rhett/roman, PG, rhett's phone, roman's message. matty's curiosity.
title: Rhett's phone. Roman's message. Matty's curiosity.
Players: Rhett/Roman with a side of Matthew Lombardi
Rating: it's a nice little PG piece
Summary: it's all in the title baby. inspired by the motorola commercial called "striptease".
special thanx to mythicalgryphon and frala for the encouragement :)
Rhett's phone. Roman's message. Matty's curiosity.
Okay, where was it? He had checked his pockets, every one that he knew he had. Even that little micro pocket tucked inside your regular jeans pocket, you know, the one where you could only fit a dime into, but could never get out? Yeah. He had even checked that one, even though he knew his cell phone could never fit in it anyway. But he checked.
This was bad. Losing his cell was B-A-D. Bad. To make things worse, his new cell, which he received as an early Christmas present was approximately the size of a sugar packet. So anything less than strapping it to your ass with duct tape was leaving room for possible misplacement, or worse yet, loss.
And losing your cell phone on the road was the worst. You never want something as personal as your cell to end up in the hands of a crazed, obsessed puckbunny or lunatic fan. Rhett even eyed the room service girl any time she had to nudge his phone or wallet out of the way so that she could tidy. There were three things that guys got neurotically possessive of on the road: their laptops, their toothbrushes and their cell phones.
And no matter which way he put it, his cell phone was definitely missing. His hotel room's resemblance to a trailer park after a tornado was a testament to that fact.
Now Rhett was a laid back guy, it took a lot to get under his skin. But even he had to gnaw at his lower lip in worry and frustration. He tried to avoid telling himself that if he still had his old cell instead of this new condom package sized one, then he wouldn't be in this predicament. But that only made his heart rate go up.
Maybe he left it on the bus? He cringed at the thought of one of his teammates finding the damned thing. It was one of those new cell phones that let you receive video messages. Roman's idea, not his. And that injured idiot had a tendency of late to send him "interesting" video messages. Interesting video messages that Rhett had a hard time viewing in front of others. And when he meant hard, he *meant* hard.
That's why Rhett could feel his heart begin to race. Rhett didn't really have a problem with Roman sending video messages of him jacking himself off, or slathering baby oil all over his muscled Czech physique for his enjoyment. It was more the fact that anyone with even a little bit of cell phone savvy could access those slutty defenseman vids. And by his count, Rhett was the *only* one allowed to enjoy vids of said slutty defenseman.
Rhett grinned as he remembered the last message he received from Roman, who was holed up back home with his sprained knee. A short little message where Roman recorded himself spraying canned whipping cream all over his rock hard man nipples then proceeded to top off his flesh sundae by drizzling chocolate syrup all over his well toned mid-section and subsequent nether regions.
Rhett wasn't sure whether he had felt more hungry or horny after that particular viewing. What was certain was that Rhett would indeed have to personally commend Hammer on *that* special message as soon as he got back into town.
And he was back to feeling his heart palpitate. How many times had he dialed that stupid little phone? Five, six times? And he *still* didn't hear that stupid Metallica ringtone that Roman programmed onto it.
Okay. Now was the time to panic. It was nearly noon. Roman would be calling him to ask him what he was having for lunch. Rhett swallowed the ball of tension that was forming at the back of his throat. No one on the team had any qualms about answering anyone else's phone. If you were dumb enough to leave your phone lying around, you dealt with the possibility of a teammate trying to engage in phone sex with your wife, girlfriend or whatever.
And what worried Rhett the most was whether Roman would inquire about his lunch, or offer his own naked lunch.
Normally the latter would be more than enough to whet his appetite, but the knot in his stomach decided otherwise.
Before Rhett could manage to worry himself into a panic attack, there was a knock at his hotel room door. He had hung his "Do Not Disturb" marker on his door handle, so he knew it wasn't the maid.
He heavily considered not answering it until he heard the faint tinny notes of the bastardized ringtone version of "Enter Sandman" seep through the door panel.
Upon opening the door, Rhett gazed down upon a very flushed, very sweaty and extremely nervous looking Matthew Lombardi. His normally carefree visage was crumpled and etched with guilt.
Rhett attempted to look stern but thankful, but instead resisted the urge to laugh hysterically as Lombo held his missing cell phone in one hand and tried to pull the hem of his leather jacket over his very large, and painful looking erection with the other.
The veteran defenseman gave the young man a knowing smirk.
"For future reference, if you're going to answer my phone, I'm going to charge you $5.99 per minute." Lombo laughed nervously before taking off down the hall in nearly full-flight.
Rhett almost felt bad about bugging the kid, but he was too busy checking to see what Roman was going to have for lunch.
enjoy!
