⧠hockeyplayer!matt, badboy!matt, friends to lovers, possessive, making out, dom!matt, mutual pining
⧠summary: after seeing you with another guy, matt drags you home to prove exactly who you belong to.
⧠authors note: im not very good at the bad boy stuff so hopefully this is okay đ also i have so many hockey fics now omg help based off this request!
the locker room door swung open with a metallic clang.
matt walked through, alone, his movements stiff with frustration. he'd been out on the ice for over an hour after the rest of the team had already left, drilling shots into the net with a violence that made the pucks shudder against the backboard.
he was stripped down to his compression shorts, his gear left inside. the dim hallway lights caught on an angry, purple bruise blooming across his ribs and the fresh, split knuckles of his right hand. but it was the cut above his eyebrow, still beading with blood, that made your stomach tighten.
"you're still here?" he grunted, not looking at you as he yanked his gym bag from his locker.
"studying," you lied, snapping your book shut.
he finally glanced your way, a small smile on his lips. "right."
he slammed the locker door shut, the sound echoing in the empty corridor. he didn't head for the exit, but for the vending machine at the far end. you watched as he punched the buttons, then slammed his palm against the glass when the machine failed to cooperate. a soda can clattered down. he snatched it, cracking it open with his good hand.
"what happened to your face?" you asked, your voice quiet.
he took a long sip of the drink, his throat working. "fell."
you didn't believe him for a second. matt didn't fall. "you fell and cut your eyebrow and busted your knuckles?"
his head snapped toward you, rolling his eyes. "you gonna keep questioning me?â
"cmon, we gotta leave.â he started walking past you toward the exit, leaving you standing there.
you fell into step behind him, the silence thick and uncomfortable. the cold night air hit you as he pushed the main doors open. he was already at his truck, fumbling with the keys when you caught up.
he turned around, eyes full of tiredness but still reserving some warmth in it for you. "you gonna give me a lecture?"
"i was just worried," you said, the words barely audible.
he let out a small sigh. "don't be." the raw hurt in his eyes was startling. "i can handle myself."
he pulled the truck door open and got in. for a second, you thought he'd just wait there. then the passenger door clicked open from the inside. you climbed in, the air thick with unspoken tension.
he reversed out of the parking spot, knuckles white on the steering wheel.Â
the drive was silent, the engine's roar the only sound between you. when he pulled up to your dorm, he put the truck in park but kept the engine running.
"iâm sorry," he said, staring out the windshield.Â
"no, it's not," he disagreed, finally turning to look at you. in the dim dashboard light, his expression was complicated. it was a mix of sadness and something else, something that looked like shame. âi just... donât like you seeing me like that."
he reached across the console, his thumb brushing your jawline, a surprisingly gentle touch. "you coming to the game friday?"
you nodded, unable to speak.
"good." a small of a smile touched his lips. "iâll see you there."
that weekend you went to the bar with the team after their most recent game, and you found yourself in a conversation with owen.Â
owen from your study group, who'd shown up coincidentally, who you'd hugged when you saw him, who you'd laughed with, touched his arm, leaned in close to hear over the music.
and when you'd looked up, matt was across the room, staring at you with dark eyes, jaw clenched, knuckles white around his beer bottle, looking like he wanted to break something.
specifically, looking like he wanted to break owenâs jaw.
you'd tried to ignore it, to keep talking, but the weight of his gaze was suffocating.
he'd barely spoken to you the rest of the night. just watched. waited. eyes following you everywhere.
now you're back at his apartment. he'd insisted on driving you home, even though you'd only had two drinks. the drive was mostly silent, but when he did speak his voice came out rough and clipped, not meeting your eyes.
the door barely closes before he speaks.
"who was that?" he asks, voice low, dangerous, and you freeze, confused, your coat halfway off.
"owen?" you say, turning to face him. "matt, you know owen. i've told you about him. he's just a friend."
matt laughs, and there's something mocking in his tone, something sharp and possessive that makes your stomach flip. "just a friend who makes you laugh like that. who you touch. who you look at like that.â
"you and i arenât together," you say, and it comes out sharper than you mean it, confused and hurt. "you don't get to be jealous, matt. you don't get toâ"
"i know," he snarls, and then he's crossing the room, crowding you against the wall, hands braced on either side of your head, breathing hard. "i know i don't get to be. i know i have no right. but i am. i'm fucking jealous. i'm insanely jealous. watching you with him, laughing at him, touching him,"
he turns away off, jaw clenching, eyes dark, and you stare up at him, heart hammering.
"why?" you whisper, and your voice shakes. "why do you care?"
"because i want you," he says, and it's desperate, his voice coming out of him like it hurts. "because i've wanted you for two fucking years. because every time i see you with someone else i want to put my fist through a wall. because you're mine, even if you don't know it yet. even if i've been too fucking scared to tell you."
your breath catches. "matt,"
"you don't have toâ" he starts, pulling back, shame flickering across his face. "fuck. i should go. i'm sorry. i shouldn't haveâ"
"no," you say, and your hand finds his chest, stopping him. "no, don'tâŚdon't apologize. don't go."
he freezes, staring down at you, chest heaving, and you see the moment he breaks.
