Fix You: An Ongoing Glen Murray / Marc Savard Saga
Title: Fix You
Fandom: NHL > Boston Bruins
Characters: Glen Murray/Marc Savard
Word Count: Part 1: 443. Part 2: 562. Part 3: 865. Part 4: 852. Total: 2,272
Rating: I have to give it an overall rating of NC17 for parts 2 and 3.
Rush Hour In Boston (originally written: 10.22.06)
I leaned my head against the window of the car as it seemed to stand in place in the middle of the Boston rush-hour traffic. He was beside me, silent as can be as the rumour swirled through his head, I was sure. The man had been through hell over the past year. He'd lost a life partner in Joe Thornton, a best friend in Sergei Samsonov, another lover in Travis Green and the only other person he'd trusted with his heart since Joe had been sent away in Brad Isbister. And I was the person that he'd confided it in. As far as I knew, I was the only person. Now, though, the rumours were starting. Of him being sent away.
"I'm not surprised. These rumours resurface every year..." he had told me awhile ago in a disbelieving tone. It was as half-hearted as half-hearted could be, but he'd still managed to say it. We'd become close. But Glen was afraid to take it any farther than just friends who maybe had a bit of an emotional connection, because of an overpowering worry that we'd be yanked apart. I watched him quietly as he leaned his head against the window, and the condensation built around him from the rain outside. The poor guy had been through hell. I'd tell him that we could make it, but I was sure he'd heard that before. Joe. Travis. Brad. He'd heard it before.
I ran a hand through my hair in the stand-still and cleared my throat. This was an unnecessary kind of stress for a man at the point Glen was in, in his career. He needed stability, needed a team that was willing to support him in his endeavors. Needed someone who had his back, no matter what went on. It was kind of ridiculous. I sighed a bit and hung my head, raising it a bit as traffic moved. What was I supposed to say in this situation? It wouldn't be okay. At least not until he was secure enough in Boston to know for sure that he'd be there for the rest of his career. He had me, sure, but if these rumours were true, who knows how long that was good for? What in the hell was I supposed to say to a broken Glen Murray?
"Want to go get a drink or something?"
I didn't think it was the best choice of words, necessarily, but he raised his head from the window and nodded at me, before putting his head back against the window. "If we could ever get past this traffic, anyway..."
More Intimate Setting (originally written 10.25.06)
Why don't we go somewhere we can be alone?
The voice and words rang through my head like something of a symphony on repeat, as I stood in the bathroom with the door cracked open a bit. I gave myself a condescending look in the mirror when I realized how absolutely corny that sounded. He was sitting on my couch, waiting for me to come out and...I wasn't even sure what we planned to do. I mean, I'd had affairs before. I wasn't the king of innocence. And I knew that Glen wasn't either. He'd had plenty of affairs. It was like it was his second nature.
I sounded like I was dissing him. No, I wasn't. It was just...I'd had only one affair before. And it didn't even count because I was a rebound. I was probably a rebound here, too, but hell, if being Glen Murray's rebound was all I could have, I'd take it. It seemed, though, that our personalities seemed to click. We always had fun when we bunked together on the road--at least so far. We talked a lot...about lives before the NHL, about past romances (Glen more than me in that category), about how we always used to seethe at each other until we were placed on the same team, same line...same hotel rooms on occasion--and now we were closer than best friends.
I ran a hand through my hair and glanced out the crack in the bathroom door. What was he doing? He'd taken his shirt off? Were we going to--really? Because I was thinking that he was going to just back away before it started. Tell me it felt wrong. But he had been drinking. Maybe it was me who was supposed to back away. Maybe I was supposed to remind him that he was on the rebound, and that he'd regret it in the morning. That I'd be one of those people who he could have been close to, but we never got the chance because we slept together too soon. I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat and left the bathroom. "Glen?"
