#((boy got a certain sassiness and rather moody))

[deisbookofdemons]

She waited, humming a bit.

Hmmmm- -Poof- Sun is human for as long as ye want. And so is a certain someone else. As for the transformations- Just a poof. Making em not painful or anything like this.

Sun blinked a few times. "Huh. Wha--?!" He blinked, looking at himself. Still very much a beanpole.

[psychospeak-blog]

Breaking Point

Warnings: Smut.  Swearing.  The standards.

Heavily inspired by this. 

You hated the idea of it, honestly.

Female sports reporter gets together with star player.

Maybe they just flirt.

Maybe they just date.

Maybe they just bang.

Maybe they end up getting married and, the next thing you know, they've got two kids and another one on the way, and a totally curated, Instagram-worthy life.

Nope, that wasn't why you got into this at all.

It started with a love of the game.  As a little girl, your dream was to become a play-by-play announcer, often turning down the sound of the television when a game was on to try and call it yourself, and practicing your "He shoots, He Scores!" every night before bed.

In high school, it sort of calmed down a bit.  You still rarely missed a game, but it consisted mostly of you yelling at the T.V. or clutching your hands in nervousness as you watched during the playoffs.

It wasn't until you were a senior in high school that your realized that a reporter was what you were meant to do.  Not just because you loved the game, but because you loved reading people, asking them questions that made them think in a different way, breaking down their walls just a little bit. So it would kill you to have anyone thing that you just took this job to date a hockey player.  Because, honestly, you were never intending to do so. And, yet, here you were.

And it had happened so organically that you didn't even have the time to realize what was happening and resist it before it was too late.

Sometimes he was nice to you, and gave you extra time.  Sometimes he was a little sassy towards you which, was truly a bit infuriating when he singled you out like that, and for awhile you thought you were annoying him.  But then the next time you spoke to him he'd be nothing but generous, giving you his complete and full attention.  So, you thought maybe he was just moody.

Until you were taxed with doing a special feature and your nerves went a little crazy because it was your first big gig.  Nolan had just looked at you, ignoring your question and the cameras and producers behind them, placing his hand on your shoulder and turning his body so his words were shielded.  "Hey, relax, it's just me. We're just two friends, chatting, and there just happen to be cameras here."

And in your head, you were just thinking he was just trying to get you to calm down.  But then, afterwards, you were sitting down at the coffee shop around the corner, eating a chocolate chip cookie about the size of your head while looking over your notes, and guess who just walked in and sat down in the chair across from yours?

Yep. You had that moment like when you're a kid and you see your teacher out in public and it seems so obscure that they exist beyond school and have an actual life, so you blurted out "What are you doing here?"

He just laughed, leaning back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee, "Friends have coffee, you know.  It's like a normal thing."

Parts of your head were screaming at you that you weren't friends, not yet anyways, because all of your conversations up until that point had been work-related, but he said you were friends, so you accepted it as truth just because it came out of his mouth.

And then, on your next road trip, you were checking out a local aquarium on your off day, heading to check out the penguins, and guess who just walked in? Yep.

You made some stupid comment asking him if he was following you, and he protested immediately, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his camera roll to show you that he'd, indeed, been there for awhile. And then he said he couldn't help it if the two of you just happened to like the same places.

So you saw the penguins together.  And the polar bears.  And there may have been dolphins.

And he may have hugged you goodbye.  But you were friends, right?

And then, the next day, after the morning skate, he came up behind you and said it wasn't fair that you got to ask all the questions, because he had a question for you.  And you just looked up from your papers, thinking he was going to ask you something normal.  Something work related.  But he asked you what date number you liked to kiss on.

And you looked up at him and practically had to sit down because it just came out of left field, and he should not be asking you at work.  "That's kind of...not really a question you should be asking me?" you said.

But he just scowled at you and ran his fingers through his hair, "I just need to know.  Because, I mean, the next one is going to be our third."

"What!" you blurted out, and a couple of faces turned to look at you, so you hushed your voice, leaning your head down, "What are you talking about?" you asked in a harsh whisper.

"The coffee shop, the aquarium," he counted on his fingers, and then looked up at you, "Oh, were you counting that interview too?"

"Those were not..." you said, shaking your head, "You have to ask someone out first."

And he just said "oh" and blush forming on his cheeks and then he just up and walked away.  And you were so confused, wanting to kick yourself because you'd just embarrassed him.  And he'd probably done this way, way more than you, and he probably knew better than you did.

