#mc71 x reader

If there was one thing in the world that Macklin hated, it was the way you always called him cute.

Well, hate was a strong word.

Macklin didn’t absolutely hate it when you called him cute. There were times it felt nice, like when you’d scroll through old baby photos his mom had texted you, and you’d coo, “Look at baby Mack, so cute!” He’d duck his head, cheeks burning, but the shyness came with warmth because it was harmless.

Back then, he was still figuring out how to fill out his frame, still the kid everyone babied a little. But now it kind of felt annoying.

He was 19, standing 6’0, carrying 190 pounds of solid muscle that came from endless hours in the weight room and on the ice. He’d bulked up noticeably since his rookie year; broader shoulders, thicker legs, the kind of build that let him drive the net without getting shoved off.

In the 25-26 season, he was already at 29 goals and 54 assists, a Sharks team that finally looked like it had a future because of him. Alternate captain some nights.

He wasn’t a puppy anymore. He was a man who could bench his own bodyweight, who absorbed hits from guys twice his age and still finished checks. He wanted you to see that, and to treat him like the big guy he actually was.

But instead, you kept saying cute.

And the worst part? You said it about everything small and sweet. A puppy trotting by on the sidewalk during your daily walks together? “Aww, so cute!” A kid in a tiny Sharks hat waving at him after a game? “Look how cute that little guy is!” It wasn’t jealousy exactly, he wasn’t competing with dogs or toddlers but it lumped him in with them.

Another worst thing was that you weren’t even dating. If you had been boyfriend, girlfriend, something with labels and night kisses and mornings tangled in sheets; maybe the “cute” thing wouldn’t have landed like a slap every time.

Maybe he could’ve laughed it off, tugged you closer by the waist, murmured something cocky like, “Yeah? Wait ’til you see what else I can do that’s cute,” before proving exactly how not-cute he could be. In that version of things, “cute” would’ve been foreplay, a tease, a private joke between two people who already knew the heat underneath.

But you weren’t dating. You were just you and him: best friends, the girl who’d been there since forever. The one he could show up to unannounced, bruised and moody, and you’d still open the door without hesitation. The one he thought about way too much when the lights were off and the condo was quiet.

Macklin didn’t remember exactly when the feelings had started. Maybe they’d been there all along. Maybe they’d crept in slow when you laughed too hard at his dumb jokes, every time you patched him up after a fight. Either way, he’d been too stupid to name it until it was too loud to ignore.

In your perspective, it was totally harmless. Calling Macklin cute had always felt like the most natural thing in the world, the same as breathing. You never once thought it could hurt him. You’d noticed the way he sometimes turned his face away when the word slipped out, cheeks going pink, jaw tightening just a bit.

But you’d chalked it up to shyness. Macklin was shy in the sweetest ways, when you complimented his new haircut, when you hugged him too long after games, when you caught him staring at you across the room like he’d forgotten how words worked. That flush, that quick duck of his head made your chest ache in the best way. You loved seeing him like that.

You really did think he was cute. Not in a diminutive way, not like you were patting him on the head and calling it a day. Cute in the way his whole face lit up when he scored and he’d do that little fist pump shrug combo like he was surprised he’d done it again. Cute in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, cute in the way he’d sprawl on your couch looking exhausted and impossibly beautiful all at once.

Anytime a new picture of him popped up, you’d stop scrolling and zoom in. His smile, all teeth and triumph, cheeks flushed from adrenaline. Every single one made you melt a little more. There wasn’t a person on the planet who could unravel you like he did. Not with grand gestures, just by being Macklin, by existing in the same space as you, close enough to touch, far enough that you ached with it.

To no one’s surprise, you traveled to Italy with Macklin for the Olympics. He’d known Italy was one of the countries you’d always wanted to visit since high school.

When he made the Team Canada roster, he didn’t hesitate. “Come with us,” he’d said casually. “My family’s going. You can crash in the hotel, I want you there.” His parents had loved the idea; his mom had already booked your room before you could protest.

Tonight was one of those casual evenings. Canada had practice earlier for tomorrow’s quarterfinal; his family had retreated to their rooms after dinner. It was around 7pm, the city lights twinkling outside your window.

You and Macklin were side by side on your hotel bed, backs against the headboard, legs stretched out. He was in gray sweats, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. You had yours open to Pinterest, hunting for new nail inspo for when you got home.

The feed loaded slowly on hotel wifi. Then a photo popped up on your home page: Macklin during warmups, red jersey hugging his shoulders, helmet tilted just so, stick gripped tight. The angle caught the focused set of his jaw, the faint flush on his cheeks from the cold rink, eyes sharp under the visor but with that tiny smile tugging at his mouth.

You gasped out loud. Macklin’s head snapped toward you. “What? Show me.”

“Oh my gosh,” you breathed, already zooming in. “This is the cutest pic I’ve ever seen.”

He leaned over, expecting maybe a photo of kittens or one of those viral baby animal reels you sent him constantly. “Lemme see-”

You turned the screen toward him fully. His eyes landed on the photo of himself, in full Olympic gear, looking every bit the focused sniper who’d been tearing up the tournament. He stared at the screen, then immediately looked back down at his own phone, jaw clenching.

You didn’t notice anything at first. “Mack, that’s such an adorable face expression. Look at your little smile. Like you’re plotting to score the next one.”

He didn’t respond right away, he kept scrolling, thumb moving too fast. “No, it’s not. It’s just another random picture they took of me..”

You nudged his shoulder lightly. “Nooo, it’s my new favorite picture. I’m putting it on one of my home screen widgets.”

“Y/n.” His voice came out low, he didn’t snap; he’d never snap at you but he was annoyed. “Can you just stop?”

You blinked, lowering the phone. “Stop what?”

“Calling it cute. Calling me cute.” He set his phone face down on the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not adorable. It’s just me doing my job.”

“But it is adorable,” you insisted, softer now, confused. “The way your cheeks are pink from the cold, that tiny grin, you look happy. I love it.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, shoulders tense. “That’s the problem. You love the happy, focused puppy version. Not..” He gestured vaguely at himself. “Not anything else.”

“Mack,” you started gently, “I didn’t mean-”

“I know you didn’t.” He cut you off. “But it’s every time like I’m still the kid you met years ago.” He finally looked at you. “I’m not and I don’t want to be that to you.”

Macklin didn’t know what he expected when he said that out loud but he’d carried the words around for so long, that saying them now felt inevitable. He wanted you and maybe this hotel room in Milan, was finally the right time.

You stared at him, eyes wide. “Okay.”

He exhaled, shoulders dropping. You paused, shifting so your knee brushed his. “Then what do you want to be?”

Macklin shrugged, gaze dropping to the space between you. He couldn’t look at you right now. “I don’t know.”

“Tell me, Mack.” Your voice was gentle, coaxing. You reached out, fingers brushing along his jaw lightly.