He stood up. Christ, he was so fucking amazing. I was going to tell him that it was a bad idea. Really, I was. But when he approached me and pressed his lips to mine, the thought was gone. The only things on my mind were that this was the best kiss I'd ever been involved in--ever, and that his breath tasted strongly of beer. But that was fine by me. He was playing with the buttons of my shirt and within seconds, he gave up on the buttons and just tore it open. And then it was just time to relax and watch this happen. His hands...Glen's large, soft hands...too soft for a man's hands, were moving down to my stomach, and to my jeans, removing them in a quick step. And now...I was completely exposed to him. "You know...initially, I was coming out to tell you that this was a bad idea?"
"And now?" he asked as he paid a little attention to my neck with his tongue.
I moaned a little louder than I wanted to, then gasped a bit afterward. "Farthest thing from my mind..." I said in just above a whisper...
Drop the Facade (originally written 10.29.06)
"Drop the facade, Savard," I said as he put on his little 'I don't want you' gig. Please. I may have been drunk, but I wasn't stupid. "You want this as badly as I do...believe me, I know those facial expressions," the scrunched eyes, the feeble attempt at taking in a breath...yeah, it was a classic sign of 'I want you.' I knew, because with Joe, I had always been the one making those faces. And they meant that I wanted him. "I'm not going to, you know...turn you away. I want it as bad as you do..."
He put his hands on my shoulderblades and squeezed them lightly, digging his fingertips into them. "It's not that I'm worried about..." he gasped out as I reached my own hands down and undid my jeans, letting them fall to the floor. "I just dont want you to hate me...to regret me..."
I shook my head and pressed our lips together. "I wouldn't regret you, Marc. I promise..." I whispered as I grabbed his ass and pulled him forward, grinding our cocks into one another. "I just want you. I want to fuck you..." I said as I backed us toward the table, grinning like a madman. "I want to bend you over this table and just fuck your brains out..."
"No..." He shook his head as he moved his affections from my lips to my jawline, all the while moving us back toward the wall. I felt the cold drywall hit my skin and shuddered a bit, then breathed in sharply when he hit a spot on my neck...that spot. The spot that Joe had never found...that Giz had never found...but Marc? Found it. I'd found it myself on long nights alone. Pressed my fingers against it just so it could be touched. It was weird for a man's pleasure spot to be on his neck, but apparently, Marc didn't think so, because as soon as I gasped, he attended to it even more.
Until, at least, he moved his kisses down my chest, stopping to send twinges of electric pleasure to each of my nipples, then moved down farther...to my stomach. I swallowed hard and leaned my head back against the wall. I knew what was coming. Giz had never been any good at this, really, and Joe never even did it. I'd have to wait and see how good Marc was at it. But it was worth the wait. I groaned as his lips circled my head, and his tongue swirled over the tip...Christ...he was already getting this from me? And I wasn't even an inch in his mouth yet? "M...Marc..." I breathed out. "P...please..."
I felt him moan around my head and the twinges of pleasure that it sent throughout me made my body ache for more off him. And then the bobbing started. Each bob up and down meant that he took more of me into his mouth, and my heart raced more with each passing moment. "Oh...God...Marc..." I wished that my fingers could dig into the wall. I needed to grab hold of something, hold onto anything to keep me from falling off the world. How...how was he doing that? With his tongue? Jesus Christ...that was unbelievable. "M...Marc...I..." how was it happening so fast? Normally, I lasted. Normally, I could take it. "I'm...gonna..."
Starbursts. My heart raced as I came, feeling the explosion go straight down Marc's throat. And he swallowed it. My breath was gone, and I had all I could do not to slide down the wall and land on my ass on the floor. Instead, I decided to return the favor. I moved our bodies over to Marc's large couch and made him lay down, then lay with him, putting my hands gently around his cock. It wouldn't take long for him. He was already on his way, even simply from my reactions to his incredible blowjob. I stroked him softly, gently, trying to show him how compassionate and gentle sex could be, even without fucking. Sure, I was the one who had wanted to fuck, initially, but now, I was glad we hadn't.