And then, of course, you had to interview him later than night. Even though they'd won, he was overly direct and almost terse with you, and you wondered if you screwed something up.   He reached his hand out after to shake your hand and you just stared at it, because this was something that you didn't usually do, but he just nodded towards his hand and you shook it quickly because you were still on camera and you were looking like an idiot, but he just pressed that piece of paper into your palm and you smiled, making it look like you were just resting your hand in your pocket rather than tucking something inside.

Of course you went to the bathroom right after to read it, squinting to read his writing, which was incredibly messy and boy-ish, honestly, but you still got the point:  "Will you go out with me?" and his number. You might have spent the whole night running through scenarios in your head.

You might have waited until you were on the plane, to text him nothing but the word "yes", making it look like you were just stretching your neck but really you were watching for the look on his face when he read it, and then looked up to search for you, smiling when he met your gaze.

It turns out that you didn't go out, but stayed in instead, going over to his place for breakfast because you were back in Philadelphia and knew he would be recognized right away, and you'd probably be identified pretty quickly, as well.  And neither of you could seem to wait for dinner.  So you walked through his building, looking around like you were in some sort of spy movie, but all the while knowing that you weren't as stealth as you might like to think you were.  A little bit of it felt wrong, even though it technically wasn't against any rules, but a big part of it felt exciting and right, too.

He had pancakes from the place down the street, the place he said he wanted to take you to.  But also because he really couldn't cook.  And you talked, a lot, about the implications of this for you.  How you didn't want him to show his favoritism towards you in the locker room or the hallway.  How you were nervous about why this might affect your career.  About why you got into this job in the first place.

And there was kissing.  Kind of a lot of kissing, really, for your 1st or 3rd or whatever date this was, but, really, you practically saw each other every day anyways.  It wasn't even particularly heated, either, just like you were were making up for all the lost time you could have been kissing each other hello and goodbye.

He did take you out, eventually, a walk through the park, followed by cupcakes on a bench overlooking a fountain, his pinky just touching yours on the bench, but casual enough to look like you'd just happened on it by accident. 

  You'd had a fun night at an arcade/bar, followed by an incredibly heated make-out session in his car afterwards, which ended way too quickly considering that you both had to get up in about 4 hours to head out on the next road trip. He offered for you to at least sleep at his place, just to soak up a little more alone time together but, of course, you hadn't packed yet, so you had no choice but to head home.

Which brought you to your current problem. You were in the middle of the longest road trip of the season, an extended two-week stretch.  

And you saw him practically everyday.  Sweating.  Panting.  Cheeks red with heat.  He was like a big red button that said "Don't touch."

It was easy to spend time together, since you always in such close proximity, and make it seem like you were just friends or hanging out with a group.  But you couldn't touch.  And you really wanted to touch.

And he knew this, teasing you when you got just a moment alone, that if you just told everyone, you could kiss him whenever you wanted.  Or do anything whenever you wanted, really.  It was kind of a bit of contention between you.  He wanted to share it, because, by now, people were catching on that he was seeing someone yet keeping that certain special someone secret.  But you weren't ready yet.

Christ, you hadn't even slept together yet because of this stupid road trip you were trapped on.

It was torture.

And you hated that you weren't more organized with your packing.  If only you had a bag ready to go, you could have gotten laid the night before you left.  Or maybe you could have at least had the foresight to pack your vibrator.

But, you didn't, because you were too distracted by actually enjoying your time with him.  So now you had no choice but torture.

And he knew it.  Game 1 consisted of him answering your question with, "You know, I think if we just keep going really hard like have been, we'll be able to get some more time in the o-zone."  And you could tell from the look in his eyes and the slight lift of his eyebrows at the end, that he knew exactly what he was saying.

By this point, you'd taken notice of how his eyes always lingered a little longer when you wore a pencil skirt, so you'd switched exclusively to wearing those. You'd even pulled out the big guns, opting for your black pencil skirt's sister - a little tighter around the ass, and complete with pin stripes.  It was definitely nothing overt (you were professional), but enough to show him that you'd taken notice.  You even made sure to wear one of the sexiest bras you'd own that day, making like you were fixing your mic as you stepped towards him with the cameras at your back, flashing him a little peek of lace.  You saw him swallow on that one, adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

When you came into the room after game 3 and saw him, you literally stopped in your tracks.  So much so that your camera man almost walked right into you. And he looked at you, smiling lightly like you were just clumsy and forgot how to walk or something.  "You alright?" he asked, "Ready to go?" "Uh...I...uh.. don't you want to put a shirt on first?" you asked, clearly frazzled. He was just standing there in shorts, a towel hanging around his neck.  His cheeks were flushed and his hand was wet with sweat, and you could see in your peripheral vision that his chest was red too, all the blood rushing to the service.

