You bounce anxiously behind the row of football players standing along the sideline. Their wide padded frames block your view as you strain to observe the star running back jogging along the back line of his poised offense. You narrow your eyes at the way he keeps favoring his left leg and you make a note to ask him about it after the play.
A figure approaches you in your peripherals and you glance over at Thor Odinson, star defensive captain, who nears with a wide grin. He stops and stares at you expectantly until you meet his amused gaze.
“I’d like to wrap you up… oops, I mean I’d like you to wrap me up.” He holds up his hand, the tape dangling loosely between his fingers. “If you’d be so kind.”
His eyes sparkle, the twitch of his lips making it all too clear that his little ‘slip-up’ was well-rehearsed. He’s not nearly as smooth as he thinks he is and his cheesy overconfidence spoils any hope of charming you. Your smile tightens as you ignore the flirtations and pluck the tape from the medical pack on your hip.
“You’re a new one,” he smirks and wiggles his fingers as you reach for his hand.
You snatch his hand sharply and pull it toward you to remove the torn tape, “yeah. I just moved here… used to work with the Lakers.”
“Mm, so you are accustomed to large men,” he nods and leans in closer, speaking over the roar as the crowd applauds the first down. “Which do you prefer?”
“Um,” you drawl out distractedly as you peak over at Barnes’ gait as he prepares for the next play, your experienced muscle memory allowing you to multitask.
You tut to yourself and mutter, “he needs a spray.”
“Sorry, am I distracting you?” Thor scoffs indignantly.
You look back to Thor as you brush your fingers over the tape to smooth the sticky edges, purposefully oblivious to his incredulous expression.
“Anything else you need?” You smile up at him as he follows your wandering gaze to Bucky on the field.
He smirks, “ah, I get it.”
You frown at him, wishing he’d just get the hell out of your way and let you do your job.
“I wouldn’t get too close to that one,” Thor warns with a quirk of his brow. “He’s broken more hearts than the rest of us combined.”
“I’m sure she will maintain a professional distance with all of her patients,” interrupts a familiar silky voice from behind you and your heart drops. “Right?”
“Of course,” you squeak as you turn to look at your boss and head doctor for the team. “My only interest is keeping the athletes healthy and in shape to play at their best.”
You keep your composure and smile despite his cool inspection of you. His scrutinizing eyes flick down your body to the tape in your hand and back over to Thor. Thor smirks and shrugs off the silent scolding, one of the few people seemingly unaffected by Doctor Laufeysons presence.
“Thanks for the help, doc,” Thor winks at you over his shoulder and joins the crowd of men cheering on the offensive progression down field.
“You are supposed to be keeping an eye on Barnes. We are already up two possessions, which he is about to make three,” he chides as he watches the end zone over your shoulder. “Remind him he needs to rest it or risk missing playoffs.”
You gulp and nod, “yes, Doctor. I have been trying, but he’s a bit stubborn and won’t listen to me. Maybe if you –“
“He’s not stubborn, he’s driven,” he cuts you off harshly. “And if he won’t listen it’s your job to make him listen. I’m here to instruct, not do the job for you. Is that understood, princess?”
You clench your jaw, hissing a quick, “yes, sir,” through your teeth.
He smirks at your hardening expression, reveling in your barely restrained anger. He waits for you to break, to see if you’ll snap and lash out at him. He’s baiting you, but you hold strong, eyes fixed on a random fan in the crowd as he leans in closer.
“If I get so much as a whiff of any… indiscretions… you’ll be off my medical team before you know what hit you.”
He narrows his bright green eyes, sparkling dangerously in the thousands of stadium lights, but you don’t bend. You smile politely, hoping the venom behind it is unnoticeable as you nod in understanding. With one last huff, he turns up his nose and walks off down the sideline.
You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as you contain the outrage threatening to break free. The crowd erupts, breaking you from your thoughts, as the Avengers score yet again.
“Touchdown!” The announcers voice booms as Bucky’s victory dance is projected around the stadium.
Rogers, the quarterback, rushes to the end zone and picks up his friend in celebration. What happens next changes the entire atmosphere in an instant.
Barnes leaps from the shoulders of his two teammates and buckles as he touches the ground. With a pained holler his legs give out and he crumbles, rolling in the grass as he clutches his right leg. His teammates gather around him, some huddling close while others wave down the medics.
You rush down the sideline, your heart clenching in concern, “no, no, no.”
You finally make it to Bucky, Doctor Laufeyson already kneeling beside him with a serious expression. The players back up, giving you room to work as Bucky grimaces, hissing with every poke and prod from the doctors nimble fingers.
You drop down next to him, reaching for your cooling spray to alleviate the pain you know he must be in, but your efforts are halted by a sharp, “no.”
Startled, you look up to find the doctors eyes fixed on you. “I think you’ve done enough for today,” he sneers.
