Shey

Despite having no obligations or reasons to rise early, I find myself waking before dawn, a nagging sense of unfinished business rousing me from slumber. I rummage through the cluttered closet, pushing aside the detritus of my old life to unearth a relic from simpler times: my pristine white ice skates, barely used since training gave way to textbooks and 12-hour shifts. Running my fingers over the smooth leather, I marvel that they have waited so patiently while life pulled me away. I dress in fleece leggings and a sweater as I grab my purse and head to the car. 

The rink should be empty, the guys left around four this morning, as I pull into the parking lot it’s already six. I see some of the players' cars parked in the garage as I head to the elevator to enter the rink. The lights are on, but that’s to be expected, with the team gone, deep clean can commence. Yet as I walk through the quiet, empty halls of the arena, the familiar sounds of hockey emanate from the rink ahead. The rhythmic slapping of a composite stick striking a frozen puck echoes down the corridor. Scraping, swishing - the nostalgic melody of steel blades carving arcs across the freshly resurfaced ice. I push through the heavy wooden doors and gaze out at the rink. There before me a solitary figure glides smoothly about the ice, stickhandling a puck through an intricate array of cones.

Noah isn't in a uniform, just his athletic wear and skates, simple winter gloves on his hand as he skates around. The cold air nips at my cheeks as I observe him gliding effortlessly across the smooth, glassy ice. He looks so graceful and at ease, carving gentle curves with each push of his skates. I suddenly wonder if I should continue with my plan. It's been years since I've set foot on the ice. The last time I tried skating I clung desperately to the wall, my ankles wobbling with each tentative stride. I was that bumbling, awkward beginner all over again. What if I make a fool of myself out there? What if I slip and stumble repeatedly in front of Noah, struggling just to stay upright while he floats by with poised confidence? The thought makes me hesitate. I don't want to embarrass myself or look incompetent compared to Noah's natural skill.

"What are you doing here?" I call across the rink, seeing him turn and find me by the benches. He pushes the puck back and forth between his stick, the repetitive motion seeming to soothe his obvious frustration.

 "Medics benched me for two games, to make sure my shoulder isn't seriously injured," he responds, and I can hear the pain in his voice - not physical, but emotional. Being forced to sit out is agonizing for any athlete, but especially for someone as passionate and competitive as him. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to watch his teammates head off without him this morning, their bus pulling away as he stood there, barred from joining them.

“Why are you here?” he ponders the question to me and I feel my cheeks go red as I stammer a response. 

“Came to um-um-skate. But I didn’t expect…it’s okay, I’ll go.” I turn to leave. But I hear the hard scrape of blades on ice as Noah skates to the wall close enough to me I can smell the scent of his body wash from his shower. 

“Where you going? Let’s see what you got, little fox.” I feel my heart race and my palms grow sweaty as Noah's intense gaze bores into me. His muscular frame towers over me, broad shoulders and chiseled torso accentuated by his tight black shirt. I'm frozen in place, mesmerized by his masculine beauty and commanding presence.

“Lace up. Get out here." he teases as he skates out to the rink, picking up the cones he'd laid out. I am not sure what propels me but I do as he says, slipping into the leather slippers and double knotting the laces. I stand on the blades feeling the unusual balance of them as I take long steps to the ice. The blades touch the ice and suddenly I'm wobbling on my knees as one hand grips the wall and the other wraps around myself trying desperately to hide the embarrassment. The empty ice rink echoes with each scrape of his skates as he circles me like a predator stalking prey.

I tentatively step onto the icy surface, the razor-sharp blades beneath my feet gliding smoothly at first. But as I push off, my ankles wobble precariously, threatening to tip me face-first onto the cold, unforgiving ice. I flail my arms, grasping for something, anything to steady myself. My hand finds the wall just in time, saving me from a humiliating fall. Meanwhile, he is gliding effortlessly around the perimeter, his strong strides propelling him forward with ease. I watch enviously as he picks up speed, the toes of his skates carving graceful arcs into the glossy surface. My own skates feel awkward and foreign beneath me, the thin blades clacking loudly with each uneasy step. I wrap my free arm around my middle, trying in vain to conceal my evident lack of skill. This was a mistake. I never should have let him goad me out here. 

