(Y/N) POV:

"Five laps around the grounds. Make sure everyone's in pace with each other—no-one falls behind." Jungkook calls out, the figure skating team a crowded huddle around him on the tracks.

"Five?" I mouth at him incredulously. It was meant to be a few warm-up laps around the tracks.

His lips quirk into a grin, eyes alight with a giddiness, though he knows that a whole team staying in sync for miles is something that regularly tests stamina and consistency. Something his grin shows he revels in proving and testing. In ensuring it.

"Five laps. Around the whole grounds to kick off morning training." Grin deepening at the protests and grumbles, but at the next nudge of his words everyone falls into formation of two clean lines.

The first lap warms us up, chases away the faint coolness of an early morning run.

The second and third makes my skin heat, heartbeat echoing in my ears, sweat beading at my temples, beading on skin. The steady thump-thump-thump of feet pounding against the pavements in echoing, thundering unison.

The ground beneath us changing, morphing as we pass through and around the grounds. Terrain turning from solid concrete to looser gravel, to the softer press of grass.

And at some point between the second and third lap, Kook drops back from leading the team, weaving his way back and voice calling out, continuous encouragement over the resounding echo of the team continuing to run.

"Keep going—we're halfway there." Voice strong and level even though he's been running at the same pace as us too, rather than monitoring from the sidelines.

And when he drops back, he falls into pace with me, running alongside me, grin breathless and cheeks flushed with colour. Skin beaded with sweat.

"Doing okay icicle?"

"Never been better." Breath uneven, eyes darting to the side to see his gaze flit to me, amusement lingering in his eyes.

"Seeing as you're not totally out of breath means—you kept to the fitness schedule!" pride bleeding into his voice.

"I've got a Spartan partner."

"I've got a badass covering my back as Captain."

There'd been a reason he'd been leading from the front, and I'd been at the back, rounding off the team whilst he'd led it to keep at its constant speed.

"If I've got your back—not going to head to the front for the final 2 laps?"

"Nope."

"No?"

"Gotta make sure my partner doesn't slack off." Words teasing, eyes creasing slightly when I scowl, a huff of breath exhaled shakily, keeping in pace with him.

The burn that'd started mid second lap slowly slowly turning into a growing sensation that makes my lungs heat, that makes every inhale and exhale feel overheated, sweat trickling down skin.

The telltale burn spreading out to encompass my limbs.

"You left me at the back to keep everyone in line, remember Captain?"

"And now I'm here to make sure you don't lag without me keeping you in line." A playfulness in his words, that slowly peters out into the same ragged breaths that also seem to flutter and fluctuate in sync with my own.

Lungs burning and legs trembling as I push myself to keep on going, one foot in front of the other, the running becoming a mindless repetition. Body going through the motions, legs moving in trained response to keep on going, sweat dripping down skin as we reach the final lap.

The final lap of the grounds, almost there, pushing and pushing, steps in unison with Kook's, the two formed lines of the team snaking around a bend, dipping down uneven ground before weaving back towards the tracks.

Cheeks aflame with how much heat pours off me as we slow down to stop. The last stretch melting the pace down to a jog.

Ducking out of the line and breaking away to circle round the team, everyone coming to still off the tracks. Bodies hunching over, equally flushed and sweaty, exertion making breaths uneven.

Hoodies and jumpers discarded, wound tight around waists.

And even though we'd started our run before morning had properly started, it's cool still. The weather slowly, slowly easing away from the summer heat to start melting into autumn.

Perspiration cooling with the brush of wind that ghosts along skin, that cools the prickling sensation of feeling gross and sticky in my own skin.

Fingers brushing away flyaway strands of hair that plaster to my temples and cheeks, the cold press of a bottle cooling skin. Starting and turning.

A grateful tilt to my mouth as I take the proffered bottle of water, scrunched grin pleased and bemused.

"You didn't melt entirely icicle."

"Maybe I've gotten used to your Spartan ways."

"About time then wouldn't you say?" elbow nudging me in the side. Lips tugging up as I walk towards the cooler, an armful of bottles swept up to hand out to the rest of the team.

But a trickle, cold then icy trickles down my spine, a shriek as I twist, bottles cluttering to the ground as my back arches. Twisting away from the sudden shock of cold, cold spilling down my spine, down my back.

Screeching as I jerk away from the cold.

Cackling with laughter, face scrunched up with pure mirth as he holds an unscrewed bottle in his hand.

"Jeon fucking Jungkook!"

"What? I thought you needed help cooling down." Lips curled with tease, voice dripping with amusement, watching my face flit through a mixture of cold-shock, surprise and scowling startlement.

"You—"

"Couldn't have my icicle melting away entirely. Not when we've got a whole day of training together still." Bending down to help scoop up the bottles of water, twisting to grab the bottle out of his hand, wrenching it free and tossing it in his direction.

Laughing at the yelp he lets out as he jerks back.

Brows rising as I look at him.

"What? Partners should be equals don't you think." The cold seeping into his shirt, pressing to skin, even as I tug at mine with a grimace.

Drawing it up and off overhead, tossing my shirt at him.

A splutter as he catches it.

"There's one way to cool off I guess." Grinning at me, the sound of a wolf-whistle from behind me playful and laughing. Gaze turning to flit across Ari's exaggerated wink as we make eye contact.

"Or heat me up." Hand fanning at her face with glittering playfulness in her expression.

"See that's the type of response you should give me Kook when I go shirtless for you."

"Get all worked up and sweaty for me and then I'll think about it." eyes flashing with promise that the rest of the day held just that exactly.

A shiver wracking my body when another brush of wind cools the sweat on my skin, makes it pebble with cool. Everyone slowly picking their way off to head to breakfast or to fill in the rest of the morning with individual training whether it was at the gym, in the practice rooms or dance.

Kook waves off the others, watching the team split off, calling out to remind them about afternoon training.

"Do you want my hoodie?" tugging it off from around his waist.

"Aren't you a charmer? Nah—I'm trying to cool down." Brushing off the proffered worn material, brows furrowing slightly when I sidestep him, pace quickening two steps to fall into stride with me.

Body still feeling heat pouring off my skin, cheeks flushed and hot to the touch, damp strands of hair pressed to my nape, that gross discomforting feeling trying to ebb away, chased with every soft gust of air cooling my skin.

"You're not wearing a shirt anymore—you could get a cold." A fussiness entering his tone.

"Okay Mama Koo... I'm fine, we've got more training after we eat."

"You're going to get a cold. Then I'll be stuck nursing you back to health and dealing with your grumbles and oh Kook the sheets are cold, the bed's too stuffy... nothing's right." Grumbling with a good-naturedness, tugging me back with a sudden jolt of motion, draping the hoodie across my shoulders regardless. Tugging it across even if my arms don't thread through the sleeves. Voice adopting a higher pitch that's whiney and complaining, lips pursing as I tug the sleeves more comfortably over me, curling into the fabric despite having refused it in the first place.

"I will not." Eyes darting a glance sideways, taking on the fussing without too much complaint, eyes narrowing onto the sight of the shirt clinging to his body, a second-skin.

"Might wanna throw something on top of the bulk then. Don't want my poor Koo to go down with a chill." Extending out the side of his hoodie in invite, arm looping through his to tug him close regardless, fingers curled against his bicep.

"I'll be fine."

My eyes catch onto the way his skim around, a sense of wary alertness in them.

Batting my lashes as my voice drips with a sweetness instead.

"I suppose I could nurse you back to prime health. I reckon I'd look good in the costume don't you?"

"You—" lips parting with retort, fingers squeezing his bicep.

"Don't worry you'd look just as hot in a nurse's outfit. I'm just saying I'd do that for you."

"Doesn't that make me feel special." He grumbles with a grin at his lips, arm curling around my waist to tug me into his side. A stumbled half-step that makes his lips twitch as he steers us into the food hall.

"My number one."

"Oh?"

"The first I'd give my heart and body to."

"Stop being gross."

"Oh but Koo you know you're my first and forever~"

Tugging at his side as he tries to disentangle and speed up, to leave me behind, clutching onto him tightly. A refusal to let go, purposely weighing heavily into his side.

"I don't wanna be stuck forever." A whined complaint.

"Too bad! You're stuck with me. All mine—oh! Hobi!" voice calling out, spotting the amused expression on heart lips, watching the two of us from where he's already seated for breakfast.

Head angled in invite, hearing his laughter ripple in the air. Infectious and warm and beckoning.

Steps quickening.

Filtering past a few people to get to him, nudging into someone's side, eyes flitting up with haste. An amused lilt curling my mouth up, eyes catching onto a familiar brown. Gaze dipping down then drifting back up. Irises darker than they'd been mere moments ago.

Whatever brief apology might've been there fades under the flash of heat, the slight bob of his throat and a roughness in his voice, drawling and taunting even as he moves to the side.

"Careful doll."

"Didn't see you there—my bad Park." Though there's nothing in my words that are trying to provoke, his eyes flash and then narrow, eyes skimming past with a lofty ease, as if missing him was that easily done.

That riles him.

Lips twitching as I move past, a hand at the low of my back, a brush of soft quiet laughter.

"Treat him mean, keep him keen?"

"Dunno what you mean. With who exactly?"

A few minutes later, my phone buzzes.

🏒: Forgotten me already? Seemed fine screaming my name last night.

❄️: Did I?

🏒: Don't worry

🏒: I'll be glad to remind you again

My fingers slip my phone into my pocket.

Feel it buzz, a hot brand, against my thigh.

A message I don't check, a flush of heat that briefly ripples through me at the reminder of his words.

Tugging the hoodie tighter around myself.

"Not gonna get that?"

"It can wait." Until it's somewhere more private, away from the bustle of students brushing past.

"Sexting gone private? Thank fuck for—"

"Don't worry Koo, I'll make sure to send screenshots."

[......]

🏒: Breaking out a sweat so early doll?

❄️: Last night didn't do it right.

❄️: Had to do it myself

[......]

"We're not training here." Words firm and final, hand tugging me out the sheer cluster of the gym, countless athletes milling around, a wave of heat seeming to ripple in the air around them. Grimacing at the sight.

"I'm not one to complain about the sight of men all sweaty—but this is taking it a step too far." Stepping back to half-angle away from the sheer heat and smell of leather, metal and sweat, clinging to the equipment, seeming to fester in the air. Make it swell with exertion.

Faces ruddy with effort, blotchy with heat.

Koo's nose scrunches, wrinkles at the smell, a grimace of pure distaste marring his face, stepping back and ducking away—the air cool and brushing away the smell, walking further out of the centre of campus. Aiming for a quieter, smaller gym.

Emptier because it's on the outskirts of campus and further away from the main training rooms and tracks.

"What're we working on today?"

"We're going to do some weight practice Coach's going to be making us do later this week. You gotta carry my weight too little dumbbell." Arm slinging heavy over my shoulders, purposely dragging to make my knees briefly buckle at the force he tugs me with. Shouldering his arm, fingers lacing through his and grinning.

"Don't worry Koo I got your back~"

"And I was thinking of doing some off-ice practice for some lifts—the moves we're thinking, about you balancing me in a series of half-spins..."

"Before a lift?"

He hums in agreement, the sound rippling through me with how close he presses to my side.

"Olympics is going to take us being bolder."

"Risk-takers." Pride and eager confidence bleeding into my voice.

He tugs me further into his side.

