Chapter Text
Most locker rooms had terrible acoustics for secrets. Will learned that the hard way.
Will was halfway through unlacing his skates when he heard Goody’s voice from the other side of the room.
“—I’m just saying, Mack, you can’t keep doing this every time.”
Will didn’t look up at first, dismissing it as casual locker room talk, teasing. Macklin was always getting chirped about something: missing curfew, forgetting equipment, acting like a giddy twelve-year-old over the littlest things.
But then Mack laughed, that soft, easy laugh that Will knew too well.
“Aw, c’mon,” Mack said. “It’s not like anyone cares.”
“Oh, people care,” Goody snorted. “And it’s been even worse since you got back from the Olympics. As if people weren’t constantly hounding us for your number before.”
Will’s fingers froze on his skates.
“Wait, what are you two talking about?” Misa asked. He’d clearly been only half paying attention like Will, using their teammates’ chatter as distant background noise as they cooled down from practice in various ways.
“You really haven’t heard yet?” Eky snickered, like he didn’t know whether to be surprised by their lack of knowledge or impressed.
Goody lowered his voice in an attempt at discretion, but the room was quiet enough that it carried anyway. “Let’s just say Macky has a bit of a reputation among the league about always needing company after a game, and all the teams we play against have some very enthusiastic volunteers.”
Will’s blood chilled in his veins. His head snapped up, but no one noticed him yet.
Mack groaned. “Goody, please.”
“I’m just saying,” Goody continued with a laugh, shoving playfully at his shoulder. “Every time we play another team, whether here or on the road, you disappear after the game.”
“Not every time,” Mack protested weakly.
“Dude, this past homestand alone, it was Morrisey with Winnipeg, Horvat with the Isles, not to mention you going out with both McDavid and Draisaitl—”
Mack squeaked like a startled mouse, like he was genuinely horrified by the thought. “I did not have sex with McDrai! Davo and I are friends! We hung out! I took them to lunch and dinner! That’s it!”
“Oh, but you wanted to, didn’t you?” Eky teased. “You were hoping to be sandwiched, is that it?”
“I-I—that is not the point!”
The room erupted in laughter, but Will felt like someone dumped ice water down his spine. Because suddenly a lot of things made sense. Mack’s vanishing act after games. The way he showed up late to the team bus sometimes, hair still damp from a shower. The stupid little dopey smile he had the morning after, and the way he was sometimes a little flirtier with skaters on the other team between plays.
Will stood up abruptly, slamming his skate into his stall.
The noise echoed, making everyone look over, startled, and Mack blinked at him, head tilting in concern. “Um, hey, Smitty, you good?”
Will forced a smile that felt like it was cracking his face in half. “I’m fine. Just didn’t realize our star player has been messing around so much after game nights.”
The room went quiet again, and Mack’s brows pulled together in a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Will shrugged. “Nothing. Just wondering how you manage to skate in the morning when you’ve got a whole league tour going after dark.”
A couple guys snorted at his comment, but Mack only tensed. “It’s not—it’s not like that.”
“You sure? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like to me.”
“Smitty,” Vinny warned.
“S-stop being a dick,” Mack said, though he looked more hurt than anything else, his big green eyes tight and unhappy. “Why do you even care? You’re being so weird about this.”
The question hit harder than it should, and Will scoffed, working not to curl his hands into fists. “I don’t. And I’m not.”
“You’ve been weird since I got back from Milan,” Mack countered, “always going out of your way to bring my name up without being asked in front of cameras, insisting we show up at games together, and reminding everyone we’re a team. If this is some sort of jealousy thing—”
Will bit out a cold, short laugh. “Oh, please. As if I care that you’re spreading your legs for half the NHL.”
Their teammates seemed split on sounds of disapproval for Will’s comment and choked laughter, though most of them gave Will a warning look, like, Alright, man, cool it before we make you.
Mack’s ears turned red, matching his already blotchy cheeks. “T-that is not what I’m doing.”