He shook his head once, catching your wrist in his hand to pull it away before the touch unraveled him completely. His thumb brushed the inside of your wrist. “This is gonna sound stupid, but.. I just want you to think I’m good looking. Not just cute.” He swallowed. “It makes me think you don’t want me the way I want you. And yeah, maybe I’m being an idiot right now, confessing like this in the middle of the freaking Olympics, but-”

“Mack!”

He stopped rambling, eyes snapping up to yours. “Do you really think I don’t find you attractive?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. You never say it like that.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Just because I haven’t exactly said the words doesn’t mean I don’t think it.” You moved closer, turning so you were facing each other fully on the bed. You lifted your free hand, fingers gentle under his chin, tilting his face up until he had no choice but to meet your eyes. “If anything, you’re the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.”

The compliment landed softly, his cheeks flushed deeper, pink creeping up from his neck but this time it wasn’t embarrassment.

You smiled and started to lean in.

He met you halfway and your mouths brushed together. He deepened the kiss as his hand found the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair; yours slid to his shoulder, gripping the soft fabric of his long sleeve. You sucked lightly on his bottom lip, and he made a quiet sound in the back of his throat that sent heat curling through you both.

When you pulled back, both of you were smiling, stupid and breathless and a little dazed.

Macklin’s voice came out rough. “That.. that was nice to hear from you.” He swallowed, thumb brushing your cheek. “I think the same about you.”

You laughed softly, the sound muffled against his skin as you pressed another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Took you long enough to say it.”

“Me?” He huffed, but there was no bite in it. “You’re the one who kept calling me something like it was a personality trait.”

“Maybe it is,” you teased, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “But handsome fits better.”

Macklin leaned back against the headboard, pulling you with him so your shoulders pressed together. You both settled in, he took your right hand in his, lacing your fingers without thinking, thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles.

You reached for your phone with your free hand, still open to that photo of him, “You know,” you said, tilting the screen toward him again, “I really might make this my Instagram profile picture.”

He huffed a laugh, glancing at it, then at you. “Yeah, sure. Maybe once we make it official to the public.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh?” You say as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

TAGLIST: @bouncedatahhh @cheerymints @lynsdigitaljournal @ill-uminati7 @behindthescreenobsessed @lemsies25 @definitelynotdomanique @lcvlyhughesy @sh1ft1ng1234 @willsmiths2 @mintbrini98 @kazansky-slxt @siennaluvshcky @wherethezoes-at @macka @carlottawllms @blankenbirks @mcelebrini @probably--possessed @celebrinigf @postgamevibes @icetimedreamer @misslivinglegend @alexxavicry @sohhh09 @goaldengay @umm-ok-fine @idkwhatthisis2009 @luckylzclerc @miyasfatass @0717luv @downtownjulie @feellikeimphoebe @lilfreakjez

Call you crazy, but your morning showers with your phone propped up on the shower shelf with New Girl playing is one of your favorite things. The cozy lighting of your bathroom, the way your coffee maker brews in the kitchen, and the way it smells of eucalyptus as soon as you pump out your body wash.

Except this morning, things don’t go as normally planned. They did of course, New Girl is playing as you half watch half scrub your hair. But it’s the clumsiness of you that makes the whole thing horrible.

It’s the glob of shampoo you didn’t realize you dropped, and it’s the foot you just stepped down on, causing you to slip, and slipping in the shower has never proven to be a good thing.

You try to catch yourself, grabbing out for anything, but with everything being slippery tile, it doesn’t work. You go down hard, your ankle twisting painfully, your shoulder hitting the tub, your phone making a mockery out of you as it lands at the bottom of the tub. Thankfully in your shock you at least immediately grab it out of the spray of water still barreling out of the shower head.

The sound of Nick Miller’s voice and the water now hitting your body at the bottom of the tub are the only sounds in the bathroom.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, trying to move but instantly noting how bad of an idea that is. Your ankle screams in pain, and your shoulder throbs a bit too. “Oh my god.” You state, realizing the predicament you’re in.

You’re stuck, your ankle already bigger than normal, your shoulder telling you there’s no way you’re using upper body strength to get yourself out. And the cherry on top? You’re in the shower, naked.

There are two blatantly obvious choices. And you choose option number two, because calling 911 just isn’t in the cards for you today.

Your thumb hovers over your best friend’s number. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you call.

—

Mack and Will are still arguing over cereal when your name and picture flash across Macklin’s phone. The familiar photo of you and Mack in the Toffoli’s backyard capturing his attention.

Mack smiles as he goes to answer, knowing you’ll back him on the cereal debate. But Mack stills as he answers the phone because your voice, normally loud and full of laughter is quiet, it sounds wrong.

“Mack?” You whisper, but it sounds like you’re underwater.

“Y/N?” He asks, his tone instantly making Will drop the argument and freeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I-“ you start to say, and you suck in a breath before continuing. “This is so embarrassing but I don’t know what else to do.” You say into the phone, trying to adjust but the pain makes you suck in a breath.

“Are you hurt?” Mack asks, and he’s already grabbing for his shoes.

“Yea.” You say, and the simple word causes Mack’s brain to become blank.

“Okay, okay. What happened? Where are you? I’ll come and get you.” He stutters out, cursing at his shoes for not slipping immediately on and almost tempted to go without them.

“I slipped in the shower.” You say, the embarrassment evident in your tone. “I can’t move my ankle, and maybe my shoulder? I don’t know I’m kind of just… stuck here.” You say.

“Are you bleeding?” Mack asks, and his eyes are frozen on Will who’s grabbing his phone and wallet.

“I don’t think so, but I’m cold and I can’t reach to turn the water off.” You say, and for the first time your voice slips and the words come out as a sob.

“I’m coming right now okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes sweetheart, I promise.”

But Mack’s words go unanswered, and as he pulls the phone away from his ear he sees the call dropped. He tries again, straight to voicemail.

“Fuck!” Mack exclaims, befitting shoving his phone in his back pocket and eyes are frantically scanning the countertops for his keys. “Where the fuck are my fucking keys?” Mack asks, and Will grabs them from the entryway table and throws them to his best friend.

“Let’s go!” Will says, and Mack books it to the passenger seat, Will knowing it’s not the best idea for Mack to be driving right now.

And as they high tail it to your place, your skin covers itself in goosebumps, and you shiver, but you wait, knowing Macklin is trying like hell to get to you as fast as possible.

—

“Y/N?” You hear your name being called from the front. The familiar voice of your best friend, before a knock comes on the bathroom door.

“Mack!”

“I’m coming in, okay?” He asks, and you say okay, yelling over the sound of the water still spraying.

You hear the bathroom door open, and you can hear movement in the living room, who you can only assume is Will. The curtain is closed, but you can see the giant outline of Mack as he enters the bathroom.

“I’m stuck.” You say, biting your lip because of the pain.

“I’m going to turn the water off.” He says, and you nod even though he can’t see you. But you watch as his hand comes through the edge of the shower curtain, blindly fumbling around until he finds the knob and turns it off.

