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jongin bites the bullet and finally asks kyungsoo to move in with him a few days after they get eliminated at the conference finals. kyungsoo has recently finished filming Kiss and Cry, a sort of ice skating rip off of So You Think You Can Dance?

 

it’s a big deal; jongin’s team has spent their day off in front of the large tv in jongin’s living area watching the pilot episode (it’s on netflix too, because kyungsoo’s, like, an athlete-idol back in korea) and hollering every time kyungsoo comes on the screen.

 

his boyfriend has skipped the series altogether, spending it in his home country, and jongin can’t say he’s disappointed, really, when he has lost spectacularly and has a busted lip to show for it.

 

he says, “baby, please move in with me?” as he slides a key across the table in the middle of eating steak and kyungsoo’s favorite summer salad.

 

“huh?” kyungsoo just deadpans. he’s still chewing his last bite—arugula, walnuts, cranberries, and pomelo—and he looks like a deer caught in the headlights, or an amateur goalie in front of a mean-spirited slap shot.

 

“move in with me?” jongin repeats it again. he says it in a voice so small because his nerves are fraying. his palms are sweaty as hell and he’s more nervous right now than when he’s facing Team USA in 2018.

 

jongin - jongin just wants to wake up to kyungsoo every opportunity he has. he knows being a hockey player is tough—in every way possible. in relationships, most especially. he’s witnessed his teammates’ relationships burn out because of their erratic schedules, the long time spent away from each other. he takes a careful eye on the committed ones too, making sure none of them are picking up girls or guys or persons. he can’t exactly stop them but sometimes, a reminder is enough not to make a mistake.

 

the two of them have survived a weird sort of long distance relationship and jongin knows that kyungsoo is, well, it for him. he’s never been more certain—usually this kind of self-surety comes only when he’s on ice.

 

and jongin won’t say this out loud, sometimes he doesn’t even want to think about it because it’s selfish and ungrateful and everything he has trained himself not to be—it’s practically sacrilegious—but if it comes down to picking between hockey and kyungsoo, jongin will pick kyungsoo. he would throw the stick and hang his skates without a second thought, for his boyfriend.

 

kyungsoo can say skate and jongin will only reply with a how far.

 

some days, jongin feels scared of his own feelings. some days, he feels like kyungsoo feels the same way. some days, when he’s in the middle of an away game (maybe in chicago, when they absolutely destroyed the habs—he’s totally not speaking from experience), he thinks he's not good enough for kyungsoo. that kyungsoo can do better than a man who sweats and gets bruises for a living.

 

(of course, kyungsoo will call him, sleepy because he is a baby who has a bedtime, and jongin will remember that his boyfriend also sweats and gets bruises for a living, maybe in a different context than his but still—it’s enough.)

 

“—ngin! jongin!”

 

he’s pulled out of his thinking with a kyungsoo who is waving his hand in front of his face, a small smile on his face.

 

“are you overthinking again, captain?” kyungsoo drawls and jongin is suddenly hyper aware of the way their legs are tangled underneath the table.

 

“yeah,” jongin replies honestly. he can’t remember a time when he’s never been honest towards kyungsoo—except maybe that one time when baekhyun and chanyeol have riled him up to play an impromptu hockey in the living room and ended up with a broken flower vase.

 

he feels kyungsoo nudge his legs a little bit and jongin cannot hide the wince of pain. the shorter male takes note and grins sheepishly, “sorry.”

 

“it’s fine,” jongin shrugs. “i’m more bruise than human anyway.”

 

kyungsoo giggles like it’s the funniest joke and jongin feels a soft poke on the tops of his right foot. he smiles and his boyfriend smiles, heart-shaped, and jongin’s breath stutters.

 

“also, i can’t believe you dropped this bomb way before i could plant the seeds in your mind.”

 

wait. what.

 

“wait. what?” jongin gapes.

 

is kyungsoo saying yes? because that sounds like kyungsoo is saying yes.

 

“i’m saying yes,” kyungsoo then replies as if he’s reading jongin’s mind. “i’ve been looking for jobs in montreal too. i haven’t applied to any of them but i figured it’s not that hard for an olympic gold medalist to find one.”

 

jongin wants to snort but he’s kind of still stuck at the fact that kyungsoo is moving in with him. as in kyungsoo is going to live with jongin now, not just crashing into his bed and invading his closet and commandeering his kitchen—and okay, they’re practically living together but that’s only when kyungsoo spends a couple of days in Montreal before flying back to the US or to south korea.

 

of course, jongin’s tear ducts choose that moment to start working. his eyes get glassy and he wipes it with the back of hand, determined not to cry because he didn’t even cry when he won his stanley cup.

 

kyungsoo, in turn, just giggles, and says, “i can’t wait for you to ask my hand in marriage and then cry for real when i say yes.”

 

jongin, then, cries at that because kyungsoo has said when i say yes as if that is a sure thing.

 

 


 

 

 

they can’t exactly kiss because jongin’s lip has a big nasty cut from taking a stick to the face. that means he can’t blow kyungsoo or eat him out without the stinging pain and blood and healing ointment getting all over kyungsoo’s skin. but that also means, that kyungsoo’s the one on his knees, mouthing around jongin’s cock, before the captain takes the back of his head and fucks his dick roughly in between his boyfriend’s lips.

 

true love and all that.

 

 


 

 

 

kyungsoo doesn’t really move in after that summer. the two of them spend some time in montreal, mostly having sex and going around tourists spots. jongin drives the two of them into a pretty sweet lakeside cabin to fish and swim. it’s practically perfect.

 

his lips, too, heal nicely and several other bruises fade. the stitch near his temple from dropping the gloves in the second period in game 6 against the bruins leaves a scar near his temple. it’s not pretty but kyungsoo kisses it anyway, saying, “it’s ruggedly handsome.”

 

jongin chuckles and swats kyungsoo’s ass, replies with, “that’s a nice way of saying i look like a thug.”

 

kyungsoo then laughs, burying his face into jongin’s neck because yes, jongin is kind of right. the first time the two of them has gone on a date in korea, an old woman approaches kyungsoo, trying to be discreet and asking if the “large boy he is with is treating him right and if he isn’t, then he should leave immediately because it’s not worth it.” kyungsoo has been pretty flabbergasted by that exchange that he barely manages to defend jongin’s honor.

 

jongin has been adamant that he is not that kind of guy and the older woman must have seen something in his eyes, or in the way he stares at kyungsoo, that she has quickly apologized. it’s been good fun since then and jongin tends to pout because yes, he’s the one voted to be the hottest man in montreal but he knows kyungsoo is the pretty one in the relationship.

 

“it’s kinda hot though,” kyungsoo remarks suddenly. they’re sitting around the outdoor fireplace of their rented cabin with some bottles of molson because it’s jongin’s favorite, for some reason. the outsides of their legs are touching and jongin’s right hand is firmly planted on kyungsoo’s left thigh.

 

“what is?” jongin snorts. “me looking like a thug?”

 

kyungsoo hums and he takes a sip of the beer. jongin turns his head to the side to watch kyungsoo—his favorite hobby, really.

 

“yeah, i mean,” kyungsoo nods and he gestures the beer bottle up and down, as if presenting jongin. “i like it. not the you getting hurt part, obviously, but…”

 

jongin tightens his hold on kyungsoo’s thigh before his grip becomes gentle. his fingers are tracing the thin material of kyungsoo’s sports leggings, pads skimming over the insides, dangerously near to kyungsoo’s crotch.

 

he leans closer and whispers in kyungsoo’s ear, thankful that they’re seated on a love seat, “like what, baby?”

