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Even as Jason delivered what would probably be his last big hit of their Christmas Eve game, he was already anticipating the announcement of the stars of the game. There was no way he wasn't going to be on the list. A defenseman scoring two goals in an otherwise scoreless game was just so damn uncommon. Not to mention the absolutely stellar job he was doing tonight.
He watched his forwards take the puck across the line, flicked his gaze to the linesman, who was already lifting his whistle to his lips to call off-sides. Jason rolled his eyes and veered off as the whistle blew, making a pass by the bench for a quick squirt of water and to see if anyone had anguish about him staying out here. Apparently the guy on fire was allowed to be wherever he wanted, so he settled into place, his elbow in the opposing D-man's side, their sticks jostling behind the ref's back. It wasn't enough to get them caught, but enough to make it clear neither was going to take any shit this shift.
Jason pushed a little harder and the guy muttered something under his breath that Jason thought sounded suspiciously more sexual than it could have possibly been, so he ignored it, watched two aborted tries at puck drop, and when it finally went, Duke won the face-off and shoved it back to their guys. He neatly avoided the trip up attempt from his counterpart and glided into place, skating backward to stay where he was supposed to be. He and the same guy moved to in font of the goalie, once again jostling, until Jason leaned into him harder and tried a new tactic to get him off his ass. "If you like my ass so much, why don't you kiss it?"
The guy outright laughed, which was a new response to Jason's chirping. He stole a glance at the guy, slid his eyes back to the puck, steadied himself, and backed his rear right up against the guy on purpose, aiming for uncomfortable now. Not that it was really anything through all the padding, but some guys got real angry about one of the few openly queer players in the league getting too close to them. This guy had no such reaction, instead leaning into Jason, crowding him as much as Jason was doing to him.
Keeping his gaze on his guys passing the puck, Jason shifted mostly to standing, kept his stick firmly on the ice, and moved deceptively as though he didn't give a flying shit about what was happening in the game. He purred out, "Seems like maybe you wouldn’t mind, hmm?" He finished his sentence just as Westy took a shot, heard the guy's laugh, and… well, his detriment because a moment later, Jason smoothly slid one skate out to brace, turned just enough, and deflected the shot off his stick in and in. The goal light lit up, the horn sounding a moment later, and to thunderous cheering, Jason turned all the way around, caught the guy's eye and smoothly bowed, a huge grin on his face. Righting himself, he skated backwards toward his cheering teammates, who were rapidly closing in on him for celebratory hugs. He brought one gloved hand up and pointed to his eyes and then the guy's, arching his eyebrow suggestively, watching the guy look skyward like he was asking for patience, and turned just in time to be engulfed in his teammates' mass of flailing limbs.
Around him hats began to rain down and honestly, all he could do was grin like a maniac, letting his team guide him toward the benches to get his fist bumps.
Skating around in the chaos of hats, Jason used his stick to scoop up a hat that had a huge fish on it. He spun it on his stick for a moment and then pitched it over the home team bench, laughing.
It took a while for the chaos to die down and once the game restarted, Jason knew it was absolutely hopeless for the other team to catch up. Everything was lethargic, stunned, as if a D getting a hatty was just too much for their morale.
When the final horn sounded, Jason took a moment to just stand on the ice, listening to the cheering crowd, utterly pleased, before he skated off. In the chute he saw Goldie had already been grabbed for media duty. Just as well, because there was no way Jason wasn't star of the game and frankly, he hated talking to the media. Every damned time his sexuality got trotted out and, really, it was miserable to smile through it like nothing was wrong with being asked a hundred times. He lingered, one of their staff giving him the tap and holding up a finger. He couldn't help his grin, tipping his head back and just mouthing fuck yes because, really, it was the best possible way to get first star of the game.
He heard his name over the loudspeaker and a bellowing call of first star as he skated out, did a wave to the people remaining that were cheering him on. He paused next to the glass and hefted his stick over, giving it to a lone pre-teen who was standing there a little bug-eyed looking at him, wearing his sweater. Specifically his pride month sweater from the auction.
