#Andrei Svechnikov imagine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

comphy-and-cozy · 9 months ago

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GASLIGHT - andrei svechnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov x Reader (f)

Summary: A dance of desperation, destruction, and desire with the man who broke your heart.

Word Count: 5.4K

Author’s Note: This is about a year in the making thanks to the thirsty, depraved minds of @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech. Inspired strongly by gaslight by inji, I present to you: toxic, cocky ex Andrei.

Warnings: Toxic relationship, dubcon/drunk consent, infidelity. Alcohol use/mention. Smut (18+ ONLY): Unprotected sex, very public sex/exhibitionism, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), heavy degradation, Andrei has a filthy mouth.

Your media consumption is your responsibility. Do not proceed if any of the above warnings will trigger, hurt, or offend you. Masterlist / Moodboard

In all fairness, you knew Andrei Svechnikov was trouble as soon as your eyes locked with his at that fateful frat party, bathed in a deep blue light strobing on the ceiling. Even then, it was etched into his handsome face, his smile far too confident to be anything but a terrible, terrible idea. But you were young, dumb, and all too willing to fall for the broad Russian with the dimples and a body that looked like it was sculpted out of clay. He was way too hot to resist, and really, what’s a girl to do?

In all honesty, he was sweet at first, even genuine. He held the door open for you, walked you to class, let you wear his jersey. He swept you off your feet with an ease that should’ve had your radar beeping, but you were already in too deep to notice. Besides, you had no reason to believe that the handsome, charming boy with a toothy smile would be anything but wonderful.

Oh, how wrong you were.

When you look back on the chapter of your life regretfully titled ‘Andrei’, the pages stained with tears and spilled ink from all of the letters you never sent, you’ll remember the red flags that you didn’t notice (or maybe willfully ignored), heading straight into a myriad of heartbreak. You two were toxic together, in a seemingly endless cycle of hurt and betrayal.

But it was hands down, unequivocally, the best sex you’ve ever had.

And that’s what kept you coming back, even when he’d pull his shit and make his excuses for the hickeys on his neck that you didn’t put there or the purple thong on his floor that was a size too small for you. You’d turn a blind eye, pretending not to see, pretending that it didn’t sting after the sweet nothings he’d whisper to you after a night in his sheets.

The real turning point of your relationship was when you saw him leaving your sorority house the morning after a night out, a clear walk of shame—except you’d gone to bed alone. Seeing the bedhead and hickeys on your sorority sister, Callie, was all you needed to put the pieces together, your heart shattering for the first time.

So, after crying until you made yourself sick, drinking more tequila than you’d care to admit, you brushed yourself off, rose from the ashes, and did what any logical and sane girl would do in your shoes: fuck his teammate. And then another. And another. You took your rage and all of the hurt that simmered beneath your surface and channeled it into sweet, satisfying, addicting revenge. The orgasms weren’t quite the same, but you were surprised at how good getting even felt. Seeing the look on his face when he’d come down the stairs to find you in the kitchen, in a ratty old t-shirt of one of his friends… priceless.

From then on, you and Andrei were locked in what felt like an eternal battle at who could out-toxic the other. You thrived on knowing you were riling him up, getting under his skin, burrowing your way into his psyche to ensure he’d never forget you and would forever regret betraying you. You were the one who got away, not the other way around.

From the moment you stepped into the bar that fateful night, instantly feeling his eyes crawling over your legs, you couldn’t deny that you had voluntarily set yourself up for it. Unable to resist his charm, dripping in honey, trouble etched into the predatory gaze he held on you, there was no way you were getting out unscathed.

His white button-up is a size too small, hugging his muscles in a way that makes the fabric fight against the buttons in the middle. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the corded muscle of his forearms on display, the expensive watch sitting on his thick wrist. He wears it everywhere he goes, so you know he couldn’t have done it on purpose, but you can’t help but feel he knew you’d be there tonight, exposing it with the sole intention of driving you wild.

So, it’s only to be expected that you make your way over to a friend of his, slinking up beside him at the bar with a seductive smile and wide eyes, leaning into him and letting your hand rest on his bicep while you laugh at his joke. It feels over the top—because it is—but you’re fueled by the knowledge that Andrei will be fuming once he sees it. It’s the same old cat-and-mouse game that you always play, pushing his buttons even from afar.

It makes for the best foreplay.

Your new beau—Scott—struts off to the bar, smug at how easy his win tonight is. He barely had to work to have you hanging all over him, and the prospect of getting you into his bed at the end of the night is all but a slam dunk. Your eyes watch him, appreciatively admiring the broad shoulders and built back, envisioning what it’ll look like littered with angry, red scratches from your pristine, hot pink nails.

He saunters up behind you, and you feel his presence without even needing to turn around.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His words, heavily accented, are slurred—just slightly, but enough for you to know he’s been heavy on the vodka tonics. Part of you wonders if your antics with Scott have influenced his state of mind. Judging by the way his arms are crossed, revealing the curve of his enormous bicep and the thickness of his forearms, you’d wager that they have.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Andrei,” you say, tossing your hair back, dismissing him instantly.

“Cut the shit, sweetheart,” he sneers. His eyes drag shamelessly over your figure, heat lingering where his gaze travels. “That’s the third one of my teammates you’ve tried to fuck.”

“Fourth, actually.”

“Do you actually want them, or are you just whoring around my friends to get a rise out of me?”

“That’s rich,” you scoff, voice dripping with distaste. The absolute nerve on this guy. “Can’t handle the thought of your friend fucking me better than you?”

Andrei’s smile is sickly sweet. “We both know that was never the issue, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. Memories of late nights punctured by a thick Russian accent, bite marks that turned into bruises that lasted for days flood your mind, a phantom touch along your hip making your shiver.

“Where's your new bitch?” you pivot. “Let me guess, busy taking your Insta pics?”

His smirk grows, enough to reveal his missing tooth. The mockery in his tone drips from every word as he says, “That’s no way to talk about your sister.”

You bite back your grimace and the urge to say, “That’s not my sister,” but unfortunately he’s picked up your strategy of ticking off your friends on his bedpost one by one, and this latest iteration has landed him in bed with your suitemate, Jenna. When she broke up with her long-term boyfriend, you knew it was only a matter of time before Andrei swooped in with his handsome smile, dimples, and delicious muscles, sisterhood be damned. The fact that you two shared a wall was only the cherry on top.

With a glance at the bar, you see that Scott is stuck in line, your 3rd Mezcal margarita too far away. He sends you an apologetic shrug, gesturing to the growing crowd and signaling to wait for him. Your lips curl into a forced smile, blowing a kiss and offering a cheeky wave.

Andrei shifts on his feet, amused at the overzealous act that his idiotic linemate seems to be buying. With another glance across your figure, doing far more than just undressing you with his eyes, he sidles back up to you. With the way you look, he supposes he shouldn’t expect to resist.

“Seems like your man is gonna be a while. Dance with me?” he whispers into your ear. You ignore the way the heat from his breath travels down your spine, arousal instantly pooling through you despite every nerve in your body trying to fight it.

“I’m not your girlfriend, Andrei.”

“Doesn’t mean two old friends can’t have a dance,” he counters.

You resist the urge to snort at the label, as if you were ever friends. It’s the same look in his eye as always, the one that got your heart broken a thousand times before, but you find your hand slipping into his—ignoring the sheer size of it compared to yours—and letting him lead you into the throng of people anyways.

The way Andrei’s firm body slots up behind yours is far too easy, his hands all too familiar on your hips as he pulls you into him, forcing a slow and steady grind to the beat of the music. It should be shocking the way that Jenna—and Scott—completely slips from your mind, replaced by the feeling of his groin pressed against the curve of your ass.

“Look so fucking hot tonight,” he purrs in your ear. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but your body reacts involuntarily when his praise goes straight between your legs. “Made my dick hard just looking at you.”

“Wouldn’t want your girl hearing you talk like that,” you manage to retort, shaking away the arousal that threatens to warm your entire body.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“That what you said about me?” you ask, ignoring the pang of hurt that strikes your heart. It’s the first—and only—glimpse of a real emotion, hidden beneath snark and quick remarks.

“Aw, baby, let’s let the past stay in the past,” Andrei says, deflecting by pressing your ass against his groin, allowing you to feel the firmness beneath his zipper. The flash of any serious conversation disappears when the tips of his fingers graze against the underside of your breast, fostering the spread of goosebumps over your body. It’s a diversion, and you hate that it works; his hands have always been a source of weakness for you.

Heat simmers in your core, gradually growing until it’s bubbling; his hands crawling over your body while your hips move in sync with his. The chance of rekindling whatever you had before is long gone, and you’re well past any apology or reparation, so you might as well have fun with it, right?

His hands trail fire down your sides, over the bare skin between your top and skirt, to your bare leg. You’ve lost the ability to speak, to protest—not that you would—when you feel his fingers curl under the hem, tugging it up until you're all but entirely exposed, challenging you to resist. The air, though warm from the crowd, feels heavenly on your hot thighs, cool against the damp fabric of your panties. Your body gives an involuntary shiver when one large hand splays possessively over your hip, the other creeping over to the inside of your thigh.

You know what Andrei’s up to, and as much as you hate him, there’s not a single ounce in your body that wants to stop him. Your legs fall open against your will, making more space for his hand.

“Fucking soaked,” he sneers, laughing at the way you shudder when his finger barely grazes your clit, pressing against the wet scrap of fabric covering your modesty. “Knew you would be. You can never get enough of me, can you?”

Refusing to give in so easily, you reply by slowing the roll of your hips, pressing further against his groin to grind against him. His chuckle is low in your ear, amused at your attempt to keep the playing field even. The pad of his middle finger runs over your pussy, collecting the wetness that’s seeping through the cotton.

Andrei’s hand stays gripped on your thigh while the other comes up to press his finger against your lips. You can taste your own essence on the tip of his finger, coating your lip with the moisture. It presses into your mouth, pushing against your tongue in a display of dominance; though you want to push him away, your body betrays you and your lips close around his digit, sucking hard.

The sound of your moan when he roughly tugs your panties to the side is covered by the heavy bass pumping through the room. The lights are dim enough, strobing around to hide the way Andrei plunges a thick finger into you, though admittedly you wouldn’t notice or care if someone were to spot you, the thought making you even hotter.

“Always so fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs in your ear, shifting his hand to add another finger. “Dripping all over my hand like a fucking whore.”

“Andrei,” you whisper, fruitlessly, the sound of your voice swallowed by the electronic wobs of the remixed rap song overhead. Your resolve is slipping quickly, with each deep twist of his fingers inside of you, knees losing strength with every passing moment. Maybe it’s the cocktail, or maybe it’s just him; either way, you’re intoxicated.

His marriage and middle pump their way into you, the slick between your thighs making it all too easy for him to slide them in and out. Your eyes flutter shut, head lolling back slightly when he strokes you perfectly, even despite the awkward angle of his wrist, shoved between your legs in the middle of a sweaty, crowded room. So far, no one’s seemed to notice—or perhaps, if they did, they just opted to ignore it.

“Fuck, kisa,” he murmurs, and the heat in his voice makes you clench around his digits. It’s rough, deep in your ear, followed by what you presume is cursing in Russian. Andrei grips your hips so tightly you’re certain there’ll be fingerprint-sized bruises on them tomorrow. “Such a desperate whore for me, you’d let me take you right here in front of everyone, wouldn’t you?”

His finger presses against your g-spot in a way that has your resolve completely melting; suddenly, all you can focus on is the feeling that’s blooming in your core, flooding pleasure through your veins. Fuck it.

“Fuck yeah, give it to me.”

You’re not really serious, at least not entirely, but your stomach flutters with excitement when you feel one of his hands fidgeting behind your ass, fishing out his erection to press it against you. He’s hard, and you can feel the way he throbs against you through the thin material of your skirt. Admittedly, you had missed that specific part of him. No one, not even his linemate Scott with the big dick, could replicate Andrei.

“This what you want, huh? Want it deep in that little cunt?” he says, tapping himself lightly against your ass in the limited space he has between your bodies. “Guess my dick doesn’t know how much of a bitch you are.”

“Probably because your dick has been inside way bigger bitches than me,” you bite back, the throb between your legs not enough to cull the sass and bitterness that lingers just beneath the surface. If his fingers weren’t just buried between your thighs, you probably would’ve had more to say about the matter.

When you feel the curl of his fingers tugging the material of your skirt up farther, you arch into him, your senses ablaze with adrenaline. You can’t help it, giving into the way you throb, empty, waiting for him to soothe the need with the harsh thrust of his cock.

Andrei is slow, drawing out your torture. He keeps his hips pressed against your backside, shielding his erection with your ass, because you are still in public, after all. His large hand grips your hip while the other reaches between your bodies, and you let out a whimper when you feel his tip lining up with your entrance.

He pushes in, slowly, mainly to avoid attracting attention. His hands flex against your waist, pulling you into him and encouraging you to resume the grind of your hips; only this time, his dick is buried deep inside of you and he’s pressed directly against your g-spot. He hasn’t been inside you for 5 seconds and your legs are already shaking, trying desperately to steady your breathing while heat floods through your body.

Even through the loud music, you can hear the way Andrei grunts lowly in your ear, and you’re pleased to know he’s just as strung out as you, fucking you in the middle of a dance floor. His hips begin to push forward, subtly, forcing you to feel each inch and ridge of his cock dragging in and out of your soaked pussy. Large hands crawl over your hips, guiding them to gyrate against him and using your body to drive himself deeper inside of you.

It shouldn’t feel so good, getting blatantly fucked by your sworn enemy in the middle of a sweaty crowd, grinding shamelessly on his dick. But the beat syncs with his thrusts, heat flooding your system as he hits the perfect spot at the perfect pace to have your legs squeezing tightly around him.

“You been thinkin’ about this?” he whispers in your ear, and you can hear the smug smirk on his face. “Think about you while I’m fucking Jenna sometimes. She’s hot, but her cunt isn’t as tight as this one.”

“You’re—” you gasp when he delivers a hard thrust at the beat drop of the song that’s playing, “—such a fucking dick.”

“Aw, but you love it, don’t you?”

You hate him. Him and everything that he’s done to you—breaking your heart, picking up the pieces, only to shatter it again. There had been more nights spent crying over him than nights with him, screaming into your pillow until there were no tears left in your body. Worse than that, he’d turned you into someone you barely knew: someone who takes the low road and stoops to his level when you know you deserve better than all of it.

But damn, if you don’t love the way he fucks you.

It happens before you even have a chance to think about how you’ll mask it, instead crying out as your body goes limp against Andrei’s. His strong arms hold you in place, stilling his hips to feel the way your cunt clenches around him as your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. The sound of your moan is swallowed by the bass, evaporating into thin air before it has the chance to make its way to any of the club’s patrons around you.

“Fuck,” Andrei husks in your ear, breath heavy against your skin. Your walls flutter around him as he lets the waves siphon through your shaking limbs. “Barely had to do any work for you to fall apart on my cock, huh? Comin’ for me like the pretty little slut you are.”

The retort you want to snap back doesn’t come out, mind still completely blown from the force of your climax. Your heart pounds in your throat, pussy clenching weakly around his thick cock, and you know you have no space to try and pretend he didn’t feel the way you came all over it.

“You gonna give me another one, dorogoy?”

“Drei,” you choke out, a wave of clarity splashing over you. “Not here.”

He hums, the vibration in his chest pressed against your back, so deep that it travels down your spine. “Unfortunate. But I suppose getting arrested for public indecency probably isn’t very good for my career.”

Behind you, you feel him tucking himself back into his pants, using your body to shield the way he adjusts before he’s gripping your arm and dragging you with him. “C’mon. M’not done until your face is painted with my cum.”

He doesn’t bother to fix your skirt, and you’re frantically tugging it back down to cover yourself as he leads you through the crowd. The next thing you know, you’re being pushed into the dark, dingy bathroom before his hands are pushing your crop top up, exposing your bra. Your eyes glance to the unlocked door when he tugs the cups of your bra down.

“Nah, a slut like you doesn’t need privacy,” he purrs, like he’s reading your mind. His eyes glitter as he follows your line of sight. “I wouldn’t even bother charging anyone who walks in for the show. S’a free for all.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s roughly pushing you against the countertop, growling when he pulls your skirt back up your hips. Your mouth opens to protest, but he speaks over you. “It’s so cute when you act all modest, but we both know you’re a cheap whore, huh? Pretendin’ that you wouldn’t like an audience. Like you wouldn’t let me bend you over one of those cocktail tables out there.”

“Think you wanna get caught, Svechnikov,” you tease, pressing your ass back against his pelvis, grinding on him in the same movements as earlier—only this time, you’re an orgasm deep, and you have at least some semblance of privacy, so you have no reservations. Your eyes lock with his in the reflection, holding his gaze. “Looking for an excuse to end things with Jenna, are you?”

“Nah, I think I’ll keep her around,” he says with a smile, pushing at your back to press your breasts against the cold countertop. “She’s a good fuck.”

“You gonna fuck me, or you just gonna talk about her? I can go get her, if you want. Catch her up on the details.”

With a laugh, Andrei tsks. “So impatient. Didn’t your mother ever teach you about manners?”

“More than yours ever taught you, that’s for sure,” you spit back. If only his mother knew the things he’d done and said to you; you’re sure she’d have plenty to say about her son’s behavior.

Andrei pulls himself out of his pants, fisting his dick before he’s dropping a wad of spit on the tip, running it through your folds. In the mirror, you see him watching the way it melds with your slick, coating the head of his dick. “I love when you talk dirty to me. Makes me so fuckin’ hard.”

He doesn’t give you the satisfaction of having the last word, shooting back whatever sassy comeback is lingering on your tongue, instead pushing into you so quickly a gasp is ripped from your throat. His hips press hard against your ass, buried to the hilt so you can throb around the entirety of him. “So tight, ‘specially for a cunt that gets used so often.”

The degradation pours out of his mouth, a hot wave of arousal trailing up your spine with every word. He’s the only one that can pull it off, igniting the blue flame inside of you with filthy whispers, paired perfectly with each precise thrust. His hands dig into your hips, pulling you back against him roughly, loud slaps of your ass against his pelvis echoing around the room.

A large hand makes its way up your spine, slipping into your hair and tugging you back until your spine is arched and his chest is pressed against your back. You take in your own reflection in the mirror, cheeks growing warm at the sight: hair mussed, makeup smeared, clothes disheveled across your frame. At the apex of your thighs, you can’t help but stare at his thick cock driving into you, glistening with your slick.

Andrei hums lowly in your ear. “Look at you, filthy fuckin’ whore with your tits out, getting this slutty little cunt destroyed by my dick.”

“Andrei,” you gasp out—whether at the filth spewing out of his mouth, or from the way he’s driving into you, relentless, you aren’t sure.

“Yeah, baby, you gonna come?”

Your reply is a choked cry. “No–”

“No? Yeah, you are, can feel the way you’re gripping my cock. You’re gonna gush all over me.”

Your hand betrays you, slipping from the edge of the counter to paw at your clit. His chuckle makes your cheeks hot, burning even hotter when his breath fans against your neck. “Say ‘please.’”

The last shred of dignity you have left lodges in your throat, and you glare at him in the reflection, refusing to take his bait. His eyebrow raises, and a moment later, his hips cease their movements.

An involuntary whine claws its way out of your throat, feeling the way your pussy flutters helplessly around him. You know he can feel it, too, judging by the way his eyes glitter as he looks at you. His voice is deep, rumbling lowly in your ear, “We both know you want it. Need it. Scott wasn’t gonna give it to you, was he? Not like this. Not like me.”

You purse your lips, shaking your head. You’re not quite sure what game you’re playing, not when he can read you like a book, can feel the evidence of your pending release, pulsing desperately around him. Begging.

When you don’t answer, still stubbornly clinging onto your last, desperate piece of humility, his hand slithers up to roughly grope at your breast. He massages, then pinches your peaked nipple between two large fingers. “Use your manners.”

Your hips cant backwards, attempting to goad him into moving—all you need is just a little bit, and you’ll be falling off the cliff into oblivion. He chuckles, hips moving quickly to avoid being sheathed fully inside you; you’re reprimanded with a slap to your breast. No words are necessary; he isn’t going to bother repeating himself, so you steel yourself and say with a shaky voice, “P-please, Andrei.”

A satisfied smirk curls onto his stupid, handsome face as he releases your breast, knocking your own hand out of the way to rub at your clit as he resumes the same brutal rhythm as before. The warmth of his finger sends a spark up your spine, heightening the pleasure that surges through you.

“C’mon, kisa. Come on it.”

You have no choice but to obey, the world shattering around you after freezing entirely for the briefest of moments. You swear your soul leaves your body in the middle of that dingy bathroom in the city’s hottest club; one set of fingers pressed against your throbbing clit, the other gripping the edge of the countertop, holding on for dear life. The sound of Andrei’s groan of satisfaction is deep in your ear, approving of the way your hips twitch in his hands.

“You’re so pretty when you come,” he says, patronizing, nipping affectionately at your shoulder. You don’t have it in you to roll your eyes, but you sigh loudly when he pulls out of you; the empty void in your pussy is devastating. “On your knees, sweetheart. Gotta clean up the mess you made.”

He isn’t rough, but he isn’t entirely gentle as he encourages you to your knees; you do your best not to imagine what is on the sticky, tiled floor of the bathroom—or the last time it was cleaned. Andrei smirks as he tilts his head down to look at you. “Knew I’d get you back here someday.”

“You want me to suck your dick or not?”

“I do,” he says slowly. “But I know you want that even more.”

Now, you do roll your eyes, ignoring him and leaning forward to take him in your mouth.

“Ah ah ah,” he stops you. You hate that he makes you feel like a greedy child going for a piece of candy before you say ‘thank you’. “Want you to say it.”

“Fuck you,” you spit out.

“Already did, sweetheart,” he winks, and you scowl in response. He’s the worst when he’s right.

“Wanna suck your dick, Andrei,” you say reluctantly, the words tasting awful in your mouth. You’re tempted to slap the smug look on his stupid, handsome face.

Your eyes draw to the way he takes his length in his hand, stroking it slowly. “Want it in your throat, hm?”

A glare, burning hot, shot in his direction. He watches you, expectant, and you know he’s waiting for you to repeat his words. The sooner you say it, the sooner it’ll be over. “Want it in my throat.”

“Want me to spill my cum all over that pretty face?” he smirks. You swallow, hot from the inside out.

“Want you to come all over my face, Drei.”

It sounds so sincere he pauses to stare. Then the smirk returns. “Aw, baby, all you had to do was ask.”

His dick meets your lips and you whimper as soon as it presses into your mouth. The weight of him is familiar, almost comforting on your tongue, though the width of him is something you never got used to. He’s big, and he knows it.

“Forgot how much I like the way you look with my cock stuffed in your mouth,” he says, pulling his phone out of the back pocket of his unzipped pants to snap a photo of you. “Should I post on my private story, you think?”

“You post and I’ll never suck your dick again, Svechnikov.”

“Don’t worry, kisa,” he coos. “Want to keep that for my eyes only. Now, put that pretty mouth to work, yeah?”

With a scoff, you roll your eyes and part your lips again—reluctantly. You can’t explain why, but there’s an inexplicable urge to have him back in your mouth, to deliver the pleasure he never fails to offer you.

To keep him addicted to you the same way you are him.

He presses in, doesn’t give you the time to adjust before he’s hitting the back of your throat, nor does he bother to hide his dark chuckle when you choke, tears brimming in your eyes. With a groan, his thrusts grow quicker, drool spilling out the side of your mouth.

“Not sure what I like fucking more: your cunt or your face,” he drawls, accent thick as he draws closer to his release. Thick fingers card through your hair, securing a hold at the back of your head and you blink away the stream of tears pooling in your eyes. A string of broken Russian falls from his mouth, eyes squeezed shut while his hips increase their pace. “Fuckin’ love when you gag on it though, baby.”

Andrei lets out another loud groan and a frantic series of thrusts before he’s pulling out of your mouth quickly, wrapping his fingers around length and stroking himself. He jerks a few times before releasing another curse in Russian before he spills onto your face, dripping thickly over your skin.

“Fuck,” he says, this time in English. “Now I gotta get a picture of that.”

When he tugs his phone out, you do your best to scramble away, but you hear the telltale click of the camera anyways. Andrei’s hum is smug as he admires his artistry. “M’sure Scott will love this preview of you for later.”

“You are the worst,” you huff, glaring at him as you clean up your face. Still, you can’t help the heat that creeps into your cheeks.

“What? All I was doing was warming you up for him. Think about how much dick you can take now that I’ve stretched you out.”

Not bothering to even waste the energy arguing back, you opt to flip him off. The effect is much less powerful given that you’re tossing out the paper towel that wiped his cum off your face. He raises an amused eyebrow, eyes raking over your figure before stepping beside you to grab his own paper towel.

While he’s cleaning himself up, you adjust your skirt, ensuring you’re properly covered. A glance in the mirror renders your reflection less than stellar, but you clean up the smudged lip gloss and wipe away the runny mascara from under your eyes. When you look back at Andrei, he’s distracted by his phone, so you seize the opportunity to take his wallet and pull out two crisp hundred dollar bills, fresh from the ATM.

Rubbing the bills together catches his attention, and he grimaces as he lunges toward you. Holding them just out of his grasp, you offer a big pucker of your lips, pressed to his cheek with a loud, “mwah!” before tucking the bills into your top, snug against your breast. With a wink, you walk out, feeling his gaze hot on your ass as the door swings shut behind you.

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kniesyswrld · 5 months ago

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Coparenting -Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: You and Andrei had an unplanned baby 2 years ago, even though he didn’t know you, he was perfectly okay helping you out and it formed a coparenting situation, but what happens when y’all realize you genuinely may have fallen for one another

Warning(s): Not much

“Come on, Xave.” I said to my son, Xavier Svechnikov, who is 2 years old.

He was conceived with the NHL player, Andrei Svechnikov, one drunken night at a bar & I’m so glad I kept the baby even thought multiple people in my family advised me not to.

“We got to go take you to daddies house!” I say as I zip up the diaper bag, “Mommy.” He whine’s.

I pick him up and we go to the car.

•••

“Hey!” Andrei smiled, as he opens the door. He grabs Xavier from my arms and then pulls me into a side hug.

“Hi.” I said and then place the bag down on his kitchen island, “Jordan and the guys are having a cookout to kick off the summer for us, would you like to come?” He asked.

I shook my head, “I wasn’t invited & I am not in proper clothes.”

“Jordan told me to ask you! We can go to your house real quick and get you clothes.” Andrei says.

I nod, “Okay then.”

•••

After some time, we finally arrive to Jordan’s house.

I held Xavier and we walk through the gate to get to the backyard.

“Hey!” Jordan says and comes up to us, he high-fived Andrei then fist bumped Xavier and side hugged me.

“Hey.” I smiled and I put Xavier down, he just held on to my leg.. He starts off every social gathering shy then he eventually warms up.

Andrei looks at me, “Are you thirsty?”

I nodded my head, “Yes and I believe he is too.” I laughed and Andrei grabs Xavier from my leg.

We walk inside Jordan’s and I filled Xavier’s cup up with some type of juice and I grab a water.

“If you are hungry, we just got finished with these hotdogs. You can help yourself, they’ll be in the kitchen.” Jordan explained to us.

“We are okay right now, thanks!” I smiled and sat down on a lawn chair with Xavier still attached.

I look down at him, “Will you go play?” I asked him and he looks around, “Lilah, go get Xavier and play with him!” Heather, Jordan’s wife, tells her daughter.

Lilah grabs Xavier’s hand, “Come on.” She giggles and they run off to play, Andrei then sat in the chair next to me.

“Are you and Andrei together?” Heather asked me, sipping her drink, “No, we are coparenting. It’s easier than I thought it’d be, that’s for sure.” I told her.

She nods, “It’s so nice to finally meet you! I hear about you through Andrei when we ask about Xavier.”

I grin, “It’s so nice to finally meet you too! I hope everything he says is all good.” I joke.

“Very good.” Heather says, winking at Andrei, he just let out a nervous laugh. “Oh goodness.” I laughed.

She pulls her phone out, “Give me your phone number!” She says and I put my number in there and she saved me as, “Bestie”.

I grin at the name, “We will now be besties forever.” She shrugged, sipping her drink again.

“Fine by me!” I smiled and we continued to have small talk.

•••

Xavier passed out in the living room with the other kids a little while ago, so us adults were sitting by the fire just enjoying the warmth.

“We are going to go to bed, if you need to sleep here, feel free to.” Jordan says, grabbing Heathers hand and they go inside.

“Are you still cold?” Andrei asked me, I shrugged, “Just a bit.”

He took his hoodie off and hands it to me, “You can just keep this.” He smiled.

“Thank you.” I said and he nods, “I hope you know that you’re an amazing mom, like Xavier adores you so much. You’re all he talks about.” Andrei smiles.

I smiled, “When he’s with me, he talks a lot about you too. It’s adorable.” I giggled and lean my head back on the chair.

“You don’t have to say yes, but do you think if I help find a babysitter, we could go out together?” Andrei asked me.

I smiled with a faint blush to my cheeks, “I would love that!” I told him.

“Y/N, I’ve been really into you since the night I met you and I just haven’t been able to get you out my mind lately. I just get so nervous because I don’t wanna ruin things for our son, you know.” Andrei told me.

“I just thought you wanted to coparent and have your freedom, since there are lots of girls who want you.” I laughed and he shook his head.

“I’m not worried about them, I want a family and I want you & Xavier as a package. I want us to all be happy as a family.” Andrei tells me.

I smiled, “I want that too. I’m so happy you feel the same way!” I told him.

He grabs the arm of my chair and pulls it closely to his, one of his hands cup my face and the other goes to the back of my neck.

I realized we were about to kiss, so I wrap my arms around his neck and he slowly pulls his lips to mine.

Our lips move in sync and I let out a slight moan as he bit my lower lip. “Y/N, I want to be with you. Let me do this right for the sake of a family with you.” Andrei says.

“Of course, Andrei. Now don’t stop kissing me.” I giggle and pull him back to my mouth.

“Daddy, get off my mommy!” We heard a tiny voice yell from the patio. He ran to us and jumped on my lap, “Daddy loves kissing mommy though.” Andrei says.

Xavier pouts, “Me!” He says and gave my cheek a kiss. “My mommy.” Xavier clung to my side and just gave Andrei a nasty look.

“She’s your mommy, but MY woman.” Andrei grinned at me. “Okay, daddy. I want to go home.” Xavier says, making Andrei & I laugh.

I stood up with Xavier, “Let’s leave.” I said and we all decided to go back to Andrei’s house for the night.

I think We will all be okay and happy.

