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comphy-and-cozy · 2 years

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Work For It - Connor McDavid

Summary: After a road trip, Connor is determined to show you how much he missed you, but only if you work for it. Connor McDavid x Reader (f).

Word Count: 4.2K

Author's Note: Written by my beanie kink because of the above lewk in this interview (yes, it was months ago, sue me). I do not claim responsibility for what happened after.

Warnings: Filthy smut (18+ ONLY). Cocky Connor, swearing, dirty talk, sexting themes, masturbation (f), brief toy use, unprotected sex, mild verbal degradation, creampie.

When you and Connor first started dating, the frequent road trips were hard. The closer you got, and the more you fell for him, only made the time apart more difficult. Your heart would ache watching him leave, and the nightly phone calls were your solace during the longer stretches.

Once you moved in together, the distance got a little bit easier, though you still exchanged frequent texts and calls to let him know when you were thinking of him. Connor’s favorites included photos of you and Lenny snuggled up on the couch watching his game, and the Snapchats of you when you’re just waking up. ‘Freshly slept’ was one of his favorite looks on you, and he liked to pretend he was there in bed with you even when he was miles away. You, on the other hand, appreciated the team plane selfies with Leon and the low sound of his voice when he called you before bed to say goodnight, keeping his voice down to avoid disturbing his hotel neighbors.

The Oilers were on a west coast road trip and had faced a tough loss against the Ducks. You stayed up as late as you could to watch, but ended up falling asleep halfway through the third — probably for the best, considering they lost 5-1. The next morning when you woke up, you scrolled leisurely through your socials while laying in bed, pausing when the post-game video of Connor popped up. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the army green hoodie he had on, his black beanie making him look so cozy — and hot, in more ways than one.

Interest piqued, you clicked in and made the video full screen. Your eyes trailed over the scruff of his beard, a few days untamed, and the shape of his cheekbones, your body instantly heating up over how delicious he looked. The low tone of his voice was the cherry on top, though you were hardly listening to what he was actually saying.

Opening up your messages, you decided to let him know exactly how you felt.

‘Saw your postgame,’ you wrote. ‘You looked so hot.’

Pressing send, you didn’t hesitate to keep typing another message, not bothering to wait for a response. ‘Miss you, baby.’

Going back to the video, you replayed from the beginning, heat creeping further down your body through your belly until your hand began to trail between your thighs of its own accord. Your mind wandered to the way his hands felt on your skin and the feel of his beard scratching against your neck, longing for him.

Then, a wicked idea crossed your mind, followed by a matching smile. Slipping off your oversized Adidas sleep shirt — your favorite one of his — you posed your hand seductively over your breasts, pouting your lips before taking a photo and sending it, captioning with, ‘Can’t stop thinking about you.’

Glancing at the time, you realized he would probably be at morning skate, meaning you had some time before he’d be back to his phone. You posed for a few more teasing photos, showing skin but never quite everything, to keep him on his toes. To top off your onslaught of messages, you sent a video of your hand trailing down your chest and between your legs, the bedsheet shrouding the view but definitely not the implication.

Satisfied with yourself, you opted to play his video again, this time not stopping your hand as it slipped between your thighs, feeling the wetness gathered in your panties. Your eyes closed and a sigh fell from your lips as you gently prodded your clit, enjoying the pleasure that rippled through you with each touch.

Slowly, you worked yourself up, watching the movement of his lips and the flex of his hands, imagining they were gripping your hips. The low, dulcet tones of his voice filled your ears, no longer comprehending what he was saying, instead imagining him whispering praises in your ear.

With a wicked thought, you stretched and reached for the side table drawer, pulling your favorite vibrator out of its silk slip cover. Toying with the settings, you reveled in the feeling of the buzz across your skin, enjoying the wave of goosebumps that flared in its wake. The pulse in your core grew deeper as the head of the vibe neared the apex of your thighs, and you let out a sigh when it finally grazed your clit.

