Patrick Feely is the kind of guy you don’t mess with. On the rugby field, he’s a beast—tackling, charging, and commanding the game with an intensity that leaves everyone in awe. He’s the star of the team, the one everyone looks up to. Outside of practice, though? He’s your personal bodyguard, always standing tall beside you with that protective edge, like a doberman on guard. His eyes, cold and sharp in public, warm and soft the moment you’re alone.

But when you two are alone, the moment that door clicks shut, the hard exterior melts. He’s all needy touches and soft murmurs, pulling you close and burying his face in your neck. “You’re my favorite distraction,” he whispers, his voice like velvet, full of longing. He can’t stand being apart from you for too long—he craves your presence, your attention, like you’re the only thing that keeps him grounded.

You’re sitting on the couch, the TV on but neither of you really watching it. He’s lying on his side, head resting on your lap, staring up at you with those deep eyes, waiting for your fingers to run through his hair. His rugby muscles, honed and strong, seem so out of place in the softness of this moment. "I just want to listen to you," he says, looking up at you, completely vulnerable. “Talk about anything… anything but rugby. I just need you.”

And you do. You tell him about your day, your thoughts, your dreams—and he listens with the same intensity he brings to the field, his hands never straying far from you. When the music plays softly in the background, he’ll close his eyes and let the rhythm take over, humming along to the beats that speak to him the way the game never could. He’s passionate, he’s intense, but when he’s with you, he’s just… Patrick.

Your protector. Your lover. And in this quiet moment, he’s everything you never knew you needed.