 

kyungsoo makes a low noise jongin plucks the bottle of beer from his hands. “you like what?” he repeats again.

 

“i like—” kyungsoo gulps. he turns to the side and jongin just - jongin just lifts him up like he weighs nothing so he’s sitting down on jongin’s lap sideways. it’s not exactly a hardship since kyungsoo’s all soft now, being a retired athlete, on top of being small. jongin has a good 50lbs on him at least, depending on what point of the season it is.

 

kyungsoo’s arm settles over jongin’s shoulder and his fingers start playing with the hair on jongin’s nape. the hair is a little weird—it’s still blonde and the strands are growing out from the playoff mullet. he’s clean-shaven though and kyungsoo’s other hand cups the side of his jaw, placing a kiss on his lips.

 

“i like that you seem so tough and scary,” he says. “but is really just a softie.”

 

jongin nuzzles his nose against kyungsoo’s in a short eskimo kiss.

 

“only for you,” he replies sincerely. and then, jokingly, adds, “i’m really scary on ice though.”

 

kyungsoo snorts and kisses him again. they both taste like the lingering bitterness of beer. jongin catches the hint of chocolate cake that kyungsoo has eaten for dessert awhile ago.

 

“yeah, yeah, captain thug.” kyungsoo teases with a smirk.

 

 


 

 

 

kyungsoo has to tie some loose ends in korea. he finishes some promotions for a movie cameo he has done, three magazine photoshoots, and numerous television appearances before he can finally, finally, be in jongin’s arms. the captain picks his boyfriend up at the airport a few weeks shy of october, when the training camp is already starting and preseason games are being sold. he does it with a big hug that sweeps kyungsoo off of his feet.

 

“hey there, captain,” kyungsoo greets. he’s carrying a small pet carrier and jongin picks it up, peering inside to see kyungsoo’s black toy poodle. his name is puck and he is the most perfect dog that jongin has ever seen.

 

“puck,” he coos and the dog, who knows his voice by now, perks up and peers back at him. he tugs kyungsoo close to his side as the two of them make their way towards jongin’s parking space. it’s a little too late and no one stops them for an autograph or a photo.

 

he drops a kiss on top of kyungsoo’s head and says, “i miss you.”

 

kyungsoo huddles close to jongin and whispers back, “miss you more.”

 

jongin grins and says, “let’s go home.”

 

 


 

 

 

and home does kyungsoo make it.

 

jongin has been living alone in montreal since 2013, a year after the team has drafted him. rookies don’t really stay with him since they prefer the older members of the team, the ones who know how to cook or the ones with wives and partners who can cook good food and do not rely on meal preps and delivery services. jongin gets it—he’ll stay with a married teammate too just for the food.

 

his place is relatively clean but he’s a slob, socks here and there, maybe a water bottle of some sort. his hockey tape, some pucks, sticks lying around. kyungsoo is having none of that and nowadays, most of the things scattered around are puck’s toys. jongin’s quiet house is filled with laughter and dog barks.

 

the smaller male has also whipped jongin’s house into shape until it becomes theirs. his boyfriend is a neat freak and jongin can’t get away with leaving his hockey bag at the entryway or his laundry piling up anymore.

 

he used to just bring all of them to the dry cleaners, even the ones that do not really need drying cleaning, but kyungsoo finds a washing machine that looks brand new in the laundry room and proceeds to supervise jongin loading their dirty clothes until he finally knows spin cycles and temperatures and how many scoops of detergent for one load, how much fabric softener.

 

it’s honestly scarier than his coach during drills and bag skates.

 

it’s amazing.

 

 


 

 

 

kyungsoo finds a job easy enough. there is a school outside their suburban home and it turns out that when they see “2018 Winter Olympics Men’s Figure Skating - Gold” on your resume, they don’t even need an interview.

 

granted, kyungsoo’s applying to teach six to eight year olds figure skating and he may or may not be a little overqualified.

 

“it’s, like, wayne gretzky coaching in a rec league,” jongin jokes over breakfast. he has to be on the rink by nine so the both of them wakes up early, around six in the morning, just so they can get two and a half hours with each other.

 

“shut up,” kyungsoo giggles. his first day was two days ago. “they’re good boys—really cute too. this one kid can represent canada in the olympics in 2030 or ’34. he wants to be a hockey player and a figure skater at the same time.”

 

“well, jeff skinner from the ‘canes used to be a champion figure skater.” jongin smiles and knocks his foot with kyungsoo’s. “i’m not sure about doing both at the same time though.”

 

“but can you imagine it?” kyungsoo defends his kid with a laugh. “doing double toe loops on the ice?”

 

“i’m sure the D-men will be very confused,” jongin humors him.

 

jongin is supportive of his boyfriend’s work and even volunteers to come skate with the kids on his next day off. the school is pretty okay with that but that’s probably because jongin’s a triple gold club captain and a local hero.

 

kyungsoo suspects he’s just going there to try and convert some of his kids to ice hockey.

 

“imagine if i were a hockey player,” kyungsoo says. he stops and mulls it over. “then i’d get to face alex ovechkin and henrik lundqvist.”

 

“your affinity towards ovechkin and lundqvist seriously worries me,” jongin deadpans.

 

“you’re just jealous that i’ve never had a crush on you.” kyungsoo waves his fork and shrugs as jongin scowls at him.

 

“i’m your boyfriend,” jongin points out.

 

“i’ve never had a hockey crush on you though,” kyungsoo sing-songs.

 

“that’s because you have bad taste,” jongin retorts.

 

“i’d say,” the shorter man snorts, eyes dancing with mirth as he looks at jongin pointedly.

 

the captain can’t come up with anything to reply to that except for a short chuckle before he decides to change the subject. “imagine if i’m not a hockey player though.”

 

kyungsoo hums, “maybe you could model.” he picks a couple of berries from his breakfast and pops them in his mouth. “are you thinking of retirement?”

 

“nah. just the future—i’m still at my peak.” jongin shakes his head and raps his knuckles on the wooden table just in case. “i want to go on until i’m, like, mid to late thirties.”

 

“not going to try to beat jagr’s record?” kyungsoo teases.

 

“nope,” jongin pops the p at the end. “jagr is an immortal. besides—” he wiggles his eyebrows at kyungsoo and drawls out, “—i need to still be young enough to do something new.”

 

“like what?” kyungsoo snorts.

 

“cage fighting?” jongin offers with a serious face.

 

the two of them pauses and exchanges a look as they both burst into giggles over their breakfast. the both of them know that jongin’s not that type of player. he throws the gloves when he has to but most of the times, he just bangs the puck to the back of the net to prove himself.

 

jongin pierces his large egg white omelette as kyungsoo scoops a spoonful from his smoothie bowl—he’s using a wooden bowl and a wooden spoon too. jongin doesn’t even know he owns wooden utensils and dishes before kyungsoo.

 

“or maybe recreational hockey? we can both try out for a team then, babe. i’d call up beer leagues and other retired players—olympic gold medalists only. we’ll be selective.”

 

“you think we’re not getting paid enough,” kyungsoo sniffles. the sunlight trickles slowly into their breakfast table and jongin stops for a moment to stare at the way it shines on kyungsoo’s skin and the way his irises look even more beautiful. his light brown eyes seem like they’re hazel with the lighting.

 

“i’m too pretty for hockey though,” kyungsoo suddenly remarks, all jokes and gorgeous, tinkling laughter.

 

jongin is still staring, replying like he can’t help it, “yeah. you are.”

 

kyungsoo bursts out laughing and makes a face at him.

 

“you’re biased.”

