chris/corey fic
Fandom: Hockey RPS
Pairing: Chris Campoli/Corey Crawford
Rating: R
Words: ~2300
Summary: Set after Malone's hit on Chris Campoli the other night. Chatfic written with the lovely and adorable juliella.
chica_charlie: Chris is at home in his apartment, relaxing, because the hit wasn't as bad as it looked. He's a little sore and has a headache, but they let him go home without too much of a fuss.
juliella: Corey thinks about calling. He probably should call, actually, but by the time he gets everything settled and actually considers the idea beyond a brief second, he's already on the plane. And, well, no calling on planes. So he supposes the call will just have to wait until he lands in Montreal.
chica_charlie: Except when he lands in Montreal, he doesn't call. He doesn't call, and gets a cab, and ends up at Chris's apartment, pressing the button and then jerking his finger away like it's on fire. What the hell is he even doing?
juliella: Chris isn't expecting anyone. Well, that's a lie; he's expecting the mailman, and also he's expecting his landlady to come and wake him up in the morning because she can't believe that he's capable of waking up on his own and she usually makes him breakfast, so he deals with it.
But he's not expecting anyone now, is the point, and he blinks in confusion.
chica_charlie: "Hello?"
"Um," says Corey. "Hi. It's. Me. Corey?"
Chris blinks at his intercom. Corey? Here? Now? He hits the button to let Corey up, and says, "Come on up," because he can't think of anything else to say that doesn't sound dumb.
juliella: Corey almost turns around and leaves, because he still doesn't know what he's doing here, but he figures that he already came all this way and he really doesn't like flying, really; he doesn't want to get back on that plane any time soon. So he takes a deep breath and steps into the elevator, picking at the hem of his sleeves in a nervous habit he's never quite managed to kick while the elevator proceeds to take a really long fucking time to get to the 11th floor.
chica_charlie: Chris opens the door grinning at him, which throws Corey a little bit. "I," feel kind of dumb, Corey doesn't finish, because Chris tugs him in and gives him a hug, which Corey wasn't expecting at all, and it's warm and comfortable and nice, and he mumbles, "Are you okay," into Chris's shoulder, kind of mulishly.
juliella: Chris would like to pretend that he's more surprised than he is that Corey is standing in front of his door looking sheepish, but he's not, not really, and maybe he lets the hug linger a little too long but he doesn't think Corey will mind. "Yeah," he eventually says when he remembers that Corey asked him a question, and he pulls back. "My head kind of hurts, but," he shrugs.
chica_charlie: Corey's hands are wrapped around his arms, thumbs drifting back and forth entirely unconsciously, looking at Chris with almost uncomfortably dark eyes. "I wanted to see if you were okay," he says, with a little shrug.
juliella: Chris blinks, tipping his head to the side before he realizes that Corey is still standing in his hallway, and something about this -- conversation? -- feels too personal to be had where anyone could walk by and see them. He grabs Corey's arm and leads him into the room, closing and locking the door behind him before he sits down on the couch, his head starting to pound a bit harder behind his eyes. "Yeah, uh." He clears his throat, tries again. "I'm okay."
chica_charlie: "You sure?" Corey sounds closer, and then Chris feels the couch sink in and he tips to the side a little, against Corey's solid shoulder. "Can I get you anything?"
juliella: Chris is suddenly aware then of how tired he is, how easy it would be to sink into the warmth of the goaltender and pretend that it was an accident, and it hits him then that he still doesn't really know why Corey is here; he doesn't have any bags, which means he probably wasn't planning on spending the night, and Chris doesn't know how that makes him feel. "What are you doing here?" he says instead.
chica_charlie: Corey bites his lip, looks away. "I don't really know," he says honestly. "I wanted to see if you were okay."
juliella: Chris looks away as well, shifting on the couch like he wants to move away but doesn't, just stretches out his legs in front of him and looks at them for lack of anything better to look at.
