Open Ice Hit: Chapter 8

“So I’m just standing there, washing dishes, and Kevin walks around the corner, rips my pants down, and shoves his…”

Noah only just managed to cut off the last of Zed’s sentence with a heavy elbow to his ribs. It didn’t have the same impact since he was in his pads, but it was hard enough he choked a little and darted a glare over at Noah.

“What?”

Noah used his teeth to pull his remaining glove off, then propped his stick against the boards. ‘There are children here.’

Zed scoffed and waved a hand at him. ‘So what? They don’t know what a dick is.’

‘They’re twelve,’ Henny cut in. ‘They know what a dick is.’

Noah wanted to feel assured that since it was the Phantoms City peewee team and not the Deaf peewee team, the kids wouldn’t understand the signs, but he knew better than to assume. “Can we please talk about how often you get railed at home later when there aren’t tiny ears and eyes around?”

Zed made a choking noise, and Henny grinned, slapping him on the back. “Railed. Where’d you pick that one up, Vick?”

He shrugged. Probably from Yash because he spent all his free time watching shit on TikTok and trying to pepper his missing-article Russ-English with the current slang trends. Noah had been speaking English almost from birth, but he was never fluent in the way society was—mostly because, as Zed would describe him, he was a fucking hockey drone unless he was trolling for dick.

Though he hadn’t done that in a while—as long as he didn’t count sneaking into the back seat of Tommy’s car like a fucking creeper. He wanted to call it a lapse in sanity or blame it on someone slipping some shit into the postgame Gatorade he’d gulped down, but he knew better.

He knew it had everything to do with the way Tommy had met his gaze every time he’d skated by. How he’d played hard and lost and still somehow managed to look like he’d triumphed. Or maybe it was the fact he’d been hounded by the press about his hit on Zed, which should have made Noah feel better, but instead he found himself punched in the metaphorical gut because Tommy deserved to be asked about his game, not dragged about the hit.

Noah wouldn’t have been so gracious. Hell, he hadn’t been, even after they’d fucked the first time.

He swore he could still feel the phantom sensations of Tommy’s ass around his cock, and he thanked every deity that ever existed for his tight cup.

“This male model motherfucker.” Zed’s breathy exclamation dragged Noah out of his thoughts, and he realized he’d grabbed his phone from the bench. Peering over, he saw one of Tommy’s latest selfies, and his throat went a little dry. He shouldn’t be allowed to be that hot. No one should. “Where do I know this guy from?”

Noah frowned up at him, but a second later he realized Zed wasn’t talking about Tommy. Zed was tapping his finger on the guy behind him. He was ridiculously handsome with short dark curls and deep olive skin. He looked professionally put together, and he was also staring at Tommy.

Intimately.

“He’s not the owner,” Noah said. “Is he?”

“Nah, bro,” Henny put in, grabbing Zed’s phone and staring down at it. “I know this guy. I think he’s with the media. He’s one of those guys the Sea Dogs hired for their website shit.”

Noah was so detached from that side of hockey. He knew the Phantoms had their own media team, but he’d grown numb and apathetic toward the flashes of cameras and half-shouted instructions from people on the sidelines while they were practicing.

Or even moments like this, when they were meant to be coaching these kids instead of looking at Tommy’s daily thirst trap.

“Good job!” Henny called out, and Noah startled before realizing he was talking to the kids. The phone was gone, and Zed was shoving his gloves back at him.

‘Dirty thoughts?’

Zed had no idea, but Noah wasn’t about to tell him any of it.

The day with the kids dragged, but eventually they were dismissed after photos, autographs, and pizza, which Noah wasn’t about to touch, and fending off all the moms who didn’t seem to care whether or not they had rings on their fingers in the face of all the sweaty men who truly and honestly smelled like ass. Noah was polite to them, though, just as polite as he was when it came to WAGs and puck bunnies. Most of the guys were taken, but there was never a shortage of wandering eyes whenever a game wasn’t at stake, so Noah quickly slipped into the showers and took his time scrubbing off.

Zed was the only one left when he got out, standing in front of the mirror putting his implants on, then fluffing his hair around them in the just-got-out-of-bed look the media adored. He grinned at Noah, then winked and made a kissing face.

“What?” Noah asked, not bothering to hide the vague irritation in his voice.

“Ohhhh, nothing.” Zed let out a small, breathy sigh and slid up to him with his phone in his hand. “Just admiring the sexual tension of these two gorgeous models whose campaign went live today.”

