The First Time; Ryane Clowe/Joe Pavelski
Title: The First Time
Author: sherlockelly
Pairing: Ryane Clowe / Joe Pavelski; appearances by Patrick Marleau
Team: San Jose Sharks
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Real people, fake story.
Summary: Ryane Clowe and Joe Pavelski had sex for the first time on the Fathers’ Trip. Which was awkward.
Word Count: 3,819
Ryane's POV:
We fucked for the first time on the Fathers’ Trip. Which was awkward.
I wanted to say that we slept together, because ‘fucked’ sounds a lot like we were just looking for a warm place to stick it in the form of someone who expects nothing from you in the way of emotional support, or even context of the said fucking and that isn’t true, but we didn’t sleep, so that sounds a bit misleading as well.
It’s also misleading to say that we didn’t sleep, because we did, but that was after the fucking. Or sleeping together. Or whatever you want to think of it as.
Anyway, my father is a snorer.
Before I keep going, I think I want to tell you that I have never before, and never hope to again, begun a story about my first sexual experience with another person, let alone a teammate, by talking about my father. But it’s actually sort of important because we don’t room together on the road otherwise.
So, my father is a snorer. Normally, if my father were flying all the way out from Newfoundland to see me, I would make the effort, but when he snores, the Earth shakes. Years of ocean-salt buildup in the lungs or something, but whatever it is, it’s god awful.
He was really great about the whole thing, and Shelley’s dad is a snorer, as well as another Newfie, so they hit it off well enough to share a room together. Then there was Murray, who’s dad isn’t a snorer and is actually an incredibly interesting guy. Murray ditched me to stay with his dad and Pavs’ roommate ditched him for the same reason, and since Pavs’ dad wasn’t coming out until the next night, and he hates sleeping alone in a room…
I kinda trailed off there, mainly because I ran out of excuses. The snoring thing is real, honest, but there really weren’t too many other reasons that lead up to Pavs and me rooming together that night on the Fathers’ Trip. Except of course for the biggest one, which was that we just wanted to.
Really, really wanted to.
I should mention that we have slept together before, in the way that actually involves closing your eyes and dreaming, and we’ve made out and exchanged hand jobs and blowjobs and just about everything you can do with someone, who is also your gender and your teammate, without the sleeping together, or, erm, fucking.
Now, Joey and I-I should also mention that I don’t call him Pavs when I think about him or refer to him outside of the locker room or without the other guys-have kinda had a thing going for a while. A good thing.
In truth, we might’ve gotten to the fucking sooner if it weren’t for the roadtrips and roommates situation screwing things up. When we’re home, which is usually when we sleep together, the dreaming sort of way, we’re on a much better schedule with our relationship. There’s no worrying about Murray interrupting anything or Patty and Jumbo hearing something they aren’t supposed to through the thin-as-hell walls.
And it’s just easier. It’s easier to relax and enjoy a blowjob when you’re in your own bed, in your own house, and there’s nothing at all to think about but how good Joey is at blowjobs.
That there is another reason that we might’ve been waiting, the blowjobs, but I could just be making excuses again. The fact of the matter is that Joey and I hadn’t ever fucked before, and for some reason, we picked the Fathers’ Trip to do it.
It started out like a night we’d spend in San Jose, for the most part. Except the thing about the hotel room was still weirding both of us out. Now instead of just having to worry about Patty and Jumbo hearing something they shouldn’t, we had to consider the fact that Patty and his brother on one side and Jumbo and his father on the other side, were all within hearing range of me really enjoying one of Joey’s blowjobs.
So, instead diving right into things, so to speak, as we would normally, Joey and I just locked the door and climbed into bed together. We picked the bed closest to Patty’s side, if you were wondering.
Joey’s a pretty tough guy, make no mistake about it, but he’s awful touchy-feely and he’s a cuddler for sure, especially when he’s trying to fall asleep. I end up spooning him more times than not, and this night wasn’t any different.
He does this thing where he kisses my hand and then tucks it up under his chin like I’m his blanket from when he was a kid. It’s adorable really because I don’t think he realizes it at all, just curls my wrist towards him and lets my fingers rest on his neck.
