Flyers Fic, "Rewards" Richie and Powe
TITLE: "Rewards" Richie and Powe
BY: exigencyexit
FANDOM: NHL
TEAM(S): Philadelphia Flyers
PAIRING(S): Mike Richards/Andrew Alberts, Darroll Powe/Scottie Upshall (There was a crazy attempt on my part to try to write a story without Scottie. Ha! Yeah, okay. I didn't know who to have reward Powe, and I didn't want to pair Claude with him, and since Scottie is the team's whore, well, you get the picture.)
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: 100% fake, except for the fact that Richie and Powe did score goals Thursday Feb 12, 2009
WARNINGS: Narrative language, smut!
SUMMARY: Two more rewards.
CREDIT: To the boys, who score the goals and make life FUCKING CRAZY.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Omfg what a game. Sigh. Can't win 'em all...at least not the Flyers :( Anyway. Traditionally,tinydancermags would be writing the next rewards, but since I'm forcing encouraging her to finish her Christmas fic, I will temporarily be writing all the rewards. ENJOY! *Not edited.
The media went straight to him as soon as they were allowed in the locker room. He spoke to them, told them what they wanted to hear, head kept low so his eyes could be hidden enough, so no once could pick up that underneath it all Richie was really upset. Sure, a goal during your comeback game after missing three straight was something, but the captain didn't think it was all that great when your team just lost. Of course, Richie was never the one to express an emotion much when people were looking.
Richie could feel a pair of eyes on him. No, not the eyes of the scumbag interviewers who insisted on pushing the issue of his health and the future of his team. It was a pair of eyes that belonged to a teammate, maybe Jeff, maybe Joff, or even maybe Simon, but it felt like they were burning a hole in his back. All Richie wanted to do was get the fucking interview over so he could punch whoever was staring at him.
"How much do you think the team suffered without your leadership on the ice in the past three games?"
Richie hated questions like those. "I think the team performed well to some degree. There are other players who possess leadership skills, and the best thing we can do right now it to prepare for upcomin games and ensure our spot in the playoffs."
They thanked Richie for his time and he was no longer a slave to their attention. Instead, he was able to turn around and finally look - no one, the captain saw no one and he frowned. Stupid nerves, and Richie headed over to grab his stuff from where is sat.
"Richie?"
The captain looked up and saw Andrew Alberts standing there, dressed, a black tie hung loosely around his neck. There was this way he was looking at Richie; thoughtful, interested, worried. Andy held a glint in his eyes that suddenly started to tear into Richie, and the captain then realized that he wasn't crazy and he was being watched and it was Andy who did it.
They didn't talk much since Jeff's reward happened. Occassional comments in practice, a couple suggestions during the game, but nothing so intense that Richie was sure Andy would give him his reward. Because that what was happening, right?
"Hey, what's up?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place for some drinks, eat some food. Maybe we can talk a little."
Richie adjusted the hat on his head, allowing his eyes to become more visible. "What's there to talk about?"
"Um, I don't know. Stuff?" Andy was always cool, calm, and collective. Always. The defenseman never presented an ounce of any other emotion, unless it was on the ice and he was ready to get in someone's face to defend a teammate. But when Richie cocked his head to the side, and widened his eyes just a little bit with interest, he could see that maybe Andy seemed nervous.
"I don't think so, Albie. I'm not really up for hanging out and talking right now." Richie gave him a pat on the shoulder, slung his duffle bag onto one of his own, and pushed pass the taller man. "See ya."
There wasn't much of a feeling of regret. Hell, Richie didn't think there was anything to regret. It was a bad game; he didn't deserve a reward. He didn't even want a reward. Richie wasn't in the mood, and he was sure his cock would agree.
Or so he thought.
The night time air was cool and Richie pulled his jacket tighter around his body. Most cars were gone from the players' parking lot, as a good amount of Flyers were already on their way home. Richie took note of the car next to his - it was Jeff's - as he pressed the button to unlock his own. The trunk was opened, duffle bag put away, and once shut again he saw that he wasn't alone.
"You look like you could really use some company tonight."
Richie sighed, "Really, Albie, I'm fine."
Leaning against the driver's door, Andy presented a challenge to the captain. "You sure? You really don't look it."
"Albie..."
"Come on, Mike. Come back to my place and we can chill. You really look like you need to relax."
"You're not gonna take no for an answer, are ya?"
A smile appeared on Andy's face, knowing Richie was about to give in. "Nope." He took a couple steps towards his captain and placed an arm around his shoulders. "Follow me in your car."
