Hockey RPF fic: Celebration (Ryan Getzlaf/Corey Perry, R/NC-17)
Title: Celebration
Author: athenejen
Fandom: Hockey RPF
Pairing: Ryan Getzlaf/Corey Perry
Rating: R/NC-17
Word Count: 1549 words
Disclaimer: So very, very fictional.
Warnings: None as far as I can tell.
Summary: In which Getzy convinces Corey to celebrate (with sex) after Team Canada wins gold at the 2010 Winter Olympics.
Notes: Written for Round 2 of pass_shoot_porn, for the prompt "making history." Also on AO3 here.
"Pears, Pears, are you in here?" Getzy's voice came with a burst of noise from the hallway, making him sound really far away, and also kind of like he was at a circus. Surely there wasn't actually someone playing the accordion in the Olympic Village at 2 am? Maybe it was a kazoo, Corey thought, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling of his room.
The sounds dimmed back down to a dull roar, probably Getzy letting the door to the apartment swing shut, and a few seconds later there was a loud crash from the living room.
"Oops, sorry," Getzy's voice called, a little closer this time. Corey could hear him scrambling up from the floor, and then what sounded like the lamp being set back up on the end table.
"It's fine, it's fine, nothing's broken," Getzy said, poking his head into Corey's room. "And the lamp's fine, too, thanks for asking, jerk."
Corey gave him the finger, and kept staring at the ceiling. Sometimes if you ignored Getzy long enough, he'd get distracted by something shiny and go away.
"What're you doing in here, anyway? This is no time to be sleeping, man! We just won the fucking gold! Get up and celebrate!" Getzy made a ridiculous noise that was half-hoot, half-laugh, and smacked Corey in the shoulder, hard.
"Ow, fuck!" Corey flailed out and hit Getzy's thigh, then subsided back onto the bed, closing his eyes. "I'm good in here, Getz, you should go back out and party." Or party more, anyway. Getzy was already pretty smashed, if the alcohol on his breath was any indication.
"But Pears," Getzy whined, "who's gonna be my wingman? There's still a bunch of hot figure skaters here, and that skier you like, and the snowboarders are talking about playing beer pong!" Getzy shook his shoulder, leaning over him. Oh, yeah, he'd definitely had a few.
Corey batted Getzy's hand away, and when he settled back this time he straightened the medal hanging around his neck so it was sitting perfectly centered on his chest before relaxing into the bed. He'd already had a few drinks with the boys after the Closing Ceremony, thumped everyone on the back a million times and smiled so much his face hurt. He'd snuck back to the room a half-hour ago to try to get some quiet time and let it all just sink in.
"I'm staying here, Getzy." He kept his eyes closed, pointedly, and when Getzy reached out to grab at his arm, he batted his hand away again.
After a few seconds, he heard Getzy huff out a breath. "Okay, fine. Then I'll stay in here with you. Shove over!" Corey pushed back at Getzy for the first few seconds, but eventually scooted over to the other side of the bed. He had years of experience in knowing when Getzy was just not going to let something go.
It wasn't that big of a bed, so his elbow still jabbed into Getzy's side, and Getzy's foot kept kicking at Corey's shin, but they sort of fit, anyway, and then it was both of them in Corey's room at the Olympic Village, lying on their backs in bed and staring up at the ceiling.
A minute passed, and then another. There were faint shouts in the distance outside the window, and someone downstairs had clearly found a stereo system to abuse the hell out of, but in the room, it was almost quiet. Peaceful. Corey ran through the game in his mind, and his goal, and felt the weight of the medal on his chest and the warmth of Getzy lying next to him, and it was... nice.
"I got 'n idea!" said Getzy, sounding obnoxiously awake and cheerful. He twisted onto his side to face Corey.
"Geez, you must be drunk, you actually shut up for five whole minutes," Corey told him, and kicked him in the foot for good measure.
"You shut up," said Getzy, kicking him back. "No, listen, my idea. It's an awesome idea." There was a laugh in his voice, that tone he got sometimes, like he was just barely suppressing breaking down into giggles. "The awesomest."
"Okay. Tell me your idea."
