Loyalties Lie

This is for a Winter Classic Smut Challenge, so you get the idea. I might have a Mike Green problem. ;)

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“Motherfucker,” I say under my breath, unheard between the noise of the band and the people celebrating around me. Only Jessica hears me and so she spins around.

“Woah baby,” she answers. The Washington Capitals have arrived. Now I’m in trouble.
____

We’re not supposed to be here. We’re probably not supposed to be out at all, but the Winter Classic start time has been delayed from 1 PM to 8 PM, and its New Year’s Eve. No sense in wasting a perfectly good night, right? And tonight just got very interesting.

She is unmissable. Long legs in tight jeans on top of the absolute definition of a Fuck Me Heel: bright red patent leather, 4 inches tall. A simple black tank top clings to her body. Her shoulder-length brown hair is straight and pinned up at the front – I’m a sucker for brunettes. Dark makeup just around her lashes make her eyes pop.

I’m no good with pickup lines. But I’m good with my size, with the way I move. I’m finally used to my new body, much of the roundness gone and plenty of hard muscle in its place. And some girls, the right girls, seem to love my mouth.


____

“Hey,” he says, tiny smile pursed on his lips like it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy that he’d come over here and talk to me. We’ve been trading obvious glances for half an hour, but I’ll be damned if I’m approaching him. Jessica disapparates from my side, leaving me alone.

“Hi Mike.”

His chest fills 99% of his light gray v-neck sweater, sleeve pushed up his forearms. My imagination makes short work of his dark jeans to reveal the wide, solid body beneath. Without question he looks really, really good naked.

His eyes flash a little wider in surprise. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage.”

I take a moment with the straw of my drink, pressing it lightly between my lips. His gaze flicks from my eyes to my mouth, like I knew it would. “No, I’d say being famous works to your advantage.”

Something in his eyes is playful, like he’s not used to being tested. Most girls are probably pressed against him by now or already in their coats waiting for his car to pull around. Me, I like to play.

I like other things too, of course. His dark hair is a perfect mess and I have the urge to bite those full, pouty lips. He’s eight inches away, now six and my body is sending up flares. I shift my weight from foot to foot, rolling the tiny ache that’s already beginning to pulse between my legs.

Let me be honest for a moment. This is Pittsburgh. We hate the Capitals like Dorothy hates the Wicked Witch, like vampires hate werewolves. We’re the Sharks and the Jets, good vs. evil, the princess and the frog. But I really, really want to fuck Mike Green.

So therein lies my problem: I’m loyal as the day is long, until this guy walks in the door.

I already know what it would feel like to kiss him; like licking a light socket. Then his lips would touch my skin, lighting up a trail from my neck to my hip bone. His rough tongue would catch on my smooth flesh, dragging slightly before slipping between my wet folds and exploring me by taste. His hands would feel warm, his fingers hold tight as they guided me down onto him. And I know his cock would be thick and long as it forced the breath from my lungs.

If he so much as breathed on me right now I would come, without contact, clutching this bar for dear life.
____

“Hi Mike,” she says. Like a punch to the gut, a stab of pleasure spears right through me. Maybe she’s got a superpower, some kind of energy control so she can touch me without touching me. My dick twitches strongly beneath my jeans.

“I’d say being famous works to your advantage,” she gives me with a sly smile. That hard pulse kicks again, revving my hormones like an engine.

Let me be honest for a moment. This is Pittsburgh. Anyone here who knows us hates us. There is zero chance this girl is a Capitals fan. So if she knows my name, she probably wants to break my leg. It’s the challenge I can’t resist, the idea that I could make her mine anyway. That she could want me and hate me, curse my team while cheering silently for just me. It’s self-serving and manipulative, but I really, really want to fuck a Penguins fan.

I know what it would feel like to kiss her: like the first lick of an ice cream cone. Her skin would be creamy, giving way softly beneath my mouth. Her nipples would roll like pebbles under my palms as her breasts filled my hands. Her tongue would be velvety soft as it circled the head of my cock, her lips firm but smooth over the hard length of my shaft. Her pussy would be swollen and slick, a freedom in capture. And I know it would kill her to say my name when her body betrays her loyalty.

If I could rub against her, maybe lean through to order a drink and just grind my lap onto her thigh, I would come in thirty seconds.
____

I gasp as cold flashes against my upper arm. The bartender pulls back the glass of champagne he touched me with, smiling.

“Sorry, you were lost there for a second,” he says. I was getting the shagging of my life from Mike Green, I think. Thanks for the interruption! But he’s holding out a second glass, which I hand to the real-life version of my very racy fantasy.

