You're Mine

The beats bump through the speakers, going along with my pounding heart. My eyes boar into the back of Kaner’s head, with three girls hooked on his arms. I closed my eyes, downing the rest of my captain and coke. Honestly, can I remember what number drink this was? No.

I open my eyes; my fist constricting around the red plastic cup, crushing it. My pearly whites grind into each other, a growl ripping through my throat. My deep brown eyes were blood shot, reddened with anger as I watch the three girls taste my man. My blue eyed, blonde haired man. Their sticky tongues, sliding across his cheeks, his neck. Their plump lips kissing his Adam’s apple. Every sound around me fades, all I can really hear are his chuckles, their giggles, his light moans that I used to get him to make. He hooks the pretty blonde onto his front, him placing his mouth all over hers, her face, her neck. The other two whisper in his ears, even to themselves. I can’t hear them.

He practically shoves his tongue down her throat, his hand I used to hold everyday, planted on her hip. The other was placed on the back of her small head, fingers entwined in her golden locks. He starts moving towards the back, either that or the bathroom, for a quickie.

I hate you Patrick, for getting all those girls. I hate all those girls on you- why can’t I be that pretty blonde?

We used to play around. What happened? Did I stay gay, and did you go straight? I miss those kisses, those soft, full lips all over me. My eyes and lips roaming every single inch of your body; tasting you. The moans that would come from the inside. Your low voice calling my name. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment once more- then leave before I became a mess. My Tahoe stays in the back, I keep going on without it. Pat and I share a room together, but I don’t want anything to do with him. Not right now. Not for a while. The cold Chicago air nips at my toned arms, my cheeks and nose. I don’t care. Let me get sick.

I wander around town; I’m not even sure where I’m going. I just walk. If I had my truck, I would’ve gone to the lake and shot pucks, but I’m drunk. A sloppy, uncared for drunk on the ice. I probably would have fallen, somehow cutting myself with a skate and bleeding to death. As if Kaner would care anymore. He’s got his girls that have replaced me.

After what seemed like hours, I find myself at Sharp’s house. His bedroom light was still on; he’s probably reading. I sigh, knocking on his front door. My mind swirls like a blender, trying to chop and mix up past excuses into one that would be good enough to share to my fellow team mate. I can’t tell him about Pat. I’m a homo- no guys on the team want that.

“Tazer?”
My head involuntarily shakes, my mind snapping back to reality. “Hey, Sharpie,” I say.
“Sup?” his voice sounds hesitant, his eye brows wiggling in confusion.
I shrug. “I locked myself out from home and Kaner’s out. Could I crash here?” I lie between my teeth. I didn’t want to go home to him.
He bobs his head, letting me inside. I smile, and find my way to the guest room I’ve become used to from all the years of living in Chicago. His home was comfortable, fit for a family. The room that I sauntered into is plain; with light grey walls surrounding everything and plaid bed spread. The house itself is warm, my exposed skin now defrosting and sure enough bright red.

I don’t bother asking him for a change of clothes, I kick off my sneakers and curl up. The comforter is thick, soft, and I pull it over my head to block everything out. The darkness eats me up like a black hole; maybe I won’t come back out. I’m frustrated- I miss my Kaner. I squeeze my eyes shut once more, and shake. My cries are silent, but the tears leak out to no end.

-

In the morning, I wake up with my cheeks crisp from dry tears. The sound of eggs crackling on the skillet makes me chuckle, and I sit up. Sharp always was one to take care of the team. In any which way. The next thing I know, I’m stuffing my face, trying to avoid this head splitting pain. Note to self; probably shouldn’t drink before a game day. I’ll survive with this nasty hangover anyways.

I make sure I ate a good breakfast, thanked Sharpie, and drank a lot of water.

Just like last night, the air was chilly as all shit. I really wish I brought a jacket, but did I? Nope. Eventually, I get to my black Chevy and peer inside, shading my eyes from the sun. After fishing for my keys to unlock the damn thing, I’m finally inside, head already planted to the steering wheel, thumbs tapping the sides. I don’t know what to do. I don’t wanna take a shower, I don’t wanna go home.