The silence is thick, and without meaning to you let out a little sob. You aren’t an idiot, you know Mack is going to have to pick you up from the bottom of the tub. And while you’ve been in love with him forever, this wasn’t exactly what you envisioned.

“Okay, where exactly are you hurt?” His voice asks, softly and without its normal expression.

“My ankle is the worst.” You say, not even daring to look. “But my shoulder too, I don’t know what’s wrong with it but it hurts to move.”

The sound of your voice cracking breaks Macklin’s heart.

“Alright, I’m going to help you out.” Mack states, his eyes scanning around for a towel.

“Mack.” You state, and he pauses. “I’m not wearing anything.”

In any other situation Mack’s racing heart wouldn’t be a bad thing. But you’re hurt, you’re scared, and Mack would rather step into traffic than make you uncomfortable.

“Do you trust me?” He asks softly, and your voice answers with a yes. His heart cracks even more as he finds a fluffy green towel in the closet. “Here’s my plan.” He says, standing outside of the curtain. “I’m going to hand this to you, cover yourself as best as you can, I’m going to open the curtain, figure out the best way to pick you up, and then I’m going to close my eyes and set you on the counter until you can wrap the towel around yourself.” He says, surprised he was able to get through all of that without stuttering.

It takes a second for you to respond, but then you whisper back the smallest, “your eyes will be closed when you pick me up?”

“Until you wrap yourself up, I promise.” He says, and you sniffle a bit from the other side.

“Okay.” You say, and Mack nods, before going to put the towel past the curtain, turning his head towards the door just in case. But he feels the towel being pulled from his fingers, and he waits until you say you’re ready.

“I’m covered.” You say, and for the first time since he picked up the phone you let out the tiniest laugh. He feels just a little weight come off of his shoulders at the sound.

“Ready for me to open the curtain?” He asks, wanting to hear your confirmation before anything.

“Yeah.” You state, and he does.

You look pitiful, not that Macklin would ever say it. But he keeps his eyes on yours, only moving them to scan your shoulder and your ankle. The towel is laid over the top of your body, but he knows when he goes to wrap his arms around you he’ll be met with bare skin on your back.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He says, and your chest gives a jump with the sob you’re holding in.

But Mack doesn’t want to prolong this any longer than he has to, so he bends down, knees on the floor as he looks into your bloodshot eyes.

“Mackie.” You say, wanting nothing more than to launch into him but you can’t.

“I know, I know.” He says, scanning you trying to figure out the best way to lift you without knocking into your shoulder and keeping your foot steady. “I’m going to get you out now, okay? We’ve got to get you out” He says, and you nod, biting your lip.

And before Mack can question himself, he gets his arms into a good position before keeping his word of closing his eyes. One arm of yours, which he can only assume is your good arm, goes around his neck, and he reaches under you. His hands are met by your freezing cold skin, and he has to bite his tongue to not make a sound. One arm slips under your knees, the other wrapping around your back as you’re pulled into his body.

Your head rests against his shoulder as he carries you. Making small steps so he doesn’t trip and make this worse. And you try to force yourself to focus on how good it feels to be in his arms versus the pain of your ankle and shoulder.

Macklin forces his eyes to stay shut, he wants to make sure you’re okay, wants to see your wounds and fix them. But your comfort comes first, so he follows your voice as you lead him to the counter top.

“Okay, I’m situated.” You say after you adjust the towel to go completely around your body. And still, when Mack opens his eyes, he’s looking towards the top of the mirror. “I’m covered.” You whisper, and the sound of your voice makes him look back to you. His eyes focusing in on you. You’re covered, yes, but water still drips from your soaking wet hair down your exposed shoulders. And as he goes to look at your ankle, water also drips down your legs and falls to the tile floor below.

“We’ve got to take you in.” He says to you, his voice so soft, so sweet that new tears appear in your eyes. You just nod your head, a shiver racking through you. “I’m going to go grab you some clothes okay?” He says, and you nod.

“Mack? Can you grab me another towel?” You ask as he’s reaching for the door.

“Yeah, of course.” He says, handing you a second fuzzy green towel.

“Do you think you can-“ you start to ask, but Mack doesn’t need you to finish. He opens the towel up, and like he’s seen you do a million times when you get out of a pool, or the lakes and oceans in the summers, he wraps the towel around your hair, getting it off your shoulders. He twists it, and you laugh lightly as he stands back to eye his work.

“You look beautiful.” He says, his eyes so loving as he looks at you. But he leaves before you can respond, the anxiety of what he just said coursing through his veins.

Mack moves swiftly through your room, finding all the clothes he needs for you to go to the ER. He blindly grabs at for a bra and underwear, like even this he wants to be respectful of. Then he moves to grab you pants, before opting for shorts since they’d be easier to slip around your ankle. Then last, a sweatshirt. But he pauses, before pulling his off of his body, fixing his black t shirt that rides up a bit.

You have a thing for taking Mack’s sweatshirts. Especially ones off his back. And he lets you, no matter where you are, no matter who you’re with. You tell him it’s because they are warm, which is partly true. The other part is that they smell like him. As he makes it back to the bathroom, he sets your things down on the counter top, before realizing this too may be a bigger challenge than he thought.

“Maybe I’ll just go naked?” You ask him, shrugging your good shoulder.

In any other situation this would have Mack laughing, have him looking at you like he always does. Have him so close to cutting the shit and admitting his feelings. And while he does crack a smile, a snort also coming out, Mack shakes his head.

“I can help,” he states, before quickly finishing it with, “if you want.”

You eye him for a second, before nodding. And like before, Macklin’s heart races as his eyes are back to being slammed shut, and he helps you put bottoms on. Your bra, however, is his undoing.

“You’re going to have to clip it.” You say, and Mack’s hands freeze, and he must have been making a face because you let out a pained laugh. “You’ve seen me in bikinis, Mack.” You say, and he nods.

“Yeah, yeah, bikinis.” He says, shaking his head like that is going to help the thoughts of you in a bikini leave his head. The thoughts of your skin golden after spending hours in the sun, the thoughts of your laugh at something stupid he or Will decided to do. And especially the thoughts of that stupid teal bikini you bought insisting on wearing it for ‘Sharks support’.

“Macklin?” The sound of his name pulls him back to the present, and he turns red as he realizes he just completely zoned out while you’re waiting for him to clip your bra.

What the fuck is his life? He thinks as he clears his throat and reaches behind your back. His fingers stumble over the hooks, and apologies spill from his mouth. But he gets it finally, and next holds up his sweatshirt to help over your head.

Your eyes catch on it, noting the fact he came in wearing it, and now he’s not. But that’s the thing about you and Mack. You know each other, maybe too well, but you do. Mack knows how much the small things he does mean to you. Giving you sweatshirts, bringing you coffee, how when he’s with you he’s so invested in you that half the time he forgets anything and anyone else exist.

To Macklin, it’s just you. He wouldn’t notice if the world was ending, so long as you’re breathing the same air as him.

It takes a second to get the sweatshirt on, and you cry out as he bumps your shoulder funny.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He says, and like it it’s nothing, he plants a kiss to your temple.

