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happilysmythe · 3 days

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❥ 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

trent frederic.

word count: 4.2k

warning: explicit content

"kiss it, kiss it better, baby" — rihanna

A/N: okay, so i saw this happen against TB and immediately opened my notes app. he's actually criminally attractive. anyway hope you all enjoy the long-awaited fic 💞

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Complicated was one of a handful of words that could accurately describe your relationship with Trent. You were friends; good friends, at that. You had been for a long time.

But some would argue that most friends didn’t do the things that you did on most nights.

You always knew he was good-looking—it wasn’t to anybody’s surprise. It sure as hell wasn’t unknown to the girls who offered themselves up to him on any platform they could get their hands on. And it especially wasn’t by the ones who’d do it to his face. Thing is, he often turned them down.

He didn’t need to oblige them if he was getting it from you every other night.

It started late in the 2022-23 hockey season. You were shocked by just how incredible the Bruins’ season was going, and by association, Trent’s. He was even up for NESN’s 7th Player Award.

He’d gained…confidence. And a lot of it. Of course, Trent kept a good head on his shoulders—he was never in over his head, but he carried that high with him when he played, and it showed. That was around the time you began to see your friend through a different lens than you normally had.

And it was through that same new lens that you saw him the first time he took you to bed.

It was often that you’d go for small periods of time without seeing each other since the team would travel for their road games. But this time it had been weeks since you’d seen him; you lived in Boston, but you went on a trip with your family, and the team left for a road trip when you got back. It was the longest you’d been apart since the beginning of the season, paired with the newfound attraction to him.

He showed up at your door when they finally arrived home, much to your surprise. One thing led to another, and you eventually found yourself laid flat on your bed with the weight of his body on top of you.

But he traveled a ton, visited home often, and you had your own life, so things remained strictly physical. And when you weren’t tangled up with him, you were friends.

Was it stupid? Probably. No, it was—you knew that much. Maybe because it was just meaningless sex. Maybe because you could only see each other when he was in Boston. Or maybe because the one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, happened.

Maybe you’d begun to feel for each other.

Trent loved to fight. It was an integral part of his game, and it even used to be one of the only things he did do. You couldn’t lie, either—it was hot when he did it, and the nights after were typically…well spent.

So when Trent got into a tussle with Tampa Bay’s Tanner Jeannot, you found your attention to be especially focused on him and the blood trickling down his face as he skated off the ice.

Two nights later, you heard the noise that you’d been not-so-patiently waiting for; the one that you rejected sleep for, and the one you assumed you’d be hearing at some point during the night. The knock on your door.

At nearly two in the morning, you heard it, and your feet quickly carried you to the door, knowing exactly what was waiting behind it:

Trent, arms folded, sporting a vicious black eye with a particularly large grin on his lips.

You put on a brave face and straightened out your shoulders, hoping to achieve some sort of collectiveness. A brief period of silence prevailed until you finally broke it.

“Hey,” you spoke in your best attempt to sound nonchalant.

“Hey,” he repeated your tone, taking a step closer to you as you took one back, silently allowing him to pass through the doorway and into your apartment.

“I missed you, y’know,” your voice rang softly in his ears as your head tilted back to look up at him.

His ringed finger traced the shape of your jawline and found its place just under your chin. “That so?” he rasped, a teasing hint in his tone.

“Mhm,” the matter-of-fact response softly left your stretched lips as your arms wrapped around him. “How’s your eye?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “not that bad. I’ve had worse.”

“I was watching. It looked pretty bad at first, no?”

“It was. I couldn’t see.” His eyes narrowed as he leaned down to you, tongue slipping out to lick his lips. “Why do you ask? You worried about me?”

Instead of a verbal reply, your hand slid up to his face, thumb gently grazing the bruised skin of his eye as you quietly examined it. Then, you leaned up, gently pressing your lips to the corner of his eye, just where the bruising originated atop the initial cut. His hold on you tightened just slightly as he flinched at the contact. You trailed more feather-light kisses down his cheek, moving in a path toward his nose and the second wound.