"Oh," he replies. "Well. Thanks."
chica_charlie: Corey doesn't move either, eyes caught on Chris's face, a little bit magnetized. He moves before he thinks about it, lifting his hand, but he catches himself just before it settles over Chris's knee. He freezes, thinking again, what the hell is he doing?
His hand is hovering awkwardly in midair and he thinks, shit.
juliella: Chris' gaze catches the motion of Corey's hand, utterly unaware of the fact the Corey is staring at him, and he watches with a weird clenching feeling -- anticipation? -- in his gut when Corey's fingers hover over his knee, and he tenses, waiting. When nothing happens after a few second, he shifts his gaze up to Corey's face and almost breathes, "What?"
chica_charlie: It's driving him a little bit crazy, Corey's fingers are near enough that he can feel the heat, feel the touch. All his muscles are twitching beneath his skin, so it's easy to let his leg bounce, push it up on the ball of his foot and erase those last two inches so Corey's palm covers his knee. But Corey doesn't move it. His fingers tighten, surprised, but he doesn't move.
juliella: In fact, his hand presses down, almost like he doesn't realize it, because Corey has looked down at the couch between them, no longer looking at Chris. But he presses, and presses, until Chris' foot is flat against the ground, and it's more natural now, easier than before.
chica_charlie: Chris calms down a little, a calm spreading over his jittery nerves. Corey's eyes are so dark, and steady, even though Chris can see he's equally as nervous. Equally as unsure.
He swallows, and places his hand over Corey's.
juliella: Corey twitches under Chris' hand, tensing as he anticipates the urge to pull away but it doesn't come. Instead, there's a strange, soft warmth that resonates through him, and he finds himself rubbing little circles against the inside of Chris' knee with the pad of his thumb, the grooves in the skin catching the grooves in the fabric.
chica_charlie: Something stirs low in Chris's stomach, and he mimics Corey's movements, dragging the pad of his thumb over Corey's hand, and he hears Corey's breath hitch.
juliella: Corey tightens his fingers around the curve of Chris' knee when the thumb brushes over his skin, surprisingly soft considering the nature of their jobs, and presses a little bit harder with his thumb, almost leaning closer as if this was something needed more pressure, more weight.
chica_charlie: Corey sucks in a sharp breath. Says, "Chris," in a low voice. Like he can't quite decide what he wants to do.
juliella: Chris scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, looking up from where he's watching the absent motion of his hands, so easy, so natural, and takes a deeper breath than he probably needs to. "Corey," he murmurs, an answer to a question neither of them asked.
chica_charlie: He lifts his hand, immediately missing the warmth of Corey's skin but Corey tilts his head and Chris touches his neck, curls his fingers over the vulnerable curve, watches Corey's eyes flutter and leans in.
juliella: Corey couldn't help the way his breath catches when Chris' fingers curl over his skin, dragging over the skin at his jaw, and Corey tips his head, meeting Chris halfway for the kiss they both knew was coming, if unconsciously, the second Corey stepped through the door.
chica_charlie: Corey's mouth is soft, and open, and warm, and so very obliging, Chris can't help but press a little bit closer, lick his way into Corey's mouth and hum as Corey melts against him.
juliella: Corey makes a soft sound when Chris presses closer, and he slides the palm of his free hand up the curl of Chris' bicep, the lean muscles shifting under the skin, and it's so, so easy to part his lips and let Chris in.
chica_charlie: "Oh," Corey murmurs, quiet, when Chris lets him go for a breath of air, nosing at Corey's jaw.
juliella: Chris echoes the noise, not so much a word as an exhale of happy sound, and inhales the soft scent of cinnamon that's clinging to Corey's skin, the sharp curve of his jaw.
chica_charlie: "Okay," Corey says next, more of a sigh than a word, and Chris smiles at the way Corey closes his eyes and follow his mouth blindly.
