Hockey Rivalry: Bed first, game later

“Get on your knees and suck my cock,” he whispered seductively in the dimly lit room, and I froze. The windows were open, letting in a cool breeze, and although I couldn't see his face clearly, I knew he was wearing that mischievous smirk of his.

“Go to hell, Kane. What makes you think I’d suck you? How about you kneel for me?” I spat back with a grimace, trying to sound unbothered even though I knew I had a lot at stake.

A low, husky chuckle slipped from his lips, and the room fell into a strange silence, our breathing and the soft wind the only sounds between us. Suddenly, his arms wrapped around my back, pulling me against him as his hand slid down and grabbed my dick, squeezing it.

“Ah…. fuck!” I moaned before quickly covering my mouth in embarrassment.

He laughed. “Oops, my bad. So, are you going to get on your knees, or should I release the videos?” His hot breath brushed my neck, telling me exactly how close he was. He held up my phone, the screen glowing with a gallery of his face.

"Yes, my secret has just been discovered by my most hated enemy!”

"Your fans would be so disappointed. Your team would call you a traitor. Do you really want to find out what happens if I press ‘send’ right now? With sixty-nine thousand people waiting for us?” He asked with a cold smile.

“I hate you,” I growled, even though deep down I loved how he made me feel. I loved the way his long blond hair whipped through the air whenever he jumped. I loved how his huge cock hardened when he skated on the ice or wore those see-through pants. His tattooed body was sinfully sexy, and half the time I got so distracted my dick paid the price.

He glanced down at my lower half, and when he saw my erection, he grinned. “Oh boy, you’re so hard. I changed my mind, I don’t want you to suck me. I want to fuck your brains out.” He declared with a mischievous look.

My ears burned in embarrassment. I pushed him away, hating how my body responded to his every touch. “We’re rivals, and we're expected to play against each other in a few minutes,” I muttered, even though I wanted him badly. I wanted to shove my dick down his throat and cum all over that annoyingly perfect face.

Fuck. Just thinking about it was making me hard. My body squirmed, and I clenched my jaw. His hand was still on my cock, and the shove I gave him earlier only seemed to excite him more.

“Good,” he murmured. “You’ve got five minutes to make me cum. Quit wasting time. Get on all fours like the good boy you are and let me fuck you.” His mouth brushed my ear, gently nibbling before he licked down my neck.

“Too bad. I’m top. I’ve never bottomed,” I said, and he burst into taunting laughter.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he teased. Before I could respond, he grabbed my wrists, twisted them behind my back, and shoved me against the locker, my red, exposed asshole facing his hardened cock.

“Fuck, this shouldn’t be happening. Not after everything between us… Not after….”

——

Thirty Minutes Earlier:

Year 2017

Commentator with an excited voice: “Today is the day we've all been waiting for. Scores that had never been attained in decades will be won. History will be made, and we are rewriting the legends of ice Hockey!”

“Arghhhhhh!!” There was a loud cheer as the crowds of thousands rejoiced, chanting the names of their favorite players. This was one of the biggest Hockey games ever recorded, and the arena was the largest in the city, accommodating a total of sixty-nine thousand guests.

The arena was a mess, and it looked overcrowded and too energetic. The crowds were screaming in excitement, and the broadcasters kept talking about their favorite players. Journalists and reporters were everywhere, cheerleaders were cheering from the sidelines, and a certain percentage of the crowd kept screaming my name, begging me to win the championship trophy. At the opposite end of the rink was my nightmare, Kane Hau Alexander Williams. He had a flirtatious smirk on his face as he looked at the ladies in the crowd, but as soon as his eyes landed on me and we made eye contact, a mischievous smirk settled on his face, and he winked.

My heart stopped, and for a second, I forgot that the man flirting with me was my biggest rival. 

“Why can't I resist him? Why am I never able to ignore him? Do I want to lose my life over a gay scandal?” I asked myself with a grimace. And as soon as I regained my conscience, I frowned, silently informing him that I wasn't scared or intimidated by his presence. Kane shook his head in awe at my bravery, and I could swear his eyes lingered on me a lot longer than usual. His long blonde hair dripped with water, and the bottle in his hand had been emptied, giving him a sexy physique. Part of his arm's Phoenix tattoo was showing from underneath his tight t-shirt, and the water on him allowed me to see his toned and muscular body shape. I got so lost staring at him that I quietly watched as he knelt to tie his shoelace. I also noticed he took longer than usual.

