Differences

Michael didn’t know how or why or what he did to deserve this, but he did know that Ryan knew. Somehow, someway, she just knew. Because there was no other reason why she wasn’t answering his calls. He listened to her voicemail greeting for about the seventh time that day. “Hey, it’s Ryan, leave me a message or don’t, I don’t give a shit.”

He left her another message. “Ry, please call me back. If you’re pissed at me…we can talk about it. Please. Bye.”

Michael Del Zotto sat down next to him just as he was hanging up. “What’s wrong with you, man? You’ve been staring your phone every chance you get lately.”

“I fucked something up. I’m trying to fix it.”

“With a woman?”

“Yes.”

“If you cheated on her, they never forgive you. The good ones don’t, anyway.”

“I didn’t cheat on her. And even I did, this woman wouldn’t care. You heard about Contessa and Crosby?”

“Yeah, who didn’t?”

“I was, hopefully am, seeing Contessa’s friend, Ryan.”

“Right, right, the cute, cranky one.”

“Yeah, well, I might have…a little…told Contessa it was alright to forgive Crosby. I got involved, after I told Ryan to stay out of it.”

Del Zotto’s face looked pained. “Bad move, never do something you just told a woman not to do, especially get involved in their friend’s relationships.”

Michael threw his hands up. “I couldn’t help it. She loved him, he loved her, and they were both acting so stupid. Someone needed to say something. Ryan was going to try and talk her out of taking him back. And Contessa is our friend, too.”

“Yeah, but girl friends though, that’s always different. Is Ryan still pissed at Crosby, is that what she’s angry at you about?”

“I think so. She won’t return my fucking phone calls so I don’t know. Maybe she just got…tired of me.”

Del Zotto would have teased Michael normally, but the Austrian just looked so dejected it would have been like kicking an already sad puppy. Instead, he slapped his back. “Who could get tired of you? Come on, get dressed. Let’s hit the ice.”

That was probably for the best. Michael was in a funk in a bad way and he needed to snap out of it if his team was going to be ready for the second round of the playoffs. He finished pulling on his gear and made his way through the arena with Del Zotto, hoping that Ryan would call him back while he was away from his phone.

Ryan MacShaw stood in the dance studio at Penn State with a pinched, disgusted look on her face. She had put up with this for as long as she could, but no more. Her shouting stopped the music and her dancers movements.

“No, no, no, Jesus Christ, are we seriously still going over this? Cindy, you’re ahead of the beat, Jim, you’re fucking dragging ass. If you can’t tell when you’re on or off beat I can’t fucking help you, that’s some seriously high school level bullshit that I don’t have time for.”

Everyone knew that Professor MacShaw was rarely pleasant, but she also seldom said anything that wasn’t at least helpful in its cruelty. Now she stood there after hurling the insults, one hand covering her face as if she was debating about slapping someone and trying really hard not to act on the urge.

Cindy’s tentative voice asked, “You want us to go again?”

Ryan looked up and sighed. “Why the hell not? What else am I going to do today but watch you guys fuck this up again and again. Yes, go, from the top.”

Taking a seat along the far wall, Ryan watched her students with a keen eye. The only reason she got away with ninety percent of what came out of her mouth was because everyone knew she was the best. At just thirty years old, she was the youngest tenured professor at the university, a fact she never let anyone forget.

An accomplished dancer herself, no one would have pegged Ryan for a teaching job, because, well, her people skills are little…abrasive to say the least. Still, she loved her work, loved her students, and loved making people better. She just had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

For the first time in years, Ryan actually felt like apologizing to her kids. They weren’t that bad. In fact, these two were some of her best ones. It wasn’t them who were bothering her, it was him. Michael Raffl. The man who kept calling her and leaving message after message when she hadn’t contacted him back in days. He needed to take a hint.

She didn’t need a reason to stop seeing a man, she did it all the time: picking them up and dropping them again just as quickly. This one, she had actually started to not mind. She wouldn’t say she LIKED him, but he annoyed her less than any other man had in a good long time. And then he had to go and fuck it all up.

How did she know he said something stupid to her friend Contessa? Oh, she just fucking knew it. Granted, Contessa had also spoken to her mother the week before she decided to quit her job so she could be with Sidney Crosby, yes, that Sidney Crosby, the one who told her friend he loved her and then left her heartbroken and alone, but Ryan just knew somehow in her gut that Michael had said something as well and that that had been what pushed Contessa over the edge.