He whimpered, and I knew, without even having to hear it, that he was almost there, so rather than let him spurt all throughout his living room, I leaned down and took him into my mouth, all the way, so that the tip of his head tickled the back of my throat a bit. Pulling back slowly, I felt the warm, sticky seed fill my mouth and heard Marc let out a shuddering moan, then swallowed it down, licking my lips of anything left over.
I looked at him, then pressed my lips to his, mixing the tastes of our seeds in one another's mouths, then nodded my head toward his staircase suggestively. I didn't want to go home...in case my phone rang. I couldn't be alone to get that kind of news. He nodded, took my hand and silently led me up the stairs. Yes...Marc Savard was exactly what I had needed.
That One Word
I knew this time would come. Really, I would have had to be a fool, not to see it from miles away. We were going to play San Jose eventually. The team had already played them once after the 'big trade' a couple years ago. I just hadn't suspected that it would come so soon after Glen and I had gotten comfortable. We had discussed this scenario. Glen and Joe would hook up when we came to San Jose, and I'd be fine with it. Even though he saw Joe, and he couldn't resist him, I was still number one or whatever. Yeah, I'd agreed to it, because let's be real here. Glen and I weren't like, each other's faithful mates. We both had wives and families, and this was just a convenient arrangement. But that wasn't it. God help me, I'd fallen for him. I'd never said the 'l' word. As a matter of fact, the only one to say it was Glen, and he was in the throes of passion when he said it. Which meant that it was less likely to mean anything. And it hurt.
Because the fact that I never said it? Didn't mean that I didn't want to. And just because I'd told him that I was okay with random hookups with Joe? Didn't mean that I actually was. I wasn't.
I looked up at the HP Pavilion and ran a hand over my hair, walking in slowly. I wasn't even sure why I was there so early, but something told me that, for once, for the first time since we'd met, where Glen Murray was, wasn't where I wanted to be. I didn't want to see him all over another man. I could handle it, when he was with Katie. Because I knew it wasn't the same. I knew that when he kissed her, he didn't really feel it. Not in the same way he did with...well, I don't know whether it was like that with me. But it was with Joe. At least it had been. I was basically alone in the arena, aside from the occasional staff member, so I walked up into the stands and sat in the back, leaning my head back against the wall.
It was...strange how someone like Glen could make a guy like me-a typically self-assured and cocky (yes, I knew and admitted it fully) person-turn into a nervous mess. I just didn't like the idea of losing Glen. Love was a cruel e-wait. I raised my head from the wall slowly. Did I just say...that word on coralation with him? Shit. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. I had always known, really, that it was only a matter of time before I said it. I was sure of how I felt. I was so crazy about Glen that I would just drop everything and take the repercussions of running away with him if that was what he wanted. But...God, this whole thing sucked. I'd never been given any reason to doubt us...not until that night.
I raised my head and laughed when I saw a large poster of Joe Thornton on the wall of the HP Pavilion. God, it was like the world was mocking me. It was bad enough that there was a voice in my own mind, nagging and telling me that I was going to lose the only man I had ever really loved. Did I really need everything else in the world to do it too? My mind was going in a million different directions. Everything we'd been through together in such a short amount of time. Though, with us, the good was usually greater than the bad. I thought of the constant rumors of a trade looming over our heads. And imagined it if he got sent out here. Out here to be with the man that he really loved.
I looked out at the ice for a second, thinking about all the stories I'd heard about how Joe had treated Glen, and how I treated him about a million times better. And that was when it hit me. Maybe he didn't love Joe anymore. But...maybe Joe had told him the one thing that I had yet to. Maybe Joe had said that one word. Maybe Glen had wanted me not to be okay with it if he hooked up with someone else. Maybe Glen had needed to feel loved. Really, truly loved before he could let go of Joe, because maybe Joe had been the only one to make him feel that way. Maybe Glen needed me to tell him that I loved him. And maybe I needed to tell Glen that I loved him. I got up and hurried to the door to find Glen, reaching into my pocket for my cell phone on my way. But, as my head was down, I heard a voice calling out to me from the area I'd just left.
“Marc?”