"Gotta practice before any risk."

But that gleam's there in his eyes too. The thrill of it, of pushing our routine, our talent, our abilities further than we had before.

That this season... this season is within reach.

This season is going to be ours.

[......]

"Fucking hell" I groan, arms trembling as I curl my hands tighter around the metal, jaw gritting tighter as I keep my hold from slipping. Sweat dampening my palms, making the metal warm and slippery to my touch, fingers curling in harder. Refusing to let them slip through.

Hands grip my waist, providing stable balance, fingers gripping firmly.

"Keep going. Hold for one more minute."

My breath wavers, drawing in a steadier inhale of breath. Willing the control over my body to still the tremble and strain that would make it oh so easy to let my fingers slip from the overhead bar. It'd be so easy, the streak of heat lancing down my spine, seeming to gather at the weighted belt around my hips. The disc suspended between my legs, calves bent as I draw myself up, adjusting my grip.

"You're going to do some pull-ups after this." Grin seeming sadistic, the usual scrunched softness seeming delighted even when another groan ripples through my body, arms burning, the ache in my shoulders and pull to them a testament to how long I'd been keeping myself suspended for. Hands slipping up from around my waist and adjusting the curve in my spine, melding it into a straighter line.

Hand pressing to the low of my back, just above the thick belt.

"Keep your spine straight—don't dislodge the weight. It'll throw your back out."

"You could wreck my back any day Kook." Words drawling out. A faint smile, trembling at the corners, tugging at my mouth.

It makes his own lips curl wide.

"Doesn't Park do it good enough?"

"Nothing like what we both know you could~" though there's laughter in his eyes, brightening the sharp watchfulness of his gaze.

Eyes flitting past me to dip down and glance at his watch.

Broad palms moving from my waist to drag down, reach between my legs to unclasp the weight. The sudden lightness tugging moaned relief from my lips.

Grip steadying and firm, slipping up the back of my thighs, steadying my weight carefully, legs locking around him. Hands slipping away easily from the bars, weight readily slumping into him with a long groan, body curved to his.

"Drama queen... maybe acting school and not a sports uni would've been the better choice?"

"Two things."

"What?" sounding amused, faintly curious.

"One... you'd say that when I can't feel my legs? You'd toss me aside? Not carry me away? What're those big buff arms for then?" head curving to slump against his shoulder, chin hooking over the broad stretch of muscle.

Chin digging in playfully, hard enough his hands clasp tighter, purposely jostling me, hands gripping at Kook tighter when that tight grip loosens,

"And second?" voice wry.

"Second—you'd miss me too much. But don't worry Koo I'd never deny you of such a great partner. Not for all the acting in the world you

"Second... I'd never leave you. Deny you of the best partner ever?"

He snorts.

Amused and brows raised.

"I remember you made me a t-shirt that said that!"

Expression morphing with flushed embarrassment, the heat already tinging his cheeks seeming to pinken deeper.

"I'll burn that t-shirt." He deadpans, squirming at the patpatpat of my hand against a cheek. Teeth turning to bite at my hand, snatching it away with a laugh, head settling back against his shoulder, legs tightening around his waist. Locking around him more solidly.

"You'll have to get me off you first."

A bodily shake doesn't jostle me off him, grip only tightening as he laughs—the sound rippling through our bodies, slumped so heavily onto him in a koala hold that he couldn't shake me if he tried.

Not that he's really trying.

Not really.

There's a big, big difference to if he'd really wanted to use his size or strength, there would've been no real difficulty when he's long since trained to carry my weight, my limbs, my body an easy extension to his own.

"My sweet Koo~ gonna stay right here." Arms wrapping around him, slung around his neck.

"Sweet-talking me doesn't get you out of doing weighted squats though."

My sigh exhales against his neck, feeling the faint squirm, fingers curling tighter.

"My mean Kook I'm not going to stay right here." Legs trying to disentangle from around him when his grip tightens.

Head leaning back to shoot me a grin that's all scrunched and eyes that are all too sharp and glittering.

"Where are you going~ I thought you'd never leave me... that means through all the tough training." He lilts with a sweetness that's teasing.

"To rest!"

"We can rest when we're done."

"Noooooooo"

But still my legs make no move to unravel. Because if I really wanted to I could.

Part of the routine of the constant training and exercising was complaining about it.

Made it... more palatable.

[......]

"I can feel someone staring." Kook pauses behind me, hands stilling at my waist.

"Who?"

"Don't look—I'll find them." A hushed conspirator tone in his voice and a wariness laced into it, a biting edge to it.

"Do you want me to keep going—"

"Yeah... keep lowering down slowly into the next squat. I'll keep your weight steady."

"I'm pretty sure I can manage... you're such a fusser."

"What's the point of risking accidentally straining a muscle when we can just... prevent it." expression slightly bemused and wondering.

A careful attentiveness as he lowers down into a squat with me, monitoring my grip on the bar across my shoulders, the burn in my muscles recognisably... easily familiar as I hold the position. Matching my breathing to the counted calm that Jungkook guides me through.

Breathing following his, eyes watching my own position and posture and his doing the same.

But then his eyes dip away, flit to slowly scan the gym.

Expression shifting and morphing, eyes sharpening and lips curling up. Laughter swimming in his eyes.

"Found it~"

My head turns to track his gaze with curiosity. Fingers clasping at my waist in silent warning.

Lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

"Don't look—don't wanna give Park the satisfaction do you?"

My eyes brighten, lips twitching.

"Ah~ can't keep his eyes off me... I don't blame him." I nod.

The next squat lets me feel the first brush of a gaze trained on me now that I know where it's coming from, now that Kook's pointed it out—feeling it more acutely.

"His eyes might be on you... yours stay focused on yourself. Don't mess up a lift—the weight's heavier than you used to train with."

A more firmer tone in his voice, his hands adjusting against my waist, voice continuing to be slow as they continue to support through each squat.

Thighs burning.

"At least I know your Spartan training isn't just punishing me." a grin tugging at my lips, fingers gripping at the bar tighter, fighting the urge to roll out my neck knowing it'll throw my balance off and the careful weight set across my shoulders.

"What's that mean?" though there's amusement filtering into his voice.

"Just means he won't be getting any action until we're done. Guess he's gotta watch."

"Atta dumbbell." Words cheering and a huff of laughter.

[......]

There's sweat pouring down my skin by the time Kook relents. Trickling down to soak into clothes, to press an even hotter flush to skin. Each layer plastered to my body, hair damp and tendrils sticking to my nape and temples.

Brushing away the slick heat with the towel held out towards me.

"Got the good kind of ache now dumbbell?" voice teasing, hand rubbing at my spine, trying to offer some comfort, some shred of solace now that the training's over. But the heated drag of his hand does nothing but add to the scorching discomfort, half-shrugging it off with a tired groan.

"I might not feel my legs tomorrow."

"That's what you should be saying to Park no? Though if you're not I don't know whether to thank him or feel sorry for you."

"Oh fuck off." I laugh, voice hoarse.

"I suppose it's good though. Never affected your training."

My scowl is half-hearted, half-slumped, too weary. Hand batting at him with the towel.

"I think you need a good lay. Might take the edge off for how hard you push."

"Never~ the sport might've started cos of fun... but where's the fun if it doesn't make you ache for it at times? Last I remember... you like a bit of pain."

"You're the sadist! Does it get you off making me cuss you out?"

Lashes batting simperingly.

Amusement deepening his grin. Laughter flickering in his eyes.

But then his expression morphs into a grimace. Shoving at me lightly.

"Oh I'd rock your world if it wasn't gross how much I already know you."

"What's gross about me? I'm a catch."

"I do spend a lot of my time catching you." he sighs.

I slowly straighten up, body slumping readily to the ground without a beat of a pause. Body tilting sideways, hand against my forehead. Feigning swooning to the ground.

Hands catching me easily.

Laughing as Kook peers at me. Exasperated and all too knowing.

Not having missed a beat.

"That doesn't mean you go tossing yourself to the ground any time you feel like it."

My hand squeezes his bicep. Fingers curling into muscle.

"But why~ when such big arms you have..."

"All the better to toss you with." A sudden swoop of motion as he lifts me, a quick dizzying rush of movement. Hands gripping at the back of my legs, tossing me over his shoulder. The world turned upside down, narrowed to the sight of thick thighs.

Hand copping a feel, a squeeze that doesn't startle or faze him. Hand squeezing my thigh in response.

Laughter rippling through my body.

"Gotta get thighs like me dumbbell. These gotta carry my weight too."

"Yet you're between them enough. Never heard a complaint against them."

"Well Park won't be. But when it's me between your thighs, I want them to be stronger."

My hand pats at his thigh.

Gauging and comparing.

"Mine are thicker..." I muse.

"You wish."

"They are!"

"Okay—let's get the measuring tape out."

"Bet you..."

"Buy me dinner if you lose." He bargains.

"Getting between my legs first and dinner second?" voice lilted.

"You don't like doing things to an order anyways."

"....okay. Dinner you're on."

A laugh slipping out at how ridiculous it feels to have the conversation to the back of his thighs, eyes scrutinising them. Hand panning over to map out their width.

Surely not.

[......]

"Ha! Females have thicker thighs naturally. Add the muscles into it.... you didn't stand a chance Koo."

The furrow between his brows and the way his lips jut out shouldn't be as endearing as they are... nor do I expect him to truly be sulking whilst eating.

Cheeks puffing and full, chewing grumpily. Shovelling another mouthful of food in, food containers scattered on the floor.

"I have muscles too."

My hand reaches out to patpatpatpat with commiseration at his thigh, feel it flex under my touch.

Patting it reassuringly.

"Strongest pair of thighs I've ever found myself between."

The corners of his mouth lift.

Drooped puffy cheeks bunching up. Upturning with satisfaction.

Nodding, swallowing hastily.

"Damn right."

Nudging another container towards him, watching eyes alight with eagerness as he rifles through it, face furrowing with humming approval. A frown making his features seem both puffy and cross.

The expression all too telling how much he's eating with relish.

"Guess it has to be leg day next... can't have you beating me." he muses, sprawled out, a hand rubbing languidly at his stomach. Tugging at his t-shirt to check that the toned muscles of his stomach haven't somehow vanished in the duration of eating dinner.

Patting with contentment.

My leg knocks against his.

"Not really a competition between us though is it. I look good—you look good. You look good.... I look good."

"I look bad... you cover me up. You look bad..."

"You cover me up." I finish.

Limbs stretching out into a deeper extended arch, sprawling across the carpet. Twisting to shuffle closer to Kook's sprawling figure. Leg thrown over his, hand hitching it closer, gripping the back of my leg.

Draping against his side, tucked close to him. Head against his shoulder.

"I got your back yknow. Not just literally when it comes to training."

"I know."

"So if that means you need me to leave earlier so you can—" words trailing off with a hint of mischief in his words.

My fingers pinch his nipple. A startled yelp as he jerks.

Body trying to twist away.

"I'm sure Park will love the inter-team sportsmanship." Words wry.

"He can work it off in the next shared practice. Work him hard."

"I'll ride him hard—" a hand clamps over my mouth.

--------------------

"Come over tonight?"

"Why? Can't fit me in between your group training and gym session?"

The hand that'd been inching upwards stills. An even more purposeful slow drag of knuckles against the underside of my breast.

The slow tracing pressure of his nail slowly inching upwards, toying... circling... lips quirking.

