Wholehearted

The first time Alex saw her, he was distracted.

He kept looking around, rolling his eyes, trying to pay attention on what the interviewer asked and, at the same time, on what Gally and Prust were saying in return. He picked on his nails, bit his bottom lip, poked the purple-green bruise forming on his forearm.

The first time he saw her, she was trailing behind Maripier Morin, holding what looked like two skinny lattes, one in each hand, and babbling in a very rapid French. She was wearing what Alex would consider a very proper pencil skirt – ending below her knees, but tight all the same, showcasing long legs with sculpted calves and- well okay, he felt like a creep – with a simple, white sleeveless shirt tucked in, along with heels so high he couldn’t understand how she didn’t trip over her own feet and spilled those coffees all over the place. Her hair was dark and long and wavy and it made him want to run his fingers through it. Maripier would look back now and then and reply in an equally quick French, gesturing with her hands, until her eyes met Brandon’s and the two women stopped abruptly to watch.

Alex missed the entire interview. He was still holding a finger to his bruise, still biting the corner of his lip. That was the first time he saw her.



The second time he saw her, they had just lost to the Capitals in a shootout. Alex had his hat so low over his eyes and ears he could barely understand what was going on around him; he was hiding himself from the ghost of the goal he had lost. It was luck, really, the moment he spotted her, looking all comfortable and – Jesus Christ, what was happening to him? – cuddly in her long-sleeved, soft, vintage-looking Canadiens shirt and blue jeans. Yet again, she was standing next to Maripier, sharing a conversation with Prusty.

He noticed her eyes this time. Big, almond-shaped, leaf-green eyes, with little crinkles in the corners from smiling too much, he guessed. It also made him think what made her smile so much. It made him lift his head and made him completely unaware of his teammates’ calls, until their yells caught everyone else’s attention – including the girl’s.

Alex would later – in the safety of his own room, in his own apartment – call this moment, The Moment their eyes met because, well, that was what happened. The girl was startled by the noise coming from across the hall, and he thought that the way her eyes sought for him was an automatic reaction to the guys calling his name. So he kind of had to thank them for that.
Their eyes met and it was for a moment only. Alex blinked once. She blinked right after. He smiled. She smiled right back at him. And that was it.



It took a while for Alex to see her a third time, and it was completely unexpected.
He was sweaty and sore; his muscles were trembling from the effort of the morning skate plus gym combo. He felt like a big, tall pile of crap, honestly. He was leaning against the wall outside the locker room, looking up at the ceiling, finally making use of that weird yoga-breathing thing, where he focused the inhaling-exhaling movements on the pain and it was supposed to make it go away – it wasn’t.

This time, when Alex spotted her, she looked serious, professional. For his utter disappointment though, she had discarded the pencil skirt and was wearing a smart pair of fitted slacks instead. The PR guy – he couldn’t make himself remember his name – was standing in front of her, using his hands to speak as if he were explaining something; she, in return, gave him all her attention, arms crossed over her chest, weight held only by one leg, hip cocked, eyes big and bright.

He focused on her mouth but couldn’t make out what she was saying. He was intrigued: this girl was everywhere- or, well, maybe Alex just happened to be at everywhere she was – but, come on, they were at the Bell Centre after all. He was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he was getting a little crazy over this girl – as cute as this one actually was.

“’Sup, Adelle!”

Alex almost jumped out of his skin. Brandon Prust stood by his side, hair damp from the shower, lifting a hand in greeting. The girl – well, Adelle, apparently – gave him a quick wave followed by a smile, quickly returning to her previous conversation. Alex frowned, cocking his head to the side.

“You look like a lost dog, man,” Brandon said.

“Well, I– I don’t know. I’m confused,” Alex stuttered, “Who is she?”

Brandon hummed, “Not sure of what’s she’s doing here. She’s in school though, I think. Maripier’s helping her get around, get to know the right people, putting the girl as her assistant, you know.”

He nodded. He didn’t know.



The fourth time Alex saw her was for a second only.

He was driving back home after the game, his head clear after a good win. He even stopped at all the red lights, tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the stereo, humming along to the songs even though his arms and legs still hurt like a bitch.

Alex spotted her while she crossed the street, backpack slung across her shoulders, holding an armful of thick textbooks. He took a moment to watch her – she was wearing the most unpractical piece of clothing she could’ve picked out: shorts. With well-appreciated thigh-high socks. But still shorts – run to the other side of the block before disappearing into the métro.