You gape in shock for a moment before being unceremoniously shoved out of the way by the other attending medics with a stretcher. You stand, watching as they settle him on the back of the medical cart and drive him off field into the tunnel.
That sinking feeling settles, like a large rock dropping to the bottom of your stomach. The game continues and you stay on the sidelines, pushing on through the embarrassment of your public scolding.
You remind players to stay hydrated, and help when someone asks you to assist their stretches, tasks you know you can’t mess up. Physically you are here, but mentally you’re exhausted, counting down the minutes until you get to go home and cry out your frustrations.
You take Wilson’s calf and gently ease it toward his chest, leaning your weight against his thigh as you keep his leg straight. He looks up at you from the grass and smirks at the way you avoid eye contact. You’ve heard all the bad lines when you help with the hamstring stretch, men just can’t seem to help themselves. But, thankfully, Sam doesn’t flirt.
“Ice-bath-killer getting to you?” He tilts his head wincing a bit at the strain in his muscle.
“Who?” You ask in mild amusement.
“Doctor Loki,” he smiles wryly. “We call him the ice-bath killer because… well, all the fucking ice baths he makes us do.”
You laugh, “very clever.”
“He’s an asshole to everyone, don’t worry. You get used to it.” He offers with a friendly smile, “I think you’re doing great.”
You smile sadly, as sweet as he is, his opinion isn’t much help when Loki still holds the power to end your career, “thanks, hopefully I can convince him too.”
“I believe in you,” he beams, getting to his feet for a few high knees to limber up.
“Wilson, you’re on punt return, get out there!” The angry special-teams coordinator calls, lifting his hat as though it might impede his volume.
You wish him good luck as he secures his helmet and rushes back onto the field with a small wave goodbye. You watch him go with a smile, feeling a bit better until your name is called and the briefest flicker of happiness is extinguished instantly.
“I’d appreciate more work and less ogling, Princess. I thought you said you were a professional?” Doctor Laufeyson snaps as he steps up beside you. “I thought you’d like to know Barnes’ achilles tendon has ruptured. He’s in with the surgeon, but he’ll be missing playoffs just as I warned.”
“Shit,” you deflate before correcting yourself, “I mean, that’s terrible, Doctor. I’ll start coming up with a treatment plan right away if you’d like.”
“I think you should stick to the grunt work, unless you need me to guide you through basic care, as well?”
You bite your tongue, “whatever you say boss.”
He drinks you in, stepping closer so he looms over you, “I think, after the game, we should have a little chat in my office about your attitude and duties going forward.”
His gaze slowly slips from you to Sam Wilson, knocking shoulders with his teammates in celebration of his sixty yard return. His lip curls and you follow his eyes, gulping down embarrassment at his unspoken insinuation.
“I’d recommend a four minute ice bath for Wilson, with Barnes out for the season, we need to make sure Wilson is in peak condition. See that it gets done.” With that he turns, tossing his long dark strands as he strides away for the remainder of the game.
You sigh with a half-smile as Sam tugs off his helmet and jogs up to you, grinning brightly as people walk past and offer tokens of praise on a job well done.
“Thanks for the help, my leg is feeling way better. You must have the magic touch,” he exclaims holding up his hand to high-five you.
“I’m glad,” you smile back before you look back to Doctor Laufeyson as his eyes find yours through the crowd of towering athletes. “But it looks like we are celebrating with a four minute ice bath after this.”
—
“Do you want me to hold your hand?” You tease, your personality coming out a bit more the longer you’re around Sam.
“Watch it, or you’re going in with me,” Sam sasses before hauling one tired leg over the rim and then the other.
He curls his arms in, pushing through the shock of the freezing cold water then lowers himself in completely. He lets out his breath as he sit rigid, the ice licking at his sore muscles after the long game. You set the timer and press play on his favorite playlist, anything to help them work through the pain. He hums and bobs his head to some Marvin Gaye as you monitor his vitals.
“I don’t get how some people like this shit,” he mutters with a shiver.
“I know,” you agree. “You know the science behind this is still disputed. Benefits and effectiveness still vary between athletes.”
“See, now that’s just cold,” he laughs.
You hide a smirk and announce his time is up, handing him a warmed robe as he exits the bath. He takes it gratefully and ties is around him, while you mark down his vitals on your tablet.
“Am I free to go, doc?” He asks, sliding into the fluffy slippers without shame.
“Yeah, thanks Sam. Enjoy your weekend and rest those legs please.”
He nods with a final farewell and the door clatters loudly behind him, leaving you alone in the small training room. You set about cleaning up, draining the bath and finishing your notes before heading to the staff lockers.
