Page 48 of Goaltender Interference

The speed they were moving, the pull of his hands, drew them together with centrifugal force, and all of a sudden, their faces were very close as Matt whirled him around in a circle. Matt’s eyes were wide and dark, and his cheeks were pink, and he was a little breathless from exertion, and he looked up at Aiden’s mouth. For one long, insane second, Aiden thought Matt wasgoing to kiss him, right there in the middle of the rink where anyone could see. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to flutter up through his throat like a hummingbird. Part of him wouldn’t have even minded. Part of him would have melted into it, surrendered to the magic of the moment.

Matt didn’t do it, of course, just reached up to scrub his hand over Aiden’s face and, laughing at his splutter of dismay, took off toward the other end of the ice again before Aiden could even react.

Aiden pushed off in pursuit, forgetting, for the moment, any reason he’d had to dread this.

In the car on the ride home, Matt couldn’t stop looking sideways at Aiden to make sure he was okay. He’d been so happy on the ice, smile so wide that for a second Matt felt like the old Aiden had time-traveled into this Aiden’s body. It had been worth every second of the anxiety leading up to the reveal. It had been the happiest Matt had been in years, probably. Just getting to skate with Aiden like that again—like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

But now, Aiden kept trying to say something, like he wanted to explain, but every time he opened his mouth he got too choked up with emotion and couldn’t finish.

Not for the last time, Matt wished he had the power to read minds, to figure out what the hell was going on in there. “It’s okay, Aidy,” he said, merging back on the highway and not looking at Aiden directly, “I know.”

Instead of answering, Aiden pressed his forehead silently against the glass, and didn’t say anything else.

Aiden had been dreading the day but overall, it had been—good. It felt a little like having his skin ripped off and his nerves exposed to the open air, but it was fine. He could get on the ice again, and the world wouldn’t end.

He kept going over and over it in his head, even after they got back to Matt’s, ordered dinner and ate it. He kept going over and over it in his head while they watchedGoon. Aiden spent most of the movie tucked under Matt’s arm, his cheek smashed against Matt’s chest, sinking into the solid, comforting presence that Matt always was. And he was still going over and over it in his head when Matt asked him what was wrong, and Aiden said, “I just can’t get out of my fucking head today.”

He wasn’t going over and over it in his head when Matt said, “Well, I can help you withthat, anyway.”

And that was just—even after all of this time, Matt knew when he needed that.

That was how Aiden ended up on his back in the bed, watching Matt fumble through his closet for his game-day ties. He wasn’t sure how this was going to work, exactly. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this before, but it had been a while, and he wasn’t sure how Matt’s preferences had changed.

They had been so young the first time around. Aiden still remembered that first Cup day. He’d done the usual charity and family visits while the sun was still shining. And then, when everyone was gone, Matt had come over and they got completely fucked up on ridiculously expensive champagne, half of which had ended up dripping all over Aiden’s naked body, and Matt had tied Aiden’s hands backward behind the Cup and fucked him against it.

It would probably have been one of his favorite memories of all time, except the details were fuzzy. He’d beenreallydrunk. He remembered the cold metal digging into his back, the sticky champagne between his and Matt’s skin, the rope pressing hardinto his wrists, trembling on the uncomfortable edge of pain and pleasure.

But the important thing, the thing about Matt, was that whatever Aiden had asked for, he was always enthusiastically all in. And a decade later, here was Matt, looking at the ties and at his bed, a rustic industrial monstrosity with an iron rail bolted into the wooden headboard, like he was gauging the distance and angles.

Aiden shivered with involuntary anticipation as Matt straddled his thighs and said, “You’re not allowed to move.”

“That’s the point of tying me up, isn’t it?” Aiden asked, a little mean, frustrated he couldn’t hide just how into this he was. He was already naked, already so fucking hard.

Matt pressed his hand over Aiden’s mouth. “If I wanted to make it easy for you. I’m only tying your arms, but don’t move your legs, either. Just stay as still as you can until I say so.”

Instead of answering, Aiden licked Matt’s palm, tongue teasing the tender web of skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Matt swore and jerked his hand away. He took Aiden’s left wrist first, then his right, and pulled them over Aiden’s head, thumb pressed a little painfully against the nerve.

Aiden couldn’t move to see exactly what Matt was doing, but he could feel Matt wrapping the tie around both of his wrists and slipping it into some kind of knot. He wanted to crane his head to look, but he forced himself to stay still. There was a little pressure as Matt looped the tie around the rail. He couldn’t really see anything except Matt’s abs in front of his eyes. He wasn’t cut the same way Aiden was, but Aiden had dreamed about his body for years after they’d broken up, how solid and broad he was, hard as iron under the softer cushion of his stomach, and it was almost overwhelming seeing it right in front of him now. He leaned forward to try to press a kiss against Matt’s torso.

Foiled when Matt immediately pulled away.

“Aiden.”

“Yeah?”

“I told you not to move.”

“Mm, sorry, I couldn’t—wait, what are you doing?”

What Matt was doing was wrapping a second tie around Aiden’s eyes and knotting it behind his head and Aiden’s dick gave another traitorous little jump.

“If you can’t listen, then I’m going to have to make it more difficult.”

Aiden couldn’t see what he was doing but he could feel the pressure of Matt’s body on his thighs for another second or two before Matt moved away. Maybe he was admiring the view. Maybe he was plotting some other kind of torture. Maybe he was laughing at Aiden, and the idea of that, of Matt’s judgment of Aiden’s exposed body,exactlyhow much heneededthis so easy to see. He could feel the deep flush starting at his chest and rising. Along with his dick, straining up, bobbing and leaving a sticky streak on his stomach.

“Spread your legs,” Matt said, somewhere above him, and Aiden took a deep breath and spread them in a V, his feet pointing to the corners of the bed. Matt’s voice again: “Raise your knees.”

It was awkward and exposed, and he could feel the flush deepening, even though Matt had already seen every part of him, in pretty much every way there was to see it. “Is this good?”

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