Chris happily obliges him.
juliella: It's not so much one continuous kiss as a series of soft kisses, because Chris is constantly shifting, tipping his head one way and breaking one kiss to nuzzle against Corey's cheek before pressing back in to lick at the inside of Corey's mouth, his hand sliding through Corey's short curls.
chica_charlie: Corey's making encouraging sounds into his mouth, slowly shifting until Chris realizes he's nearly flat on his back, Corey's thighs pressed against his and Corey's arms on either side of him.
juliella: Chris has to tip his head back to continue the kiss, due to the position of Corey practically on top of him, and it doesn't take much of an effort to shift until Corey is pressing him into the couch, his hands settled low on Corey's back.
chica_charlie: "Wait." Corey tears his mouth away, lips dragging over the corner of Chris's lips. "Is your head okay?"
juliella: Chris can't help the sound of protest that drags itself out from his throat, and he presses his palm to the back of Corey's neck to pull him back in. "My head is fine," he murmurs.
chica_charlie: But Corey still looks concerned, an adorable little crease of worry between his eyes, and Chris laughs a little and rubs his finger over it, and Corey still frowns at him until Chris grabs his hand, pulls at it until Corey's hand is splayed over the very obvious evidence that Chris is on board with the making out.
juliella: "Oh," Corey breathes out, eyes gone wide and dark, pupils blown wider than Chris has ever seen them, and then he curls his fingers and Chris makes a high noise in his throat, surging back in for another kiss that's more full of teeth and lips than anything.
chica_charlie: Chris loses himself in it, Corey's taste and his hands and the way his hips are picking up a steady rhythm.
juliella: It's easy, easier than Chris thought it'd be because there's none of that awkwardness that usually comes with doing this for the first time, there's just the way the light catches the shine of Corey's bottom lip and the desperate edge that infuses their kisses after so long.
chica_charlie: Chris hooks a leg around the back of Corey's knee, dragging him closer. Kisses him harder, longer, deeper. Loves coaxing more of those gasps and soft noises Corey makes.
juliella: They're noises Chris has never heard before, never even really imagined before, but they send heat pooling low in his belly and make his toes curl. He wraps his fingers around the sharp cut of Corey's hip and shifts him, a little to the left and oh, there.
chica_charlie: Sparks explode behind his eyes and Corey thrusts once, twice, and then Chris is coming in his jeans like a fucking teenager, panting into Corey's neck.
"Fuck, fuck."
juliella: Corey is still shifting restlessly against him, the fabric of their jeans scratching together with a sound that sets Chris' already shot nerves on edge, but then he looks up and Corey's eyelashes have fluttered shut, his mouth a small pink "o", his fingers practically trembling when they're clasped around the front of Chris' shirt, and Chris groans weakly. "Fucking hell, Corey, Jesus."
chica_charlie: Corey collapses on him a little, and Chris tries to shift over so there's enough room for the both of them on the couch, but Corey's mostly still on top of him, but it's... it's okay. It's comfortable.
juliella: At least, it's comfortable for awhile, until a gentle throbbing starts behind Chris' head and his jeans are drying, sticky on his legs. But Corey is warm, making little snuffling noises into his neck that shouldn't be nearly as adorable as they are, and Chris makes no attempt to move.
chica_charlie: His fingers drift over Corey's hairline, a little sweaty, but Corey just hums at him.
"That was..." And he presses his fingers under Chris's shirt, tickling over his skin.
juliella: He's oversensitive now, he knows this, but apparently he didn't know how much because the press of Corey's fingers on his skin nearly makes him jump off the couch, and his eyelids flutter, fingernails scraping over Corey's scalp once there aren't sparks of electricity flickering over him. "Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, it was."
chica_charlie: "D'you wanna move? Or.." Corey trails off, and somehow Chris knows he's going to ask if he should leave, so he wordlessly laces his fingers firmly through Corey's, and gently pulls him to his feet. Corey comes, mouth still red and a little swollen.
"Shower," he says, and Corey nods. "Then bed."
He can't help but kiss the corner of Corey's mouth. "Okay?"
juliella: Corey makes a soft sound, leaning into the not quite kiss and squeezing his fingers around Chris' laced in between his own; a shower sounds nice, and he's practically falling asleep on his feet from the plane ride and then everything else, so bed sounds even better. "Perfect."
