Dirty Games Off Ice

~Alex~

The locker room was loud with pre-game energy — guys shouting and hyping each other up. I sat on the bench in the corner, trying to calm my nerves by scrolling mindlessly through my phone. Bad idea.

The video loaded automatically: two guys, shirtless, making out hard against a wall, hands roaming, tongues deep, hips grinding. It was hot. Too hot. My cock twitched in my compression shorts just as a shadow fell over me.

Damien.

He stopped right in front of me, towering, still half-dressed in his base layer that hugged every ridiculous muscle. His eyes flicked down to my phone screen for half a second. My heart fucking stopped. I slammed the phone face-down on the bench, heat rushing to my face.

“Didn’t know scholarship trash had time to jerk off to p**n before my game,” he said, voice low and mocking. A cruel smirk tugged at his mouth. “What were you watching, Alex? Something that got you hard already?”

I swallowed hard, terrified he’d seen the two guys kissing. If he had… it would be over. The taunts, the rumors, everything.

He leaned down closer, gloved hand bracing on the locker beside my head. “Get your head in the game. I don’t need you distracted when I’m out there owning the ice.” His gaze dropped to my lap for a beat, like he could see how my dick was still half-hard. “Or maybe you like being distracted by me.”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, but my voice came out rougher than I meant.

Damien chuckled darkly and straightened up. “That’s cute. Save the attitude for the ice.”

The roar was deafening when I stole the puck.

I’d played bolder than ever, skating straight at Damien, stripping the puck from him with a hard, aggressive poke-check that sent it flying toward our forwards. The crowd screamed like I’d lost my mind for challenging their king so openly. He came after me like a predator.

Damien slammed into me full force from behind. My face smashed into the boards, glass cracking loud under the impact. His massive body pinned me there instantly, heavy and dominant. One thick gloved hand wrapped around my throat from behind, squeezing just tight enough to make my head spin while his hips ground hard against my ass, letting me feel the thick, rock-hard length of his cock pressing between my cheeks through all the gear.

“You fucking dare steal from me on my ice, you greedy little scholarship slut?” he growled hot against my ear, voice rough with fury and something darker. He rocked his hips again, slow and filthy, grinding into me like he was already fucking me raw in front of everyone. “I saw what you were watching. Two boys kissing like desperate whores… Is that what you want? You want to be used like that?”

My cock throbbed painfully against the boards, leaking into my shorts. Shame and heat flooded me. He had seen.

Damien’s grip on my throat tightened as he pressed his mouth closer.

The whistle blew sharp. His fingers dragged slowly, possessively down my throat and across my jaw before he let go. He skated back, eyes burning into me with dark promise .

I shoved off the glass, chest heaving, face burning, legs shaky. My dick was aching.

It wasn’t just the hit anymore.

Coach grabbed my arm the second I got off the ice and hauled me toward his office. The door slammed shut. He didn’t sit down.

“Your scholarship’s barely breathing, Rivera. One more screw-up, one more fight, one more call from a pissed-off donor, and you’re gone. I don’t care how good you are out there. Damien’s family keeps the lights on. You make him look bad again and I can’t save you.”

I wiped sweat off my face, still breathing hard. “He’s the one who checked me into the boards like he wanted to break my neck. I was playing hockey. That’s what we’re here for, right?”

“You showed him up on his own ice and you know it.” Coach pointed at me. “Fix whatever this is. Apologize, stay out of his way, I don’t care. Just don’t give me a reason to sign your exit papers.”

“Apologize?” I laughed. “For what,being talented? Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Kiss his rich ass and thank him for not killing me.”

“Watch your mouth, kid. This isn’t your old school. Here they eat people like you for breakfast.” He waved me out. “Go cool off. And stay away from Damien tonight.”

I muttered the whole way to the locker room. “Sure, Coach. I’ll just roll over and let the captain walk all over me because his daddy’s checkbook says so.”

The locker room was loud as hell, guys yelling, lockers banging, the usual post-game mess. I’d barely got my jersey half off when Lila shoved past a couple of sophomores and got right up in my face, grabbing my pads with both hands.

“Alex, you can’t keep doing this to me,” she said, voice all shaky and too loud. Her eyes were red, makeup smudged. “I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. You have to take me back.”

“Lila, let go.” I tried to step back but she held on tighter, nails digging in.

“You think breaking up was okay? After everything? I got you into this place. I covered for you when…”

“Stop.” I grabbed her wrists, not rough but enough to make her pause. “We’re done. You know exactly why. Don’t do this here.”

Her face changed, went sharp. “I’ll tell them. All of it. How you really got that scholarship. What happened with your dad back home. How you….”

“Shut the hell up.” My voice dropped but it came out mean. “You want to ruin me? Go ahead. But don’t stand here acting like I owe you anything. You cheated. You lied to my face for months. And now you’re threatening me in front of the whole team because I won’t crawl back?”

A few guys looked over but nobody said shit. Of course not. Lila’s family knew people too. She yanked her hands free, breathing fast, tears starting.

“I still love you, Alex. I do. Fix this thing with me or I swear I’ll make sure you lose everything. Everything.” Then she turned and stormed out, perfume cutting through the sweat stink.

I stood there a second, heart slamming, sweat going cold on my skin. “Yeah, perfect,” I muttered to myself. “Crazy ex on top of everything else. My life keeps getting better.”

My ribs were killing me from that hit. I limped to the training room to grab an ice pack, hoping it was empty. It wasn’t. Damien was already in there, leaning against the counter like he owned the place, and honestly? he basically did.

He looked up, eyes dark. “Sit down.”

“I’m good.”

“Sit the fuck down, Rivera.” He grabbed an ice pack and came over anyway. “You move like shit. Coach will bench you if you can’t even skate tomorrow.”

I dropped onto the table, jaw locked tight. He pressed the ice to my side, fingers sliding under the hem of my shirt onto bare skin. They stayed there. His thumb moved slowly over the edge of the bruise and my stomach flipped hard.

“You hate me,” he said, voice low, breath warm on my neck. “But your body doesn’t lie. I felt how you reacted out there when I had you pinned.”

My face went hot. “Get your hands off me.”

He didn’t. Just smirked, pressing the ice a little harder, fingers still on my skin. “Make me.”

I shoved him back, hard. He stumbled one step and laughed, low and dark like this was funny to him. My heart was pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. “You’re actually insane.”

“And you’re hard from me touching a bruise on your ribs. Real funny how that works, scholarship trash.”

“Fuck you, Damien.” I stood up fast, ignoring the sharp pain, and got the hell out of there before I did something stupid like hit him or worse. My hands were shaking.

By the time I got back to my dorm my legs felt dead. The door was open a crack. I pushed it the rest of the way and stopped. My bed was wrecked sheets ripped off, mattress flipped half on the floor. My game jersey lay in pieces on the ground like someone had taken scissors to it. And on the mirror, big red lipstick letters: “If I can’t have you, no one will.”