“Sure,” Will said. “Just a different guy in every city, right?”
“I—”
“Who’s next?” Will continued. “Dahlin? Pastrnak? Clearly that’s your type, right? Older stars that can actually keep up with you? Do you have a steady roster or is this a first come, first serve kind of deal?”
“Oh, Mack already—I’m shutting up now,” Eky said, when several of the others gave him horrified or exasperated looks.
“W-Will, you’re being a jerk,” Mack said.
Probably, but it was all Will could do to keep from snapping.
Because the idea of Mack with these other guys—other hockey players they went up against, night after night, day after day—made something ugly twist in his chest. Thinking about Mack laughing with them, leaving the arena with them, being touched by them…
Will hated it. And he hated that he knew exactly why that was.
*
The arena’s back exit was a river of shadows and exhaust fumes, the perfect cover. Will leaned against the cold brick, his heart a jackhammer against his ribs.
He’d watched Macklin—sweet, funny, his Macklin—linger by the Bruins’ bench a little too long after the game. He’d seen the subtle nod, the look of promise exchanged with Morgan Geekie, who was all sharp angles and cold eyes that had softened just for Mack.
Will knew Mack was friends with Geekie’s little brother, Conor, played with him at World Juniors, had likely interacted with their family for years, in that same way all highly touted Canadian hockey boys did, but still. Will never expected their relationship to be like this.
Will’s blood had boiled then. It was molten now.
He followed Geekie’s car at a distance, a phantom in his own cab, the possessive ache in his gut tightening with every block. Mine. The word was a drumbeat in his skull.
Mack wasn’t just his best friend and his linemate. He was Will’s to protect, to claim, to own. And this awful little habit of his, fucking guys from the teams they just beat… It was a betrayal that went deeper than any game.
The hotel the Sharks were staying at was nice enough. Since Will already memorized which room Mack was in, he didn’t need to follow them too closely to see where they were going. Will gave them five minutes, then took the stairs two at a time, the burn in his thighs nothing compared to the fire in his chest. Room 814. He didn’t knock. He pounded. The sound was violent, final, a promise of rupture.
Silence, then a muffled curse. The door swung open.
Geekie stood there, shirt already off, his torso a landscape of defined muscle and fading marks. His eyes, which had been warm for Mack, were arctic now. “What the fuck do you want?”
Will didn’t answer. He looked past him. The room was dim, lit only by a bedside lamp. Mack was on the king-sized bed, kneeling, beautifully naked. His pale shoulders were tense, his back a flawless curve leading down to the sweet, rounded swell of his ass. A bottle of lube gleamed on the nightstand. Geekie’s fingers, Will saw with a lurch of pure, undiluted rage, were glistening.
Mack’s head whipped around, his eyes wide. “W-Will? What are you—”
“Get out,” Will said, his voice low and rough as gravel. He shoved past Geekie, who moved to block him.
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but he’s with me tonight,” Geekie said.
“Mack is mine,” Will snarled, and it wasn’t a debate. It was a law of the universe. He got right in Geekie’s space, their nea identical heights making it a standoff of pure will. “Every night. Now get the fuck out before I put you through that wall.”
Something flickered in Geekie’s eyes, a sharp reassessment. He looked past Will at Mack, who was trembling, his breath coming in short pants. Not from fear, Will realized. From anticipation. From the filthy, thrilling tension crackling in the air. Mack’s cock, small and flushed, was already half-hard between his thighs.
Geekie’s protective stance faltered. He saw it too, the way Mack’s gaze was locked on Will, full of a guilty, desperate need.
“Macky?” Geekie asked seriously, in the same way anyone else would ask, Are you okay with this?
Mack bit his lip. Then nodded once.
With a quiet breath, Geekie grabbed his shirt and jacket then slipped back on his shoes. “Hurt him and I’ll kill you,” he warned to Will, and then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.
