.
The real estate agent's chipper voice echoed off the empty walls and bare floors.

“It has a very nice backyard. Spacious, with a built in patio.”

P.K. bent to look out the window. “Yes, very nice. Isn’t it nice, Sabine?”

“Hmm.”

“And the neighbors are lovely, very nice people. It’s a quiet block, but close knit.”

“Hmm.”

P.K. forced a smile and looked at his girlfriend who was walking around the kitchen, sneering so hard she was practically snarling. He turned back to agent who was very patiently showing them the fifth house that day. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Of course. I’ll be in the car, looking for other properties nearby and in your price range. Just lock the door when you come out.”

When the woman was gone, P.K. let his smile fall. “What is your problem?”

She turned on her heel, not caring one bit about the ugly scuff mark it left on the linoleum floor. Her words came out tinged with her French accent, and were spit like venom. “My problem is that you’ve dragged me across the continent to this hellhole and now you expect me to put on a happy face.”

“I didn’t drag you anywhere, so don’t even start.”

“Please. I recall the conversation exactly. You: I’m moving to Nashville, pack your shit or stay here. I didn’t exactly have a choice, so don’t act like I did.”

“You could have stayed in Montreal instead of coming along to complain the whole time.”

Sabine latched onto her anger as it was the only thing keeping her from bursting into tears. “You unbelievable son of a bitch. You know damn well that I couldn’t afford the mortgage on that fucking condo on my own.”

“Right, because that's what it’s always about, money.”

Now she yelled, because the tears were too close for comfort. “It’s not about the damned money! It’s about me. And us. I’m miserable and you don’t even care. Don’t you understand how badly that hurts? To feel like after all these years my happiness means nothing to you? My whole life was in Montreal, my family, my friends, my job, as insignificant as it was compared to the role of the great P.K. Subban on his fucking hockey team. And you haven’t given me any time to get used to all this. You uproot my entire world and put me here in the American South of all the godforsaken places available and you don’t even allow me five minutes to mourn what I’ve lost. I just need a moment…to breathe. And cope. I know you think I’m just acting like a bitch, but my God, I only want a moment to process all these changes.”

P.K. looked at the floor, saying nothing for several long moments. Finally he looked up, met Sabine’s sad, brown eyes with his own. “Then why did you come? You could have gone to stay with your mother, found a cheaper place. You didn’t have to come with me.”

Sabine gasped slightly and then gave up, letting a tear roll down her cheek before she responded. “I can’t believe you’d even ask me that. I can’t believe you don’t know.”

“I don’t, because all you’ve done is act like a spoiled child. So tell me.”

“Because I love you. Because I want to support you, no matter where you are. Believe it or not, for some reason, I love you more than everything I left behind. And the fact that you can’t even see it makes me wonder why I gave it all up to come here with you.”

His voice softened, nearly broke. “Babe -”

“Buy the house, or don’t. My opinion clearly doesn’t matter anymore. The way you talk about me lately makes me feel like nothing but a gold digging whore, so fine, that’s what I’ll be. After all it’s your money, your new city, your new team, it’s about you, it always was. So buy whatever you want. Just tell me where the bed goes so I can be sure to bend over it every night and take what you give me like a good little slut.”

Sabine brushed passed him and then pushed him away when he reached for her. She had to maintain some sense of pride in all this and right now all she wanted was a quiet place to cry before he hauled her to yet another house to look at.

P.K. listened to her resigned sounding footsteps go up the stairs and then let out a sigh. As much as it pained him, Sabine was right, he had been acting horrendously lately. The shock of being traded from a team he’d thought he’d play his whole career with, the move to Nashville, integrating himself into a new team, a new system, it all felt ten times worse than what he thought she was dealing with. There were many times in the last few weeks when he also wanted to pout and scream and mourn as she put it. But he didn’t have the luxury to do any of that. He had to be P.K., the one everyone was expecting to show up in Nashville: smiley, happy, positive, all day everyday. And Sabine had summed it up perfectly: just because he couldn’t do those things it was wrong of him to deny her the opportunity as well.

He found her in a spare bedroom, one tucked in the corner of the second floor with big bay windows overlooking that lovely backyard. That beautiful figure of hers was wrapped in a deep dark purple dress, complimenting her light brown skin and the sight of her sniffling away the last of her tears made his chest feel hollow. She didn’t stir when he entered the room, not even when he stood directly behind her, joining her survance of the yard.

“You know…it really is a nice yard.”

Sabine cleared her throat, swallowing down another round of tears that threatened to spill over at hearing his soft, teasing tone. It had been too long since they had teased and laughed like the old friends that they were, but it was easy to find their rhythm again.

“Oh, yes, quite charming. Aside from that grassless patch in the corner.”

“And the picnic table that’s seen way too many rainstorms.”

“And the paint peeling off the garage.”

“And the dog shit one of the neighbors never bothered to pick up.”

Sabine bit her lip to stop a giggle, but P. K. heard it nonetheless. He stepped closer, pressing his chest against her back and wrapping his arms around her torso.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to -”

“I do. And I am sorry. I’ve just been under so much stress and by the time I get home I’m exhausted from dealing with the bullshit all day. I don’t mean to take it out on you, but I know I do and I’m sorry. I miss Montreal, too. I miss everything, everyone. It’s not easy being the new kid in class.”

Sabine grabbed his crossed forearms with both hands and squeezed him gently. “I know, mon chevalier. I didn’t mean to shout or act like a brat. I just wish we were home.”

There was definite sadness in his voice when he told her, “This is home now, ma douce.”

The noise she made was something between a scoff and a laugh. “God, don’t remind me.”

P.K. chuckled and bent to kiss her neck, still holding her body tightly against his. “It’s a good thing I brought my favorite thing from Montreal with me.”

