“Sidney comes highly recommended,” Zhenya hears at the edge of his consciousness. It’s dulled, like a blade with the edges worn down over time. He feels like he’s wading through an ocean after doing suicides for a year.
“Huh?” Zhenya tries. His tongue is heavy in his mouth, saliva pooling so often he has to swallow continually. His skin is prickling, sweat starting to stain his game day suit. He itches, wants to tear everything off and just-- fuck, or die.
“I said, Sidney comes highly recommended.” Jen Bullano, their PR manager, looks pissy. As if it’s his fault for not being able to concentrate. Zhenya frowns. They don’t give suppressants for alphas, but if they did, he’d fucking be on them. He can’t help the biological imperatives, and he doesn’t like them any more than Jen does.
“For what?” he snaps. The frustration that’s bubbling under the surface is threatening to boil over, but Jen could kick his ass easily if she wanted to, gamma (and almost two feet shorter) or not.
Jen snorts, tapping her foot in front of his stall. He’s waiting for the others to finish getting dressed so they can go to the bus and make the short flight back home. “You stink of rut, Geno. It’s bad enough that even I’m picking it up. We need your head on straight for the playoffs. So, that’s where Sidney comes in.”
Zhenya’s not exactly sure where she’s going with this, but it sounds like she’s gotten him an escort. “Jen! Don’t need escort, can pick up fine!” he protests, the back of his neck and his cheeks flushing.
Nealsy is unfortunately close enough to hear him, and he leans over and opens his mouth to say something like an asshole. Zhenya elbows him sharply, hard enough that he yelps, glares, and withdraws back to his own stall.
“You pick up the wrong sort of attention, G,” Jen tells him, exasperated. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you... but your type is loud, and we don’t need loud right now. We need focus.”
Zhenya is gearing up to remind Jen that his personal business is his personal business, dynamics included, and when she shoves her iPhone at him there’s a picture of this Sidney on screen. And oh. His mouth snaps shut straight away and he reaches for the phone as he feels a familiar tug in his lower midsection.
“Thought so,” she says, going to retrieve her phone from him. He won’t let it go. She sighs and leaves him with it, and he stares at the full, pink lips tilted in a coy smile, and the unreal hazel eyes staring back at him.
They land in Pittsburgh a little after ten, and Zhenya’s rut has really taken hold-- so much so that Nealsy and Paulie kicked him out the card game after he almost punched TK for winning a hand. “Sorry, TK,” he’d said, hangdog, and went back to his seat to clench the handrests and drink as much cold water as he could stand.
“Sidney will be waiting at your house,” Jen says once they land in Pittsburgh. Zhenya nods and heads straight for his car, jaw clenching as his pants catch against his cock, swollen and nestled uncomfortably down his left pant leg. Fucking ruts, fuck them.
On the drive home, he contemplates just swerving to a club in the city and picking up a beta, or even an omega if he’s lucky, but there’s someone willing and waiting at home for him, even if the club is footing the bill. It’ll get him through the next few hours, and he’ll be pissed off about it later, but all he wants now is to knot someone, eat his weight in carbs, and sleep. His ruts have gone for days before, but this one doesn’t feel like it’s settling in for the long haul, which Zhenya counts his blessings for.
When he arrives, there’s a town car waiting in his driveway. Zhenya pulls up and gets out, his Ferrari sleek and glossy in the evening. As he’s locking it, the door opens and a man gets out. He leans by the window and Zhenya’s mouth waters all over again, the curve of his ass in his dark grey slacks like a fucking sin.
Zhenya’s going to destroy him.
“You must be Evgeni,” Sidney says in smooth Russian as the town car pulls away. Zhenya’s caught off guard hearing his mother tongue, albeit with a Canadian accent.
“Um,” he says. Sidney smiles, wide and open.
“I played juniors in Moscow for a few years, finished high school over there. I had to pick up the language,” Sidney says with a small shrug.
