Chapter 5: Film Room Fever
The video room was tomb-quiet save for the mechanical whirr of the projector cooling down. On the largest screen, a frozen frame showed Chirp caught flat-footed at the blue line, leading to the opponent’s winning goal. “Okay, let’s walk through this disaster,” Coach Harper said, his voice calm but edged with fatigue, pointing a laser at Chirp’s pixelated form. “Tyler, your read here was… what, exactly? You’re puck-watching like a tourist.”
“Ah, come on, Slides, I was anticipating the stretch pass!” Chirp protested, slumping in his chair, his freckles stark under the sterile light.
“You anticipated wrong,” Joonas said, his voice a low rumble, his icy eyes never leaving the screen. “You left me alone with two of them.”
“See? Frosty gets it,” Harper said, rewinding the clip. “Watch your own feet here, Joonas. You’re a half-step slow to seal the wall.” The Finn gave a single, curt nod, his jaw tightening. Chirp kicked his skate bag under the table, the thump echoing. “So we’re both shit. Fantastic review.”
“It’s not about being shit,” Harper sighed, clicking to the next sequence. “It’s about fixing two minor details. Tyler, activate your stick earlier. Joonas, trust your initial gap. That’s it.” The room lapsed into a heavy silence, the hum of electronics filling the space where frustration hung thick. Chirp fidgeted, tapping his fingers against his thigh, while Joonas sat perfectly still, his broad shoulders a line of contained intensity.
Chirp’s kneecap brushed against Joonas’s thigh under the narrow table. A jolt, white-hot and sudden, shot straight to his groin. He shifted in his seat, his jeans suddenly feeling two sizes too small.
“Your check angle here, Tyler, it’s gotta be more proactive,” Harper droned, the laser pointer circling on the screen. Chirp’s own heartbeat roared in his ears, drowning out the words.
He was hyper-aware of the solid heat of Joonas beside him, the faint scent of his soap—something clean and piney—cutting through the stale popcorn air. His eyes traced the line of Joonas’s jaw, the way his throat moved as he swallowed.
A completely alien thought, raw and visceral, slammed into him: What would it feel like to bite that neck, to taste his skin? Chirp’s cock twitched, thickening painfully against his zipper. He crossed his legs, trying to hide the burgeoning bulge.
“You good, O’Rielly?” Harper asked, his tone sharpening. “You’re breathing like you just finished a bag skate.”
“Fine. Peachy. Just… thinking,” Chirp managed, his voice uncharacteristically tight. He stared at the playbook on the table, but the X’s and O’s blurred, morphing into obscene shapes.
His mind replayed that simple, accidental contact—the brush of denim against workout shorts. It had sparked a wildfire in his blood, an itch deep in his bones he’d never felt for a man before, let alone for silent, stoic Joonas. He imagined grabbing the Finn’s broad shoulder, spinning him around, and crushing their mouths together.
A low groan almost escaped him. He pictured pushing Joonas against the video room door, fumbling with his belt, swallowing the quiet grunts he knew Joonas would make. He saw himself on his knees right there on the carpet, the coarse fibers scratching his skin as he took Joonas’s thick cock into his mouth. The fantasy was so vivid, so feral, it stole his breath.
“Earth to Chirp,” Harper snapped, the laser dot hovering on his frozen, failing image. “You’re zoning out on the exact mistake you can’t afford to make again.”
“I’m… I’m listening,” Chirp lied, his palms slick with sweat. He pressed his thighs together tighter, the pressure both torture and a feeble attempt at relief. Joonas turned his head slightly, his icy blue eyes scanning Chirp’s flushed face with a calm, unnerving focus. Did he know? Could he see the filthy, frantic want screaming inside him?
Chirp’s mind scrambled, a dizzying cocktail of shame and need. He wasn't good enough on the ice, and now this? Would he even be good enough for the impassive Finn beside him, whose discipline was legendary? What is happening to me? The silent scream echoed in his skull, a panic that tightened his throat.
He forced his eyes back to the screen, his own flawed play mocking him. Then he glanced at Joonas.
The Finn was already looking back. His usual icy reserve had vaporized, replaced by a dark, feral hunger that stole the air from Chirp’s lungs. It was a look of pure, unvarnished need, more intimidating than any opponent’s snarl. Under the table, Joonas’s large hand, calloused and warm, slid deliberately across the gap.
His fingers brushed Chirp’s knuckles. The contact was a live wire. A violent, electric jolt shot up Chirp’s arm, spiked down his spine, and clenched hot in his balls. He gasped, a sharp, involuntary sound, as his cock throbbed painfully against his zipper, precum soaking his briefs in a sudden, embarrassing flood. He was seconds away from coming untouched like a fucking teenager.
