Discover Top Posts Tagged with #andrei svechnikov

Aug 3

Better than an arrangement

SUMMARY: What begins as a casual, exclusive friends-with-benefits arrangement becomes complicated when you fall in love with Andrei. Afraid he does not feel the same, you pull away, leaving Andrei jealous, confused, and convinced you have found someone else.

WARNINGS: Friends with benefits, implied +18 content, jealousy, miscommunication, emotional avoidance, brief angst, reconciliation sex, happy ending.

Requested: Andrei Svechnikov + Friends with benefits to lovers

Being Eric Staal’s daughter meant hockey had never been something you could separate from the rest of your life.

It was woven into nearly every childhood memory you possessed.

Cold mornings inside nearly empty arenas. Falling asleep in the stands during practices. Wearing Hurricanes jerseys that reached your knees. Sitting on your father’s lap during interviews because you refused to wait quietly outside. Equipment managers sneaking you candy while your father pretended not to notice.

Your parents had been young when they had you.

Your father had still been preparing for his draft year when his high school sweetheart discovered she was pregnant. You were born in 2002, before either of them fully understood how dramatically their lives were about to change.

They tried to remain together.

For three years, they attempted to balance parenthood, your father’s rapidly developing hockey career, and a relationship that had begun when they were still teenagers.

In 2005, when you were three, they finally accepted that loving you did not automatically mean they were right for each other.

They separated without making you feel responsible for it.

Custody was shared. Holidays were divided. Your suitcases moved between houses so frequently that you learned to keep certain belongings permanently packed.

Neither situation was perfect, but you grew up knowing that both of your parents loved you.

Carolina, however, was where you felt most at home.

Your father spent thirteen years with the Hurricanes. Raleigh was where you attended school, made friends, learned to drive, and began developing a life that belonged to you rather than to whichever NHL city your father happened to be playing in.

When he left Carolina after the 2015–2016 season and signed with Minnesota, everyone assumed you would go with him. You were fourteen.

Your father had already researched schools. He had spoken about neighborhoods, the cold winters, and how exciting it would be for both of you to begin somewhere new.

You refused, it was one of the first major decisions you made for yourself. You loved your father, but you did not want to leave Raleigh.

Your mother was no longer an option for permanent custody. By then, she was living in Sweden with the Swedish man she had married. You enjoyed visiting them, and your relationship with your stepfather was good, but moving across the Atlantic felt even more disruptive than moving to Minnesota.

That left your uncle Jordan.

Jordan agreed to let you live with him before your father had fully accepted the idea.

Eric worried that you would feel abandoned. He worried that Jordan would be too busy with hockey to care for a teenager. He worried that allowing you to stay meant missing years of your life that neither of you would ever get back.

But eventually, he listened, Raleigh was not merely the city where your father used to play. It was your home and Jordan promised to look after you, and he kept that promise.

You became part niece, part daughter, and part permanent source of chaos in his house. You stole his clothes, left coffee cups in strange places, invited friends over without enough warning, and occasionally used his name to get closer seats at Hurricanes games.

Despite your father’s departure, you remained connected to the organization.

You continued attending games. You visited Jordan at the arena. You still knew many of the staff members who had watched you grow up.

That was how you met Andrei Svechnikov. He had been eighteen when he debuted for Carolina, you had been sixteen.

At the beginning, your interactions were brief and harmless. You were Jordan’s teenage niece and Eric Staal’s daughter. Andrei was a highly anticipated second-overall pick trying to prove that he belonged in the NHL.

You occasionally crossed paths in the arena corridors. He would nod at you, you would smile.

Sometimes Jordan formally included you in a conversation, and Andrei would struggle through a few polite sentences before retreating toward whichever teammate could help him understand the rapid English being spoken around him.

You thought he was attractive, anyone with eyes would have thought the same. But you did not think much beyond that, at least, not then.

As the years passed, Andrei became more comfortable in Carolina.

His English improved. His confidence grew. He became close to Jordan, and because you appeared frequently at your uncle’s house, you began seeing Andrei outside the arena.

He attended barbecues, holiday dinners, birthday celebrations, and casual gatherings after games.

By the time you were nineteen, you no longer felt like the teenager standing awkwardly behind your uncle.

Andrei noticed the difference.

He was twenty-one when the dynamic between you finally shifted, it happened during a party at Jordan’s house.

The Hurricanes had been eliminated, and Jordan hosted a gathering before everyone scattered for the summer. The house was crowded with players, partners, music, and conversations occurring loudly over one another.

You escaped through the back door.

You sat near the edge of the patio with your legs tucked beneath you, enjoying the relative silence.

A few minutes later, the door opened, Andrei stepped outside with two drinks in his hands “You are hiding,” he said.

“I’m taking a break.”

“Same thing.”

He offered you one of the drinks, You accepted it cautiously. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Someone made it.”

“You just took two random drinks?”

“One was for me. One was for you.”

“You didn’t know I was out here.”

Andrei sat beside you “I saw you leave.”

Something about the way he said it caused warmth to spread through your chest “You were watching me?”

His mouth curved “Maybe.”

You should have recognized the warning in that answer, instead, you took a sip. The drink was overly sweet, and you made a face, Andrei just laughed.

“You picked this for me?”

“You always drink sweet things.”

“You remember what I drink?”

“I remember many things.”

The air between you changed, you looked at him. Andrei was already watching you. He had looked at you hundreds of times before, but this felt different, his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth.