 

his boyfriend is still not the best at dealing with compliments from other people but the two of them are comfortable enough that kyungsoo sometimes doesn’t shy away from the praises but brushes it off as a joke.

 

“well, if patrick sharp can do it,” jongin adds, trailing off.

 

“but see, he’s pretty but i’m a different kind of pretty,” kyungsoo retorts. he gives jongin a slow smile and bats his eyelashes, looking up at him and curling his hands underneath his jaw.

 

and yeah, jongin thinks, kyungsoo’s a different kind of pretty that the nhl does not deserve.

 

“i’d hate to see your face be hit by a zdeno chara slap shot,” jongin says.

 

“i’d hate to see any face be hit by a zdeno chara slap shot,” kyungsoo says.

 

“huh,” jongin replies before he adds, “i could think of a few, actually.”

 

 


 

 

 

kyungsoo flies out of canada a few days before the home-opener. jongin pouts and whines but his boyfriend has to be in south korea to fix something that his manager can’t. it’s shitty but kyungsoo kisses him deep and rides him so hard until jongin has forgotten all the english and the french and the abysmal korean he knows.

 

it’s a good consolation, as any.

 

he tells his boyfriend to move his flight a day or two because he’s at an away game on the other side of the border and jongin sometimes still feels guilty at kyungsoo being left alone at home.

 

kyungsoo quickly kills that with a snort and a, “it’s not like i’m waiting for you to come back from war.” and a reminder of “i have a job, you know?”

 

so jongin is knocked down by a peg or three but when he comes home after a loss, he finds kyungsoo sprawled on the couch and cuddling with puck in front of their tv, comfortable in his black boxer briefs and jongin’s hockey sweater from when he’s playing in the Q a decade ago.

 

he watches as kyungsoo’s entire face lights up before the smaller male bounds up to him with a big hug and an elbow to the tender bruise from a game against the senators.

 

jongin wins.

 

 


 

 

 

“babe,” jongin whispers. the two of them are on their bed and the blackout curtains are drawn. jongin’s trying to nap before the game, as always, and kyungsoo is spooned in front of him. the older male has a day off from coaching little kids and jongin has elected himself to waste kyungsoo’s free time.

 

“what’s it?” kyungsoo mumbles. for someone who isn’t going to play an intense 60-minute sport in a few hours, he seems awfully tired.

 

jongin can’t exactly blame him though. kyungsoo has gone out with a couple of his colleagues last night to a bar and while 12am is not that late, it might as well be for someone like kyungsoo.

 

he brushes off the teasing that’s budding on the tip of his tongue. one of the things that he loves about kyungsoo is that he can take some light chirping from jongin. the captain, however, figures that kyungsoo is not having it today and he’s not about to risk losing his cuddle buddy for a joke.

 

“what’s the hardest thing you have to adjust to now that we’re living together?”

 

it comes out soft and not at all insecure so jongin pats his back for a job well done. he hasn’t really asked kyungsoo that question despite the fact that it’s the middle of december already and they’ve been living in domestic bliss (chanyeol’s words not his, though he is inclined to agree).

 

“hmmm.” kyungsoo hums as if he is thinking. jongin wants to be offended because he is a good housemate, on top of being the best boyfriend.

 

he doesn’t realize he has said that out loud until he hears kyungsoo giggling in his hold and his slight body shaking.

 

“why are you laughing?” he grumbles before he buries his face on kyungsoo’s nape.

 

jongin’s hands snake underneath kyungsoo’s loose turtleneck sweater. his fingers rest over kyungsoo’s soft tummy and jongin sighs, pressing the pads of them against the smooth flesh. kyungsoo has not let go of himself—jongin guesses he won’t be able to, considering the fact that two decades of self-discipline is hard to shake off—but he feels almost… prideful? happy, definitely. like he’s accomplished something by turning the hard planes of kyungsoo’s stomach into a small, soft pudge.

 

he feels like he’s taking care of kyungsoo good.

 

he’s pulled out of his musings when kyungsoo turns a little bit, lips grazing whatever patch of skin they can reach. “your standard for a good housemate involves hockey players.”

 

“what’s wrong with hockey players?” jongin asks, indignant.

 

“i practically grew up with baekhyun, jongin,” kyungsoo deadpans and jongin snorts before nodding. hockey players tend to be gross, especially in locker rooms.

 

“that can’t be the worst thing, though, right?” jongin prods some more.

 

“not really,” kyungsoo shakes his head. “for me, it’s the game day routine.”

 

“yeah?” jongin has never really thought about it. he has lived almost his whole life with the odd routines of being a hockey player. more so now that he’s playing in the nhl.

 

“you eat a lot,” kyungsoo replies with a slight chuckle. “i feel like you’re always eating—especially during home games.”

 

kyungsoo is the one who cooks his meals out of a menu stamped by the team nutritionist. on game days, jongin eats protein and carbs and fiber and drinks his shakes dutifully. his boyfriend probably eats a fourth of that.

 

“you’re tiny, though,” jongin says. he kisses the length of kyungsoo’s narrow shoulder. it’s too late to do anything now what with needing to sleep.

 

“it’s not about me being tiny,” kyungsoo grumbles. “your diet is just ridiculous.”

 

jongin wants to defend himself but he has just finished eating a plate of pasta with four different sauces thirty minutes ago. there are battles he cannot win so he opts to shrug, lifting one shoulder in a careless manner.

 

“and the naps,” his boyfriend adds. “you have regular nap times like a baby.”

 

“your baby.” jongin noses on the side of kyungsoo’s neck. “and games last until 10pm. depending on what time it starts.”

 

kyungsoo turns around and burrows himself deep into jongin’s chest. he says something that sounds like whatever but jongin’s not about to ask.

 

“sleep now,” the smaller male voices out. “you have a game to win.”

 

jongin yawns and closes his eyes, pulling kyungsoo close. it’s futile, really, because they can’t be any closer anymore with how they are positioned.

 

kyungsoo’s right—he has a game to win.

 

 


 

 

 

the habs win and jongin tallies two goals, both unassisted, in even strength and another one during the power play. kyungsoo is not sitting in the suite but jongin manages to wrangle a ticket in the stands.

 

when they show his face on the jumbotron, jongin stares at the screen with a besotted and stupid smile that baekhyun knocks the side of his helmet with a grumble of, “you’re scaring everyone with your face, captain.”

 

whatever, jongin thinks, baekhyun won’t understand since he’s not the one in a relationship with do kyungsoo.

 

 


 

 

 

the last game before christmas ends up being against pittsburgh. jongin calls up sehun for lunch before the game. it’s a tradition that they always do, if the schedule permits. sehun is jongin’s best friend and the only time they’ve been apart is when sehun is drafted to edmonton (and then traded to pittsburgh after his ELC). before games is always the best time because afterwards, the two of them are too high-strung about the game that they can’t concentrate on anything except the checks they have traded while on ice.

 

sehun brings him to a sandwich place that is apparently famous and jongin settles for a steak sandwich with BLT, extra on the bacon, and caramelized onions. sehun frowns at his order choice before he digs into his own.

 

he’s munching on his baked lay’s when the younger male pauses and looks at jongin with imploring eyes.

 

the captain sighs and says, “go on—ask.”

 

he can almost see sehun panting at that, what with the man being a gossip.

 

“how’s living with an olympic gold medalist?”

 

jongin grins. of course, sehun is going to ask about kyungsoo. he and his boyfriend have met a handle of times and jongin knows that they text but the living in together is new. sehun hasn’t even been to their home.

 

“i’ve been living with an olympic gold medalist before he’d moved in so—it’s usual,” jongin jokes and nods to himself.