Skating off the ice, he rushed into the little hallway, hearing them announce their goalie, Clark as the second star. He patted Clark on the shoulder as he passed him, issuing an enthusiastic, "Go get 'em, bud!" and then continuing down the hall to the locker room.
Inside he plopped down at his stall and promptly began unlacing his skates. Duke and Timmers both crowded in on him almost immediately.
"So? Who are you choosing?" Duke looked so endearing as he asked, as if he hasn’t been present for Jason's little encounter with number 34.
Tim gently wacked Duke's shoulder, scoffing. "Please; it's gonna be Midnighter. That guy wanted his ass. Like… legit."
A third voice chimed in, "Like legit? What are you, a teenager, Timmers?"
Tim immediately headed after the teammate giving him shit, his own voice mocking as he followed him toward the showers despite being fully dressed still. "Oh, I'm sorry, B. My bad. Guess I'm supposed to speak old fart now."
Bruce flipped him off and Jason tried to hide his snicker, only half managing, Duke rolling his eyes and stepping in the way so Jason was shielded. "Man… Do. Not. Engage. Their feud is bigger than all of us."
"Something's bigger, alright," Jason mumbled as he plunked his skate down and stood up to start shedding his jersey and pads. He paused when Clark walked by and held out his fist, got the gentlest fist bump in the history of fist bumps. Clark was always like that. Fucking brick wall on ice and gentle as shit off of it. Weird ass goalies.
"So, seriously, who are you picking?" Duke asked again, finally settled in his stall to the left of Jason, yanking at the laces on his skates.
"Yeah… so who shall it ever be, Jay?" Jason flicked his gaze up, finding their equipment manager, Babs, gazing down at him, clipboard in hand. "I mean, I already marked someone off, but I can use my eraser if I'm wrong about all that chemistry." She tipped the board toward Jason and he caught sight of Midnighter's name with a neat little checkmark next to it. He grinned. "Got it in one, genius."
Babs kissed her fingertips and made a show of fluttering them away from her mouth. "Why thank you, kind sir. So many compliments and I might drown in them." Before he could respond she was already on her way out the door to deliver the message to the other team.
Jason hurried through getting the rest of his equipment off and then breezed through his shower like he was going to die if he went too slowly. It was almost a record by the time he'd tossed on sweats and a loose t-shirt with his number on the upper right shoulder. He accepted the bag of goodies from Babs and exited the locker room, heading down the hall toward the Winner's Room. Behind him he heard one of the newbies ask why he was so eager to leave and three voices chime in at nearly the same time with variants on oh, sweet summer child.
Grinning, Jason opened the door to the room with the little key hanging from the bag, and stepped inside. The room was dim, but not dreary, homey but not overly so. Perhaps just the other side of hotel-like, if he had to try to put a name to it. They'd changed it since the last time he'd been in here – last season when someone else chose him. A better quality lamp, affixed to the wall instead of sitting on a table. The linens were an absolute insult to the losing team and he wondered if, perhaps these were the home team wins bedsheets, given they had the Gotham Knights logo all over them.
Settling on the bed, he opened the pouch and scattered the array of condoms, lube, and – kindly – gloves across the little table clearly meant to be a nightstand. He kicked his slides off, hurling them across the room, listening to them thump against the wall beside the single chair. Humming, he flicked his gaze up to the little lighted screen beside the door, watching as it finally flicked over to reveal any preferences Midnighter had for their encounter. Some guys were hella picky, others just went with the flow. Jason had heard about one dude who had an entire page of will not do items. Ridiculous, if you asked him. By that point, what was left? Just opt out and be done with it. Jason's own only had two hard stops and he thought they were unlikely to ever come up. He also knew they were now posted on the matching screen outside the door for Midnighter to see.
