Open Ice Hit (The Sin Bin Book 2)

Back when Tommy was younger, he used to have a recurring dream almost every week. It was around the time he barely got drafted in Juniors, when even the coach of the team he had been selected by barely gave him ice time because of his size until Tommy proved he was a good skater with a shoot-first mentality.

The dream was always the same. He’d be on the ice all alone, waiting for his team to arrive, but he knew something wasn’t right—he’d gotten the game time wrong and missed it or maybe his teammates had lied to him about what rink to go to and were off somewhere laughing at him. The dream slipped then, people appearing in the stands like they’d always been there, and Tommy had to prove himself—had to skate laps and laps around the rink as fast as he could. The world would blur past him until he inevitably lost an edge and slammed into the boards.

It didn’t hurt, of course—physical pain didn’t exist during sleep—but the fucking shame he felt. Shame over the fact everybody had been right—he wasn’t good enough.

He’d sit up on the ice and watch his teeth fall from his mouth, covered in blood but perfectly formed like they were cartoon teeth with the root perfectly attached.

The weirdest thing about going through that so often was that it didn’t happen when he lost a game in real life—it happened when he won.

It had fucked him up for a while like there was some powerful force telling him those wins weren’t deserved. One day, though, without him even noticing, they just stopped.

Tommy opened his eyes, the now familiar scent of Noah all around him. He lifted himself from sleep slowly, the remains of that old dream sticking to him, the residue of an old feeling of incompetence.

Tommy made his body relax, shaking himself from the aftertaste of anxiety. Noah’s hand was stroking up and down his naked side, sending a shiver of pleasure and worry through him.

“You awake?” Noah murmured behind him.

Tommy braced himself and turned around, facing the aching beauty of Noah’s face—beautiful because of the disheveled hair, the pillow-crease mark on his cheek. The inherent vulnerability in seeing him like this.

The words were out of his mouth before Tommy could think. “I can’t keep doing this.”

The simple smile on Noah’s disappeared as he physically pulled away from Tommy. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy choked out, knowing he should leave the bed before he got his heart broken but unable to move. “I just…I can’t pretend this doesn’t mean more to me than it does. I fucking…I know you didn’t sign up for more than a few rough fucks. I mean, shit, neither did I, but I…”

He stared helplessly, waiting for Noah to react, but there was only confusion looking back at him.

Tommy sacked up and let it out. “I really fucking like you, okay? Like…like like you. A lot. And I get it if you don’t feel the same way, but I can’t—”

“Tommy,” Noah interrupted. “Shut the fuck up.”

Tommy would have been concerned by his reaction if it wasn’t followed by Noah pushing him onto his back and kissing the fuck out of him.

Tommy kissed back through pure instinct but had to pull away to ask, “You…you?”

Noah laughed, the sound clean and true. “Yeah, bonehead. Me too. What do you think all that was yesterday? You think I just share stuff about my family with anybody?”

“Well…no, but—”

“I love you, you goof.”

Tommy’s mouth fell open. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you just said the L word. I mean, I didn’t wanna say it first because that’s super awkward if you don’t—”

“Tommy.”

“But you do. Oh shit, you love me? Me?”

“Yeah. You.”

“I fucking love you too, so much, man, I can’t even deal sometimes, I—”

Noah interrupted him with another kiss.

They didn’t talk again for a while.

Tommy had declared the need for a belated birthday celebration and had taken Noah’s minor grumbling as assent.

He knew Noah wouldn’t want to be dragged around the city the day after getting knocked out of the playoffs, so Prospect Park it was.

“What exactly are we getting here?” Noah asked as they entered Lincoln Market—though market was a bit of a misnomer for the fancy supermarket.

“Snacks. Duh.”

Noah rolled his eyes, but he didn’t seem nervous about being seen hanging out in public, so Tommy counted it as a win.

“Okay. Chips, obviously. Fuck meal plans.”

Noah hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Fuck meal plans.”

Tommy grinned, hip-checking him into the right aisle. “I vote kettle chips.”

“You’re such a basic bitch. Let’s get pretzels.”

“Did you just—where—are you on Instagram? Do you have an Instagram you’re not telling me about?”

“Yep.”

Tommy gasped. “I need it right now. Right. Now.”

Noah just smirked at him before putting some basil-and-cheese-flavored pretzels in the cart. “Let’s get some fruit.”

“Ugh, what part of fuck the meal plan didn’t you understand?”

