On the radio
Title: On the radio
Pairing: Marc Savard/Vladimir Sobotka
Time: October 2008
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Marc does his weekly radio interview. Or tries to.
Disclaimer: A fictional story written solely for entertainment purposes.
The mobile phone on the bedstand buzzed, and Marc snapped awake, grabbing it as fast as he could. "Yeah," he said, softly.
"Good morning, Marc. Fifteen minutes."
"Thanks," he snapped the phone shut and glanced at the lithe yet muscular body lying next to his, hoping Vladimir hadn't woken up. Damn. Vladdie was stirring. He turned his head toward Marc, cracked open one disgruntled blue eye, then slid out of bed and groaned his way to the bathroom. He returned moments later, crawled back into bed, curled into a ball under the blankets, and jammed a pillow over his head. To say Vladimir Sobotka was not a morning person was putting it mildly.
Marc used the bathroom himself, then picked up the cell phone and set it to vibrate. He held it in his hand, waiting, listening as Vladdie's breathing slowed and deepened.
The phone vibrated. "Yeah?" he answered.
"You're coming up next, Marc. Ready?"
"Yup," he said quietly, listening to the intro as the radio hosts spoke of the Bruins' upcoming homestand. "And now the play-making center of the Bruins, Marc Savard. How are you, Marc?"
"Just fine," he said. "Ready to play some home games."
The host asked the predictable questions and Marc answered them predictably, half his mind wandering as he watched the blankets next to him rise and fall. "And how about Sobotka?" the host asked.
"Sobotka?" Marc squeaked, jolted out of his reverie. "What was that?"
"I said, how's Sobotka doing? Looked like he took a pretty hard shot the other night."
"Um, fine, I guess," Marc replied, as Vladdie lifted the pillow and looked up at the sound of his name. "I mean, I guess we'll find out at practice today. If he's there, I mean. If he's OK. I guess. We'll find out."
Vladdie's lips twitched. He slid over and slipped an arm around Marc's ribs, then nuzzled his neck, sticking his tongue out to lick the skin just under his ear. Savvy shuddered.
"... scary moment the other night?" the host was saying.
"I'm sorry?" Marc tried to push Vladimir away with one hand, but the young Czech clung stubbornly to his side and started finger-walking his right hand down Marc's chest.
"I said, it was kind of a scary moment against the Penguins the other night. Something personal going on? Matt Cooke gets himself a suspension for trying to high-stick you, then you fought with Crosby."
Savvy laughed, his voice hollow, as Vladdie's fingers crept closer to his crotch. "I wouldn't call that much of a fight. More like a scuffle. I'm not a fighter, that's for SURE!" The final word exploded from his lips as Sobotka's hand gripped his cock. Marc reached out with his right hand and grabbed a fistful of Vladimir's hair.
"Owowowow," Vladdie whispered. Marc tightened his hold until Sobotka let go, then smacked him in the head for good measure. Vladdie rubbed his head and tried to scowl at Marc, then snorted laughter, clapping his hand over his mouth.
"What's that you said, Marc?"
"Sorry, bad connection," Savard said, glaring at Sobotka, who buried his face in the mattress, shoulders shaking. "I said I'm not much of a fighter." I'm a lover. He resisted the horrible urge to say it out loud, biting back the laughter that was bubbling in his chest. "Just trying to protect myself. That's what this game is all about, you know. Respect. Young players gotta respect their elders, even a star like Sidney."
Vladimir looked up and pouted, almost sending Marc into hysterics.
"Well, good luck to you and the Bruins, especially on your big western road trip. We'll talk to you when you get back."
"Thanks, talk to you next week."
Marc snapped the phone shut and dropped it on the floor, then turned to Vladimir. "I oughta kill you!" he shouted, even as Vladdie collapsed in uncontrollable giggles.
"No, Savvy, you got to go to practice, and see if I'm OK!" Vladimir rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, squeezing out tears as his body shook with laughter.
"Aaarrrggghhhhh...." Marc said, dropping his head back onto the pillow. "Next time I volunteer for PR duty, just stop me, OK?"
"OK," Vladimir said happily, rolling out of bed and casting about for his clothes. "Breakfast now, then practice, then... " he cocked his head, giving Marc that look that he found downright irresistable. "We come home, and you turn off that phone."