Noah skates around me, effortlessly turning his feet outwards to slow himself before sliding to a smooth stop, sending ice shavings scattering across the glossy surface of the rink. He looks back at me with a playful smile, taking in my awkward, shaky form as I struggle to maintain my balance on the slippery ice. I clutch the wall, my legs stiff and tense, my movements rigid and unstable. Noah glides back over to me, the blades of his skates slicing rhythmic patterns into the ice, and holds out his gloved hands, wiggling his fingers invitingly. "Here," he says, his voice warm and reassuring.

I eye his outstretched hands warily, hesitating. A painful memory surfaces of myself as an awkward thirteen year old girl, when a boy in skating class had offered to help me up, only to let go and trip me instead. I had fallen hard on the unforgiving ice, the wind knocked out of me, my pride injured far more than my body. I had never forgotten that humiliating experience, and since then, I harshly refused any offer of help when trying to skate, not trusting anyone to not let me fall.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Noah grumbles, breaking me out of my bitter recollections. Not waiting for me to decide, he takes my hands firmly in his, enveloping my fingers in the soft wool of his gloves. Then he begins skating backwards, pulling me along with him, his strokes smooth and steady. My legs tremble violently, overtaken by the fear of falling and I cling to his hands for dear life, as if I'm moments from plunging to my death. My ankles wobble and feet slip on my first few strides, struggling to find my balance. But Noah's graceful momentum carries us, and slowly I feel my legs begin to glide in sync with his, my rigid muscles easing. My confidence builds as Noah patiently guides me around the rink, the ice smoothly passing beneath me.

“I figured the coach’s daughter would know how to skate.” he teased. I rolled my eyes at his assumption that just because my dad was the hockey coach, I would naturally be an expert skater myself. Sure, growing up as the coach's daughter, I had spent countless hours at the rink, watching practices and games from the stands. And yes, I had even taken some basic skating lessons as a kid. But that was years ago now, and so much had changed since then.

“It’s been a while,” I countered, “I had other things going on.”

“Let me guess,” he looked at the white leather of my skates and smiled, “Figure skating.” 

“Nope. Just lessons.” The truth was, once I hit high school, skating had faded into the background. I became absorbed in academics, friendships, and other activities that didn't involve blades on my feet and cold rinks. Sure, I had taken some recreational lessons here and there to appease my dad, but nothing stuck. “Dad really wasn’t a fan of figure skating, some unspoken rivalry with Hockey I think.” 

My hold on Noah’s hands relaxed as we glided hand-in-hand across the ice rink, my fingers barely holding onto his gloved hands anymore. As we swayed our hips in unison, Noah gently turned our wrists, overlaying our hands before interlacing our fingers together. His soft yet firm grip provided a sense of security and balance as he led us around the rink, periodically looking back over his shoulder to navigate and ensure we wouldn't crash.

“And mom?” 

“Mom wasn’t, the mom type.” I confessed with a sigh.  I felt a familiar pang of sadness in my chest at the thought, dropping my head a little in shame. Noah raised an eyebrow, prompting me to reluctantly explain further. “Divorce. Just before I was twelve. Mom moved down to Florida with her new boyfriend, got the occasional birthday card then silence.” 

“I get that,” Noah nodded in understanding, releasing our clasped hands so we could skate shoulder-to-shoulder, my legs now gliding on their own as we lazily circled the rink.

"Your mom too?" I asked gently. 

"Dad," he replied tersely. "Wasn't the dad type. Mom did her best, but I lost her." His words sank in, my own petty grievances seeming trivial in comparison. While my mother may have been absent, at least she was still living. Noah had no one left, both parents gone, leaving him truly alone in the world. A swell of empathy rose within me, along with a new appreciation for the family I still had, dysfunctional as we may be.

As we glide, our skates' soft swish and measured breathing form a quiet harmony. All too soon, our wordless waltz comes to an end. I make my way to the bench on rubbery legs, fumbling with the laces and easing my numb feet from the rigid boots. Noah gathers his stick and returns to his solitary target practice, slapping puck after puck into the empty net with a methodical rhythm. The sharp crack of composite meeting vulcanized rubber echoes through the cavernous arena. I watch him for a moment, marveling at his self-contained focus. Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I turn to leave, savoring the lingering chill on my cheeks. But then his voice stops me - that gentle tenor tone that never fails to make me shiver.

