Unten
(Open, Unmoderated, Anonymous)
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- Words:
- 100,728
- Works:
- 8
- Bookmarks:
- 12
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Summary
After an intense brawl at the bar, Soap notices lingering unresolved tension and repressed desire for his superior.
The tension slowly escalates, as Soap struggles to discover if his feelings are being reciprocated, and keep their private moments a dirty little secret behind closed doors.
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The Thrills of Loneliness by call3x
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
16 Jan 2026
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Summary
“You are sick,” Ilya said slowly, enunciating every word. He sprayed another stream of water into his mouth, and Shane couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat moved. He felt hypnotized, trapped in Ilya’s stare, and the other man put the bottle down. “Have you scene before, Shane Hollander?”
Shane’s expression crumpled before he could wrestle it back under control. He cleared his throat, his stomach cramping uncomfortably. “Have I what? Have--scened with someone? What do you mean?”
“You are sub,” Ilya spoke with the water bottle waving, his voice casual. He ignored Shane’s defensive posture, gesturing to the trash can. “Sub get sick when not scene. When no Dom to scene with,” Ilya trailed off, looking Shane up and down, lingering on his collarless throat before continuing. “Is…unhealthy.”
In a world where subs, Doms, and Switches are biologically determined, subs are not accepted within a Dom-oriented sport like hockey.
Sub Shane Hollander keeps his designation hidden, but when confronted with Dom Ilya Rozanov, he can't fight his designation for long.
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Summary
“Put that out on me.”
Soap freezes. For once, he looks genuinely caught off guard, his cigarette paused mid-air as he stares at Ghost. Then his lips twitch into a smirk—slow and deliberate, like he’s been waiting for this.
“Where?” Soap asks, his voice darker now, lower.
Ghost doesn’t flinch. “Anywhere you want... just...”
Soap tuts softly, stepping into Ghost’s personal space, his boots crunching against the gravel. He leans close, close enough that Ghost is forced to tilt his head back, the wall pressing cold against him.
“C’mon,” Soap murmurs, his fingers trailing along Ghost’s jawline, tipping his chin higher. “You can do better than that.”
Ghost shivers. His voice is barely audible when he whispers, “Please… stub your cig out on me.”
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Summary
He can’t get the thought of death out of his mind, the images blurring together like a painting made from blood in his mind. The picture shifts constantly, and Soap could handle it if it would just stop changing. He can handle death. He can handle dying. He can’t handle a thousand possibilities of how he might die. He does the only thing he can think of.
“If you were going to kill me, would you do it fast or slow?”
A beat passed. Long enough that Soap thinks that Ghost isn't going to reply and that will be the end of it.
“Slowly,” Ghost says eventually, startling Soap.
“How would you do it?”
Ghost looks over him, eyes sweeping over his body, and Soap feels somehow, achingly seen. “I'd cut you up. Make you bleed all pretty for me.”
OR
After Ghost rescues Soap from being tortured, Soap is unable to get all the ways his captors threatened to kill him out of his mind. Ghost helps him deal with his intrusive thoughts.