One Timers

“This isn’t even real Thanksgiving.”

Molly resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Then why did you agree to have dinner at your house?” She asks, the bite in her tone semi-silenced by the holiday spirit blooming inside her.
“I’m the captain.” The dark haired man responds. “It’s my duty to host this kind of shit.”

Molly shakes her head, grabbing the gigantic bowl of mashed potatoes from the counter and taking it out to the buffet table set up in Sid’s dining room. He’s right behind her with the gigantic turkey and after they place everything down, she pulls out her phone and snaps a photo of the Thanksgiving Dinner spread. She scoots to the side of the room to post it on all the social media accounts.

“@Penguins: The #Pens are ready for this year’s Thanksgiving dinner-- or should we say Thanksgiving dinner is ready for the Pens? Today, and every day, we’re #Thankful for all our wonderful fans!”

Once the photo has been posted on both Twitter and Instagram, Molly puts her phone on silent and joins the long line for food.

When she’s done with her meal, she goes around snapping a few photos of the guys for the social media accounts. She’s careful to avoid posting any of the family members, since most of the guys like to keep them out of public view, but she snags one of Flower and his daughter Estelle that is just too cute, so-- after getting permission from Marc and Vero-- she adds it to the collection. She follows it up a couple minutes later with a video of Geno and Kunitz wishing everyone a happy Thanksgiving to end up the night.

---------

“Here.” Molly says, holding open a garbage bag. Everyone else has left for the night and, for some reason, she’s stuck around to help clean up.
“Thanks.” Sid responds with a smile, slipping the paper plate into it. “The cleaning crew is coming tomorrow but I don’t want to leave the place a disaster.”
“You sure know how to throw a Thanksgiving dinner, captain.” The compliment feels funny in her mouth. “You know, for a Canadian.”

Sid blushes and shrugs.

“A lot of our guys are American, and those of us from Canada didn’t get to celebrate the real Thanksgiving since we were away. So... you know.”
“Don’t start to show real emotions, Sid. I might have to alert the media that you’re not actually a hockey-bot.” She flirts, stacking a bunch of left-over cups and dropping them alongside the plates.
“I want to be a real boy!” Sid giggles.

Molly can’t help but laugh along with his horrible Pinocchio impression.

“That was terrible.” She chuckles.
“So I’m not the best at impressions.” Sid shrugs. His voice drops and octave. "I'm good at other things."
“Yeah, definitely stick to playing hockey.”
“Are you actually admitting I’m good at hockey?” Sid questions, sliding up right behind Molly. His cologne fills her senses and the hard planes of his body bracket her, leaving her dazed. She's amazed at how quickly the mood has changed.
“Anyone with a brain knows you’re good at hockey, Sid.” She manages to state.
“What else am I good at?” He whispers, letting his lips dance along her right ear. Molly has to hold back a moan. Damn him for being able to affect her this way!
“Complaining to the refs.” She manages. He sweeps her hair over her left shoulder. “Diving. Whining. Getting whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” He picks up on, making her curse her word choice. His hands wrap around her waist and he digs his thumbs into her lower back, massaging little circles.
“On the-- on the ice.” She stammers.
“What about what I want off the ice?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the soft skin just under the start of her jaw. Molly has to get ahold of herself here. “Do I get that too?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“What you want.”

“I want you, Philly.” He growls. “I want you in the center of my bed, underneath my body and grasping at my sheets. I want your legs wrapped around my head as I taste you. You're probably so delicious. I want to take you so far apart with just my mouth that by the time I’m ready to slide into you, you can’t even form words. Just gasps and moans of my name. I want to hear your breath catch in your throat when I finally do sink into you, warm and wet and oh so desperate for me. I want to drive myself into you over and over again until you come so hard around my cock that you see stars. I want your fingernails digging into my back, leaving scratch marks for everyone in the locker room to see later. And then I want to slow down. I want to map out your jaw, neck, shoulders and chest with my lips and tongue while I make sweet, sweet love to you. I want to show you how a real man treats a woman in bed. And when you’re breathless, panting and trying so hard just to remember your own name, I want to use my fingers to give you that little push over the edge. I want to make you come again, but this time I want to follow you right over the edge and bury myself inside you.” Molly can’t breathe. She’s so turned on by just his words she’s ready to drop everything and let him have her right here on the couch. “And then, in the morning, I want to wake up spooned up behind you and slip inside you while we're both still half-asleep. I want to worship every part of your body that I can reach with my mouth while I grind my hips slowly into you. And when you come this time I want my name to fall from your lips with such pleasure that you never want to wake up next to another man.” He adds in a whisper.

Molly turns around to face him. His pupils have blown wide, and she can feel every muscle in his body thrumming with desire. His arms drag her right up to his body, his leg slipping between hers, his hips angling into her stomach, her chest flush with his torso, and her hands with no where else to go but wrapped around his biceps. She can feel the body heat radiating between them, mixed with an underlying electricity that's dragging her farther under his spell.

“Tell me, Philly. Do I always get what I want?”

Instead of responding verbally, Molly surges forward and crashes their lips together, hopefully conveying that- yes. Yes. Sid can have whatever he wants. All of it. Sid gets the message, picking her up in his arms like she weighs nothing and quickly tearing through the house and up the stairs.

---------

As Sid slips into the shower behind her in the morning and wraps his arms around her, Molly can’t help but think about how she never wants to wake up next to another man but him.

Notes

Sooooo this is the follow up to #10.

I thought about writing the NC-17 stuff all the way out but then they were bantering and it turned into this and I don't apologize for any of it. So let's just assume they did everything he said he wanted.

Sorry it's been a little while. Between work and summer classes, the writing-time has been cut very short lately. I have a couple things started but I'm struggling trying to find the desire to finish them. So I may skip around the list a bit and write what inspires me.

Requests are still open! I'd love any non-NC-17 requests. Those are usually a lot easier to be inspired to write. Don't forget- all requests must have an NHL player and a scenario. Any other information is more than welcome to get the creativity rolling. (Also-- just saying NC-17 isn't a scenario!!!)

Leave some love for me! It definitely helps.