Cold as Ice Bonus Scene

MAL FULLY EXPECTED THAT he’d be feeling all kinds of ways tonight.

It was his last game on Evergreens ice and his last game wearing their signature black and green jersey. Maybe, even, his last game with Elliott.

Definitely his last with Ramsey and Finn and Ivan and Brody. All the guys he loved—he could admit that much now.

But instead of feeling sad—or regretful or disappointed or any of the various feelings he’d been sure he’d be experiencing after—he was exasperated.

It was, of course, Elliott’s fault.

“Come on,” Elliott said, tugging on Mal’s arm insistently. He’d just gotten out of the shower, and he was still only wearing a towel.

Everyone was moving slower tonight, which made sense, because it was the last time they’d all be together like this. Everyone except Elliott, who’d already gotten out of the shower and partially dressed in a pair of unzipped jeans.

“What is it?” Mal asked.

Elliott’s green eyes shone with excitement—or maybe mischief? Mal wasn’t sure.

“Just . . .come with me, okay?” Elliott asked.

Malcolm had learned in the last few months that he was not very good at denying Elliott things—or anything, really—so he let himself be tugged down the hallway from the locker room, to the row of treatment rooms, all sitting empty.

“What are we—” Mal only got the first three words out before Elliott was pulling him into one of the rooms, the same one they’d almost kissed in months before, and pressing him back against the door.

But Elliott didn’t kiss him now either. His mouth barely an inch away from Mal’s, he stopped, the corner of his lips curling up into a nearly irresistible smirk. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to Mal and he loved every second of it.

And Mal did too.

“We did this once before, you remember?” Elliott murmured. His hips pinned Mal’s more firmly to the door. Mal could feel his erection pressing into him, and his own dick responding, even though he’d promised himself—and their Coach—that they’d never do anything like this here.

Of course, they hadn’t technically done anything.

Yet.

“I remember,” Mal said. He’d been going out of his mind with desire that day. Wanting Elliott to touch him more. But hoping that he wouldn’t because if he did, Mal hadn’t been entirely sure he could control himself anymore.

He’d learned that control was overrated.

Most of the time.

Mal had told himself they’d never, ever do this. But he’d learned that sometimes it could be good for him to throw away the rulebook. Throw away hesitation to stray from the straight and narrow.

He threw it away now. With both fucking hands.

Leaning down, he murmured into Elliott’s ear, “We weren’t like this, though.”

Watching Elliott’s pupils dilate even further would never get old.

“No?” Elliott licked his lips.

“No,” Mal said, and this time it was him dragging Elliott along, over to the treatment table.

Elliott didn’t need encouragement to lift himself on it, wrapping a leg around Mal’s, pulling him in.

“Still not quite right,” Mal teased.

Because he could tease now. Not all the time. But in moments like this, in the dim light, with only Elliott, lost in the hushed intimacy they shared, it came easier than he ever thought it might.

Elliott looked almost disappointed and that wouldn’t do.

“It’s okay, we’re not going for complete accuracy,” Mal continued, trying to maintain his serious demeanor, but knowing it was crumbling by the moment. He leaned down, only a breath away from Elliott’s mouth.

Elliott grinned. “No? Well, if we’re not then—”

Mal decided he’d waited long enough. Elliott had teased them both enough. He kissed the words right off Elliott’s mouth. Groaning into the kiss, Elliott wrapped his arms around his neck, tugging him even closer with his hands and his legs, until they were pressed together.

Elliott stroked the sensitive skin of Mal’s neck, pulling back a fraction. “Really regretting getting dressed about now.”

“Well, we can do something about that,” Mal said, and Elliott’s jaw dropped as he reached between them, tugging down Elliott’s already loose jeans until they were dangling around his ankles.

His own towel was barely hanging, and that was done the moment Elliott flicked it off with a mischievous glance, and a flick of his tongue against his deep pink bottom lip.