Your heart began beating faster “This is a bad idea,” you whispered.

“Probably.”

“You’re my uncle Jordan’s teammate.”

“I know.”

“My father knows you.”

His expression became slightly less confident “I know.”

“And I practically grew up around this organization.”

“I know this too.”

“You’re not making a very convincing argument.”

“I am not arguing.”

“What are you doing?”

Andrei leaned closer “Waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to tell me not to kiss you.”

You should have done exactly that, instead, you remained still. Andrei gave you several seconds to pull away. When you did not, his hand settled against the side of your neck.

Then he kissed you.

The kiss carried too much tension for that. Too many glances exchanged over several months. Too many occasions when Andrei had stood slightly closer than necessary or found an excuse to sit beside you.

Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, he kissed you until you temporarily forgot that half the Hurricanes roster was inside the house.

When he eventually pulled away, his forehead remained against yours “Still bad idea?” he murmured.

“Definitely.”

“Should I stop?”

You looked at his mouth “No.”

That first kiss should have remained an isolated mistake. It did not.

A week later, Andrei texted you while you were awake far too late, the conversation began innocently. Within an hour, you were standing outside his apartment.

Neither of you discussed relationships, you did not discuss expectations, feelings, or what would happen afterward. You kissed him as soon as the door closed, and the situation progressed naturally from there.

He backed you against it, mouth already on yours, kissing you like he’d been thinking about this every night since the patio. You matched him, fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt, palms dragging up the hard plane of his stomach. He made a low sound in his throat and pressed closer, one thigh slotting between yours.

“You sure?” he asked against your mouth, voice rough.

“Yes.”

That was all he needed, he peeled your shirt off, then his own. Your bra followed. His mouth found your neck, then the tops of your breasts, then lower. When he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, your head dropped back against the door with a soft thud. His hands were already working the button of your jeans. You kicked them off along with your underwear while he shoved his own down far enough to free himself.

He lifted you easily. Your legs wrapped around his waist. The head of his cock dragged against your entrance, and you both went still for a second “You want me to—”

“I’m on birth control,” you said. “And I’m clean.”

“Me too.”

He pushed in slowly, watching your face the entire time. The stretch burned in the best way. You dug your nails into his shoulders and breathed through it until he was fully inside “Fuck,” he muttered, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel—”

“Move,” you whispered.

He did.

The first few thrusts were careful. Then you rolled your hips and he lost the careful part. He fucked you against the door hard enough that the wood rattled, one hand under your ass, the other braced beside your head. Every time he bottomed out you made a sound that only made him go harder. When he shifted the angle and dragged over that perfect spot inside you, your legs tightened around him and you came with a broken gasp, clenching around his cock.

He followed a few thrusts later, burying himself deep and coming with a low, almost pained groan against your neck.

You stayed like that for a minute, both of you breathing hard, eventually he carried you to the bed without pulling out. When he finally did, he rolled onto his back and pulled you half on top of him.

Neither of you said anything about what it meant, you just fell asleep like that

the following morning, you woke with Andrei’s arm draped heavily over your waist. For several minutes, you remained still.

His face was pressed against the back of your neck. His breathing was slow, and the warmth of his body made it tempting to close your eyes and pretend that the situation meant more than it did.

That temptation frightened you, you carefully lifted his arm and climbed out of bed.

Andrei stirred “You leaving?”

You found your shirt on the floor “I should.”

He propped himself on one elbow, watching you dress “Why?”

“Because this was supposed to be uncomplicated.”

“It can be uncomplicated in morning.”

You laughed quietly “That’s not how it works.”

Andrei’s expression became more serious “What does this mean?”

The question made panic tighten your chest, a real relationship with him would invite too many complications.

Your uncle was his teammate, your father knew him. The Hurricanes organization remembered you as a child. Every disagreement would risk becoming someone else’s business.

More importantly, you were afraid that Andrei had asked merely because he believed he was supposed to.

So you offered the easiest answer “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

His eyes remained on you “Nothing?”

“Nothing serious.”

“And if we do this again?”

“Then we do it again.”

“And still nothing?”

You hesitated “That would be the arrangement.”

Andrei was silent for long enough that you wondered whether he would reject the idea then he nodded “Okay.”

That was how it began.

You were friends, you slept together, you did not date, naturally the arrangement came with rules: no public affection, no interfering with each other’s personal lives, no romantic expectations, no jealousy, no demanding more than the other person was willing to offer.

The final rule concerned exclusivity.

Neither of you wanted to risk contracting or transmitting an STI, so you agreed that if either of you intended to sleep with someone else, the arrangement would end, or at least pause until everyone had been tested.

Neither of you ever slept with anyone else.

You did not call it exclusivity because that sounded too similar to commitment, but that was what it became.

For the first year, the arrangement seemed perfect, you already trusted each other, you enjoyed spending time together.

There were no awkward dates, no uncertain expectations, and no pressure to make promises about a future neither of you had discussed.

Andrei would text you after games, sometimes the message was direct.

Come over.

Other nights, he pretended to have a reason

I think you left something here.

The first time he used that excuse, you arrived to discover he had been referring to a hair tie “You could have brought it to Jordan,” you said.

“I could.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Andrei caught you around the waist “You know why.”

You usually stayed the night, at first, you left before morning whenever possible. Eventually, Andrei began tightening his arm around you whenever he sensed you trying to escape “You move too much,” he complained one morning.

