TW: First one, totally sfw. Second, nsfw containing sexually charged scenes, and third one contains slightly possessive behavior. 

Those on skates raced faster than the ticking timer, pushing every ounce they had left to make their stand. Raw energy filled the air as once cool silence bubbled out of control in the final count down. Ten seconds to go and the audience was out of their seat, on their feet, cheering mixes of words that transformed sound into pure power. Those posted on the benches, penalty boxes and coaches a like as well had already leapt to their feet in preparation, counting along with the distinguished roar of the crowd.

The last moment was up, the buzzer to cue the end could not even remotely match the volume of the people who cried out. Players flooded the ice, equipment flew as they all merged to form a ball rather than a circle of congratulatory excitement. Helmets had been ditched and their sticks scattered along whenever they had been dropped, finding new places along the frozen turf.

One audience member, his winter coat left on the bench behind him and his cheeks blazing in the chill of the stadium, couldn't stand his own isolated celebration. Bounds down the steps and hurdling over the boards he planted his feet to the ice. Even with his lack of appropriate foot wear he took lightening speeds to haul himself across to the joyous pile of teens.

At the edge of the shinning faces, glossed both with sweat and smiles, he could see his focus begin to trek to meet him. He glided faster than the boy without a coat, assisted by skates still tight to his feet but his vitality could not over power. They collided with little care about their smashing velocities, arms and hands clutching to the other as the fading momentum moved them.

There was no time for words as the taller of the two with only one glove free hand pulled at the blonde hair in front of him, like his reward for the last three goal assists was purely for the feel of the locks. The attention receiver couldn't contain an energetic laugh, pouring out in fresh light billows as he expelled everything he had held pent up over the entire game.

Lips meeting was within their next minute of their reunion. The chill in the air and the heat of their pressing faces linked together, driving each to desire the better comfort, clinging tighter than they possibly could. With the blades still to his feet the taller led them back, unwilling to break the kiss, winding a path backwards to the familiar team.

"Rythian, you were amazing..." The fan who never missed a chance to watch by the sidelines mumbled out his praise like it came with a natural breath. "So amazing..." His back found the boards next to the raving huddle of teammates of the left-center player who hands were encouraging the other's hips to lift.

"It helps when I have you cheering for me..." No strain and hardly any effort and legs were up around his waist, "You're the amazing one Lalna." He spoke directly into the smiling lips, mumbling his words as he sought to stamp them on the soft skin. His skates slipped on the ice, struggling to keep the center of his weight still to continue pinning Lalna. "You coming with the team for the celebration?" Rythian's breath climbed more degrees, scarcely being caught in a visual form.

His nose into the sturdy material laced shoulder and Lalna fought find enough breath. "Of course... of course." The repetition sank into the exposed middle of Rythian's neck, spiking more sensations to trickle down. "God... winners of city finals. How's it feel?"

Rythian's throat clicked as he swallowed the thought. Fading nerves forced his stomach to bounce a laugh along with it all. "I don't feel any different." He inhaled the crisp air around them, finishing the instinct in a warm kiss.

"Do you get a trophy? A medal?" Lalna didn't vocally acknowledge his gradual slide down the silk boards, only closed his eyes, feeling a panicked knee boost him back up. Damp lips pressed gently under Lalna's chin, inciting it lift, giving Rythian more area to work. The attention on his Adam's apple caused a pause in his thought, as he focused on the single point Rythian held his mouth to. The rumble he pushed through his chest to find words hardly cleared his mind. "They have to give you some kind of bragging right to show you kicked ass today."

A curved eyebrow and Rythian lifted his head, "Well..." He stuck them both together with a lazy kiss, giving Lalna's curious mind more time to wonder, "Aren't you bragging rights enough already?"

The question asked directly into Lalna's mouth made him laugh. His stomach compressed further each chuckle as Rythian's pounding heart seemed to grow closer. "Well, obviously." Using his hands on Rythian's shoulders he pulled himself back up again, trying to keep eye level.

"Well then, get your coat and meet me in the locker room. We have to celebrate." A peck on the nose and Rythian eased his hold, carefully permitting Lalna's feet to find the icy ground again. "The team will be going out for pizza which means after-"

"Is my place for ice cream and old monster movies," Lalna's failed spin on the ice wobbled his legs, but his smile kept firm as he waved, "Got it!"

~

Your hand glides up his warm dark skin. Passing over the tangles of leg hair for your nails to scratch at the hem of his dress. Watching over his eyes, the deep calm muddled with a craving for indulgence, forms a heavy lump in your throat. A part of him you've explored countless times before, now exudes a forbidden presence, like it has turned back to new territory.

Waiting almost destroys your ability keep still. Drumming your fingers on the spot would be rude though bouncing on his bed probably isn't much better. You know he's making you wait, hardly any deliberation happened in his head, yet he wants to make it seem so. Even after a swell of shy text messages and secrecy sworn about his attire, he still thrives on keeping an upper hand.