Mal didn’t say, We shouldn’t be doing this. Or, I promised Coach we wouldn’t do this here. Because with Elliott kissing him hard, and his hand stroking his cock exactly how he liked it, hard and then soft, drawing it out and teasing him, there was no way he was going to be able to resist.

Later, he’d think about how far he’d fallen into Elliott Jones’ clutches.

How completely Elliott Jones had wormed his way into his heart.

But right now, he didn’t give a shit about that. He only wanted more of Elliott.

Elliott groaned and let go of Mal’s cock, shucking his underwear next, letting them and his jeans fall to the floor. He tilted back and looked right in Mal’s eyes.

“Fuck me,” he begged. “Fuck me right now.”

Mal’s hand trembled on Elliott’s bare thigh. The muscle under his fingers twitched.

“Don’t say we shouldn’t,” Elliott continued.

A year ago, six months ago, even three months ago, there wouldn’t have even been a question in Mal’s mind.

He’d have said he was doing the harder thing, by denying them both something they wanted.

But now, he realized that it was actually harder to break down and give in. Better, too, and a hell of a lot more pleasurable, yes, but also tougher to turn his back on too many years of right—and maybe even righteous—behavior.

“Yes,” Mal breathed out unsteadily.

Elliott looked even more shocked.

Mal chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised, just tell me you brought—”

Groaning, Elliott reached behind him, digging underneath one of the flat pillows on the treatment table and handed Mal a small bottle of lube.

“Are you kidding me?” Mal hissed, taking the bottle. “You hid this here? What if I said no?”

Elliot’s mouth quirked up. “I thought my chances were pretty good. Besides, if you did say no and someone found it later, they’d just assume it was Ramsey.”

“I’m not saying no,” Mal said, and Elliott kissed him again, deep and hard, his tongue stroking against Mal’s. Even though he knew this was Elliott’s kink—that much had been obvious since Halloween, and the half a dozen other times they’d messed around in a place where they could be discovered—he found his own hands shaking so hard he could barely squeeze the lube out of the bottle.

When he tucked two of his wet fingers against Elliott’s hole, Elliott groaning deep into his mouth, as eager as he’d ever been, Mal discovered they actually slid in pretty easily.

He wrenched his mouth away. “Fuck me,” he muttered, “you fingered yourself? After the game?”

Elliott’s gaze was full of faux innocence. “Would I do that? In the shower? Where anyone might see me?”

He would and he’d like it, and it turned out, Mal liked it too.

Loved it, in fact.

The only downside was that Mal couldn’t take his time, draw out Elliott’s pleasure and make him beg for it. They had to be quick. But then, that particular con felt minor in comparison to all the pros. The many, many pros. How hard Elliott was, the desperation in his eyes. The way his breath came in short, frantic pants.

Mal didn’t think he’d ever been this turned on his whole goddamn life, and Elliott had been doing his best to drive him absolutely insane with desire for the last few months, so that was saying something.

His hands were shaking even harder as he wiped the excess lube on his cock, groaning under his breath at the pleasure rocketing through him at only this simple touch.

This would not last long. Elliott was tight, hot perfection, and Mal was going to want to lose it immediately.

Elliott’s eyes glazed over as Mal slowly thrust inside. Correction: they were both going to lose it immediately.

“Fuck, you feel so . . .” Elliott bit his lip. Mal assumed to hold in the moan that wanted to escape as Mal sank in the last few inches.

Mal didn’t have the words anymore. Besides, there was a strong possibility that one of them was going to make more noise than they should. So he kissed him, swallowing both their moans, and began to thrust. Soft at first, and then harder, Elliott’s hands clutching to his shoulders, his eyes wild as Mal gave into his deepest, dirtiest desires and fucked him right here, only a couple dozen feet from their locker room. Where anyone could walk in. Where Elliott had once turned him on so much and left him wanting so badly that he’d nearly unwound from the force of it.