His eyes flicked over the words, mostly a little write up of things that got the guy off, and then four hard nos. Jason wanted nothing to do with any of the things on the no list, so it didn't hurt his feelings any. He leaned back on the bed and studied himself in the small mirror on the opposing wall, trying to decide if the remnants of a bruise from last night was sexy or off-putting. He didn't have long to decide because the door clicked open and Midnighter entered the room. He smelled like a less sweaty version of what he had on ice and despite looking tired – hell, they both were after that game – he still had a smile on his lips. "Man of his word, I see."
Jason hummed, gave him a cocky little grin. "I mean, you wanted my ass so bad. So… here it is."
Midnighter laughed, left his own slides by the door and padded across the room to lean down over Jason, making Jason have to nearly lie back on the bed. He hovered there, one hand on each side of Jason's body, gaze sliding from groin to face, ever so slowly. He reached up and caught Jason's chin, his touch firm, demanding, but not rough. He clicked his tongue. "Some guys might call that slutty. I just call it opportunistic. See an opening and take it; very wise."
Jason snorted, pushed himself up and looped his arms around Midnighter, yanking him back down with him and then rolling, getting him under his body, straddling his hips. He slid forward, lining them up just right, and began to rock against him. "Hey, you're the one who made the opening. That goal was easy."
"I did no such thing."
Jason tsk-ed. "Sure, mouthing at me and paying attention to my ass instead of the play. Very smart, bud."
"Keep mouthing off and see where it gets you."
Jason bucked his hips against Midnighter's harder, a groan bubbling up from inside him at how hard they were both getting. "Seems like it's getting me pretty far." A second later, he gasped as he was grabbed and tossed down on the bed. Midnighter didn't waste a single motion, his hands grasping Jason's sweats, dragging them down to his knees where they slid right off onto the floor. Then he pushed Jason's legs open with his body and settled between them, clothed groin pressed against his ass, erection teasing at Jason's hole.
"What if this is all I give you?"
"Then you nut your pants and I still get off on it. Joke's on you because I'm into that."
Midnighter leaned down closer, really getting into it now, clothed cock playing at entering him. His hips jerked in a pantomime of the real thing and Jason groaned, both trying to prove a point and honestly getting incredibly riled up because of it. He wasn't lying when he said he was into it. Hell, it was a very common thing in the porn he frequented. A second later Midnighter's mouth crashed against his and the bed began to creak under the onslaught of movement, Midnighter outright humping against his ass now.
Jason hooked his ankles behind Midnighter, pulling him closer, encouraging the faux fucking, his cock absolutely aching between them. He was so hard he was leaking all over his own belly, an obscene pool of precum dripping down onto him. Midnighter took him in hand and set a near-frantic pace, had Jason bucking up into his touch in no time at all, breathless and wanting, his hands tangling in Midnighter's hair.
Breaking their kiss, Midnighter nipped lightly at his lip and then pressed their foreheads together as he dropped all pretense of playing at what they were doing, clearly aiming to get off on it. Jason bucked under him, jerked up hard, and couldn't find an ounce of give-a-fuck in him as he began to shoot, bucking hard as cum flooded down over Midnighter's fingers.
It took less than a minute before Midnighter groaned, stilling against Jason's hole, his cock twitching as he lost it. Jizz leaked out of his pants, wetting Jason, and he groaned happily, slowly easing the tight hold of his legs.
Midnighter shifted away, then flopped down beside Jason and took his hand, guided it to the damp patch and encouraged him to play with it, feeling the wetness, the slick slide of cum between his fingertips, and then he pulled the material back, letting Jason touch his cum-covered, flaccid length, grunting as Jason intentionally smeared his hand with jizz and began to jerk him off. Jason flicked his wrist, going after him fast and intentionally aiming for torturous, winning when Midnighter's hand grasped his wrist and he gritted out, "Too much, holy damn."
Grinning, Jason groped at him a few more times, and then relented, settling with his gross hand on his own shirt, his feet propped up on the bed, utterly pleased. He turned his head and gave Midnighter a cocky grin. "Guess you did want it, hmm?"
Midnighter didn't answer, though he did match Jason's grin head-on.