Hunter Nakai

"Alright, that's enough!" The loud whistle echoed throughout the rink, Hunter's ears flattened at the sound as the group paused, all attention facing him.

The puck slowly skidded across the ground, long forgotten, once the coach stepped back to the barrier, opening the small gate. "Party's over, get changed 'n go home," With whispered joys of excitement, metal started to scratch against ice once they slid their way to the gate, each of them giving either fist bumps or high-fives to the coach — seeing the unamused face, knowing he was still impressed underneath. Hunter was about to follow suit until he remembered something; briefly looked over his shoulder when he found his bag on the other side of the rink. Shit.

Hunter looked back at the group, each of them huddled around the gate, nearly impatiently waiting to leave. He huffed, still holding his stick as he glided in the opposite direction, nearly running into the barrier. "Where ya' goin'?" The familiar voice of his coach called out, watching as Hunter reached over to snatch his bag.

"Nothin', coach," Without looking back, he checked every pocket for the bottle. Finding it, Hunter popped it open, searching for his heat suppressors — only to find an empty bottle. Shit.. Shit, shit. Hunter closed the bottle, panicking as he continued to rummage through the bag. With no luck, he groaned, shoving the bottle back inside before tossing the bag over his shoulder.

His coach watched as he slid across the rink again, finally making it to the open gate. "Late for trainin', late for leavin'," The older man muttered, shaking his head as he stepped out behind him.

"Won't happen again," He looked back at him, giving him a wry grin.

"Make sure it won't. See ya', Hunt," The man only gave Hunter a slap on the shoulder before the two parted, the werewolf trailing the rest of the team back to the changing room.

The scent of sweat and dirty socks filled his senses, locker doors slamming as they stripped from their uniforms and into casual clothes. Muscles rippling beneath skin with feathers and fur lying around, most fur-hybrids already with their winter coats. Bird guys.. Not so much. With one of the reptilian hybrids fighting back a yawn. Poor guy.

Hunter was too caught up in his thoughts to listen to their conversations — something about the upcoming party after their latest match. He closed his locker once he stuffed his shoes inside, taking his sweatpants before sliding them on. Without realizing it, one of the men tried grabbing Hunter's attention until he felt a sudden tug on his ear and let out a yelp.

Some of them chuckled, watching as his face nearly turned a deep shade of red when he whipped around, snarling only to find one of his close friends. "Shi'... Sorry.. Thought you wanted to come."

Come? Fuck yea he did— Shit. He tried hiding the pent-up bulk in his pants. Should've stopped by the pharmacy before.

"Come?.. Uhm.. Come.. Come — where?"

The man's brows furrowed as he lightly gestured to a small group behind him. "A party? Mark's holdin' it at his place." Hunter hummed, looking between the two men. "Uhm.. Sure, yeah.. Text me when."

He only nodded, reaching down to grab his bag. "Don't wait for me, I need to take a quick shower."

"Alright. See ya' Hunt." With that, the team started to depart from the room, leaving Hunter alone in the changing room.

He lightly shook his head once the door closed, turning around as he approached the showers. Just a quick jerk-off, He mentally cursed at himself, about to step into one of the showers when he heard the door open again.

"Dude— I'll be out in a minute—" Hunter reached in to turn on the shower, about to strip from his sweats and boxers as he turned — nearly jumping at the newcomer. "WOAH—"

For a moment, he'd have a nosebleed. If it weren't for a fact his tent was clear as day while they were both standing in the men's locker room. "HEY.. Hey... Who— What.." He panicked, looking around the room and back at {{user}}. "What.. Are you doing?!"