Richie watched Andy walk to his car. He could easily not follow him. He could easily go home, get in bed, and sleep tonight's misery away. Simple as that. So why was he driving north instead of south and following Andy's car down a barely lit street?
They pulled into a driveway and parked their cars. Richie turned his off but left the keys in the ignition. He had no problem with Andy. In fact, Richie was pretty sure he really like the defenseman. But that mood Richie was in was still lingering around and it made him want to leave. The mood made the captain feel upset, and sick, and almost be put in a vulnerable state where no one would leave him the fuck alone.
A car door was shut, catching Richie's attention, and he looked up to see Andy grabbing his stuff from the back of his SVU. After pulling the keys out, Richie allowed himself to get out of his own car. Maybe he didn't want to be left alone after all.
Andy was the first to walk into the house, turning on a couple lights before disappearing into the kitchen. He appeared again a moment later with two beers in his hands. "Here." He handed one to Richie, who took it, and headed into the living room.
There was an awkward but yet somewhat comfortable silence that sat between two hockey players on the couch. A couple inches were separating them, arms occasionally grazing the other when one took a sip of beer. They didn't speak, as the movie played and kept their attention. And soon, when the beer was halfway gone and Andy had started laughing at the funny scenes in the movie, did Richie start to finally relax.
"You gotta admit, that chick is fuckin' hot."
It was normal guy stuff. Drinking beer, watching hot women on TV, enjoying each others company with a comment about the game here and there. Richie wasn't nervous. When was he nervous to begin with? Andy was the one who seemed nervous back in locker room. The captain sneaked a small glance over at his teammate - calm, cool and collective. There was definitely nothing going on here.
It was after when a third beer had been handed to Richie did he feel a pair of hands on his shoulders. "You look so tense, Mike. When was the last time a trainer rubbed you down?" Richie had a puzzled look on his face as he actually considered the question. He wasn't sure when a trainer touched him, but just the night before Jeff was giving his dick a pretty good rubbing.
"I don't know, but mmm, that's feels good..." Richie closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. He let out a deep sigh as he felt Andy work his fingers into his shoulder, moved one hand to kneed his neck. His hands were warm, and one started to rub his back, the other that was on his neck starting to rub behind his ears. Richie's beer was starting to slip from his hand, the movie clearly forgotten about now. He grasped on tighter to keep it from falling - "Oh fuck, Albie!" A pair of lips were on his neck and the beer landed on the floor anyway.
"Fuck it. I'll clean it up later." It was one of the moves you see in a movie. In one quick, swift move, Andy was over the couch and straddling Richie's waist, lips crashing together into a passionate kiss. They could taste beer on each others tongue and it just drove them to pull each other closer. Richie's hands were grabbing at Andy's shirt. Andy's hands were fumbling with the belt on Richie's pants.
"Off."
The buttons were popped and Andy's shirt was off his shoulders and thrown onto the floor. He could fell a tongue lick at a rock hard nipple, teeth clamping down softly on the nub and then a kiss to soothe the pain. Andy moaned, dipping his head down to place kisses along the captain's neck.
"Oh, Richie..." Andy pulled Richie's shirt over his head and that joined Andy's, somewhere tossed over the couch. The captain pulled Andy's head down and their lips met again, tongues battling for dominance. They were both so turned on, but Andy knew it was Richie who got rewarded.
Yeah, Richie, that's definitely what was going on.
Andy slipped off of Richie's lap and onto his knees on the floor before him. He pulled the zipper down on Richie's pants and tugged on them to take them off. Richie lifted his ass and the defenseman slid them off, now lying around his ankles as freedom was giving to his hard cock.
"You're so fuckin' hard for me, Richie."
Richie started thrusting into Andy's hand, their lips meeting one more time before Andy ducked his head down to take the captain fully in his mouth.
"Oh, FUCK!" Andy's mouth was warm. It was wet, and he sucked on him hard, a tongue swirling around his shaft. Jeff was right: Andy did suck cock really good. Better than Scottie? Richie wasn't sure. There were many different options to weigh and - Fuck! Why was Richie even thinking about that? He looked down at Andy and their eyes met. The captain bucked his hips, moaning out the pretty boy's name, and pushed gentle on Andy's head to urge him to take his cock deeper.
"Ah, Andy, you feel so good....Mm yeah, suck it. Fuck, suck it harder..."
Richie could feel his orgasm building up. He was never the one to take long, or have difficultly coming, and how could he? With the way Andy was working his cock, the way one hand was roaming up his chest to pinch his nipples and the other hand was gently tugging at his balls, how could Richie not be close to going over the edge?
All it took was a moan surrounding his cock, the feeling of the back of Andy's throat, and Richie was coming. Richie was coming hard, and fast, and Andy was swallowing every last drop of it all.
