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What’s in Your Head, It Doesn’t Matter

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He knew it would happen tonight. The team had been looking for a reason, drooling over him the last few days. The OT winner was just a perfectly timed excuse.

He’s gotten used to all the attention, all the praise meant to soften him. Bergy comes up to him in the gym at Warrior and pats his head, puts a warm hand on the back of his neck. Brad is less subtle and slaps his ass, and some of the other boys- Foligno, Hall, Smith- they just hover, stare, make comments amongst themselves. He’s getting bigger lately, thicker, and he knows they see it. They notice when he struggles to get his base layer over his ass, or how his shirts stretch over his chest now, the material getting close to see-through.

He scores the winner and the boys surround him right away, and he feels his dick start to fill up. He can feel it coming, and heads to the locker room. Not before getting a hug from Bergy, and some instruction; “Get naked.”

His captain isn’t usually so blunt. He’d be a little worried if he wasn’t rushing to pull his layers off as quickly as possible. He’s not about to ignore his captain.

So he keeps stripping, and the boys file in one by one, touching him, pulling at his clothes. Smitty rips his shirt open in the front like Pasta always does to his own shirts, and starts kissing his chest. Bergy and Marchy flank him and kiss his neck, and he’s already under. All this touching, all these hands on him - he didn’t have a chance.

What none of them realize, though, is that ESPN is waiting for an interview. 

“Fuck, fuck, get out there. Now.” Bergy’s command goes right to his dick and he drags himself out, towel in hand and shirt ripped, leaking in his base layer.

“Shit. He’s fucked.” Bergy looks concerned, staring at Brad.

Brad laughs. “Yeah, he’s already out of it. Poor Chuckie.”

They all pass the time by getting their gear off, laughing at the live feed of their poor game winning teammate stumbling over his words and through the interview. 

“Fuck, you guys. Fuck me.” Charlie’s back as soon as possible, begging for it already. He immediately continues to strip off, and every eye in the room is on him. 

“Fucking slut.” Smitty is generally unhinged when it comes to these things- team bonding, as Bergy calls it- and it tends to get everyone else on the same page pretty quickly. He pushes Charlie backwards into a wall.”You’re so pretty.” He smiles and then hits him hard, and smiles again. “Baby boy.” He rips the shirt the rest of the way and dives in, kissing Charlie’s chest, nipples, stomach. Meanwhile Hall and Coyle work on his bottom half, getting him naked from the waist down and getting hands, mouths, anything on him.

He groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, exposing his neck. He feels his ass cheeks being pulled apart and looks back to see Carlo’s face already buried, tongue inside him, and he groans again. Bergy takes his exposed neck as an invitation to suck deep, bruising marks into it, holding his alternate by the jaw.

“Missed you, baby.” Bergy’s words, his voice, are a little comforting. Sometimes all these hands on him make him a little uneasy. But Coyle and Hall are taking turns sucking his dick, and Smitty is working some kind of magic on his nipples, and Bergy’s fingers slide slowly into his mouth, and he melts into everything. 

Carlo pulls away despite Charlie’s protests, and they collectively push him to the floor, legs out in front of him. His back is against the wall and he has basically everyone’s dick in his face- he’s in heaven. Everyone, except Sway and Ullmark. They’re off to the side and in their own world. He stares at them for a moment before he’s occupied again and feels a twinge of jealousy- he has all the dick he can get but they have what he wants - closeness, intimacy, trust. He smiles at them, then opens his mouth. 

He doesn’t even register who he blows first, or second- he’s just grateful to have his mouth full, to taste sweat and salt and precum, to have his focus shift off of what he doesn’t have. There are hands in his hair pushing his face forward, thick cocks hitting the back of his throat. He takes it so well, stays so pretty through it, even with a little blood trickling down his cheek from where Smitty hit him. 

He knows Patrice’s cock. It’s perfect, unsurprisingly, and his pubes are the neatest, and he smells the best. All the things you would expect. But he’s also the gentlest, has the most praise. 

“Being so good for us, baby. Always so good. Won the game for us too, remember?” He lifts his alternate’s face up by the chin to make sure he hears. “We’re so proud of you. Gonna fill you up, give you all we got.”

They smile at each other and Charlie swears they’re the only two people in the room. But he’s proved wrong immediately when a couple of them hoist him up, hands under his arms, and put him on the floor.

They stand around him in a circle, dicks in hands, and he feels like he’s in some cliche porn. And Patrice kind of fades into the group, distracted by Brad. Just another horny, hungry teammate waiting to fuck him. He panics for a second- this isn’t how he thought he would feel. They’ve been through this before, plenty of times. But he’s craving something different. Oh well, too late now, he thinks. He breathes, focusing on the ceiling. At least he’ll get some good dick.

Smitty steps up first, mostly because he’s the most impatient. 