Now, this is where things got different from how they usually go. Usually, before we’ve gone to sleep, both of us have already gotten off in some way or another, and when I’m thinking about how warm he feels pressed against me, it’s not accompanied by an overwhelming need for him or anything.
Sometimes, if it’s been long enough between, I’ve been known to get him to go for round two or he’s been known to push my hand a little lower than his neck to satisfy that last aching need, but like I said, most of the time, we’ll just fall asleep spooning like that.
We’d gotten no relief at all that night, which is common on the road, but not so much on those rare occasions when we get to sleep together like that. So, when Joey got to settling in to go to sleep, and his ass was wiggling against me through my boxers, that thing about the warmth not setting off some overwhelming need? It didn’t really apply.
It’s not crucial to the events or anything, at least not to you, but I feel the need to mention how amazing Joey’s ass is. Hockey players in general are kinda known for this particular trait, but Joey’s is the nicest I’d have to say, and far and away the best that I’ve ever gotten to touch.
Now, apart from all of the other innumerable excuses that we’ve had and not had to wait on having sex, not being ready for it and not having talked about it aren’t on that list. Believe me, we’ve talked about it. We’ve even almost tried to do it a few times. And I don’t mean tried and failed, but tried as in we’d planned on it, but something else came up. Usually a blowjob, and once a surprise visit from an incredibly drunk Jumbo, who took it upon himself to wonder aloud, in his state of blackout intoxication, why I was in a towel claiming I was about to pop into the shower when Joey was in my apartment at two in the morning wearing just a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.
I forget what we told him, but the next day, Jumbo forgot that he’d ever even come over, so no harm no foul.
Point is, he and I have talked about it before. Mainly the weird stuff that might put a kink in anything if we had to stop and ask during. Okay, I’m beating around the bush, I know. It was awkward to say then and awkward to repeat now. Truth of the matter is I wanted to know if he would let me fuck him or if he would rather fuck me. Seemed to me like getting that question answered before we got down to business would be the best way to go about things.
Joey’s done this kinda stuff with a guy before, which he’d confessed to me roundabout the time we’d started getting a little more serious with our kissing and touching. He didn’t have a preference too much either way and was pretty eager to get to do anything of the sort with me, but to be honest, I’d have rather fucked him, having had practice with that before, the fucking that is, not the sex with a man. Sort of a dipping your foot in to test the water situation.
So we’d ended up deciding that the first time we did anything, we’d do it that way. Then, after we got the hang of things, we’d maybe switch it up a little. And bedsides, did I mention how gorgeous his ass is?
It’s nice enough that when Joey got to squirming against me as he was settling in, it took all of five seconds for me to get so hard that, if anything, we were definitely going to need to be taking care of that before the night was through.
I thought I’d maybe help him out a little bit, since it was about that time he started to grind against me with more purpose, making these quiet little grunts when he felt me pushing back.
The thing about Joey is that he is not a shy as I am, especially when it comes to things like sex, which isn’t something a lot of people know. I’m not even sure most of the team has figured that out yet. Though, we don’t always go around talking about sex contrary to popular belief it seems, especially sex with other men. And it’s not like we want people to know about this thing we’ve got going anyhow, in fact we’d rather them not. But, I’ve chalked his openness up to the practice he’s had with this, that guy or two in college. Not sure the details there as I’ve never really felt the need to ask for clarification on the matter and that was all he told me, so as for the particulars of how and when, your guess is as good as mine.
But Joey isn’t shy, and he uncurled my hand from under his chin and pushed it under the elastic of his boxers. Goddamn. Now, Joey’s the first guy that I’ve ever been with in the way that I’d be wrapping my hand around his dick, which is to say that I can’t say with any such certainty that the experience of feeling him flex in my hand is something that couldn’t be equated with anyone else. I do know though that with Joey, feeling him tighten in my hand and knowing that I’m the one he’s pushing against like the world will end if I don’t stroke him, it’s an experience that I’m not looking to have with anyone else just yet. Maybe ever.
But I’m getting a little ahead of myself with that ‘ever’ talk. I mean, at this point, Joey’s still got his boxers on. But not for much longer. When Joey is really looking to be touched, he makes some great noises. Same kinda noises that he makes on the bikes in the training room, which is why I don’t train next to him anymore. Heavy breathing and deep grunts like his whole body is burning, and when he’s making noises like that, I’ve been known to get him out of his clothes in five seconds flat.
