Page 104 of The Trade Deadline
“Jag kommer,” Lars gritted out. One of the few pieces of Swedish Ryan had actually picked up.I’m coming.
“Me too,” he said, then leaned down to kiss him again. Lars got a hand on Ryan’s cock, his hold perfect but his movements sloppy as he got closer to the edge. Not that it mattered; Ryan was sure this was the closest he’d ever gotten to coming untouched, and the added friction nearly ripped the orgasm out of him.
Ryan came first, hot streaks across Lars’s shirt they’d somehow never gotten off him, and he could feel the moment Lars came, a few more thrusts and then he held Ryan down as his cock twitched inside him.
“That was…” Lars looked dazed. Ryan shamelessly took advantage. He tucked Lars’s hair behind his ear and pressed a kiss to his temple before he got to work cleaning them up. He’d have to find Lars a new shirt; hopefully there was something decent he hadn’t packed.
By the time they were cleaned up and dressed, Lars’s expression was pensive.
“Why weren’t you at practice?” He said the words slowly, like he was weighing them out and worried what they’d add up to.
Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. “Because I’m not on the team anymore.” Even though he knew it was true, saying it out loud hurt. He wasn’t on the Blue Crabs. He never would be again.
“What?” Lars bolted off the couch. “What happened? Are you hurt?” He gave Ryan a once over with a truly heartbreaking amount of concern. “They can’t end a contract mid-season?—”
“Lars.” God, why couldn’t he just figure it out? As neutrally as he could, he said it, pulled the band-aid right off: “I was traded.”
Ryan watched as understanding dawned on his face. The shock, the devastation, the hint of anger that Ryan had fucked him before he’d explained.
“When?”
“Today. I fly out at five,” he said. He checked his phone. “I’ve gotta be at the airport in about an hour.”
“Anhour?” Lars’s hands went into fists and a whole string of Swedish poured out, none of it sounding particularly happy. “What the fuck? Why did they do this?”
Ryan didn’t want to get into it. He didn’t want to rehash his conversation with Monroe, and didn’t think it was a good idea to give that sort of baggage to Lars. He was staying, after all, and having a grudge against his GM wasn’t a good way to move forward.
“They thought this would be a good move for me,” he repeated, because he thought Monroe meant that part. Yeah, he’d traded Ryan to help the Crabs, but he wasn’t sending Ryan to a bad team or one that would completely ruin his career.
“Where?”
He’d known that was an obvious question. He’d been prepared for it, or had been up until he had to say it. He cleared his throat, made himself look Lars in the eye as he said, “Cincinnati.”
The change was instant. Lars had been distressed before, but that was nothing. The color drained from his face and his jaw went slack, like he’d found out Ryan was dying, not changing teams.
“The Otters?” He looked absolutely pissed. He started pacing in the small space between the TV and kitchen, nearly bumping into the coffee table with each pass as he spewed angry Swedish and the occasional English like “What the fuck?” and “How could that asshole do this?” and “The fucking Otters.”
“Lars,” Ryan pleaded. “Please. I have to go soon. Could we not…” Fight? Were they fighting? Not really. “...waste time?”
Lars glowered. Guess not, then.
“This is such shit,” he said, his accent thick. It made him sound like he was going to cry. “How could they do this?”
“Let it go. There’s no point getting upset. It’s not like we can change anything.”I control how I respondhad been his mantra when he got traded, his way of surviving the hurt of not being wanted or needed by a place he’d come to want and need.
“Let it go?” Lars all but shouted. “How am I supposed to let this go? Why should I?”
So easy for him to get angry, to be all self-righteous about how Ryan had been treated.He’dnever had to experience a mid-season trade. Yeah, he’d left Portland, but he’d at least made a choice. He decided to leave and decided where to go.
“It’s just I don’t think you get to be the upset one here,” Ryan said patiently. “You didn’t lose anything. I’m the one who has to leave.” He ran a hand down his face in frustration. "I play badly, I get traded. I play mediocre, I get traded. I play well, guess what? Still traded. I’m the one no one wants on their team, and you’re the one who’s upset.”
All this time Lars had been saying Ryan was worth something, and Ryan had believed him. How could he not understand how much this gutted Ryan? Shouldn’t he, of all people, get it?
“Didn’t lose anything?” Lars looked like he’d been slapped. “I’ve lostyou!”
Ryan went rigid. “Lost me? I’m moving. That’s only losing me if you let it.” A long pause. “Lars. Say something.”
“This”—Lars motioned between them—“only worked because we were on the same team. How is it supposed to work when you’re inOhio?”
