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“MVP baby!” Mike is laughing, lips stretched so wide that it feels like his face is about to split in half. Mitch grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him as he screams it again, this time right up in his face. “MVP!”
Mike grabs the front of Mitch’s jersey both to balance himself and to yell right back at Mitch, feeling the elation of a fucking bizarre win bubble up from his chest.
“Fucking dirty hatty!” Travis nudges Mitch out of the way, grabs Mike’s cheeks and plants one on him. He’s there and gone and Mike is left flushed, swaying a little. He’s chubbed up in his jock, he’s sweaty and gross, and he feels like his feet can’t touch the ground.
Keefe leaves them to it, keeps his parting words short and sweet- they have a flight out in the morning but with the way the room is buzzing no one’s going to be getting much sleep tonight. He reminds them that they have to be on the bus by eight but doesn’t seem worried about what state they’ll be in.
Mike has every intention of going out and getting shit faced.
He gets showered quickly, scrubs the same shitty shampoo that all locker rooms seem to have through his hair, down his body. He wraps a slick hand around his cock and gives it a stroke, drops his hand and rolls his balls, his gaze wandering around the room. Auston’s got the shower head next to his, head tilted down, letting the hot water beat against his neck and shoulders. Mike shamelessly lets his gaze travel down down the strong chest, defined abs to the thatch of dark hair framing his thick cock.
“Enjoying the view?”
He jerks his gaze back up to find Auston watching him, bemused. Mike smirks, shrugs.
“Hurry up kids,” Spezza calls out as he heads out of the shower, a towel wrapped securely around his waist. “I don’t think anyone is in the mood to wait tonight.”
He quickly rinses off, on Auston’s heels as he leaves the warmth of the showers. He towels off, securing a dry towel around his waist. There’s still a chill in the air. Goosebumps break out across his skin but he thinks that can be blamed in part by anticipation. A few guys have cleared out but more have stayed. He’s only had a handful of these- they usually keep celebrations to home ice- but the amount of guys that have stayed is noticeable.
Petr catches his eye as he sprawls at his locker, eyes dark and hot. He’s sinfully hot, face flushed from the showers and a hard earned victory. Mike smirks, spreads his legs a bit and lets the towel pull tight across his lap where he’s hard and tenting the material. Petr’s gaze drops, momentarily, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Mike shifts, the chill chased away by the heat he sees there.
“Alright, knock it off!” Mo’s voice carries over the boys easily enough. The air in the room shifts as their attention gets snapped up by the alternate, shifting from elation to excitement as it starts to sink in that they’re really doing this. Road celebrations are rare, from what he’s gathered with the Leafs, and it’s reflected in the way the guys listen eagerly as Mo continues.
“I think we can all agree tonight could have been a shit show,” a few guys wince, recognizing their less than stellar plays that could have led to a far different outcome. They’re headed into February, they need to win every game they can and against a team like the Wings, they shouldn’t have fallen so far behind. “But,” he continues before the mood can affect the room. “We pulled it off and while we owe a lot of that to our fucking fantastic goal tending, I think we can all agree that the MVP of tonight, with his first hatty as a Leaf, goes to Mikey!”
The boys cheer and Mike stands up, giving a silly little bow.
“Thank you, thank you,”
“Speech!” Derms chirps.
“I’ll keep it short and sweet, boys,” he promises with a grin. There’s a few muttered thank fucks but he ignores them. “We got a few lucky bounces tonight, I think everyone ended up on a different line at least once, but there’s no one else I’d rather play in this circus with. So lets enjoy the W!”
The boys cheer again and Mike settles in at his locker, untucking his towel and letting it all hang out, unbashful.
“So, who’s it gonna be?” Auston asks. Mike thinks about the eyeful he got in the shower- he can think of a few things he’d love to do with his liney, or Mitchy for that matter, the guy gives head like no one he’s ever met before.
He’s thrown when Petr pushes to his feet, expression sly.
“I’d like to.”
Mike’s grin spreads.
“Just can’t keep your hands off of me, huh bud?” He teases. He hadn’t minded Petr grabbing him on the ice, keeping him from skating away, he sure as hell won’t mind Petr’s hands on him now.
“Guess not,” Petr murmurs, taking it for the permission it is, crossing to Mike, and yeah, that’s a bit of a swagger to his steps. Mike can work with that. He comes to stand in front of him and Mike has to crane his neck to meet his eyes. “What do you want?”
Something easy, he thinks. He wants to sit back and enjoy it.
“I put out a lot of work tonight,” he hums. Someone snorts but he chooses to ignore them. “How ‘bout you get on your knees and suck me off?”
Petr’s lips quirk like he knows Mike is so full of shit but he sinks to his knees easily enough. He’s in a Leaf’s tee and a pair of basketball shorts and there’s something plenty hot about being completely naked before him in contrast. He can see where Petr’s cock is chubbing up in the loose material of his shorts and he thinks idly about helping the guy out after, since he basically stood on his head tonight to make up for their shitty defensive plays. He’s seen the body hidden under those goalie pads- it sure as hell wouldn’t be a hardship.
Petr’s hands slide along his thighs and he shivers a little, drawn back to the hungry expression. He ducks his head, lips brushing across Mike’s chest and down, the scrape of his beard sending little shocks across skin, the hint of teeth making him moan. He reaches out, rests a hand lightly on Petr’s shoulder, not pushing, letting him do as he pleases for now.
