Summary: You meet Logan at a bar after your brother's hockey team loses their game. Only after finding yourself falling for him do you find out that he is John Logan, a beast on the ice and your brother's rival.
Ahead: Angst (secret lovers), lying to your brother, minor smut (nothing too crazy), Logan being a sexy man (obvs)
You grew up in a major hockey family. All of your uncles, your dad, your brother and your cousins were die hard for the Bruins and never missed a game. While you wouldn’t consider yourself a fanatic like your family, you did enjoy your fair share of hockey. You loved the unpredictability of the game, the attitudes and how no one was afraid of getting messy.
Your brother was accepted to Boston University the year before you were. While you got into BU on academic merit, he got in for hockey. A full ride came with his acceptance along with a spot of the hockey team. Everyone was ecstatic, you included. You loved your brother, even if he did have an inflated ego.
It was the biggest game for Boston of the season other than playoffs. Boston was playing their biggest rivals, Briar. Briar was known for the ferocious game play on the ice. Their line up was nothing to sniff at and everyone of the Boston team knew that.
Your brother was shitting bricks for weeks leading up to the game. He bit his nails to the quick, and was talking strategy every second he could. Most of all, he was smack talking all the players.
“Graham is a monster, but I’m more worried about Logan. He’s a snake.” Your brother explained, pacing in front of you during what was meant to be a study session. He was failing English literature and you were tasked by your parents to get his grade up. So far, it was a lost cause.
While you didn’t care to investigate the Briar team the way your brother did, you still showed up to his game with a proud smile and your red and white BU jersey on. You sat in the stands with your fellow BU students, cheering for the goals and cringing as you watched your brother get boarded twice by Briar’s number 22, some guy named Logan. You recalled your brother calling him a snake, but seeing him in action was a different story.
While you knew you shouldn’t, you couldn’t help but admire this allusive Logan as he skated. He was fast and aggressive, the type of player that knew your next move before you even did. You watched him like a hawk (ironic), not even noticing how badly your brother’s team was losing until it was over. Not only did Boston lose, they lost badly. You knew your brother would be sulking all night and while a part of you knew it was the right thing to go comfort him, a larger part of you itched to do the opposite.
The game was on Briar’s turf, allowing you explore the city that was so close to Boston yet worlds away. You texted your brother, letting him know would catch up with him later and decided to skip out on the bus home. You threw on a plain sweatshirt to cover your Boston jersey and join the throngs of Briar students that were celebrating.
It didn’t take long for you to follow the groups of students to a nearby pub called Malone’s. The music was loud and the drinks were flowing. You headed to the bar, watching the groups hanging out with a smile.
“Can I buy you a drink?” A voice rang out.
You turned towards the voice, your eyes connecting with sweet brown ones surrounded by dark lashes. He’s like a Greek god standing over you, his height could be seen as intimidating, but his award winning smile and the kind of chocolate colored locks that would put 90s Leonardo Dicaprio to shame. His large biceps poke out from under the Briar U hockey tee shirt he is wearing and you fight the want to take a bite out of them.
You match his dazzling smile, “Sure.”
You discuss all things hockey with the handsome stranger. He knows even more than you do, making you suspect that he is a Briar U hockey player. As you talk, you find yourself lost in his words. He is as naturally charming as he is pretty to look at. You’ve downed half your drink when a blonde guy pops up next to him, smacking shoulder.
“Logan! There you are!” The blonde laughs, obviously drunk.
You pause mid-sip. Logan. As in number 22? As in the guy your brother referred to as a snake and got wrecked by? Fuck.
“I’ve been here the whole time, Dean.” Logan matches his friend’s laughter, “You’re the one who has been hanging out in the bathroom with what’s her name.”
“Yeah,” Dean reminisces before crinkling his brow. “What is her name?”
Logan cackles at that as Dean walks away with a shrug, not at all bothered by his drunken confusion. Logan turns back to you, seeing you lost in thought and not nearly as joyful. Logan touches your knee, making you turn your head.
