The Boys 'Round Here

Eleven nights. That’s how long since John left home and Meghan, when he went to sleep on the eve of his twenty-third birthday. It had certainly been an eventful year: playoffs, girlfriend, captain. His excitement for the coming year was tempered by the fact that he missed Meghan. A lot.

She’d figured out Skype and signed him up, so at least when they talked he could see her face. That would go a long way on road trips. Now she was laid out, familiar couch and living room visible behind her head. John wished he could run his fingers through that dark pool of hair. Seeing her made it tough to concentrate. He smiled when they said goodnight but it only lasted until the screen went dark.

He woke up to the same voice.

“Happy birthday!” she cheered.

John checked the clock - yup, 7:30 AM. Not that he minded. “You’re up early this morning.”

“It’s a very important, exciting day.”

“I don’t feel older,” he mentally ran through a body checklist. The usual pre-season aches and pains but overall study and strong. “You sure it’s my birthday?”

“It better be. I got you a great present.”

Her flirty tone sent a shiver down John’s spine. “Oh yeah?” Maybe they were about to put that Skype connection to good use. It only ever took a minute of thinking about Meghan to make him hard, and John had woken up thinking about her today.

“Mmmhmm,” she purred. “You sure you want it?”

“Yes.” John’s hand moved south beneath the blanket.

“How bad?”

He grinned. “Meghan….”

“I know,” she admitted. “Me too. Do you want it right now?”

John was tired of missing her and going without and hearing and seeing but never having. This would be something, at least, and Meghan had been known to deliver big time on surprises before.

“Please,” he said.

The door to his room opened. John already had one hand in his pants and sat up, ready to holler at Colin for not knocking. But it wasn’t Colin.

“SUPRISE!” Meghan shouted. She waited one moment for effect and then slammed the door and dove onto the bed.

“What the - HI!” John was confused, hard, surprised and as soon as he processed it, very excited. She landed half-on, half-next to him, arms around his neck and pulling herself close. John reached out and hauled her right up, rolling to pin her to the bed. Their lips came together greedily. The first kiss was like dropping off a cliff into the ocean. Everything had been perfectly imprinted on John’s brain: her size, her smell, the flawless run of her skin beneath his palm. She wore jeans, a button down plaid top with three-quarter sleeves and a white camisole underneath. Even as he kissed her, she was unbottoning her shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, moving his kiss to her throat.

“I can’t,” she wiggled her shoulders free of the top layer, “believe I lasted,” the shirt hit the floor, “twelve days.”

“I almost didn’t.” John reached behind his neck and whipped his own shirt off overhead. “How did you get here?”

She was flat on her back, unbuttoning her pants. That lift of her ships, flat stomach arched, and the growl of her zipper doubled John’s impatience. He rushed to ditch his own shorts. “Flew. Alicia picked me up. Colin knew too - he let me in.” Meghan shimmied and all John saw were her blue panties. “I sent him out to breakfast, by the way.”

Now that she was almost naked, John just said, “Thank God.”

It was as if they were back in summer, when Meghan had opened the blinds to sunshine so many mornings before they made love. He flipped back the blanket, but instead of waiting for her to get underneath John just pushed the whole thing away. He wanted to see this. He was over her in a heartbeat, her smooth thighs parting eagerly. John pressed his erection to the cleft in her body, skin feverish against the delicate lace of her panties. His body roared at the tease. John groaned almost painfully.

Meghan could not have agreed more. She’d planned this trip a week ago, after telling Steven about her coffee shop run-in with Kaylynn. She needed to see John. Alicia had been thrilled to help, Colin too. According to him, John was a wreck without her. This morning she’d been up before her alarm - any more excited and Meghan could have run to Long Island. The flight was quick, the airport transfer slow. All she brought was a carry-on, which she could have filled with fresh underwear for howr worked up she was by the time Alicia stopped outside John’s house.

“Leave some of him for practice,” the older woman said by way of goodbye.

Now Meghan was here, in John’s arms and bed and she couldn’t wait another second. They both pawed and her panties disappeared somewhere around her feet. He was back on top of her instantly.

“John,” she whispered. The head of his cock prodded her entrance, she felt his blood rushing. Meghan was soaked with desire.

