A little R&R (2/2)
Title: A little R&R (Part 2 of 2)
Characters/pairing: David Krejci/Blake Wheeler
Rating: NC-17
Time: 2009 All-Star break
Summary: The Bruins send Krejci and Wheeler to the Bahamas for the All-Star break
Author's note: See Part 1. Totally, absolutely, positively AU
Disclaimer: A fictional story, written only for entertainment purposes.
Sunlight was streaming in the windows when David awoke -- he'd forgotten to close the curtains. Thankfully his exhausted body hadn't seemed to mind; the bedside clock registered 10:30 a.m. He stretched luxuriously, reveling in the thought of not having to get up for practice, then climbed out of bed and cautiously opened the door, wondering if Wheeler was still asleep, in the middle of love-making, or not even there.
He found the big rookie seated at a table in the living room, staring out the window at the water and shoveling down what looked like a plate of...
"What is that, Wheels?" Krejci asked.
"Eggs, plantain, salami and cheese," Wheeler said cheerfully. "Want some?"
David shuddered. "No thanks." He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down, yawning. "So what happened last night?"
Blake shrugged. "Just some dancing. Lotsa chicks. I left kinda early though." He grinned. "I really want to hit that water."
"Me too." Krejci looked out the window, then looked over the room service cart, lifting various covers until he found what appeared to be some unadulterated scrambled eggs. "Any toast?"
"Here," Blake said, shoving another covered dish at him. "I ordered plenty for both of us."
David loaded his plate, suddenly ravenous, while Blake got up and headed for his room. "You got the sunscreen?" he called out.
"I thought you brought it," David replied, slapping strawberry jam on his toast.
"Fuck," Wheeler swore. "I'll go buy some. Be right back." He slipped on a pair of flip-flops and left the room, returning a few minutes later with two huge bottles.
"Think you got enough?" Krejci asked, eyebrows raised.
"You ever try to put hockey equipment on over a sunburn?" Wheeler asked. "I have. It's no joke, Krech. And this is the Carribbean. You'll need a ton of this stuff."
David nodded and retreated to his room to don his bathing suit, then presented his back to his teammate. "You do my back, I'll do yours."
Wheeler nodded and slathered a generous amount of sunscreen on Krejci's back, then busied himself rubbing it in. "Even with a shirt on, you've got to wear this stuff," he said. "This sun burns bad, you have to be careful...."
Wheeler's voice faded as all of Krejci's nerve endings suddenly focused on his back, on Blake's large, warm hands rubbing his muscles. David bit his lip, glad Blake couldn't see that his damn cock was leaping to life like a wild animal. Stop it! Stop! He's your teammate, an overgrown boy, has no clue about you, it's going to stay that way, dammit!
"Turn around," Krejci ordered, fighting to keep his voice even, and Blake obeyed, presenting his own large, muscular back. That was almost worse, and David had to fight to keep his traitorious hands from rubbing and probing as much as he desperately wanted to. Finished, he smacked Blake on the rump and dropped the sunscreen on the table. "You finish up and go on outside. I'll be right there." He turned and raced for the bathroom, hoping like hell Wheeler hadn't spotted his bulging bathing suit.
Slamming the door, David yanked down his suit and pulled out his throbbing cock. Closing his eyes, picturing Blake's back and ass, he wrapped his hand around his shaft and pulled hard. Thirty seconds later, he was stuffing his other hand in his mouth to stifle his cries as he came, hard. Jesus. I'm never going to make it through this weekend. Goddam, hope Blake finds himself some easy chick and makes himself scarce for the next few days or I'm going to be in big fucking trouble.
He cleaned himself and the bathroom up and went back out into the living area to find Blake outside, diligently rubbing his arms with sunscreen. Grabbing his Red Sox cap and sunglasses, David joined him and started spreading sunscreen on his own legs.
They spent the rest of the day swimming, wandering along the sand and retreating up to the shade to relax in their hammocks, Krejci diligently working away at "Searching for Bobby Orr."
"Good book?" Wheeler asked at one point, lazily swaying in his hammock.
"Yeah," Krejci said. "What's 'stucco'?"
"It's like plaster," Wheeler replied. "Why?"
"Orr signed with the Bruins because the scout that signed him promised his parents they'd pay to 'stucco' their house."
Wheeler laughed. "Man, times have changed."
Thank God, Krejci thought. Or I sure as hell wouldn't be here.
Blake got up to wander some more and David got up to follow; they walked along the shore, Wheeler shamelessly firting with every attractive female in sight, from awe-struck 16-year-olds to ravenous-looking 40-something cougars. Krejci contented himself with wandering in and out of the water, marveling at its warmth; he'd never experienced warm seawater in his life. He felt the stresses of the hockey season washing away with every venture into the ocean, and watched Blake make a fool of himself with a benign smile.
They decided to eat at the resort's decidedly casual outdoor restaurant as the sun dipped below the horizon, and indulged themselves in more rum concoctions as the moon rose over the water. They broke the unofficial team rule and talked about the playoffs (Blake slipping in an obligatory Jim Mora "playoffs?!" imitation), their hopes and dreams. Wheeler seemed just about to enter into the realm of his fantasies when Krejci decided it was time to halt the conversation and stood up abruptly.
"I'm gonna take a walk. Can you sign for dinner, Blake?" Wheeler, looking surprised, nodded, and watched as Krejci walked off toward the water.
Hopes, dreams... fantasies. Fuck. He'd never be able to share his fantasies with Wheels. Not with any of his teammates. But that was OK. Hopes and dreams were more than enough. He looked up at the moon and he trailed his feet through the water, unaware that Wheeler was watching him.
