#mc17

Sidney walks like he always does, calm, focused, like none of this is new. The cameras, the staff, the way people subtly shift when he passes, it’s all just background noise.

“Stay close,” he throws over his shoulder, barely looking.

You almost smile because some things never change.

“I’m here,” you reply, a little quieter than you mean to.

You’ve done this before, walked the hallways next to him but not really with him, watched him become someone else the second he steps toward the ice or toward a teammate.

He doesn’t hover around you as much as he used to either. But there’s still something in the way he gives you one last look before he turns away, like a final check, like he’s making sure you’re good before he lets himself put on his Captain persona.

Down the hallway everything is moving fast. There’s players, staff, equipment, guys hauling bags that look heavier than they should be. Voices overlapping in different accents and languages, all carrying the same edge of competition.

You try not to stare, try not to feel like you don’t quite belong here, even though you technically do. You’ve always belonged to his world. You’ve been by his side for everything.

“Locker room’s this way,” he says, gesturing for you to follow. “You can hang back if you want. It’ll be busy.”

“I’ll stay out of the way,” you say.

“Stay where you’re comfortable.” He corrects. “You know the setup.” Then he disappears into the chaos, leaving you standing by yourself.

You decide to take a little walk, not straying too far, but just wanting to get the lay of things. As you turn a corner, adjusting the strap of your purse and not really paying attention, someone runs straight into you, hard enough to knock you back a step.

“Shit—sorry—”

A hockey bag swings slightly between you and the guy who just walked into you, the bag strap still slung over his shoulder. You steady yourself, looking up, and immediately recognize him.

He’s Macklin Celebrini, and he looks just as surprised. Like he expected to run into a wall or something, not you.

“Sorry,” he repeats, shifting the weight of the bag off his shoulder a bit. “I didn’t see you.”

“You’re good,” you say, brushing it off, though your heart’s beating a little faster now.

He nods quickly, but he doesn’t leave. There’s this half-second where he actually looks at you and something in his expression changes. Recognition, maybe, or confusion.

“You’re—” he starts, then stops himself, like he’s not sure if he should say it.

You don’t help him, just raise one eyebrow slightly.

He lets out a small breath, almost laughing at himself. “Sorry. I just—” His grip tightens a little on the strap of his bag. Then, more carefully, “You’re with… him, Crosby, right?”

It’s subtle. The way he carefully says your dad’s name, like it carries weight.

You glance past him for a second, your dad’s reemerged from the locker room and is now a few steps ahead, talking to someone, not paying attention to you. You look back at Macklin.

“Yeah,” you say simply. That’s all you give him.

But he still nods, like that confirms everything he needed to know.

“Right. Yeah. Okay.”

He shifts his weight, like he should keep moving, like he knows he should. But he doesn’t, he lingers just for a second longer.

“Sorry again,” he says, softer this time.

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

And it is, but something about the moment sticks anyway. The way he looked at you, it wasn’t the way everyone else does when they realize who you are. Not impressed. Not awkward. He was curious. Like you don’t match whatever he expected. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Everything okay?”

Your dad’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

You turn, catching up to him in a couple quick steps. “Yeah. Just ran into someone.”

He glances back briefly, instinct more than anything. Macklin is already gone, just another player disappearing down the hallway.

“Alright,” your dad says, easy. “Stay with me.”

You nod. And that’s all he says, he doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t notice anything. And he definitely doesn’t see the way you glance back once more before turning the corner.

Or the way, somewhere down the hallway, Macklin does the exact same thing.

⊱ —————- °.•　⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅　•.° —————— ⊰

The restaurant is packed full of the entire Team Canada hockey team, coaches, staff. Everyone is laughing and talking over each other. The smell of garlic bread and fresh pasta, the soft candlelight reflecting off polished tables, the clinking of glasses…it’s all a little too much. Too loud.

You take a deep breath and shift in your chair. “Excuse me,” you say to your dad, setting your silverware down. “I think I’m gonna run to the bathroom quick.”

