Many thanks go out to the organizers of the Fandom4LLS. Cancer has touched many of us. Let's kick its ass.

Many, many thanks to my pre-readers Kni Nut and CullensTwiMistress and to CTM for the awesome banner she made!

Many, many, many thanks go to my beta Midnight Cougar. She fixes my shit, what I change after is not her fault, mistakes are my own!

I must also give thanks to Joe Thornton... for having loose lips!

The minute the words left my lips, I knew I was fucked. The locker room went dead silent; all eyes were on me. Coach Cullen looked ready to blow a gasket; his face redder than a tomato. I turned to see McCarty and Yorkie were stifling their laughs, and not very well. Whitlock clapped me on the back, turning and shaking his head, probably so no one could see the tears of mirth in his eyes. I just stood there, wanting to die of embarrassment, while the flashbulbs went off, capturing my humiliation in full color.

"Can I quote you on that, Masen?" James Hunter asked with his smug smile.

I wanted to punch the smile right off his face. It was his fault the words had come out of my mouth in the first place. Black, a rookie, was just called up from the farm team, and so what if he scored a bunch of goals—that was what we were paid for. So what if he celebrated scoring them—celebrating was something all of us did. Hunter was riling him up about it, accusing him of showboating. I thought I'd whispered softly enough that only Black could hear me. I was wrong. Rosalie was going to kill me. My mother was going to kill me.

"Okay, show's over folks, everyone out," Coach Cullen's voice rang out.

I stalked back toward my locker, opening it and grabbing my body wash and a towel. By the time I turned around, the locker room was free of everyone but players, and I sighed in relief. My relief was short-lived.

"Edward," my step-father spoke from behind me. "I'd like to see you in my office once you've changed."

Fuck my life, I was screwed.


"What the hell were you thinking, son?" Carlisle asked the minute I closed the door to his office.

I sighed before sitting down. "I was thinking that poor kid was getting grief for doing his job, Dad. And I was trying to let him know he didn't do anything wrong."

It was his turn to sigh. "Edward, there's a time and place for comments like that." Then he hastily added, "But don't tell your mother I said that."

I nodded. "I know that, Dad, and I'm sorry. I didn't think any of them would hear."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "You have to be punished for this, Edward." He raised his hand as I opened my mouth to protest. "The Brass aren't suspending you; you've been issued a fine of 5,000 dollars, and you have to explain to your mother why you said it."

I groaned. Between my mother and Rosalie, five grand was nothing.


Pulling up to my mom's place for Sunday dinner, my stomach was in knots. I might be a grown man, but my mother could still put me in my place. I could see Rosalie's car was already here. Shit, I was screwed. I could only hope that McCarty was too busy to come with her today; asshole was still sending me text messages about it.

Letting myself in the front door, I could hear my mother in the living room. "'Team Captain Edward Masen sticks up for his rookie teammate, Jacob Black, and paints a shocking picture of what he'd do if he scored four goals in a game.' They also have an odd picture here of Edward. Carlisle, why does it matter how he celebrates?"

I heard my father sigh heavily, followed by a boisterous laugh. Shit, Emmett was here.

"Emmett McCarty, this isn't funny! I don't understand where they got this picture of Edward with a rooster. He doesn't even live on a farm. And if he scored four goals, why would he take a rooster on the ice and pet it like he says he would?"

By now my face was probably as red as Carlisle's was yesterday, and I could still hear McCarty laughing his ass off, the prick. The next voice turned my stomach, and I knew I was in really deep shit.

"His penis, Mother. Edward was referring to his penis!"

I could hear my mother gasp. "Rosalie!"

"What? It's true. Your golden boy is quoted as saying he would whip out his cock and stroke it if he scored four goals in one game."

"Is that true, Carlisle? Is that what he meant? Why didn't you tell me?" she asked; disappointment and upset evident in her voice. "Emmett McCarty, I already told you, this is not funny!"

"Sorry, Mrs. C!" he apologized through another laugh.

