Chapter Text
October 2015
“God, Van Eck is a fucking brat,” Pim grumbles, pulling his helmet off and running an ungloved hand through his sweaty hair before dropping onto the bench next to Jesper’s stall. He grabs a bottle of Powerade from his bag and inelegantly squirts a stream in the vague direction of his mouth.
It’s the end of the second period and the Ketterdam Crows are down 2-1 to the Belendt Bombers in their first face-off of the season.
The Bombers’ captain and first line centre, Wylan Van Eck, has been playing like a man possessed tonight, dancing across the ice and sniping the puck at every available opportunity with moves more akin to that of a figure dancer than a hockey player.
“You’re only saying that cos he stole the puck off you before you even knew you had it,” Jesper says. He’d watched it happen in real time. One moment the puck was on the end of Pim’s stick and the next Van Eck was gliding in and snatching it away. Pim had looked down with an expression so dumbstruck it almost would have been comical if they hadn’t been on the same team.
Pim groans. “I just don’t get how he makes it look so easy.”
It’s a familiar complaint, one that’s repeated every time their teams face each other on the ice. Van Eck lives and breathes hockey. Off the ice he’s calm and controlled, unflappable in front of the press. There’s never been even a hint of scandal surrounding him; no drunken nights out, no saucy rumours of secret lovers. He’s Kerch’s golden boy through and through and so unbelievably boring.
But on the ice he comes alive, transforming into a lethal player who still somehow manages to avoid getting into fights and has never taken a single penalty in his entire hockey career.
Jesper is almost envious of him.
“It’s called talent,” he says to Pim, taking one last swig of water before standing up. “Shame you don’t have any.” Clapping his hands together to get the team’s attention, he raises his voice. “Alright boys listen up! It’s been a tough game so far but I know we can turn this around. Think about how sweet it will be to beat the Bombers on their home ice.” There’s a few scattered noises of agreement from his teammates. “So let’s get out there and make this last period count!”
As the boys holler and cheer and start filing out of the locker room, Jesper catches their coach’s eye from where he’s lingering by the doorway and makes a beeline for him.
“Their goalie is slower to the left than usual,” Kaz says quietly, voice a low rasp that Jesper strains to hear over the rowdiness of the team.
“You think he’s injured?”
“Could be. If you can get past the Bombers' defense—”
“I could try and deke it,” Jesper finishes for him.
Kaz may be the youngest head coach the League has ever had, but it’s not without good reason. An ex-hockey player himself, he was forced out of the game a few years prior after a brutal, career-ending injury and several subsequent failed surgeries. His use of a cane off the ice doesn’t mean his eyes are any less sharp, his brain any less brilliant.
“Exactly.”
The Droombeld Arena is buzzing when the Ketterdam Crows step back out onto the ice. Even though they’re in enemy territory, there’s still a fair amount of Crows fans in the stands. Jesper blows a kiss out to the crowd as he skates up to centre ice for the face-off, unsurprised to Van Eck already waiting for him there.
“Got something to prove tonight, Van Eck? Or is daddy dearest in the house?”
Jesper watches with barely restrained glee as Van Eck’s pretty face pinches into a scowl, the pink dusting his cheeks visible even under his visor. Chirping Van Eck about his father is a sure-fire way to get under his skin.
“I don’t need my father watching to be able to beat you,” Van Eck snaps back.
“You keep telling yourself that, sunshine.”
The referee skates up between them, puck dangling from his outstretched arm. “Ready boys?”
Jesper wins the face-off.
The Crows lose 3-2.
With Kaz’s tip about the Bombers' goalie, Jesper had managed to score off a beautiful assist from Specht early on in the third period, but it hadn’t taken long for Van Eck to score again in retaliation. Despite the Crows’ best efforts, they’d barely managed to get the puck back after that, only managing another two attempts at goals before the final buzzer sounded.