Noah felt a pinprick of fear, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing down at the screen, which showed an advertisement for Calvin Klein. The work on the photos was almost enough to mask the fact that, makeup or not, they both had been a little sweaty and a lot tired. But it couldn’t mask the fact that they had been sitting right on the edge of something, and it was obvious in the shot they’d chosen where Tommy was between his legs and they were looking at each other like they were seconds away from…

“This is gonna blow the fuck up,” Zed told him. “And you two look…” He trailed off, clearing his throat.

Noah grabbed the phone and hit the back button until the background showed Zed’s home screen. He didn’t look up out of fear his friend would know something was up, and he slapped the phone back into his palm. “It was torture. You know they edit that shit to make it look like we wanted to be touching each other.”

Zed made a quiet humming sound as he stood back up, letting Noah know he obviously didn’t believe him, but he was also kind enough to let it go. “You, uh…you gonna hook up tonight?”

Noah shook his head, grateful for the reprieve. He didn’t hook up in Brooklyn if he could help it, and right now, he had a number in his phone he could text if he was hard up. Which he was, especially now that he’d seen their photo, but he wasn’t ready to admit it yet. “Gonna hit the gym, then watch some tape.”

Zed groaned and spun, leaning his ass against the counter as Noah began to fish out his clothes. “You have got to lighten up.”

Noah cast him a filthy look over his shoulder. “Do I? Or do you need to focus on the game and stop screwing around with the enemy?”

He half expected Zed to get furious with him, but instead he just threw his head back and laughed, flashing him a sign he knew all too well. ‘Asshole.’

Noah sighed and his shoulders slumped as he leaned over his thighs. He was lashing out, and he knew it. Part of him wanted to tell Zed everything. The man had become the closest friend Noah had on the team—hell, the closest friend he’d had maybe ever. But he didn’t talk about his past—the way his father’s voice would sometimes scream in his head, echoing until he was ready to give up everything he’d worked for and go home just to make it stop.

And he knew for damn sure he wasn’t ready to admit to Zed—of all people—that he’d anger fucked Tommy’s mouth the day of that photo until both of them were shaking and he came so hard he saw stars.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he looked up to find Zed staring down at him with actual concern in his eyes. ‘Talk to me,’ he signed.

Noah swallowed thickly. “I think I’m in over my head.”

There was a pause, then Zed shifted down the bench and turned to face Noah, giving him all his attention. “With a person?”

Noah clenched his jaw tight but then nodded because he knew Zed would see through any of his lies. “I slept with,” he stopped abruptly, Tommy’s name dying on his tongue, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it out. “I slept with someone, and it was different.”

Zed cocked his head to the side. “Okay. How?”

Noah dragged a hand down his face and let out a small groan. “I don’t know. It’s…” He swore quietly in Swedish, then added a couple of Russian ones for good measure. “I didn’t want to fuck him, but it was also the best sex I’ve ever had. I don’t do intimate, you know?”

Zed snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Ice Princess, I know. One and done. Leave ’em in the club bathroom. So, what? You fucked this guy at home?”

Noah licked his lips, then shook his head. “His place.” Mostly because if he told Zed the truth about the first time, he’d know immediately who it was. He bit down hard on his lower lip, then let it drag from between his teeth, relishing the sting because it distracted him from all the things he was feeling. “He does what I want him to do. He fights me, but…” Noah let out a tense laugh and knew if Zed wasn’t sitting there staring at him, he’d be as hard as a rock. “I put my hand around his throat, and I think he liked it.”

Zed’s grin turned cocky. “Fuck yeah. There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of light choking, babe.”

Noah’s cheeks flamed. He was used to talk like this—he’d been hearing shit like it since Juniors—but it was different because he’d never participated before. Everything he’d done up to this point had been quick and…

Shit, he didn’t want to say dirty, but it sure as hell wasn’t soft romance. Most of the time he didn’t know their names.

“I think he really liked it,” Noah confessed. It was easier to focus on the moment with Tommy than what it had made him feel. “I think he maybe wanted more.”

Zed hummed softly and leaned back, letting his body rest back on his hand. “That’s normal, you know. Or…whatever. I mean normal’s subjective and a ridiculous concept. I mean…a lot of people like that kind of thing. You know what Davesh and Kevin and I get up to sometimes.”

Noah knew more than he wanted to. He knew Davesh was very good at controlling both men with a quiet word, a sharp sign, or sometimes just the flicker of his eyes in one direction or another. He knew Zed was wound up tight and only Davesh could bring him down.

And he also knew he wanted to feel that way sometimes. That being in control of Tommy gave him a rush. Not cruel, not unkind, just…powerful. Knowing he had Tommy’s pleasure cupped between both hands, knowing he couldn’t—wouldn’t—come unless it was on Noah’s dick…

Knowing Tommy had to trust him and know he’d never really hurt him because Noah would rather die than let that happen, even if he hadn’t been brave enough to say it out loud.