He couldn’t have imagined this then, the way Elliott would wrap around him like his ass was made for Mal’s cock. The way he’d give it back as good as he did, thrusting with his strong thighs, their bodies meeting with an unmistakable slap of skin against skin.

“Mal,” Elliott murmured against his lips, and yeah, Mal was close too. So close. He reached down, and barely got his fingers around Elliott’s dick before he was shuddering.

Elliott tightening around him sent Mal over the edge, and he gasped, his orgasm overtaking him like a freight train.

Too soon it was over, but Mal had discovered he actually enjoyed the aftermath almost as much as the orgasm itself. Just staying wrapped around the man he loved, Elliott making little noises of complete satisfaction in the back of his throat, was something special.

Of course it was not special today, because they weren’t in either of their rooms. There was nothing to clean up with, and any second now, Mal was going to slide out, and the mess was going to be a painful return to reality.

Except maybe not. Elliott shifted back a fraction, and a second later Mal realized he was digging for something else under the pillow. This time he emerged with a half a dozen wadded together tissues.

His grin was infectious and goddamn perfect.

“You planned this whole thing,” Mal said as he took the tissues and carefully slid out, wiping up the mess he made as he went.

“What gave it away?” Elliott teased. Not sounding particularly sad about being discovered.

“Every bit of it,” Mal said with faux sternness.

“Don’t say you’re disappointed because I know you’re not.” Elliott pressed a warm kiss to Mal’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, even when you’re conniving to destroy my reputation.”

“How about later, when I connive to have you fuck me nice and slow in our bed, until I can’t take it anymore?” Elliott batted his eyelashes innocently.

Mal’s fingers tightened on the used tissues. “I—”

“I know you’re up for the challenge. My favorite toy can make me come untouched, but the real question is . . .can you?”

“Yes,” Mal said, confidence and arousal warring with each other. “Yes, let’s go right now.” He tossed the tissues in the trash and grabbed his towel, re-situating it around his waist.

Elliott just laughed. Slid down off the table. Picked up his jeans and pulled them back on. “I love it when you get like this. So arrogant and self-assured.”

“You’d better,” Mal retorted wryly. He didn’t say because that part of him was impossible to erase at this point. He could soften, but he’d never change, not completely.

But he didn’t have to say it, because Elliott knew. Elliott always knew. “Good thing I love you just the way you are,” Elliott said, kissing him on the mouth. “Come on, we’d better go before someone does come in.”

Mal rolled his eyes but followed him back down the hallway towards the locker room.

There were a handful of players still left, taking their time.

Probably not wanting to acknowledge to themselves that this was the last time they’d all be together like this.

Ramsey glanced up as they walked in. “I see you two decided to have your own little celebration,” he murmured.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mal said.

Ramsey sauntered over to where Mal was getting dressed. “No? I know what Ell looks like when he’s gotten exactly what he wanted. And you’re not looking too bothered yourself.”

“I’d think Ell would look like that a lot of the time,” Mal said. After all, he went out of his way to make sure it was true. Elliott had him wrapped around his little finger, and Mal had never thought he’d enjoy it nearly as much as he did.

“He does.” Ramsey sat down on the bench. “You treat him right. Never thought I’d say that, or witness it, frankly, but you do. You’re good for each other.”

“Thanks,” Malcolm said, aware that even though he hadn’t really been worried, occasionally he did feel some anxiety over whether he’d eventually end up like his father. Cold and unfeeling. Not that Elliott would ever permit that, but it helped to know that someone else saw them together and thought, this is good.

“And,” Ramsey said grinning as he rose, then patting him on the shoulder, “I never thought I’d see the day where Malcolm McCoy would unbend enough to fuck in a treatment room.”

Malcolm opened his mouth to argue and then shut it again.

Because what was the point?

“Hope you enjoyed the show,” Elliott said to Ramsey in a teasing voice as he walked over. “Because I sure did.”

He pressed a kiss to Mal’s mouth. And Mal couldn’t help but murmur to him, “I did, too.”