"christ," he groans, and then his mouth is on yours, hard and demanding, his hands dropping to your waist, gripping tight, lifting you easily against the wall.
you wrap your legs around him, whimpering into his mouth, and he groans, grinding against you, thick and hard even through his jeans.
"you're mine," he breathes against your lips, ragged, desperate. "i'm done pretending. done watching. done letting other people touch you like that."
"matt," you gasp, and he carries you to his bedroom, tossing you onto the mattress, standing over you with dark, hungry eyes.
"take your clothes off," he commands, and you obey, shaking, peeling off your shirt, your jeans, until you're in just your underwear, exposed, vulnerable.
he stares at you for a long moment, jaw working, and then he's on you, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding down your body, rough, claiming.
"god," he murmurs against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse. "two years of wanting you. of dreaming about this. making you mine."
"please," you whimper, arching into his touch, and he laughs, low and dark, sliding his hand into your panties, finding you soaked.
"fuck," he groans. "you're dripping. is this for me? only i can make you wet like this huh, sweetheart?"
you gasp, desperate, grinding against his hand. "only you. always you. wanted you for so long."
"that's what i thought," he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. he pulls his hand away from you, making you whine at the loss, and you're about to protest when he suddenly shifts, lifting you effortlessly from the wall.
"whatâ" you start, but he cuts you off with a bruising kiss as he carries you. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he walks, his hands gripping your ass, holding you tight.
he drops you onto the couch in his living room, and you bounce slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. the streetlights outside bounce off the sharp angles of his face, giving you a rough idea on his expression in the mostly dark room.
"been thinking about this for so long," he says, his voice husky as he kneels in front of the couch. "thinking about how you'd taste. how you'd sound when i make you come."
his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wide, and you shudder, feeling exposed but also so turned on. his eyes darken as he looks at you, at the wet spot that's growing by the second.
"so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss against your inner thigh, then another, higher up. you shiver, your hands tangling in his hair as he moves closer.
"please," you whimper, arching your hips. "matt, please."
he lets out a chuckle that vibrates against your skin. "patience, sweetheart. i'm going to take my time with you. make you forget all about that fucker owen."
finally, his mouth is on you, through the thin fabric of your panties at first, teasing, tasting. you gasp, your hips bucking against his face, and he groans, his hands gripping you tighter, holding you in place.
"so eager," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to hook his fingers into your waistband. he slides them down your legs slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, and then he's back between your thighs, his breath hot against your bare skin.
"fuck," he groans, his eyes closing for a moment as he just looks at you. "perfect. you're fucking perfect."
and then his mouth is on you, and you cry out, your back arching off the couch as his tongue finds your clit. he's relentless, eating you out like he's starving for you, like he's been waiting for this moment for years.
"matt," you gasp, your hands tightening in his hair. "oh god, matt."
he hums against you, the vibration furthering your pleasure, and you can feel yourself getting closer, your legs starting to shake.
"that's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to speak. "come for me. i want it. give it to me."
his words are enough to push you over the edge, and you cry out as your orgasm hits. he laps up everything you give him, his tongue working you through until you're gone, panting against the couch cushions.
"so fucking sweet," he groans, kissing his way back up your body until he's hovering over you. "could do that all night."
you look up at him, your eyes hazy with pleasure, and you can see the raw hunger in his gaze. he's still fully clothed, his cock straining against his jeans, and you reach down to palm him through the fabric.
"matt," you whisper. "i want you. please."
he groans, his eyes closing for a moment as he thrusts against your hand. "fuck, don't say that unless you mean it."
"i mean it," you say, your voice firm. "i want you. all of you."
that's all he needs. he's fumbling with his jeans, shoving them down along with his boxers, and then he's back over you, his cock thick and hard against your thigh.
"are you sure?" he asks, his voice softer now, a flicker of concern showing through the haze of jealousy and lust.
"please" you say, reaching up to cup his face.Â
he smiles, and then he's kissing you, deep and slow, as he positions himself at your entrance.
"ready?" he murmurs against your lips.
you nod and then he's pushing into you, slow and steady, stretching you, filling you completely.
you both groan as he bottoms out, and he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against yours.
"fuck," he breathes. "you feel so good. so fucking tight."
you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he takes that as his cue to start moving, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm.
"mine," he growls, his pace quickening. "you're mine, you hear me? no one else gets to have you like this. no one else gets to see you like this."
you gasp, your nails digging into his back.
he groans, his hips snapping faster, harder, driving into you with a desperate urgency. the couch is creaking beneath you, the sound blending in with your moans, with the slap of skin against skin.
"look at me," he commands, and you force your eyes open, meeting his dark, intense gaze. "want to see you when you come. want to watch you fall apart for me."
your walls clench around him, and he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release.
"who do you belong to?" he asks, snapping his hips harder, faster, his jealousy fueling him. "say it."
"you," you gasp, tears streaming down your face. "you, matt, only you."
"that's right," he groans, reaching around to find your clit, circling rough and perfect. "only me. gonna fill you up. make sure everyone knows."
"please," you beg. "please, matt,"
"fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, and then he's burying his face in your neck as he comes, hot and thick inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.
you lie there for a long moment, panting, tangled together on his couch.Â
"matt," you whisper, your voice shaky.
"shh," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your spine, your shoulder, your jaw.
"mine," he mumbles, soft now, satisfied. "my girl."
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