You turn red, you can feel the heat all throughout your body. But you just rest your head against his chest. Your bad shoulder and arm are sitting loosely under the sweatshirt, with no point in putting your arm in the sleeve to have them take it back out at the hospital.

“Thank you.” You say, your head still tucked against his chest.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He says with a small shrug, you can feel it against your head.

“Yes.” You say, closing your eyes. “Yes I do. You came here and you saw me like this and-“

“I’ll come,” he says, voice softer now. “Every single time. Whether you need me to kill a spider, sit with you in silence, bring you coffee, or pick you up off the bathroom floor. I’ll come as soon as you call.”

“Mack.” You whisper, tears leaking down your cheeks.

His hand is on the side of your face, thumb carefully wiping the falling tears away. His face is flushed, and his hair messy from how fast he runs his hands through it.

“After.” He says, and you lean the side of your head into his palm. “We’ll talk about all of this after, I promise. But please, please I need to get you to the hospital.” He says, and you nod, preparing yourself for the pain of the jostle into his arms. “I’ll go slow.” He says, reaching around you to be able to pick you up.

“I trust you.” You whisper, and you swear you hear a sharp inhale at your words.

But he picks you up, careful to try not to move you so much. You scrunch your face, your eyes shutting tightly in pain.

“God, I’m sorry.” He says, carrying you out to the living room where you can tell Will has been anxiously waiting.

He looks at you, giving you a sad little smile.

“Hey there, disaster.” He says, his normal nickname for you never fit as perfectly as it does now.

“Sorry for ruining your day.” You say, but Will cuts you off before Mack can.

“Absolutely not.” He says, waving his hands in front of him. “Go get fixed up, I’ll take care of everything here.” He says, and Macklin nods his appreciation at his best friend.

“You don’t have to-“

“Too late. I’ll see you guys when you get back.” Will says, already starting to build what looks like a makeshift bed on your couch.

You smile, the overwhelming feeling of love spreading through you as Macklin carries you to the car.

—

The hospital wasn’t as horrible as you thought. You get discharged with a cast on your foot, and a bruised shoulder you’re told not to over extend.

But Macklin was there the whole time. He stayed plastered by the bed, the nurses even told you he wouldn’t stop pacing while you got your x-rays. And as he nodded, listening and asking questions about your recovery, you couldn’t even listen to the doctor. All you could focus on was him.

So when you finally returned home, Will having stocked your entire place with necessities, you look to Mack, and blurt the words you’ve felt since you laid eyes on him for the first time.

“I love you.” You say, and you watch as Mack freezes. His hand stills on the pillow beneath your cast, his shoulders lock, his eyes flick up to yours completely stunned.

But it’s the the silence that follows that is horrible. You let one second pass, then two before you’re back pedaling like mad.

“Oh my god,” you say, panic flooding your chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just say that. I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to say it like that. Not while I’m in a cast and high on pain meds and you’re just trying to be nice because I fell in the shower like a fucking idiot-“ But your rambling ends as Mack stands.

For one second, you think he’s going to step back. You think he’s going to put space between you or that you’ve ruined everything in the exact way you always feared you would.

“Mack,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

But he doesn’t say anything, instead he just leans down. One hand bracing himself on the back of the couch beside your head. The other coming to your face, so slowly and carefully.

And before you could process it, Macklin is kissing you. His lips warm, touch still light but lips firm and steady. And you make the smallest sound and lift your good hand to his hoodie, your fingers curling into the fabric.

That’s all he needs as he kisses you deeper. It’s still gentle, but there’s something underneath it. Relief, want, months and months of almosts and words neither of you were brave enough to say. And as he finally pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against yours, and his breathing is uneven.

You glance at the back seat, which is packed floor to ceiling with boxes and furniture. "I don't think I can fit back there," you say with a frown.

Macklin leans against the passenger door, his t-shirt clinging to his chest in a way that makes your stomach flutter. "You could sit on my lap," he suggests casually, though there's something unreadable in his eyes. "If you're okay with that?"

Your heart races at the thought. You've had a crush on Macklin for months now, ever since he and Will became teammates. Being this close to him is both thrilling and terrifying.

"Are you sure? I don't want to crush you," you say, suddenly self-conscious about your weight.

Macklin chuckles, a low sound that sends shivers down your spine. "I think I can handle it. You weigh less than my warm-up weight."

Will rolls his eyes. "Just get in the car, you two. We've got a lot to do before your apartment is ready."

Macklin slide into the backseat first, then you get in and let him pull you onto his lap. The position is awkward at first and you can't help but shift around, trying to find a comfortable spot that doesn't put too much pressure on him.

"Stop moving so much," Macklin murmurs against your ear, his hands gripping your hips to still your movements.

You freeze, confused by the sudden tension in his voice. That's when you feel it, the hard length pressing against your ass through his jeans. Heat floods your cheeks as you realize you've been grinding against his growing erection.

"Oh," you whisper embarrassed.

Macklin doesn't say anything, just adjusts his grip on your hips. Will starts the car, pulling away from the curb and heading toward your new apartment. Each turn and bump in the road causes you to shift on Macklin's lap, rubbing against his hardness in a way that makes both of you gasp quietly.

Macklin presses his head against your neck, his breath coming in ragged pants against your skin. "You need to stop moving," he whispers, his voice strained. "Or I'm going to lose my mind here."

Instead of stopping, you deliberately grind down against him, unable to resist the temptation. Macklin thrusts up in response, his hips moving instinctively. The friction sends waves of pleasure through you and you can feel yourself growing wetter with each movement.

"Fuck," Macklin whimpers softly in your ear. "I need you so bad."

You glance at Will, who seems focused on the road, oblivious to what's happening right behind him.

Macklin's hands slide from your hips to your waist, pulling you closer as he continues to grind against you. "I can't help it," he breathes, his lips brushing against your neck. "You feel so good."

His words make you tremble with need. You've fantasized about this moment countless times, but never imagined it would happen like this, in a crowded car with your brother just feet away.

Macklin's lips find the sensitive spot behind your ear and he begins to suck gently, marking you as his. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning out loud. His hands roam your body, tracing curves through your clothes as he continues to thrust against you.

"I'm going to come if we keep doing this," he warns, his voice ragged.

The desperate need in his voice pushes you closer to the edge. You grind down harder, seeking your own release as Macklin's movements become more frantic. His grip tightens on your hips and you can feel him tensing beneath you.

"Fuck," he groans softly against your neck.

You feel the warmth spreading through his jeans as he comes, his body shuddering against yours. The knowledge that you've made him lose control like this sends a fresh wave of arousal through you.

When his breathing evens out, Macklin pulls back slightly, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry about that," he murmurs, gesturing vaguely to his pants.

"Don't be," you whisper back, your own body still humming with unfulfilled need.

Macklin notices your trembling thighs and the frustrated look on your face. "You didn't come, did you?" he asks softly.

