Page 83 of Home Ice Advantage

“Stop,” Ryan said, his voice trembling on a laugh. “I think if you keep going like that I might actually comewhileyou’re doing it and I—I have to actually lead those drills at practice, Eric,please—”

“You’ll have to figure out another way to shut me up, then,” Eric said, his weight supported on his hands, his body bracketing Ryan in.

“Suck my dick, then.”

“That’s what you want?”

“Yes,” Ryan breathed.

Eric obliged, pushing the blankets back again so he wouldn’t get stuck underneath them. Ryan shivered in the chilly air of his bedroom, nipples tight and hard, and Eric couldn’t resist pinching and twisting one of them before he shifted down Ryan’s body. The little squawk of surprise and shock was absolutely worth it. So were Ryan’s hands, twisting in Eric’s curls, when he had gotten far enough down that Ryan could reach. Ryan’s fingers, gripping tight, when Eric ran his tongue up the length of his cock, not quite taking it in his mouth.

“Comeon,” Ryan mumbled, impatient and demanding, hands trying to shove Eric’s head down.

“When I’m ready,” Eric said pleasantly, rewarded by the answering groan of frustration. But Ryan knew by now that he couldn’t win these things, and he’d have to be patient, no matter how much he hated it. Eric could feel his fingers flexing, open and closed, as he tried desperately to hold himself back.

He’d already put his glasses on the little side table, so when he took Ryan in his mouth, he pressed his forehead up against Ryan’s stomach to feel his abs flexing as he tried not to thrust up too far. It was funny: he’d had sex with a fair amount of men and women over the years, and it had never been like this. He’d never felt the stupid swoop in his stomach, waiting to see the reactions he could drag out of Ryan, with his tongue and with his mouth. It had never been this satisfying to reduce anyone to a groaning mess, to feel anyone’s thighs clenched around his ears.

Maybe that’s what falling in love got you.

He certainly wasn’t complaining.

Neither was Ryan, head thrown back against the pillows, teeth digging into his lip, eyes screwed shut. He was mumbling incoherent encouragement and exhortation, his heels digging into Eric’s spine. “Jesus,” he gasped, “fuck, your mouth is insane, Eric, please—”

By the time that Eric had slicked up his fingers and gotten them worked inside of Ryan’s body, clenched hot and tight around them, he couldn’t even keep it together enough to tease. He felt like he had been infected with Ryan’s earnestness, his honesty. All he could do was look down at him, the vulnerability of his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, his ragged breathing and the way he kept saying, “Come on, come on, come on,please,” in the cadence of a prayer, and know that it was reflected in his own face.

“How do you want to do this?” Eric managed.

“I don’t care,” Ryan panted, “I just wanna be able to kiss you when I come.”

Eric’s heart did another one of those stupid lurches. “Okay,” he said, “get up here.”

The way they fit together was familiar, but never anything he could take for granted. Ryan, in his lap, stubbly cheek against Eric’s as he lowered himself down. It was too much and not enough, and it was Eric’s turn to hold himself back, to do his best not to rush. It didn’t take long: Ryan was so worked up from all of it, from the stupid shit Eric had been whispering in his ear, that it was almost easy.

“God,” Ryan managed. His voice was strained, stretched almost as tight as he felt around Eric. “I love your cock.”

Eric thought for a second about the first time he’d met Ryan as a colleague and not a player, his first instinctive reaction had beengoddamnit, he’s hotand the sort of furious hatred born of jealousy and frustration. And now, all he could think wasgoddamnit, he’s hot, as he watched Ryan letting himself get adjusted to the way Eric felt inside of him, pressed his fingers down on Ryan’s lower lip to watch the way it made his eyes go hot and dark.

“You damn sure take it like you love it,” Eric muttered, and Ryan laughed, the sound more than a little breathless.

“I love it. I love you.”

“Fuck.Fuck.”

It didn’t take them that long after it. It wasn’t skilled or elegant or anything except desperate, Ryan on top of him, sloppily catching his mouth in a kiss whenever he could reach. The shitty little bed slammed into the wall with the force of it, Ryan’s hands braced on the headboard, leaving Eric free to explore his body with his hands. A touch he couldn’t describe as anything except reverent, tracing the muscular lines of his back and his hip and his thighs and his ass. And finally, stroking his dick, urging him on.

Ryan did kiss him when he came, tongue fucking Eric’s mouth and his hands grasping desperately at his shoulders, like that could pull him deeper, closer.

Eric watched him in the aftermath, eyes closed and face flushed, the sweat beading his forehead. He was trembling on the edge, too, but... “Can I keep going?”

“Whatever...whatever you want,” Ryan said, on a long, satisfied sigh, and then a yelp when Eric, in one movement, pushed him down on the bed and fell on top of him, still deep inside. His eyes flew open when Eric thrust again, and he shook underneath him, the aftershocks of the orgasm, the overstimulation of Eric fucking him through it, ignoring the sticky mess smeared on his stomach. His dick, still hard and wet, twitched again where it was trapped between them. “Oh, Jesus, Eric.Eric—”

That was what did it, eventually, the desperation, the pleasure edging on pain in his voice, throaty and wrecked. Eric couldn’t look at him when he came, couldn’t look at anything. His head was buried somewhere in Ryan’s neck, eyes closed, Ryan’s fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder.

It took him a while to open his eyes. When he did, it took him another while before he finally gathered up the coordination to pull out and roll off of Ryan’s limp body. Ryan, who stretched again and said, “I need to get up but Jesus Christ, I don’t wanna move.” Ryan, who turned his face to push it against Eric’s shoulder like a cat. “Carry me.”

Eric snorted and said, “No, can’t move,” because he couldn’t put together the coherent thought to say anything more than that.

“Mm,” Ryan agreed. “I fucked it right out of you.”

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