Pairing: Chris Campoli/Corey Crawford
Rating: R
Words: ~2300
Summary: Set after Malone's hit on Chris Campoli the other night. Chatfic written with the lovely and adorable juliella.
chica_charlie: Chris is at home in his apartment, relaxing, because the hit wasn't as bad as it looked. He's a little sore and has a headache, but they let him go home without too much of a fuss.
juliella: Corey thinks about calling. He probably should call, actually, but by the time he gets everything settled and actually considers the idea beyond a brief second, he's already on the plane. And, well, no calling on planes. So he supposes the call will just have to wait until he lands in Montreal.
chica_charlie: Except when he lands in Montreal, he doesn't call. He doesn't call, and gets a cab, and ends up at Chris's apartment, pressing the button and then jerking his finger away like it's on fire. What the hell is he even doing?
juliella: Chris isn't expecting anyone. Well, that's a lie; he's expecting the mailman, and also he's expecting his landlady to come and wake him up in the morning because she can't believe that he's capable of waking up on his own and she usually makes him breakfast, so he deals with it.
But he's not expecting anyone now, is the point, and he blinks in confusion.
chica_charlie: "Hello?"
"Um," says Corey. "Hi. It's. Me. Corey?"
Chris blinks at his intercom. Corey? Here? Now? He hits the button to let Corey up, and says, "Come on up," because he can't think of anything else to say that doesn't sound dumb.
juliella: Corey almost turns around and leaves, because he still doesn't know what he's doing here, but he figures that he already came all this way and he really doesn't like flying, really; he doesn't want to get back on that plane any time soon. So he takes a deep breath and steps into the elevator, picking at the hem of his sleeves in a nervous habit he's never quite managed to kick while the elevator proceeds to take a really long fucking time to get to the 11th floor.
chica_charlie: Chris opens the door grinning at him, which throws Corey a little bit. "I," feel kind of dumb, Corey doesn't finish, because Chris tugs him in and gives him a hug, which Corey wasn't expecting at all, and it's warm and comfortable and nice, and he mumbles, "Are you okay," into Chris's shoulder, kind of mulishly.
juliella: Chris would like to pretend that he's more surprised than he is that Corey is standing in front of his door looking sheepish, but he's not, not really, and maybe he lets the hug linger a little too long but he doesn't think Corey will mind. "Yeah," he eventually says when he remembers that Corey asked him a question, and he pulls back. "My head kind of hurts, but," he shrugs.
chica_charlie: Corey's hands are wrapped around his arms, thumbs drifting back and forth entirely unconsciously, looking at Chris with almost uncomfortably dark eyes. "I wanted to see if you were okay," he says, with a little shrug.
juliella: Chris blinks, tipping his head to the side before he realizes that Corey is still standing in his hallway, and something about this -- conversation? -- feels too personal to be had where anyone could walk by and see them. He grabs Corey's arm and leads him into the room, closing and locking the door behind him before he sits down on the couch, his head starting to pound a bit harder behind his eyes. "Yeah, uh." He clears his throat, tries again. "I'm okay."
chica_charlie: "You sure?" Corey sounds closer, and then Chris feels the couch sink in and he tips to the side a little, against Corey's solid shoulder. "Can I get you anything?"
juliella: Chris is suddenly aware then of how tired he is, how easy it would be to sink into the warmth of the goaltender and pretend that it was an accident, and it hits him then that he still doesn't really know why Corey is here; he doesn't have any bags, which means he probably wasn't planning on spending the night, and Chris doesn't know how that makes him feel. "What are you doing here?" he says instead.
chica_charlie: Corey bites his lip, looks away. "I don't really know," he says honestly. "I wanted to see if you were okay."
juliella: Chris looks away as well, shifting on the couch like he wants to move away but doesn't, just stretches out his legs in front of him and looks at them for lack of anything better to look at.