John couldn’t do anything but sink into her. He moved carefully, savoring the soft give of her body in contrast to how rock hard he was. Halfway in he had to stop. The pleasure threatened to swamp him. When the moment passed, like a dizzy spell, he pushed on. They both sighed, eyes open as he slowly screwed himself in to the hilt. Only then did he risk a kiss. Only then did he fully appreciate that Meghan was there - with him, for him.

She came quickly, twisting a handful of sheets. In the days she’d been away from John she had imagined this frequently but it was never so good. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder; moments later he was panting, breaking.

They lay twisted up, face to face. Clothes and blankets littered the floor. John’s hand cupped the point of Meghan’s hip, her top leg was hitched over his. Her fingers traced the shape of his ear. When his chest stopped heaving, John finally said, “Best birthday present ever.”

“There’s one more thing.”

“Aw, you didn’t have to get me anything.” He turned and kissed the inside of her wrist. “I mean, besides this. This I wanted.”

“It’s not really a thing,” she said coyly.

“Okay. I’m ready.” His shy smile went through her like a blade. Grateful and gracious, plus the sexy jagged line of his scar to remind her of everything he could do outside this room. It was hard to believe she’d ever thought his deep green eyes were brown. That day at James’ pool seemed like a lifetime ago.

Meghan took a small breath. “I love you.”

Time slowed and stretched, separating the words from their weight before reaching John. He heard them and felt intensely satisfied because he already knew. Meghan had said it before. But she hadn’t said it to him, and so this was the first time those three little words ever really counted.

“I love you, too,” he said quickly, making up for the pause.

Meghan’s eyes got wide and her jaw dropped, but it wasn’t what he’d said. It was what he hadn’t. “You were going to say, ‘I know!’” She shoved him playfully, not that she could break his embrace. “That’s what you were thinking!”

He smothered her with a kiss until she giggled and begged for freedom. The mischievous glint was still in her eyes. “You knew.”

“I might’ve heard it somewhere. Not the same as hearing it from you.”

Her touch grazed his jaw. “Not the same as saying it to you. I almost said it a hundred times.”

“Me too,” John admitted. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

The green of her eyes was vibrant, like a jewel. “It’s still kinda scary.”

“Nope. Not when you’re here.” He pressed his lips to her forehead; Meghan let her eyes flutter closed.
___

Two hours of sleeping with Meghan in his arms was better than eight hours night without. John woke to his alarm feeling like a million bucks. Meghan protested lightly and it was tough to leave her in bed. It was even tougher when she followed him into the shower.

“Come on, I wanna meet your friends!”

He ate while she dried her hair, and Meghan was ready right on time. In a pristine white v-neck tee and rolled-up jeans with bright red ballet flats, she looked like the dream girl next door. Which she was.

The Islanders Iceworks in Syosset was newer than their game arena in Nassau. It’s wasn’t built for luxury, but the modern design and more comfortable furnishings were appreciated by the players. In his workout shorts and Isles shirt, John held Meghan’s hand down the long hallway to the locker room. Every ten feet a doorway opened into equipment rooms, storage space, sharpening areas and offices. Most were empty on a pre-season Friday. He had always been nervous before when bringing a girl around his hockey life - sure they might have seen it on TV, but in reality it was a lot smellier and less glamorous. With Meghan though, he just felt proud.

He stuck his head around the locker room door. “Pants on!”

“Why? You got a girl with you?” Matt Martin yelled back. John laughed. Martin, Casey Cizikas, Michael Graber and Kyle Okposo were all sitting, fully dressed and waiting. Colin leaned against the locker next to them, grinning.

“Okay, okay,” he swung the door open wide and there was Meghan, like the prize on a game show. The two halves on his life collided.

She’s already met Colin, though just for a few minutes early that morning when she kicked him out of the house. Now he hugged her like a long lost friend. The guys were all introduced. Martin’s head turned from Meghan to John and back again comically.

“I thought you were lying, bro.”

John shrugged, looking proud.

Meghan glanced back. “What can I say? I like khaki pants.”

Once word got out that John’s girlfriend had shown up, Meghan felt like she met every past, present and future member of the New York Islanders. The players were easy enough to remember - and she’d peeked at the roster the night before. Coaches and staff and equipment guys all had something to say about John.