Apparently what Petr really wants is to get his mouth on him.
He doesn hesitate to wrap his lips around Mike’s cock and if Mike thought he’d be in for some teasing, he’s proven very, very wrong.
It’s pretty fucking obvious that Petr has done this before and that he likes it.
His fingers move of their own accord, scratching at the short hairs along the back of Petr’s neck, sliding up to grip at the short strands but there’s barely enough to grab and he’s not that much of a dick so he settles his hand there, cradling the curve of Petr’s head as he sinks slowly further down Mike’s cock.
Fuck.
His mouth is searing hot, the way his eyes had been. Now he knows what he had been thinking. Mike groans, entranced by the sight of his cock stretching Petr’s mouth wide, can’t look away as he swallows him down, his cock disappearing between his lips.
“Baby,” it slips out, unintended. Petr’s cheeks, already so pink, darken further and his eyes slit open, peering up at Mike. He can feel his cock slip into the tight clench of Petr’s throat, the way he holds him there and he swears, has to breathe deep and remind himself that he can’t just fuck the guys throat till he comes. No matter how much he wants to.
“I know who I’m asking for next time,” Pierre murmurs, awe clear in his tone.
The possessiveness that hits him is unexpected but he rides it, reaching out to trace where his dick is stretching Petr’s mouth wide, pressing his fingers to his cheek to feel himself as Petr starts up a steady, slow pace. It’s wet and sloppy, Petr’s chin quickly soaked in spit and Mike’s precome. He takes Mike deep every couple of passes, holds him in his throat until he needs to breathe or chokes. The way his throat clenches, his face red as he gags hits Mike hard and his hand slips from Petr’s cheek to his neck, wondering if he can feel the press of his cock there.
“Damn, our boys got a mouth on him.” Auston’s sprawled out in his locker, hand trailing across Mitch’s chest idly as Mitch jacks him off, slowly, in time with Petr. Mike flushes further, preening over the hungry gazes directed his way, directed their way. His cock kicks and Petr makes a soft sound, takes him deeper and Mike lets his hips chase his mouth when he starts to pull back.
Petr lets him, takes the sharp snap of his hips without complaint, so Mike does it again. He’s so hot it almost hurts to look, lips red and stretched around his cock, cheeks pink and eyes molten when he gazes up at Mike. The sound of his cock fucking Petr’s mouth is loud in the room, wet and sloppy, his moans startling loud as Mike cradles the back of his head, the hinge of his jaw and presses deeper, chasing his release.
Petr moans again and Mike’s breath catches, unable to look away. He has his shorts shoved down, his cock red and angry as he jerks himself off even as he sucks Mikes brain out through his dick.
“Shit, you really like this, huh?” He manages to find his voice. Petr glances up at him, eyes hazy with arousal and Mike bites his lip. He’s so fucking close.
Petr comes with a groan, spilling messily across his hand, his shorts, the floor. He swallows Mike deep and he comes with a shout, spilling down Petr’s throat.
It takes awhile but eventually the thundering of his heart quiets. The sounds of the locker room start to filter back in, along with the feeling in his limbs. He’s feeling loose, all his aches and pains from the game momentarily dashed away. His spine feels like liquid. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to move again.
The chill is back but he’s feeling a little too good to move, his cock softening against his thigh, sweat drying on his skin. Petr’s back at his locker, looking pretty damn pleased with himself. He doesn’t notice Mike’s gaze, head tilted back, eyes half lidded as Jack talks quietly with him. He has trouble tearing his gaze away from how red and swollen his lips look.
“Good job tonight, liney.” Auston pats his thigh as he walks past, already dressed. “Coming out for drinks, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he promises, winking at Mitch as he follows Auston closely behind.
He waits for a few more guys to clear out, then pushes to his feet carefully, not entirely sure how well his legs are going to work, and grabs his boxers. Petr’s up and moving as well, and Mike grabs a ball of tape, tossing it at his head before he can think better of it.
“Hey,” he waits for Petr’s attention to be fully focused on him. “Buy you a beer?”
Petr’s swollen lips stretch into an easy grin.
“Sure,” his voice is wrecked. It sends a bolt of heat through him knowing he did that. “Know where the guys are headed?”
“Yeah,” he waves his phone. The bar's name is in the group chat. Petr nods and grabs his suit jacket. Mike sets about getting dressed as fast as humanly possible but Petr is still waiting by the door for him by the time he’s finished, playing some crappy game on his phone. He glances up when Mike joins him, an easy, warm smile playing across his face.
“First rounds on Mo!” Derms calls out, clapping him on the shoulder as he brushes by them. Morgan makes a sound of protest, following. Mike has to press against Petr’s side to get out of the way as he hurries after the other man with a frown. Petr grips the back of his jacket and tugs him a breath closer with a wicked grin.
“Got any plans after?” He asks. Mike’s gaze drops to his mouth and he sways forwards, drawn in by the the plush lips, swollen and pink. He can’t stop thinking about his cock between them.
“Had something in mind?” He finds his voice, wondering if Petr would be down with Mike kissing the shit out of him in the quickly emptying locker room. They’d just done way worse, but it’s different, now that they’re dressed, the bubble broken by their teammates headed out.
“My hotel room,” Petr replies, voice casual. There’s nothing casual about the way he slides his hand down to grab Mikes ass.
Mike grins.