Everything seemed to happen in a fraction of a second.

Adelle – he still wasn’t used to the fact that he knew her name even though they haven’t even been introduced to each other (yet) – did seem to be following him somehow, he thought stupidly. Or was it him following her? Alex didn’t want to be a creepy stalker, but these things just kept happening, she just kept showing up. Prusty hadn’t been very specific; he still didn’t know a single thing about this girl, except for her name – and the fact that she was friends with Brandon’s girlfriend and was in college, apparently. He tried not to think about the possibility of a restriction order or something during the way, but her face was still on his mind when he locked his front door and took off his shoes.

When Alex finally laid his head on his pillow, Adelle was a lone memory on the back of his mind.

When he woke up the next morning, his skin was prickling.



The fifth time it happened, Alex was ready.

Him and the guys, along with some of the girlfriends, were out and about in the city. It had been some time since Alex had gone out at all, but they had just clinched the series and they deserved this night for themselves.

When Prusty announced that Maripier would be taking some people with her, he knew Adelle would be tagging along. He tried to hide his clammy hands and not to look like a total rookie when he finally absorbed the fresh information.

He had made an effort though. His dark jeans were clean; the heather gray shirt he chose to wear was new and had no holes in it; his sneakers were almost presentable because, well, things couldn’t go all perfect at once, right?

Brendan raised an eyebrow when he saw him.

“You smell like the male section of a department store. What’s up?”

Alex simply shrugged.

The place they chose to celebrate wasn’t as high-profiled as Alex was used to. It was big, noisy and stuffed with bodies to the roof, but almost nobody turned their head when they came through the door and up to the VIP booths. Someone bought a round of beers and he decided to go slow this time – he was driving, after all. Of course, it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was planning on having an actual conversation with someone.

When Maripier arrived, announced by Brandon standing up and the loud noise P.K. made, Alex had to rub his hands against his pants more than once. Maripier strolled into the VIP area with three other people – a guy, and two girls. None of which were Adelle.

Well. Shit.

He tried to hear what Maripier was saying over the loud EDM making the floor convulse, but all he could understand was the name he was desperately chasing. He took longer gulps from his beer, this time, raising the bottle in record time to ask for another one.

Fifteen minutes later, Alex was about to ask for another bottle when his eyes caught up with someone trying to get into the mezzanine. He felt like an asshole for being in an area where a bouncer had to fucking guard the entrance, but that’s how things are and there wasn’t much he could do about that. The person trying to get in, though, was short – even in high heels –, long-legged and messy-haired. Adelle was using her hands to argue with the bouncer, who didn’t seem to pay much attention to her.

“Hey, sorry man,” Alex said, approaching the entrance, his eyes focused on the girl’s, “She’s with me.”

Alex would like to say that he towered over the guy but, well, he didn’t; they were the same height. The bouncer shot him a suspicious look, but let the girl through nonetheless. He cautiously placed a hand on the small of her back – keeping it as far from her ass as he could – and gave the bouncer a nod.

“Except I’m not,” Said Adelle, looking up at him with a smile while they made their way back to the booth. Alex took a fraction of a second to appreciate her voice, even with all the noise surrounding them: slightly husky, with just a hint of a French accent.

“What?” He said.

She smirked, “I’m not with you.”

Alex smirked back, sliding his hand down to her waist, hooking it around a deliciously curved crease, “Let’s just pretend you are, then.”

Adelle didn’t even look back at him when she took a seat next to Maripier, kissing both her cheeks and doing the same to Prusty and P.K and everybody else. He tried to ignore the tight bodice of the long-sleeved dress she wore, outlining the full shape of her breasts and the delicate curve of her collarbones.

“You’re staring, man,” Gally said in a chirping tone, startling Alex.

He cleaned his throat, “Can you blame me?”

Brendan tilted his head, shrugging and drinking from his beer, his eyes glued to the face of the girl in question. “No. I can’t.”

Alex tried not to stare for the following moments, though. He kept conversation going, bobbed his head to the beat of the music and made a special effort to laugh at Gally’s jokes but at certain point, his eyes found Adelle’s when she stood up, laughing at the people around her and quickly downing the liquid filling the little shot glass Maripier handed her. She waved her hand around and pointed to the dance floor, excusing herself. Alex watched as she made her way down the stairs, hips swinging, trying not to lose her form as she danced her way through the mass of bodies.