"Oh," he replies. "Well. Thanks."
chica_charlie: Corey doesn't move either, eyes caught on Chris's face, a little bit magnetized. He moves before he thinks about it, lifting his hand, but he catches himself just before it settles over Chris's knee. He freezes, thinking again, what the hell is he doing?
His hand is hovering awkwardly in midair and he thinks, shit.
juliella: Chris' gaze catches the motion of Corey's hand, utterly unaware of the fact the Corey is staring at him, and he watches with a weird clenching feeling -- anticipation? -- in his gut when Corey's fingers hover over his knee, and he tenses, waiting. When nothing happens after a few second, he shifts his gaze up to Corey's face and almost breathes, "What?"
chica_charlie: It's driving him a little bit crazy, Corey's fingers are near enough that he can feel the heat, feel the touch. All his muscles are twitching beneath his skin, so it's easy to let his leg bounce, push it up on the ball of his foot and erase those last two inches so Corey's palm covers his knee. But Corey doesn't move it. His fingers tighten, surprised, but he doesn't move.
juliella: In fact, his hand presses down, almost like he doesn't realize it, because Corey has looked down at the couch between them, no longer looking at Chris. But he presses, and presses, until Chris' foot is flat against the ground, and it's more natural now, easier than before.
chica_charlie: Chris calms down a little, a calm spreading over his jittery nerves. Corey's eyes are so dark, and steady, even though Chris can see he's equally as nervous. Equally as unsure.
He swallows, and places his hand over Corey's.
juliella: Corey twitches under Chris' hand, tensing as he anticipates the urge to pull away but it doesn't come. Instead, there's a strange, soft warmth that resonates through him, and he finds himself rubbing little circles against the inside of Chris' knee with the pad of his thumb, the grooves in the skin catching the grooves in the fabric.
chica_charlie: Something stirs low in Chris's stomach, and he mimics Corey's movements, dragging the pad of his thumb over Corey's hand, and he hears Corey's breath hitch.
juliella: Corey tightens his fingers around the curve of Chris' knee when the thumb brushes over his skin, surprisingly soft considering the nature of their jobs, and presses a little bit harder with his thumb, almost leaning closer as if this was something needed more pressure, more weight.
chica_charlie: Corey sucks in a sharp breath. Says, "Chris," in a low voice. Like he can't quite decide what he wants to do.
juliella: Chris scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, looking up from where he's watching the absent motion of his hands, so easy, so natural, and takes a deeper breath than he probably needs to. "Corey," he murmurs, an answer to a question neither of them asked.
chica_charlie: He lifts his hand, immediately missing the warmth of Corey's skin but Corey tilts his head and Chris touches his neck, curls his fingers over the vulnerable curve, watches Corey's eyes flutter and leans in.
juliella: Corey couldn't help the way his breath catches when Chris' fingers curl over his skin, dragging over the skin at his jaw, and Corey tips his head, meeting Chris halfway for the kiss they both knew was coming, if unconsciously, the second Corey stepped through the door.
chica_charlie: Corey's mouth is soft, and open, and warm, and so very obliging, Chris can't help but press a little bit closer, lick his way into Corey's mouth and hum as Corey melts against him.
juliella: Corey makes a soft sound when Chris presses closer, and he slides the palm of his free hand up the curl of Chris' bicep, the lean muscles shifting under the skin, and it's so, so easy to part his lips and let Chris in.
chica_charlie: "Oh," Corey murmurs, quiet, when Chris lets him go for a breath of air, nosing at Corey's jaw.
juliella: Chris echoes the noise, not so much a word as an exhale of happy sound, and inhales the soft scent of cinnamon that's clinging to Corey's skin, the sharp curve of his jaw.
chica_charlie: "Okay," Corey says next, more of a sigh than a word, and Chris smiles at the way Corey closes his eyes and follow his mouth blindly.