“I have class.”

“Later.”

“It starts in forty minutes.”

“You can be late.”

“I cannot tell my professor an NHL player refused to release me.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’d have to explain why I was in your bed.”

His eyes remained closed “Tell them I kidnapped you.”

“That seems worse.” He smiled against your shoulder.

The arrangement slowly developed routines that had nothing to do with sex, Andrei kept your preferred tea in his kitchen.

You kept snacks he liked in your apartment, you had a drawer in his bedroom and a charger beside his bed. He knew your university schedule. You knew the Hurricanes’ travel schedule without needing to check it.

You attended his games because you had always attended Hurricanes games, but you became more emotionally invested in his performance than you allowed anyone to see.

After losses, he called you, sometimes he wanted you to come over, sometimes he only wanted to hear your voice.

When Andrei became sick during the season, you stayed at his apartment for two nights. You made soup, forced him to take medicine, and ignored his complaints whenever you checked his temperature.

“You are mean nurse,” he mumbled.

“I’m not a nurse.”

“Good. You would scare patients.”

“You’re an ungrateful patient.”

He reached for your wrist before you could walk away “Stay.”

“I’m making tea.”

“After.” His hand loosened, sliding down until his fingers threaded through yours. Neither of you acknowledged how intimate the gesture felt, you sat beside him until he fell asleep

When you graduated from university, Andrei attended the ceremony, he stood with Jordan and appeared in nearly every family photograph.

Your father watched him closely, later, Eric pulled you aside “You and Svechnikov seem close.”

“We’re friends.”

“How close?”

You gave him a pointed look “Dad.”

“I’m only asking.”

“You’re interrogating me at my graduation.”

“I’ve seen the way he watches you.”

You had spent the remainder of the conversation insisting your father was imagining things.

The truth was that Andrei often watched you.

He noticed when you entered a room. He listened when you spoke, even if someone else was talking. His eyes automatically found you whenever something amusing happened.

You convinced yourself that was simply how close friends behaved.

At twenty-three, you could no longer maintain the lie, you did not fall in love with Andrei all at once.

There was no dramatic realization accompanied by music or perfect timing, you fell in love with him gradually.

You fell in love with him when he remembered the date your father left Carolina because he knew how deeply that transition had affected you.

You fell in love with him when you received an upsetting call from your mother, and he sat beside you on the floor without demanding that you explain.

You fell in love with him when your car broke down while he was on a road trip. He called Heather, roadside assistance and then you repeatedly until he was certain you were safe.

You fell in love with him when he called you from Russia because he claimed he could not sleep, even though it was the middle of the afternoon where he was.

You fell in love with him when he kissed your forehead in the darkness, apparently believing you were already asleep.

The physical arrangement was no longer enough, You wanted mornings that did not end with one of you jokingly pretending the night meant nothing.

You wanted real dates, You wanted to touch him without checking who might be watching, You wanted to attend team events as his partner rather than as Jordan’s niece.

You wanted to know that when the season ended, Andrei would still choose to include you in his plans. You wanted a future.

The realization terrified you, The entire arrangement had been your idea. You had been the one who insisted it remain uncomplicated. You had created the rules Andrei had followed without complaint. You had no right to become upset because he had never offered more.

Still, resentment began quietly building inside you.

Each time Andrei texted you late at night, you wondered whether he would ever invite you to dinner first, Each time you woke in his arms, you wondered how quickly he would release you if you admitted you wanted to stay permanently, Each time he introduced you as his friend, the word felt sharper.

You became tired of occupying every private part of his life while having no official place in it.

The breaking point came after a home game.

Carolina won in overtime.

Jordan invited several players to his house afterward. You attended because you had spent years appearing at these gatherings and knew refusing without a reason would only attract attention.

Andrei remained aware of you all evening.

He did not openly approach you, That was another one of the rules.

When you went into the kitchen, he entered several minutes later under the excuse of needing another drink, When you sat outside with one of the players’ partners, Andrei found a reason to join the conversation.

When you laughed at something another man said, his jaw tightened slightly. Near midnight, your phone vibrated.

Come home with me.

You looked across the room, Andrei stood beside Jordan, listening to a story he had probably heard several times before.

He did not glance at his phone, He did not have to, He knew you had seen the message.

Once, those words would have filled you with anticipation, that night, they only made you feel empty.

He did not ask whether you wanted to get food, he did not ask whether you wanted to spend time together, he asked you to come home with him after everyone else was finished seeing you.

You should have refused, instead, you followed him.

Habit was difficult to break, especially when the habit involved the person you loved. At his apartment, Andrei barely allowed the door to close before he kissed you.

You kissed him back, for several moments, you surrendered to the familiarity of it.

His hands settled against your waist. Your fingers moved into his hair. He guided you toward the bedroom as he had countless times before.

Then reality struck. This was all you were allowing yourself to have, hidden kisses, kate-night invitations, closed bedroom doors.

You loved him, and he believed you were there because neither of you wanted anything serious.

The thought made your chest ache.

Andrei kissed along your jaw, you placed both hands against his chest “Andrei.” He made a quiet sound against your skin.

“Andrei, stop.”

He stopped immediately, his hands left your body, he stepped backward, creating space between you without argument “What happened?”

“I can’t.”

His expression changed from confusion to concern “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Did I do something?”

“No.”

“Then what is wrong?”