He glances at you and nods. “Alright, don’t be long.”

You give him a small practiced smile and slip out of the restaurant. The cool night air hits your face as soon as you step outside, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t head toward the bathroom at all, you just need a minute, a quiet spot to breathe.

The balcony you step out onto is empty, the city lights stretched out below looking like a bunch of tiny stars. You lean against the railing, letting the soft night air chase away the tightness in your chest.

And then the door opens behind you.

“Oh. Hey.”

You turn to see Macklin leaning against the doorway a few feet away, team Canada gear still on.

“Well, this doesn’t look like the bathroom,” he says, a small grin tugging at his lips.

You raise an eyebrow. “Were you following me?” you ask, joking, though your voice carries traces of mock accusation.

“No!” he says quickly, holding up his hands. “I just… saw you leave. Well, I was worried, I guess. You looked…uh, I don’t know, like you needed a minute.”

You study him for a second, and a quiet laugh escapes you. “Huh. Concerned hockey player, isn’t that a little out of the norm?”

He chuckles, shrugging like he’s embarrassed and confident at the same time. “Maybe. You just looked like you might vanish into the night.”

You roll your eyes, smiling, then glance back at the city, trying to focus on the lights instead of the way Macklin’s presence somehow is making the night feel warmer.

He's walks closer, leaning against the railing too now, and then he adds after a pause, “I mean…I get it, honestly. I thought I could handle it, but, holy shit. That table was loud.”

“Understatement of the year,” you mutter, letting your shoulders relax a little more.

He glances at you, like he wants to say something more, then shakes his head. “So… how do you do it? All these years, Olympics after Olympics, big dinners, all eyes on your dad…” He gestures vaguely back toward the restaurant. “You just…survive?”

You tilt your head, considering. “I don’t know. You kind of just… learn to blend in. Pick a spot, look like you belong even when you don’t feel like it.”

He nods slowly. “Sounds like a skill.”

“It’s a survival skill, I had lots of practice,” you say with a half-smile.

There’s a pause, and then he smirks, glancing down at the railing between you. “Well…you make it look easy.”

You glance at him, caught off guard. “Is that a compliment or a warning?” you ask, teasing lightly.

“Depends,” he says, shrugging. “Do you take compliments?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Sometimes.”

He grins, and for a second, it’s just the two of you. No team, no cameras, no legacy looming over either of you. Just Mack, leaning against the railing, and you, right next to him, sharing a quiet moment in the middle of a chaotic night. And for some reason, the culmination of all of it makes you decide to open up.

“You know, people see my last name and think they know me. But no one really does. This,” you gesture vaguely to the balcony and the night beyond it, “this is the only part that feels like it’s mine. It’s peaceful.”

He nods, understanding without needing more explanation. “Yeah… I totally get that. People expect so much from you out there. On the ice, or in the spotlight reflecting off your dad, and sometimes you just want a break. Somewhere you don’t have to be anyone’s version of you besides your own.”

You glance at him, caught off guard at how thoughtful he sounds. “You make it sound easy to take a break,” you say lightly, though you know it isn’t.

He shrugs, grin playful but eyes serious. “Easy? No. But…easier when you find someone who doesn’t expect all of that from you. And apparently,” he glances at you, “you’re good at being… just you.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, you’re stacking compliments tonight.”

“Maybe I am,” he says quietly, “but it’s true and you know it.”

The quiet hum of the city lingers around you both, a comfortable pause stretching just long enough that you almost forget the chaos waiting inside. You start shifting on your feet slightly, the cool breeze finally getting to you.

“I should probably head back inside,” you say lightly, tucking a piece of hair from your face back behind your ear. “But…I think maybe I’ll run to the bathroom first. That way you can go back in ahead of me. Don’t want my dad thinking we’re sneaking out together or anything.”

He smirks knowingly. “Ah… strategic. I get it.”

“Exactly,” you reply with a teasing grin. “You understand without me having to spell it out.”