You shake your head, too embarrassed to speak.

"Let me help," he says, his hand sliding down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans.

You glance nervously at Will, who's still focused on driving. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Macklin's fingers deftly undo your button and zipper, slipping beneath the fabric to find your slick folds. "Just be quiet," he whispers in your ear. "Can you do that for me?"

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers begin to explore. He finds your clit immediately, circling it with practiced movements that make your toes curl. You have to grip his thigh to keep from crying out.

"So wet for me," Macklin murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "All this time you've been wanting this, haven't you?"

You can only nod again, your body arching into his touch. He slides a finger inside you, then another, stretching you gently as his thumb continues to work your clit. The pleasure builds quickly, intense and overwhelming.

When you feel yourself approaching the edge, Macklin covers your mouth with his free hand, muffling the sounds threatening to escape. "That's it," he encourages softly. "Come for me."

His words push you over and your orgasm crashes through you in powerful waves. Your body convulses against his as pleasure floods your senses, Macklin's fingers working you through every last spasm.

As you come down from your high, Macklin gently removes his hand from your pants, licking your juices from his fingers. The sight makes you blush all over again.

"We're almost there," Will announces, turning onto your street. "Just another block."

“I agree, but you’ll get me for a few days. Then I’ll be back in July, and you have me until August.”

“That’s like over a month away, baby.”

“It’s going to go faster than you think it will.” You zip your suitcase closed.

“Time to go, honey!” Your mom yells from downstairs.

“I gotta go, Mack. I’ll call you when I get to New York.” You grab your passports, the small gift you got him for his birthday, and put it into your backpack. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the call and roll your suitcase out of your room.

“Got everything?” Your mom asks and grabs her car keys, “Both passports?”

“Got both,” You show off the two blue booklets.

“Perfect time to go. I’ll meet you in London with your tournament gear, but find a court when you can. We don't want you to lose strength this next week.” You grab your smaller tennis bag from the floor and put it on your suitcase.

“I will, Mack’s sister plays, so maybe I’ll be able to convince her to play with me.”

“Sounds good, but remember to have fun too.” You pack your stuff into the car to head to the airport. “But don’t drink too much and wear protection.”

“Mom!” You look at her wide-eyed.

“What? I was 19 when I got pregnant with you. I know what’s going on.” She chuckles and starts the car.

“Well, I know that.”

“Just be safe, please, I’m your mom, I’ll always worry about you.” She pats your hand and pulls out of the garage.

“I’ll be safe. Promise.” You smile and settle back into your seat.

“Good, I don’t want to have to fly up there. I know your dad will.” You agree with her statement.

“He would.” You laugh and pull out your phone to send a text to Mack’s mom.

Mack’s whole family knows you're coming for his birthday, a joint surprise you’d been planning for the last few weeks while you were in Paris for the French Open. A quick trip for his birthday before you had to leave for London, and he trained his ass off for the upcoming season. He was sure to be surprised if no one spoiled said surprise.

You look out the window, giddy with anticipation.

•••

When you get to Vancouver, you hastily get ready to meet Mack and his family for his birthday dinner. You throw on a nice top and jeans, after a hot shower and fresh makeup, before you Uber to the restaurant.

Mack’s mom, Robyn, kept you updated on their location just so you didn’t show up to the restaurant before they did. She’d texted you the go-ahead, and you arrived at the restaurant just moments later.

“Hello, Miss.” The hostess greets you.

“I’m with the Celebrini party.” You respond, and she nods in understanding, leading you in the direction of the more private area.

“Just through that archway.”

“Thank you so much.” You smile and walk through to the semi-private room.

Mack, his parents, and three siblings are all conversing amongst themselves, none aware of your presence.

“Is there room for one more?” You ask, and the family looks up at you.

Mack does a double-take before bolting out of his seat and over to you. “You’re here? You’re actually here?”

You give him a tight hug, and Mack practically wraps himself around you. You laugh as you both almost topple over.

“Surprise.” You practically hold all of his body weight on you. “Happy Birthday, Mack.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Your bodies sway back and forth as you hold him tightly.

“What about New York?” He pulls his head back.

“The plan was to come here the whole time.”

“That’s a sneaky plan.” He kisses your cheek.

“Yeah, but you’re hard to surprise.” You shrug and nod to the table, “Let’s sit.”

“What about London?” Mack pulls out your chair, and you sit down next to him.

“I’m leaving from here. You have me for the next few days.” You smile at him.

“Not more?”

“I’ll be back in July, and then the US Open isn’t until September.” You scoot your chair in before turning to his family. “Sorry, it’s rude of me not to greet you guys. It’s nice to see you all again.”

“It’s no problem, Y/N, we’re happy you’re here.” Robyn shakes her head, her smile is the same one you see on Mack all the time.

“Thank you for having me.”

“Mack has been moping around, so thank you for putting us out of that misery.” Aiden teases, and Rick gives his eldest a pointed look.

“Can you play tennis with me?” Charlie blurts out excitedly.

“Let’s not bombard Y/N.” Robyn tries to get a hold of the situation.

“It’s okay. I was hoping I could convince you to be my hitting partner anyway.” You wink, and Charlie looks triumphant.

“Why do you look like that?” RJ speaks up, confused at the look on Macklin’s face. A soft smile, with hazy eyes focused solely on you. It could only be described as a look of pure love.

“I’m being made fun of on my birthday.” Mack scrubs a hand down his face, but he hasn’t stopped grinning. “This is crazy, you’re all supposed to be nice to me.”

“Birthdays protect no one from familial teasing.” You pat his thigh. You feel him tense underneath your hand, but make nothing of it as you pull away.

“Guess not.” Mack catches your hand before it settles back in your lap. Pulling it so it’s entwined with his on top of his thigh.

“Y/N, how are your studies going?” Rick asks, and you take a sip of your water.

You clear your throat before speaking, “They’re going really well! I'm learning a lot, but I’m happy with what I chose to major in.”

“Remind me what that is again?”

“Sports Medicine. I’m thinking of possibly using it to get my PhD in Biomechanics later on down the road.” Rick nods, impressed, and you do a celebration on the inside.

“How do you balance that with the WTA tours and challengers?” He questions.

“Meticulously,” You laugh, “but really, my advisor is helping a lot. I’m currently in like five online courses right now to transfer credits just to make sure I can graduate on time, early even.”

“You have a solid plan.”

“I can’t take all the credit. My mom is also helping me navigate this.” You feel Mack’s thumb run over your knuckles, but you aren’t sure if the motion is supposed to be comforting you or him.

“Well, she’s doing a very great job.” Robyn chimes in.

“I’d say so too.” You agree.

Mack is talking with his siblings, their increasing noise level as you speak with his parents gives you an inkling that they’re arguing about something. All of a sudden, Charlie is fully leaning over Mack and pushing him against the back of his chair.

“Y/N, you have to tell me what the Australian and French Open were like.” She says excitedly as Mack tries to push her off of him.

“Get off of me.”