“Almost midnight,” I say. I try to tell myself no, this is a bad idea, it’ll bring me and my team bad luck for the whole season. Forget mustaches and lucky jock straps – fans don’t fuck the competition. But the muscle in his forearm stands out as he takes the champagne glass from my hand and my vision blurs.

He comes a little closer as other people crowd around to accept glasses for the toast. His brown eyes are slow to move from mine. The width of his shoulders is dizzying, an expanse I could explore forever and never fully chart. I wish he would touch me, even accidentally, so I could just let this orgasm go before I faint.

Thirty seconds.
____

People start counting down to the New Year at the top of their lungs, jarring me from the vision of this girl looking at me over her shoulder, my hand in her hair and the other on her ass while rides me in reverse cowgirl. She was just about to tell me how much harder I should go when the half-minute mark hit. Fuck you, 2010! I think.

A drop of condensation from the cheap plastic glass runs down a finger and slides into her palm. I want to trace its track with my thumb, pour the glass of champagne onto her flat stomach and lick it clean.

I take a step toward her. The gauzy material of her tank top is translucent from the light behind – I can see where the swell of her cleavage dives down and follow the outline of the cup to the spot where her breasts touch. I want to put my mouth there, and then my cock. I wish someone would bump her into me, so I could at least be touching her when I jizz in my pants.

Twenty seconds.
____

He’s thinking what I’m thinking. Well, some version of the same sweaty, moaning mess that is melting my brain. It’s all over his face like a teenager caught with a girlie magazine. I know that’s exactly why I shouldn’t, why I can’t. Nailing an opposing team’s fan is just too obvious.

Then that little grin is back, like he’s enjoying what he’s thinking. I know I fucking would. Whatever it is, I wish he’d get to it right here on this bar, on this stool – just get these soaking wet panties off and put me out of my misery.

Ten seconds.
____

She’s fighting it so hard. Her teeth catch the plump, glossy rise of her lower lip as she tries to convince herself that she won’t do it, that she can’t. But she will. Already the temperature has risen between us, thoughts of tender flesh and punishing thrusts making the air so thick you could cut it with a knife.

She could get to it, for fuck’s sake, just give in now and suck my dick right here. I can feel myself bubbling her mouth like champagne. Then I wouldn’t waste a load messing up my shorts when she puts that glass to her mouth in three… two…one…

Happy New Year!

We both go for it at the same time. Our lips touch, already open and searching. Lower bodies come together and she swallows my moan as I feel her whimper against me. I know she’s wet under those jeans and I am one good grind away from seeing stars. Her free hand goes right to the back of my neck.
____

The stiff bristles of his short hair are the only thing holding me together, tiny stabs against my palm keep me from exploding like a firecracker. His massive thigh is between mine and I might just leave a wet spot when we part. His erection grows against my hip, pounding out an urgent message. Those perfect, full lips and that long, strong tongue make it hard to remember to breathe.

I take his hand, pull hard to separate my mouth from his and lead him out of the bar. We’re barely past the door when I turn. He crashes right into me, full body contact, and doesn’t move away.

“I fucking hate the Capitals,” I tell him clearly.

A hint of smile returns to his face. “I fucking hate the Penguins.”

The city of Pittsburgh will banish me for this. They will put my picture in the toll booths and say I’m not allowed back once I’ve been run out of town.

I angle my body to block us from the bar window and run my palm right over the fly of Mike’s jeans. He’s more than a handful and I know he’s only half-cooked. My eyelashes flutter themselves closed at the thought.

He growls against my neck and drags me along.
____

My hotel is down the block. I could pick her up and run it, that’s how energized I feel. But instead I bump against her while we walk as quickly as she can in those red high heels. I’ll make her keep them on and then show her just how fast I can go later.

In the elevator, she pushes me against the wall and kisses me again. The conflict is obvious in her eyes: she hates herself for wanting me this badly. But she’s hot to the touch with her tongue down my throat so we already know who’s won.

I beep open the lock, then throw the burglar bar to keep Backstrom from walking in on us. I definitely don’t think he could handle seeing this. Then it’s my turn to flatten her against the wallpaper. My hands are in her hair, holding her face close and I use the support of the wall to grind my hips into her like we’re dancing.

“Mike,” she says softly against my mouth. My sweater is off in a second, undershirt still caught in it. Her palms run over my shoulders and arms like she’s deciding whether or not to buy me at an auction. Thumbs meet below the hollow of my throat and track down between my pecs. My abs are sensitive, ticklish and when she hits a spot just in from my side, I shudder.