"Fuck, Andy..." Richie closed his eyes and threw his head back, panting, hands resting on either side of himself on the couch. Andy wiped his mouth and pulled the captain's pants back up, waiting for Richie to lift his hips. He did, and Andy snapped the button, pulled the zipper up, and sliding onto the couch next to Richie, he started to place soft kisses on the captain's face.
"I'm sorry we had such a horrible game tonight."
Richie opened his eyes and turned his head. Sadness. Fucking sadness. An emotion Richie never saw displayed on Andy's face.
"Albie...Please, it's not your fault." Richie pulled his teammate close, kissing his lips gently before wrapping his arms around him as Andy craddled his head against Richie's chest. Richie started to stroke Andy's hair, the other hand finding a hand to grasp onto, finger intertwining together.
They sat there together like that for awhile, the movie still playing. Richie had been feeling rather pretty miserable after the game and obviously, Andy sensed that. But maybe it was something more than just Andy looking to reward his captain, maybe bring him some confort too. Maybe it was more along the lines that Andy was looking for a way to say sorry, to say that the team fucked up and Andy didn't want Richie to feel like it had to weigh down on him.
Or maybe it was just simply a reward. Who the fuck knew.
*****
Scottie pushed Darroll Powe further back into the seat.
"Sit the fuck still or someone will fuckin' see you."
"Hurry the fuck up, then."
His pants were already down and his erection was freed.
"Sit the fuck still!"
Darroll groaned when a hot mouth covered him. "Oh, fuckin feels good." Sucking, licking, pulling back, pushing back down... "Mmm, damn Scottie, you are an expert at this."
Scottie's head hit the steering wheel but he didn't care. He could feel Darroll start to tense up, and even though this was his first time going down on his teammate, he knew that Darroll was close. It played a part of those 'sex senses' he has.
"You fuckin' swallow?" There was no time for Scottie to consider the question, even though he does, because seconds later he could feel the hot, saltly liquid hitting the back of his throat. "Oh yeah, Ups. Good job."
Scottie rolled his eyes at the Flyer as he wiped his mouth. "Of course." A small smile escaped and he moved in to give the winger a kiss. After pulling back, he twisted around in his seat and opened the car door. "See ya at practice, Powe." And with that, Scottie left his teammate to tuck his limp cock back into his pants.
BY: exigencyexit
FANDOM: NHL
TEAM(S): Philadelphia Flyers
PAIRING(S): Mike Richards/Andrew Alberts, Darroll Powe/Scottie Upshall (There was a crazy attempt on my part to try to write a story without Scottie. Ha! Yeah, okay. I didn't know who to have reward Powe, and I didn't want to pair Claude with him, and since Scottie is the team's whore, well, you get the picture.)
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: 100% fake, except for the fact that Richie and Powe did score goals Thursday Feb 12, 2009
WARNINGS: Narrative language, smut!
SUMMARY: Two more rewards.
CREDIT: To the boys, who score the goals and make life FUCKING CRAZY.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Omfg what a game. Sigh. Can't win 'em all...at least not the Flyers :( Anyway. Traditionally,tinydancermags would be writing the next rewards, but since I'm forcing encouraging her to finish her Christmas fic, I will temporarily be writing all the rewards. ENJOY! *Not edited.
The media went straight to him as soon as they were allowed in the locker room. He spoke to them, told them what they wanted to hear, head kept low so his eyes could be hidden enough, so no once could pick up that underneath it all Richie was really upset. Sure, a goal during your comeback game after missing three straight was something, but the captain didn't think it was all that great when your team just lost. Of course, Richie was never the one to express an emotion much when people were looking.
Richie could feel a pair of eyes on him. No, not the eyes of the scumbag interviewers who insisted on pushing the issue of his health and the future of his team. It was a pair of eyes that belonged to a teammate, maybe Jeff, maybe Joff, or even maybe Simon, but it felt like they were burning a hole in his back. All Richie wanted to do was get the fucking interview over so he could punch whoever was staring at him.
"How much do you think the team suffered without your leadership on the ice in the past three games?"
Richie hated questions like those. "I think the team performed well to some degree. There are other players who possess leadership skills, and the best thing we can do right now it to prepare for upcomin games and ensure our spot in the playoffs."
They thanked Richie for his time and he was no longer a slave to their attention. Instead, he was able to turn around and finally look - no one, the captain saw no one and he frowned. Stupid nerves, and Richie headed over to grab his stuff from where is sat.
"Richie?"