“I like fruit.”

“Boring. Let’s get—”

“Isn’t this supposed to be for my birthday? Are you saying you’re denying me what I want on my special day?”

Tommy opened his mouth before shutting it with a snap. “Okay, you can only use that, like, five more times today.”

Noah proceeded to prove he had the worst taste in snacks when he chose a small plastic container of cubed pineapple and another of cheese. “Classic combination,” he said as he placed them in the basket.”

“You’re not seriously telling me I’m supposed to eat those two things together, eh?”

Noah sighed, shaking his head. “You Americans have no taste.”

“How dare you? I’m Canadian.”

“Oh, sorry, Ketchup Chips, tell me more about your level of taste.”

“Okay, don’t even fucking mention those.”

“Because they’re disgusting?”

“You don’t even—you know what? You’re gonna come home with me this summer and I’mma show you what’s good.”

The slightest edge of regret cut through him at the indirect invitation, especially as Noah tensed beside them. Romantic confessions were all well and good, but even Tommy knew real relationships weren’t built on spontaneous declarations. He’d seen how hard his own parents worked at their marriage, how it was a constant negotiation, a series of easy moments interspersed with difficult moments of communication that made it work.

And communication? Yeah, not one of their fortes.

They had time to change that, Tommy knew, but it was gonna take a hell of a lot of work to consciously work through the shitty beginning of their relationship.

“I’d like that,” Noah said quietly.

Something lightened in Tommy. Even the fact that Noah was willing to take that step, even if it didn’t happen, was a good sign.

They ended up with two paper bags filled with snacks. Tommy had refrained from chirping Noah for his decisions, even when he chose some gross dark chocolate that wasn’t even chocolate.

“It’s actually more chocolate. What you eat is sugar and milk.” Noah had replied when Tommy had pointed that out.

Okay, so Tommy had mostly refrained from chirping.

It was a perfect park day, sunny but not too hot, a breeze dancing through the leaves. They were lucky it was the middle of the work week, although Tommy didn’t doubt the park would fill the moment it hit six.

Tommy had had the forethought to bring a bedsheet—no, Noah, he didn’t have a park-appropriate blanket, okay—and spread it on the grass when they found an approved spot.

Both Noah and Tommy would do anything to still be in the playoffs but, still, “Fuck, this is nice.” Tommy groaned as he spread-eagled on the sheet.

“Please, get comfortable. I can sit on the grass.”

Tommy opened an eye, leering at him. “Baby, you can sit on me if you need—oof, shit you’re heavy.”

Noah shifted, ass fully on Tommy’s stomach. “You’re right, this is a great seat.”

“Ow, ow, ow, I can feel my intestines shifting.”

“Did you know your intestines rearrange themselves on their own? If doctors operate on you, they just stuff them back in, and they slither back into place.”

Tommy let out the sound of a balloon deflating.

Noah took mercy on him, sliding off and rubbing his open palm briefly over his face in a well-practiced face-washing motion from fighting on the ice. Tommy smacked his hand away, kicking at Noah’s legs until they were all tangled together, laughing into each other’s mouths.

“I wanna try some of that gross pineapple and cheese,” Tommy whispered.

Noah snorted, sitting up and hauling Tommy after him. Tommy settled against Noah, watching as he carefully arranged the two cubes of food on one of the toothpicks they’d bought.

“You sure this is a thing? You’re not trolling me?”

“I don’t know what trolling means, and I refuse to respond to it.”

They stared at each other. “You’re trolling me right now, aren’t you?”

“I guess you’ll never know.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, grabbing the food and popping it into his mouth. He slid the cheese and pineapple off with his teeth, expecting the worst, but…

“This is actually good.”

Noah looked unbearably smug, popping two cubes into his mouth, sans toothpick. “Told ya.”

“You ever been to Canada? I mean, apart from hockey stuff.”

“Yeah, I visited Kevin once.”

“So you’ve tried poutine.”

Noah wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. It’s gross. Soggy french fries? No thanks.”

Tommy put his face in his hands, groaning mournfully. “Who are you? Who made you? Why are you like this? It’s not supposed to be soggy, you absolute troglodyte.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, have you changed the laws of physics so that gravy doesn’t make french fries soggy?”

“Okay, first of all, they’re not french fries. They’re wedges. Second, the melted cheese is a barrier for the gravy, so it only soaks up a little at a time. God.”