-

My skates push me through the other players; half on my team, half on the Coyotes. The puck is with me as I swerve around everyone, and glance over at Patrick. He smirks at me whilst chewing on that damn white mouth guard, like he knows a secret. Though, I wouldn’t mind being that thing in his mouth, pressed against his teeth. I watch him tap his stick against the milky white ice three times. But I keep staring at him; keep watching his face twisted into that half smile I love. Eventually, I slide the puck towards him. He cradles it, then shoots it literally past Bryzgalov, allowing himself a goal. He instantly skates behind the net, arms up in the air, one knee up. A grin is plastered on his face as he makes his way towards me, and we hug. Damn, he’s so cute with his excitement showing, eyes blue as the baby blue sky.

I congratulate him, and I don’t want to let go. I hold on for as long as I can, missing his warm embrace, his own distinct smell. Within seconds, it’s gone. There goes my highlight of the night. He seemed so happy when he wrapped an arm around me. Maybe that was my own mind thinking this. I’m a pathetic captain.

By the end of tonight, we won, after a tight battle of four to three. Back in the locker room, all the boys shower quickly and change back into their suits. I nonchalantly keep an eye on Pat’s back, savoring his shirtless body. His blonde hair is stuck up in every direction you could possibly think of in tiny, tiny curls. His back and arm muscles flex and change shapes as he moves, along with reddened marks on his back. They looked like nail marks- probably from the blonde last night. I bite my lower lip as I continue buttoning my dress shirt. Flashbacks instantly fill my head; I remember I used to make those marks. The guys all used to question him, but it was between us, our own little secret. Now they know that it’s just these puck sluts that he picks up. But it just doesn’t feel right.

He slowly turns around, his cerulean eyes locking with my own. He sneers at me, and I faintly smile back. My brown orbs fall from his face, to his chest. Smooth as all can be, but sculpted to perfection like a Roman statue. That used to be all mine. I try my hardest not to reach my hand out and caress his abs, so I look at his face a numerous time again. He chuckles. “Jealous? Or are you enjoying the show?” He says it like he remembers all those times, or like he can read my mind.
Yes, I want to say to the second part. I do enjoy the show. Instead, I let out a husky laugh and finish packing up. “See you at home,” I then leave, making my way towards the parking lot.

My stuff gets thrown in the back, the gas pedal gets floored- I want to be home, soon. I’m not even sure if Pat will be home early or not, but I expect him home at least. Reaching the parking lot of our hotel, I park and leave everything in my truck. Not even sure as to why I wanna be home, I rush towards an elevator, pressing the up button numerous times. My foot taps; I keep thinking of all the images I’ve seen in the past two days. Girls crawling all over him, the marks, his bare body. The things we used to do haunts me. The elevator dings, and I step inside, then press the 4 button, waiting.

-

“Tazer? Ya home?” Pat’s voice calls from the door way.
The door thuds softly as he shuts it, and probably throws his hoodie on the floor. He locks the door, the sound of metal sliding into the wall and clicking being heard. I smile to myself, and step towards him. “Hey,” he says.

I keep walking forward, until I’m about a foot away from him, his handsome face looking up at me. I cup his left cheek in my right hand, getting closer. “Jon-” our lips collide, I’m kissing him.
He doesn’t move; doesn’t try to move away, doesn’t kiss back. Until I grab a hold of his lower back and pull him into my chest. I nibble and suck on his lower lip, his tongue now trying to get in my mouth. I allow it, tackling it myself. The spit increases between our mouths, but I knew he liked that. I did, too. I start to move him towards the door, pushing him right into it, me pinning his arms to the wood. I pull away trailing my lips down his jaw, around his neck, his Adam’s apple. I reach below his ear, his favorite spot. I lick, then take a bit of skin between my teeth and suck. I gather another chunk of flesh, sucking on that as well. “Ughnn…,” he moans.

