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004
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2026-03-23 15:36:50~KAI POV~
I barely slept. I kept replaying the newsroom door closing. Jax's fingers on my collarbone like he was tracing a claim. My dick stayed half-hard for hours. I jerked off in the dark thinking about his voice saying "good," came fast and hated myself faster. I shower after, cold this time. It didn't help. The marks are still there, throbbing, proof. Morning comes too quickly. My hoods up. Earbuds in. Nothing playing. Just noise to drown the echo of my own breathing. The hallway's packed. Lockers slam. I spin my combo wrong twice. My fingers are still shaky from last night. My neck collar was pulled high. Concealer did jack shit—the bite mark peeks out like a bruise I earned. Then he's there. Three lockers down. Leaning. His phone in hand, reading slowly. Smirking like he's tasting every word I wrote to hurt him. He doesn't look up right away. He lets me feel watched first. When his eyes lift....dark, amused, bruise under the left one looking like he wore it for me...my stomach drops. "Nice try," he says, quietly, just for me. I slam my locker. The metal rings. "Fuck off, Carter." He pushes off the wall. Steps closer. It was slow, relaxed. Like we're nothing. "You spelled 'arrogant' right. Progress." My jaw tight. "Move." He's close now. The air feels heavy. It smells like cedar. My jacket is cold. I breathe the air in, more than I want to. People walk by. Someone calls his name like it's holy. He doesn't break eye contact. "You're mad," he says, soft and almost careful. "No shit." "You're mad because you liked it." Heat floods my face. I glance—nobody is close enough to hear. Milo's down the hall somewhere. "I didn't like anything." He steps in. His body heat hits me before his hand does. My back meets locker metal, cold bite through hoodie. His knuckles graze my hip. Slow. Intentional. It slides under the hem of my shirt. His thumb hooks the waistband of my jeans—just the edge, not pulling, just holding, claiming space I didn't give. My breath snags. Loud and embarrassing. He feels it. He leans closer. His mouth near my ear. "You're shaking again." his Voice low and rough. "Still pretending you hate it?" I dig nails into his jacket, and I try to shove. Hips press forward instead—traitor kink. My dick thickens against my thigh, wet already and leaking just from his thumb pressing there. From his breath on my neck. I hate how my mouth waters. Hate how my body remembers his thigh between mine last night. Hate how I almost moan right here in the hallway. Across the way— stood Milo. He's frozen, backpack half-slung, his eyes on my hand fisted in Jax's jacket. On Jax's thumb hooked in my waistband. On the way my chest rises too fast. Milo's face doesn't break. It just... empties. Like he's watching the door lock all over again. Guilt slams me low—quick, sick twist in my gut. Right as heat pools harder. Shame and want knot so tight I can't breathe right. Jax glances over and sees Milo. He doesn't move his hand. Milo looks at me, for long and in silence. Then turns and walks away. His shoulders stiff. The guilt spikes hotter than the arousal. I shove harder this time. Jax lets me push him back—one step. His thumb slips free. "You're an asshole," I rasp. "Yeah." No apology, he just looked at me. Like he knows exactly what he's doing to me. "I'm not doing this." "You already are." He leans in one last time. His voice drops so only I hear. "You can write whatever you want. Call me selfish. Reckless. Doesn't change that you let me touch you. Doesn't change you're wet for it right now." My face burns. My dick throbs. I clench my thighs—pointless. "Fuck you." He smiles. "Later." Then he walks. The crowd splits for him. Some king shit. I stay there. Back to the locker, breathing ragged, hand shaking where it brushed my waistband—right where his thumb was. My phone buzzes. Milo. 'You okay?' I stare at the screen. My thumbs hover, I don't reply, just shove it in my pocket and walk the other way, knowing I'm lying to him. Lying to Jax. Lying to myself worst. Because yeah. I'm wet, and yeah. I'm thinking about it. And yeah. I'm already counting the minutes until "later."