#hockey #nhl #hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fic #nhl x reader #hockey fanfiction #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagine

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senditcolton · 12 days ago

Text

So Tragic and Rare

"Taste Your Silhouette" (pt. 11)

a/n: the first full fic of this universe! and I can reveal to you all that every fic is going to be told from Andrei's POV. I grew attached to the idea that you don't really know who Keely is and are forced to learn about her through outsider observations/opinions, her interactions with Andrei, and of course, her music and lyrics. anyway, here's the story of their first meeting!! It's wild, it's a bit messy, but it also is a whole lot of fun - if I do say so myself.

word count: 9.9k warnings: Andrei being awkwardly endearing, me basically rewriting last seasons All-Star game and smut! [oral (f receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, and a handjob]. masterlist

There were many things an NHL player could do over All-Star Break. A majority of players chose to fly to a tropical location, enjoying the warmth and sunshine in the middle of February and take a moment to relax before the season kicked up again.

But not Andrei Svechnikov. At least, not this year.

Instead, he was sitting on one of the many benches lined up in the middle of Scotiabank Arena in Toronto, watching the lights flash around him, listening to the crowd milling about in the stands. While he awaits the start of the NHL All-Star Draft, clad in his Canes jersey, his feet kicking gently.

Let it not be confused that he was ungrateful. Sure, it was colder in Toronto than it was in Raliegh and definitely colder than it was in any of the numerous beaches he was sure his teammates were currently on. But, no matter how much of him wished he could join them in their vacation, he took pride in representing Carolina at the All-Star Game. And he wouldn’t deny that the title of All-Star sent a bolt of cocky confidence through his body.

So, yes, while he was sitting in rink-side instead of poolside, he had never been happier. This was his place. This was where he belonged.

The amplified music cuts through his reverie, his gaze now moving towards the stage where the hosts of the evening stood. He listens to their welcomes and the explanation of how the draft would work, before the music build and the introductions of team captains begin.

The music shifts with each introduction and after Team Matthews is announced, the sound of a recognizable bassline pricks at his ears. He knew the melody from practice, the song often pulsating through the locker room speakers thanks to Seth Jarvis. The hosts call the names of captain Nathan MacKinnon and assistant captain Cale Makar – names that deserve their own cheer – but all he can focus on is the dark blonde hair of the other person walking up to the podium next to them.

“And the celebrity captain: Boston singer and songwriter, you’ll see her as our headline performer on Saturday, give it up for Keely Halloran!”

The cheers flow through the stadium – not as many as Toronto-based Justin Bieber received but that was to be expected. Andrei swears that he hears some boos as well, his eyebrows furrowing at the sound. He remembered Jarvy mentioning some prior drama in her career, back when he info-dumped about his favorite artist one night over dinner, but it seemed ridiculous to Andrei that people would boo her for that.

Perhaps their vocal dislike was based off her being a Boston native and therefore probably a Bruins fan. That made more sense to him.

He redirects his gaze back to Keely, standing on the stage in her own yellow All-Star jersey, talking animatedly to Cale and Nathan.

She was really pretty.

Jarvy didn’t explicitly mention her looks that but Andrei should’ve known. Yes, Seth liked her music but it would be idiotic to think that there wasn’t some attraction woven into his admiration.

But she was really truly beautiful, the spotlight shining down on her. She seemed so at ease, under the lights, in front of the crowd, and Andrei supposes it came with the territory. She made her living on the stage and even though this was a much different circumstance than she was probably used to, it probably didn’t phase her at all.

The draft starts and Andrei can’t take his eyes off of Keely. There is a need flowing through him, a desperate desire to be on her team. Although, if asked, he wouldn’t be able to concisely say why.

It could’ve been the fact that her team was captained by Nathan MacKinnon and Cale Makar – two powerhouse players that anyone would be lucky to play with. It could’ve been because he promised Jarvy that he’d get a picture or autograph for him and being on Keely’s team would make that task easier to accomplish. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that he found her attractive.

Whatever the reason, he wanted to be hers. Her player – on her team, that is.

He watches as her, Nathan, and Cale look at their options, talking each pick over. He sees her disappointed face and hears a small sound of disappointment leave her lips when David Pastranak gets chosen by Team McDavid, confirming his assumption that she was a Boston fan. He listens to her voice, cheerfully greeting and shaking the hand of each player that skates up: Crosby, Georgiev, Kaprisov. All he can do is wait and hope for his name to be called – hopefully by her.

When Robert Thomas gets chosen by team McDavid, the host jumps back to Keely, ready to announce the next pick of Team MacKinnon.

“Alright Keely, your team is up. How much power do you have in these draft choices?”

“I’d like to think I have some but they’re the professionals so I’m trusting them,” Keely laughs, tossing her hair back. “We were looking at all the names here, and I’m going with the guys on this one. We’re going to select… Andrei Svechnikov.”

His name on her lips sounds like music to his ears and he lifts himself off the bench, skating over towards the third of the small podiums lining the stage. He can faintly hear the voice of the announcer praising his game but that all seems irrelevant to the sight of those blue eyes trained on him.

He skates up, first clapping Nathan on the back, before his eyes connect with Keely. She has that smile on her face, a camera-ready smile but one that also seemed entirely genuine.

“Hey,” she says to him, her voice still lifting with the edge of her laughter as she holds out her hand to him. He accepts it, shaking it gently before moving to Cale, taking the All-Star jersey from his hands.

It isn’t until he is settled down on the MacKinnon bench, lined up next to his new teammates, do his eyes return to Keely and notices her staring at him. And it is only then does he realize he never said a word, not even a hello, to her.

A strange feeling of embarrassment runs through him, his eyes darting down, pretending to be absorbed in unfolding the yellow jersey. God, she must’ve thought he was an asshole or something. What a great first impression. He throws the material over his head and only afterward does he allow himself to look back up towards the podium where Keely stood.

He continues to watch and listen to her aid in the building of Team MacKinnon. And every time she speaks, he notices more things about her, aspects the draw him in even deeper.

He noticed her playfulness when Jeremy Swayman was selected by Cale, laughing at the incredulous “alright?” that escaped Keely’s lips, clearly not agreeing with the defenseman’s choice of adjective concerning the goalie.

Andrei’s laughter soured quickly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy thrum through him when Jeremy skated over and shook Keely’s hand, the rockstar clearly overjoyed that he was selected. It was an odd thing to be jealous about, he realized, and he shook off the feeling, focusing back to the rest of the draft.

He noticed her welcoming warmth when she selected Elias Lindholm, newest member of the Boston Bruins, traded from Vancouver just before the All-Star game.

And when there were only four players left and each of the leadership teams came up onto the main stage, he listened intently when he heard her name fall from the mouth of one of the hosts.

“I wanted to talk to Keely Halloran for a moment here. You have a big performance coming up on Saturday. How do you feel?”

“I’m so excited,” she replies, her words and her smile seeming nothing short of genuine. “Growing up in Boston and growing up a Bruins fan – dangerous thing to admit in Toronto, I know, but – it really made me fall in love with hockey. My dad is coming in tomorrow and he’s just super excited.”

“Well, since you mentioned being a Bruins fan, are you happy you got a few Bruins on your team?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, kind of disappointed we didn’t get the full set with Pasta but I like the team we made up and I know that at least me, Jeremy, and Elias will bring some of that energy and power that I always feel in TD Garden.”

“Well, we’ll be feeling the energy and power during your performance on Saturday, I’m sure,” the host says, turning away without acknowledging the laughter and confirmation that falls from Keely’s lips.

The draft wraps up after the final selection, each team being filled. A cheer goes up from the crowd as the rosters are announced, followed by a reminder of the skills competition tomorrow and the All-Star game the day after that. After the final cheer, the bright lights of the stadium come back up, the production crews and behind the scenes personnel milling about. One of them stands in front of the Team MacKinnon bench, a quick explanation falling from their lips.

“Alright, guys, we’re gonna take a team photo for social media and then you are all free to go, sound good?”

Andrei nods his head, standing up to be positioned for picture. His eyes scan the stadium before landing on Keely again, slowly walking down the steps of the stage, trailing behind Cale and Nathan. He sees her slow shuffling across the ice, her eyes trained on her feet. A jolt of confidence plus a need to redeem himself from their first interaction runs through his body and without hesitation, he skates away from the team bench, towards her. With a small hiss of his skates, he pauses beside her, holding out his arm.

“Would you like help?” he asks. He can feel his heartbeat stutter in his chest when she looks up at him, her bright blue eyes connected with his brown ones.

“Is it that obvious that I’m not the strongest at walking on ice?” she laughs, still shuffling across the surface.

“It’s amazing you haven’t fallen yet,” Andrei replies. One of Keely’s eyebrows pops up and Andrei realizes that his words sounded more than a little patronizing. “I mean, in those shoes,” he elaborates, gesturing down to her heels, trying to mitigate whatever damage he may have inflicted.

“Yeah, not the smartest decision,” she replies. “I would love some help. Falling on my face wouldn’t be very good publicity for me.”

Andrei nods, relaxing in her easy-going attitude, re-extending his arm towards her. She takes it, her hand curling around his bicep. Andrei starts to slowly move back toward the group of yellow jerseys, attempting to keep a steady pace, focusing more on his skating in this moment than he had in ages.

The two of them reach the bench and Keely murmurs a soft thank you. His only reply is a nod, skating behind the seat and smiling for the camera. As soon as the photo is snapped, Andrei is ready to immediately return to Keely’s side, offering his help again. But he is beaten to it by the true Canadian gentleman Sidney Crosby.

With a sigh, he watches as she walks off with Sid and Nate before he skates over to the tunnel, ready to head back to the hotel. He still wasn’t sure if he was going to go down to the hotel bar or stay in his room, getting some necessary sleep before tomorrow. But his decision is made for him when he spies Keely glance back over her shoulder, locked gaze with him and sending a soft smile in his direction.

He would do anything if it meant that she would look at him that way again.

~*~*~*~

The hotel bar was crowded, filled with players, their significant others, and a few members of the media, eager to get every snippet of content they could.

Andrei knew it might have been best for him to stay upstairs, what with the skills competition coming up tomorrow – a competition that Andrei had a spot in. But it was the All-Star game and he was the only Carolina Hurricane here. He should represent his team as much as he could, in as many places as he could; let his face be seen and captured by the cameras around. He promised himself only a beer or two before leaving and he was making good on that promise. Although, he would admit that he was distracted looking for one person in particular.

It wasn’t until he was at the bar, ready to grab his second beer did his eyes finally locate the now familiar dark blonde hair of Keely Halloran.

She was sitting a few seats away from him, her back against the wooden bar-top as she talked with Nathan, Cale, Sidney, and Mitch Marner, her laughter bouncing through the air, cutting through the smooth jazz echoing through the speakers. She’s nursing some form of cocktail – Andrei can’t tell what – and intently listening as each person talks, seemingly interjecting with her own additions and obviously some humor considering the chuckles that fall from the men surrounding her.

He wanted go over there, join the conversation and insert himself into the circle, but a small part of him said to hold off. He didn’t want to overwhelm Keely with too many people, too many stories. She seemed connected to Nathan and Cale considering they were the two people that she had most likely interacted with the most. He didn’t want to force her to entertain an even larger group of almost complete strangers, which is exactly what he was.

Instead, he strikes up a casual conversation with the bartender, with every person that walks up next to him at the bar. He bides his time, his brown eyes occasionally darting over towards Keely, feeling his heartrate rise as the group surrounding her dwindles from four, to three, to two. And then she is alone.

Andrei takes a deep breath and another swig of his beer, willing whatever courage the amber liquid could provide to flow through his body, before picking up the bottle and walking over.

She is absorbed in her phone, texting someone, laughing gently at the words on the screen. The sight of her smile makes Andrei falter for a moment, the thought of her texting a boyfriend flashing in his brain. However, that voice is silenced when Keely looks up from her cell, her blue eyes connecting with his – seemingly aware of his presence – and the smile that was on her face does not fade. In fact, it seems to shine brighter.

That is the last bit of encouragement that Andrei needs to take those final steps, sliding his large body onto the adjacent chair and turning towards Keely.

“Hey again,” he says, his voice a little breathless and still a little uncertain.

“Ah, there’s my prince charming,” Keely smiles, looking up at him through her darkened eyelashes. The combination of her words and her stare has Andrei faltering once more, his own eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Prince charming?”

“For helping me across the ice, of course,” she lightly explains, her lips wrapping around the straw of her drink.

A light chuckle falls from Andrei’s lips as he tries to brush off his confusion, attempting to copy the bold and confident attitude that the woman sitting across from him displayed.

“Right, of course. Well, I guess Crosby – I mean, Sidney – would also be your prince charming.”

Keely hums, her head moving to glance behind her, towards Sidney, now talking with someone else a few paces away. Andrei takes Keely’s momentary distraction as an opportunity to let his gaze rake down.

With her head turned, he could see that the baseball cap perched backwards on her head was a Boston Celtics cap, her city loyalty on full display. The leather jacket that had previously been thrown over her shoulders was now draped over the back of the chair, revealing the rest of her all-black ensemble. The corset top that highlighted her chest and waist, a highlight that most other men would’ve been eyeing shamelessly. Andrei would’ve joined in but his eyes had drifted lower, to the skirt/short combo that seemingly had a built-in buckled garter, stretching across her upper thigh.

A gentle clearing of a throat causes Andrei’s eyes to snap back up, his face flushing when he sees Keely’s eyes glued back to him.

“He is gentleman, that’s for sure,” Keely speaks, continuing the prior conversation, blissfully not responding to Andrei’s blatant stare. That is, until her own eyes shamelessly rake up and down his body. “But Sid’s not nearly attractive enough to be my prince charming.”

While being caught red-handed threw him off-guard, Keely outright giving him some of the most seductive bedroom eyes that Andrei had seen in his life threw him entirely off-kilter.

“What?” he said, not being able to stop his bewilderment at – what seemed like – the sudden turn of events. Keely’s laughter makes his cheeks flush again, her leaning back in her chair, her legs stretching out causing Andrei’s eyes to dart back to that damnable garter.

“What’s the matter all-star? Never had a girl flirt with you?”

“N-no. I’ve had lots,” Andrei stutters out before his brain registers how bad his response sounded. “I-I mean… um…”

His fumbled words were once again cutoff with a gentle laugh from Keely, her body leaning towards him again. This time, her expression is soft, a slight smile on her face that looked amused but not at all condescending.

“You aren’t very good at this, are you?”

“Not when it’s a celebrity, like you. And not when I feel like I’ve made a mistake every time I’ve opened my mouth,” Andrei confesses, his own lips quirking in a soft grin.

“That’s actually one of the things I like,” Keely replies, silencing Andrei’s fears but bringing forth more confusion. The question is clearly painted on his face because Keely’s explanation continues. “Do you know how many men try to act all suave and basically lie through their teeth to get close to me? It’s nice to see something genuine – even if you may not have intended it.”

“Glad to know I haven’t messed up that bad.”

“Not at all.”

The initial awkwardness evaporates as fast as mist in the morning sun, the conversation between Keely and Andrei now flowing seamlessly. She asks about his life, details which he gladly offered up and he asks hers, the details she gave a little vaguer. But Andrei found that he didn’t really care.

He knew enough about who she was – a celebrity that probably had every aspect of her life splashed on front pages and over social media, whether she agreed to it or not. He was more than willing to let her tell him what she wanted to. Regardless of what she decided to tell him, he sat, enraptured. Her stories only made him admire her more: her passion, her drive, her unapologetic attitude concerning everything.

“I wish I could be that confident,” he says in reply to her return to the public eye.

“Andrei Svechnikov, all-star hockey player, wishes that he could be more confident?”

“I guess, more off the ice. I know who I am as a hockey player but when I don’t have skates on, I feel… not as bold.”

“Maybe I can help.”

Andrei’s eyebrows once again jump up in a question, every word that falls from this woman’s mouth intriguing him more.

“I’ll ask you some questions, and you respond with the honest truth,” she explains, her eyes sparkling with a sense of mischief that Andrei wanted to uncover.

After a moment of pondering, he responds with a small nod. His acceptance makes Keely smile and she leans back in her chair again, her blue irises staring him down.

“What’s your favorite lunch?”

“Really?” Andrei asks, her first question catching him off-guard once again – another tick mark to add to the mystery of the woman in front of him.

“Have to keep you on your toes.”

“Chicken and pasta.”

“Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.”

“Favorite thing to do in your free time?”

“Fishing.”

“Person you trust the most?”

“My brother, Evgeni.”

“Girlfriend?”

The question draws Andrei’s attention, his brown eyes connecting with Keely’s blue. He can see the seriousness of the question within them. And, even deeper, the flicking of mistrust lurking in the aquamarine pools. That spark, that glimmer, hits Andrei squarely in the chest. He knew very little about Keely, not even the tabloid version, but that hesitation… it told him that she had been hurt, deeply. And in response, a fire flickered within him, one that vowed to make sure he never gave her a reason to distrust him.

“I don’t have one,” he replies, his voice steady and serious, hoping that the intensity of his feelings was matched by his voice.

Judging by how Keely relaxed back in her chair, it seems as if he got his wish.

“Why’d you come over here, Andrei?”

It was another challenge, another chance for him to be bold and tell the absolute truth. And this time, he didn’t wait for the best moment, didn’t dance around the words. Instead, he took a deep breath, met her gaze, and spoke the truth he was thinking the minute she stepped onto the stage at Scotiabank Arena.

“I think you’re beautiful. And… I’d like to spend a night with you.”

A slow smile twists across Keely’s face, taking in the sight of him sitting in front of her; maybe still a little uncertain but at least solid in his convictions.

“There you go. Confidence,” she says, the words slow and seductive.

There is a brief pause, the air between them thrumming with electricity before Keely breaks the spell, sighing and stretching her arms over her head before glancing down at her empty glass.

“Well, I was planning on going to bed once this drink was gone and it is. So, I guess I’ll head out,” she explains, her voice breezy and casual. She slides off the chair, grabbing her jacket and tossing it over her shoulders.

Andrei watches, a flash of confusion fliting through him as she reaches into her pocket, sliding out a thin card – presumably a credit card. However, that thought is disproved when she boldly takes a hold of his wrist, turning his hand palm-side up and placing the cool plastic into his hand.

“Top floor, room 15C. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Those statements and the cherry of her perfume was what she left him with as she swiftly turns and waltzes out of the hotel bar. Andrei’s eyes stay on her until she is out of sight and only then does he glance down at the card placed in his hand.

Keely had slipped him a copy of her hotel keycard.

The invitation is clear. She was offering the key to her room for him to use if he desired – if he truly wanted the things he said he did. But it was also another challenge for him to be bold and honest and maybe a bit brash.

The decision was entirely his.

And he wasn’t going to say no. He was going to see Keely. He was going to take full advantage of the night and of the opportunity she presented him.

He just needed to wait, just long enough as to not draw suspicion. He was under more of a microscope up here in Toronto than in Raleigh. But Keely had eyes on her no matter where she went. He wasn’t about to bring more drama into her life.

So, for the second time that night, he lingers. He chats to the people around him, give some quotes to the media, does as much as he can to make it seem like this was a normal night during an All-Star Weekend. He pretends that he can’t feel the weight of the keycard in his pocket and the ticking of the time.

Finally, he deems it long enough and, after paying for his drinks and giving the bartender a healthy tip, he extricates himself from the hotel bar. His sneakers barely make a sound as he crosses the plush carpet of the lobby, taking a direct route to the elevator. He is thankful that no one stops him, thankful that the elevator doors seem to open as soon as he presses the up button and thankful that he is alone in the space. Andrei hits the button emblazoned with 15 and watches the numbers on the LED screen rise, flying past the fourth floor (his room) towards his true destination.

The soft ding of the elevator sounds, the doors sliding open with a whoosh and he steps out. There is only one hallway stretching out in front of him, two doors on either side. Andrei steps out slowly, eyes locating the plaques with the room numbers next to each door.

His mind repeats the number that Keely gave him like a mantra, passing one door and then the next before stopping in front of room 15C. He stands in front of the entrance, the wood looking exactly like the doors around him, looking exactly like the door to his own room. But inside…

A myriad of images sprung into Andrei’s head, fantasies of what was waiting for him, each more intoxicating than the last. If there was any hesitation still lingering in his body, it was burned away but the hot flash of need and desire that surged through him. He slips the plain black keycard from his pocket, holding it over the doorknob until the light above turns from red to green. The door handle, cool in his hand, turns and he steps in.

And the sight that awaits him makes him stop in his tracks.

Every image that he had conjured up in his mind was nothing compared to what was now in front of his eyes: Keely, lying in bed, her hair splayed over the pillows, wearing nothing but an oversized band shirt, the hem scrunched up around her waist, and her hands between her open thighs.

Her soft moans hit his ears and Andrei cannot help but stare as her elegant fingers trace over her folds, glistening in the low lamplight of the bedroom. He watches the way her back arches when she presses the pads of her fingers against her clit, a whine emanating from her throat as she gently rubs the bundle of nerves before her hands slips back down. It is her middle and marriage fingers that plunge into her center, her head lolling to the side as she lets out a satisfied sigh.

Andrei feels like he is in a trance, helpless to do anything but let the scene in front of him unfold. His eyes trail up Keely’s body to connect to her face, taking in the bliss so clearly displayed. It isn’t until that moment do her eyelids flutter open, those electrifying blue irises connecting to his frame still lingering in the doorway. A cheeky smile tugs at her lips, even while her hands never cease their movements.

“Are you going to join me or just stand there with the door wide open?”

Her words snap Andrei out of whatever reverie he was in, his body moving at a speed that even he can’t comprehend. The door is kicked shut behind him, the force of it making the wood vibrate on its hinges. Andrei doesn’t seem to notice or even care. Of course he didn’t care. How could he worry about anything else besides the woman in front of him?

There is no hesitation in his body, no uncertainty any more. His hands move to tear his grey t-shirt away from his body, feeling his confidence only grow at the soft moan that falls from Keely’s mouth, her eyes unabashedly raking down his muscular frame. The only response he gives is a small grin, before kicking off his shoe and sinking down to his knees, his eyes now directly focused on the soaked space between her thighs.

He drinks in the sight of her fingers still buried in her folds, like something out of one of his wet dreams or a porno made just for him. He watches as she slips the slender digits from her core, her soft skin glistening with her arousal, acting like a silver webbing between her fingers as she runs them across her cunt.

“Do you need more of an invitation?” Her voice echoes through the room, the words twinged with a tease but also with a desperation that makes Andrei’s dick twitch in his jeans. “You kept me waiting long enough. Gonna make me wait some more?”

She was right, of course. While watching her was surely something he never thought he would experience, it wasn’t as if she was on a screen or miles away, untouchable. She was right there, almost begging for him. Who was he to refuse a superstar?

His body lifts, strong hands wrapping around each ankle, guiding her legs over his broad shoulders. Andrei can hear the whine that vibrates from her throat, her hips lifting as if to entice him further. Her knees hook over the muscle of his shoulders and he allows himself the chance to press a kiss onto the supple skin of her inner thighs.

The heat that emanates from her stokes the fire that burns within him and he slowly descends, wanting to savor every second even though he can hear the way Keely whines, clearly impatient. Finally, finally, he lets his lips connect to her drenched center.

There is nothing in the world that could stop the moan that rumbles from his chest as his tongue makes contact with her slick, the sweetness that pours from her core tasting as heavenly as ambrosia. He hears her satisfied sigh from above, feels one of her hands tangle into this hair as a gentle encouragement for more – a silent request he is all too willing to oblige.

His tongue moves, tracing every crevice, lapping every bit of nectar that floods his tastebuds. He wanted to devour her, wanted to be able to taste her even when this weekend was long over. His mouth rises slowly, finding her clit nestled at the apex of her folds and wraps his lips around it, suckling. The way her fingers tighten in his hair, her hips bucking up is all the confirmation he needs that he’s doing something right and he is more than happy to continue.

One of the hands that had been keeping a tight grip on her upper thigh moves to join his mouth, retracing the places that his tongue had previously been. His fingers circle her entrance, collecting the wetness practically pouring from her before one of them plunges into her core.

Their mutual moan fills the room and Andrei still can’t believe that this isn’t a fantasy. But judging from the way her cunt is clenching around his finger, he knows it’s not. She is warm and wet and real and all those things has Andrei pumping his wrist, coaxing even more of those intoxicating sounds from her mouth.

He’s slow at first, wanting to give her time and as much pleasure as he could. But when Keely raises her hips to meet his hand, he reads her desperation with ease and slides another finger inside. He works her open, each languid thrust met with more of those desperate noises, each buck of her hips just pulling him deeper. His tongue never ceases its movements against her clit, each suckle and flick releasing more of her sweet arousal which he greedily laps up like it was water and he was dying of thirst. His brown eyes watch her, registering which moves makes her head fall back, exposing the pale column of her throat, and which has her body trembling. He wanted to memorize everything – the way she sounds, the way she feels, the way she tastes.

It was only when he gently curled his fingers does her already strangled moans turn staccato gasps, her pussy fluttering around the thick digits. The smile that twists on Andrei’s lips is devilish as he moves again, his lips wrapping around her clit and suckling in time with the movement within her. It only takes three instances of the dual combination for Keely’s orgasm to hit, her body trembling with the force of it, her mouth wide in an almost silent moan.

The sensation of it, of her squeezing his fingers, of her release flooding his mouth makes Andrei groan in kind, his tongue busily working to lap up every drop, not wanting any to go to waste. It is only when he is satisfied with his work does he allow his fingers to slip from her core. His eyes dart up to connect with hers, eyelids heavy with lust as she stares down at him.

“Well,” she says, her voice breathless. “You might not know how to talk to a celebrity but you sure know how to make her come.”

The chuckle that rumbles from his chest at her words melds with her own breathless giggle. Andrei lets a moment pass before he presses his lips against her inner thighs, sliding her legs off from their perch on his shoulders and lifting his body upwards until his frame is hovering over the entirety of her.

“Want to do it again,” he murmurs.

“Confidence,” she replies, echoing her words from earlier, her eyes flashing with the same amount of desire as he was sure was reflected in his own pupils. A sly grin twists on her face. “I like how it looks on you.”

He wants to kiss her. God, does he want to kiss her. That desire had been brewing since he first saw her, but now; with the flush of her cheeks, her hair creating a halo on the pillowcases, the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, her eyes looking up at him… he needed to kiss her.

But before he could even think of leaning down to press his lips against hers, Keely once again surprises him by hooking a leg over his hip, knocking one of his hands out from under him and using his falling momentum to her advantage, successfully flipping him over so it was his back that was now pressed against the hotel sheets.

A giggle falls from Keely at the bewildered expression on Andrei’s face and he gladly lets his initial shock morph into insane wonder at the woman he met only hours ago. Any words that he thought about uttering, any praise that may have fallen from his lips was silenced as Keely peels the cotton of her oversized shirt away from her body, exposing the entirety of her to him.

She was always beautiful but now, sitting naked above him, she was drop-dead gorgeous. She had a great body, that was obvious, but he was sure she knew what she was doing when she got the bejeweled tattoo that stretched across her abdomen and curved around her chest. The green jewels truly seem to glitter and only highlight her breasts even more, enticing him to reach towards her, his fingers tracing the design before moving over the soft skin of her breasts, teasing over the pebbled nipples. She arches to his touch, her hips moving against him and he can’t stifle the moan that falls from him at the friction of her soaked core against his still clothed cock.

“How many times do I have to tell you to fuck me, Andrei?” she questions from above him, her hips grinding against him again. He wants to give in right then and there, her body feeling so good against his already and he wanted to find out how good she would feel around him. But he also wanted her to voice her own desire for him. Not as a hot random stranger that she chose out of a dozen, but him alone.

“Maybe just one more,” he replies, his hands falling from her chest and tracing down the curves of her body. “Beg for it.”

“Oh,” Keely laughs, clearly taken aback by his demand. But that surprised huff turns into a softer more desperate gasp when Andrei grips her hips and deliberately grinds her core against his, the more intense friction against her still sensitive core causing her to shudder.

“Oh fuck,” she quietly curses, her hands planting onto Andrei’s muscular chest as she attempts to drag herself against him again. But this time, his strong hands hold her in place, denying her. Her blue eyes dart up to him, the pure lust displayed there making his own resolve falter. Until he hears what he had been waiting for fall from her lips.

“Please.”

That single syllable word is all Andrei needs.

His hands fall from Keely’s hips, darting between her thighs to hurriedly undo his jeans. Keely’s soft hands join his, twisting underneath the waistband of his pants and boxers and aiding him in shoving them down his legs, his hard cock bobbing up. Andrei tries not to preen as Keely’s tongue flicks over her lips at the sight before her gaze flits up to meet his again.

There are no words spoken between them, nothing verbally exchanged. Instead, Keely’s palms return to Andrei’s chest, steadying herself before lowering her body. Andrei grips himself, squeezing the base gently, willing himself to not finish the very moment she sinks onto him. His free hand returns to her hip, guiding her down, running the head over her folds a couple of times before aligning with her center.

The sensation of her heat wrapping around his length causes Andrei’s head to fall back, a guttural groan leaving his chest as she sinks lower. The feeling must be just as pleasurable to Keely, her own whispered curses hitting his eardrums as she shifts until their hips are flush against each other.

There is a stillness; no movement but the rise and fall of their chests, no sound but their heavy breathing. Andrei wills his eyes open and reconnects his gaze with Keely. The sight of her above him is a vision, her looking more like an angel appearing in a dream than something real. Hell, part of him still wasn’t 100% sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But when Keely’s hips move, grinding against him, any doubt is erased from his brain. Even in his darkest deepest fantasies, he could never imagine something this good.

It is a dance, a sensual tango. Her hands are poised on his chest and his hands tight against her hips as she moves her core against him, each press of her along his length as sinful as the last. Andrei wants to keep his eyes open, wants to memorize every miniscule detail: the way her hair falls in her face, the roll of her hips, the shadows that are cast across her skin. But it is hard to do anything but lay back and let her ride him, let her take whatever she wanted from him, anything and everything that he could give.

Keely shifts slightly, a gasp falling from her and Andrei picks up on her reaction, thrusting his hips upward to meet the same spot. Another gasp sounds from her and is about to turn into a moan when Andrei sees her bite her lip, stifling the sound even as she desperately chases the sensation once again. One of Andrei’s hands lifts to cup her jaw. The feeling of his calloused skin against her porcelain cheek causes her eyes to open, gazing down at him.

His thumb stretches across her jawline, the tip of it pressing underneath her lip, gently pulling the flesh from between her teeth.

“Want to hear you,” he groans. “Want to hear the pretty sounds you make.”

She laughs, the sound wavering a little as their hips never stop moving against each other.

“Have to save my voice so you and everyone else can hear how pretty I sing,” she attempts to explain.

“You have a whole day. Want to hear how pretty you sound just for me.”

“Just for you?”

The question isn’t meant to be cruel and yet, Andrei can feel the bite of it. He knows, intrinsically, that he is not the only man that Keely has allowed into her bed and – considering their circumstances – he certainly wouldn’t be the last. But he lets that sting fuel him, drive him.

Initially, he wanted to kiss her. Now, he wanted to make sure that she knew no one else could make her feel the way he does.

The hand that was on her cheek descends again, taking time to carefully caress every ridge and dip of her body, paying close attention to the places that make her shudder and her movements on top of him falter. Slowly, almost painstakingly so, his hand returns to her hip, holding her tight and stopping her movements. He gets a small whine from her in response, a whimper that makes his lips curl in a smirk.

