11. Theo

Theo

After we'd cleaned ourselves up, we returned to Christian's bed. I'd been fully dressed while I'd fucked him, but I was completely naked now, molded to his gorgeous body as we kissed lazily.

I loved the way his hands were constantly on the move, sliding over my chest, my arms, my back—he was so tactile, and I couldn't get enough. He seemed to enjoy me doing the same thing, too. I just couldn't help touching him all over. Fingers through his hair. Palms down his back. Trailing my hand along his thigh before hooking my fingers behind his knee and pulling it up onto my hip. The way he whimpered against my lips when I did that—goddamn, he was so sexy.

Eventually, we relaxed onto the pillows, still holding each other close and touching as if we needed to be absolutely sure this was real. His eyes were a mix of satisfied and sleepy, which made me grin. I loved the way a man looked when I'd left him blissed out, and the fact that it was this man—that was just the icing on the damn cake.

"I really should've gotten your number last time," I murmured.

He laughed softly. "Same. I'd have made the drive to Everett for this."

"Totally worth coming down to Seattle." I lifted my head for brief, light kiss. "I'd do the driving. No point in making you sit in traffic after I fucked your ass like that."

Christian chuckled, squirming a little. "You think I'd be that sore?"

"Depends on how many rounds you'd need before you had enough."

He bit his lip, almost muffling a soft moan. "Does that mean you're going to drill me again tonight?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "Are you saying you haven't had enough?"

"Baby." He grinned. "I haven't had a dicking down like that in a long time. You better believe I'm game for more."

"Good. Because I haven't had anywhere near enough of that ass tonight." I pulled him back in for a long, lazy kiss, reveling in the way he shivered and whimpered. Fuck him again tonight? Oh, hell yeah. "When you're ready for more," I mumbled between kisses, "just say the word."

"Believe me, I will."

We made out for a little while, but neither of us was trying to wind the other up. Not quite yet. No, we just lazily kissed and touched, which I loved. I'd had hookups where we'd both come, then play on our phones until we'd both recharged. We'd go another round, and then we'd either go to sleep or one of us would leave.

It had been way too long since I'd been with someone who enjoyed everything in between. It wasn't affection like if we were boyfriends—just touching and tasting while things were quiet. Maybe we'd be screwing again in five minutes. Maybe it would be an hour. Either way, I had no complaints.

As we had earlier, we eventually relaxed onto the pillows. We were still absently touching, but the conversation meandered to whatever came to mind.

After a while, Christian propped himself up on his elbow and studied me. "Can I ask you something completely unrelated to you banging my brains out?"

I barked a laugh. "Yeah, of course."

He trailed his fingertips up the middle of my chest. "How did you learn Russian?"

"My mom." I ran my palm along his forearm. "She's lived in the U.S. since she was sixteen, but my grandparents and most of my extended family on that side don't speak much English. And she also wanted us to know her language."

"Huh. Your name definitely didn't give anything away."

I chuckled. "Yeah, apparently my parents argued about that. A lot. My dad wanted to name me after my grandfather, but my mom wanted to give me the Russian version, which is Fyodor."

"How did they settle it?"

"To hear them tell it, they never did," I muttered. "My mom and her side of the family call me Fedya—that's the diminutive of Fyodor—and the other side calls me Theo." I laughed. "Mom says Dad filled out the birth certificate while she was still drugged up. Dad says Mom told him ‘name him whatever you want as long as you take him away and let me sleep for a couple of hours.'"

Christian laughed. "I mean, sleep deprivation sucks. I could see giving up naming rights for a kid in exchange for a nap."

"Right?" I rolled my eyes. "She loves to remind me that it's my fault. If I hadn't put her through such hell in labor, I'd have a respectable Russian name."

He arched an eyebrow. "Like, a legit guilt trip? Or is she just messing with you?"

"Oh, she's just messing with me. It's totally her sense of humor." I chuckled. "Like when I was being a stubborn teenager, and she'd tell me"—I mimicked my mother's accent—"‘You can't be difficult delivery and difficult teenager, Fedya. Go clean your room.'"