Eyes closed, you continued drawing pleasure with your toy, losing yourself in the sensation. Your mind floated back to the last time Connor used the wand on you, coaxing you through three orgasms while he fucked you leisurely on a slow morning-turned-afternoon. A wistful smile formed on your face at the memory, your heart — and other body parts — longing for him.

After a brief moment’s hesitation, your eyes flickered to your phone beside you, clicking it open. Your thumb hovered over the record button, the thought of someone overhearing passing through your mind. But, you reminded yourself, Connor was a private guy and he wouldn’t dare open it in front of his teammates, especially not after seeing the accompanying messages.

Pressing the vibe against your core once more, you allowed yourself to sink back into your thoughts. A blur of green eyes, copper hair, and a scruffy beard swam through your mind, drawing you closer and closer to your release as you clicked the button on your toy to increase the vibrations.

Hitting record, you let the moans fall free from your lips, calling out for your boyfriend as you neared the edge. You cursed, eyes closed as you raced over the finish line, waves of your orgasm crashing over you as the pleasure seeped into your body.

Once you came down, you smirked and hit send on the recording, tucking your toy away and moving to take a shower and go about your day.

A few hours later, you were just getting back from a hike with Lenard when you checked your phone to see messages from Connor.

Text: [Connor:] You little tease [Y/N:] Who me? [Connor:] Fuck [Connor:] Got me so hard [Y/N:] Oops 😜 [Y/N:] Guess you have to return the favor huh? [Connor:] Oh I certainly will sweetheart [Connor:] You’re gonna pay for that when I get home [Y/N:] Guess you better come home soon then baby [Connor:] Only two more days 😘

******

Two long days went by, the anticipation only growing in your chest as you counted down the hours. Connor wasn’t a particularly detailed texter, but you could tell that even he was ready to be home with you again. Fortunately, you were able to busy yourself by cleaning the house and preparing for your parents to visit that weekend. Connor had an extra day off between games, and they were going to see their first ever Oilers game — while conveniently staying at the Captain’s house.

The day arrives, and Lenny’s whines alert you to Connor’s arrival first, followed quickly by his excited steps as he leaves you in the guest bedroom, folding the throw blanket neatly for your parents’ arrival later that evening. You hear paws bounding down the stairs to greet the visitor, and you chuckle, standing up to follow suit, your heart fluttering in anticipation with the same excitement that Lenny demonstrates as he waits anxiously by the door.

You can’t help but bite your lip as you smile when Connor comes in the back door, instantly greeted by Lenny up on his hind legs, offering kisses and knocking his own tail into the wall wagging incessantly. His suitcase is left to the side as Connor happily greets Lenard with a playful, “Oh, hi there,” followed by full body pets.

Your heart warms with happiness at your little family, then your smile fades and that warmth is quickly replaced by heat when you realize that Connor is wearing that green sweatshirt. Your eyes trail over his beard, even longer than it was in the video, and his hair tucked into the same black knit beanie.

This fucker knows what he’s doing.

Once Lenny’s received his quota of dad pets, Connor’s eyes meet yours and you gulp, the tension instantly palpable in the small space of your mudroom. He smiles warmly, opening his arms to wrap you in a hug, and you step into him. You inhale his scent, the mixture of eucalyptus from his body wash and faded sandalwood from day-old cologne on his sweatshirt, and it’s nearly enough to make you dizzy as he pulls your body into his. He kisses your forehead, and you’re instantly flooded with heat, in your cheeks, in your chest, in your belly, along with the pleasant flutter of butterflies that you always loved feeling when he returned home from a trip.

“Hey, you,” he says.

“Hi, yourself,” you reply, swallowing thickly as he moves to set his suitcase by the foot of the stairs. “Nice trip home?”

He pauses, giving you an amused look, before letting his eyes blatantly slide down your legs, cotton shorts revealing everything from mid-thigh down. “That’s what you’re gonna lead with, huh?”

“Y- Why not?”

“So shy all of a sudden,” he says, his smile teasing you. “You weren’t too shy the other day, were you?”

