Delayed Desires: A High-Stakes Release

Chapter 1: Turbulence in the Lounge

The airport lounge buzzed with the restless energy of delayed travelers, but Assistant Captain Liam Carver’s sharp eyes were locked on one man: Jace Ryder, the star center of their hockey team. Jace paced like a caged animal near the bar, his broad shoulders hunched, muttering curses under his breath about the last game’s brutal loss. Liam could see the weight of failure etched into every tense line of Jace’s body, and damn if it didn’t stir something protective—and primal—in him.

'Hey, hotshot, you’re wearing a hole in the carpet,' Liam called out, striding over with a smirk. His voice was low, teasing, but carried an edge of command. 'You planning to storm the ice right here in Terminal B, or can I steal you for a minute?'

Jace stopped, his stormy blue eyes flicking up to meet Liam’s. 'Not in the mood for your bullshit, Carver,' he snapped, but there was a crack in his bravado, a rawness that made Liam’s chest tighten.

'Oh, come on, don’t play the wounded hero with me,' Liam shot back, stepping closer, his tone softening just enough to coax. 'I’ve got a fix for that head of yours. Let’s take it somewhere quiet.' He jerked his head toward a discreet side room they’d scoped out earlier—a private nook with a cushioned ottoman and a door that locked. Perfect.

Jace hesitated, jaw tight, but Liam’s steady gaze pinned him. 'Fine. But this better not be some pep talk crap,' he grumbled, following Liam with a mix of suspicion and reluctant trust.

Inside, the air felt charged, the hum of the airport fading behind the closed door. Liam gestured to the ottoman. 'Sit. You’re wound tighter than a rookie before his first face-off.' As Jace complied, Liam shot a quick text to Mara, their veteran left-winger, known for her sharp tongue and steadier hands. *Get in here. Need your charm.*

Mara sauntered in moments later, her smirk as wicked as her slapshot. 'Well, well, looks like our fearless leader’s got himself in a twist,' she drawled, leaning against the wall. 'What’s the play, Liam? We staging an intervention or just babysitting?'

'Little of both,' Liam replied, his eyes never leaving Jace, who was now fidgeting, cheeks flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. 'We’re doing a breathing exercise. Custom for high-stakes moments. Jace, pants off. Keep the jockstrap if it makes you feel less like a damn exhibitionist.'

Jace’s head snapped up, eyes wide. 'You’ve gotta be shitting me. What kind of—'

'Don’t argue, superstar,' Mara cut in, her voice smooth but firm as she crouched near him, her presence a grounding force. 'We’ve all been here, spiraling after a bad game. Let us help. You think I haven’t had my ass handed to me on the ice and needed a reset? Trust us.'

With a frustrated groan, Jace complied, shoving his pants down, his muscular thighs tensing under the scrutiny. Liam positioned himself in front, hands steady, while Mara distracted with a story of a goal celebration gone hilariously wrong—complete with a teammate’s pants splitting mid-rink. Jace’s lips twitched despite himself, a ghost of a laugh escaping.

'That’s it, focus on her nonsense,' Liam murmured, his voice dropping to a husky timbre as his fingers moved with practiced precision, finding their target. Jace’s breath hitched, his body jerking slightly, but Liam’s grip on his hip was unyielding. 'Relax, man. Let it go. We’ve got you.'

The room grew heavy with unspoken tension, the air thick as Jace’s resistance crumbled, his body responding despite his mortification. Liam’s touch was relentless, skilled, pushing him toward an edge he hadn’t expected to find in a damn airport lounge. Mara’s voice wove through the haze, her witty jabs fading into soft encouragements, her hand resting lightly on Jace’s shoulder.

And then, it was building—fast, unstoppable. Jace’s hands clenched the ottoman, his knuckles white, as the first wave hit, a shuddering gasp tearing from his throat. Liam didn’t let up, drawing out every tremor, every ragged breath, until Jace was a mess of sweat and silent tears, overwhelmed and exposed in a way that went beyond the physical.

'Fuck,' Jace panted, voice raw, as he slumped back, chest heaving. Liam and Mara exchanged a look, a silent agreement that they’d only just begun to unravel their star player’s tightly wound layers. Whatever came next, they’d be ready for it—together.