Maripier found his eyes during his internal commotion and mouthed, “Go!”

He didn’t think twice before obeying.

___________________

Alex is not the best dancer out there, at all. He does try, though.

He made his way through the heavy bodies piling over the dance floor, trying not to trip over anyone’s foot. He could try and hip check some people out of his way, but that would be way out of line, even for him.

He found Adelle dancing on her own, blissfully ignoring the men trying to catch her attention. Alex watched for a moment as they made their moves, getting close to her, but, as soon as one of them tried to touch her hip, he stepped up.

Her green eyes locked on his as Alex slid an arm around her waist. She was wearing one of those impossibly high-heels again, but she still stood a few inches shorter than him, having to slightly tilt her head up to find his eyes.

“You know,” She said, close to his ear, in a polite, weightless voice, “I appreciate your help, but I am not a damsel in distress. Just so we’re clear.”

“I’m well aware of that, don’t worry,” He answered back, spreading a hand across the small of her back like before.

This time, he felt rather than heard when she said, “Good.”

Alex tried not to step on her toes, keeping his body a respectable distance from hers, even though his hand was still supporting her lower back. He felt like a big, awkward pile of Chucky, moving like a clumsy version of the well-balanced hockey player he’s used being. Adelle seemed to feel his uneasiness though, and smiled at him in a mix of what he thought was smugness and knowingness. At that, she pulled him closer, hugging an arm around his neck and supporting the other hand on his chest. The hand on her back, this time, was used to pull her closer.

It felt like he would have a stroke when he felt Adelle rub her cold nose up and down the exposed skin of his neck, the hand on his chest coming up to hold onto the collar of his t-shirt, after squeezing his left biceps for a moment. But nothing, nothing compared to when she whispered, “What are you waiting for? Do something.”

Alex isn’t a slow guy, you see. He’s fast on the ice, and on the other aspects of his life as well. Ultimately, he’s used to hear that he’s too fast, sometimes. However, hearing what he heard from Adelle made him realise that well, maybe, he had just found someone that lived at the same pace as he did. Someone as fast as him.

The hand he held over her back was brought up to tangle into the hair of the nape of her neck, putting a slight pressure against her skull, bringing her face close to his. He smiled when he heard her make a sound that was closer to a purr than to a sigh. When Alex kissed Adelle, he did think he was going a little too fast, but that thought was wiped away from his mind when she mischievously nipped at his lip, laughing loudly when someone bumped into them, sending her body crashing into his and making her teeth apply more pressure to the tender skin of his lower lip. They giggled together, like two little kids, foreheads touching, before Adelle took the lead and, for real this time, brought his mouth down to hers.

Alex was the one doing the biting this time, and used the little gasp she let out to open her mouth further. Their tongues slid smoothly around the other’s mouth together, and he couldn’t believe how soft and velvety her lips felt on his. Adelle held him delicately by the sides of his neck, long nails scraping behind his ears and into the cropped part of his hair, eventually sliding up into the longer strands on top. Alex, on the other hand, brought her even closer to him by squeezing her hips as tightly as he could without hurting her.

When they broke the kiss, Alex redirected his lips to the pale skin of her neck, scraping the day-old beard against the sensitive flesh, making Adelle clutch onto his shoulders, nails digging into the tight muscle. He was able to kiss her there twice, before she put a couple of inches between them, breathing heavily.

“Okay,” She breathed, laughing at the way her voice trembled. She brought a hand to her forehead for a second, sliding it down to touch her lips a moment later. “Can we go to the bar?”

“Sure,” Alex replied, squeezing her hand when she placed it in his.

Adelle pulled him along, molding her back to his front when the crowd started to get tight around them. It took them a few minutes to get a decent place in front of the bar.

“What are you having?”

“Sex on the Beach,” She said, after thinking for a moment.

He raised a hand and waited until the bartender gave him his full attention, “Can I have a Sex on the Beach and a–”

“–A Coke, please.”

Alex frowned down at the girl all saddled up on the stool beside him, “I thought you were drinking tonight.”

Adelle smiled, “I am. But someone’s gotta take me home, right?”