This time was no exception.
So there we are. I’ve got one hand on him, stroking, kinda like masturbation when he’s in front of me in that spoon shape, so I’ve got a better rhythm than usual going, and Joey’s still pushing back against me, trying to get a hand around to get my boxers off.
He finally gets them around my knees before begging me to pull them off the rest of the way. What Joey wants, especially when he’s talking in that gravely voice, just under his heavy breath, Joey gets.
When we’re both fully naked, he was pushing back against me with each movement of my hand on him, like he was fucking my fist. This guy is going to be the death of me I swear it.
That extra bit of movement of his ass against my cock, I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard in all of my life, which I’m sure he must’ve realized.
Joey isn’t shy about stuff when it comes to sex, which I’ve said before but it bears repeating. Especially around about the time in the evening when, with his bare ass all but sandwiching my dick, when he was still rocking against me and I’m pretty much already gently fucking between his thighs, he casually mentioned that he’s got lube in the nightstand, something he’d thought far enough ahead about to stash within arm’s reach.
That caught me off guard. I’d always assumed our first time was going to be something familiar, him straddling me in my bedroom back in San Jose, but there was something so incredibly arousing about the forbiddenness of the hotel room. We’d never ever gotten to sleep together before a game, not even in the preseason or for home games. But goddamn.
Joey threw me this look over his shoulder. He had this gleam of mischief in his eyes, heavy-lidded from the fact I was still stroking him. ‘Fuck me,’ oh holy shit. ‘I want you to.’
My best answer is to throw my head back and groan, that loud groan that I usually make when Joey’s got his lips on me and I’m so close. He can see what his words are doing to me and he keeps going. ‘I need you to.’ I’ve got to stop moving my hips at this point or this going to be all over before I can fulfill his request.
Joey reached out and grabbed the lube out of the side table, and handed it over his shoulder to me.
I was a little nervous, which I’m not ashamed to admit. I’d never done this before and Joey had, so right there I was worried that I was going to mess something up, hurt him. I think he could tell I was getting inside my head a little bit because I was hesitating in my movements. He started talking to me in that voice he uses when I’m in my head before a game.
He told me that it would be okay, that I wouldn’t hurt him and that he’d been waiting for this moment ever since the first time he kissed me under the hot water spray in the empty showers after practice.
I swear to you that Joey can read my mind sometimes, telling me just what I need to hear to calm me down and set me up to score a goal, if you pardon my pun.
I clicked open the lube and put more than enough on both myself and him, by the sounds of his shaky chuckles when he reached back to help me spread it around.
I brushed his hand away and positioned myself right at his opening. Goddamn, Joey has the most gorgeous ass in the whole world, and this wasn’t the position I was expecting us to use the first time, but it all seemed so right, to be able to hold him like I always do when he’s in my bed and feel all those muscles in his backside against my hips.
Joey is going to be death of me, I swear. He pushed back against me just a little bit and I felt the very tip of my cock slip into him just a little bit. I can’t even tell you those noises he was making. He’s a lot quieter than I am normally but I couldn’t have said a word if I’d wanted to. Joey on the other hand, he’s not a big curser but the things coming out of his mouth did nothing but make me even harder.
Joey starting pushing back more and I moved against him, and then at last, after all the talking about it and all the wanting it, we were finally doing it.
I don’t think there’s anyway that I could tell you about what that was actually like. That moment, that probably took all of a few seconds to be over, but felt like forever, that moment when I was finally, fully inside of Joey. Like that first push of your skate on the ice on game day, but sweeter. Like catching a pass right on the tape and hearing the swish of the rubber across the crease, but stronger. Like scoring the game winning goal in overtime, but warmer. Didn’t feel like anything else.
For the first couple seconds, or minutes, or however long, I only remember having my arm around his waist, pulling him against me and wanting to have more of him. I remember that had my face buried in the crook of his back, between his shoulder blades and I remember that he smelled like skin and cotton and the generic hotel soap. And I remember his fingers pressing into the back of my thigh and him finally whispering ‘Move, Ry.’
