Page 140 of Ethan

“Yeah,” Hank said roughly, and Ethan was big and strong but he was bigger and stronger, and it wasn’t so hard to flip them. To press Ethan back against the mattress, especially when he went so easily.

“God, I do love you,” Ethan bubbled out happily after Hank had stripped his sweatshirt and sweatpants off, tugging down his briefs.

Sucking dick the first time had been a little intimidating but now Hank thought he was getting the hang of it. Good enough anyway, that Ethan’s breath came faster almost the moment Hank finally got his mouth on his cock. Ethan’s hands drifted down his back and his nails dug in, the pressure and sharp bite of pain the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure he felt in givingEthanpleasure. In dragging moan after moan out of him.

But it was a special kind of blowjob; he’djusttold Ethan he loved him. Surely he should be doing more than the normal tricks he’d begun to figure out that Ethan liked. They’d been talking about experimenting further, and so it felt right to slide his fingers lower, below his balls, and to trace a damp thumb around Ethan’s rim.

“Ohfuck,” Ethan cried out, and okay, that was good. Helikedthat. Ethan had been the one to admit it to him, late one night, when they’d both been too wired to sleep. But it was another to experience it. To feel how Ethan tensed up, and that was all the warning Hank got before he was coming down his throat.

“Fuck,” Ethan repeated, and barely let Hank finish sucking him dry before he was dragging him up his body, hands fierce and forceful on his body.

Hank was still catching his breath, panting a little at how fucking hot that had been, when Ethan blew his mind just a little more. He slid his fingers into his own mouth, plush lips spread wide, and pulled them out, dripping with spit.

“Oh my God,” Hank said with a sharp exhale as Ethan shoved his boxer briefs down with his other hand and wrapped those fingers around his cock.

Hank braced himself on Ethan’s chest and rode the intoxicating edge of pleasure as Ethan coaxed it out of him one stroke at a time.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Ethan encouraged. Pled, really. And how was Hank supposed to resist any of that? He wasn’t. Nobody could expect it out of him.

He came less than a minute later, all over Ethan’s chest. Glancing down dopily and thinking to himself that this was only perfect and right.

Ethan had belonged to him for longer than he wanted to admit, but now here was physical evidence. Hank leaned in and, absolutely ignoring the mess, kissed him hard.

Chapter 19

Hankwasahockeyplayer but he liked to mentally separate himself from those guys that just wanted to play hockey as an excuse to beat the shit out of someone. That wasn’t his game, and wasn’t ever going tobehis game, even after he’d grown and put more muscle on.

He could take a check, could give a check, sure, and he’d gone out of his way to get bigger so he could win the board battles he hadn’t won early on after he’d been drafted. In a scrum, where there was just grappling and way less actual fighting, sure, he’d be fine. He was strong. If someone got too close to the goalie crease, he’d absolutely shove them out of the way.

But he’d never, not once, been tempted to drop gloves.

Before this moment, Hank would’ve even argued, maybe even fervently, that you didn’t need to fight to intimidate other players into falling in line. That just the threat of it was often enough.

They were midway through the game against the Sens—the second period ticking by, Hank alternatively watching Avery and Brock try to get used to playing together and Ethan adjust tobeing Max’s winger—when everything he thought he knew about keeping his fucking temper on the ice blew up in his face.

Personally, Hank wasn’t sure who Avery should be paired up with, but he didn’t really feel like it was working out with Brock. Jonesy was a good d-man, solid and dependable, but over the last few games, they just weren’t clicking.

Hank wasn’t sure who else Avery might click with better, but obviously it wasn’t going to be Niko, who’d just been traded, or Willy, who it was beginning to look like might be out for the rest of the season.

So much for the trade improving the Bandits’ d-core.

Hank watching as Benny took the puck behind their goal as he held the middle so the forwards could do a shift change, butwasthinking about the next play. But more urgently he was actually parsing through the various options of pairings still, considering himself briefly before dismissing the idea as fucking fantasy, when out of the corner of his eye he saw it.

One of the Sens guys—he didn’t even catch the number—intercepted Ethan on his way to the bench. Sent him sprawling to the ice in an ungainly heap.

Hank’s heart sank like a fucking stone and panic lit up every nerve in his body. Max was already off, one leg up on the bench, and couldn’t come back, and even if he could, he was big sure, and could take a punch and give one out, but he wasn’t a fighter either.

And anyway, that didn’t matter. Hank wouldn’t have even cared if Maxwason the ice, because Ethan wasn’t Max’s. He wasHank’s.

He turned before he even registered he was doing it and moved hard and fast, and even as Ethan—thankGod—lifted himself up off the ice, he collided with the guy who’d hit Ethan.

There wasn’t a single thought in his head.

Okay, no. That was a lie.

There was a single overriding thought.

Fuckingguaranteethat if anybody ever pulled this shit again, they’d know that Hank would have their ass.