“I’m trying to ask Y/N a question.” She looks at her older brother, eyes narrowing.

“You could do it while sitting in your chair.” He grumbles, and she rolls her eyes, but relents, sitting in her chair properly.

“Better?” Charlie asks snarkily.

“Much.” Mack matches her bratty tone.

“Okay, please tell me everything about the Opens. Like everything.”

You turn to face Charlie more, knees bumping with Mack’s thigh. You make no move to adjust your position, keeping the point of contact. You watch Mack’s face flush, but don’t comment on it.

“They were crazy, like an adrenaline high that I couldn’t come off of. Like, after I got out of the Australian Open, I was genuinely bouncing off the walls. My nervous system was so out of whack that I couldn’t come down from this self-induced high. I crashed when I got back to California, and I was sick for a week.”

“Really?” She tilted her head.

“Really. Like once my body was finally aware that I wasn’t in the tournament anymore, my immune system shut down with it.” You laugh, “But it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I didn’t do the greatest at the Australian Open, but honestly, just being there was surreal.”

“I bet. But the French Open.” Charlie does a jaw drop motion, “I watched every match. The upsets were crazy.”

“I know,” You nod, “Being there and watching it happen in real time is something else.”

“For sure! You made it really far this time, too!”

“I know! I was proud of myself for making it to the quarterfinals. Like my second Grand Slam tournament.” You grin, and Mack squeezes your hand.

“We’ve been following along with Charlie and Mack. For your first professional season, you’re doing really well.” Robyn places a soft hand on your forearm.

“Thank you, it means a lot.” A warmth fills your chest from the kind words.

“No need to thank us.” She shakes her head.

“I know, but I still will because it really does mean a lot to me.”

“I’ll let go this time.” Robyn pats your arm before placing her hand back in her lap, and you laugh with her.

“Okay.” You grin.

•••

The rest of Mack’s birthday dinner goes really well. You talk with his entire family, and you feel closer to the Celebrini’s. You and Charlie already have plans to hit the courts every day while you’re in Vancouver. You’ve given Rick your Mom’s contact info so they can converse on college plans for the rest of the Celebrini kids. RJ is still confused and unsure of what emotions his older brother is experiencing. Aiden wants to take you and Mack bar hopping, but Mack promptly shuts it down because he wants to spend the rest of his birthday with you only.

“Happy birthday, honey. Be safe tonight.” Robyn gives Mack a hug.

“I will.”

“Be aware of your surroundings, and Uber back to Y/N’s hotel.” Rick pats him on the back.

“I will, Dad.” Mack nods, taking your hand.

“Drink something for me.” Aiden smacks his shoulder, and Mack just rolls his eyes.

“Alright, time to go,” Rick says, and the rest of the Celebrinis walk in the opposite direction from you two.

You both start walking down the pavement, Mack’s hand finds yours, easily pulling you closer into his side. He slows to a stop on the street, and you stop with him.

“Everything okay, baby?” You ask as Mack wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” You take his face into your hands.

Mack leans down and captures your mouth with his. Your mouths move against each other, heat and friction buzzing underneath your skin. His tongue prods at your bottom lip, but you pull away. Mack lets out a whine, his mouth forming a pout.

“Baby…”

“Do you want to go to the bar? Or do you just want to go back to my hotel?” You ask, hands sliding down his neck.

“I need you.” He whispers against your mouth before kissing you hungrily. You know the answer to your own question.

“Let me order an Uber.” You mumble back and reach for your phone.

Mack's hand creeps up underneath your top, splayed on the skin of your stomach. He’s pulled you flush against his body, holding you as you tap through your phone ordering a car.

“Can it get here faster?”

“It’ll be here in five.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, the impatience humming through his body.

“Too long.” He groans and lets his head fall to the crook of your neck.

“You’ll survive. I also have to give you your present. It’s in my hotel room.” You hum and watch the little car on your screen get closer.

“You didn’t have to get me anything. You’re here on my birthday, that's enough for me.”

“That is very sweet of you, but it won’t make my gift go away.” You wrap your arm around his torso, giving his side a mischievous squeeze.

“Fine.” Mack kisses your neck softly before pulling his head back up.

The Uber pulls up next to the curb, and Mack pulls open the door for you. You step inside, and he follows suit, sliding into the seat next to you. His hand finds your thigh as the car pulls into the street, fingers caressing the seam on the inner thigh of your jeans. You haven’t been in each other's presence since April. So you two have also been on a two-month stint of unwilling celibacy. His hand tries to creep higher, but you politely grab it and place it on your lap. You send him a sharp look and jerk your head in the direction of the driver.

You could already see the headlines: “Uber Driver Tells All: NHL Star, Macklin Celebrini and Girlfriend Caught Getting Handsy in the Backseat.” You would be relegated to the title of girlfriend or Sidney Crosby’s daughter, depending on which news source is writing the article. So it was best to stay respectful in public.

The driver pulls up to your hotel, and you give a quick thanks before letting Macklin lead you out of the back seat.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You chuckle as he drags you into the hotel.

“No, but you’ll tell me.” He says matter-of-factly.

“This way.” You take the reins and walk towards the elevator.

You look over at Mack, his pupils blown wide. He looks intoxicated, but it can’t be the case. Neither of you has had a lick of alcohol all night. The moment the elevator doors slide closed, Mack’s mouth is attacking yours.

“You are really impatient.” You mutter between kisses.

“It’s been two months, baby, cut me some slack here. Can’t I miss my girlfriend?”

“You can miss me.” You smile and peck his mouth again, “Missing me is very much appreciated.”

“Did you miss me?” Mack raises a brow, noticing the lack of verbal reciprocation on the feeling.

“So much.”

“Good.” Mack presses one last kiss to your cheek as the bell of the elevator rings.

You lead Mack down the hallway and unlock the door to your room. You toe off your shoes and start removing your jewelry. Earrings and rings first, before the bracelets and necklaces, save for the bracelet Mack got for your birthday and the necklace with your birthstone that you never take off.

Mack sits down on the hotel bed, watching you put the accessories into your travel case, fingers tapping on his thigh incessantly.

“Do you want your present now or later?” You ask, looking over your shoulder.

“Later. Can you please just come over here? I'm dying, baby.” Mack whines, and you move to the bed.

“Dying? Should I call the doctors?” You ask, swinging your leg over his lap, hands braced on his shoulders. Mack’s hands grip your waist as you settle into his hold.

“No, just need you.”

“So I’m the remedy?” You run your fingers through his hair, and the feeling of his cock starting to press against the zipper of his pants has you smirking.

“And the problem.” He jokes, and you roll your eyes.

“I can tell.” You tease and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “What does the birthday boy want?”

“You.”

“Well, I know that, but anything specific? What do you need?” His eyes nearly roll back into his head every time your nails scrape against his scalp.

“Nothing specific, just want to be with you.” He says sweetly, and you give him a real kiss this time.

Warmth seeps into your bones as your hands move from Mack’s hair, down his neck and chest, before reaching the hem of his shirt.