 

“you know what i fucking mean, asshole,” sehun grunts out. between the two of them, the younger player has always had a dirtier mouth.

 

“man,” jongin sighs wistfully. the ache of missing kyungsoo is present but at least, they have a three-day break for christmas. “it’s amazing.”

 

“just amazing?” sehun raises an eyebrow. it’s not that first time that jongin has lived with someone. his second year with the habs, he moves in with his girlfriend. the arrangement lasts for a grand total of three months before the girl has told him that it’s a bad idea before moving out. they managed to stay in a relationship for two more months before he broke up with her.

 

it’s not the finest hour of jongin’s life. there have been broken plates involved.

 

sehun knows that. in fact, sehun has been the first person he has called. his best friend has flown in from edmonton to montreal. he showed up at jongin’s door with a really expensive bottle of vodka.

 

“no complaints?” sehun seems to press on.

 

jongin scoffs, “i have a lot of complaints.”

 

this time, both of sehun’s carefully threaded eyebrows rise (jongin knows they are threaded; sid has a loud mouth).

 

“like what?”

 

“dude, kyungsoo’s a neat freak,” jongin says. “and he doesn’t like having a cleaning service so i actually do chores now. i know about — washing machine cycles and, like, detergent.”

 

“damn,” sehun whistles. sehun, jongin knows, brings his shit to the laundry place three blocks from his bachelor pad. he also has a cleaning lady that comes once a week and pays an exorbitant amount of money for the team-approved gourmet meal service.

 

“yeah,” jongin nods before he continues, “and washing laundry is hard. especially since kyungsoo wears these — high-end sweater?” he shrugs because high end sweaters. “i didn’t even realize one person can own that many amount of sweaters.”

 

sweaters are hard to wash but jongin figures the trade-off is that he gets to see kyungsoo in those soft sweaters, looking at home and comfortable. if jongin buys more of them and spends five figures shopping, then sehun doesn’t have to know.

 

“uh-huh,” sehun nods once more. his eyes are trained on jongin’s face and the captain has no idea why. he figures it’s just sehun’s weirdness and maybe sid has been rubbing a little off on his best friend. the pens always tend to be weirder than most, anyway.

 

“yep,” jongin pops the p. he takes a bite of his food and continues to talk. pittsburgh is a hockey town, sort of, but being caught ranting with his mouth full will never beat the embarrassment of sidney crosby, this town’s own captain, choking on a mozzarella stick.

 

“and if you think that is the end of it, then clearly you haven’t experienced folding clothes and arranging them.” jongin groans. he hates folding clothes. it’s boring. he suspects that kyungsoo volunteers to do the laundry so jongin has to fold. kyungsoo always ends up on his lap when he’s doing the chores, nuzzling and watching some funny variety show and giggling. “one time, we made a competition on who can fold the fastest.”

 

jongin lost but he’s not telling sehun that. he wins afterwards though because he gets to rim kyungsoo until the older male is crying and hiccuping and begging.

 

“and — and — get this, sehun, last week, i walked in on kyungsoo. guess what he’s doing?”

 

sehun seems like he is holding a chuckle and jongin huffs.

 

“what is he doing, oh captain, my captain?”

 

“he rearranged all of my books by height and color,” the older male grumbles.

 

jongin arranges his books by genre and subject. he is not the biggest fan of ebooks and kindles so he always buys and looks for a copy of whatever it is that he wants to read. kyungsoo looks apologetic when jongin has found out. in the end, they arrange it by genre and subject and then by height and color.

 

“that is really horrible,” sehun humors him.

 

“shut up,” jongin retorts. “you don’t know shit.”

 

sehun laughs then. the full-blown laughter kind. jongin can see a piece of lettuce stuck between his teeth.

 

“why are you laughing?”

 

sehun catches his breath and points out, “you’re complaining so much—” he gestures to jongin’s face. “—but you have the biggest smile right now, idiot.”

 

jongin almost reaches up to touch his face but he manages to stop himself lest sehun sprains something from laughing which, in retrospect, would not be that bad. if he gets scratched, it’s one less pesky left wing later in the game.

 

he puts his middle finger up and all his effort is futile because sehun laughs again. jongin lets it go.

 

he really is smiling, anyway.

 

 


 

 

 

jongin wakes up on christmas morning to an empty bed. he frowns. he gets out of the room and shuffles towards the kitchen. he delights from the smell of something sweet baking in the oven.

 

kyungsoo is standing with his back turned to him. he seems to be cutting up fruits. there is music playing from his phone, hooked to the portable speakers beside the bowl of lemons. he’s still in his sleep shirt—a loose canadiens practice tee pilfered from jongin’s side of the closet—and a pair of flannel pajamas.

 

he is too busy to notice jongin shuffling to him silently and he jumps a bit when jongin’s hands sneak around his middle.

 

“good morning, babe,” jongin greets.

 

“it is now,” kyungsoo hums.

 

he tilts his head to the side and chases jongin’s skin for a kiss. he manages to catch a strip of skin on the taller male’s jawline. “merry christmas.”

 

 


 

 

 

the habs has a home stand in january but jongin both have a game on the 12th and the 14th. both of them are settled on the couch and kyungsoo is icing the large bruise on jongin’s side from when a 100mph puck hits him over his pads.

 

kyungsoo tuts as he holds the ice pack, pressing into the purple discoloration. jongin sighs at the cold relief.

 

“i have a game on the 12th and the 14th,” he says sadly.

 

“i know,” kyungsoo replies. “we can celebrate on the 13th if that’s okay?”

 

jongin mentally goes through his schedule. there’s optional skate in the morning but he has to come in after lunch for practice.

 

“we can get dinner,” he offers. there isn’t much that they can do, really. jongin’s job as a hockey player means his schedule, while pre-planned, is erratic at best. kyungsoo is a little more flexible with his teaching duties.

 

jongin turns to the side and kyungsoo huffs, poking him at the rib.

 

“don’t move,” he warns jongin.

 

jongin rolls his eyes. his boyfriend tends to be a worry wart.

 

“the pain level is, like, at 2, tops.”

 

kyungsoo turns his nose up and lifts the ice pack to inspect the bruise. “it’s a four then,” the older male says with finality. “you have a warped pain tolerance.”

 

jongin — jongin has no answer to that. he wants to argue but it’s not like kyungsoo is wrong. he remembers an incident three years out of his rookie year when he has to be rushed to the hospital after a drunken trick gone wrong.

 

(the media has crucified him for that. they have expectations for jongin kim—expectations that include him being a nice canadian boy, unlike the second overall pick, a european skater with a womanizing streak.)

 

the nurse has asked him his pain level and he remembers replying with a shrug, “low six—maybe a high 5.” the woman has looked at him and his injury weirdly before a doctor finally recognizes him and says, “don’t bother asking his pain level. he’s a pro hockey player.”

 

that has been that and jongin has since then learned that hockey players do have a skewed pain perception.

 

he chooses not to retort back and instead says, “i’m sorry.”

 

kyungsoo makes a confused sound and asks, “what for?”

 

“about our birthdays,” jongin says.

 

he can’t exactly skip a game for something as measly as a birthday. he has known players whose family members have died and still played the game the next day. there are players whose wives have gone to labor and are back on the ice like they’ve not had a baby born.

 

“nah,” kyungsoo shrugs. “it’s fine. they’re just birthdays.”

 

jongin frowns. “really?”

 

“really, really.” kyungsoo reaches up to kiss his cheek tenderly. “i don’t mind—as long as i get to spend it with you.”

 

 


 

 

 

on january 12th, jongin wakes kyungsoo up with a breakfast in bed. there are pancakes involved and kyungsoo’s eyebrows raise.

