CHAPTER 18- FULL OF SURPRISES

The arena was eerily quiet at 4 AM, the lights just beginning to flicker on overhead as Liam and Raphael stepped onto the fresh sheet of ice. Their skates carved the only sound in the vast, empty space. Coach had given them permission for this early private session to prepare specifically for the charity showcase against the Shadow Reapers. Just the two of them. No one else.

Liam adjusted his gloves, trying to ignore the way his pulse felt too loud in the silence.

“Alright,” Liam said, voice echoing slightly. “Show me how they would attack. I want to see their style up close. Don’t hold back.”

Raphael skated a slow circle around him, stick loose in his hands, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You sure? You really seem to like your personal space, Captain.”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “They won’t care about my personal space on game day. So show me. Let’s go.”

Raphael’s smirk deepened, but there was focus in his eyes. “As you wish.”

He started immediately.

Raphael came in fast, bumping shoulders hard, stick battling for position along the boards. “This is how Ramirez likes to initiate — physical right away, trying to get under your skin and disrupt your timing.”

Their bodies collided with a solid thud. Raphael was warm, solid, breathing hard from the effort. Liam braced and pushed back, their chests pressing together for a long second. The contact sent an unwanted flash through Liam’s mind — Raphael's hand on his thigh yesterday. The way he'd wanted that hand somewhere else.

Focus, damn it.

They battled hard along the glass. Sticks tangled. Shoulders shoved. Raphael got in close, his breath hot against the side of Liam’s helmet. “They like to pin you here. Make you uncomfortable. Get in your head before you can even think.”

Liam shoved back harder, grunting with effort. “I see.”

But he didn’t see. Not really. All he could feel was Raphael’s powerful body against his, the strength in his arms, the way their legs brushed and tangled as they fought for the puck.

About yesterday, He'd given a silly excuse and had stepped into the bathroom to wash his face and beg his cock not to get hard yesterday.

They continued like that for nearly twenty minutes. Raphael demonstrated different attacking angles — quick cuts, net-front battles, cycling the puck low. Every drill brought them into repeated close contact. Bodies crashing. Sticks fighting. Heavy breathing. Grunts of effort that slowly morphed into moans in Liam's fucked up brain.

Liam was sweating hard, not just from the physicality. Every time Raphael pinned him or pressed close, his mind supplied vivid images from the dream. Raphael naked. Raphael moaning. Raphael’s hand on him.

Stop. He’s your teammate. This is practice. This is work.

During one particularly rough battle in the corner, Liam tried to fight for the puck and accidentally threw an elbow. It connected solidly with Raphael’s ribs.

Raphael grunted in pain and went down hard on the ice, curling slightly.

Liam’s heart lurched.

“Shit! Raphael!” He dropped his stick instantly and knelt beside him, one hand on Raphael’s shoulder. “Are you okay? Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

Raphael groaned, rolling onto his back, one hand pressed to his side. His face was tense with pain. “I’m fine… I’m fine.”

Liam hovered over him, concern overriding everything else. Their faces were close — inches apart. Raphael’s breath was warm against his cheek. “You’re not fine. Let me see. I hit you pretty hard. Can you breathe okay?”

Raphael looked up at him, eyes wide with genuine surprise. “You’re really caring about me right now?”

Liam froze, suddenly aware of how intimate the moment was — kneeling over Raphael on the cold ice, one hand still on his shoulder, their faces so close he could see the sweat on Raphael’s lashes. “Of course I care. You’re hurt. I’m the captain. I have to...”

The words died in his throat. Raphael’s dark eyes were locked on his, searching. The arena was completely silent except for their breathing.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then the sound of the arena doors opening and voices echoing broke the spell.

The rest of the team was arriving.

Raphael’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he pushed himself up with a wince. “We’ll finish this later, Captain.”

Liam stood quickly, face burning, heart still racing as the rest of the Wolves spilled onto the ice, oblivious to what they had just interrupted.

Liam told Coach about Raphael's injury but Raphael was quick to shut down the concern.

He told Coach he was just pulling Liam's leg initially. Liam didn't argue but he knew Raphael lied to the Coach. He didn't want to be nosy and force him to the health facility. He didn't want to show any sort of affection to Raphael Thorne.

The full team practice continued with more physical drills. Raphael was still wincing slightly during certain movements. Coach noticed st some point and blew the whistle sharply.

“Thorne! Doesn't seem like you're pulling anyone's legs now. Get your ass to the infirmary Now!. Get that rib checked before you make it worse.” Coach added, "Lannister, go with him. You caused it."

Liam felt a fresh wave of guilt as he skated off the ice with Raphael. They walked down the tunnel together in silence, the sounds of practice fading behind them.

In the small health care room, the team’s nurse had Raphael remove his jersey and lie on the table. Liam stood awkwardly by the door, arms crossed, trying not to stare at Raphael’s bare torso — the faint bruise already forming on his ribs, the way his muscles shifted as he breathed.

The trainer pressed gently on the area. “It’s just bruised. No fracture. Ice it, rest it as much as you can today.”

Liam thanked his gods as the trainer gave final instructions before leaving them alone.

Raphael sat up slowly on the table, shirtless, wincing a little. Liam moved closer without thinking, grabbing an ice pack from the counter and handing it to him. He deliberated doing it himself, but that would be too much. Too affectionate. Too risky.

“Here,” Liam muttered, voice rough. “Hold this on it.”

Raphael took the pack but didn’t immediately put it on. Instead, he looked up at Liam, eyes dark and searching. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know.”

“Coach said I should,” Liam said, the words feeling inadequate even to him. “And, this was my fault. I'm sorry.”

Raphael’s lips curved into a small, almost soft smile. “You’re really worried about me huh?”

Liam’s face heated. He was standing close, too close. Raphael was shirtless, sweat still glistening on his skin from practice, the bruise on his ribs a stark contrast to the smooth muscle. Their knees were almost touching. The small room felt even smaller.

“I just… didn’t mean to hit you that hard,” Liam said quietly, eyes dropping to the bruise before flicking back up.

Raphael’s voice lowered. “You’re full of surprises recently, Captain.”

The air between them thickened. Liam could feel the heat coming off Raphael’s body. His mind flashed again to the dream — Raphael’s moans, the way he had looked under the water, the way Liam’s hand had moved on him.

He swallowed hard. Fuck he was getting hard.