"Nah, I'm comfortable like this," he said so easily that it made you almost want to kick him in the balls.  You probably would have, except that might also mean taking the risk of injuring him and possibly delaying the sex even further. You had to remind yourself throughout the entire interview that you could do this.  That you were a profession.  Look him in the eyes, Y/N, focus on his forehead so you don't get distracted by his nipples.  And, whatever you do, do NOT look at his abs or check to see if he has sex lines.  

Somehow you managed to make it through, until he held out his hand for you to shake (because that was a thing you did now), and he took it, making like he was shaking it but really moving his thumb in a firm line across your palm.  You were pretty sure you whimpered because you felt it right between your legs. By the end of the first week, you'd come up with a brilliant idea for your interview time after their practice.  A fun piece about packing, that took advantage of the fact that this was an extended road trip.  And your boss loved it, because fans always ate up these kind of fun, lighthearted pieces that  got to show a little bit of the players' personality.

You moved through your list of other players quickly, keeping Nolan for last, asking them all the same question, "What's the one thing you always forget to pack?"

The answers were pretty standard - a phone charger (have to try and steal somebody's else's), sunglasses, socks.

When it was Nolan's turn, you repeated the question. You were pretty sure you were grinning so brightly, but you didn't care.  Honestly, he seemed a little surprised with the question.

"What do I always forget to pack?" he whispered under his breath, "Um, I'm a pretty good packer, honestly."

Well, that would make for a great segment. "You don't ever forget anything?" you prodded, silently begging him to just say something, say anything. "I mean, I used to always forget shampoo, but now I don't even try to bring it anymore.  I just use whatever's in the hotel.  Body wash, too."

And now you were picturing him in the shower.  Naked, water running all down his...

"Great!" you said enthusiastically, and both Nolan and the camera man were looking at you a little curiously, and you thought maybe he was actually answering that one honestly and not trying to get you to imagine him in the shower.  Professional.  Be professional, "And what's one thing you must always pack?"

"Uh, I mean, probably my Ipad for movies and stuff." "Okay, great," you said, "I think we're all done here then." The camera man nodded at you and started packing up.  "Thanks, Nolan," you said, because that's what you were supposed to say, as you walked over to where you'd left your notes.  

"Uh, yeah, sure.  No problem."

You picked up your papers, purposefully holding them with a lose grip so a couple fluttered to the ground.  As you crouched down to pick them up, Nolan appeared next to you, just like you knew he would, helping you gather them.

"You know what I always forget?" you asked, your voice at a normal tone. "No, what?"

"Underwear," you said under your breath, so no one but him could hear you, gathering the papers back up and standing up, returning your voice to normal, "I always have to go the second half of the trip without."

There was that visual swallow again, his eyes even widening this time too. "Hey Nolan, would you mind showing me how you want your sticks cut down?" an equipment manager interrupted, his eyes noticing you, "Oh, sorry, were you done with him?"

"Yeah, yep," you answered.  You watched Nolan's eyes dart back and forth, like he was trying to decide what to do, but, eventually, he followed the equipment manager.

You went to the bathroom after that, only because you needed a place to freak out in private, washing your hands slowly to enjoy the feeling of the cool water against your skin.  You emerged, and were pulling your phone out of your pocket to check the time, wondering if you had time to head back to the hotel and get changed and grab a coffee before you were supposed to meet with the producers, walking through the hallway as you did so, when a hand reached out from behind a door, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside.  

Your heart was beating wildly until you realized it was Nolan who now had you shoved up against...something...in this dark room, and then it sped up again for an entirely different reason. He wasn't doing anything, not really, just had his palms pressed against your hips, his face inches from yours, and you could hear him breathing rapidly, his eyes darting back and forth in his head like they couldn't quite focus just yet.

" What are you doing?"

He didn't say anything, just sinking to his knees before you, which really was a lovely sight quite honestly.  You blinked in disbelief, your eyes adjusting to the dark light to see that you were in a janitor' s closet.  You gasped as Nolan's hand settled between your knees, his hand upwards, parting your legs as much as your skirt allowed.  "I'm checking to see if you're telling the truth," he said, looking up at you through his lashes, "that's good journalism, right?"