 

“you’re a health freak,” he says accusingly. “what’s the catch?”

 

jongin ducks his head sheepishly. the pancakes are something he’s been practicing in secret, accosting his teammates’ kitchens so kyungsoo won’t see anything out of the ordinary.

 

“they’re gluten free,” he replies with a shy grin. “made out of bananas and honey.”

 

kyungsoo laughs and takes the plate, calls them, “fake pancakes,” but digs in anyway.

 

 


 

 

 

on january 13th, kyungsoo wants to get brunch and jongin skips optional skate. they head off to their favorite diner and sits outside. puck is on his leash, tied to the chair. jongin orders a huge amount of food that has their waiter fumbling. kyungsoo settles for a put-upon sigh and an order of eggs benedict.

 

afterwards, they walk puck to the dog park. jongin burrows himself deeper into his scarf and he has his beanie pulled low just in case. some people still recognize him, judging by the double takes, but no one has approached them to ask for an autograph or a photo.

 

well, except one.

 

a tiny kid in a habs jersey bounds up to the two of them and jongin tightens his hold on puck’s leash just in case the dog tries to leap at the little girl. he’s normally good with not jumping anyone but even puck gets excited when he is outside.

 

the girl stares up at the two of them before asking, “excuse me, sir. are you jongin kim?”

 

he exchanges a glance with kyungsoo and his boyfriend’s mouth thins, as if he’s trying not to laugh. jongin pulls his scarf low and smiles, puffing his chest a bit.

 

“yes, i am,” he replies. he hears kyungsoo snigger—jongin is using his i am the captain voice, the one that is appropriately prideful, that’s mostly for the media and the fans. it’s a hard habit to break, even if the fan he’s talking to barely reaches his hip and has a missing tooth.

 

“oh,” the girl says as she looks down at puck and then at jongin. with a disappointed voice, she adds, “i thought you’d have a bigger dog.”

 

kyungsoo loses it at that, laughing, as jongin stares with wide eyes and a gaping mouth at the girl running away—the byun 04 on her jersey is like a taunt.

 

 


 

 

 

the habs clinch their playoff spot early on but jongin continues playing. coach lessens his shift and ice time, easing up a little since they don’t really have anything to worry about. they are having a game against the flames and jongin does not see it happen, only feels it. they’re on PK with 40 seconds left.

 

someone collides into him and a stick hooks on the back of his knees. he falls and he knows it’s bad. he grits his teeth and stands up. when he tries to swing his stick, it doesn’t feel right. jongin is too focused on the game to think what is off so he switches his stick on his left hand and skates the remaining 40 seconds.

 

they kill the penalty.

 

jongin gets a dislocated shoulder as he’s pulled out of the game. the first thing he does is text kyungsoo with a ‘dw im fine.’ he forgoes the phone call altogether since he doesn’t want kyungsoo to hear the pain in his voice.

 

the team’s medical staff pops it back in before she inspects his clavicle. a collar bone injury is detrimental this close to the playoffs and he breathes a sigh of relief when she gives him the all-clear.

 

“i recommend sitting out the remaining three games of the season. light contact during practice and take it easy,” she orders him.

 

the habs win by the skin of their teeth—2-1—and baekhyun drives them back to jongin’s home. when he gets inside, kyungsoo is standing in their entryway, worrying his lower lip.

 

“are you okay?” he asks. “everyone keeps saying it’s not bad.”

 

jongin heaves a heavy sigh. “just dislocated,” he answers. kyungsoo fusses around him and jongin lets his boyfriend’s hand flutter. he adds, “i’m out for the rest of the regular season.”

 

kyungsoo makes an aborted noise, “three games?”

 

jongin nods, “they want me taking it easy so i’m all brand new for the playoffs.”

 

kyungsoo nods and the captain manages to grin, pulling kyungsoo to his side with his better limb. the dislocated shoulder twinges, just a little.

 

“i’m really okay, kyungsoo,” he says gently.

 

“that was scary,” the former athlete says. “when you were down—i think i always think of the worst when it comes to hockey.”

 

jongin can’t exactly blame him. hits can easily translate to a bruise, to a broken bone, or a concussion. sid has taught him that, repeatedly.

 

he’s lucky.

 

he dips his head and nuzzles his nose against kyungsoo’s temple, hoping that it’s enough of a comfort for the older man. kyungsoo turns soft and pliant with a resigned sigh.

 

“i don’t know how you do it,” he says.

 

“play hockey?”

 

“yeah.” kyungsoo pulls jongin so they fall down to the couch. kyungsoo curls up against jongin and puck immediately leaves his chew toy to settle on their feet.

 

“that’s love, i guess,” jongin replies. kyungsoo nods and breathes in.

 

jongin knows kyungsoo gets it.

 

 


 

 

 

the upside of being out for a couple games is more time with kyungsoo. jongin makes sure coach doesn’t hear that because dislocated shoulder or not—that’s a bag skate waiting to happen.

 

some of kyungsoo’s students have a competition and jongin wonders how it goes—what with them being tiny seven year olds. he guesses it’s a little bit like midget hockey, all ungraceful and budding talent. he tags along and bundles himself in his 2018 team canada gear.

 

kyungsoo gives him a dirty look.

 

“you’re insufferable.”

 

jongin kisses the pout on kyungsoo’s face and says, “intimidation works well.”

 

all of kyungsoo’s participating students get a place and one of them, a chinese girl named mei, gets gold. jongin doesn’t even know they’re handing gold medals to seven year olds. figure skating is scary.

 

some of the parents shoot them both a glare and those who do not approach them for a photo and an autograph. kyungsoo is not as well known as jongin—most of them know him as their captain’s boyfriend—but little figure skaters flock to kyungsoo.

 

jongin mostly has to entertain the older crowd and politely refuse to comment on his injury. he hightails it out of there when they start asking about their playoff chances and commenting on jongin’s face off percentages and what does he think of the boston bruins, now that they’re already seeded for a playoff spot?

 

 


 

 

 

dallas makes it to the playoffs too and jongin shoots segs a quick congratulations and segs replies with a see u scf. jongin knocks on wood twice, for the both of them. the two of them have a history and they have both remained friends. kyungsoo knows and thinks of it as the funniest thing in the world.

 

apparently, he thinks that jongin’s ‘wanna know how a future hall of famer fucks?’ is cheesy. in jongin’s defense, he has had numerous shots of vodka at that time.

 

speaking of kyungsoo, the short male walks in and raises his eyebrow at jongin knocking on wood.

 

“segs said ‘see you on the stanley cup finals.’ i don’t wanna jinx it.”

 

kyungsoo nods. jongin knows that the other man has made peace with some of his superstitions. he clambers on top of the couch. he’s holding a bowl of cranberries to snack on and an old issue of ESPN.

 

jongin double-takes.

 

“where did you find that?” he whines.

 

kyungsoo smirks, “found this hidden in one of the boxes labeled random stuff in the storage.”

 

“what are you even doing in the storage room?” jongin complains. he thought he has this magazine thrown away. he’s betting one of his asshole teammates is the one who has packed it when he has moves houses.

 

“i was bored,” kyungsoo says. “i was reorganizing.”

 

jongin resists the urge to correct it to nesting. kyungsoo has been into home decoration the past week, after an intense marathon of house hunters.

 

he flips the pages eagerly and jongin just groans, hiding his face on his hands. this is a dark moment of his life and kyungsoo is cackling as he unearths it page after page.

 

“remember when you did a naked photoshoot?” kyungsoo flips a page of the old ESPN magazine.

 

“technically, i wasn’t naked,” the captain defends.