Yet.

“Have you ever read up on D/s stuff?” Zed asked, cutting into Noah’s thoughts.

He shook his head. He probably should have. That’s what he did after all—he studied the shit out of anything that felt necessary in his life—just like he’d done with hockey. But he supposed he’d been too afraid to touch this thing with Tommy, to give it a name once he’d slipped out of his place and hit the road.

“You should. There’s a lot of good info out there, and if you’re not sure, you can ask me.” Zed’s voice was soft and probably kinder than he deserved. “Are you going to see him again?”

Noah let out a quiet puff of air and wanted to say no, but he knew that was a lie. “Maybe I just need to hook up with someone else once we head out on the road.”

Maybe getting the taste of Tommy out of his mouth would make all the difference.

But as he considered having a new, strange body under his hands, he didn’t feel hopeful.

Noah liked playing in Denver, mostly because they always got a day to themselves when the game was over, and the nightlife was quiet but oddly sensual. Even this early in the season, the air was cold enough he needed to wrap up, and it reminded him of all the best parts of home.

Everything that had nothing to do with his angry father, his apathetic mother, and his sister, who was too willing to do what everyone told her to. Nights like this reminded him of being young and reckless and daring. Of sneaking out with friends, stealing warm vodka, and sitting around a massive fire knowing nothing in the world could touch them.

Henny, Yash, and the trio were walking in step with him as they headed up the street on their way to a club a security guard at the arena had mentioned. It was a place that needed someone with a name to get in, which they all had at that point. And although Noah had been thinking about Tommy a little too much during the game, he was riding the high of a win and even smiling a little as he listened to his friends chirp at each other.

“Keep that up, my love, and you’re going to be sitting in a booth all night,” Davesh told Zed, who’d been running his mouth about Yash’s inability to keep the puck for longer than a second.

Which was true, but it was a little mean to keep rubbing it in his face.

“In a time out,” Kevin added.

Noah heard Zed let out the faintest groan—pure sex—and he wondered if Zed couldn’t hear himself making the noise or if he just didn’t care.

Henny scoffed and caught up with Noah. “I don’t need tickets to the show tonight,” he said softly as the club came into view. “You know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten my dick wet?”

Noah rolled his eyes and elbowed him. “Weren’t you listed number two in that hottest men of the NHL poll last month?”

Henny scowled. “Yeah. Beat out by fucking Tremblay.”

Noah wanted to bite his tongue off because he’d known that. Of course he’d known that. He agreed with the results, though he’d never admit it. “A stolen victory,” he said.

“Hell fucking yeah it was,” Henny declared, then looped his arm through Noah’s. “You wanna be my wingman tonight?”

Noah’s gaze darted away, but before he could say anything, Henny’s eyes went wide, and he dropped his arm only to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

“Aw, shit! My boy’s out to get some tonight!”

Their small group crowed a cheer, and Noah wanted to sink into the earth, but instead he let them drag them to the doors as Henny offered his name and ID to the bouncer, who waved them in. Noah’s vague humiliation at being the center of sex attention faded as the music settled over them. It was pulsing EDM with matching low lights and a small crowd on the dance floor moving with the rhythm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zed pull off his processors, then sign he was going to get a tab started while they figured out where to go.

Henny—as he often did with everything—took the lead and got them a small collection of tables directly between the bar and the dance floor. Yash stole a couple of chairs from a small group—Noah thought might be a bachelorette party given the way they were dressed and the one woman in the group wearing a white veil—and the way he winked at them made him roll his eyes.

He knew Yash wasn’t picky about gender, but he knew he had a competency kink a mile long, which was in direct conflict with the way he guarded the goal whenever he was in instead of Kevin. Reckless, like he had nothing left to live for. And though Noah had never seen him take anyone home, there were quiet rumors about his sexcapades circling through the NHL.

Of course, Noah wasn’t one to believe any of that shit. If Yash wanted to talk about what or who he wanted, he would.

Noah blinked when an elbow landed in his side, and he glanced up at the dark-eyed Russian. “You think too much,” Yash rumbled, just barely audible over the music. “We here for booze, sex. Not have crisis.”

Noah rolled his eyes and elbowed him back. “I was just…taking stock of the room.”

“Take stock of the room,” Yash mimicked, though every time he tried to sound American, he somehow sounded more Russian. “You always make things so complicated. You see, you like, you go get. Is simple.”

For you, Noah thought, because he doubted Yash had an obnoxious, gorgeous, dirty-playing little shit seared on the inside of his eyelids so every time he blinked, he saw the way Tommy looked when he came. But it wasn’t Yash’s fault he was so twisted up.