I turned my head and smiled. It was Glen...
Fandom: NHL > Boston Bruins
Characters: Glen Murray/Marc Savard
Word Count: Part 1: 443. Part 2: 562. Part 3: 865. Part 4: 852. Total: 2,272
Rating: I have to give it an overall rating of NC17 for parts 2 and 3.
Rush Hour In Boston (originally written: 10.22.06)
I leaned my head against the window of the car as it seemed to stand in place in the middle of the Boston rush-hour traffic. He was beside me, silent as can be as the rumour swirled through his head, I was sure. The man had been through hell over the past year. He'd lost a life partner in Joe Thornton, a best friend in Sergei Samsonov, another lover in Travis Green and the only other person he'd trusted with his heart since Joe had been sent away in Brad Isbister. And I was the person that he'd confided it in. As far as I knew, I was the only person. Now, though, the rumours were starting. Of him being sent away.
"I'm not surprised. These rumours resurface every year..." he had told me awhile ago in a disbelieving tone. It was as half-hearted as half-hearted could be, but he'd still managed to say it. We'd become close. But Glen was afraid to take it any farther than just friends who maybe had a bit of an emotional connection, because of an overpowering worry that we'd be yanked apart. I watched him quietly as he leaned his head against the window, and the condensation built around him from the rain outside. The poor guy had been through hell. I'd tell him that we could make it, but I was sure he'd heard that before. Joe. Travis. Brad. He'd heard it before.
I ran a hand through my hair in the stand-still and cleared my throat. This was an unnecessary kind of stress for a man at the point Glen was in, in his career. He needed stability, needed a team that was willing to support him in his endeavors. Needed someone who had his back, no matter what went on. It was kind of ridiculous. I sighed a bit and hung my head, raising it a bit as traffic moved. What was I supposed to say in this situation? It wouldn't be okay. At least not until he was secure enough in Boston to know for sure that he'd be there for the rest of his career. He had me, sure, but if these rumours were true, who knows how long that was good for? What in the hell was I supposed to say to a broken Glen Murray?
"Want to go get a drink or something?"
I didn't think it was the best choice of words, necessarily, but he raised his head from the window and nodded at me, before putting his head back against the window. "If we could ever get past this traffic, anyway..."
More Intimate Setting (originally written 10.25.06)
Why don't we go somewhere we can be alone?
The voice and words rang through my head like something of a symphony on repeat, as I stood in the bathroom with the door cracked open a bit. I gave myself a condescending look in the mirror when I realized how absolutely corny that sounded. He was sitting on my couch, waiting for me to come out and...I wasn't even sure what we planned to do. I mean, I'd had affairs before. I wasn't the king of innocence. And I knew that Glen wasn't either. He'd had plenty of affairs. It was like it was his second nature.
I sounded like I was dissing him. No, I wasn't. It was just...I'd had only one affair before. And it didn't even count because I was a rebound. I was probably a rebound here, too, but hell, if being Glen Murray's rebound was all I could have, I'd take it. It seemed, though, that our personalities seemed to click. We always had fun when we bunked together on the road--at least so far. We talked a lot...about lives before the NHL, about past romances (Glen more than me in that category), about how we always used to seethe at each other until we were placed on the same team, same line...same hotel rooms on occasion--and now we were closer than best friends.
I ran a hand through my hair and glanced out the crack in the bathroom door. What was he doing? He'd taken his shirt off? Were we going to--really? Because I was thinking that he was going to just back away before it started. Tell me it felt wrong. But he had been drinking. Maybe it was me who was supposed to back away. Maybe I was supposed to remind him that he was on the rebound, and that he'd regret it in the morning. That I'd be one of those people who he could have been close to, but we never got the chance because we slept together too soon. I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat and left the bathroom. "Glen?"