“Gravy is an American invention that—”

“What are you talking about? What—” Tommy tackled Noah to the ground, putting his hands around his throat lightly and shaking him while Noah laughed and tried to push him away.

“Help, he’s gone rabid,” Noah cried, and Tommy reveled in this open, playful version of him.

Tommy collapsed over Noah, kissing his smiling mouth. Noah wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close and kissing him back, out there in front of God and everybody.

“I knew you’d be like this,” Tommy murmured against Noah’s lips. “I mean, not really, but…I kinda did.”

“Like what?”

“Like, you know. When you’re with Zed and Davesh and Kevin you’re so…loyal and open. Happy. Funny. I wanted it for myself. I wanted to make you feel that way—wanted you to think I was worth treating like that.”

Noah’s expression fell, but he didn’t pause the hand that was now rubbing up and down Tommy’s back. “You had too much faith in me,” he said quietly.

“Well, obviously not,” Tommy replied, gesturing to the picnic, to them tangled up in the dappled sunlight.

“No, but…you know that it was fucked up, the way I treated you, right? Even the sex—”

“What? The sex was good!”

“Yeah, no, I know, Tommy, but…the stuff we were doing. The stuff we do now—I read up on it after the first few times, and the way I left you after…That was fucked up. I mean, I knew it was, I could feel it in my gut, but I didn’t know why until I read up on it.”

Tommy frowned, a little confused. “Read up on what?” How the fuck had there been something on the internet about how Tommy had felt in the beginning when Noah would leave him chewed up and spit out, alone to pick up the pieces?

“They call it aftercare? When you have intense sex or a scene, you know. You’re not supposed to be a shit to someone and then just go.”

Tommy shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I know what you mean, but it wasn’t really a scene, was it? We were genuinely angry at each other. I wasn’t so hot on you either then, let me tell you. So. Yeah, we weren’t gonna cuddle in bed after, I think that’s pretty normal.”

Noah let out a long breath. “I’m still sorry. I…the thought of making you feel like that now, it…that can’t happen again.”

Tommy sat up, sensing the conversation would be better had when they weren’t both horizontal, Noah doing the same. “I know that. Noah—the stuff we did before, that was a, like…side effect of our relationship. I was cool with it then—or, at least, I didn’t judge you much for it—because that’s how we felt about each other. It was both of us. But, yeah, I’m not gonna let you fuck me around now.”

Noah nodded. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. I needed to hear it. I don’t want to be…” Noah swallowed audibly, pausing for a long time before looking Tommy straight in the eyes. “I don’t want to be like my father.”

“The fuck? Dude, I haven’t met your father, but I’m pretty damn sure you’re nothing like him.”

“There are a lot of things about my father that are in me too. His ambition. His ability to compartmentalize. Some of his ruthlessness, too. And I don’t want to make anybody feel the way he makes me feel, okay? Like I’m not…” Noah looked away, obviously incapable of finishing that thought.

Tommy slipped his hand into Noah’s, squeezing tightly. “Okay. We’ll make a deal. If you’re ever too much of a dick, I’ll call you out. But you gotta forgive yourself for the shit at the beginning of all this—the hate sex was hot, okay? And, shit, look where it took us. I’m not mad about it.”

Noah looked back at him but stayed silent, something deeply, darkly sad in his eyes.

Tommy leaned over, pressing a kiss to Noah’s forehead before pulling away. “Noah, I love you for a reason. And I’m gonna tell you this right now—I’m gonna spend the rest of my fucking life making sure you know how fucking much you’re worth. Making sure you never believe a single thing your dad says ever again. Do you get me?”

Noah stared at him, looking stunned, his breath shaky. “Okay.”

“Okay. Now, let’s eat some of this cheese and pineapple with some pretzels, eh. I think it’s gonna be dope.”

The grateful look that lit Noah’s face was one of the best things Tommy had ever seen.

“I wanna show you something.” Tommy grinned at Noah’s inquiring face before disappearing into the bedroom for a moment and returning to the living room.

Noah was sitting on Tommy’s couch, his body so obviously relaxed Tommy had to stop for a moment and take it in. Noah had just been knocked out of the playoffs, and yet there he was, smiling a little at Tommy as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

An odd, sudden tug yanked him from the pit of his stomach—the instinct to wrap Noah up and protect him from anything that might want to harm him.

Noah raised his eyebrows at Tommy. “What’s got you looking like that?”

Tommy shook his head, walking over and plopping himself beside Noah. “Remember this?”