His meddling was bad enough, but doing it after he told her not to get involved? That was fucking outrageous. Ryan felt her whole body tensing with anger at just the thought of it. Fine, yes, she would admit that it worked out, the Flyers let Contessa keep her job, she forgave Sidney and now the two were happy and in love, la dee da.

It was really the principle of the matter: Michael had no right to tell her not to do something and then go and do it himself. Again, how did she know he had done anything? Well, she knew that idiot and she knew he would never be able to resist helping two people in love come back together. She didn’t need proof, she trusted her instincts.

Cindy and Jim proceeded to make a mockery of Ryan’s beautiful choreography, but she was so annoyed that she stopped caring for today. Tomorrow she could get back on them, insult them in a way that made them better. Right now, she could only think of snotty remarks that wouldn’t help anyone, so for once, she kept them to herself.

As she sat there, she started daydreaming about Michael, of all people. Damn him, she thought, as she remembered the first time she had seen him naked. In his living room, she sat in his arm chair and told him to strip. Wearing that big, goofy smile of his, he complied, pulling off his clothes to slowly reveal his absolutely breathtaking body.

It had been better than she ever envisioned, and she had thought about his body a lot before they had hooked up. As a lifelong Flyers fan, Ryan knew the team in and out. When Contessa took a job as a massage therapist with them, Ryan couldn’t wait for the team to get to know her in and out. That had been her in with Raffl. She tweeted him good luck, he recognized her name from talking with Contessa, he direct messaged her a booty call, and she ended up in his house asking, or rather demanding that the man get naked for her pleasure.

And it was her pleasure to see him naked. He’s tall, over six feet making him only slightly taller than Ryan. His Austrian origins showed through in his reddish blond hair that was always a mess. His eyes are pale, playful, at times perfectly predatory. And those aren’t even the good bits. His shoulders are so broad he looks like he could balance the world on them, biceps bulging and forearms flexing beautifully to show off his hard earned strength. His center is a mass of tightly pulled muscles, defined abs, and narrow hips. And then there’s his thighs: big, strong, made for stretching a woman open or holding her in his lap.

Ryan would admit, even now at the height of her anger with him, the man had the body of a god that could make her wet just thinking about it. Thinking about the way the sweet, quiet athlete also liked to take control in bed also got her pussy revved up. He loved to overpower her and the skinny, but strong Ryan always let him because she liked that shit, too. Whether he was holding her down, holding her up, his hands on her body in anyway always got her off. Thoughts of it nearly had her right there as well.

She was just thinking about what a shame it was that he had to be such a fool when she heard the door to the studio open and she looked over, ready to tell off whoever had decided to interrupt her session.

And then there he was, the idiot in question, standing inside the once again closed door, waving at her and smiling.

“What the fuck?” The music stopped again. Cindy and Jim held still, just watching. Ryan got up. “Get the FUCK out of my studio.”

“I need five minutes of your time first.”

“No! Honestly…how did you even…I am gonna kill that bitch.”

Jim started, “Professor…”

Ryan finished, “Out! You two, out!”

The two dancers didn’t disagree, they just grabbed their things and left as quickly as possible, leaving Ryan alone with Michael.

Ryan was livid. “How fucking dare you come here. This is my place of business. How would you feel if I came barging into your locker room?”

Michael, as usual, was pleasant. “I’d love it actually. I’m always happy to see you, Ry. And don’t be mad at Contessa. She only told me how to find you because I begged.”

“That woman is weak and I don’t know why I’m even friends with her.”

Ryan turned away from Michael and started packing up her own stuff. She felt him come up behind her and when he got close enough to hug her, she turned and pushed him away. “Excuse yourself.”

“Ryan, come on. Just talk to me.”

“If I wanted to talk to you, I would have returned your fucking phone calls.”

He grabbed her arm, spinning her around and he wouldn’t let go no matter how much she struggled. She was strong, but Michael is a professional hockey player, she was no match for him. Her voice was steady, serious. “Let me go.”

“Just talk to me. You’re pissed, tell me why.”

“You tell me, Michael?”

Here’s the rub, if he admitted that he had said something to Contessa and she was mad about something else, he’d be shooting himself in the foot. Then again, maybe she would appreciate his honesty. He had no choice but to try something.

