Page 89 of The Trade Deadline
Lars shrugged and continued to take off his gear.
“You two are like magnets on the ice,” Tomas said. “Except instead of magnets, you’re freight trains trying to knock each other off the track. I don’t know how you two are going to handle playing on a team together at the All Star game.”
There was a record scratch in Ryan’s head. He’d been so distracted about his own All Star candidacy and the whole living with Lars situation that he hadn’t thought that far ahead. If it was hard enough to get Lars to play nice for a single game, a wholeweekend?—
But Lars made a dismissive gesture. “We won’t.”
“But you’re both going,” Tomas said slowly, with the same uncertainty Ryan felt. “We’re the same division. You’dhaveto be on the same team. He said?—”
“Anders won’t go.” Lars threw the last of his gear in his bag and stood up. “He never does.” Then he walked away to the showers, leaving the rest of them floundering.
“Not gonna lie,” Vorny mumbled, “I think I liked it better when he was trying to pummel his brother. Much more entertaining.”
Ryan shot him a dirty look and mentally prepared for an awkward ride home.
* * *
The ride was quiet for the first ten minutes or so as they left the arena and started to navigate into city traffic. By then, they were basically at Lars’s condo, and it seemed the wrong time to brave talking about the previous game, so instead he made some inane comments about their upcoming trip to New York.
It wasn’t until they were settled in the kitchen over steaming plates of pasta that Lars was the one to broach the topic.
“Why didn’t you want me to fight Anders?” he asked as he twirled noodles around his fork. He didn’t seem frustrated or angry anymore, mostly curious.
“I understand it’s not really my business,” Ryan said, his short altercation with Anders on his mind, “whatever your relationship is with your brother, but as your teammate and your—” He faltered here and gave up. “I just didn’t like it, the last time. The Lars I know completely disappeared behind this stranger. It was intense and kind of uncomfortable to be around, and it was maybe okay, then, because we barely knew each other. I didn’t want to see that now.”
The admission sat heavy between them, and Ryan worried he’d confessed more than he’d meant to. But Lars merely considered as he took a bite and chewed.
“I don’t know that I like who I am when I play Anders,” Lars said slowly. “It is intense. A lot to feel, a lot to prove. He makes me very angry, and when I visit the family, I can mostly ignore it. When we play, though, then it’s something I canwin. It’s like I can prove something if I win, if I score on him.” He took another bite, his eyes never leaving his food even as he’d spoken.
“You still looked really good tonight. I mean, youalwayslook good, but your playing looked good. You don’t have to go 110% against him to prove something. The league knows you’re good. Anders knows it, too.”
Lars smirked. “Damn right he knows. Did you see how he was on me all night?”
“I did. He was.”Until he was on me.“I did make that promise…You held up your end of the deal, so…”
Lars’s smirk broadened into a leer. “So I can have my way with you?”
“Yep. Decided how you want me?”
“Yes,” he said seriously. “It was very mean of you to tease me like that. I had to jerk off between periods so I could focus on not fighting Anders.”
“Would you have listened to me if I hadn’t made that offer?” Ryan asked pointedly.
Lars’s expression was answer an enough: absolutely the fuck not.
“Eat your dinner,” Ryan said. “I’m guessing we’ll need our strength for what you’ve got planned.”
The anticipation was palpable, and they dragged it out with dessert and after-dinner drinks (a beer for Lars, a protein shake for Ryan). Ryan was hard before they even made it to the bedroom, and he suspected the same was true for Lars.
He stood in the doorway, hand on the waistband of his sweats while he waited for instructions.
Lars ignored him, placing the remains of his beer on the nightstand after taking another swig.
“Come here and take off my clothes,” he said, his voice tinged with heat.
Ryan did what he was told, stepping right into Lars’s space. Their chests brushed again and again as he worked Lars’s shirt off him and dropped it at their feet. Then he fell to his knees to work on Lars’s pants, first his joggers, straining against Lars’s erection, then his boxers. With Lars finally bare before him, he stroked the outside of his thighs and pressed kisses along his hip bone.
“What next?” Ryan asked between kisses.