“Okay, okay, you all sound like my mom,” John starting ushering Meghan toward the door.

“Your mom is not trying to get you laid, Johnny,” Kyle said at top volume. Meghan snarfed a laugh - hockey players were the same everywhere.

“Hey Meg, how long are you here?” Grabner asked.

“Til Tuesday.”

John froze. He hadn’t even asked that question. It was Friday now, and Tuesday was five days away - and five nights. John’s body gave a whomp and his knees almost buckled. Tuesday was after the weekend and the weekend was….

“Well don’t wear the Captain out before the game tomorrow,” Martin chucked a sock a John, whose head was still swimming.

Game, the game. It wasn’t just any game, it was the first ever hockey game to be played at Barclays Center in Brooklyn, the Isles’ future home. Pre-season games didn’t count for points but all these superstitious hockey players were really hoping to win the first contest in their new arena. Plus the game was against the Devils, who the Islanders had beaten just a night ago.

“You’re here for the game tomorrow?!” he said with surprise.

Meghan arched an eyebrow at her confused-looking boyfriend. “Did you think I would leave?”

“No, I just, I didn’t…,” he shook his head clear. “I forgot about it, actually.”

John’s grin was so sheepish that Meghan couldn’t help herself. She kissed his cheek loudly, smacking her lips and making the guys break out in whoops and whistles. John blushed so hard he might have fainted.

“Well can you get me a ticket for this game?”

“Alicia got one already,” Moulson said from where he was arranging something in his locker.

“Well then,” she gave the guys a wave. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
____

It happened so easily. John practiced and went home, Meghan was still there. They went grocery shopping, he could barely keep his hands off her in the store. The food didn’t make it into the fridge before they were upstairs to his room, laughing and rolling like no time had passed since summer. Dinner was pork chops with brown rice pilaf eaten at the coffee table, and Meghan made sure Colin was home to join them. Colin kept looking at John, mouth full of food, and nodding happily. Afterward, Meghan and insisted on ice cream for everyone.

“You have to have treats on your birthday!”

John grabbed her leg as she passed. “I have you.”

“And you’re gonna have me again,” she smiled over her shoulder, “so Colin might wanna play a video game or something.”

“Please, I’m eating,” Colin said.

“Like alllllllllllllllllllllll night,” Meghan called back.

He put down the dish. “Okay, that’s it.”

“Reaaaaalllly loud,” she continued.

Colin chuckled, shaking his head at John. “You think you can keep up with her?”

John was surprised himself. “I’m learning.”

As promised, Meghan did have a treat for John. Colin pretended not to notice when John yawned, suggesting an early bedtime. She went up first, rifled through her suitcase and slipped into the bathroom. When John came into the room she was already dressed - or undressed, as it were.

“Wow,” was all he could say.

Meghan wore the same lingerie she’d had on their first night together, back at the Thompson Hotel, when John made the brash move of getting them a room. Her black lace bra was trimmed with in white, dipping low to expose the perfect round of her breasts. A matching thong stretched across her flat stomach, delving between her legs in a way that made John’s mouth dry. He’d learned her body so well but he’d never get used to this. Her hair was longer now, her skin darker from the sun. Those were the only differences because John still looked at her like he’d never seen a girl before.

Meghan smiled, feeling a little shy in a reversal of their usual roles. John had come out of his shell so much but she was still the same, right down to the underwear, and that’s all there was to her. All she could give him. Well, that and….

“I love you,” she said again, the words like bubbles on her tongue. “I meant that.”

Finally getting his chance, John smirked. “I know.”

Before they could laugh, John pushed her against the wall the way he had that first night. Meghan noticed his hands moved more surely. He kissed her neck, touch already roaming around her hips. She had his shirt off just as he pushed his hand between her legs, hungrily exploring where that scrap of lace disappeared. She was wet, they both gasped a little as he found her softest skin. John pulled the fabric aside and pushed into her body.

She whispered something unintelligible. John was rock hard, grinding into her hip with the same urgency he moved his hand. There was no nervousness now, just the comfort of knowing someone and being known. He rested his forehead against hers and took a breath.

“I’m gonna come already,” he admitted.

“Me too,” Meghan said shakily. After a few weeks apart, her body was rushing yet again to throw its own party.