“A little,” you finally whispered as your lips reached the reddened skin near the cut, then moved downward at a torturously slow pace, eventually hovering just in front of his parted ones. “But I was more focused on how you looked rather than how it looked.”

“And how was that?” he inquired, his warm breath fanning your lips.

The soft “hot” barely was able to leave your mouth before he pressed his lips firmly to yours, effectively cutting you off. Large hands pressed into your sides as the one previously under your chin slid down and aligned with the other at your hips. He pulled you into him, the gesture with a bit of force driven by the want that built up in the time that passed since he’d seen you last.

He walked you backward, slowly urging you toward the nearest surface that he could press you against. The leg of the couch hit the back of your knee and brought you to a halt just as he pulled back for a breath.

“You want it here or—”

“Bed.”

In a matter of seconds, your body was hoisted up, legs wrapped around his waist as he walked you down the short hallway and into your room. The slam of the door echoed throughout the space when his foot kicked it shut. It wasn’t long before you laid flat on the bed with the weight of Trent’s body atop yours.

The whole arrangement was stupid—hooking up with the same person, however many times, just for the satisfaction of it. You knew you should’ve ended it weeks ago—hell, months ago—but you didn’t. Because he felt too good, and you just couldn’t find the strength to deny him.

The warmth of his hands imprinted itself on your hips, your waist, the frail skin below your t-shirt that had begun to ride up your midsection. Your own fingers tangled into his hair, grasping the loose reddish-brown curls with a sense of fervent urgency as his lips trailed from your jaw down to your neck.

“Shit,” you sighed, pushing his head further into your neck, pulling him impossibly closer to your skin.

“Like that, mm?”

“God, don’t start now,” you spoke with a roll of your eyes, breaths labored as they passed through your parted lips.

“Too late.”

A roll of your eyes was your only response, and his fingers left a faint squeeze on your waist as he lifted his head, face hovering above yours. “What, you just gonna take that from a dumb hockey player?”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

“Because,” you breathed, “you haven’t seen everything yet.”

When he asked what you meant, he was first met with a silent grin; one that told him he was going to have to find out for himself, but not before you gave him a hint, just a nudge in the right direction. So you removed a hand from his head and wrapped the fingers around his wrist, slowly pushing his own hand up until it came into contact with the soft material that hugged your upper body, still covered by the fabric of your shirt.

Only a moment passed before he was peeling it from your body, quickly having realized exactly what that “everything” was from earlier.

Now, your upper half was exposed, the cool air streaming in from your cracked-open window and hitting your skin in just the right places. And on display for Trent’s eyes to see was the black, lacey material—a sight he’d never seen on you before, and one that he just knew he could get used to.

“Well,” his head dipped down, lips beginning to kiss along your stomach and slowly working their way up, “would you look at that?”

“Mm,” was all that you were able to manage as he reached the fabric on your chest.

“Not every day that I get to see you like this,” he noted softly.

“I know.” A faint groan left your parted lips when you exhaled, letting go of the breath you held in as he worked his way up to your collarbones.

Your hands found the hem of his shirt and swiftly tore it from his body, letting it fall to the ground as your fingers explored his back. The tag that hung from the now-visible chain around his neck hit the warm skin between your collarbones, the familiar cold surface telling you what it was without you having to bat an eye.

“Still haven’t…haven’t seen everything yet.”

“I’m working on it,” he cooed, lips teasing the skin of your neck as he worked your sweatpants down your legs, just far enough for you to kick them off.

Finally, the purchase you made earlier that day was on full display for him, hugging each curve in the perfect place. He pushed himself up, both hands planted on the bed with one on each side of you. You watched as his eyes trailed from your face down to your chest, stopping at your waist before bringing them back into focus at your eyes. The breath he let out before speaking could have easily been mistaken for a moan.

“You’re incredible.”

