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Darcy can't quite believe it's real. After all the struggles, all the injuries he'd fought through to get back, they've done it. They've won the Cup.
Some of his teammates talked up Worlds but even winning gold had nothing on this feeling.
It's like having an out-of-body experience. He can't quite believe it's real. He hangs onto Frankie like a life-line. Frankie pinches him and Darcy gasps, the pain sharp and lingering and grounded. "Not a dream," Frankie assures him.
"Do it again," Darcy pleads. He needs it to tether himself to his body.
Frankie narrows his eyes then runs his hand up Darcy's back, threading his fingers into Darcy's hair and tugging sharply.
Darcy feels like it's the first full breath he's taken in hours.
No-one challenges them sitting together on the coach. Frankie wraps an arm around Darcy's shoulders, breath warm against Darcy's cheek as he whispers into his ear all the things he'd like to do to him. It isn't like Darcy's never thought of Frankie in this way before, but he'd never thought he had a chance.
Darcy doesn't fault the others for wanting to get drunk and celebrate their win but he can't wait to get back to the hotel room and everything that Frankie had implied would follow.
They aren't alone in the elevator but both the goalies' rooms are on a different floor to the rest of the team due to some history of noise complaints that Darcy hadn't wanted to ask too much about.
Frankie lets Darcy push open the door, hesitating at the threshold. "Are you sure you still want this?"
Darcy nods eagerly. "Please Frankie." He holds out a hand to draw Frankie in.
"Anything you don't like, just tell me to stop," Frankie says, closing the door carefully behind himself.
"Of course," Darcy agrees easily, starting to unbutton his shirt.
Frankie holds up a hand to stop him. "You don't have to undress at all if you don't want to."
Darcy freezes. "Is it not hot for you?" It feels as though there's a lump in his throat that Frankie might just be doing this because he felt obligated.
"Oh it definitely is," Frankie practically purrs, "but I didn't want to impose on you."
"Impose all you like," Darcy tells him.
Frankie gives him a heated look. "Take your clothes off then."
As Darcy finishes unbuttoning his shirt, for a moment he thinks Frankie's going to stand there fully clothed and just watch him strip and the thought sends a shudder through him.
Then Frankie starts pulling off his own clothes as though he can't wait.
Darcy isn't exactly shy about his body and he's seen Frankie naked in the showers before but it feels different.
Frankie presses him back onto the bed, leaning over Darcy as he looks him over hungrily. Darcy shudders under his gaze.
He runs his hands down Darcy's chest from collarbones to his abs and then back up, resting over his pecs. "Are your nipples sensitive?"
Darcy bites his lip. He's never really thought about it, it's not a part of him his previous partners have been especially interested in.
Frankie pinches one nipple almost absently and Darcy arches up into it. It doesn't hurt, not exactly, but it makes him feel so present in his body. Frankie must be satisfied with what he sees as he does it again, more deliberately this time, keeping the pressure on until Darcy is writhing with it before letting go and allowing the blood to rush back in.
"God, I wish I bought some clamps with me," Frankie tells him. "You'd look so good with your tits all clamped tight."
Darcy feels light-headed at the idea and hurries to suggest an alternative. "Would clothes pegs do?"
"I mean, for sure," Frankie says, "but I'm not going to go on instacart or whatever and order some…"
"I have some in my travel washbag," Darcy offers.
Frankie's gaze is scorching, warming Darcy through. "So clever," he says approvingly and Darcy shudders at the praise, even though he'd literally just carried them for years in case he needed to do laundry on the road. "In the bathroom?" Frankie asks and Darcy nods breathlessly.
Even knowing that Frankie is just going to fetch them, Darcy still whines at the loss of his warmth pressed against him.
"One minute," Frankie promises him and he's true to his word, bringing Darcy's washbag back through with him so he doesn't have to be away any longer than necessary.
Darcy feels a little ridiculous, watching as Frankie fishes the pegs out and puts them on the nightstand, and more than a little exposed, but Frankie is gentle as he lays back down next to him.
They just kiss for a while, Frankie's lips soft despite the rough scratch of his beard. Frankie's hands stroke up and down Darcy's sides, the blunt edges of his nails adding an extra thrill.
Darcy is starting to relax, the adrenaline from the game, from winning the Cup, finally draining out of him.
"You still want this?" Frankie asks and Darcy nods.
Frankie circles Darcy's nipple with his thumb, letting his nail catch slightly, then pinches it into a firm peak. The peg catches up more skin than just the tip and it hurts but Darcy welcomes the pain. He then does the same on the other side before sitting back to admire the effect.