He stood up. Christ, he was so fucking amazing. I was going to tell him that it was a bad idea. Really, I was. But when he approached me and pressed his lips to mine, the thought was gone. The only things on my mind were that this was the best kiss I'd ever been involved in--ever, and that his breath tasted strongly of beer. But that was fine by me. He was playing with the buttons of my shirt and within seconds, he gave up on the buttons and just tore it open. And then it was just time to relax and watch this happen. His hands...Glen's large, soft hands...too soft for a man's hands, were moving down to my stomach, and to my jeans, removing them in a quick step. And now...I was completely exposed to him. "You know...initially, I was coming out to tell you that this was a bad idea?"
"And now?" he asked as he paid a little attention to my neck with his tongue.
I moaned a little louder than I wanted to, then gasped a bit afterward. "Farthest thing from my mind..." I said in just above a whisper...
Drop the Facade (originally written 10.29.06)
"Drop the facade, Savard," I said as he put on his little 'I don't want you' gig. Please. I may have been drunk, but I wasn't stupid. "You want this as badly as I do...believe me, I know those facial expressions," the scrunched eyes, the feeble attempt at taking in a breath...yeah, it was a classic sign of 'I want you.' I knew, because with Joe, I had always been the one making those faces. And they meant that I wanted him. "I'm not going to, you know...turn you away. I want it as bad as you do..."
He put his hands on my shoulderblades and squeezed them lightly, digging his fingertips into them. "It's not that I'm worried about..." he gasped out as I reached my own hands down and undid my jeans, letting them fall to the floor. "I just dont want you to hate me...to regret me..."
I shook my head and pressed our lips together. "I wouldn't regret you, Marc. I promise..." I whispered as I grabbed his ass and pulled him forward, grinding our cocks into one another. "I just want you. I want to fuck you..." I said as I backed us toward the table, grinning like a madman. "I want to bend you over this table and just fuck your brains out..."
"No..." He shook his head as he moved his affections from my lips to my jawline, all the while moving us back toward the wall. I felt the cold drywall hit my skin and shuddered a bit, then breathed in sharply when he hit a spot on my neck...that spot. The spot that Joe had never found...that Giz had never found...but Marc? Found it. I'd found it myself on long nights alone. Pressed my fingers against it just so it could be touched. It was weird for a man's pleasure spot to be on his neck, but apparently, Marc didn't think so, because as soon as I gasped, he attended to it even more.
Until, at least, he moved his kisses down my chest, stopping to send twinges of electric pleasure to each of my nipples, then moved down farther...to my stomach. I swallowed hard and leaned my head back against the wall. I knew what was coming. Giz had never been any good at this, really, and Joe never even did it. I'd have to wait and see how good Marc was at it. But it was worth the wait. I groaned as his lips circled my head, and his tongue swirled over the tip...Christ...he was already getting this from me? And I wasn't even an inch in his mouth yet? "M...Marc..." I breathed out. "P...please..."
I felt him moan around my head and the twinges of pleasure that it sent throughout me made my body ache for more off him. And then the bobbing started. Each bob up and down meant that he took more of me into his mouth, and my heart raced more with each passing moment. "Oh...God...Marc..." I wished that my fingers could dig into the wall. I needed to grab hold of something, hold onto anything to keep me from falling off the world. How...how was he doing that? With his tongue? Jesus Christ...that was unbelievable. "M...Marc...I..." how was it happening so fast? Normally, I lasted. Normally, I could take it. "I'm...gonna..."
Starbursts. My heart raced as I came, feeling the explosion go straight down Marc's throat. And he swallowed it. My breath was gone, and I had all I could do not to slide down the wall and land on my ass on the floor. Instead, I decided to return the favor. I moved our bodies over to Marc's large couch and made him lay down, then lay with him, putting my hands gently around his cock. It wouldn't take long for him. He was already on his way, even simply from my reactions to his incredible blowjob. I stroked him softly, gently, trying to show him how compassionate and gentle sex could be, even without fucking. Sure, I was the one who had wanted to fuck, initially, but now, I was glad we hadn't.