He laughs softly. “Yeah… don’t worry. I won’t blow your cover. Don’t fall in.”

“I’ll try not to,” you reply, rolling your eyes playfully, though the smile on your face betrays how good it feels to have him understand without needing a full explanation.

He gives a short nod, leaning back against the railing. “Go for it. I’ll head in first. Don’t take too long, I like your company.”

You grin, giving him a little wave before slipping back toward the restaurant entrance. He smirks, eyes following you for a brief second before he turns and heads back inside, leaving you a few steps behind. You duck into the bathroom quickly, taking a deep breath.

When you slip back inside the restaurant, the warm air pleasantly hits you again. Laughter and conversation swirl around you, and for a moment, it feels like you’re rejoining a completely separate world. Your dad is still talking to one of the coaches, completely caught up in conversation, so you slide back into your seat at the end of the table. You tuck your hands in your lap, fidgeting lightly, trying to fade into the background, just another body among the team.

And then you see him. Macklin. Across the table again, in his seat. He catches your gaze and gives you a small nod, the tiniest acknowledgment of the conversation the two of you just had. For a moment, just long enough for the world to blur a little, it’s just the two of you. A quiet, private moment, even in a crowded room.

He looks away quickly, back to the conversation with the guy next to him, but the corner of his mouth quirks up in that same easy, teasing way he does. No one else notices.

Dinner finally winds down and plates are cleared, glasses clinking one last time, and the room slowly shifts from loud and chaotic to the exhausted, post-meal high of a team who’s ready to call it a night.

Your dad stands, clapping a hand lightly on the back of one of the coaches next to him. “Alright, everyone. Big day tomorrow. Let’s get some rest.”

You follow the motion toward the exit, your dad telling you something about having a conversation with a coach, so you hang back, letting the crowd thin. Your stomach is still fluttering from the food, the noise, and the tiny stolen moments with Macklin.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Mack lingering near the doorway, he catches your gaze, a small grin spreading onto his face.

“Heading out?” he asks quietly as you fall into step beside him.

You shrug, glancing down at your shoes. “Yeah…trying not to get swallowed by the crowd.”

He smiles. “Fair enough. I’ll make sure you survive the hallway stampede.”

There’s a pause as the two of you walk in the quieter part of the corridor, shoulders almost brushing but not quite. It’s subtle, just enough to feel like a shared secret.

“Hey,” you say, a little quieter than you mean for it to come out, “thanks for… you know… stepping out with me earlier. The balcony.”

Mack laughs quietly, shaking his head. “No problem. Good to have a little calm before the storm.”

“Yeah. I liked it.”

He smiles softly, the electricity from earlier still humming. “Me too.”

Your dad and the team are already a few steps ahead again, talking and laughing, oblivious. You let Macklin step into the elevator, waiting for your dad.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks quietly, leaning against the elevator wall.

You grin. “Yeah… see you tomorrow.”

And with that, the doors close, leaving you alone for a moment, just long enough to think that maybe, for the first time, you’re not just Crosby’s kid. You’re yourself. And Macklin sees that.

⊱ —————- °.•　⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅　•.° —————— ⊰

3:43pm. Milano Santagiulia Ice Hockey Arena. Canada vs Czechia.

The puck drops and the arena comes alive. You’re seated with your dad’s family, close enough to see everything clearly, far enough that cameras don’t linger on you for too long. You’ve done this before. You know where to look, how to sit, how to react without drawing too much attention. You’ve been to major games with your dad before. You know the rhythm of it.

But this feels different. Because this time it’s not just your dad out on the ice. Macklin is out there too. And he’s on the first line. With Connor McDavid and Tom Wilson. And he’s the youngest player on Team Canada. You feel the butterflies in your stomach before the puck even hits the ice.