"I mean, I'm not.." you panted.  Words, you needed words.  But what were words anyway?

All you knew is that you were suddenly thankful that you, in fact, wren���t wearing panties.  Not because you thought something was going to happen.  But because you were tired of ruining another pair at just how wet you kept getting in his presence.

You were shuddering by the time he reached your inner thigh, so close, but he sweeper it around your legs quickly at the last second, growling when he grabbed a handful of your bare ass.

He moved back just as quickly as he had moved in, sitting back on his heels, and you couldn't help but take notice of the bulge forming in his shorts.   You watched as his jaw went slack, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his bottom lip, and your knees went weak. 

And then he was standing up slowly, and your head leaned back just a little in frustration, annoyed that he was literally right there and yet hasn't touched you, not even a little.  

But once he was back on his feet, he slammed against you so hard that something fell off the cart you were leaning against.  His hand grasped the back of your head, pulling you to him as he completely devoured you.  He moved his leg between yours and you wanted nothing more than to ground yourself down against his hard thigh, but this stupid, stupid skirt was way to tight.  You heard yourself make a little noise and weren't sure if it was from frustration or from how goddamned good his tongue felt against yours. 

  "Fuck," he breathed hard when he pulled away from you, attacking your neck with his lips, "you're driving me crazy."

"Me?" You inhaled quickly, your body preparing itself for his lips being attached to yours again, "I'm, like, going insane."

He kind of looked at you for a moment, eyes searching yours.   You knew you sounded needed, but he looked just a desperate, so you gripped his shirt, pulling him hard to you.  

"Mmfp...you're gorgeous," he mumbled against your lips, breaking away from you.  His hands grazed you sides, slowly sinking to his knees again.  "So sexy." He didn't even do anything once he got there, just held the skin about your hips, turning head and laying his cheek against where your blouse tucked into your skirt.  You couldn't tell if he was just resting his head against your pubic bone because he needed a moment, or if he was just trying to be as close to you for as long as possible.  

After what seemed like several minutes but was probably only a few seconds, his hands started to roam, edging to the top of your skirt and running around the band.  "Is there a zipper on this thing?" He asked against the fabric of your skirt.   "Mmmm..yeah, yeah," your fingers went to the hook and eye clasp on the side, undoing it surprisingly easily even though your hands were shaking, You went for the zipper next, but his strong hands pushed yours out of the way, sliding it down himself.  Rather than pulling it off, his hands just went to the bottom and pushed it up, the fabric gathering above your hips like he couldn't get the offending garment out of the way fast enough.  And he just sat there, staring up at you bare for him, eyes wide, one hand slowly coming up to rest on the outside of your thigh.  "Nolan..." you said needfully.

"Shh...shhh..."  his fingers came just to play between your lips, your fingers going to grip his shoulder hard, the words "God" and "please" just shooting through your mind, but only a small sound came out of your mouth.  You gripped your hand around his shoulder even harder, digging your fingers into the skin, and that seemed to be the right move, because you were rewarded with a thick finger being pushed slowly into you, your head leaning back, letting out a low and slow moan.

"Sh...." he whispered again, keeping his finger inside you but running his hand up and down your inner thigh slowly like he was trying to calm you down, "Gotta be quiet." You nodded helplessly, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, because that was likely the only thing that was going to give you any hope at staying quiet at this point.

His hand just stayed there, but he rubbed your clit lightly with his thumb, looking up at you the whole time, like he was trying to check to see if you could handle it.  You could hear, as well as feel, just how wet you are.  He made a little noise of appreciation, his eyes dropping as he added another finger, curving them within you, rubbing your swollen clit in circles just a little harder and faster.  Your legs were already shaking, your hips grounding down harder around his hand. �� His other hand came quickly up your body, hurriedly unbuttoning your blouse, just where it stretched across your breasts, revealing your bra. "Fuck," he breathed, standing up quickly, and you whimpered at the loss of his hands.  But then he was gripping one breast, and you were positive he could feel your swollen nipple against his hand, even through your bra.  His head dropped, mouthing at the skin that was exposed just over your bra, swearing again.  You gasped when he thrust his tongue into your mouth again, smashing his lips against yours.  "Mmm...there are so many things I want to do to you," he said, breaking away and kissing your hurriedly again, only to pull back and move down your body again, hand curving over your ass, "But there is not enough time or space."