“Can I take it off?” You mutter against his mouth, and he nods.

You work the shirt over his head, discarding it behind you somewhere, all the while still kissing him. Mack’s tongue prods at the seam of your mouth, and you let him inside. He moves the hair away from your neck and presses wet kisses on the skin. You cradle his head in your hands as he continues his assault. Mack sucks a particularly harsh hickey right below your ear, causing you to gasp. The sensation is replaced by his tongue darting out to soothe the bruise. His hips buck into yours, pressing the seam of your jeans right into your clit, and shudders of building pleasure roll through your body. Your underwear is growing damp by the minute.

“You’re disgusting.” You chide, feeling Mack smile against your neck.

“And yet you’ve never told me to stop.” He grins up at you before taking your weight from his lap and flipping you to lie flat on the bed.

“I can like it and still think you’re gross.” You widen your legs and let Mack settle between them.

You pull off your shirt and throw it to where you’d put Mack’s. The black lace bra you had on underneath has him groaning and shifting to hover over top of you.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You tease, and Mack takes offense.

“That’s all you have to say about me?” He gasps and pinches your side.

“Don’t worry, I think you're beautiful, too, pretty boy.” You cup his cheek as Mack’s hand moves up and down your jean-covered outer thigh.

“I was really worried there for a second.” He leans down and kisses your mouth one last time before making his way down your body.

His lips trail down your neck and collarbone, mouthing at the skin of your sternum before moving to the swells of your breasts. Mack finds the waistband of your jeans, sitting back on his haunches to undo the fly. You help him shimmy them off of you, and he takes off his own pants as well, the hard line of his dick evident behind his tented briefs. The pile of clothes on the floor continues to accumulate.

“Need any help with that?” You tease, sitting up on your forearms.

“Maybe later.”

“No birthday blowjob?” Your gaze follows him as he moves back up your body to be face-to-face.

“Tempting, but I want to taste you first.” Mack grins as your hand runs through his hair, fingertips trailing lightly over his face.

“All of the options in the world, and he wants to be the giver on his birthday.” Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and he bites at the tip of it.

“What I like the look of you all fucked out.” He settles between your legs, hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

“Jesus.” You groan, throwing your head back against the pillows.

“My name is Mack, baby.” You roll your eyes hard.

“You’re ridiculous like that was actually the worst joke ever.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” He leans forward to rest his face on your stomach, pressing soft kisses to your navel.

“Really?” You look at him, facial expression, asking him if he’s joking.

“Fine, it was bad.” His fingers hook underneath the sides of your underwear and pull them off completely. You’re wet, like really wet, folds glistening in the dim lamplight. If Mack could get harder than he already is, his dick would be blue. “Fuck me.”

“Trying to, but we just keep on talking.” Mack pulls you towards the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs.

“Well, I like talking with you,” He says, kissing the inside of your knee.

“I like talking too, but like I’m pretty much naked right now, and I’d really like you to eat me out.”

“I can’t say no to that.” Mack bites your sensitive inner thigh, causing you to jolt.

“Mack, please.” You plead, the heat flooding your body is filling you with anticipation.

His lips press the tiniest kiss to your clit, providing nothing to give you the high you’ve been chasing for months. Yes, the phone sex had been plentiful, but the toys and your fingers just weren’t cutting it anymore. You need Mack to give you everything you’d been waiting for.

“Mack…” Your fingers fist the sheets as he sends you a teasing smirk.

“Yeah, baby?” He rests his cheek against your thigh, stopping any progression towards your much-wanted orgasm.

“Please. I don’t want to beg for a third time.” Your voice is raspy as you look down at your boyfriend.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He hooks a leg over his shoulder and fully dives in.

He licks a long stripe through your folds, collecting your slick on his tongue. You let out a long moan as your hand tangles in his hair. You feel Mack smile against your pussy, before finding your clit and giving it a light suck.

“Oh fuck!” You tug at his hair, and Mack whines into your skin.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No,” Mack peers at you breathlessly, talking in between kisses and licks, “keep going.”

“You too.” You can feel your orgasm building as his tongue circles your already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fucking hell.”

Macklin is properly making out with your pussy, tongue everywhere, your clit throbbing in his mouth. The coil of pleasure is reaching its breaking point as he throws the other one of your legs over his shoulder for more leverage. His hands brace against your hips, holding them down as his tongue fucks into your entrance.

“Oh fuck, oh my god.” You throw an arm over your eyes, “I’m so close, baby.”

“Cum, please cum for me.”

You press your heels into his back, grinding into his face as best as you can in a prone position. Every time his nose bumps your clit, another wave of ecstasy brings you closer to the edge.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” You heave, chest rising rapidly.

Mack knows you’re close. The way you’re roughly gripping his hair and the incoherent string of expletives falling from your mouth are a telltale sign of your impending orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby.” He manages to speak before burying his face back into your folds. Mack gives one last harsh suck on your clit, and it’s over for you.

You just let go as a wash of euphoria rips through your body. Heat spreads from the center of your body to the tips of your fingers. Mack presses a few featherlight kisses to your inner thigh, being wary to not overstimulate your body.

“I don’t think I’ve come that hard in a long time.” You grin lazily, beckoning Mack to come to you.

“Yeah, are you okay?” He crawls up onto the bed, hovering over you as you push up on your forearms. Mack cranes his neck down to press his mouth to yours. You smile into the kiss, wrapping an arm around his neck, slowly guiding his back to the bed.

“I’m good.”

“Ready for more already?” Mack asks, hands settling on your waist.

“I bounce back quickly.” You reach your hands behind your back to unhook your bra, but you stop. “Wait, condoms.”

“In my wallet.” Mack points to his pants on the floor.

“That is so douchey of you.” You move off of him and grab his pants from the floor. You pull his wallet from the back pocket, sure enough, there is a strip of condoms where cash should be. “Like genuinely a frat boy move.”

“I just like to be prepared.” He leans against the pillows, watching you rip off one of the condoms. You find a small tube of lube you packed in your suitcase and walk to the bed.

You throw the package at him, and he catches it with ease. You unhook your bra and leave it on the floor. Mack looks you up and down, acting like he hasn’t ever seen you fully naked.

“Perv.” You straddle his lap again, his cock pressing against your ass.

“I’m just appreciating the view.” He looks up at you, hands rubbing up and down your sides.

“That’s so corny.”

“What? You look good.” Mack kisses your collarbone, fingers brushing underneath your breasts.

“Why, thank you.” You run your hands over his shoulders.

He nips at your skin, gaze roaming all over your naked body. Mack is beginning to look desperate as his hips buck up for friction. You let out a breathless sigh, the stimulation has heat pooling in your stomach.

“Baby?” He asks, pulling his head away from your neck.

“Yeah?” You respond, eyes heavy with lust.

“I want you to ride me.”

You nod and grab the condom from the bed, sliding off his lap, “Take off your briefs.”