"No, it's not funny," Rosalie hissed, and I could hear the smack land on the back of Emmett's head. "It's a PR person's nightmare! He's lucky he's my brother or I'd drop him as a client."

I wanted to head straight back out the door, but as I turned to do just that I bumped into the table, knocking it against the wall.

"Edward Anthony, I know you're out there. Get in here and explain this to me… now!" my mother shouted.



I sat through dinner and took the verbal beat down I knew I had coming from both my mother and my sister. My mother was humiliated that her son would "say something so crass," and Rosalie was fit to be tied that I'd said it at all. She questioned what the hell I was thinking. Any attempt to defend myself was met by harsh criticism from everyone, except McCarty. Fucker was still making jokes about it, crowing at me and shit. I kicked him under the table. Carlisle, thankfully, remained silent about it... until I was leaving.

Once dinner was over and I'd helped clean up, I tried to make a break for it. He caught me as I was going out the door.

"You're to be at practice tomorrow an hour ahead of schedule, Edward. Mr. Volturi wants to meet with you."

"But I thought I was just getting a fine?" I whined, yes I whined, but you didn't know Volturi, that guy gave me the creeps.

"No, I told you that you're getting fined..." He paused for effect. "Mr. Volturi has something else in mind, as well."

I sighed, resigned. "Fine, see you tomorrow."

I racked my brain all night trying to figure out just what Volturi could do to me, but came up blank. I guessed I would have to wait and find out. I tossed and turned all night; barely getting any sleep.

By the time I woke up the next day, I was exhausted and in a really shitty mood. To top things off, they got my coffee order wrong. The girl was so nervous to be serving me that when she tried to take it back it spilled all over both me and the counter. I told her to forget it and left without my coffee.

I got to the arena at the scheduled time and walked to Volturi's office.

"Come in, Mr. Masen," he said with a gleam in his eye.

Shit. This did not look good.


"You want me to what?" I yelled. "No, no way. No fucking way! Carlisle?"

He just sat there, not saying anything. I was pissed. He couldn't do that.

"You embarrassed us, Mr. Masen. You embarrassed this team and this organization. Not to mention the fine we had to pay to the FCC. You think the five thousand you gave covered the cost? That was a drop in the bucket compared to what the actual fine was. The way I see it, you owe us."

"You can't do that! I've already paid my fine. I would've paid the whole fine; it's not like I don't have the money!"

"Mr. Masen, this is not an option."

"But that game was optional. I was supposed to be going on vacation. I've already rented a place."

"You took your option away when you opened your mouth and made a fool out of this organization. Do it, or be traded."

I didn't want to be traded; I loved playing for this team. I sighed and agreed. "Fine, I'll do it. But I want it noted, for the record, that I'm not happy about this!" I stood up, grabbed my jacket, and stormed toward the door.

"Mr. Masen!" Aro called out, and I froze in place, hand on the doorknob. "You'll do well to remember that your actions affect us all. I suggest you keep your words clean and bring some honor back to this team."

"Yes, sir," I gritted out, wrenching the door open and stalking through the building to the locker room.

I got changed into my workout clothes and hit the gym.

I was not looking forward to this at all.


I took out my frustrations on the treadmill, then went back to the locker room to suit up for practice. I was lacing up my skates when Black sat down on the bench next to me.

I nodded at him. "What's up, man?"

"Not much." He shifted a little on the bench. "Hey, listen, Masen. I just wanted to say thank you, you know, for taking the heat off me the other day."

I let out a soft snort. "Yeah, some help I was."

"No man, it was really cool of you to do that. I mean I wasn't trying to show off. I don't know where that asshole got that from."

"James Hunter is a prick, Black; don't listen to anything he says."

"Well, I wanted to thank you again. I heard you got fined and Volturi's making you do something else, too."

"Yeah, he's forcing me to give up my vacation time and play in that charity game against the University. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind doing stuff for charity, but I've played the last three charity games, and I was really looking forward to some down time."

He blew out a breath. "That sucks, man. Hey, why don't I sign up to play, too? I wasn't doing anything anyway."

