Suckerpunch

  “Tomorrow, then. We’ll make up for your first game, get you a shut—”

  “Shh!” Alex lunged forward, frantically slapping a hand over Sasha’s mouth. “Don’t say it. You’ll jinx us.”

  Sasha laughed behind his hand, grabbing Alex’s wrist to press a quick kiss to his palm before Alex could pull away. A glance around the locker room showed no one was watching. “Weird goalie superstitions?”

  Alex scooted back to his spot and resumed stretching. “Um, pretty sure that’s an everyone-involved-in-hockey superstition, not just mine. You don’t walk over the logo on the locker room floor, you don’t mess with someone’s stick once it’s been taped up, and you never say the S-word.”

  “Superstitious.” Sasha sounded fond as he rolled to his feet easily, then bent down to run a hand through Alex’s hair. “We drive up to Vancouver tonight after the game, stay in hotel up there. You have superstitions about having someone come by your room the night before a game?”

  “I guess you’ll have to find out.” Alex winked up at Sasha, then held eye contact while he spread his legs and twisted his body into the splits.

  Sasha groaned. “Tease.”

  “Only a tease if I don’t follow through,” Alex pointed out. “Go get ready. I’ll see you on the ice.”

  Steven in BC (@VanYouBelieveIt)

  WHAT THE HELL REFS! ARE YOU BLIND?! That was totally a goal, Bilovsky got screwed on that call.

  Seattle Cascades (@CascadesNHL)

  A tough 60 minutes, a lot of back and forth scoring, and one very controversial no-goal later…. Cascades win! 5-4 in the first half of our home-and-home with Vancouver.

  SASHA COULD get used to this.

  He woke up in a hotel in Vancouver with a smaller body pressed against his own, soft, steady breaths on his shoulder, and messy brown hair tickling his chin. In sleep, Alex looked impossibly young. Sasha rolled on his side, throwing a leg over Alex and pulling him closer. The alarm said they still had another half hour before they had to be up. Besides, Alex’s body was cool and he was shivering ever so slightly, and Sasha knew of a very good way to warm him up.

  Alex came to slowly, arching like a cat under Sasha’s hands. Sasha smiled, caressing Alex’s spine and enjoying the feel of smooth, bare skin beneath his fingers, before finding the waistband of his briefs and running one finger along the edge.

  “Who’s the tease now?” Alex was barely awake, his words mumbled.

  They hadn’t had time or energy for much the night before, getting into Vancouver after midnight. Both of them had been worn-out from the game, and it had been all they could do to strip off their travel clothes and climb into bed. Sasha had wrapped himself around Alex, tucking the smaller man to his chest, and that was the last thing he remembered.

  But now they were both awake, rested, and they had nowhere to be until breakfast.

  Alex kissed him first. His breath was sour, but Sasha knew his was as well, and it didn’t matter after a second when Alex deepened the kiss and made pretty, breathy sounds against Sasha’s lips.

  “Good morning,” Alex whispered.

  This close, Sasha could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, illuminated by the dim light that filtered through the heavy hotel curtains. It made Sasha want to throw the curtains open and watch Alex’s skin light up and glow in the sunrise. But that would mean having to leave the bed and leave Alex, and that was an unbearable thought even for a few seconds.

  Instead, he pulled Alex closer, kissing him again, his hand on Alex’s spine trailing lower to rest at the top of his ass, fingers just dipping inside the waistband of his briefs. When Alex’s hips made an abortive thrust forward, Sasha exhaled and kissed him again.

  It still wasn’t enough, though. He wanted Alex closer.

  Sasha pulled Alex on top of him, groaning when Alex slung a leg over his waist to straddle him. His briefs were tented, and he took a second to grind his hips down against Sasha’s before ducking to moan into Sasha’s mouth.

  Sasha licked up into him, framing Alex’s thighs with his own hands, enjoying the way they trembled beneath his touch. If he spread his fingers, he could brush the side of Alex’s dick with his thumb. He trailed the digit along the hard line of Alex’s shaft, teasing through the fabric until he found the head of Alex’s dick and could rub the ball of his thumb against the growing wetness there.