The atmosphere in the locker room as the team files back in is subdued. It’s never fun to lose, but the sting is always a little sharper when it’s against the Bombers. The two biggest teams in the Kerch Hockey League; a rivalry that’s been going on for as long as hockey has existed.
Or something like that.
“We’ll get ‘em next time, Cap,” Specht says, clapping Jesper on the shoulder as he heads to the showers.
“‘Course we will,” Jesper grins back.
Despite the loss, he’s in a good mood. There’s something satisfying about playing a difficult game, one where he has to give it everything he has, one where he’s evenly matched on the rink. For all their rivalry, Van Eck makes Jesper play really fucking excellent hockey.
The Crows’ new goalie, a trade from Fjerda’s Djerholm Isenulfs passes Jesper on the way back to his stall. Helvar is a quiet man, hard to read and borderline gruff when he does speak, though how much of that is due to his basic grasp of Kerch and how much is just his personality is hard to say. As captain, Jesper has been putting in the effort to get to know the guy. He remembers all too well when he first moved to Kerch after getting drafted; the way the language fell clumsily off his tongue even though he’d learnt it at school and spoke it a bit at home.
“Hey, nice job tonight, Helvar. Without you, we would’ve been down a lot more than 3-2.”
The goalie offers Jesper a hint of a smile in return, more a twitch of the lips than anything, but enough that Jesper will call it progress.
“Thanks Captain.”
Jesper showers quickly but efficiently, calling a reminder to his team once he’s done that the bus to the hotel will be leaving soon and politely turning down Pim’s invitation to find a bar afterwards.
“We’re in Belendt, Pim, you know he’s gonna go hook up with his Belendt girl,” Big Bol – an aptly nicknamed defenseman – says with a smirk.
As if on cue, Jesper’s phone pings with a message and he can’t help but smile to himself.
Willow:
Text me when you get here.
“Could be a Belendt boy,” Dirix shouts from the other side of the locker room, earning a few snickers from the team.
Jesper would have liked the opportunity to come out to his teammates on his own terms, but unfortunately the promise of a moment of fame and some easy money had proved too much for one of his less discreet hookups, and his sexuality had been hot gossip for a few weeks last season. Luckily, as far as national hockey leagues go, the KHL is one of the more open-minded ones, and the only repercussions so far have been some borderline derogatory comments from other players and an increase in chirping from everyone else.
Jesper rolls his eyes, sending a quick thumbs up reaction and tucking his phone away. “It isn’t anyone, now shut the fuck up or next practice you’ll be doing bag skates ‘til you puke.”
The alley to the back entrance of Van Eck’s Belendt apartment is just as sketchy as it was the last time Jesper was here. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long after firing off the obligatory I’m here text for the back door to open and for Van Eck to appear, already changed into sweatpants and a hoodie and his curls damp against his forehead.
“Good game tonight,” Jesper says as he follows Van Eck up the stairs and into his apartment, pausing by the door to toe off his trainers and nudge them into place beside Van Eck’s. He tries not to think about how their shoes look next to each other, neat and purposeful. “The whole locker room was whinging about you though.”
“A good game that we won,” Van Eck says, eyes glinting with satisfaction.
“Alright, rub it in some more, why don’t you? I thought I played well.”
Stepping in close, Van Eck replies easily. “You did.” He tilts his head up, an obvious invitation for a kiss, something that Jesper is all too happy to give him, dipping his head and kissing him slow and sweet. When they break apart, Van Eck glances up at him from underneath his full, dark lashes. “Surely there’s something I can do to make you feel better…”
Jesper grins lasciviously. “I’m sure I can think of something…” He leans in again, catching Van Eck’s bottom lip between his teeth and then soothing the sting with his tongue. “Get on your knees,” he murmurs.
The speed at which Van Eck drops to the floor right there in the hallway has Jesper’s dick going from interested to fully on board. Almost seven years of secretly hooking up in hotel rooms and, more recently, their apartments, and Jesper will never get over how eager Van Eck always seems to be to suck him off, how willingly he gets on his knees and reaches for his zipper, like there’s nothing he wants more than to stuff his mouth full of Jesper’s cock.