A flash of teeth. A curled smirk at the way my back arches, the way a keening, uneven breath slips past my lips. Body bracketed by his, pressing harder, closer. Back against the cold metal of the locker door.

"I don't want to." Finger idly tracing, circling, brushing across the stiffness of the bud that strains against fabric.

Body curving forward, tilting further into the touch, even though the sight of that smirk goads a challenged searing heat under my skin. Frustration and impatience that bleeds into the way my body shifts, presses forward towards mine. Thigh pressing between mine.

"Why?" breath pinching, wavering as my fingers curl into his wrist. Grip at him tightly.

The drag of his thumb brushes leisurely over me, a weighted caress.

A knowing sharpness in his eyes. It turns the angled tilt of his head into something more carefully calculating. Something assessing, something that revels in the way the slight touch elicits such a response.

Hating that it does, the tilt of my body to the touch damning me, tilting the curve of his mouth into a deeper, amused and delighted smirk.

"Because why rush something I intend on spending all night being able to do?"

"Bold words. What're you going to do?"

"If you could see yourself now doll... I barely have a finger on you and you're like this. Imagine what you'll be like when I get to do every single thing I've spent all practice imagining I could do."

"What've you imagined?"

Eyes dipping to trace the way his finger stops circling, the way his hand drifts upwards, knuckles brushing against the swell of cleavage, head ducking to mouth along flesh, teeth and tongue tauntingly mapping out the slither of curves his groan ripples against. That my head tilts back to invite, feeling the taunting press of a smirk against skin.

"Spending as long as it takes to figure out whether or not you'll push back and take or whether there's a point where you'll give and give."

Fingers toying with the strap at my shoulder.

The words heavy with question, curiosity laced with desire.

An indulgence in his words that suggests that after practice there's nothing else he'd rather be doing... than me.

A coil of heat tightens low in my gut, swoops lower as my thighs clench on either side of him. Purposely trapping the thick press of muscle against my core.

All it'd take... all it'd take is for me to push my hips down, to circle them just so and find a modicum of relief. But there's just something about his eyes... about his stare... the calculating intensity to them that promises otherwise. A teetering precipice of dangling control in front of each other.

If I move...have I lost? If I move have I handed over control and lost my own? Or is it my own control to use him to chase my own pleasure.

A pinprick of heat, a flush that makes heat warm my skin as his tongue drags a line down my throat, the promising pinch of teeth to later leave a mark.

"But--look at you." voice sharp with arousal, dropping heavier and thicker with lust. Eyes raking over me slowly.

"We both know you like what you see—wouldnt drag me off the rink otherwise would you? Got a thing for seeing me move?"

"I've seen the way you move. On the ice... at the club... under me."

"Over you." I add, lips curling deeper, a breathier sigh as the drag of teeth fades and his hand drags lower, feeling muscles shift and contract under the touch. Reacting as if every drag of calloused fingertips and a rough palm sends sparks and jolts of heat to pulse through me. Body livewire under his touch. Coiled with an anticipation.

His eyes darken.

Blacken with lust.

Warring over...and near winning over the faint scraps of control he's trying so desperately to hold onto.

Is it him who wins because it's Jimin who's making me feel like this—teetering between lust and want and the faint scrap of consciousness that I have practice in—was it minutes? Or had it started?

Or is it me who wins because he's losing control too?

The thought blanks clean out of my mind when his fingertips brush against the waistband of my leggings, fingers about to delve under when there's a buzz at my thigh. Once, twice and then blaring into a loud ringing.

Body jerking back, a spark of pain when my head hits the locker door, cursing as I fish out my phone from my pocket.

Hand pressing against Jimin's chest when he moves to tilt forward, the brush of a fingertip toying with my waistband regardless.

Lips aching and tingling even though his mouth hasn't once pressed to them.

Steeling my breaths, voice level when I answer.

"Dumbbell where are you? You best not be screwing around right now... I'm waiting!"

"Shit—is Coach there?"

"Not yet but your ass should be. Get down to the rink."

My hand snatches at Jimin's.

Body pushing away from the locker hastily.

"I'll be right there..."

"You'll be doing laps until I'm happy." Words grumbling, though the very real promise in them makes me move quicker.

"Nonono I'm right there."

A laugh that ripples through the phone.

Amused and too damn smug now.

"No you're not. I don't see you." the sound of slowly gliding skates.

Words mocking.

"What I might see in a couple of minutes is Coach Kim here to teach us a lift and—oh. No dumbbell. Who am I meant to lift?" dry words so entertained.

But the thought of it pushes me into a flurry of movement, panicked and rushed, hastily shoving past Jimin, hand snagging at the hoodie I'd discarded.

"I'm right right there... I swear!"

"(L/N)— see you later?"

"I've gotta go... move, move, move."

"And they say romance is dead."

"That for sure is. So's fooling around apparently." I grumble into the phone, sidestepping Jimin, the ringing laughter filtering through. Light and airy in a way I'm not feeling, rushing towards the door.

Skates clattering heavy against the ground.

Adrenaline and nerves making me rush out the door, hurrying out the locker room to head down onto the rink, the sound of skates heavily fumbling on the ground, muffled and slowed by each step until I'm pushing out onto the ice.

Immediately finding purchase.

Eyes full of laughter and Kook's lips curved deep into a teasing grin.

Looking thoroughly entertained.

"Is his dick game that strong that you forget practice?"

"No." cheeks burning with indignation, at the suggestion that somehow Jimin was manging to through me off-kilter... even in the slightest.

A defensiveness welling up in the way Kook's eyes crinkle with laughter, creasing them with lines.

"Then are you that thirsty that you'll ditch me for a quickie?"

"No!" hand shoving at him as I skate closer, fingers curling around my wrist to use the force of the shove to twist me around instead.

Back pressed to his chest.

"So what excuse would you have given Coach?"

"That I..." faltering at the thought of having to apologise to either Coach. To apologise for being late to a practice we'd scheduled with him to practice lifts.

Kook tuts. Feigned disappointment.

"At least have an excuse dumbbell~" words lilted with a laugh.

"There won't be a reason to." Voice firm.

"No? Cos yknow I'm your wingman... I won't tire you out to the point you can't enjoy whatever you do with Park."

The heat in my cheeks recedes slightly.

Eyes flitting up with an echo of the amusement still pooled in his.

"Is that being a good captain or a good wingman? You really shouldn't be tiring out your partner in the first place."

"Bet that's something you'd never say to Park. But... from the looks of it— too tired to make it back to your dorm?" question dropping into a hushed whisper.

"it's convenient."

"Oh I bet it is."

"Listen—"

"Oh all I've been doing is listening to your gross oversharing and—"

"Excellent! You're both here!"

A third pair of skates joining the ice and Coach Kim moves towards us, an easy smile on his face.

"Already warmed up?"

"And then some no doubt." Kook mutters under his breath, disguising his laugh as a cough. Patting at his chest and sidestepping before my elbow gets to dig into his side.

"We're ready Coach."

"Good. We're still going to do a few laps around the rink and then we'll start by practicing how to combine a lift and turns."

"We going for a couple of turns?"

"The main practice today is keeping (Y/N) balanced over your head and keeping a steady pirouetting motion without moving too wide across the ice."

"Simple overhead lift?"

"Hands on her abdomen." Coach nods before tilting his head to the ice.

Gesturing us to warm up first.

Eyes attentive and focused from the moment he steps onto the ice to guiding through every single movement as we prepare to practice the lifts.

Voice a wave of calm.

"Hands should be panning over her stomach. Fingers gripping and curling at her waist. Your hands are the centre of (Y/N)'s balance." Coach Kim guides, assessing Kook's grip.

Kook's hands move across my front, body bracketing mine from the front.

"Now when you lift her... all we're going to do is keep the balance first. And regular rotations."

"Ready?" question quiet and low.

"Ready."

3, 2, 1 lift.

Body airborne, lifted steadily overhead, hands the centre of my focus, every sensation narrowing down to how the breadth of his palms are all that my body rests on, is supported by... fingers curled securely at my sides.

"Good. Hold."

Breathing falling into practiced, slowed sync the moment I feel the beginning of the lift, feel my body coil and ready to be suspended, feel my skates leave the ice. Feel everything narrow to the sturdy grip keeping me steady and overhead.

Body slowly turning in a careful rotation- eyes darting up to watch me, silently check in with me.

Reading the answer in my eyes.

"Slow turns that's it..." Coach's voice melts into the background, a fading noise that somehow I'm aware of and yet it doesn't permeate my consciousness. Hovers just on the edge of it. In the same way the awareness of Coach's presence recedes—there but not at the same time. Because all I need to focus on, all I can focus on is Jungkook.

"....going to slowly start turning and after a few rotations build speed."

A glance of eyes towards me that I sense, that my own gaze reciprocates.

"And (Y/N) you're going to do some extensions as he's rotating. Your torso needs to be in an arch okay—you're in flight when he holds you airborne, your movements need to mirror the pace okay?"

"Got it Coach."

"I'll be monitoring so don't worry—though we've practiced these a lot with the harness equipment. It's the same process... we're just adding movement and pace to the moves you've both already prepared for."

Both of us nod.

Though there's not a single fraction of doubt that even if I fall—Kook's got my back.

"Arms should be clean lines. Back arched. Jungkook keep her steady."

"Yes Coach." Our voices echo.

Once again, his presence recedes, giving us space across the ice. Until it's just us.

The first turns slow and steady until I have to arch, pushing away from the sprawling grounding pressure of his hands, teetering my own balance off.

Body off-kilter.

Kook's hands steadying the waver at the last moment, but it means my body tilts forward. Core not managing to stay engaged and suspended in a controlled curve at the same time. Arms moving forward to balance myself, legs locking around Kook's torso by instinct, fingers curling into him. Material slippery.

He doesn't need to reassure that he's got me. Skates finding solid ice again.

"Okay we'll try that again."

A wobble.

A teeter.

Balance being thrown again...and again... and again because I can't figure out how to ease off the support to hold myself into an arch. That needs me to push away from the support of two widely spaced palms. So used to them that knowing that this move requires me to ease off that makes the move unsteady.

And all it takes is one instant of unevenness to throw the balance.

Hands catching me, steadying me, drawing me back down level to the ice.

Brows faintly furrowed as he examines me, Kook's hands turning and adjusting across my front. Testing out a different position, a different grip before he lifts me up off the ice again.

The next fumble is a quick catch of hands, skates slipping and legs near buckling at the awkward landing. Footing evening out as I straighten.

A faint furrow in Coach's expression, observing and silently, mentally mapping out each micro-movement.

Kook's eyes bolstering, hand squeezing my waist.

"(Y/N) try the arch standing up. Jungkook keep your hands steadying her like you would."

A brief twist before he's facing me, standing in front. Hands finding their position and place easily.

Back curving cleanly, torso falling back and away from Kook, from his grip.

Suspended and held into its deep curve by the contracting and clenching of my core muscles, a deep exhale as I reach full arch, arms extended overhead. Feet automatically switching to angle across the other.

"It's not holding yourself in the correct pose that's the problem." Coach muses after a long few moments, body perfectly still all the while.

"Okay Jungkook I want you to lift her over you. (Y/N) in a straight and clean line."

Each broken down instruction gathered out. Re-building the individual steps and components of the step until Coach is satisfied.

Eyes sharp with intent.