 

“technically—a rubber duck was covering your dick, captain.”

 

he points to a picture of jongin standing, the cuts of his muscles visible and his face impassive, almost challenging, and yes, a bright yellow rubber duck covering his dick.

 

“it was a big rubber duck,” jongin says sagely.

 

 


 

 

 

jongin gets back to the ice, well-rested and injury free. the well-rested part is snatched quickly from him as the playoffs begin.

 

it’s brutal.

 

they take tampa for the first round and finishes game one with a loss.

 

jongin ends up cursing a storm and working off extra energy on the bike before going home with kyungsoo. his boyfriend doesn’t say anything but he holds jongin’s hand while he drives them out of the stadium.

 

they fly to the US for game 2 and jongin scores the game-winning goal with a filthy wraparound. the lightning crowd boos him and he just grins, raises his hand in a celly.

 

before game 3 in montreal, jongin is sitting down on the couch, watching clips and videos of tampa bay lightning decimate the opposing team. jongin still has nightmares from their series with the capitals. kyungsoo’s beside him. he’s painting his fingernails.

 

he snatches jongin’s hand and jongin does not move, just allows kyungsoo to practice on him. from what kyungsoo has told him, one of his students—a boy named mitch—likes having his nails in pretty colors. his parents don’t mind but the boy has experienced teasing from others. kyungsoo is doing it to show his students that it is, in fact, okay and also because mitch has asked kyungsoo to paint his nails.

 

jongin sneaks a glance at kyungsoo’s concentrating face. his eyebrows are furrowed as he tries to color jongin’s fingernails. it’s habs red.

 

he forgets about the nail polish until he’s practicing on the rink. baekhyun skates up to him and asks, “what’s up with that?” his hair is red and it’s cut in a godawful mullet. the captain despairs for him.

 

jongin looks down and is a little bit surprised to find out that the bright red is still there. “kyungsoo’s practicing for one of the kids.”

 

baekhyun nods and coach screams at them to start skating. jongin doesn’t really want to bother any of their staff for a quick polish remover run. he puts his suit on and does his pre-game interview with his colored fingernails.

 

they take game 3 and lead the series 2-1. jongin has a hattrick.

 

the nail polish becomes a thing and kyungsoo paints his fingernails in red, white, and blue. it looks uneven, a little ugly, but jongin does not bother getting the coat fixed at a nail salon.

 

superstitions and shit.

 

 


 

 

 

jongin wins the conference finals and he takes prince of wales trophy home. the adrenaline of the win has him lifting kyungsoo to the dining room table.

 

kyungsoo’s ass hangs off of the edge as jongin kneels before him. his mouth is hot on the older man’s skin as his lips press against his boyfriend’s puckered entrance. kyungsoo giggles at jongin’s playoff beard tickling him but before long, he’s making choked noises and tugging at jongin’s long hair. the beard is going to leave his skin red and raw.

 

kyungsoo comes and jongin’s still wearing his suit. he’s too tired to do anything more so he settles for rocking his cock against kyungsoo’s ass before he slips it between the smaller male’s legs. kyungsoo’s ass is up in the air and his elbows are resting on top of the table.

 

his boyfriend makes little ah ah ah noises as jongin fucks his thick thighs. his hands have a bruising grip on kyungsoo’s flesh as he traps his dick in between the soft skin.

 

he drops kisses down kyungsoo’s spine and he comes silently, with a short grunt, with his hair tickling kyungsoo’s back.

 

jongin manages to carry kyungsoo upstairs to their bedroom as the older man whispers congratulations in jongin’s ear.

 

they order a new dining room table the next day.

 

 


 

 

 

they take the edmonton oilers in the stanley cup finals and the media buzzes about the nhl being taken over by the younger players. gone are the days of pittsburgh's two-headed monster, they write, never mind that malkin misses the rocket richard trophy by three goals, just behind jongin. jongin tries to ignore the media scrum and he keeps his answers to variations of “we just have to play hockey.”

 

kyungsoo laughs at his standard PR-approved answers.

 

the series stretches into game seven and jongin already has a new stitch, near his eyebrow, that’s healing. he has a cut on his jawline too, just underneath his ear. it’s playoff hockey, you know?

 

he takes mcdavid on the face off dot and breathes in the sound of people screaming. the only good thing about this is the fact that they’re playing on home ice. davo gets the puck—he’s always had better face off percentages that jongin—but the habs captain is faster.

 

he chases the other younger male and steals the rubber from him. he passes it to his left wing and it’s in play for a few seconds before the puck sails through jongin’s stick. he shoots it to the goalie—

 

and nets a goal, one-timer.

 

the bell center explodes and jongin does his celly, before he tries to find kyungsoo on the stands. he’s sitting closer to center ice and the captain finds the older man easily. he’s standing up in his bright red down jacket, looking like a marshmallow. he’s red-faced and smiling, arms waving. jongin even notices a few camera phones being pointed at him—no doubt to post about captain jongin kim’s boyfriend’s reaction when he opens game 7 with a pretty goal.

 

second period goes stale and jongin starts to feel the toll of playing near the end. it finishes with zero goals but they do have more SOG than the oilers. it’s a small source of hope, but also, frustration.

 

mcdavid ties it 1-1 early in the first period and half-way through, jesse scores another to put the game up 2-1. jongin skates viciously and checks another player in his wake to steal the puck. he sends it flying with a mean shot but it hits the posts.

 

baekhyun is there and he bangs it home to the back of the net to tie the game again.

 

jongin has no idea how long it is that they have but he doesn’t want the game to go into OT. overtime means it won’t come down to skill, but to sheer luck. jongin does not want to take that chance.

 

he sees the right-winger from the oilers sail through with the puck and jongin quickly chases him, pumping his legs. faster. faster. faster. he catches up and extends his stick, stealing the rubber.

 

jongin is one of the players with the softest hands in the league and he dekes around a D-man and then another. one of them almost has him but jongin changes the angle of his blades, curves his body a little to the side.

 

he has no one to pass to but the the upper left corner is free. jongin has a right shot but he takes it. hysterically, he thinks, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

 

jongin slaps the puck with his stick and all he hears after is the sound of celebration.

 

 


 

 

 

when captain jongin kim of the montreal canadiens hoists the stanley cup for the second time, all 15.5 solid kilograms of engraved metal, it feels like touching heaven with his hands.

 

and then, much later, after he does the traditional victory lap around the rink to the cacophony of loud screaming, he skates towards kyungsoo, who is teary eyed and trying not to wobble on the ice, the first thing he does is grab his boyfriend’s face and that, too, feels like touching heaven with his hands.

 

 


 

 

 

they manage to get home past midnight. kyungsoo is the one who drives them home and the stanley cup on the back seat of the range rover, strapped with the seat belt. jongin’s smiling so hard and kyungsoo, too, cannot hold the grin off of his face. they spend the drive with their windows open and every time they pass by a noisy sports bar, or people really, they holler congratulations.

 

kyungsoo opens the door to their home while jongin carries the cup inside. he sets it down in front of the couch before plopping down. jongin is still in his game day suit, post shower, but he has no doubt that he still smells of the celebratory champagne showers. his damp hair is still under the baseball hat, proclaiming 2020 Stanley Cup Champion.

 

his boyfriend settles on top of his lap, straddling him. he turns jongin’s hat backwards and says, “pay attention to me, captain.”

 

jongin feels his dick twitch in his pants. he’s been trying to hold off a semi since kyungsoo has jumped on him on ice, legs wrapped around his body post-victory. it’s flagged down since accepting the conn smythe and heading to the locker room but kyungsoo’s familiar weight on him stirs his interest.

