Page 33 of The Trade Deadline

Chapter 23

Lars

Normally, Lars dreamed. He couldn’t usually remember a damn thing after, only the vaguest impression he’d been somewhere or doing something, but enough that he knew he’d dreamed. It was his marker for a good night's sleep.

Lars hadn’t dreamed much since Portland. And for a while before leaving Portland, too. He hadn’t been doing well towards the end. He’d wake up, feeling like he’d just closed his eyes.

Settling into Baltimore had helped a bit, though the start of the season made him dog tired, and any bad nights quickly stacked up to make him more and more exhausted.

Last night, he’d dreamed. A lot.

He had no idea of what. The only thing that lingered was the vivid sensation of skating and the clear brown of Ryan’s eyes, the rest of the details a murky mess that slipped away before he could try to grasp them. He was content with what he had, though, and he sighed as he burrowed deeper into his blankets to enjoy the last few moments of bliss before he woke up alone.

Of course, burrowing deeper into his blankets actually meant pulling Ryan closer to his chest and burying his face in his hair.

“Oh,” he gasped, disentangling the dreams from the memories of the very real night he’d spent with Ryan. He’d been half hard before, but the promise of a warm body sent a bolt of lust through him. Lars rocked forward, pleased to feel bare skin against bare skin, and slid his left arm up Ryan’s chest. He traced a nipple, felt Ryan shudder against him, and then continued upward until his hand rested lightly but possessively around his neck.

“Can I fuck you?” he asked as he mouthed at Ryan’s neck, alternating between sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin there. He kept thrusting, enjoying the feel of his cock sliding along the cleft of Ryan’s ass.

Ryan groaned, pushing back to meet Lars’s movements. His hand came up to hold Lars’s wrist where it held his throat. He didn’t pull him away or encourage him to tighten his grip, just stayed there like the contact grounded him.

“Please,” Lars whined. His fingers flexed and he could feel his cock leaking pre-come. “Can I fuck you?”

Ryan ground back against him harder than before, both their movements becoming more desperate. “If you want me to answer,” he grunted, “you’re gonna have to speak in English. I have no idea what you’re saying.”

More awake by the second, Lars forced his brain to switch gears. “Can I —” He gasped. “Can I fuck you?”

Ryan’s hips stuttered. “You can do whatever you want to me,” he gritted out eventually, “but I'm not gonna last long.”

Lars wouldn’t either, admittedly. Now that he’d shaken off more of his grogginess, he was also pretty sure he didn’t have condoms. He knew both of them were healthy—the team’s medical screenings assured that—but he wasn’t a fan of the mess. As he reluctantly let go of Ryan to roll towards the nightstand, he searched blindly for lube, not even convinced he had much of that.

The bottle was sadly almost empty. No penetration just yet, but he had a Plan B.

Slicking himself up, he rolled back towards Ryan and nudged his thighs apart. He pushed his dick between Ryan’s thighs, sliding easily along his perineum and balls.

“Fuck,” Ryan hissed.

“I love making you swear,” Lars said. He wrapped a hand around Ryan’s waist to grip his cock. He nosed along Ryan’s neck and (in his opinion, very admirably) kept still. “May I?” he asked as he drew his hand slowly up and down Ryan’s dick with a loose grip.

“Please,” was the only response he got, an open invitation.

Lars accepted enthusiastically, adjusting Ryan’s left leg to gain better access as he thrust between his thighs and jerked Ryan off, all while kissing along his spine and devouring his musky scent. Ryan grew tense and his breathing grew ragged. He reached back to thread his hand in Lars’s hair, pulling slightly and moaning as he did it. Lars had never had a hair-pulling kink before, but he was quickly developing one.

“Come for me?” he whispered. Ryan nodded.

He saw Ryan’s orgasm the second before his hand was covered in come: Ryan’s eyes fluttering closed as he bit his lip and his whole face went slack. Lars stroked him through it, then shifted his hand to Ryan’s hip so he could thrust more roughly into his tight warmth. He came a moment later, his own release spilling on the sheets next to Ryan’s.