“Fine. Help me find a good one,” Noah said.

Yash grinned, then seized his arm and dragged him into the middle of the dance floor. “Best view,” he shouted when Noah tried to protest. Big hands grabbed him by the waist and spun him, then he felt Yash’s thankfully limp dick grinding against his ass. “Look sexy. They see you with me, they want.”

Noah wanted to chirp him about his fucking ego, but when he glanced to the left, he saw it was working. As he swayed in time with Yash, a slight man wearing a mesh top and jeans so tight they looked painted on was staring at him. He had expertly styled hair—too much like Tommy for his comfort—with that effortless bedhead look. His eyes were dark, though Noah wasn’t sure if it was the color or just that they were in a dark club, but he wasn’t…unappealing.

In fact, if he hadn’t been so twisted up over Tommy, he wouldn’t have hesitated for a second.

He was hoisted back against Yash’s chest, his massive hand trailing down toward his groin, and his voice spoke right against Noah’s ear. “Go. He suck your dick. Can tell. Good mouth.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Noah groaned, but Yash wasn’t necessarily wrong. The stranger had full lips pursed in a slight pout, which turned up into a smirk when Yash’s hands were suddenly gone and Noah was taking steps toward him.

The stranger lifted his arms, his fingers long and elegant, curling them into Noah’s belt loops, tugging him close. “I was watching you,” he murmured against Noah’s ear.

He smelled nice—clean and expensive, which was normally the way Noah liked them. But suddenly he was missing that rough, sour scent of hockey sweat.

He shoved the thought out of his head and leaned back to get a proper look at the man. “What’s your name?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” the guy said with a grin. He licked his lips, and Noah spotted a tongue ring.

Probably an excellent cocksucker then.

And he wondered if he would have been turned on by the way the man was willing to bend into whatever shape Noah asked. It would have gone right to his dick if the guy were Tommy, but…

He wasn’t.

“What’s your name?” he asked again.

The man pouted, then shrugged and turned so his ass was pressed right against Noah’s dick. “Theo.”

“Theo,” Noah repeated. The two syllables felt wrong and ugly in his mouth. He dropped his hands to Theo’s waist and pulled him in tighter. His dick was half-hard, disinterested in anything but the friction. “I’m Noah.”

Theo laughed and sank toward the floor, doing a half spin and sliding his hands up Noah’s sides as he rose to meet him at full height. “I know who you are.”

Shit.

Theo seemed to interpret his expression correctly because he offered a soft smile and leaned in to press his lips to the crook of Noah’s neck. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

They always said that, but they weren’t always telling the truth. Not that he much cared. The press had gotten tired of writing articles about his hookups when they’d realized they wouldn’t get a reaction out of him.

But this wasn’t exactly helping his boner situation, which had flagged entirely. His gaze swept the room, and he found Henny at the table grinning at him, offering a thumbs-up when their gazes locked. Noah scoffed and found Yash had disappeared to God only knew where, and in a booth, it looked like Davesh and Zed were busy trying to make Kevin either cry or come in his pants.

“I know a dark corner, honey,” Theo said, nipping at Noah’s jaw.

He nodded, knowing he had to try something, so he let the man lead him across the floor and into a circular booth that was almost encased in shadow. The leather beneath him was soft as he sank into the seat, and Theo’s body was hard as he curled against Noah’s side.

“Better?” Theo asked, dragging the tip of his finger down the center of Noah’s chest.

It was. Or, well, it should have been. It was quieter, calmer, more private. He could smell lingering perfume and a faint whiff of sex that someone had failed to clean properly. It should have turned him on.

It would have…if he hadn’t known what Tommy’s mouth felt like around him or how tight his ass got as he was clenching down and coming untouched. His cock twitched, and he heard Theo chuckle, likely assuming he was the reason Noah was getting hard.

Theo’s hand brushed over the top of his groin. “Want me to make your night a little better?”

Noah bit back the words that his night was already fine. Better than fine, in fact. They’d fucking won—nearly in a shutout—on away ice. Their season was starting out like a goddamn dream.

He wasn’t there because he was feeling like shit. He was there to see if he could wash the taste of Tommy Tremblay off his tongue with someone else’s.

He glanced down at Theo’s face—the wide-eyed, innocent act making the spit in his mouth taste sour. His fingers toyed with the button on Noah’s jeans, and he knew it would feel good if he let this man open him up, take him out, and stroke him.

But it wasn’t what he wanted.

It wasn’t enough.

Not anymore.

Fuck his life.