 

it’s probably pavlovian at this point.

 

“i’m paying attention to you,” jongin says with a chuckle. his hands go up and down kyungsoo’s sides. the older male shrugs his down jacket, leaving him in his tight black jeans and the habs jersey he has taken from jongin’s gear closet.

 

“you’re paying attention to the cup,” kyungsoo playfully grumbles. his palms cradle jongin’s neck. kyungsoo’s fingers nestle behind his ears. both his thumbs are caressing jongin’s jaw, over the thicket of his playoff bear.

 

kyungsoo leans down and kisses jongin. he’s surprised when it's not as gentle as usual, pleasant in it’s roughness. their teeth clatter together as kyungsoo slips his tongue in. his boyfriend tastes of the shitty beer they serve on the stands and underneath the bitterness, something that is wholly kyungsoo. jongin figures he tastes like expensive dom perginon champagne because the front office never skimps on the alcohol.

 

his fingers slide down and finds kyungsoo’s ass. he sneaks his hands underneath the curve of kyungsoo’s ass, cupping the mounds of flesh in his large hands. kyungsoo moans into the kiss when he gives a particularly hard squeeze. he pulls off the kiss and jongin smirks.

 

“now i’m definitely paying attention,” he says, squeezing some more.

 

kyungsoo stands up and jongin has a brief moment of wonder if he should stand up too, if the two of them will continue this in the bedroom. the question flies out of his head when kyungsoo pops the button of his tight jeans. he pulls the fly down and frees his legs quickly. kyungsoo makes it seem so easy, kicking his jeans off.

 

it hits the stanley cup close by and kyungsoo smiles sheepishly, says, “oops.”

 

jongin huffs as he grunts out, “come back here, babe.”

 

kyungsoo straddles him again and his hand starts tugging jongin’s suit jacket off.

 

“come on,” he says. jongin obediently takes it off and he loosens his tie, pulling it over his head.

 

he starts kissing jongin again and this time, it’s more frantic. his hands are everywhere and jongin only sits back, relaxes, and lets his boyfriend do all the work. kyungsoo is still straddling him and jongin can feel the older man’s semi press against his abs. there’s a slight tent on the large hockey sweater that kyungsoo is wearing.

 

jongin’s right hand moves underneath the fabric and he holds kyungsoo’s inner thigh firmly, the pads of his calloused fingers massaging the smooth skin. kyungsoo moans and drops another kiss down the line of jongin’s neck. he licks the skin and kisses it.

 

“you taste like champagne,” kyungsoo remarks. he sucks hard at the base of jongin’s throat, at his jugular. jongin bucks from the couch as he feels teeth nipping at this own skin. he squeezes kyungsoo’s thigh and digs his red-painted fingernails into the soft flesh.

 

hands move to jongin’s dress shirt, trying to undo the buttons. kyungsoo makes an impatient noise that sends a searing tightness low in jongin’s gut. kyungsoo frowns and tugs, pulling the buttons off.

 

“fuck, baby,” jongin curses as kyungsoo takes the fabric of his shirt out from where it is tucked underneath his suit pants. he breathes out, voice tight, “that’s gucci.”

 

“i don’t care,” kyungsoo grits out before shoving jongin to the back of the couch. jongin’s head tips back and he makes a move to take his hat off.

 

kyungsoo swats his hand away and says, “leave it. i wanna ride you while you’re wearing your hat.”

 

and shit.

 

shit — jongin’s dick twitches again. if he isn’t hard before, he definitely is now. he pulls the down his head. the bill is still turned backwards so kyungsoo has no problem kissing him with so much force. small hands find purchase on the back of jongin’s head, fingers pressing against the stark embroidery of Stanley Cup Champion.

 

victory always does get kyungsoo hot and panting for jongin’s dick.

 

kyungsoo’s palms rest over jongin’s abs and he traces the ridges of muscles first before he leans down. jongin lets kyungsoo have his way with him, sucking and kissing the available skin. the older male pinches his nipple and twists. jongin groans.

 

his fingers start playing with the hem of kyungsoo’s tight briefs. jongin pulls the jersey up so he can see kyungsoo’s dick outline under the white fabric. the head of his cock is pressing against the band and jongin is sure his is too.

 

kyungsoo must have been thinking of the same thing. his hands fumble on jongin’s belt. it takes him a minute before he’s pulling the leather out of the hoops. he pops the button and drags jongin’s zipper down. it’s smooth and practiced.

 

jongin watches as kyungsoo slinks down the couch. he spreads his legs wider and accommodates kyungsoo between his thighs. the older male bits his bottom lip—so red, redder than the jersey he is wearing—and he looks up at jongin with hooded eyes, lidded with lust and blown wide.

 

the captain lifts himself a little and he pools his pants down alongside his black boxer shorts. kyungsoo tugs it lower and lets it pool on the floor. jongin’s naked except for the dress shirt that he’s still wearing, buttons scattered and thread undone.

 

“can i suck you off?” kyungsoo asks. he leans down and breathes in. jongin gives a sharp, “fuck.”

 

the captain holds kyungsoo’s head and adds, “go ahead, baby.”

 

it’s not his smoothest line but kyungsoo licks his fat bottom lip and takes jongin’s cock whole. he breathes shallowly and holds the base with his hands. jongin moans at the heat around his dick and tries hard not to buck upwards, not wanting to choke kyungsoo. maybe later or tomorrow they can get to the choking.

 

now, though, he focuses on the sensation around his hard member. kyungsoo sucks him with vigor. his teeth barely scraping the thick length. he pumps jongin at the base, fingres circling the thick flesh.

 

“your mouth—shit,” jongin curses. he tugs and pulls at kyungsoo’s hair. his boyfriend smiles before he takes his hand off. both his palms rest on the V-cut of jongin’s hip bone, tracing. it sends tingles down jongin’s spine. kyungsoo’s fingers play with jongin’s happy trail as kyungsoo tries to take him deeper.

 

his pubic hair tickles kyungsoo’s nose and kyungsoo’s breathing also tickles jongin’s skin. the hair on the back of his nape stands up as kyungsoo continues to suck, slurp. he lets go of jongin’s cock with an audible popping sound.

 

“want you to fuck me,” kyungsoo says as he climbs back up. he pulls his underwear to the side as he starts rutting on jongin’s thigh.

 

“shit, kyungsoo—wait,” jongin curses. kyungsoo doesn’t stop. his hands link at the back of jongin’s neck as he starts riding jongin’s thigh. the captain groans, says a long and filthy, “tabarnak.”

 

jongin reaches for the jacket he has discarded awhile ago. kyungsoo makes a confused noise and jongin just smirks, takes out a condom and a lube packet from the inside pocket.

 

yes, fuck,” kyungsoo draws out at the sight of the packets. jongin rips the condom first but kyungsoo stops him, shakes his head.

 

“no,” he says and jongin’s head reels. he tries not to come at the idea of fucking kyungsoo bare. they’ve done it only once before. “you’re clean. i’m clean. come on—prep me.”

 

jongin tosses the condom packet and the square hits lord stanley straight to the bowl. it’s probably an affront to the history of hockey, fucking three feet away from the trophy. jongin can’t bring himself to care—he’s sure this is not the first time.

 

he rips the lube packet and lets some of the liquid drip down his fingers. he traces kyungsoo’s crack with the cold substance and his boyfriend shivers. jongin circles kyungsoo’s rim before he pushes his index finger.

 

kyungsoo gives a small sigh of relief as he holds still. jongin tugs the briefs to the side, pulling harder than necessary. he’s sure it’s a mess and kyungsoo most likely won’t be able to use the pair anymore.