A few minutes in there’s a penalty on Czechia. Power play, but nothing comes from it. Your dad wins a battle along the boards mid-period and sends a quick pass into transition. You clap instinctively. That kind of play doesn’t show up on highlight reels, but you know how much it matters. You’ve always known. Canada keeps playing, the clock ticking down, and you’re growing increasingly restless. The period is almost over when Connor gets an assist to Mack.

You don’t even process it at first. Then you see him, Macklin, turning away from the net. His hands are up. Connor McDavid is skating toward him, yelling something. Your chest actually tightens and you feel like you’ve stopped breathing.

He tipped it. His first Olympic goal. He is the youngest player on Team Canada and he just scored their first goal at the fucking Olympics. And he did it with five seconds left in the period.

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Screaming, loud, and you don’t even care. Your hands are in the air, heart racing, face lit up completely unfiltered.

And Mack sees it. Not your section, not just the crowd. You. In the middle of all the chaos, his eyes find yours. It’s quick, just a split second, but it’s undeniable. His grin shifts, just slightly wider. Just slightly softer.

Like he knows exactly who that reaction was for. Everyone else might think it was for the team, for Canada, but he knows.

Canada leads 1–0 going into intermission.

In the second period your dad picks up a secondary assist. Quick puck movement but Sidney reads it perfectly and threads it through the traffic. You stand again, proud this time in a different way. Applauding him with a steady, familiar pride that’s lived in your chest your entire life.

He doesn’t look up at the stands, you know he knows you’re there. He knows you’re cheering.

The game continues in Canada’s favor, 5–0. The win is sealed. The crowd starts to rise before the clock even runs out. And when the final horn sounds, you’re on your feet again.

And this time you don’t hold back. You clap hard, cheering for Team Canada, for your dad, for the shutout, and for Macklin.

As he passes by your section with the team he looks up again. This time you don’t even pretend to tone it down. You’re smiling, clapping, eyes bright, proud. Proud of your country and your dad…and him.

His gaze catches and lingers a fraction longer than it should. Then he taps his stick once on the ice before turning back toward center. No one around you notices. Your dad is shaking hands on the ice. The team is celebrating.

you missed him. You couldn't travel with him to Italy, so communicating with him was a thousand times harder, and you miss him. You see him on tv, on the news. You see how well he's doing, and you can only leave him messages because most of the time he's with the team or sleeping. You even try to talk to Will, or his family, to see if anyone knows anything more than you, but they're all in the same boat.

until the opportunity arises, the afternoon before the big game.

anyone would think the players would want to avoid any distractions, sticking to their rituals, their training, their rest. Wanting to be 100% for the most important day of their careers. And that's exactly what Macklin was trying to do.

or something like that.

because he couldn't help it, he needed to call you, even though it was too early for you. He needed to talk to you, to hear your voice to calm his anxiety, his excitement.

the phone rang once, twice, until you finally answered, your voice still a little sleepy. You sat up slowly in bed, trying to fully wake up.

“hello?” you asked. And he just closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of your voice a little too much, his heart pounding. He wanted to catch the first flight to see you, even if it was just an hour before he had to be back.

“how are you?” he managed to say, his voice sweet from the other side. And you recognized his voice immediately, so your eyes lit up; you couldn't help but smile as you gripped your sheets a little too tightly.

“Mack,” you said, your voice now softer and more awake. “I'm fine, it's so good to hear from you.” He smiled even more from the other side, though you couldn't see him. “How are you? i thought you'd be resting.”

“i'm fine, i just needed to hear your voice, even if it's just for a little while.” “Yeah?” “yeah, i was feeling anxious and needed some peace,” he confessed, making you feel a flutter in your stomach, while heat rose to your cheeks, making you feel a little shy.

“well, i’m glad i could help in some way,” you replied, your voice a little shaky. “I’ve missed you so much, Mack,” you confessed this time, sighing, leaning back against the headboard of your bed as you felt him stir on his side.

“me too. I need you here,” he said in a lower tone, almost a whisper. And something about his tone felt different, like a chill running through your body, making your legs clench together slightly. “You always know how to make me feel better, and i feel a little jealous seeing all the players out with their families, visiting the place.”