As their drinks were delivered, Adelle once again took a hold of his hand, tangling their fingers, and pulled him to the stairs that lead to the booth all of their friends were still enjoying their night.
As soon as they were visible to the group sat at the large booth nestled on the farthest corner of the mezzanine, the pair heard loud whoops and catcalls from Prust and Gallagher, mainly, which caught everybody else’s attention. P.K. let out a loud whistle as Alex helped Adelle take a seat, promptly occupying the place next to her, rolling his eyes.

“Nice show you two,” Brandon Prust chirped, receiving a look from Maripier in return.

“It’s nice to see that all hockey players are real good at taking orders,” She said, winking at Alex.

___________________

For the rest of the night, though, they talked. Adelle was disappointed to know that Alex didn’t have to pry to learn her name; he didn’t even have to ask: Brandon had given it away easily. On the other hand, Alex thought it was only fair: she had known his name way before they had even seen each other for the first time, her being a Habs fan and everything. She explained, when he asked, why she was at the Bell Centre that day, talking to the PR guy: Maripier had, somehow, managed to arrange an interview for an internship at the arena but it turned out that Adelle, as a Journalism student, wasn’t qualified to any open spot yet.

Alex thought she could be paid to just stand there in the corner and look pretty. He didn’t say it though.

She asked about his hockey career, and he wanted to know more about her. She told him her mom is Métis and works as a teacher in a primary school in Québec City while her dad is a Midget AA coach, and that her favourite bands are American Football and – he had to laugh at this one – of Montreal. He told her that he was, in fact, born in the United States and that his accent was mere product of a childhood of speaking Russian, which happens to be one of the three languages he fluently knows, excluding the little French he meddled on sometimes.

Adelle’s favourite colour is yellow; she grew up playing pond hockey with her older brother, Michaël, in Québec City, even though they were both born in Montreal; she wants to work with sports in a big communications company one day; her favourite day of the year is Canada Day, which also happens to be her birthday. Alex frowned when she said, laughing, that she sympathised with les Blackhawks de Chicago as well.

At some point, her hand slipped into his and they rested together on his thigh, his thumb making little circles around the soft skin. She placed her head on his shoulder, speaking softly and playing with the wedge of lemon in the water they eventually decided to share.

It was around midnight when people started leaving. Lars Eller was first, followed closely by Desharnais and P.K. Brendan announced he was taking a cab, patting Alex on the shoulder and leaning down to kiss both Adelle’s cheeks, parting ways with a horrible pronunciation of enchanté.

When Maripier asked if Adelle needed a ride, the girl smiled.

“Gally number two here is taking me home, don’t worry.”

“Are you good to drive, buddy?” Prust asked while they made their way to their respective cars, the girls walking ahead of them, arm in arm.

“I’m good, man. She didn’t let me drink,” Alex replied, chuckling when Prusty whistled.

“The things we do to get laid…”

“Hey!” Maripier yelled, spinning around to face them, “I heard that!”

___________________

Alex deserved a pat on the back for being a perfect gentleman, he really did. Well, maybe making out with Adelle in the middle of the dance floor wasn’t exactly gentle, but he did open the car door for her.

“Just so you know,” He said while helping her buckle up, “Brendan’s Gally number two.”

She simply raised her eyebrows at him.

The ride to Adelle’s place was quiet. She gave him directions, guiding them to a neighbourhood known for its students’ residences, relatively close to the Université du Québec à Montréal campus. When she pointed to a simple, brick-and-tile three-story building, Alex pulled over by the curb and turned the car off.

He watched as Adelle dropped her eyes, staring at her own hands, twisting her fingers around one another. He tried not to smile when she bit at her lower lip.

“What is it?” He asked, softly.

Adelle raised her eyes, looking at him through thick eyelashes, “Would you like to come up?”

___________________

Adelle’s place was unexpected and predictable at the same time.

It was small, just like Alex imagined a student’s apartment is supposed to be, but it had so much personality it made him feel he was invading her space much more than when their bodies were pressed against one another in that club. The living room and the kitchen morphed into a single room, divided only by a short-length counter lined by two red stools; the couch was bright yellow and the wall right behind it was almost completely covered in posters and flags – he spotted a small Canadian flag right next to a big Quebecers one, sharing space with a black-and-white picture of Jean Béliveau and something he was almost certain was a reproduction of old-school Soviet Union propaganda.

Adelle, that had disappeared into what was probably her bedroom, was now making her way to the kitchen, piling her hair up into a messy bun. Her heels click-clacked against the hardwood floor and she laughed at his scrutinizing look, offering him a Heineken before going back to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping from her own bottle.