Noah frowned in confusion as Tommy shook the magazine in front of his face before his expression cleared with recognition. He grabbed the magazine carefully, and any doubt Tommy had about whether Noah had even bothered to look at the pictures dissipated as Noah flipped the glossy pages quickly to the right spot.

There, in all their glory, were the pictures from Tommy and Noah’s photoshoot from all that time ago—Noah with his head tilted back, half-lidded eyes smoldering as Tommy brushed his lips against the long stretch of his neck. Tommy sprawled back against Noah as they sat on the ground. Tommy and Noah facing off, mouths so close they were a breath away.

Noah glanced at him. “You keep them in your bedside drawer to jerk off to or what?”

Tommy laughed, tapping Noah’s side with his finger. “If anything, I’d jerk off to the memory of the shoot. Or, you know, the memory of your cock in my mouth the second you could get your hands on me.”

“The second I could get my hands on you?”

“Oh, please. You think I didn’t notice? All that hate and you just wanted me on my knees to see me beg.”

Noah watched him carefully for a few long seconds, eyes bottomless. “And you went so easily. Looked fucking pretty when you were down there too.”

“Yeah?” Tommy straddled Noah with a wide grin on his face. “You jerk off to my pretty face?”

Noah gripped Tommy’s hips, grinding him down on his cock. “You have no idea the amount of times I’ve thought of you, baby. The things I’ve thought about doing to you.”

“Like what?”

Noah licked his lips, obviously hesitating. It was crazy how dirty Noah could be but how shy he was about talking sometimes.

And then, suddenly, Swedish accent thick, he came out with shit like this.

“I think about you being stuffed full. You have no idea what you look like when you’re getting fucked. When you want it so bad it’s like you can’t get enough. It doesn’t matter if it’s your mouth or your ass, you just love it so fucking much, don’t you, Älskling?”

Tommy shuddered, feeling Noah harden underneath his ass. “Yeah.”

“I think about getting my dick deep in your throat while you get fucked open by a toy. How big would I have to make it to keep you satisfied? It’d have to split you open, I think, but I wouldn’t let you come until I was the one fucking you, filling you up with come.”

“F-u-uck.” They hadn’t even taken off their clothes, and Tommy was so hard it hurt. “I’ve got, please, I’ve got—”

Tommy fished the lube from between the couch cushions, ignoring Noah’s amused expression. They fucked a lot—having lube there was just practical.

Noah didn’t even undress, stripping Tommy naked and getting his own dick out, coating it in lube.

Tommy slapped Noah’s hand away when he tried to prep him. “I don’t need it, come on.”

“Just a little, I don’t want to hurt—oh, fuck.” Noah groaned, his hands leaving bruises on Tommy’s hips.

Tommy closed his eyes against the stretch as he sank down on Noah’s dick despite his protests. Just the head was enough to have his whole body flushed with the ache of it.

Noah didn’t let him speed up, going so slow that by the time he was fully seated, both of them were sweating and panting.

Tommy whined low in his throat as Noah said something in Swedish. He was shaking, so full it almost didn’t feel real, happy being guided as Noah pulled him in for a long, deep kiss.

By the time they separated, Tommy was losing it with the feeling of needing more. He moved carefully, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head, feeling Noah’s thick cock slip out and then push in again.

Noah didn’t seem to be doing any better. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Tommy could only moan as the pace picked up, Noah taking charge as he bounced Tommy in his lap, his own hips snapping up to fuck him hard.

Tommy was pretty sure he was drooling, an array of obscene sounds punched out of him, but he couldn’t stop. Even when Noah shoved three fingers into his mouth, all he could do was make noise around them, sucking Noah in deeper, choking on them, on the feeling taking over his body.

The orgasm hit him out of nowhere. Everything felt so good, from so deep inside, that he didn’t realize the edge was coming until he fell over it, the pleasure a wave that radiated out, that didn’t seem to stop.

Noah fucked him harder through it, fingers slipping from between Tommy’s lips to grab him again, thrusting in with such force that the slap of skin on skin filled the room.

Tommy could barely breathe, overstimulated and never wanting it to stop, but all good things came to an end. With a loud, animal noise, Noah stilled, spilling hotly inside him.

Tommy slumped against him, twitching at the slickness between his legs. Noah tilted their faces until he was covering Tommy’s cheeks with kisses, making him laugh and glow with love.

There was nowhere in the world he’d rather be.