You Did Good

Dorian’s P.O.V

The locker room reeked of sweat and ballsack.

I stepped out from the hot spray of water, turning it off. Grabbing my towel off the bench, I roughly ran it through my damp hair, water dripping down my shoulders and chest as I walked towards the locker room naked. It wasn’t like I cared who saw. Besides, most of the team had cleared out and it was just the sound of my breathing and shuffling feet breaking the silence.

I was halfway to my locker, still drying my hair, when I noticed him.

Carter.

The Golden Boy himself, standing frozen like a fucking deer in headlights, eyes wide and glued to me.

My brows furrowed and before I could ask him what the hell he was looking at, all red-faced and barely breathing, he left.

But the funny thing was that he didn’t just walk away. If the expression, ‘running with tails between your legs’ needed an image, Noah in that moment was it. Bag in hand, practically tripping over himself as he disappeared through the door.

For a second, I just stood there, staring at the space he’d been standing seconds ago as my mind spun, trying to piece together what the fuck had just happened. Noah had to hate me with the way I’d made him look like a total fucking idiot during practice. So why the hell had he looked at me like that?

Like i was a fucking steak before running off like his ass was on fire.

Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to punch me or….suck my cock.

Said cock twitched almost immediately, clearly liking the thought of Noah on his knees, those hot red lips wrapped around my cock as I fucked into his throat. Holy shit. Where did that come from?

A growl tore from my throat as I slammed my knuckles hard into the metal locker. Why the fuck did I have an erection?

No. I couldn’t let him get inside my head like this. It wasn’t even about the fact that I was fantasizing about a guy sucking my cock–it had happened before, many times than I’d care to actually count. That wasn’t the point. It was that the boy was Noah Carter. That was fucked up on so many levels.

Willing my raging hard-on to disappear, I shoved the entire encounter to the back of my mind, and began to roughly pull my clothes back on. Whatever his problem was, it was none of my business.

```

The next two weeks were…interesting to say the least.

College ice hockey was clearly more intense than highschool hockey and I’ve never been through this much grilling in my life. It kept me on my toes but to be fair, I was more advanced than most of the rookies and so, I could see I was making an impression on the Coach.

But most importantly, I kept up my usual routine during practice–doing whatever I could to fuck with Noah’s rhythm. It was almost too easy. A mistimed pass, skating just a little close to him, throwing off his balance during drills, basically anything to prove I was better than him. And I was! Even if I didn’t have to resort to playing dirty, I could take the fucker down. But watching him grit his teeth and try to keep it together was the highlight of my day.

This was my plan. My revenge. I was going to make sure everyone saw him for what he truly was–an overhyped, entitled nepo-baby who didn’t deserve the pedestal he was handed.

Only sometimes, I found he wasn’t the only one off-kilter.

I couldn't get that moment in the locker room out of my head. The flush that creeped up his neck before he’d bolted. It made my thoughts wander sometimes, imagining if that red flush also ran down his entire body and I fucking hated how it made my dick hard.

I hated it so much.

On the fifth day of the second week, the coach came with an announcement and he seemed really geared up, rolling his heavy shoulders. For his age and the fact that he hadn’t played in years, Coach was in great shape.

“We’re playing a friendly match next tomorrow,” Coach O’Rourke’s voice cut into my thoughts. “It’s a road game so start packing your bags. Bus leaves at 7AM sharp!”

```

The morning of the match, I was already in a foul mood. I somehow overslept, forgot to pack my bags last night and the shitty coffee from the campus cafe wasn’t helping. And when I finally made it on the bus by 6:50am, every seat was taken. Every fucking one–except for the spot next to Carter.

He was leaning against the window, hoodie pulled up, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else which was fucking weird because hey, he’s the fucking captain, remember?

“Move.” I snapped, gesturing to his bag that was hogging half the seat.

As if he was deep in thought, he blinked up at me, blue eyes wide in confusion and then the confusion was instantly replaced with a scowl. “Sit somewhere else.” he grumbled but when I glared at him pointedly and he saw everywhere was taken, he gritted his teeth. With a sigh, he shifted his bag to the floor, not saying another word.

Which worked just fine for me. I didn’t want to talk to him either.

The bus rumbled to life, and soon we were on the road. For the first hour, silence stretched between us despite the raucousness of the other guys. Noah was awfully quiet, angled towards the window, pretending to be asleep but he couldn’t fucking fool me. I just leaned back, earpods blasting AC-DC as I tried to ignore the fact that his arm was resting on the chair dividers, almost touching me.

Anyway, I kept my eyes forward, for the most part, until my gaze betrayed me.

It started small, a sideways glance at the edge of his hoodie where his blonde hair curled slightly against the fabric. Asshole.

Just then he shifted, his head turning slightly, and I caught the curve of his throat. Fuck. that throat. The way it dipped down into the collar of his hoodie, corded with thick veins. I wanted to bite it, to feel his pulse under my teeth while he groaned and begged for my cock.

Stop it. What the fuck was wrong with me? Forcing my gaze away, i increased the volume of the music in my ear, tuning everything else out.

The rest of the drive was the longest of my life and when we finally arrived, it was my turn to run off the bus like my butt was on fire and I planned to avoid Noah Carter as much as I could.

Soon we were on the rink, surrounded by screaming students on the bleachers. Since we were a tad far from our school, there weren’t a lot of Blue’s in the crowd and there were more boos hurled at us than cheers.

Maybe that would have dampened the spirits of other teams, but not us. The game was fucking chaos.

Bridgewater's most formidable rival, Northern Nomads from Langford College were good–fast, aggressive, and not afraid to play dirty.

But for the first time since I joined the Arctic Blades, something clicked between me and Noah, all plans to avoid him out the window.

We moved like two halves of the same whole, as if we could read each other’s minds. He’d pass, I’d shoot. I’d block, he’d score. The booing from the crowd grew even louder as more pucks flew into their net, but every single thing faded into the background. Logically, I knew every single person on our team was playing their asses off but it felt like it was just me and him, moving on the ice together. It was seamless and by the end of the game, we’d left the other team in dust.

5-2. Our fucking win.

By the time we were all in the locker room, showering and changing back into our team jackets, the energy was fucking great. Adrenaline and testosterone were pumping in large doses as the guys laughed and shouted, recounting epic shots and saves.

Despite all of this, I still felt disconnected from everyone. I mean it was good and I even heard some of the O.Gs whisper a few things about how great I’d played, yet, my chest was tight as I removed my pads.

Maybe it was their underhanded homophobic comments that made me boil. Those ugly mugs, always obsessed with talk about who was the one to be most likely pegged as if any queer man would touch them with a ten-foot pole.

Suddenly a shadow fell over me and when I looked up, my body tensed, seeing Carter in front of me.

There was a smile on his stupid face and for a quick second, I frowned, glancing over my shoulder to check who the hell he was smiling at. But his smile grew even softer and he further stepped into my space.

Back the fuck up. I thought in my mind but my throat had closed up.

Not noticing my discomfort, he said, “That was…insane. I mean you were insane out there. Good game, Dorian.” his voice was filled with childlike excitement and I blinked, absolutely caught off guard by the sudden friendliness. Cat got my fucking tongue and after an odd silence began stretching between us, I cleared my throat.

“Okay,” I said flatly and almost kicked myself. Well, that was…

His expression dimmed for a very brief second before he gave me a curt nod and walked away to the center of the room, to give a speech. As I watched him walk away, head full of golden curls held high, a strange unwelcome warmth spread through my chest and I found myself close to preening like that little boy who’d hung on to every word Noah said years ago.

No one had ever genuinely praised my skills. I hated how good it made me feel.