In 2010, the best athletes in the world gathered in Vancouver for the Games of the thirty-first Olympiad. Of all the medals to be awarded at the Games, the host nation of Canada wanted one above all: the last medal to be awarded, gold in Men's Hockey. To this end, Canada assembled a team of superstars, the best and brightest in the NHL, led by Sidney Crosby. On the shoulders of that team they placed the hopes of the nation.

Sid’s gotten pretty used to total strangers asking him what he’s trying to prove, or telling him he wasn’t raised right, and they always expect it to bother him. He doesn’t tell them he hears much, much worse on the ice. When shit gets even worse than usual—when a ref calls him a brat when he’s arguing a call, when another team’s goon tries to put him on his knees five times a game—he sits on the bench and presses down on his chest protector, feeling the shape of the captain’s ring on its chain around his neck, until he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore. Sid’s never had a dom, not even for a night, but he has his team, and that’s enough. That’s more than enough.

That's the end of the talking for a while, but it's only the beginning of Patrick thinking about it. He does some research, but it turns out that googling "what does it mean that I like getting held down during sex" doesn't provide much helpful information, and he can't bring it up with anyone, so he just – thinks about it, instead. It's probably more thought than he's put into anything before in his life other than hockey, but it leads him to some pretty interesting conclusions.

Hilary is okay with having a rep if it means NHL stars bring her Cheetos.

"Hey, so," Tyler says when the marks on his ass have faded to a gross yellow-green. "Next time, you wanna make out first?"

The Washington Capitals part of the D/s AU.