He whimpered, and I knew, without even having to hear it, that he was almost there, so rather than let him spurt all throughout his living room, I leaned down and took him into my mouth, all the way, so that the tip of his head tickled the back of my throat a bit. Pulling back slowly, I felt the warm, sticky seed fill my mouth and heard Marc let out a shuddering moan, then swallowed it down, licking my lips of anything left over.
I looked at him, then pressed my lips to his, mixing the tastes of our seeds in one another's mouths, then nodded my head toward his staircase suggestively. I didn't want to go home...in case my phone rang. I couldn't be alone to get that kind of news. He nodded, took my hand and silently led me up the stairs. Yes...Marc Savard was exactly what I had needed.
That One Word
I knew this time would come. Really, I would have had to be a fool, not to see it from miles away. We were going to play San Jose eventually. The team had already played them once after the 'big trade' a couple years ago. I just hadn't suspected that it would come so soon after Glen and I had gotten comfortable. We had discussed this scenario. Glen and Joe would hook up when we came to San Jose, and I'd be fine with it. Even though he saw Joe, and he couldn't resist him, I was still number one or whatever. Yeah, I'd agreed to it, because let's be real here. Glen and I weren't like, each other's faithful mates. We both had wives and families, and this was just a convenient arrangement. But that wasn't it. God help me, I'd fallen for him. I'd never said the 'l' word. As a matter of fact, the only one to say it was Glen, and he was in the throes of passion when he said it. Which meant that it was less likely to mean anything. And it hurt.
Because the fact that I never said it? Didn't mean that I didn't want to. And just because I'd told him that I was okay with random hookups with Joe? Didn't mean that I actually was. I wasn't.
I looked up at the HP Pavilion and ran a hand over my hair, walking in slowly. I wasn't even sure why I was there so early, but something told me that, for once, for the first time since we'd met, where Glen Murray was, wasn't where I wanted to be. I didn't want to see him all over another man. I could handle it, when he was with Katie. Because I knew it wasn't the same. I knew that when he kissed her, he didn't really feel it. Not in the same way he did with...well, I don't know whether it was like that with me. But it was with Joe. At least it had been. I was basically alone in the arena, aside from the occasional staff member, so I walked up into the stands and sat in the back, leaning my head back against the wall.
It was...strange how someone like Glen could make a guy like me-a typically self-assured and cocky (yes, I knew and admitted it fully) person-turn into a nervous mess. I just didn't like the idea of losing Glen. Love was a cruel e-wait. I raised my head from the wall slowly. Did I just say...that word on coralation with him? Shit. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. I had always known, really, that it was only a matter of time before I said it. I was sure of how I felt. I was so crazy about Glen that I would just drop everything and take the repercussions of running away with him if that was what he wanted. But...God, this whole thing sucked. I'd never been given any reason to doubt us...not until that night.
I raised my head and laughed when I saw a large poster of Joe Thornton on the wall of the HP Pavilion. God, it was like the world was mocking me. It was bad enough that there was a voice in my own mind, nagging and telling me that I was going to lose the only man I had ever really loved. Did I really need everything else in the world to do it too? My mind was going in a million different directions. Everything we'd been through together in such a short amount of time. Though, with us, the good was usually greater than the bad. I thought of the constant rumors of a trade looming over our heads. And imagined it if he got sent out here. Out here to be with the man that he really loved.
I looked out at the ice for a second, thinking about all the stories I'd heard about how Joe had treated Glen, and how I treated him about a million times better. And that was when it hit me. Maybe he didn't love Joe anymore. But...maybe Joe had told him the one thing that I had yet to. Maybe Joe had said that one word. Maybe Glen had wanted me not to be okay with it if he hooked up with someone else. Maybe Glen had needed to feel loved. Really, truly loved before he could let go of Joe, because maybe Joe had been the only one to make him feel that way. Maybe Glen needed me to tell him that I loved him. And maybe I needed to tell Glen that I loved him. I got up and hurried to the door to find Glen, reaching into my pocket for my cell phone on my way. But, as my head was down, I heard a voice calling out to me from the area I'd just left.
“Marc?”
I turned my head and smiled. It was Glen...