Walk the (Blue) Line
Characters: Dion Phaneuf / Shea Weber (Calgary Flames / Nashville Predators)
Summary: Uh, they rip on each other and make a go of it
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fake like everyone from Slovakia being named Marian (there are some named Marcel)
Author's Note: Liberties were taken and no animals were hurt in this telling...takes place in the future, kind of like beginning of the 07/08 season
“I fucking hate Nashville.” Dion sighs dramatically.
Shea grins at him, “Yeah, I knew that asshole.” And he leans forward, turning the lock.
Inside the apartment is much like the outside of the building, cold, plain, black and white and smells like new.
“You better have beer.” Dion tosses his ball cap to the leather sofa, picking his way to the kitchen. “Do you even drink beer anymore? If you don’t you’re such a chick.”
Rolling his eyes, Shea closes the apartment door. “Yes, I have beer.”
He follows Dion into his kitchen, kicking an empty pizza box under the glass coffee table. He doesn’t want Dion to see one of his guilty pleasures.
“You know what this place needs?” Dion cracks the cap off the bottle using the counter. “A woman’s touch. I mean, look at how dull this place is.” Then he leans against the humming refrigerator.
Scoffing, Shea’s lips curl into a sort of smile. Then he cocks an eyebrow at Dion, “Fine, I’ll give you a spare key.”
Jaw dropping slightly, “I can’t believe you would insult me like that.” And then Dion frowns, “I guess I’ll leave now since you don’t want to be nice to me.”
And he makes like he’s going to leave, setting his bottle to the countertop and getting ready to move past Shea.
But then Shea puts a hand to Dion’s chest, pressing him back against the refrigerator. His other hand waves the pointer finger back and forth teasingly.
Dion cracks a smile; he knows that he’s got Shea right where he wants him.
Stepping closer, Shea moves his hands to Dion’s waist, pulling their bodies together. He leans forward and presses his lips to Dion’s.
And it’s one of those bruising kisses that Dion knows he will feel hours after. Opening his lips, he feels Shea’s tongue slide in, tangoing with his own.
Dion’s head bumps against the cold steel of the refrigerator as Shea forces him backwards. He grabs the empty belt loops on Shea’s dark blue dress pants.
Their kiss breaks so both can breathe. Dion giggles suddenly as Shea continues kissing his jaw, moving down to the neck.
“I saw you wink at me, Phaneuf.” Shea’s hands slide to the front of Dion’s pants, cupping the bulge starting to form.
Dion mocks him, “You’re fucking nuts, Weber.” Then he groans as Shea’s hand glides over his confined cock. “I was like a million feet down the ice.”
Shea bites down on Dion’s neck then says, “I have eagle eyes.”
Dion gasps and half-moans as Shea’s hands press harder, rubbing slowly over his crotch. Then he smirks, “How come Lombo scored on your shift if your eyes are so eagle-ish?”
In response, Shea squeezes hard.
A half-shriek gasp rips from Dion’s throat. Then his eyes widen, “Someone means business.”
Shea sneers and kisses him again, pulling him from the kitchen. They fumble down the hallway, stopping to untuck shirts and kiss against the walls.
The bedroom door is open as they stumble in, tripping over piles of magazines, gear, DVDs, anything that Shea is too lazy to put away.
Dion’s fingers fly through the buttons on his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Then his eyes sweep through Shea’s bedroom. It always looks the same.
Shea balls his shirt and throws it towards the overflowing piles of clothes in the closet. His pants are next, kicked across the carpet. Then he sits on the bed, eyes focused on Dion.
Walking slowly towards the bed, Dion slides the belt out of his pants, his fingers popping the button. He bites his bottom lip seductively, batting his eyelashes.
A slight smirk crosses Shea’s lips, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. His one hand slides over his own crotch, eyes still trained on Dion.
A little shimmy and a shake and Dion’s towering over Shea. The oh so obvious tent in Dion’s boxers has Shea’s eyes wide.
Dion pushes lightly on Shea’s shoulder, shoving him backwards.
Slithering up the bed, Shea props himself on his elbows.
Dion follows, crawling up the black cotton sheets until their faces are level.
Then they kiss again, moving to get comfortable. Shea’s groin rubs against Dion’s thigh, making him moan.