Lips quirking up.

"You might fall a couple of times."

"What's a bruised ass?" I mutter to Kook, lips curling upwards with a grin. Satisfied that it's nothing wrong we were doing. Rather that confirmation that it was simply a process of practicing that would fine-tune the wobbles. You needed to fall a few times, needed a few bruises and scrapes for the sake of elegance.

"Better than the marks you do a shit job of hiding under your leggings."

"Eyes should be up here Koo... I didn't know your mind and focus goes south."

Eyes alight with silent laughter, grin scrunched.

Retaliation on his lips when Coach speaks.

Catching the quiet mutters, reading the tease in our eyes.

"But keep that spirit when you fall."

Not an if... a definite.

A given.

Hands grip me again.

"If I hadn't seen them you'd have purposely paraded them about for me." eyes rolling before he counts me into a lift, seamless and as easy as breathing.

The intent in his eyes turning focused as he lifts me overhead.

"Of course. What are besties for?"

A mix of a grimace and grin.

And easy laughter when the two of us topple inevitably.

Cheeks flushed with exertion and aching with laughs when one fumble turns into countless more. A sprawl of limbs tangling in a heap on the ice, knocking into one another, steadying turns slowly slowly...slowly threading together. But not before I found myself clambering off Kook yet again, wobbling as I stand, a dull throb where yet another bruise begins to bloom. A yank that nearly topples me over as I offer my hand to help him stand. Hand grasping mine tightly. Wobbling limbs clutching to each other.

"To laugh when the other falls."

JIMIN POV:

"These aren't mine." Fingers skimming with a curiosity down her sides, lips twitching at the faint twist and arch of her body almost seeming to both tilt and twist from the featherlight graze of fingertips down her side. Tracing over the dip of her waist to drag down. Similar splotches of colour across her hip and dotted around the side of her legs... across the side of her arms.

"Keeping track? Or count? Sounds an awful lot like a tally—why? Tryna see if you win?"

"Is that your way of saying you keep a tally? Cos it's a turn off I'll tell you." lips twisting into a grimace, fingers sinking into her hips to clasp tighter.

"Why's that? I thought you loved a bit of competition—don't like me keeping score anymore?" my voice lilting with tease, dropping heavier as my lips drag slowly across her collarbone, fingers curling tight into my hair to tug my face upwards. A harsh sting at my scalp that morphs into a familiar rush of heady pleasure when her mouth, quirked into a smirk, hovers an inch from mine.

Denying and delaying.

"In that case do you keep count of how many times I've fucked you? Or you've asked me for a fuck? Cos I guess that makes my body count higher. You're a desperate boy Park."

"Is it a boy that fucks you to the point where he makes the ice princess begs?"

Fingers curling tight into her waist, a firm tug that presses her body flush to mine, lips hovering close enough that I can taste the smirk that wavers slightly, eyes that darken and flash.

"I don't beg."

"No?"

"No."

"That's not what you sounded like last night."

Hands curled around the back of her legs, pressing against her thighs, keeping them pressed to her torso, mouthing at her centre, tongue curling and thrusting in deep, drawing out broken staccato sounds and breathy moans, keening cries of my name cursed between bitten lips. Legs trembling, hips bucking up and pushing her core closer to my mouth. Groaning against her, at the taste of her that stains my tongue, lips and skin. Fingers gripping her thighs tighter. Pinning them up. Refusing to relent.

"Fuck... fuck, fuck... Park I... Park I can't." hips rocking up, breath a broken sharp cry. Laboured as her fingers grip tightly at the sheets, twisting them into her tight-knuckled grip.

"What happened princess? I thought you didn't give up." Words goading, laced with a rasp, voice dropped low, mouth drunk on the taste of her, tongue flicking against her swollen nub, the brief pressure makes her hips buck, arching up off the bed, hands turning bruising, flattening to pin her thighs back. Keeping her from writhing and twisting away. Fucking her with my tongue. A sharp loud moan that ripples and echoes between laboured breaths when my tongue finds that bundle of nerves, toying with them between tongue and teeth.

Broken sensitive sounds that make my hips rut into the sheets, hardness pressing to the mattress. Rocking my hips harder in grinding, messy circles, head swimming with arousal, with single-minded need to hear more of the sounds she makes. Feeling the muscles in her thighs tremble, feel her body try to push back, fingers scrabbling from the sheets to grip tightly at my hair.

Mouthing at her, lips chasing the taste of her over and over, (Y/N)'s breaths wavering. Uneven and light.

Fingers tugging at my hair, trying to pull me away even as her hips push up, rocking into the touch that winds that sensitive coil tighter and tighter.

"Park...too...too much...fuck."

I let her grip tug me from her, eyes dragging down her slick core, down where her arousal stains the inside of her thighs.

The grip across the back of her legs loosening only to look at her, limbs like jelly, legs falling open, sprawled across the sheets.

Eyes glazed and blown wide with lust. Lips swollen from where her teeth have sunk in hard, throat bobbing unsteadily.

The flush of heat on her skin, the gleam of sweat that glitters at her throat, at the contracting of her abdomen, the sheen across her limbs.

But her lips part, hand slipping down towards my arm to grip tightly at me. Nails raking down my forearm, gripping at my wrist.

"Don't want you to end it too early by ruining my sheets." And even though her tone is light, her voice is affected, Uneven and slightly rough.

"I thought you were done~" I tease.

"I can go again... you come and the night's done."

"I've got plenty of ways to keep going." Fingers trailing back to thumb slow circles against her nub, just to see her breath stutter and waver. Fingers dipping in, sinking in knuckle deep.

Her fingers tighten at my wrist.

"You messaged me. Don't wanna fuck?"

My hips jerk forward at the intensity in her eyes, the beckoning curve of her mouth. The way her leg angles open wider in invite.

"I didn't beg."

"Did I fuck you too hard? Memory's gone?"

"If there's no memory of us fucking then it clearly didn't leave an impression. Gotta work harder then Park."

"Gladly." The word brushing against her skin, hands drifting from her waist to drag over the curve of her backside.

Fingers digging in.

A soft hiss of breath.

"I don't have a lot of time." the excuse firm.

It wavers when my fingers brush against the waistband of her leggings.

"Sure? Can't change your mind?"

"You've finished practice. I've got it in a little bit."

"I'm sure Jeon won't mind."

A snort of laughter, expression flitting and altering from turned on to amused.

"I mind. You got a nice piece of ass Park, but I don't want my ass handed to me just cos you want a quick blow."

"I would return the favour."

"Unless you're going to do me the favour of doing the training Kook's gonna make me do if I slack off—even then I don't think so..."

"Damn... maybe Jeon drives you harder than Namjoon does to us."

"He knows how to push me to my limits." lashes fluttering in a coy expression.

Dark gaze that flashes with amusement, with an all too aware knowledge as she tilts away. Slowly disentangling as if her body hadn't been so firmly flush to my own that I still feel its imprint as she draws back.

"Last night was--"

"A step in that direction... sure." she acquiesces, as if indulging with a generosity. Nodding towards me.

"Free tonight?"

A shake of her head.

"Not tonight. I've got a hot date."

A brief sting before my eyes catches onto the curled quirk to her mouth.

The tease in it.

"We have very different definitions of what makes a hot date—when you say it you mean..." I trail off.

"I mean an incredible hunk and a dancer who knows how to use his hips... you know what... you could do with some lessons couldn't you--"

My words cut her off.

"That's a quick turn-off. Comparing me to a dancer."

Nose upturning.

"Until you sleep with a dancer--"

"You pimping me out?" lips twitching. Slowly straightening up, hands adjusting the band of my sweats.

Feeling her eyes dip low to track the movement. Not missing the glaze of heat in her stare before (Y/N)'s body angles away. Turning to leave.

"If you'd asked me to a couple of weeks back... sure. Now..."

Body moving towards the exit, snatching up her discarded bag, drawing it across her body once more.

Hands smoothening herself out.

As if with each light brush of her hands she wipes off any trace of me. Something in her posture almost straightening itself out from its curled slump into my body. Limbs poised once more.

"Now?"

The question a bated breath. Whether for her or me I'm not entirely sure.

Though I know that I wait for it too.

For her to affirm what I'd already let past my lips.

That this—this was exclusive.

Fucking each other was exclusive.

"Now... I don't tend to pimp out the guy I bring over and let crash at mine."

"It's happened twice."

Brows rising in silent question.

"Keeping count still?" voice silky.

"Don't worry doll... I also keep count, so I know when I've broken my PB."

"What personal best are you tryna beat?" curiosity lacing her voice, hand at the handle.

Body slightly angled to peer back at me.

I feel a thrum of delight at the way her eyes flash in response to my words, eyes narrowing onto my lips. Feeling the weight of her stare even across the distance.

"How many rounds we can go in a night."

Voice silkier, a murmured caress.

"I bet... I can return last night's favour next time. Let's work on that stamina of yours."

"Personal workout?"

"I'll coach you through every step of it."

[......]

"You reckon they're slipping so much cos they're not practiced?" a voice muses from beside me.

Tagging along Joon to wait for our practice to begin, to try grab some time on the rink before the team showed up had been fruitless.

A sympathetic wince that hisses past my teeth, echoed in the same breath by Joon, as we watch (Y/N)'s figure tumble to the ice. Hands immediately reaching for her, tugging her upright. Bodies twisting away in a whirl of movement mere moments later.

Unfazed.

"That shit looks like it hurts." Joon breathes, voice laced with sympathy. A particular jagged twist sending their balance tilting, stumbling steps as (Y/N)'s form half-tumbles out of Jeon's grip.

Body unconsciously lurching half a step but only being pressed more firmly to the rink's edge.

Eyes skimming and sweeping over them, watching the way she rightens.

Mind flashing with the bruises scattering her body.

This makes it make sense.

Cold, hard sense.

Literally.

Forms somehow elegant and fumbling all at once, catching themselves at the last moment. Catching themselves from what looks from the distance to still be quite a harsh tumble.

Eyes catching to the easy way (Y/N)'s lips curve up into a grin, a natural ease and tilt of their bodies to one another. A ripple of laughter, brushing off chips of ice.

"We fall way harder." I muse, remembering the hard tumbles to the ice. The full force of a body slamming into mine, playing dirty strategies because even if ice hockey was a contact sport there were limits to it.

Sometimes though... sometimes in practice it did get rough. Not every team played to rules, not every lessons learnt from playing within the lines and constraints of a match.

That's what Coach likes to say anyways.

"That's cos we work harder too. Did the two of them seriously book out the rink to be a couple of ditzy skaters?" a voice interjects from behind, laced with disdain and disbelief.

Joon's head turns, something sharp and authoritative that flashes in his eyes, that laces his words as he straightens away from the rink's edge.

"Actually I'm sure they fall harder. They don't have all the padding in their uniform we do."

"You're too easy on them now Cap." Yugyeom brushes off.

Eyes flitting back to stare past on the rink.

Dismissiveness in his eyes.

Eyes flitting away again.

As if the sight isn't worth engaging with for even a few moments.

When I've spent... longer than I'd care to admit recently watching (Y/N) practice.

"Maybe I'm not hard enough on our team if you've got time to be insulting someone's effort."

"Oh come on Namjoon hyung—"

"Captain." He enforces with an edge of a bite, voice and stance firm.

"We're going to practice so it's Captain." He reiterates.