“We should get cleaned up,” Ryan said, his voice absolutely wrecked. Which wasn’t fair. How was Lars supposed to function when he knew Ryan sounded like that after sex?

“Shower?” he said instead. His own voice wasn’t much better, but he seemed to be a little more capable of movement as he started nudging them apart.

“ ‘mkay.”

The shower was more functional than anything else. They indulged in a few kisses before quickly washing up. They had to get to the rink in an hour, and that didn’t leave them enough time to fool around again.

“You can borrow some clothes,” Lars said when Ryan started pulling on the same outfit he’d worn on the plane yesterday. He hadn’t brought up his duffle bag, though if he packed like Lars did, there probably wasn’t much left clean after a week on the road.

Ryan gestured to his faded Blue Crabs shirt. “Trade my team shirt for yours?”

Fair. Lars didn’t think he owned a shirt that didn’t have some hockey logo branded on it. “It’d be cleaner,” he offered.

“I won’t be wearing it long.”

Lars’s brain supplied a very helpful, detailed image of Ryan taking off his clothes again and all the things he could do to him, before the words clicked. He frowned. “Coach said it’s an optional skate. You don’t have to suit up.”

“And I always skate,” Ryan said simply. He’d finished pulling on his hoodie and had collected his keys, wallet, and cell phone.

“Aren’t you tired?” Lars didn’t understand why he kept pushing. Normally he didn’t give a shit if his teammates did or didn’t participate in optional training, or if they were tired. They were all tired, after all. It came with the job. But it bothered him that Ryan might be overexerting himself.

There was a hint of frustration in Ryan’s gaze now, and Lars wished he hadn’t said anything. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “We slept well, didn’t we? I gotta skate, anyway, or I’ll have too much energy.”

“Yeah, I understand that,” Lars conceded. Sometimes the best thing to do was keep moving. He also knew Ryan overworked himself because of his perceived low position on the team. While it personally drove him crazy, he didn’t think it was really his place to say anything.

They drove separately, with Lars even waiting a few minutes after Ryan left before following. Although he doubted anyone would notice, it was already suspicious that Ryan was wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. There were definitely dots to connect, and there’d be more if they kept this thing between them going, so it didn’t hurt to be a little cautious early on.

They maintained the very delicate blend of time together and time apart at the rink. Easy enough since Lars didn’t participate in the skate, instead opting to work with the trainers and get a quick run in. Even when the caterers served lunch, they ate at the same table but with several people between them. Too far away for Lars to stretch his feet and tangle his legs with Ryan’s like he wanted to; he had to settle for spending a good five minutes imagining it. It also pleased him that he could resist temptation. Maybe he really had learned from last time. He must have: Ryan was waaay more enticing than any of his previous hookups.

It was part of why he was excited to get Ryan alone again, and he finally cornered him on the way out to the parking garage to do just that.

“Busy?” he asked, well aware he must sound and look like an excited golden retriever. “Want to hang out tonight?” He was very proud that he made himself say “hang out” and had left out the “again” just in case anyone was listening.

Ryan hesitated. “I can’t tonight.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t expected that.

“I’ve gotta take care of some stuff.” Ryan waved his hand dismissively, like the stuff wasn’t actually important. Lars bit back his tongue—it was important enough that they wouldn’t get to see each other tonight—and shrugged it off. He had to catch up with his mormor and make plans for his Christmas visit. He hadn’t even booked a plane ticket, and he doubted he’d have much interest in doing that if Ryan was there distracting him.

He also wondered if this was about earlier, back in Lars’s apartment. He hoped he hadn’t pushed Ryan away. He dismissed the thought. Ryan was the one who’d been clear he wanted this to be more than a one time thing. They hadn’t been back in town for a while. He wanted to go to his apartment and like…do laundry or whatever. Talk to his friends. Properly digest what had happened last night before diving in for more. Healthy adult things.

“No, me too. Stuff.” Laundry. My sheets are gross. “Maybe tomorrow?”

Something in Ryan’s expression cracked. “Sure,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”

It was hard not to pull him in for a kiss or a hug after that, but somehow Lars managed to make do with a shoulder punch and watching Ryan walk in the opposite direction. As he drove home alone, doomed to a night of takeout and channel surfing, he wished he’d maybe toed the line a little more during practice and spent more time actually talking to Ryan.