Their lips move together frantically, their bodies grinding together. Dion’s mouth moves to Shea’s shoulder, sucking on the skin there.
Shea’s hands twist in the sheets as Dion’s boxers press into his hip and his own cock feels that sweet friction.
Lifting his head up, Dion’s breath grazes Shea’s cheek. “Dry humping is so adolescent.”
Shea scoffs, “Bedside table, as usual.” That was the only reason he even bought one at Ethan Allen.
Dion reaches across Shea’s chest, opening the drawer and pulls out the lube and a condom.
Sitting up, Dion slides out of his boxers. Shea wiggles his hips and throws his underwear to the floor.
Carelessly, Dion rips open the condom package.
Shea laughs as Dion holds up the ripped condom. “Holy fuck man, you shredded that shit.”
Dion laughs too and tosses it to the side. He reaches in the drawer again, groping blindly.
Biting his bottom lip, Shea’s cheeks blush. “I think that was my last one.”
Dion rolls his eyes, “Yeah, this thing is empty from what I can feel.”
Shea sits up more, his cock touching Dion’s. Biting back the groan, “Do you have one?”
Shaking his head, Dion sighs.
Shrugging, Shea lies back down, “Doesn’t really matter. I don’t have sex with anyone but you anyway.”
Dion’s eyebrows shoot up. He wants to say something but he doesn’t think that Shea meant to say that.
Shea’s dark eyes look up at Dion, his hair matted and sticking up in all directions from the pillow.
And Dion wants him so bad. But he smirks slyly, “What if I sleep around?”
Shea cocks his eyebrow at Dion, “In your dreams you do.”
Smiling, Dion leans down and kisses Shea. And their bodies come together again, the gasps and moans coming out between their lips.
Finally, Dion leans back on his knees, spreading the lube in his hand.
By now, Shea knows the drill. He rolls over and props himself on his hands and knees, moaning when Dion’s fingers slide into his ass.
Leaning on his knees, Dion’s fingers stretch and move, twisting and curling.
And Shea’s moaning and gasping, his cock fully hard. He pushes back on Dion’s hand, “Enough teasing.” And groans when the fingers are gone.
Smirking, Dion hurriedly strokes his own cock, spreading the lube. Then he pushes in, shaking from holding back. And the heat and the pressure are almost too much.
Shea wiggles his hips slightly and Dion moans. Then he pulls out, pushing back in almost immediately.
His hands grasp onto Shea’s hips for support and control. And he slams back in, starting a rhythm quickly.
Shea’s hands white-knuckle the headboard as he moans, “Fuck Dion, oh yeah, oh.”
With almost every thrust, Dion groans from the friction. And Shea moans as the cock brushes against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through his spine.
One of Dion’s hands leave Shea’s hip, sliding towards the stiff cock. And he touches it gently, wrapping his fingers around the shaft.
Shea cries out from the sensation, so close to coming just from that slight touch.
Dion’s hand ghosts over Shea’s cock, feeling it pulse. And he pushes in again, still shaking but this time because he’s so close.
The breath hitches in Shea’s throat as the tingling takes over, his abdomen shaking. His grip on the headboard tightens.
Sliding his thumb over the tip of Shea’s cock, Dion grits his teeth and speeds up the thrusts. And both are moaning loudly.
Then Shea gasps, “Oh, god, Dion” and he comes hard, Dion’s hand working over the length.
Thrusting in again, Dion feels Shea’s orgasm as he continues, feeling his body tensing. And then he’s coming and groaning Shea’s name.
They stay up for a few moments, Dion pulling out and then finally, Shea collapses to his bed, his bones turned to mush. And Dion lands on the mattress next to him.
The only sound in the room is their breaths, loud and jagged, both still trying to slow down their hearts and lungs.
Dion focuses his eyes on an unsightly crack on Shea’s ceiling. He doesn’t remember it being there the last time.
Shea sees the drawer still open out of the corner of his eye. He reaches over and shuts it, the wood scraping loud in the room.
“Jesus freakin’ Christ.” Dion sighs, both at the loud noise and how tired he is.
Shea sighs too, “You said it” not even bringing his arm back to the bed. It’s just hanging over the side.