Your mouth all but falls open as you watch him plop down on the couch. Leisurely, he reaches up to adjust his beanie, drawing your eyes very intentionally to the object, as if to remind you that he knows what it does to you. You feel your mouth go dry, like he’s performing a cheesy thirst trap on Tik Tok, except that it’s real and it’s for your eyes only.

“Come on, baby,” he says, spreading his legs as he leans back against the sofa. “You knew what you wanted when you sent those pictures, so why don’t you come and get it?”

Your heart pauses in your throat, frozen as you look at him, hesitant. He’s smug, regarding you with a lazy glance, and he smirks when he sees your eyes flick to his thighs, muscles taut as he lounges.

“You like what you see, do you?” his voice is teasing as it pulls you out of your trance, and you jump slightly, embarrassed for having been caught. You nod shyly, cheeks warm, and he lets his arms rest on the back of the sofa. “Well, come on then, sweetheart.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you step forward, the air in the room getting tighter and tighter as you inch closer to Connor, waiting expectantly as you finally reach the space between his spread thighs. His eyebrows quirk upward in an amused look, then says, “Strip.”

“I- what?” you can’t help the way your voice shakes, and you wish you could summon confidence and poise, the same way he does.

“You heard me.”

A shiver runs through you at his tone; you’d never seen him like this, but the fire in his eyes heats you from the inside out. The hem of your shirt is soft between your fingers, tickling the skin of your stomach as you pull it over your head; with one look from Connor, you’ve lost control of your hands, unable to stop from doing as you’re told.

Green eyes flick to your chest as your bra falls from your body, and a satisfied smirk forms on his face, confidence oozing out of him, rolling in waves off of the army green sweatshirt that hangs on his form. Somewhere along the way, that confidence morphs into desire as it makes its way to you, consuming you with a fire that heats your skin as it’s exposed, inch by inch, to him.

Once you’re bare, feeling doubly so standing in front of him, fully clothed, Connor gestures to his lap, and you let your eyes drag down to his legs, licking your lips when you remember what lies at the apex. You step forward, tentative, feeling the heat from his body, and you’re unable to stop yourself from slinking into his lap.

He watches you, calculating, as your lip sinks between your teeth at the feeling of some friction, even if it is just the material of his Adidas joggers that slides against the sensitive inside of your thighs, rather than the firm muscle of his quad like you’d prefer. You look at him bashfully, eyes connecting with his, cheeks burning with — embarrassment? No. Desperation? Maybe a little.

Holding your gaze, his hand moves to slide slowly, antagonizing, up the back of your thigh. The contact instantly has you shivering, biting back a moan, and his face cracks into a rare grin, amused at how badly you’re strung out.

“Told you,” his voice is soft, matching the caress of his fingertips, and you silently beg him to touch you more, but his hand pauses at your hip, not moving. “You gotta take what you what. Work for it.”

You know what he’s asking, and you know he’s not going to budge; he’s one of the hardest working, most disciplined men that you know. Hell, he makes a living because of it, and now is certainly not going to be an exception. Still, you fruitlessly attempt to goad him, leaning forward to kiss him, desperate to connect. His lips are warm against yours, and while he doesn’t make an effort to pull you closer, you can feel the desire he has as he kisses you back. The weight of his tongue against yours draws your confidence, and you find your hips swiveling over his groin, cunt brushing over the bulge that’s hardening even as he plays hard to get.

The breath in your throat catches as you apply more pressure until soon you’re grinding shamelessly against him, the slick of your sex staining the dark material of his sweats. Connor’s eyes are dark as they watch you, and even through his perfected emotionless expression, you can sense that he’s enjoying this almost as much as you, the sight of you writhing in his lap and using him to get yourself off.

Almost as if he can see the crest of your high rising in your body, he stills your hips with a firm grip of his hand. Your eyes shoot to his, ready to protest, when his other hand reaches between your bodies to tug at the waistband of his joggers, shifting you slightly to pull his erection out. Unable to prevent the whimper from leaving your throat, you watch as he leisurely strokes himself, hot and hard in his hand, before setting his hand back at his side and flicking his eyes back up to yours.

