Page 42 of Game Misconduct

Instead he was just so fucking hard, like every piece of his body was tense and straining, needing.

He very deliberately reached out and pressed his fingers against a deep purple bruise on Danny’s collarbone, dug them in until Danny made a noise of pain that sounded more like a groan of pleasure. His eyes closed, and Mike stared down furiously at the long eyelashes fanned out there, at the flush on his cheeks, and felt like he could just—just destroy him, destroy everything, so he didn’t have to think about the way Danny made him feel.

He ground his knee into Danny’s sternum, sharp bone against bone.

“You littleasshole,” Danny gasped, and threw him off, and then they were wrestling in earnest.

It was one thing to fight bigger guys on the ice and it was another thing to fight them in close quarters like this, constrained by furniture and Danny with the size advantage. There were a few times that he just flat-out trapped Mike under his suffocating weight. Except what he didn’t count on was that Mike was quick and Mike was vicious, and all he had to do was wriggle enough space to get a knee in or his elbow up, and the tables turned quickly enough.

It was fighting, but he could feel Danny’s cock, hard and hot and pressed into the line of his hip. It was more than fighting. For a second, he stopped struggling, relaxed under Danny’s weight on his torso, let Danny prop himself up far enough that he could look down at Mike stretched out underneath him.

“I’m going to learn every one of these,” Danny muttered, and Mike realized he was looking at the tattoos on Mike’s chest and his shoulders and his neck. “Every single fucking one.”

“You’re going to need more time than this.”

He’d tried to say it cutting, like an insult. It came out weird and shaky and kind of needy. He was breathing hard, from the wrestling, from the chance to have Danny so close to him for so long. It was...it wasn’t what he was used to, and he was suddenly angry again, at Danny, at himself. And he threw himself back into the fight and used the element of surprise to twist Danny off and throw him hard on the carpet.

They were probably making a shitload of noise, but Mike couldn’t fucking care. Scrambled on top of Danny’s big body, grabbed his wrists and slammed them down on the rough hotel carpet, like he was proving a point. What point even he didn’t know. Danny stared back up at him, eyebrows raised like,are you done, and Mike leaned down before he could stop himself and kissed him again. He could feel Danny’s pulse under his fingers. Feel his dick straining against Mike’s. Feel the way his chest heaved as he lurched up into Mike’s mouth, restrained enough to leave Mike there, but not enough to be patient. Jesus, just the sounds he was making, these quiet, desperate gasps every time Mike kissed him or pressed his weight against a bruise.

“Danny,” Mike said helplessly. Helpless against the vortex of violence and tenderness in his chest. Like he didn’t know if he wanted to keep fighting Danny or kissing him, like he didn’t know if he had to make that choice at all.

“What do you want, Mike?” Danny mumbled into his mouth, ages later, because they had to stop every now and then for air.

He couldn’t answer. Frozen. He wanted everything. Danny under him, Danny over him, Danny inside of him, Danny around him. Somehow it was just. It was overwhelming, it was embarrassing, because Dannyknew what he wanted, and he still couldn’t fucking say it.

“Mike,” Danny said, again, and his voice was so fucking gentle that Mike could have killed him, if his hands weren’t still occupied holding Danny’s arms down. There would be bruises on his wrists tomorrow, probably, and Mike thought about him in the locker room, someone seeing them, and felt a weird kind of possessive pride.He’ddone that.

Danny twisted one of his wrists out of Mike’s hold, his hand going up to trace the line of Mike’s spine, the knobs of his vertebrae where it bowed as Mike leaned over him. “C’mon, babe. Tell me.”

He couldn’t help shivering, the touch and the words cutting right through him. “I want to fuck you,” he said, the words tumbling out all at once before he could stop them.

Danny looked up at him again with that small half smile tilting his mouth up and said, “You only had to ask.”

“God, I hate you,” Mike said reflexively, out of habit, and flinched.

Either Danny didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I got one request, though. Let’s move this to the bed, huh?”

“Why?” Mike asked before he could stop himself. Danny’s fingers were curled around Mike’s dick and his brain was short-circuiting. “You too old to fuck on the floor?”

“Jesus Christ, you little shit,” Danny said, tightening his grip, his voice weirdly fond considering. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh. Well. Okay.”

Mike scrambled backward and got up, and there was an awkward moment as Danny hauled himself up too and Mike could hear a pop and a crack in either his back or his knee. Danny stumbled and winced. Mike was about to say something, not a chirp, an expression ofconcern, he wasn’t entirely an asshole, but then Danny shoved him hard, and he fell onto the bed with a yelp of surprise, too startled to pull Danny down with him. It didn’t matter. The bed dipped almost immediately under his weight, and Mike was grabbing at him, reflexively, until he was crouched over Mike.

“You can fuck me,” Danny said, his body bracketing Mike in, “but if you want something you have to tell me.”

“What?”Mike asked, stopping abruptly. His dick, which had been almost painfully hard the entire time, twitched and flagged.

“You heard me,” Danny said. Like it was an entirely reasonable request. “Just tell me what you want. Tell me what you’re going to do. I want to hear yousayit. Otherwise I’m going to do whatIwant to do.”

“You’re really fucking weird, dude,” Mike mumbled. He could feel his face flushing, thinking about Danny doing anything he wanted, thinking of all the shit he wanted to do to Danny, thinking about having to say it outloud. He wanted so many things and he didn’t entirely trust himself. It was so uncomfortable. He wasn’t a virgin or anything. He’d had sex before, obviously, but it was never like this, and he didn’t...he didn’t know what to do. He could just refuse, but he didn’t want to risk this. He wanted it too much. Wanted Danny too much. “Uh. Get off of me. I...I want to—I want...”

“Mike.”

“I want to like—I want to leave marks. On you.Okay?”

Danny’s eyes were dark and intent and Mike shivered again when he said, “Okay.”

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