“well, i think i know where we’ll go this summer, i guess,” you joked, though your voice came out almost as a whisper, enjoying the short laugh that escaped his lips. “I need you here, all the time, though i also enjoy seeing you succeed. I celebrate every single one of your goals.” He laughed once more, imagining it.

“yeah? your neighbors must hate you now,” he said playfully, to which you smiled once more, feeling the warmth flood your body now that you were hearing him for the first time in days.

“they’re gonna hate me even more when you get back,” you said, slowly moving a hand under your pajama pants, still unsure if it was the right thing to do. “Oh? and why is that?” he asked, though something in his tone told you he already knew the answer.

“well, because we’ll have to celebrate when you bring the gold home,” you replied, slowly running your fingers over your pussy, covered by the fabric of your panties. “You left me here all alone, Mack,” you whimpered, a little sensitive when you touched your clit.

and on the other side, he sighs, touching with some force the bulge that’s starting to form in his pants since he heard the change in your voice. Because he knows you perfectly, and he knows what that change means.

“i wish i were there, celebrating every victory with you,” he confessed, massaging his cock through his clothes, imagining the scene of you on the other side, your hand between your legs, playing with your pussy while you waited for him.

“oh, i celebrate every victory, Mack,” you sighed, rubbing between your folds, then playing with your clit, enjoying the electricity that coursed through your body, making you arch your back, whimpering.

and that confession only fueled the flame, because now he can imagine it so clearly. Your fingers buried in your sweet pussy, reaching your sweet spot, but not going as far as he does, while you frown and have to compensate, rubbing your clit, playing with your nipples. Anything to achieve even the smallest amount of pleasure he can give you, while you replay the clip of his goal over and over, while he smiles and celebrates.

feeling proud because he's yours, while you wet the bed you share with him, waiting for him to return while you fill your sweet hole, imagining it is his cock, thrusting again and again inside you, making you feel so full, so satisfied.

even buying toys, trying to find something similar to him, without success, having to improvise.

oh, what Macklin would give to see you like this, needy, rubbing yourself as if you were in heat, celebrating his goals, the victories he gives his country, while you can only watch him, wanting him to be there with you.

and you hear him grunt and whimper from the other side, fueling your desires, making you pull down your clothes before you can think twice, leaving your dripping pussy in view, ready for when you start rubbing skin to skin.

“Mack,” you whimper, making him pull down his pants, freeing his cock, which springs, completely swollen, hard, its tip dripping and its length full of veins, as well as his arms, his hands...

god, you imagine his thighs trembling, like when you lick him, playing with his tip while he tries not to thrust hard into your throat, making his legs spasm, his arms swell a little from the effort, and his veins stand out in his hands when he gives up, grabbing your hair with one hand, forcing you to swallow everything, drowning you in his cock.

the memory makes you grip the sheets tighter, sliding two fingers inside your hole at the same time he starts masturbating, immediately with intensity, squeezing as if it were your tight cunt, receiving him, molding to his size.

and he imagines how tight you must be, despite the toys, despite playing with your cunt almost every day. He knows how tight you can get, and he imagines coming back, sliding in your walls, opening you so hard you feel like you'll break, with your cheeks wet and your hole swallowing him.

you both moan with the thoughts that come to mind, and soon Mack starts talking to you, filling you with sweet words, with guidance, while you insert another finger into your cunt, trying to simulate what he makes you feel.

and he makes you imagine scenarios, remember sensations, moments, and you can't help it, you get on your knees, taking your fingers out of your pussy to grab his pillow, putting it under your body so you can ride it, feeling the fabric brushing against your sensitive body as you roll your hips.

you can't help it, you need him there, and you tell him so, between moans and whimpers. You tell him how much you need him, with his cock inside your sweet pussy, filling you with his cum, making you feel so good.

you tell him how much you miss him, how proud you are, while you hear him moan, getting more and more sensitive as he masturbates, moving his hand so fast you can hear him.

until you both reach orgasm at the same time, sighing and whispering words of love to each other, feeling your bodies relax and your souls heal after all this time apart.