“You want it so bad, don’t you baby? Prove it.”

He’s right, you do want it so bad that you’re desperate for it, and you can hardly move fast enough to sink down on his length completely, releasing a satisfied sigh at the sensation. Connor might be acting indifferent, making you do all the work, but even he can’t hide the look of pleasure that’s graced his features, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him. Your forearms rest on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fringes of hair at the base of his neck, simply reveling in the way he stretches you.

“You wanted to come, didn’t you?” his voice is low, commanding, and you yelp when his hand cracks down over your ass. “Guess you better get to work.”

“Con —“ you whisper.

“Don’t act all innocent now, sweetheart. I saw your pictures, heard your slutty little moans. Your secret’s out.”

Despite the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks, you press your lips against his again in a weak attempt to shut him up. You can’t help but moan into his mouth as you begin to move, resuming a similar rotation of your hips.

Connor’s hands move to your waist, not guiding, just resting, and his touch encourages you to keep going, already feeling the burn in your thighs as you rise up and down. His breath is hot against your chest, coming out in ragged puffs. A moan of his name draws his attention back to you, and you’re inclined to repeat yourself just to keep his eyes on you — despite the fact that he’s rock hard for you, there’s a desire to break through his facade of indifference and into the pleasure that you know he feels too.

“Fuck,” you breathe, leaning back, feeling his tip hit in the perfect spot, and suddenly you’re repeating your movements, searching for what will allow you to hit it over and over and over again.

He hums, eyes staring at the place where you two connect, watching himself disappear into your tightness. He’s unmoving, hypnotized by the movement of your hips, steady and consistent, as you pump yourself with pleasure with each push of your thighs.

The high begins to rise in your chest, flame licking the insides of your belly, and your hand snakes from your breast down to your clit, the pad of your middle finger brushing lightly, so lightly, but just enough to send a moan through your lips.

“You needy little slut,” he drawls, not bothering to look at you, eyes focused on the bounce of your breasts. “You didn’t miss me, you just missed my cock, didn’t you?”

“No, Con,” you pant, lips brushing the scruff on his cheek, tender despite the rough scratch against your skin. “‘Course I missed you.”

“You sure about that?”

Before you can respond, Connor’s hands are gripping your sides, hauling your body and flipping you over, settling on your hands and knees. He finds purchase on your hips, tugging them back toward him before he’s lining himself up with your dripping slit, your mouth falling open as he pushes back into you.

“Come on, sweetheart. Show me how bad you want my cock. Told you, you have to work for it.”

As if to encourage you, he pulls your hips back until your ass is crashing against his hip bones, and a cry escapes your throat as the tip of him caresses your cervix. But then, he stills, waiting for you to continue, and you can’t help but push yourself back onto his cock, greedy for more.

“That’s it,” he groans, and you can practically feel his heated gaze boring into your ass, watching it bounce with each clap backwards. “Fuck yourself like the little slut you are.”

His words inject heat into your veins, arousal dripping out of you and lathering him in it; he doesn’t have to say it for you to know it, but you can hear the sound of him crashing into you, and it’s enough to make you want to cover your face with embarrassment, if not for the waves of pleasure he’s sending through you.

A few more moments pass as you push yourself back onto him, the sounds escaping your mouth adorable and pathetic. Connor knows you’re not really getting what you want, can’t get what you want — at least, not on your own; you need him if you’re going to get the release you really want.

He’s patient, but he almost wants to laugh at how sweet and helpless you are, desperately pushing back in search of a release, too cock-drunk to think properly. And he tells you that.

“You’re so sweet, baby, so desperate for me you can’t even fuck yourself properly, can you?”

“Con – please –”

“Uh uh,” he says. “You’re the one who wanted to tease.”

A desperate whine falls from your mouth against your will as you force your hips back onto him with more force than before, frustrated tears brimming in your eyes. You’re hovering near the edge, but with each push, you begin to realize you’re never going to be able to bring yourself over it, not by yourself. He knows it, too; you can feel it in the smugness that oozes off of him in very un-Connor-like waves, threatening to swallow you whole with the new, or temporary, aura. Whatever it is, it suits him, despite his quiet and humble exterior. The best player in the entire world should be a little cocky every now and then, no?