You grinned as his hand slipped between your legs, fingers dancing along the dampened lace slowly. “God, already?” he teased, dragging his fingers across the fabric, causing your breath to hitch just slightly.

“Please,” you laughed. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“Oh, don’t worry—I’m not.”

It never took much for you to be ready for him; he always had this way about him that never failed to turn you on, and he knew it.

And tonight, he and you both knew that there wasn’t room for stalling.

So you pulled him back down to you, tongue tangling with his. His hand rose up to take yours, lacing your fingers tightly with his, then brought the two to his face where he kissed the back of yours.

“Symbolistic tonight, aren’t we?” you remarked with a faint laugh.

“Something like that,” he winked as he reached down and unbuckled his belt, tossing it to the floor along with the other discarded articles of clothing.

“Tell me something,” he spoke promptly, fingers unzipping his pants.

“Hm?”

“If I wanted you to do something, would you do it?”

“Such as?” you inquired.

“Such as…” he repeated with a stretch of his lips as he lifted himself up and moved onto his back beside you. “Come here.”

At his words, you inched closer to him, his eyes boring into yours as you looked up. “Yeah?”

“I want you to get on top.”

Your eyes shot open.

He made himself clear, and you knew exactly what you heard. You probably should have predicted it from the way he laid on his back so fast, but you didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t exactly something that would’ve crossed your mind; it couldn’t have when you’d never done it before. All of the times you’d been with him—in all of the places—it was something you hadn’t done. And he knew that.

“Trent, I’ve never—”

“I know,” he cut you off, a finger placed just under your chin. “It’s okay. I’ll help you.”

“I…” you swallowed, brows knit together as he looked down at you, “…okay.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips. Despite the situation, he was being gentle. “Just let me help you, ‘mkay? And if it gets too much, we’ll stop.”

You nodded, and that was when he brought his hands to your lips and carefully lifted you over him, setting you down atop his lower stomach before he situated himself below his waist. Then, he instructed you to lift yourself up slightly, allowing his fingers to slip between your legs and move the fabric to the side so he could line himself up.

Finally, you felt the pressure of him pressing at your entrance just slightly, and you knew he was ready.

“Hold on to me.”

At his word, you put a hand on each shoulder firmly and looked at him, giving him the cue to continue. His hands on your hips slowly and carefully lowered you down, allowing you to sink into his lap comfortably. Various soft whimpers were pried from your throat as you took him, the all-new feeling setting in.

You hadn’t noticed that your eyes had screwed shut at some point through it, but of course, he did.

“Hey,” he spoke gently, not to startle you.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked down into his, brows still knit and unwilling to falter as you awaited his next word. You didn’t say a word, knowing that you’d be letting nothing slip from your lips but heavy breaths as you adjusted to him.

“Look at how pretty you are…”

A curt tilt of your head was your first move. “Don’t,” you tried to speak, cut off by your own breaths, “don’t lie.”

“You think I’m lying?” he scoffed, chuckling as he brought his ringed finger under your chin once more. “Just look at you.”

A hand ran along the lace around your waist, then slowly moved up to your chest, tracing the band. “See?” he leaned up and pressed a kiss to your lips. “See how pretty you are?”

All you could manage was a nod as his hands settled at your waist once more and moved his hips, lowering you just slightly further, carefully gauging how much you could take to start.

“You feel that?”

“Mhm.”

He slid you up a bit, allowing you to feel the movement; to adjust to it before he started for real. He gave you a moment to tighten your grip, and when he finally felt your muscles relax just slightly, he let you sink down fully. You let out a whimper as your fingers dug into his shoulders.

The feeling of him inside you should’ve been all too familiar by now, and it would’ve been had it been under the typical circumstances. But this time was different. For just a sliver of time—a split second—it felt like you were back to the first night you spent with him, your senses heightened as they hyper-focused on how perfectly he filled you.

Every last inch of him could be felt from this position. It felt incredible, and you couldn’t gather enough strength to voice it.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “I’m…okay.”

