Frozen Submission (M*M)Romance

Chapter 1: Sir In The Flesh

The roar from the United Center still buzzed deep in my ears when I finally made it back to the locker room. My pads weighed a ton tonight. Sweat kept running into my eyes no matter how many times I wiped. But I actually did it. Shutout in my first NHL game. Sixty full minutes and that puck never crossed the line once.

Tate Ellison slammed his hand against my back so hard it stung. “Kid you fucking did it!” That chipped tooth flashed when he grinned wide. “First game shutout? You trying to make the rest of us look like shit already?”

I forced out a laugh and bumped his fist even though my chest felt tight. “Just lucky the posts were on my side tonight man. That’s all.”

Beck Thornton leaned against his locker with arms folded tight across his chest. He gave me that slow nod he always does. “Luck my ass. You read those plays before they even happened. Welcome to the show Rhys.”

My face burned hot. I ducked my head quick and started peeling off my jersey. The fabric stuck to my skin like it refused to let go. The whole room smelled like old sweat, icy hot cream, and that cheap body wash they always stock. My heart still pounded from the game but another heavier pressure was already crawling in. The same one that never really left me alone.

Merrick Donovan tossed a towel at my chest. “Hydrate kid. You looked real solid out there.”

“Thanks Merrick.” I caught the water bottle he threw next. The cold felt good against my palm for a second.

Maren Emerson poked her head through the doorway. Hair pulled back tight like always. “Brooks if that shoulder starts acting up tonight you come see me first thing. Don’t play hero.”

“Got it Maren.” I gave her a quick thumbs up but my mind was already drifting somewhere darker.

Elodie Langley slipped in right behind her tapping at her phone. “Great game Brooks. That last save is blowing up online. Captain wants the whole team in the family room in twenty for press.”

I nodded but my stomach knotted up. Family room. Perfect. Just what I needed after everything.

The guys kept joking loud around me. Someone cranked the music higher. I sat on the bench and changed into my suit while their voices rolled over me. My fingers shook just a little when I buttoned the shirt. Nobody called me out on it. Good.

Back in the hotel room the quiet hit me like a wall. Chicago lights glowed through the big window. I sat on the edge of the bed staring at my phone. My thumb hovered over the app. The one I swore I would delete after tonight.

I recorded the video fast before I could chicken out. Voice low. Almost shaking.

“I played my first NHL game tonight Sir. Shutout. But I still feel so empty. Like I need someone to take all this weight off me. Tell me what to do. Please.”

I hit send then threw the phone on the bed like it burned my hand.

Ten minutes passed. Maybe fifteen. I paced the room loosening my tie. The carpet felt too soft under my dress shoes. My dad’s voice kept cutting through my head again. *Good isn’t enough Brooks. Legends don’t settle for good.*

A sharp knock on the door made me stop dead.

I opened it slowly.

Callan Lachlan stood there taking up the whole doorway. Jacket gone. Tie loose. Those dark eyes locked straight on me.

“Rhys.” His voice came out low and controlled. “Let me in.”

I stepped back without meaning to. He closed the door behind him with a soft click that sounded way too loud. He pulled out his phone held it up and pressed play.

My own voice filled the room. “I played my first NHL game tonight Sir…”

Everything inside me went cold then burning hot. “How did you… what the fuck Callan.”

He stopped the video. Tilted his head just a little. “You’ve been talking to me for weeks Brooks. Begging so nicely every time. You really thought that profile was hidden?”

I backed up until my legs hit the bed and sat down hard. My mouth felt completely dry. “You can’t be him. This isn’t real.”

Callan took one slow step closer. “You call me Sir. You send me those videos. And now here we are face to face.”

I stared up at him. My captain. The guy who ran the ice like it belonged to him. “This isn’t funny man. Tell me you’re joking.”

His expression didn’t change at all. “Do I look like I’m joking?” He moved even closer until he towered over me. “Here’s how this works from now on. For the rest of this season you belong to me. My personal stress relief. You obey every single order I give. Whenever I want. However I want. You answer yes Sir and you do it. Or this video goes everywhere and your career dies tonight before it even starts.”

My hands gripped the sheets tight. Part of me wanted to shove him away and tell him to go fuck himself. The other part… the louder part… already felt that sick pull low in my stomach. “You’re blackmailing me right now. In my own hotel room.”

“Call it whatever makes you feel better.” He braced one hand on the bed right next to my hip. Close enough I could smell the arena still clinging to his skin mixed with his cologne. “You sent that video because you’re drowning Brooks. I’m offering to take the weight. The only difference is you don’t get to hide behind a screen anymore.”

I swallowed hard. My voice came out rough. “The whole season?”

“Every single day.” His eyes dropped to my mouth then came back up slow. “Starting right now. Lose the tie. Slowly.”

My fingers didn’t move at first. They just hovered there like they were waiting for me to come to my senses. Then slowly, like I was giving away something I could never take back, I reached for the knot and loosened it. The silk slid free.

Callan made a low sound of approval. “Good. Now tell me. Did you touch yourself after the game thinking about sending that video?”

“No Sir.” The words slipped out too fast. Too natural.

His mouth curved. Not a full smile. Something sharper. “Honest. I like that. Keep giving me honesty and we won’t have problems. Lie to me once and things get much harder for you.”

The room felt way too warm. I hated how my body reacted to the way he spoke. Hated how part of me wanted him to keep going even while fear sat heavy in my chest.

He straightened up and crossed his arms. “Jacket off. Shirt next. Then you’re going to show me exactly how grateful you are for that shutout tonight.”

I stood on shaky legs and started unbuttoning. Each button felt heavier than the last. “The guys are right down the hall. If anyone even suspects…”

“They won’t. Not unless you slip up.” He watched every move like he had all the time in the world. “And you’re not going to slip up are you Brooks?”

My shirt hit the floor. “No Sir.”

Callan took his time looking at me. No rush at all. “On your knees rookie.”

I dropped. The carpet felt rough against my slacks. My heart slammed so loud I wondered if he could hear it too.

He reached down and caught my chin. His thumb brushed my bottom lip slow. “By the end of this season you won’t even remember what it felt like to carry all that weight alone.”

I looked up at him. Scared. Turned on. Completely messed up inside. Everything twisted together so tight I couldn’t think straight.

He leaned in closer. Voice barely above a whisper.

“Now open your mouth and show me how grateful you really are.”

My lips parted.

Right then his phone buzzed loud on the nightstand.

Callan glanced at the screen. His whole face changed. Something colder. Darker. He looked back down at me. Thumb still firm on my chin.

“Change of plans.” His voice stayed calm but I heard the new edge in it. “The syndicate already knows about the video. They want to talk to both of us. Tonight.”

My blood turned ice cold.

Callan’s grip tightened just a fraction.

“Looks like the game just got a lot bigger than you and me rookie.”