One Wild Night - Pt I

Fair warning, this is for an All-Star Game smut challenge.  So it's gonna be a little out of control.  Not quite yet though.  The only rule was the story had to feature two players from different teams...
____

“Dude, southern chicks are so hot. It’s all ‘please sir may I have another’ while they suck your dick,” Patrick Kane said. His blond curly hair was clean but could still mullet out at any moment. Jonathan Toews slapped the back of his teammate’s misshapen head.

Duncan Keith barked a laugh, halfway through eating a shiny red apple. “Tazer, this is your kinda place bro. All nice girls who say thank you and make the bed before they sneak out in the morning.” Jon ignored the comment, as he had ignored a thousand before.

“Aww, leave him alone,” Patrick Sharp said, putting an arm over Jon’s shoulders and ducking him into a headlock. “Tazer gets laid sometimes.”

“By the same girl! I bet she shops online and does her nails while you hump her. I’m telling you man, there has got to be some bad ass, hot chick in this city who will rock your fucking world.”


“Okay, Kaner,” Jon said with a sarcastic roll of his deep brown eyes. If the guys knew he’d stopped even seeing that girl they’d really let him have it.

But his friend wasn’t done. “I’m talking dirty hot. Like wears her boots in bed and calls you ‘daddy’ and shit like that. Not that you can have her, mind. You wouldn’t know what to do with her.”

Sharp gave Jon a bump, telling him to tune it out: once Kaner got started there was no stopping him. But Keith spoke up.

“Oh no, Kaner. If we find that girl this weekend, this mystery minx of yours, she’s all Jon’s. You wanna give him shit for being vanilla, you gotta give the boy a chance.”

Kane made the sign of the cross. “You’d better bring a friend Tazer, and maybe a Swiss Army knife.”
____

“You can’t.”

Amy put her hand flat on the table, indicating a stop to the joke that was running away with them. She looked past her friend, from their perch at the hotel bar, into the rest of the room where half the NHL All-Star roster seemed to be mingling. They were coming and going, greeting friends, talking with new teammates fresh from the draft. Amy knew that two cute 20-something girls wouldn’t sit here unattended long. There were so many men in the hotel it was practically an Army barracks. How could they strike out?

Jillian shook her dark hair out then pulled it forward over one shoulder to reveal the very low cut of her top, nearly her entire back bare to the waist. She rubbed her glossy lips together as her eyes scanned the bodies nearby. Guys had been disappearing to their rooms in suits and coming back in casual clothes.

She shifted in her seat, flashing the 3-inch heels of her black boots. They came all the way up over her knee, worn with clingy jeans to avoid looking like a hooker. Because she planned on giving it away tonight.

Without turning her head, Jillian watched the Chicago Blackhawks saunter toward the lobby. Leading the way, chest out like he had places to go, with Jonathan Toews. She allowed him a second’s impression on her mind and one thought stuck: manthighs. Patrick Sharp was ever at his left elbow, hair all tousled and eyes laughing. Her gaze stayed in the middle distance as she pretended not to see both Patrick Kane and Duncan Keith check them out.

When they were past, she smiled. “Wanna bet?”
____

“That’s her,” Keith said, finally taking his eyes from the girl at the bar. She looked like the apple he’d just finished devouring: shiny, delicious, tart.

Kane groaned. “Fuck. I want that one.”

Jon whipped his head around, obvious and oblivious. He’d totally missed her. Patrick Sharp leaned in slightly and simply whispered, “Boots.”
____

Jillian waited five seconds then followed them toward the elevator. She slowed her gait, letting them press the button and wait. A door opened and the four big guys piled in. Just as she reached the door, someone ducked in front of her and caught it.

“Wait for me, guys,” Steven Stamkos said, pressing the center bar to keep the gate from sliding shut. His bicep flexed like he could have ripped the doors open again if he’d missed them. He kept his arm outstretched, seeing Jillian close behind. “Room for one more.”

She smiled, eyes briefly running over the other faces in the small car. She turned away and swore she heard Stamkos’ breath catch at the sight of her naked back. Floors ten and thirteen were selected so she pressed nine. Then without turning, she said, “I really hope this elevator breaks down.”

Kane snorted and Keith laughed out loud. Sharp closed his eyes and shook his head. Both Stamkos and Toews’ eyes were riveted on the lowest bare inch at the small of her back, skin supple and all the more sexy for being ink-free. It was impossible to show that much skin without being indecent, but the only thing indecent were the pictures in everyone’s minds. Numbers beeped as the car rose. It took more willpower than Kane knew he possessed not to say anything, or maybe it was Keith’s elbow lodged firmly into his side.