He said it just like that, too, like a whimper. I pulled out and pushed back in, and I felt it all over again, the sweet and the strong and the warm.
Both of us were starting to sweat a little and I could smell him even stronger, the sheen from his back leaving a salty taste on my lips where they were still pressed against his spine.
Shit, just remembering it is almost as good as living it.
Anyhow, I guess I should mention I’ve always been a little bit loud when I’m… enjoying myself like that, as I said with the blowjobs and the thin hotel room walls and things. I was trying to bite my tongue but when I’m not being vocal, I can hear those whimpers that Joey makes when he’s enjoying himself all the better, and none of that really helps with the keeping quiet. Especially when he starts a slow and steady chant of my name. I’ve never loved the sound of my name more than when its coming from his mouth.
I started moving in him a little faster, thrusting in and out as quick as I could in that position. Joey’s rhythm pushing back on me was getting more frantic and I knew he needed me to touch him.
I moved my hand away from where I was gripping his hip and slipped back around to stroke his cock again. His movements got more frantic and I could feel all of his muscles rippling around me.
My brain was firing things left and right and really only about thirty percent of anything was registering. For some reason, I ended up think that shouting ‘Joey’ would have given something away.
Joey’s nails were suddenly digging into my wrist and I could feel his muscles clamping down around me before I felt him exploding on my hand. He growled his pleasure into the pillow and was wildly pushing back against me.
That was all it took for me, that extra tightness and just knowing that Joey was in the middle of his orgasm.
That’s when I did it. There we are, fucking in the middle of a hotel room, surrounded by fathers and teammates and itchy hotel sheets, I’m coming harder than I ever have in my entire life and my vocality hit me as hard as my orgasm.
I swear to you I thought I was whispering it but it came out as forcefully as if I were scolding him.
“PAVS!” I shit you not.
The vibrations from his laughter didn’t do anything but prolong my orgasm and I had to bite his shoulder to keep from shouting it again.
I came down slowly, my hand still stroking his softening cock. I pulled out of him slowly so as not to hurt him before collapsing against his sweaty back, kissing his shoulders and his spine and soothing the spot where my teeth had been.
Joey rolled over and kissed me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. The other thing about Joey is he’s a jokester. He started giving me a hard time, calling me ‘Clowie.’
So, there I am, recovering from the most powerful, most memorable sexual experience of my life and my boyfriend is laughing at me.
To be honest, the rest of the night is a little hazy. We both starting falling asleep almost right after that. Joey kissed me and he rolled back over so we were spooning again. I know he kissed my hand and he tucked it up under his chin, just like a blanket.
I know I kissed his hair and his ear and his shoulder one last time before both of us fell fast asleep.
So, there you go. That’s the long version of the story about the time I ended up shouting ‘Pavs’ in a hotel room in Chicago, but the short version of the first time he and I fucked.
I guess in summation, it was awkward, if not solely for the reason that we were surrounded by not only teammates, but their dads, but to date, it was also the best thing that’s ever happened to me, so.
Sometimes you just gotta take it all on the chin.
Patrick's POV:
Clowie and Pavs have been hooking up since a little before the start of training camp this year. Or at least that’s as long as I’ve known. They’re pretty obvious about it, but they don’t seem to think so, you know?
Jumbo mentioned it to me once, just to ask me if I’d noticed. He’d seen something first hand when he’d shown up at Clowie’s house uninvited one night at the end of the summer.
The two of them put him on the couch and he called me soon as Pavs left and Clowie went to bed. I told him not to mention it to ‘em, pretend it never happened. To his credit, he listened.
But, maybe that’s when I started suspecting, after Jumbo called. But then again, the looks they throw each other around the locker room don’t really make it any less apparent that they’ve got something good going between them.
Jumbo and I are the only two that know. But don’t tell them that, eh? They’ve had this system worked out for a while, keeping it all under wraps, you know? They’ve got some way to communicate on the ice and in front of the guys, I’m sure. Maybe Morse code blinks, knowing Clowie. S’always good to see your boys happy, you know?
Didn’t think Clowie called him Pavs, though. I figured they’d have some cutesy nicknames worked out for one another. That was a little strange.
