One Shots
Tyler Seguin (2)
Tyler came home pissed. You were at the game, but left as soon as it was over, especially after seeing him smash his stick against the boards after the loss. You would rather not have bothered him, but not much could be done when you lived with him. His chocolate lab, Marshall, whined and jumped up onto the couch where you rested. Obviously he didn’t like it when his daddy was angry, either. You scratched his head and waited for Tyler to calm down, even just a little.
Minutes later, Tyler came out of the shower, still pissed, but slightly damp and a lot less smelly.
“What happened out there?” you asked quietly, moving over so Tyler could sit down on the couch with you.
“Oh, you know exactly what happened. I took a bad penalty. Fuck, it wasn’t even my fault! The stupid refs had it out for me the moment I set foot on the ice.” His voice rose, and Marshall jumped off, heading away in search of quiet. “Fuck, then we got scored on like two second after I got out. And I hit the fucking posts three fucking times tonight!”
You sighed. “Tyler, it’s just one game. Calm down.”
“Don’t you tell me to calm down,” he glared at you. ‘What if you were in that situation?”
“Well, I’m not, so don’t take it out on me.” You laid a hand on his well-muscled arm, trying to soothe him. “You know you’re not going to get sent down to the minors just for having a bad game. You’re the best player on that team and you know it.”
He shuddered, knowing you were right. It didn’t make him any less infuriated, but at least he saw the sense. “Okay, fine. But-“
You cut him off with your lips, kissing him roughly and passionately, anything to ease his rage.
He kissed you back, hard, rough, sliding his hand up your back beneath your shirt. “Tyler,” you gasped once the kiss had broken, “Now’s not the place.”
“Fine,” he growled, lifting you up and carrying you to your shared bedroom, leaving Marshall waiting at the closed bedroom door.
