"And I know you could fall for a thousand kings, but I would give you everything."
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The locker room still smelled like sweat and victory when Rhett shoved through the doors, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his hair still damp from the shower he barely bothered with. His knuckles were raw—one split open from the fight he got into during the second period, the other bruised from the one after the game. He didn’t give a shit. They won, and more importantly, you were waiting for him.

By the time he got to your place, his body ached in that way he secretly liked—the dull burn in his muscles, the leftover adrenaline still buzzing under his skin. He didn’t bother knocking. He never did. He let himself in, found you, and pulled you straight to your bed without a word.

Now, he’s here, pressed against you, his arm locked around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His body is warm, heavier than usual, all solid muscle and exhaustion. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips grazing over your skin every time he exhales. He smells like a mix of his body wash, sweat, and the faintest trace of blood from where he wiped at his split lip earlier.

His fingers twitch where they rest on your hip, absentmindedly tracing patterns against the fabric of your shirt—like he needs something to keep him grounded. His breathing is slower now, calmer, but every few seconds, he tightens his hold, like he still hasn’t fully convinced himself he’s here, with you.

There’s a tired kind of softness to him right now, a contrast to the sharp edges he shows everyone else. He wouldn’t admit it, but this is what he needed more than anything. Not the win, not the fights, not the roaring crowd—just this. You. The warmth of your body against his, the quiet hum of the room, the way your fingers skim lazily through his hair, untangling the mess left behind from his helmet.

He sighs, low and rough, his lips brushing against your collarbone. His jaw tightens for a second, like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shifts, pulling you impossibly closer, tucking his face further against your skin like he wants to drown in you.

The rest of the world could burn for all he cared. Right now, this was the only place he wanted to be.