The NHL loved pitting division rivals against each other in the first game of the preseason, so it wasn’t a surprise to find the Sea Dogs playing the Phantoms in the season opener.
The air in the locker room was humming with electricity, wide, feral grins on people’s faces. Tommy and Jacki did their usual pregame handshake, ending with a headbutt that had them breathing each other’s air for a moment.
“You fucking ready?” Jacki asked, hopping on the balls of his feet.
“Fucking ready,” Tommy cheered, slapping Dima’s ass when his huge, padded form walked past.
Tommy spaced out during the national anthem, getting in the zone, settling himself on the bench as the first lines of each team faced each other. The roar of the crowd swelled—home ice for the Sea Dogs—but Queens and Brooklyn were close enough for the stands to be a complete mixture of both, the waves of team colors crashing and foaming against each other.
Tommy thought it’d be hard to play against Vicki—that everything going on between them would keep Tommy’s head out of the game—especially since Zed was predicted to be out for the rest of the preseason.
Instead, it was the most natural thing in the world to slip back into the rhythm of a match, he and Vicki rarely on the ice at the same time, what with Vicki being on the first line and Tommy on the second.
Tommy still couldn’t stop from watching him from the bench, though. It sparked a hidden ember in his gut to see Vicki’s fierce eyes so similar to when he’d been looking down at Tommy on his knees, Vicki’s cock in his mouth.
In the end, it was a tight loss for the Sea Dogs—a chippy game taken to overtime and won by one of the Phantom newbies on a fluky shot off a skate.
Tommy hated to lose, but he wasn’t too torn up about this one. There was some rust to shake off, but the team had played well, buoyed by the fact that they were the reigning Stanley Cup champions.
Tommy watched Schmidty pat some of the hopefuls on the back—the ones who had already spent some time on the farm team and were trying to crack the NHL. The captain spoke to each of them, no doubt giving words of encouragement to those who thought the loss would play against their chances.
Jacki hip-checked Tommy as he made it to his stall. “Didn’t miss losing to the goddamn Phantoms, but it’s good to be back, eh?”
Tommy snorted. “Always. Wish I didn’t have to smell Dima’s pads, but—”
“You try play sixty minute. You on bench, lazy. No sweat,” Dima mock grumbled from beside him.
“I sit on the bench so the cameras can get a clear shot of my pretty face.”
“Pretty face? You break camera, so ugly.”
“That’s not what your mom was saying last night when I—ow!” Tommy cackled, curling up to protect his face from Dima’s heavy blocker.
“You talk about my mother, I kill you.”
“I was joking! It was actually your dad I was—okay, okay, mercy. Holy fuck.” Tommy cackled as he skipped out of reach.
Tommy managed to distract himself by undressing, hitting the showers, and putting on some comfortable clothes to go home in. In the silent underbelly of his mind, though, Vicki’s eyes, the way his hands had felt against Tommy’s pleading skin lay resting, waiting for some attention.
Tommy knew it would be a mistake. The last encounter had left his head all fucked up, and he didn’t want to be taken to that place again, but…maybe if he went knowing what it was going to be like he’d be able to sidestep the aftermath.
Because, the thing was, the sex was so, so good.
The way Vicki talked to him, wanted him…it was intoxicating.
So, yeah, he looked around a little when he left the locker room. Made up some excuse to go down near the visitors’ locker room and creeped around, not wanting to be seen by any of the Phantoms—not even Zed—but it was a moot point anyway.
Vicki was nowhere to be found.
“Whatever,” Tommy muttered to himself. The empty gnawing in his stomach wasn’t disappointment. He just really needed to eat something.
He went down to the indoor garage, the familiar concrete and fuel smell of it swamping his nose. His Lexus was waiting for him, a still, green beetle ready for flight.
He slid into the driver’s seat, the echo of the garage turning into the flat silence of the leather interior.
He put the key into the ignition, looked in his rearview mirror, and lost his fucking mind.
“What the fuck?” Tommy yelled as Vicki appeared from the shadows of his back seat.
“I was wondering how long you were going to sit there talking to yourself.”
Tommy turned with a glare, heart fucking pounding out of his chest. “I wasn’t talking to myself.”
“You were talking about quesadillas. Terrible postgame meal.”
Tommy could hear his teeth grinding. “How the fuck did you get into my car?”
“It was unlocked, genius.”
“Well, that’s…that’s not…that’s not an excuse to just break in.”
Vicki stared at him for a moment before shrugging and getting out of the car.
Tommy flinched, almost reaching out to stop him. He hadn’t meant to—
He rolled his eyes as Vicki sat himself in the passenger seat. Fucker.
Vicki raised his eyebrows at him. “We gonna go, or what?”