"If you're not gonna come out and help me pick up -- not that I need your help but it's the pris-- the prinsk-- the principle of the the thing -- then I think you should jerk me off to make up for it."
Corey's eyes snapped open. The ceiling looked the same. He turned his head slowly to look at Getzy, who was grinning at him happily.
"We. We haven't done that in years," Corey said. Not since their first year, when they lived together in that condo in Newport Beach. Back when they were still the Mighty Ducks. Back before they'd won the Cup.
"No, I know," said Getzy excitedly, "but Pears, Pears, we just won gold. Gold!" He grabbed his medal and shook it at Corey, the ribbon going taut around the back of his neck. "We should celebrate, and you know none of the guys are gonna be back for a couple hours still, if they come back at all." He grinned again, wide and just a little teasing. "C'mon, I'll blow you after, it'll be great."
They stared at each other for a few seconds, Getzy's smile managing to somehow look both hopeful and dickish, because that was just... Getzy. Corey narrowed his eyes at him.
"C'mon, Pears," Getzy wheedled. "You know you want to!"
Corey kept glaring at him, but turned onto his side anyway. He reached out and put his hand on Getzy's hip.
"Yeah," said Getzy. Corey clenched his hand in the denim, tugged on one of Getzy's belt loops. "Yeah," said Getzy again, "I knew you--"
"Shut up," said Corey, and fit his mouth over Getzy's while Getzy was still trying to finish his sentence.
Getzy broke off with a moan, then kissed back with more enthusiasm than finesse as Corey pushed at his hip hard to try to get him to lay back flat on the bed. Getzy seemed more interested in kissing than in following directions, though, so Corey took matters into his own hands, levering himself up to pin Getzy's shoulders to the mattress and shove one knee between Getzy's so he could use his thigh to hold his hips down.
Getzy backed off the kiss long enough to breathe, "Oh, fuck yeah," into Corey's mouth, and then he was biting at Corey's lower lip and rubbing his dick against Corey's thigh with sharp snaps of his hips, all while making this low, grunting, purring sound that Corey's dick really, really liked. It was a lot like the one Corey remembered Getzy making back in '06, but lower and kind of... growly-er.
Corey dropped his hands down to yank at Getzy's belt, and between them they managed to get Getzy's jeans and underwear off without too much fumbling. Corey broke the kiss the pull Getzy's shirt up and off, and then his own, and then they were making out like the teenagers they'd never quite been together, all messy kisses and rutting hips and warm, bare skin.
When Corey took Getzy's dick in his hand, Getzy gasped into Corey's mouth, then made that growly sound again and kissed Corey even harder, one hand cradling the back of Corey's head almost sweetly, the other gripping the sheet next to him, fingers clenching and releasing in rhythm with Corey's strokes. Getzy mouthed his way down Corey's neck to his shoulder, muttering encouragement and expletives in between groans.
Corey jerked him slow and steady and just this side of rough, the way he remembered Getzy liking it, and Getzy rewarded him with nips of his teeth along his collarbone, purrs and grunts and gasps, and eventually, that hitch in his breath that meant he was close. Corey sped up, and soon Getzy was moaning, "Fuck, fuck," and bit down on Corey's shoulder and spilled hot over Corey's hand.
Corey stroked him through it, then held on gently as Getzy's breathing started calming down. Then he wiped his hand on the sheet and flopped back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling again.
They laid there like that for a few minutes, quietly. Corey let his eyes drift shut. There was still shouting outside, and the stereo was still going. Corey was hard in his sweatpants, but somehow it didn't seem urgent right now.
Getzy reached over, set his hand on Corey's stomach. It was warm, comforting. The bed shook a little as Getzy shifted closer, and Corey jumped when Getzy's mouth closed over his right nipple. He opened his eyes, and Getzy smiled at him, looking sleepy and content and just a little wicked. Corey smiled back, a tiny, real smile, and lifted his hips to let Getzy pull his sweatpants down his legs and off.
Getzy's mouth on his dick felt both different and familiar, warm and wet and good. His technique hadn't much improved since the last time, but Corey didn't care at all. He'd liked it then, and he really, really liked it now.