"mackkk," now she was just trying to wake him up for the fun of it. the brunette wasn't a heavy sleeper by any means, but when he was asleep, he was asleep. blaire reached her hand up to twist her fingers into his hair. it was soft from her shampoo and still had the faint oceany smell. 

"mack, baby," he finally started to come to. his eyelids fluttered, slowly blinking like blaire had done a few moments ago. he poked one eye open, glancing at her like he was trying to remember where he was. 

the dirty blonde grinned. "good morning." 

"good morning," he yawned. 

"sleep okay?" she asked. mack attempted to stretch a bit despite being in a twin bed and probably way too small to fit both of them. "i always sleep good with you," he flirted. 

"how's the head? any hangover?" 

the hockey player began remembering how he made it to her dorm in the first place. the events of last night flooded his memories, especially the ones when he was finally in the room. a tiny smirk crossed his lips. "nope. i told you i wasn't that drunk." 

"if i remember, you were...a lot tipsy," blaire giggled. 

mack squeezed her side, brushing his nose against hers and getting dangerously close to her lips. "oh, i remember. i wasn't drunk enough to forget things." 

"mhm," she glanced at his lips too. they were pink and looked so kissable. now that mack was sober, anything was fair game. 

"something you want?" he noticed her staring and wanted to kiss her so bad too, but he had to get her back with his own teasing after she denied him last night. "maybe." 

"maybe? i remember a maybe from last night..something about..revisiting something?" the boy raised his eyebrow. he loved the way blaire blushed at his words even though she was the one saying all of that. 

"i know what you're doing.." 

"what am i doing?" he acted clueless. 

"tempting me into kissing you and having sex with you because i didn't last night," blaire murmured, their faces merely inches apart now. mack licked his lips, his breathing becoming heavier. "is it working?" 

she answered by kissing him. 

the couple immediately melted into one another. mack brought his hand to the back of her neck, gently tugging her closer while hers roamed across his arm and chest. this time, blaire didn't stop him from taking his tongue into her mouth and pulling her bottom lip into his. her own moan tumbled out, her satisfaction being met after denying herself. 

blaire rolled herself onto her boyfriend. he accepted her into his space, his hands roaming again like they did before. he squeezed the flesh of her thighs before rounding back to her ass again and squeezing there too. she tugged at his shirt, wanting it off. they broke their kiss so the hockey player could throw his shirt onto the ground and blaire took her own off too. she had her lacy bralette on still that she forgot to take off before getting into bed. when mack laid his eyes on it, his mouth practically watered. 

"shit, you're so beautiful," he reconnected their lips. 

blaire shifted against his lap and she could feel him poking against her thigh. her stomach churned thinking about how much she wanted this and couldn't have it until now. she pressed her hips down harder, earning a moan from the hockey player. "fuck. i want you so bad." 

"i know, i know. you have me. i'm all yours," blaire assured, pressing little kisses all over his face. 

hearing her say that was like the icing on the cake. mack quickly flipped them over again, blaire's back pressing into the mattress while he hovered over her. his lips latched onto her chest, kissing along her collarbones and closer to her tits. he kissed firmly, but not hard enough to leave ant hickeys. blaire fisted some of his hair, biting her lip in fear of being too loud and disturbing her neighbors. 

"you have no idea what you do to me," mack muttered as he pushed her bra down to fully expose her breasts. her nipples already hardened and blaire shuddered when mack rubbed one between his fingers and pressed his lips against the other. 

"oh my god..fuck mack," she couldn't help her moan this time. the boy smirked hearing her sound like that because of him. "you like that, baby?" 

"it's so good. so good," she breathed. 

he switched his mouth to the other nipple. blaire's little moans fueled him on as he continued his descent lower. "you got no idea how much i wanted this last night. i meant it when i said i talked and thought about you all night." 

