Story 2: Rivals in Bed

Chapter 1

The hotel in Lethbridge smelled like industrial carpet cleaner and old ice.

Tyler Reed dropped his duffel on the narrow bed and stared at the schedule taped to the wall. Tomorrow night’s game against the Lethbridge Storm. Against him. Jake Harlan. The other twenty-year-old “can’t-miss” prospect. The one every hockey forum loved to pit against him in endless comment wars. Reed vs. Harlan. Speed vs. power. East vs. West. Fans had been screaming for a head-to-head for two seasons. Tomorrow they would finally get it.

Tyler’s team had booked the entire second floor of the lodge. Apparently the Storm had booked the third. Same building. Same shitty continental breakfast. Same thin walls.

He stripped out of his travel sweats, grabbed his toiletry bag, and headed for the bathroom at the end of the hall. The team manager had said the private baths were limited, so the shared ones on each floor were first-come. Tyler didn’t care. He just wanted the hot water to beat the travel stiffness out of his shoulders before the morning skate.

The bathroom door was unlocked.

Steam already billowed out when he pushed it open. Someone was in the furthest stall, water hammering against tile. Tyler hesitated for half a second, then shrugged and claimed the open stall two down. He turned the water on, stripped the rest of the way, and stepped under the spray.

He was rinsing shampoo from his hair when the other shower shut off.

Footsteps. The soft slap of wet feet on tile. Then silence.

Tyler glanced sideways through the gap in the curtain.

Jake Harlan stood two stalls over, completely naked, towel hanging uselessly from one hand. Water still beaded on the hard lines of his chest and the deep V cutting down to his hips. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, half-hard already, and his eyes were locked on Tyler’s body like he had every right to look.

Tyler’s own cock twitched hard under the spray.

Neither of them spoke.

Jake’s gaze dragged down Tyler’s torso, lingered on the water running over his abs, then settled lower. Tyler didn’t bother hiding. He let the curtain hang open just enough. Let Jake see the way his cock was filling fast, the way his breathing had changed.

Jake’s mouth curved—not quite a smile, something sharper. He dropped the towel and stepped back under his own spray, turning so the water hit his chest. He didn’t look away. Neither did Tyler.

The air between the stalls felt thicker than the steam.

Tyler’s hand moved almost without permission. He wrapped his fingers around his cock and stroked once, slow, eyes still on Jake. Jake’s nostrils flared. He mirrored the motion—big hand closing around that thick length, stroking in the same rhythm.

No words. Just the sound of water and the quiet, wet slide of fists over hard cocks.

Jake broke first. He shut his water off, stepped out of the stall, and walked the short distance between them. Tyler’s heart slammed against his ribs. Jake was broader up close, shoulders built for boarding people into the boards, thighs thick from years of explosive starts. His cock was fully hard now, flushed dark, the head already shiny.

He didn’t ask.

He simply reached past Tyler, turned the water hotter, and crowded into the stall. The space was barely big enough for one. Two forced them chest to chest, cocks trapped between wet skin. Jake’s hand found Tyler’s hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

“You’ve been staring at me every time our teams share a building,” Jake said, voice low and rough. “Don’t act surprised.”

Tyler’s answer was to fist a hand in Jake’s wet hair and drag his mouth down.

The kiss was all teeth and heat. Jake growled into it, shoved Tyler back against the cold tile, and ground their cocks together in a slow, filthy roll of his hips. Water poured over both of them. Tyler’s free hand slid down Jake’s back, over the hard curve of his ass, and squeezed.

Jake broke the kiss only long enough to spin Tyler around. Chest to the wall. Ass out. One big hand planted between Tyler’s shoulder blades, holding him there while the other reached around and stroked his cock with a rough, knowing grip.

“Lube,” Tyler managed, voice wrecked already.

Jake’s laugh was dark. “In my bag. Two stalls over. Don’t move.”

He was gone ten seconds. Came back with a small bottle, already slicked fingers, and no patience. Two thick fingers pushed into Tyler without warning. The stretch burned. Tyler’s forehead dropped against the tile as Jake worked him open—scissoring, curling, finding the spot that made Tyler’s knees threaten to buckle.

“Fuck—Harlan—”

“Been waiting to hear you say my name like that.” Jake added a third finger, twisting deep. “All those press conferences. All that fake respect. You’ve wanted this as long as I have.”

Tyler shoved back onto his hand in answer.

Jake pulled his fingers free, slicked his cock, and lined up. The thick head pressed against Tyler’s hole. He pushed in slow and relentless, one long slide that forced every inch of that heavy cock inside until his hips were flush against Tyler’s ass.

Tyler’s mouth opened on a silent cry. The stretch was intense—Jake was thicker than anyone he’d taken before. The burn melted into pure heat almost immediately. Jake stayed buried for a moment, breathing hard against the back of Tyler’s neck, then started to move.

Hard. Deep. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed off the tile. Every thrust drove Tyler forward into the wall; every pull-back left him clenching around the thick length trying to keep it inside. Jake’s hand stayed wrapped around Tyler’s cock, stroking in time, thumb smearing precum over the head.

“Tomorrow we’re going to try and kill each other on the ice,” Jake rasped against his ear. “Tonight you’re going to take every inch of me and come on my cock like you’ve been starving for it.”

Tyler came first—hard enough that his vision whited out, painting the tile in thick stripes while Jake fucked him through it. The clench pulled Jake over the edge a few thrusts later. He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, broken sound, flooding Tyler in hot pulses that overflowed and ran down his thighs with the shower water.

They stayed locked together under the spray, breathing hard, Jake’s forehead pressed between Tyler’s shoulder blades. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Finally Jake pulled out slow. The empty feeling made Tyler shiver. Jake turned him around, looked at his face, and kissed him again—slower this time, almost careful.

“Same time tomorrow night?” Jake asked, voice still rough. “After I bury your team.”

Tyler’s mouth curved. He reached down and stroked Jake’s half-hard cock once, feeling it twitch.

“After I bury yours,” he corrected. “And yeah. Same time. Don’t be late.”

Jake’s eyes darkened with something that was pure promise.

He stepped out of the stall, grabbed his towel, and walked out of the bathroom without looking back. Tyler stayed under the water until his legs stopped shaking, the evidence of what they’d just done still slipping down his thighs.

Tomorrow they would be rivals again.

Tonight had already rewritten the rules.