“Hmmm,” she mumbles, satisfied to have found a weakness. Those long fingers graze my hip bones, just above my belt, feeling for that hard indentation that really strong guys have. I never had one before this summer, and she purrs when she finds it now.
____

Thank God he’s kissing my brain into applesauce or I might cry. He’s so, so beautiful and I am climbing out of my skin. I open his buckle with a flick and run the zipper right down. When his pants are around his ankles, I help myself to a long, hard press against the length of his cock.

Holy Canada, I think. The Pens will disown me for this. It’s like National fucking Treasure down there and I don’t need a map to find my way to my knees.

This is scandalous. First of all I’m fully dressed, barely inside the door of a hotel room. A hotel room paid for by the Washington Capitals. Touching a body paid for by the Washington Capitals. Hell, they paid for the boxer briefs I’m currently peeling away from the most impressive man I have ever seen naked.

I spit in my hand then look up as I rub him down. His dark eyes are black with lust. The bathroom light behind me spills a golden hue up his bare skin. I stroke him firmly, spreading moisture and feeling the smooth, thick girth of him. Mike exhales loudly.

My lips circle the head, catching his sensitive ridge, while I continue to work my hand. I press the tip of my tongue into the divot underneath and he groans. Then I hold his length flat to his stomach and run a long, hard kiss up the vein along the underside.

“Jesus,” he says. “I don’t even know your name.”

I almost smile at the look in his eyes – part cavalier, part concerned. I reach the end of his road, somewhere near his navel, and say, “Juliet,” just before I watch him watch me swallow him whole.
____

I can’t even process the word because my dick touches the back of her throat a heartbeat later. She’s squeezing my base, clutching my thigh and sucking my cock like a porn star. One hand fists in her hair, drawing it back from the view, the other has to hold me up against the wall. She moves in and out, stroking those soft lips against my hardness. She also lifts on her knees so I get to watch her perfect little ass bounce in time with the work of her mouth.

When she pulls out to swirl her tongue around my head, I want to ram her back down. When she’s deep throating me, I want to drag her away and make myself last. Because time is getting short now, my lungs can’t draw enough air to see, stand and hold out all at once. She tightens her lips around the farthest part of my dick she can reach and hums loudly.

“Shit,” I say, using her hair to bring her away. She meets my gaze and does it again, closer to my head, with the same effect. “Fuck,” is all I can manage. She’s got me so wound up and has no intention of letting me off the hook. My cock stands straight out like a soldier as she draws off and slowly licks her lips. Her eyes never leave mine.

“I hate the Capitals,” she says, this time with a smile.

I’m past her tongue and halfway down her throat before I can think. She pushes me deep and hums a jolt of vibration as hard as she can. I pop like Pillsbury dough, burst at the seams. “Fuuuuuck,” turns into a moan as I shoot three hot loads of come, feel it spurting as she sucks hard, drinking it in. My head sinks to the wall as I drain myself into her mouth.
____

I could suck his dick for a month straight and never get enough of the noise he made when he blew his load. I am totally in charge, even if I can’t control anything about this situation. Mike Green is all mine.

He pulls me to my feet, snickering as he realizes that I’m as dressed as I was in the bar while he’s naked as the day he was born.

“Time to fix this,” he says, throwing my tank top across the room. He goes right for my tits, lifting my bra and burying his face in them. A finger slides under the cup and spills my breast free. Mike’s mouth closes on the nipple, tugging and rolling. It’s hard in a second so he moves to the other. I run my hands down his back and over this rock solid ass, the skin like butter. My bra is gone a second later, landing somewhere far away.

He unzips my jeans and slides his hand right down the front. I gasp as he brushes my clit, but he doesn’t stop. Two fingers press over my panties and are instantly soaked.

“Don’t hate all the Capitals, do ya?” he whispers gruffly against my neck. Those fingers stroke along my slit, taking wet warmth with them. My hips thrust, begging him to fuck me in some way, any way. They slip beneath the fabric onto slick skin then spread my lips and test the waters in the deep end. I whimper. I’m not proud of it but I am whistling like a fucking tea kettle.

“Don’t like to be teased, eh?” he asks. His hand comes then he pushes me backward onto the bed. I bounce, squeaking with surprise. He gently removes my shoes before ripping my jeans off. Then Mike kneels between my feet and slides my heels back onto my feet like he’s Prince Charming. One pull later, my ass teeters at the edge of the mattress and his face is pressed to home plate.
____

I have never smelled anything like her – sex and heat. Having been sucked off so deftly I’m practically drunk with the desire to make her see the face of God. So I rub my mouth hard into her panties, just to tease her, and then I tear them off. I’ve always wanted to do that. The shredded material lands behind me on the rug.