“Sound good,” Zhenya manages to stammer out. His senses are all heightened from his rut, and he can pick up the spicy undertones of Sidney’s cologne, and the scent of omega that hides underneath.
Sidney’s eyes go lidded as the wind blows by and Zhenya’s own smell hits him.
“Wow, you’re pretty far gone, aren’t you.” It isn’t even a question, and Zhenya doesn’t bother with a reply, fumbling his house keys and finally getting them inside.
Sidney stands behind him as he shuts the door and leans his forehead against it.
“What do you need?” Sidney asks, and Zhenya looks over his shoulder. Sidney’s shucking off his shoes and lining them up with the rest of Zhenya’s, and it makes Zhenya’s chest ache to see them settle so easily beside his running shoes. He pushes that aside and turns around, his back to the wood.
“You,” he says. He’s found it best to be open and honest when with new partners, especially if he’s in a rut. He can’t-- things get a little fucked up sometimes with one night stands, especially during heat-induced fuck sessions, and he’s a big guy. He eyes Sidney. Sidney looks like he can handle everything Zhenya’s going to bring to the table.
Sidney laughs, a delicious sound that makes Zhenya’s veins sing. Zhenya pushes up off the door and into Sidney’s space.
“Condoms, or no condoms?” Sidney asks, putting a palm against Zhenya’s chest. His mouth drops open in a groan. “I’m asking because we get tested after every client, so I’m clean. The club-- you’re--” Sidney breaks off as Zhenya starts nodding furiously.
“Clean, last test was a month ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since.” It’s so nice to be able to speak in Russian, not have to think in English or try and form sentences and use verbs and fuck tenses, honestly, English tenses are the worst.
“Good.” Sidney’s eyes go dark as he pulls off his jacket and holds it out to Zhenya, who puts it on the coat rack alongside his own. “Where’s your bedroom?” Sidney asks.
Zhenya bites his tongue and points upstairs. “Second on the left.”
They get undressed quickly, Zhenya’s breathing coming quicker as the rut settles in for the long haul. He can feel it coiled in his gut, burning up along the bottom of his spine and roaring into full flame. He can smell an omega. An omega that wants him.
Sidney’s arousal is no less intoxicating, and Zhenya wants to get his mouth all over Sidney’s body, wants to mark him up and fuck him until he cries. Sidney looks up from where he’s folding his slacks over the chair beside Zhenya’s bed, and his eyes zero in on Zhenya’s dick. Zhenya feels smug as they widen.
“Jesus,” he breathes out.
“Impressed?” Zhenya asks, coming closer until Sidney’s pressed flush against him. Sidney looks up and swallows.
“I, ah. I’ve been around a bit but… you’re, um.”
“I’m too big?” Zhenya starts, a little concerned now. Sidney seems self-confident and in control, but now that they’re both naked and turned on, he’s become a little… less so, somehow. He still smells aroused and interested, his omega tones mixing deliciously with his emotions and heightening Zhenya’s rut, but.
“Maybe,” Sidney says with a shrug, and then wraps his hand around Zhenya’s neck and tugs him down for a kiss. It’s wet and sloppy, Zhenya taking control and walking them back to his bed, until Sidney bumps against it and flops down, his mouth tearing from Zhenya’s.
“Fuck,” Sidney says, sprawled out. His legs are splayed and his dick is hard. Zhenya wants to suck it, but he needs to take the edge off first.
Zhenya leaves no time for talking, kissing Sidney again as he gets on the bed, leaning over to fumble for the lube. Sidney lets Zhenya push him back against the pillows, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. Zhenya pulls his legs apart and tugs him down a little, so his ass is pressing against Zhenya’s knees.
“You said you do this often. How often?” Zhenya asks, coating his fingers in lube and circling them around Sidney’s hole. He throws his head back and clutches at the bedsheets, and Zhenya pushes a finger in, smirking as he finds Sidney wet already.
“E-enough.” Sidney clenches down on him, and Zhenya’s cock gives a little kick.