You avoided his eyes “I changed my mind.”

“Okay.”

There was no frustration in his voice. No attempt to convince you, no reminder that you had come there willingly. He accepted your answer as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

His immediate respect should have comforted you.

Instead, it nearly made you cry, he cared about you, you simply did not know whether he loved you.

“I should leave.”

Andrei frowned “You don’t have to.”

“I want to go home.”

“You can stay. We don’t have to do anything.”

“That’s not—” You stopped yourself.

“That’s not what?”

“Nothing.”

You reached for your coat, Andrei watched you closely “You are upset.”

“I’m tired.”

“You were not tired before.”

“I said I’m tired, Andrei.”

The sharpness in your voice caused him to become completely still, he did not respond “Did I make you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“No.”

“Did I make you feel like you could not say no?”

Your head lifted “No. Never.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it.”

“With me?”

“With anyone.”

Andrei stepped closer, but he did not touch you, his expression was carefully controlled “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“You look like you will.”

“Please stop asking questions.”

Something wounded flickered across his face, he eventually nodded “Okay.”

You left before the tears began falling. After that night, you avoided him, at first, your excuses were believable.

You told him you had work, you said you already had plans, you claimed you were too tired to come over.

When he called, you kept the conversations short, when he asked to see you, you promised another night and eventually, you began leaving his messages unanswered.

Andrei noticed immediately, for almost four years, the two of you had spoken nearly every day.

Even during road trips, he sent you photographs from airports, hotel rooms, and restaurants. You were accustomed to waking up to messages complaining about delayed flights or asking whether you had watched the previous night’s game.

Now you responded with single sentences and sometimes not at all.

Andrei tried to convince himself that you were busy, after a week, he stopped believing it.

He came to your apartment without warning, you saw him through the peephole and remained silent. He knocked again “I know you are home.” You closed your eyes, your phone vibrated in your hand

Please open door.

You did not move, another message arrived.

I only want to talk.

You pressed your hand over your mouth to quiet your breathing, even though he could not possibly hear you through the door. Eventually, Andrei left.

You slid to the floor after his footsteps disappeared down the hallway, avoiding him hurt almost as much as seeing him but you knew distance was safer.

If you told him you loved him and he did not feel the same, you would lose the arrangement and the friendship, by remaining silent, you were losing both anyway.

Andrei became miserable.

He had grown accustomed to your presence without realizing how dependent he had become on it, his apartment felt unnaturally empty.

Your clothes remained in his drawer. Your shampoo remained in his shower. A half-finished box of your preferred tea remained in his kitchen. Every room contained evidence that you had once been there.

He began sleeping poorly.

His performance during practices became increasingly aggressive. He snapped at teammates over harmless comments and checked his phone so frequently that several people noticed.

Jordan was the first to confront him “You and my niece have a fight?”

Andrei’s head lifted sharply “No.”

“You answered that quickly.”

“Because answer is no.”

Jordan leaned against the stall beside him “Then why are you acting like someone stole your dog?”

“I do not have dog.”

“You understand the point.”

Andrei shoved something into his equipment bag “She is busy.”

“She’s been busy for three weeks?”

“Yes.”

“She stopped coming to my house, she says she has plans every time I invite her,” Jordan continued. “And whenever I mention your name, she changes the subject.”

Andrei’s jaw tightened “I don’t know why.”

Jordan studied him “Did you hurt her?”

“No.”

“Did she hurt you?”

Andrei did not answer, Jordan sighed “I’m not asking what’s happening between you.”

“Good.”

“But I’m not blind.” Andrei looked at him, Jordan’s expression was more knowing than Andrei appreciated “You’ve followed her around like a guard dog for years.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“She is your niece. I make sure she is okay.”

“Right.” Andrei narrowed his eyes, Jordan continued before he could argue “She’s an adult. Whatever the two of you are doing is your business.”

Andrei looked away.

“But she’s still my family,” Jordan added. “If something happened, fix it before both of you make everyone around you miserable.”

“I am trying.”

That admission caused Jordan’s expression to soften “She won’t talk?”

“No.”

“Then give her space.”

“I have given space.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Exactly.”

Jordan almost smiled, Andrei did not find anything amusing “I think she met someone,” he admitted.

Jordan’s eyebrows rose “Why?”

“She does not want me anymore.”

The statement sounded more vulnerable than he intended, Jordan studied him for several seconds “Did she tell you that?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you should stop inventing answers.”

Andrei attempted to follow that advice, then he saw you with another man. You had agreed to have coffee with Evan, a friend from university.

It was not supposed to be a date.

Evan had moved away after graduation and recently returned to Raleigh for work. When he asked to meet, you agreed because spending an afternoon with someone outside the hockey world seemed healthier than sitting alone and resisting the urge to call Andrei.

Evan made you laugh.

For the first time in weeks, you briefly stopped thinking about the situation you had created. You did not know that Andrei was across the street.

He had stopped at a nearby restaurant with two teammates after practice, he noticed you through the window before anyone else did.

You were sitting across from a man Andrei did not recognize, the man leaned closer while you spoke, you smiled then Evan reached across the table and briefly touched your hand.

It was a harmless gesture but Andrei did not interpret it that way, his entire body became rigid.

Seth followed his line of sight “That Eric’s daughter?”

Andrei looked away “Yes.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“I don’t know.” Something in his tone ended the conversation.

Andrei barely spoke throughout the meal.