Christian snorted. "Did that work?"

"Most of the time, yeah." I rolled my eyes. "And sometimes when I was being a pain in the ass, she'd say, ‘See, this is why I let your father name you. Because you are clearly his son.'"

"Your mom sounds like a spitfire. I love it."

Nodding, I laughed. "She keeps us all in line, believe me."

Christian laughed, but it faded, and his expression turned a little sad as he broke eye contact.

I touched his face. "What?"

"I…" He deflated a bit. "I was just going to say my mom can be spicy like that too. Just… not with my dad."

I sobered too. "Really? I mean, I know what your dad is like, but is he a jerk at home, too?"

He laughed bitterly. "You think he's only an asshole when he's on the clock? Trust me—he's the same at home. And I think it wears on my mom as much as it does my sister and me." Before I could respond, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. We were joking, and I derailed it and—"

"No, it's okay." I laced our fingers together between us. "Having a dad like that would bum me out, too."

He met my eyes again. "Are you out to your parents?"

"Oh, yeah. My dad was a little surprised just because I don't think he was paying attention, but my mom was all, ‘Of course you're gay, Fedya. I knew you were gay when you were five.'"

A laugh broke through Christian's sudden funk. "She said that?"

"Yep. And my dad was like, ‘When he was five? What?' And she just sort of rolled her eyes and told him that was why his father was convinced she was a Russian spy. Not because she did anything to suggest she was a spy—just because my dad's too oblivious to notice if she did."

Christian chuckled. "Family dinners in your house must be entertaining as all hell."

"They are. Believe me." I sobered a bit. "I, um… I'm guessing it didn't go over well when you came out."

He blew out a breath, watching his hand running up and down my arm. "No. In fact, I came out to my mom when I was thirteen, and she flat out told me not to tell my dad until I was eighteen."

I stared at him. "Seriously?"

Grimacing, he nodded. "She knew he'd kick me out, and there wouldn't be anything she could do to stop him."

"But she stayed with him? Knowing he'd throw out one of her kids?" I paused. "Fuck. Sorry. I shouldn't be so judgy about your family."

"No, it's okay. And honestly, I get it—they got together back when my dad was still playing hockey. She was twenty, he was twenty-five, and she signed an ironclad prenup. She didn't think anything of it at the time because she loved him and didn't care about his money." Christian sighed. "Now she's in her fifties, she hasn't worked since she was nineteen, and if she leaves, she has nothing. Even if my sister and I try to help her out… I mean, she's gotten used to the life he gave her. She's unhappy with him, but she's scared of life after him. So… she stays."

"Wow," I said. "That's really sad."

"Right?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Can I ask you something personal?"

Christian's eyebrow flicked up, a hint of his mischievous spark coming back to life in those gorgeous blue eyes. "We're naked in bed and I can still feel what you did to my ass. I think we're beyond ‘something personal,' aren't we?"

I laughed, shivering at the memory of everything I'd done to his ass, not to mention everything I still planned to do to it tonight. "Okay, fair. I guess I'm just wondering…" I turned serious again. "Why do you work for him? He obviously treats you like shit. Why put up with it?"

"Because I love my job," he said simply. "Every time I think I want to leave, I look at all the guys in the locker room and all the people I work with, and I just… I can't. I don't want to." He swallowed. "I had to sneak around dating boys when I was a teenager so my dad didn't find out I was gay. I've had to walk on eggshells around him at home my entire life and at work for the past several years. But… I mean, I guess I stay with the job for the same reason I'm here with you tonight: I won't let him take away the things I enjoy. I like my job. And…" He slid his hand up my chest. "I like this."

"I like it, too," I whispered. "But if your dad finds out…"

"I know." He gave a subtle nod. "Believe me, I know. And… doing this tonight is one thing. If you don't want to take the risk of doing it again, I promise I'll understand."