Then Dion smiles, “I think I’m getting too old for this.”
And Shea turns his head, “What the fuck? We’re only 22.”
Then both of them start laughing. Dion suddenly snorts and Shea laughs even harder. He can’t stop the smile from reaching his lips.
“That’s the first time in a while I’ve seen you smile.” Dion’s eyes turn serious for a moment, “Since we won in Russia.”
Shea stares at him, “That’s because I don’t believe in smiling.”
Dion’s completely serious when he says, “Why?”
“Cause then people think I’m a nice human being who doesn’t hate children.” Shea pulls the sheet up, covering his rapidly cooling limbs.
Dion laughs, “You are a nice human being.”
Smirking, Shea looks at Dion. “That reminds me, aren’t you supposed to leave after sex?”
Shaking his head, Dion says, “Is that part of the agreement?”
And Shea glares at him, making Dion laugh as he gets up from the bed.
Slowly, Dion picks up his clothes, dressing on the end of Shea’s bed.
Shea turns over and faces the window. But he watches out of the corner of his eyes as Dion gracefully slips on his pants, the methodical way he tucks his shirt in.
“Do you know what they call Calgary?”
Dion’s eyebrows furrow, wondering where the hell that question came from. “No?”
“Nashville of the North.”
And Dion can hear the laugh in Shea’s voice. “Fuck you.”
Turning to face Dion, Shea is laughing. “No, for real. I saw it on Jeopardy once.”
Dion glares at the self-satisfied smirk, “I hate you.”
Shea folds his hands behind his head, “I know. And it gives me great joy to know that.”
When Dion’s fully dressed, he looks back over and Shea’s lying on his stomach. He looks like he’s sleeping. So Dion kicks the mattress, “I’ll see you in Calgary” then he quickly adds, “It’s only fair.”
Shea grunts and flings a middle finger towards the voice, “Fuck you, no.”
Dion just waits, crosses his arms and taps his foot.
“Fine, I promise.” And he sighs.
“Bitch.”
“And that’s coming from a guy who bottoms for women.”
Dion laughs as he crosses the doorway. “I’m leaving.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Then Shea gets up as the door slams and smiles, stretching as he walks into the bathroom.
Summary: Uh, they rip on each other and make a go of it
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fake like everyone from Slovakia being named Marian (there are some named Marcel)
Author's Note: Liberties were taken and no animals were hurt in this telling...takes place in the future, kind of like beginning of the 07/08 season
“I fucking hate Nashville.” Dion sighs dramatically.
Shea grins at him, “Yeah, I knew that asshole.” And he leans forward, turning the lock.
Inside the apartment is much like the outside of the building, cold, plain, black and white and smells like new.
“You better have beer.” Dion tosses his ball cap to the leather sofa, picking his way to the kitchen. “Do you even drink beer anymore? If you don’t you’re such a chick.”
Rolling his eyes, Shea closes the apartment door. “Yes, I have beer.”
He follows Dion into his kitchen, kicking an empty pizza box under the glass coffee table. He doesn’t want Dion to see one of his guilty pleasures.
“You know what this place needs?” Dion cracks the cap off the bottle using the counter. “A woman’s touch. I mean, look at how dull this place is.” Then he leans against the humming refrigerator.
Scoffing, Shea’s lips curl into a sort of smile. Then he cocks an eyebrow at Dion, “Fine, I’ll give you a spare key.”
Jaw dropping slightly, “I can’t believe you would insult me like that.” And then Dion frowns, “I guess I’ll leave now since you don’t want to be nice to me.”
And he makes like he’s going to leave, setting his bottle to the countertop and getting ready to move past Shea.
But then Shea puts a hand to Dion’s chest, pressing him back against the refrigerator. His other hand waves the pointer finger back and forth teasingly.
Dion cracks a smile; he knows that he’s got Shea right where he wants him.
Stepping closer, Shea moves his hands to Dion’s waist, pulling their bodies together. He leans forward and presses his lips to Dion’s.
And it’s one of those bruising kisses that Dion knows he will feel hours after. Opening his lips, he feels Shea’s tongue slide in, tangoing with his own.
Dion’s head bumps against the cold steel of the refrigerator as Shea forces him backwards. He grabs the empty belt loops on Shea’s dark blue dress pants.