He told himself he had no right to be angry, the arrangement did not permit jealousy and more importantly, the arrangement appeared to be over. You had not explicitly ended it, but weeks of avoidance had delivered the message clearly enough.

You were free to see someone else and that knowledge did not prevent jealousy from consuming him.

He imagined you inviting the man into your apartment.

He imagined the man discovering the small things Andrei knew about you, how you liked to sleep, where you were ticklish, what made you laugh when you were in a terrible mood.

He imagined another man occupying the place Andrei had taken for granted.

That evening, he sent you a message.

Who was he?

You stared at the words, you considered pretending not to understand, instead, you replied.

Who?

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

Man at coffee shop.

You frowned.

You were there?

Across street.

His name is Evan. We went to university together.

Several minutes passed.

Are you dating him?

The question made your chest tighten.

That isn’t your business.

You regretted sending it as soon as the message delivered, Andrei did not respond.

Two days later, Evan attended a Hurricanes game with mutual friends, you did not sit beside him, but Andrei saw him speaking to you during warmups.

The jealousy that had been quietly building became impossible to contain.

Andrei played aggressively that night.

He received a penalty after reacting to a hit that usually would not have bothered him. Jordan gave him a questioning look from the bench, but Andrei ignored it.

After the game, you waited near the family area with several people you knew, Andrei walked past without acknowledging you.

Usually, you would have preferred that no one notice the connection between you.

That night, his deliberate avoidance hurt, you returned to your apartment alone and nearly an hour later, someone knocked.

You already knew who it was.

When you looked through the peephole and saw Andrei standing in the hallway, you considered remaining silent again.

Then he knocked a second time “Please.”

The quiet desperation in his voice broke your resolve so you opened the door.

Andrei looked exhausted, his hair was still damp from his shower at the arena, and there was a faint bruise forming near his cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk.”

“It’s late.”

“I know.”

“You have practice tomorrow.”

“I don’t care.”

You folded your arms “Did Jordan send you?”

“No.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

“No.”

You should have asked him to leave, instead, you stepped aside.

Andrei entered, he had been inside your apartment hundreds of times, but he stood near the door as though he no longer knew whether he was welcome.

You closed it behind him “What happened to your face?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re bruised.”

“It is hockey.”

“You were reckless tonight.”

“You watched?”

The question was almost accusing “Of course I watched.”

“With him?”

Your expression hardened “Is that why you came here?”

Andrei looked away “Are you dating him?”

“You already asked me that.”

“You did not answer.”

“Because you don’t get to demand an answer.”

His jaw flexed “I am not demanding.”

“It sounds like you are.”

“I only want to know.”

“Why?” Andrei stared at you, you waited, as expected, he did not answer and a bitter laugh escaped you “That’s what I thought.”

You turned away, but he reached for your wrist, Andrei released you immediately when you looked down at his hand “Do not walk away.”

“You came into my apartment and started questioning me about another man.”

“Because you stop talking to me, stop seeing me, and then I see you with him.”

“Evan is my friend.”

“Only friend?”

“Yes.” Relief flashed across his face before he could conceal it, you noticed “Would it matter if he weren’t?”

Andrei’s silence answered for him.

You shook your head “You don’t get to be jealous.”

“I know.”

“We agreed.”

“I know what we agreed.”

“You agreed there would be no jealousy.”

“And you agreed you would tell me if you wanted someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else.” The words escaped before you could stop them, Andrei became still “Then what do you want?”

Your throat tightened “I don’t know.”

“That is not true.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“No. Because you refuse to tell me.”

His voice rose before he consciously lowered it “You stop me that night. You leave crying. Then you disappear. I think I hurt you, i think I did something wrong.”

“You didn’t.”

“You say that, but you don’t let me near you.”

“Because being near you is the problem.”

Andrei stared at you, you had not intended to say it “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Stop saying nothing.”

His frustration filled the apartment “You always say nothing. Kiss was nothing. First night was nothing. four years together was nothing. Now you are gone, and you still say nothing happened.”

“We weren’t together.”

The sentence wounded him. You saw it happen, Andrei’s expression changed before he forced it back under control “I know.”

Guilt pressed heavily against your chest “That isn’t what I meant.”

“It is what you said.”

“We had an arrangement.”

“Yes.”

“An arrangement I can’t do anymore.”

His eyes remained fixed on you “Because of him?”

“No.”

“Because of someone else?”

“No.”

“Because you do not want me?”

You looked at him incredulously “How could you possibly think that?”

“You won’t touch me. You won’t answer me. You hide when I come to your door.”

“I was trying to protect myself.”

“From me?”

“From what this was doing to me.”

Andrei’s anger faded “What was it doing?”

You looked away, you could feel tears beginning to burn your eyes “I was tired.”

“Of me?”

“Of only having parts of you.”

The confession settled between you and you forced yourself to continue before fear silenced you again “I was tired of only seeing you privately. I was tired of leaving before people noticed. I was tired of pretending I didn’t care when someone flirted with you.”

“You were jealous?”

You laughed shakily “Of course I was jealous.”

“You never said.”

“I wasn’t allowed to be.”

“Because of rules you made.”

“I know.”

Andrei stared at you, his breathing slightly uneven.

You wrapped your arms around yourself “I thought this would be easy. We were attracted to each other, we trusted each other, and neither of us wanted anything complicated.”

“I never said I did not want complicated.”

“You agreed to the arrangement.”

