Page 87 of The Trade Deadline
Keeping Lars focused was harder than he thought. As the game approached, Lars drifted further and further away. Sometimes the only way Ryan could bring him back was with drastic measures, normally involving his tongue or his hands. Not exactly ideal since he couldn’t do any of those things at the rink or in public.
It got really bad as they got dressed for the game itself. Their stalls weren’t near each other, and he could hear Tomas egging him on.
“They won last time. We can’t let that happen here,” Tomas was saying. Lars nodded along grimly, like a gladiator about to step into the arena with his life on the line. “God, if I had to play against my brother, I’d never hear the fucking end of it if he won.”
Jesus, what the fuck was Tomas doing?
As they got ready to go down the tunnel for warm-ups, Ryan grabbed Lars by the elbow and pulled him aside. They were behind an open door, barely any privacy at all, but the rest of the team was lining up and loud enough they shouldn’t hear anything.
“Hey,” Ryan whispered despite the noise.
“Hey.” Lars’s eyes softened but he didn’t smile. Not a good sign.
Ryan looked over his shoulder to make sure the locker room was clear, then he surged forward and kissed him. Not a gentle kiss, either, but a possessive one. When Lars gasped, Ryan took advantage and slipped his tongue in to dominate his mouth and take further control. When he pulled away, Lars was panting and his eyes were hooded.
“I need you to do me a favor tonight,” he purred and enjoyed the way Lars shivered.
“What favor?” he asked, breathless.
Ryan dared to kiss him again, a quick peck on the cheek this time that Lars leaned forward to chase.
“If you do it,” Ryan said, “I’ll doanythingyou want me to do when we get back tonight.Anything.”
Lars closed his eyes and whimpered. When he opened them, they were clear and determined. “What’s the favor?”
“I need you to not fight with your brother at all this game.”
Lars froze, then scowled petulantly. “Ryan?—”
“Anything you want,” he said. “I’ll eat you out, I’ll ride you, I’ll deepthroat you, I’ll even try to cook you dinner if that’s what you want. All you have to do is play hockey and not fight Anders.”
“But what if he?—?”
“Nope. Not even then.”
He pouted, a look that shouldn’t be so adorable on a grown-ass man and yet it was. “I?—”
Ryan leaned in and cut him off by nipping at his bottom lip and cupping his crotch. There was little either of them could feel in the gesture through all the gear, but the pressure would hopefully be enough to rile him up.
“That’s not fair,” Lars protested once his lip was free.
“Do we have a deal?”
The noise from their teammates was growing distant—they must be heading onto the ice now—and they only had a few more seconds before they were missed.
“Fine,”Lars grumbled. “It’s a deal, you tease.”
Ryan rewarded him with a peck on the cheek before rushing to follow the rest of the team.
It wasn’t easy for Ryan to split his attention. He went through his usual routine all while keeping an eye on Lars, just to make sure he didn’t drift too close to center ice. He didn’t, and he didn’t so much as glance towards Anders during warm-ups, which was a relief. He knew Lars would keep his word, but Ryan worried it would be hard for him. It looked like he was going for an “out of sight, out of mind” approach. It wouldn’t work during the game when they’d likely square off against each other, but it was a start.
“You’re quieter than usual, Nilsy,” Jordy said on the bench before the first period. “You sick or something?”
Lars shook his head. “Just focused.”
A few of the forwards shared a skeptical look.
“It’s just that the last time we played the Otters you were a little more…” Jordy struggled for a word. “Intense.”