The silence he left was electric, charged with years of unsaid things. Will turned the lock, the click echoing like a gunshot. He turned to the bed.
Mack didn’t move from his knees. “Will, I can explain—”
“Shut up.” Will stalked to the bed, his movements predatory. He didn’t bother undressing. He just unbuckled his belt, the leather sliding free with a deadly whisper. “You don’t get to explain. You just get to take what you’ve been asking for.”
He placed a heavy, possessive hand on the small of Mack’s back, pressing him down until his chest was to the mattress, his perfect ass in the air. Mack gasped, but he arched into the pressure, a soft, wanton sound escaping his lips.
“You like that, you slut?” Will growled, using the belt to tap lightly against Mack’s thigh. “You like getting caught? You like having me come in here and see you offered up like this for some asshole that plays for my childhood team?”
“No,” Mack whimpered, but he pushed his hips back, seeking more. “Yes. Will.”
That was all the permission he needed. Will’s own cock was a painful ache behind his zipper. He ignored it. This was about Mack first. About reclaiming. He snatched the lube, slicking his fingers liberally. He didn’t tease. He found that tight, clenching entrance, still slick from Morgan’s preparation, and pushed one thick finger in to the knuckle.
Mack cried out, his body bowing. “Oh, god!”
“Mine,” Will breathed, working the finger, feeling the hot, velvety clutch of him. He added a second almost immediately, stretching him, claiming the space someone else had tried to occupy. He scissored his fingers, rough and efficient, his other hand splayed across Mack’s lower back, holding him in place. “You feel that? That’s me. Only me. Do you understand? This is my place.”
“Yours,” Mack babbled, pushing back onto the invading fingers. “Always yours, Will, please—”
Will withdrew his fingers, the sound obscenely wet. He finally tore at his own jeans, freeing his erection, heavy and ruddy with need. He coated himself in lube, the cool shock a stark contrast to the inferno in his gut. He positioned himself, the blunt head pressing against Mack’s loosened hole.
He leaned over, his mouth against Mack’s ear, his voice a vicious, loving promise. “You’re gonna remember who you belong to.”
And he drove in. One hard, deep, complete thrust that buried him to the hilt.
The scream Mack let out was pure, shattered pleasure. His body convulsed, clamping down on Will’s cock like a vise. Will saw stars, the sensation of that impossible heat and tightness almost too much. He held himself there, buried deep, panting against Mack’s sweat-damped neck.
“Fuck,” Mack sobbed, his hands fisting the sheets. “Fuck, Will… So full…”
“You are,” Will grunted, beginning to move. He set a punishing pace from the start, no gentle build-up. This was a taking. Each snap of his hips was a declaration, driving Mack’s body forward on the bed with the force of it. The slap of skin on skin, the ragged gasps, the creak of the bedsprings—it was a symphony of possession.
Will’s hand slid from Mack’s back to his hip, gripping hard enough to bruise, holding him steady for the brutal penetration. With his other hand, he reached around and took Mack’s cute little cock in a tight fist, stroking in time with his thrusts.
“You gonna come for me, baby?” Will rasped, his rhythm becoming frantic, losing all finesse. It was just need, a primal, driving need to mark, to fill, to own. “You gonna come on my cock like the good slut you are for me?”
The dual sensation was too much. Mack’s body tightened like a coiled spring, his back arching violently. “Will! I’m—I’m gonna—” His warning dissolved into a raw, broken cry as he came, stripes of white painting the rumpled comforter, his internal muscles milking Will’s cock in frantic, rhythmic pulses.
The feeling of Mack coming untouched around him shattered Will’s control. With a final, deep roar, he slammed home and held, his own release erupting in hot, endless waves, flooding Mack’s depths, claiming him from the inside out. He collapsed forward, his weight pressing Mack into the mattress, his teeth grazing the juncture of Mack’s neck and shoulder as he rode the last tremors of his climax.