  “You should get rid of these,” he murmured against Alex’s lips.

  Alex pulled back enough to smile. “Oh, should I?”

  But he scrambled to get off of Sasha and rush out of his briefs. Sasha took a moment to appreciate him, strong limbs and the long, pale line of his body. Then Alex was back over him, hands eager to get Sasha’s boxers off as well.

  When they were both naked, Sasha dragged Alex to him, kissing him hard, biting his bottom lip only to lave his tongue over the swollen flesh in apology after.

  Alex’s hands were roaming aimlessly, desperation clear as he mapped out the smooth planes of Sasha’s skin. Sasha snagged one, and then the other in his larger grasp, fingers wrapped around Alex’s wrists. Then he hitched one leg up on Alex’s hip and twisted, rolling them until Alex’s back was on the bed and his hands were pinned above him.

  The sound that came out of Alex should have been illegal—a low, needy moan as Alex arched up off the bed, his entire body taut.

  “Sasha,” he gasped. “Oh, god, Sasha, please.”

  “I’ve got you, Милый.” Using his free hand, Sasha caressed Alex’s body. He started at Alex’s neck, teasing with his blunt nails over the younger man’s shoulders and clavicle, stopping to rub a nipple between two fingers. Alex’s eyelashes fluttered at that, and he made a high, breathy sound in response. Pressing more firmly earned him a groan, and Alex’s eyes fell shut.

  Alex’s cock pressed against his leg, hot and hard, the tip leaking wetness against Sasha’s skin.

  Trailing his hand down over Alex’s abs, muscles sharply defined as Alex stretched out his entire body beneath the caress and strained for more contact.

  Then his fingers were wrapping around Alex’s cock, skin like silk hot in his palm. Alex moaned, chanting Sasha’s name, hips jerking up into the touch.

  Sasha jacked him once, twice, collecting the precum at the tip to help his hand glide more smoothly.

  “More, more,” Alex pleaded. His biceps were bulging as he tried to pull free from Sasha’s grasp. “Let me touch you, Sasha, please.”

  And there was no way Sasha could resist a request like that one. He loosened his grasp, and Alex’s wrist slipped free, immediately falling to Sasha’s shoulders, down his chest, and to his own cock.

  They groaned in tandem, grips tightening around the other.

  “I want you to come,” Alex said. “All over me. I want to make you, want you to mark me up.”

  “Yes,” Sasha managed, letting his head fall forward and working his hand over Alex’s dick frantically.

  Alex’s grip vanished for a second, and Sasha followed his hand intently as Alex brought it up to his own mouth… and licked a broad stripe down the center, tongue peeking through between his fingers.

  When he grasped Sasha’s cock again, his hand slid easily.

  “God, you’re so big,” Alex groaned. “Wish you could fuck me like this, right now. I want you in me.”

  It was a game day, and Sasha knew there was no way they could risk it, knew it was impossible. But he still closed his eyes briefly, imagining the hot, tight slide into Alex’s body, the way the goaltender would stretch around him.

  “Fuck, Alex.” He was distantly aware that he’d lapsed into Russian, but right now Sasha could barely think, could only feel and react. “I want that. As soon as we get home, I want to feel you, to be inside you.”

  There was no way Alex could understand him, but he gasped nonetheless. “Yeah, babe. I want to come, want to make you come. Please, Sasha.”

  Liquid fire raced down Sasha’s spine, lighting him up from the inside. He jerked his hand over Alex’s
shaft, thumbed the head, and twisted his wrist. At the same moment, Alex’s own grip tightened around his dick, and his free hand curled over Sasha’s hip, cupping his ass and teasing Sasha’s hole with one dry fingertip, just enough to light up the nerve endings there.

  And then they were both coming, heat spilling between them, over Alex’s stomach and Sasha’s hand.

  Sasha managed to bite back his own shout, bury it against Alex’s shoulder as he slumped forward. But Alex was louder, less restrained, and he tilted his head back and moaned Sasha’s name as Sasha milked him until he was empty and shaking.

  “Holy fuck.” Sasha barely kept himself from collapsing onto Alex, only sliding to the side at the last second and falling onto the mattress. “Alex.”

