Page 125 of The Trade Deadline
The desire was fleeting: they both needed this too much to wait any longer. If Ryan decided to drag things out, Lars was so needy and desperate he might actually cry. But Ryan was holding Lars steady with one hand and eased his dick against his hole, a gentle but firm pressure until?—
“Fuck,” they hissed together when Ryan’s dick pushed past the rim. Lars clenched around him and Ryan whined pitifully, and he was barely inside him. It felt like it took ages for Ryan to push in fully, though in reality it probably took less than a minute.
“You good?” Ryan asked when he was balls deep. His hands were digging into Lars’s hips and his legs were trembling. “You feelamazing.”
Lars nodded. “I’m fine. Move.”
Ryan wasted no time. He settled into a steady rhythm of shallow, hard thrusts occasionally broken up by a longer, even harder one that rocked through Lars so sharply his cock slid against the cold glass, pre-come smearing across the window. It was the only friction on him, but he needed both hands to keep himself upright or they’d both hit the window. He didn’t mind, though; he’d have already come if there were a hand on his dick.
When Ryan came, Lars could feel his come spilling inside him. Warm and deep, it almost pushed Lars over the edge. Instead a spurt of pre-come shot onto the window.
“Fuck that was good,” Ryan mumbled against his ear before sucking the earlobe into his mouth. His right hand wrapped around Lars and slid around his dick. Ryan thumbed across the head before he started to jerk him off. “I should put that plug back in so you’ve got my come in you the rest of the day.”
Beyond words, Lars moaned in response. He wouldn’t say no to that, except he’d been looking forward to the feel of Ryan’s come dripping out of him for weeks now. Maybe next time.
“I’ve wanted to fuck against this window since I moved in,” Ryan admitted. His hand never stopped, and Lars started thrusting into his fist.“One of us trapped against the glass, no one out there knowing.”
The idea of someone knowing made Lars’s insides twist. Not being caught having sex (disaster), but the world knowing they were together. Lars and Ryan. Not teammates, former or otherwise. A pair. Together.
The thought made his head light, almost like he was drunk. He bucked into Ryan’s hand so hard Ryan slid out of him, come sliding down his leg and finally sending Lars over the edge. He came in spurts into Ryan’s hand and then nearly collapsed.
He rested his cheek against the glass and groaned. Ryan was a warm, solid weight behind him. He had both arms around Lars to bear his weight and had buried his nose in Lars’s hair. Despite the burn in his legs and the effort it took to stay upright, Lars really liked the feeling.
“Jag tror att jag är kär i dig,” Lars said as he threaded their fingers together.I think I’m in love with you.Safe to say when he knew Ryan couldn’t understand him. When they didn’t have to worry about thehow.
“If you’re saying you’re hungry or that we’re a mess,” Ryan said, “then I agree.” He kissed the back of Lars’s head before easing them both upright. “You should see the shower. It’s got one of those rainwater faucets. It’s great.”
And while food and a shower hadn’t been on Lars’s mind, those things were simpler; he followed Ryan willingly.
* * *
Ryan pulled over in front of Anders’s house, ignoring the long driveway. Things were better between them, but still not as good as they’d been before the trade; they’d taken their time getting cleaned up and continued their pattern of not actually saying anything real as they chatted over dinner. Lars tried not to read too much into Ryan’s choice of drop-off spot.
The car engine continued to thrum, and Lars was forced to acknowledge Ryan was going to leave.
“You sure you don’t want to come in?” There was a pleading note to his voice he couldn’t quite quell.
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You sure this is a good idea, staying there?”
Lars scoffed. He’d made a big deal of telling reporters that he’d be staying at his brother’s place, liking the way they’d gone wide-eyed and whispered about mind games. He’d promised Coach Thompkins it really was fine. And it was: Lars hated that road trips here were too short, too regimented to allow him a proper visit.
And, sigh, he owed Anders an actual apology.
He had said sorry. Eventually. After the silent treatment from Ryan, Amanda’s gentle nudging, and Mormor’s blunt insistence. In the same manner they always spoke to each other, he’d texted a message in Swedish:sorry I broke your nose it won’t happen again. True, but hardly heartfelt. Anders had, for once, acknowledged his message with an equally warm:good.
“I’ve made a mess of things lately,” he admitted. Ryan gave him a skeptical look. Not because he didn’t agree—Lars knew he did—but probably because he couldn’t believe Lars knew it, too. “I should try to fix them.”
Ryan put a hand on Lars’s knee and squeezed. “Good luck. How do you say that in Swedish?”
“Lycka till.”
“Lycka till.”
It was pitiful that such a benign phrase in Ryan’s mouth made his dick stir with interest. He was screwed if Ryan ever actually learned Swedish.
“Look, I know we didn’t…” Ryan made a pained face and started over. “There’s no mess between us, okay? We’ll figure it out after playoffs. Let’s just try not to kill each other on the ice.”
Lars shook his head grimly. “No promises.” Then, before he lost his nerve, he kissed Ryan goodbye and got out of the car.