“Now you offer me alcohol?!” Alex cried loudly, chuckling, “I still have to drive back home, you know.”

Adelle did that thing again, that thing that made him feel a little tugging in his lower-abdomen, inside his pants; she looked at him through her eyelashes, slowly sliding a finger across the moisture pooling on the bottle’s rim, “Do you really?”

Alex is quick on the ice and everybody knows that. He is also quick – he found out recently – in understanding Adelle’s little antics.

It took him two seconds to absorb her words and act on them. His long legs allowed him to reach her in three quick strides, putting him right in front of her. He placed his beer on the counter behind her, reaching out to do the same to hers. Their smiles would be ridiculous if the moment wasn’t so dense with sexual frustration.

He touched Adelle’s hand first, sliding his fingers between her much smaller ones. Standing straight, still wearing her heels, their eyes were almost lined. Alex touched Adelle’s back with his other hand, feeling a little stupid male pride when he realised the expanse of his hand almost covered the whole width of her waist. Adelle reached back with both hands to anchor herself onto the counter; Alex helped her with that without thinking twice, hitching a silky thigh around his hip.

Adelle made a delicious humming noise against his throat when his groin made contact with the delicate, creamy skin between her legs. He swallowed that sound by plastering his lips to hers, using the hand not supporting her thigh to cradle the back of her head, gliding his tongue over hers and making her hum right into his mouth this time. She touched him everywhere, from the strong muscles of his neck and shoulders to the soft sliver of skin above the hem of his jeans.
Alex nipped at her collarbones, smiling when the hair piled up atop of her head came loose, spreading over her shoulders and back, long and silky. He touched the zipper that outlined her spine, pulling it down slowly along with the long sleeves; the bodice pooled around her waist, revealing a delicate strapless bra. Her breasts were full and round, dotted with a couple of small light-brown moles that Alex wanted to trace with his tongue. His lips sketched a path from the base of her neck to the top of her breasts, trailing down between them to reach her bellybutton while using his hands to bunch up the skirt of her dress, baring the top of her thighs.

Adelle placed her hand on top of Alex’s head, pulling at the longer strands gently when he touched the edge of her lacy boy shorts. Alex smirked when she actually gasped while he pulled down her panties, his face disappearing beneath her dress. He helped her lift the lower part of her body so he could discard that scrape of lace. Adelle whimpered when Alex brought a leg over a strong shoulder, his breath hitting her most intimate part. The pain of her fingers tugging at his hair and digging on his scalp when Alex licked her for the first time was so satisfying he chose to ignore it.

The noises coming from her parted lips grew louder along with his enthusiasm. When Alex put a finger into her, she let out a little tiny cry, so high-pitched he almost didn’t hear it. Her hands found a place beneath the collar of his t-shirt, nails digging into the fleshy patch at the top of his spine, making little goosebumps run down his spine. The pointy end of one of her high-heels dug into the small of his back, pressing him closer. When Adelle began to tremble beneath his tongue, he added one more finger and latched his lips to that sensitive pink nub nestled between her folds.

She came with a sigh. The demanding fingers on the base of his neck hardened and then softened, caressing the cropped hair behind his ears. Alex emerged from the heaven between her legs with a smile – just slightly cocky –, wiping his thumb over his bottom lip and barking out a laugh when he caught her scowling at him.

“You’re way too good at that,” Adelle sighed, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. Alex liked it when he leaned in for a kiss and she didn’t shy away from him. The velvety feel of her tongue against his, mixed with the heady taste of her release made him groan. When he felt her trying to peel off his shirt by bunching up the fabric around the base of his spine, he happily obliged by making a show of it: Alex flexed every possible muscle, tightening his abs and trying not to smirk when Adelle sucked in a breath, touching the defined lines of his stomach and pecs.

In the same moment Adelle touched the rock-hard bulge pressing against his jeans, her little lacy bra went flying across the room. He hissed in pleasure when her dainty hand went inside his briefs, forehead dropping to the supple skin of the top of her breasts. While she kept her moves excruciatingly slow, his lips found a pink, delicate nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Alex tried to feel embarrassed by the noises he was making due to the attention his erection was getting, but he couldn’t; it felt too good to be anywhere embarrassing. Adelle’s touch was light and precise, lightly squeezing him around the base and brushing her thumb over the tip, spreading the moisture around. Alex buried his head in the crook of her neck, groaning and panting. He squeezed her waist harder every time her hands used a little bit more pressure.