“Can’t… can’t do it the way you can, baby,” you whisper, playing a new game. Keeping the waver out of your voice is hard, and this time you don’t bother trying. “N- no one fucks me like you do.”

“I sure hope not,” he says, a humorless chuckle following. A clear sign he isn’t falling for your tricks.

“Been thinking about you since you left,” you breathe.

Connor hums, striking your ass with one clean slap. “I saw that.”

“Been wanting to c- come, all over your dick,” you stutter, pausing briefly to groan at the way his tip brushes your g-spot. He doesn’t respond, space filled by his heavy breathing, short pants into the air behind you.

Another moan falls from you as you twist your head, pausing your movements to look him in the eye, his pupils dilated, swallowing much of the beautiful green that’s highlighted by the hue of his sweatshirt. “But mostly just want you to cum in me.”

You swear you can hear the gears shift in his head as your words sink in, settling in his core, and you know he’s taken the bait. His grip on your waist tightens, free hand pressing against the back of your neck to press your face into the couch cushion, instantly setting an unrelenting thrust of his hips. The sound of your moan is muffled, your eyes squeezed shut as he drives the head of his cock into you over and over again, animalistic and unrestrained.

The orgasm you’d been waiting for springs up without any warning, and before you can even gasp the words out, it overtakes you, seizing your limbs and freezing your muscles with pleasure. Connor keeps moving, exhaling an amused chuckle, teasing words on the tip of his tongue that can’t quite make it out for the feeling of you gripping him so tightly.

Your fingers weakly clutch the pillow, body absorbing as much of his rough movements as it can, though you know you’ll be aching and sore tomorrow. A carnal groan leaves him, in symphony with the sound of his hips slapping against your ass, and it stokes the fire inside of you, burning blue as the remains of your high revs up.

Either Connor can read your mind, or maybe he can just feel the way you squeeze him, letting him know your release is building back up like a tidal wave, but somehow he knows to reach around you, fingers fumbling to find purchase on your clit. He messily rubs with the pad of his finger, the way you taught him to, keeping firm pressure while maintaining his steady rhythm with his hips.

“Give me one more, baby,” his voice is a hot whisper, breath loud against the shell of your ear. “Please.”

It’s the pulse of his middle finger against your clit that does it this time, along with the raw desire in his voice, sending you spiraling with a cry as you contract around him. Your hips writhe against his, walls clenching tightly as they pull his own release from him, a low groan echoing as you feel warmth filling you up.

His eyes are squeezed tight as he slows his hips, letting you milk him for all he’s worth, before stilling his hips, savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. Your cheek rests against the soft material of the couch as your heart drums in your chest, and he leans forward to press a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“Con,” you pant as you catch your breath, feeling his own heartbeat against your back. “If you pull out, we’re going to make a mess on the couch.”

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing another kiss on your skin, like he’s got all the time in the world. “And?”

“And my parents are gonna be here in like, an hour.”

He huffs, then groans, the sound vibrating against your spine. His arms wrap around your torso, maneuvering your weak body around so that he can pick you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he makes a heaving noise to pull you off the couch and move toward the stairs. Your arms wrap around his shoulders to give him some leverage as he carries you up, and you smile at him before pressing your lips against his. “That was fun.”

“You’re a little minx, you know that?” he asks, his voice lighthearted, and you squeal as he reaches into the shower to turn the faucet on, drops of cold water splashing your back. Once it’s warm enough, he steps in and presses you against the tiled wall before carefully setting you on your feet, slipping out of you as he does so. Connor kisses you deeply, so deeply that your breath all but leaves your lungs, and you’re so into the feeling of his lips on yours that you barely notice his fingers sliding their way between your legs, until they’re replacing his softening dick and he smiles as you gasp against his mouth.

“Gotta keep all of it in,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna be dripping when your parents show up at the door.”

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