He let go of her and she nearly fell backwards she had been leaning away from him so hard. He started to immediately remove his clothing.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m baring my soul to you, Ry.” She watched him with slight amusement now and let him continue. “You know me too well for me to lie to you. And I don’t want there to be anything between us.” Michael didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but he knew that a smile was threatening on her lips so he kept going.

“There is no us.” Michael paused, shirtless with his sweatpants slung low on his hips. He looked almost hurt. Ryan wasn’t ready to forgive him yet, but she did always enjoy looking at him naked. She prodded him, “I didn’t say you should stop.”

He grinned again and she was ashamed to say that it almost made her smile. Fucking hell, the man was just beautiful and so full of joy it almost made her want to be a little nicer. Almost.

He pulled down his pants and underwear, kicking them away to stand stark naked in front of her and between two walls of mirrors. Ryan spared a glance to see his reflection both behind and in front of him and he held out his arms.

“Is this some weird European thing where you have to be naked to tell the truth?”

“No, I’m making, what’d you call it…”

Michael spoke fine English, but sometimes the concepts he was trying to communicate didn’t translate properly in his brain. She helped him. “A symbolic gesture?”

He pointed at her kindly. “Ah, that’s the one. No tricks up my sleeve, nothing to hide. I did tell Contessa something, not what to do, only that it was okay to forgive Crosby, that it was okay to still love him.”

“Right after you told me not to say something to her? That’s sounds like a straight up dick move to me.”

He stepped closer, Ryan now fully distracted by his big body and his hard cock jutting out between them. He took her hand and held it. “I was being a good friend, to both of you. You were going to tell her not to take him back.”

“Yeah, I was, because Crosby doesn’t deserve her. She’s too good for him.”

“You realized how stupid that sounds? Saying that two people so crazy in love they can’t function without the other shouldn’t be together?”

Ryan might have admitted that Contessa was happy with Crosby, but never to Michael. She was still too pissed at him. “You don’t understand.”

“Make me. Tell me. Help me understand.”

How was she to tell him that Contessa was everything to her and more? That she was the only human being in this shitty existence that meant anything to her? That if someone hurt Contessa, even if Contessa herself forgave them, Ryan could never forget or forgive? Contessa was more than her best friend, she was her family. And you don’t fuck with Ryan’s family.

Ryan just eyed him, keeping her emotions to herself. “It’s not your business, quite frankly. She took him back, fine. I don’t have to like it or him. And I don’t.”

“Neither do I. So what are we still fighting about?” He stepped closer, pulled her against him and she allowed this to happen. Although, when he tried to kiss her, she put her hand over his mouth to stop him.

“We’re fighting about the fact that you stood in my kitchen and told me not to get involved, to let Contessa make her own decision. And then you went and did exactly what you told me NOT to do. Dick. Move.”

He kissed her palm sweetly and she pulled it away from him looking annoyed. He just smiled, being his normal self. “I did. I apologize. I’ll say I’m sorry every minute of every day until you forgive me.”

“Apologies mean nothing to me, Raff.”

He leaned down further, pressed his mouth against her neck. Ryan hated how easily he could make her blood boil from lust. “Then let me show you how sorry I am.” His hands graced her back, pulled her tightly against him, his mouth went to work on the skin of her neck, meanwhile, Ryan fought every urge in her body that was telling her hands to reach out and touch this man.

Oh, how she wanted to smack him, clear across the face. To tell him to leave and never speak to her again. She was angry, but also, he knew just how to make her feel so wildly out of control. It was dangerous, being with a man who could overpower her emotionally like this. If there was one thing Ryan valued it was being in control of herself, of always knowing her own mind. Michael was the first man she’d ever met who made her surrender her will. More than that, he made her like it.

Love it. God, she loved it. She loved what he did to her, the way he could play her body and mind like a finely tuned instrument, how he found every soft and delicate corner of her skin and drew insane amounts of pleasure from her body. Even now, just kissing her neck, he did it perfectly, just enough pressure, his tongue teasing her, his hands so innocently on her back, but her upper back, which was more sensitive and where his touch made her want to drop to her knees and take his cock into her mouth in thanks.

This was really why she had been avoiding him. Over the phone he was easy to brush aside. Once he got her alone, however, all bets were off. Lecherous desires took over and Ryan was willing to forgive him nearly any offense if it meant he would use his body on hers.