“I need to leave.” The words tumbled out, too honest and too cruel, and he hadn’t meant to be. He hadn’t meant to cause hurt to flare bright in Theo’s eyes. But the man was a nobody. He was just some pointless kid whose face Noah wouldn’t remember by the time he got back to Brooklyn, and that wasn’t fair to him.

“You’re a dick,” Theo spat, shoving Noah back.

Noah laughed. He hadn’t meant to do that either, but the sound tumbled from his chest because he wasn’t wrong. He was a dick, but one person in the world seemed to appreciate it, whatever the fuck that meant. “I’m sorry. There are some people here who are actually interested in hooking up. Go find them and talk shit about me. It’s a guaranteed in.”

He slid out of the other side of the booth and left Theo to his pouting. He ducked and weaved through the shadows, missing Henny’s gaze by a mile and not even bothering to hide since Zed currently had Kevin pinned to the wall, kissing him within an inch of his life.

Davesh and Yash were nowhere to be found, but it didn’t matter. He made it to the street, then asked the bouncer to grab him a taxi, which took less than a minute to pull up to the curb. He struggled for the name of his hotel, then sat back in the seat and rubbed a hand down his face before pulling out his phone.

His thumb tapped the Instagram app before he could stop himself, and he wasn’t surprised to find Tommy’s face the first thing on his feed. He was grinning, his arm around Mayo, who was flashing a half-toothless smile, and looking too fucking happy.

They looked content in ways Noah swore he used to feel, but now he was being hounded by these dark, empty edges he hadn’t paid attention to since he was a kid, fighting his father about his dream. Only this was…different. It was more terrifying because Noah knew there was a real, tangible solution to the aching feeling.

His fingers trembled as he opened his contacts and tapped his finger over Tommy’s name.

Tommy’s response was so fast, Noah’s head spun a little, and it took him a second to blink away a little bit of blur from his eyes so he could read it properly.

His phone was silent for so long, he wondered if he’d crossed a line. Or maybe Tommy realized he was just being fucking ridiculous. Or maybe…

He jumped when his phone buzzed, and he glanced down to see it was a photo. It was Tommy in the mirror, probably naked, though he could only see to the cut of his hips. But he was gently tanned and dusted with gorgeous dark hair from his nipples down the line of his stomach. Noah didn’t need to see the coarse, thick hair that surrounded his dick because he’d felt it. He’d dragged his fingers through it before tormenting Tommy’s aching balls and his throbbing cock.

Fuck, he was hard. He felt a dribble of precome wet the front of his briefs, and he said a prayer his erection would go down before he got to the hotel.

Noah groaned and flopped his head back, forcing himself to think about Mayo doing splits on the ice because the man wasn’t hideous, but his pregame stretches were a boner killer if anything was. It was enough. Barely.

He paid the cabbie with a fat tip, then hurried through the lobby and into the elevator. They all had singles, and he was grateful for it because he could see the image of Tommy every time he blinked, and even though his laugh had only come through text, Noah knew what it sounded like.

It would be dark, and low, and a little mean, and fucking perfect.

He was all but shaking by the time he got his keycard in the lock, and he set the stopper on the door before immediately opening his jeans and freeing his dick. He stumbled toward the bed but only made it as far as the table before one hand slammed down to brace himself, the other curling around where he desperately wanted to be touched.

No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t just want to be touched. He wanted to use his dick to command. He wanted Tommy to fall on his knees for it. He wanted to gently lay his hand against Tommy’s throat, then feed it to him.

He wanted Tommy to thank him for it.

Shit.

Shit.

His hand flew in a furious rhythm, too damn dry but impossible to stop. He let his mind wander back to when he’d last had Tommy, when he’d fucked him so hard he’d seen stars. His gut clenched right before his balls went tight, and for a second, he swore he heard a voice in the room with him.

“Vicki.”

He wondered what Tommy would sound like calling his actual name on the edge of pleasure.

It was just enough to make him come, his knees buckling slightly as he painted the top of the table with his seed. He let out a long, furious groan, then shoved himself away, marching to the bathroom to wet a washcloth.

Fuck Tommy Tremblay. Fuck him for worming his way under Noah’s skin. For slipping between him and a willing man who might have been able to take the edge off whatever he was feeling. Fuck Tommy for making him so weak he was coming all over a hotel table instead of in someone’s mouth.

“I hate you,” he muttered to himself as he cleaned up the spill with long sweeps of the washcloth. And the lie he’d just spoken felt like it was made of razorblades as he tasted copper along his tongue. Vicious, cutting.

Because as much as he wanted to, it was obvious.

He didn’t hate him at all.

But he knew one thing for sure, Tommy was going to be his undoing.