“Tell me,” Zhenya implores, putting a little push behind it. Sidney whimpers and tries to work himself down on Zhenya’s fingers, but Zhenya won’t give him three until Sidney answers him.
“Fuck, okay, I’m-- maybe twenty? I’ve only been doing this for a couple of years. I’m studying, it’s good mo-oh fuck,” Sidney gasps out as Zhenya rewards him with another finger. Zhenya grins.
“Good, Sidney,” he croons, leaning over to kiss him. He pulls out and wipes his fingers off on his dick, taking a second to try and concentrate, angling his cock and pushing in.
He moans, so long and loud as he sinks into Sidney’s heat, slick and wet and it’s singing to his rut, his knot already half-swollen and aching. “Sidney, I need--” Zhenya breaks off as Sidney digs his fingers into Zhenya’s shoulder.
“Too-- hang on, too much,” he says between gritted teeth, wincing. Zhenya whimpers but stops, and pulls back out when Sidney pushes at his chest.
“Get on your back,” Sidney says, and Zhenya doesn’t like being pushed around by an unfamiliar omega, but Sidney soothes it with a palm sweeping along the wings of his shoulderblade, kissing him as he rearranges Zhenya and climbs back on.
“Such a good alpha, so big and perfect,” Sidney mumbled against his lips, making Zhenya whimper and jerk against him. Sidney’s hands are firm around his dick, and guide him back into that warm wetness he’s craving so badly.
“Good,” Sidney says, able to control the slide and exactly how much he’s taking in. Zhenya’s dick doesn’t sink home, not how he wants it to, but Sidney starts to ride him slowly, thigh, powerful thighs clenching against him in time with the rhythm.
Sidney’s nails scrape down Zhenya’s chest, the sting sparking off the rut inside, making him want to roar, but he just grits his teeth and holds on, hands settled in the curve of Sidney’s hips, grunting as Sidney takes in more and more of him . It’s not long before Sidney’s seated entirely, gasping as the final stretch comes, Zhenya so close and needing one last push, one last stretch to get inside completely. Sidney does it, letting out a broken gasp as Zhenya forces himself up inside, and comes so fucking hard it hurts.
“Sidney,” he sobs, biting the pillow and groaning. Sidney says something, but the blood is rushing in Zhenya’s ears as Sidney fucks himself on Zhenya’s knot, before there’s a splash and Sidney’s come splatters on his abdomen.
“Fucking hell,” Zhenya says, once he’s able to let go of Sidney and spit the pillow from between his teeth. Sidney’s head is hanging, his shoulders trembling as he moves, little by little, testing himself on Zhenya’s knot. He smells conflicted-- sorehappysatedconfused all mixing into one big ball of weird. “Sidney?” Zhenya repeats. Sidney looks down at him, a small smile on his face.
“Yeah?” Sidney’s fingers are pressing against Zhenya’s chest, a counterpoint to keeping Zhenya balanced, keeping him from feeling like he’s going to fly apart. Sidney’s either very good at his job, which Zhenya doesn’t doubt at all, or he’s just going blindly off instinct right now.
“You okay? Smell weird,” Zhenya says, in English this time. He figures Sidney might need something familiar after what they just did, as overwhelming as it was. The rut’s still there, bubbling under his skin, but the first fuck always takes the edge off for long enough to regroup, for his knot to go down, and then to start round two.
Sidney nods. “Yeah. That was intense, hey?”
Zhenya remembers Sidney telling him that he’s the biggest he’s ever had. “I’m too big?” he asks, gesturing behind Sidney’s back. Sidney nods, fingers pressing harder.
“No. I just-- it feels great, but. Definitely have to work myself up to you.” He laughs at that, a little honking noise that makes Zhenya’s gut curl-- not from the rut, but from endearment, something he hasn’t known Sidney long enough to feel, not yet. He pushes it down and wonders if they can roll over to get Sidney in a more comfortable position.
“Are your legs okay?”