This was definitely one of Getzy's better ideas. Corey might even tell him so later... but probably not.
Author: athenejen
Fandom: Hockey RPF
Pairing: Ryan Getzlaf/Corey Perry
Rating: R/NC-17
Word Count: 1549 words
Disclaimer: So very, very fictional.
Warnings: None as far as I can tell.
Summary: In which Getzy convinces Corey to celebrate (with sex) after Team Canada wins gold at the 2010 Winter Olympics.
Notes: Written for Round 2 of pass_shoot_porn, for the prompt "making history." Also on AO3 here.
"Pears, Pears, are you in here?" Getzy's voice came with a burst of noise from the hallway, making him sound really far away, and also kind of like he was at a circus. Surely there wasn't actually someone playing the accordion in the Olympic Village at 2 am? Maybe it was a kazoo, Corey thought, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling of his room.
The sounds dimmed back down to a dull roar, probably Getzy letting the door to the apartment swing shut, and a few seconds later there was a loud crash from the living room.
"Oops, sorry," Getzy's voice called, a little closer this time. Corey could hear him scrambling up from the floor, and then what sounded like the lamp being set back up on the end table.
"It's fine, it's fine, nothing's broken," Getzy said, poking his head into Corey's room. "And the lamp's fine, too, thanks for asking, jerk."
Corey gave him the finger, and kept staring at the ceiling. Sometimes if you ignored Getzy long enough, he'd get distracted by something shiny and go away.
"What're you doing in here, anyway? This is no time to be sleeping, man! We just won the fucking gold! Get up and celebrate!" Getzy made a ridiculous noise that was half-hoot, half-laugh, and smacked Corey in the shoulder, hard.
"Ow, fuck!" Corey flailed out and hit Getzy's thigh, then subsided back onto the bed, closing his eyes. "I'm good in here, Getz, you should go back out and party." Or party more, anyway. Getzy was already pretty smashed, if the alcohol on his breath was any indication.
"But Pears," Getzy whined, "who's gonna be my wingman? There's still a bunch of hot figure skaters here, and that skier you like, and the snowboarders are talking about playing beer pong!" Getzy shook his shoulder, leaning over him. Oh, yeah, he'd definitely had a few.
Corey batted Getzy's hand away, and when he settled back this time he straightened the medal hanging around his neck so it was sitting perfectly centered on his chest before relaxing into the bed. He'd already had a few drinks with the boys after the Closing Ceremony, thumped everyone on the back a million times and smiled so much his face hurt. He'd snuck back to the room a half-hour ago to try to get some quiet time and let it all just sink in.
"I'm staying here, Getzy." He kept his eyes closed, pointedly, and when Getzy reached out to grab at his arm, he batted his hand away again.
After a few seconds, he heard Getzy huff out a breath. "Okay, fine. Then I'll stay in here with you. Shove over!" Corey pushed back at Getzy for the first few seconds, but eventually scooted over to the other side of the bed. He had years of experience in knowing when Getzy was just not going to let something go.
It wasn't that big of a bed, so his elbow still jabbed into Getzy's side, and Getzy's foot kept kicking at Corey's shin, but they sort of fit, anyway, and then it was both of them in Corey's room at the Olympic Village, lying on their backs in bed and staring up at the ceiling.
A minute passed, and then another. There were faint shouts in the distance outside the window, and someone downstairs had clearly found a stereo system to abuse the hell out of, but in the room, it was almost quiet. Peaceful. Corey ran through the game in his mind, and his goal, and felt the weight of the medal on his chest and the warmth of Getzy lying next to him, and it was... nice.
"I got 'n idea!" said Getzy, sounding obnoxiously awake and cheerful. He twisted onto his side to face Corey.
"Geez, you must be drunk, you actually shut up for five whole minutes," Corey told him, and kicked him in the foot for good measure.
"You shut up," said Getzy, kicking him back. "No, listen, my idea. It's an awesome idea." There was a laugh in his voice, that tone he got sometimes, like he was just barely suppressing breaking down into giggles. "The awesomest."
"Okay. Tell me your idea."
"If you're not gonna come out and help me pick up -- not that I need your help but it's the pris-- the prinsk-- the principle of the the thing -- then I think you should jerk me off to make up for it."