  “Yeah.” Alex turned, languid and sated, and kissed Sasha lazily.

  Silence fell between them as they both panted for breath, sweaty and sticky but equally unwilling to untangle from each other. They traded soft, sleepy kisses until Alex yawned and tucked his head against Sasha’s chest, breathing in deeply and humming happily under his breath.

  “Best wakeup ever,” he murmured.

  Sasha used his clean hand to run his fingers through Alex’s hair. Alex smiled, eyes closing in obvious pleasure.

  “Я обожаю твою улыбку,” Sasha whispered. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Alex’s mouth, right where his lips curved up.

  “What’s that mean?”

  Sasha kissed him again, this time on the other side of his mouth. “Means I love when you smile like this. When you look so happy.”

  Brown eyes flickered open, and the smile deepened.

  Sasha allowed his eyes to close as well. Like this, entwined with Alex as he was, he could almost feel the other man’s contentment and sleepy, happy pleasure.

  I could get used to this, he thought, and let himself doze until the alarm went off.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  west-coast-best-coast-hockey:

  bilovsky looked pissed after his goal got overturned in review last night. bets on if he starts some shit tonight?

  #hockey #cascades #there’s gonna be a fight #i’d put money on it

  24 notes

  ALEX SPRAYED water into his mouth, then flipped his helmet back down and shrugged some of the tension out of his shoulders.

  “You good?” Sasha skated up to him, tapping his stick on Alex’s shins. There had been a volley of shots on goal, and Alex was still panting from the exertion of blocking them before he’d finally been able to glove the puck and force a stoppage of play.

  “Yeah, all good.”

  Sasha grinned, tapped him again, and skated off to take his place for the face-off.

  The game so far had been a blast, the kind of intense rivalry match that reminded Alex of why he loved to play hockey. Vancouver was playing great, but Seattle was playing even better, all of the lines gelling together.

  It was 5-2, and Alex just needed to hold his end down for the next nine minutes to help bring his team another win.

  The refs signaled for the face-off, and Alex hunched down, ready. He noticed Sasha out of the corner of his eye, moving out of position, but the whistle blew before he could spare a second to glance over.

  Vancouver won the face-off, passed the puck back to one of the defensemen, and then—

  The whistle blew again.

  What?

  The crowd in Vancouver was on their feet, screaming and banging on the glass. Alex turned and immediately spotted the problem: a Cascades player tangled up with one of the Vancouver wingers, gloves off and punches flying.

  Not just any Cascades player. That was Sasha, throwing fists with everything he had. And the Vancouver winger? Bilovsky. Go figure.

  Alex sighed and relaxed, watching the fight and the surrounding chaos as his teammates approached the two fighters.

  Rybár had been one of the Cascades players on the ice next to Sasha during the face-off. Alex waved him over. “What happened?”

  He got a shrug in response. “Bilovsky said something to him. Couldn’t hear what, but then they’re fighting, so must have been bad.”

  The fight intensified as Sasha managed to get Bilovsky’s feet out from under them, sending them both plummeting to the ice.

  “Ah, shit.” Rybár took off, and so did the refs and linesmen, who’d previously been hesitant to jump in and break the fight up at the risk of getting injured themselves.

  Alex hovered in his crease, not sure what to do, while the rest of his team circled Sasha and Bilovsky. He lifted his mask, turning away from the fight for a second to grab his bottle of water.

  And then—

  The scent that hit Alex was like being smashed with a wrecking ball. He staggered forward, grabbing on to his goal post in order to remain standing. That scent was—

  That’s Sasha. The rich earthiness that clung to Sasha’s body was now filling the entire arena, only it was a thousand times stronger. Alex tried to take a breath and almost choked on it, the richness turning cloying and sticking to his nose and throat.

  His fangs came out, completely uncontrolled, dropped along his gums as saliva flooded his mouth. Alex pressed his lips closed, ducking his head and fumbling to pull his mask back down, hoping no one could see him. The entire arena seemed focused on the commotion, though, and no one appeared to be looking at him as the refs finally managed to separate Sasha and Bilovsky and haul them to their feet.