Sidney nods, but lets Zhenya rearrange them, so Sidney’s on his back this time, his hips canted up to accommodate Zhenya’s knot. He slides a pillow beneath Sidney’s ass, and Sidney moans as Zhenya shifts.
“Are you ready for more?” Zhenya purrs in Russian, and Sidney licks his lips. Zhenya can’t help himself, ducks down to kiss Sidney deep and consuming, working his way into Sidney’s mouth and pulling back to suck kisses along Sidney’s jaw and neck.
“Mark me,” Sidney says, fisting his hands in Zhenya’s hair, his hips moving against Zhenya’s knot, deflated enough that Zhenya can start to fuck Sidney again.
It’s slower, less urgent this time around. Zhenya’s rut certainly hasn’t gone anywhere, but his desire for Sidney seems to be growing in its place. He sucks bruises along Sidney’s neck on both sides, claiming and deep. He wouldn’t, usually, it’s too possessive for a stranger, but Sidney asked for it, so he focuses on biting and licking as his thrusting becomes something his body just does, responding to Sidney’s direction without much thought at all.
When he’s done enough, he moves back up to kiss Sidney, unable to get enough of his taste or smell. Now his rut haze has broken down a little, he can smell sea salt and limestone instead of drowning in omega. Sidney’s biting his lips, pupils blown wide and face and chest flushed pink, and Zhenya wonders what his nipples taste like.
“Zhenya,” Sidney starts as Zhenya pulls away, but he moves his mouth to latch onto a nipple instead, and Sidney throws his head back. “Fuck, oh my god, please--” he chokes, and Zhenya grins and starts rolling the nub between his teeth, as gently as he can manage, before he gives a little tug and returns to sucking it.
Sidney gets a hand on his dick and is pulling himself off, which makes Zhenya sad, so he bats Sidney’s hand away, pulling his own up to Sidney’s face. “Lick it, get it wet,” Zhenya says, pulling off Sidney’s chest to move to the other nipple, before he starts on that. Sidney starts sucking his fingers, coating them liberally, and Zhenya tells him what a good omega he is, doing what his alpha wants so prettily.
“Fuck, yes, anything you want,” Sidney begs. Zhenya figures that deserves a reward, his alpha nature preening at how wonderful this omega is to him, and he thinks that he doesn’t care how much Sidney costs-- he’s having this guy back for his next rut.
Zhenya wraps his fingers around Sidney’s cock and works him, tight and close, jerking the foreskin over the head and watching as Sidney falls apart, Zhenya’s mouth hot and wet on his nipple and his dick hitting Sidney’s prostate every other thrust. He pulls off Sidney’s chest and plants his hands on either side of Sidney’s head, looming over him as he starts to fuck in harder and faster, wanting to knot and come already, the rut starting to itch desperately.
“Sidney,” Zhenya says, mindless with it, not sure what he’s asking for. Sidney pulls him down and kisses him, sucks on his tongue and licks at his mouth, sucking his bottom lip and squeezing his ass.
“Such a good alpha, fucking me like this. Come inside me, Zhenya, fill me up,” Sidney whispers.
Zhenya’s so weak in the face of that, of those words, coming to him in his language, and he does as he’s told, comes so hard it almost blinds him. He knots and flops forward, Sidney wrapping his arms around Zhenya’s middle, holding him close.
The rut breaks soon after Zhenya’s knot deflates for the second time, and he pulls himself out and flops onto his back, both of them exhausted and staring up at the ceiling. Sidney sniffs, and Zhenya wonders what he’s trying to smell for.
“I think your rut broke,” Sidney says. He sounds a little disappointed, and Zhenya manages a laugh.
Sidney shrugs and yawns, scratching at his belly. “Can I use your shower?” he asks. Zhenya nods and flaps an arm at his ensuite, too exhausted to do much else. Sidney groans and rolls out of bed, walking unsteadily into the bathroom and shutting the door.