I searched his eyes. "What if I do want to do it again?"

Some hope flickered across his expression. "Do you? Even with everything that's at stake?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

"Are you sure?" His brow pinched. "You've experienced firsthand what happens if you cross my dad. And I promise you, sleeping with his son is going to piss him off a lot more than putting rainbow tape on your stick."

"I know. And I know we shouldn't do this." I curved my hand beside his neck. "But… I mean, last time was so good, and this time…"

Christian gave a soft little moan a second before our lips met. "It was so good," he slurred between kisses. "It's… God, it's really good." He carded his fingers through my hair. "I just don't want to fuck up your career."

"You're not. I'm making the choice. I know what's at stake." I ran my fingertips along the edge of his jaw. "And I want you."

He shivered. "Me too."

I claimed his mouth again, and he melted against me, letting me tease and explore as he held on like he thought I might pull away. Rationally, we both knew I should pull away, and that this was a stupid, reckless thing to do.

I wasn't interested in rational. I was interested in Christian. Now that I'd finally satisfied that craving I'd had since the first time we'd hooked up, I wanted more. I couldn't get enough.

And as I pulled him closer, my cock thickening between us, I couldn't wait to be buried inside him again.

"Remember when we did this the first time?" I mumbled against his lips. "When we were—when we didn't have enough for a second round?"

Christian arched against me, rubbing his hardening dick alongside mine. "Uh-huh?"

"That's not gonna be a problem this time."

He whimpered softly and claimed my mouth. He slid a hand between us and stroked me to full attention, muffling all my gasps and moans with his lips and tongue. I'd already come once tonight, but his hand and his kiss had me trembling and needy like I hadn't gone off in weeks.

I finally broke the kiss and panted, "I want to fuck you again."

The choked little sound he made had my toes curling. "Please?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh," he whispered. "Not as hard this time. Slower. I'm a little—"

"Sensitive?" I brushed my lips across his. "I'll be careful. I promise."

He slid a hand into my hair and kissed me, letting it linger for a moment. When he broke away, I pushed myself up and reached for the nightstand.

After I'd put on the condom and lube, I kissed him again and murmured, "Turn over."

Christian shivered, biting his lip. "On my side or my stomach?"

"Whichever." I teased his nipple with my thumbnail. "However you like it."

He flashed me a grin. Then he rolled onto his stomach, and I followed. I settled over him and guided myself in. I pushed in carefully, and he took me easily, both of us moaning as I slid deeper. Christian buried his face in the pillows and pressed his back against my chest. I dropped a light kiss on his shoulder, but that wasn't enough, so I let my lips skate up the back of his neck as I kept slowly rocking in and out of him.

"Oh, God," he whispered, tilting his head forward. "That feels so… Oh my God."

I kissed along his hairline as I rocked in and out of him, slowly and smoothly. As fun as it was to slam into him and fuck him so hard I pushed him up the mattress, this was sexy as hell. Hard and fast was fine and good. Slow and easy, though, meant I could feel everything, and I loved this. Loved the heat of our bodies touching from our feet to my lips on his neck, all while I moved inside him. Loved the scent of him as I kissed his neck and shoulder. Loved how every shiver and tremor reverberated from his body through mine.

Christian shifted a little under me, moving his weight to his right arm. I thought he was going to reach under us to jack himself, and I started to lift myself up so he could move, but he reached back and carded his fingers through my hair. I shivered, groaning softly as I bit his shoulder.

"Jesus Christ, Theo," he whined, rolling his hips to egg me on and—I guessed—rut against the sheets. "Oh, God, you feel amazing."

"Mmm, so do you." I kissed the back of his neck again. "Can you come like this?" Then I bit his earlobe. Not hard, but enough to make him gasp.

Arching under me, he nodded. "Y-yeah. I…" He brought his arm back down. "Lift up a little?"

I did, holding his hip and pulling him up with me.

As soon as he had room, he pushed a hand beneath us, and I sucked in air as he clenched hard around me.

