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Story: Beak Performance

Pulling a neutral grey beanie deep into my face, I put my coat and boots back on and walked to the rink.

Max already waited in the deserted corridor outside our coach’s office when I arrived.

Neither of us said a word as I leaned against the wall next to him. My Raven took a steadying breath and reached out, interlacing his fingers with mine.

We’ll be fine. Somehow.

The door flung open after a couple of minutes. It hit the wall with a bang. Oh shit, Jerke looked close to exploding with rage.

“Bendixen. Gruber. Come in.”

His eyes dipped to our entwined fingers, but he didn’t acknowledge them. Spinning on his heels, he stormed back inside and clutched his desk for support.

We took seats in the visitors’ chairs opposite him. Max still hadn’t let go of my hand.

Jerke took another deep breath.

“I’m sure you know why I told you to meet me here,” he said in a voice of forced calm.

“Yes.” Max raised his eyes and looked straight at him.

Our coach pressed a button on the keyboard of his computer and turned his screen around.

A video started playing. Someone had filmed us from inside the spa. It was an awkward angle, but it was us. No denying it. Not that I wanted to lie to our coach.

Jerke inhaled when my hands dipped down below the water level to grip Max’s ass and press his cock against mine.

Fuck. This is bad.

Reassurance flooded my mind through the mate bond.

It’s going to be okay.

We kissed for another few moments before the video broke off.

“Explain,” Jerke snapped.

“Someone thought it was okay to film us at the spa.” Max sounded so angry I feared the Nachtkrapp would burst forth.

It’s okay, baby.

They hurt you. I want to end them.

Okay, this shouldn’t be as hot as it was.

It should be me protecting Max. Me, his captain, the older of us two.

This time I felt his deep, snarling voice in my bones.

I’d raze this city to the ground for you, Princess.

“You are lucky you weren’t kicked out for public indecency, Gruber!” If this were a comic, smoke would curl from Jerke’s nostrils. “Do you think I want my players being torn apart by some boulevard magazine?”

“We just kissed.”

“You had your hands in his shorts, Bendixen,” our coach growled. He pushed away from his desk and pulled the door open. “Meeting room. Now!”

We followed him down the corridor. Behind his back, Max brought our hands up to his mouth and kissed mine.