When he comes out ten minutes later, Zhenya’s close to crashing. He knows he needs to eat, and he steels himself to get up and go downstairs, but Sidney’s there with a hand on his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he mutters and disappears downstairs. Zhenya raises an eyebrow but he’s too tired to question it, and he dozes until Sidney returns a little while later, a huge bowl of pasta and leftover sauce in his hands, a Gatorade tucked under his arm.
He’s back in the clothes he arrived in, but he smells of Zhenya’s body wash and shampoo.
“Eat,” Sidney says in Russian. Zhenya pulls himself into a sitting position and starts eating, pathetically grateful that Sidney apparently also does aftercare.
“So, you played juniors in Moscow?” Zhenya asks between mouthfuls.
Sidney’s just sitting there on the bed, crosslegged and watching him eat. It’d be weird, except it’s really not; all he can smell from Sidney is a contended exhaustion and he knows that’s pretty much exactly what he’s giving off too.
Sidney nods. “Yeah. I was pretty good. Hurt myself though, so came back stateside. I’m studying in New York, there’s good schools there. I travel a lot for this, though.” His scent dips a little, and Zhenya sighs. He can only imagine how horrible it would’ve been to be dedicated to something and have that taken away from you.
“How did you get into this?” Zhenya asks instead, trying to move the conversation to something less painful. He’s not sure if it’ll work or not. Sidney goes pink.
“Yeah. Strange business for a student.”
“Ah. I dunno, I had a friend who was doing it. Alphas at college used to go crazy over me for some reason. Like, not bad crazy but just… I didn’t have a shortage of them when I was in heat, let’s just say. Figured it was just a dynamics thing, but I had a knack for handling it, I guess? My friend said I might as well make some money from it while I could.” Sidney’s not ashamed of it, and Zhenya smiles. Competency at anything gets him hot.
“You are very good at it,” he confirms. Sidney laughs and rolls his eyes.
“When Jen called and asked if I was free, I gotta say… I’m surprised I didn’t break something. I was looking at another potential client but I’m glad I turned them down.” His eyes are dark as they rake over Zhenya’s body, still cooling down from their fuck session, naked and sweaty. Zhenya finds it hard to swallow. He’s the alpha, he should be giving the possessive, all-consuming looks like this, not the other way around. Having his omega-- an omega, he corrects himself-- do it instead makes his gut clench.
“I’m glad you did, too.” Zhenya manages.
He thinks that’s the end of it, kissing Sidney goodbye when his town car comes to pick him up, before showering and crawling into bed, drowning in the scent of their session together.
He has his cleaning service strip his bed and air his room the next day when he’s at practice, and when he gets home with Paulie, TK and Nealsy in tow, the place smells fresh and clean and nothing at all like Sidney.
“How’d the rut fuck go?” Nealsy asks, peering around the fridge for a suitable leftovers lunch. Zhenya rolls his eyes as Paulie chokes on his tea and TK snorts.
“Fine, thanks,” Zhenya says, slapping Nealsy upside the head and snickering as he whines.
It’s early May when his phone buzzes during a sushi lunch with Tanger and Flower on a road trip to New York, with an unknown number flashing on his screen.
“Who’s that?” Flower asks from where he’s trying to fit an entire California roll in his mouth. Tanger calls him a pig in French, something Zhenya only recognises from being called it so much by them himself, and he shrugs.
“Dunno,” he says and answers.
“Ah, is this Evgeni Malkin? It’s Sidney Crosby. From the other month?”
Zhenya’s heart starts to beat a little faster, his scent dipping and the other two’s noses twitch and they look at him, curious. He tries to curl away from them, but his scent will betray him, the warmth starting in his gut and wondering why Sidney’s calling.
“Yes, I remember you. What’s up?” He figures he’s not going to ask where Sidney got his number. He’s not mad about it, either way.
“I’m, ah. This is probably really inappropriate, and you can tell me no, but--”
“Sid. Tell me,” Zhenya says, feeling ridiculous. He hopes this is what Sidney seems to be edging towards.