You walk down the bright hallway, following the painted blue stars that decorate the walls. As you round a corner, you smile at the few stragglers still loitering around the building until you make it to the medical staff offices. The room is empty, quiet, as you go to the small line of wood cabinets where you store your change of clothes and personal effects. You open the door and grab your things, pausing when you spot your somber reflection in the small mirror inside the door.
“Jesus,” you groan, poking at the dark circles around your eyes. Stress has been keeping you from a good nights sleep, and it isn’t looking any better after today.
You hear a distant creak as you try to freshen up before heading home, the mirrored door blocking the view of the figure sneaking closer. You sigh as you give up and close the door.
“Shit,” you gasp in surprise and take in the giant blond leaning against the doorframe, his ankle crossed casually over the other as he watches you with a serious glower.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Rogers raises his hands with a smirk. “You’re the new PT assigned to Bucky right?”
“Yeah…” you answer apprehensively.
“Good,” he nods. “I just wanted to ask if you thought he should have been out there today?”
“Uhh… that’s not really my decision, I’m just here to treat injuries and keep…”
“Spare me the speech,” he interrupts. “I’m not here to get you in trouble. I just want your opinion, as someone with knowledge of his injury… should he have been permitted to play today?”
“I – I tried to tell him to rest… he didn’t listen to me,” you mutter fearfully under Steve’s intense gaze.
“So, in your professional opinion, you think Coach and the Doc should have kept him on the bench today?” he persists, clearly unsatisfied with your vague answer.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble… I just started here, I don’t know how you guys run things, but determining who gets to play is way above my pay grade,” you shut the cabinet door and cross your arms defensively. This feels like a trap.
“Bucky is my best friend… And while I love to win, the well-being of my teammates is what comes first, understand?” he stands to his full height, his relaxed posture gone with a few simple movements.
You gulp as his unspoken threat seems to steal all the oxygen from your lungs and he takes a large step closer to you. You choke out a small whimper at his intimidating stance and you nod rapidly, squeaking out a quick, “I agree!”
Suddenly, a door slams loudly against the wall and Steve relaxes, turning his attention to the lean figure sneering from the doorway.
“Captain Rogers, what are you still doing here? I would have expected you to have an interview or photo shoot of some kind.” Loki chuckles softly until his eyes flick to you and his lips tighten, nostrils flaring angrily, “ah, I see… I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No!” You rush to say.
“Just introducing myself,” Steve smiles. “You know how I like to know who’s taking care of my team and make sure we’re all on the same page.”
Steve gives you a pointed look before turning away and moving toward the door. They physically tense with a look of challenge in their eyes as they edge past each other, speaking volumes without saying a word until you are finally left with your boss.
“You certainly have no trouble making friends, do you princess?” Loki’s lip curls as he lets the door shut quietly.
“I definitely wouldn’t say that was a friendly conversation,” you rebuff.
He snorts as he looks down his nose at you, “no? And Wilson? Thor? Barnes? I’m sure those were all perfectly professional interactions in your opinion?”
You bite your tongue before you let slip an insult that might get you in trouble. It seems he’s determined to view you as a harlot no matter what you say, no point giving him more ammunition to use against you.
“Fraternizing with your clients is an unbecoming trait for someone claiming their desire for a successful career.”
“I haven’t –“
“Ah ah, careful princess…” Loki holds up a single long finger in warning, “I admit, I was curious about your relocation…but, imagine my lack of surprise when I find out you were let go due to a ‘problematic relationship with a player’.”
You huff, gritting your teeth at the memory of the man who assaulted you in the locker room then had the gall to blame it on you. The twinkle of victory in Lokis eye dashes your hopes of a fresh start in a new city.
“What am I to do with you…” Loki clicks his tongue as his gaze dips down your body.
Your skin heats and you tremble at that familiar look. Your memory flashing back to that fateful day when a single man tore apart your dreams after years of hard work and dedication.
“Please, Doctor Laufeyson…” you plead, desperate to save your job.
“Mmm, yes, I expected you’d want to plead your case,” he hums with a mocking smile.
“I promise, I have no interest in dating, or a relationship of any sort, with an athlete or member of this staff. I am very much dedicated to my job and nothing else. Please.”
“Come with me, princess,” Loki flicks two fingers for you to follow him. He leads you down the quiet hall to the last door and holds it open for you.
You spot his name and credentials on the door panel, a sense of dread punching you in the gut as your mind begins the countdown to your dismissal. Not even a week. How could you not last one week? Why do men always ruin everything?
Loki gestures to the chair across from his desk in the center of the small sterile room. Walls lined neatly with floating shelves full of books and framed certificates. You lower yourself into the stiff chair as Loki closes the door with a soft click. You watch him over your shoulder as he unhurriedly saunters around the room, finger pressed to his lips in thought.
“Please, sir,” you break under the silent tension. “I swear I am good at my job. I take my work very seriously and I have worked my ass off to get here. Please give me another chance to prove I belong here.”