“You okay?” Logan asked, running his thumb over the fabric of jeans.
You purse your lips. Before looking at Logan again, you were contemplating how you were going to slip away and get back to Boston without him noticing. Now, looking at the Greek god in front of you, your brain has taken a full 180.
“I’m fine.” You lean forward, your flirtatious smile returns and you lean closer. “So, Logan, tell me about your win tonight.”
Logan grinned, finding your forwardness and hockey knowledge refreshing and endearing.
“Would love to.”
Logan slammed you into the bathroom door, your lips attached in a heated kiss that took your breath away. His stubble tickled the soft skin of your cheeks in a way that made you pull him closer by his sides. Logan scooped you up, placing you on the edge of the sink and stepped between your parted thighs. He pulled back just enough to press his lips against your throat, his teeth nipping at the thin skin between being soothed by his tongue.
“Logan,” You whimpered, wrapping your legs around him to pull him against you.
“Speak up, angel.” Logan grunted, tugging at the edge of your sweatshirt. “Want to hear you.”
You yanked the top over your head, leaving you in your lacy bra and Logan sucked in a breath. You tossed the top somewhere on the bathroom floor. “Touch me.”
Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He dived in like a man starved and by the end of your encounter you were both spent. Your sweaty skin stuck to one another, lips attached as everything slowed back down. Logan kissed the crown of your head, then your forehead and trailing back down to your lips. You were both smiling as your lips met.
“I have to get going before the last bus leaves,” You whispered, pecking his lips a final time before patting his back to signal that you were getting up.
Logan’s eyebrows creased, helping you grab your clothes from the floor, “Bus?”
“Yeah,” You breathed, unsure of how to bring up that you were not from Briar.
Suddenly, you didn’t need to explain yourself as Logan helped up your Boston jersey. He held the red and white shirt with a look of disgust.
“Boston?” He spat out, bewildered. “For a girl who knows a lot about hockey you’re rooting for a shitty team.”
You snatched the shirt out of his hand. “For your information, my brother is on the team and I go there too.”
Logan nodded, trying not to judge, taking advantage of your undressed state to eye you up and use the visual to force out any thoughts of Boston. “Who’s your brother?”
You told Logan his name as you yanked on your jeans and Logan let out a low whistle. “That guy hates me.”
“Yeah, I know.” You agreed, zipping up your heeled boots.
“And this was?” Logan looked for clarification, gesturing between the two of you.
You shrugged, “You’re hot. I think you’re a beast on the ice and charming.” You kissed his cheek, leaning forward to whisper next to his ear. “And now I know you’re a beast in other areas too.”
You pulled back grinning when you found a faint blush on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to not appear as flustered as he feels, “Glad I’m meeting your standards.”
“Absolutely.” You threw your bag over your shoulder. “See you, Logan.”
Before you could open the door, Logan’s hand shot out, holding your arm. You raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’ll drive you home.” Logan declared, it was not a question or request.
You snorted. “It’s a 45 minute drive.”
“Don’t care. You’re not taking a bus.” He snatched his own clothes off the floor, pulling them on quickly and pulling his keys out of his pocket. He dangled them in front of you. “Let’s go, angel.”
That night started what you could only describe as a love affair between you and John Logan. Logan would drive the full 45 minutes to your dorm multiple times a week, sometimes even at ungodly hours just to have to leave early in the morning to make morning practice or classes.
At first, each meet up revolved around sex. The two of you went at it on any stable surface in your dorm. Each time, you would end the encounter with a longing stare, like you both had something more to say but didn’t know where to start.
Within a month of these meet ups, the encounters changed. Logan would come over and the two of you would order food and just hang out. You’d fall asleep in his arms with a show playing on your laptop, completely content to just be together.
Your relationship went from an ongoing hook up to one full of real feelings. He told you about his family, his goals, his passions. You shared your life with him too, but you had to keep things quiet. He understood this, knowing your brother would flip if he found out.
He introduced you to his friends, not finding any reason to keep you a secret from his friends. You fell in easily with his friend group, your hockey knowledge winning over the guys and your natural charm winning over the girls. You were wonderful and Logan felt at peace with you.