Jillian slid her fingers into the front pocket of her and pulled loose the little yellow envelope they’d given her at check in: two keys inside and her room number writ large across the front. When the doors opened on nine, she simply tucked the envelope into the groove at the top of the button panel.

“See you boys downstairs.” She strutted, all boots and hips, away from a few open-mouthed stares.
____

Keith and Kane both lunged but caught empty air. Stamkos’s incredible goal-scoring reflexes already had the envelope in hand. He opened the flap and said, “Oh.”

“What?!” Keith and Kane shouted.

Stammers held up the open card. “She gave us two keys.”
____

Jillian went across the hall, down the stairs one flight and back into the elevator. In the bar she climbed onto her stool. Amy quickly untangled herself from Brad Richards. “So???”

Jill just shrugged. “We’ll see.”
____

“Oh my God it’s too perfect. You two fucking boy scouts and the hottest girl in this whole place. We’ll find you tied up in the morning, covered in candle wax and chocolate syrup.”

They stood in the hallway on ten barely outside the elevator. Steven had gotten out with the guys and they all looked at the envelope in his hand.

“It’s all you, Tazer. One a piece, make ‘em count.”

Jon’s eyes were perfectly round. “No. No way. I’m not….”

Kane snatched the envelope from Steven, who for his part had been staring at it like a Magic 8 ball since he realized there were two keys inside. Now he stared at his empty palm. Kane held one key out to Jon and put the other back where he got it.

“You will, and you’ll fucking like it. Don’t you waste this doing missionary with all the lights off, you two-pump chump,” Pat commanded. Without instruction from his brain, Jon’s fingers closed around the key. He looked at Steven, who looked at him.

“How do you know who they were for?” Stamkos asked quietly, like if the key heard him it might disappear.

Kane let out a huge frustrated groan and stomped away. “Fucking finders keepers, you pussies.”
____

Steven got back on the elevator without a word, one key still in hand. Jon felt the hard plastic edge of the one in his fingers as he closed the door to his room. Kane was already halfway out of his suit and Jon ducked right into the bathroom.

What the fuck? his mind raced. This was wrong and weird and he wasn’t into it – except that he kind of was. He’d barely seen her, other than the curve of her spine and the flush of her skin. He could not deny that his cock was twitching beneath his shorts. A low, dull throb had started the moment he saw her back and was now building in speed and ferocity. The idea of her and him and having someone watch, making someone jealous with the things she could do to him and trying all the things he’d always wondered about… fuck.

Pat pounded on the door. “If you jerk off now, Stamkos will get to go first!”

Jon snapped his head up and stared at himself in the mirror. Stamkos was a nice guy. But he was down there at the ass end of Florida scoring piles of goals between trips to the beach. What did he know about hard work? Did he have a Cup? A Conn Smythe Trophy? A Gold Medal? No, Jon definitely didn’t want Stamkos to go first.

“Don’t punk out on this, Jonny!” Pat yelled.

Jon stepped out and regarded his roommate evenly, trying not to let his face betray his mind. He wanted her, whoever she was; he wanted this and no one could be more surprised. As usual Kane read his face like a playbook.

“Yes! Finally! Captain Serious grows a pair and finds someone to slap them against.”

Jon took off his shoes, put the key in one and slid them under the bed so he could change. Kane might be cheering him on, but a momentary lapse and his roommate would have that key and be in that girl’s bed without question. Jon was digging for a pair of jeans when a blue cube landed next to his bag. Of course Kane would travel with a whole box of condoms.

Pat made a face. “Like you packed any.” With a smirk that was a lot more confident than he felt, Jon tore off a long strip and carefully folded them into his pocket. “Asshole,” Kane said.

Ten minutes later, Sharp knocked on the door while Pat was brushing his teeth. He took in his young captain’s outfit: dark jeans, dark short-sleeved shirt. Jon looked down over himself, the ferocious feeling of lust and conquest quickly fading. “What am I supposed to wear?!”

Sharp laughed. “Take it easy, buddy. She did all the work. You get to have all the fun.”

Jon lowered his voice. “But Stamkos? I mean, do we go together? How does that work?”

“Dude, I’m married. Married guys dream about this shit all day long. So just go with it and know that later on you’ll be very glad you did.”

“Have,” Toews started. “Have you ever?”

Sharp raised one eyebrow. “Why do you think Staal picked me so early in the draft? I’ve got stories that would make Thunder Bay sink into the sea.”
____

Steven tried on every single shirt in his suitcase. Why can’t I just get a fucking tan?! He went back to the first one – blue, ice blue. It was his kind of color. His hands shook as he opened all three buttons on the polo collar and ran one palm through his very blond hair.