They lay there, a tangled, sweating, spent heap, the only sound their ragged breathing. Will was still inside him, still claiming that warm, used space. He nuzzled the spot he’d nearly bitten.
“Mine,” he breathed, the word a vow.
Beneath him, Mack shuddered, a full-body tremble of aftermath. He was utterly pliant, utterly claimed. But his voice, when it came, was quiet, raw with something more than physical satiation. “What happens now?”
Will’s arms tightened around him.
The air in the room was thick with the smell of sex, sweat, and lube. Will’s weight was a heavy, comforting anchor, pinning Mack to the mattress. He was still buried deep inside him, his cock softening but still present, a plug of ownership. Mack’s breath hitched with every slight shift, like the oversensitivity was a bright, sharp pain that bordered on pleasure.
Will’s teeth left the skin of Mack’s shoulder, but his lips stayed there, brushing the damp, salty surface. His voice was a low, possessive rumble against Mack’s spine. “What happens is you stay mine.”
It wasn’t a question. Mack trembled beneath him, a full-body shiver that made his inner muscles flutter weakly around Will’s spent cock. The sensation drew a ragged groan from Will’s throat.
“Yours,” Mack whispered into the sheets, the word muffled but fervent. “God, Will.”
“It’s about time,” Will said, finally pulling out with a slow, deliberate drag that made Mack gasp, like the loss was profound, a sudden emptiness that felt like a violation after being so completely filled. Cool air hit Mack’s wet, stretched entrance, and he whimpered.
Will rolled off him, but didn’t go far. He lay on his side, propped on an elbow, his sharp eyes raking over Mack’s sprawled, ruined form. The sum was drying on Mack’s back and the duvet. Will reached out and traced a finger through a streak of it on Mack’s hip, marking him all over again.
Mack turned his head, his cheek pressed to the mattress. His eyes were glassy, sated, but a flicker of fear—or maybe just desperate need—lurked in the pretty depths. “Are you… Are you gonna leave?”
The question hung there, fragile. Will’s jaw tightened. After all that? After finally taking what had simmered between them for years? His possessive fury, momentarily banked by orgasm, flared back to life, hot and immediate.
“Leave?” Will repeated, his voice dangerously soft. He sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. He was still mostly dressed, jeans around his thighs, shirt rumpled. He looked down at Mack’s naked, submissive pose. The sight was a punch to his gut. His. All his. “As if one time is enough. You think that fixes what you did tonight? Letting Geekie put his hands on you? Letting him get you ready for something that only belongs to me?”
He stood, his movements stiff. He didn’t fix his clothes. Instead, he grabbed Mack by the back of the neck, his grip firm, and hauled him up onto his knees. Mack went easily, pliant, his body still humming with the aftershocks.
“Look at me,” Will commanded.
Mack’s gaze lifted, wide and waiting.
“You’re not done,” Will stated, his free hand going to his belt. He’d never fully removed it. The leather was still looped loosely in his hand. He pulled it free with a sharp, metallic snick. “You don’t get to be done until I say you are. Until I’m sure you understand.”
Mack’s breath caught. His cock, which had been softening, gave a treacherous twitch between his legs. Will saw it, and a dark, satisfied smile touched his lips.
“You like that idea, baby?” He used the belt to tilt Mack’s chin up. “You like the idea of me using you until you can’t even remember his name?”
“Yes,” Mack breathed, like the admission was torn from him. His eyes were locked on Will’s, full of a shameful, bottomless hunger. “Please, Will.”
“On your back,” Will ordered, releasing him. “I want to see your face.”
Mack scrambled to obey, collapsing onto his back, his legs falling open in a display of utter surrender. His body was a map of their first round: flushed skin, the beginnings of bruises on his hips from Will’s grip, his cock already filling again, cute and eager against his belly.
Will finally shoved his jeans and boxers down, kicking them aside. He was hard again, too, his arousal fed by Mack’s blatant submission and the raw, claiming energy still coursing through him. He grabbed the lube from where it had fallen to the floor, coating himself with a few rough strokes. He didn’t prep Mack again; the stretch from earlier would have to be enough. This was about possession, not comfort.