When Adelle began to slowly pull down his underwear, he bunched the skirt of her dress further up her waist, replacing the hands tugging below his waist with his own.

“Capote,” She whispered – the heavily accented French sounding foreign and exotic to his ears –, hands clinging to his shoulders, lips pressed to his trapezius.

“Hm?”

“Condom, condom, condom,” Adelle repeated enfatically, pushing him back a little and putting some distance between them.

The scene displayed would have been hilarious if Alex weren’t about to explode in lust. His boxer briefs were halfway down his ass, his erection straining the dark blue fabric. Adelle – finally – kicked off her heels, jumping off the counter and twisting her hips, shimming her dress all the way down to the floor, kicking it to a corner so it could join Alex’s shirt. Walking up to him, Adelle pressed her mouth and body to his – having to stand on the tip of her toes, this time –, catching his lower lip between her teeth, pulling it out slowly. She smiled evilly when he tried to haul her further up his body, hands on her thighs. She pulled back once again, grabbing a hold of his wrist and walking over to her bedroom.

Alex only had time to register the huge windows adorning one wall of the small bedroom before Adelle gently pushed him onto her soft queen-sized bed. He watched her smooth, peachy skin catch the light coming through said windows as she searched for a condom, he assumed. It took her a few minutes to actually find one that wasn’t expired. She blushed when he gave her a knowing smile, pulling her up onto his lap.

She kissed him with lips the colour of ripe red berries, sweetly, almost hesitantly. Alex touched her naked back, tracing the line of her spine with his knuckles before wrapping his hands around her waist, thumbs almost meeting over her belly button. As their tongues moved greedily and Adelle pushed their bodies even closer, straddling the expanse of his thighs, she grinded her lower body against the hardest part of his. Alex took that as a sign and moved further up the bed, lying down right in the middle.

Alex wouldn’t have a problem with Adelle hovering above him for the rest of the night; hell, for the rest of the week. Her porcelain skin was flushed and covered with a thin sheen of sweat; larger beads pooled over her collarbone and made her hairline slightly damp. Her breasts went up and down in the rhythm of her heavy breaths, like a metronome. Her hands looked small and delicate as she brought the little square foil up to her lips and teared it open with her teeth.

Adelle wrapped her arms behind his back and used all her strength to pull his body up along with her so they were both sitting up in the middle of the bed, wrapped around one other. She smiled at him, raising herself on her knees and anchoring her weight on his shoulders, finally sinking all the way down his cock with a soft little moan.

As they moved together, Alex used Adelle’s waist as leverage to help her go up and then all the way down again. He controlled his thrusts with all the patience he could muster so the best sex of his life wouldn’t end within a minute. Adelle clung to him as if her life depended on that, sobbing and panting into the skin of his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The muscles of his thighs were strained, holding up both Adelle’s and a portion of his own weight, and Alex thanked every possible god for all that time he spent in the gym getting beaten up by the trainers.

“Fuck,” Alex groaned out, voice thick with exertion and lust, when Adelle twisted a tight little circle with her hips, taking him deeper. Feeling bold, he clutched tightly to her waist, lying down and bringing her right on top of him. He then wrapped his arms around her narrow shoulders, holding her down and pounding up into her. The rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with Adelle’s high-pitched whimpers brought him a little closer to the edge. Rolling over, Alex wrapped her legs around his waist, resting his forearms on both sides of her head. She had her eyes closed, hands wound around his neck, lips deliciously parted. When he kissed her for the hundredth time that night, he felt her body trembling from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, which were pressed tightly to the small of his back.

“Baise-moi,” Adelle whispered in his ear, lips brushing against the thin skin of his ear lobe. Fuck me. Now, Alex isn’t even close to being a fluent French-speaker, but he did know what she meant by that. Raising himself to his knees, he felt the familiar tingling sensation of an approaching orgasm at the base of his spine. Licking his right thumb, he brought it down to her clit, making slow, tight circles around the sensitive nub, while putting a little more pressure into his thrusts. Helping himself to the pale expanse of her neck, he groaned as Adelle got tighter around him, her hand joining his at the cleft between her thighs.