"oh, i know. i could tell," the girl grinned. 

"yet you didn't let me have you." 

"you were drunk, babe. i didn't wanna like..take advantage of you or something.." blaire whined when he kissed along her waistband—so close to where she needed him the most. 

"you definitely were not going to do that, but i appreciate the concern and the respect. really wish it wasn't my hand though when i had to jerk off in the shower," his words made her blush deeply. 

"i did hear you..by the way.." 

"oh, i know. i was not trying to be quiet," he smirked, finally pulling her shorts off. mack throbbed seeing her already soaked for him. he gently pressed one finger to her underwear, the wetness practically sticking to his skin. "fuck, you're so wet." 

"wonder who did that.." blaire hummed. 

the hockey player shook his head, sliding her thong off too. he carefully inserted one finger to start, eyes on the dirty blonde above him to gauge her reaction and make sure he wasn't going too fast. her eyelids fluttered, her breath hitching and the stretch. when mack knew it was okay, he slid a second finger in. she grasped at his bicep, "holy fuck. mack..your fingers.." 

"you okay, baby?" 

"i'm perfect. oh my god," she arched when he began moving them in and out at a steady pace. 

it was such a good thing her roommate was out of town. blaire couldn't help herself as she moaned out, momentarily forgetting about trying to be quiet. she's heard way worse on her floor from girls who had their boyfriends over all the time. 

mack was getting high off of her pleasure. he couldn't choose between watching her expression and the way her pussy sucked his fingers in. it was so dizzying. his cock was twitching in his boxers and leaking pre. 

when he decided his fingers were enough, he quickly attached his mouth. that nearly sent the figure skater over the edge. she gasped, her hands grabbing at his hair and pulling hard. it didn't hurt though, if anything it encouraged mack to keep going. 

"your mouth feels so fucking good. oh my god," blaire's eyes rolled. he wasn't even inside of her, yet she felt as if she was about to burst open. 

"that's it baby. you're doing so good f'me," he mumbled against her. 

he never wanted to pull away. his hands hooked around her thighs to keep her in place and gently grind her against his mouth. this was all mack wanted. if he could, he'd do this all day. his cock was pulsing against the bed and just the mere taste of blaire had him grinding his own hips to find relief. 

"fuck, oh my god. i'm close. i'm close. i'm gonna cum," blaire warned, the coil in her stomach getting close to snapping the harder mack sucked and licked. 

"come for me, baby. please," he pleaded. 

that was all the girl needed for herself to snap. she twitched, back arching and eyes rolling back as her orgasm took over. mack took it all though. he held her in place, trying to get all of it into his mouth. "holy fuck. oh my god.." blaire moaned, already overstimulated from the pleasure. 

mack helped her ride the rest of it out until she finally stilled. he did one last taste, making sure he got it all before crawling up to her. "did so good for me. you okay?" he caressed her cheek, gently massaging her thighs. the dirty blonde nodded, "mhm. i'm great." 

he leaned down to kiss her. she could taste herself on his lips and it was so hot. 

mack was still throbbing his his sweats. blaire could feel his length nudging against her thigh, desperate for relief. she gently nudged him which earned a groan from her boyfriend. "fuck.."

"looks like i have to return the favor," she grinned. 

he hid himself in the crook of her neck, gently kissing and sucking her skin. "you got me so hard. i love when you come for me." 

"do i?" 

"you have no idea." 

blaire reached down to palm him. his hips jerked instinctively at the feeling of her hand around him. "oh god, please. please, baby." 

"please what?" 

"please. please let me fuck you," the brunette practically begged. blaire's insides jumped hearing him so desperate for her. she tugged his head up by his hair and he met her eyes with the most needy expression she'd ever seen. 