The sound was music to my ears. I smile, and mutter in his ear; “Pat, I miss the way you taste. So much… We screwed around all the time… What happened?” I glance at him.
His tongue slides over his swollen bottom lip as he thinks. “I thought you lost interest. I stuck with girls for a while…”
“Lost interest? How could I? I never did…I still want you,” I growl.
He smirks once again, “You do?” he rips the buttons off my shirt, plastic flying and rolling over the hard wood floor, his fingers then trace over my abs. “I want you, too,” he snarls seductively.
The way his voice sounded instantly caused me to become harder underneath my pants, more than I already was. “You’re mine for now, Kane,” I force him to my bed, made him strip me as I stripped him. He pulls me down willingly on top of him, as I bite around his neck again. He moans my name.

I lean up and stroke his length, he throws his head back and hums. I continue stroking him, angling toward his cock as my tongue then meets contact with his head. My tongue traces around, licks up and down his shaft before engulfing him completely in my mouth, his tip scraping down my throat. As I continue my works, moving my head down and away, I hear him trying to hold in his groan. He remembers my tricks; whenever he expresses his pleasure, I pull away. Too bad for him, he gave away, causing me to stall, and sit up, giving him a half smile. His eyes beg me to continue what I was doing, but everyone knows that begging does not work on Captain Serious. Instead, I taunt him, stroking myself, chuckling at his whimpers. “J-Jon…”
“Ah-- what did I say about begging?”
He grumbles.
“N-now…What’s the magic w-word?”
I watch as he shakes his head back and forth, his eyes squeezing shut. “Jon, just fuck me now!”

Good enough for me.

My knees nudge his legs apart, as I enter him and pull him onto my lap; going all the way inside of him. He hisses as he adjusts to the feeling. I try waiting for him, but I’m too eager. I grind my hips up, then down, over and over again without him even approving. He grabs a fist full of my dark hair and pulls my lips to his; kissing me with much enthusiasm. Pulling away, I move quickly to his neck, nibbling there as he keeps my face pressed against his skin. My lips gently kiss around, but my teeth dig right into his skin and sure enough, I most likely left a hickey. His free hand buries his short yet sharp nails into my back, taking this as a go ahead, I push him down onto his back and ram right into him.

Hard.

His heels then dig into my lower back, trying to get me to go even deeper. As requested, I thrust in with much effort. He scrapes my back enough that I let out a hiss and he chuckles under me. That sadistic little fuck. I purse my lips as I focus more on my thrusting rhythm, trying to get him to arch his back. Luckily enough, he begins to, and I press my hands against his back, only to dig my nails into his skin now. I listen closely to hear him let out a barely audible hiss, which causes me to smirk. “J-Jon,” he mumbles under me.

I slowly retract my hand, and bring it back to his hardened cock, gripping onto it and jacking him off. My hips continue to move at the same pace; though, I’m now hitting his exact spot, considering every time I push in, he exhales loudly in my right ear. “Y-you like that, huh?” I mutter.
He nods, still exhaling deeply into the funnel of my ear.
As minutes tick by, my thrusts accumulate speed, and now he’s practically whimpering. Even my own breath was hard and coarse; with droplets of sweat beading up on my hair line and silently dripping off the tip of my nose, onto his chest. I cautiously watch his eyes stare back into mine, seeing his cheeks flushed a bright pinkish red. He licks his lips; then rubs them together- I had to get another taste of his lips. And I do just so, crushing my own pair to them, before he moaned against them. I never paused on my thrusting- if anything, it just got faster. “God, Jon!” he practically screamed before he busted his load against my chest, bucking his hips.

I groaned, still powering right through his orgasm; hearing his soft whines in my ear. I ignored it, considering I soon enough came inside of him, grunting. “Pat,” I mumbled, pulling out of him as he sloppily kissed me.
Exhausted, I collapsed onto him, as he chuckled into my ear. “What, did I tire you out, just like always?” he sneered.
I shook my head, “Yeah. Somethin’ like that,” and I let out my own chuckle before rolling off to lay on my back, breathing heavily.
He and I both watched each others’ chests rise up and fall down- the way we used to. I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that he was for sure, mine. I laced my fingers with his, him squeezing my hand.