“My heat, it came on today. And I usually have someone but my regular guy is visiting family in Ann Arbour, and um. I don’t ask clients-- I never do this, but um, I remember how it was with us, and maybe you’d…” Sidney trails off. Now that Sidney’s mentioned his heat, Zhenya can hear his breathing is quicker than normal, and the slightly desperate tinge to his words.
“Of course,” Zhenya says, almost falling over himself to get up. He throws some bills on the table and grabs his jacket.
“Where are you going?” Flower squawks. Zhenya waves a hand, and tells Sidney to text him his address.
When Zhenya arrives at the apartment block downtown, he gets to the 18th floor and finds apartment 7, his hand poised to knock when the door flies open.
The heat scent hits him like a punch to the gut and his jaw drops as he takes Sidney in, shirtless and only dressed in basketball shorts, sweaty and red-faced.
“Get in here,” Sidney demands, grabbing Zhenya’s shirt and yanking him inside. He shuts the door and slams Zhenya against it, kissing him hard and furious.
“Sid, need get shoes off,” Zhenya mumbles around his mouth, sticking to English, Sidney’s fingers already working his belt and shoving his jacket off. Between them they get Zhenya naked, and then Sidney’s turning around and grabbing Zhenya’s dick, stroking it to hardness and working himself back on it.
Zhenya’s never fucked someone against a door this way before. Sidney insists until he can handle having Zhenya mostly inside him, too crazy with his heat to wait until they get to the bedroom. He pulls away so Zhenya can take control, pushing Sidney against the door and hitching his leg up, fingers digging into Sidney’s ample thigh.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sidney keens, his heat scent smothering Zhenya, making him feel like he’s drowning. Sidney’s so slick and begging for it, fisting his dick like he wants to rip the fucking thing off. Zhenya buries his nose in the curve of Sidney’s neck and fucks him through the first wave of orgasm, Sidney splattering against his stomach and sobbing at the force of it. Zhenya grunts as his knot swells as he comes, spilling inside Sidney.
“Oh my god,” Sidney croaks, his head thunking back against his door. Zhenya’s chest is heaving like he’s just done a bunch of suicides, and the weight of Sidney’s heat is still heavy and oppressive in the room, in his nose, under his skin.
“Been a while?” Zhenya asks, once Sidney’s caught his breath. Sidney shrugs, looking a little embarrassed.
“Probably longer than it should’ve been. I got busy. You know how it is.”
Zhenya doesn’t, not really. He doesn’t get a choice; if he goes into rut, he goes into rut, and has to ride it-- or someone-- out until it breaks. Sidney seems to realise what he says and coughs, shifting a little, which makes Zhenya’s knot tug on his rim. He moans, unbidden, and Zhenya smirks.
“I’m knot you good, Sidney,” he purrs. Sidney seemingly can’t help but grip at his arms and tug him in for a kiss.
“So, you’re the booty call for an escort, now?” Seryozha’s voice is the last thing Zhenya wants to hear before 9am on a Thursday.
“Fuck off,” Zhenya says, jabbing at his phone until it goes on speaker so he can finish pouring his tea. His breakfast spread is in front of him and he just wants to eat, make another huge mug of tea and drive himself to practice. They dispatched the Blue Jackets in six, and they’re 3-2 up in the series against New York; they need to pull a win so they can move on and play the Bruins. Zhenya doesn’t have time to think about Sidney.
At least that’s what he tells himself.
Sidney manages to insert himself in Zhenya’s brain anyway-- they had an afternoon game in New York, a comfortable win that saw Zhenya at Sidney’s apartment, flushed with victory and wanting something human. Sidney had just leaned against his front door, eyes dark with want, before tugging Zhenya in by his tie.
Zhenya’s already texted Sidney, told him he’s coming and asked if he’s free. He doesn’t expect Sidney to reply for a while-- but the past few times they’ve hooked up, Sidney’s cleared his appointments. It makes Zhenya preen in that way alphas do best, all-consuming and jealous, stoked by the taste of omega in the back of his mouth. Sidney smells like maple and cinnamon, so warm and inviting, and Zhenya just wants to dive in and stay forever.