“I want to hear how good its feels,” Andrei says, his voice thick and low. “How good I make you feel.”

Keely is about to laugh again – that breathless teasing giggle that Andrei had come to know – but the sound is cut-off as Andrei thrusts his hips up, his thumb stretching to press against her clit. She moans, unabashedly now, the noises she makes crystal clear and as melodic as any song that he had ever heard. Andrei continues his pace and his movements within and against her, his eyes never leaving her, committing the sight into memory, something to get off to once this weekend was over and she was back to being a celebrity on his phone screen and a voice through his radio speakers.

He watches the way her body trembles, feels her nails dig into the muscle of his chest, and hears those beautiful noises falling from her mouth become shaky. He doesn’t stop, not until she is clenching around him, a jumble of curses and moans and – even more exquisitely – the sound of his name falling from her mouth as her orgasm rushes through her. It is maddening, the feeling of her pussy fluttering around him as she comes down.

It takes every modicum of Andrei’s self-control not to come undone as well, his hands gripping her hips so tightly he worries there would be bruises the next day. He can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply, his own eyes closed with a focus that he had only ever displayed on the ice. It is Keely’s soft laugh and the feeling of her lips pressing against his jawline that has him returning to the moment. The feeling of her kissing his skin blissfully distracts him from the sensation of her lifting off him, his still rigid cock slapping against his equally hard stomach.

He groans, his own desperation getting the better of him as his hips lift to chase her but she stills his movements with the grip of her soft hand wrapping around him. It isn’t nearly as good as her cunt but he is too far gone to complain.

“Want me to take care of this for you, all-star?” she whispers into his ear, delivering a slow languid stroke to emphasize her words. Her movements bring forth a moan from his own mouth, as well as a desperate nod of his head. He didn’t care how or what she had planned, he just needed her.

“Now it’s your turn to show me how pretty you sound,” Keely continues, her lips descending to kiss his jawline. And when she starts to slowly pump her hand, Andrei complies.

Even if he wanted to, he could not stop the moans that fell from him, the muttered Russian curses, the way his hips jumped up to meet her hand. She truly had him wrapped around her finger and he didn’t care. All he cared about was her: the feeling of her body pressed against his side, the touch of her hand against his cock, the sensation of her lips sucking hickeys onto his throat.

It is a twist of her hand coupled with a nip of her teeth against his skin that finally has his own orgasm hit, his body stilling as his cum paints his abdomen in thick creamy lines. Keely doesn’t stop her hand until he is spent, a soft hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.

She releases his cock, her fingers trailing up his body, collecting his release. Andrei opens his eyes just in time to see her seductively run her fingers over her lips before plunging them into her mouth, moaning at the taste of him on her tongue. He feels his dick twitch with renewed interest, now needing to know how those plush lips would look wrapped around him.

Releasing her fingers with a wet pop, Keely smiles at him, either blissfully unaware of the power she held or happy to wield it as casually as possible. Whatever it may be, she curls back into his side, her head coming to nestle on his shoulder as her legs tangle around his. He stays there with her, his own hand running up and down her side gently, content to bask in the golden glow of the moment.

Eventually, the sensation of dried sweat and slick become uncomfortable and Andrei moves, carefully departing from Keely. He didn’t want to, of course. If it was up to him, he would’ve quit his job to fly around on private jets and be backstage at all her shows if it meant spending more nights with her in his arms. But that wasn’t what this was. He knew that.

“Headed out?” Keely asks, her voice drowsy with a combination of sleep and exhaustion.

“Need to get back to my room. Get some sleep for tomorrow,” he explains.

“Probably for the best,” come her reply, understanding the situation as well as he did. “But you are welcome to use my shower before you leave.”

In his mind, he knew that he would be able to ride the elevator down to his floor in mild discomfort and clean up in the privacy of his own room. But something made him nod in agreement. Perhaps he wanted to spend more time in Keely’s presence, maybe the offer allowed him to look more into her world. Whatever the reason, he walks around the bed to the bathroom and switches on the lights.

He is greeted with the exact same layout as his own bathroom but with some slight differences, things that were distinctively Keely.

The makeup bag spilled open on the counter, the red candy bar shaped perfume bottle, the small ceramic dish that held a necklace and a ring with two hands holding a crowned heart, and a candle that was still burning, releasing the smell of eucalyptus and lavender in the air.

Andrei smiles at the small glimpses of her personality before stepping into the shower, letting the water wash off the remnants of their tryst. He debates using the body wash sitting in the green bottle but defaults to the complimentary bar of soap, cleaning himself before turning off the water.

After drying his skin with the plush bath towel and blowing out the candle on the counter, he returns to the bedroom to find Keely curled up under the white covers, her breath slow and steady as she sleeps. Silently, Andrei moves around the room, picking up his clothes and returning them to his frame. He sits down at the desk to tie his shoes and once again debates whether he should scribble his number down on the pad of paper perched next to him.

He wants to be bold and confident, like Keely liked, but without her gentle smile encouraging him, everything felt like he was walking a tightrope and one wrong misstep could ruin it all. So, he plays it safe. The only thing that he allows himself to indulge a kiss pressed against her temple before he slips out of her hotel room.

~*~*~*~*~

When Andrei walks into the locker room on Saturday, a sigh of relief whooshes from him when he sees Keely, decked out in the yellow of her own All-Star jersey, standing next to Nathan’s stall, listening to him and Sidney talk, a smile on her face.

It had been a little over twenty-four hours since he had left her hotel room and this was the first time he saw her again. She wasn’t around during the Skills Competition the day prior which Andrei found odd considering that the other celebrity captains were wandering around the ice. He had soothed the panicked part of his brain with the rational of her hanging with her family or rehearsing for her performance, instead of immediately assuming it was because of him. But he wouldn’t be certain until he could talk to her again.

He glances in her direction, hoping to catch her eye. Her head eventually turns towards him, their eyes meeting and once again, Andrei’s heart skips a beat when she smiles at him, her eyes bright. It feels like a sign that they would both be able to get through today without it being terribly awkward.

He tries to focus, let his body go through the muscle memory of his pre-game ritual – no different than he does every Carolina Hurricanes game. Occasionally, he still glances in Keely’s direction, watches her mill around and take a few pictures for media, noticing that he hasn’t heard her voice. The answer as to why hits his ear a few moments later – vocal rest for her performance – and a part of him deflates at not being able to hear her cheer or celebrate.

Eventually, everyone makes it to the bench and the first round of the All-Star game starts, Team MacKinnon against Team McDavid. Andrei lets himself be lost in the familiar feeling of the ice gliding beneath his skates, the music of the puck being passed from stick to stick. He only momentarily gets distracted by the smell of a familiar cherry perfume behind him, causing images – images that were entirely inappropriate to be thinking about during a hockey game – to pop into his head. He manages to pull them out of his brain but Team MacKinnon were unable to pull out the win, losing in a shootout to Team McDavid.

He doesn’t let the loss shake him too bad, knowing that it doesn’t mean anything except the inability to win more money – something that he feels he has too much of already. Instead, he lets himself strip back down to the sweatpants and branded hoodie combo that he arrived in, content to sit and watch for the rest of the day.

After Team Matthews overtakes Team Hughes in another shootout, Andrei finds himself wandering onto the ice, a stage now set up in the center and a smaller one to the left. He finds some of the benches that were previously used for the draft pressed against the penalty boxes and takes a seat, joined shortly by some other players like Marner, Swayman, the Hughes brothers, and Wilson.

The lights dim, the cheer from the crowd going up as the bassline emanates from the speakers and Andrei watches as dancers file out before being followed by Keely herself. Gone is the bright yellow of her All-Star jersey, now replaced with a black bodysuit that shimmers under the spotlight, highlighting every curve.

If the world faded when she stepped out onto the stage, it all but vanished completely when she started singing. Andrei leans in, listening, intent on picking up every detail that he could. And what he hears makes his heart ache.

It isn’t the first song that catches his attention (although he would agree that he had never met a girl like her before) but the last three songs that cleared some lingering questions in his mind.

You have more pieces of me than the desert has sand & I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand.

You were my everything and all that you did was make me fucking sad.

I’ll play the villain in your life – whatever helps you sleep at night.

He didn’t follow celebrity gossip, didn’t make note social media headlines, but here, right now, it felt like Keely herself was telling him everything: a story of heartbreak and betrayal. It felt as if he could see her for exactly who she was; someone who had every pain inflicted upon them and still carried those feelings with them, despite the front she presented to the world.

Andrei feels like he is cheering the loudest of them all when she strikes her final pose, the spotlights shining down. She smiles to the crowd, giving a small bow and a wave to the stadium around her before turning and heading back down the locker room tunnel.

It takes Andrei a few minutes of wandering through the tunnels of Scotiabank before he finds Keely again, this time leaning against the wall in a nice shirt and casual jeans, a glass of white wine perched in one hand and her phone in the other.

“Hey,” he says, walking those final few paces towards her. The sound of his voice causes her head to lift, a smile appearing on her lips when her eyes land on him.

“Hey, yourself.”

“I, um… I wanted to say that you were really good. Performing, I mean.”

“Oh. So, I wasn’t good Thursday night?” Keely teases, taking another casual sip of her wine, no doubt relishing the sight of Andrei’s cheeks turning pink as those images return easily to his mind.

“No, you were… you were fucking fantastic that night,” he says, watching as Keely’s own smile grows.

The two of them stand there in silence, the space between them feeling as much of a contradiction as their own connection. What did it mean to know someone in such an intimate way but also be so detached from each other in every other possible aspect? The rockstar and the hockey player: a pairing that no one would have guessed.

Andrei hated it – hated the distance between them that would only widen after this weekend. But he didn’t want to lose Keely, even though all logic stated that he should forget about their tryst and not pursue her further. But his desire to have her close overwhelmed his rational mind, which had his next words falling from his lips.

“Listen,” he begins, his voice still a tad uncertain. “I’m not sure what your life looks like right now – I know mine is only going to get busier – but I really enjoyed being with you. Not just in bed but in general. And if you want to connect later, I’ll be available.”

Andrei waits, studying her face and every miniscule expression that passes over her. He doesn’t pry, doesn’t backtrack, doesn’t do anything except let the silence linger between them as Keely thinks. He watches as her blue eyes lift to meet his and for the first time since he spoke to her, he can see a vulnerability glimmer in those sapphire pools, the sight of it making his heart ache.

“Would you wait for me, Andrei?” she asks, her voice quiet and he can feel the weight of that question rest on his shoulders. How many badly had people hurt her? How deep was the betrayal that she experienced that made her this uncertain? Whatever the answer was to those questions, he knew the resounding answer to hers.

“I would.”

Keely’s lips lift in a small smile, clearly able to hear the conviction in his voice.

“Confidence,” she whispers, echoing the words from that first night once again. She takes a sip of her wine and Andrei watches as her demeanor shifts back into the savvy rockstar that he had known. “Well, then… I might take you up on that offer.”

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles brightly. He is content to give her a nod, turning away from her and ready to walk back down the tunnel. But then a thought nags at the back of his brain, yelling at him in the same tone as an annoyingly familiar voice. Andrei spins and returns to stand in front of Keely, an adorably amused but somewhat confused expression on her face.

“I have one last favor to ask you,” he says, reaching into his pocket and fishing out his phone. “Could you make a video for my teammate Seth? He’s a huge fan.”

The sound of her laughter echoing down the hallway at his request makes Andrei smile, slightly chuckling with her.

“Not what I thought you would say but of course. Anything for a fan,” she replies, the bright lilt in her voice matching her laughter. “Seth? That’s his name?”

Andrei nods and holds his phone up towards her, watching through the screen as she places her wine glass down on the ground and turn towards him. A small nod of her head gives him the go-head to start the recording.

“Hi Seth. I heard from someone here at the All-Star game that you were a big fan. It’s wild to think that my music is listened to by professional hockey players and who knows, maybe I have you to thank for getting me to Toronto. Maybe next All-Star game, I’ll see you here.”

Keely ends the video with a wink and even a cheeky kiss blown in the cameras direction before waving goodbye. Andrei stops the recording, saving it to his photos and he feels Keely slide up next to him. His fingers hit the play button and they both watch the video back. Keely hums softly and he looks down at her, an embarrassed grimace on her face.

“That last bit might have been too much,” she explains and Andrei drags the play-bar back, watching the video of Keely’s wink and kiss. And looking at it again, he can see that her eyes are not trained at the camera lens but at the cameraman – him. It makes his heartbeat increase at the sight of her so boldly flirting with him but he also understands her hesitation. Seth would surely notice and ask questions and Andrei did not want… whatever was happening between them, to leak before they even had a chance to discover what it all meant.

“Do you think you could edit it out?”

“Sure,” he replies.

Andrei is quick to nod his head, even faster to open the editor and cut that small section out of the video. He pauses over the save button, the app asking if he wants to save the new video separately or replace the old one with it. His eyes flick back to Keely, her own blue irises sparkling up at him, seeing his hesitation.

“Mind if I keep that last bit for myself?” he questions. The proposal brings another smile onto Keely’s face and he can almost see the quiet laughter in her eyes.

“Not at all. It was meant for you anyway.”

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sydnikov · 7 months ago

Text

Fleeting || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov / fem!Reader

Word Count: 17.5k

Summary: Every moment with Andrei is fleeting.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), cheating(?), toxic relationship, alcoholic consumption, angst, cursing, no happy ending, Andrei-is-a-dick™

A/N: For those of you who have already been following me, you might remember this post—that’s what this is based on :) This is also the longest fic I’ve ever written so that’s insane, but sorry not sorry. Get ready, this one’s gonna hurt 🤭

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

Andrei doesn’t love you.

It becomes clear for you months after you start fucking him on the side. His likeness for you is merely an obsession, something to have all to himself.

You’re his, or were his, and that’s how he saw you. Nothing more than that, or at least that’s the conclusion you’ve come to after months apart lets you reflect on your relationship with him.

Spending a lot of time in your head, you think. About him, his actions, why he couldn’t love you the way you love him.

He always held you close to him, one muscular arm curled around your waist while the other likely held a drink in his hand. He paraded you around like a prize, happy to show off the hot piece of meat he likely thought of you as at his side.

It was hard to reach him, literally and metaphorically. You had to stand up on your toes to reach his ear, and the power imbalance just by your height difference alone only made the whole thing hotter, merely one aspect of your relationship you never really could get over.

Every time you spoke it had him grinning in a way that made you think he knew something you didn’t. You’re already so shy, too, and it’s what made up your whole demeanor, what drew him to you in the first place.

He likes sweetness. Innocence, quiet—that way you couldn’t rebel. And he loved it when you doted on him. You did your best to be everything he wanted in a girl, too. Bold makeup, skimpy clothing, speaking only to him and him alone. Best of all, you didn’t question him. His actions, his decisions, why he’d sometimes go days without speaking to you but once he called you again, you would come running without hesitation.

It took you too long to realize that he only liked you because you were someone he could fall back on when the freedom of his escapades got too boring and he needed stability. The thing is that Andrei loved you being his, but he didn’t want to ever be yours.

And you know this now, you do. The moment you went no contact and left his apartment in tears, you were calling your best friend for support and to reinforce the fact that he is the asshole, not you.

Sometimes, though, you dream. Of his hands on you, his mouth on your neck, his thick cock pounding into you from behind. The toxicity of it all that, despite everything, felt so good because your emotions were always on overdrive when with him.

Mostly, you liked feeling desired. Nobody had ever pursued you the way he did, even if your body is all he really wanted from you to begin with.

It’s been months since you confessed your feelings for him and he told you to leave; months of you wallowing, going to work, meeting with friends for drinks as a shell of yourself because without Andrei, life suddenly seemed colorless.

You miss him. The excitement, the tension, the way he made you feel. And you pride yourself on being confident, but all self respect flies out the window the moment his name is brought up. It’s wrong, too, you swear you know this, and you imagine countless times telling him off, if you ever run into him again.

For treating you like a body to warm his dick, a soulless individual with no feeling… You’re reminded of the last conversation you had with him yet again, the one that ended everything. You’d been seeing each other for months when it occurred. Months full of Andrei and the rollercoaster of emotions he had you on.

To get to the end, though, you have to go back to the beginning.

It’s January of twenty twenty-three, and you’re freshly twenty-one and experiencing the world in a way you never could before. Riding the high of getting your first serious job in college, it took no convincing at all for you to let your best friend, Maria, convince you to go out on a Friday night to celebrate your blossoming lives.

“Who are we meeting there, again?” You ask, painting your lips a bright red in front of Maria’s full-body mirror. You’ve already started pregaming, and your head is starting to buzz in just the way you like it.

Your blonde friend is quickly curling her hair, despite the fact that she’s had hours to get ready and still procrastinated until you arrived at her apartment. “Some friends from work. You probably won’t know them,” She says offhandedly, finishing her hair in record timing before snatching up the two dresses she had previously laid out on her bed. “Should I wear this in black or red?”

Raising a brow, you question her wording. “Considering I don’t work with you, I doubt I would.” Laughing, you turn your head away from the mirror to examine the two dresses she’s holding up to her body. “Do the red one, it makes your eyes pop.”

Anything would look good on Maria, though. She has this timeless sort of beauty, a blonde, blue-eyed bombshell that has eyes turning her way wherever she goes. You’d be jealous if you didn’t mind her taking all the attention off of you, considering you’re nowhere near as bold as her.

It will especially come in handy tonight, too, since these co-workers of hers are ones you’ve never met before and you don’t exactly plan on getting too close to them.

“This is why I get ready with you,” Maria sighs happily, unceremoniously throwing the black dress back onto her bed. “Oh! I almost forgot, I have heels for you!” She’s then running back into her closet, ruffling through a box before emerging with a pair of bright red stilettos.

“What’s with the red theme tonight?” You giggle as she tosses the heels to you. They look expensive, a brand you don’t recognize written in cursive on the inside of the leather soles. Maria insisted you incorporate red into your outfit tonight, whether it be subtle or bold.

She eyes you from her position on the bed, somehow managing to zip up her dress one-handed. “You don’t watch sports by any chance, do you?”

Throwing back the last of a vodka shot, you wince before responding. “My dad made me watch baseball with him sometimes?”

Maria’s face lights up like she suddenly knows something you don’t. All she does is hum in response, biting her lip like she’s holding back from telling you something.

Or, you’re just drunk. You’ve always been a lightweight. “What?” You ask anyway, finally standing up as you adjust yourself.

The blonde walks over to you, fixes the creases in your little black dress and affixes you with an approving stare. “Don’t worry about it,” Suddenly, she’s whirling around to go back for her phone, which is laid faced down on the nightstand. “Ooh, I knew those heels were a good choice. You look so good!”

As she saunters back over, wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you into her side and poses for a picture, you forget all about the abrupt topic change and the fact that her red theme with questions of sports does mean something, after all.

Truthfully, you still can’t remember exactly how you got from her apartment and into a high-end bar you’ve only ever seen advertised online. Bits and pieces of an Uber ride along with downing more shots come to mind, but it’s all hazy.

You don’t really care to remember though, either, as Maria leads you through the crowded bar, arm linked through yours, with a purpose. The music is loud, so loud you think you can see the walls moving, but that’s also probably just your swimming vision.

“Here they are!” Maria is shouting over the noise, and you follow her gaze to a group of tall, imposing men surrounding two booths right by the bar.

“Those are you coworkers?” You ask, a little incredulous. Scratch that—very incredulous.

She sends you a mischievous grin. “I said friends, girl. Meet my friends!” That’s what gathers their attention, and you’re suddenly reminded that she’s just as tipsy as you right now, if not more.

Ah, fuck, you think as one of the men come over and pull Maria into a hug. He looks at you questioningly after they pull apart, and you send him a small, nervous smile.

Damn it, Maria.

“You must be the friend she mentioned,” He says, again looking to the blonde beside you for confirmation. “From college, yeah?”

That seems to snap Maria out of whatever stunned stupor she’d been in, and she tunes back into your conversation by, again, pulling you into her. “My best friend,” She swoons, and yeah. She’s definitely drunk now.

“Nice to meet you,” He’s chuckling, and seems to be familiar with her antics. “I’m Martin.”

You introduce yourself and shake his offered hand. “Any leftover shots, by any chance?” While taking the lead in conversation with people you’ve never met before might seem odd, you don’t think you can rely on Maria to socialize for you considering she’s already falling into your side.

“I can check, if you want to follow me—ah, shit,” Martin curses, suddenly, then quickly apologizes to the two of you before rushing over to a man with a mustache attempting to climb on top of a table.

“Interesting friends, Maria,” You say into her ear as you reluctantly follow him, keeping her close. “Who’s the one with the mustache?”

She seems to gain a little bit of her wits back to give you a description of all the guys within your eyesight. “The mustache is Seth, super friendly but also, uh… Super drunk. He’s Canadian.”

You’re not sure why you need to know his nationality, but she continues before you can ask.

“And you just met Martin, right? Yeah, he’s really nice. His girlfriend, Nykki, is gorgeous, they’re both from Czechia. Then there’s the really tall one, behind Seth? No, other side. Yeah, that’s Jesperi. A bit of a flirt even though we’re all pretty sure he has a girlfriend, but he still won’t admit it. He’s Finnish.”

Maria continues to describe a few of the others, but truthfully, you tune out after Jesperi because a man about the same height as the Finn is suddenly approaching the group, and looks to be the only one Seth listens to because that’s who gets him to crawl down from the table.

You don’t know why he catches your attention so suddenly, but something about him… He turns, and you’re able to catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Immediately, you come to find there’s no accurate word to describe him. His beauty simply transcends any compliment you could give; instead, you interrupt your friend from her spiel.

“Hey Mare, Mare—who’s that?” Slapping her arm, you point towards the now-laughing stranger. He’s looking around as he does so, which is when he makes contact with your starstruck eyes. He looks amused, then seems to recognize the blonde beside you, and then he’s cutting through the crowd to meet you.

Maria gives you a look before also spotting the approaching stranger, and a large smile lights up her face. It’s a smile you’re very familiar with, one that enraptures every man who catches a glimpse of her pearly whites.

You quickly come to the conclusion that this is why she was so eager to go out. She’s likely had her eye on him for a while, and you struggle to keep the disappointment from your face as she purrs his name.

“Hey, Andrei,” She says, a little giggly. “Great game today, you all played awesome.”

Andrei… You test the name silently, liking the way it feels on your tongue. He’s even taller up close, and you can see the muscle definition straining through the fabric of his shirt. He’s huge, and you feel incredibly small standing next to him.

“Thank you,” He replies, his voice deep. A little husky, definitely accented, but you’re not sure from where. “Who’s your friend?” He changes topic quickly, and those dark eyes are back on you once again.

Maria, as ditzy as she can be, does notice the subtle change in him. Andrei has never been overly flirty with her like she has with him, and she’d be an idiot not to notice the way his eyes were drawn to you the moment he spotted you.

She’s used to having all sorts of attention from the opposite sex, and the Russian hockey player is all sorts her type. It’s amusing though, watching how you melt under his gaze, thinks ‘me too’, and then decides to help you out.

“This is my friend from college,” She introduces you, says your name and watches as he takes it in like it’s very important information. Grabbing your hand from where it rests at your side, she holds it out to Andrei for you, snickers as you send her a glare. “And this is Andrei. He plays for the Carolina Hurricanes.”

This is why she asked you if you watch sports, you suddenly connect the dots. And why she was telling you where all these people are from. Her friends from work are actually sports players, and you understand why she didn’t say it outright.

These guys, they’re famous, right? Your stomach twists, and you suck in a breath as Andrei takes your hand. His palm envelops yours, and he brings it to his lips to press a heated kiss to your skin.

The greeting is outdated, but for whatever reason it suits him. You think the kiss is a promise, too, as his thumb swipes over the back of your hand.

“That’s hockey, right?” You intend to ask Maria, but you’re unable to take your eyes off of Andrei as he slowly lets go of you, like the contact is riveting for him, too. “In the NHL?”

“Yes,” He answers. “You don’t watch?” You’re not a fan like he’d expect. Strangely enough, he likes that you don’t follow them. It makes you all the more interesting, someone new to pick apart for his pleasure.

You flush, turning red under his unrelenting gaze. Suddenly, you feel out of place with your lackluster hockey knowledge. “Not a huge sports girl, unfortunately.” You say slowly, but he catches your quiet words anyway.

He’s already tuned into you—has made you into a new game to win, in his mind.

“I can fix that.” Andrei grins, and it’s almost predatory as he smoothly slides his left arm around your waist. “Do you mind if I steal her?” He directs his question to Maria, but doesn’t really give her a chance to answer before pulling you away.

Turning your head, you find her sending you a grin as she mouths something encouraging, holding up two thumbs-ups. She’s already decided that if she can’t have this sexy Russian, she wants you to instead.

“I like your heels,” His deep voice is in your ear, suddenly, and you take your eyes off of Maria to look up at Andrei, instead. “They’re the color of our jerseys.”

“Thank you,” You breathe, letting the warmth from his compliment wash over you. “Maria made me wear them.”

He clicks his tongue, like this information doesn’t surprise him. “She has good taste. Red is definitely your color.”

You flush again, finding that his eyes are already on you when you tilt your head up. Nobody has ever told you that before… Maria is always the one getting praise, not you.

The fast beating of your heart, shaky limbs and nervous breath, and you already know you’re falling for it. His charm, his looks, his confidence; it’s addicting, and you can’t force yourself to stop as you ever so slightly lean into him, letting his body envelop you.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the bar, and Andrei orders a drink over the loud bass that reverberates in your ears. It appears moments later - not fair - and then he’s sliding it towards you. You meet his eyes again as he smiles, raising a brow at your silence before he gestures to take it.

“For you,” He says. “Vodka cranberry. I have a feeling you like the fruity drinks, no?”

He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it. You’re not one for sipping hard, bitter liquor, even if it gets the job done. You’re not sure how you feel about him being able to read you so well, but you do like not having to carry the conversation.

“Am I that transparent?” You grin, though it’s laced with insecurity as you take a sip. It’s good, and helps calm your nerves.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, malyshka. It’s not a bad thing.”

You wouldn’t know it then, but he already began patronizing you the moment you met him. The Russian language is full of double-meanings, and malyshka, little one, is rather mocking. For him to know you so well already was a good thing for him, but for you? Not so much.

Andrei sees right through you, and he has from the very beginning.

“You’re not American, are you?” You change topic, suddenly, using the unfamiliar term he used as an excuse. “Your accent, it’s foreign.”

“Net—no, I’m not. Most of my teammates are out of country.” He replies. “I’m from Russia. Just here to play hockey.”

“Do you like it? Here in Raleigh?” You ask, a pitiful form of small talk to keep this sudden tension at bay.

“I do.” He replies. “I like it a whole lot more now that I’ve met you, though.” And then he’s smiling again, a grin rather feral as he looks at you like you’re his prey waiting to be devoured. He’s incredibly smooth as he puts his hands back on you, one sliding around the circumference of your waist while the other brings your hand holding the drink to his lips, taking a sip from the glass.

Your eyes go half-lidded at the motion, and Andrei knows he has you—hook, line, and sinker. He loves this game, but he thinks he likes you a little bit more than that, too.

Not that he’ll ever admit it.

“You just met me,” You blurt, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

Andrei, to his credit, takes your nervousness in stride. He finds it cute that he has that effect on you. “And I like you,” He counters, flashing a dazzling smile. “You’re cute. Small, like kisa.”

“Kisa?” You try out the unfamiliar word, your attempt at a Russian accent definitely not as sexy as his.

“Kitten,” He translates. “Will you purr for me?” It’s so disgustingly cheesy you can’t help but grimace, and Andrei laughs at the look on your face.

He steps closer, even more than he was before, and the way he looks down on you only makes the difference in height that much more noticeable. He’s so big… Normally you’d feel caged, but with him it feels safe, and that’s probably a red flag you won’t discover until much later.

You struggle finding something to say, but he beats you to it. “I’d like your number, if you’re willing to give it.” And he’s so smooth, so conniving with the way he asks it because he’s not demanding at all, letting you think you have all the power.

“Okay,” You breathe, eyes widening in awe as you don’t even have the chance to pull out your phone before he’s sliding his own into your hands. “You can add your contact.” He instructs, watching you type in your information.

It looks informal, your first and last name in his phone like you’re merely a coworker. You’ll blame it on you being tipsy later, but you add a smiley face at the end of your name, hoping it makes you stand out. You don’t know how many girls he has in his contacts but you’re not naive enough to think you’re the only one.

You lick your lips almost subconsciously as you hand Andrei his phone back, and he zeroes in on the motion. Suddenly, he has the urge to kiss you, and so he does just that. It catches you by surprise, but soon enough you’re melting into him as one large hand cradles your jaw, keeping you tilted up to him.

Andrei tastes like sin, like temptation and all things bad you were told to never get involved in as a kid. A forbidden fruit, perhaps, and there’s even hints of cranberry left on his tongue to cement that fact.

“Andrei…” You hum in surprise as he deepens the kiss, his lips soft and heavenly. It takes everything in you to pull back, to separate yourself from the addicting taste of him. “Wait, I don’t, um—”

You pause. Andrei looks confused, perhaps a little alarmed as his eyes flit over your face. “You don’t… Kiss anyone?”

“No! No,” You lower your voice, not wanting to attract any attention. “Of course I do. I just, I don’t hook up. For fun. Ever.”

He frowns, like he can’t fathom the idea that you don’t enjoy sex with no strings attached.

“Really,” he says, not quite a question. “You’re beautiful, though.” The charm comes back full force as his hand comes to brush away some of your hair that had fallen into your face. “Surely you have suitors, no?”

Your throat tightens, and suddenly your eyes are glassy as he looks at you with so much reassurance and affection. “Maria usually gets the ‘suitors’, not me.”

“I don’t believe that.” He responds immediately, and he looks so sure of himself as his head lowers, his eyes looking back and forth from yours to your lips, and you’re helpless to stop him as the hand moving your hair comes to rest on your cheek.

It’s all very convincing, the sudden care and adoration… You’ve never had a man treat you so delicate, like a prized possession, and you fall for it all too quickly.

“Let me take you out?” He soon asks, and there’s nothing you can really respond with other than yes.

Everything happens so quickly from here. Andrei becomes a centerpiece in your life, and you’re helpless to stop it as you fall for everything about him. You don’t truly become his ‘girlfriend’, but you are something more. Secret dates and midnight drives where no one can see you confirm that.

That’s why you think he’s finally turning serious about you when he shows up to your apartment at the beginning of March a few weeks before his playoffs start. He holds a large bouquet of roses, except your favorite flowers are gardenias because they remind you of your mom so your smile wobbles a little bit, but you let it slide for the romanticism of it all.

Andrei grins, the whites of his teeth blinding and he pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. He asks you if you’ll come to his playoff games, wear a WAG jacket and act as if what you are is official. You think you truly mean something to him after this, even though he never actually confirms it.