“Good,” he softly replied, leaning up to kiss you again. “This is the hard part, ‘mkay?”

“Okay.”

With that, he used his hands to begin moving you. It was slow at first—he knew you would struggle then, and he wanted you to be able to handle it before he continued. So he moved his hips along with you, keeping a pace that he was sure you were okay with.

“Fuck,” your voice finally sounded, and he couldn’t help but grin softly. Before he knew it, you were moving along with him, matching his pace and breathing deeply.

“That’s it,” he encouraged quietly.

And when he knew you were alright, his hips sped up, just enough to satisfy his own needs without making you uncomfortable. His position was now altered, as were the places he reached, prolonging your pleasure and providing another feeling for you to get used to—him buried to the hilt as he thrust his hips up, meeting with yours each time as you slowly gained comfort.

You buried your face into his neck, the skin doing an average job at concealing your moans. He breathed out deeply as your hand trailed from his shoulder down to his chest, cold metal of his chain pressing into your palm. Your mind was unable to fixate itself on anything other than him, how good he felt, and how you hadn’t already done it before.

It never took much to remind you of why you kept agreeing to this.

“Look at me,” he finally spoke, prompting you to lift your head, eyes meeting with his as you gripped his chest.

“When you’re close, say something to me.”

At his bluntness, your stomach dropped. It was a demand, no doubt, but despite the situation, his demeanor was gentle. His intentions were clear; he wanted to know, to prepare you. To help you when the time came, because—like anything—it wouldn’t be easy.

A breathy “okay” was all that you managed to let out, accompanied by a sharp nod.

His gaze trailed down, stopping at your chest and finally taking in the sight before him. He’d never seen you in something so weakening. As much as one part of him wanted to tear the black lace straight from your body, the other couldn’t imagine letting it leave his sight. And although he was in control, guiding you through each and every movement, he was completely captivated by you.

By now, you’d begun to take a sliver of initiative, allowing yourself to set a pace that you could comfortably keep up with. Trent’s hands remained on your hips, loosening their grip just slightly to give you not just the freedom you needed, but the support that he knew you couldn’t go without.

Finally, a familiar feeling grew in your stomach as your hand moved back up to his shoulder with a growing suspicion of needing the extra support. You wanted to listen to him; to tell him something like he said to do before. So you did.

“Hands,” was all you could manage, your strained voice pulling him and his focus away from your chest.

“Hm?”

“Don’t,” you sighed, “move them.”

“They’re not going anywhere,” he reassured you, repositioning them just above your waist, grip remaining firm as he pulled you into him, allowing you to sink more comfortably into his lap.

The warmth that his large hands gave to your skin paired with the cool touch of his ring brought a sense of familiarity to you, allowing your body to relax into his as you rode through the mild, yet growing discomfort.

“Right there,” you mumbled, gripping him tighter as the pit in your stomach grew, urging you further toward your breaking point. He allowed you to get yourself there, to go at your own pace, helping you to keep yourself as comfortable as possible, given the situation.

And before you knew it, your eyes were screwed shut as you reached the high you’d been chasing. He felt you tighten around him, the pressure causing his head to fall back as he sucked air through his teeth. But through it, he helped you, worked you through your release as he finally brought himself to his. You were grateful for his support, especially in this moment.

Moans spilled from your lips, each one more uncontrollably loud than the last. He always felt good, but god, it had never been this good.

And when he slid a hand from your hip to your stomach, you were easily able to guess what he was doing; what he was feeling for. That was all it took for him to be pulled over with you, thoroughly coating your walls with his own warm release and undoubtedly increasing your pleasure.

You continued to move your hips as much as you could manage, and your efforts drew a low groan from him. Your legs were weak, trembling from the unfamiliar feeling of being spread open for such an extensive period, along with his dick hitting just about every last sweet spot possible.

“Trent,” you whimpered, and he removed his hand from your stomach to place it behind your head, easing you down to his chest as he stilled.

