Against the Wall: Romance within the Geneseo hockey

Photo courtesy of Geneseoknights.com

That locker room tension finally boiled over—Geneseo’s Ice Knights aren’t just reading hockey romance novels, they’re living them. From heated glances to full-on locker room makeouts.

The locker room was almost empty. Most of the guys had already showered and left, but Stephen lingered, running a towel over his damp hair. The rink was quiet now, the sharp echo of skates against ice replaced by the distant hum of the Zamboni— he wasn’t alone.

Across the room, Robyn sat on the bench, still half-dressed in his hockey pants, taping up his bruised wrist. Stephen tried not to stare, but it was hard not to— Robyn had a sharp jawline, dark eyes, and a smirk that could disarm even the toughest defense. Stephen was scrawny, a ginger ‘twink’ who sometimes faced racist allegations. Never true— he spends his free time listening to Jack Harlow and Eminem, two of the greatest rappers of all time. They had been playing together for three years, but lately, Stephen felt something shift, something pressing, like the way Robyn’s hand would linger on his hip in the middle of a play or how their locker room banter had taken on a charged undertone.

“You staying late to get extra drills in, or just hoping to catch me alone?” Robyn’s voice was teasing, but Stephen caught the flicker of something deeper in his expression. Maybe it was the sweat dripping down slightly on his back, the clean white coat on his teeth.

Stephen scoffed, rolling his shoulders. “Maybe I just enjoy the peace and quiet.”

“Right,” Robyn murmured, standing and stretching. His shirt lifted slightly, revealing a strip of skin that had Stephen swallowing hard. His happy trail was full, ripe, ready to harvest.  “Or maybe you like the company.”

Stephen knew the game Robyn was playing, and tonight, he was done pretending he didn’t want to play along.

He crossed the room a few steps, stopping just in front of Robyn, close enough to see how his pupils darkened, “What if I do?”

Robyn’s breath hitched, just slightly. Then he grinned, slow and wolfish, “Then I guess you better do something about it.”

Stephen didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Robyn by the collar of his sweaty undershirt and backed him against the lockers. The metal was cold against Robyn’s spine, but the heat between them was electric. Stephen had barely registered how their skates clattered against the tile before Robyn surged forward, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss.

It was rough and desperate, all pent-up tension and adrenaline. His lips tasted like a cherry Jolly Rancher, and his breath had a slight smell of cigarettes. Robyn’s hands found Stephen’s waist, fingers digging into muscle, pulling him closer. Stephen’s hands roamed, tracing the hard planes of Robyn’s chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath, the soft pores of dark skin.

Robyn nipped at Stephen’s bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue, and Stephen groaned, deep and low. “Are you always this mouthy?”

“Only when I know you like it.”

Stephen pressed Robyn harder against the lockers, one hand slipping under his jersey to feel the heat of his skin. “Shut up,” he muttered before kissing him again, deeper this time.

Robyn laughed against his lips, but he obeyed. When Stephen’s fingers slid lower, testing, teasing, Robyn’s breath stuttered— his hands gripping at Stephen like he never wanted to let go. All those drills and practices, the laps, the bickering, were all excuses to see Robyn. Robyn, his beautiful dreadlocks, his dark brooding eyes; the way he stands tall at six foot two, unapologetically black. That's a black king right there. And Stephen wanted all of it. He imagined the two of them going to the movies afterward, he wanted to spoil Robyn and make him happy.

The Zamboni hummed on, the locker room empty except for them. For once, Stephen didn’t care about anything but this— about Robyn, about now, about how they fit together like they had been waiting for this moment all season.

Maybe even longer.

Maybe it was Stephen’s humor, the way he was able to make Robyn laugh while they bullied each other during their games. Robyn worried for Stephen sometimes, especially because he was the skinniest, as he felt the most pressure from the coaches. Stephen was a great goalie, and he was a better team player, always putting them first. 

As Robyn pulls away, Stephen’s pupils dilate, and his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He just realized he kissed a man, his teammate of all men. “You’re backing out now?” Robyn asked, hoping this wasn’t a mistake.

“Never that, I always make sure I finish first,” Stephen fires back. He asked Robyn to see a movie with him that weekend. The two walked out of the locker room together and stayed that way for eternity to come.