Suddenly you’re Andrei’s girl (but not really) and it becomes your entire identity. You essentially live with him as the playoffs come around, taking care of his apartment while he’s on the road. He talks of getting a dog over the summer, and you’re enthusiastic in your encouragement because you’ll have a friend to keep you company while he’s on the road.

His injury happens, though, and he’s out for good, at least for the rest of the season. You don’t know how to comfort him because your ‘relationship’ is so new, and it’s hard for you to understand why the anger at himself cuts so deep.

Ultimately, you fix the rough patch with sex. Lots and lots of sex. He works through his frustrations by taking you long, hard, and deep, mostly with him on top holding your throat while you take it like the good girl he tells you you are.

“‘Drei, your leg,” You remember saying to him one time as he slams you onto his bed, rolling directly on top of you. He doesn’t seem to hear you at first, too busy laying kisses to your neck.

“I don’t care.” He eventually responds, looking at you so darkly it leaves you shivering. He eats you out afterwards, and, well—you don’t have any more protests after that.

They win the first series against the New York Islanders in six games, and the moment the final goal is scored in overtime you’re jumping out of your seat along with the other WAG’s at one of their houses.

It’s exhilarating, rooting for something with every ounce of your being. You do it for Andrei - who still isn’t playing, but he was there watching - but mostly for yourself because you love the feeling of belonging to a community so close.

The second series ends sooner than the first, a five game victory over the New Jersey Devils, and this time you are at that final game. You sit with Andrei in a private booth at the top of PNC Arena, gripping his arm that also holds onto your thigh with the same amount of intensity.

The moment the final goal is scored - also in overtime - you’re hunching over your seat releasing a long breath. Andrei attempts to rise, then likely remembers his leg which forces him to grip the arms of his chair in strained acceptance.

“They did it,” You hear him whisper, like he can’t believe they actually came out of this series alive. “They did it.” He repeats himself, louder and more confident. You’re still folded over yourself, letting the anxiety drain out of you when he grabs your hand and tangles your fingers together.

“My kisa,” He says, waiting for you to turn your head so he can smile brilliantly at you. “We did it.”

“Not we,” And you grin back, because there’s nothing else for you to do but match his ecstasy. “You did it.”

“I didn’t even play,” Andrei is laughing, soaking in your praise like a sponge. “But I was here, wasn’t I?”

“You mean more to them than you’ll ever know.” More to me than you’ll ever know, you want to say, but hold back on that particular vulnerability.

After he finishes the team meeting in the locker room, you take him back to his house. He still hasn’t been given the all clear to drive, so you’ve taken up caretaker duties along with his mother.

You don’t think she likes you very much, either, but Andrei just says it takes a while for her to warm up to new people. Thankfully, she’s never around when you are though, because as you close the front door to his house he gives you a look equating to a meal he wants to devour.

Andrei seems to forget all about his knee, again, when he moves into you, pushing you back against the front door. “You drive me crazy.” He mumbles into your lips, and you don’t think you’re meant to respond as he moves to your neck.

You wore his jersey tonight, hoping it would bring the team good luck. You also happen to like how possessive he gets when he sees you in his clothes, especially wearing his name. It’s a little ridiculous, but you can’t lie and say you don’t love the attention.

Biting into your jugular, he tastes your rapidly beating heart before moving on, addicted to the sound of the moan that chokes its way out of your throat.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He breathes, massaging his hands into your waist as he pulls you away from the door. “And you’re going to love it, aren’t you? Because you’re such a good girl. My good girl.” His raspy voice leaves you holding back a whimper, and it’s hard to speak as he begins to sneak his hands under your jersey.

When you don’t respond because you’re too distracted by his hands, his damn hands, trailing up your ribs, he digs his fingers harshly into your skin. Your eyes snap open to find him almost glaring.

“Yes,” You think he wants to hear you say. “I’m yours.” You babble as his fingers let up, moving to cup your breasts over your bra as he pinches your nipples into hard points.

“That’s right,” He hums almost mockingly, hands now back to your waist as he pulls you after him to the path of his room. “No one else can make you feel like I do, yeah?”

This time he doesn’t expect a response as he pushes his door open, turning you around as you fall into his bed. Your head spins as the jersey you’re wearing rides up and Andrei quickly does the rest, slipping it off you with ease.

“Fuck,” You think he says, but you could care less as his bare hands are back on you, kneading the soft skin of your stomach and trailing back up the length of your torso. “No shirt underneath?”

“It was too hot outside,” You reply, breathless as you attempt to tug his suit and tie off, but that quickly proves to be more difficult. He tsks, thankfully deciding to aid you as he rids himself of his jacket. “You’re lucky that jersey is so thick.” He says, moreso to himself as he begins unbuttoning his slacks.

All that’s left is his undershirt and boxers, meanwhile you’re still left in your bra, jeans, and panties. Andrei must realize this too as he kicks his slacks off somewhere behind him. “Strip,” He commands, but you don’t need the reminder as you’re already one step ahead of him.

Your jeans and panties come off quickly, but it’s harder to remove your bra lying down. You eye the delicious specimen of a man above you, reaching out your hand for his own. “Help me?” You ask, biting your bottom lip before rolling onto your stomach.

Andrei mutters something behind you, but it’s clearly appraisal as the first thing his hands land on is your bare ass. He spends a few moments appreciating the view before his fingers trail up your back, unclipping your bra much quicker than you ever could have.

“You, kisa, are dangerous,” He teases, lowering himself to where his solid chest is pressing down on your back. He loves taking you from behind, tangling his hands in your hair while you’re left to his mercy.

He noses his way past your hair to reach your neck, lightly nipping the skin as you sigh, your head melting to the side so he can continue his ministrations.

“Andrei, please,” You hiss, the wetness between your thighs now too prominent to ignore. You wiggle your hips tantalizingly, hoping to catch his attention.

He grins into your neck, doesn’t respond as he presses a final kiss to your pulse point before pulling back, his right hand sweeping the rest of your hair to the side.

“You need me to touch you?” He asks, smoothing his left hand over your hip before slipping it to the inside of your thighs. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it ever so lightly to feel you flinch with sensitivity underneath him.

You tremble underneath him as he continues stroking you, and your hips jerk upward when two of his fingers slip past your walls and curl. He’s laughing as your ears ring, and already you’re so close to coming when his thumb rubs circles on your clit in time with the thrust of his hand.

Just like everything else about you, though, he knows; he knows and he pulls back before you even have the chance to swear because then the last layer of clothing between you is gone. His boxers are thrown somewhere behind him along with his undershirt, and now he wastes no time pulling your hips up, leaving your chest pressed into the bed.

So used to this familiar position, you look behind you in anticipation to find him stroking his cock, staring at your glistening pussy with barely contained arousal. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for, but then he’s sliding his free hand through your soaked lips to gather the wetness there, using it as lubricant.

“Shit,” He says, swearing more to himself before climbing atop you. It’s routine the way he grabs your hair, tangles it in his fingers while the other guides his swollen cock to your entrance. The bulbous head pushes into you with ease, finding no resistance as he sinks into you.

Andrei hisses, mutters something in Russian, then is lowering his head to press his lips to your ear. “Fuck, you’re tight. You just feel so good all the time, you know that, kisa?”

The only sound capable of coming out your mouth is a whimper as you bury your face into the sheets as his hips begin thrusting, hitting your sweet spot with bullseye accuracy each time.

The girth of him stretches you out deliciously, and it leaves your walls clenching and unclenching rhythmically in time with his movements. You mold to him like your body was made for him, like there’s no other way to exist without him taking you in such primal fashion.

Andrei’s head rests in the crook of your neck, murmuring indiscernible phrases while his hands trail up and down your body. His hips rut against your clit each time he thrusts forward, and if anything you get wetter at the thought of him fucking you so callously.

You feel like his most precious belonging sometimes, like an object. It can be disorienting when he talks to you like you’re a child, but when he fucks you it’s like that preciousness he views you with is amplified.

You flinch upward when his cock curves into you just right, and the way he coos into your ear to bring you back down only verifies that thought. He wants to take care of you, always—even if it demeans you.

Andrei suddenly rolls over onto his back, bringing you with him to where you’re the one on top with your back laying against his chest. He sits up, and now you’re in his lap, thighs spread to the side as he once again begins fucking into you.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream as your head rolls back onto his shoulder, the new angle forcing his cock into deeper lengths inside you, and it hurts but it hurts so good and why were you ever questioning how he treats you, again?

How has only one man ever been able to make you feel this good?

Euphoria floods your veins as his hands find purchase on your body, one taking your left tit and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other sneaks down to the junction of your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing over it mercilessly.

When your stomach starts clenching and your lower spine tingles, Andrei is right back at your ear whispering encouragement. “That’s it, angel,” He praises. “That’s it. You want to come, yeah? Do it. I’ve got you.”

His name leaves your mouth as a breathless whine, and you struggle not to flinch away from his touch when it becomes too much but also not enough, and somehow he knows this and just holds you tighter.

When his cock hits you so deliciously good while his thumb swipes over your clit, you fall. You fall hard, the walls of your cunt seizing around him as ecstasy takes over your body. Sparks fly across your skin, stars filling the empty blackness behind your closed eyes and you think you’re sobbing Andrei’s name but you can’t be sure. The only thing you can be sure of is him; his cock inside you, his hands on your body, his voice in your ear, his teeth on your neck as he approaches his high.

Yours lasts for longer than normal because he doesn’t stop moving—if anything, he goes faster, because the sight and feeling of sending you into a spiral only triggers his own release.

By now you’re motionless, unable to even lift your head as it remains lying against his shoulder. Andrei’s thrusts are frenzied, more sloppy and less precise, until he’s throwing his own back with a long, pleasure-filled groan.

Eventually, he stills. His chest is rising and falling behind you rapidly, attempting to collect himself now that his mind is back in the present. You sigh, quietly yet happy, as his cock softens inside you but doesn’t move, his release slowly trickling down your conjoined bodies.

You suddenly remember that he didn’t lose a condom, but then you remind yourself that you’d stopped using condoms weeks before. You were already on birth control, and he assured you this was exclusive.

You were a fool to believe him.

Andrei soon moves, his hands taking to your hips as he gently lifts you off of him. “I know,” He says when you hiss with sensitivity. “I’ve got you, good girl…” He lays you on your back, and you don’t move from your position even as he leaves the room.

Your eyes soon flutter shut, and you curl to the side as the minutes go by with no sign of return. It’s not regret that fills your mind, no, but another emotion, something stronger than just satisfaction at getting such a pleasurable release.

You don’t dare to think of the world ‘love’, but maybe something similar to that is what you’re feeling?

It doesn’t help that just as you’re on the verge of falling asleep, Andrei comes back to your naked form while he’s now adorned in sweatpants. You merely hum as he sits on the edge of his bed next to you, one of his hands reaching out to trail up your arm. When he reaches your face he brushes away the hair stuck to your cheeks and forehead from cooling sweat, letting your skin breathe.

He says something, so quiet it’s impossible to hear over the sound of your thundering heart, and you don’t have the energy to ask as you finally succumb to exhaustion.

Andrei cleans you up after, dries the inside of your legs and slides one of his t-shirts over you. He tucks you under his sheets and pulls you into his arms, letting your hair tickle his cheeks.

The Eastern Conference Final arrives far quicker than any of you are prepared for, and games one and two against the Florida Panthers are full of anxious nail-biting and frustrated cursing when the puck hits the goal post.

Both games end in overtime losses, and the team has to play games three and four in enemy territory, down by two.

Andrei, understandably, isn’t taking it well. It's hard for the players on the ice, of course, but even harder when he has to sit at the sidelines, hidden in a booth at the top of the arena with you doing your best to comfort him.

“Why can’t they just fucking score?” You remember him hissing before the end of regulation in game two, not angry at his teammates but at the situation instead.

And himself, too, because he is the injured one. He is the one who tore his ACL making it so that he couldn’t play. It isn’t his fault, but it is at the same time and that’s what’s truly getting to him.

As the timer hit zero, he’d leaned back in his chair and grabbed your hand without thought, squeezing your fingers to the point of strangulation.

You let him, though, because at that point you’d let him do anything.

“I’m sorry.” You said, your eyes on him the entire time. It pained you to see him so miserable, and there was nothing you could do to make it better. “This isn’t your fault. It’s… Blame Bobrovsky, okay? He’s just too—”

You interrupted yourself, not wanting to say ‘good’ even if that’s true because you didn’t want to upset him with the implication that his teammates couldn’t be better.

Andrei, to give him credit, didn’t take offense. His eyes were on you the moment you started your ramble, and as you finally paused to gauge the look on his face you found amusement and unbridled affection in his gaze.

“Too good?” He finished your sentence, waiting for your meek nod of confirmation. Merely sighing, he only brought your intertwined fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of your hand. “You’re right, kisa. He is too good.”

You stay back in Raleigh while the team, including Andrei, takes flight to Sunrise, Florida. Most of the WAG’s stay back too, the majority already anticipating the result of this series.

Hours after the team’s flight, Maria calls you late on the eve of game three.

“Hey, Mare!” You answer, lowering the volume of whatever show is on the television to better hear her. “What’s up?”

“Hey, girl!” She chirps, and you can hear voices in the background so you assume she’s somewhere busy. “Just landed in Florida!”

“You flew to Florida?” You ask, choking slightly. “Since when?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you! The team needed extra people since we’re staying here for longer than a night.”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Is all you say because you don’t, in fact, remember, and suddenly feel really guilty about it. You haven’t actually spoken to Maria face-to-face in weeks, having been caught up in everything Andrei-related.

You haven’t talked to lots of people you were close to before Andrei came into the picture, now that you think about it. It’s a problem you’re sure to reflect on when you’re done talking to your friend.

“...bunch of us are going out tonight since the game isn’t until later tomorrow night, including a lot of the team.”

Maria’s voice tunes back in, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts to catch-up. “Really?” You inquire, now suddenly interested. “Is Andrei going with them?”

You could ask him yourself, sure, but you don’t really talk about that stuff, what he does or what you do in your free time. It always felt invasive to ask because you weren’t quite sure if you even had the right to, considering the nature of your relationship.

You doubt he thinks about what you do when you’re not with him, anyway, so you always just assume you can live in the moment with him and have that be good enough.

“Dunno,” She replies. “Can’t you ask him yourself? You’re seeing the man, after all.” You can hear the smirk in her voice at the last sentence.

“Um,” You stall, because no, you can’t just ask. “He just got off the plane, I don’t want to bother him.”

“Mhm,” Maria hums, and you can’t tell if she’s suspicious or not by her tone alone. “True. I’ll just text you if anything interesting happens, okay? Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” You can’t help but laugh at her sudden hastiness, and soon enough she’s hanging up the phone with the claim that the team bus is there to take her to the hotel.

As your call with Maria is in the early afternoon, you have a while to wait before all night life in Florida begins, so any updates will take time to roll in. You know this, and yet you can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

Distracting yourself by shopping helps, as does meeting up with a few of the WAG’s for a late lunch. You’re able to put your anxiety in the back of your mind for the rest of the day, and as the sun sets you pull back up to Andrei’s house and let yourself in with the spare key given to you, mind at peace as you float around his living space in preparation for bed.

You almost considered his place your home now, rather than your actual apartment. You’ve been spending so much time here, with him and also alone as everything with him seems to be going so good… When you settle into his bed, wearing one of Andrei’s large t-shirts and boxers, you check your phone one last time for any updates.

There’s a few Instagram notifications, one or two emails from your university, only one message in the groupchat with the WAG’s, and a text from Andrei which is what you zero in on first.

Settled in the hotel now. Leg is hurting, so I’m going to bed early tonight. Text you tomorrow, okay?

There’s no silly emojis, no indication of any emotion in his text, and yet you read the message with a smile, insecurities officially gone. His teammates are going out tonight, not him, and you don’t have to worry about Maria texting you later because there would be nothing to update you on.

How could you have ever doubted him?

You fall asleep peacefully, unbeknownst to the fact that long after midnight, your phone begins blowing up with silent notifications from Maria. She does, in fact, send you updates of her night out, but not updates you’ll smile at when you wake up the next day.

Sunlight filtered through closed eyes is what has you slowly awakening to the world of consciousness, and you stretch your arms with a yawn before reaching for your phone first thing. It’s hot to the touch, and at first you attribute that to it being stuck under your pillow the entire night, but upon unlocking the screen you discover that that is not the case.

WTF did you and Andrei break up?????

He’s here with the rest of the guys and he’s highkey flirting with some randos???

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were done w/ him!

You’re prettier than them btw. I snuck a few pics

Several more messages from Maria have taken over your inbox, those are just the first you see. It takes your brain a minute to catch-up, but when it finally does you’re sitting up with bated breath as you tap on one of the images she sent.

It’s definitely Andrei—you’d know his face anywhere. He is, in fact, surrounded by girls in the picture, his arm wrapped around the waist of a gorgeous blonde with a drink in his other hand, and it’s so reminiscent of the way he holds you at clubs that you know, you know immediately that this is what you meant to him all along.

The affectionate name-calling, gentle hand-holding and constant touching… You thought he looked back at you like you hung the moon, but now you’re realizing that maybe you were just projecting the reflection of your own starstruck eyes instead.

You sit up in bed, hand pressed to your forehead as a sudden headache rips through your brain. What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Remembering that you’re actually in this man’s house, in his clothes, too, has you jumping up like you’ve been burned, and you quickly exit the bedroom to collapse on the couch instead.

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, in disbelief as you click through more of the images sent to you from last night. There’s no denying to yourself that he was with these women, all while supposedly having a significant other waiting for him at home.

There’s no one to witness the slow breakdown of your sanity, and you can’t even cry because you’re so in shock about what you’re seeing

Is this real? Are you real? Is this really happening?

It’s almost like a switch in your brain goes off, and very quickly you drop your phone. You take a deep breath, you bury your raging emotions, and you stand up from the couch to start your day.

You refuse to allow yourself to break down now. Not when you still haven’t spoken to him. At the very least you’ll wait until you have an explanation…

To confront him on your very strong feelings you’ve been doing your best to ignore until now, because they’re too real in the wake of this discovery to just vanish away like you’ve done before.

You need to know where you stand with him. Truly, because these pictures you can’t stop thinking about? It’s too much. You can’t pretend it doesn’t feel like thousands of little knives stabbing your heart repeatedly even if it all means nothing to him.

Everything goes back to normal. Everything is fine. You never saw those pictures, ignored Maria's continuing calls and acted as if your world wasn’t suddenly tilted on its axis.

Andrei doesn’t text you at all throughout the day, which can probably be attributed to preparation of game three, but all you can think about are the girls he might be texting.

Because he certainly isn’t texting you.

Game three results in a loss, a bad one, and it would pain you to see the reactions on their faces filtered through the television if you weren’t so numb.

He still doesn’t text you. Doesn’t call, either, and Maria eventually gives up on trying to reach you as game four approaches.

The impending doom of Andrei bares down on you like a vice, slowly strangling you in the screaming silence of his house you still remain in. Maybe this is something you should have seen coming because it isn’t the first time he’s gone radio silent, you just assumed he was busy—because that’s what he told you.

You’re starting to think that maybe you shouldn’t have listened.

You love him though, right? That’s why you believed him? That’s what you’re feeling right now, why it’s like you can barely breathe when you think of his smile or the way he’s betrayed you so?

The Panthers sweep the Hurricanes, a complete four-game victory that sends Andrei and the rest of the team licking their wounds all the way back to North Carolina. You don’t watch the fourth game with anyone but yourself and a bottle of wine while catching up on homework for one of your classes.

Becoming so close to Andrei meant you became close to the rest of his teammates too, to the point where you’d consider some of them your good friends, so seeing their faces broadcasted live after the final goal is devastating to see.

Not as devastating as the text you receive, though, in the midst of trying to figure out what to say to him the moment he steps foot inside his house.

I won’t be home tonight, heading straight out with some of the younger guys. I will see you tomorrow

Well. You can’t say you’re surprised. You’re willing to bet money he’s out sleeping with some random girl whose name he won’t remember the next day. Instead of letting the anxiety take over, anger takes its place instead.

And boy do you run with it because anger is so much better than feeling powerless. It simmers in your blood, a wildfire settling low in your stomach until you’re practically shaking while waiting for Andrei to walk through the front door the next day.

When he finally does, you’re so mad you’re numb. Your anger has turned you into a ghost, an attempt at protecting your fragile heart from more heartbreak likely to fall upon you the moment he tries to charm you back into his good graces.

Once he spots you sitting on the couch, he smiles in greeting. It’s soft, and you’d like to say affectionate, but you no longer can tell how deep his feelings run for you.

Clearly, not deep enough.

“Kisa,” He says. “How are you? I’m sorry I was out late.”

“It’s fine,” You respond tightly. Andrei doesn’t seem to notice, merely nods before walking past you to the kitchen. You follow him silently, trying to figure out how to phrase your next words.

You end up settling on a subtle approach. “I’m sorry about the games… I know it must’ve sucked having to watch.”

He scoffs immediately, mutters something you don’t catch but still doesn’t turn around to face you as he rummages through his fridge. “It definitely was not fun to sit there, no.” He replies.

“Is that why you didn’t come back last night? You were coping with the loss?” You’re hoping your strong reference to his late-night escapades will spark something in him, but alas you still seem to be wrong and all he does is cast you a furtive glance before going back to his business.

God, you were just going to have to wring this out of him, weren’t you?

“Andrei,” You start, taking a deep breath. He still doesn’t stir. “Andrei, I know.”

Finally, he stops. Pauses mid-motion of whatever he’s doing, and his shoulders seem to tense in preparation of your foreboding words.

“There’s other girls, right? It’s not just me?” Your voice is already wobbling, and you’re glad he’s still refusing to face you because your eyes are slowly filling with tears, the agony of these last few days catching up to you.

This is when Andrei finally turns around. He meets your eyes last after scanning up and down your body; the clothes you’re wearing that aren’t his, your nails digging into your hands, and finally the bright flush of your face as you struggle not to explode.

“What do you mean?” Is what he says, looking at you calculatingly.

“Don’t play dumb with me, ‘Drei,” You whisper, invisible wires constricting around your throat as you force yourself to continue speaking. “Maria told me. She saw you. And you lied to me.”

Andrei doesn’t speak. He just stares, fingers clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide if he should approach you or not. After what seems like hours of silent battle, he replies, starting out by saying your name like a warning. “She… Maria had no right to tell you that.”

“Because I’m not actually your girlfriend, right?” Your response is immediate, and it hurts him if the flinch on his face is anything to go by. “You don’t owe me anything. Not a title, responsibility. You never promised me any of that so sleeping with other girls is perfectly okay.”

Everything you’re saying is true but it’s all wrong the way you’re looking at each other. Tears are now openly streaming down your cheeks and Andrei hasn’t moved since the moment you opened your mouth.

“Nothing to say?” It’s defeated, your entire demeanor as your shoulders sag and you fight the urge to collapse. “Yeah. I—I wouldn’t know what to say either.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrei whispers, and he doesn’t fight you which makes it all the more devastating. Everything you’re saying is true and it’s still all so wrong but he isn’t fighting you and wow, you’re really about to lose him, aren’t you?

“I think the worst part of this for me is that I actually let myself fall in love with you.” It’s your last-ditch effort of getting something out of him, anything that proves this isn’t completely one-sided on your end.

Andrei looks gutted at that. But he steels his resolve, his eyes go cold and he clenches his jaw as you try, one last time, to reach him.

“Do you love me?”

He’s staring at the wall behind you. No words fall from the lips you’ve kissed a thousand times until they finally do, and this is when you come to the realization that you’re ruined. You won’t ever look at another man the same because Andrei will forever haunt you in everything that you are and what you do.

“No. I don’t.”

You don’t put up much of a fight after that. You wave your white flag and slip past him to grab the small bag you’d packed earlier in preparation.

Andrei doesn’t move from his spot in the kitchen once. His face is tight, eyes dark and anguished as you drop his spare key on the counter. You look at him one last time, will him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.

He never does—so you leave and you don’t look back.

It hurts worse because there really wasn’t a fight. There was no screaming, breaking glass, hurling insults at each other; it was a quiet acceptance of the end of a relationship that had no chance of lasting.

That’s what gets you. Not just because it’s over, but because he doesn’t love you like you love him.

You can’t believe you let yourself fall for it.

When you finally make it back to your apartment it feels like walking into an alternate reality, especially after an agonizing drive back full of nothing but silence and your thoughts.

You’ve practically lived with Andrei the last few months so much that you’ve forgotten you had a life before him. Maria comes to your mind immediately at that thought, and you can’t think of anything else you need more right now than your best friend.

Her phone only rings twice before she picks up. She says your name warily, likely because she hasn’t heard a word from you in two days.

“Hey,” You whimper, and you hate that you can tell how broken you sound. “Um, you were right. About Andrei. I… Talked to him about it. We’re done.”

There’s silence on the other end for several moments. Then:

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m coming over, and I’m bringing the fattest bottle of wine known to man, okay?”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears.

“Don’t respond, you can’t say no. I’ll see you in a few!”

And, well, you do nothing but let her hang up as you stare at your blank lock screen for a minute. Something possesses you to try and freshen up even though it’s just Maria, so you make your way to your bathroom.

Opening the door, your eyes land on your reflection in the mirror, your tear-stained eyes the same color red as the lipstick you wore the first time you met him. The same red of your heart, too, as you feel the shattering of it now more than ever.

It all goes back to him. Everything about you, your identity as ‘his girl’ reducing you to someone who doesn’t exist without him.

Fuck you, Andrei, you want to yell. Fuck you and fuck everything you put me through.

As you furiously rub your eyes, you realize you don’t know who you are anymore. You let yourself be molded into an unfamiliar version of yourself, into someone just for Andrei to want to keep around.

The tears start again, and you’re left sniffling in the suffocating silence of your bathroom. The only person who knew you, the you now, is gone.

And suddenly, you find yourself alone.

Well… Not totally alone. “Fuck him!” Maria shouts after she breaks into your apartment (she has your spare key) after you’d collapsed onto your couch and refused to open the door. “Seriously, fuck him. You’re way too good for him.”

“Weren’t you the one who convinced me to sleep with him in the first place?” Is your weak rebuttal, muffled and almost imperceptible as your head is burrowed in a pillow.

Your friend tsks, likely waving her arms around in that expressive way she does. “Yes, well. I never claimed to see the future. But now we know him for the piece of shit he is!”

Maria is your closest friend, yes, but you also know her to be someone who tells you what you want to hear. Right now, you’re feeling vengeful and angry, so she’s feeding into those emotions to make you feel better.

You know, in two months time or however long it takes you to process this, when you start missing him and tiptoe around the idea of calling him, she’ll support you then, too.

Which probably isn’t what you need, but, whatever. You’re just grateful you have someone on your side.

“I need…” You start, not quite sure how to phrase what you’re wanting. “I need to forget.”

“A one nightstand type of forget or get so drunk you pass out type of forget?”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought of sleeping with someone so soon. As much as you hate it, you don’t think you’ll ever stop craving Andrei’s body.

No man ever could make you feel that good…

“Get drunk,” You say, quirking a small smile at the whoop she lets out. “I can’t fuck someone right now. At least not yet.”

“Yeah,” The blonde agrees, sighing almost wistfully. “I’d feel the same if I knew what his dick felt like.”

“Maria!” You shriek, throwing a spare pillow as hard as you can her way. It misses, but does the job of lightening the mood and keeps you giggling the rest of the night.

She does her job in making you forget, though. Makes you put on one of your shortest dresses and gets you drink after drink until you’re hunched over a toilet in the back of some bar gagging your stomach out.

You wake up the next day with the worst hangover ever, but Maria is fairing the same and somehow you consider it worth it. Maybe you can live your life again without him.

You’ve done it before, right?

And really, it’s ridiculous when you let yourself think about how you’d only been seeing the man for five months and he completely managed to send your world careening in that timespan. So, you don’t let yourself think about it. Instead, you live.

For yourself, for your friends, for your heart that won’t ever be full but feels a little bit better every time you wake up each day without Andrei next to you.

You graduate university with your bachelor’s and get a job that’s even better than your last, and you make a really good group of friends at said-job without Maria’s help (though she’ll always be your best). The summer passes by with melancholy laughter and gentle healing, and while your first love always remains in the back of your mind, you think about him less.

So much less that you lose track of time, not even realizing that October of twenty twenty-three is here and the NHL season is starting back up. You haven’t spoken to any of the WAG’s since you broke it off with Andrei, assuming you would no longer be welcome in the ‘clique’ and preferring to separate yourself from a group associated with someone who brought you so much pain, so there haven’t been any reminders about the new season from them.

The memories of him are fleeting. They’ll come to you at random times, and now that you’ve lived in the past yet again, you can forget about the end where Andrei is a distant thought but every time his name is brought up it squeezes your heart so much you can’t breathe.

You’re doing better. Truly, you are. You’d stopped crying over him long ago, and you might have gone to class with swollen eyes and showed up to work despondent, but you’re working through it in your own way. Healing isn’t linear but you’re making progress slowly but surely.

One day, you wake up with a sudden determination to officially ‘get back out there’, per Maria’s words. There’s nothing spectacular about this day; it’s only mid-November, the weather in that awkward stage of autumn morphing into winter.

Maybe it’s because the night before you’d succumbed to the urge to search up the Hurricanes’ schedule, curious to when they’d be home and not.

It’s only a coincidence that they have a home game when you call your friends from work, asking if they’d like to go out after everyone gets off. It’s also a coincidence when you meet someone at said-bar you attend, and it’s absolutely insane how if you squint he kind of looks like Andrei.

Oh, but he’s so, so sweet… His name is Jack and he buys you and your friends drinks, keeps a respectful distance yet never strays far when you’re wrapped into another conversation. He asks for your number at the end of the night and you give it to him without hesitation, taking note of the way he creates your contact in his phone himself.

“You like cats?” He asks as he’s still typing away, and your breath catches in your throat because it’s a question that makes you think of the first night you met him. When you don’t respond, he gestures towards your keychain attached to the strap of your handbag.

“You have little kittens on your keychain. I think that’s what I’ll add to your name, yeah?” Jack laughs a little shyly, and it’s cute but you keep replaying kisa in your mind over and over in a Russian accent you never could quite imitate.

“Yeah, I do like cats,” You say, flushing at the sudden amusement in his eyes. “I like them a lot.”

Jack doesn’t waste any time texting you the next day, and the normalcy of it freaks you out a little. Where’s the anxiety? The stomach-dropping nerves that come with talking to someone new? The constant wondering if they like you or not?

It’s so safe and secure that it hurts, because it was never like that before.

Everyone in your life is so supportive, though, but that only makes it worse because they can see how good this man is for you, but why can’t you? You feel like pulling your hair out when he texts you good morning and goodnight and sick to your stomach when he shows up during your lunch break with flowers.

However, there’s no one is more enthusiastic about Jack's new presence in your life than Maria.

“He’s a dream guy, honestly,” She swoons, kicking her feet back on her ottoman. “You’re so lucky. I would kill for a guy I met at a bar to be so smitten with me he shows up to my job with flowers.”