Mack obeys quickly and pulls off his underwear quickly. His cock slaps against his stomach, red and flushed with pre-come collecting at the tip. You take the condom wrapper between your teeth and tear it open.

“Fuck that’s hot.” Mack settles back against the pillows, watching you pull out the condom.

“Anything turns you on, bro.” You joke.

“Please don’t call me bro right now.” He looks at you pointedly, but is quickly cut off by the feeling of you rolling the condom down his length.

“Sorry, baby.” You straddle him again, but stay up on your knees.

“I need to be inside you.” He groans hands cupping your hips.

“Okay.”

You look down and take hold of his dick, pour a generous amount of lube into your hand. Mack’s head lolls to the side as you pump it a few times, spreading the lube over the condom. You line it up with your entrance before sliding down the length of him. Your walls flutter around him to adjust to his size. Once he’s fully seated inside you, you both take a pause. Mack sits up, arms wrapped around your body, keeping you in place.

“Fuck I missed this.” He buries his head into your shoulder.

“Me too.” You kiss the side of his head, “I’m gonna start moving.”

You slowly rise off of him, before sinking down again, using his shoulders as leverage. Mack’s palms make a slow glide to your hips, eyes never leaving your own. You watch every twitch and movement in his face as you roll your hips slowly creating that much-needed friction. His hands cup your breasts, squeezing the flesh, stimulating your sensitive nipples.

“Not just sex, I missed you, Y/N. Like every day, I missed you.” He brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“I missed you so much, too.” You press your cheek against his.

Everything is so soft and gentle, just two people being united in the most intimate way. Mack peppers kisses on your face, trying to muffle his moans against your skin.

“Mack, baby, I want to hear you, don’t be shy with me.” Your pace starts to increase, the head of his cock bumping against your G-spot.

“Fuck baby, move faster, please.” Mack groans out loud as your walls clench around him. You grind down trying to increase the friction on your clit.

You watch Mack bite his lower lip, trying again to muffle his moans. Your hand creeps to his mouth, thumb pressing at his lips.

“Open.” You breathe out and watch him open his mouth willingly.

You press two fingers into his mouth, and he moans around your digits. You grin at the sound, pace increasing as the heat in your stomach starts to spread through your body, every nerve ending on fire. His tongue dances around your fingers, occupying his mouth as you continue to ride on his cock.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum, baby.” He slurs around your fingers, saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth.

“Already?” You remove your fingers from his mouth.

“Don’t tease me.” He whines and fucks his hips into you, trying to chase his climax. Yours is building quickly, too, but you can tell Mack is about to come.

“I need more.” You sigh and snake your hand down your body, fingers finding your clit.

“Lemme help.” Mack replaces your hand with his own, fingers circling your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck that feels good.” You roll your hips faster, finding a pace that makes your orgasm start to build.

“Baby, can I cum please?” He asks, mouthing at your breasts.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You nod and throw your arms over his shoulders.

Mack guides your hips up and down his length, increasing your pace to bring him to his climax. The coil in your stomach tightens again, your orgasm approaching quickly.

“Fuck I’m right there.” He rubs your clit faster, trying to bring you right to the edge with him.

“So close.” You mutter and kiss him, moving chest to chest as you ride him. “You can cum, baby.”

“Not without you.”

Mack moves his hand from between the two of you and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths move against each other as you both tip over the edge. Mack cums first, and you follow suit moments later. You know he’ll pout, but at this point, you don’t care.

You slump forward, fully sweaty and spent, legs cramping from the position and spasming from the orgasm. Mack has his face buried in the side of your neck, mouth pressing light kisses on the skin.

“Let’s not go that long without sex again.” He jokes, and you just let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, it might have to be another month, though.”

“Not unless I come visit you in London.” Mack offers, looking up at you with his sparkly green eyes.

“What about training?” You ask, lifting your hips, slowly sliding off of him. There’s a slight emotional emptiness that comes with the sensation of being actually empty.

Mack pauses before answering, “There’s gotta be rinks in England.”

“True.” You watch him push off the bed as best as he can, rolling off the condom and discarding it in the trash. He picks up his briefs from the floor before disappearing into the bathroom. “Would you really come through?”

“Would I actually come? Baby…you think that lowly of me?” He re-emerges with a wet towel to clean you up and his briefs back on.

“No, but I know you’re busy.”

“Not too busy for you, your first Wimbledon is a big fucking deal, and I already feel bad enough that I missed the Australian and French Opens. I’ll be there.” Mack picks up his shirt from the floor and hands it to you.

“Okay,” You smile, warmth flooding your chest, you just love him so much.

“Can I?” He touches your knee softly, and you nod, parting your legs again.

Mack cleans you up, making sure to be careful with your sensitive skin. You pull his shirt over your head when he’s done wiping between your legs.

“Oh! Your birthday present. Gimme a second.”

“Take your time.” Mack settles back onto the bed.

You push onto shaky legs and walk to the bathroom, making sure to pee so you don’t get a UTI. You exit the bathroom and grab a clean pair of underwear, sliding them on before reaching for the small box containing Macklin’s gift.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” Mack sighs and takes the box from your hand as you crawl into bed beside him.

“I know, but I love you, and I give gifts to people I love, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I guess I will,” He undoes the ribbon and pulls off the top of the box. “What did you get me?”

“Just look in the box.” You rest your cheek against his shoulder, watching him pull the piece of paper from the box.

“It’s paper.” He teases, holding the folded sheet.

“Read it.” You pinch his arm.

His eyes scan over the contents of the paper, “What the fuck, Y/N.”

“Surprise! We’re going to Hawaii.”

“You’re crazy.” Mack kisses your mouth and pulls away with a smile.

“Maybe, but we’ll be there for a week just the two of us. It’s obviously after Wimbledon ends, so you’ll be okay to take a week away from the rink, right?”

“If they have a gym, then yes.”

“Is that even a question?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m kidding, yeah, I’ll gladly take a week away with you. Thank you, Y/N, this is an amazing gift.” He pulls you into his side.

“You’re welcome, Mack.” You grin. “So how would you rate this birthday?”

“10/10, best birthday ever.” He answers.

“Such high praise.”

“What can I say, my girlfriend surprises me by flying here before Wimbledon after not seeing each other for two months, then we have mind-blowing sex.” You shove his shoulder lightly, “Then she gets me a trip to Hawaii, a week for just the two of us. Overall, a really great day.”

“I guess you could say that.” You get under the covers of the bed as Mack sets his gift on the nightstand.

“Yeah, it’s been a good day.” Mack kisses your hairline as he crawls under the sheets with you.

“I’m glad,” You mutter, eyes starting to droop with sleep, “Happy Birthday, Mack, I love you.”

“I love you too, thank you for a good day.” He wraps his arms around you, head resting on your chest, and you throw a leg over his hip.

“No problem.” You smile sleepily, the warmth of being tangled in his embrace lulling you to sleep. “Goodnight, birthday boy.”

“Goodnight, baby.” You reach over to the side table and turn off the lamp, enveloping you both in the darkness of the night.