“You see the gap close here?” Harper asked, oblivious, pointing at the screen.
“Yeah,” Joonas answered, his voice a graveled rough. His thumb stroked the back of Chirp’s hand, a slow, possessive circle, while his eyes held Chirp captive. Chirp couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, his entire world reduced to that searing point of contact. Joonas’s fingers interlaced with his, squeezing hard, a promise and a demand.
Chirp’s hips gave a minute, helpless jerk.
Joonas’s hand retreated slowly from his, the loss of contact a physical ache, but his thigh pressed more firmly against Chirp’s leg, a solid, claiming pressure. “The wall was there, Harper,” Joonas stated, his voice unnervingly even as his hand settled on Chirp’s denim-clad thigh. His broad palm rested high, its heat searing through the fabric, inches from the painful hardness tenting Chirp’s jeans. “He just didn’t use it.”
Chirp’s brain short-circuited, every neuron firing toward that single point of scorching contact. He’s touching me. He’s actually fucking touching me. He forced a laugh, a brittle, sharp sound. “Yeah, my bad. Guess I missed the memo, Frosty.”
“The memo was the system,” Harper sighed, clicking to the next clip. “Watch now, this is how you should have pivoted.” Joonas’s fingers began a slow, torturous knead into the muscle of Chirp’s inner thigh, the casual strength of it making Chirp’s breath catch. Oh god, his hand is so big. He could probably palm my entire dick.
“Looks good,” Chirp choked out, focusing on the screen where his digital self moved correctly, a pathetic ghost of competence. I’m not good, I’m a fucking mess, I’m about to come in my pants because a guy is rubbing my leg. Joonas’s thumb stroked higher, tracing the prominent seam of his jeans directly over his femoral artery, feeling the frantic pulse beneath. A low, approving hum vibrated from the Finn, a sound Chirp felt in his bones.
“See the difference in your stick position?” Harper asked.
“Crystal,” Chirp said, his voice strained. He’s going to feel how fucking wet I am. Joonas’s fingers crept upward, tracing the hard line of his zipper through the denim, a deliberate, obscene exploration. The rough pad of his thumb pressed down on the swollen head of Chirp’s cock, and a white-hot jolt of pleasure-pain made his vision blur. He dug his nails into his own palm, the bite of pain the only anchor to the room.
“You alright, Tyler? You’re sweating,” Harper noted, laser pointer flicking off.
“Stuffy in here,” he managed, as Joonas’s other hand joined, casually undoing the button of his jeans with a deft, silent pop. The sound was deafening. The zipper lowered next, a slow, metallic whisper that seemed to echo. He’s doing it. He’s really doing it. Joonas’s warm, calloused hand slipped inside, past his waistband, and found him. Chirp’s briefs were soaked, the fabric clinging, and Joonas gave a soft, greedy grunt as he palmed the full, aching length through the cotton.
I’m not gonna last, I’m not gonna last, he hasn’t even touched skin yet. “So, are we done?” Chirp blurted, his jaw tight.
“One more thing,” Harper said, oblivious. Joonas hooked a finger into the waistband of Chirp’s briefs and tugged, freeing his rock-hard cock into the cooler air of the room before wrapping his fist around it. The sensation was so intense, so shockingly intimate, Chirp bit his tongue to stifle a moan. Joonas’s grip was firm, knowing, his thumb smearing the copious precum over the slick head in a slow, filthy circle.
His hand feels like fucking heaven. Joonas began to stroke him, a slow, maddening up-and-down motion under the shelter of the table. Each pass of his rough palm over the sensitive ridge sent sparks skittering up Chirp’s spine. He was panting, his hips making tiny, involuntary thrusts into that tight, perfect fist. “I, uh… I get it now, Coach,” Chirp breathed, his knuckles white where he gripped the table’s edge. Faster, please, just a little faster.
Joonas's hand moved with devastating efficiency, his rough palm gliding over Chirp's slick cockhead before tightening into a brutal, perfect rhythm. "The system only works if you commit, Tyler," Harper said, pointing at the screen as Chirp's body tensed, his toes curling inside his sneakers. "Fuck," Chirp whispered, a strangled gasp he masked by coughing into his fist, his back arching as Joonas thumbed his slit, spreading the wetness.
"So that's the tape. Clean it up for tomorrow," Harper concluded, finally shutting off the projector. The room plunged into a deeper silence, broken only by the frantic, wet sound of Joonas's fist pumping, now unrestrained. Chirp's hips jerked, his release slamming into him with violent force, his cum striping the inside of his jeans in hot, silent pulses as Harper stood up.