Chastised and embarrassed, a tinge of heat grows on Yugyeom's face, brushed off with a tightening to his jaw. Nodding firmly before he mutters about getting warmed up.

The smile on my face is proud, the warmth in my chest pleased and appreciative.

An angry whoosh of breath as he exhales sharply.

"The respect some of the teammates need for others is just—" voice tight.

"You're doing great Joon. A captain doesn't just push his team to be the best and praise everything... he faults where they're wrong."

"What's wrong is wrong."

Eyes moving past.

"They're done with practice."

And as I move to follow him, alongside that pride for Joon, there's a flicker of shame too that I hadn't said anything. That sometimes when it comes to it, I'm guilty and wrong for letting them talk and not saying anything about it.

Maybe that's why it takes someone like Joon to be captain. Someone who doesn't hesitate to call bullshit when he hears it.

Someone who doesn't care how that affects how the others see him.

He's stronger and better in that aspect.

In a way... that I know I'm not.

Two pairs of eyes flit over us as we pass by on the rink, flushed faces and eyes bright with adrenaline. It's attractive I realise, not for the first time, the sight of (Y/N) all sweaty and dishevelled. The perfect composure of a figure skater so put together all rumpled, hot and bothered by the end of it.

My gaze tracks the sheen of sweat at her collarbones, traces it down the dip of her cleavage.

Lower still.

"I know the ability to multi-task is hard sometimes Park, but I could've thought you knew how to walk on the ice without watching every step." Gaze snapping back up.

"I can walk just fine."

"Sure about that?" words taunting.

Eyes glittering with amusement as she stares at me, pace slowed from passing by entirely.

Body close enough.

"I can skate just fine too."

"Then why are your eyes so low? Need help tracking each step?"

Knowing full well where my eyes had lowered to, knowing full well that I'd been checking her out.

"No."

"If your player's managing to be just fine at skating maybe he needs lessons. Some... one-to-one?" Jeon offers, a sly curl to his mouth.

Matching shit-eating grins on their faces. Too entertained.

"Don't worry Jungkook... it's not your problem to worry about." Joon assures, brushing it off.

"Sure? Some hands on coaching would help."

But the tone of her voice has an edge to it that makes my skin prickle. A familiar brush of heat at the unspoken meaning that pools in her eyes, that grazes across me in a glance that's much more careless.

Shit... had I been obvious?

The clatter of skates approaching and the sound of voices growing louder and closer, tugging my gaze away.

Joon's heading nodding towards Jeon.

"Gotta practice."

The grin on his face is amused.

"Damn right you do."

-----------------------

"I don't get it."

"That's okay Park—it gets awfully crowded up there doesn't it? Behind the helmet?" sympathy laced into the lilt of her voice. Eyes fluttering with a feigned softness.

My lips twist into a scowl, eyes flashing at the tease in her voice. Head twisting away from the fingers that reach up, curled, as they knock-knock against my temple. Hand darting up to grip her wrist.

Helmet still clutched tightly, shaking the hair free from my eyes, peering at her from under messy strands, skin flushed and sweaty.

Her curled hand falling open, a loose sprawl of fingers, twitching briefly before stilling. Forcing the stillness.

My eyes appraise her intently, looking at her, trying to read the shift in her expression, the way the intensity of her eyes morph and change into something else.

Something indecipherable and yet something oh so vaguely familiar about it, something I can't quite pinpoint.

Words hovering briefly before the ones that were already sitting on the tip of my tongue easily slip out.

"Ha ha. Do you think you sound as funny as you do in your head? Or is it all empty cockiness?" chin jutting out as I nod towards her. Brows raised expectantly, words biting back.

Her lips curl into a grin. It's different to the smirk she usually adorns. A lazy shrug as if to say—what can I say?

Not having stayed on the edge of the rink, nor behind the barriers. At some point (Y/N) had moved onto the rink, whether that was to get a better look or to get a closer view of watching me practice. Both thoughts bring no little pulse of smug satisfaction.

"Go on—what don't you get?" She prompts. The question that'd been hovering on the edge of my mind, lingering there, even after they stepped off the ice and I took over it. A handover that was with a baiting grin rather than a snarling demand.

"I don't get why given the speed you can move at—you don't seem to collide with Jeon." Breathing still heavy and laboured. Chest rising and falling. The ice engraved with deep cuts and tracks that my skates have carved through from weaving around, chasing the puck towards the goal.

Her eyes flit past the ice to look at me.

"First—I didn't realise you had me on your mind the entire time you were training." Amused and smug.

My eyes roll at her.

"And two—well... we don't have six other players on the ice at the same time. Let alone a second team. The only time we have that many skaters on the ice is during the ceremonies or free skates." Amusement lingering in her eyes even as she tilts her head to the ice. As if she can envision the cluster of players taking up the space.

When it was her and Jeon, the ice was solely theirs.

"What? No synchronised skating?"

"There is such a thing just not what we specialise in. Besides I don't think I've seen your team move as one off-ice let alone on it Park... what's your point?" curiosity lacing her words, trying to pick apart what the shift in my expression might mean. Looking at me as if trying to decipher parts of me.

"How come you know what Jeon's speed is? How comes he knows what your speed is?" I push. Something about the seamless way they anticipate each other without faltering. But how?

"We just do."

"No but that's not an answer... how do you know? How do you... anticipate it?" a need to know, staring at her intensely.

"....I don't know what you want me to say..."

"You can't practice changing speeds because your momentum isn't a fixed thing... what if your skates are dull or the ice is slippery or you're slower one day and—" words spiling out, questions lacing my voice. Somehow attention fixed on her and her sport, rather than the endless drills and practice I'd just done.

"I didn't peg you as someone who wondered about the technicalities of figure skating Park." Surprised and bemused as she looks at me. A hint of something warmly appreciative there.

"I'm not. I mean—I've noticed it."

"Noticed it huh? Never been so bold in accepting you can't take your eyes off me." nodding at me knowingly.

"Like you can't keep your hands off me."

"Never heard a complaint." A wicked tilt to her mouth.

Hips bucking into her grip, lips pressed hard against her shoulder, hand gripping at her. Moulding to her. Desperate to elicit the same frantic urgency she's reeling out of me. A sharp grin, a sharper, wicked twist of her wrist.

"It wasn't one."

Spilling over her enclosed hand, over her fingers. Fingers sinking languidly and slow past her mouth. Eyes gleaming.

"So easy to admit it these days? Careful Park—I'll start to think that the sex is a hang-up."

A hand nudging me lightly, exasperation and faint amusement swirling in his gaze as he watches me skate back half a step.

"A hang-up for what?"

"Me." lips twitching.

"Are you going to tell me, or should I go back to practicing?"

"Well you could do with the practice if your eyes are looking to see if I'm impressed and not actually following the puck but—you're wrong. Jungkook and I are always at the risk of colliding—we just trust each other to catch up the space or distance if we fall short."

"So it's all blind trust?" sceptical and uncertain, head tilting with slight appraisal, some part of it just not making entire sense. The notion of entrusting every single move, technique and moments in between so wholly to one person...

"You trust your teammates." (Y/N) points out.

"But not blindly—we're always reading each other's moves, we play with gameplays and strategies and formations. There's something so—" words trailing off, voice rising with a frustration of not being unable to voice what I'm trying to.

"Reckless." I land on the word.

"No it's not. There's nothing reckless about trust. You give it. And keep it." an ease in her words, in her voice, in her gaze and in her posture.

Reading the bewilderment in my eyes.

It's not... just that right? It's not that easy to hand it over...

A flash of sympathy that's confusing, slightly prickling.

"Just... trust."

"It's not as hard as it might seem." Voice soft.

[......]

"I don't see the point of this." (Y/N) stares, unimpressed at the proffered hockey stick.

"I don't see the point of synchronised skating but hey that's what we spent hours doing in shared practice yesterday." Retort quick on my lips.

"A team that moves like one, thinks like one. I thought hockey players needed that in teamwork." Her voice is laced with a lilted drawl, each word dripping from her tongue with a faux-confusion, head tilting as she looks at me.

"But we don't move like one—everyone has a role..." The very notion of her words not clicking, not making sense the way it seems to for her.

"Did you ever consider Park... that everyone has their own role. But you all play for the same goal at the end of it?" now her hand grasping the hockey stick begins to have a novel familiarity to it, fingers curling against the polished wood as she skates round my side.

"That maybe all those different roles need to merge together too."

A well-oiled machine that even with their different functions operated, thought and played like one mind broken into its seven counterparts. Not seven players each playing to their own goal, their own endgame. The image her words offer dangles there, enticing and new and... somehow exactly what we were striving for... what the ultimate aspiration was. How was it, it took a figure skater to paint the image of how our team should be operating. I can't decide if the revelation is more surprising because it comes from someone who doesn't play ice hockey or whether it tinges me with surprise that (Y/N)'s watched me long enough to pick it up in the first place.

Stare questioning...wondering and then the quirk of the corner of her mouth. A hint of an amused lilt playing at her lips briefly.

"Didn't realise Park? Yknow... you just need to take a proper look at it to realise." A loose ripple of movement as she shrugs.

A quim motion as her hockey stick darts out to steal the puck from the way I'd been loosely toying with it, mouth faintly curling as I watch her skate back a few steps, puck in her control now.

"...I don't think I get it."

"Awww baby steps... admitting you don't get something. Here—I'll show you." Voice a cooing lilt with a teasing edge that rakes over me, rankles me. Brows rising as I stare at her.

"You're going to show me using ice hockey? Never thought I'd make a jock out of you doll." A tinge of both disbelief and smugness seeping into my tone, colouring it with a ringing pride.

A flicker of heat rippling through me, eyes lingering briefly over her form. Another flash of realisation when I see how accurately poised. The stance of a hockey player not a figure skater. Eyes intently watching me before she straightens a fraction more.

Weaving back slowly, hockey stick drawing the puck across the ice, eyes rolled at me. Something in her gaze shifting, sharpening as she tracks my movements, as I move towards her, skates angling into a turn. Limbs beginning to coil, responding with a readiness to become alert to the sharpness in her eyes, to the familiar, slowed motions of her drawing out a play.

"It's early steps yet Park... who knows maybe I'll show you what a real jock is."

"And what's that?" skating closer towards her, body thrumming with a looseness that's at odd with the sharp calculation my eyes map out each push of her skates with. Tracking. Noting.

"Jocks are cocky. Maybe I'll show you how well I play your own game."

"That'll be something to be cocky about doll. If you manage." Challenge issued.

"Don't think I can?"

"Can you?"

"Looks like you're in a habit of being proven wrong. That's okay Park. At least you're consistent."

Skates twisting sharply to face me. Puck sitting on the ice between us.

I watch as she mirrors my stance, my own adjusting... like to like. Each movement a ripple of limbs so that when she looks at me, when I look at her, my posture is a double of her own. To get to her, I needed to map out her moves.

Teeth parting with a mix of a grin and bared teeth- competitiveness laced into that sharp grin.

"Bring it."

-----------------------------

There's no time to speak, lips chasing hers with a bruising urgency, mouth chasing every slither of skin as my hands yank at her clothes. Lips tearing away to tug her top off and overhead, hair rumpled and falling forward. Pushed back with a sweep of her hand, darkened eyes taking me in, swollen lips parting with a shudder when my hands grip at her waistband and yank down the layers, pressing between her body immediately.