“Because you offered it.”

“You could have said no.”

“And lose you completely?” Andrei stepped closer “I thought this was all you wanted from me.”

“You never asked.”

“Every time I tried to get closer, you reminded me of rules.”

“I was scared.”

“So was I.”

The admission surprised you, Andrei rarely confessed fear, he appeared almost angry with himself for revealing it now.

You swallowed “I started falling in love with you, that night, when I stopped you, I realized I couldn’t keep pretending sex was enough. Every time you touched me, I wanted it to mean something it might not mean to you.”

Andrei’s gaze did not leave your face.

“I didn’t want to ask for more and watch you regret everything.”

A tear escaped despite your attempt to contain it “I didn’t want to hear that I had ruined the friendship because I couldn’t follow my own rules.”

Andrei crossed the remaining space between you, he lifted his hand but hesitated before touching you “You love me?”

Your laugh was quiet and miserable “That is what you understood from all of that?”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Andrei—”

“Please.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, you looked into his eyes “I love you.”

Andrei released a breath, hs hand finally settled against your cheek. The touch was gentle enough to make your tears fall faster “You think I don’t love you?”

“I didn’t know.”

“I go to your graduation.”

“You were invited.”

“I call you before my own family after bad games.”

“You call your mother first sometimes.”

“She would kill me if I did not.” a watery laugh escaped you, Andrei brushed his thumb beneath your eye “I keep your things in my apartment.”

“Because I’m always leaving them there.”

“I bought half of them.”

You blinked “What?”

“The clothes in drawer. Some are not yours.”

“I thought I forgot buying them.”

“You forget many things, but not that many.” despite yourself, you laughed again, Andrei moved closer “You think I remember all important dates because we are only sleeping together?”

“I thought you were thoughtful.”

“I am not that thoughtful.”

“You’re making a terrible argument for yourself.”

His mouth almost curved, then his expression became serious again “I have loved you for long time.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Andrei.”

“Maybe first year.”

Your eyes widened. “We’ve been doing this for almost four years Andrei.”

“I know.”

“You loved me for nearly the entire arrangement?”

“I think so.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You said no relationship.”

“That was at the beginning.”

“You never said it changed.”

“I shouldn’t have needed to.”

“Yes, you should.” His voice was not harsh, but the honesty struck you, Andrei cupped both sides of your face “I cannot know what you want when you don’t tell me.”

“You didn’t tell me either.”

“I know.”

“So we’re both idiots.”

“Yes.”

You gave him a weak glare “You agreed too quickly.”

“I have had weeks to think about this" his forehead lowered to yours “I thought you left because you found someone better.”

“There isn’t anyone better.”

“I know.”

“And there’s the confidence.”

“You love it.”

Unfortunately, you did, you rested your hands against his chest “So what happens now?”

“Now you stop avoiding me.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know.”

His hands moved from your face to your waist “I want you.”

“You’ve always wanted me physically.”

“No.” Andrei shook his head “I want all of it.”

Your breath caught.

“I want dates. I want you at my house even when we don’t go to bed. I want to hold your hand outside. I want to take you to Russia and show you where I grew up.”

“Andrei…”

“I want your father to know.”

You stared at him “You’re clearly overwhelmed. We should get you checked for a concussion.”

He laughed softly “I don’t want to tell him everything.”

“Coward.”

“Your father is Eric Staal.”

“You’re bigger than him.”

“This does not help.”

“And Jordan?”

“Jordan already knows.”

Your eyes widened “You told him?”

“No. But Jordan is not stupid, he asked why I was miserable.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I thought you met someone.”

“And?”

“He told me to stop inventing answers.”

You smiled faintly “That sounds like him.”

Andrei’s expression softened “Will you be with me?”

“I’m already standing with you.”

“You know what I mean.” For four years, you had imagined what it might sound like if Andrei asked for something real.

The actual moment was less polished than your fantasies.

You were crying. His cheek was bruised. Both of you were emotionally exhausted, and the conversation had begun with an argument about another man.

It still felt perfect “You need to ask properly,” you whispered.

Andrei stared at you “You are serious?”

“Yes.” He sighed, but there was affection in the sound “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You pretended to think, his eyes narrowed “Do not play now.”

“Yes,” you said, smiling. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

The relief on his face was immediate.

Andrei kissed you.

At first, the kiss was careful.

His mouth moved against yours slowly, as though he were trying to understand how something so familiar could suddenly feel entirely different.

There were no rules forcing either of you to pretend, no expectation that the kiss had to lead anywhere, no need to leave before morning.

You slid your arms around his neck, Andrei pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. The weeks of separation, fear, jealousy, and frustration remained between you, gradually transforming into something warmer.

When he pulled away, both of you were breathing unevenly “I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too.”

“You don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

“If something changes, you tell me.”

“I will.”

“Even if you think I won’t like it.”

“Yes.”

“And no more coffee with Evan.”

You pulled back “Andrei.”

“I am joking.”

“You are absolutely not joking.”

“Maybe little serious.”

“You’ve been my boyfriend for less than two minutes, and you’re already being difficult.”

“I have been waiting almost two years.”

You ran your fingers gently over the bruise near his cheek “You were reckless tonight.”

“I was angry.”

“At me?”

“At him.”

“Evan didn’t do anything.”

“He touched your hand.”

“He was showing me the engagement ring he bought for his boyfriend.”