The captain looked up and saw Andrew Alberts standing there, dressed, a black tie hung loosely around his neck. There was this way he was looking at Richie; thoughtful, interested, worried. Andy held a glint in his eyes that suddenly started to tear into Richie, and the captain then realized that he wasn't crazy and he was being watched and it was Andy who did it.
They didn't talk much since Jeff's reward happened. Occassional comments in practice, a couple suggestions during the game, but nothing so intense that Richie was sure Andy would give him his reward. Because that what was happening, right?
"Hey, what's up?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place for some drinks, eat some food. Maybe we can talk a little."
Richie adjusted the hat on his head, allowing his eyes to become more visible. "What's there to talk about?"
"Um, I don't know. Stuff?" Andy was always cool, calm, and collective. Always. The defenseman never presented an ounce of any other emotion, unless it was on the ice and he was ready to get in someone's face to defend a teammate. But when Richie cocked his head to the side, and widened his eyes just a little bit with interest, he could see that maybe Andy seemed nervous.
"I don't think so, Albie. I'm not really up for hanging out and talking right now." Richie gave him a pat on the shoulder, slung his duffle bag onto one of his own, and pushed pass the taller man. "See ya."
There wasn't much of a feeling of regret. Hell, Richie didn't think there was anything to regret. It was a bad game; he didn't deserve a reward. He didn't even want a reward. Richie wasn't in the mood, and he was sure his cock would agree.
Or so he thought.
The night time air was cool and Richie pulled his jacket tighter around his body. Most cars were gone from the players' parking lot, as a good amount of Flyers were already on their way home. Richie took note of the car next to his - it was Jeff's - as he pressed the button to unlock his own. The trunk was opened, duffle bag put away, and once shut again he saw that he wasn't alone.
"You look like you could really use some company tonight."
Richie sighed, "Really, Albie, I'm fine."
Leaning against the driver's door, Andy presented a challenge to the captain. "You sure? You really don't look it."
"Albie..."
"Come on, Mike. Come back to my place and we can chill. You really look like you need to relax."
"You're not gonna take no for an answer, are ya?"
A smile appeared on Andy's face, knowing Richie was about to give in. "Nope." He took a couple steps towards his captain and placed an arm around his shoulders. "Follow me in your car."
Richie watched Andy walk to his car. He could easily not follow him. He could easily go home, get in bed, and sleep tonight's misery away. Simple as that. So why was he driving north instead of south and following Andy's car down a barely lit street?
They pulled into a driveway and parked their cars. Richie turned his off but left the keys in the ignition. He had no problem with Andy. In fact, Richie was pretty sure he really like the defenseman. But that mood Richie was in was still lingering around and it made him want to leave. The mood made the captain feel upset, and sick, and almost be put in a vulnerable state where no one would leave him the fuck alone.
A car door was shut, catching Richie's attention, and he looked up to see Andy grabbing his stuff from the back of his SVU. After pulling the keys out, Richie allowed himself to get out of his own car. Maybe he didn't want to be left alone after all.
Andy was the first to walk into the house, turning on a couple lights before disappearing into the kitchen. He appeared again a moment later with two beers in his hands. "Here." He handed one to Richie, who took it, and headed into the living room.
There was an awkward but yet somewhat comfortable silence that sat between two hockey players on the couch. A couple inches were separating them, arms occasionally grazing the other when one took a sip of beer. They didn't speak, as the movie played and kept their attention. And soon, when the beer was halfway gone and Andy had started laughing at the funny scenes in the movie, did Richie start to finally relax.
"You gotta admit, that chick is fuckin' hot."
It was normal guy stuff. Drinking beer, watching hot women on TV, enjoying each others company with a comment about the game here and there. Richie wasn't nervous. When was he nervous to begin with? Andy was the one who seemed nervous back in locker room. The captain sneaked a small glance over at his teammate - calm, cool and collective. There was definitely nothing going on here.
It was after when a third beer had been handed to Richie did he feel a pair of hands on his shoulders. "You look so tense, Mike. When was the last time a trainer rubbed you down?" Richie had a puzzled look on his face as he actually considered the question. He wasn't sure when a trainer touched him, but just the night before Jeff was giving his dick a pretty good rubbing.
"I don't know, but mmm, that's feels good..." Richie closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. He let out a deep sigh as he felt Andy work his fingers into his shoulder, moved one hand to kneed his neck. His hands were warm, and one started to rub his back, the other that was on his neck starting to rub behind his ears. Richie's beer was starting to slip from his hand, the movie clearly forgotten about now. He grasped on tighter to keep it from falling - "Oh fuck, Albie!" A pair of lips were on his neck and the beer landed on the floor anyway.
