[Fic: Hockey RPS] Saying your Names; Jannik Hansen/Cory Schneider; NC-17
OH DEAR GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE?! *headdesk x infinity* Okay, so this is so not what I intended to write about. This was supposed to be Luongo/Schneider, but clearly this had no intention of becoming that. Ah well, Jannik Hansen/Cory Schneider needs more love (not to mention Jannik Hansen alone). That's what I get for putting on Vienna Teng's Transcontintental, 1:30 AM (It's got such a pretty melody).
Disclaimer: This is by no means real. No offense or harm intended. Title from a Richard Siken poem.
Saying Your Names
Jannik Hansen/Cory Schneider; Vancouver Canucks; NC-17
It's that moment when you realize what it is you want in your life
Saying Your Names
Him pressing against me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.
(Saying Your Names - Richard Siken)
-»«-
"I've never been to Denmark," Cory remarks after practice one day. The first game of the Stanley Cup finals is set to begin in two days, and they were glad to have this little bit of time off to reflect and collect their thoughts. Cory's always liked Jannik for his uncanny ability to read into the emotions of his teammates. He knows when to stay silent, and when to mention something.
Now, is such a moment where they're both content to sit in silence.They're sitting on a park bench along the seawall, listening as the gulls' sharp cries cut through the blue of the sky. The white of the clouds making little scrolls - like thin white ribbons - across the cerulean blue.
"You should go," Jannik replies, tossing his coffee cup into a nearby trash can.
Cory watches as the white and green cup hits the rim, before bouncing in. He smiles. "Maybe."
"I'm going home this summer," Jannik remarks.
Cory bites his bottom lip and watches the different faceless, and nameless people walk by them. He sighs, and leans back on the bench. "Maybe this summer," he mutters outloud.
"You won't even have to hire a tour guide."
-»«-
The United Centre stands vast, and imposing. Cory always feels so small when he enters or exits the arena. Even more so knowing they have to go back to Vancouver for game number seven, and it was all because of him. It's a thought that weighs heavily on his mind all the way from the Centre to their hotel.
He manages to slip away, but he's quite sure none of his teammates feel like celebrating having to go back to Rogers and do it all over again.
Cory makes his way up to his room, his calf muscle still burning, despite seeing the medical personnel back at the Centre.
He doesn't register at first that Jannik's slipped wordlessly into the elevator next to him until Jannik sighs, and leans back against the glass panelled walls, and crosses his arms.
Jannik smells like soap, sweat, and cologne. It's a heady combination. It makes Cory dizzy. Makes his thoughts cloud. Makes him think about what Jannik looks like underneath his tailored suit jacket, and expensive trousers.
They ride the elevator in a comfortable silence. Cory glancing at Jannik from the corner of his eye every once in a while, half-hoping Jannik will say something; anything. He almost reaches out to shake him and order him to say something about the game. But, he stands next to Jannik, watching his shoes sink into the plush carpeting.
When the elevator dings for their floor, they step out of the doors in unison and walk down the hall.
They stop in front of Cory's room. He inserts the card key, watches as the green light blinks on, and he turns the knob silently. "Won't you be missed tonight?"
"Doubtful."
Cory wants to ask what Jannik means by that. Instead, he shrugs and opens his door wider. Wordlessly, Jannik follows Cory inside.
He stands by the window, looking down at the vast streets of Chicago, the yellow-orange lights from the lamps, glittering with hushed promises and secrets. The street outside their hotel stretches long, and vast like a canyon. It takes his breath away. He can see Jannik's reflection in the glass pane, as he leans against the dark wood of the table, arms crossed, expression distant and far-away.
Cory turns and takes in Jannik's silhouette. Everything from his dark, polished shoes, to the way his black-and-white striped shirt stretches over his pale collarbones. He can smell him even from his spot by the window: sweat, cologne, and finely milled soap mixing with the smell of fresh poplin.
"You played a great game tonight," Jannik finally blurts out.
Cory can't help the scoff that bubbles up from his throat. "No I didn't." He runs a hand through his hair. "I let the team down."
"No-one blames you, Cory."
"I didn't say they did."
"You didn't have to."