"We're just going to leave these for few minutes," Frankie tells him, so calm as though this is something he does all the time. Then again, perhaps it is. "It probably stop hurting before that, or at least ease up a bit, then taking them off going to hurt a lot."
Darcy feels so present in his body, the pain grounding him, letting him breathe. Frankie straddles Darcy's thighs, giving himself easy access to Darcy's upper body. He doesn't touch the pegs themselves but his hands work around the area, cupping the undersides of his pecs, sweeping up his arms then brushing over his collarbones, making Darcy even more aware of where he isn't touching. He's hard but it doesn't feel urgent and he drifts under Frankie's gentle touch.
Frankie gets his attention back by flicking one of the pegs gently, just enough to sting. "Time for these to come off," he tells Darcy. "I can take them off quickly or slowly but either way it's going to hurt."
"Quickly," Darcy chooses. He's always been the kind to rip off a band-aid rather than carefully peeling it back. Frankie isn't wrong - it still hurts a lot as blood rushes back into them, and when Frankie leans down to lap over one nipple Darcy isn't sure if the sensation is pain or pleasure.
Frankie dips his head lower, to nip at Darcy's abs and hip-bone. Darcy's cock knocks against Frankie's chin and Frankie scrapes his nails down Darcy's thighs as he works his way lower. His breath ghosts over Darcy's cock making it twitch. "Do you want?"
Darcy nods eagerly. He isn't sure exactly what Frankie's offering but he'll take whatever he can get.
Frankie smiles. "I think you've had enough teasing for tonight but, if you want do this again, I'd love to see how much you can take, how long you can hold off for me."
Darcy barely has time to react to the idea that this might not just be a one-off before Frankie's swallowing him down. He's so on edge that he thinks he's going to come almost immediately. Darcy grabs at Frankie's shoulders, "Please, Frankie. Not yet." He wants to commit every moment to memory.
Frankie pulls back, licking his lips, leaving them red and shiny with spit. "Too much?"
Darcy nods, catching his breath. "I'm so close."
"Okay, I'll help you out this time." Frankie trails his tongue up the length of Darcy's cock and, just as he takes Darcy into his mouth again, he pinches the skin over Darcy's hip. The sharp sting gives Darcy enough clarity to think instead of just reacting.
Frankie takes it slower this time but that's almost worse, the anticipation as intoxicating as the act itself.
Darcy clenches his fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands trying to focus on the sensations, ignoring his body's urge to thrust up or push Frankie down. He can feel every heartbeat, his pulse hammering at his throat and in his groin. Every nerve feels centred on his cock.
It's almost overwhelming, pure pleasure coursing through him. "Frankie, please," Darcy begs, not sure what he's asking for.
Frankie rakes his nails across Darcy's hips and Darcy can't hold back any longer. He comes, harder than he has since he was a teenager and everything was new and exciting.
It's hard to keep his eyes open but at the same time watching Frankie's long, pale throat as he swallows, watching his hand slip down to stroke himself where he's hard just from what he's been doing to Darcy, without being touched at all, is mesmerising.
"Let me, please," Darcy asks, fumbling for Frankie's hip, wanting to be the one to give him pleasure.
Frankie pulls himself up so he's straddling Darcy's hips again, his hard cock swinging up between their bodies. Darcy wraps a hand around him, thumb spreading pre-come over the head.
Frankie's hand covers his own, guiding him in the ways he likes to be touched. So Darcy's confused when Frankie asks tentatively, "Can I?"
He looks up to meet Frankie's gaze as Frankie licks his lips. Darcy shudders and understands. He nods and Frankie leans down as Darcy stretches up and then they are kissing again but it feels different from earlier, more meaningful.
Darcy tilts his head to get a better angle and there is a tingling sensation as their lips meet once more. Frankie gasps and spills over both their hands.
Once they're cleaned up, Frankie hesitates. "I should leave," he says uncertainly.
"You should stay," Darcy insists. "It's rude to kiss and run."
Frankie laughs as though he can't help himself. "I wouldn't want to be rude."
"Then come to bed with me," Darcy tells him and Frankie carefully climbs in next to him, as though he's still waiting for Darcy to change his mind. Darcy turns to wrap his arms around him and Frankie relaxes into his embrace. They probably need to talk about this and if it's going anywhere but that can wait until at least the morning. For now there are more kisses to be had and the comfort of a warm body to fall asleep next to.