His eyes close momentarily and you can feel him breathe. How his entire body seems to retract in on itself, holds, and expands slowly. You hastily lick your lips, on the edge of your seat anticipating for a cue. He looks at you again, and your heart begins to beat double the time of your anxious breathing.

The nod he gives make your blood rush to your fingers, giving them added energy to dive under the mixed cotton and synthetic material of the sheath dress. Again the tips of your fingers can feel him inhale. A gorgeous feel as you meet with the warmth you've been wanting. Up the top of his thigh and you hit what should have been an expected change in texture. Of course. Even when he's adorned in a high priced dress he still wears his typical grey briefs.

You push underneath the leg elastic and find hot skin again. The palm of your hand discovers his hip and taking a moment to relish the prominent bone is something you've grown accustomed to. Rubbing your hand into him pulls your name to spill from his parted lips. You move your attention around, just below his belly button, resisting the urge to snap his underwear.

With the slow, unspoken about peel of his legs you grab the front of him. Dying to hear sound, a feedback on your action, you massage him. His mouth hangs open but still you can't pick up even one solo note. An excessive roll of the beginning of his name with your tongue and you swear his eyes flash to a glare. Twisting the swelling moment is at the bottom of your list, but you desperately need to find something to please you, as you do for him.

As if he read your mind his legs spread more and his moan lights every single one of your senses. Looking down the dark coloured dress that stick to his body like pure sin you wish he would allow you to snap a picture. His lean frame protrudes out in fitted places, all sown for a body type far from similar to his. If one shoulder could pop out from the thick black straps you know your mind would detonate. Nothing would be able to hold you back from biting at the tendons and praising his skin.

The palm of your hand pushes lighter each circle you rub around him, and just like you hoped he arches into you to complete the touch. You start to feel more shape from beneath his briefs and it's more than enough to get you to sneak the underwear down. Both of you struggle with the awkward movement. He tries to lift and shuffle side to side to help, but all he can concentrate on is when you finally touch him. You bunch up the bottom of his dress, more to help you move than to subtract it. Besides, not seeing your hand as you fondle him, but getting a full view of the affect, adds to your own pleasure.

A whine, and he's started to bounce, using the relaxed spring from the bed. Already he's deemed you too slow and had to add his own effort to appease himself. Early sticky liquid creates strands between your fingers which you use to grease his skin, smoothing out each flick of your fingers and pull of your hand.

You want to ask him if it's good, if you can add to it in some way by his request, but his choked words win the first second. He swears, and does so again, making his habit extend on before he finds a sentence. He tries to intimidate you, giving warnings about what will happen if you get anything on his dress. In response you hike the material higher and smile at the jerky state you've brought him to.

Telling him he's breath taking only makes him huff more. A curse again and you can feel the sharp words hit your face, but even before you can understand the sting its left, his whine applies itself. It's almost cold how quickly it flows over your skin but the iron grip the he digs into the top of your jeans distracts you as it transfers his shudder.

He mouths your name silently, letters slipping off his tongue. Watching as he rolls his hips, milking every last second, you know you'd savour the privilege to tease him like this each single minute. If only he'd call you over like this every night...

~

I want his all.

As I watch my fingers drag up and twirl circles on his back, I realize this. The thought returns to me every night. Each second my eyes are on him, I remember why I crave him.

Delicate and soft, his skin compresses with little force. He forms like putty around my hands, easing with my sinking thumb. His pale skin heats me, I ingest his warmth. I couldn't care if my own back is cold, my front, chest, is hot with him.

He's quiet now, puffing shallow breaths past his swollen lips, his light billowing sighs still linger on my skin. How I can play his noises, like an instrument of mine, pulling his pitches higher and hearing his delight. I am the conductor, and audience of one, for every sound and whisper he streams with my name.

My fingers curl around in his purely yellow hair. The strands twist together, constricting me, only to release at the slightest ease of pressure. The feel of it all delicately falling away, piece by piece, smoothly winding in reverse to fall to rest again.

Nose deep into the tussled hair and I am breathing every satisfaction he brings me. A smell that hurls me back into every memory that's mixed with it. A sweat drenched and heat radiating body, the scent is so strong I can almost taste it once more.

My nerves twitch and I wrap around him. I bite his shoulder, for he is mine. His sweat laced skin that beats with his pulse under my tongue tastes so sweet. His fluids are my nectars, he keeps me in a conscious living state. He lets me take my fill, everything I need. I nourish him well and protect him from every kind of storm, and he grants me his body.

He is the energy, of all that I need. Feed him, to feed off of him, an exchange he smiles about, an exchange I thrive on. He is mine to mark, mine to guard, mine to pleasure.

His hands are on my face, a touch softer than snake's silk. He invites me to sleep, to create space in my thoughts, but it is here each night that I remember. The easy conclusion I come to.

He is everything.

Credit to idlepace on tumblr