Andrei froze, you watched understanding spread across his face “His boyfriend?”

“Yes, he's actually gay”

A long silence followed “You could have told me.”

“You could have asked without behaving like a jealous caveman.”

“I did ask.”

“You sent me a message demanding to know who he was.”

“That was asking.”

“That was an interrogation.”

Andrei considered the distinction “Next time, I ask nicer.”

“There shouldn’t be a next time.”

“There will always be people touching your hand.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You’re going to have to learn.”

His arms tightened around you “As long as they know you are mine.”

You raised your eyebrows “I’m not your possession.”

“No.” he kissed the corner of your mouth “You are my girlfriend.”

The pride in his voice softened your annoyance “And you’re my boyfriend,” you reminded him.

Andrei smiled “I like that.”

“I can tell.”

He kissed you again, this time, the kiss quickly became more intense.

The emotional distance that had existed between you was gone. Every touch carried an honesty that had been absent before.

You were not attempting to distract yourselves from difficult feelings, you were not pretending the physical connection existed separately from everything else.

When Andrei lifted his head, he searched your face “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I know.”

“You stopped me last time.”

“Because I was scared.”

“And now?”

You touched his cheek “Now I’m not.”

His gaze softened “If you change your mind—”

“I’ll tell you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

You kissed him before he could ask anything else.

Andrei’s hands settled securely around your waist as he walked you backward through the apartment. He guided you to the bedroom slowly this time.

When the backs of your knees hit the mattress, he stopped and looked at you like he was still half-afraid you might change your mind.

“You can stop me any time,” he said quietly. “Even if I am already inside you. You say stop, I stop.”

“I know.”

“I need you to say it.”

“I know I can stop you. And I won’t need to.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, lingering. His hands slid under your shirt, palms warm against your skin, and he lifted it off only when you raised your arms. He tossed it aside without looking away from your face.

Then he reached behind you and unclasped your bra, sliding the straps down your arms with deliberate care. When it fell, he didn’t rush. He just looked at you for a long moment, eyes dark and soft at the same time “Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself.

He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed and knelt between your legs. First he kissed the inside of your right knee, then the left. Slow, open-mouthed kisses that climbed higher, your thighs, the soft skin just below your hip bones. He pressed his mouth to the slight dip of your stomach, then higher, between your ribs.

When he finally reached your breasts he took his time, kissing the underside of one, then the other, tracing the curve with his lips before closing his mouth over a nipple and sucking gently. You arched into him with a quiet sound. He did the same to the other side, eyes lifting to yours the entire time.

He stood only long enough to pull his own shirt off, then knelt again. He kissed the center of your chest, right over your heart, and stayed there for a second like he was listening. Then he moved lower again—your stomach, the sharp line of your hip, the soft place where your thigh met your body.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and looked up “Okay?”

“Yes.”

He peeled them down along with your underwear, kissing every new inch of skin he uncovered: the top of your thigh, the side of your knee, your calf, even the top of your foot.

When you were completely bare he sat back on his heels for a moment just looking at you, breathing a little harder.

You reached for him. He stood, let you push his pants and boxers down, and stepped out of them. Then he climbed onto the bed with you, settling over your body but not putting his full weight on you yet.

This time he kissed your forehead first, then both eyelids, the bridge of your nose, each cheek. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then the other, before claiming your lips properly.

From there he moved to your jaw, down the side of your neck, pausing to suck lightly at the place that always made your breath catch. He kissed across your collarbone, then lower, taking each breast into his mouth again, slower than before, tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

He kept going.

Your ribs. The soft skin just under them. Your stomach. The sharp jut of your hip bones. The inside of both thighs. He kissed the crease where your leg met your body, then lower, pressing an open-mouthed kiss right against your center.

You gasped and your hips lifted. He stayed there for a moment, breathing against you, then dragged his tongue over you once, slow and deliberate, before lifting his head again.

“Not yet,” he said, voice rough. “I want to look at you when I am inside you.”

He crawled back up your body, kissing a path the whole way—stomach, breasts, throat, mouth. When he settled between your thighs he braced himself on his forearms so your faces were close.

He brushed your hair back from your forehead with one hand and held your gaze “You still sure?”

“Yes.”

He reached down, guided himself to your entrance, and pushed in slowly. Inch by inch, eyes locked on yours. You felt every stretch, every slide, and he watched every flicker of expression that crossed your face.

When he was fully inside he stayed still, forehead against yours, both of you breathing the same air “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you then—deep and unhurried—while he started to move. Slow, deep thrusts that never broke the eye contact for long. Every time he pulled almost all the way out and sank back in, he kissed you again. Your mouth. Your cheek. The corner of your eye. Your forehead. Then back to your mouth.

His hand found yours and laced your fingers together against the pillow. The other stayed under your thigh, holding you open for him.

He kept the pace steady, almost reverent, hips rolling in a rhythm that made pleasure build low and heavy in your stomach “Look at me,” he said when your eyes started to close.

You did.

He thrust a little deeper and your mouth fell open. He caught the soft sound with another kiss “I thought I lost you,” he murmured against your lips. “I thought you were gone for good.”

“I’m right here.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

He groaned quietly and kissed you harder, still moving inside you, still watching. Sweat started to gather at his temples. You lifted your free hand and cupped the side of his face, thumb brushing the bruise on his cheek.

He turned his head just enough to kiss your palm without breaking the rhythm of his hips.

