Page 67 of Goaltender Interference

With another one of those graceful movements, Aiden leaned forward carefully, deliberately. He unbuckled Matt’s belt and started to tug it from the loops as Matt canted his hips up to help. It was just a regular leather belt, not particularly thick or wide, but it would do. Aiden folded it in half, tested the pull of it between his right hand holding the buckle and his left slipped through the loop, and then held it out to Matt. Nervous. Waiting.

Matt took it from him, slowly, not entirely sure about it but still wanting it so fucking badly. “Why do you want this?” he asked, his voice rough-edged even to his own ears. He wasn’t sure, at this point, if he was asking Aiden or himself.

Aiden swallowed. “I want you to hurt me.”

Matt knew it wasn’t the whole truth. He’d spent literal years trying to figure out the whole truth. What it came down to wasthat Aiden wanted this and maybe needed it sometimes. And maybe he should have been working out his shit in other ways. But this would do for the moment.

“That’s not really an answer.” Matt traced the line of Aiden’s face again, this time with the edge of the belt. Aiden looked at him, shuddering, tormented with need and hesitation and a strange kind of affection. “Why do you want this?”

“I... I don’t know. I just... I do.”

Matt didn’t know either, but he just did. Aiden was still watching him, all of the hesitation gone. He was kneeling between Matt’s legs, his arms resting on Matt’s thighs. “Will you, Matty? Please?”

The word rocked through him likehewas the one who’d been hit, and he gave up on waiting. “Stand up,” Matt said, and Aiden stood, stumbling a little at the rush of blood to his legs and toes. And Matt was on his feet too, arm held out to Aiden to lean on as he shifted back and forth, trying to get rid of the pins and needles. His hand gripped too tight, bitten-down fingernails digging into Matt’s skin. It was kind of painful, but also kind of nice.

“Where do you want me?” Aiden asked, and Matt couldn’t help it, learned forward and kissed him, messy and passionate, on the mouth. Aiden sighed into it, eyes slipping shut, and let Matt take him apart bit by bit, one hand tangled in Aiden’s hair, pulling hard enough to make him hiss, the other still gripping the belt.

“The wall,” Matt said, when he finally pulled away.

He felt in control and out of it, voice sandpaper raw as he watched Aiden stumble to the living room wall, found a little space between the tasteful prints that Matt had hung to make it seem less lifeless when he had been living here alone. Braced his forearms against the wall and bent forward so his forehead pressed against the green paint. Matt’s hands fit like theybelonged in the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. Aiden was completely naked now, every inch of that ridiculous body exposed, and he was shivering.

“Aidy,” Matt said, and Aiden shuddered again. Matt wondered desperately what the fuck he was thinking, but instead of asking, traced the edge of the belt over Aiden’s skin. First carefully and gently, pulling away and touching him again. He could feel Aiden forcing himself to hold still, the muscles in his back so tense and his fists clenched with such anticipation that Matt thought he might actually break apart.

The first blow caught him on the left shoulder, hard and sure, and he gasped. The noise was loud, ragged, almost obscene. Matt knew he was good at taking it, especially when the belt was folded like this, didn’t even have the full power of his arm behind it. Aiden shook under the force of it, the force of everything else he probably wanted.

When they were doing this, it was easy to fall into a kind of fugue state, arm moving on instinct. The second blow. The third. He was moving his arm, fast, so Aiden wouldn’t know where to expect them, so the blows would fall from all sides. On Aiden’s shoulders, his ass, his thighs, his biceps.

Matt felt him cringe underneath the force, his hands screwed into fists, his eyes squeezed shut. His body flinched, but he didn’t move, just took the blows in silence, at first. It felt so goddamn good to do this, knowing that for whatever reason, this was what Aiden wanted and needed, and Matt could give it to him.

He focused on particular areas, the belt licking again and again on already tender parts of Aiden’s body, drinking in the noises Aiden couldn’t quite keep himself from making, gasps and whines and groans, stupid words, pure nonsense falling out of his mouth. Matt’s name, over and over again, stupid endearments, a litany of nonsense about how good it felt, please,keep going, please, more, how much he wanted Matt to fuck him.

Matt should have been in control. Heshouldhave been, but it was impossible to do it when Aiden reacted like that, when Aiden was losing it under him, when his skin was straining and singing under Matt’s hands, hot to the touch. Matt couldn’t stop running them over and over the muscles of Aiden’s back, tracing the thing he’d created with the belt and his hands alone.

“Matt...oh,Matt, I need...”

And somehow, he had already turned and fallen into Matt’s arms, face buried in Matt’s chest, every piece of him burning, beyond embarrassment, beyond almost anything. Aiden probably didn’t even know what he needed, and Matt could barely get his head straight long enough to figure it out.

But when he shoved his hand down between them to wrap his palm around Aiden’s dick, Aiden came immediately, just like that, from being forced to kneel and be flogged and then touched tenderly. He looked up and his face was an echo of what Matt felt: completely lost, felled by desire and stupid fucking feelings. Somehow, that made it a little better. Knowing he wasn’t alone.

Fucking him after that was almost an anticlimax. They ended up on the couch, half-collapsed because Aiden’s legs could barely hold him up anymore, Aiden on top of Matt, the two of them struggling to get him out of his pants. Aiden was like a drunk person, fucked up and clumsy as he leaned over Matt, who couldn’t do anything except stare at him to see if he was okay, the only thing he could feel a maelstrom of need and terrible, painful fondness.

“Thank you,” Aiden breathed, and in response, Matt dragged his fingers down the abused flesh of Aiden’s back, and then they weren’t talking anymore.

After it was over, Aiden lay on top of Matt, half-asleep. His weight felt completely relaxed, boneless and satisfied. Matt stroked his back gently, knowing it was probably still burning.

“Ugh, Matty,” Aiden mumbled. “For someone who says he doesn’t like hurting anyone, you’re really good at hurting me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“No-o, not for...not for me.”

Matt was quiet for a while after that, as their breathing slowed, sweat cooling to an uncomfortable chill. He said, “So do you want to tell me what was wrong?”

Aiden was silent too, before he said, finally, “I... I had a hard time going back to New York. It—it didn’t really feel like home anymore. Too many things are changing. I’m just...not really where I wanted to be? In a lot of ways. And I’m just...frustrated, and I want to be better, and I don’t knowhowto.”

“You’re doing pretty good as far as I can tell, Aiden.”

“Thanks.” He sounded frustrated still, like whatever he was saying wasn’t enough. “I know I’m trying, it’s just...”

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