"i told you. i'm right here." 

mack didn't waste another second. he shoved his sweats and boxers off in one go. blaire didn't look away this time as his cock slapped against his lower stomach, red and leaking just for her. her heart pounded against her chest and in her ears—god, he was so pretty. mack wrapped a hand around himself, pumping a few times but he was already super sensitive, so he pulled his hand away just as fast. 

blaire dug a condom out from her nightstand. mack watched in awe as she ripped it open and carefully pulled it down his length. she barely touched him and he already wanted more. 

she laid back on the bed again while the sharks forward hovered over her. he slid himself along her folds at first knowing he wanted to savor this because as soon as he was inside he was gonna bust. her slick coated his cock and mack was sure he was gonna pass out at the mere sight. 

"oh my god, i'm throbbing," he groaned. 

"i'm all yours, baby," blaire said. 

he slowly pushed in. both of their mouths dropped open, breathy moans escaping their lips at the stretch. they didn't even have sex that long ago, but blaire always had to get used to her boyfriend's size. he was thick and heavy–definitely due to the amount of bulking he'd been doing. mack was lost in the way her pussy pulled him in and squeezed around him with every inch she took. 

"oh fuck, blaire. holy fuck," he threw his head back. 

"you're so big, baby. fuck," blaire moaned. 

it took every ounce of mack's self-control to keep from just pushing himself all of the way in. he squeezed his eyes shut, his brain turning to mush. when he was all the way in, he grabbed the top of the headboard and leaned down to bring blaire's lips to his. they shared a passionate kiss. "fuck, you feel incredible." 

"you can move," the dirty blonde nodded. 

mack started slow despite everything in him wanting to go fast. the way he stretched her out had blaire arching into him. her chest pressed against his and he went dizzy at the feeling of her tits against his skin. 

his speed started picking up. his hips snapped back and forth at a fairly fast pace and blaire dragged her nails down his back. she was also lost in the feeling of him and how good the stretch felt. his cock was hitting that delicious spot inside of her which brought her close to the edge again. 

"fuck, i'm close. fuck, you're gonna make me cum," mack breathed out, his grip tightening on the headboard. his eyes were glued to blaire's pleasure-filled expression and the way her tits bounced back and forth with each thrust. she could tell he was close based on how his hips occasionally faltered and the way he twitched inside of her. 

"i'm close too. so close. fuck, mack. you're so pretty." 

he flushed across his entire torso hearing those words leave her lips. "pretty?" 

"you're so pretty. your cock's so pretty," blaire mumbled. 

she'd never called him that before. it made him twitch even harder. 

"holy fuck, blaire. fuck oh my god. please come. want you to come first," he always made sure she was taken care of before himself.

"i'm so close, baby. almost there. oh god," blaire dug her nails deeper into his back. he barely felt it though, too riled up with all of the pleasure. he was trying so hard to hold out, wanting blaire to come for a second time before he did. it was so hard though when her pussy was squeezing him so tight. 

finally, blaire snapped. she shook, her back arching and her head tilting back as her second climax washed over her. mack took advantage of her exposed neck and sucked his lips into her skin. she moaned out, crying his name and probably waking up every person on her floor. 

it was enough to send the brunette over the edge too. he thrusted hard one last time before spilling everything into the condom. a breathy groan and a small cry of blaire's name fell from his lips as well. "oh fuck. oh my god, baby. fuck," he shuddered, collapsing on top of her. 

their sweat mixed together as they just laid there coming down from their highs. mack's hips continued twitching while he completely emptied himself since having the desire last night. 

when he gained some of his strength back, he lifted his head to check on her. the figure skater met his gaze with her own loving smile. "you did so good. are you okay?" he was always making sure she was okay. 

"yeah, i'm okay. are you?" 

"never better. that was amazing," he gently kissed her shoulder. "see? wasn't that worth it?" 

a soft laugh left her lips, "so worth it. you're perfect." 

mack grinned. after another few minutes, he found it in himself to pull out and grab a towel to clean both of them up. he tied the condom off in the trash and then gently wiped away any excess from blaire's lower half. he pulled her underwear back up while she fixed her bra and he fond his own underwear to put back on before climbing back into the bed.