The wide flat of my tongue scoops a helping of honey from her jar. I lap at her, smooth skin pulling slightly against the pressure of my mouth. Two fingers spread her open and my tongue snakes it way inside. She lifts her hips, trying to get me to fuck her now, but I have no intention of that.

I slide a finger in, then another. Her g-spot is so raised, she’s so fucking turned on, that I can’t help but touch it. Gently, gently, at least five pumps graze the spongy target while she twists and sighs.

“Juliet,” I say. She looks down and we’re both surprised that I remembered her name. But I’m going to remember tonight forever. “I hate the Penguins.”

Her hiss turns to a long, low sob as I press my fingertips into her g-spot. Her body falls apart, like one of those string toys that collapse at the push of a button. But I don’t let her fall, I take my hand away after just a second. She’s mad.

“Fuuuuuck,” she says, knowing there is absolutely nothing she can do. My mouth is back on her, shutting her up. I lick and lap, tapping my tongue in short, sharp turns against her clit. Every time I do it, she twitches. Ten, fifteen, twenty times later and she’s whimpering. On the 29th time, thinking of how much I hate Fleury, I give her what she wants.

I catch her clit and suck hard at the same moment I run my two fingers into her again. As I thrust my hand, my cock swells in anticipation of stroking the same silky trail. She’s already moaning when I bend my fingertips and plant them right into her g-spot.

“Ohhhhh,” it tears from her, fluttering as she fights for breath against the wave of orgasm crashes down. My lips seal against her skin, catching every ounce of pleasure she spills at my command. I roll her clit a few times to make sure she’s really, really done before pressing a kiss to her milky inner thigh.
____

Jesus Crosby, I think. I am going to a special part of hell for this, because that was the best fucking sex of my life and it wasn’t even really sex. So much for being in charge. I would cheer out loud if I could find my breath.

Mike is over me, victorious grin on his gorgeous face. I give him a dirty look but it doesn’t last as I take in the sight of his body, almost prone and definitely predatory, coming for me in the only chase I’ve ever hoped to lose. He’s no lightweight, no magazine cover; his thick, solid form is hard from years of use and training. His body can take a beating and dish one out – and I’m stepping into the ring.

“Still hate the Capitals?” he raises an eyebrow.

“I’m warming to their defense,” I say sarcastically. But I’m sliding up the mattress and he’s crawling after me. His heavy hard-on stands out straight, begging to be stroked. It fills my palm and then some, silky beneath my hand and he moans softly as I pump my fist.

“I want you so bad,” he says. Teams don’t exist where we’re going. I taste myself on his lips, he kisses me as more than a stranger for the first time. I’m eager to accept, tangling my tongue with his as I press his tip to the hot mess he made down below.

“Take me, Mike.” He pushes deep, not ramming himself in but not stopping either until I feel his balls press against my ass and the width of his dick spreading me wide open. “Fucking amazing,” I tell him honestly.

He can’t help it – I’m already trembling. No part of my body goes untouched by his thick cock. Each thrust is like being dunked completely underwater and I come up gasping every time. My whole body moves with his: hips rolling, hands clutching. The hard planes of his back are quick beneath my fingers, the skin of his ass offers more purchase. I cling to him as he moves harder, thrusting myself down to give him a fraction of the pleasure I feel.
____

Her tight little cunt feels even better than I imagined. She’s so hot and wet for me, so definitely with me on every move that I know I want to please her. Once upon a time this was just about fucking a Penguins fan, getting off and getting even. Now this is about making a Capitals fan for life.

“Jules,” I say, still stroking into her slender body, “You feel incredible.”

She takes her lips from my earlobe only long enough to whisper, “I’m going to come.”

I do everything the same, only times ten. I push harder, drive deeper, roll more smoothly under she’s practically embedded in the mattress. Every inch of her neck and shoulders are soft beneath my lips. She gasps when I tug on a nipple. Her breath is hitching in her throat, giving up her secrets and I follow its instructions. Fingernails tighten on my arms as her back begins to arch off the bed, slowly, so slowly pressing her chest to mine. When she’s fully bowed, I knock in a homerun. My cock bottoms out inside her throbbing core and she comes.

“Miiiiiike!” she cries, every part of her locking like a vice. I keep moving, strumming along her orgasm until finally she collapses, pussy still fluttering against my hard length like a towel wringing itself dry. Her eyes lock on mine while she’s still panting.

