#fg32

The game wasn’t even close to over. There was still so much time. Well, too much time. You were stuck in the locker room, hiding from the other WAGs as your body felt as if it was burning up. You weren’t entirely sure how you were the only one affected. You were simply talking to Brock’s girlfriend when suddenly you felt your thighs soak beneath your skirt. That’s when you excused yourself, rushing away to avoid any embarrassment from the other women.

You had stripped of your tights, finding the sticky fabric annoying as you could only whimper in desperation. You were sitting with your legs spread wide, leaning back into the stall of your boyfriend in the locker room. You had three fingers pushed knuckle deep, trying to reach for that itch. However, with each pitiful thrust of your fingers, you felt yourself teetering on desperation. It wasn’t enough, it wouldn’t be enough without Filip.

Just as you thought his name, the sound of footsteps caught your attention. You rushed to pull your fingers out, covering your modesty by pushing your skirt back down. Despite your efforts, your cheeks were still flushed, your thighs still wet with your slick. Not only that, you were certain your pupils were blown wide.

Filip walked into the locker room. No, not walked, he was on a clear mission, rushing in. He was still in full gear, skin wet with sweat, as he finally laid his eyes on you. As your eyes met, a weak whimper escaped you, causing the Swedish goaltender to pull off his helmet as he approached you quickly.

Once your boyfriend was within reach, your arms wrapped around his neck as best as you could. “Filip,” you moaned, focused solely on the man whom you longed for. Your body burned, and somehow you knew the only thing that could help you was Filip, even if he was in his gear. Despite your need, you couldn’t help but glance at one of the television screens playing the game behind the man. “You have to finish, babe. The game, it’s not…” The words died on your tongue as you felt rough hands on your thighs. When had he taken off his gloves? A soft rumbling had any fight left in you dying as Filip pulled your thighs apart. “I just knew you needed me,” he stated, lips ghosting over your jaw. “Älskling, you’re so warm.”

Your hands fisted in his jersey as his hands dragged up and down your thighs. He was trying to calm you down. He had done this many times before. However, his touch did nothing but ignite your need for more. A fresh wave of slick dripped from your core. “Filip, I can’t, I need you, please.”

Who was Filip to say no when you were so desperate? Not only that, he had to work quickly. He had to get back to the game. Once he took care of you, he’d go right back to his crease and give little Wally a break. While he wanted nothing more than to fuck you properly, bend you over a bench just to hear you cry out for him, he didn’t have the time to take off his gear. He was stuck in it, especially if he wanted to come back to the ice. As he thought about it, an idea popped into his head.

Falling into a butterfly position before you, Filip guided your legs over his padded shoulders. Your fingers instantly found his hair, tangling into the short strands. Although this isn’t what either one of you wanted in this moment, it was all that you needed. Filip intended to take you home after the Wild won this game. He would take his time making you fall apart. Now, though, he would rush your climax, just this once.

Looking down at your boyfriend stretched before you, your legs forced apart by the padding of his goalie gear. One of his hands pushed your skirt back up, revealing your soaked core. You whimpered softly, tugging at Filip’s hair. “Babe, I need you,” you tried, hoping to encourage him just to give you something, anything. With one glance up from your boyfriend, that was all the warning you got before he was diving in.

You gasped as you felt Filip drag his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, flicking at the bundle of nerves hard. Your body jerked at that, tugging harder at his hair as you moaned out for him. Any word you could even think of was incoherent as your boyfriend repeated the action. You were so sensitive. After your pitiful attempt at trying to relieve yourself, finally having the real thing made everything that much more intense.

Your back hit the back of the stall as Filip’s hands pushed your thighs up. With the new angle, he pressed closer. Forgoing the long strokes of his tongue, he pressed his tongue inside you, groaning against you as his nose bumped against your clit. Your head fell back against the stall wall, moaning loudly as Filip feasted like a man starved. Moving your hand down, you grabbed at his jersey, clawing at the fabric. You felt like your whole body was on fire, melting to Filip’s tongue, to his every whim.

Nails dug into your thighs as they started to shake around your boyfriend’s head. He could feel the way you fluttered on his tongue, could feel how close you were. He just had to push you over that edge. Dragging his tongue from inside you, he dragged it over your clit. Then, with practice precision, he started to draw letters with his tongue, watching your back arch as he finished the first. You already knew what he was writing, the undeniable feeling of Älskling practically being burned against your clit. Your hips bucked as his tongue flicked over the i, crying out. “Filip, please, please, please,” you pleaded, mind blank aside from him. The game was long forgotten, only needing Filip and his tongue and his hands, everything. Feeling his tongue drag over the end of the g, your body reacted, legs clamping around his head as you cried out. You couldn’t hold back, coming hard as your body shuddered, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy.

Panting, you tugged gently at Filip’s jersey, stopping the slow drag of his tongue to help you come down. He looked up at you, his lips wet with your orgasm. There was no hotter sight than this, seeing him on his knees with you all over him. You could stay here for days if he would let you.

Just as you were brushing your hands over his cheeks, though, Filip was standing. You whined, reaching for him pitifully. Your boyfriend did not listen, though, only leaning down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Älskling,” he hummed softly, a hint of warning in his tone. “Got a game to win, then I’ll treat you how you deserve.” It was a promise, you knew that. Despite not wanting him to leave, you had to. The game at this moment had to come first. You would be rewarded for your patience, especially if the Gus Bus helped them win the game.

Relenting, you nodded, pulling your skirt back down. You were not putting your tights back on, left with the feeling of your spend all over your skin. Just a reminder of what your boyfriend could do with such ease. You did, however, watch as Filip pulled his helmet back on. He didn’t bother to wipe off his face. He continued to lick his lips, working his gloves back on as well. “I’ll see you after the game, Älskling,” he promised before heading back. He had to go, even if neither one of you wanted him to. He had a job to do.

You watched him leave until Filip was out of sight. Once he was, your attention turned to the television, watching his return to the crease. You couldn’t help but settle further into his stall, admiring him from his spot. That was your man, saving the day in the blue paint. You would be his prize and you couldn’t wait until the clock ran out.

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