Etienne pumped in and out, taking his time and enjoying the curses that fell from Adam’s mouth as he writhed back against him. He wanted to see how long it would take before Adam broke and begged for more.
Three minutes and forty-seven seconds, as it turned out.
Adam reached back with one hand, clamping down hard on Etienne’s wrist and twisting enough to fix him with a glare.
“If I don’t get your cock inside me now, I. Will. Die,” he informed him.
Etienne couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like this during sex. He pulled his hand out and leaned forward to kiss Adam, hard and rough and joyful. Then he broke away and went back to his knees. The first touch to his own neglected length had him hissing, fist tightening around himself to stave off the orgasm. Not yet, not yet, not until I’m inside him—
He rolled on the condom with shaking hands and dumped probably too much lube on his shaft, spreading the excess over Adam’s hole. Then he lined up, pressing the head to Adam’s entrance.
“Don’t go slow,” Adam begged.
Etienne could oblige. He shoved inside in one quick motion, burying himself deep.
Adam went rigid, spine bowing.
There was a breathless moment of silence as Etienne gave Adam’s body time to adjust, running his hands up and down his ribs and over his shoulder blades as he luxuriated in the velvety tight grip around his cock.
Adam was breathing in short, sharp pants, shoulders shaking as he buried his face in the pillow.
“Okay?” Etienne asked. For him, it was better than okay. It was better than he could remember it ever feeling—Adam trembling beneath him, the sweet pliant feel of his body under Etienne’s hands, the way every tiny movement he made sent sparks skittering down Etienne’s backbone.
“Fuck me already,” Adam snarled.
Etienne barked a laugh and obeyed, catching Adam’s hips and tilting them for the right angle so he could pull out and drive home hard and fast.
Adam’s strangled moans only added fuel to the fire kindling deep in Etienne’s belly. He leaned forward, hips still working, one hand pressing Adam’s chest into the mattress and the other snaking beneath Adam’s stomach to find his cock.
Adam bucked against him, crying out when Etienne gripped him, body impossibly tightening even more.
“Make me come, please, make me come, I need to—”
“You say—I’m bossy,” Etienne managed, but he changed his angle, slamming against Adam’s prostate punishingly hard.
Adam’s body locked up around him and he choked on a scream as he spilled over Etienne’s fist, suddenly so tight Etienne could barely move.
Etienne drove deep one last time and filled the condom, sinking his teeth into Adam’s shoulder as he shuddered through his ecstasy.
They collapsed to the bed in a limp, sweaty heap, aftershocks shivering through both of them. It took Etienne several minutes to collect himself enough to pull out, petting Adam’s flank soothingly when he moaned a protest.
He found washcloths in the bathroom and got one wet. Padding back to the bed, he rolled Adam gently onto his side and cleaned him up. Adam’s eyes were closed, but he groped for Etienne’s hand. When he found it, he tugged it to his mouth and kissed it clumsily.
Etienne suddenly found it hard to swallow. He cleared his throat and gently pulled his hand away, cupping Adam’s cheek before tossing the used cloth in the hamper.
“You should sleep,” he whispered.
“Will… y’stay?” Adam slurred.
God, Etienne wanted to. He wanted to crawl into the bed, pull the covers up over both of them and hold Adam for the rest of the night. But then morning would come, and Adam would be sober, and he’d get a good look at Etienne for the first time. And then there’d be regret, and embarrassment, and Adam wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye, and Etienne would find himself outside Adam’s door hating himself even more than he already did.
So…. “I can’t,” he whispered. He couldn’t resist bending to drop a kiss on Adam’s forehead, though, before straightening to pull the comforter at the end of the bed up and over his limp form. “Thank you. For—thank you.”
Adam hummed, clearly mostly asleep, and Etienne smiled to himself as he picked up his clothes and tiptoed from the room.
Outside in the hallway, Etienne leaned against the door for a minute. He hadn’t expected to have so much fun. He wished, briefly, that he could have the opportunity to get to know Adam when he wasn’t drunk and high on endorphins. He had the feeling Adam was worth knowing.
And then he put away that dream, tucked it in a drawer in his mind and turned the lock, and walked away, back to his own life.
3
The Wolverines were on a whole different level from the Freeze. Adam had known this already, from being called up for a few games, but working with them on a daily basis had him dragging back to his apartment completely exhausted after practices, barely able to summon the energy to order food.
But even as tired as he was, he couldn’t stop thinking about the man from that night. He hated that he couldn’t remember his name. Edward? Ethan? It started with an E, he was pretty sure. His eyes had been such an unusual shade, a slate blue with glints of granite, and he’d fixed them on Adam as if nothing else in the world existed.
Adam had never felt so seen. He wanted more of that focus, more of those big hands all over his body, and more—if he was being honest—of being bossed around.
But with the intense training their coach was putting them through, Adam simply didn’t have time to find the man from that night, no matter how much he wanted to. He fell onto his mattress, slept like the dead, and hauled himself to practice every day, usually cursing the day he’d decided to pursue a career in professional hockey instead of art.
It was working, though. He could feel himself getting faster, his reflexes sharpening, his awareness of the puck and ability to think several moves ahead increasing. Even his blind spot wasn’t bothering him too much.
How had the man from that night picked up on that? No one else knew about the limited vision in Adam’s left eye, not even the team doctor. It wasn’t that bad, Adam told himself. After all, he could mostly see out of it. It was just that one area that was blurred, making him have to turn his head more to maintain his coverage.
His left winger was useless, though. Not only was he not fast enough, but he didn’t pick up on Adam’s cues and usually missed the shots Adam sent him.
“Get your head out of your ass and into the game, Jake!” Coach Benton roared at him after the umpteenth missed shot. “Cary’s doing his best to give you goals and what are you doing? You off in fairyland? Dancing with the elves in the moonlight? Get it to-fucking-gether, you hear me?”
Jake hung his head. “Sorry, Coach,” he mumbled. He glanced at Adam, wiping a drop of sweat off his nose. “Sorry, Cary.”
“It’s okay,” Adam said. “Just watch me when I have the puck, okay? If you’re open, I’m gonna send it to you, so be ready.”
“And you,” Coach said to Adam, who jerked.
“Me?”
“What do you think you were doing, going high on that last shot? Hunt’s never going to let you get a top-shelf goal. You gotta go low with him.”