Chris happily obliges him.
juliella: It's not so much one continuous kiss as a series of soft kisses, because Chris is constantly shifting, tipping his head one way and breaking one kiss to nuzzle against Corey's cheek before pressing back in to lick at the inside of Corey's mouth, his hand sliding through Corey's short curls.
chica_charlie: Corey's making encouraging sounds into his mouth, slowly shifting until Chris realizes he's nearly flat on his back, Corey's thighs pressed against his and Corey's arms on either side of him.
juliella: Chris has to tip his head back to continue the kiss, due to the position of Corey practically on top of him, and it doesn't take much of an effort to shift until Corey is pressing him into the couch, his hands settled low on Corey's back.
chica_charlie: "Wait." Corey tears his mouth away, lips dragging over the corner of Chris's lips. "Is your head okay?"
juliella: Chris can't help the sound of protest that drags itself out from his throat, and he presses his palm to the back of Corey's neck to pull him back in. "My head is fine," he murmurs.
chica_charlie: But Corey still looks concerned, an adorable little crease of worry between his eyes, and Chris laughs a little and rubs his finger over it, and Corey still frowns at him until Chris grabs his hand, pulls at it until Corey's hand is splayed over the very obvious evidence that Chris is on board with the making out.
juliella: "Oh," Corey breathes out, eyes gone wide and dark, pupils blown wider than Chris has ever seen them, and then he curls his fingers and Chris makes a high noise in his throat, surging back in for another kiss that's more full of teeth and lips than anything.
chica_charlie: Chris loses himself in it, Corey's taste and his hands and the way his hips are picking up a steady rhythm.
juliella: It's easy, easier than Chris thought it'd be because there's none of that awkwardness that usually comes with doing this for the first time, there's just the way the light catches the shine of Corey's bottom lip and the desperate edge that infuses their kisses after so long.
chica_charlie: Chris hooks a leg around the back of Corey's knee, dragging him closer. Kisses him harder, longer, deeper. Loves coaxing more of those gasps and soft noises Corey makes.
juliella: They're noises Chris has never heard before, never even really imagined before, but they send heat pooling low in his belly and make his toes curl. He wraps his fingers around the sharp cut of Corey's hip and shifts him, a little to the left and oh, there.
chica_charlie: Sparks explode behind his eyes and Corey thrusts once, twice, and then Chris is coming in his jeans like a fucking teenager, panting into Corey's neck.
"Fuck, fuck."
juliella: Corey is still shifting restlessly against him, the fabric of their jeans scratching together with a sound that sets Chris' already shot nerves on edge, but then he looks up and Corey's eyelashes have fluttered shut, his mouth a small pink "o", his fingers practically trembling when they're clasped around the front of Chris' shirt, and Chris groans weakly. "Fucking hell, Corey, Jesus."
chica_charlie: Corey collapses on him a little, and Chris tries to shift over so there's enough room for the both of them on the couch, but Corey's mostly still on top of him, but it's... it's okay. It's comfortable.
juliella: At least, it's comfortable for awhile, until a gentle throbbing starts behind Chris' head and his jeans are drying, sticky on his legs. But Corey is warm, making little snuffling noises into his neck that shouldn't be nearly as adorable as they are, and Chris makes no attempt to move.
chica_charlie: His fingers drift over Corey's hairline, a little sweaty, but Corey just hums at him.
"That was..." And he presses his fingers under Chris's shirt, tickling over his skin.
juliella: He's oversensitive now, he knows this, but apparently he didn't know how much because the press of Corey's fingers on his skin nearly makes him jump off the couch, and his eyelids flutter, fingernails scraping over Corey's scalp once there aren't sparks of electricity flickering over him. "Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, it was."
chica_charlie: "D'you wanna move? Or.." Corey trails off, and somehow Chris knows he's going to ask if he should leave, so he wordlessly laces his fingers firmly through Corey's, and gently pulls him to his feet. Corey comes, mouth still red and a little swollen.
"Shower," he says, and Corey nods. "Then bed."
He can't help but kiss the corner of Corey's mouth. "Okay?"
juliella: Corey makes a soft sound, leaning into the not quite kiss and squeezing his fingers around Chris' laced in between his own; a shower sounds nice, and he's practically falling asleep on his feet from the plane ride and then everything else, so bed sounds even better. "Perfect."