"Fuck... what's the rush?" voice shuddered against my mouth, hands gripping at my shoulders tightly. Nails digging in harder when my hands grip the back of her thighs, pressing her body against the door, hips bucking up hard against hers.

"Just... need..." voice a sharp exhale against her skin, mouth dragging down her jaw, tongue mapping a path down her throat, teeth raking across the sensitive arched curve, a shuddered motion felt between our bodies with how closely we're pressed.

Eyes dipping down to map its course down my front, watching as my hips push against her, pressing closer and closer.

"Don't even think of fucking me without protection." Words laced with a biting command, eyes dark and heavy, weighted stare lingering where chasing the press of her body, my hips circle roughly.

"So desperate you can't wait to get in me?" the taunt punctuated with a sharper breath, her hand slipping away from my shoulder to grip at my forearm.

"Can't."

"Now this... this is a booty call." The taunt curling a smirk at her mouth.

A low groan as my hands grip her thighs angled open, slowly sinking into her, the moan that tumbles past her parted mouth presses to my jaw. Hips circling deep. Puncturing another sound out.

That same smirk melts. Exhales uneven wavers against me that ripple against skin, lips and teeth finding purchase on my shoulder. Teeth sinking in at a hard thrust.

Expletive brushing against her throat, mouthing at her pulse.

Each snap of my hips driving myself deeper into her.

Words swallowed by lips pressing marks into skin, sounds muffled against each other's bodies and the sound of our breaths mingling.

Pure need drives the press of my body pinning hers against the door, legs locking around my waist, tightening with a breathless tilt to her mouth. Unbound hair tousled, brushing against the lines and curves of her torso. Core tightening around me, hand drifting up to thumb at a peaked nipple, a sharp keening sound of pleasure when my nail rakes over it. Head dipping to sink a kiss, teeth and tongue, against the curve of her breast.

Each movement rushed, more frantic than the last, chasing the sounds she makes and the way she feels around me, legs locking tighter and dragging me deeper, further into her. Head tilted back, a harsh arch that tilts her against the door.

That invites my mouth to leave a scatter of mark downwards, body jostled with each thrust, kept pinned by the weight of my body gripping and tilting to hers.

Fingers tracing their way up, gripping her jaw tightly to angle her mouth to mine. Groan muffled against the seam of her lips, tongue chasing hers, sweeping through her mouth.

Nails digging into a skin, hissed breath against her lips, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, harder when those same nails rake down from my shoulders down my back. Leaving stinging trails of pain-pleasure in their wake. Hips jerking forward roughly, burying deeper into her. Sheathed entirely.

Chasing the pleasure and need that lances near-painfully through my limbs, the winding knot of pressure growing tauter.

Bodies strung tight before that band of pressure snaps, (Y/N)'s legs tightening around me, threatening to have me spill into her.

Blind need almost consuming reason, legs wobbling as (Y/N) slumps back against the door.

Breaths sharp, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, flushed cheeks and glittering skin, the intensity of her eyes beckoning.

Hand falling to grip my length, rapidly bucking forward into the tightening grip of my fist.

Streaks of arousal across her stomach, body shuddering as I work myself through it, breaths rapid and uneven.

A twist of arousal that's painful and dizzying when her lips part, trembling legs straightening her up slightly.

When her mouth tugs up in a breathless grin. The gleam of her eyes sparking with wildfire.

"Could've asked to use my mouth."

Fingers streaking through the mess on her torso, eyes falling to the peaked, stiff buds, to full curves, to the indolent way her eyes track her fingers.

Eyes falling to swollen red lips.

"There's always a next time isn't there?" voice uneven, dropped into a heavier rasp.

Hand moving to flex and curl, to grip at her hips.

"I dunno—is there? This seemed like a quick booty call."

Her breaths hover close, both tease and question in her voice.

"Shower?"

"Round 2?"

"If you got the stamina... I got plenty of time hockey boy."

[......]

"Sorry sorry sorry..." words spilling out in a rushed urgency, staggered steps as (Y/N) stumbles from the bed, quickly grabbing up discarded clothes as she redresses. Each layer drawing back on the clothes she'd been wearing before my hands had impatiently tugged them off.

Glare tossed in my direction, the phone tucked between her shoulder and cheek, hands behind her back as she does up her bra. Tugging the straps back over her shoulders.

The look on her face deepens when I stretch, twisting on my side to watch her. Hands moving with an impatience. Now there isn't a flicker of desire in her stare, burning accusing heat instead as she listens to the voice on the other end.

"I know I know... we're meant to head to the dance studio... I'll buy you brunch." Voice rushed, movements hurrying around the room. A breathless hurry that I know isn't directed at me, but a light coil of heat stirs south at it.

Face shifting with apology, with a hint of upset, words laced with contrite genuineness.

"I know Koo, but we made plans. I shouldn't have been late— "

The rushed movements and the glances she me are glaring and scowled.

Lips curving up, hand patting the space she's just vacated, still warm, invite clear in my eyes.

The invite is flipped off, twisting towards the door.

"Nono just stay there...I'll be there right away...." a hum of agreement, smile tugging up gratefully as she tugs my door open.

A glimpse of warm appreciation in her eyes towards the voice she tilts her head towards.

Hand grasping the phone now.

"Thanks Koo—I'll be there. Can pick anything... no I will not wear a neon outfit for you." Laughter finally lacing the rushed panic, eased away into a softness that twists something inside.

Stepping through the door, head briefly turning to shoot me a glance.

Call me. I mouth, stretching out across the bed, head tilting towards the pillows and sheets. Watch her eyes briefly duck down to trace along my spine before she shrugs loosely.

Lips twitching.

You wish.

I sprawl back onto the still-warm sheets. Don't I just?

------------------------

"Coach was being unfair." Joon comments from beside me. Stepping onto the ice to move towards the obstacles scattered across the rink.

"You didn't have to stay you know." Lips tugging up gratefully despite myself.

Breaths uneven, bending down to gather up the equipment scattered across still. Make-do blockades to help practice moving around.

"You didn't have to follow through with all the training yknow? Not when Coach left a while ago." A wry, nudging urge to his grin. Lips quirking up.

The offer to play hooky... to not have followed through with the punishment because would Coach really have known? He'd long since left to go to his office.

"Are you teaching me to slack off Captain? To defy orders?"

"When the orders are beyond ridiculous yes. You didn't even do anything wrong." sweeping around me in quicker motions, skates turning with an alertness that currently...at this moment is missing from my body. My own movements slow...sluggish.

"I missed some goals."

"So? Scoring isn't your responsibility alone. Your offence is your right and left... they work with you and the defence should have your back and keep opportunities open for you... it's teamwork that makes scoring possible."

"But they're not centre. I'm meant to be adding points to the board. Not slipping up."

Once had been at the faint sound of motion at the far end of my peripheral, eyes snagging to the sight of a duo leaving the rink. One my eyes had lingered on, had missed an incoming pass.

The second time had been the pacing of Bambam and Yugyeom's speed to mine had been out of sync, motions too quick and so I'd been ready and in position too early. Which meant the opposing team were there to infiltrate quicker too.

Small missed chances here and there.

That'd turned a twitch of brows, to sharp warning, to a glare to punishment doled out because as centre I needed to "drive the game forward not back Park."

"Coach is a harsh bastard on the best of days. He was a prick today. Don't take it to heart." arm slinging around my shoulder, skating alongside me, eyes full of empathetic understanding. Voice low.

Stepping forward to snag up a towel and cold bottle of water, switching it over for the hockey stick still loosely clutched in my grip.

But the menial punishment isn't over. Eyes falling to uniforms left on the exit. And then eyes turning gratefully towards Joon when I notice he's already gotten a start on them. Gathered into large laundry bags ready to be sorted and washed.

Padding and jerseys and helmets left carelessly discarded.

Joon frowns, brows furrowing deeply.

"You've picked them up, but the team will do the laundry themselves. We each pull our weight and support another's. Not whatever pettiness Coach had telling them to leave their stuff behind."

"Is this you taking over? I'd back you taking over." I say firmly, a tired laugh as I draw the equipment bag over my shoulder. Its weight a laden band across my front, dragging slightly as I move up the stairs.

Joon's laugh echoes.

"Nah not yet..."

"One day." I nod.

Speaking without turning.

"One day when you're done with pro and making history... how about you put Coach out a job?"

"He won't know what's hit em."

"I will. 6" of muscles and bulk."

[......]

❄️: Wanna come over?

🏒: Not that the thought of you asking first doesn't give me an immediate boner

❄️: ...

🏒: But I don't think I can even get it up—even for something as hot as my favourite figure skater asking to bone

❄️; Keep calling it that and you'll be losing bones

🏒: Keep talking dirty to me doll... it might just do the trick 🥵

❄️: Forget it... I'll go ask Kook

The message cut off, left with an intentional pause that makes a flare of possessiveness sear through me, knowing full well that she's doing it to get under my skin.

It's effortless how she knows she has.

It's too easy, that she gets a reaction, I realise as I message back.

🏒: Ask him if he can give you a massage

🏒: Don't wanna to be too sore to train

🏒: And was that a limp I noticed?

❄️: You fucking wish you railed me hard enough

❄️: Also

❄️: Good point

❄️: Kook's very good with his hands

❄️: I'm sure he'll give me a full body massage

🏒: Send pics

The back and forth of pushing and pulling at the easy teasing snare between us, knowing full well she lived to get some sort of reaction, refusing to hand her the one she wanted.

Both of us teetering back and forth on this flirty, playful edge of lust.

It teeters and topples though when my phone buzzes less than an hour later.

Eyes freezing on the sight, fingers curling tighter.

An over-the-shoulder angled photo, back gleaming with oil, half her face in the shot. Enough that I see the tilt of a smirk, that I see the slope of her shoulder and the flare of her hips, the towel resting low across her backside.

Gleaming skin all on display and a pair of hands resting on the low of her spine, thumbs pressing into the divots of her back. Sprawled over her skin.

Kneading into flesh I've moulded my hands to, the same placement of those hands where I've gripped her, back arching, hips being pulled in to meet each thrust—

Buzz.

A different angle. But it's her nonetheless.

A figure in the peripheral of the image, a glimpse of ink on someone beside her.

❄️: Kook offered me a rub-down afterwards but what's better than a rub-down together? Mutual pleasure and all.

🏒: I'd have offered my hands if I'd known you were that desperate... couldn't even wait before stripping down to get messy?

❄️: Well I can always drop by after

❄️: If...

❄️: You'd want that

🏒: I'm going to say something stupid

🏒: That tomorrow's me is gonna kick my ass for

❄️: I can join him in kicking your ass... why though

🏒: What if I say come over

🏒: Stay over

🏒: But... to kinda just... stay?

Not knowing why I wanted her to, not knowing why I'd asked, not quite knowing how I'd managed to ask. But my mind chases that haze of doing nothing, remembering how it felt to just quietly exist, problems outside the door and just be.

❄️: No sex? Are you rejecting my booty call? Never thought I'd see the day

❄️: Or time of night

And then

❄️: ...you okay? A faint something tugs at my lips.

🏒: Just tired

❄️: Long session? I get that

🏒: Coach's being an ass today

❄️: When is he not?

❄️: Next time... kick him in the balls

🏒: And get kicked off the team?

❄️: Wouldn't it be oh so sweet though?