Their kiss breaks so both can breathe. Dion giggles suddenly as Shea continues kissing his jaw, moving down to the neck.
“I saw you wink at me, Phaneuf.” Shea’s hands slide to the front of Dion’s pants, cupping the bulge starting to form.
Dion mocks him, “You’re fucking nuts, Weber.” Then he groans as Shea’s hand glides over his confined cock. “I was like a million feet down the ice.”
Shea bites down on Dion’s neck then says, “I have eagle eyes.”
Dion gasps and half-moans as Shea’s hands press harder, rubbing slowly over his crotch. Then he smirks, “How come Lombo scored on your shift if your eyes are so eagle-ish?”
In response, Shea squeezes hard.
A half-shriek gasp rips from Dion’s throat. Then his eyes widen, “Someone means business.”
Shea sneers and kisses him again, pulling him from the kitchen. They fumble down the hallway, stopping to untuck shirts and kiss against the walls.
The bedroom door is open as they stumble in, tripping over piles of magazines, gear, DVDs, anything that Shea is too lazy to put away.
Dion’s fingers fly through the buttons on his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Then his eyes sweep through Shea’s bedroom. It always looks the same.
Shea balls his shirt and throws it towards the overflowing piles of clothes in the closet. His pants are next, kicked across the carpet. Then he sits on the bed, eyes focused on Dion.
Walking slowly towards the bed, Dion slides the belt out of his pants, his fingers popping the button. He bites his bottom lip seductively, batting his eyelashes.
A slight smirk crosses Shea’s lips, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. His one hand slides over his own crotch, eyes still trained on Dion.
A little shimmy and a shake and Dion’s towering over Shea. The oh so obvious tent in Dion’s boxers has Shea’s eyes wide.
Dion pushes lightly on Shea’s shoulder, shoving him backwards.
Slithering up the bed, Shea props himself on his elbows.
Dion follows, crawling up the black cotton sheets until their faces are level.
Then they kiss again, moving to get comfortable. Shea’s groin rubs against Dion’s thigh, making him moan.
Their lips move together frantically, their bodies grinding together. Dion’s mouth moves to Shea’s shoulder, sucking on the skin there.
Shea’s hands twist in the sheets as Dion’s boxers press into his hip and his own cock feels that sweet friction.
Lifting his head up, Dion’s breath grazes Shea’s cheek. “Dry humping is so adolescent.”
Shea scoffs, “Bedside table, as usual.” That was the only reason he even bought one at Ethan Allen.
Dion reaches across Shea’s chest, opening the drawer and pulls out the lube and a condom.
Sitting up, Dion slides out of his boxers. Shea wiggles his hips and throws his underwear to the floor.
Carelessly, Dion rips open the condom package.
Shea laughs as Dion holds up the ripped condom. “Holy fuck man, you shredded that shit.”
Dion laughs too and tosses it to the side. He reaches in the drawer again, groping blindly.
Biting his bottom lip, Shea’s cheeks blush. “I think that was my last one.”
Dion rolls his eyes, “Yeah, this thing is empty from what I can feel.”
Shea sits up more, his cock touching Dion’s. Biting back the groan, “Do you have one?”
Shaking his head, Dion sighs.
Shrugging, Shea lies back down, “Doesn’t really matter. I don’t have sex with anyone but you anyway.”
Dion’s eyebrows shoot up. He wants to say something but he doesn’t think that Shea meant to say that.
Shea’s dark eyes look up at Dion, his hair matted and sticking up in all directions from the pillow.
And Dion wants him so bad. But he smirks slyly, “What if I sleep around?”
Shea cocks his eyebrow at Dion, “In your dreams you do.”
Smiling, Dion leans down and kisses Shea. And their bodies come together again, the gasps and moans coming out between their lips.
Finally, Dion leans back on his knees, spreading the lube in his hand.
By now, Shea knows the drill. He rolls over and props himself on his hands and knees, moaning when Dion’s fingers slide into his ass.
Leaning on his knees, Dion’s fingers stretch and move, twisting and curling.
And Shea’s moaning and gasping, his cock fully hard. He pushes back on Dion’s hand, “Enough teasing.” And groans when the fingers are gone.
