Always
TITLE: always
AUTHOR: bailey
E-MAIL: bellephly at gmail dot com
DISTRIBUTION: only on my archive please
DISCLAIMER: fake. totally made up. delusions. any similarities to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. please don't sue me.
RATING: PG-13/R
PAIRING: steve eminger(serzhya)/alexander ovechkin (sania)
SUMMARY: steve goes to russia to see alex, after a time of not speaking following an affair they had. the two are staying alone at alex's family's dacha.
Last night I wandered into the living room in the dacha, alternately feeling sorry for myself because I couldn't play, and being ecstatic because I finally had Sania back. I randomly pulled a book off the shelf, and lay down with it on the couch. I can't read Russian. I can speak it some, and I recognise some of the letters, and know how they should be said. More than anything, I just liked looking at the pages. The paper smelled different from how books I'm used to them smelling, the edges were a bit ragged from years of use, and the letters foreign and exotic. As I slowly paged through, I imagined the story spelled out in front of me, pictured characters exchanging intriguing dialogue and witty repartee. Then another imagining took hold - of a younger Sania reading through this, curled up on the couch, or maybe that overstuffed armchair, the book inches from his nose in the waning afternoon light as he fell into the story.
He surprised me out of my daydream by sitting on the opposite arm of the couch and rubbing my stocking feet.
"Can you read that?" I lower the book and smile at him.
"Not at all. I like looking at it though. It's.... like, art." I didn't know how to explain what the characters mean to me, how they reminded me of him. "I know a couple of the letters. I can figure out how a few of the words should be said." He smiled at me.
"As long as you are entertained." I closed the book and set it on the table next to the couch.
"M'more so now." He lifted my feet and dropped down onto the couch, setting my feet on his lap.
"I could read it to you, if you like," I could feel my eyes light up, my whole face did. "I like..." he pauses, I can see the gears in his head turning, and I know he's searching for the right translation. "The Proposal, myself." It warms me to know I'd been right - that'd he'd read this very book.
"In Russian?" I would only understand maybe half of it, but I didn't care, I wanted to hear him speak his native tongue, hear those complicated sounds roll off his tongue and lips.
"Da, in Russian." I nodded in agreement.
"Please? But... come sit down here?" I sat up, making room for him next to me. He picked up the book and moved so that his side was pressed to mine, his arm over my shoulders, the book balanced between us. I scooted down on my spine, leaned against him, needing to be touching him. He kissed my forehead, distracting me from the light book resting on our thighs.
"This is a play, you know. A comedy, but it is short..."
"I did not know." I wasn't entirely sure I even cared. I just wanted to touch something of his, touch him, be with him.
"Can we go see it sometime?" Where did that come from? I've never been that fond of plays.
"If you like. It is not hard to find Chekhov plays." I nodded and he started reading, but was reading more as a narrative, including the dialogue with the directions. I closed my eyes, just listening to his voice, letting it wash over me. I listened for a few moments, my heart pounding, my skin prickling, my cock stirring.
I whispered his name softly, interrupting him.
He stopped, paused for a second, switched to English.
"You have question?" I shook my head, opened my eyes, looked up at him and whispered softly.
"I'm so in love with you." He flushed a bit, his olive skin turning an intriguing shade I'd seen many times, and couldn't wait to see many more.
"And I you." He started reading again, smiling more as he went along. I slipped a hand around his stomach, and rubbed absently, my eyes again closed as I listened. He read a line, then repeated it, but with a different pronoun then glanced down at me. "That is good idea." I laughed softly as he leaned down and kissed me. I turned my face up to him to give him, needing more. He shut the book and took hold of my shoulders, pulling me into the kiss. I took the book from his hands and set it back on the table, leaned up, shimmied closer to him, my hand tightening on his stomach. His hands slipped up into my hair, and he moaned softly into my mouth, the sound shivering down my spine. I turned more towards him, laid on top of him, and slipped my hand onto his hip, my voice a murmur.
"Jesus I missed you so much. Missed this. Need you, Sania." He sighed softly, his arms encircling my back.
"I dreamed of you, Serzhya... and I hated it. I thought... better to not think of you all. Now I do not want to stop." The words broke my heart and healed it at the same time.
"Now you don't have to. Ever. I couldn't live without you anymore."
"You mean except for when we are apart." I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to think about having to go home, having to finish the season without him to come home to. I just nod.
"I won't say it doesn't matter, but it doesn't, because you'll be with me here. I touched my temple lightly. "And here," I moved my hand down to my heart. "Always."