Harper turned, his keys jingling, and saw Chirp's flushed face and rigid posture. "You look like you just saw a ghost, O'Rielly." Chirp swallowed, forcing a shaky grin. "Nah, Coach. Just thinking about a fucking hilarious joke I gotta tell Frost here about that last clip." Joonas gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, his face an impassive mask, though his fingers were still wrapped around Chirp's softening, soaked cock. Harper shook his head, a bemused smirk on his face. "You two are something else. Don't be late for practice."
The door clicked shut behind him. Chirp shoved Joonas's hand away, stumbling to his feet with his jeans still agape. "What the hell was that about?" he demanded, voice low and shaking. Joonas moved, a sudden explosion of contained motion, and pinned Chirp against the cinderblock wall with a force that knocked the air from his lungs. Before Chirp could protest, Joonas crushed their mouths together, sucking a deep, starving kiss from him as if he'd been deprived for a century.
Before Chirp could protest, Joonas crushed their mouths together, sucking a deep, starving kiss from him as if he'd been deprived for a century. Chirp’s hands flailed before grabbing fistfuls of Joonas’s shirt, a weak attempt to push him away that melted instantly into pulling him closer, their bodies slamming together from chest to thigh. “Wait, you silent bastard,” Chirp gasped when Joonas bit his lower lip, the sting a bright shock that made his already-spent cock twitch back to life. “This is a weird way to say ‘good tape session,’” he tried, his voice shaking, as Joonas’s large hands ripped his t-shirt up, exposing his pale, freckled torso and his tight, pink nipples standing erect in the cool air.
“Sinä olet kaunis,” Joonas breathed against his mouth, his Finnish words a raw, hot gravel that Chirp didn’t understand but felt in his marrow. “These,” Joonas said, ducking his head to lick a broad stripe over one peaked nipple, “these little peaks make me crazy.” He sucked it deep into his mouth, his tongue flicking relentlessly, while his hands pushed Chirp’s jeans and briefs down over his hips, freeing his full, six-inch cut cock which curved slightly upward, flushed and already leaking anew onto his ginger treasure trail. “And this,” Joonas growled, his hand wrapping around Chirp’s shaft, his thumb pressing into the slit, “this perfect, angry cock that I felt throbbing under the table.” He dropped to his knees, his blonde hair a mess, and took Chirp’s entire length into his throat in one smooth, deep swallow, his icy blue eyes locked upward.
Chirp cried out, his head thumping back against the wall, his fingers diving into Joonas’s hair. “Oh fuck, your mouth is… it’s a fucking national treasure,” he babbled, his hips stuttering. “I’m usually the funny one, but you’re… holy shit, you’re sucking my soul out.” Joonas pulled off with a wet pop, his lips swollen and glistening. “Every part of you,” he said, his voice wrecked, as he nuzzled into the coarse, fiery red curls at the base of Chirp’s cock, then licked his heavy, tight balls. “This ass I watch in workouts,” he continued, gripping Chirp’s firm, compact buttocks in both hands, kneading the flesh, “is perfect for my hands.” He stood then, capturing Chirp’s mouth again, letting him taste himself on Joonas’s tongue. “You talk to hide,” Joonas murmured, pulling back to stare into Chirp’s wide green eyes, “but your body tells me everything. It screams for me.” Chirp’s laugh was a broken, wet sound. “Yeah, well, it’s a traitor. And you’re… you’re not supposed to be like this.” “I am,” Joonas stated, and in his eyes, Chirp saw not just hunger, but a terrifying, focused reverence that unraveled his last pretense. “Okay,” Chirp whispered, all jokes gone, just surrender. “Okay.”
Frost’s mouth returned to his, a hard, consuming kiss that tasted of sweat and submission. “This,” Joonas growled against his lips, one large hand sliding down to grip the back of Chirp’s thigh, “is where you listen.” He hauled Chirp’s leg up around his hip, grinding their erections together through damp fabric with a rough, circular thrust that forced a shattered gasp from Chirp’s throat. The firm pressure against his oversensitive cock was agony and ecstasy, his earlier release nothing but a feeble prelude to the need now storming his nerves.
“Still got jokes?” Joonas rasped, biting a path down Chirp’s stubbled jaw to his hammering pulse.
“Only… only if you want ‘em,” Chirp panted, his fingers scrambling against Joonas’s broad shoulders as his other leg instinctively hooked around the Finn’s waist, pulling him closer. Joonas’s hands clamped on his ass, holding him aloft with terrifying ease, and he carried him the few steps to the long analysis table, clearing it with a sweep of his arm that sent binders and a laptop clattering to the floor. The cold, smooth surface met Chirp’s bare back, a shocking contrast to the furnace heat of the man looming over him. Joonas stared down, his icy eyes molten, tracing the landscape of freckles scattered over Chirp’s heaving chest and taut stomach. “I have wanted to map every one of these,” he confessed, his voice gravel-rough, before lowering his head to lick a stripe from Chirp’s navel to his sternum.
