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Temptation Made Flesh

作者: E L Simon
last update 公開日: 2025-07-22 06:22:14

Noah was pissed off, and not just because his cock wouldn’t leave him alone.

He yanked a shirt over his head Monday morning, muscles sore from practice, hair still damp from the shower. His reflection in the mirror looked like someone who hadn’t slept properly in days. Probably because he hadn’t.

Sterling Belmont was in his head.

Worse, he was under his skin.

Noah adjusted his waistband with a grunt. His cock had twitched to life three times just from the memory. The sound of Sterling’s mouth.
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  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Not A Joke

    Dane dropped into the chair with a heavy thud, spreading out immediately, elbows wide, knees apart, claiming space like it belonged to him.“Make it quick,” Dane said. “I’ve got shit to do.”Jamie forced his spine straight.Professional.Structured.It would be fine.He clicked record again.“Okay. Dane,” he began carefully, “can you walk me through the final stretch in the third period? What adjustments were you making as they pushed high?”Dane stared at him.Long enough to make the silence deliberate.“What kind of question is that?” he said finally.“A— a standard one,” Jamie replied, hating the slight wobble in his voice. “You had some key stops in that stretch—”“Because I did my job,” Dane said. “I don’t need a lucky bounce to get headlines.”Jamie’s stomach twisted.He kept his pen moving.“Right. So what did you see developing in their forecheck?”Dane’s eyes narrowed.“You writing all this down like it’s gonna make sense to you?”Jamie swallowed.“I— I’m just getting your pe

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Normal Stuff

    Jamie swallowed.He dragged his eyes back down to his notebook before he could say something reckless.“Fine,” he said, a little sharper than intended. “You launched the puck from your own crease. Walk me through the decision. Were you aiming for the empty net, or were you just trying to clear it?”Max’s expression shifted, less teasing now, more reflective.“I saw their goalie heading off late,” he said. “Bench was yelling. I had a second. Maybe two. I figured if I got enough lift, it might at least burn time.” A small shrug. “Didn’t think it would track that clean.”Jamie scribbled quickly, grateful for the normalcy of it. “So you were aware the net was empty?”“Yeah.” Max’s gaze didn’t leave him. “But I wasn’t thinking history. I was thinking don’t ice it and don’t screw this up.”Jamie nodded, finishing the last line in his notebook before looking up.Max tilted his head slightly.“My turn.”Jamie’s stomach dipped.“What do you do in your free time?” Max asked casually.Jamie blin

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Trust Me

    By the time Jamie made it down the hallway to the media room, the arena had settled into a strange, hollow quiet. The kind of quiet that made every footstep echo.He set his camera on the small table with more force than necessary and immediately began rearranging it.Tripod centered. Chairs angled. Audio checked.Checked again.He swallowed hard.Dane.He was going to have to sit alone in here with Dane soon. In an almost empty rink. At night. After watching him square up to another player.Oh God.Maybe he should’ve asked Beck to stay.Maybe he should’ve asked Larsson.Maybe he should’ve pretended the audio equipment wasn’t working and postponed the whole thing until morning.His pulse kicked back up.He imagined Dane in this small room, broad shoulders filling the chair, irritation still simmering, answering questions in clipped, unimpressed sentences.Jamie exhaled slowly through his nose.It was just an interview. Just ten minutes.A knock landed against the door.Jamie nearly ju

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Get it Done

    Northbridge pushed hard after the goal, the energy on the ice sharpening into something almost frantic, but the Direwolves held their ground. Dane returned for the final stretch, steady and composed, and when the buzzer finally sounded with the scoreboard reading 5–3, the arena erupted all over again.They’d won.And Max had scored a goalie goal in his first appearance of the season.The tunnel area dissolved into noise as players streamed off the ice. Jamie packed up on autopilot, coiling cords, sliding spare batteries into their pouch, forcing his breathing to level out.This was his job.He had to switch gears.By the time he reached the locker room corridor, it was already chaos. Reporters clustered near the entrance. Teammates were half-dressed, shouting over one another, replaying the shot in exaggerated pantomime.“Did you see his face?”“From his own end, man!”“Goalie goal! That’s insane!”Larsson stood a little apart from the commotion, beaming in a way Jamie had never seen

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   The Long Shot

    A student assistant met Jamie outside the corridor and waved him toward the lower bowl.“Media section’s over there,” she said, pointing toward a cluster of folding chairs just off the glass near the blue line. “You can’t cross behind the bench once warm‑ups start. Just stay clear of the tunnel.”Jamie nodded, clutching his camera a little tighter than necessary.He made his way down the steps carefully, the arena already louder than it had been during the exhibition. Music thumped through the speakers. The scoreboard glowed overhead, cycling through player stats and hype videos. Fans filtered into their seats in jerseys and face paint, the air buzzing with anticipation that felt entirely different from the quiet rehearsal energy of pre‑season.This was his first real hockey game.It was nothing like practice.Practice had been controlled. Predictable. A handful of players, coaches shouting, the scrape of skates echoing in a mostly empty rink.This was alive.Jamie reached the media r

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Otters and Nudes

    Jamie had managed to avoid Max for two whole weeks.He’d arranged it that way.The day after the party, he’d emailed Larsson claiming he wanted to “observe remotely” for a few days, citing coursework and editing deadlines. Larsson had responded with a single line: As long as you don’t miss the exhibition.Jamie had learned quickly that an ‘exhibition’, as Larsson called it, was essentially a pre‑season scrimmage dressed up for optics. It didn’t count toward standings. It didn’t matter on paper. It was a chance to test new lines, shake out rookies, try systems against an outside opponent without consequence. A rehearsal before the real curtain lifted.He attended the exhibition because he had to. One week after the party at the Wolf Den, he sat high in the stands with his camera, filmed every shift, every line change, every awkward fumble and promising connection. He took meticulous notes. He asked Zach questions afterward in the corridor about defensive adjustments and ice time distri

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