[credit goes to alex's mun for his dialogue and actions]
AUTHOR: bailey
E-MAIL: bellephly at gmail dot com
DISTRIBUTION: only on my archive please
DISCLAIMER: fake. totally made up. delusions. any similarities to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. please don't sue me.
RATING: PG-13/R
PAIRING: steve eminger(serzhya)/alexander ovechkin (sania)
SUMMARY: steve goes to russia to see alex, after a time of not speaking following an affair they had. the two are staying alone at alex's family's dacha.
Last night I wandered into the living room in the dacha, alternately feeling sorry for myself because I couldn't play, and being ecstatic because I finally had Sania back. I randomly pulled a book off the shelf, and lay down with it on the couch. I can't read Russian. I can speak it some, and I recognise some of the letters, and know how they should be said. More than anything, I just liked looking at the pages. The paper smelled different from how books I'm used to them smelling, the edges were a bit ragged from years of use, and the letters foreign and exotic. As I slowly paged through, I imagined the story spelled out in front of me, pictured characters exchanging intriguing dialogue and witty repartee. Then another imagining took hold - of a younger Sania reading through this, curled up on the couch, or maybe that overstuffed armchair, the book inches from his nose in the waning afternoon light as he fell into the story.
He surprised me out of my daydream by sitting on the opposite arm of the couch and rubbing my stocking feet.
"Can you read that?" I lower the book and smile at him.
"Not at all. I like looking at it though. It's.... like, art." I didn't know how to explain what the characters mean to me, how they reminded me of him. "I know a couple of the letters. I can figure out how a few of the words should be said." He smiled at me.
"As long as you are entertained." I closed the book and set it on the table next to the couch.
"M'more so now." He lifted my feet and dropped down onto the couch, setting my feet on his lap.
"I could read it to you, if you like," I could feel my eyes light up, my whole face did. "I like..." he pauses, I can see the gears in his head turning, and I know he's searching for the right translation. "The Proposal, myself." It warms me to know I'd been right - that'd he'd read this very book.
"In Russian?" I would only understand maybe half of it, but I didn't care, I wanted to hear him speak his native tongue, hear those complicated sounds roll off his tongue and lips.
"Da, in Russian." I nodded in agreement.
"Please? But... come sit down here?" I sat up, making room for him next to me. He picked up the book and moved so that his side was pressed to mine, his arm over my shoulders, the book balanced between us. I scooted down on my spine, leaned against him, needing to be touching him. He kissed my forehead, distracting me from the light book resting on our thighs.
"This is a play, you know. A comedy, but it is short..."
"I did not know." I wasn't entirely sure I even cared. I just wanted to touch something of his, touch him, be with him.
"Can we go see it sometime?" Where did that come from? I've never been that fond of plays.
"If you like. It is not hard to find Chekhov plays." I nodded and he started reading, but was reading more as a narrative, including the dialogue with the directions. I closed my eyes, just listening to his voice, letting it wash over me. I listened for a few moments, my heart pounding, my skin prickling, my cock stirring.
I whispered his name softly, interrupting him.
He stopped, paused for a second, switched to English.
"You have question?" I shook my head, opened my eyes, looked up at him and whispered softly.
"I'm so in love with you." He flushed a bit, his olive skin turning an intriguing shade I'd seen many times, and couldn't wait to see many more.
"And I you." He started reading again, smiling more as he went along. I slipped a hand around his stomach, and rubbed absently, my eyes again closed as I listened. He read a line, then repeated it, but with a different pronoun then glanced down at me. "That is good idea." I laughed softly as he leaned down and kissed me. I turned my face up to him to give him, needing more. He shut the book and took hold of my shoulders, pulling me into the kiss. I took the book from his hands and set it back on the table, leaned up, shimmied closer to him, my hand tightening on his stomach. His hands slipped up into my hair, and he moaned softly into my mouth, the sound shivering down my spine. I turned more towards him, laid on top of him, and slipped my hand onto his hip, my voice a murmur.
"Jesus I missed you so much. Missed this. Need you, Sania." He sighed softly, his arms encircling my back.
"I dreamed of you, Serzhya... and I hated it. I thought... better to not think of you all. Now I do not want to stop." The words broke my heart and healed it at the same time.
"Now you don't have to. Ever. I couldn't live without you anymore."
"You mean except for when we are apart." I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to think about having to go home, having to finish the season without him to come home to. I just nod.
"I won't say it doesn't matter, but it doesn't, because you'll be with me here. I touched my temple lightly. "And here," I moved my hand down to my heart. "Always."
[credit goes to alex's mun for his dialogue and actions]