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Eric looks down at the tousled head of brown hair bobbing between his thighs and all he can think is that this is probably not what Coach meant when he said to "welcome Sasha to the team" and make him comfortable.
The ironic part, Eric thinks, is that Sasha Semin, formerly of the Washington Capitals and Eric's new "enigmatic, mysterious" Russian right wing, looks obscenely comfortable--not to mention, is extremely welcome to remain--on his knees with Eric's cock between his lips. His swollen mouth strains to keep Eric in; his chin is wet and sticky and his cheeks are flushed, but Sasha works like a boss, sucking and licking like he was born to have a dick in his mouth. He looks delicious and fucking filthy, and Eric groans when Sasha looks up at him through thick, wet lashes without interrupting the hungry rhythm of his lips.
Eric drops his strong, calloused left hand down to Sasha's hair. He tugs on Sasha's hair and guides him down, easing the last inch or two of his swollen cock into Sasha's willing mouth. Sasha whines just a bit, struggling around Eric's cockhead as Eric breaches his throat, but he relaxes after drawing a few steady breaths in through his nose.
Sasha slurps wetly around his length and Eric groans, still not quite able to believe what's happening, that it's Sasha's mouth making hungry noises around Eric's dick like he's starving for it. Sasha's just so fucking good on the ice--and off it, apparently--that it seems a little bit unreal to have his winger blowing him in a shadowy hallway of the PNC. It's kind of ridiculous, but it just seems so logical. So logical and so. Fucking. Hot.
"Sasha," Eric moans. His head tips back and he stares up at the ceiling, knowing that if he keeps looking at Sasha blowing him like a whore, he's going to come too soon. "Fuck, so good."
Sasha hums and sucks harder, his mouth like a vice around Eric's cock. Eric whines, a whine that turns to a strangled yell when Sasha sneaks a finger up to rub against Eric's hole. Eric slaps the wall with a palm and rides Sasha's finger a bit, but never stops his steady rhythm between Sasha's lips. Sasha is so hot and wet and so damn tight around him that it makes Eric think about Sasha's ass and the kind of gripping heat that would open up and take him in.
Eric shudders as lust slices him clean through at the thought of Sasha riding him, taking him deeper, filthy Russian curses falling from his lips. Groaning, Eric bangs his head into the wall and yanks on Sasha's hair, making Sasha groan and gag around Eric's cock. Eric looks down to check on his teammate and discovers Sasha palming himself frantically through his dress pants, his hips driving his cock against his palm as he ruts helplessly.
"You like this?" Eric drawls. He pushes his thumb along the side of Sasha's face to sweep across a wet tear track on his cheek. "You like being on your knees for your captain?"
Sasha whines and nods just a little bit.
Eric licks his lips. "Good. Get used to it." He gives Sasha's hair another quick tug. "Fucking suck my cock, Sasha. You know you wanna make your captain come."
Before Eric can even take a breath, Sasha's rough hands are scrabblling at Eric's cock, stroking his slick shaft hard and fast. He moves with the same kind of desperation that Eric feels inside. There's a familiar hot itch spreading beneath his skin and a snake of pleasure is winding its way around his spine. He's so close to coming that he feels sick with it, and he thrusts unevenly into Sasha's mouth.Sasha whimpers every time Eric bottoms out and presses the head of his cock against Sasha's throat, but he never stops blowing him, not even when Eric yells Sasha's name in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice.
Eric's head slams into the wall as he comes. He feels Sasha's tongue and lips working him through his orgasm and all he can do is pet Sasha's sweat-soaked hair before he slides bonelessly down the wall and slips from Sasha's wrecked, sticky mouth. Sasha leans away from Eric, come smearing across his chin, and that's when Eric sees it. That's when he sees that Sasha hasn't swallowed and looks like he's straight from a porno, staring at Eric with wide eyes while his tongue curls and twists in the pool of come in his mouth.
"Fucking fuck," Eric growls. He reaches out and grabs Sasha by the tie, using the flimsy strip of silk to pull the Russian against him. "You save that for me?"
Sasha nods obediently, a sassy smirk pulling at the corner of his smile, and Eric's stomach flips. He and Sasha regard each other for a minute and then Eric dives in, sucking the salty tang of his own come from Sasha's raw lips before working his tongue inside Sasha's mouth. Their tongues glide and twist together, both of them sharing and playing with Eric's come, smearing it all over each other's lips and chins as they kiss hungrily. Sasha ruts against him, shaking and shuddering as Eric swallows his own come and pushes his tongue back in for more.
"You come?" Eric asks between sloppy, sticky kisses.
Sasha nods. His face is flushed and he looks like a mischievous schoolboy.
"Good boy," says Eric, reaching down to touch the warm wetness seeping through the fly of Sasha's dress pants. He licks at Sasha's wrecked mouth, not quite able to stop himself and really not caring that they're both on their knees in the arena, their faces tacky with come, where anyone could stumble upon them.
Sasha grins brilliantly up at Eric, giving him the same smile he gives Eric on the bench, and licks his lips. "I think I going to fit in good here."
Eric laughs and thinks back to what Coach said about making Sasha feel comfortable. "Yeah. Yeah, I think you're gonna fit in just fine, Sasha. Welcome to Raleigh."
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