"Oh, God," he moaned. From the motion of his shoulder, he was stroking himself at the same speed I was riding him.

I struggled to stay slow. The need to piston into him hard and fast until we both screamed was almost irresistible. But I wasn't about to hurt him, so I was going to stay slow and careful unless he wanted it harder. And it didn't matter how fast or hard I fucked him—much more of this and I was absolutely going to come.

"I want you to come this way," I pleaded, trying like hell to hold on to my rhythm. "I want to feel it."

The strangled sound he released almost sent me into oblivion, but I bit my lip and tried to keep my own orgasm back.

"A little harder," he whispered shakily. "A little—ungh, baby. A little more. Just—ooh, fuck, yes, like that!" He bucked under me, clenching hard around my dick, and suddenly I was crying out as I rode both of our orgasms until we collapsed onto the mattress

I managed to keep from resting my full weight on him, holding myself up on shaking arms as we both tried to catch our breath.

As the smoke cleared, our earlier conversation—the one we'd been having when we'd gotten lost in each other again instead—drifted back into my mind.

"Listen," I panted against his neck. "I know we shouldn't do this. I know we're risking a lot. But I can't help it." I pressed a kiss just beneath his ear. "I want you."

Christian moaned softly and squirmed under me. "I want you, too." He twisted around just a little, and I shifted to one side so we could make eye contact even like this. Even with my dick still buried inside him.

His eyebrows knitted together. "You know we're both fucked if we get caught, right?"

I nodded. "I know. But with as much as I've been kicking myself since last time…" I half-shrugged.

He studied me. Then, little by little, a smile spread across his lips. "Well then. Good thing you won't be leaving without my number in your phone this time, eh?"

I laughed and kissed him.

"Oh, yeah," I murmured. "A damn good thing."

After that,Christian and I grabbed every opportunity we could to hook up. Not on the road, of course, because that was just too damn dangerous, but if the team was in Seattle and we weren't scrambling off to the airport? Hell, yeah. We usually went to his place because it was closer to the arena and practice rink. The team was putting me up in a hotel in town, but there were other players staying there, as well as some of the journalists who came to town to cover games. Not a good place for a clandestine hookup.

When there was a day or so between games, we'd sometimes go up to Everett to my apartment. I would've done that anyway—hotels got old, and it was nice to sleep in my own damn bed—but it was even better when I was sharing that bed with Christian.

"I thought it was kind of stupid, them getting me a hotel room," I told him one night while we were in my bed, "but the first time I didn't have to drive all the way back up here after a game… I stopped questioning it."

"Good call," he said with a grin. "And it's really not that far. So when you do get sent back down…" The grin broadened as he trailed his fingers up the middle of my chest.

Toes curling, I leaned in for a soft kiss. "So, you'll want to keep doing this? Even when I get sent back to Everett?"

"Are you kidding? Were you not there twenty minutes ago when you had me coming so hard I almost passed out?" He teased my nipple with his thumbnail. "Fuck yeah, I'll drive up here."

I laughed as goose bumps broke out along my arms. Then I thought more about what he said, and my amusement dipped. "I'm surprised they haven't sent me back down yet."

"I'm not," he said without hesitation.

"Really? The injured guys are trickling back, and—"

"And you're tearing it up out there." Christian smiled. "Hell, Eppley's back and Coach Baldwin still has you on the third line instead of bumping you down to the fourth."

Huh. Okay, yeah, he had a point. Eppley had been on the third offensive line for the past three seasons. He'd been back for a week now, and I was still in his old spot while he was on the fourth line.

"No, you probably won't be up forever," Christian said gently. "But I think you've been impressing everyone. I have a feeling they'll send back the other forwards before they send you down."

My heart fluttered. "You think so?"

"I've been watching how this team operates for a long time. When Baldwin finds someone who gels with his guys and his system, he holds on to them."

"Well, damn. And here I thought I'd be the first one to get bumped when people started coming off the injured list."

