But now he was wearing it, and he was going to keep fucking wearing it.
“You close, baby?” Nate panted.
He reached for Ramsey’s cock, his fingers tangling in the fabric of the jersey, but Ramsey didn’t even need that. He batted his touch away, shifted his angle, and let Nate’s thrusts carry him the rest of the way there, orgasm hitting him hard and fast.
“Nathaniel,” Ramsey wailed and Nate gasped out a laugh, and followed right after him.
“Fuck,” Nate groaned a minute later, the sound echoing against Ramsey’s neck. “We made a mess out of this jersey.”
“That’s what a washing machine is for,” Ramsey said with a low, tired chuckle. He felt wrung out, in the best possible way.
“Why do I have a feeling you’re not even going to bother washing it?” Nate hummed. “You’re gonna end up wearing it and smugly staring over at Brody the whole time, thinking of me fucking you in it.”
“Ew that’s gross,” Ramsey exclaimed, smacking him on the shoulder blade. “And I would absolutely do it, but Brody would kill me.”
“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him?” Nate offered. Ramsey could hear the smile in his voice.
“Buddy, don’t worry. You’ve staked your claim on me. I’m already wearing your jersey.”
Nate sighed happily. “Yeah, you are, aren’t you?”
Brody let out a half-gasp, half-yell the moment he spotted Ramsey entering the suite.
Ramsey knew it was coming. Had already prepared half a dozen fairly good chirps back for when Brody inevitably gave him so much shit for what he was wearing.
But somehow, faced with his other best friend and his incredulous, shocked, andthrilledexpression, Ramsey couldn’t dredge any of them up.
Instead, he just pulled Brody in a big hug, his fingers digging into the fabric of Brody’s jersey.
Brody’s was blue too, but ocean blue, with the swirling wave logo of the Riptide on the front and Scott on the back.
“Hey, we match,” Brody said, voice muffled by Ramsey’s shoulder.
Ramsey pulled back and met Brody’s eyes. He looked tired. Tired buthappy.Not for the first time, he wished he could’ve convinced Brody to take another path, but he was no longer convinced that path would’ve been as fulfilling or given Brody as much joy.
“You get one minute to say anything,” Ramsey said.
“Oh wait.Wait. This isn’t Wes’ jersey is it? Oh myGod,” Brody exclaimed, hooking his head over Ramsey’s taller shoulder and letting out a squeal. “You’ve officially lost your mind. Are you okay? Are you Ramsey?ReallyRamsey? Or have you been replaced by a pod person? Pod people?” A crease appeared between Brody’s golden brown brows.
Ramsey smacked him in the chest. Right over that stupid wave logo. “Did you really think I’d start dating Nate and finally wear Wes’ jersey to a game? I know you and Dean have been together like three years now, but I really wonder what kind of boyfriend skills you’re bringing to the table.”
Brody’s jaw dropped. “Boyfriend, huh?”
“You have one, you should know what it’s like.”
It was a little funny, watching Brody flounder like this, especially when Brody was one of the smartest, most intelligent people he knew. Zero common sense, though. Dean had gotten all the life skills in their relationship, for sure, but still with that huge ass brain, Brody seemed floored.
“I do.Ido. But I didn’t thinkyouwould ever.”
“I think you’re nearing your sixty-second limit,” Ramsey warned. He wandered over to one of the mini fridges set underneath the counter. Scanned through it until he found the light beer he was looking for. He could officially drink now, but he’d found he’d gotten out of the habit over the last year.
Still, this was a big day. One beer wouldn’t kill him, especially a light one.
He popped the top off.
Brody was still staring at him like he was one of Brody’s experiments, needing analysis. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Youlooklike Ramsey—though weirdly happy for a guy who hasn’t gotten back on the ice yet.”
“Iamback on the ice. Remember? I texted you. Last week.” Ramsey hoped that maybe the change of subject, especially a subject that was medically adjacent, might be enough to distract Brody from Nate.