Tommy desperately wanted to say no. Wanted to tell Vicki to go fuck himself, that he wasn’t just there to be used.
He usually wasn’t completely foolish.
But, somehow, he just…didn’t. The fire under his skin was burning all his thoughts to ash.
He wanted that headspace back. Even if it was followed by a sick feeling, those moments of losing himself, of going under and being overwhelmed in the best way, were worth it.
He’d make sure they were worth it.
Tommy started the car. “Put your seatbelt on,” he ordered.
Vicki huffed but did as asked while Tommy pulled out of his parking spot.
The ride, predictably, remained silent. Tommy was waiting for the regret to set in, for him to turn and take Vicki back to the arena.
Instead, the air between them seemed to vibrate, Vicki looking at him with dark eyes, the glow from the streetlights sluicing over his handsome face, hair still damp from his postgame shower.
Fuck, Tommy just wanted to be touched. To be broken apart, even if he was the one putting himself back together again.
Tommy lived in a semidetached house with what could be a garden patch at the back but was now a sunburned piece of dirt. He’d moved out of Schmidty’s family-home basement after his rookie year with an odd need to see if he could do it on his own while still wanting to be around families. Now, instead of having Schmidty’s kids wanting to play shin hockey with him, he had his neighbor Mrs. Argyros bringing him dolmas every Friday for no other reason than it made her little Greek heart happy.
Even though Tommy and Vicki hadn’t talked the whole ride, the silence that fell over them as Tommy parked the car and turned it off was eerie. Heavy. Like Tommy would have to poke a hole through it so Vicki could touch him, it was so thick.
He got out of the car with trembling hands, not looking back even as he unlocked the door of his house, the heat of Vicki’s body behind him like a physical touch.
Tommy didn’t even turn on the lights, letting himself be pressed against a wall face-first. Vicki wrapped his hand around the front of Tommy’s throat—not squeezing, but a simple, heavy weight.
Tommy felt his body unspool. Maybe the way he reacted to Vicki was strange, seeing as the man clearly hated him, but maybe it was for that exact reason Tommy could give himself over.
There were no expectations to meet when it came to Vicki, no looming disappointment. Tommy could listen and be good, and it wasn’t going to change Vicki’s mind, so he might as well enjoy it.
Tommy felt himself breathe, conscious of the way air scraped through his stretched throat, shuddering when Vicki fit his teeth to Tommy’s shoulder, biting with increasing viciousness. He was desperately trying to keep any noises to himself, but that only seemed to spur Vicki on as he yanked Tommy’s sweats down and gripped his hard cock tightly
Tommy tried to buck instinctively, but he was caged between the wall and Vicki’s body. He found himself grinding his forehead into the plaster as Vicki thumbed the head of his cock again, and again, and again, spreading the dripping wetness around, a nail digging into the underside slightly.
Tommy’s thoughts were already disintegrating, body jerking like a caught fish in Vicki’s hold, whining low in his throat when he couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Let’s go,” Vicki ordered, stepping back. Tommy stumbled, getting out of his pants and boxers as he pushed Vicki through the living room, down the hallway, into his room.
By the time they got there, they were snarling at each other. Vicki tried to shove Tommy’s shoulder, but Tommy planted his feet, ripping Vicki’s shirt off in a brief struggle.
Vicki yanked him forward, getting his hand around Tommy’s cock again, making him groan and growl.
“Fuck you,” Tommy bit out, gripping the hair at the nape of Vicki’s neck.
Tommy managed to get Vicki’s pants and briefs off, ending up tangled up, half wrestling half kissing, biting, licking.
Tommy elbowed Vicki in the chest, pushing him off, getting on top and sliding a thigh between Vicki’s.
Vicki moaned like it was ripped out of him, bucking up. The feel of Vicki’s big cock rubbing slick on Tommy’s skin made him hang his head as want went through him.
He couldn’t stand the way Vicki was looking up at him for a moment—cracked open, mouth parted and wet, eyes glinting in the shadows.
Vicki took advantage of that moment of weakness, rolling them over and pinning Tommy down for good, kissing him through the struggle that followed until they were both breathless.
Vicki panted into his mouth. “Want me to fuck you?” he whispered, barely a question.
“Yeah. Yeah, come on you motherfucker. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Tommy bit Vicki on the bicep before scrambling for his side table, turning on the lamp, and grabbing lube and condoms.
He didn’t even wait for Vicki, pouring some slick on his fingers, but Vicki grabbed him by the wrist before he could do anything with them.
“I don’t think so,” Vicki said, forcefully wiping the lube off Tommy’s hand and picking the bottle back up, slicking his own fingers.
Tommy gaped as Vicki pushed him onto his back, muscling his legs apart before rubbing Tommy’s hole teasingly.