Smirking, Dion hurriedly strokes his own cock, spreading the lube. Then he pushes in, shaking from holding back. And the heat and the pressure are almost too much.
Shea wiggles his hips slightly and Dion moans. Then he pulls out, pushing back in almost immediately.
His hands grasp onto Shea’s hips for support and control. And he slams back in, starting a rhythm quickly.
Shea’s hands white-knuckle the headboard as he moans, “Fuck Dion, oh yeah, oh.”
With almost every thrust, Dion groans from the friction. And Shea moans as the cock brushes against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through his spine.
One of Dion’s hands leave Shea’s hip, sliding towards the stiff cock. And he touches it gently, wrapping his fingers around the shaft.
Shea cries out from the sensation, so close to coming just from that slight touch.
Dion’s hand ghosts over Shea’s cock, feeling it pulse. And he pushes in again, still shaking but this time because he’s so close.
The breath hitches in Shea’s throat as the tingling takes over, his abdomen shaking. His grip on the headboard tightens.
Sliding his thumb over the tip of Shea’s cock, Dion grits his teeth and speeds up the thrusts. And both are moaning loudly.
Then Shea gasps, “Oh, god, Dion” and he comes hard, Dion’s hand working over the length.
Thrusting in again, Dion feels Shea’s orgasm as he continues, feeling his body tensing. And then he’s coming and groaning Shea’s name.
They stay up for a few moments, Dion pulling out and then finally, Shea collapses to his bed, his bones turned to mush. And Dion lands on the mattress next to him.
The only sound in the room is their breaths, loud and jagged, both still trying to slow down their hearts and lungs.
Dion focuses his eyes on an unsightly crack on Shea’s ceiling. He doesn’t remember it being there the last time.
Shea sees the drawer still open out of the corner of his eye. He reaches over and shuts it, the wood scraping loud in the room.
“Jesus freakin’ Christ.” Dion sighs, both at the loud noise and how tired he is.
Shea sighs too, “You said it” not even bringing his arm back to the bed. It’s just hanging over the side.
Then Dion smiles, “I think I’m getting too old for this.”
And Shea turns his head, “What the fuck? We’re only 22.”
Then both of them start laughing. Dion suddenly snorts and Shea laughs even harder. He can’t stop the smile from reaching his lips.
“That’s the first time in a while I’ve seen you smile.” Dion’s eyes turn serious for a moment, “Since we won in Russia.”
Shea stares at him, “That’s because I don’t believe in smiling.”
Dion’s completely serious when he says, “Why?”
“Cause then people think I’m a nice human being who doesn’t hate children.” Shea pulls the sheet up, covering his rapidly cooling limbs.
Dion laughs, “You are a nice human being.”
Smirking, Shea looks at Dion. “That reminds me, aren’t you supposed to leave after sex?”
Shaking his head, Dion says, “Is that part of the agreement?”
And Shea glares at him, making Dion laugh as he gets up from the bed.
Slowly, Dion picks up his clothes, dressing on the end of Shea’s bed.
Shea turns over and faces the window. But he watches out of the corner of his eyes as Dion gracefully slips on his pants, the methodical way he tucks his shirt in.
“Do you know what they call Calgary?”
Dion’s eyebrows furrow, wondering where the hell that question came from. “No?”
“Nashville of the North.”
And Dion can hear the laugh in Shea’s voice. “Fuck you.”
Turning to face Dion, Shea is laughing. “No, for real. I saw it on Jeopardy once.”
Dion glares at the self-satisfied smirk, “I hate you.”
Shea folds his hands behind his head, “I know. And it gives me great joy to know that.”
When Dion’s fully dressed, he looks back over and Shea’s lying on his stomach. He looks like he’s sleeping. So Dion kicks the mattress, “I’ll see you in Calgary” then he quickly adds, “It’s only fair.”
Shea grunts and flings a middle finger towards the voice, “Fuck you, no.”
Dion just waits, crosses his arms and taps his foot.
“Fine, I promise.” And he sighs.
“Bitch.”
“And that’s coming from a guy who bottoms for women.”
Dion laughs as he crosses the doorway. “I’m leaving.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Then Shea gets up as the door slams and smiles, stretching as he walks into the bathroom.