You hum in agreement, unable to come up with something to say. “He… Yeah, it’s nice, I guess.”

The blonde eyes you from where you’re curled up on her couch, deliberately avoiding her stare as you mindlessly watch whatever is on the TV. “You guess? He’s perfect!”

“On paper,” You retort, huffing slightly in frustration at yourself because why can’t you see what everyone else sees? “I don’t really know him.”

“Yet. You don’t really know him yet.” She helpfully points out. “Why don’t you want to give him a chance?”

“I… I do. I am giving him a chance. Maybe I’m just not feeling it.”

“He’s not Andrei, babe.”

You fight the powerful urge to scoff. I know, you want to scream. I know. That’s the problem.

Jack is too perfect for you. You want the ups and downs, the electrifying chemistry, the undeniable connection you’ve felt with no one else before. You crave the feeling of those past five months, of being with someone who lit you up to your very core.

It’s been almost eight months and you still can’t get him out of your head.

You give Jack a rightful chance, though, like everyone in your life is begging you to. You can’t bring yourself to end it because there really is nothing wrong, it’s a perfect getting-to-know-you stage which checks off all the boxes. It’s just that you don’t want normal because normal is boring.

You want chaos. And Andrei is chaos personified.

Unbeknownst to you, Maria is still very good friends with a lot of the WAG’s and talks about you when they ask. They miss you, it turns out, but your friend never tells you this in fear of sending you into a depressive spiral that tends to happen when they’re brought up. They’re ecstatic to hear that your life seems to be going so well after the breakup, especially after seeing Andrei’s reaction to it all.

This is something Maria doesn’t tell you, either. She’s such a good friend, protecting your heart like that. Andrei did not come out of his house after you ended it the same person; he was a little darker, a little angrier, frustrated in a way that suggested nothing could be done to fix it.

It doesn’t help that he couldn’t take it out by playing hockey, because he wasn’t cleared to play until the end of October, a month into the regular season.

He never admits his sour mood is partly to blame you for. Not that it’s your fault—he’s the one who fucked up, not you.

Never you.

Maria knows all of this and still gives him the cold shoulder for his treatment of you. None of the girls were very happy after finding out while his teammates just gave him awkward pats on the back. It doesn’t stop him from finding out about you, though, and what you’re up to.

The WAG’s talk. They’re gossip machines, and while normally he hates them for it because he always has to watch what he says around them, this time he’s thankful because they tell their husbands and boyfriends everything.

He’s at Martin and his girlfriend, Nykki’s, apartment watching their cavapoo, Gigi, when he finds out you’re seeing someone new. They’re heatedly talking about something when they walk in and don’t see him on the floor cuddling Gigi, so he doesn’t interrupt.

“I mean, I’m not surprised, but wow. It certainly took her a while to move on, didn’t it?”

He hears a smack, assumes Nykki has hit him on the arm like she typically does when he pisses her off. “She loved him, of course it took time!”

“Ow!” He hisses, though it’s clearly in jest. “Well, yeah, but like… It’s been months. And it’s not like she’s in contact with any of us anymore to remind her of him.” Andrei notes the sourness in his teammate’s voice, feels his heart drop because he thinks he knows who they’re talking about, now.

“Still,” Nykki replies. “I was so sad after my first heartbreak. They take a while to heal from, especially when it’s not a clean ending. It’s no secret how Andrei treated her.” She’s frowning when she continues. “I wish I could give her a hug, but I get it. I wouldn’t want to see any of us, either.”

Martin sighs. “I get it, too. I sure do miss the wine she’d bring though. She had the best fucking taste, ever.”

“Of course you only miss her for her alcohol.”

Andrei decides to clear his throat at this moment. When he does so, Martin and Nykki whip their heads towards him on the floor, surprise and guilt decorating their faces when they see him holding Gigi rather dejectedly.

He starts by saying your name, even surprises himself when it comes out biting and, dare he say it… Jealous? “She’s seeing someone?”

Martin and Nykki share a glance. Gigi chooses this as the time to leap up from his lap and run towards her parents where Martin happily picks her up. “I’m going to go take her out. Thanks for watching, ‘Drei!” He quickly flees the apartment, and Nykki says something under her breath as she glares after him.

They both know Andrei isn’t letting this go.

“Do you remember Maria, her friend? Works in the Hurricanes’ marketing department?” She eventually says, joining him on the floor.

“The blonde one? Yes,” He replies, and even though there are many blondes working for the team he knows exactly who she’s talking about. She’s your best friend, after all, and he knows everything about you.

Like how he knows you will never get over him. Conceited? Yes, but he had (has) you wrapped around his finger.

“Well, she talks to a lot of us still, despite everything that happened. And she tells us things.” Nykki pauses, almost like she’s scared to go on.

“Things like?” Andrei inquires. “How she is doing? Who she is doing?”

She glares at him then, eyes narrowing into slits. “Not that you really have a right to know, but yes.”

His fingers dig into his palms and his jaw cramps with how much he’s trying to keep from exploding.

“So, she’s seeing some guy now?” He scoffs like the very idea is incredulous. As if whatever pathetic excuse of a man you’re talking to could ever compare to him.

“She has a right to move on, Andrei. You should too. You ruined her.”

That fact remains true, but he still has no desire to ever let you go as he deliberately ignores her advice, well-meaning as it is.

How ruined could you really be if you’re already with somebody else?

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to run into you because you avoid him like the plague. You know everywhere he and his teammates frequent so you stopped showing up long ago, and he’s pretty sure you keep a several hundred-foot radius between you and PNC Arena at all times. He doesn’t blame you, but it pisses him off to know he can’t easily find you.

Christmas passes, you spend it with Jack and Andrei spends it with his Russian teammates. The New Year arrives just as quickly, and as he locks lips with some random girl at the party he’s at he thinks of you. Wonders who you’re with, if you’re kissing that guy Nykki told him about.

You actually flew back home to spend it with your parents, giving Jack some weak excuse about how you weren’t able to see them over the holidays.

North Carolina winter is in full force as February of twenty twenty-four rolls around, and your life remains inexplicably boring while Andrei’s picks up. The Hurricanes are finally having a redemption arc after their awful first-half of the season, and thus are heading out to celebrate far more often than normal.

They’re more daring in where they choose to go, too, wanting to branch out of their norms, because why not?

This is really unfortunate for you. Horrifying, actually, because you’re out with your friends, Jack, and his friends too when the team comes strolling in. Eyes instantly shoot their way, aweing at the miniature celebrities in their own right for finally bringing a good professional sports team to NC.

The moment Andrei steps foot in the establishment you know. Your skin catches fire, your ears ring, and your heart thunders inside your chest because only man can set off your senses so powerfully.

You look away from Jack - who thankfully doesn’t notice, he’s sucked into a conversation with one of his friends - and find Andrei approaching the bar with Martin and Seth. He hasn’t noticed you yet and you try to keep that from happening as you sink down into your seat, flashing your friends an exaggerated smile when they eye you curiously.

You’re unable to hide for long, though, when a song bursts from the speakers and sends everyone into an excited frenzy, your group included as they crowd the dance.

Luckily you’re able to escape that particular rally and wave Jack off when he asks you if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” You shout over the bass rattling your eardrums. “Just letting my drink settle a bit.”

He doesn’t question you, merely nods and smiles before disappearing somewhere with his friends. Now, you’re alone, and you can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing because now you have a perfect view of Andrei and his teammates leaning against the bar, looking far too good as they do so.

You can’t keep your eyes off him. You never could, especially can’t now as you soak up every little change your eyes can see. He has a scruff now, a sexy five o’clock shadow that you know firsthand how it feels between your thighs. His hair is a little longer, too—you wonder if it’s still as soft as you remember.

Jack suddenly appears from a break in the crowd and oh, yeah, fuck you can’t be thinking about your ex like this, can you? No, you aren’t officially with Jack, but it’s still wrong. He likes you so much, you know this, and you… Don’t hate him?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you bemoan to yourself, torn between the angel on your left and the devil on your right that don’t give you the chance to decide because you feel eyes baring into your skull, begging you to notice them. Your entire being freezes, stuck in between some weird limbo as you lock eyes with Andrei for the first time in months.

There’s no one else but you and him as neither one of you refuses to break first, and you only lose eye contact when a group of people walks between you. When they’re gone and you’re able to freely look again, you realize he’s gone from his spot at the bar. All his teammates are still there, and they’ve now spotted you too.

Would it be wrong to call an uber and just tell Jack you felt sick?

Your name is suddenly being whispered into your ear, and you would have flinched if the sound of his voice didn’t have you relaxing back into your seat. You refuse to look up at first, because if you look at him so close to you again you’ll fold.

“Andrei,” You greet, quietly. “How are you?” You still aren’t looking at him, choosing to swirl around the drink in your hand instead.

“I’m good,” He replies, so close you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You lean into it almost subconsciously until he’s sliding into the booth next to you, pressing the two of you together. “How are you, my kisa?”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You retort, finally meeting his eyes to cast him a withering glare.

“No?” Andrei reaches a hand up to brush some stray hairs from your face. So delicate his touch, he trails his hand down your cheek, your neck, and down your waist until landing on your thigh. You don’t stop him, either.

“That’s funny. I could have sworn that you’re mine.”

“I’m not,” You squirm under his touch, unable to push him away. “I haven’t been in months. Wasn’t ever ‘yours’ to begin with. You made sure of that.”

Andrei doesn’t appreciate the call out. The way his face twists is mean and you know whatever he’s going to say will hurt. “Right,” He scoffs, is snide with the way he tones it. “But you’re his?”

He gestures towards Jack, who thankfully is enraptured in a tense game of pool on the other side of the room. You don’t question how he already knows that’s who you’re with.

“I’m not anyone’s, Andrei.”

“Yes you are. You might have thought that because we haven’t seen each other we are just over?” He leans into you, doesn’t let you break eye contact as he gets so close your noses touch. “No. I bet me being so close to you right now has you soaked, and you want to know how I know that?”

Your throat is tight as you swallow. You can’t look away as you move to shake your head, but strange, because it comes out as a nod instead.

“You’re not ‘over me’, malyshka. You’ll never be over me. You love me.”

His grin is feral, his words biting as they cut through you at such a vulnerable level it has you flinching back from his touch immediately.

“Oh, fuck you, Andrei,” You hiss, an angry sheen of tears starting to gloss over your eyes. “Fuck you. I don’t love you anymore—especially not now.”

You move to slip around him but his arm shoots out and stops you in your tracks, leaving you frozen as he stands to tower over you.

“Careful,” He murmurs. “Your boy over there might think something’s wrong. Maybe I should introduce myself, make sure he knows I would never dare hurt you.”

“You don’t have to touch me to hurt me. You did that plenty without having to lift a finger.” You retort. “Now, get out of my way. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“But what if I want to talk to you?” You really hate the height difference between the two of you right now because it takes no effort at all for him to slide a muscular arm around your waist and keep you glued to his side. “Maybe I have missed you.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” You mutter, but he ignores you as he begins to lead you away from the booth you were in before. “My friends will wonder where I am if I’m not at the booth when they get back.”

“Not worried about your boy?” He mocks, noting the way you don’t mention Jack at all. “They won’t have enough time to notice.”

You narrow your eyes at his insinuating words as he stops at the bar, waving down the bartender who comes immediately. “His name is Jack.” You mutter, thinking he can’t hear you. He continues talking, ignoring you, and you’re unable to hear him over the noise so you don’t bother trying to understand what he’s asking for.

Soon enough there’s a drink sliding across the bar counter and Andrei pushes it in front of you. You eye the glass, making note of the fact that the liquid is red. “Vodka cranberry,” He confirms what you’re already thinking.

You flash back to the night you first met and suddenly you want nothing to do with the drink in front of you. “No thanks, I don’t want it.” You say, trying to step away.

You don’t get far, though, because he’s grabbing your wrist and tugging you rather harshly back to him. “Drink it,” He demands, watches your eyes and the way they dart from his face and back to the glass nervously. He sighs, then, like he’s realized something and lets go of your wrist only to land back on your hip. “It’s… Nothing is wrong with it. I didn’t touch it.”

He thinks you’re worried about being drugged? You almost laugh but manage to hold it back, because of course he doesn’t remember that this is the first drink he ever got you.

Your heart beats a little faster as you concede, finally picking up the drink and taking a tiny sip. He waits for your reaction like he’s the one who made it. “It’s good,” You finally say, licking the sweetness from your lips.

Andrei watches you, your eyes, your lips, everything about as time seems to stop and it’s just you and him, like it’s supposed to be.

You haven’t changed all that much, and you can tell he likes that. Your hair is a little shorter, you’re perhaps a little thinner now that you’re not on a college student diet, but you’re still you.

Andrei hasn’t changed either. You’re the same yet so different, and it’s incredibly difficult resisting the temptation to fall back into old habits.

“I’ve missed you,” He admits quietly, and you think it’s sincere this time. You wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t standing so close together.

Your heart thunders in your chest. You might be sweating out of nerves, or maybe it’s just the club. Your hands itch to touch him, and with more alcohol in you thanks to the cranberry you don’t stop Andrei as he succumbs to his urges first and uses one, large hand to cup your cheek.

You shudder as he caresses the skin, his thumb landing on your bottom lip and stroking it lightly. “Andrei,” You breathe, pupils blown wide. “You can’t—we can’t…”

He tilts his head, reminiscent of a dog. “Why not? You are not single?” He has you. He knows you know he does. You aren’t nearly as committed to Jack as much as you’d like yourself to be.

“I can’t do that to him,” You try weakly, already feeling your will bending to the persuasiveness of his touch.

His head lowers, hand remaining on your cheek as he brushes your lips together. You crave it, you realize, and move to fully push your mouths together but he’s pulling back before you get the chance.

“Go to the bathroom.” He says. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Will you?” You ask, the double-meaning clear as you stare at each other, neither willing to break.

Andrei’s face is unreadable. You can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing as his hands land on your hips and he turns you around in the direction of the restrooms. “Go,” He taps your ass, nudging you forward. “I’ll be there.”

You give in this time. You’re aware of the astronomically bad decision you’re making as you cut the line, faking a sick stomach and whispering ‘sorry’ over and over again in your head as the nice ladies let you through.

When you close the door you immediately make your way to the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, and with mussed hair and smudged lipstick you should be feeling ashamed.

All you feel is anticipation, though. For Andrei’s hands on your body, for his mouth to kiss all the spots he’s missed.

Several minutes go by and the knocks on the bathroom door become more frequent. You think he’s bailed on you - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time - but then you hear his voice outside.

“Da, yes, she’s in there,” A pause. “She’s my girlfriend, she needs me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, turning to face the door as he knocks and can hear his voice more clearly.

Yes, you do need him.

“Kisa,” He says, slightly muffled but you feel the effect he has on you is all the same. “I’m here. Let me in?” He’s almost begging, and you quickly unlock the door as he pushes through.

His smile is mischievous as he closes the door behind him. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He purposefully raises his voice, shows faux concern and plays it up in case anyone is listening outside.

“You’re so dramatic,” You say, pulling him down to you by the collar of his shirt. Now that you’re alone you don’t bother pretending you don’t want him as much as you do. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Andrei relents immediately, closing the distance between the two of you. Both his hands come up to the sides of your head to keep you in place, tilting you in whatever way he likes. His lips are just as soft as you remember, and your bodies move together like they were never apart.

He’s demanding as he begins pushing you back, crowding you against the tiny bathroom wall. His words from outside come back to you suddenly, and you break the kiss to catch a breath as his lips begin a trail across your cheeks. “Girlfriend?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I had to get them to let me through somehow.” It’s not what you want to hear but you lose the urge to fight him on it as he reaches your neck and begins sucking little hickeys onto the sensitive skin. Your head falls back with a sigh, uncaring of your hair catching whatever germs might lie on the wall.

You let Andrei do what he wants to your neck for a few moments, then when the urge to taste his lips comes again you grab the back of his hair and pull him up to you. He goes willingly, and you moan into his mouth as he continues to push back against you so hard you can feel his dick through his jeans.

He pulls back much too soon for your taste, and you try to follow but suddenly one of the hands holding your head comes down to wrap around your throat, restricting your breath as he pushes you back. You go to speak, but his other hand is leaving your face to unbutton his jeans one-handed.

You watch, eyes heavy-lidded. “‘Drei?” The weight on your neck is comfortable, so you don’t bother moving as he shoves the rest of his jeans along with his boxers down his thick thighs.

“You want to talk to other guys?” He starts with a bite. “Then you can remember the taste of my cock in your mouth while you do it.”

Your blood pressure skyrockets as the hand on your throat leaves to pull your hair back out of your face, grasps it like a rope, and pushes you down to your knees.

You’re at eye-level with his cock as it bobs in front of you, angry and swollen with beads of pre-cum leaking from the tip. He stares down at you expectantly, has to hold back a groan at your wide-eyed gaze looking so innocent.

As your lips wrap around his tip he’s reminded of the fact that no, you are not innocent. He made you that way. Fucked you like no man ever could. Ruined you for everyone but him. His feelings for you are complicated, but he does understand one thing…

Andrei doesn’t want you, not really. But he hates to think about you with somebody else.

Your tongue is masterful in its work as it swirls around his head, and once you get comfortable you begin going down. His head falls back and this time he doesn’t hold back his noises as your warm, wet mouth envelopes him.

“Missed this mouth,” He grunts as you suck. “Like it much better when you can’t speak.”

It’s insulting and degrading, yet it doesn’t fail to turn you on as you squirm and rub your thighs together in hopes it’ll give you the friction you need.

His hand in your hair soon starts pulling, sliding your mouth forward and back in increasing motions as he gets closer. He’s unabashedly groaning now, and you can see his abs clench when you suck a certain way.

Suddenly, you have the urge to have him fall apart before you. Maybe it’s revenge, wanting to see him lose control for you like you’ve done for him so many times; you tilt your head, using your tongue to stroke the sensitive underside of his cock and that has him jerking into you.

“Fuck,” He hisses. “Good girl. Just like that.” The praise goes directly to your clit, and you whimper as it throbs with no relief.

Despite being apart for almost a year, you still know what every twitch of his body means. You know he’s close because the hand in your hair is gripping you tighter, you can feel the steadily increasing tempo of his heartbeat through his pulsing cock, and his thighs are ever so slightly trembling underneath your hands.

You want him to come in your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more; your efforts increase and you dig your nails into his skin to hear him hiss and as his thrusts pick up he starts hitting the back of your throat.

Internally thanking your lacking gag reflex, you don’t flinch as he picks up speed, now blatantly using your mouth for his own pleasure with little regard for your comfort. “Shit, baby,” He blurts, desperate. “I’m gonna cum.” You hum in response, the vibrations of the sound finally throwing him over the edge.

Andrei throws his head back for a final time, one long groan emulating from his unfairly sculpted chest as his cum hits the back of your throat. You’ve always loved the taste of him and this time is no different as you suck him deeper, not wanting to waste a drop.

He takes a few moments to collect himself and in that timeframe your ears slowly stop ringing and you come back to reality, finding that your knees ache from being pressed into the floor and there are loud voices coming from outside the bathroom door.

As you move to stand, he too seems to remember where you’re at and uses both arms to pull you the rest of the way until you’re back to standing. You swipe your hair out of your face as his thumb comes to your lip, wiping away a stray drop of his release.

Despite the post-orgasmic clarity, he looks at you with softness and something else swimming in his dark eyes. “You’re still good at that,” He states. “Been sucking anyone else off?” His words are quiet but every bit threatening as you note the possessiveness in his tone.

“No,” You gasp as his thumb pushes its way into your mouth. “Just you. Only you,”

“That’s right,” He says. “Just me. Only me.” Then he’s spinning you around, fingers remaining pressed into your mouth while the other trails up your spine until he’s gripping the back of your neck. “Hear them outside?” He asks.

The ‘them’ he’s referring to, you realize, are the voices outside the bathroom. They’re much louder now, a few knocks mixed in, and you wonder with slight panic how a manager hasn’t come to unlock the door yet.

“They sound very angry, don’t they?” That same hand on the back of your neck strokes your skin, slowly working its way down to your waistband. “So we better make it quick. Hands on the wall, kisa,”

You know the moment he pulls down your pants he’ll find you to be unabashedly soaking. Despite claiming to be in a hurry, he takes his time working open the button of your jeans, grazing the skin above your panties before ever so slowly sliding them down your legs.

“Andrei,” You hiss, impatient. “Hurry up!” As the hand in your mouth retreats, you realize you’re both needy and nervous, an overwhelming combination.

He only laughs. “Someone is needy,” He mocks, holding your hips in place when you try wiggling against him. “Patience.” Leaning into your ear he murmurs this, staying this way as he fully slides your jeans past your knees.

Andrei sneaks his hand in between your thighs, something resembling a growl rumbling from his chest when his fingers find your dripping folds, feeling how you throb for him. “Missed this pussy even more,” He breathes, lubricating his fingers with your slick before slowly circling your clit. Your arms shake from where they hold you up and it’s a battle to keep yourself from collapsing.

“You are just made for me, aren’t you?”

You’re so wet you practically suck him in as he guides his dick to your entrance, and he wastes no preamble as he pushes in. If he thought your mouth was heaven after so much time apart, the feeling of your pussy squeezing him in so deep doesn’t even compare. His hands are digging into your hips as he ruts into you fully with one thrust, panting as your warmth contracts around him.

“Still so fucking tight,” He marvels like he can’t believe it, like it’s a dream you feel even better than when he replays the memories of you on repeat. “You been waiting for me?” He’s not expecting a response as his rhythm picks up, finding a familiar pace for the both of you that has him swearing under his breath and you struggling not to shout your pleasure to the rooftops.

“God,” You cry out when the head of his cock directly hits your g-spot, your hips jerking up so hard you would have fallen if it weren’t for Andrei holding you up. “Fuck, Andrei, fuck, I’m gonna—”

Andrei laughs, a sound that would have been more menacing if he also wasn’t gasping for air. “Already?” He mocks. “I barely touched you, baby,”

You don’t have to touch me, it’s on the tip of your tongue waiting to be blurted out. You don’t have to touch me for me to be on my knees for you. The words are ready, but instead all that comes out is a moan and maybe that’s for the best because he probably wouldn’t respond as well as he does in your dreams.

He’s unaware of your internal dilemma as he leans over you, pressing his clothed chest to your back. “Gotta be fast,” He reminds you, as if you’d forgotten. “You ready?”

“No, I—I can’t,” Because you don’t want this to be over. You don’t want to cum because he’ll follow you right after and then when clarity hits he’ll leave you again and you’ll be back to square one.

“Yes, you can” He croons. “I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you, I’m right here.” You want to sob as one of his hands leaves your hip and finds the junction of your bodies, gentle fingers prodding your pussy spread-wide around him until he finds your clit and rubs.

Your body is trembling and you can’t tell if you’re trying to move towards him or away, but it doesn’t matter anyways because he has you trapped between the wall and his body and the unrelenting pace of his hips slamming into you.

You have a sudden urge to look him in the eyes before you come undone by his cock and his fingers, so you crane your head to the side and watch him watch you. His hair is damp from sweat at the corners of his hairline, his lips slightly open as he pants and you think you spot him lick his lips when he catches you staring. You go to say something but he swoops down, catching your mouth with his own and promptly shuts you up.

Andrei doesn’t relent in his motions despite the uncomfortable position, not letting you break from his lips by removing his hand at your hip and gripping your face to keep you right here. He owns you, at this point, mind, body, and soul as your lungs beg for breath while your clit throbs beneath his fingers and oh, oh, there it is and you’re gone—

You feel the rough pads of his fingers bullying your clit but you don’t really focus on it until now, how the calloused ridges carelessly sweep over you with no semblance of relief and only when you body abruptly freezes does he part from you, but only slightly, leaving a hair’s width of space between your lips. “Beautiful,” He says, under his breath so quietly you don’t hear him as your bones catch fire and your brain short-circuits.

Heat sears you from the inside-out and you do nothing but endure as Andrei rocks you through it. There’s tears of ecstasy streaming down your face, you’re sure of it now, and you think he’s wiping them from your cheeks but you can’t open your eyes enough to check.

It takes a few minutes, but once your heart stops racing you can hear your favorite voice swearing behind you and only then do you comprehend him still moving inside you, but before you can whine at the sensitivity he’s stilling with a long, drawn-out groan.

You don’t dare speak first, nor are you the first to move. The air around you is stagnant with tension as you rest your head on your arms, breathing deeply to catch your breath. What does this mean? You’re spiraling already and it’s only been minutes since your desperate fuck in this bathroom.

Eventually, Andrei moves first. He slides his softened dick from you with a hiss and you feel his cum trickling out without him there to keep it plugged in. Wrinkling your nose at the feeling of having to walk around with wet inner thighs now, you slowly stand up as his hands fall from your body. You slide your panties and jeans back up the rest of your legs, ignoring the uncomfortable sensitivity of being covered once again.

Neither of you speaks a word. You want to cry suddenly, and this time not from pleasure. “What did we just do?” You manage to choke out, your voice so hoarse you have to clear it. He’s clearly planning on just leaving without a word but you’re not going to let him.

You stare at him expectantly. He’s turned around so all you have in your view is his slide profile, clearly struggling with what to say as his jaw clenches tightly.

“Nothing,” He finally says, and he might as well just fucking stab you in the back. “We did nothing. You’re going to go back out there and pretend nothing happened because it didn’t.”

Oh, he makes you so angry. You can’t believe you’d forgotten that. “You’re serious?” You know he is but you don’t want to believe it.

Andrei meets your glassy eyes and you wish you could read him like he so easily can read you. He looks as conflicted as the day you walked out of his house for the last time, like he has so many words to say but refuses to let them fall from his lips. Just like then, you know this rendezvous means more to him than just a meaningless hookup.

If only he’d admit it…

He exhales a shaky breath as another loud knock disturbs you. “We need to go.” He dodges your question just like he dodges every issue in his life, especially in regards to you. “Come on, kisa.”

“You can’t just call me that, after—after this,” You hiss as he grabs your arm and pulls you towards the door. You panic on the inside as he unlocks it because once you leave this dirty sanctuary you know your problems will only get worse.

Strange, how Andrei manages to make everything worse despite making you feel so good.

As if your emotions don’t matter to him (they really don’t), he flashes you a grin as he drags you behind him, past the angry horde of people who, now that you think about it, definitely know you were fucking. “I know you like it.” Spoken so simply, so plain, you hate that he’s right.

You’ll always like it. Always love him. For as long as you’re hung up over him it will always come back to bite you in the ass and he knows this too.

It’s why, without shame, his arm is curled possessively around your waist as he leads you through the crowd of people. Your friends, Jack, don’t even cross your mind as he does so.

“Go find your friends,” He soon leans down to whisper in your ear. “Then find Jack. Tell him you felt sick and had to use the bathroom.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You snap, purposefully antagonizing him.

Andrei merely raises a brow at you. “You can always stay with me, with my cum dripping down your legs, and explain to everyone how you missed me so much you couldn’t stay away.”

You want to hit him. You almost do, but he continues before you actually go through with it.

“I wonder what Jack would say?” Of course he was listening to you earlier. He ignored you then, of course, but he listened.

And yeah, okay, you get it. Not a good idea to let everyone you know see you with him. He doesn’t want his friends to see him with you, either.

“Trying to get rid of me?” You ask, intending to sound sarcastic but it comes off as more insecure than you wanted it to.

You know he is, but you can’t help but ask for confirmation. Maybe it would help you move on to hear how little he actually cares for you.

“I don’t think I could get rid of you if I tried,” He replies. You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. “You’ll never get rid of me though.”

He’s right, again. You hate so much that he is because you both know you’ll be crawling back the moment he calls.

You want to cry again as his arm leaves your waist, the absence of his heat leaving you shivering.

Andrei looks at you for a long time, just appraising. He tilts his head like he doesn’t know what to think, but then he spots something behind you and starts backing up.

“I will see you again someday, kisa.” He winks at you, and then he’s gone.

Someone behind you taps your shoulder while speaking into your ear, a voice you recognize as one of the girls you came with. You should probably focus, banish Andrei from your mind, but you don’t.

You strain your neck, watching for him through the crowd. He’s back at the bar with his friends, his teammates you once knew.

He’s laughing at something one of them said. Like he wasn’t just with you, fucking you against the bathroom walls.

“Are you okay?” Your friend behind you asks, the one thing from her you do catch.

“Yeah,” You say, swallowing despite the dryness in your throat. Andrei is talking to more people now, girls that have approached him, you notice. “I’m fine.”

He looks gorgeous under the lights. You catch his brilliant smile, the glimmer of his eyes, and those lips you can never get enough of. You soon lose sight of him amidst the throng of people, but his fleeting allure forever lingers...

Like a steadfast reminder, a haunting echo of what can never be.

A/N: Well, that was fun. I hurt my own feelings writing this but it was worth it. I hope you guys enjoyed! Please remember to reblog & comment!!

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starry-hughes · 1 year ago

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bah humbug (andrei svechnikov)

day 11 of star’s ficmas

andrei svechnikov x reader

Andrei didn’t understand why you were so adverse to staying in his apartment. He had been staying at your apartment for a couple of days now when he could. You would get weird about staying at his place and he didn’t understand why.

“What are you doing?” you almost shouted as Andrei was leaning down to unplug your Christmas tree for the night. Your apartment had been decorated since November 1st. A decorated Christmas tree, stockings hanging on the TV stand, tinsel everywhere, Christmas blankets on the couch. Andrei didn’t exactly like decorating for everything.

He was a bit of a humbug during the holidays. For the first holiday season you shared with him, you chalked it up to the fact that he was missing his family and home. But then, he just wouldn’t decorate. His apartment was always clean and the only decorations was a framed photo of you and him in the living room above the tv.

“Turning off the tree for bed?”

You shook your head, “No! It has to stay on! It’s supposed to shine pretty at night!”

His eyebrows furrowed together but he let it go. You were in your pajamas, Christmas pajama pants and one of Andrei’s shirts. “My place tomorrow night?” he questioned as the two of you made your way to your bedroom. You shrugged, it wasn’t that you hated his apartment. His bed was much softer than yours and Andrei had a shorter drive to the rink from his apartment. You just hated being in the apartment without decorations.

“Maybe. Can we get a Christmas tree for your place?”

Andrei thought for a second. “You don’t like staying there? Because no decorations?”

You nodded sheepishly. “I don’t feel like you’re in the holiday spirit! Your apartment is so… what did that tweet say after the Halloween pictures? It feels sterile! Like so clean and no personalization!”

“Clean is good! And I have the picture of us!”

“Just let me decorate?”

He narrowed his eyes at you as you crawled into bed, covering yourself up in the blankets. “No, it’s too late to decorate anyway, not worth it.”

Your mouth gaped. “It’s not too late!”

Andrei always had you check in on his apartment when he was on a roadie. He was gone for practically a week. You unlocked his door, checking in on the apartment he left in perfect condition. Dishes put away, shoes neatly stacked on the rack by the door.