 

jongin lets kyungsoo adjust and the older male says, “one more,” before jongin slips his middle finger in. he starts fucking kyungsoo slow and jongin scissors and drags his nails inside. kyungsoo keens and almost topples back if not for jongin holding him close.

 

“one more, baby,” jongin says this time. he slips another finger inside and kyungsoo groans. his hold on jongin’s shoulders tighten, digging into the muscles.

 

jongin presses a kiss on kyungsoo’s throat, rubs his beard on the soft skin. he sucks a bruise while he continues to finger fuck kyungsoo shallowly. the skin around the blooming hickey is pink, no doubt rubbed raw from jongin’s facial hair.

 

“i’m ready,” kyungsoo whines. “fuck me now.”

 

jongin pulls out and he takes the remaining lube on his cock. he spreads the slick before kyungsoo’s fingers come down and takes hold of his erection. his index finger flutters over the slit of jongin’s hard member and jongin holds off a whimper.

 

he holds the base with one hand before he sinks down. he holds kyungsoo tight so his boyfriend won’t sink down on him so suddenly. jongin’s bigger than average—he knows this. he’s been in different locker rooms all over the world.

 

he’s surprised when kyungsoo bats at him before he just — goes down. in one go.

 

tabarnak —criss, kyungsoo, ” he curses again. his mind grasps at the last straws as his cock is enveloped by kyungsoo’s heat. kyungsoo is so wet and tight around him and jongin thrusts up. his boyfriend presses down on his shoulders.

 

“let me do it," he says. he gives a kiss on jongin’s lips. "as a reward for winning.”

 

jongin groans. victory also gets him hot and bothered.

 

kyungsoo starts rocking into him. he reaches underneath his hockey jersey to free his cock. jongin grips the head of kyungsoo’s dick and thumbs down on the pre cum, spreading the white substance. kyungsoo moans as he starts bouncing on jongin’s lap.

 

jongin pulls the jersey up so he can see the way kyungsoo’s thighs jiggle every time he comes up and down.

 

“you’re so hot—damn,” jongin grunts. kyungsoo rides him up and down and jongin grips the base of his cock, just a little, to make sure he won’t come. not yet. “such a good little boy for your captain.”

 

kyungsoo moans and he pulls jongin’s dick out completely. he straightens himself and takes his briefs off, throwing it aside. jongin can’t be bothered to look where the pair has gone.

 

“turn around,” jongin orders. “lift my jersey a little bit.”

 

kyungsoo's knees are wobbly but he manages to do as told. jongin grips one ass cheek and tugs it to the side. he finds kyungsoo’s hole red and sticky with lube. he slaps his hand down the flesh and kyungsoo lets out a long drawn-out, “ah, please.”

 

“do it like this,” jongin says hotly. “your back on mine.”

 

kyungsoo stares over his shoulder at jongin’s face and jongin gives his boyfriend a little smile. the older male straddles jongin in reverse. the captain holds kyungsoo tightly, letting the other man find his balance.

 

he reaches over and lines jongin’s cock on his entrance before going down again. jongin watches kyungsoo’s ass move and bounce as kyungsoo bounce on top of his lap too. kyungsoo’s pace is erratic and jongin knows the two of them are both too high-strung to draw it out.

 

he spanks kyungsoo every time the older male slows down. he comes first and he doesn’t pull out. kyungsoo just continues riding him with his little gasps of pleasure. he pushes his dick in kyungsoo’s to keep his come inside before he presses kyungsoo’s back to his chest.

 

“come for me, babe,” jongin whispers as flicks his wrist on kyungsoo’s dick. kyungsoo comes with thick white spurts, messing his jersey and his pale skin. sweat glistens on his neck and jongin quickly licks it off, chasing the taste of salt and kyungsoo.

 

kyungsoo slumps down and pulls himself off of jongin. come gushes out of his hole and down the back of his thighs. jongin stares at the red handprints on kyungsoo’s ass. he can’t go another round, what with the game 7 stanley cup final, but pushes a finger into kyungsoo’s hole, just because.

 

the former athlete whines and he drops down at the couch. the furniture is a mess and jongin heaves a sigh.

 

“congratulations,” kyungsoo kisses him tenderly. “i’m so proud of you.”

 

jongin smiles into the kiss and takes this as another victory.

 

 


 

 

 

the TV inside their bedroom is playing the news. jongin is rubbing shaving cream all over his beard with kyungsoo beside him. his boyfriend is patting an expensive essence into his skin.

 

he hears the man say, “—does this make the montreal canadiens a modern day dynasty?”

 

jongin snorts and stops the glide of his razor across his skin.

 

“we’ve only got two cups,” he deadpans. “what do they even mean with a dynasty? chicago and pittsburgh have three each.”

 

the commentator makes another comment and this time, it’s kyungsoo who snorts. they’re debating whether jongin is as good as sidney crosby.

 

“it takes a team to win a cup, you know,” kyungsoo grumbles as he pats his face. jongin almost nicks himself and he curses.

 

“you’re hopeless,” the older man comments. he turns around and pushes jongin. he takes the razor and says, “let me.”

 

jongin breathes in before he hops and sits on top of the bathroom counter. kyungsoo stands between his legs and starts shaving jongin’s beard. he does it against the grain, much more careful than jongin has been. the captain has soft hands on ice but somehow, shaving is something he has never gotten right.

 

kyungsoo hums and jongin settles his hands on his waist. he plays with the knot of kyungsoo’s sweatpants, twirling it around his fingers. the shorter male finishes and grabs jongin’s aftershave, playfully rubbing it on the sensitive skin.

 

he washes his hands and puts moisturizer on his own skin. jongin is too lazy to do even the most basic of skincare today—something that kyungsoo has ingrained into him. he figures he gets a pass, what with being a cup champion and all that.

 

jongin thinks about a third cup and he hovers over kyungsoo, wrapping himself around the thin figure like a leech. kyungsoo doesn’t complain about his weight, even if jongin knows he’s a little heavy.

 

“what’s my reward gonna be if i win the third cup?” jongin asks and then reaches for the wood, knocking three times.

 

“you have to win it first to find out,” kyungsoo laughs.

 

jongin feels brave and his lips trail over the side of kyungsoo’s neck. the smaller male shivers. the captain asks, “will you marry a three-time stanley cup champion?”

 

he sees kyungsoo’s eyes widen in the mirror before a soft smile settles on his face. jongin sways the both of them even if there is no music.

 

“evgeni malkin is off the market though,” kyungsoo teases.

 

jongin huffs and buries his face into kyungsoo’s hair. he has walked in on that one.

 

kyungsoo chuckles and pats jongin’s hands that are resting over his stomach. jongin grumbles, “you know what i mean.”

 

the older male shakes his head fondly and says, “are you proposing?”

 

“no,” jongin answers. the not yet hangs between the two of them. “just—wondering.”

 

“it will be nice but i don’t need another stanley cup.” kyungsoo laughs. “as long as he asks properly.”

 

 


 

 

 

(jongin does end up winning another one, a year later, for a back-to-back. his eyes meet kyungsoo and jongin knows there is understanding there. he skates to the bench and asks his coach for the box he’s been bringing to the ice since the playoff has started.

 

he asks, “may i?” and kyungsoo nods, giving jongin the permission.

 

the captain kneels on the ice, in the middle of the chaos, and asks, “will you marry me?”

 

he doesn’t hear the sound of people screaming, or the hollering of his teammates, or the media going crazy. all he hears is the soft yes.

 

kyungsoo’s right—jongin cries like a baby after he has said yes.)