Cory eyes Jannik speculatively. Watches as he stands up to his full height and crosses the floor to him, and places his hands on his shoulders. His palms are warm, and Cory feels the warmth as it spreads through his system. He feels as Jannik's hand slides down his chest to where Cory's shirt is tucked into his pants. Cory's shirt is untucked soon after, and he feels his breath catch as Jannik's nimble fingers undo the buttons.
When Cory's shirt is hanging open on his shoulders, Jannik presses his hand to his chest.
"You don't have to carry the weight of the team, Cory." Jannik moves his hand and slides Cory's shirt down his arms. "It's a team thing. We all carry a part of the load."
Cory catches Jannik's wrist in his hand, and their eyes meet. Blue touching blue. "Stay the night," Cory whispers before he can stop himself.
Jannik nods, before he leans in and lets his lips meet Cory's. Cory releases his hand and feels as it runs down to his belt. There's a click as Jannik gets Cory's belt undone, and the rasp of his zipper, before Jannik's hand touches him.
Cory doesn't think about the loss for the rest of the night.
-»«-
The flight back from Nashville after game six has Cory and Jannik sitting next to each other. They haven't had a chance to talk about Chicago, or the two nights in Nashville during this round. It's a weird arrangement. But, it's something they can't bring themselves to talk about.
Cory's spent much of his time on the bench, watching Luongo as he plays in top form. Jannik knows it affects him, despite Cory saying the opposite. Jannik knows Cory better than most people, and he's not sure if it's because of the nights they spend together, or from just watching him over the course of their season. But, whatever it is, he knows Cory is affected by not playing. He nudges Cory's foot, and waits until Cory turns his head. Jannik lets his eyes meet Cory's, reading what his eyes are communicating with every blink.
Cory eventually nods his head in silent agreement.
They touch down in Vancouver, just as the sun dips below the horizon. The sky a swirl of pastel pink and sherbet orange blinks at their back as they climb into a cab. Cory gives the driver his address.
Wordlessly, they exit the cab after signing autographs for their driver, and leaving him a hefty tip.
Cory leads him up to his apartment, not bothering to check if Jannik follows him to the bathroom.
He stands in front of his mirror, and watches as Jannik's hands slide his suit jacket off, and his fingers unbutton buttons and lower zippers. Cory's eyes flutter close as Jannik's hand fans across his chest, and slowly slides down his abs, and past the waistband of Cory's pants. He lets his other hand comb through Cory's fiery strands, lets Cory grip his wrist, before turning his hand, so he can press a kiss against his palm. Jannik watches as Cory's tongue darts out to lick at his palm, and the webbing between his fingers.
Eventually, Cory threads his fingers into Jannik's hair and presses his lips to his, gasping out when Jannik eventually closes his fist around his cock. Cory arches his back, trying desperately to create more friction between his cock and Jannik's hand. He's rewarded with Jannik sliding his hand along his flesh. He's aware of Jannik pressing his chin into the curve where neck meets shoulder.
"I like watching you like this," Jannik whispers. "I like watching what I do to you."
Cory whimpers and grips the sink with his free hand. "Please … Jannik …"
"You like when I touch you like this, Cory?" Jannik moves his hand, and smirks at the way Cory's hips twitch, and his grip tightens on the counter. Cory's knuckles are white, his bottom lip kiss swollen and red from the way he's biting it.
"Oh, Jesus fuck," Cory moans, leaning his head forward.
"Y'know this is all I could think about doing to you on the plane," Jannik whispers, letting his other hand slide up Cory's chest, before he presses against Cory's neck, bringing him back to lean against Jannik's clothed torso. He bites Cory's ear, and listens at the gasp Cory makes. "All I could think about after that night in Chicago."
"I … I … I thought about this in Nashville," Cory chokes out, before he slams their mouths together. A messy clash of teeth and lips and tongue, that make Cory dizzy. The combination of want and need combining until Cory's dizzy with it.
It doesn't take long before Cory feels his cock twitch in Jannik's palm, and his hand threaded in Jannik's hair tightens, and he breaks their kiss to gasp out he's close.
"Come for me, Cory," Jannik whispers against his ear, licking the lobe, his eyes watching Cory's expression in the mirror. Cory's eyes snap open as the pressure in his belly finally spills over; his eyes - the colour a mirror image of Jannik's - meet Jannik's in the mirror, and seeing as Jannik's hand glides over his dick is what does it. Cory grips Jannik's hip with his free hand and comes in a thick, white hot streak that coats Jannik's hand, Cory's stomach and sink basin.