* * *

Lars didn’t dream. His eyes fell shut and he lay there, painfully aware that he was alone. Sometimes a noise from the street below would startle him and he’d blink his eyes open and see the room around him unchanged. Again and again, he’d wake up and feel no time had passed, until finally the first hints of sunlight promised an end to his restlessness. He gave up around dawn, getting up to make coffee and book his flight to Ohio.

Halfway through his first cup, there was a knock at his front door. Lars froze with the mug at his lips as he tried to figure out who the fuck could be at his door at 8 a.m. on a Tuesday. He hadn’t ordered anything and it wasn’t like he had friends here. That meant it had to be?—

Lars rushed to the door, sliding in his socks a little, and then took a moment to collect himself before he opened the door with forced casualness.

“Hey.” Ryan had a warm smile. The cute, shy one that the press never got to see and that Lars coveted. “Breakfast?” He held up a box of donuts from a local bakery in offering.

Lars immediately swung the door open. He might’ve been able to play hard to get for a little while, but not with the promise of breakfast on the line. “Morning,” he said belatedly as Ryan stepped inside. “I made coffee, you want some?”

“Sure.” A pause. “You slept on the couch?”

Lars turned to see the evidence of his bad night of sleep—the blanket still marking where he lay, the throw pillows rearranged—and offered a half shrug. “My sheets weren’t dry yet,” he lied. He honestly hadn’t bothered checking. The only thing he’d known was that his room smelled like sex and Ryan. He’d never get to sleep if all he could do was feel Ryan’s absence.

Then he’d slept badly anyway, so he wasn’t sure what the point had been.

To distract Ryan, he took the box of donuts from him and set them on the counter, then went to pour some coffee. When he returned to the kitchen island with two steaming mugs, the donut box was open and displayed a lot of pink.

“What’s all this?” he laughed.

“Strawberry Shortcake, Strawberry Glaze, Strawberry Jelly, Strawberry Truffle, and this one I think is a plain glazed donut but with actual slices of strawberry on it.” Ryan pointed to each as he went through the list.

Lars licked his lips and studied the choices. “Strawberry’s my favorite,” he said as he carefully pulled out a Strawberry Jelly and then not-so-carefully bit into it, the gooey inside threatening to drip all over the counter.

“I know,” Ryan said indulgently.

“ ‘s so good.” Then Lars didn’t speak for a while as he ate three donuts in quick succession, all while Ryan sipped his coffee (black, like a smug hipster or something) and smiled. “You don’t want any?” Lars asked after his stomach was somewhat full and he was satisfied enough that he could share without regret. He even nudged the box closer to Ryan.

“I already ate at home. The donuts were more of an apology.”

“An apology?” Suddenly Lars’s stomach twisted uncomfortably and he almost wished he hadn’t eaten so much. He wasn’t sure which of the three delicious donuts he would’ve done without, but he hoped he wouldn’t be puking them up. “What for?”

“For yesterday. I was weird, and I’m sorry I blew you off without much of an explanation. I was nervous.” He swallowed. He was staring at his coffee instead of looking at Lars. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Slept with a teammate,” Lars said knowingly. It was uncharted territory for them both; he could definitely empathize with a little freaking out.

“No. Well, yes. Obviously. I meant that I’ve never really…intended to sleep with someone again. Like, I’ve had hookups and slept with the same person again later, but never because I planned it ahead of time.”

Lars blinked at him. The wires slowly connected, but he was unsure he’d gotten it right. “You’ve…never…dated anyone…? Before?”

Ryan turned deep red, his shoulders hunching protectively all the way up to his ears. “Not really?”

“Is that a question?” He softened when he saw Ryan wince. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Ryan drew his hands down his face and sighed into them before finally looking at Lars. He seemed less embarrassed now, if not a little resigned. “I haven’t dated anyone since high school and I don’t know if that really counts since I saw her like twice a month and never even got to second base.”