They moaned in unison when their orgasms hit. While Adelle sank her teeth and nails into the firm muscled surface of his broad back and shoulders, Alex buried his head into her soft, slightly damp hair, breathing in the citrusy scent that still clung to her sweaty skin. He rolled over in bed, bringing Adelle atop of him, letting out a hiss as his cock slipped out of her wetness. She smiled lazily, tracing abstract figures over the hard planes of his chest.

The last time Alex saw her that night, she was sprawled across the bed, a slender leg thrown over one of his thighs, one hand spread over his abs, chest raising slowly with deep, exhausted breaths. Delicate eyelids, adorned with full eyelashes that ghosted shadows across her cheekbones, hid her jade-green eyes and Alex almost shook her awake so he could see her looking at him again.

When he fell asleep, he dreamed of her.



The first time Adelle actually saw Alex, she was exhausted.

She woke up to an empty bed, but with music coming from her living room. She didn’t have a roommate, so Alex must’ve found her record player along with her vinyl collection. The background music was soft, something she recognised as the latest American Football album.

Looking around the room, she smiled fondly when she saw both her and Alex’s clothes folded and sitting on the little nightstand beside her bed. She searched for a pair of clean panties in her overstuffed top drawer – ending up with a pair of striped black-and-white cotton boyshorts – and unfolded Alex’s heather grey shirt, throwing it over her naked chest. It was huge along her shoulders, the short sleeves reaching her elbows, but the hem barely covered the top of her thighs.

Adelle hesitated before leaving her own room. She leaned her body against the doorjamb, focusing on the little noises coming from the kitchen: heavy steps – there was definitely a 200-pound guy pacing around – followed by little chokings that naturally came from the vinyl record. Taking a deep breath, she slowly made her way to the little bathroom across the hall, doing her business and quickly brushing her teeth.

When she finally stepped into the living room, Alex had his back turned at her, standing in the kitchen portion of the open space. There were two paper bags resting on the short counter, along with two paper cups. She snickered when she noticed the black shirt thrown over the back of the couch: Alex had gotten dressed, bought breakfast, gone home, changed, come back, placed last night’s shirt on her nightstand and took off his shirt again – not necessarily in that order.

Hearing her little giggle, he turned around, all broad shouldered with muscled abs and underwear peeking from the hem of his jeans, just like last night.

Last night. She could feel herself blushing like a schoolgirl.

He turned around, then. It was the first time she could actually see the colour – deep, cornflower blue – and the shape of his eyes; she was highly aware of all of his angles and dips and curves, the pale skin of his torso glowing against the watery, spring morning light coming from the large windows. His hair was dark and soft-looking at the top, a little strand threatening to curl over his forehead; the cropped parts on the sides and on the back of his head were begging for the touch of her hands. When Alex smiled, all lips and teeth and stubble, she almost gasped.

The pretty boy type didn’t easily impress Adelle, but there was something about Alex Galchenyuk. It wasn’t about his name or his jersey – or even the fact that his last name was on the back of a bleu-blanc-rouge jersey – or his money or his career or his points; it was about the way he looked at her and the way Brandon and Maripier described those looks: “like he wants to get to know you and keep you close to him for months,” they’d said. It’d be stupid to try and prove to herself that it also wasn’t about his looks, because, well, it was. She’s so attracted to him it’s actually ridiculous how much she wants to run her hands over his skin and take off those damn jeans off.

The first time Adelle actually saw Alex, it was after a one-night-stand. He was half-naked, standing in her kitchen, looking all healthy and strong and smiley. He’d bought her breakfast from the Tim Hortons down the street and let her borrow his shirt. He’d held her body against his during the night. They had given themselves to each other, in more ways than one.

Adelle took long strides, going around the counter, and throwing her arms around his neck.
When she finally lifted her mouth from his, she said:

“Please, be here tonight.”

For that moment at least, for that night at least, she was wholeheartedly his; he was wholeheartedly hers.

Notes

Hi. I'm sorry.

6,488 words of Alex Galchenyuk. I'm so sorry.

This is my first attempt at hockey fanfiction and my first attempt at writing in English in months. So I'm sorry if some things sound a little confusing. Feedback is very welcome though :)

I hope you've enjoyed this. This story can also be found at Mibba.

Thanks for reading!

P.S.: I obviously don't speak French either. Everything is internet-based.

I also don't own Alex Galchenyuk (sigh) or the Montreal Canadiens or any of the recognisable places and people displayed in this story. Please don't sue me. I still have to pay for my tuition.