It’s a problem.
“Well, what else am I supposed to think? I hear you keep going back to this escort, what else should I be assuming?” Seryozha says, long suffering.
“We’re just having fun,” Zhenya says, poking at a slice of pineapple with his fork. “Escorts are people too.”
“I didn’t say they were, but you don’t do well with casual, or ‘having fun’. You’re an alpha.”
Zhenya’s hackles rise a little-- he doesn’t like being reduced to a stereotype or a dynamic. Seryozha knows this, hates it just as much when he’s put in the same position as a beta, but apparently he feels it strong enough if he’s saying it now.
“I’m a big boy, Seryozha, I can handle myself,” Zhenya says instead.
Seryozha laughs. “As if I’ve ever believed that. Be careful, Zhenya.”
Sidney texts him after they arrive in JFK and says he can’t see him; a client too big to reschedule is taking up his evening. Zhenya’s stomach swoops-- bitter disappointment twists there, and he swallows past it to text an ok back.
He knows there’s always going to be a client. He knows there’s always going to be a point Sidney can’t, or won’t, move past with him.
He shouldn’t hope for more, or build this into something it’s not.
Zhenya’s on the ice, warming up without his helmet on, when he catches Sidney’s scent and almost falls over. He breathes in deep and skates slowly around the rink, using his nose.
“What the fuck, G?” Nealsy says, stopping beside him.
“Can smell Sid,” Zhenya mutters. Nealsy blinks, and starts scanning the rink with him.
“Oh, look-- is that him, up in the stands?” Nealsy asks a moment later, pointing. Zhenya follows his finger and sure enough, there’s Sidney. Dressed in a sharp black suit and white shirt open at the collar, he’s sitting beside Glen Slather, GM of the Rangers. What the fuck.
“Slater hire escorts?” Zhenya hisses. Nealsy shrugs and tugs on his sleeve.
“C’mon G, we need to warm up. Get your head in the game.”
Zhenya feels Sidney’s eyes on him for the entire game, itchy and hot between his shoulders. When it finishes, he rushes through his shower and hustles outside to find Sidney standing with Slather, smiling and shaking hands. His eyes slide over them until they land on Zhenya, and he shudders.
“What you doing here?” Zhenya asks as Sidney excuses himself, takes Zhenya’s elbow and leads him around a corner. He looks nervous, and a little unsure. It’s so at odds with what Zhenya’s used to from Sidney. He’s used to Sidney being in control, he’s used to the smell of his slick and the feel of Sidney’s ass tight around his dick. He doesn’t know what to do with a Sidney like this, a Sidney who’s watched him play a pretty mediocre game of hockey and is now looking at him like he’s a puzzle, or a riddle. Zhenya’s really not that hard to figure out.
“I, ah. When I found out the Rangers were playing the Penguins, I swapped with another guy in the business,” Sidney says, swallowing. Zhenya sniffs the air and Sidney wrinkles his nose. It’s bad manners to try and scent like that, but Zhenya’s an alpha. He does what he likes sometimes.
“And?” Zhenya says, crossing his arms. Sidney huffs out a breath and steps into his face, tilting his chin upwards. He smells sweet, and hopeful. Zhenya’s jaw drops.
“How much more obvious do I need to be?” Sidney murmurs, a hand hot on the back of Zhenya’s neck as he tugs him in.
Zhenya hums against Sidney’s mouth. How much more obvious indeed.
“So, you finish with Slather now, or?” Zhenya asks as he pulls back. Sidney nods, looking a little bashful.
“Yeah, he just hired me for the game, to mingle at the drinks afterwards. I’ll be free by nine though.”
Zhenya bites down on his lip, swiping at the taste Sidney left behind.
“Hurry to me,” he says, stepping closer. Sidney nods, his fingers fisting in the fabric of Zhenya’s shirt.