  It was obvious, once they were both standing, that Sasha was bleeding. Bilovsky was too, blood dripping from a nose that looked too bruised and swollen to be anything but broken. But Sasha had blood around his mouth, down his white jersey, the red almost obscene in the bright arena lights. A split lip, but it was more than enough to cut away any restraint that Alex had over his vampire half.

  He tried to skate it off, doing short laps with his head down and mask once again firmly in place while the refs sent both fighters off the ice and gathered to assess penalties.

  As Sasha vanished down the hall to the locker room, the overpowering scent of blood and earth vanished with him. Alex took a tentative breath, then another. He was distantly aware of the crowd’s split cheering and booing when the penalties were called, and then when the linesmen went to work on cleaning up the remaining spilled blood.

  The entire situation from start to finish had only been a minute or two, but it had felt like an eternity. And finally—finally—Alex’s fangs retreated.

  He took one last shaky breath, then skated back to his crease.

  Seattle Cascades (@CascadesNHL)

  Alexander Petrov and Joel Bilovsky both get 5-minute fighting majors and 10-minute game misconducts for their late 3rd period fight.

  SASHA STORMED down the hallway, ignoring the trainers who tried to stop him. He stripped off his gear as soon as he hit the locker room doors, flinging his jersey in the direction of the laundry bin and his pads in the general vicinity of his locker. Someone would bring his gloves and stick eventually, he assumed, but for now he had more important things to think about.

  Like that fucker Bilovsky.

  I should have hit him harder. The rage from the fight hadn’t faded at all, though his adrenaline was starting to crash, bringing with it the incessant throbbing of his lip, his hands, his… entire body.

  “Fuck.” Sasha slumped onto the bench in front of a locker that might or might not have been his, legs spread, and let his head fall forward.

  Bilovsky was a goon. Everyone knew it, but Sasha had been adamant that he wasn’t going to take the other man’s bait, wasn’t going to let Bilovsky get under his skin.

  Until Bilovsky had opened his big fucking mouth. “You know, when we played in January, I almost didn’t stop? Thought about it, about just skating up to that kid you got in your net, running him right over. You think a guy that small would be able to take a hit? Maybe I should give it a try now, hm? Knock him down, boom. I can do it midplay; refs might give me two in the bin, but it’d be worth it.”

&nbs
p; The mental image of Bilovsky, who was as big as Sasha and ten times meaner, purposefully angling to hurt Alex, had been enough to send him over the edge.

  Should’ve hit him harder, Sasha repeated. Shown him what it’s like to get knocked down by someone bigger than him.

  A trainer found him like that a minute later. “Petrov. Up, c’mon. I need to get that lip stitched and check your knuckles for fractures. There’s a TV in the trainer’s room if you want to watch the end of the game.”

  Sasha trailed behind obediently, let the trainer get his skates off, pull his padding away so he could check for bruises. The TV was, indeed, on and showing the game. Sasha glanced up at it, then looked back down as the trainer examined each one of his knuckles, probing the bruising painfully.

  Then awareness of what he’d actually seen filtered through, and Sasha’s head shot back up.

  “What happened?”

  The score had been 5-2 Cascades when the fight had started. Now it was 5-4, and the goalie in net for Seattle was too tall to be Alex.

  The trainer glanced over his shoulder at the TV. “Fanning got pulled. Two goals in about two minutes.”

  Holy shit. Sasha didn’t even feel the trainer prodding at his lip or the needle that poked into it to numb the wound. His eyes were fixed on the TV, which was finally showing a brief replay of what had happened.

  There was Alex, looking a little shaken but otherwise okay in net. The face-off in the Cascades’ defensive zone had been repeated, since the fight had interrupted the initial attempt.

  Vancouver won the face-off again, passed the puck to the winger, who lifted his stick, brought it down—

  And the puck was in the net. Just like that, a one-timer that Alex didn’t even appear to have seen.

  Then, a minute and forty seconds later, Vancouver was back in Seattle’s end, and it was like Alex hadn’t even been trying. The puck had slid in behind him neatly, effortlessly, Alex’s leg a full second too slow to kick out and stop it.