Corey's eyes snapped open. The ceiling looked the same. He turned his head slowly to look at Getzy, who was grinning at him happily.
"We. We haven't done that in years," Corey said. Not since their first year, when they lived together in that condo in Newport Beach. Back when they were still the Mighty Ducks. Back before they'd won the Cup.
"No, I know," said Getzy excitedly, "but Pears, Pears, we just won gold. Gold!" He grabbed his medal and shook it at Corey, the ribbon going taut around the back of his neck. "We should celebrate, and you know none of the guys are gonna be back for a couple hours still, if they come back at all." He grinned again, wide and just a little teasing. "C'mon, I'll blow you after, it'll be great."
They stared at each other for a few seconds, Getzy's smile managing to somehow look both hopeful and dickish, because that was just... Getzy. Corey narrowed his eyes at him.
"C'mon, Pears," Getzy wheedled. "You know you want to!"
Corey kept glaring at him, but turned onto his side anyway. He reached out and put his hand on Getzy's hip.
"Yeah," said Getzy. Corey clenched his hand in the denim, tugged on one of Getzy's belt loops. "Yeah," said Getzy again, "I knew you--"
"Shut up," said Corey, and fit his mouth over Getzy's while Getzy was still trying to finish his sentence.
Getzy broke off with a moan, then kissed back with more enthusiasm than finesse as Corey pushed at his hip hard to try to get him to lay back flat on the bed. Getzy seemed more interested in kissing than in following directions, though, so Corey took matters into his own hands, levering himself up to pin Getzy's shoulders to the mattress and shove one knee between Getzy's so he could use his thigh to hold his hips down.
Getzy backed off the kiss long enough to breathe, "Oh, fuck yeah," into Corey's mouth, and then he was biting at Corey's lower lip and rubbing his dick against Corey's thigh with sharp snaps of his hips, all while making this low, grunting, purring sound that Corey's dick really, really liked. It was a lot like the one Corey remembered Getzy making back in '06, but lower and kind of... growly-er.
Corey dropped his hands down to yank at Getzy's belt, and between them they managed to get Getzy's jeans and underwear off without too much fumbling. Corey broke the kiss the pull Getzy's shirt up and off, and then his own, and then they were making out like the teenagers they'd never quite been together, all messy kisses and rutting hips and warm, bare skin.
When Corey took Getzy's dick in his hand, Getzy gasped into Corey's mouth, then made that growly sound again and kissed Corey even harder, one hand cradling the back of Corey's head almost sweetly, the other gripping the sheet next to him, fingers clenching and releasing in rhythm with Corey's strokes. Getzy mouthed his way down Corey's neck to his shoulder, muttering encouragement and expletives in between groans.
Corey jerked him slow and steady and just this side of rough, the way he remembered Getzy liking it, and Getzy rewarded him with nips of his teeth along his collarbone, purrs and grunts and gasps, and eventually, that hitch in his breath that meant he was close. Corey sped up, and soon Getzy was moaning, "Fuck, fuck," and bit down on Corey's shoulder and spilled hot over Corey's hand.
Corey stroked him through it, then held on gently as Getzy's breathing started calming down. Then he wiped his hand on the sheet and flopped back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling again.
They laid there like that for a few minutes, quietly. Corey let his eyes drift shut. There was still shouting outside, and the stereo was still going. Corey was hard in his sweatpants, but somehow it didn't seem urgent right now.
Getzy reached over, set his hand on Corey's stomach. It was warm, comforting. The bed shook a little as Getzy shifted closer, and Corey jumped when Getzy's mouth closed over his right nipple. He opened his eyes, and Getzy smiled at him, looking sleepy and content and just a little wicked. Corey smiled back, a tiny, real smile, and lifted his hips to let Getzy pull his sweatpants down his legs and off.
Getzy's mouth on his dick felt both different and familiar, warm and wet and good. His technique hadn't much improved since the last time, but Corey didn't care at all. He'd liked it then, and he really, really liked it now.
This was definitely one of Getzy's better ideas. Corey might even tell him so later... but probably not.