Her first sign of relent was when she brought her palms to rest on her biceps, those big, lovely biceps that flexed under her hands. She stroked his smooth skin there, still deciding how far she was going to let this go.

His erection was a force between them, hard and heavily hanging from his body. Ryan brought a hand between them and wrapped it around his glorious member. Jesus, he was just so perfect there, long and thick like the rest of him with one massive vein running down the underside.

She steadied her breathing before she told him, “I’m waiting for my apology to begin.”

Now he kissed her mouth and she let him, opening her lips to welcome his tongue and moaning against him. Wrong, just so wrong how badly she always wanted him. She had stopped speaking to him merely a week ago and yet here she was, already nearly driven mad with desire for him, panting in his arms, just about ready to beg him for it.

Michael would never make her beg, not really, even though the sight of her on her knees in front of him was a thing of deliciously wanton beauty. No, he would never make her beg, not when he was happy for his own opportunity to beg for her forgiveness.

He reached up, pulling her hair free of the ponytail it was in, letting it fall down her back in silky, dark waves. His fingers plunged into the thick mass of it at her neck and she thrust her body against him when his fingers fisted around the locks.

He abandoned her hair, moved to toss off that loose fitting t-shirt she wore. No bra, as usual, her breasts were small, but so perfect to him, just a dainty handful he could easily knead against her body, as he did so now. She looked ravenous when their eyes met, her hair wild, her lips red, mouth open. He backed her up until she hit the mirrors that dominated the studio.

There is where he sunk to his knees, pulling down her black leggings along with her thong so she was as naked as he was. Forcefully he used both hand to push her hips against the mirror. Her ass pressed against the cold surface, but it was the only coolness she felt.

Her whole body was heated, especially the moist place between her thighs that was now just inches from his face as he hooked her knee over one of his massive shoulders.

That ginger beard he sported brushed against her thighs only briefly before she felt his tongue exploring her inner curves. On his knees, he said her name like a prayer. “Ryan,” bright and clear in his tone, even though his mouth was pressed against her pussy.

He was always so good at this, at everything really. He was so attentive, paid attention to every single detail that most men would miss. The man was an incredible lover, that much she would give him. Before he had even really gotten started, she was coming against his lips, hand buried in the mess of hair on his head, practically screaming his name as her back arched off the mirror.

He kissed her thighs reverently like they were a holy altar where he worshiped. He could have done that for days for how much she appreciated it. He loved every sound she made, especially when she was trying to keep herself quiet, but they came out anyway. Later, when he got her home, he would do it again, for his own pleasure as much as for hers.

For now, he stood, kissing the wetness onto her own lips and squeezing her hips in his palms. His mouth trailed down to her neck and then her shoulder and then her back as he turned her around. She reached back to pull his body against her, but he grabbed her hands, putting them flat against the mirror in front of them.

He opened his eyes, just to see her beautiful naked form reflected back at him. She had the perfect dancer’s body, long and lean, sleek edges and narrowly sloped curves. And he loved every inch of her. He locked eyes with her in the mirror and she smirked.

“Mike…you gonna fuck me or what?”

Typical Ryan. She only called him Mike in bed and she was the only one who ever did. He flipped her hair over one shoulder so that it covered one of her lovely breasts. When he brought his mouth to her upper back, he pulled her hips back and pressed in, not stopping until he was balls deep and his pelvis rested against her ass.

With her hands still on the mirror, Ryan tilted her head to one side to press her mouth against one of her arms, he hoped to stop herself from shouting out in pleasure. She started to move before he did, jutting her hips forward to pull away from him and then shifting back to take him deeper.

He let her have her way, for now. He just stood still, kissed her, nuzzled the hair at the back of her neck, ran his hands all up and down her form as he watched her fuck him in the mirror. They had never done this before and why had he never thought of it? It was perfect, the crystal clear reflection of their bodies working together, a feeling of being watched when it was still just the two of them.

He pressed forward only slightly, but it was enough.

“Oh, God, Mike.”

He didn’t move again, but she pressed back more aggressively, trying in anyway she could to increase the friction of his cock inside her.

He could watch her do this for days, pleasure herself on his cock as if he were just a passive participant, nothing more than an instrument of sexual satisfaction. She was always so headstrong, thought she knew exactly what she wanted, but she could do this for hours and never feel a fraction of the pleasure he would bring when he took over.