“You ready, cutie?” He leans down and pinches Charlie’s cheek, slips a thumb in his mouth.

“Yeah, how do you want me?”

“So sweet, huh? On your hands and knees.” 

Charlie was hoping for that answer. He doesn’t want to know exactly who’s inside him, if they’re using a condom or not. Just wants to be a good boy, take everything the boys have to give him, and feel thoroughly fucked. It’s what he knows now. 

So he climbs onto his hands and knees slowly, savoring the feeling of eyes on him. He arches his back just a little, sticking his ass out just enough. He hears a few groans and then what he assumes are Smitty’s hands on his ass, his dick sliding in seconds later. There’s a hand pulling his hair, and he feels a hand on his chin lifting his face up before another cock is in his mouth. He keeps his eyes closed.

Before, with the old team, Zee would be the one directing all this, making sure his boy was safe and lucid. But Zee left and Charlie’s gotten more and more into being used, disrespected. Or at least used to it.

He thinks a couple people have come in him already, and his own cock is leaking and dripping on the floor, and his mouth and throat are full. This is what he was meant for. Life surrounded him with all these men with poor self control and intense sex drives for a reason. 

“Look at me.” 

He doesn’t like the command, but he listens anyway, because that’s where his mind is. In the obedient, floaty space it goes in times like these. He looks up and sees Lindholm, feels the older man’s hand on his chin. 

“You okay?”

He swallows. His new d partner, the one who looks out for him on the ice, being so kind… 

Something in his face must have changed, because Lindholm kneels down, gets face to face with him. There’s still a dick inside him, continuing to pound him and shake his whole body in the process. Sweat is dripping down his face and Lindholm pushes the sweaty hair off his forehead. “Hey, you okay Charlie?”

In lieu of answering, which Charlie fears would bring his emotions to the surface, he pushes forward enough to kiss his d partner. It’s salty and sweaty and he still has the taste of someone’s- multiple people’s- come in his mouth, and suddenly the tears come anyway and they keep kissing through it, Lindholm holding his face and keeping him steady. 

The last person finishes their turn with him, so it seems, because he’s empty now, and so is the locker room. Except for Lindholm, who’s still there on the floor with him. 

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. You need something?”

“Just- don’t wanna be alone.”

“Oh, I understand that. I’ll take you to my room?”

Charlie nods, pouting and still teary-eyed, so Lindholm hoists him to his feet, starts dressing him. “You know, you don’t need to let them do this to you. You can say no.”

“I know, just-“

“I can help you next time, okay? I’ll help you say no, if you want. Just tell me.”

Charlie smiles at him just a little, kisses him as a thank you. 

“You’re very sweet, you know?”

 

*

 

Once they’re in Hampus’ room, Charlie falls apart just a little more. He sinks into the older man’s chest when they hug, exhausted. 

“Want me to clean you up, baby?”

Charlie nods. He feels like he’s barely said anything to his sweet teammate today, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

They step into the oversized shower together, both naked again. But Charlie feels no expectation this time, and just lets himself be worked over and lathered up, Lindholm’s soapy hands working into all his cracks and crevices. 

Charlie can’t help but notice how hard his teammate is getting, how long he’s spending making sure Charlie’s balls and hole are squeaky clean. And he’s getting hard himself, too. They never did get to come.

They make quick eye contact and both blush, Hampus getting to his feet quickly. He laughs. “Sorry, sorry. You feel clean enough?”

Charlie’s eyes scan Lindholm’s wet, sudsy body, his very unsubtle erection. “Yeah.” He pushes the older man against the wall, moves their cocks together. “Will you fuck me, daddy? Now that I’m all clean?”

Lindholm swallows, blushes again. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to- and he’s never been called that name before but he wants to hear it about a thousand more times out of Charlie’s pretty mouth. But he saw how he was earlier. Defeated, defiled. Sad. He doesn’t want to cause that again.

“You don’t have to do that, okay?”

“I know. I wanna come. Please?”

“Can I touch you ‘til you come instead?”

Charlie whines and pushes his cock forward so Hampus takes the opportunity and fits his fist around the length. His d partner seems to need something more, judging by his whines. 

“Good boy. So sweet for your daddy, huh? Look so cute.”

Charlie starts to move his hips at that, fucking Lindholm’s fist, arms around his neck. 

“Want you to come, okay baby? Then I’ll dry you off and we can sleep. I’ll keep you close.”

He comes quickly and slumps into Lindholm’s chest, smiling. He wants to cry again, but this time from relief. From feeling so seen, so cared for. It’s something he hasn’t felt since the last time he was with Zee. Didn’t think he could feel without him. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Charlie.”

“I’m really glad we got you. Best signing since… well, me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hampus is smiling down at his ridiculous d partner, who’s jelly in his arms. “I’m glad too.”