Lars wanted to ask what baseball had to do with this, but pushed the question aside for later. It related to sex, presumably, but that wasn’t the important part. High school was before they’d even met, and that’d been nearly eight years ago. “You really haven’t dated anyone?” he asked, then realized he sounded kind of like a judgmental dick. “Sorry, I should clarify that I’ve barely dated anyone, either. I get it, it’s hard to date when you’re on the road and have a schedule like ours. But I’ve had some flings. And you’re just so…”

Beautiful. Charming. Amazing. Hot.

“...much more put together than I am, I sort of assumed you would’ve, too.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “No one has ever told me I’m put together.”

“It is a weird thing to say,” he conceded.

“I don’t really do…flings…” Ryan said the word like he was testing it out. Lars’s heart leapt. Did that mean he’d thought the two of them were dating? Or was he downscaling because they were just a fling? “Like you said, busy schedule. I don’t have time between games and training, and I honestly don’t like to sleep with people in town because what if I see them again?”

Lars nodded. If he were looking for a one night stand, it would’ve been easy in Portland, but also riskier. Anything casual like that, he usually opted for a road trip, too. “Conveniently, we have the same schedule,” he pointed out.

“ Really convenient,” Ryan agreed. He’d relaxed a little, looking more like himself. Certainly better than he’d looked since he’d arrived. Their eyes locked, and Lars instantly regretted not dealing with his bed situation last night.

“You know,” he said, “my couch is pretty comfortable…”

“Is it?” Ryan’s lips twitched like he was trying very hard to suppress a grin.

“Yes. Want me to show you?”

As soon as they were close enough, Ryan pushed him onto the center of the couch. Lars flailed slightly as he fell backward, taken by surprise as Ryan took charge. He took off his shirt and tossed it aside, then straddled Lars. He took Lars’s face in his hands, sparing a moment to gently caress his cheeks and push aside a stray lock of hair, then he leaned down and kissed him. It was chaste, barely a brush of lips, before Lars’s brain switched back on. He got his hands on Ryan’s hips and pulled him down, giving him better access to kiss him more fully.

His hands came up to trace the strong muscles of Ryan’s back. He was so warm, so pliant as Lars’s fingers pressed into his skin. It was heaven.

“You taste sweet,” Ryan said between kisses.

“I am sweet,” he said as he took Ryan’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it.

“Very sweet,” Ryan agreed, and then they stopped talking altogether. There was nothing they wanted to say, anyway, not when they could do this instead. Lars memorized the shape of Ryan’s lips, the taste of him, the feel of him pressed against his chest.

Eventually Ryan hooked his fingers under Lars’s shirt and pulled. Lars grunted in displeasure at the interruption, then sighed in contentment as their bare skin touched.

“I don’t want to get off you,” Ryan whispered right into his ear as he ground forward and brought their cocks together. “But we have too many clothes on.”

At the threat of Ryan getting off his lap, Lars tightened his grip on Ryan’s hips. He thrust upward and watched Ryan’s eyes flutter shut. “I thought you liked a challenge,” he teased.

“Pants on?” Ryan sputtered.

Lars wiggled a hand under the waistband of Ryan’s sweatpants. They were loose at the waist but tighter as they stretched around his thighs, and it took some work to get his hand where he wanted. He stopped to grab Ryan’s ass before working his index finger down until he was able to press lightly against Ryan’s hole.

“Holy shit,” Ryan hissed, thrusting forward and then pushing back against Lars’s finger and moaning. “Do that again.”

Lars did, this time tracing the tight muscle before pushing teasingly at the rim. “Pants on?” It wasn’t so much a question as a challenge.

“I mean, I can do it,” Ryan said and rolled his hips a few times, their dicks sliding together and his ass pressing back against Lars’s hand. “Not sure about you.”

“I’m helping you!” he protested with a laugh.

Again, Ryan ground down against him then stopped, using his body weight to pin Lars down. “Am I not helping you?” And then he started sucking a bruise onto Lars’s neck, right above his shoulder. Lars arched into him, gasping as he tried to give Ryan better access. He didn’t normally like having marks on him, but he wanted Ryan to bruise him now so he could take it with him to Ohio for their week apart.

“You were helping,” he eventually gritted out. He nudged Ryan’s hips in the hopes of getting him to move again.