"Fuck it. I'll clean it up later." It was one of the moves you see in a movie. In one quick, swift move, Andy was over the couch and straddling Richie's waist, lips crashing together into a passionate kiss. They could taste beer on each others tongue and it just drove them to pull each other closer. Richie's hands were grabbing at Andy's shirt. Andy's hands were fumbling with the belt on Richie's pants.
"Off."
The buttons were popped and Andy's shirt was off his shoulders and thrown onto the floor. He could fell a tongue lick at a rock hard nipple, teeth clamping down softly on the nub and then a kiss to soothe the pain. Andy moaned, dipping his head down to place kisses along the captain's neck.
"Oh, Richie..." Andy pulled Richie's shirt over his head and that joined Andy's, somewhere tossed over the couch. The captain pulled Andy's head down and their lips met again, tongues battling for dominance. They were both so turned on, but Andy knew it was Richie who got rewarded.
Yeah, Richie, that's definitely what was going on.
Andy slipped off of Richie's lap and onto his knees on the floor before him. He pulled the zipper down on Richie's pants and tugged on them to take them off. Richie lifted his ass and the defenseman slid them off, now lying around his ankles as freedom was giving to his hard cock.
"You're so fuckin' hard for me, Richie."
Richie started thrusting into Andy's hand, their lips meeting one more time before Andy ducked his head down to take the captain fully in his mouth.
"Oh, FUCK!" Andy's mouth was warm. It was wet, and he sucked on him hard, a tongue swirling around his shaft. Jeff was right: Andy did suck cock really good. Better than Scottie? Richie wasn't sure. There were many different options to weigh and - Fuck! Why was Richie even thinking about that? He looked down at Andy and their eyes met. The captain bucked his hips, moaning out the pretty boy's name, and pushed gentle on Andy's head to urge him to take his cock deeper.
"Ah, Andy, you feel so good....Mm yeah, suck it. Fuck, suck it harder..."
Richie could feel his orgasm building up. He was never the one to take long, or have difficultly coming, and how could he? With the way Andy was working his cock, the way one hand was roaming up his chest to pinch his nipples and the other hand was gently tugging at his balls, how could Richie not be close to going over the edge?
All it took was a moan surrounding his cock, the feeling of the back of Andy's throat, and Richie was coming. Richie was coming hard, and fast, and Andy was swallowing every last drop of it all.
"Fuck, Andy..." Richie closed his eyes and threw his head back, panting, hands resting on either side of himself on the couch. Andy wiped his mouth and pulled the captain's pants back up, waiting for Richie to lift his hips. He did, and Andy snapped the button, pulled the zipper up, and sliding onto the couch next to Richie, he started to place soft kisses on the captain's face.
"I'm sorry we had such a horrible game tonight."
Richie opened his eyes and turned his head. Sadness. Fucking sadness. An emotion Richie never saw displayed on Andy's face.
"Albie...Please, it's not your fault." Richie pulled his teammate close, kissing his lips gently before wrapping his arms around him as Andy craddled his head against Richie's chest. Richie started to stroke Andy's hair, the other hand finding a hand to grasp onto, finger intertwining together.
They sat there together like that for awhile, the movie still playing. Richie had been feeling rather pretty miserable after the game and obviously, Andy sensed that. But maybe it was something more than just Andy looking to reward his captain, maybe bring him some confort too. Maybe it was more along the lines that Andy was looking for a way to say sorry, to say that the team fucked up and Andy didn't want Richie to feel like it had to weigh down on him.
Or maybe it was just simply a reward. Who the fuck knew.
*****
Scottie pushed Darroll Powe further back into the seat.
"Sit the fuck still or someone will fuckin' see you."
"Hurry the fuck up, then."
His pants were already down and his erection was freed.
"Sit the fuck still!"
Darroll groaned when a hot mouth covered him. "Oh, fuckin feels good." Sucking, licking, pulling back, pushing back down... "Mmm, damn Scottie, you are an expert at this."
Scottie's head hit the steering wheel but he didn't care. He could feel Darroll start to tense up, and even though this was his first time going down on his teammate, he knew that Darroll was close. It played a part of those 'sex senses' he has.
"You fuckin' swallow?" There was no time for Scottie to consider the question, even though he does, because seconds later he could feel the hot, saltly liquid hitting the back of his throat. "Oh yeah, Ups. Good job."
Scottie rolled his eyes at the Flyer as he wiped his mouth. "Of course." A small smile escaped and he moved in to give the winger a kiss. After pulling back, he twisted around in his seat and opened the car door. "See ya at practice, Powe." And with that, Scottie left his teammate to tuck his limp cock back into his pants.