You looked down at him on his knees again, cheeks red and lips swollen.  "There's a lot of things I want to do to you, too."

"Fuck," he grumbled out unexpectedly, shaking his head, "don't, don't say stuff like that."

You could feel him panting against your thigh, lips moving upwards over your sensitive skin, licking a strip up your slit, your head arching back, your mouth opening with a moan.  His fingernails dug into your side quickly in warning, and you lifted your head back up, your eyes fluttering and lips pursed together as you concentrated hard on not making any noise, your breath coming out in little pants. You were gripping his shoulder hard again, just trying to stay upright, his tongue licking over your entrance, and you felt yourself throb around his tongue.  Hard.  

He made another little noise under his breath, pushing your hand away, gripping your thigh and tossing it over your shoulder, diving back in.  You were so far gone at this point, you honestly didn't give a fuck in that moment if your boss, or an entire camera crew walked in for that matter, just so long as he didn't stop what he was doing.  Your hand which had been on his shoulder went for his hair, half because you felt like you needed something solid for balance and half just to ensure that he stayed right where he was.  You gripped his hair, using your fingers to brush it back from his face.  His eyes were slid shut, like he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

His nose pressed hard against your clit as he moved, his lips coming to settle around it.  He was moving his lips all around the swollen bundle of nerves, and you couldn't help but moan when he began tonguing it.  Your hips were rolling against his face, pressing against his chin, and two fingers thrust into you hard, causing you to pull his hair a bit.  It was almost too much, your hand looking for anything to grab onto, white knuckling the handle of the cart your were pressed up against.  He only pushing into you harder, and you shifted so his fingers hit that spot within your walls, pushing back down against his fingers, mouth and tongue.  You were whimpering softly, shaking all over, that hand that was in his hair coming to grip your own breast, hard enough that it might leave marks, just to keep from making obscene noises as you starting cumming in waves, legs going weak.  He gripped your leg harder, holding you to him, curving his fingers as your walls spasmed around them, mouth circled around your clit, giving you little licks throughout the whole thing.  

Eventually, your body relaxed, his fingers slipping out of you easily, his tongue lapping at you easily.  Even though you were impressively quiet, you still didn't feel like you could talk, so you pushed helplessly at his head, dropping your leg from his shoulder, feeling your shaky legs under you.  "Nolan," you pleaded, voice feeling weak as you tried to push him from you.

He pulled back only to speak, looking up at you, lips wet and swollen, hand still gripping your leg "Let me clean you up.  You don't have any panties..."

You breathed out a weak "oh god," your eyes rolling back in your head.  Even though his tongue was soft and gentle against you, several more shockwaves ran throughout your body.  He finally released you, and you were certain you looked absolutely wrecked, but he was looking up at you with heat in his eyes. You dropped to your knees, climbing over his lap and kissing him with renewed fire, feeling just how turned on he was against your thigh.  You tried to push him back, because you needed to get horizontal, but he held your shoulders steady, keeping you seated upwards, his face looking pained. "As much as I want to," he spoke, his hands holding your arms hard, "I really don't think our first time together should be on the floor.  In a closet."

You sighed, because even though you agreed, it was still incredibly frustrating.  You inched back, your hands sliding to the tops of his shorts.  "Well, let me...." "No," he said harshly  gripping your wrists but then softening when he saw your expression, and laughed self-depreciatingly. "I honestly don't think I can hold back if you touch me," he admitted, "So I think it's just better if you don't, for now.." You stood up slowly, gripping each other and both on shaky legs, trying to adjust your skirt.  He looked at you softly, lovingly, and kissed you gently, not like he had just given you an incredible orgasm.  His hands were running through your hair, trying to fix it, butting up those three buttons he'd undone on your shirt, gentle fingers dancing against your sternum.  He moved back slowly, like he didn't want to, breathing deeply, sweeping one last strand of hair away, "I just wanted to give you something to take the edge off," his finger ran down your neck, and off your body, "Seriously, I have so many plans for you once we get home and I get you in my bed."

You almost felt like you were going to cry, "But that's a whole week away," you pleaded, full well knowing that it would be far too impossible for you to try actually get in a bedroom together, with the whole team, the staff, your bosses, all staying in the same place.

He kind of laughed under his breath, kissing your cheek but keeping his body strategically off your, his lips going to your ear, "Hey, call me tonight.  After you get in bed.  We'll see if we can take the edge off just a little bit more." Your knees went weak, gripping the wall, watching him disappear back into the hall.