Sarah's POV

My heart is pounding in my ears as I'm pressed up against the wall, desperately trying to swipe my keycard while his mouth devours my neck. He bites a sensitive piece of my skin and I almost drop the keycard, barely saving it between my fingers. His hips grind into me, my dress riding up as I start to slip out of my heels. Every nerve in my body is electrified, desire coursing through my veins. I can't get the door open fast enough. The door's lock finally clicks open and the buzz of freedom rings in my ears. Unable to contain myself, I push down on the handle with eager force, spilling us into the room in a heated tangle of limbs. We stumble into the hotel room in a frenzy, his hands already roaming my body as he kicks the door closed behind us. Our lips crash together in a fiery kiss that steals my breath away. I tear at his shirt buttons impatiently while his fingers explore my thighs, inching my dress higher. 

Everything tingles as he touches me, heat pooling low in my belly. I break the kiss just long enough to yank his shirt off and run my hands over his toned chest before claiming his lips once more. He presses me back against the wall, his hard body flush against mine. I wrap my legs around his waist, moaning softly as I feel his cock press into me. His hands grip my hips roughly as he grinds against me. Arching into him, nails raking down his back. Every cell in my body is screaming for him. I've never wanted someone so badly.

My purse and keys tumble to the floor, barely hearing them land over the pounding of my heart. My arms wrap tight around his strong shoulders and he bends down, gripping my thighs to hoist me up. I cling to him desperately, legs locked around his waist, as he carries me effortlessly like a koala toward the bed. His confident stride and the warmth of his body pressed against mine makes my head spin with desire. I run my hands through his thick hair and lean in to kiss his neck as he lowers me onto the soft mattress. 

My fingers are mesmerized as they trail the intricate black ink etched into his tanned skin, following the curves and lines of the elaborate tattoos that covered his muscular body. Starting at his broad shoulders, the dark designs swirling down his strong back and wrapping around to his chiseled chest before extending up his thick neck. He was absolutely covered in mesmerizing artwork, and I was enthralled, my eyes hungrily taking in every detail.

"Like what you see, little fox?" he teased, his deep voice rumbling with amusement as he noticed my captivation. I glanced up to meet his intense gaze, my eyes locking with his.

"Little fox?" I questioned in confusion, trying unsuccessfully to tilt my head as I pondered this new nickname. But with my long hair pinned underneath me, I couldn't quite achieve the right angle. Noticing my struggle, he gently pulled a lock of my ombre hair free, holding the red-to-white balayage strands out in front of me.

"Little fox," he murmured again, a smile playing on his lips as he twirled the platinum-tipped lock between his fingers. "My little fox." the words quietly ghosting over my cheek.

"This is so wrong," I whisper breathlessly as he leans in, his face mere inches from mine. My heart pounds rapidly in my chest as his strong hands grasp my thigh, hoisting my leg around his waist. I feel the fabric of his slacks scrape against my bare skin as he kneels onto the bed, positioning himself between my trembling legs. His cock presses insistently against my entrance, hungry and wanting, ready to claim me. I know I should stop this, but my traitorous body arches into him, aching for more of his touch.

 His lips brush mine in a feather-light caress, sending tingles of electricity along my spine. "Then tell me what you like, let me make it right," he murmurs, his husky voice dripping with desire. 

His face dips low, his mouth hot next to my right ear, “Do you like to be fucked first?”  I can feel his warm breath on my skin as he whispers sensually in my ear, his lips brushing against me. Kissing my cheek he moves over to my left, “Or do you like to be eaten first?” his tongue flicking at my earlobe. I'm torn, both sound incredible. As his tongue dances along my earlobe, I let out a soft moan, the sensation sending shivers down my spine.

As his fingers trail down my stomach, I gasp, arching into him. He chuckles low in his throat, clearly enjoying teasing me. I want him, all of him. 

"I-I-I want it all," I pant feeling his lips kiss down the side of my neck, his teeth just barely grazing my skin. His hands are sliding my dress up my hips, bunching the fabric under my breasts, a chill hitting the damp spot of my lace panties. His touch electric, palms gliding over my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I arched into him, desperate for more. He was like a man possessed, hands roaming greedily, stroking and caressing every inch he could reach. His hungry lips trailed fire across my skin as he explored me with an urgent passion, his warm palms spreading heat everywhere they touched. I was lost in sensation, drowning in the feel of his hands and mouth worshiping my body. My nerves were alive, hypersensitive to his electrifying caresses. I wanted all of him, needed him to quench the aching desire he had sparked deep inside me. 