That and having to explain the noises to my brother when he finally asked about ‘em.
Author: sherlockelly
Pairing: Ryane Clowe / Joe Pavelski; appearances by Patrick Marleau
Team: San Jose Sharks
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Real people, fake story.
Summary: Ryane Clowe and Joe Pavelski had sex for the first time on the Fathers’ Trip. Which was awkward.
Word Count: 3,819
Ryane's POV:
We fucked for the first time on the Fathers’ Trip. Which was awkward.
I wanted to say that we slept together, because ‘fucked’ sounds a lot like we were just looking for a warm place to stick it in the form of someone who expects nothing from you in the way of emotional support, or even context of the said fucking and that isn’t true, but we didn’t sleep, so that sounds a bit misleading as well.
It’s also misleading to say that we didn’t sleep, because we did, but that was after the fucking. Or sleeping together. Or whatever you want to think of it as.
Anyway, my father is a snorer.
Before I keep going, I think I want to tell you that I have never before, and never hope to again, begun a story about my first sexual experience with another person, let alone a teammate, by talking about my father. But it’s actually sort of important because we don’t room together on the road otherwise.
So, my father is a snorer. Normally, if my father were flying all the way out from Newfoundland to see me, I would make the effort, but when he snores, the Earth shakes. Years of ocean-salt buildup in the lungs or something, but whatever it is, it’s god awful.
He was really great about the whole thing, and Shelley’s dad is a snorer, as well as another Newfie, so they hit it off well enough to share a room together. Then there was Murray, who’s dad isn’t a snorer and is actually an incredibly interesting guy. Murray ditched me to stay with his dad and Pavs’ roommate ditched him for the same reason, and since Pavs’ dad wasn’t coming out until the next night, and he hates sleeping alone in a room…
I kinda trailed off there, mainly because I ran out of excuses. The snoring thing is real, honest, but there really weren’t too many other reasons that lead up to Pavs and me rooming together that night on the Fathers’ Trip. Except of course for the biggest one, which was that we just wanted to.
Really, really wanted to.
I should mention that we have slept together before, in the way that actually involves closing your eyes and dreaming, and we’ve made out and exchanged hand jobs and blowjobs and just about everything you can do with someone, who is also your gender and your teammate, without the sleeping together, or, erm, fucking.
Now, Joey and I-I should also mention that I don’t call him Pavs when I think about him or refer to him outside of the locker room or without the other guys-have kinda had a thing going for a while. A good thing.
In truth, we might’ve gotten to the fucking sooner if it weren’t for the roadtrips and roommates situation screwing things up. When we’re home, which is usually when we sleep together, the dreaming sort of way, we’re on a much better schedule with our relationship. There’s no worrying about Murray interrupting anything or Patty and Jumbo hearing something they aren’t supposed to through the thin-as-hell walls.
And it’s just easier. It’s easier to relax and enjoy a blowjob when you’re in your own bed, in your own house, and there’s nothing at all to think about but how good Joey is at blowjobs.
That there is another reason that we might’ve been waiting, the blowjobs, but I could just be making excuses again. The fact of the matter is that Joey and I hadn’t ever fucked before, and for some reason, we picked the Fathers’ Trip to do it.
It started out like a night we’d spend in San Jose, for the most part. Except the thing about the hotel room was still weirding both of us out. Now instead of just having to worry about Patty and Jumbo hearing something they shouldn’t, we had to consider the fact that Patty and his brother on one side and Jumbo and his father on the other side, were all within hearing range of me really enjoying one of Joey’s blowjobs.
So, instead diving right into things, so to speak, as we would normally, Joey and I just locked the door and climbed into bed together. We picked the bed closest to Patty’s side, if you were wondering.
Joey’s a pretty tough guy, make no mistake about it, but he’s awful touchy-feely and he’s a cuddler for sure, especially when he’s trying to fall asleep. I end up spooning him more times than not, and this night wasn’t any different.
He does this thing where he kisses my hand and then tucks it up under his chin like I’m his blanket from when he was a kid. It’s adorable really because I don’t think he realizes it at all, just curls my wrist towards him and lets my fingers rest on his neck.
