"Well, Mr. Comrie, look who got a point tonight."
            "Big fucking deal, Ference. It was an assist. Look who had a goal, bitch."
            "Oh. That's an accomplishment; it was an empty net."
            "Doesn't matter. Still a goal."
            "It took no talent."
            "Who won?"
            Silence filled the cab of the pickup. Andrew's eyes darted around in the dark, trying in vain to find something to say. Mike started to laugh.
            "Aww. Poor Andy doesn't have a comeback."
            "Fuck you."
            "Is that a threat or a promise?"
            The silence was thicker, more tangible this time, filled with an anticipation that wasn't there a moment earlier.
            "I'll take it as a promise, then," Mike replied and got out of the truck, walking around to Andy's side. He grabbed the Flame's wrists and pinned him against the vehicle, "And I like promises like that."
            "Oh, shut the hell up. I'm still bigger than you."
            "By a whole fucking inch."
            "And twenty pounds."
            "I could still kick your ass."
            "Is that a threat or a promise?"
            Now the Oiler was the one who had nothing to say.
            "Holy shit. Let me go write this down. I actually left Mike fucking Comrie speechless."
            "Go to hell, Andy."
            "Fuck off, Comrie."
            Both young men glared at each other for a moment, then at the same time, burst into laughter. "You're such an ass," Andy commented.
            "I learned from the best," Mike replied, tugging at Andrew's tie. "And besides, you love my ass."
            "You offer it so willingly. Who am I to deny you?" Andy countered, leaning down to capture Mike's lips in a kiss just to shut him up. Mike tried to protest, but Andy spun around and pinned the smaller man against his truck, forcing his tongue past full, smirking lips. Mike's fingers worked at the buttons of Andy's shirt, exposing bare skin to the frigid Calgarian air, cold enough that the slightly taller of the two broke the kiss. "Hey, do you mind? It's like, minus-30 out here."
            "Aww, you should be used to that. It's almost as bad as your plus-minus rating," Mike snickered.
            "Fuck off, and come the hell on. It's cold out here," he said, pulling Mike up the walkway of Andy's Canmore home and in through the back door. He returned his lips to the Oiler's, kissing him roughly as he held him against the doorframe leading from kitchen to hallway. Mike tugged the defenseman's coat and shirt from his shoulders, dropping them to the floor, and then he grazed his fingernails roughly down the tattooed skin of his chest, coaxing Andy into a moan and loosening his grip, allowing Mike to push him away.
            "What?" Andy whined, glaring.
            "I just realized I'm kissing a FLAME."
            Andy rolled his eyes, "Big fucking deal. You were fucking a Penguin a month ago."
            "Traitor."
            "Mike..." Andy said with a warning tone in his voice, creeping closer to the Oiler.
            "What...traitor?" Mike repeated, tauntingly.
            "You're so fucking done," Andy muttered, grabbing Mike around the waist and tossing him over his shoulder. He took three heavy steps, then fell against the wall, banging Mike's head almost hard enough to give him a concussion before they collapsed in heap on the floor.
            "Now that was effective, Tarzan," Mike teased. "How about you let me walk this time? I'd rather not end up unconscious."
            "At least not without being fucked first."
            "Damned right," he agreed, pushing himself up from the floor and reaching for Andy's hand.
            The relationship was more tender than the quips and banter would lead one to believe, even if neither of the two liked to admit it out loud. It had been like this since the first time they were together four years ago, the night that Mike was drafted. Mike had been teasing Andy that he was going to be an Oiler while the other was stuck as an Ice Chicken, the nickname they'd come up with for the Penguins when they were young and idolized Gretzky and hated Lemieux. Before long, the banter turned to unspoken challenges, and then they were kissing frantically and stripping each other as fast as their hands would work, and the sex was fast and wild and everything they'd ever anticipated and nothing they'd ever experienced.
            Once inside Andrew's bedroom, words fell away as rapidly as clothing, and soon they were naked and tangled on the bed, panting and moaning into each other's mouths. Andy wrapped a hand around Mike's cock, stroking him slowly, making the younger one clench his teeth and toss his head back. The verbal teasing had ceased, but the erotic, more potent brand of torture wouldn't end until both of them were basking in exhausted afterglow.
            Comrie growled softly when Andrew's tongue darted into the dent behind his collarbone, the noise louder when the same tongue trailed down his chest, around his nipples, finally dipping into the Oiler's navel. One finger stroked Mike from base to head, swirling over the precum gathered, and then Andy leaned down to taste him. His tongue laved over the tip of his cock, teasingly soft and gentle. Comrie thrust his hips upward, searching for more, but Andrew's hands grasped his waist, holding him firmly to the bed.  Slowly, Ference allowed Mike's cock into his mouth, sucking on the smooth skin pulled taut over the rigid length of the shaft.
            Frustrated, Mike reached down to tangle his fingers in Andy's hair, trying to force him to quicken his movements. Instead of cooperating, the Flame pulls his mouth away, sliding back up the bed, kissing his way back to Comrie's mouth. Grumbling, Mike kisses him back, nibbling at the defenseman's lower lip as he slips his foot along Andrew's calf, grinding his cock against the other man's.
            "Enough," Andy rasps, reaching for the lube on the dresser. After warming it in the palm of his hand, he covers his dick with it. He squeezes some more onto two fingertips, and he isn't as kind to Mike, sliding the fingers into him without letting the cool gel, eliciting a loud hiss and a curse, although the smaller man didn't stop him.
            After assuring Comrie was ready, Andy positioned himself and then thrust into the tight heat of Mike's body. The Flame bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a groan, but unable to stop the noise when a wriggle from Mike changed his positioning. The rhythm was fast from the first thrust; it was desperate and needy, and though neither would have admitted it out loud, they'd missed each other in the long months apart. Mike came first, arching up into his longtime friend, moaning his name softly. The tightening of Comrie's muscles around him, combined with the breathy way his name was called, Andrew exploded inside of Mike, biting into his shoulder and shuddering involuntarily in the Oiler's arms.
            Once they'd caught their breath, they rolled to lie on their sides, Ference cuddling the younger man into his arms, leaving a warm kiss on his forehead. Mike laughed quietly, nuzzling at Andy's neck.
            "Traitor."
            "Midget."
            "Love you."
            "I know."