"Dealers choice then," his words are breathy and tickle the top of my breasts as he trails down to the exposed part of my chest, my hands instinctively grabbing at the sides of his face holding him firmly as he starts to move his lips down my sternum.

The red dress I was wearing is suddenly gone, his mouth dropping open immediately closing over my right breast. I gasp as he takes my tight pink nipple into his warm mouth, sucking it hard enough to make my knees weak. My chest heaves up and down as his growls vibrate through my sensitive skin. My sigh of pure pleasure made him moan into my tender flesh. Finding his rhythm, he released my aching breast and moved lower, reaching my lace panties. He wasted no time pulling them down my legs with eager hands.

“So wet,” his voice rumbled, “I’m gonna fucking wreck you.'' The possession and determination in his words has me whimpering, grabbing the pure white comforter in anticipation. Stepping off the bed, he grabs my ankles and pulls me to the very edge, throwing my knees over his broad shoulders as his handsome face drops between my trembling thighs. Using his thumbs, he gently spread my lips open before slowly licking up my slick, sensitive folds. My body lurched up in response to his expert touch, and he smiled in satisfaction against me as he languidly lapped at my aching heat.

I’m trembling uncontrollably as Noah's tongue flicked and swirled expertly between my thighs, sending intense waves of pleasure radiating through my core. I couldn't hold back the breathy, desperate moans escaping my parted lips, urging him to keep going, to push me over the edge. My fingers tangled almost painfully in his dark, silky hair, pulling him impossibly closer as I shamelessly grind my hips against his mouth. He grips my thighs firmly, spreading my legs wider, devouring me hungrily like a man starved.

"Noah," I moan wantonly, feeling that sweet, torturous release building within me. "Right there, please don't stop!" I was begging, I don’t ever beg, every inch of my skin burning with need. His low, primal growl sends delicious vibrations straight through my aching center, ramping up the mind-numbing pleasure. When his pace quickened, flicking relentlessly with his talented tongue, I lost all semblance of control, crying out his name in ecstasy as I came undone around him.

My thighs clamp around his head in a futile attempt to stall his tongue, but he is determined to push me over the edge once more. My entire body trembles uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through me. "Please..." I beg, barely able to form the words, "I need you inside me now."

Noah stands up slowly, his intense gaze never leaving mine. I see his chin glistening in the low fluorescent lights, his tongue darting out to lick around his lips; the whole sight made my thighs clench together hard. As he unbuckles his belt the  sliding sound of leather through the loops screaming off the walls as he lets his pants and boxers fall to the floor in one motion. His cock springs free, completely naked in front of me. I can see the rest of his body as toned and tattooed as the rest of his muscular form. I yearned to feel him fill me up completely. I move back on the bed, but quick as a fox he grabs my ankle and tugs me to the edge, lifting me effortlessly into his strong arms. In one smooth motion he spins us around and presses my back against the wall by the nightstand, desire burning in his eyes. He lifts my leg, placing my foot on the small chest and nudging the lamp aside.

"You'll need to stay balanced," he purred with a playful wink. Gripping himself firmly, he lines up with my entrance, sliding his swollen head over my sensitive nub before driving himself into me in one powerful stroke. I cry out as he fills me to the hilt, our bodies joining together.

His strong hands grip my thighs firmly as he holds me pinned against the wall, his hips driving into me relentlessly. My mind was lost in a haze of desire, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through me. Each powerful thrust filled me completely, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that made my back arch and toes curl. I clung to him, my arms wrapped tightly around his muscular shoulders, nails digging into his skin. My cries and whimpers echoed through the room, intermixed with his own grunts of pleasure. I could feel the pressure building with each plunge of his cock, the fire in my core burning hotter and hotter. 

"Yes, please," I begged breathlessly, urging him on, desperate for the release my body craved. His voice was rough in my ear as he responded, growling those words - "That's it little fox, make those sweet noises for me." 

Noah’s POV

My little fox is mine. All mine. The voice in my head that tells me this is a bad idea, that coach is gonna find out, that i’m gonna be benched for the whole fucking season-I locked him away when I kissed her at the bar. He can fuck off. 

Tonight. She’s mine. 

My thighs push and my ass clenches as I drive my cock deeper into her, she’s soaking the inside of her thighs and it’s covering me starting to drip down my legs, all of it dirty and filthy and I want more. 

She is crying out and panting in my ear, her hands are everywhere, she gives a good scream and stills, her walls clench around me and I smile. 