The question makes a laugh tumble out, easy and unrestrained. Already hearing how it would sound lilted, eyes full of goading, prompting mischief. Nudging me to go on. Sharp, wicked grin and honeyed words offering.

🏒: Kinda weird... but now I'm tired and turned on slightly.

The image of (Y/N)'s lips. Curled sharp. Pressed to skin.

❄️: Oh?

🏒: Keep talking dirty to me and I could change up real quick

A pause.

Long enough.

And then.

❄️: I'd rather make you wait for it.

[......]

It's only after messaging (Y/N) do I realise that it's done the exact job I didn't know needed to be done. Mind turned entirely away from the gruelling tough series of sessions Coach had had us run through the past few days.

Something—something in him set off and it'd lashed out onto the team in the form of longer sessions and each point nitpicked and torn apart—until each hockey player had been left a mix of frustrated, close to breaking point—to anger or exhaustion, and just done. Team splitting off into showers quietly, expressions and bodies weary. Quiet murmurs of conversation and figures that'd left swiftly. Not lingering to stay.

Joon's gaze weary and sympathetic, waving off the team, one of the last to leave himself.

"Joon you not coming? Tae and Yoongi hyung are gonna grab dinner with us remember?"

"I need to report to Coach what the next sessions I'm leading are. And then for that group session too."

"Coach isn't doing that?"

"He's either going to set something that's ridiculous to ask figure skaters to do. Or it'll be just flaunting skills and not showmanship." A resigned sigh, hand rubbing at the back of his neck, squeezing his nape as if to ease the pressure there.

As if the weight of it all's boring down on him.

"We can plan them together? It might not even have to be on ice you know? We do loads of practice off ice that we could do with the figure skaters." I offer.

There's relief and gratitude on Joon's face, eyes flashing with warm thanks and lips tugging up.

Nodding as he grabs his bag.

It makes me wonder how much pressure he feels as Captain in addition to trying to counter-balance Coach's disposition with his own.

It makes a pulse of guilt sear through me, not quite realising the extent of how much he has to do. Not out of pressure or obligation but because he's being a solid Captain for his team. For our team.

[......]

When the knock on my door comes, I don't expect her to be holding a bag of food on the other side, already dressed for bed. Large, loose oversized shirt swamping her figure. Sloping off the curve off her shoulder.

Shuffling in without preamble and nudging the door shut behind her.

I didn't know how it'd feel to see her so... relaxed but there's something so different about her... something about constantly seeing her in fitted gear that this... this sight—ready for lazing around in bed, loose sleepwear and hair brushing against the lines and soft edges of her face.

Something about looking at her makes something inside me twist, pausing.

Looking at her entering my dorm, moving towards to sink down on the edge of the bed.

Food being drawn out of the bag and eyes turning to me in prompting invite.

"Well come on then it'll get cold." Recognising the shop's logo.

"I didn't realise you were trying to sweeten me up before taking me to bed." Lips slowly curling upwards, slow steps that she tracks with a lazy grin.

"If I was—you'd know."

"Oh? Special treatment?" moving over to sink down next to her, hands reaching for the box she holds out.

A brief flicker of surprise, eyes glancing up at her when I've opened it up.

"Keeping me well fed for Coach to rip into tomorrow?" a faint smile tugging at my mouth when she rolls her eyes, spoon jabbing harshly into the cookie dough to scoop out a mouthful. Lips closing around the spoon. Holding out another for me to take.

"You can discipline and teach an athlete without being a dick about it."

I shrug.

"It works doesn't it? Gets the results." Digging into the sweet-treat.

From the corner of my eyes I sense the glance directed towards me, catch the firmness to her eyes as if she can sense it's an easy deflection, brushing it off. Bed dipping slightly as I sink down next to her.

But it's true.

It's Coach's method.

It might be abrasive, might leave you feeling a bit rough around the edges and rubbed raw—but he was right.

If we couldn't take criticisms from Coach how could we last in a competitive field?

"Based on how much you have to fight to stay even with me Park—I'd say that a Coach can train you with better methods anyways."

But her words rouse a stab of defensiveness, fingers curling tighter around the spoon. The sweetness turning briefly sour and sharp in my mouth.

As if the comparison pits her against me, as if she's pointing out that she just has it easier to have a Coach coddle or hand-hold her way through training and becoming an athlete.

As if... as if some part of her is trying to prove that it makes her better.

"At the end of the day—we've both gotten the results." Words exhaled roughly, that sharp edge receding when there's a slight shuffle and her head ducks down to steal a glance, drawing my gaze to her. Reading whatever she finds in the slight stoniness that hardens my posture.

"I'm not... I'm not trying to make you feel bad. The opposite. I just—" words wavering, hesitant on her tongue.

But the firmness in her gaze drives her forward.

Resolved to say.

"You're a strong athlete Park. Don't let your Coach ever let you feel otherwise."

A faint furrow in her brows that expresses the distaste for Coach, for his way of expressing and showing it. His particular brand of tough-love more tough than anything else.

"I won't... I don't."

A flash of fire in her eyes flares to life.

"Good." Word solid.

"Now hand over the cookie dough."

[......]

It's an endless blur of practices. One merging into the next. Hours on and off the rink, body being pushed through the same cycle of motions only it grows in intensity and extends longer and longer over each passing day. The competitive season arrives with the start of the weather dipping and beginning to chill, and bodies left flushed and burning, sweating through the layers underneath the padding and sticking to skin. What had been off-season practice seems like child's play. What we're doing now seems like a never-ending cycle of drills and plays and matches and hours poured into building stamina, strength and speed.

Shared exhaustion in the way everyone piles out of the changing rooms, bags drawn over slumped shoulders, lowly muttered byes, knowing full well that in the next 12 hours we'd be seeing each other in the same capacity again.

It takes time to get used to the pace and flow of the competitive season arriving in full force.

The past few months had been a slow, steady consistency in maintaining the habit of staying in shape, practicing and playing against sport universities. To scout out the competition.

"I know it takes a bit of getting used to guys, but you know Coach drives us hard at the beginning. He knows we're a team that push to win—so he pushes us." Joon says as we're warming up, overseeing the gym session for the hockey team.

Watching as everyone continues to warm up, stretching out across the floor.

"And I know the first few weeks of official competition season drives him hard. Which means we get driven harder. But we've gotten through qualifiers. It'll be match after match soon."

"Let's goooo!" Bambam crows with eagerness. Voice loud.

Making laughter ripple through the team.

Boosting the team with a shot of infectious enthusiasm.

Joon's smile dimples.

"We're gonna wipe the ice with the other team's asses." Joon cheers, warm pride flickering in bright, sharp eyes.

Echoed with voices ringing out. Loud and cheering.

Knowing just how to bring the mood up for the team. Wide smile as he finishes through with the group warm-up.

Scattering us about into small teams to monitor and spot each other, doing a round of workouts through the gym.

Soon the steady thumping of feet pounding the treadmills in unison, voices counting each other down and the clang of metal of bars being lifted or shoulder and leg-presses being used fill the space.

"Coach might be driving us hard—but Captain does too. He just does it in a way—"

"That you don't quite realise until you're sore the next day?"

"If you'd gotten a massage or sauna booked or some heat-therapy then you wouldn't be sore Bam." Yugi teases with a deep grin, sweat dripping off the side of his temples, hair pushed back.

"Fuck you." no heat in the words, pushing himself upright from the bench, weight being adjusted to rest on the stand before he sits up.

Breathing heavy.

"You're next hyung."

I eye the weights.

Feel their shit-eating grins when I take some off.

"Can't handle the weight hyung?"

"I could bench-press your weights no sweat. I'm going to go light to warm up first." Brushing off their teasing, swapping out with Bam, bench wiped down, body lying flat across the bench.

Adjusting my stance and measured breaths before I reach up to grip the bar. Still slightly warm from Bam's set.

Eyes monitoring me attentively, weights being added on steadily. Building up a familiar strain in my muscles, Yugi's voice counting through the breathing, Bam's sharp stare watchful, both their presences near as they spot me.

The cycle of routine just as familiar.

Arms burning with the familiar settling ache. A hand gripping my bicep playfully. Crowing with proud delight.

Sharp eyes alight with satisfaction.

"I take it back hyung. Nothing lightweight about you."

"Our team's centre's got the muscles to support us." Yugyeom grins.

A familiar cycle, a familiar loop, a practice session that begins with one set of reps and circles its way through the gym and breaking down each session to focus on building up different parts of the body.

Arms feeling like jelly by the time we're done.

Effort, barely enough, to tug off clothes overhead, body slumped against the shower wall. Standing motionless underneath hot water, letting it leech away at the exhaustion.

Letting it lull me into a deep sleep, curled under blankets, energy entirely divested into the hours long gone and the hours soon approaching to press repeat all over again.

[......]

🏒: I'm sorry I can't.

🏒: I physically can't leave bed.

Dragged deep under the blankets, stuck in a cycle of moving from bed to training to eat to bed. Body way too comfortable, limbs like putty after a massage session.

❄️: Wow—maybe I need some pointers cos I've never had you turn me down cos I tired you out too much.

🏒: Guess you need to try harder doll~ gotta put in more hours and practice.

❄️: Yes sir

It shouldn't stir a sharp sear of heat. It shouldn't.

And yet it does.

The silky soft murmur of her voice when I press play on the short audio makes the heat clench low in my gut, groaning as my hips buck against the mattress. Slumped into the sheets.

Pressing play again.

"You liked that didn't you Park? Want to be in charge? Would you teach me seeing as I need practice?"

And in replaying the audio, it automatically plays onto the next, not realising it'd come through.

Rich-bodied with laughter and mirth.

"It's okay though... you're tired. Rest up Park~"

Fucking menace.

[......]

"Not tonight Park." Voice soft and tired on the other end of the phone. Not knowing why I'd pressed call, a faint stirring of slight concern when I hadn't seen her in early practice. Hadn't seen her afterwards either. It hadn't been for sex. But that'd been her first words.

"You okay?"

A soft exhale of breath, fatigued.

"Just been a long week you know?"

I nod in agreement before realising she can't see me.

"You haven't been in practice."

"Sure I have. We didn't have a group practice with you guys this week. But I've been going to practice." Faint confusion in her voice.

"I mean..." clearing my throat slightly.

"I haven't seen you practicing. You're usually fighting for the rink when the ice is re-set."

"Did you miss me Park?" the tease somehow softened in her voice with how lightly she speaks, the sound of her shifting slightly.

Imagining her in bed, voice tinged with a hint of drowsiness, curled up underneath blankets.

"Just wondered if you'd lost your edge. Or your way to the rink." I tease lightly.

A quiet laugh.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

A beat of breath.

"I've just been doing more partnered work with Koo this week off-ice. Didn't realise you'd miss me."

"I didn't."

"Liar~ didn't realise I'd get a check-in call Park."

"Next time I won't."

"Awww thinking about next time already? Don't worry I'll be stealing the rink off you in no-time."

"Gotta be quick enough to think ahead doll—"

"You didn't really think I'd hand over the ice for a week and then not be prepared to take it back?" lilt promising all too well that I'd be fighting hard for the ice again. Promising that she was going to take it back.

A familiar flare of competitiveness that's riled up, tugged to the surface so readily.

"Don't you think I know you well enough to know your tactics?"

A pause. Bated breaths exchanged in the quiet.

Sizing each other up, realising that to get ahead we needed to do it now.