He did so now, pushing at her back until her chest pressed against the mirror and her breasts laid flat against it. He used both hands to hold her hips still to his will and then he reared back, driving into her so hard that he felt almost dizzy and Ryan gasped from the pleasure of it.

“Mike…yeah, baby. Just like that.”

He could never resist teasing her just a little. His mouth came against her ear. He slowed his hips, barely moving inside her. “Is that how you want it?” She whined, always unwilling to ask him for it, at first. He kissed her neck, fucked her slowly. “Come on, babe, tell me how you like it.”

“Fuck me…”

“I am.”

“Fuck me hard, Mike. Harder, faster...please.”

She said “please” like it hurt, like it wounded a part of her. And yet, she knew he wouldn’t do as she asked without it. He would not make her beg, but he did like to hear her ask very nicely for what she wanted. He rewarded her with a few hard thrusts, rough but still slow. She pushed back against him and he realized he had loosened his grip on her hips.

His fingers clutched her tighter, held her firm and she moaned at the feel of his strength. He thrust again, hard, fast and she groaned long and nice, fogging up the mirror with her breath.

“Oh, yeah, like that. Baby, again.”

“Again?” He pressed in hard and deep, but slow again.

“Mike…you son of a bitch. You’re supposed to be apologizing.”

He smiled against her skin and reached a hand around the front of her. “I am, babe. Let me make you feel good.”

She grabbed his wrist before his fingers could hit her clit. “No, you can do it with just your cock. I know you can. Just fuck me. Fuck me hard and I’ll come for you.”

Michael groaned burying his nose in her hair to muffle the sound. He finally relented, holding strong and fucking her as she wished him to, hard and fast. Her body jutted forward, the soft parts of her pressing and bouncing off the mirror as he watched. The slap slap slap sound of his skin hitting hers was so distracting he almost didn’t hear her moan his name. Almost.

He felt her tighten, making it hard to press inside her. Then she was writhing around, hips going wild, seeking him out as she came and clenched around his cock which was now releasing his come.

Typical of her, she pushed him away as soon as he was done, seeking out her clothes on the floor. He was used to her, didn’t mind her sometimes cold treatment, because when she was warm, on those rare occasions, it brightened his entire world to bask in her presence.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“I meant what I said. There is no us, Raff.”

He ignored her comment and asked, “Are you planning to eat dinner tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Strange, so was I. We should do it at the same time, same place. Maybe talk during, fuck afterwards.”

Ryan had her clothes reassembled and now finally finished packing up her stuff. “I’m busy.”

“Hot date?”

She wished. She was never a one-man woman, but with Raffl…well, she never brought herself to see anyone else when they were together. She didn’t really know why. The man had an annoying effect on her. “No,” she answered simply.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her against his chest as he pinned her arms to her side. “Please? Let me finish apologizing, I was just getting started.”

She patted his hips and gave him a rare genuine smile. He felt so blessed to see it that you could have knocked him over with a feather. Ryan often laughed, she grinned with sass or snark or sarcasm, but when she smiled from pure and simple joy, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

“I’m really just tired, Raff, I swear. I want to eat my shitty microwave mac and cheese dinner in peace and go to bed. Some other time.”

He said, “Ok,” but he had no intention of letting her get off that easily.

They parted, they left, Michael returning home and Ryan going about her errands for the rest of the day until she went downtown to teach her volunteer class at the community center.

When she came home late that night, after nine, Michael was sitting on her stoop. He smiled when she walked up and he stood.

“Raff -”

“I brought you good mac and cheese. High quality stuff.” He handed her the bag, kissed her cheek, and went to leave.

“That’s it?”

He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “You said you were busy, I understand. I just didn’t want you to eat a shitty microwave dinner if you didn’t have to.”

He turned away again, but she called after him. “Just come inside, you fucking asshole. Eat this with me. You win, okay? I give up, you fucking win.”

He followed on her heels, closing the door behind them, hiding the smile he felt spreading across his face at his victory. He was going to keep doing this for as long as he had to, break her down until she had no choice but to admit that she liked having him around. He didn’t care how long it took, because this woman, she was something special and Michael had decided the moment he met her that he was going to have all of her or die trying.

Notes

This is a spin-off story based on a relationship that started in my other completed story, All Hands on Deck. You don't need to read the other one to enjoy this one, but it wouldn't hurt either.