“Everyone ready for pasta?” Jake asked, oblivious to the events unfolding in his vehicle.
“Take me the fuck home, please,” Riley groaned, already knowing there was a very good chance he was going to end up sleeping with his best friend before the sun came up.
And by the time they had returned to the penthouse, Riley realized he was less nervous about possibly propositioning Jake and more panicked about the opening game as the night wore on.
No amount of cuddling from Allen, kisses from Kingston, and soft-spoken words from Jake helped to calm him down. He barely touched his chicken alfredo, which made Jake’s frowndeepen as the hours passed. By the time their movie finished, and it was time for bed, Allen was practically glued to him.
“What’s wrong, love?” Allen asked, cupping Riley’s face in his hands like he could coax the answers out by staring at him with those big, brown doe eyes of his.
Which was effective, but Riley was growing increasingly ashamed of how incapable he was at keeping his shit together, and he didn’t want to appear weak in front of his boyfriends.
“Hey, I have anxiety medication,” Kingston said, taking Riley’s hand and squeezing it firmly. “That stuff about fucking Jake—I just meant that it worked for me. Don’t freak out if you’re not ready for that.”
Allen’s gaze snapped to Kingston, his mouth opening in disbelief. “King, that’s way too much pressure to put on him right now. How about we all get into the bath and decompress? Or I could get us cozy in bed and read to you guys for a while? What would help?”
“Here. Move.”
Riley closed his eyes as Allen climbed off his lap and Kingston pressed a quick kiss to the back of his hand before slipping away. A moment later, Jake guided him onto his back and climbed over him, settling his weight carefully so Riley sank deeper into the cushions beneath him.
The familiar pressure was grounding, and despite himself, Riley felt some of the tension leave his body. This position wasn’t new to them because they had been doing it since they were kids. Whenever Riley got upset about his sister and his parents, or whenever Jake was overstimulated and needed time to recover, they held onto each other just like this.
Jake’s warmth, his scent, and the beat of his heart against Riley’s was exactly what he needed. Allen and Kingston gave him so many comforts in so many ways, but this was something reserved only for him and Jake.
It didn’t make Jake better than his other boyfriends—just different. Jake knew all the places where Riley hid the pain in the marrow of his bones, and he knew how to compress the wounds until thehurtbleeding from them slowly ebbed away.
“Imposter syndrome,” Riley said quietly into the growing silence of the room. “I don’t know if I’m good enough. Iwantto be good enough—in hockey and for you guys, but sometimes I think I’m not cut out for any of it.”
Jake’s huff of air tickled the side of Riley’s neck.
“Don’t. You know that’s not true. You’re good enough, Riles. You weren’t just handed the love of three people and a career. You earned them with your own merits because you’re worthy of it all.”
And Riley had no choice but to believe Jake because he wasn’t a liar, and he was direct with his feelings. He always meant what he said, which meant that Riley was good enough; he just had to open his eyes and see it for himself.
Riley cupped Jake’s cheek and gently lifted his head. When he opened his eyes, they found Jake’s immediately.
“I love you,” said Riley.
Jake’s expression softened, and he turned his head to press a kiss into Riley’s palm, lingering there for a moment before nuzzling against the touch. Then he followed the inside of Riley’s wrist with another kiss, and another, tracing a slow path up his arm.
The affection continued to Riley’s shoulder, his neck, the edge of his jaw, each kiss unhurried and gentle. Only when he reached Riley’s mouth did he stop.
Jake brushed their lips together softly, as though he couldn't help himself.
“I love you too,” he whispered against Riley’s parted lips.
Riley refused to acknowledge the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes. He knew what he wanted, and it felt stupid to seduce a guy while crying over sappy emotions.
“If I said I wanted to have sex with you, would you like that?” he asked, ignoring the sudden thud of his heart skipping behind his ribs.
Jake blinked slowly, his gaze never leaving Riley’s. “If that’s what you want, then yes, I would like that.”
Riley’s smirk was shaky, but he managed to pull it off without it feeling like a grimace. “You’d be gentle, right? I need to be able to skate straight tomorrow.”
Jake touched their lips together with a ghost of a grin curling his lips. “I can promise you’ll be able to skate, but I can’t promise you won’t feel an ache of emptiness after I’ve been inside you.”
“Fuck that’s hot,” Kingston’s voice said from somewhere nearby.
Riley felt compelled to agree. Thinking about sex with Jake left him feeling hot all over, and the anxiety about the game was already beginning to slip from his mind.