Now, this is where things got different from how they usually go. Usually, before we’ve gone to sleep, both of us have already gotten off in some way or another, and when I’m thinking about how warm he feels pressed against me, it’s not accompanied by an overwhelming need for him or anything.
Sometimes, if it’s been long enough between, I’ve been known to get him to go for round two or he’s been known to push my hand a little lower than his neck to satisfy that last aching need, but like I said, most of the time, we’ll just fall asleep spooning like that.
We’d gotten no relief at all that night, which is common on the road, but not so much on those rare occasions when we get to sleep together like that. So, when Joey got to settling in to go to sleep, and his ass was wiggling against me through my boxers, that thing about the warmth not setting off some overwhelming need? It didn’t really apply.
It’s not crucial to the events or anything, at least not to you, but I feel the need to mention how amazing Joey’s ass is. Hockey players in general are kinda known for this particular trait, but Joey’s is the nicest I’d have to say, and far and away the best that I’ve ever gotten to touch.
Now, apart from all of the other innumerable excuses that we’ve had and not had to wait on having sex, not being ready for it and not having talked about it aren’t on that list. Believe me, we’ve talked about it. We’ve even almost tried to do it a few times. And I don’t mean tried and failed, but tried as in we’d planned on it, but something else came up. Usually a blowjob, and once a surprise visit from an incredibly drunk Jumbo, who took it upon himself to wonder aloud, in his state of blackout intoxication, why I was in a towel claiming I was about to pop into the shower when Joey was in my apartment at two in the morning wearing just a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.
I forget what we told him, but the next day, Jumbo forgot that he’d ever even come over, so no harm no foul.
Point is, he and I have talked about it before. Mainly the weird stuff that might put a kink in anything if we had to stop and ask during. Okay, I’m beating around the bush, I know. It was awkward to say then and awkward to repeat now. Truth of the matter is I wanted to know if he would let me fuck him or if he would rather fuck me. Seemed to me like getting that question answered before we got down to business would be the best way to go about things.
Joey’s done this kinda stuff with a guy before, which he’d confessed to me roundabout the time we’d started getting a little more serious with our kissing and touching. He didn’t have a preference too much either way and was pretty eager to get to do anything of the sort with me, but to be honest, I’d have rather fucked him, having had practice with that before, the fucking that is, not the sex with a man. Sort of a dipping your foot in to test the water situation.
So we’d ended up deciding that the first time we did anything, we’d do it that way. Then, after we got the hang of things, we’d maybe switch it up a little. And bedsides, did I mention how gorgeous his ass is?
It’s nice enough that when Joey got to squirming against me as he was settling in, it took all of five seconds for me to get so hard that, if anything, we were definitely going to need to be taking care of that before the night was through.
I thought I’d maybe help him out a little bit, since it was about that time he started to grind against me with more purpose, making these quiet little grunts when he felt me pushing back.
The thing about Joey is that he is not a shy as I am, especially when it comes to things like sex, which isn’t something a lot of people know. I’m not even sure most of the team has figured that out yet. Though, we don’t always go around talking about sex contrary to popular belief it seems, especially sex with other men. And it’s not like we want people to know about this thing we’ve got going anyhow, in fact we’d rather them not. But, I’ve chalked his openness up to the practice he’s had with this, that guy or two in college. Not sure the details there as I’ve never really felt the need to ask for clarification on the matter and that was all he told me, so as for the particulars of how and when, your guess is as good as mine.
But Joey isn’t shy, and he uncurled my hand from under his chin and pushed it under the elastic of his boxers. Goddamn. Now, Joey’s the first guy that I’ve ever been with in the way that I’d be wrapping my hand around his dick, which is to say that I can’t say with any such certainty that the experience of feeling him flex in my hand is something that couldn’t be equated with anyone else. I do know though that with Joey, feeling him tighten in my hand and knowing that I’m the one he’s pushing against like the world will end if I don’t stroke him, it’s an experience that I’m not looking to have with anyone else just yet. Maybe ever.
But I’m getting a little ahead of myself with that ‘ever’ talk. I mean, at this point, Joey’s still got his boxers on. But not for much longer. When Joey is really looking to be touched, he makes some great noises. Same kinda noises that he makes on the bikes in the training room, which is why I don’t train next to him anymore. Heavy breathing and deep grunts like his whole body is burning, and when he’s making noises like that, I’ve been known to get him out of his clothes in five seconds flat.