“Tell me what you want,” she says, “anything.”

I’m still moving, only halfway to my personal triumph. But she’s mine now.

“Am I hotter than Crosby?” I ask playfully.

“Fucking right,” she says without hesitation. “And better in bed.”

Oh my God! I almost panic.

“Kidding, Mike! Kidding. Just an… educated guess.”

I give her a little smack on the hip. “Get on top.”
____

Mike rolls over and I take a second to look at him, lying sprawled on his back, totally naked and completely fucking perfect. I trace my fingers over his tattoos, which now go all the way to the wrist on his left arm. They’re under the bicep and he’s ticklish here. It makes his hard-on twitch.

I straddle his lap, facing away – somehow I know it’s exactly what he wants. That massive erection slides in, taking my breath away as it fills me from an entirely new angle. He’s bigger from here and I can move more: maybe I’m the one who wanted this. I force my knees out wide and get as low as I can before I start moving.

It’s so easy to get off like this – a simple slide of my hips along his lap, an arch of my back and he’s grunting. He thrusts off the bed, taking me with him and driving himself upward, hard. I moan as it nearly splits me in half. He grabs my ass with each hand and not only lifts me, but his hands are strong enough to dig in and pull me down. It’s better than gravity. It’s like being shot from a cannon as he uses my weight to bottom out inside me.

“Holy shit,” I hear him say.

“Don’t stop.”

Mike does it again, I roll my hips into it and his hand slaps hard against my ass. I look over my shoulder to see his determined face, his game face, as he struggles to get as much from this as he can before losing himself to me. One hand reaches up into my hair, keeping my head turned toward his.

“Harder,” I say.

He does. He’s stronger than I could have guessed, twenty years of power skating has made him something beyond imagining. Harder for him is more than most girls could dream of and I nearly slip from my perch atop his cock as he fairly tosses me into the air. I land with a cry, absolutely hammered onto him, just in time for him to do it again. I kiss my fingertips and press them back against his flat stomach.

Mike tugs me by the hair until I’m lying on top of him. He holds my hips down into his, rolls us both over and lands on my back. I turn my face to kiss him, tongues sliding together to match the movement of our bodies. Instinctively I lift my ass, offering him more of me. He knows right where to go – three strokes later, my g-sport is singing.

“Mike,” I pant. “Come with me.”

“God yes,” he answers.

We’re seconds away. Tendons stand out in his neck, rubbing against mine as he puts his chin into my shoulder. I’m shaking like a leaf, trembling in a breeze until a gust rips me out by the root. I spin helplessly, round and round inside a tornado. Then the wind dies and I fall.

I know I scream his name. It sounds like a cheer.
____

I’m right there with her. Juliet’s body bursts like a cherry, all at once and spilling juice everywhere. The feeling is just as sweet. I explode, crammed deep inside, and flood that perfect little cunt with my hot, thick come. It takes three times for my tank to come up empty.

She’s beneath me, sprawled and spent. I sweep the hair from her face, kiss her cheek and then lay still on her back. I have no idea how much time passes, blissfully feeling my dick relax inside her exhausted body. Eventually our breathing matches and out heart rates slow.

“Jules,” I say softly, following it with a tiny kiss.

“Mike,” she doesn’t open her eyes.

“Stay tonight.” Not really a question.

Her laugh shakes us both. “Don’t you have a roommate?”

“He doesn’t snore.” That gets me an elbow to the ribs. “Kidding! There are extra family rooms – some of them are empty.”

She shifts until I’m next to her, my big arm wrapped around her small shoulders. Her eyes are beautiful, makeup slightly smudged. I’m proud of myself for that.

“I’m not cheering for the Capitals tomorrow,” she narrows her eyes.

“What about me?”

“I always cheer for you anyway. Quietly.” Her shy little smile tells me that it’s true. I lift up onto an elbow so I’m leaning over her.

“Wait. You’re telling me now that you already liked me before? Based on what?”

She nods. “I told you. You’re hotter than Crosby. And you’re fucking adorable to boot. I definitely hate the Capitals. But you, you are my dirty little secret.”

I can’t believe it – she had me all along. Here I am thinking I’m turning someone to the dark side when she’d already gone over, just for me. Before I even got the chance to make it worth her while. A laugh bubbles out of me and I attack her with tickles. She shrieks, rolling around underneath me and I know this night is far from over. 2011 is starting off to be a very good year.

“I’ll show you a dirty… little… secret….” She tries to roll away, but she’s no match for me.
____