You didn’t mean to buy a lot of decorations, but you were dragging a heavy Christmas tree box up to his apartment with bags full of additional decorations. Oh Andrei was going to kill you when he got home. His apartment was decorated everywhere. You tried to pick up random pieces of tinsel that fell off as you put it up. You cringed after getting glitter on his couch.

Andrei wasn’t expecting you to offer to pick him up from the airport. He typically got a ride with one of the other guys but you had offered to pick him up. You nervously tapped on your steering wheel as Andrei got into the car and greeted you with a hard kiss. You were pretty quiet on the ride to his apartment which he found odd.

“Okay, don’t kill me, but I decorated your apartment.”

Andrei cocked an eyebrow, “You what?”

You sighed, “You always get into a humbug mood! It crushes my holiday spirit! I had to do something about it.”

Andrei entered his apartment behind you. Eyes landing on all the decorations. He barely recognized his own apartment. “If you want, I can take it all down,” you whispered but Andrei pulled you to him. “You did all this for me?”

You nodded, face turning red. He mumbled an ‘I love you’ in his native language before kissing you. “No more humbug?” you pulled away from the kiss. “No humbug.”

#star’s ficmas #andrei svechnikov blurb #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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uluvjay · 11 months ago

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Christmas tree farm- A. Svechnikov

Andrei Svechnikov x fem! Reader

In which you and svech go to pick a tree but he has a little something more planned..

Warnings?; none really, pure fluff, crying, kisses, a bit rushed sorry

Day 8 of my ficmas celebration!

For as long as you could remember coming to the Christmas tree farm with your family had always been your favorite part of the year, and now you get to do it with your boyfriend Andrei.

For the past four years you two have came to the same farm you went to growing up to pick a tree, you’d find the perfect one and Andrei would chop it down for you.

This year you were picking a tree for your first home together rather than the tiny apartment you two had been living In for the past four years.

“How tall are the ceilings again?” You questioned, turning to Andrei

“Nine feet.” He smiled.

“So we can get a bigger one this year?” You beamed

“Yes, you can get a bigger one.” He laughed as you clapped your hands happily and took off towards the taller trees.

Andrei smiled as he watched your frame get further and further from him, his hand tightly clenching around the velvet box in his pocket.

He eventually found you by the eight footers, hand on your chin as you inspected each one.

“See one you like yet?” He questioned, one of his hands coming to wrap around your waist and pull you into him.

“The one on the far left so far, it’s fluffy and the perfect height I think.” You smiled, leaning into his body.

He inspected the tree that you had mentioned, his eyes examining how it had the same fluff as all your trees previous but was just taller.

“I like it.” He smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, think it’s the one.” He confirmed watching your face as you looked over them all again.

“I think so too.” You smiled.

After chopping the tree down the two of you made your way to the front, netting the tree and putting it on top of his suv before heading back in to get some hot chocolate and walk around the rest of the farm.

“Hey come this way.” Andrei called, his hand wrapping around yours as he lead you to the trees they had lit up for pictures.

“Are you gonna take our picture?” You laughed.

“No I heard they had a photographer here today” he spoke looking around.

“Really? They’ve never had one before.” You spoke a bit confused.

“Maybe it’s new” he smiled and soon a woman approached you two asking if you wanted your pictures done.

“That would be great, thank you.” Andrei spoke as he pulled you into his side and you both began to smile at the camera.

However after the third shot Andrei had pulled away and when you looked over you watched him drop to a knee and pull something from his pocket.

“Wh-what is happening?” You spoke as you felt the tears beginning To fill your waterline.

“Y/n these last five years with you have been absolutely amazing, every year we come here and pick a tree and I want to do that with you forever. I want to walk this farm every year to find you a perfect tree, I want every Christmas with you, and eventually a family of our own. I want you forever, will you marry me?.”

“Yes! God yes” you cried, tackling him into a hug before he could even stand on two feet.

His strong arms wrapped around you tightly, holding on so tight as if you were going to slip away.

“I love you so much.” You spoke as he finally pulled away to slip the beautiful diamond on your left hand.

“I love you more.” He smiled pulling you into a soft kiss.

Cheers from behind you pulled you out of your bubble of bliss, turning around you found your friends and family gathered together. Your parents crying while friends and teammates yelled out congratulations.

Even the ‘photographer’ was behind her camera crying, a big smile on her face as she watched you two.

“You hired a photographer to?” You smiled.

“Had to make it perfect.” He laughed pulling you into another kiss.

“Everything you do is perfect Mr. Svechnikov.” You laughed.

“You’re perfect Mrs. Svechnikov.” He smirked down at you.

#andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov #nhl #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fluff #jay’sficmas

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wyattjohnston · 11 months ago

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kinda hope they catch us - andrei svechnikov

summary: 3 times the engagement was a secret and 1 time it wasn't.

word count: 1,698

note: this is a fic written for @isconnormcdavidok as part of a server exchange run by @mp0625 💚

It never ceased to amuse Eva that seeing the other WAGs was like seeing a friend you hadn’t seen in months. It had been 2 days since the last home game, and yet it would still be all hugs, kisses and tell me what I’ve missed. Some of them weren’t at the game so Eva could talk about dragging Andrei along to Christmas with her folks, at least. Everyone else would get a somewhat rehearsed story about her plans for starting the New Year off on the right foot.

It was only ever so hard during the holidays when everyone always expected a big, grand tale every time they saw each other.

And only more so of a big deal because she was keeping a secret.

A large secret.

A secret taking up quite a bit of real estate on her left hand.

Eva sighed at the line up of cars in the driveway and on the street outside her parents’ house. She had tried so hard to not be late for once, and she thought she was doing an excellent job.

Andrei assured her that they were, actually, only fifteen minutes late, which was the most on time Eva could ever remember being and her family would hopefully be impressed by that fact.

They made their way to the front door, arms so loaded with presents that she had to awkwardly press her nose to the doorbell because neither of them could free a hand to let themselves in.

A nervous buzz zipped through Eva’s body, her body bursting to tell her family news they’d been waiting to hear for what felt like forever, and she had her mouth open to spill it as soon as the door opened in front of her—except she was grabbed by the arm, her cousin letting out an exasperated “finally”, and hauled into the living room where the entire family was waiting.

Eva looked at Andrei, about to ask him if this was all his doing, to ask if he’d planned this, only to be met with him staring back at her and about to ask the same thing.

There wasn’t any time to work it out between them, though, because Eva’s sister was pulling her husband in front of them all and announcing that she was pregnant. Eva’s left hand got suddenly heavier.

It didn’t matter, though, that it had to put their plans on hold—and there was no question that that had to be the case—Eva used the now empty couches to unload presents from her arms, taking the ones Andrei was carrying.

“We’ll still be engaged tomorrow,” she whispered to him, the pressure of his hand on her upper back settling her.

His laugh was deep but soft when he said, “I know, Zolotse. I know.”

Eva joined the line to celebrate her sister and the pregnancy that she had all but given up on ever happening.

No effort was made throughout lunch to hide the new engagement ring, not intentionally on her part, anyway. Andrei holding hers hand throughout lunch, or when everyone moved back to the couch after, was the norm so nobody thought anything of it. He just so happened to be hiding the news they’d been so eager to share.

Eva always made an effort to watch Andrei’s home games; she’d very much grown to enjoy over the course of their relationship, having met Andrei very early on in his NHL career. There was a nice rotating cast of significant others and kids who appeared at games, too, and Eva’s relationships with them had become some of her most cherished.

“Are you going to take your coat off?” Courtney asked, tugging at material as she passed Eva. “And gloves?”

Eva balled her hands up and then shoved them under her thighs. Her ring caught on the glove which in turn caught on her jeans, but she wasn’t going to let the cold get to her.

“Are you coming down with something?” Gracia asked, concerned enough to put her hand against Eva’s forehead. “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever.”

“I’m just really cold. I haven’t been able to get warm all day.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re twenty-three not eighty-three. Can you start telling us when it’s about to rain?”

Eva rolled her eyes, insisting that she wasn’t sick or old or anything else. She was cold.

There was a period of time before the game started where people were seeming to give her a wide berth; Eva was unsure if it was because they thought her contagious or if she looked generally unhappy about being at the game. And she wasn’t unhappy to be there; she made that very clear when Nykki finally sat next to her.

“Are you sure? You’re a little grumpier than usual.”

“Because nobody will let me be cold!” Eva protested. “I’m just trying to get warm.”

During the first intermission, a blanket from the team store was delivered. It was mortifying.

Andrei, when they were both home after the game, found it amusing at least, when he saw it laid across their bed where she was waiting for him with the covers tucked up under her chin.

The boys were, yet again, off in a road trip. This time, just for one game in Toronto before they flew back for New Years’ Eve. Eva was out to brunch with most of the younger cohort of WAGs, ready to start ringing in the new year even if it was a day early.

Before she left, she’d spoken on the phone with Andrei as he was rushing out the door to get on the bus for practice.

“I think I’m going to take the ring off,” she had said, spinning the ring around her finger as she spoke.

There was a beat, much thicker than Eva had been expecting, before Andrei asked in a thick voice, “You what?”

“Nobody knows yet, right?” she asked, unsure if Andrei had told any of his teammates. It wouldn’t be a big deal, but she would have expected him to tell her. “Taking it off until you get home won’t be a big deal.”

Another beat followed, and Eva was expecting him to tell her that people already knew, that he was nervous to do so. She was opening her mouth to say that she wouldn’t bother if people already knew—because everyone would definitely know before she left for brunch—but Andrei beat her to it, sounding even more dejected.

“Zolotse… You don’t want a ring? You don’t want to be engaged?”

“Oh, god. Andrei. No. That is not what I mean!” Eva said in a rush, her voice becoming more and more high pitched with each word.

“What you mean?”

“If I take it off, we can tell people tomorrow! Together!” she held her left hand to her chest and bit the inside of her cheek as her eyes started to water. “Andrei, baby, I just want to tell people together. That’s all.”

Andrei asked her softly, a couple more times before he had to leave, to promise him she was telling the truth.

It put a bit of a damper on heading out to brunch, because she found that, even though it had been her idea, taking off the ring was a struggle. Still, she put it delicately on her bedside table, and headed out to see her friends.

Hiding the ring was easy when her hand was securely in Andrei’s as they walked into the New Years’ Eve party. She was filled with nervous energy, and even though the ring was hidden she found herself looking at everyone as if they would be able to tell with just one look at her.

Not that they had up to that point.

They weren’t without drinks for very long as someone seemed to have been tasked with holding a tray right near the doors. Eva, without any input from Andrei, led them straight to where Martin and Nykki were standing off to the side—they were the first people they wanted to tell, after all.

There were handshakes and hugs the second Martin and Nykki noticed their arrival.

“Did you find the non-alcoholic wine?” Nykki asked, gesturing to Eva’s champagne flute and earning a furrowed brow in response.

“No? Why would—no, that’s not what I want to talk about. We have something to tell you.”

“I fucking knew it,” Nykki shouted, immediately turning to Martin and excitedly smacking his chest. “I told you she was pregnant?”

Andrei choked on his drink.

“Pregnant?” he asked, hurried and panicked.

“What the fuck?” asked Eva. “Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“You’re obviously keeping a big secret.” Nykki’s tone was more accusatory than Eva expected. “You’ve been weird since Christmas, and you were really sick at the game on Saturday, and you’re not drinking—”

Eva cut her off to exclaim, “I had three mimosas at brunch yesterday!”

“They weren’t orange juice? What have you been hiding from us then?”

“This fucking dwarf planet I’ve been wearing for a week?” Eva pulled her hand from Andrei’s to hold it out to Nykki and Martin. “That somehow nobody has noticed? It has gravitational pull.”

Nykki grabbed Eva’s hand so rapidly that Eva was startled, but she let Nykki inspect it closely whilst Andrei and Martin had a silent conversation over Nykki’s excited screaming. It drew the attention of everybody nearby.

There was a lengthy conversation once more of the WAGs gathered, how did he do it? When did he do it? Why didn’t you tell us? And Eva had to try and convince them that she hadn’t meant to—aside from the brunch—it had just ended up that way. Not one of them believed her in the moment.

Her hand was being passed around the group, everyone admiring the ring and asking questions Eva didn’t know the answer to, so Eva caught Andrei’s eye here he was holding court with the boys and nearly melted at the softness of his smile. At the pride behind his eyes. At the love that emanated from his entire body.

#andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #canes fic #hockey girlies fic exchange

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typical-simplelove · 4 months ago

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Third Time's the Charm (A. Svechnikov)

Author's Note: This is my submission for @wyattjohnston's 2024 Summer Fic exchange!! This is for @kurlyteuvo. So sorry that I didn't reach out as much to you and waited until the last day to post it; things have been crazy busy recently. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this!!!

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: mostly proofread, but other than that, nothing that I can think of!!!

likes are appreciated, reblogs are better

Her friendship with Andrei started with a brief exchange in a coffee shop. Accidentally picking up her coffee order at the shop down the street from her apartment, he gave her a boyish grin, realizing it wasn’t his name on the cup.

“Same order, eh?” he let out with a chuckle, a silly smile overtaking his face as he handed her the coffee. “We both like our coffee as light as we can get without getting judged.”

“Something like that,” she replied, mesmerized by the twinkle in his eyes. With a few blinks and glances at this man, her periphery seemed to dim with Andrei glowing, almost as if he were stealing all the light in the coffee shop—no, the world.

“For you,” Andrei says, not losing his smile. He holds the cup out to her; her name rolling off his tongue easily, too easy, in her opinion. “I read your name off the cup.”

“I figured,” she answered, giving him an amused glance.

Andrei didn’t have the chance to respond to her as the barista called out his name. He grabbed his order, giving the barista a quick thank you before turning back to the initial conversation. “Exactly the same. You can inspect the label, if you don’t believe me.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “I believe you.”

“Andrei,” he says, right before breathing out your name. When he said her name, it was as if it took no effort. Well, saying a word here or there didn’t evoke much effort from the majority of people, but the way Andrei so easily said her name made something deep in her stomach come alive once again.

An aliveness she wasn’t in the mood to explore again.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he replied, his smile growing wider. Is that possible when it has already reached his eyes?

“See you,” she managed to get out at the last minute, but it sounded breathy as if she were flustered. Was she flustered? When was the last time someone had made her sound breathy and flustered? Using all these words makes her sound like a heroine in a Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronte novel.

Is that what she’s been reduced to? Is that what Andrei has reduced her to? A heroine from a Regency-era novel?

But then as she watched Andrei leave the coffee shop and walk past the window, he gave her a small wave, and then maybe it was okay that he made her feel confused but also empowered.

Over the next couple of weeks, she kept running into Andrei, but not just at that coffee shop. At the grocery store, at the bookstore, at the Target across town, at the park, everywhere she frequented, he happened to be there, too.

It was all random coincidences, but it made her feel ticklish and warm whenever she ran into him.

From these chance encounters, she learned about Andrei. He was from Russia, and he played professional hockey for the Carolina Hurricanes. He loved his family with his entire being, and he was an absolute ray of sunshine.

And, Andrei was single.

She wasn’t sure what to do with that information. Did he drop that information on purpose, or was it just something he said to say?

At this point, she wasn’t actively looking for a relationship. Actually, she was pretty sure she was doing everything she could not to be looking for a relationship. After things hadn’t gone her way in the past, she wasn’t ready to undo all the chains and locks and bridges and doors blocking her heart from anyone new.

So, she slowly put Andrei in the friend zone. That’s where he would remain, and if he had any qualms or issues with it, then that would be his problem. She wasn’t opening her heart up to anyone.

Even for stupidly handsome Andrei. Who always had a smile on his face. Who always seemed to emit sunshine to the point that everything outside the bubble he put between the two of them seemed to darken. Who always had something good to say and lived by the code, “If you have nothing nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.” Who always made her laugh to the point that her stomach muscles were getting a workout and were sore the next day.

Even for ridiculously hot Andrei.

One night, after he spent a lot of time at these chance encounters convincing her, they had sat down for dinner at one of her favorite diners, hoping for a lowkey setting to fully shove Andrei into the proverbial friend zone.

He sat across from her, however, a bright smile on his face, never wavering as he soaked in every word she said. She spoke about her family, work, education, and everything she could think of.

But nothing could deter the eager but endearing look on his face as he got to know her further.

“You seem to have a full life,” Andrei says in between bites of food.

“Very,” she agrees.

“Any romantic partners?” he asks, looking bashful at the prospect of asking her this question.

She shakes her head. “Not right now, but who knows what the future has in store?”

The minute the words left her mouth, she had no reason for why she said what she did. She went into this dinner fully ready to put Andrei in the friend zone, only wanting to be his friend (despite all his amazing qualities to be more than a friend). But she didn’t do that. She let Andrei believe that the chance for more was an ever-present thought.

Well, now she’s getting ahead of herself. She was making the assumption that he was into her, and for all she knew, he just wanted to be her friend, right?

This was what she decided to go with. Andrei wanted to be her friend, and assuming he wanted to be more than her friend was presumptuous.

That settled it, then, she wasn’t going to lead him on because she didn’t want more, and who’s to say what he wanted? She couldn’t read his mind.

However, as they said their goodbyes after finishing their evening together, promising to get together again soon, she couldn’t help the rosy warmth that spread through her body with their departure.

She wouldn’t admit it, even internally, but deep down (super deep down), she knew that if anyone could open up her heart and life, it would likely be Andrei.

There was something about him.

Maybe Andrei was preparing to take her heart off the shelf.

. . .

The local farmer’s market was one of her favorite places to spend her Saturday morning. Not only did they have amazing food and drinks vendors, but the assortment of flowers, crafts, clothes, and used-book vendors provided hours of entertainment and amusement that proceeded to spread into the week.

And now, she was going with Andrei.

Ever since that dinner at the diner, they’ve been texting non-stop. Throughout the day, Andrei was sneaking away from practice or training or media or whatever he had to do to text her back (not that she knew this), and she snuck her phone in between projects and meetings and phone calls and emails to text Andrei back, always giddy with excitement knowing she had an Andrei text to respond to and the anticipation of getting his response.

After the work day ended, they continued conversing with each other, but this time there were no interruptions. Even when Andrei was on a road trip and in a different time zone, he always managed to find an hour or two to text her uninterrupted.

That prioritization made her feel whimsical and flippant, but she chose to ignore what that could possibly mean.

One Thursday, he asked how she was spending her weekend. He had no games that weekend and wanted to try to make plans with her. He didn’t tell her this; it was his intention behind the text. It took him fifteen minutes of agonizing to feel ready and confident to send the text nearly took him out; his cardiologist wouldn’t be happy with the spike in blood pressure.

But he sent the text, and she responded, saying she was spending her morning at the farmer’s market.

She didn’t offer for Andrei to go with her, but he was trying to find a nonchalant and non-creepy way to ask if he could join her.

He didn’t have to stress about it, though, because she followed up the text with her plans with, “If you’re free, you could join me.”

And that was the in he needed.

He quickly typed out a reply, trying not to sound too eager, and said he’d be happy to join her.

And with that, they settled on plans to meet on the upcoming Saturday, and Andrei went to bed that night happy and excited about what that day would entail.

Standing by the marker point she mentioned in her text, Andrei was trying not to fidget. He had a few tote bags that he borrowed from a teammate’s wife in one hand, and his other was running up and down his shirt in an attempt to dry and wipe up the abundance of sweat forming.

He was taking small, collected breaths to try to calm down.

“Hey,” she said when she walked up to him, gently brushing his shoulder with her hand to alert him of her presence.

“Hi,” he answers, all his nerves floating away. “It’s really good to see you.”

“It’s really good to see you, too,” she answers, a bright smile beaming off her face. “Shall we head in?”

“Yes, of course.”

Andrei’s nerves might have floated away, but her nerves definitely didn’t. If anything, they started to blossom and flounder in a way she never thought possible.

When she asked Andrei to join her at the farmer’s market, she genuinely had no clue what she was doing. She planned on typing out a question, asking him what he was doing that weekend, but what ended up coming out was asking if he wanted to join her.

As each second of the day got closer to the moment when she was going to meet him, her nerves continued to grow and build. She thought that at this point it would boil over and she’d reach maximum anxiety and stress about meeting him, but it never did.

When she finally met up with him and saw him, the nerves didn’t plateau. Now, though, there were even more things to agonize and fear over.

Why did her friend make her this anxious and nervous? After all, he’s only a friend. A friend!!!!

She didn’t want to address the nature and cause of her nervousness. As far as she chose to admit, she was going to conduct the rest of the day as if her subconsciousness weren’t waging a war with her consciousness, trying to get a vital message out.

“Do you have a specific plan for today?” Andrei asks her, taking her out of her endless stream of never-ending thoughts.

“I tackle food first so that I get the best picks and nothing is picked over,” she replied, appreciating his question because it set her at ease (or was it him?).

“Sounds like a plan,” Andrei says, his natural and iconic wide smile overtaking his face.

For the next couple of hours, Andrei followed her around like a puppy, offering brief questions and commentary about the choices she made, questions ranging from what she was buying to why she was purchasing things to why she selected certain options. He was nervous that he overwhelming her with too many questions, but with every question he asked and answer she provided, her eyes would twinkle—as if they were in a perpetual sparkle, twinkling to make sure watchers noticed the shine in them—and a soft but bright lined her facial features.

This was when Andrei noticed just how beautiful she really was. He knew she was pretty; one would have to be legally blind to be unable to notice her beauty. At that farmer's market, however, that’s when he noticed that she wasn’t just pretty, but she was beautiful and stunning, a beauty that people fought wars over.

This has made the situation more complicated for Andrei. He could tell she was holding back from him, especially in a romantic way, but he didn’t want to push her. He, also, didn’t want to be obvious about how he felt or what he wanted down the line.

He needed something to distract him. Looking at her face was making it incredibly difficult not to pull her face towards him and kiss her.

“Flowers?” is what he forces out.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, befuddled by his response to her asking if he wanted coffee.

“May I buy you flowers?” he asks.

“Oh,” she answers, a different type of shock taking over her. “Um, yes, I’d like that a lot.”

Andrei nods, walking towards the flower stand. By the time he found her again, she was standing off to the side, her bags of produce and baked goods and the likes slung over her shoulder, two iced coffees in her hands. In his hands, he had five different bouquets of flowers; he didn’t know her favorite flower and panicked.

“For you,” he pushed out, almost like a grunt.

She stifled her laugh but her features still contorted. “And I got you coffee.”

He nods in thanks as they exchange coffee and flowers. She holds the various bouquets to her body as she thinks about how she wants to carry them around the rest of the market.

“Here,” Andrei says, opening up one of the bags he brought, allowing her to place the bouquets in the bag. “I panicked.”

“Huh?”

“The flowers. I panicked. I didn’t know your favorite flower.”

“Oh,” she answers, her stomach filled with flutters.

For the next few minutes, they walked in silence, briefly glancing at the various remaining vendors, too engrossed in their personal thoughts to pay much attention.

She finally breaks the silence, saying, “Baby’s breath.”

Now, it’s Andrei’s turn to be confused, and he follows up with a, “What?”

“My favorite flower. Baby’s breath. You know, for next time.”

He nods, smiling. “Understood.”

So, there would be a next time.

The prospect of it excited Andrei and made him reconsider everything he knew about life, love, and the universe.

Next time.

Crazy that those two words were enough to tilt his entire universe on its axis.

. . .

For some reason, there was an unspoken agreement between them that they wouldn’t hang out and meet at each other’s homes.

It didn’t make sense to Andrei. He always felt the most comfortable in his home or on the ice, and because she couldn’t be on the ice with him during practice or games, he wanted her in his home. However, whenever he brought it up, he seemed to deflect or work around the topic.

His home was his safe space, and he wanted to open it up to her.

He felt more comfortable at home.

He also felt that he could woo her and convince her to take a chance on him if he was as comfortable as possible.

Alas, it hasn’t happened, and it didn’t seem like it would happen.

For some reason, though, she agreed.

He didn’t think she’d agree, but he thought he’d try one more time, so he said, “We could have a movie night at my place.”

She responded as expected, replying, “Maybe, yeah.”

He, in his head, decided to let it go, but then he blurted out, for some reason, “I have jello.”

Her eyebrows, as expected, crinkled at his words. “Jello?”

“Yeah, jello,” he continues, needing to stick to whatever story his subconscious was forcing on him. “It’s your Ken job.”

Whenever Andrei went on a road trip, he asked for her movie, show, or book recs, and he’d pick one or two (depending on the length of the trip) to consume and discuss with her. One of her picks was last summer’s Barbie movie, and the discussion prompted what their Ken jobs would be. To be honest, Andrei had one of the most real-life Ken jobs in the world, but he managed to spit out his ideas.

Her idea was jello. “It’s always soothing to stir the mix with hot water and cold water, and to make the various layers is fun. Jello would be my Ken job,” she said when they met up for drinks one night.

“Are you going to make jello?” she asks, bringing Andrei’s mind back to the present.

“I can,” he prompts.

She nods. “This weekend work for you?”

“What?” He was shocked, now.

“For movies and jello, this weekend?”

And that was how Andrei finally convinced her to go to his home.

And all it took was jello.

Andrei was spiraling for the next couple of days leading up to their get-together. He had to make sure everything was perfect. If anything appeared to be amiss, he wasn’t sure he could convince her to come back. He needed this to go as perfectly as possible.

It was a must.

“You have a cute place,” she says after Andrei gives her the grand tour, hoping she noticed all the little decor changes he made to cater to her interests and the deep cleaning he did. “It screams you.”

“Thanks,” Andrei replies, ignoring the wave of warmth and emotion overtaking his body.

Oh, if she knew the power she held over him.

After the tour, Andrei told her to lounge on the couch and to relax as he grabbed the snacks and drinks.

“And jello?” she jokes, his favorite smile of hers gracing his face.

“And jello,” he agrees, matching her smile, his cheeks turning rosy.

When he came back to his living room, a tray of food in his hand, he noticed her holding her body, running her hands up and down her arms.

“Chilly?” he asks, concerned. He liked having his home a little cooler than the average individual may prefer. Internally, he’s smacking his head, wishing he had adjusted the thermostat to her preferred temperatures.

“A little, yeah.”

“I can change the temperature.”

She shook her head. “I can just use a blanket or something.”

“Will a sweatshirt work?” he asks, running through his head the clean sweatshirts he has in his closet.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Let me grab you one,” Andrei lets you know, heading to his bedroom to grab a sweatshirt. He knows he has a clean (ish) one sitting on his bed. He doesn’t think about the insignia or the labels on the sweatshirt. The color doesn’t even strike him. It isn’t until she puts it on that he realizes just what he’s done.

Well, it isn’t that he’s done something; it’s just that he has given her a sweatshirt in Cane’s red with his name and his number on it.

Throughout the movie, Andrei tries his best not to think about how he feels about her wearing his name, number, and colors along her back and shoulders, but he can’t.

He knows what it means and what it implies, but then he thinks about how firmly she’s placing him in the friend zone, and his heart shatters.

In this relationship, he’s playing the long game, hoping to slowly convince her how much he likes her, but he can’t control his heart and emotions as he glances at her every now and then in his sweatshirt.

At this point, Andrei doesn’t expect to or think he’s going to marry her, but all he can hear are wedding bells. The fact that he could be spending forever with someone who isn’t her.

Andrei watches her as she eats the jello he made, and he makes a silent vow.

He’s going to be patient, and he’s going to be kind. That’s his plan.

Hopefully, that’s enough to convince her that he’s worth it.

. . .

It had been a long day at work, every second dragging on. When the end of the day finally came, it felt like it couldn’t come fast enough.

All she wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and lounge on the couch all night until it was time for bed.

She had the intention of going home, but when she got to the street where turning right would lead her to her home and turning left would lead her to Andrei’s home, she turned left. It was an impulse decision, but she knew that it was the one thing she wanted.

He would make her feel better. Just seeing his face would make her feel better.

Since that movie night a few months ago, she’s started to become more open and willing maybe more with Andrei. She couldn’t deny it; she was hopelessly in love with him. But, she just didn’t know how to bring it up with him. For so long, she’s implied and pushed him into the friend zone, and she didn’t want to assume that he liked her. If she were put in the friend zone, she would do her best to get over said person, so she didn’t want to assume that Andrei had feelings for her.

But, she sure hoped he did.

She cast these thoughts to the side as she pulled into Andrei’s driveway. It was as if he knew she was showing up because, within seconds of her pulling into his driveway, he walked out of his front door, ready to pull her into his arms.

“Bad day?” he whispers into her hairline, holding her close to his chest.

“Kind of, yeah,” she whispers, feeling his heart beat against her cheek. “Okay if I hang out here for a little bit?”

“Of course. My home is always open to you.”

With his words, she pulls her head back to look up at him, a soft smile overtaking her face. He returns the smile, and within seconds, he takes her hand in his and leads her inside.

This wasn’t the first time that she had shown up unannounced to his home after a bad day at work, and he appeared to fully know her after-work routine as he led her to his bathroom, giving her towels and clothes to shower and relax.

When she gets out of the shower, warm and comfortable in a pair of his sweats and hoodie, she finds him on the couch and instantly folds her body into his lap and arms. Without question, his arms wrap around her, holding her close and relishing in the warmth of her body.

It doesn’t take very long for her eyes to go heavy, and she tries her best to stay awake.

It’s always in her moments right before she falls asleep where she has her greatest realizations about Andrei.

As she starts to succumb to sleep in his arms, she thinks about her friendship with Andrei, just how much she loves him, and how safe he makes her feel.

When she finally closes her eyes, she makes the decision that she’s going to tell him the next morning just how much she loves him. She needs him to know, and if he doesn’t feel the same way, then she’ll figure it out.

But she needs to tell him.

And as he laces his hand into hers and kisses her temple, that’s when she realizes and knows that he’s been waiting for her, too.

He never lost faith in her.

And it will all turn out okay.

As she’s lying in his arms, she’s hoping and praying that third time’s the charm.

#andrei svechnikov #claudia writes #hockey #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov fic #hockey fic #hockey writing #hockey imagine #summer fic exchange 2k24

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misshoneyimhome · 6 months ago

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500 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

“So you think my legs are just going to magically spread open for you?" I Andrei Svechnikov

Summary; Andrei is keen on asking you out, but considering the typical traits of famous hockey players, you've made a mental note never to be swept off your feet by any of them.

Tropes & warnings; No warnings; reader's working for the Carolina Hurricanes; sort of friends-to-lovers; just fluff really

Other notes; Alrighty babes, so next up for the 500 followers celebration we've got none other than #37 Andrei S. 💓 Truth be told, I wanted to do something like an enemies-to-lovers thing, but I just couldn't with this sweetheart 😉 Still, I hope you like it

Word count; 1.9K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny@justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

➼｡ﾟ

Another night. Another home game. Another round of work.

You had been working with the Carolina Hurricanes for a few years, and even though you were just an assistant helping with game preparations and clean-up, you felt like nothing less than a part of the hockey family. The players were always friendly, treating you like one of their own, and you simply enjoyed the camaraderie, the playful teasing, and the way they appreciated your hard work.