"If my dad had his way, you probably would be."

I grimaced. "Yeah. Probably."

"But Baldwin isn't afraid of my dad," Christian insisted, "and he'll stick to his guns." He laced our fingers together and kissed the heel of my hand. "I highly doubt you're going anywhere any time soon unless all the guys on LTIR magically recover."

Considering one was out for the rest of the season and two others might be back in time for the playoffs—holy shit. Yeah. I might be here a while.

As long as I didn't piss off Jack Hayes.

"Do you really think we'll be able to keep this"—I gestured at Christian, then myself—"out of your dad's sight?"

His smile was both sexy and reassuring. "If I didn't, we wouldn't be doing it." He must've seen my uncertainty, because he went on, "My dad can't be everywhere all the time. He's literally only been to my condo like three times, and one of those was because my mom dragged him there to check on me while I was sick." He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, he isn't going to be creeping around the parking lot or anything. And aside from what we did over by the Zambonis, we haven't touched at the arena or practice facility."

I tensed a little. "And there's… You're sure there's no cameras back there, right?"

Christian huffed a laugh. "Trust me. The Zamboni drivers and the facilities staff have been trying to get some back there for ages. Dad always pulls strings until whatever funds they would've allocated for cameras get redirected to something he thinks is more important in the locker rooms."

"Seriously?"

"Uh-huh. That's literally the only reason I know there's no cameras in there—because I've had to listen to my dad go on and on and on about it."

"But… why? I mean, what's the point? Cameras aren't that expensive, are they?"

Sighing, Christian rolled onto his back. As I propped myself onto my elbow beside him, he scrubbed a hand over his face. "That's the thing with my dad—it doesn't have to be logical or reasonable. It makes perfect sense to put cameras in the Zamboni bay, and it wouldn't cost much at all. But like three or four years ago, one of the facilities guys got into it with my dad over something. I don't even remember what, just that Dad's been bound and determined to make their lives difficult ever since."

"Does he even have that kind of power?" I asked, absently running my free hand down Christian's chest. "I didn't think the club had that much clout over the arena."

"It doesn't, and no, he doesn't either." Christian tsked. "But some of his flying monkeys do work for the arena, and they're in positions to veto things like that. So they keep doing it to keep him happy."

"All because a facilities staffer pissed him off?"

"Mmhmm." He met my gaze. "Man's got a vindictive streak, if you hadn't noticed."

I laughed. "You don't say." I chewed my lip. "But… we can still fly under his radar, I think. You're right—it's a big city, and it isn't like we're fucking in the locker room showers."

Christian grinned. "You have to admit—that would be kinda hot."

Rolling my eyes, I said, "Uh-huh. Right up until some of my teammates walked in and started heckling us."

The laugh that burst out of him made my whole body warm all over. "They would, too, wouldn't they? Can you imagine?"

"Yes, I can." I mimicked Rusanov's voice, "‘Wow, Christian really can manage Mathis's equipment.'"

Christian was howling now. "Oh my God. I can so picture that." He tried to turn serious as he said, "And then Yanni would be all, ‘You can't hold his hips like that—that's goaltender interference!'"

I cackled. "I mean as long as they don't let the reporters in…"

We both let the laughter take over for a moment. Yeah, our teammates would definitely heckle and chirp if they caught us in the shower. Talk about performance anxiety, too. Goddamn.

But God help us if the GM caught us.

I shoved that thought back as I gathered Christian in my arms. As amusement shifted to affection, and playful kisses shifted to something much sexier, I pushed all thoughts of Jack Hayes out of my mind.

"You know," Christian murmured between kisses, "the locker room shower is out, but yours isn't so bad." He arched an eyebrow. "Feel like banging me up against the wall?"

If my dick hadn't already been well on its way to hard, it was now. "I'll bang you anywhere you want as long as you come as loud as you did earlier."

Christian licked his lips. "Sounds like an even trade."

"Mmhmm. Shower?"

"Shower."