You know you sound desperate, pathetic, even to you. But you also know your career will never survive two back to back personal conduct complaints from two separate teams only a month apart. This is your last chance to save yourself and you aren’t too proud to beg for it.
“You think you can prove to me that you are diligent, reliable and focused?” He asks and you nod. “You assure me you will perform all duties assigned to you eagerly and without complaint?”
You worry your lip, trying to temper the hope bubbling in your chest as you nod again, “yes sir. If you give me another chance I’m certain you won’t regret it.”
“Very well,” Loki raises his chin haughtily as he lowers himself into his comfortable leather chair, peering at you over his tented fingers. “Go lock the door.”
That flutter of hope turns to a sinking dread, your face falling as you look at him for any sign of humor. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you try to decide what to do, frozen in disbelief.
“What?” You whisper, maybe you misheard him.
“Lock. The. Door.”
You softly shake your head, part of you screaming to get up and leave, to report him. But you know where that will lead for you…a tarnished reputation, dead end job and wasted diploma. Maybe if you humor him, play along, let him feel powerful, bide your time under his thumb until you can transfer and start new, perhaps in a women’s sports league.
You hold your head up and move toward the door. Your hand trembles lightly as you pinch the deadbolt between your fingers. With a deep breath you turn the lock and spin back to face him for his next demand.
“Good girl,” he grins. “Now… come here.”
Stone-faced, you walk toward him, letting him guide you between his legs. His hands brush your sides, smoothing over your hips as he hums softly.
“Turn around and bend over the desk, princess.”
You turn and start to bend forward but he stops you as your hands brace the cold glass surface.
“Ah ah, let’s take off those bottoms first shall we?”
Are you really letting this happen? Are you really submitting this easily? His nails scratch your skin as he hooks his fingers into your waistband and pulls down your sweats and panties. His warm hands curl around the outside of your thighs and his thumbs trace the curve of your ass.
You stand there as he feels your soft skin until he smacks you harshly on the right cheek, “I said bend over!”
His angry tone makes you sob quietly as you lower yourself onto his desk, chin meeting the hard edge as he continues to admire the handprint burning into your skin.
“You will report to me at the end of every day, and wait for me just like this,” he says as he plays with your folds.
You gasp, “every day? b-but wait.. you can’t – “
Suddenly, Loki is on his feet, chest pressing you into the hard desk with his long fingers wrapped around your throat.
“I can do whatever I want. And if you want to keep your job YOU a will do whatever I want, understand?” He hisses in your ear, squeezing tightly.
You choke, more tears heating your eyes as you nod rapidly in fear. He releases you and you drop forward with a gasp, coughing as you suck in air. His long dark hair tickles your face as he places a soft kiss below your ear and breathes you in deeply.
“Let’s see if you deserve a second chance,” he sneers before shoving his hard cock into your dry entrance.
You let out a surprised shriek as the pain flares between your legs, silent sobs making you shake as you lay there and take it. He pulls out slowly and spits between your cheeks, moistening your cunt, though you’re sure it’s for his ease rather than your comfort.
“God,” he groans as he eases back in and sets a brutal pace. “So fucking good.”
He moans as your body starts to respond, arousal pooling as the ache turns to pleasure. He stands tall and grips your hips as he thrusts with a low growl, slapping loudly against your sore ass. The squelch of your cunt as he drives his cock to its limit makes you cringe and yet your orgasm mounts all the same.
You squeeze the edge of the glass surface, your trembling legs tensing as you near your peak and you groan in pleasure and self-hatred, “fuck.”
“That’s it, princess,” he chuckles. “Come on my cock. Show me you know who you belong to now.”
Your body twitches as your walls flutter around him and he moans in response, head lolling as he scratches down your back. The light pain tingles along your skin, mixing with the overwhelming pleasure as you pant and fog up the glass as you come down from your high.
He pumps into you faster while your body sags in exhaustion, limbs draping over the edge as you submit to his demands completely with no fight left.
“Yes,” he moans as he spills inside of you, pushing your ass together tightly around himself until he finishes.
You close your eyes, relieved that it’s over as the shame of your decision begins to trickle down your thigh. You feel your skin crawl, itching to get away from him but too scared to move until he permits it. This is your life now, all your hard work and determination to break the glass ceiling only to be abused for a man’s pleasure anyway.
Loki leans over you, brushing the hair away from your face as he whispers in your ear, “I’ll be watching you very closely, princess. If I so much as smell another man on you, I promise I will fucking ruin you.”
He stands and ticks himself away, giving your ass a light pat, giving you permission to stand. You hiss as the ache when you pull up your pants and cower away from him. Your movements are slow and as you reach for the lock his voice gives you pause.
“Oh and welcome to the team.”