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"Why do apples taste better sliced than whole?" Patrick asked.
"What?" Sharpy grunted, not taking his eyes off of his phone.
"Apples. Why do they taste better sliced?" He takes a monster bite out of the apple. Fuck. His jaw hurts. He rubs at it a bit and Sharpy snorts, watching him.
"I don't know, man. Juicier? The real question is, if they taste better sliced, why didn't you cut it?"
Patrick shrugs and walks over to the couch. He plops down, one leg on either side of Sharpy's lap, essentially straddling him.
Sharpy raises an eyebrow.
"If you want me, you coulda just asked."
He laughs, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. Patrick is quiet even as he smiles, watching Sharpy's adam's apple move.
Sharpy stops laughing, but he still looks mischievous.
He holds eye contact with Patrick, shifting so he can move in closer until their noses are practically touching. Sharpy exhales, nosing along Patrick's jaw and Patrick inhales sharply, breathing in Sharpy's warmth and musky scent. He's about to lean in and go for it when Sharpy turns his head and takes a bite out of the apple that Kaner is still holding aloft.
Patrick shrieks and whacks Sharpy.
Sharpy's laughing openly now, moving to dump Kaner on his ass on the couch. He hovers over him and somehow gets him in a headlock. When Kaner manages to pop out, Sharpy is cackling. Apple juice is running down his chin. It is truly disgusting. And yet, for some godforsaken reason, Kaner has a boner. Wonderful. His dick is a scientific enigma. Why the fuck is he turned on by all the grossness that is Patrick Sharp? Never mind that he really is beautiful. Kaner pulls back, rolling his eyes. He takes advantage of Sharpy's momentary distraction to adjust his semi quickly. Then he sighs dramatically.
"Now my apple's all gross."
Sharpy grins. "Oh, get over it, Kaner. I know you've always wanted to swap spit with me."
Kaner takes a bite of apple and spits it out at Sharpy. Nobody ever called hockey players mature.
Sharpy throws it back at him, still laughing at his own wit, and cues up the DVR. Kaner resignedly finishes the apple.


It's not until later that he says anything. Sharpy has taken it upon himself to learn how to wall-twerk. If Kaner's being honest, he's actually pretty great at it. But Sharpy can never know that.
"Dudeee you do not have the ass for that. We need Jonny here or something."
Sharpy drops to his feet. Somehow it's graceful. He smirks at Kaner. "Aw, cmon baby, you wanna tap this ass, don't lie to me, Peeks."
Kaner grimaces at him.
"What?" Sharpy asks. He sits down next to Kaner, propping his legs up on his lap.
"It's nothing. It's just--”
"Yeah?" Sharpy prompts, looking concerned.
"Why do you always have to like, queerbait me or whatever? Like don't fucking use my sexuality against me, man. We all know you're fucking hot as hell, don't fucking throw that shit at me," Kaner blurts out.
Sharpy looks stunned. "Oh fuck, Pat, I didn't mean it like that, I was just chirping." He looks appropriately chagrined. Actually, he looks absolutely disappointed in himself; he's always worked to make sure that everyone in the locker room and out treats Kaner the same.
Kaner rubs at his eyes tiredly.
"It's not like a big deal or anything. We're cool, man, honestly."
"Okay. I'm sorry."
They're silent for a few minutes, watching the Avs destroy the Coyotes.

Then Sharpy pokes Kaner in the side.
"Pat? Did you say I was fucking hot as hell?"
"Oh my god, Sharpy, leave it alone."
Kaner glares at the TV. He can see Sharpy staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He counts to ten in his head before turning to him.
"What do you want me to say? Yes, okay, I think you're fucking hot as fuck. So does half of Chicago. It's hardly a new thing."
Sharpy puts a hand over his heart.
"Kaner, baby, I'm fucking flattered."
"Oh, fuck off," Kaner snaps.
Sharpy leans in close. Kaner is resolutely ignoring him, staring at the Intermission Report.
He can feel Sharpy's breath on his neck. Then he can feel his lips. Sharpy kisses up Kaner's neck before whispering, "I think you're hot as fuck, too."
"Sharpy," Kaner warns, even as he tilts his head to grant him better access. Sharpy sucks on his jawline.
Sharpy hums in response, tongue flicking out to lick the hickey before diving back in, letting his teeth pierce skin.
"Fuck, you can't be fucking with me like this, man."
"Not fucking with you." The words are muffled into Kaner's neck and Kaner has to bite back a groan as he feels Sharpy's teeth graze his jaw.
He grabs Sharpy's wrist and pulls away, staring at him.
Sharpy's eyes flick to his then down to Kaner's lips. He licks his lips slightly. He looks like how Kaner feels: destroyed.
Kaner realizes that he's still holding Sharpy's wrist. He doesn't let go. In the background, he hears the Coyotes score their second goal of the game.