He’s fucking good at it too, and he knows it, the little shit.
Jesper groans when Van Eck tugs his jeans down to tease at the outline of his cock through his boxers for a few moments, before finally pulling them down too and taking him into the slick heat of his mouth.
“Fuck.” With one hand braced against the wall behind him for support, Jesper tangles the fingers of the other into unruly brown curls.
Van Eck hums around him, flicking his tongue under the head of his cock while one hand slips between his thighs to massage his balls.
“Come up here,” says Jesper, pulling Van Eck up off the floor and into another kiss. He licks into his mouth, uncaring of the lingering taste of himself he finds there, until Van Eck turns limp and pliant, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
Without breaking their kiss, Jesper gets his hands under Van Eck’s thighs, lifting him easily off the floor and carrying him in the direction of his bedroom, finding the door, thankfully, already open. He deposits Van Eck onto the bed then pulls away to strip off his clothes and leaves them in a heap on the floor.
Van Eck frowns – Jesper knew he would – but says nothing, swiftly undressing and neatly folding his own clothes. Jesper tries hard not to be charmed by it and fails miserably.
So predictable.
On the bed, Jesper settles between Van Eck’s spread legs and takes the lube that’s handed to him. “Presumptuous of you.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” Van Eck says in reply, then draws Jesper closer with a hand at the nape of his neck and presses their lips together.
Jesper works him open with slick fingers, moving slowly even when Van Eck begs him to hurry up. It’s rare that they get more than a couple of hours together, even rarer to not have to worry about being overheard by teammates in nearby hotel rooms, and Jesper is determined to savour it as much as possible. He thinks he would like to have Van Eck like this, splayed out and wanting, for more than just a night. There’s so much that he wants to do to him, with him, if they could only have more than brief snatches of time together.
Eventually, Van Eck gets tired of waiting and shoves Jesper away so he can grab a condom and roll over onto his knees. Presented with the sight of him, Jesper is suddenly tired of waiting too. He tears open the condom packet with his teeth and rolls it on, smearing some more lube over his cock before pressing into Van Eck’s waiting body.
“Ah fuck,” Van Eck groans, dropping forwards onto his elbows when Jesper starts to move.
It’s good, it’s always so good with him, and that’s why it has to stop. This was purely meant to be a casual thing, but Jesper has never been one for thinking things through. He’s fucked a lot of pretty girls and pretty boys and pretty much anyone in between, but no one has ever set his blood alight the way Van Eck does. As much as he won’t admit it to himself, Jesper has been head over heels for Van Eck since the moment he first set eyes on him in a car park after the World Junior Hockey Championships in Ahmrat Jen. One glimpse of huge brown eyes, cheeks and nose dusted with freckles and the distinct razor burn of a seventeen year old who was still trying to figure out how to shave and Jesper was a goner, and he’s been trying to ignore that fact ever since.
Below him, Van Eck’s moans turn high and breathy, one of his hands disappearing between his legs to jerk himself off. Moments later, Van Eck is tensing and coming, burying his face in the pillows as he spills over his own fist and the sheets.
Jesper fucks him harder, chasing his own release, even as Van Eck’s legs start to shake. It doesn’t take long for all the blood in body to be replaced by a burning white heat, and he curses out loud as he empties himself into the condom.
They collapse onto the bed together, Jesper nuzzling at the sweaty curls at the back of Van Eck’s neck. After a while, he drags himself away, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before tying off the condom and heading for the shower. Van Eck doesn’t join him this time; still lying in the mess of the sheets when Jesper returns to the bedroom to dress.
“I should probably get back to the hotel. It’s almost past curfew.”
“Okay,” Van Eck agrees. He sits up, grasping Jesper by the hand to pull him in for one last, sweet kiss. “See you in three weeks.”
“Try not to miss me too much.”
“Asshole.”
Jesper winks at him then turns to go, and tries to pretend that he doesn’t wish he were staying instead.