"That would be great, thanks."

It would be cool to have another professional player playing with me. All the guys signed up to play in the charity game were from the farm team. Now if only I could rope McCarty into it, as well.

I looked up to see him goofing around.

This shouldn't be too hard.


I managed to avoid seeing any more media spots about my choice of words leading up to the charity game. I was glad it seemed to have blown over. Thank you Sean Avery for being an idiot and doing something stupid—again—to take the heat off me.

We were suiting up in the locker room; the other guys clear across the room, glancing over at McCarty and me every so often. I couldn't blame them really; I'd once been in their position. I remembered being on my farm team and a pro coming in to help us out with our workout once. I acted like a total tool. I was going to do my best to make them a little less nervous.

"So, check this out," Black said, sitting down beside me. "I just found out that the goalie for the University team dropped out."

"What? Why?"

Jake snorted. "Apparently, when their goalie, some guy named Newton, heard that you, me, and McCarty were playing, he passed out."

McCarty started laughing, so did the other guys in the locker room—though they were nervously looking at each other. I really hoped none of our guys were going to pass out.

"How're they going to play if they don't have a goalie?" McCarty asked Black.

"Some kid named Seth came up to me and said that since Newton was out we weren't going to score any goals. A backup named Swan is taking over, and apparently the guy doesn't let anything get passed him."

I snorted and raised my eyebrows. "If the guy was so good, then he wouldn't be the backup, would he?"

Jake and Emmett both agreed with a nod and chuckle.

"Let's finish suiting up, guys," I called out to the team. "We've got a game to win."


When I reached the bench, the University's team was still on the ice practicing. I took the time to watch the backup goalie for a while. The dude was small for a goalie; even with the padding on you would expect someone bigger. The average goalie was about 6' 2" and weighed about 200 lbs. This one looked to be about 5' 2" and didn't look like he had much meat on his bones at all.

Height and weight aside, the guy was phenomenal; even for a farm team player. Nothing was going by him. The guy even managed to save two different shots coming from different players at almost the same time, one right after the other. He was fluid and graceful, flying from one side of the net to the other to block both shots.

I made a mental note to get one of our scouts down here to check the guy out.

I called out to my team to plot some strategy before the game started. Pointing out where I thought this goalie's problem areas would be, but truth be told, I didn't even think that would work. The guy seemed to be hard to score on.

The other team finished up on the ice, and we got our chance to go and practice for a few minutes while the arena filled up with people. I loved being out on the ice; I'd been that way since my mom and Carlisle strapped skates on my feet for the first time.

I really did love playing in the charity game. It was mostly for fun—I said mostly because I'd always been competitive. Even if it wasn't going to affect whether my team made the playoffs or not. The way it worked was for every goal a team scored, the opposing team would donate a thousand dollars to the charity. So if my team scored two goals, the University would pay two thousand dollars; if their team scored, my team would pay.

Last year I'd managed to raise two thousand, and that wasn't even including the silent auction where we'd auction off our game sticks, helmets, and jerseys.

The coach called out for us to come back to the bench. The game was about to start. As I was skating over to the bench, my eyes were drawn to the opposing team's bench. I could see the goalie, Swan, staring at me through his mask. It was a little unnerving, to be honest. I found I couldn't look away. It pissed me off that it was making me feel frazzled.

I gave the guy a head nod.

Game on.


The game was pretty fast-paced; it was great the University guys seemed to pull it together and lost their nervousness. It made for a better game all around. Besides, this game was only meant to be fun and to raise money.

I wasn't wrong that the University's goaltender was amazing—it truly made me wonder why this guy was just a backup. McCarty had tried everything he could and still couldn't slide one past him. Neither could Black. Or the other guys.

Myself, on the other hand, I'd bagged myself a hat trick already and there was still ten minutes left of the final period. I was currently working on my fourth. I was feeling fantastic, knowing I'd already raised three grand and going for four. They scored two on our guy.