Finally, Kaner says, "What the hell, Patrick?"
Sharpy ducks his head, embarrassed.
"I just thought--"
He cuts himself off. Darts another glance at Kaner's mouth.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Sharpy."
Patrick lets go of Sharpy's wrist. Sharpy looks crestfallen. He starts to shift away from Kaner.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Patrick mutters again.
He runs a hand through Sharpy's perfectly disheveled hair, unable to stop himself. Not that he really wanted to, anyway.
"This is so fucking dumb," Patrick says before leaning in to kiss Sharpy.
He sucks on Sharpy's bottom lip slowly before diving his tongue inside. When they finally break away, Sharpy's breathing hard. His lips are really pink.
"Fuck," Sharpy says.
"Fuck," Patrick agrees.
Sharpy leans in to kiss him again and they stay like that for awhile, just making out like teenagers on a fucking couch.
Eventually, Sharpy starts to ruck up Patrick's shirt, pressing his hands firmly against Pat's abs. Patrick groans and pulls Sharpy on top of him. He grabs at Sharpy's ass and then pulls away reluctantly to yank his shirt over his head. From the now muffled sound of the TV, it landed on the speaker.
Sharpy attacks Patrick, licking up his abs until he reaches Pat's nipples. He bites at them gently, sucking on them until Kaner's practically writhing. Kaner latches on to Sharpy's neck as Sharpy struggles to get his pants off.
"This okay?" He asks breathlessly, splaying his hand over Kaner's stomach and thumbing under Kaner's sweatpants.
"Yeah, yes, do it."
Sharpy takes Kaner's cock in his hand and starts stroking slowly, thumbing over his slit. Kaner arches up into Sharpy's grip. Sharpy starts jerking him faster until Kaner's fucking up into his hand. Suddenly, he pulls off, and Kaner hisses at the loss of contact. He humps the air a few times shamelessly.
"Pat, Pat, baby, will you fuck me?"
Kaner forgets his dick for a second.
He stares at Sharpy in shock, "You sure?"
Sharpy nods eagerly. "I'm clean, man. It's all good."
Kaner nods. "Me too. But...have you ever done it before?"
Sharpy flushes. "Once."
Kaner gapes at him. "Fuck, okay."
Somehow Sharpy miraculously conjures up a condom and lube. Kaner slides his sweatpants off and Sharpy swipes at the bead of precome on his tip. He makes eye contact with Kaner before sliding the finger into his mouth and sucking.
"Fuck," Kaner swears.
He rolls the condom on and then opens the lube. He slides one finger in slowly.
"Come on," Sharpy pokes him. "Do another."
Kaner slides a second finger in, then a third, and starts fingering him in earnest.
After a couple of minutes, Sharpy says impatiently, "Okay, okay, you can fuck me."
Kaner laughs and slides his fingers out.
"Fucking hell, Sharpy."
He turns Sharpy over and lines up his dick before sliding in. Sharpy groans.
Kaner moves slowly in and out before picking up speed. He really was lying before, Sharpy has a fucking great ass. He pulls Sharpy closer against him and fucks into him quickly, balls slapping against skin.
Sharpy whacks at him, "Come on, harder."
He pushes back on Kaner's dick and Kaner nearly whites out. Kaner shifts, pulling Sharpy so he's sitting on top of him and lets Sharpy slam down on his cock. Sharpy moves faster and faster, getting into a rhythm. His own dick, curved up against his stomach, bobs freely and thwacks against his stomach every time he bounces on Kaner's cock. Kaner scrabbles at Sharpy, pressing his hand against his stomach.
"Patrick, baby, baby, baby, I'm going to come."
Sharpy grunts in response and keeps riding Kaner.
He slumps back against the couch. Sharpy rides him for a few more seconds before pulling off. He sits on Kaner's legs and they make out sloppily for a bit, Kaner lazily jacking Sharpy off until he spills over his fist. They lie there in silence for a couple of minutes, breathing hard like they've just come off the ice. Sharpy's head is in the crook of Kaner's neck.
"Fuck," he finally breathes out.
Kaner curls his hand around the nape of Sharpy's neck and squeezes protectively.
"Yeah," he agrees. Finally, Sharpy sits up and stretches. "I'm going to take a shower."
Kaner nods and watches him go.
Sharpy comes back fifteen minutes later and finds Kaner sitting in the same spot, naked, sweaty, and covered in cum, watching the shootout highlights of the Bruins' game.
He laughs and Kaner looks up, surprised. Sharpy shakes his head, grinning at Kaner. Before long, Kaner's laughing too.