to describe how things should be, and Tyler usually found it funny, but now he could relate.

Life was perfect. He had no complaints.

Especially when Raif kissed his temple and whispered, “I do love you.”

And he didn’t have to think for a second before he said, “I know.”