He moved between Mack’s thighs, pushing them wider with his knees. He leaned down, bracing his hands on either side of Mack’s head, caging him in. Their faces were inches apart. Will could see every fleck of gold in Mack’s green eyes, every rapid flutter of his lashes.
“This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Will whispered, the heat of his breath mingling with Mack’s. “All those other guys… You were just trying to get to this. To me. In your face. Owning you.”
Mack’s answer was a choked sob. He wrapped his legs around Will’s waist, his heels digging into the small of Will’s back, pulling him closer. “Yes. Fuck, yes, Will. Only you.”
Will didn’t wait. He notched the head of his cock against Mack’s loosened, slick entrance and pushed in. It was a smoother entry this time, but no less intense. Mack’s body yielded, but it was a tight, hot, velvety clutch that made Will’s vision swim. He sank in slowly, relentlessly, watching Mack’s face contort with a mixture of pain and overwhelming pleasure.
“Ohgodohgod,” Mack chanted, his head thrashing back against the pillow. His hands flew up, gripping Will’s biceps, his fingers biting into the hard muscle there. “So deep… You’re so deep—”
Will bottomed out, his hips flush against Mack’s ass. He held there, buried to the root, letting Mack feel every inch of his claiming. He began to move, a slow, grinding roll of his hips that wasn’t about speed, but about depth. About connection. Each thrust dragged his cock over that sweet, secret spot inside Mack, making him jolt and cry out.
“You feel that?” Will grunted, his rhythm starting to build, becoming harder, more driving. “That’s me. I’m the one who makes you scream. I’m the one who owns this.” He punctuated his words with a sharp, deep thrust that stole the air from Mack’s lungs.
Mack could only nod, his mouth open in a silent cry. His cock leaked steadily onto his stomach, a pearly bead of pre-cum gathering at the tip. Will reached down between them, his hand wrapping around Mack’s length, his grip tight and sure. He stroked him in time with his thrusts, a rough, perfect counterpoint.
The dual sensation was too much, too perfect. Mack’s body began to coil tight, his thighs trembling around Will’s waist. “W-Will, I can’t… I’m gonna—”
“Look at me,” Will said, his own control fraying. The sight of Mack coming apart beneath him, because of him, was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever known. “Look at me when you come.”
Mack’s eyes, hazy with pleasure, snapped to his. The connection was electric, absolute. With a broken, sobbing shout, Mack came, his release hot and stripes across his stomach and Will’s fist. His body clamped down on Will’s cock in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses, milking him, demanding his own release.
It tore through Will with the force of a freight train. He slammed home one final time, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside Mack with a guttural roar, his forehead dropping to Mack’s shoulder. He pumped his seed into that claimed, welcoming heat, marking him from the inside all over again.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their shattered breathing. Will, still pulsing inside him, finally lifted his head. Mack’s eyes were closed, overwhelmed tears tracking through the sweat on his temples. Will leaned down and licked one away, the taste salt and satisfaction.
“So sweet,” he breathed against Mack’s skin, making Mack giggle a little, faint and breathless. “I meant it though, alright? No one’s ever allowed to touch you again. If you need something, you come to me.”
“Okay,” Mack whispered, finally blinking up at Will with long, damp lashes. “I’m sorry, Will.”
Will swallowed. He couldn’t lie and say it was fine, but he’d make sure Mack made it up to him. “Well, at least the upside to you only sleeping with the enemy is that I don’t have to worry about wanting to kill someone every day like if you’d been fucked by one of our teammates,” Will muttered.
Mack flinched, and Will felt his body go very still.
“Macklin,” Will said warningly.
“B-b-before you say anything, this was way before I realized I liked you! Promise!”
Will was glad they had a day off tomorrow, because there was no way Mack was going to be walking anytime soon.