He’d been so caught up in thinking about the draft and being picked so high that he had nearly run the girl over. The instant he saw her, his mouth went dry. “Room for one more,” he’d said like some pervy dad hitting on his daughter’s friends. The girl smiled though, and he felt her presence beside him like a magnet. It didn’t help that she was naked practically down to the crack of her ass. It was no surprise he’d gotten the keys first – he might have been reaching for her body.

How does this work? He had no one to ask. Martin St. Louis had three kids, which meant you didn’t ask him about threesomes. And Steven was pretty sure that’s what this was. Unless he got there first then left. Could you leave a threesome? Would he even want to? I mean, Toews is cool. Better him than Kane; Jesus, I could never go through with it then. But he was pretty sure that for the chance to feel the warmth of her back against the plane of his chest, the rise of her ass fit perfectly into his lap; well he’d be willing to let Toews watch at least.
____

Jillian laughed at something Brad Richards was saying. Amy had one hand on his arm and one around the second drink he’d bought her. She dropped the straw from between her lips and said, “Incoming.”

No need to look over her shoulder, Jillian felt the temperature in the room rise twenty degrees. Four out of five, she kept telling herself. Those were some good odds. And she knew she’d take Kane anyway for a crack at one of his friends. Stamkos though, Stamkos had been a little gift from the gods. Definitely the ancient gods, with all their fucking and decadence. She was dying to know who those keys went to.

“Hey guys,” Loui Eriksson said. He sounded relieved to have someone new to talk to, since Richards and Amy were getting closer and Jillian had made it clear she was not interested in his crazy eyes.

“Hey,” Jon said. He’d been planning it for the eight seconds it took him to walk across the room. Readying himself mentally, prepping his body so there would be no hesitation. Her bare back was practically glowed as it raced down toward the rise of her ass. With his serious face on, Jon went right for the goal. He stepped in behind her and slid his arm around her back, inside her shirt.

Jillian flinched. The sound of his voice and the touch of his hand reached her at the same time, fingers warm on the tender, ticklish flesh of her side. His bare arm rested skin to skin from his bicep to where his thumb traced a tiny circle against her bottom rib. Amy’s eyes flashed in surprise.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he said, turning the body in his grasp closer to his chest. He had barely gotten a look at her except to register that she was pretty. But she was more than pretty – she was girl-next-door pretty with a wicked wild streak. Dimples creased her cheeks; they should have been cute, instead they were sly. The corner of her mouth curled; a smirk not a smile. And her dark eyes had one clear intention: I dare you.

“I was just wishing for something juicy,” she said without batting an eyelash. He had skin like spilled milk, soft and clear and given to hot, quick blushes like the one that crept up his neck now. The shock on his face was priceless in that it lasted barely a moment. He steered her toward the bar. She used the crowd as an excuse to push against him, the thick heft of his thigh solid against her pelvic bone as she got closer than necessary.

Jon shifted his leg ever so slightly to rub against her crotch. He swore he heard her gasp. The heavy mass of his body pulled her breath like a fire alarm. She tried to bite back her noise, but the quick squeeze of his hand under her shirt said she’d given herself away.
____

Steven found them right away. He wasn’t even old enough to buy her a drink and there they were practically dry humping each other at the bar. Toews’ hand was already at second base and his leg was passing the shortstop. Steven took a deep breath and sidled up to them.

“Am I late for the party?” he said, competitiveness replacing confidence like always.

Jillian was surprised for a moment. She had assumed Toews would play it safe with a teammate. But then again, look at his teammates. Patrick Sharp was off the market, Patrick Kane was straight out of American Pie and she didn’t think there’d be much left when Duncan Keith was through with her. Unbelievable. She wondered if Canada had Boy Scouts and if they gave merit badges for sharing. The guys sized each other up, chests puffed out and chins raised.

“Right on time,” Jillian said. And with Jon’s hand still buried in her delicate flesh and half the NHL in the room, she lifted onto her toes and kissed Steven on the cheek. His skin was cool under her lips, where Jon’s fingers burned at her side. Hot and cold. Light and dark even, as Stamkos’ blond hair shone white under the lights.

Steven reacted a touch slowly so his mouth grazed her jawline just below her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine.

Jon tightened his grip instinctively. He would have growled, making his territory but he knew this was supposed to make him aggressive. And as weird as it was, watching her play the game was definitely turning him on.

We’re gonna need to go soon, Jon thought.

We should get out of here, Steven thought.

Holy shit, was the best Jillian could do.
____