And then abruptly.

The phone hangs up.

Staring at incredulously. Lips twitching.

Curving up at the angry buzz of a message.

You fucker.

When she realises the prime early slots are gone.

[......]

Despite that...despite that it's nearly hard to find a glimpse of her between the strict scheduling Coach puts up and her own training schedule. It's difficult to find time to do anything other than sticking to the cycle.

Dragged out by Joon and Tae, evenings winding down sprawled across Yoongi hyung's couches or mornings pushed later to get more sleep in. Late morning runs with Tae and the day spent training with Joon.

Surrounded by the same people I know are going through the same intensity and it's okay to just be—words dwindling but it's okay because there's a companionable tired silence in hyung's apartment. Fed and drowsy.

But somehow—somehow it's after getting to know (Y/N)... rather getting to see her in her own element, in the way that this cycle is just as intense, just as busy and consuming for her sport that I realise there's a sense of kindred understanding. And that it stems from her being an athlete too.

It's that same understanding that has me hovering over a message on a night-off. Wondering...wondering.

🏒: Free tonight? It's been a while.

Since I've just—since... since we've overlapped in anything.

A long while later when the reply comes.

❄️: Sorry just got back to the dorms now. Raincheck?

Eyes flitting to the time.

Brows furrowing.

It's late late.

Sure.

[......]

"You don't need to rock up if it's a no-go for the sex yknow?" (Y/N) asks in lieu of greeting, body curved towards the door, hand clasping the handle.

Eyes flitting up to look at me with a mixture of amusement and raised brows. A brief flicker of surprise.

Entertained by the thought.

Not having expected me. Neither had I expected going. Of leaving my dorm to head over to hers because it'd just been a while.

My shoulder nudges against her as I bypass her to enter her dorm.

"Can't a guy capitalise on his fuck buddy having a softer bed?"

A snort of laughter, steps quickly bypassing me to lunge for her recently vacated spot, stretching out in a languid arch of limbs before curling back up, re-tucking and drawing the laptop back onto her stomach. Lying on her back as she tugs on her headphones again. The scent of her shampoo teasing at my senses as she bypasses me quickly.

"You gotta get your own laundry fairy."

"Fairy?"

"Bed's comfy isn't it?" she retorts.

Neither invite nor rejection. Invite enough and yet the space was there beside her... whatever she'd been doing tugging her attention again.

"It is. Maybe your laundry fairy can help with mine—" a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, a glimmer of it in the curve of her lips as they tug upwards slightly.

"You want my laundry fairy making your bed feel just as good?"

But the wording, the way she says it, the way it sounds is all off.

My eyes narrowing with warning and scepticism.

"Actually—"

"I'll let Kookie know."

My brows rise, a twitch to my lips.

"Jeon's your laundry fairy?"

"Is there something wrong with that?" voice lofty. Sharp with challenge and an unwavering steel in the silkiness of her voice.

"Just didn't imagine him being called your fairy."

"I can see why you'd never see any of your teammates as magical but that man—" voice softening as she sighs wistful and dramatic.

"If he's so magical and all... then why didn't you tell him to stay the night? It being late and all."

"I do. Not that I need to say—he's so magical he just knows~" words retorting easily, lips curving deeper into a smug grin. Watching as she tugs the headphones off, slung around her neck. Laptop discarded as she twists on her side to face me properly. Head propped up on her hand.

A whimsicalness to her gaze that narrows as it hones in on me.

Pats the space beside her in invite.

"Wanna test out how magical it is?" words heavy with insinuation.

"I thought you weren't up for a fuck."

"It's not me who needs to get it up."

"Say the word and it won't be a hard task."

"A hard task is what I need it to be. No fun otherwise."

"You know what I mean."

"Do I? Why don't you show me?"

My hand curls tightly into her duvet, a sharp yank that elicits a sharper screech, body instinctively curling up, a hard, sharp scowl as she yanks it back.

"I've changed my mind."

"Why~ can't take a bit of cold? You live on the ice no princess?"

"I'll bite you." warning sharp, laced with crackling fire.

"Don't threaten me with a good time." words drawn out. Drawled. Knee sinking down onto the mattress, head inching closer. Angling forward.

The hardened heat in her eyes shifts slightly. Flickers and morphs into a different heat, a different intensity. A riled, challenging fire whose flames spark in darkened irises.

Body tilting forward slightly.

"Is that your way of asking for me to leave marks on you pretty boy?"

"You think I'm pretty?" lashes batted, grinning as I lean closer, body tilted towards hers.

Watching and tracking the subconscious tilt of her own, gravitating closer.

Eyes dropping to my lips.

And then back up.

"Wouldn't have opened the door if I didn't."

"I'm flattered princess."

"Maybe one of these days you'll let me take full control and make you a pillow prince."

"If you're having to ask maybe you don't know how to take the control in the first place."

"Maybe Park I know it'd be so much better if you gave it up yourself."

"Sounds like someone who doesn't know how to take charge."

"Yet you didn't have a problem following my orders on the ice did you? I reckon you'd do such a good job in bed too."

"Don't do a good enough job?"

"Someone's praise kink is showing." Lashes fluttering as the smug countenance on her face deepens.

"Don't want me to tell you you're doing so good under me doll next time?" voice dipping into a heavier drawl, murmured against her jaw, close enough that if either of us reached out, Barely an outstretched hand away from tugging her closer into me.

But I remember her messages, remember what she'd said when she'd opened the door in the first place.

Not in the mood for sex.

Eyes tracing the way her lips are slightly parted, the way her eyes are sharp with focus.

And then reach in the space between us. Snag her laptop and sink back onto the bed with it clasped. Twisted round to see what she'd been so focused with in the first place.

Screen still open up on paused footage of a figure skating duo on ice.

One half of that duo sitting on the other side of the laptop. Making a swipe back for her laptop before I hold it out of reach, twisting slightly to the side.

"This is a new level of being self-obsessed isn't it princess? Watching yourself perform?"

"Don't you know? I look good on camera."

"Is that why you send me photos? Cos you know you look good?"

"They're invites. Shame you didn't accept."

"I'll cash it in later."

And there's almost begrudging acknowledgement in her voice when she comments.

"You're getting better Park. I would've almost let you cash in now."

"No fun in that." eyes flitting back towards the still-frame on the screen.

"Besides I won't mind seeing how you look on screen."

"You're talking dirty when it really isn't." leaning over to continue the clip.

"Doll I can talk dirty all night if you want."

A leg nudges against mine, (Y/N)'s body sinking into the mattress and blankets, lying on her side as she peers at the laptop now on my lap.

Gaze flitting down to where her focus has already redirected.

"Too late—I wanna watch myself." Tugging at the headphones to listen, fingers curling around the wire and tugging them free.

Music and commentary pouring out into the air instead.

"Mind giving me your commentary?"

Her voice blasé and airy.

"I knew you had a thing for my voice."

[......]

"Your phone's ringing."

...

"Your phone's ringing."

...

A rougher shake to my shoulders, sleepy voice laced with irritation, jostling me roughly out of sleep.

"Your phone's ringing Park and I swear to god if you don't answer it I'm going to break it. And then toss you out of bed too."

Eyes blinking open, adjusting to the relatively shadowed room, curtains tightly drawn to keep out the full-force of the day.

A blaring, obnoxious ringing that now that it begins to filter through my senses, it echoes in my ears. Forcing me awake.

Ringing...ringing...

The pillow under my head being harshly yanked away, head thumping against the mattress.

A low sleep-hoarse threat and a mussed face glaring at me through droopy slitted eyes.

"Get the fuck out my bed Park if you don't know how to—" threat cut short, phone drawn up towards my ear, voice hoarse and uneven, mind too sleep-addled to register the voice in the first few moments, a low answering hmm of sound.

"Not doing a morning run today I guess."

"Hm?"

A deep laugh.

Sounding far more awake than I am.

"I'm touched... really. I can wake up for our morning runs but you can't? There best be a solid excuse for backstabbing your soulmate like that... no really—"

Eyes blinking open more alertly.

"We don't have a morning run planned—you didn't message last night—"

"Did I need to? We do it all the time!"

A rapid thumping on the other side of the phone's speaker, heavy thumps of a hand against wood before an amused voice.

"Not gonna open the door for me either? Get your lazy fine ass up."

Another series of thumps.

My head turns sluggishly. Twisting to peer at the door. Unfamiliar yet familiar. Similar yet not mine.

I wasn't going to be able to get to open the door for Tae that's for sure.

A series of beeping, fingers hastily typing in the passcode and the door shoved open—the sound of steps and voice rising louder and then Tae pauses. The phone's line goes still with him.

"You're not at home." A stilted observation.

And then as if I can see the grin on his face.

Words rumbling deeper with tease.

"Didn't make it back to bed last night? I'd have thought Coach wore you out too much given how Joon hyung didn't make it down for breakfast—guess there's always extra energy when it gets to a good way to... unwind."

"You're hilarious."

"And you owe me brunch."

"I'll be there at the usual time?"

A humming agreement, laced with amusement. The very sound seeped with a laugh.

"Should be plenty of time to find your clothes and get back."

Though they never got taken off. Feeling (Y/N) shift from beside me, tugging at the blanket to wrap around herself, burrowing away from the phone call, a discontented grumbled sound that makes me tilt closer, lips curving up.

Not registering the call ending, distracted excuses and agreements. Phone discarded.

Lips brushing against her ear.

Breath ghosting along skin.

A squirmed groan Park as she curls inwards.

"Get out of my bed."

"You let me stay!"

"Got plans no?"

"Wanna be one of them?" lips brushing against the curve of her ear. A reflexive shudder that detracts my focus onto her.

Eyes dipping to take in the mussed hair, the sleepy blinks sluggish as her head tilts back, peering at me.

Hand dipping down to trace down her spine, fingers brushing over where her shirt's ridden up. Tracing over the low of her back.

Lashes fluttering lightly when my fingers trace back up.

"Not going to be late?"

"He said brunch. I've got time."

"Not enough."

Hand clasping her hip to turn her round to face me.

Eyes turning slightly more alert with interest.

"I can make enough time."

Twisting to hover over her, watching as (Y/N) turns to lie on her back, leg swinging over her thighs to straddle her.

Weight sinking down on her, hips pinning hers to the bed. Fingers lazily skimming over the outside of my thigh. Drifting upwards. Curious, lazy interest.

Fingers lacing with hers, drawing her hand overhead, grip tightening when her hips rock up slowly against mine.

Shifting my fingers to curl against her wrist, pinning it to her pillow.

"Sure about that? voice a soft, crooned challenge, gaze sweeping up to settle on mine, a slight arch to her body as she tilts upwards towards me.

"I'll explain if I'm late."

"Better make it a good one then."

Fingers drifting upwards to yank me down to her.

(AND SCENE! THERE'S SO MUCH TO COME AND YET IT HAS TO PAUSE SOMEWHERE AND THE NEXT CHAPTER IS IEOWGHWEIOGHWE THAT I CANT WAIT TO WRITE IT WEGOWGOIWEG! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF IT! IT'S GOING TO BECOME SO MUCH MORE IN EVERY WAY! SLOWLY SLOWLY THEIR DYNAMICS AND RELATIONSHIP IS BEGINNING TO CHANGE AND IM ALL HERE FOR IT! Midiiplier ITS ALMOST THERE THERE YKNOW???)

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3