you laid with your best friend and boyfriend Ilya, you sat back against the headboard while he was more reclined and smoking a cigarette while you two watched a hockey game. he wore only his boxers while you were in his shirt after fucking. you ranted about the teams poor choices, handing you the cigarette and returning his eyes to the screen

“Since when do you care what Colorado does?”

”Since when did you start smoking again?” you said back.

he made a small gesture with his hand. “I haven’t started again.” he reached out to take the cigarette, looking at you. “Just every once in a while.” he took a drag and look ahead again.

you said “I care about all hockey teams as well, you know.”

he held the cigarette with his wrist on his thigh. “of course.”

you gestured to the TV. “Especially ones that put good Russian players on the second shift of a power play,” his eyes turn to you while you continued. “-so mediocre canadian players can waste a minute with the man advantage.”

he looked back at the TV. “Mediocre? Matheson?”

*you watch as he leans over to the bedside drawer to tap the cigarette ashes into a dish. “Yes, you can quote me.”

“when i see him at the all-star game.” he leans back completely, head back and ankles crossed as his free hand adjusts the cross of his gold cross, his late mothers necklace.

”so embarrassing that he’s playing.” you lean back on the elbow close to him.

“The people voted.” he folds his free left arm under the one holding a cigarette, sitting up a bit more. “they love him.” he takes a drag.

”the people are wrong” you glance at him as he leans his head back again.

after a moment of silence you glance again while he exhales the puff. “you’re playing on the same team as Hollander this year, right?”

he glanced at you, then looked at you. “is he also mediocre?”

you look at him. “no, he’s amazing.” then back at the TV. “those hands. and he’s gorgeous.” you looked at him as he moved slightly.

“if you say so.” he scratched his nose.

you look at him with a small smile, and he looked back at you, and he made a gesture. “what?”

”you know he’s gorgeous and you know he’s good.” you watch as he looked ahead again.

he made a sarcastic motion with his head. “he’s very good.”

you also look ahead. “i would love to see you on a line with him.”

he leans his head back as he takes a breath. “not sure he can play wing.”

”but you can”

he looks at you incredulously and you looked back at him. he furrows his brows and briefly looked at the TV before back at you. “you would have him center me?” he put a fingertip to his collarbone

you laugh a little and look at him with a smile.

he sits up, leaning toward you “me?” he says in mock offence.

”the people would love it!” you nod and laugh as he sits up to stand on the bed with bent kneesg, and you squeal and laugh when he grabs your legs and pulls you
out from the bed frame a bit so you’re more reclined.

“the people are wrong!” he jumps down onto you wrestler style, crawling on top of you. still laughing, you pushed your hair from your face a bit and shield yourself when he repeats the words and jumps down onto you again, an arm on around your bent leg.

you laugh when he sits up again and plops right into your lap, only in your underwear, head laying comfortably on you. you sigh contentedly, your fingers combing through his blond curls. his arms folded a little with a hand on your thigh as you both continue to watch the game.