“Fuck,” Tommy muttered, his head hitting the mattress, feeling every inch as Vicki slid inside.
The moment Tommy expected Vicki to do something, he went and did the complete opposite. When Tommy thought he’d go fast, it turned slow as syrup, forcing Tommy to lay there and take it—one digit, two, three, taking his fucking time until Tommy was out of it and on the verge of pleading.
Tommy tried to breathe through the stretch, Vicki’s hand moving so sedately it didn’t even burn. It just filled him up, fingers glancing off his prostate, but never giving him what he wanted.
“Come on, you fucker,” Tommy snapped. Vicki grabbed his face, squeezing his jaw and holding him in place.
“I want to see you beg,” he murmured, dipping down to fuck his tongue into Tommy’s mouth, curling his fingers so they lit him up.
“Fuck you,” Tommy spit, trying to shake Vicki off, but all that did was make Vicki move more leisurely still.
Vicki kept looking at him—not at Tommy’s ass stretched around Vicki’s fingers but at his eyes, like he wanted to capture the exact moment Tommy fell apart.
And, fuck, Tommy tried—clenched his jaw and stared back, but then Vicki would curl his fingers just right, or get in deep but not deep enough, or leave just the tips in, rocking them gently, the mere suggestion of fullness.
“Vicki.” Tommy swallowed, losing it. He just wanted to give himself over. He was tired, wanted to shut off and be fucked.
“Yeah?” Vicki said conversationally, like he wasn’t even affected, but Tommy knew better. Could see the flush on his face, the hunt in his eyes.
“Please,” he said, just the once, but apparently it was enough. Vicki smiled at him—not mockingly, but as if he approved.
Vicki managed to coordinate kissing him and putting the condom on. Tommy sank into it, begging with his body now, his spine arching as Vicki finally sank into him.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck,” Tommy panted. He didn’t have a second to catch his breath as Vicki sat up, held onto Tommy’s thighs, and slammed into him.
Tommy was filled to the brim, insides sparking like a Roman candle that blazed through him over and over again, held still only by Vicki’s hands.
The only time Vicki slowed down was when Tommy went to touch his own dick and Vicki slapped his hand away. “Don’t you fucking dare. If you’re gonna come, come on my dick.”
The fucked up thing was that Tommy just…listened. Closed his eyes and let himself be overtaken by the feeling of being fucked, of being taken, wanted, overwhelmed.
He didn’t think he’d be able to come without his dick being touched, didn’t think Vicki could last long enough. The longer Vicki thrust, though, the more desperate Tommy got, the pleasure unearthed from the deepest part of him until he was sobbing, writhing. Vicki murmured something he couldn’t quite catch, but it didn’t matter. From one moment to the next he was coming, the orgasm getting more and more intense until it was tucked just under the line of painful.
“Vicki,” Tommy begged, grasping his bicep, and Vicki finally slowed down, grinding into Tommy.
Tommy clenched around him, watching through heavy lids as Vicki closed his eyes and shuddered, hips jerking.
It was fascinating to float there, oversensitive but hypnotized as he watched the play of muscles in Vicki’s chest, the sweat dripping down his pecs, his temples, the red of his bitten lips. Watched pleasure wreck Vicki’s body as orgasm hit him, the way he closed his eyes and collapsed over him, breathing heavily.
Tommy blinked up at him. It was almost intimate for a moment as Vicki opened his eyes and they looked at each other. Tommy had the irrational urge to stretch up and kiss him, but that wasn’t how they did things.
Tommy winced as Vicki pulled out, rolling to the side so he wouldn’t have to watch Vicki walk away without looking back. He kicked the sheets down and then tucked them over him—he’d change them in the morning. For now, all he could really stand to do was close his eyes and try to cling to the pleasure that still buzzed at the edges of his consciousness, keeping the pure exhaustion at bay.
He was half dozing when he was jerked back awake by something thumping him on his covered hip.
“What…?” He squinted at Vicki standing over him, fully dressed with Tommy’s phone in his hand. Confused, Tommy took it.
“Unlock it,” Vicki ordered.
Tommy thought of arguing, he really did, but he was just too tired. He put in his passcode, watching as Vicki took it back and typed something in.
“There. Now start locking your damn car,” Vicki said, putting Tommy’s phone on the bedside table and turning his lamp off.
Tommy gaped after him as Vicki walked off into the deeper darkness of the hallway, the sound of the front door shutting following less than a minute later.
“Okay…” Tommy checked his phone and, yep, there was Vicki’s number saved under N, presumably for Noah. Tommy changed it to V before shutting it off.
“Weirdo,” Tommy said, but the usual sick feeling in his stomach was absent.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let the exhaustion finally take over.