It was a Sunday morning when shit hit the fan. Logan was wrapped around in your bed, his warmth surrounding you with a sheet draped over your naked bodies. Logan had arrived yesterday evening after an early practice, taking you out to a restaurant that he had saved up for. Your evening together was perfect and as Sunday rolled in, neither of you had any desire to move.
You ran a hand through his thick hair, scraping your nails against his scalp in a way that made him keen like a cat. You smiled, pecking his cheek.
“I don’t want to go back to Briar.” Logan admitted. “Not without you.”
You scoffed, “That might be hard to do when I go to school 45 minutes away.”
“You could transfer.” Logan suggested, looking at you in that teasing way with a hint of seriousness behind his eyes.
You sunk down in the mattress, Logan moved to loom over you. “I wish. I’d have to explain that to my brother.”
Logan paused. “What if… we told him?”
You blinked up at Logan. “What?”
“I mean, we’re in a real relationship. I want this to last and I think your brother knowing we’re together is a part of that. I mean, do you think we’re serious, too?” Logan explained, trying not to sound too pathetic.
You ran your hands over his broad shoulder, biting your lip. “Of course this is serious, Logan.”
Logan breathed out a sigh of relief.
You continued, “But we need to introduce him to us slowly. I don’t want him to hate you any more than he already does from hockey.”
Logan nodded, understanding where you were coming from. “Slowly. I can do slowly.”
You smirked, pulling him towards you, “Can you?”
Logan returned your smirk, “Absolutely.”
Logan decided to show you how slow and careful he could be in a completely unrelated way. Without any clothes in the way, you soon found yourself consumed by Logan. Your hands were pinned down next to your head and he slowly thrusted into you, his lips running over your bare skin while letting out desperate noises.
“L-Logan,” You moaned, tugging on his hair and pulling him closer.
Logan groaned into your ear, letting himself take his time with you. You were so consumed with one another, you didn’t even notice your door being unlocked or creaking open until it was too late.
“Morning, sis! I brought-” Your brother’s voice rang out, cheery as he held up a paper bag containing breakfast burritos.
The next few moments was a blur of chaos. The paper bag hit the ground with a thud, you shrieked, Logan let out a noise of surprise and your brother yelled out, “what the fuck.”
You pulled the sheet against your chest as Logan shielded you with his large frame. Your brother’s eyes were wide in shock, then narrowed in disgust.
“Logan?” Your brother seethed. “You’re fucking John Logan? The guy I’ve been calling a snake all year?” His voice was raising, your heart was pounding.
“We-I-” You couldn’t even speak. All of your words were jumbled in your mind and none of them were escaping correctly.
Logan spoke up. “We’re in a relationship. She’s my girlfriend.” He looked at your brother in a serious manner, standing from the bed and grabbing his pants nearby.
Your brother rolled his eyes, looking away from the scene. “How did this even happen? How did-” He froze, connecting the dots. “The game. You stayed back, didn’t you?”
You nodded slowly, gulping. Tears stung your eyes as he stared at you in disdain. “I didn’t mean for this to happen like this. I wanted-”
“She wanted to tell you slowly. She cares about what you think, dude.” Logan spoke for you again, reaching down to squeeze your hand supportively.
Your brother’s chest rose and fell, turning back to the two of you. He looked at your inner locked finger and his shoulders slumped.
“Is this for real?” He asked, looking for a clear answer.
You both nodded, Logan’s loving gaze leaving you to fix your brother with a firm look. “Completely serious.”
Your brother paced, “If you’re serious… I-” He looked back at you, seeing the tears pricking your eyes. “I want you to be happy, sis.”
You smiled gently, “I am.”
Your brother pursed his lips, “Then I can get behind this,” He pointed a finger at Logan. “But that doesn’t make you less of a snake on the ice.”
Logan held up a hand in surrender. “And I won’t stop boarding you every chance I get.”
Your brother cracked a smile. “As long as we’re on the same page.”
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