“Your sticks?”

“No.”

“Your hat collection?”

“No, think prettier, softer, and much more valuable.”

It was nearly impossible to think at all, what with his hands now stroking her bare thighs under her dress and his gorgeous mouth hot and wet on her neck. “Not here. I’m still mad at you.”

“I know you are. Let me make it up to you.”

His hands moved higher, bunching the fabric of her dress around her hips. Sabine was still angry, still hurt by his words over the last few weeks. But she still wanted him like this, she always did.

Panting slightly she challenged him. “You want me bent over like your whore?”

But he won. “No. I want you bent over like ma douce who loves it when I fuck her from behind.”

Sabine whimpered and then fell forward slightly, resting her hands against the cool glass of the window and thrusting her hips against his groin to feel his erection. “Yes…oui, mon chevalier.”

P.K. bit down on her neck and thrust his cock against her ass. His hands abandoned the smooth skin of her thighs to stroke up her body until they wrapped around her again.

Sabine turned, whispering to him as she felt the change in his mood as easily as she always could. “What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking of all the times I called you my little slut because you liked it. And I wonder if you ever will again.”

“Oh, P.K. I’m sorry I threw that back at you. It was cruel of me.”

“You know that you are so much more to me than that, that it’s just a game we play. You know…je t'aime, ma douce. Only you. Only ever you.”

“I know. Je t'aime. Always. Even in fucking Tennesse.”

P.K. laughed against her skin and Sabine grabbed his hands, putting them back on her thighs and raising her dress again. “Show me. Make everything beautiful again the way you always do.”

His mouth found her neck again and his fingers worked around the waistband of her panties. “You still haven’t guessed my favorite thing from Montreal yet.”

“Sure I have.” She brought his hand to her abs and guided it down until he cupped her pussy.

P.K. shook his head and used that same hand to cup her jaw, turning her around so he could kiss her mouth. “You. All of you. But that does include this.”

His hand found her pussy, but this time he slipped under her panties to feel the dewy skin of her folds against his fingertips.

“You are correct, sir. It does come with me attached.”

“Thank God. I’d hate to image a body-less pussy running around this house.”

Sabine giggled and circled her hips, forcing his fingers to move along her slit. “You’re being silly and you know I can’t resist when you do that.”

He eased a finger into her pussy, thrusting it gently. “Then don’t resist. Let me make it beautiful between us again.”

“P.K., please.”

He added a second finger, twisting them in the most torturous way until Sabine nearly came apart in his arms. P.K. felt as weak as she did, more so perhaps. Because for a moment he imagined how dark and lonely his life in Nashville be without Sabine. How much harder it would be to adjust without having her to come home to. She was more than his favorite thing from Montreal. At times she was his whole entire world.

He pulled his fingers free before she could come and pushed her panties down around her knees. He went back to kissing her neck as he reached between them to undo his pants. Sabine's hands were back on the window, body slightly bowed to welcome him inside it, breath heavy and excited.

She felt him brush the tip of his cock against her entrance and then he laid the length of himself against her slit as he pushed forward.

“You are my little slut, ma douce, but I’m also yours. Oui?”

“Oui, mon chevalier.”

“Yes. Because we both love this, don’t tell me you don’t.”

One moment she was empty, filled only with anticipation. And the next she was stretching around him, full and aching and bursting with the feel of him.

“Oh, P.K. I love it.”

“I know you do. And I’m such a slut for this pussy I’ll tell anyone who asks. Tell them my little slut has me wrapped around her finger with all that good loving she gives me.”

Sabine pushed back, meeting every controlled thrust with one of her own. She spread her legs, nearly ripping her panties and pushing harder against the window to brace herself and take him further inside, to feel even more of him.

She turned, pressed a kiss to his cheek and teased him. “I’m posting that on Twitter, a direct quote. P.K. Subban admits he’s a slut.”

He smiled fully. “You’re gonna get me traded again. I’ll end up in Dallas with Segs.”

Sabine turned towards the window as she laughed. “Maybe I won’t post it, then. That might be worse than Nashville.”

P.K. didn’t disagree. He only grabbed her hips with both hands, holding her in place as he plowed into her again and again. When she started shuddering, he guided her back up, her back pressed to his chest again. One hand found her clit, the other her breast, his mouth her neck.

“Is my little slut gonna come for me?”

“Oui. Very soon.”

“And I know she’s such a good little slut she wants me to come inside her, oui? She loves to feel all that nastiness deep up in her pussy, yeah?”

“Oui, yes, please, God. Fucking come inside me. I love to feel your come in me for hours.”

She didn’t start to come until she felt the warmth of his release, until the walls of her pussy shook along with his jerking cock. She mumbled his name, squeezing his cock tightly as it softened and letting him rub her clit until his touch was almost painful.

He covered her neck in more kisses as he righted her, pulling up her panties and tugging down her dress. When she turned in his arms, he pressed more sweet kisses to her lips and they tasted like a satisfied woman.

“I think we’re going about this the wrong way.”

Sabine asked, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want a yard. I hate yard work and you hate dogs, so what do we need it for? Let’s forget a house, find a nice apartment downtown or in the suburbs. A place like we had in Montreal. One that feels like home, for both of us.”

For the first time in so many weeks, Sabine knew that things were going to be okay. Even if they were in fucking Tennessee.

“That sounds perfect, mon chevalier. Just perfect.”

Notes

I promise, Ghost is in the works, but it is getting longer and I want it to be perfect. This was just something I whipped up today. I’ll be out of town next week, but hopefully Ghost will be done soon.

Also, I love Nashville and Tennessee, so no offense intended.

Anyway, y’all, now I want a whole story about P.K. dominating Sabine and calling her a little slut and dirty talking in French. Someone write it for me. I’ll buy you cookies if you do.