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Marc-Andre Fleury was a crafty goalie. And when Alexander Ovechkin went up against him, it grated on his nerves in a way that no other NHL player could.
Alex moved quick on the ice, so he had to come up with some real caustic chirps to throw at the winger. If there was one thing he could do was not only shut the puck out with flourish, but add insult to injury to the proud Russian.
Every time Alex came at him, he smiled, eyes not on the puck, but boring into the Capitals captain.
"No score ugly?"
Blow him kisses. Lick his lips and roll his tongue at Alex. Winks and lewd mouth expression.
"Why you try to score on me fuckface?"
"You suck at hockey."
"Ahhahh, why you keep trying?"
"You better off scoring on your mom!"
"Get hair cut caveman!"
"Nice teeth!"
"I didn't know apes could skate."
"Russians don't come uglier than you!"
"HAHAHAAHAHHAHA!!"
Marc more than enjoyed screwing up the concentration of Alex The Great. He savored it. It made his job as a top notch goalie that much more interesting and rewarding.
He relished the blaze of hate in those blue eyes as he denied Alex his goal each time. Marc came to actually wonder what it was like to feel the way he made Ovie feel.
Denied.
Failed.
No score.
Powerless.
What a power trip that was to Fleury. So much so it started to turn him on a bit more each time.
At first he dismissed it as just too much idle time being single. But every time they played the Caps, he would secretly imagine some things that were not right in his head about what Ovie would really do to him off the ice.
And then one time it just got to Alex a bit too much after being shut out, loosing to the Pens, the sour insults Fleury was lashing out at him with.
Marc now found himself trapped against the wall of the shower, by a one Alexander Ovechkin. He in all honestly didn't hear the last of his team mates leave, nor Alex walking and lock the door to the locker room.
Alex checked the lithe wet naked goalie against the tile shower wall, not caring that the water was soaking him in his shorts and t-shirt.
"Ovie, what the fuck you think you are doing? You have the wrong locker room mon amie." Marc was caught off guard, and he didn't like that one bit. Not exactly how he imagined this playing out at all.
Startled brown eyes bored into hard blue ones. "Good game." Alex leaned in, enjoying the mild fear and surprise rolling off the goalie.
Marc's eyes narrowed, clearly confused, yet silently lusting. All the piss and wind had felt him in one failed second.
"Merci." He said tightly, curious gaze slipping down quickly to observe how the wet clothes clung to the thick body of the Russian.
He was repulsed and yet turned on at the same time, it must have showed because Alex grabbed a handful of Flower's long brown hair and smashed his mouth to the Pens goalie. Tongue plunging into that oh so perfect French mouth.
"You say such filthy things for having such pretty mouth. You get me mad sometimes." Alex chirped into the kiss, tugging on the wet soft hair in his hand.
All Marc could do is moan, sagging against the wall and now Ovie's body pushing into him, taking away any and all space.
This was it---the goalie thought---Marc's twisted day-dream was manifesting right here and now, no denying the hard on he had over it either.
"Merde, didn't know a brick like you had feelings." He pushed his hips into Ovie's groin in challenge, feeling a hardness there to rival his own.
"I like it when talk is dirty, but now all I hear is the water running." Alex groped at Marc's body, roughing him up with his teeth, tongue, blunt nails, tugging and probing fingers. Gasping breath and lusty hisses, Russian and French garble echoed off the shower walls. The water ran over them, as if washing away the carnal taboo Marc was feeling in his body at this moment, felt himself coming undone. Helpless. Powerless.
"Fuck me then Ovechkin, it seems to be why you are here non?" His voice was taunting, heavy with twisted want.
Alex had little use for words at the moment. With a wolfish grin he spun Marc around and slammed hm against the tile wall, drawing a hiss of pain as Marc's body was crushed to wall. "What the fuck you thick brute!" He protested weakly, trying to come up with even the smallest insult. He watch out of the corner of his eye while he was held firm by Alex, peel his wet shorts off with his free hand.
Slight alarm ran though Marc's body, a thick cock slid between his ass cheeks.
Teeth sinking into his shoulder, and now a rough finger at his entrance. "Now I score on you, mudak."
A bottle of conditioner sufficed as lube. Alex slid two fingers into Marc's body, pressing his shaking body against his sturdy frame.
Alex growled as he pried deep, twisting and curling his fingers, turning the Pens goalie into a squirming moaning mess. "Much better noises you make now. Dirty mouthed boy."
Marc whimpered a wordless reply, eyes rolling back into his head. So this is what it's like to be sexed up by an angry Russian he pondered for a split second.
He bit his lower lip enjoying the dominant presence of Alex. It was rare he wanted to be taken. Owned. Dominated.
"Fuck Flower, you shut me out. Make fun of me. Make me angry." Alex's voice seemed mildly hurt, yet brimming with contempt.
"Not say much now Flower? Fuck...how your mouth so loose, and ass be so tight?" He yanked his fingers out and as quick as he flicks the puck into the net, he pushed into Marc's ass, only stopping when his hips were flush with that pale tight ass.
Marc felt his knees give out as his ass was stuffed full of Caps cock.
"Deny me my points." He whispered savagely in Marc's ear.
"OH MON DEIU!!" It was so painfully fucking good. His dick pressing into the slick tile wall causing him to reflexively jerk back and forth, hands slipping down to reach back and dig into Alex's thighs for dear life.
"I-I not shut you out now Ovechkin! Merde! I like making you angry.....just doing...my job...." He could barely breath, Alex's punishing pace driving the breath from his lungs. Fucking the words from his mind.
"You-you fuck me....so...good!" His voice broke as the thrusts became harder, more primal. Hands painfully grasping his hips, Alex all but lifted him off his feet with the force of his sexual retribution, squashing him even further into the shower wall. Wet flesh slapping and a myriad of panting moaning noises emanated from them. Marc's world was being fucked to pieces for all he had said to Alex on the ice.
"O-Ovie....cumming....guhh....MOI BASIER!!!!" Marc shrieked clawing at the tiles teeth gnashing at the air his load smearing along the shower wall and his stomach.
Alex moaned in approval in his ear.
"Fuck that hot Flower....here it comes.....you....not....shut this out!" Alex's voice broke as he came hard, shuddering, grinding as deep as he could into Marc's convulsing body, biting hard onto the goalie's shoulder as if he were a chew toy.
Marc sobbed in lusty bliss, as Alex pulled out of him, some cum dripping out and down his legs. He had all he could do to turn himself around and prop himself up against the cum covered wall. He hoped his face looked as disheveled and flushed as Alex's looked at the moment.
"There now Flower, is all good, that was better than hat trick on you." The Capital's captain blew Marc a raspberry as he put on his wet shorts.
Marc laughed weakly at the chirp. "And no one looses this way non?" He found his feet. "Now, go, I must clean up the mess you have made. I don't want to have Sid find us in here like this." He cast cautious glance across the showers into the locker room.
Alex was beaming. Marc was glowing.
"Ahhh, so, that all? Worried about your captain and what he think eh? Fine then, I see you next game pretty Flower. I will score on you. Both on ice and in shower!"
Marc scowled. "Oui, we'll see. I still make your job hard tho Alex, no free hand out points to be had with me. Now go!" He was starting to feel awkward.
Taunting laughter was his reply as Alex showed himself out of the Pens locker room.
Marc smiled as he cleaned up, satisfied, but knowing full well they would never give one inch on the ice. Only in the showers. And talk was cheap.