Some players had even grown closer to you than others, and one in particular stood out: Andrei Svechnikov. It wasn't just his skills on the ice but also how he seemed genuinely interested in you.

From the moment Andrei had seen your sweet smile, he’d been captivated. He admired how you handled your tasks with efficiency and grace, always ready with a kind word or a quick joke. And over time, his crush only grew stronger, yet he didn’t know how to make a move. So he just watched you from the corner of his eye, noticing all the little things: the way you bit your lip when you were focused, the way you laughed with your whole body, and the way your eyes sparkled when you were amused. All these small details only intensified his feelings.

And while not entirely knowing how to handle his own feelings, he, like many young guys on the team, resorted to occasional flirting, trying to get your attention without coming on too strong. He’d make sure to catch your eye during practice, offering a wink or a smile, and he’d find excuses to talk to you, asking for your help with something trivial just to hear your voice. Sometimes, he’d even leave small gifts in your work area – a protein bar, a coffee, a note with a silly drawing – always signed with a simple "A."

You, however, weren’t easily impressed. You knew the reputation hockey players had and had no intention of becoming another story in their dating history. You’d heard the tales of their exploits and the endless parade of girls vying for their attention, and you simply didn’t need to be another notch on anyone’s bedpost, least of all a professional athlete’s. Besides, you liked your job and didn’t want to complicate things with a messy romance.

Yet, despite your resolve, there was something about Andrei that intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he seemed genuinely kind and respectful, never pushing boundaries. Or perhaps it was how he listened when you talked, giving you his full attention as if you were the only person in the room. There were even moments when you caught yourself watching him, appreciating the way he moved, the determination in his eyes, the easy grace with which he handled himself both on and off the ice.

But sill, you kept your guard up, distancing yourself with playful banter and cheeky remarks. Whenever he tried to flirt, you’d respond with a teasing comment, deflecting his advances with a laugh, as it was just easier that way, safer. You didn’t want to risk getting hurt, and you certainly didn’t want to become just another girl on his life.

Andrei, on the other hand, was determined to show you he wasn’t like the rest. He was so much more, and his feelings for you meant something to him. He respected your boundaries, never pushing too hard, and always making sure you were comfortable. His patience was unwavering, and his interest in you was steadfast, so he wanted to prove that he was different and that he cared for you in a way that went beyond superficial attraction.

And the challenge only made him more determined, as he found himself thinking about you more and more. How could he show you that he was serious, that he was genuinely interested in who you were, not just what you looked like? It was a question that kept him up at night, but one he was determined to answer. So, he continued his quiet pursuit, hoping that one day, you’d see him for who he truly was.

However, your defence mechanism didn’t make it easier for him. Your playful banter and cheeky remarks were a strategy that allowed you to maintain a comfortable distance. So when Andrei commented your work, it only made it more difficult for him to get past your walls. Every time he approached you with a compliment, you’d respond with a teasing, “Careful, Svechnikov, flattery may help with ladies out there, but in here, it will get you nowhere.” Even if he simply asked about your day, you’d throw in a cheeky, “Why, planning to steal my job?”

It wasn’t easy for Andrei to make a proper move on you, but as time went on, he kept his hopes high. He even practised a few English phrases that might help when the day finally came for him to ask you out.

And fortunately, that day wasn’t too far away.

One evening, as you were packing up equipment after a game, Andrei lingered nearby, as he’d often done before. The locker room was mostly empty, with the other players having already left or showered, and that’s when he gathered the courage to approach you, his usual confidence mingling with a hint of nervousness.

"Hey, need any help with that?" he offered, his accent colouring his words charmingly.

You looked up, slightly surprised that he hadn’t left like everyone else. "Oh, Andrei, you don’t have to do that. I’m almost done anyway." You flashed him a soft smile.

He couldn’t help but smile in return, leaning against the doorway. "I don’t mind. Besides, I wanted to talk to you."

And that made you raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "Oh? What about?"

Andrei hesitated for a moment before gently stepping closer to you, leaving only about a metre and a half between you. "I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime. Just us. Maybe dinner?"

You chuckled, shaking your head slightly. "Why?"

It wasn’t an immediate no, he thought to himself, though he felt a slight disappointment when you questioned his intentions.

"So we could spend some time alone together," he emphasised, trying to flash a confident smirk, hiding any hints of nervousness.

However, that only made you think one thing.

"What... is this a bet or something? You ask me out on a date, and you think my legs are just going to magically spread open for you?" You grinned slightly, convinced that the other boys had set him up to it or something.

Andrei's face immediately turned bright red, clearly taken aback by your bluntness. "No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I just... I really like you y/n, and I want to get to know you better. I’m not like what people say about hockey players. I promise."

You studied his face for a moment, trying to see any hints of falseness or sincerity in his eyes. And so, for a moment, you let your guard down, sensing he might actually be different. "Hmm… Alright, Andrei. One dinner. But if you try anything, you’ll be back to carrying your own gear. Got it?"

He couldn’t help but smile, a sense of relief washing over him. "Got it. I’ll be on my best behaviour."

And as you finished packing up, Andrei helped, and the two of you exchanged playful banter. Maybe, just maybe, he was worth giving a chance.

---

The next day, you found yourself thinking about the upcoming dinner more than you’d like to admit. You replayed the conversation in your mind: the way his eyes lit up when you agreed, the genuine relief in his smile. And it was enough to make you wonder if perhaps you had been too quick to judge him.

And when the evening finally arrived, Andrei gallantly picked you up, looking more nervous than you had ever seen him.

“Wow, you look… krasivaya…” he muttered under his breath as his English failed him.

“Thanks,” you smiled softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you felt your cheeks blush slightly at his compliment. “You look quite good yourself.”

Standing there in the outfit you’d chosen for the night, it seemed that everything was suddenly changing, feeling more soft and romantic compared to the friendly banter you’d been playing at for months, if not years. Similarly, Andrei had chosen to dress up, trading his usual team gear for a smart, casual outfit that suited him well.

And aware of your fondness for casual dinners, the restaurant he had chosen was a cosy Italian place, far from the glitzy spots the players usually frequented. It was intimate, with soft lighting and a warm atmosphere that quickly put you both at ease.

Throughout the evening, you found yourself enjoying his company more than you expected. The conversation flowed easily, and you discovered sides of Andrei you hadn’t seen before. And as the night went on, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you had been too quick to judge. Andrei was different from the image you had of a typical hockey player, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope that this could actually be the start of something special.

Throughout dinner, he was nothing but attentive, asking questions and genuinely listening to your answers. He shared stories from his childhood in Russia, his journey to the NHL, and the challenges he faced along the way. In turn, you found yourself opening up more than you expected, sharing your own dreams and fears.

So when the evening slowly drew to a close, Andrei naturally walked you back to your place. And as often happens in situations like this, there was a moment of hesitation at your door, both of you lingering, not quite ready to say goodbye.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you admitted, surprising yourself with the honesty in your voice. Your eyes were locked on his, a new form of intimacy connecting you both as you’d enjoyed the evening more than you’d expected, just the two of you and away from hockey.

“So did I,” Andrei replied, his eyes softening as he looked at you. He couldn’t help but feel the intensity of the pull he felt towards you, yet he also reminded himself to be patient and, as he’d promised, be on his best behaviour. So, he restrained himself, settling to only imagine what it’d feel like having your lips against his. Instead, he took a deep breath before continuing, “I meant what I said, you know. I like you and want to get to know you better. I’m not like what people say about hockey players—at least, I try not to be.”

You couldn’t suppress a timid smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’m starting to believe that.”

It was the truth. The evening with Andrei had been nothing short of amazing, and the more you got to know him, the more you started to trust his intentions. And just like that, as if drawn by a magnetic pull, you slowly and very gently leaned in towards him, closing the small gap between you as you let your lips delicately touch his.

It was brief, almost innocent, as you shared this sweet, intimate moment. And as you then slowly pulled back, you couldn’t help but bite your lip, mentally hoping that next time, he wouldn’t be on his best behaviour.

#500 followers festival #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #carolina hurricanes imagine #nhl hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction

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leafsbabe · 5 months ago

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HOCKEY PLAYERS COMFORTING YOU THROUGH A TOUGH TIME

for @tinyhockey hbd!

Mat Barzal

makes sure you know how loved you are and that you have support and that you matter

lots of small but thoughtful gestures

knows that sometimes it can be difficult to open up and doesn't hold defensiveness against you

just lets you know he's there for you

Nico Hischier

has a big stash of the good stuff (swiss chocolate) hidden away for emergencies

his hugs are perfect, you can just melt and let him hold you until you feel ready to move

straight up asks how he can help because he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable

Auston Matthews

lets you get all your emotion out, screaming and crying or just sitting around numb

he just creates a comfortable space for you to exist

not the best at talking but great at listening

homemade comfort food >

Jeremy Swayman

you'd think a guy famous for hugging he'd be the type of guy to hug it out

but Jeremy is more the distracting you kind of guy

he wants to make you feel better an bring a smile back to your face

willing to work for it, anything to make you happy again

Andrei Svechnikov

Andrei is gentle

he's a bit helpless and feels your pain so he just tries a lot of things to find something that'll help

asks friends and family for tips but in a way that doesn't reveal an personal struggles

just wants to know how to be a supportive partner long term

#mat barzal #nico hischier #auston matthews #jeremy swayman #andrei svechnikov #mini headcanons #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #mat barzal headcanon #mat barzal imagine #nico hischier headcanon #nico hischier imagine #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews headcanon #jeremy swayman headcanon #jeremy swayman imagine #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov headcanon

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comphy-and-cozy · 1 year ago

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Every Summer Has a Story - Andrei Svechnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov x Reader (f)

Summary: When you find yourself on vacation with an ex-fling that barely had time to get off the ground before disaster struck, you might find you're in more than you bargained for. An exes/enemies to lovers (ish) fic.

Word Count: 11.5K

Author's Notes: Written for @yuukiyu for @wyattjohnston's Summer Fic Exchange! I had a blast writing this and really channeling my own version of a Tessa Bailey-esque romance novel. S/O to @smileysvech for helping to brainstorm and to @cellythefloshie for beta'ing! Love and appreciate you both so much. Enjoy!

Warnings: Language, alcohol use/mention, smut (18+ ONLY), oral sex (f receiving), angst, fluff, there's only one bed!, wingman!Marty, shit communication skills, scruffy and sweet Andrei.

NHL Masterlist / Moodboard

Red pinpricks shone in the dark, glaring in the silence: 2:49am. The house was quiet, all its inhabitants sound asleep, dreaming peacefully. Except for you.

With a huff, you cast a glance at the figure on the other side of the bed, mustering the dirtiest glare you could as you heaved the blankets back in your direction, a task that proved impossible due to the death grip your bedmate had on the sheets.

Six months ago, if you’d have told yourself that you’d be in bed with Andrei Svechnikov and hating it, you would’ve laughed until you cried. But unfortunately, you weren’t laughing. Instead, you were left wondering how the hell you ended up in this situation and asking the higher powers what you did to deserve this special form of hell.

As you contemplated your predicament, your mind wandered back to the beginning of the Russian’s saga, thinking back to the first time you heard his name.

“I wasn’t aware this was going to be an ambush.”

Guilt washed over Marty’s face, while Nykki just burst into laughter. “It’s not an ambush, you drama queen. It’s an opportunity.”

“An opportunity? You mean an opportunity to get my heart crushed by some playboy millionaire jock—no offense, Marty—when he inevitably sends the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ text three months down the road?”

Nykki scoffed, while Marty raised his eyes in surprise, an amused smile curling at his lips.

“Come on, you know I have a point!” you said, waving your hands emphatically. “Tell me I’m wrong. Go on, tell me that 98% of hockey players aren’t trash human beings.”

Opening her mouth to argue, Nykki paused, then sat back to look at her boyfriend, who thought through his words carefully.

“There are a lot of bad eggs,” he said, “some of them my own teammates.”

Your eyebrows raised, hand outstretched as if to say, ‘I told you so.’ But then Marty continued.

“But not Andrei Svechnikov.”

Admittedly, when Nykki invited you over with the promise of a ‘proposition,’ you had an inkling that it would involve some devious scheme to get you on a double date with one of Marty’s teammates. The excitement in her eye when you were at her apartment for a girl’s night—a bottle of Cabernet deep, wistfully imagining having a close friend in her journey as the girlfriend of a professional athlete—was a little too earnest to be just a passing fantasy.

“He’s a really nice guy. He’s so genuine… and kind. I really think he’d be good for you.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you opt to play nice for a moment. “And why is that, Nečas?”

“Because even though he’s a ‘playboy’,” he exaggerated the air quotes with his fingers, “he came from nothing, so he knows the value of appreciating what he has and what he’s worked for. He’s the hardest working guy I know, without question.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I just know he’d be the sweetest boyfriend,” Nykki chimed in, ignoring the glare you sent in her direction, irritated that she was teaming up against you. “He’s so sweet to everyone. He just hasn’t found the right person yet.”

“Maybe that’s because he’s busy sticking his dick in everything that walks,” you said sarcastically.

“The guy’s 22 years old,” Marty said, and although your mouth was already open to retort, you fell silent. “And he’s making more money than he ever dreamt about as a kid. He’s young, single, and successful—of course he’s having a good time. That doesn’t mean he’s always going to be that way.”

Though begrudgingly, you had to admit that Marty struck a chord. You couldn’t fault the guy for having fun while he was young; it was what you’d do if you were in his shoes, too.

So, though you were still not fully convinced, you earned a squeal from Nykki when you agreed to a double date with Andrei: bowling and drinks. He was every bit as charming and kind as Marty promised, flashing his knee-weakening dimple at you every time he threw his ball with effortless ease.

The second date followed shortly thereafter—rock climbing followed by ice cream. If he was nervous, you couldn’t tell; instead, he exuded a confidence that was close enough to cocky without crossing the line, and it suited him. The heated kiss in front of your apartment door was nice, too, bidding you a farewell that tempted you to drag him inside your bedroom and fuck him six ways to Sunday.

With a grunt from the man next to you, your memory replay vanished. Six months later, you couldn’t believe you’d ended up here, sleeping beside a man you once thought you might like to sleep beside for the rest of your life. Only this time, it wasn’t by choice, and you weren’t happy about it.

The trip was a farewell of sorts, to the season behind them and, briefly, to each other before everyone parted ways for the summer. Andrei and Pyotr were heading back to Russia for awhile, Marty to Czechia, and Jesse to Finland. Being the only non-NHL affiliated member of the party, you were the only one for whom this was a ‘normal’ vacation, and you’d report back in Raleigh at the end of the week.

When Nykki extended the invite to you, you accepted under the terms that you wouldn’t have to spend much alone time with Andrei, but you did have to be cordial. Terms that you didn’t have a problem with, though the prospect of being on a trip with several other couples leaving you and Andrei the only single members of the group felt a little bit like a trap.

But, Nykki reassured you, showing you the Airbnb listing that had a bed for each of you. Well, one was an air mattress, but you were more than happy to accept that as opposed to the alternative.

It was all set, and you were actually looking forward to a week in the sun with your friends. The Airbnb was just as advertised: clean, well-decorated, and huge. Each couple had their own room, and there were so many bathrooms everyone pretty much got their own, something you were grateful for to have a little privacy.

You tucked your bag into the office despite Andrei’s insistence that he’d be happy to take the air mattress and let you have the remaining bedroom. Remembering your promise to Nykki, you threw a smile on your face and assured him that it was fine. He lingered in the doorway, and you imagined that he was probably teetering between wanting to push back and not wanting to argue less than 30 minutes after arriving.

However, as you began to attempt to push the heavy desk closer to the corner to create more room for the air mattress, Andrei didn’t take no for an answer as he walked up beside you and moved it with ease.

“Thank you,” you said, biting back the sassy remark you wanted to make about being able to handle it yourself.

He waved it off with a small smile, exiting the room to leave you to settle in.

It was all going swimmingly. Until it wasn’t.

After laying out the air mattress and plugging it into the wall, you discovered a hole in it, making it impossible to blow up or stay inflated.

Nykki wandered in after hearing you cursing, quickly assessing the situation. She helped you search for something—anything—to attempt to patch the hole, but even after slapping a thick stripe of duct tape over the hole, it wouldn’t stay inflated for more than 20 minutes.

“You can stay with me. Marty—he can sleep on the couch,” she offered, though you could see in her eyes that making her boyfriend sleep on the couch wasn’t the ideal situation for her vacation that she’d been the primary planner for.

“No, Nykki, I can’t make him do that,” you shook your head. “I’ll be fine on the couch.”

The only problem with the couch was that while there were a few, they were all in the middle of the living room, allowing minimal privacy as well as blasting you with light as soon as the sun rose daily. It wasn’t ideal, but you’d slept in far worse conditions.

“You can share my bed with me.”

The deep voice surprised you, but not as much as seeing Andrei standing in the doorway, eyes watching the sadly deflating air mattress on the floor. Nykki’s eyes widened, glancing back toward you.

“No, Andrei, it’s fine. I’ll take the couch.”

“It’s a King bed. There’s way too much room for just me. You won’t even know I’m there.”

“That’s a great idea!” Nykki exclaimed, and for a brief moment part of you wanted to flick her in her gorgeous face, because although you knew she’d want you to enjoy yourself, she also wasn’t entirely convinced that the door was closed for you and Andrei. “Then you don’t have to deal with the extra noise when people start to wake up. I know you’re sensitive to the light.”

There wasn’t much arguing to be had, remembering your promise. Admittedly, after seeing the sheer size of the bed, you thought to yourself it wouldn’t be so bad assuming each of you kept to your designated side.

Which is how you ended up awake at 3 in the morning, shivering under the scrap of sheet you had left.

Staring at the ceiling, you contemplated your options: 1) Stab him to death, 2) Suffocate him with your pillow, or 3) Go searching for an extra blanket somewhere in the Airbnb that you were calling home for the next 5 days.

Unfortunately, option 3 was probably the most logical, so with a heavy sigh, you rolled yourself out of the bed, allowing yourself to wallow in annoyance and frustration. Someone was looking out for you, though, for it only took a few minutes of wandering in the dark to find an entire closet full of soft, warm blankets. Selecting a fuzzy green one, you hugged it to your body before quietly tiptoeing back to the room. You had half a mind to slam the door, but thought better of it, since you had no desire to wake everyone else up.

You weren’t quiet, however, retrieving an extra sweatshirt from your bag before flopping back into bed, part of you hoping his sleep would be disturbed since he’d so effortlessly ruined yours. Warmth slowly began to seep back into your body as you turned your back to Andrei, sleep not far behind.

The next morning, you woke up in a makeshift cocoon of your sweatshirt and the spare blanket you’d found the night before, tucked into the comforter. Squinting your eyes open in the light of the room, you were relieved to find Andrei was gone, affording you the delicious luxury of stretching your limbs without worrying about nudging him.

Quiet chatter sounded from above you, along with the distant sound of feet padding on the tile floor, signaling that others were awake. After a few moments of introspection, you made your way upstairs to find about half of the group huddled in the kitchen, slowly sipping on their mismatched mugs amid quiet conversation.

A low, murmured chorus of “Morning”s sounded when they saw you, taking a seat at the island next to Marty, who offered an affectionate nudge of his knee.

Andrei was busying himself in the kitchen, cleaning up the empty wine glasses left on the countertop from the night before. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at how helpful he was being–where was that courtesy when he was snatching your covers?

When he turned, his eyes landed on you. He frowned slightly seeing your expression, but if he wanted to say something, he opted not to.

“Coffee?” he asked, gesturing to the Nespresso behind him. With a quick glance around, you realized he’d made everyone their drink of choice—at least, to the best of his ability, given the limited selection. “I make a grumpy latte.”

“You mean ‘mean,’” Seth corrected. “‘I make a mean latte.’”

Andrei repeated the word, and you could practically see the gears working in his brain to commit the turn-of-phrase to memory. Then his eyes were back on you. “A mean latte, then?”

“Please.”

A steaming hot mug was placed in front of you a few minutes later. With a small, polite smile, you thanked him before joining in the conversation about the day’s agenda—not much, other than a day at the private beach, and a full barbecue feast later on. When you learned Andrei would be staying back with the boys, you quickly volunteered to head to the grocery store with Nykki to pick up supplies for the week.

Part of you was thankful that it was just you and Nykki, wanting to share your updates—and maybe vent a little bit.

“So? How was it?” she asked, glancing at you from the driver’s seat once you’d parted from the driveway. “Maybe a little snuggle action?”

Rolling your eyes, you did your best to reign in your irritation at last night’s events. You decided against reminding her that it was her fault you’d been forced into domesticity against your will. “Ha. Fat chance. Turns out he’s a blanket hog. Don’t remember that from…”

Nykki’s eyebrows waggled at the way you brought up your rendezvous together. “Maybe you’d sleep better if you were both naked.”

“Nyk, please,” you said, though you granted a small chuckle at her persistence. “The guy is a dick. I’m extending an olive branch—for you—”

“—for everyone here.”

“Fine, for the sake of everyone’s well-being this week,” you corrected. “But I have no interest in renewing whatever that was—”

“—the start of a blossoming, budding, beautiful romance?”

“If that’s what it was, then he ripped up the roots and poured weed killer all over them.”

Pursing her lips, Nykki cast another glance at you, then conceded with a reluctant nod. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I still think there was a miscommunication or something.”

“His ex-girlfriend left his apartment in last night’s clothes, Nykki,” you said matter-of-factly. “I’m not really sure how that could be a miscommunication.”

She hummed, a non-response, and you allowed comfortable silence to settle between you two as she navigated the route to the grocery store. Looking out the window, you watched the trees roll by as you were swept back to the memory in question.

Your keys jingled on their ring that was looped over your middle finger, a large green smoothie cold in your hand as you hit the elevator button with your elbow. Taking a sip of your own smoothie–mixed berry with vanilla yogurt–you waited excitedly as you watched the elevator floors tick down. Finally, it reached ‘LL’ and the stainless steel doors slid open.

Punching the 14, you glanced at yourself in the mirror, checking your reflection. Balancing the second cup in the crook of your arm, you fixed your hair and fluffed it up a little, checking your teeth to make sure there were no chia seeds in them. When the ding of the elevator signaled you’d arrived at your destination, you set off down the hallway with a flutter in your chest.

That flutter died quickly when a door down the hallway opened and a blonde girl wearing a wrinkled dress stepped out, bidding a final goodbye to the apartment’s inhabitants. Her hair was mussed, knotted, like she’d just woken up after a long night and didn’t bother to brush it out. The loosely buckled heels on her feet were the final indication that yes, this was certainly a classic case of a walk of shame.

In any other instance, you might be chuckling to yourself, offering a reassuring nod as someone who’d been in her shoes before. Except the apartment she’d just come out of was the very apartment you were heading to. And unfortunately, you recognized her easily from sleuthing on Instagram: she was Andrei’s ex. More specifically, the ex he’d just broken up with a few weeks prior, and you were the new girl in his life.

Or, at least you thought you were. Until right now.

You were meant to be surprising Andrei with a smoothie from your favorite local shop, something you’d mentioned on your most recent date. When he’d responded to your text asking if he was home, he hadn’t bothered to let you know he was busy yucking it up with his ex-girlfriend.

As the pieces flashed together in front of your eyes, you felt your heart break. Maybe things weren’t going as well as you’d thought. Maybe after some time away, Andrei realized she was, in fact, the one he wanted, and it took being with you to realize that. Maybe you just weren’t his type, and she was.

Self-deprecating thoughts swirled through your brain, taunting you as you turned on your heel and marched toward the stairwell, unwilling to share the same air as her on the elevator, even if it was only for a few moments. Tears filled your eyes as you made your way down, flight by flight, your thoughts only getting worse as you wondered what you’d done wrong.

By the time you reached the bottom, aggressively tossing the untouched green smoothie in the trash, you’d come full circle to end at one conclusion: You hated Andrei Svechnikov.

The sound of Siri indicating an upcoming turn pulled you out of your reminiscence, blinking away the memory that still haunted you. While you knew Nykki was right—you had only been on a few dates with him, and there certainly had been no discussion of relationship status or commitment—you still couldn’t push away the fact of the matter that he hurt you.

What made matters worse was that the dates you had been on were great. He was, as Marty promised, kind, funny, and the banter was the perfect flirt-to-roast ratio. Small though it was, the bud of your romance was just beginning to swell before it all came crashing down.

And the sex? Best you ever had. Like, legs shaking, heart pounding, mind-blowing, life-altering kind of ‘best.’ Funny how Marty had failed to mention that as a possibility.

So, needless to say, not only was sleeping beside him torturous for the sheer distaste you held for him, given everything that transpired, but having to sleep beside his half-naked body was torturous for a whole different reason. His muscles dipped and rippled with every movement, the sheer size of his biceps enough to make your heart flutter.

And that was only while he was asleep.

Awake Andrei was even worse, the dimpled smile paired with the form-fitting, too-short inseam swimming trunks that hung low on his hips, sans t-shirt of course, was enough to make you want to pull your hair out. You couldn’t deny that summer looked good on Andrei, and vacation looked even better; he was more relaxed, the time away from the rink working wonders on his mental health in ways he probably barely understood. His infectious smile was rarely not on his face, which also showed a few days’ worth of facial hair, peppered in along his jaw.

In any other circumstance, he’d be the perfect catch: tall, handsome, rich, amazing in bed. Except he was also a dick. And selfish, and inconsiderate, and an absolute fuckboy. Exactly like you predicted.

You’d told all of this to Nykki, who simply raised an eyebrow at you. She looked at you like she had something to say, like she was analyzing the thoughts inside your brain, but if she came to a conclusion, she kept it to herself, and after pulling into the grocery store parking lot, the conversation was all but forgotten.

A few hours later, the fridge fully stocked with food and plentiful drinks, you sat on the edge of the deck, leaning backward to feel the sun warm on your skin. Nykki was sunbathing beside you, Seth on your opposite side cuddling Gigi in his lap while he watched the others play an intense round of volleyball.

The sound of the light chatter faded into the background as your eyes closed, allowing relaxation to sink into your bones. You might have had a less-than-ideal sleeping arrangement, but you were still on vacation in a beautiful home on a beautiful beach with your friends, an entire week free of obligation and surely full of core memories. The sun was shining, the ocean was blue, and you were going to make the most of it regardless of the Russian who’d hurt you.

Coincidentally, your eyes opened moments before the feeling of being smacked in the leg jolted you up, quickly followed by the feeling of cold liquid on your foot.

“Oh, shit, sorry–”

It took a moment to recognize that the volleyball had veered off-course and not only hit you in the leg, but spilled your drink in the process. And, of course, the culprit was none other than your bedmate, who was looking at you bashfully. It took everything in you not to let your eyes slide down to the way the rest of his torso was shining with a mixture of sweat and sunscreen that made him look like a fucking pageant contestant. His cheeks were flushed slightly pink and he was panting, another action that brought you back to memories you’d prefer not to relive.

Seth tossed the ball back, breaking the very brief moment of tension between you and the Russian. Resisting the urge to scoff and roll your eyes, you instead waved your hand to show him it was no big deal. It wasn’t, of course, but it certainly didn’t help the irritation that dripped off of you in waves whenever he was around.

Fortunately, all of it dissipated by the end of the day, you a few seltzers deep playing cornhole. Though you were partnered with Marty, you were conveniently side by side with Andrei, playing against Pyotr. You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol toying with your system or if Andrei’s hand lingered when he’d hand you the beanbags. Surely, though, it was definitely the alcohol when you felt a tingle where his fingers brushed against yours.

You and Marty triumphed over the Russians in a close victory, celebrating with a late-night jump into the ocean and a warm, roaring fire waiting for you once you dried off. Taking your place in the seat beside Pyotr and slipping on a sweatshirt to cover your damp body, you watched with a grin as Nykki brought all of the fixings for s’mores on a platter.

“What’s a sah-more?” Andrei asked, his accent preventing him from understanding the American dialect.

“S’more,” you corrected. “Like, ‘I want some more.’ S’more. Because they’re delicious.”

Pyotr watched you, perplexed, as you demonstrated, grabbing a marshmallow from the bag and placing it on the end of your rod. Once it was perfectly swollen and golden, you crafted the sandwich, Seth assisting as you placed the graham crackers around the chocolate and marshmallow, pulling it off of the rod and squeezing. Andrei’s eyes widened when he realized—perhaps a little slowly—the point of roasting the marshmallows to make them soft and gooey.

“A s’more,” you said with a grin, handing the sandwich to Pyotr. Cautiously, he took a bite, and you couldn’t help but laugh when his eyes lit up.

“How do you know when it’s done?” Andrei asked, his tongue sticking out as he pushed two onto the rod you handed him. You were quick to take his hand and move it when he proceeded to stick the marshmallows directly into the flame, instead showing him where to hold it to allow for a more even roast.

“You want to keep it moving so it gets an even cook,” you explained, Jesse watching you intently. “How you cook it is a personal preference—I personally like it when it’s a little crisp on the outside—but I would see how you like it golden first. That’s the classic way.”

Naturally, Jesse lit his on fire in an instant, Pyotr letting his swell so far that it fell off and disappeared into the flame. Andrei’s eyes stayed on you, studying the way you rotated the marshmallow, observing it periodically to ensure an even bake. When he was done, you showed him how to stack the sandwich and place the crackers to pull off the marshmallow cleanly. It was weirdly sweet and intimate and… domestic. You were quick to brush the thought away, like a bug that landed on your arm.

His smile when you handed him the s’more was more rewarding than the actual taste of your own. “Your first s’more.”

“Sah… more.”

“Close enough,” you said, then raised yours. “Cheers.”

Drunk, full, and smelling entirely of campfire smoke, you crawled into bed a few hours later content and happy. You didn’t even mind the dip in the bed beside you, or the soft sound of his breathing in the silence of the room. In fact, you found it almost soothing, allowing it to lull you to a seltzer-infused sleep.

It was the sneeze that woke you up, startling you from a dream you were having about Andrei. The details were hazy, but you remembered a sense of warmth and a flash of his dimple, along with the depth of his voice…

Murmuring a ‘bless you,’ you wrapped your arms around the pillow you were holding onto tighter as you snuggled in, hoping to fall back asleep for a little while longer.

But then the pillow started shaking, and the sound of deep laughter erupted beneath your ear, and all at once you realized it was not a pillow that you were hugging at all, but a human. And not just any human, but a man—a tall, handsome, Russian man. One who you were supposed to despise. No, one you did despise.

With a jerk, you pulled away, sleep still clinging to your eyes despite your surprise. “Fuck, what the—m’sorry.”

As your vision began to clear, you squinted amidst the light to see Andrei, grinning so wide his missing tooth was visible. The cross on his chest was crooked from sleep, and his hair was mussed in a really delicious, sexy way that reminded you of—

“We were supposed to keep to our separate sides,” you said, quickly retreating back to yours. The sheets were cold, and you instantly missed the warmth he provided as you tugged the blanket up to your chin to hide the goosebumps that erupted over your skin.

“I did,” he said, and even though he was right, it didn’t stop you from being annoyed.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? Or move me?” you scoffed. You’re making it harder to hate you.