The time ticked away. The goalie managed to stop another two of my shots, and one more each from McCarty and Black, but with three seconds to spare, I managed to net my fourth. Holy shit, did that ever feel good. I whooped it up with my team, celebrating in the middle of the ice, and waving to fans.

The buzzer sounded to end the game and we went down the line, shaking hands with all the other guys. It was a little weird the goalie didn't raise his facemask, but I shook his hand, gave him a back slap, and moved on down the line.

We headed off to the locker rooms to shower and change. Next we'd be meeting up with the fans and taking pictures, signing autographs, and participating in the silent auctions. I changed into a fresh jersey and followed the guys out to the lobby.

The other guys were gathered around the table, laughing and joking with the University team. All of them signing autographs. Standing next to the table, kind of off to the side, was this smoking hot brunette. She was petite, yet curvy in all the right places. The University T-shirt she was wearing clung to her in the best way, and I could feel my pants getting a little tight. She glanced up at me, her cheeks glowing red and quickly looked away. Just as I was about to get to the table, I realized I'd forgotten the extra auction items I wanted to donate in my locker.

McCarty bounded up to me and whisper-yelled, "So dude, you have to hear this."

"Give me a second, man. I have to go back to the locker room, I forgot some stuff."

"Wait, dude, you have to hear about the backup goalie, it was—"

"Later, McCarty. I'll just be a minute."

I turned and walked away.


I had my head stuck in my locker, piling the stuff in my arms, when I heard the door open behind me.

"I said I'd be right back, McCarty."

"You really disappointed me today, Masen."

The response, obviously not from McCarty, caused me to jump and bump my head on the top of my locker. Cursing under my breath, I backed out to see the curvy brunette from outside.

"What are you doing in here? How did you get back here to the men's locker room?"

She smirked at me. "You could say I work here."

"You didn't answer my first question... what are you doing in here?"

"I came to get what I wanted. What you promised."

"I don't know what you're talking about; I don't even know you."

She was stalking toward me, her hips swaying with her movement. I backed up a little, causing her to smirk again.

"As I said, you really disappointed me today, Masen. I gave up a near perfect save percentage, just to see your celebration, and you didn't follow through. So when I saw you come in here, I figured I'd come and collect."

My jaw dropped, gave up a save percentage? But… how… what?


She sighed in exasperation. "The game, your goals. You didn't really think I was that bad, did you? I saw you watching me during warm-ups."

"That… that was you?"

"Don't sound so shocked." She huffed, crossing her arms under her breasts.

Shit, I didn't want to insult her, but I was impressed. I mean, she was a girl.

"Sorry, I—"

"Don't worry about it. But you owe me a celebration, and like I said, I'm here to collect. So if you could just..." She motioned to my crotch and made a jerking gesture. "Then we can get out of here and sign some autographs."

"And you want to collect, right here? Right now?" I asked her incredulously.

She smiled at me and nodded her head, biting on her lower lip.

"I don't think so, honey. First of all, despite contrary belief, I don't just whip out my 'rooster' to celebrate goals. I was caught up in the heat of the moment. And secondly, I don't even know you; how do I know it was actually you playing?"

She shook her head. "Okay, let's make a wager then. You and me, after everyone is gone. We'll suit up, you take your shots, if I stop them all, then I want to see it. If you score on me, we'll leave here and never discuss it again."

I thought about it for about a moment. I knew I would have no problem scoring on her. After all, I'd already scored against her four times during the game, though she'd led me to believe she let me score.

I stuck out my hand.

"You're on."


A couple hours later the arena was starting to clear out. By the time all was said and done, over fifteen thousand dollars was raised for the charity, which beat last year's record by about three thousand.

"You coming, man?" McCarty asked, clapping me on the shoulder.

I looked up and him and Jake, and shook my head. "Nah, I'm going to hang out here for a bit, get some more practice in."

"You want us to stick around?" Jake asked.

"I'm good. You guys go ahead. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh, wait Edward. I forgot to tell you—" McCarty started, but was cut off by his phone. "Shit, it's Rosie. Later, dude." He walked off answering the call.

