Page 80 of Goaltender Interference

“What else?” Aiden asked breathlessly.

“I think about—about how fucking easy you are, baby, how bad you always want it.”

“You justdosomething to me,” Aiden managed, in between kisses, “it makes me insane. You always have.”

“And I was thinking—I was thinking about some of the shit we used to do, back when we were kids.”

“Yeah?”

Even if his mind was in a million places at once, memory layered on top of physical reality, his body knew Aiden’s well enough to move on instinct, grinding against him, free hand back at his throat, the other one stroking, insistent and a little rough. The way Aiden had always liked it. It was working, if the way Aiden’s fingers were digging into Matt’s shoulders was any indication.

“I was thinking about the time you bought my jersey.”

Aiden didn’t answer at first, just swallowed so hard Matt could feel his Adam’s apple bob against Matt’s palm. His eyes were heavy-lidded when he looked up and said, “I only bought it so you’d fuck me in it.”

“It worked,” Matt said, and twisted his hand, a little mean, just hard enough that Aiden winced and groaned. “It fucking worked, baby.”

“Youruinedit, though.”

“Like you could have worn it outside anyway. And we got enough use out of it, anyway, you wore it a few times, and I took those pictures—”

Aiden was laughing, now. “Jesus, those pictures. I don’t know how you ever convinced me to do that.”

“Didn’t need a whole lot of convincing, from what I remember.” He shifted his weight, ignoring Aiden’s noise of dismay and his grasping hands, moved a little farther down his body, pressing his ear against Aiden’s chest so he could listen to his heart for a second, the wildthump thump thumpof it, ignoring the increasingly desperate way Aiden squirmed under him. “From what I remember you were pretty eager to show me whatever I wanted, huh?”

He’d saved those, on his phone, for a long time after, pulled them out to look at them when he was jerking off on the road. Aiden, on his knees in the bed with his back to Matt, so you could see the name and number so clearly. Aiden, legs spread wide, hand wrapped around his dick, the jersey rumpled up around his wrist, eyes hooded. Matt’s hand fisted in the jersey, almost sacrilegiously twisting the logo, as he pulled Aiden’s unresisting body up toward him. Aiden, bent over, from behind, with Matt’s hand splayed on his lower back. Aiden, with Matt’s dick—

“Something about having your name on my back,” Aiden mumbled, trying to push him farther down, “just made me kind of crazy.”

“You know.” Matt mouthed his way along the line of Aiden’s stomach, digging in his teeth just to make Aiden shudder. “Sinceyou’re part of the WAG group officially, I could probably get you a playoff jacket.”

“Have to make the playoffs first,” Aiden muttered, his hands in Matt’s hair again. “Please, Matty, I need—”

Face-to-face with Aiden’s dick, Matt couldn’t help smiling, lips pressed against the head, where he could feel and taste exactly how badly Aiden needed him. “We’re going to make the playoffs this year. And then I’ll get you your jacket. It’s been a while since you’ve worn my name, huh? I bet you’d look so fucking good wearing it—”

Aiden was propped up on his elbows now, staring down at him, eyes wide, pupils huge. For a second, it was like he couldn’t think ofanythingto say, like he was transfixed by Matt’s face, by Matt’s words. Matt could probably look at him like that for ages and never get tired of it.

Finally, he managed, “Matt,please.”

Matt pushed him back down again, took a second to give him what he wanted, the suction of his mouth and the swirl of his tongue around the head. He lost himself for a few minutes in the groan of relief that Aiden made, the sharp tug of his hands in Matt’s hair. Sometimes Matt thought he could do this forever, just listening to Aiden losing it underneath him, knowing how much he needed Matt to touch him. He stopped, pulling away and wiping the spit with the back of his hand.

Aiden gasped, “Matty,really?”

“I was just thinking about the jacket—you’d like it? Wouldn’t you?”

Aiden was doing the thing he did sometimes, where Matt knew what the answer was, but he was being stubborn about it. He shook his head, even though his face was flushed and he was squirming underneath Matt, trying to get him to touch, to take him in his mouth, to doanything. “I—I don’t know,” he said, looking down at Matt again, almost sly.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Matt said, and went down on him again. Aiden didn’t answer, just thrust up a little too roughly into Matt’s mouth, needy, desperate.

“I just—I just—”

“But youwould? Everyone knowing you’re mine?” His voice sounded wrecked already, and it wasn’t because Aiden had been especially rough. The idea of Aiden wearing one of those ridiculous jackets withSafaryanacross the shoulders in rhinestones or fluorescent paint or whatever Aino had picked out for that year’s theme was really—it was a really good mental image. Thinking about Aiden, after the games, naked in only the jacket, the way he’d worn Matt’s jersey a decade ago—that was overwhelming, too.

He went back down, savoring the sigh that Aiden made when he did it. Held Aiden’s hip down with one hand, the other wrapped around the base of his dick. Aiden was twisting between the points of contact, his eyes closed and his head thrown back against the pillow, one arm over his eyes, just as overwhelmed as Matt felt.

When Matt pulled away again, Aiden actually whined, an almost animal noise of dismay.Good,Matt thought, the weird, savage part of him that Aiden had woken up oddly satisfied.

“Maybe I’ll fuck you while you’re wearing it,” Matt said, jerking Aiden off, too slow for Aiden’s liking. He was panting, now, trying to set the pace, until Matt shoved him down again. “Maybe I’ll fuck you while you’re wearing it, and nothing else, and then I’ll make you wear it to the game the next day.”

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