That was all he needed to hear. John had his pants off and shorts down in a second. Meghan wiggled out of her soaked panties. He turned her backside and sat her against the edge of his desk, feet dangling above the floor. Then John was between her legs and inside her with one deep thrust. Meghan moaned, hands slipping across the polished wood as she tried to support herself. It was useless. John hauled her to his chest with one strong arm; Meghan wrapped around his neck and held on. He took her, standing there, grunting as his thighs met her skin. It was greedier than John usually was, quicker and harder, but Meghan wasn’t complaining. Every sensation in her body was twisting tighter and lower, ready to snap. John plowed through the tension as it rose. On every stroke he pushed harder, she pulled tighter.

“Fuck,” she panted. “John.”

He could do this every day. Even game days, John could build up the stamina to go hot and heavy with Meghan every day and not be ruined. The training would be fun too. But for now, he just gave it everything he had. Her ass squeaked backward on the desk; he pulled her forward onto his cock again. John would buy a higher desk. He could go harder than this.

If Meghan had a thought in her head, she would have laughed. The John she’d met back in June would never have imagined this: fucking her standing up as she moaned and panted, going straight for the goal. She’d created a monster - she’d have to keep him entertained. With a handful of his hair, Meghan twisted his mouth to hers for a kiss. He put his quads into it and lifted her straight off the desk in reply. That did it: her core locked, back arched and she sobbed out a cry. Then it was gone just as quickly, her body soft, warm and breathless in it’s wake. John pushed her against the desk again, pumped two more times and let go. His groan of pleasure was definitely heard downstairs.
____

Meghan was not sure about Barclay’s arena. She wasn’t sure about Brooklyn for hockey either, but she was sure that if she kept twisting the jersey she wore, the indestructible fabric would in fact be destroyed.

“Ah, first time WAGs. They’re so cute,” Danielle Okposo said, leaning around Alicia Moulson’s arm and throwing a few bits of popcorn Meghan’s way.

Meghan laughed, feeling as foolish as she probably looked. She had seen her close friends play in approximately a hundred million NHL games. Big games too - Winter Classics and playoffs and game sevens. Here she was in pre-season, shredding a sweater with her boyfriend’s name on the back.

Boyfriend. The thought only put her nervous energy over the edge.

There were five minutes left in the second period and the Islanders trailed the Devils 2-0. The ice was not in the center of the arena but off the one side, accommodating bleacher seats to the floor behind one net while on the other side, a second-level section jutted out to look down at the goal. The jumbotron hung over one set of hashmarks. It was like watching a game through a fisheye lens. In short, nothing about that night was going as Meghan had hoped.

Still, watching John play was something. She couldn’t recall ever really paying attention before, despite his Hart nomination. Meghan had cursed this Islanders loudly last season for all the trouble they’d given James’ Penguins, coming much too close to derailing their post-season in the first round. Now she was here, wrapped in an Isles jersey, next to two pregnant Islanders’ wives and watching the team like a hawk.

When the buzzer sounded, Meghan slumped back into her seat. Alicia put an arm around her shoulders. Her tone was kind. “I don’t want to say that you get used to losing. But you do get used to wishing they could win a lot more.”
____

John hated losing. He hated starting anything off on a bad note and christening their new home with a crappy 3-0 loss seemed ominous. They just couldn’t solve the Devils that night and what was worse, Meghan had seen.

He found her in the hallway outside the lounge, looking borderline goddess in a borrowed game jersey with his number on the sleeve. It soothed the sting of defeat surprisingly well. Her eyes lit up, but her mouth twisted into a frown.

“Sorry, baby,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he hugged her until her shoes barely touched the floor. “I wanted to start a winning streak with you here so you can never leave.”

Meghan wrapped her arms around his neck and give him a simple, still kiss that held for a very long time. If she intended to block out the world around them, it worked. John leaned into her and let his mind clear.

She felt very seriously her own responsibility for this man, for his happiness both away from and at the rink. Hockey was a job that was also a game, or the other way around, but some guys let it become their lives. When that happened, there was nowhere to go when the game ended.

“I’m glad you’re here,” John said, as if reading her mind.

“I don’t want to be anywhere else,” she promised.
____

Notes