“That’s it, such a good girl.” I praise her as her forehead drops to rest on my shoulder. I take her in my arms, dropping her again on the bed, her hair fans out around her until I take her legs and flip her on her stomach. She already knows what I want, crawling up to her hands and knees for me. I kneel down on the bed spreading her legs open fitting perfectly between them, her back arching and ass pressing into me. It’s so beautiful. 

“Tell me, little fox, do you want me to wreck you?” I lean forward folding myself over her as I whisper into her ear. She whimpers in response. I don’t know if it’s to what I said or the fact that my fingers are currently playing with her clit. “Use your words, baby,” 

The tension between us is palpable as she flips her silky hair over her shoulder, glancing back at me with desire in her eyes. "Wreck me, I fucking know you can," she purrs, her voice dripping with lust. 

Unable to resist, I firmly slapped her round ass and positioned myself behind her, ready to fulfill her request. Just as I was about to plunge balls deep in her, a thought dawned on me that made my heart sink. "Fuck," I muttered, pulling away abruptly. Confused, she sat up on her knees, using the sheets to cover her perfect body like I was suddenly offended by her being naked.

 "What?" she asked, her flushed cheeks turning pink with embarrassment, as if my hesitation was a rejection of her. I sighed, cursing myself for not thinking ahead.

 "I don't have a condom," I admitted regretfully. Her face softened into an understanding smile as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

 "Do you have a disease or something?" she giggled playfully. I bristled slightly at the insinuation. 

"No, I just don't want any surprises down the road," I explained. Though I'd been with a few puck bunnies, I always played it safe and got tested regularly. But I wasn't ready for the responsibility of fatherhood yet. 

"Well lucky for you, I'm not looking to get knocked up either," she teased, pointing to her birth control implant resting in her arm. Relief washed over me, knowing we were on the same page. I smiled and pulled her in for a passionate kiss, ready to pick up where we left off.

I press her body firmly into the mattress, folding her in half so she is presented to me like my favorite Christmas present. I press my knees between her ankles spreading her open as I drive myself into her again, feeling the familiar and deep stretch of her pussy around me. My hands grab her hips for stability as I thrust but it’s not enough, I’m not getting deep enough. I want more. 

“oh, fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck let me see that pretty face, let me see you while you take that dick.” I leaned over her body taking her face by the cheeks turning her head so she was glancing at me from over her shoulder. “Fuck yeah, look at you. So, pretty.” I watched her pretty eyes roll back in her head as I repositioned on my knees to continue pounding into her.

I wrap her hair in my hands like a ponytail, watching her back dip as I pull her head toward me. Her body lifts off the bed, my other arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her against my chest. With my hand still entwined in her hair, I tilt her neck, my lips and teeth leaving soft purple marks over her skin.

The grip I had on her hair loosens, my fingers are stiff from holding onto her strands so tight. I let the digits relax before sliding my hands around the front of her body, cupping her breast as I circle my thumbs over her pert nipples that instantly harden to my touch. Her body is begging for me. To be broken by me. Rolling her puckered buds between my thumb and forefinger, I give them a good pinch. She shrieks and rocks back onto me in time with each thrust. 

“Noah,” her whines and the way my name comes out in that soft way makes everything in me twitch with need. I snake my hand up between her breasts and rest my fingers around her throat, testing the waters. She leans into my touch as I squeeze slightly, not to cut off the airway. My free hand slides between her thighs to their intended target. She fucks herself against me as my fingers continue their assault on her sensitive clit. 

“I’m almost there, baby. I got you.” Her body seizes and rolls back against my chest as I grip her tight, folding her in half so she falls forward on her palms. I fuck her through the aftershock, my thrusts becoming sporadic as I pump her full of my cum until its dripping down her thick thighs.

Sarah's POV

It hasn't even been a week, but with the chaos of three more away games and now a home game tonight, my head has hardly been able to process everything. Correction - I have processed it all with Melissa and she has been encouraging me every step of the way. Noah hasn't even looked at me once since that night. It's probably for the best that way, what with my dad being around at the games and practices. I know dad would freak out if he had any clue about what happened between me and Noah. He's always been overprotective. Still, it hurts not having Noah even acknowledge my existence. Now there's just cold indifference - like I'm no one to him anymore. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he wants to pretend it never happened. Most guys would probably react the same way. But that doesn't make it sting any less. Every time I glance hopefully in Noah's direction and am met with averted eyes, it's like a knife twisting in my heart.