Cory's a quivering mess by then, hair damp and dishevelled, come drying on his stomach as Jannik steps away from him and sheds his clothes. Cory hears as his shower is turned on, and he's being pulled into the stall by Jannik.
He pushes Jannik against the wall of the shower, letting the water stream down their lithe forms, as he slides to his knees in front of him. "I also thought about doing this to you," Cory breathes, taking Jannik's cock in his hand, and runs his tongue along the underside of his dick.
The water runs cold long before they manage to get clean.
They lie on their backs on Cory's bed. Cory's hands half-outstretched, like he wants to reach for Jannik's, but deciding at the last moment that that would be far too intimate for what it is they're doing; whatever the fuck that is. Jannik has his hands tucked under his head, a towel draped across his hips. He stares at the ceiling as the sounds of Vancouver flit past them, and listens as Cory's breathing turns normal.
"So," Cory starts, "you want to talk about this?"
"What's there to talk about?"
Cory contemplates this question silently. The very loaded question hangs in the air between them. A vast canyon neither wants to take the first step towards.
They settle for laying next to each other, enjoying the silence between them. Cory looks over to Jannik, noticing he has his eyes closed, feigning sleep. He wants to shake him, reach out and run a hand through his hair, watching as the strands slide through his fingers like flax. He wants to ask Jannik what this all means. But, he knows he won't.
Cory is the first one to break the silence. "Jill's in town next week."
Jannik knows what that means. For the week they have to just be teammates. He nods.
"Western Conference Finals here we come," Jannik murmurs.
-»«-
They don't spend much time together after winning the Western Conference final. Cory heads back to Boston to visit his family and friends, and Jannik spends their time before the Stanley Cup final with Karen. He gets an occasional text from Cory. He replies to every one.
-»«-
There's not much to say between them after game seven. They sit in the player's room after their defeat, waiting for the go ahead that it's okay to leave. Karen's been texting him constantly, but he can't bear to text her back. He looks up from his cell phone screen, just in time to catch Cory's eye. He puts his phone away, his thoughts only for Cory in that moment.
"Come home with me," Cory's eyes seem to say.
When they finally leave Rogers Arena, Jannik climbs into his car and drives to Cory's, knowing the route off by heart now.
They fall into each other as soon as Cory gets his door unlocked. Their clothes are strewn around the small space, which makes them late for Juice's birthday dinner. The rest of their team is too preoccupied with watching the streets of Vancouver burn to notice their late arrival.
-»«-
"I bought a ticket to Denmark," Cory says, as they sit on the same park bench they had sat on before the Stanley Cup run began. "I'll be there in mid-July."
Jannik stares out at the water, his eyes shielded from the sun by his sunglasses. "You still want that tour?"
"Of course."
-»«-
Cory rolls over in the crisp linen of the sheets, fumbles for an alarm clock that is not there.
Outside, he can hear Herlev as it comes to life. The hard morning light cutting jagged lines across the sheets. The burgeoning sounds of traffic; car horns as they toot, the rattle of bikes as they make their way down the cobbled streets, the sounds of children as they giggle and run down the streets. Cory doesn't move for a moment. The air around him is warm, but mild; so unlike Boston in the midst of summer.
He hears steps, and the bed dipping as Jannik sits down next to him.
"You awake?"
Cory opens his eyes, and looks up at him. Jannik's hair is sleep mussed, but his blue eyes are bright and alive.
"Coffee's in the kitchen," Jannik says. "You have enough time for breakfast and coffee before you head for the airport?"
"Yeah, my flight's not until -"
Cory stops abruptly, taking in Jannik's side profile. Jannik doesn't say anything, just watches Cory intently, his fingers carding through his hair don't falter. Jannik looks so vulnerable in that instant, it makes Cory's chest ache, and he realizes there's no other place he would rather be at that moment than here. In Jannik's small apartment, in this foreign city. His suitcase is packed, it feels as if the three weeks he's spent in Denmark have flown by, but really, Cory can't bring himself to get up from the bed.
"What time's your flight?" Jannik asks finally, looking down at Cory.