Jake shook my hand, then turned and left with Emmett. I rushed back to the locker room to get ready. Once I was laced up in my skates, I grabbed a stick and helmet, then headed back out onto the ice.

I could see her already on the ice, warming up, doing the splits and stretching. Shit, now that I knew what was under all that padding, the sight of her butterfly splits was making my pants tight. I was so glad I had decided to leave my jeans on; wearing a cup right now wouldn't have been pleasant.

I made a noise, to alert her of my presence. I should've gotten her name; it was only fair... after all she knew who I was.

She gave me one of those little smirks again, and as cute as she was, I wanted to wipe it off her face. I was going to do just that. I would take my shots, sink as many as I could, and then I could keep my dick in my pants. Not only that but we'd never discussed what would happen if I won. Maybe she'd go on a date with me. She was pretty cute.

"All right, let's do this, Masen. You don't score on me... I get to see your celebration. The one I was expecting to see when I allowed you to score four goals in the first place. If you do manage to score, which you won't, I'll—"

"You'll go on a date with me," I blurted out.

She blushed bright red and bit her lip, mumbling something to herself. Then she shook her head, looked me straight in the face and said, "Deal."

It was so on.


I was in shock, complete and total shock, and also more than just a little turned on. She stopped every single shot. Who was this girl? She was phenomenal, and she was smirking at me… again.

"Well?" she said, motioning to my crotch, and I could feel myself twitch in my pants at the look on her face. She wanted it. She wanted to see me stroke my cock.

Not one to back down from any challenge, I was going to give it to her, too.

I dropped my stick on the ice, removed my helmet, and popped the button on my jeans. Then I watched as her eyes lowered to my hands. She licked her bottom lip as I pulled down the zipper. Her breath hitched as she realized I wasn't wearing any underwear.

What could I say? I didn't doubt my abilities when it came to scoring, but anything was possible.

Her eyes widened as I took myself in hand. I gripped my hard shaft and stroked slowly up to the top, twisting my wrist, bringing my hand back down. I needed a little something if I was going to do this, and I knew just where to get it.

I tucked myself into my jeans as best I could and skated toward her. Stopping directly in front of her, I held out my hand up by her mouth.

She glanced at my hand, then up to my face, confusion written all over her features. "Lick," I said to her. "Please."

She reached out and grabbed my hand without hesitation—her confidence was so fucking hot—and licked my palm. Once done, she pushed me back a bit, and raised her eyebrow as if to say "well, get on with it then."

I smirked at her as I took my cock back out and stroked it again. I grunted as my hand reached the top, and she let out a breathy sigh as I brought it back down.

"You like that? You like watching?"

She nodded her head and moaned. I tightened my grip and thrust myself into my hand. She bit her bottom lip.

"If I said I liked watching too, would you touch yourself?"

Her head shot up, eyes going straight to mine. "You want to see me touch myself?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's only fair—isn't it?"

Chuckling, she nodded at me. "I guess you have a point."

She took off her jersey and padding, then threw them down on the ice. Underneath, she was wearing a tight white tank top. Fuck, her tits looked good. I thrust myself into my hand, moaning at the sight of her breasts jiggling while she put her equipment on the ice.

Once she was out of her hockey gear, she unbuttoned her jeans and slipped her hand into her panties. I didn't know what it was about the sight of her white cotton underwear, but I hardened further in my hand.

I could see her hand moving beneath her panties, and I thrust harder into my palm, collecting the pre-come and spreading it down my shaft, moving my hand faster. Fuck, she looked so hot like that. I bit my lip and moaned.

She stopped moving her hand, and fuck, it made me want to weep. She skated close to me, removed her hand from her panties and held her fingers up to my lips. "Suck," she said softly. "Please."

I leaned in and wrapped my lips around her fingers, moaning at the slight tangy taste of her already on them. I swirled my tongue around, gathering as much as I could. She removed her fingers from my mouth and skated backward.

Slipping her hand back into her panties, she started touching herself again. And all I could think was... if only I could actually see what she was doing. It was driving me insane.