This time was no exception.
So there we are. I’ve got one hand on him, stroking, kinda like masturbation when he’s in front of me in that spoon shape, so I’ve got a better rhythm than usual going, and Joey’s still pushing back against me, trying to get a hand around to get my boxers off.
He finally gets them around my knees before begging me to pull them off the rest of the way. What Joey wants, especially when he’s talking in that gravely voice, just under his heavy breath, Joey gets.
When we’re both fully naked, he was pushing back against me with each movement of my hand on him, like he was fucking my fist. This guy is going to be the death of me I swear it.
That extra bit of movement of his ass against my cock, I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard in all of my life, which I’m sure he must’ve realized.
Joey isn’t shy about stuff when it comes to sex, which I’ve said before but it bears repeating. Especially around about the time in the evening when, with his bare ass all but sandwiching my dick, when he was still rocking against me and I’m pretty much already gently fucking between his thighs, he casually mentioned that he’s got lube in the nightstand, something he’d thought far enough ahead about to stash within arm’s reach.
That caught me off guard. I’d always assumed our first time was going to be something familiar, him straddling me in my bedroom back in San Jose, but there was something so incredibly arousing about the forbiddenness of the hotel room. We’d never ever gotten to sleep together before a game, not even in the preseason or for home games. But goddamn.
Joey threw me this look over his shoulder. He had this gleam of mischief in his eyes, heavy-lidded from the fact I was still stroking him. ‘Fuck me,’ oh holy shit. ‘I want you to.’
My best answer is to throw my head back and groan, that loud groan that I usually make when Joey’s got his lips on me and I’m so close. He can see what his words are doing to me and he keeps going. ‘I need you to.’ I’ve got to stop moving my hips at this point or this going to be all over before I can fulfill his request.
Joey reached out and grabbed the lube out of the side table, and handed it over his shoulder to me.
I was a little nervous, which I’m not ashamed to admit. I’d never done this before and Joey had, so right there I was worried that I was going to mess something up, hurt him. I think he could tell I was getting inside my head a little bit because I was hesitating in my movements. He started talking to me in that voice he uses when I’m in my head before a game.
He told me that it would be okay, that I wouldn’t hurt him and that he’d been waiting for this moment ever since the first time he kissed me under the hot water spray in the empty showers after practice.
I swear to you that Joey can read my mind sometimes, telling me just what I need to hear to calm me down and set me up to score a goal, if you pardon my pun.
I clicked open the lube and put more than enough on both myself and him, by the sounds of his shaky chuckles when he reached back to help me spread it around.
I brushed his hand away and positioned myself right at his opening. Goddamn, Joey has the most gorgeous ass in the whole world, and this wasn’t the position I was expecting us to use the first time, but it all seemed so right, to be able to hold him like I always do when he’s in my bed and feel all those muscles in his backside against my hips.
Joey is going to be death of me, I swear. He pushed back against me just a little bit and I felt the very tip of my cock slip into him just a little bit. I can’t even tell you those noises he was making. He’s a lot quieter than I am normally but I couldn’t have said a word if I’d wanted to. Joey on the other hand, he’s not a big curser but the things coming out of his mouth did nothing but make me even harder.
Joey starting pushing back more and I moved against him, and then at last, after all the talking about it and all the wanting it, we were finally doing it.
I don’t think there’s anyway that I could tell you about what that was actually like. That moment, that probably took all of a few seconds to be over, but felt like forever, that moment when I was finally, fully inside of Joey. Like that first push of your skate on the ice on game day, but sweeter. Like catching a pass right on the tape and hearing the swish of the rubber across the crease, but stronger. Like scoring the game winning goal in overtime, but warmer. Didn’t feel like anything else.
For the first couple seconds, or minutes, or however long, I only remember having my arm around his waist, pulling him against me and wanting to have more of him. I remember that had my face buried in the crook of his back, between his shoulder blades and I remember that he smelled like skin and cotton and the generic hotel soap. And I remember his fingers pressing into the back of my thigh and him finally whispering ‘Move, Ry.’