<3 bbunny
Players: Rhett/Roman with a side of Matthew Lombardi
Rating: it's a nice little PG piece
Summary: it's all in the title baby. inspired by the motorola commercial called "striptease".
special thanx to mythicalgryphon and frala for the encouragement :)
Rhett's phone. Roman's message. Matty's curiosity.
Okay, where was it? He had checked his pockets, every one that he knew he had. Even that little micro pocket tucked inside your regular jeans pocket, you know, the one where you could only fit a dime into, but could never get out? Yeah. He had even checked that one, even though he knew his cell phone could never fit in it anyway. But he checked.
This was bad. Losing his cell was B-A-D. Bad. To make things worse, his new cell, which he received as an early Christmas present was approximately the size of a sugar packet. So anything less than strapping it to your ass with duct tape was leaving room for possible misplacement, or worse yet, loss.
And losing your cell phone on the road was the worst. You never want something as personal as your cell to end up in the hands of a crazed, obsessed puckbunny or lunatic fan. Rhett even eyed the room service girl any time she had to nudge his phone or wallet out of the way so that she could tidy. There were three things that guys got neurotically possessive of on the road: their laptops, their toothbrushes and their cell phones.
And no matter which way he put it, his cell phone was definitely missing. His hotel room's resemblance to a trailer park after a tornado was a testament to that fact.
Now Rhett was a laid back guy, it took a lot to get under his skin. But even he had to gnaw at his lower lip in worry and frustration. He tried to avoid telling himself that if he still had his old cell instead of this new condom package sized one, then he wouldn't be in this predicament. But that only made his heart rate go up.
Maybe he left it on the bus? He cringed at the thought of one of his teammates finding the damned thing. It was one of those new cell phones that let you receive video messages. Roman's idea, not his. And that injured idiot had a tendency of late to send him "interesting" video messages. Interesting video messages that Rhett had a hard time viewing in front of others. And when he meant hard, he *meant* hard.
That's why Rhett could feel his heart begin to race. Rhett didn't really have a problem with Roman sending video messages of him jacking himself off, or slathering baby oil all over his muscled Czech physique for his enjoyment. It was more the fact that anyone with even a little bit of cell phone savvy could access those slutty defenseman vids. And by his count, Rhett was the *only* one allowed to enjoy vids of said slutty defenseman.
Rhett grinned as he remembered the last message he received from Roman, who was holed up back home with his sprained knee. A short little message where Roman recorded himself spraying canned whipping cream all over his rock hard man nipples then proceeded to top off his flesh sundae by drizzling chocolate syrup all over his well toned mid-section and subsequent nether regions.
Rhett wasn't sure whether he had felt more hungry or horny after that particular viewing. What was certain was that Rhett would indeed have to personally commend Hammer on *that* special message as soon as he got back into town.
And he was back to feeling his heart palpitate. How many times had he dialed that stupid little phone? Five, six times? And he *still* didn't hear that stupid Metallica ringtone that Roman programmed onto it.
Okay. Now was the time to panic. It was nearly noon. Roman would be calling him to ask him what he was having for lunch. Rhett swallowed the ball of tension that was forming at the back of his throat. No one on the team had any qualms about answering anyone else's phone. If you were dumb enough to leave your phone lying around, you dealt with the possibility of a teammate trying to engage in phone sex with your wife, girlfriend or whatever.
And what worried Rhett the most was whether Roman would inquire about his lunch, or offer his own naked lunch.
Normally the latter would be more than enough to whet his appetite, but the knot in his stomach decided otherwise.
Before Rhett could manage to worry himself into a panic attack, there was a knock at his hotel room door. He had hung his "Do Not Disturb" marker on his door handle, so he knew it wasn't the maid.
He heavily considered not answering it until he heard the faint tinny notes of the bastardized ringtone version of "Enter Sandman" seep through the door panel.
Upon opening the door, Rhett gazed down upon a very flushed, very sweaty and extremely nervous looking Matthew Lombardi. His normally carefree visage was crumpled and etched with guilt.
Rhett attempted to look stern but thankful, but instead resisted the urge to laugh hysterically as Lombo held his missing cell phone in one hand and tried to pull the hem of his leather jacket over his very large, and painful looking erection with the other.
The veteran defenseman gave the young man a knowing smirk.
"For future reference, if you're going to answer my phone, I'm going to charge you $5.99 per minute." Lombo laughed nervously before taking off down the hall in nearly full-flight.
Rhett almost felt bad about bugging the kid, but he was too busy checking to see what Roman was going to have for lunch.
enjoy!
<3 bbunny