The pleasure tightened. You could feel yourself getting close, the slow drag of him inside you becoming almost too much. He must have felt it too—your walls starting to flutter around him—because his thrusts stayed deep but the kisses became more urgent. He never looked away.

“Come for me,” he said, voice low and rough. “I want to watch.”

You did.

The orgasm rolled through you in long, shaking waves. You kept your eyes on his the whole time, lips parted, soft broken sounds spilling out between kisses. He held you through it, still moving, still kissing your mouth, your cheek, the damp skin at your temple.

When the intensity eased he didn’t stop. He kept the same deep, steady pace, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard “I love you,” he said again, almost like he couldn’t stop saying it. “I love you. I love you.”

You wrapped your legs tighter around him and pulled him down for another long kiss. He groaned into your mouth and finally let go, burying himself as deep as he could and coming with a low, broken sound that vibrated against your lips.

You felt every pulse of him inside you while he kept kissing you through it—soft, open-mouthed, almost desperate.

He didn’t pull out right away.

He stayed inside you, arms wrapped tight around your body, face buried in the curve of your neck for a few long breaths. Then he lifted his head again and looked at you, eyes still dark, still soft.

He kissed your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose, both cheeks and finally your mouth, slow and lingering “I love you,” he whispered one more time.

You held him closer, legs still around his hips, fingers in his hair “I love you too.”

You rested against Andrei’s chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow beneath your ear.

His arm remained wrapped around you.

In the past, this was usually the point when reality returned.

One of you would make a joke. You would remind yourselves that the night did not mean anything. Eventually, you would begin thinking about when you should leave or whether someone might notice Andrei leaving your apartment the following morning.

This time, neither of you needed to pretend, Andrei pressed a kiss to the top of your head “You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

You lifted your head and saw that his concern was genuine “Yes. I’m sure.”

He brushed your hair away from your face “You are not going anywhere tomorrow.”

“This is my apartment.”

“Good. Then I am not going anywhere.”

“You have practice.”

“Later.”

“Jordan is going to know.”

“He already knows.”

“My dad is going to know eventually.”

Andrei’s expression became wary “We can wait little.”

You laughed softly “You were the one who said you wanted him to know.”

“I want him to know you are my girlfriend.”

“But not how we got here?”

“Definitely not.”

“You don’t want to explain the last four years?”

“No.”

“What happened to honesty?”

“There are limits.” You smiled and settled against him again, Andrei’s fingers moved slowly along your back “I really thought you wanted him,” he admitted after a moment.

“Evan?”

“Yes.”

“You were jealous.”

“I told you this.”

“You never actually said the word.”

“I was jealous.”

You looked up again, enjoying how uncomfortable the admission made him “How jealous?”

“Enough.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“And you complained about interrogation.”

“This is different.”

“It is not.”

You rested your chin against his chest “Were you going to fight him?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly “Andrei.”

“I was not going to fight him.”

“You considered it.”

“Only for second.”

“He doesn’t even like women.”

“I did not know.”

“You could have embarrassed yourself badly.”

“I would not.”

“You played like you wanted to put someone through the boards tonight.”

“That was unrelated.”

“Of course.”

Andrei narrowed his eyes before rolling you gently beneath him, you laughed as he hovered over you “You find this funny?”

“A little.”

“I was miserable.”

“So was I.”

His amusement faded, he lowered himself carefully, keeping most of his weight away from you “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“I would have said it first"

“We’re back to this?”

“No.” He pressed a slow kiss to your forehead “No more fighting.”

“That seems unrealistic.”

“No more fighting tonight.”

“That I can agree to.”

Andrei rested beside you again and pulled you against him, the position was familiar. The feeling was not.

For years, you had believed that keeping the arrangement undefined protected both of you. You had assumed labels created complications and that admitting your feelings would destroy the friendship you valued.

Instead, silence had nearly destroyed it, Andrei’s fingers intertwined with yours beneath the blanket “Tomorrow, we go on date,” he said.

You smiled “A real one?”

“Yes.”

“In public?”

His confidence faltered slightly “Maybe somewhere not too public.”

You laughed “I thought you wanted everyone to know.”

“I do.”

“But?”

“I would like to survive first date without Jordan sitting at next table.”

“That’s fair.”

“And after, we tell him.”

“He definitely already knows.”

“Then we confirm.”

“And my father?” Andrei became silent, you tilted your head “We’ll tell him together.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“Before he discovers it from Jordan.”

Andrei groaned “That could be tomorrow.”

“Exactly.”

He pulled the blanket higher around both of you “Maybe we stay here forever.”

“That’s your plan?”

“Yes.”

“You have games.”

“I retire.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Your father is going to kill me.”

“He won’t kill you.” Andrei looked at you unconvinced “He might try, but Jordan will stop him.”

“This does not make me feel better.”

You shifted upward and kissed him “I love you.”

The anxiety disappeared from his expression, his hand moved to the back of your neck, keeping you close “I love you too.”

You had heard him say it earlier, but the words still sent warmth through your entire body “Say it again,” you whispered.

Andrei smiled “I love you.”

This time, there was no hesitation, no rules, no pretending.

You kissed him once more before settling against his chest, the conversation with your family could wait until morning.

For now, Andrei was holding you in your apartment with no intention of leaving, and when you closed your eyes, you no longer wondered what the night meant.

You already knew.

It meant the arrangement was over and your relationship had finally begun.

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