Ryan bit him, just shy of too hard, and chuckled. He stayed stubbornly still as Lars rocked against him, barely able to move and get friction on his cock with Ryan holding him down. Somehow knowing how long to hold out, he waited until Lars was desperate before he moved again, though at a languid pace that barely offered any relief. Not even Lars teasing at his rim could make Ryan hurry up. It was equal parts agonizing and exhilarating: he hated slowing down but he loved being at Ryan's mercy.

“You feel really good,” Ryan said. He’d finished his work at Lars’s shoulder and had moved on to nibbling at his ear. “Think I’ll finish before you?”

“Yes, because you’re such a fucking tease,” Lars said. He sounded painfully breathless, like he was coming off a long shift instead of sitting back while the hottest guy he’d ever met gave him a lap dance. “You’ll come and leave me to finish myself off,” he said with a pout.

“Don’t worry.” Ryan’s voice was just as airy, as needy, as undone. “I wouldn't do that to you,” he promised.

That was when Lars gave in completely, letting Ryan have his way with him. He was along for the ride, free to enjoy the glide of Ryan’s strong body over his, admire the graceful way he moved, devour every wonderful sound he made. Even as he tipped closer and closer to the edge, he couldn’t take his eyes off Ryan. Who was he fooling, thinking he could ignore his attraction to Ryan?

“Close,” he said. “Really close.”

“Got you,” Ryan said. He kissed Lars, deeper than before. “Come for me,” he whispered, the plea going straight to Lars’s dick and hitting him like a freight train. He pulled Ryan close as he thrust through the waves of his orgasm, pleasure ripping through him so sharply his vision went white for a few seconds until the feeling dulled and relief took its place. He went limp and had to rely on Ryan and the couch to keep him up as Ryan chased his own release. Lars watched Ryan’s face as he tensed and thrust more sloppily against him until he groaned, his movements dragging out and then stopping altogether before he collapsed on top of him.

They stayed there as their breathing slowly leveled off. His come grew sticky and Ryan’s weight heavy, but Lars couldn’t bring himself to end the moment. It didn’t matter how uncomfortable he got; he wouldn’t be the first to move or speak.

“When you leaving?” Ryan eventually asked. His forehead was resting against the back of the couch, leaving his words muffled by the fabric.

Lars sighed internally. Back to reality, then.

“Early Thursday,” he said. They had a game tomorrow, but then nothing until two days after Christmas. Almost five days with no scheduled hockey. They wouldn’t have a break that long again until the All Star weekend. “You?”

“Thursday afternoon. Back late on Boxing Day.” A pause. “That’s the day after Christmas.”

Lars nodded. He’d heard that before. “Why is it called that?” He’d never once seen a boxing match connected to the day.

“No clue. I think it’s originally British, something to do with boxing up leftover food to donate or something.” He made a dismissive noise like it was a mystery he was content to never solve. “When do you get back?”

“The day after that.” Lars again wondered if this thing between them was a fling or dating or something else, and if it was okay to ask to see him again when they got back.

“Want to get dinner?” Ryan asked. It sounded confident, almost breezy, but Lars could hear the shyness that was underneath. He was trying to use his media persona, and it would’ve fooled Lars if he weren’t used to picking it out and trying to see Ryan’s real thoughts underneath the bluster. “When you’re back in town?”

He finally shifted under Ryan to force him to sit up. This conversation was too weird to have without looking Ryan in the eye. “Dinner would be great,” he said, watching Ryan’s reaction.

He looked…not quite surprised or relieved, but something like that. And happy. His reaction was muted, but he was clearly pleased and couldn’t quite hide it. “Great,” he echoed. “Rangoons?”

“It’s a date,” Lars said, having chosen the words carefully and watching even more so.

This time there was no hiding it: Ryan was definitely surprised and definitely happy. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Now let’s get these clothes in the washer and ourselves in the shower.”

Ryan crawled off him. “The pants on was your idea.”

“And it was a good idea at the time. It’s the after part that makes it gross.” He accepted Ryan’s hand and let him pull him up. “Let’s be quick, I want the rest of those donuts.”