He shrugged. “You looked so peaceful. It didn’t bother me. I know I’m a bit of a blanket hog when I sleep, so if I can keep you warm, I’m more than happy to.”

It was so sweet it was infuriating. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you simply chose to offer a, “Thanks,” before sliding out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

The warmth of his body tingled against yours as you changed into your swimsuit, though you did your best to shake the feeling.

The next few days passed quickly, a blur of swimming, catnapping in the sun, and full of laughter. You and Andrei managed to form an unusual routine, splitting privacy in the bathroom and generally avoiding each other outside of what was necessary. Since you were the only single members of the group, it was only natural for you to be paired up from time to time, adding to the already uncomfortable dynamic, but you made it work with minimal complaining.

His kindness irritated you. It seemed genuine, almost like he couldn’t help himself, but it also felt like he was subtly—or not so subtly—trying to make up for what he did. It was strange that he’d never come out and addressed it, but, then again, neither did you, instead keeping that layer of vulnerability buried deep. When you complained, Nykki simply rolled her eyes at you, so you learned to keep it to yourself and let it fester. Surely a healthy option.

It kept cropping up, though, when he’d return from the cooler with an extra drink for you and when he would check to make sure you had enough blanket before going to sleep, or the time that you turned around to ask Monica to rub sunscreen into your back only to find she’d dozed off and he volunteered bashfully.

“I’m not going to bite, you know.”

“I might,” you said, mostly teasing but not entirely. You felt a little bad at the surprise on his face, unsure whether to laugh or to drop the sunscreen bottle and walk away. Unfortunately, the feeling of his large hands rubbing your back was divine, almost sinful, and you caught a small moan moments before it slipped past your lips.

You found it almost nauseating to constantly flip back and forth between loathing, lust, and whatever else was in between. One moment, he’d be irritating the hell out of you, and the next, you found yourself daydreaming about the way his chain bumped against your chin when he—

“I know it’s pretty late in the day, but I brought you a coffee. The way that you like it.”

The sound of his voice made you jump, and Andrei murmured a soft apology. You were lying on a beach chair, sunbathing, engrossed in a romance book in which the main male character reminded you a little too much of the man you were sharing a bed with. The man who was standing beside you, offering you a coffee. He’d taken note of the way you’d rummaged through the small collection of spices in the kitchen, sprinkling a little bit of cinnamon on your coffee, and, without a word, continued to prepare your coffee that way every morning.

See? Infuriating.

Accepting the glass from his outstretched hand, you allowed the irritation that bubbled inside of you to simmer for a moment. You really did try to swallow it, to let the olive branch be enough, but then the words were blurting out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Can you stop being so nice to me?”

Andrei’s brows knitted together, confused. You hated how dumb and cute he looked when he was confused. “Stop… being… nice to you?”

Well, when he said it like that, it sounded stupid.

“Look,” you sighed, “I am trying to be cordial because I made a promise to Nykki not to cause a fuss this week. I appreciate that you’re being so kind, but honestly, it really isn’t necessary. The bare minimum is fine with me.”

Ignoring the pang of guilt you felt when a look of hurt crossed his face, you sat firm while his eyes locked with yours. He was confused; you could see it in his eyes, and you resisted the urge to punch him for having the audacity to be upset that his feelings got hurt.

“I don’t even know why you hate me,” he finally said, quietly, sitting on the edge of the other chaise, eyes cast down at the deck.

“I don’t—I don’t hate you, Andrei, you just–” you paused, briefly flashing back to the sight of the girl in last night’s dress. Then, you continued, hating how small your voice had gotten in the brief pause. “I thought we had something going, before.”

“We did,” he said quickly, looking up to meet your gaze, like he was surprised that you’d acknowledged your past. “At least I thought we did. I was crazy about you. I think maybe I still am.”

His words struck through your heart, softening the icy crystals that had surrounded it–though, admittedly, they’d turned more into slush over the last week with him. Confusing, infuriating, messy slush. “Then why… how could you–?”

Concern washed over Andrei’s face, turning to face you fully. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw her,” you said meekly. “Your ex–Maya–leaving your apartment that day. In last night’s clothes. I was coming to surprise you with a smoothie. It wasn’t hard to figure out it was a walk of shame, Andrei.”

Andrei’s eyes widened, and he turned onto his back before scrubbing his face with his hands. It took you a moment to realize he was smiling–laughing, actually. Instantly, you were filled with rage; how could he be laughing at you in a moment like this?

You sat up, the urge to punch him in the face passing quickly and making way to being fully ready to move your things to the couch, unwilling to even be in his presence any longer. What a fucking asshole.

“No, wait, I’m sorry—I’m not laughing at you, I swear,” he said, sitting up too, your movement catching his attention. The smile on his face had faded almost instantly, though there were still remnants of laughter in his eyes. Unamused, you paused, mentally giving him 10 seconds to start explaining or else you were marching back up to the house and making him sleep on the couch.

“You aren’t going to believe me, but we didn’t—I didn’t… nothing happened between us that night, I swear.”

You raised your eyebrows, unimpressed, then blinked at him as if to say, ‘You’re going to have to do better than that.’

“I was out with the guys that night—I think I’d told you that—and she showed up at the end of the night. I said hi to her just to be nice, but she was pretty lit up. And there was a guy there who was being kind of creepy, and… she was just so drunk, I didn’t think she could make it home safe, you know? So I told her she could come back to my place.”

And? That doesn’t mean that you didn’t hook up with your ex that you broke up with and then went on a date with me, you thought.

“I let her take my bed, and I slept on the couch,” he continued, as if he was privy to the thoughts in your head. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t have done that to you, and I wouldn’t have even wanted to with her anyways. Not after I met you.”

You swallowed. “You didn’t… sleep with her?”

“No.”

Your heart sank as his words set in. Not because you were disappointed—in fact, you thought you were relieved—but mostly because in a matter of 3 minutes, you’d gone from annoyed, to fuming mad, to mortified beyond belief. You’d spent an entire 6 months hating this man for something he didn’t even do, all because you didn’t have the decency or decorum to confront him about it, and instead gave him the cold shoulder like a 14-year-old girl. You wished you could curl up into a ball and bury yourself beneath the towel forever.

Unable to bear his eyes on you, you covered your face with your hand as if it would take away the burning in your cheeks.

“Andrei, I–” you stopped, the embarrassment far too strong to continue speaking for a moment. Then, swallowing, you decided on, “I feel like such a dick.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said, shaking his head with a laugh. “I would’ve been mad too, if I thought what you did. I’m honestly just glad you don’t hate me.”

“Oh my God,” you cried out, laughing at yourself as yet another hot wave of shame washed over you. “I’m so fucking sorry, Andrei.”

He smiled, his eyes soft on you in a way that said there was nothing to apologize for, even though you felt like you could—and likely would—continue to apologize every single day for the next six months, the same amount of time you’d spent hating him for nothing. The amount of time you’d wasted when you could’ve been with him.

What was worse, you realized, was that he’d been nothing but kind to you the whole time. Despite your more-than-frosty attitude, snarky quips, and general annoyance, he still stayed upbeat and chipper, never letting it dull his spirit. Marty had been true to his word, after all—not that you’d ever really doubted him.

“Could I—could I kiss you? Please?”

His question had your eyes snapping up to meet his, as if to make sure he wasn’t just pulling a prank on you. He was smiling, but not in a teasing way, and he was watching you, searching for any sign of hesitation.

“I’m sorry if that’s too forward. I just… I never heard from you again, but I didn’t know what happened, and I dreamt of what I’d do if I ever got the chance with you again.”

Your heart of ice melted into a puddle, trickling warmth in your chest. He’d never given up hope despite your most irritable, ruthless, horrible self. He’d never given up on you.

Meekly, still shy from your horrific embarrassment, you nodded, letting him scoot closer to you before he was leaning into you, pausing just before his lips touched yours to allow you to change your mind. You didn’t, instead closing the small gap and pressing your lips to his.

It was sweet, soft, like the marshmallow in the s’more you’d made for him a few nights prior, filling your heart with warmth that you hadn’t felt since the last time he kissed you. In an instant, all of the irritation, sadness, anger dissipated, floating away with the feeling of his lips.

When you pulled away, you couldn’t help the grin that spread on your face; it was automatic, curling upward until your cheeks hurt.

“I’ve wanted to do that all week,” he confessed, licking his lips as if to savor the taste of you.

“Maybe you should make up for lost time, then.”

His triumphant smile was the last thing you saw before his lips were back on yours, reacquainting themselves with your mouth. Large hands were quick to cup the back of your head, keeping you pressed against him—not that you had any desire to pull away.

Your heart was pure liquid as he kissed you, surging through the clouds like a high speed jet, and you were unable to stop your tongue moving of its own accord to flick at the seam of his mouth. Andrei was quick to pick up the slack, allowing his own tongue to deepen the kiss. His fingers threaded through your hair and you sighed against his mouth, feeling the embers in your belly roaring to life under his touch.

He wasn’t close enough, your body yearning for more. Fortunately, he seemed to be on the same page, his hands parting with your head in favor of trailing down your sides to your hips, encouraging you to shift until you were straddling his lap. It still wasn’t enough, but you couldn’t bring yourself to complain, not with the way his hands began to trail fire underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding against your skin. In a matter of moments, you’d gone from furious, to morbid embarrassment, to clouded with lust as you were enveloped by a blanket of steam.

When you heard the sound of Jaffa’s enormous paws bounding down the dock, it took a few seconds to remember that you were in a public space—far more public than you’d have preferred, given you were moments away from being topless. Quickly, you pulled away and slid off of Andrei, running a hand over your lips in an attempt to straighten up your appearance as you heard Jesse and Pyotr’s voices echoing down the path.

You snuck a quick glance at Andrei, whose lips definitely looked swollen, and his eyes were shining in a way that made you want to kiss him again. His eyes caught yours, and you couldn’t help the grin that washed over your face when he smiled at you.

Once Jesse and Pyotr reached the platform, they looked at the two of you sitting side by side underneath the cabana, though neither of them said anything. Pyotr’s eyes lingered for a beat longer, catching Andrei’s in a way that said he’d already figured out everything that just happened. You knew because it was the same way Nykki looked at you a few minutes later, pausing ever so briefly to look at the few inches of space between you before she was back to her task of putting Gigi’s life vest on.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly, distracted briefly by a rousing game of volleyball and tossing a water frisbee in the ocean for Jaffa and Gigi. Nykki had made a reservation at a nice restaurant on the beach at sunset, so you headed up to the house a bit early to shower and get ready. Alone in the bathroom, you had a few moments of quiet to yourself to reflect on how your world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours.

The contrast of feelings was strong, almost giving you emotional vertigo—moving so quickly from hate to… what? Figuring out how you felt about Andrei was going to be a strange journey, you thought, but something inside of you was eager to find out. As you thought about him, attempting to remove the incorrect assumptions you’d made about him, all of your other memories of him were fond, happy even, and you found that you were cautiously excited to spend more time with him without the hate-tinted-glasses.

Naturally, the other part of you was hesitant, unwilling to trust him despite the fact that he’d already debunked your reason for mistrusting him in the first place. Though it wasn’t intentional, he’d still hurt you, or, rather, you were hurt by what you thought he’d done, which meant the possibility of him hurting you again was still there, regardless of the intention. No matter what Marty said, or promised, the door for getting your heart crushed was wide open. And that terrified you.

As you wrestled with the conflicting thoughts in your mind, a soft knock on the door startled you, nearly missing a poke in the eye from your mascara wand.

“Can I come in?” Andrei’s voice was low, muffled by the door.

You hummed in approval, taking note of the flutter in your heart when he pushed the door open, a smile already on his face. His hair was wet, still dripping from a dip in the ocean, droplets sitting enticingly on his chiseled abdomen; you resisted the urge to watch one of them roll past the hem of his swimming trunks.

“I, um,” he stuttered, casting his eyes down like he’d just intruded on a private moment, “I need to take a quick shower. I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“That’s okay,” you smiled—genuinely—and finished the last swipe of mascara. “I’m almost done anyways.”

Heat rose in your cheeks as he smiled again, squeezing behind you as you put your makeup away. Things were definitely different, a complete 180 from where you were at the beginning of the week. The feeling in your chest reminded you of how you’d felt after your first date: giddy, like a teenage girl with a crush. And you couldn’t deny the attraction you still had for him, the low pulse in your belly ever-present around his dimple and sculpted arms.

Andrei stepped out of the bathroom as you were adjusting the straps on your dress in the bedroom mirror, and your eyes flicked to him in the reflection. Of course, his towel was slung low around his waist, the steam around him symbolic in more ways than one.

He swallowed thickly, his eyes connecting with yours. “You look really pretty.”

“Thank you, Andrei,” you said, bashful, resisting the urge to add, ‘You look really pretty, too.’

Tension was thick between you two in the car, though if anyone noticed, no one said anything. Perhaps, you thought, everyone assumed it was the usual distaste and bickering, but part of you wondered if everyone else could sense the change that had occurred between you in the lower level bedroom. His leg pressed against yours, strong and firm, warmth seeping into your own thigh as you did your best to ignore it.

Dinner would’ve been fine, if not for the fact that Andrei’s eyes continually drifted to yours, a sparkle in them like he knew a secret that you didn’t. The glow of the sunset looked like heaven shining on his face, bright and warm in a way that complemented his smile perfectly. He looked like a god, or some kind of divinity, with his perfect bone structure and the deep boom of his laugh.

All at once, it hit you. While yes, you’d made some incorrect assumptions, you used his ex-girlfriend as a crutch to run away because, really, he scared you. He was the first man to ever make you feel so comfortable, so naturally at home; the first one who had real potential of being somebody to you. You did like Andrei—maybe, probably, deep down, you never stopped.

And if the way his hand lingered on yours when he helped you step into the car was any indication, maybe he felt the same way, too.

Once your revelation struck, it was difficult to think of anything else. It was like a curtain had been pulled back, a spotlight had been cast on everything Andrei. His commentary no longer peeved you, but made you laugh, endearing him to you and deepening the hole he’d made in your heart. His presence, rather than bothering you, enthralled you and set sparks alight in your chest. How could you have missed this?

Back at the Airbnb, a fire was quickly built and everyone gathered for another round of drinks and s’mores for dessert. Up until that day, it had been your favorite part: sitting around the crackling flame, telling stupid jokes and stories that eventually melded into deep conversation. But sitting there, mere feet away from Andrei, less than three hours removed from a realization that turned your world upside down, you could hardly wait until you could be alone with him in the privacy of your room. For the first time, you were looking forward to crawling into bed beside him.

Though you tried your best to act cool, you couldn’t help but glance at your wrist every five minutes, waiting all-but-patiently for everyone to decide they were ready for bed. Your lips burned from where he had kissed you, the feeling of his hands on your body seared on your skin. The warmth between your legs returned—or maybe it never left. If he was as excitedly nervous as you were, he didn’t show it; his relaxed exterior was almost enough to fool you that nothing had even happened between you, save for the low, subtle glances your way that told you no, it hadn’t been your imagination, and yes, he was very much anticipating lights out as much as you were.

It took everything in you not to run downstairs once the final embers of the dying fire were extinguished with water, instead matching Pyotr’s pace as he leisurely made his way back up to the house. You bid him goodnight, watching him turn down the hallway toward his room, and after checking that no one else was around to see you, you darted down the stairs toward the bedroom.

Andrei wasn’t far behind you, the sound of the door clicking shut catching your attention as you worked through your evening skincare routine. The tension between you was almost physically palpable as he sidled into the bathroom beside you, holding your gaze in the mirror.

As he brushed his teeth, his foot side-stepped to nudge yours, a subtle gesture that held so much more meaning. You smiled around your own toothbrush, very aware of his eyes on your ass as you bent forward to rinse. Part of you wished he’d take you right there, but then you thought about how much more space you’d have if you could just be patient for a few more minutes.

Painstaking though they were, eventually you crawled under the covers, anxious butterflies swarming in your chest as you watched him slip into the bed beside you. For the first time that week, you both intentionally crossed the invisible line separating the two halves of the bed, meeting in the middle in a tangle of limbs and hurried kisses, like making up for all of the time you’d wasted.

It wasn’t long before the pajamas you had thrown on were removed—part of you wondered why you even bothered, until he was chasing the fabric with his mouth, trailing slow kisses along your skin to replace the warmth. His hands traced the line of your spine, arching your back while his lips created constellations on your chest. Finally, his mouth followed the collar of your shirt past your neck, pausing to run his tongue along the column of your throat.

Once your shirt was tossed on the ground, he held eye contact with you as he descended back down your body, hands cupping your breasts before his mouth was on them, sucking and licking with a low groan. Your legs parted to allow him to settle between them while his hands worked their way down to your hips, reaching beneath you to squeeze your ass. The movement elicited a soft sigh from your lips, trying your hardest to stay as silent as possible to avoid anyone hearing you.

“Been thinking about this all week,” he murmured against your chest, “even though I wasn’t supposed to.”

Your mind was hazy, registering confusion a few moments late. “Why not?”

He paused, pulling back to look at you with an amused expression. “I thought you hated me until about four hours ago. Remember?”

Having his lips parted from your body allowed for a moment of clarity, and you laughed bashfully. “Oh, right.”

Nudging your nose with his, he smiled warmly before returning his lips to yours. You could feel his hands toying with the hem of your underwear, the grin curling on his lips against your mouth.

“What did you say earlier? I have to make up for lost time?”

Before you could even process a response, his hands were tugging your hips toward him, settling onto his stomach to make a trail of wet kisses on the inside of your thigh. The outgrown stubble on his jaw scratched at your skin, but you yearned for more, spreading your legs to encourage him to travel farther.

You could feel his chuckle against your skin, perhaps pleased with your eagerness, but instead of giving in to your silent request, he simply switched to the other leg. It wasn’t until you whined that he granted a small reprieve, pressing a kiss against your center, inhaling deeply.

“I sure missed you,” he murmured quietly, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or to your pussy. Perhaps both.

And then finally, his finger hooked into your panties, tugging them to the side as he feasted his eyes on you. His eyes were wide, tongue darting out to lick his lips like he’d just been presented with a five course meal.

Andrei dove in, his tongue attacking your folds with an intensity you’d never seen before. He laved at your wetness, groaning once the taste of you hit his tongue, arms wrapping around your legs as he settled in. The scratch of his five o’clock shadow was delicious, sending sparks through your body that had every nerve alight in a glow.

It wasn’t long before your fingers were carding through his hair, your legs pressing against his head as he worked you through an eye-rolling orgasm, doing your best to stay quiet. He was steady, patient, coaxing you through the final waves of pleasure, his eyes closed like he was enjoying it just as much. I doubt it, you thought.

You barely had time to process any words, brain fuzzy and toes tingly, before Andrei’s mouth was trailing its way back up your body, leaving a messy trail of his saliva and your cum on your stomach. Soon, his lips reached yours, reclaiming your mouth like he could barely stand to be away from it—though, if the rigid erection pressing against your belly was any indication, he liked the alternative plenty.

Which reminded you of a fleeting thought you’d had when his tongue was buried inside of you, which was that you wanted his dick. Very badly, in fact. So badly, that you didn’t even realize your hips were rolling up into him with a mind of their own.

“Andrei,” you whispered against his lips. Your hand fumbled its way down the toned peaks and valleys of his muscles, your final destination standing proudly at attention as it bumped against your pelvis. He twitched when you brushed him through his shorts. “Want you. Need you.”

He hummed, and then you felt his lips curl into a smile against your mouth. “Yeah?”

“Please.”

“What do you want, baby?” his voice was low, murmured against the skin of your neck as he trailed down. “Tell me.”

A whimper left you, and he nipped at your collarbone to remind you to stay quiet. “Y- your dick, Andrei. Please. Fuck me.”

Andrei paused, pressing his head against your sternum as he let out a guttural groan. “Been wanting to hear you say that for so long.”

His words earned a flutter in your chest, quickly heightened when his mouth attached to your nipple. He wasn’t in any hurry, and he seemed to be enjoying making you wait impatiently. Not that you could really think clearly with his tongue drawing sinful circles across your breast, sucking in a way that could only be described as worship.

You weren’t sure if it was 30 seconds or 30 minutes later, but eventually he finally wrenched himself away from your body in favor of removing his shirt. Greedily, your hands moved to drag themselves over the impressive muscle of his core, feeling the ridges with your fingers the way you’d been dreaming of all week. Your attention span was cut short, though, when your eyes were drawn to the waistband of his shorts, fighting for its life to restrain the very erect appendage tucked beneath it.

Andrei wasn’t moving fast enough, and you felt like you were moments away from tears if you didn’t get him inside you right then, so you took the initiative to tug down his shorts. The sound of skin slapping against skin covered the sound of your sharp inhale at finally seeing him, completely bare again.

“God,” you said, “it’s so fucking… pretty.”

A smirk formed on his face, and briefly, you wondered how many girls had told him that before. Probably a lot. But they weren’t wrong; everything about the man felt like he’d been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Lowering himself down over you, caging your head in between his arms, he pressed another scorching kiss to your lips that sucked the air clean out of your lungs. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

In any other circumstance, you probably would’ve become bashful with a shy smile, but you could feel the heavy weight of his dick resting against your thigh, throbbing, and you found yourself unable to focus on anything else. You spread your legs, allowing him to fall into the cradle of your hips, before rolling them upward in an attempt to entice him.

He loved it, drinking in your enthusiasm in contrast to the sharp glares and snarky comments you’d given at the beginning of the week. But he didn’t let it deter him, instead taking a hand and tracing the outline of your lip with his pointer finger. You savored the warmth of it before he was dipping it into your mouth, then a second. Surely he could feel the vibration of your moan against his digits, smiling to himself when your tongue swirled around them.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Just like that.”

Shivering under his praise and eager to earn more, you sucked on his fingers the way you’d suck on his dick, blinking up at him like how you’d seen in pornos. He licked his lips, enjoying the sight, a low “good girl” escaping.

His hand left your mouth, a messy string of saliva keeping you connected until his hand was moving to your core, still wet and still throbbing from your first orgasm. Plunging his fingers inside of your entrance, he diligently watched your face for your pleasured reactions, humming to himself when your mouth fell open.

A long, soft whine escaped, and his free hand was quick to cover your mouth with his palm. His mouth descended along your jaw, whispering hotly in your ear, “Gotta be quiet, malyshka. We have neighbors.”

Helpless, you nodded, pleading with your eyes to keep going, don’t stop. The movement of his hand was steady, patient, striking with intention and precision to have you keening quietly beneath him. Pleasure flooded you in waves, radiating from the pulse of your core, throbbing wantonly around his fingers. His thumb pressed against your clit, drawing slow circles in time with his movements.

The man was a Russian god, plain and simple. For all of the bitching you’d done about his extracurricular activities, you couldn’t find a single complaint now that his fingers were lodged inside of you and he was utilizing his extensive experience to your advantage, drawing you closer and closer to your peak.

But it wasn’t enough, not quite, not when you could feel his erection bobbing against your leg. You whispered his name, quiet but loud enough for him to remove his hand, eyes searching yours for a sign of resistance.

“Andrei,” you repeated. “I need you.”

A grin broke out on his face, though his hand didn’t budge from between your legs. “Fuck, baby. Say that again.”

With a burst of confidence, you reached between your bodies and pulled his fingers out of you, suppressing a whine in the process. Smoothly, and without breaking eye contact, you pulled his hand up to your mouth, taking his digits in your mouth again. He groaned as you sucked off your own essence, savoring the taste and briefly wondering what you’d taste like full of him.

“I said,” you purred, licking your lips, “I need you.”

Andrei let out a chuckle, shaking his head before biting his lip with a groan. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I’m pretty sure I already died and went to heaven, you thought, but the words didn’t quite make it out of your mouth.

In an agonizing moment, he tore himself away from your body to retrieve a condom from his bag. He ripped it open and slid it over himself in the few seconds it took him to return to the bed, maneuvering himself between your legs. You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that came when his skin pressed against yours once more.

With unbearable patience, Andrei watched your face as he slid his tip through your folds, wetting himself with your slick. You whined, feeling yourself throb having him so close to where you wanted–no, needed–him.

And then, with only a smirk as a warning, he pushed forward and sheathed himself inside of you. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, though his groan of approval was questionably loud; if you weren’t being nearly split in half with his dick, you’d have had half a mind to scold him.

But then he was moving, experimentally, and all thought flew from your brain, leaving it completely vacant except for his name. His name, whispered in a prayer on your lips as he worked himself deeper, filling you up completely. Your hands fumbled in search of purchase, finding it in the taut muscle of his bicep, flexing deliciously as he held himself over you.

His lips were on you, on your lips, on your jaw, on your neck, intoxicating you until your brain was in a fog of nothing but pleasure. The tight coil in your belly was unraveling, already, brought halfway to climax by his fingers and drawing you instantly closer now that they were replaced by something even better. Confidence rolled off of him despite his eyes closed, like he was concentrating, hanging on for dear life.

“Feel so fucking good,” he said, his voice rough. “Made for me. Missed this. Missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, a pang of guilt flashing through the haze when you remembered that you could’ve been doing this the entire time.

“You can apologize to me by saying my name again, kisa.”

So you did. Over and over again, calling for him in hushed whispers as if each time you said it, the shame would fade away just a little bit more.

“You want me to forgive you?”

You’d forgotten how to speak anything other than Andrei, and so you nodded, desperately.

He seized your lips one more time, kissing you deeper than you’d ever been kissed, enough that you were sure you stopped breathing for a moment. His hips ceased their movement, pausing while he was buried inside of you. “Come all over my cock, baby. Then I’ll forgive you.”

It didn’t take much effort to flip him over onto his back, his hands quick to find your hips to help guide you to your place on his lap. You took the liberty of teasing him back, dragging your core along his rigid length with your hands planted on the firm muscle of his chest. The action alone sent sparks coursing through your body; you couldn’t believe it had taken you so long to realize the electricity you felt when his skin touched yours.

Sinking onto him, you bit your lip to hide a moan. You didn’t waste any time finding a rhythm, rolling your hips to bring yourself up to the crest. His chest was steady beneath your fingers, and you found it hard not to swoon under his gaze, looking up at you like you hung the moon and the stars, like he couldn’t believe you were there, with him, in that moment.

You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, hitching when you circled your hips and brought a hand to your pelvis. He murmured a few words of encouragement, his jaw tense as he fought off his own impending orgasm, watching the way the pad of your finger brushed your clit.

“Andrei,” you whispered, just wanting to feel his name on your tongue. “Right there.”

“Yeah? Like that, dorogoy?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and squeezed your eyes shut. His hand sought out your free one, lacing your fingers together as he hummed prayers of worship at your altar. It was quiet, and mixed slightly with Russian, but you made out a few words like “beautiful” and “want to feel you” amid the low whisper of his voice.

Before you could process or even choke out a warning, your climax hit you all at once, the way a roller coaster tips over the edge just before the drop. Heat flooded your entire body, a brightness washing over you as the pleasure wracked through you in waves. Distantly, you felt his hand squeezing yours and heard the vague sound of a groan as he hit his own peak.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, slumped against his sternum, listening to the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his chest as the two of you became one tangled mess of sweaty limbs and heavy panting. As your heart began to settle down, you felt his fingers tracing shapes along your spine, soothing you.

“D’you think anyone heard?” you asked.

“You kind of… screamed. So they definitely know.”

“Oh.” You felt instant mortification creeping in, mind briefly wandering to how you were going to explain this to Nykki. But then his hand was moving to thread through your hair, combing through it with his fingers, the feeling sending those delicious tingles down your spine.

Eventually, though it broke your heart to do it, you parted from him to allow the both of you to clean up. Once you were back in bed, tucked beneath the covers, you couldn’t help the smile that curled on your face as the reality of the moment set in.

“Does this mean you forgive me?”

He paused, tugging you into him and wrapping a long arm around your shoulders. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. --

EPILOGUE

Checking your watch for what felt like the fifth time in less than a minute, you sighed impatiently. Six weeks ago, you’d bid farewell to your on-again-sort-of-boyfriend with a series of kisses and a heavy heart. It felt unfair to have had so little time together from the end of your vacation to his departure for his homeland, but you reminded yourself that it was your fault for the poor timing. Still, you’d managed to keep in touch with regular texts and daily FaceTime calls, more often than not ending with you kicking your feet and giggling at the ceiling, though sometimes they left you feeling a different kind of giddy. The man was good with his words, you had to admit, and the deep timber of his voice, even through the phone, could send goosebumps trailing across your skin with a deep shiver and a flip of your belly.

When your phone buzzed, you almost hated yourself for how quickly you reacted, smiling to yourself when you saw his name pop up on your screen.

[Andrei:] Just left the airport. I’ll see you soon 😘

Waiting was nearly unbearable, but worth it when you heard the knock at your door. With a grin, you pulled open the door and launched yourself into his arms without a second thought, laughing at his slight “oof” he let out.

Eventually, he set you down, hands keeping their place on your hips as he smiled at you. “Hi.”

“Hi. I missed you.”

“Oh, you did? I couldn’t tell.”

“Shut up,” you said, giving him a playful shove.

Andrei set his bag by the door, unceremoniously plopping on the couch before gesturing for you to join him. After what felt like eons, it felt so good to press your cheek against his warmth, feel the weight of his strong arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“Hey,” he said a few moments later. You hummed, content and almost not wanting to ruin the moment. “I have something to tell you.”

His words gave you pause, sitting up to look him in the eye. He was bashful, smiling, and for a moment you were astounded by how handsome he looked: the 2-day scruff that you loved on him, his dimple peeking out, the glitter of happiness in his eyes, tired from travel.

He took a breath. He seemed nervous, which was unlike him, and you looked at him with concern.

“I know it hasn’t been very long, since we…”

“Rekindled.”

Andrei smiled. “Yes. That.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, but you interrupted whatever he was about to say, blurting out, “I love you.”

You froze, jaw dropping in horror when you realized what you’d said. It came out of nowhere, a fleeting thought that unexpectedly made its way to your mouth, and you looked at him, prepared for an immediate goodbye.

But instead he was smiling—grinning, actually. “I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend, officially, but you’re ten steps ahead of me.”

Heat flooded your cheeks and you covered your face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry for jumping the gun. I didn’t—that wasn’t supposed to come out. You don’t have to say it back.”

You felt his touch warm on your arm, gently bringing your hands down from your face. His finger tilted your chin toward him. He was looking at you, smiling, eyes warm and happy. “Answer my question first.”

“You didn’t ask me a question.”

He rolled his eyes, then straightened out and with a flourish of his hand, said, “Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

“Okay, you didn’t have to make it sound like a proposal,” you said, nudging his leg to let him know you were joking. “But yes, of course.”

Andrei smiled, moving to cup your face in his hand to bring it closer to him and press a kiss to your lips. He hummed, kissing you deeper, and in an instant, liquid heat began to weave its way through your bloodstream.

He pulled away, almost abruptly, earning a whine from you. You were nowhere near ready to be done kissing him, but then he tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled again.

“I love you, too, by the way.”