The boys are on the ice warming up and I'm against the glass watching each players' moves with precision eyes. The last game Dominick subbed and took a hard hit to the legs, he was limping off the ice, but it was better in a few days later. As he skates around pushing his blades hard on the ice to come to a stop I watch to make sure he isn't favoring that knee. I notice his stride is strong and even, no hitch or stutter as he circles around the net. His crossover is smooth, knee bending deeply, weight shifting perfectly from leg to leg. A good sign his knee has healed. While my eyes watch Dominick's recovering form, Noah crosses into my vision and I'm distracted. Noah is a force on the ice, aggressive and fast, but sometimes too reckless. As he winds up and fires off a blistering slapshot I wince, hoping he doesn't injure himself or a teammate. The puck rockets into the top corner of the net, the loud ping echoing through the rink. Noah circles back, pumping his fist, eyes blazing with that fierce intensity he brings to every game. I know I should keep evaluating Dominick's knee, but I can't draw my eyes away from Noah's powerful strides and coiled energy.

Noah glides effortlessly across the ice, his helmet removed to reveal his soft brown locks flowing in the cool arena air. With an energetic grin spread wide across his flushed cheeks, he playfully bumps into his teammate Ruffilo, showing his lighthearted spirit. Noah's inner child emerges as he begins spinning and twirling across the slick surface, his lithe body sweeping into tight circles like a spinning top. His joyful energy is infectious, yet cuts deeply into my heart, worsening the gnawing ache I've felt since we parted ways. I force myself to shake off the pain as I refocus my gaze on the goal net, where Sanders is loudly screwing around.

Sanchez, Pierce, and Karlsson relentlessly hammer Sanders's knees with their hockey sticks, playfully shrieking as they jab at him in an attempt to poke their pucks past his sprawled legs and into the net behind him. Sanders laughs as he withstands the assault on his knees, trying his best to block the pucks despite the barrage of sticks poking into his joints. Eventually, the three give up their attack, grabbing their pucks as they circle around, chuckling at their failed goal attempts. Sanders, relieved, rises back to his feet and glides around the perimeter of the net, catching his breath. He sees Karlsson making another approach, stickhandling a puck as he winds up for a slapshot.

"Here comes six-two, I think he will get it through," Sanders chants mockingly, Karlsson leans into the shot, striking the puck with all his might and sending it careening towards the top corner of the net. But Sanders is ready,snagging the puck from mid-air with a dramatic flourish of his glove. "Oh, look what I got," he crows, waving the trapped puck teasingly at the frustrated Karlsson. 

Karlsson shakes his head in frustration as he flies around the net, stickhandling the puck but unable to find an opening to shoot through the impenetrable wall of Sanders' pads and blocker. Sanders nonchalantly tosses the practice puck out of his glove as he resets his focus on his teammates lined up for shooting drills. Pierce comes swooping in, faking left then cutting right as he winds up for a blistering slapshot. Sanders effortlessly crouches, trapping the puck between his pads with a satisfying smack.

"Fuck you, Sandy," Pierce teases as he playfully taps Sanders on his goalie mask with the blade of his stick.

"Your dick's gotta be bigger than your stick for me to ride it," Sanders retorts with a chuckle. Pierce rolls his eyes and turns away from the net, a wry smile crossing his face. "But I'm always willing to pitch instead! Love ya, Eric!" Their friendly trash talk echoes over the ice as the team continues honing their skills during practice. 

The buzzer sounds concluding warm ups and I make my way back to my spot by the team bench. The game soon starts as the Gladiators take their positions. It’s several uneventful periods, a few penalties, a couple points on both sides. But I watch closely, the gladiators tend to be ruthless when the chips are down, now that we are coming close to time I’m seeing them start to push and hit with more force. As the game clock winds down, the intensity on the ice ramps up. The Gladiators, known for their aggressive and hard-hitting style of play, seem to hit another gear. They forecheck ferociously, finish every check, and battle furiously for every loose puck. Their hits echo through the arena as bodies crash against the boards. The referee's whistle pierces the air frequently now as tempers flare and penalties mount. The Gladiators' frustration boils over as they try desperately to tie the game up before time expires. Sticks slam, gloves get dropped, and punches are thrown as scrums break out after nearly every whistle. The fans are on their feet, living and dying with every big hit and scoring chance. My heart pounds with excitement but also concern as I watch my teammates get rocked again and again.