Asher's POV
The engagement ring catches the dim light of our apartment, and I find myself staring at it again—the platinum band wrapped around my finger like a promise made tangible.
I've touched it a hundred times since Blaze slid it into place, running my thumb over the smooth metal, pressing it against my skin to confirm it's real. The weight feels foreign and perfect simultaneously, a constant reminder that tonight actually happened.
I'm engaged. To Blaze Wilson. The boy I fell in love with when I was sixteen years old is going to be my husband.
The surreal quality of the evening keeps washing over me in waves, making me question whether I've somehow slipped into a dream I'll wake from at any moment.
Years of hiding, of stolen glances and secret touches, of convincing myself that this kind of happiness wasn't meant for people like me—and now I'm standing in the apartment we share openly, wearing a ring that declares to the world that I belong to him.
My mind drifts back to the chaos after the game, the memory still sharp despite the emotional whirlwind. Reporters had swarmed us the moment we stepped off the ice, microphones thrust toward our faces, cameras flashing from every direction.
"Asher! Blaze! Over here!" someone had shouted, and suddenly we were surrounded by a wall of journalists pushing closer.
A woman with perfectly styled hair and an aggressive microphone technique had gotten to us first. "When's the wedding? Have you already set a date?"
"We literally got engaged five minutes ago," Blaze had laughed, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist. "We haven't had time to think about dates yet."
"Asher, did you have any idea this was coming?"
I'd shaken my head, still dazed from everything. "No, I had no clue. He completely blindsided me. I'm still trying to process that this is actually real."
"How long have you been planning this proposal, Mr. Wilson?"
"Long enough to nearly drive myself crazy with nerves," Blaze had admitted, squeezing me tighter against his side.
Another reporter had pushed forward, practically shoving his recorder in my face. "Asher, how does it feel to be the first openly gay captain in the league to get engaged to another player?"
"What about children? Are you planning to start a family?"
“Whose last name will you take?”
"Okay, that's enough," Blaze had interrupted firmly, already steering me toward the exit. "We appreciate the support, but we need some time alone to celebrate."
We barely made it through the crowd of reporters to the car and jumped in, driving away from the flashes of cameras. And now we’re home, the sound of our apartment door closing behind us pulls me from the memory.
Blaze is looking at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch, his brown eyes dark with emotion and something hungrier beneath the surface.
“Come here,” he growls, his voice a gravelly command that shoots straight to my cock.
I’m on him before the words fully leave his lips. Our bodies collide in the middle of the living room, mouths crashing together in a frenzy of teeth and tongues.
His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into my flesh, pulling me flush against him. I can feel his hard-on pressing into my thigh, hot and insistent, and it makes my own erection throb in response.
The kiss is savage, desperate, a clash of lips and tongues that leaves us both gasping for air. My hands claw at his shirt, frantic to get him out of it, to feel his skin against mine.
He’s just as eager, ripping the jersey over my head and tossing it aside like it’s nothing. His shirt follows, revealing the chiseled planes of his chest, the trail of dark hair leading down to the waistband of his jeans.
We stumble through the living room, a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing, mouths never breaking contact. My back hits the couch, and I pull him down with me, his weight pressing me into the cushions.
He braces himself above me, forearms on either side of my head, and for a moment, we just stare at each other—chests heaving, lips swollen, eyes blown wide with desire.
“I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before his mouth is on mine again, swallowing my words, my breath, my fucking soul. His hands roam over my chest, my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
I arch into his touch, desperate for more, grinding my hips against his. His fingers find my nipples, pinching and twisting until I gasp into his mouth, my cock twitching against his thigh.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to gaze down at me.
His eyes travel over my body like he’s committing every inch of me to memory. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. And this—” He lifts my left hand, pressing a kiss to the engagement ring. “You look even sexier with this on your finger.”
I thrust my hips upward, grinding against him, and the friction drags a moan from my throat that’s embarrassingly loud. But I don’t care. I can’t think. All I can do is feel—his weight pressing me down, his hands claiming me, his cock hard and hot against mine.
“I need you,” I gasp, my voice raw with need. “Blaze, please…”
He doesn’t make me wait.
His hand fumbles with the button of my jeans, yanking them down my legs along with my boxers. He palms my cock, stroking me with a firm grip that has me seeing stars.
I reach for his jeans, tearing them off him, and then he’s naked above me, his cock thick and heavy, dripping with pre-cum.
He grabs the lube from the coffee table, slicking himself up with a few quick strokes. Then he’s positioning himself at my entrance, his tip pressing against me, teasing, driving me fucking insane.
“Ready?” he murmurs, his voice thick with need.
I nod, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “Yes. God, yes.”
He pushes inside me, slow and steady, filling me up until I’m stretched to the brink. We both freeze, adjusting to the sensation, and then he starts to move—deep, languid thrusts that have me clawing at his back, begging for more.
“So fucking tight,” he groans against my neck, his thrusts growing more urgent. “So hot. You feel incredible. I’m barely holding it together.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him. My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, anchoring myself as the pleasure builds.
The engagement ring presses against his heated skin, a constant reminder that this man is mine—legally, publicly, irrevocably mine.
We move together with increasing urgency, the couch creaking beneath us, our ragged breathing filling the room. Blaze’s forehead drops to mine, his eyes open and locked on my face.
Even now, even lost in passion, he wants to see me. Wants to witness every gasp, every moan, every moment of surrender.
When I finally come, it’s with a cry that’s more scream than moan, my body convulsing around him. He follows moments later, his thrusts faltering as he spills inside me, his name a desperate whisper on my lips.
We collapse into each other, trembling and sweat-slicked, our hearts pounding in sync. Blaze presses a kiss to my forehead, his breath warm against my skin.