Chirp arched, a broken sound escaping him, his cock dripping onto his own stomach. “Fuck, just… do something.”
Joonas’s mouth closed over one peaked nipple, sucking hard while his hand finally wrapped around Chirp’s neglected length, his fist a tight, perfect engine of rhythm. “This is me,” Joonas said, the words vibrating against Chirp’s skin, “doing something.” Every pull of his hand, every scrape of his teeth, was a possession, a claiming that dismantled Chirp’s bravado and left only raw, trembling need.
Chirp’s hands pushed weakly at Joonas’s shoulders, his voice a ragged protest. “This is bullshit—you’re still dressed like a fucking bank manager.” A slow, predatory smile touched Joonas’s lips as he straightened up, his icy eyes never leaving Chirp’s. He pulled his black workout shirt over his head with a single, efficient motion, revealing a torso of pale, dense muscle carved from Finnish winters, a light dusting of blonde hair across his chest. “Better?” he rumbled, his hands going to his belt.
The buckle clicked, the zipper hissed, and he shoved his shorts and briefs down his powerful thighs, kicking them aside. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, curving upwards against his stomach, the head already glistening. “Eyes here,” Joonas commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument as he stepped closer, nudging Chirp’s parted knees wider. Chirp’s breath caught, his gaze locked on the imposing reality of him. “Jesus, you’re built like a fucking weapon,” he whispered, all his usual chatter stripped away.
“Taste it,” Joonas ordered, guiding Chirp’s head forward. Chirp’s tongue darted out, tentatively licking a broad stripe from root to tip, savoring the clean, salty skin. A low groan rumbled in Joonas’s chest. “More. Use your mouth.” Chirp obeyed, taking him deep, his lips stretching as he hollowed his cheeks. Joonas’s hands fisted in his ginger hair, controlling the rhythm with subtle, demanding pressures. “Now here,” Joonas gasped after a moment, pulling himself free and guiding Chirp’s mouth to his chest, to a pebbled nipple. “Lick.”
Chirp lapped and sucked, his hands roaming the hard planes of Joonas’s stomach, while Joonas tipped his head back, his breath coming in sharp gusts. “My throat,” he instructed, and Chirp kissed and bit a path up his neck, finding his jaw, until Joonas captured his mouth in a devouring, possessive kiss, sharing the taste of himself. “My hips,” Joonas breathed against his lips, and Chirp sank down, kissing the sharp V, nuzzling the coarse blonde hair at the base of his cock before taking him into his mouth again with a desperate, hungry urgency.
Chirp’s mouth was a wet, hot heaven, but Joonas pulled him off with a gentle tug of his hair. “Enough,” he murmured, his voice thick, lifting Chirp back onto the cold table. He spread Chirp’s trembling thighs wider, his calloused thumbs smoothing over the delicate skin of his inner hips. “I need to see all of you.”
His gaze was a physical weight, tracing the faint ginger trails leading from Chirp’s navel to the thick, coppery bush surrounding his seven-inch cock, which lay flushed and curved proudly against his taut stomach. “A beautiful, angry arch,” Joonas observed, his thumb brushing the prominent vein on the underside. He moved lower, his hands kneading the compact, muscular globes of Chirp’s ass. “Sinun peppusi on täydellinen,” he groaned, spreading him open to reveal his tight, clenched hole.
Chirp shuddered, a weak laugh escaping him. “Getting a five-star review from the toughest critic in the league. Nice.” Joonas leaned down, his breath hot. “I am not reviewing. I am worshipping.” He spat, the saliva landing directly on Chirp’s exposed pucker before circling it with a blunt, relentless finger. Chirp jolted, a sharp cry tearing from his throat. “Fuck, that’s… cold.”
“It will warm,” Joonas promised, working the spit into him, his finger sinking slowly past the initial fierce resistance. The stretch burned, a bright, shocking fullness that made Chirp’s toes curl. “You take this so well,” Joonas whispered, adding a second finger, scissoring him with careful, deliberate strokes. “For me, you open.” Chirp’s head tossed side to side, his knuckles white where he gripped the table edge. “Just… just doing my job, being a good teammate,” he panted, his voice cracking.
Joonas crooked his fingers, pressing deep, and Chirp’s back arched off the table with a punched-out gasp. “Hyvä poika,” Joonas breathed, his own heavy, eight-inch cock leaking steadily onto Chirp’s thigh as he worked him open with a third slick finger. “You feel that? You are ready for me.” Chirp could only nod, overwhelmed, his cock dribbling precum in a steady rhythm onto his stomach. “Please,” he begged, the word stripped of all humor. Joonas withdrew his fingers, lined up his broad, blunted head, and pushed.