He said it just like that, too, like a whimper. I pulled out and pushed back in, and I felt it all over again, the sweet and the strong and the warm.
Both of us were starting to sweat a little and I could smell him even stronger, the sheen from his back leaving a salty taste on my lips where they were still pressed against his spine.
Shit, just remembering it is almost as good as living it.
Anyhow, I guess I should mention I’ve always been a little bit loud when I’m… enjoying myself like that, as I said with the blowjobs and the thin hotel room walls and things. I was trying to bite my tongue but when I’m not being vocal, I can hear those whimpers that Joey makes when he’s enjoying himself all the better, and none of that really helps with the keeping quiet. Especially when he starts a slow and steady chant of my name. I’ve never loved the sound of my name more than when its coming from his mouth.
I started moving in him a little faster, thrusting in and out as quick as I could in that position. Joey’s rhythm pushing back on me was getting more frantic and I knew he needed me to touch him.
I moved my hand away from where I was gripping his hip and slipped back around to stroke his cock again. His movements got more frantic and I could feel all of his muscles rippling around me.
My brain was firing things left and right and really only about thirty percent of anything was registering. For some reason, I ended up think that shouting ‘Joey’ would have given something away.
Joey’s nails were suddenly digging into my wrist and I could feel his muscles clamping down around me before I felt him exploding on my hand. He growled his pleasure into the pillow and was wildly pushing back against me.
That was all it took for me, that extra tightness and just knowing that Joey was in the middle of his orgasm.
That’s when I did it. There we are, fucking in the middle of a hotel room, surrounded by fathers and teammates and itchy hotel sheets, I’m coming harder than I ever have in my entire life and my vocality hit me as hard as my orgasm.
I swear to you I thought I was whispering it but it came out as forcefully as if I were scolding him.
“PAVS!” I shit you not.
The vibrations from his laughter didn’t do anything but prolong my orgasm and I had to bite his shoulder to keep from shouting it again.
I came down slowly, my hand still stroking his softening cock. I pulled out of him slowly so as not to hurt him before collapsing against his sweaty back, kissing his shoulders and his spine and soothing the spot where my teeth had been.
Joey rolled over and kissed me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. The other thing about Joey is he’s a jokester. He started giving me a hard time, calling me ‘Clowie.’
So, there I am, recovering from the most powerful, most memorable sexual experience of my life and my boyfriend is laughing at me.
To be honest, the rest of the night is a little hazy. We both starting falling asleep almost right after that. Joey kissed me and he rolled back over so we were spooning again. I know he kissed my hand and he tucked it up under his chin, just like a blanket.
I know I kissed his hair and his ear and his shoulder one last time before both of us fell fast asleep.
So, there you go. That’s the long version of the story about the time I ended up shouting ‘Pavs’ in a hotel room in Chicago, but the short version of the first time he and I fucked.
I guess in summation, it was awkward, if not solely for the reason that we were surrounded by not only teammates, but their dads, but to date, it was also the best thing that’s ever happened to me, so.
Sometimes you just gotta take it all on the chin.
Patrick's POV:
Clowie and Pavs have been hooking up since a little before the start of training camp this year. Or at least that’s as long as I’ve known. They’re pretty obvious about it, but they don’t seem to think so, you know?
Jumbo mentioned it to me once, just to ask me if I’d noticed. He’d seen something first hand when he’d shown up at Clowie’s house uninvited one night at the end of the summer.
The two of them put him on the couch and he called me soon as Pavs left and Clowie went to bed. I told him not to mention it to ‘em, pretend it never happened. To his credit, he listened.
But, maybe that’s when I started suspecting, after Jumbo called. But then again, the looks they throw each other around the locker room don’t really make it any less apparent that they’ve got something good going between them.
Jumbo and I are the only two that know. But don’t tell them that, eh? They’ve had this system worked out for a while, keeping it all under wraps, you know? They’ve got some way to communicate on the ice and in front of the guys, I’m sure. Maybe Morse code blinks, knowing Clowie. S’always good to see your boys happy, you know?
Didn’t think Clowie called him Pavs, though. I figured they’d have some cutesy nicknames worked out for one another. That was a little strange.
That and having to explain the noises to my brother when he finally asked about ‘em.