Pairing: Marc Savard/Vladimir Sobotka
Time: October 2008
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Marc does his weekly radio interview. Or tries to.
Disclaimer: A fictional story written solely for entertainment purposes.
The mobile phone on the bedstand buzzed, and Marc snapped awake, grabbing it as fast as he could. "Yeah," he said, softly.
"Good morning, Marc. Fifteen minutes."
"Thanks," he snapped the phone shut and glanced at the lithe yet muscular body lying next to his, hoping Vladimir hadn't woken up. Damn. Vladdie was stirring. He turned his head toward Marc, cracked open one disgruntled blue eye, then slid out of bed and groaned his way to the bathroom. He returned moments later, crawled back into bed, curled into a ball under the blankets, and jammed a pillow over his head. To say Vladimir Sobotka was not a morning person was putting it mildly.
Marc used the bathroom himself, then picked up the cell phone and set it to vibrate. He held it in his hand, waiting, listening as Vladdie's breathing slowed and deepened.
The phone vibrated. "Yeah?" he answered.
"You're coming up next, Marc. Ready?"
"Yup," he said quietly, listening to the intro as the radio hosts spoke of the Bruins' upcoming homestand. "And now the play-making center of the Bruins, Marc Savard. How are you, Marc?"
"Just fine," he said. "Ready to play some home games."
The host asked the predictable questions and Marc answered them predictably, half his mind wandering as he watched the blankets next to him rise and fall. "And how about Sobotka?" the host asked.
"Sobotka?" Marc squeaked, jolted out of his reverie. "What was that?"
"I said, how's Sobotka doing? Looked like he took a pretty hard shot the other night."
"Um, fine, I guess," Marc replied, as Vladdie lifted the pillow and looked up at the sound of his name. "I mean, I guess we'll find out at practice today. If he's there, I mean. If he's OK. I guess. We'll find out."
Vladdie's lips twitched. He slid over and slipped an arm around Marc's ribs, then nuzzled his neck, sticking his tongue out to lick the skin just under his ear. Savvy shuddered.
"... scary moment the other night?" the host was saying.
"I'm sorry?" Marc tried to push Vladimir away with one hand, but the young Czech clung stubbornly to his side and started finger-walking his right hand down Marc's chest.
"I said, it was kind of a scary moment against the Penguins the other night. Something personal going on? Matt Cooke gets himself a suspension for trying to high-stick you, then you fought with Crosby."
Savvy laughed, his voice hollow, as Vladdie's fingers crept closer to his crotch. "I wouldn't call that much of a fight. More like a scuffle. I'm not a fighter, that's for SURE!" The final word exploded from his lips as Sobotka's hand gripped his cock. Marc reached out with his right hand and grabbed a fistful of Vladimir's hair.
"Owowowow," Vladdie whispered. Marc tightened his hold until Sobotka let go, then smacked him in the head for good measure. Vladdie rubbed his head and tried to scowl at Marc, then snorted laughter, clapping his hand over his mouth.
"What's that you said, Marc?"
"Sorry, bad connection," Savard said, glaring at Sobotka, who buried his face in the mattress, shoulders shaking. "I said I'm not much of a fighter." I'm a lover. He resisted the horrible urge to say it out loud, biting back the laughter that was bubbling in his chest. "Just trying to protect myself. That's what this game is all about, you know. Respect. Young players gotta respect their elders, even a star like Sidney."
Vladimir looked up and pouted, almost sending Marc into hysterics.
"Well, good luck to you and the Bruins, especially on your big western road trip. We'll talk to you when you get back."
"Thanks, talk to you next week."
Marc snapped the phone shut and dropped it on the floor, then turned to Vladimir. "I oughta kill you!" he shouted, even as Vladdie collapsed in uncontrollable giggles.
"No, Savvy, you got to go to practice, and see if I'm OK!" Vladimir rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, squeezing out tears as his body shook with laughter.
"Aaarrrggghhhhh...." Marc said, dropping his head back onto the pillow. "Next time I volunteer for PR duty, just stop me, OK?"
"OK," Vladimir said happily, rolling out of bed and casting about for his clothes. "Breakfast now, then practice, then... " he cocked his head, giving Marc that look that he found downright irresistable. "We come home, and you turn off that phone."