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Blake was in the shower when David returned. Covered with sand and sunscreen, he sat down at the table to read and wait for the shower before attempting to change.
"Hey, there you are!" Blake stepped out into the common room, a towel around his waist, rubbing at his blond, spiky hair. "Shower's all yours, Krech."
"Thanks." He examined his skin critically as he scrubbed, gratified to see that the sunscreen had worked and there were no painful red patches. Climbing out, he checked his face in the mirror to find the same result.
Relieved, David wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, only to find the living room light out and the area bathed in moonlight. He blinked. "Wheels?" he inquired, feeling his way across the room as his eyes adjusted to the light, reaching for the lamp on the table.
"Krejci." He froze. That wasn't Blake Wheeler's friendly, cheerful voice. It was the voice of a stranger -- low, growling, almost snarling. Adrenaline flowed into his spine, rooting him to the spot.
"Don't move, Krejci." Who was that? Finally daring to turn his head, David looked over his shoulder. Wheeler was standing in the door of his bedroom, his massive frame bathed in moonlight, his cock standing out stiff and straight. Krejci felt his mouth fall open, but he didn't have time for any other reaction, as Wheeler crossed the room in an instant and snaked an arm around his middle, pulling him off his feet with a hard yank.
David yelped as his back slammed against Blake's chest, and a low chuckle reverberated against his skin. He was too shocked to struggle, or to respond, and Wheeler dragged him quickly across the room and into his bedroom, turned and threw him onto the bed as easily as if he were a toy.
What the hell is happening? Krejci looked up as Wheeler loomed over the bed, his face terrifyingly blank in the moonlight. At that moment, David wouldn't have been surprised to see Blake's eyes turn yellow and fangs sprout over his lips. Cat People, he thought crazily, remembering an old horror movie. The moon or the ocean or something he ate has turned him into some kind of monster. Or I'm dreaming. I MUST be dreaming. This isn't my goofy, cheerful, innocent Midwestern linemate. Not this... Jesus God... help me...
Krejci turned to crawl off the bed, but Wheeler's hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. He pulled, hard, yanking David back across the bed, turning him over on his back in the process. "I said, 'don't move,'" he growled, his voice feral, and Krejci obeyed, his chest heaving, heart hammering.
Wheeler bent over, seized Krejci's wrists, slammed them up over his head, and leaned forward, "Do you have any fucking idea how CRAZY you make me?" he snarled into David's face. "Do you?"
Mutely, Krejci shook his head. Wheeler let go of his wrists and gripped his shoulders. "THIS fucking crazy!" he shouted, even though they were nose to nose, and he dipped his head and kissed his linemate hard, nearly choking him with his fervor.
David gingerly slipped his arms around Blake's shoulders, fighting to hold his own, feeling his own cock springing to life. He felt Blake bite at his lips and shove his hips downward, and he shoved back and did some biting of his own, still wondering if Wheeler was going to rip his throat out.
Instead, Blake lifted his head, blinked and grinned. David almost shuddered with relief as the feral look left his eyes, then yelped once more as Blake reached down and grabbed his cock.
"I'm not wrong," Wheeler purred in his ear. "You want me too. Don't you." It wasn't a question, but a statement. In response, Krejci pressed his hips upward and took Wheeler's collarbone between his teeth. He heard the chuckle again, Blake's ordinary goofball chuckle, and he dropped his head back, glaring at his teammate.
"You scared the shit out of me!" he snarled.
Blake looked abashed, then dipped his head to David's throat, interspersing kisses with words. "I'm... sorry... Krech... couldn't... help... it..."
"Oh, God," David whispered, closing his eyes at the feel of Blake's lips on his throat. He snaked his fingers into his linemate's hair, then reached up with his legs, wrapping them around Blake's hips. "Want you, Wheels... want you so fucking bad..."
Their hips moved together, cocks rubbing, as they kissed, hard, seemingly intent on devouring each other, on making up for months of lost time. They bit at each other, sucking nipples, hipbones, the insides of each other's thighs, They moved together on the bed, one on top, then the other, their bodies contrasting, lithe and large, light hair and dark.
And then Wheeler was between his legs, probing his ass, and Krejci was opening his legs wide, begging his linemate, yes, do it, now, fuck me hard, and Wheels was obliging, shoving his sheathed and lubed cock into Krejci's tight opening, and David was whimpering with the pain of it, it had been so long, too long, and then the pain eased and the pleasure flooded through his body, all his nerve endings trembling. And Blake reached down and grabbed David's cock, and the pleasure overflowed, and his legs trembled and he fought to breathe and his cock jerked and semen flowed over Blake's hand, and Blake lifted his hand and licked it even as his hips pumped harder and harder, and he stiffened and gasped as orgasm slammed over him.
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Sunlight once again awoke Krejci as the murmur of the waves caressed his ears. He cracked his eyes open to see Wheeler stretched out beside him, a bemused smile on his lips as he slept. So it wasn't a dream. Good.
"Wheels," he said, his voice hoarse. He tried to clear his throat. "Wheels!"
Blake opened his eyes. "Hey," he said. Reaching out with one hand, he traced the line of David's jaw. "You OK?"
"Sore," Krejci said, raising himself to his hands and knees and stretching his back. "But that's OK," he said to Wheeler's shamefaced look. "We got two more days to... recover."
"That's what we're here for, right?" Blake asked, drawing his teammate into his arms. "Two more days of... a little R and R."