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Puck & Ruin 009
KAIThe snow started during the second period and did not stop.By the time the final buzzer went, the highway was closed. Coach stood in the locker room doorway with his phone out, reading the weather alert like it personally offended him. Two motels. Twelve miles from the rink. Everyone splitting between them.I didn't think about it until I was already on the press van and the engine made a sound like something dying inside it.It rolled to a stop on a dark stretch of road with snow coming sideways through the headlights. The driver got out, lifted the hood, and Stood there in the wind for thirty seconds before coming back to tell us it wasn't going anywhere tonight.I sat in the dark van with my laptop bag on my lap and listened to the snow hit the windows.The team bus stopped behind us. I heard the door open and footsteps in the snow.Then a knock on the van window, close to my face.Jax.He didn't say anything. He just looked at me through the glass with that flat, patient e
Puck & Ruin 008
~KAI ~It was super quiet in the newsroom that night, like a quiet that made your ears feel weird. You could only hear the lights buzzing and the old radiator banging, like it was fighting the cold.I was the only one left, hunched over my laptop at the back desk, staring at the half-finished assembly write-up that was due in less than an hour. My fingers kept missing the keys. Every time I blinked I saw that storage room again — Jax's thumb dragging slow circles under my hoodie, Milo's blank face in the doorway, the way my body had leaned in even while my mouth tried to say no.The door opened with a soft click.I didn't have to look up. I already knew it was him.Jax came in with two coffee cups from the shop nearby. Steam rose into the chilly air. He put one next to my keyboard, so close I could feel the heat on my wrist."For the guy who hates me," he said, voice low and almost gentle, like he was handing over a truce instead of lighting a match.I stared at the cup. My throat
Puck & Ruin 007
~KAI~The gym still smelled like floor wax and cheap excitement when the assembly finally wrapped up. Everyone was clapping, chairs scraping back, parents snapping pictures like the Ice Hawks had just won the damn Super Bowl. I stayed low in the third row, notebook squeezed tight, pretending I was busy checking my phone so I wouldn't have to look anyone in the eye.Jax had been on that stage the whole time, jacket unzipped, white tee underneath, sleeves rolled up like he had just come off the ice. He told some story about last year's fundraiser, kids, hockey sticks, giving back to the community. The crowd ate every word. Girls sighed. Guys nodded like he was dropping gospel. Even the teachers looked half in love with him.I wrote one line and hated it immediately: 'Captain Carter turns on the charm like it's nothing. The whole room bought it. Again.'I hated how good he looked up there. I hated the way my eyes kept drifting to the line of his throat when he swallowed. I hated
Puck & Ruin 006
POV: KAIThe press box smells like musty coffee and old popcorn. I sit in the back row, laptop balanced on my knees, hoodie zipped to my chin. The collar still hides most of the mark, but I feel it every time I swallow. Like a reminder I can't delete.Game starts fast. Puck drops. The crowd roars. I type without looking down much—habit now. The Ice Hawks are up early, but it's not the score I'm watching.It's him.Jax skates like he's hunting. Quick stops, hard turns, eyes scanning the ice like he's looking for something specific. Every shift he's on, the rink feels smaller. Every time he touches the puck, the noise in my head quiets for a second.First goal comes at 8:14 of the first. He rips a wrist shot from the slot. Puck hits twine. Light flashes. The crowd loses it.He doesn't celebrate the way the others do. No fist pump. No stick tap. He just glides to center ice, slow. Then he turns, looks straight up at the press box.Straight at me.No smile. No wink. Just that endless da
Puck & Ruin 005
Interlude: Jax's HeadPOV: JAXI don't think about him all the time.That's what people would say if they knew. They would call it obsession, make it sound loud. It's not loud. It's steady. Like breathing. You don't notice until you stop.First time I saw him—freshman year, hallway, head down over a notebook—he didn't look up. Everyone else did. They always do. But Kai just kept writing. Like the world wasn't happening around him. Like I wasn't happening.I liked that.Then the party, basement, too much noise, too much booze. He laughed at something stupid I said. Looked at me like I was real for once. Not the captain, not the scholarship kid, just me.The door locked. His back against the sink. My hands under his shirt. He trembled. Said my name once...soft, surprised....like he didn't expect to like how it felt coming out.He came apart fast. Eyes wide. Mouth open. I watched every second, memorized it. The way his fingers dug into my shoulders. The way he bit his lip so hard it
Puck & Ruin 004
~KAI POV~I barely slept.I kept replaying the newsroom door closing. Jax's fingers on my collarbone like he was tracing a claim. My dick stayed half-hard for hours. I jerked off in the dark thinking about his voice saying "good," came fast and hated myself faster. I shower after, cold this time. It didn't help. The marks are still there, throbbing, proof.Morning comes too quickly. My hoods up. Earbuds in. Nothing playing. Just noise to drown the echo of my own breathing.The hallway's packed. Lockers slam. I spin my combo wrong twice. My fingers are still shaky from last night. My neck collar was pulled high. Concealer did jack shit—the bite mark peeks out like a bruise I earned.Then he's there.Three lockers down. Leaning. His phone in hand, reading slowly. Smirking like he's tasting every word I wrote to hurt him.He doesn't look up right away. He lets me feel watched first.When his eyes lift....dark, amused, bruise under the left one looking like he wore it for me...my sto
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