Labored breaths filled the space as you lay just under his shoulder, your palm having made its way back to his chest, chain resting below it once more. His arm was wrapped around your waist, hand now in the small of your back, rubbing back and forth gently.

“You did great,” he whispered.

You nodded slowly, eyes closed as your breathing began to steady. The hand that rubbed your back was the subject of your focus, helping to calm you and your body as it melted into the warmth of his.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, tapping the back of your head with a finger. Warm brown eyes greeted yours when you looked up, a faint smile taking shape on his face as his palm flattened against the back of your head.

“I’m proud of you.”

Your head tilted to the side as a smile crept up on your face to match his. “You are?”

“Mhm,” he confirmed, pulling you closer. “You did so good.”

He leaned over to kiss your cheek, lingering for just a moment before resting his head back once more. Beads of sweat coated him—his forehead, his neck, his chest—and you could feel it under your palms. But you didn’t pay it any mind. You just kept your body comfortably still against his.

“Thanks,” you chuckled quietly.

“Mhm.”

“You know, I, uh,” you started, then took in a breath while you gathered the words that slipped you. Your head tilted downward, eyes honing in on his chest as you continued, just slightly too embarrassed to look up. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Yeah?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you nodded back. “You’re just about the only guy I’d trust not to…to hurt me. Or use it to his own benefit instead.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “It sounds so fucking stupid saying it out loud, but people just…suck.”

“Hey,” he brought his finger under to your chin once again, nudging it upward until your gaze realigned with his.

“I’d never do that.”

“I know,” you whispered, brows knitting together as you nodded. “I trust you.”

“Good,” he nodded, then leaned up to kiss you softly, pulling you in with his finger.

When he pulled away, his lips remained centimeters away from yours, warm breath grazing your face lightly as you parted yours to speak gently.

“Stay with me.”

He didn’t have to think about it—he already knew what he’d say. But he wanted to be sure that you were sure first. Through all of the nights you had together, he’d never stayed the night, and neither had you.

His freckled cheeks stretched as a smile shaped his face, his teeth now on display. “You sure?”

When you nodded in response, you barely gave him time to finish the phrase, swallowing thickly as you awaited his answer.

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

When you leaned back over to hug him, it caused him to shift in you, eliciting a whimper from your lips. He took notice quickly, moving his hands back to your hips and stabilizing you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just,” you breathed shakily, “just need to move.”

“Come on, I’ll help you.”

He gripped you tightly as you slowly lifted yourself up, a long, weak breath escaping your parted lips as your eyes began to close. His voice helped calm you down as he spoke to you softly. “It’s okay,” he reassured you for what seemed like the tenth time, “I’ve got you.”

Finally, you laid down comfortably next to him. Your arm rested atop his midsection, hand resting in the same place on his chest as he wrapped his own arm around your waist. He pulled you into him, into the warmth of his large body, coaxing your head to his chest once more.

“Trent,” you spoke finally, your eyes growing in size as you tilted your head up. “You didn’t put a—”

“I know,” he softly told you, his soft eyes meeting yours. “You’re consistent, and I’m not hooking up with anyone else.”

“Okay.”

At first, your mind seemed to slip past the last part. It quickly circled back around, however, a confused expression now lined your face. “You’re not?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“Why?”

“You’re enough.”

Your expression fell instantly, shock plaguing your thoughts as you lifted your head and tried to blink yourself out of the state you were now in. “But we’re not—”

“I know.”

You knew you wouldn’t get more out of him, and both you and him could tell that the other was tired. So you put your head back down and set it aside for the morning. “Okay.”

Trent pulled the sheets up and laid them across your shoulder, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get some sleep, ‘mkay?”

“Okay,” you whispered back with a nod.

“…Night, Trent.”

The two of you were asleep just moments later, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. Now, something was different, and you both knew it. It was intimate; more intimate than it had ever been for you two.

For the first time, you would spend the whole night with him. And it surely wouldn’t be the last.

So maybe this whole thing was stupid, after all. But this time, you came out the other end knowing why.

Because you did feel for each other.

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