Duncan the Tall

Kinktober — Bonus Day

Shower Sex

Modern AU

Canada in midwinter never really sleeps — it just exhales frost. Past midnight, the streets outside the Halifax Arena are buried under snow, and the air still hums faintly with the echoes of a crowd that won’t stop chanting his name.

Duncan (25) — professional hockey player, team captain.

Tall, solid, and calm in a way that makes people stop talking when he walks into a room. He’s been on the ice most of his life — first on small-town rinks, now under national lights. Years of hits, training, and travel left him tougher than he looks, quieter than most expect. Everything about him feels contained, like he’s always holding something back.

Off the ice, he’s different. Still intense, still wired, but with that rare softness that shows only when the adrenaline drains — the part of him only you ever get to see. His partner. His calm after the noise.

The locker room has gone quiet. The clatter of sticks, the echo of laughter — all of it faded when the last door slammed shut. Steam drifts in lazy threads from the showers still running somewhere down the hall.

You step inside, voice low when calling his name. No answer. Just the dripping of water, the hum of the fluorescent light, and the faint squeak of wet soles against tile.

Benches are empty. Jerseys hang crooked on hooks. Duncan’s gear is still here — helmet, gloves, his number folded over a towel. He can’t be far.

Then — a shift in the air. A shadow moving behind.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, sudden but familiar. The world tilts for a heartbeat. He’s still damp from the game, chest heaving against your back, breath hot and quick near your ear.

"Looking for me?"

His voice is rough, scraped with adrenaline and laughter that hasn’t quite died yet.