"Tell me what it feels like," I said, fisting my dick harder and thrusting faster. "Are you wet for me?"

"Yes," she moaned, closing her eyes briefly before they opened again and she eyed my hand.

I slowed the motion of my hand, giving her a good view of me stroking myself; her hand picked up speed and she whimpered.

I could hear the sound of her fingers sliding in and out of her pussy—the sound was fucking incredible.

"I can hear how wet you are... I can hear the sound of you fucking yourself with your fingers. Fuck, Swan, I want to be inside you. But not here, not right now. Right now, I want you to make yourself come. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded her head, hand picking up just a little more speed, her breath coming out in pants. I sped up the motion of my hand as well, thrusting my hips a little harder and faster.

She slid her free hand up the outside of her tank top and squeezed one of her breasts, pinching the nipple and rolling it between her fingers; her head tilted back and she released the sexiest groan.

I licked my lips then told her, "I would suck on those luscious tits of yours... fuck, I bet they'd look good in my hands. Maybe I'd even stick my dick between them and fuck them. Would you let me do that?"

"God… yes."

"I bet my cock would look good between your tits. I bet it would look phenomenal pounding your pussy, too." I could feel my balls tightening. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Me, fucking you."

"Yes, yes, Edward. I'd liked that!"

"Pretend your fingers are my cock, baby; pretend it's me in there. Pounding into you, hitting that spot inside that makes you scream."

She whimpered and shuddered; she was getting close. Her eyes were still glued to my cock, which I was stroking without falter, and the look of lust in her eyes nearly made me come.

"You want that, don't you? I want it, too. I want your pussy clamping down on my cock, milking me dry. I want to taste your pussy... I want to make you scream my name... I want my cock in your mouth."

Fuck, the things I would do to this girl if she'd let me.

"You want that? Tell me you want it just as much as I do."

"Yes... God… please."

"Name the time and place, baby."

I watched her fingers pumping in and out, and knew it would soon be over. I could feel the tension creeping up my spine, my hips thrusting faster and faster. "You gonna come, baby?"

"Yes... yes!" she cried out.

Her hand, unbelievably, sped up even more, before she finally threw her head back and her mouth dropped open in a silent scream. I followed right after—all over her jersey.

We both stood there panting for a few minutes, before looking at each other. Then, as if becoming aware of our surroundings all of a sudden, we both glanced around quickly and breathed a sigh of relief—from our orgasms and the fact no one had seen us.

"Well, Masen, I'll give you one thing... you sure do know how to celebrate."

We burst out laughing.


After we'd put everything away, we went to our dressing rooms to clean up and change. I laced up the laces on my sneakers and walked out in the hallway to see her standing there.

I realized I didn't even know her name, and a wave of shame came over me.

"So… I, uh… didn't catch your name before."

She smiled at me. "It's Bella."

"Well, Bella, are you doing anything for dinner tonight?"

She looked at me and bit her lip. "You don't have to take me out, Edward. I wasn't expecting anything more than… well, you know."

"I know I don't have to, I want to."

She looked up at me, searching my face for a few seconds before nodding her head. "Okay, sure. Why not?"

We picked up our bags and headed out into the parking lot. Our cars, surprisingly, weren't the only two left in the parking lot.

I saw him before he could even say anything.

"Shit," I mumbled.

"What is it?" Bella asked.

"It's that fucking reporter, James—the one who published that off-the-cuff quote of mine. You don't have to say anything; we can just ignore him."

We started to walk toward our cars, and we'd almost made it before he spoke.

"You two are leaving rather late. Care to make a statement for the press?"

"No comment," I said through gritted teeth. "I made all the comments about the charity event earlier, during the press conference."

Bella, on the other hand, stopped and turned around. "I have something to say, actually."

I looked at her in shock... What was she doing?

James shoved his recorder in her face.

She looked at me, a gleam in her eye, and simply said in a sweet voice, "Edward's post game celebration skills are epic."

I was going to have my hands full with that one.