“You look fat, loser.” Those were his words as I read his lips, and my eyes widened like those of a little girl caught stealing. He turned to face the cheering crowd, leaving me flustered and embarrassed. 

I hate him, and whenever I have a match against the United States team, I silently hope that he gets substituted because he's that good. But my prayer has never been answered, and he was always ready to flirt with me before every damn game. 

Why do I hate him? Because we're arch-rivals. I'm Canada's top ice hockey player, and I give it my all. Everyone is relying on me; my family, my teammates, my country, my fans. I don't even have the time to play or make friends. But Kane was the opposite of what I stand for. He jokes with literally everything, always comes late to our joint meetings and events, and when asked why, he gives silly excuses. I don't even understand how he got recruited and became the United States top ice-hockey player. But the first time I played against him and lost, I knew he was my nemesis, and I immediately marked him as my rival.

The fans enjoyed our interactions and verbal exchanges, much to my teammates' dismay. Although I tried to avoid him, Kane wouldn't let me be, constantly teasing me or flirting with me at every chance. And I like it. Over the years, I've gotten used to his annoying behavior, and I attend boring events just to see his face. I wouldn't say I like him, but I'm curious about him. Curious to know how he is one of the best when he's always playing around. I also envy him, he is from a wealthy and political family, he can have anything he wants, so why hockey? There are a lot of things I'd like to know about him. But we are rivals. We've never had a proper conversation. I'm either hiding away from him or he's flirting with me.

“Gay? Is he a homosexual?” I once asked on an anonymous platform.

“He likes flirting with everyone, both men and women. But he has never confirmed being in a relationship.” That was the reply I got, and slowly, I became Kane's fanboy, admiring him in private, yet hating him whenever we met. He's annoying, we're arch-rivals, and people expect me to hate him and win.

I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then pulled out my phone and started recording Kane as he smiled and teased the crowd. This was my little secret, and I had thousands of his pictures and videos on my phone.

“Ethan,” James called out, and his warm hand touched my back. I jumped up in fear, my phone falling to the floor. James was our team's goalie, and I couldn't pick up my phone in front of him, because Kane's face was my wallpaper. So I secretly pushed it with my leg to the other side of the room.

James looked surprised, and he eyed my phone suspiciously. “What are you doing? Today is the semifinals. It determines if we'll make it to the final. You can't be spacing out; my future depends on you. If you don't get your head straight, our teammates will go down with you,” he said with a stern look. It was the same chorus I'd heard a million times. 

“Your future depends on me? What about my future? Who does it depend on? You'd better work on becoming a better ice hockey player and stop inconveniencing others!” That was what I wanted to tell him, but I controlled myself and offered him a bright smile.

“Don't worry, James. I will try my best,” I replied politely.

I don't have a perfect relationship with my teammates, but we're cool. Before every match, they'd remind me to win, and once I win, they'd advise me to start planning for the next tournament. Not everyone is supportive; about two per cent of them just look at me with disgust and jealousy.

James scoffed and turned to leave. “I don't need you to try, Ethan, I need you to win.” 

After James left, I was very relieved that the secret hadn't been discovered. Just as I bent down to pick up my phone, someone else picked it up faster than I could.

“Your phone shouldn't be on the floor,” he mumbled, absentmindedly cleaning my phone's pouch.

“Hmm…w-what are you doing here?” I stammered, and Kane smirked, his eyes scrutinizing me.

“To congratulate you before the game. I know how much this match means to you, and I want to see you before I skate your little ass on the ice,” he said with a teasing smile, and I immediately frowned. Angry that he called me little.

“Give me back my phone, dickhead,” I growled and lunged at him.

Kane shifted, and I missed. He accidentally activated the screen, and when he looked at my wallpaper, he froze. I saw a different side of him, he wasn't smiling or flirting, he had a deep frown on his face as he carefully went through my files.

I stand still, praying that the ground opens and swallows me. He had seen that I'd spent three years of my life stalking him.

Kane suddenly looks up at me, smiles, but utters words that send chills down my spine: "I never thought you were a pervert, Ethan." His voice turned husky, as he chuckled. "....meet me in the abandoned locker room. We need to talk about your.... photography skills,” he said with an expressionless face. But he didn't look surprised, it was like he'd already known about my obsession.