"I -" Cory blinks, finally understanding why he was so afraid to answer Jannik's question about what it was they were doing. All those months they spent together. All those times Cory had Jannik's cock in his mouth, and his in Jannik's had been building up to this moment. "I don't want to leave."
Jannik laughs. "Okay, I'll go get you your coffee and do you want toast?"
Cory grabs his hand. "No, I mean, I don't want to leave Denmark just yet." He lets his fingers run across Jannik's knuckles. "Can I stay here for a bit longer?"
Jannik hesitates briefly. "What is it we're doing here, Cory?"
Cory doesn't falter this time. "I think you know."
His lips twitch in barely contained amusement. "Maybe. But, maybe I want you to spell it out for me."
"You've never wanted that before," Cory says.
Jannik trails a hand down Cory's cheek, and leans in, nuzzling his nose against Cory's cheek. "People change."
"Apparently," Cory breathes. "So is that a yes?"
"It is."
-»«-
Disclaimer: This is by no means real. No offense or harm intended. Title from a Richard Siken poem.
Saying Your Names
Jannik Hansen/Cory Schneider; Vancouver Canucks; NC-17
It's that moment when you realize what it is you want in your life
Saying Your Names
Him pressing against me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.
(Saying Your Names - Richard Siken)
-»«-
"I've never been to Denmark," Cory remarks after practice one day. The first game of the Stanley Cup finals is set to begin in two days, and they were glad to have this little bit of time off to reflect and collect their thoughts. Cory's always liked Jannik for his uncanny ability to read into the emotions of his teammates. He knows when to stay silent, and when to mention something.
Now, is such a moment where they're both content to sit in silence.They're sitting on a park bench along the seawall, listening as the gulls' sharp cries cut through the blue of the sky. The white of the clouds making little scrolls - like thin white ribbons - across the cerulean blue.
"You should go," Jannik replies, tossing his coffee cup into a nearby trash can.
Cory watches as the white and green cup hits the rim, before bouncing in. He smiles. "Maybe."
"I'm going home this summer," Jannik remarks.
Cory bites his bottom lip and watches the different faceless, and nameless people walk by them. He sighs, and leans back on the bench. "Maybe this summer," he mutters outloud.
"You won't even have to hire a tour guide."
-»«-
The United Centre stands vast, and imposing. Cory always feels so small when he enters or exits the arena. Even more so knowing they have to go back to Vancouver for game number seven, and it was all because of him. It's a thought that weighs heavily on his mind all the way from the Centre to their hotel.
He manages to slip away, but he's quite sure none of his teammates feel like celebrating having to go back to Rogers and do it all over again.
Cory makes his way up to his room, his calf muscle still burning, despite seeing the medical personnel back at the Centre.
He doesn't register at first that Jannik's slipped wordlessly into the elevator next to him until Jannik sighs, and leans back against the glass panelled walls, and crosses his arms.
Jannik smells like soap, sweat, and cologne. It's a heady combination. It makes Cory dizzy. Makes his thoughts cloud. Makes him think about what Jannik looks like underneath his tailored suit jacket, and expensive trousers.
They ride the elevator in a comfortable silence. Cory glancing at Jannik from the corner of his eye every once in a while, half-hoping Jannik will say something; anything. He almost reaches out to shake him and order him to say something about the game. But, he stands next to Jannik, watching his shoes sink into the plush carpeting.
When the elevator dings for their floor, they step out of the doors in unison and walk down the hall.
They stop in front of Cory's room. He inserts the card key, watches as the green light blinks on, and he turns the knob silently. "Won't you be missed tonight?"
"Doubtful."
Cory wants to ask what Jannik means by that. Instead, he shrugs and opens his door wider. Wordlessly, Jannik follows Cory inside.
He stands by the window, looking down at the vast streets of Chicago, the yellow-orange lights from the lamps, glittering with hushed promises and secrets. The street outside their hotel stretches long, and vast like a canyon. It takes his breath away. He can see Jannik's reflection in the glass pane, as he leans against the dark wood of the table, arms crossed, expression distant and far-away.
Cory turns and takes in Jannik's silhouette. Everything from his dark, polished shoes, to the way his black-and-white striped shirt stretches over his pale collarbones. He can smell him even from his spot by the window: sweat, cologne, and finely milled soap mixing with the smell of fresh poplin.
"You played a great game tonight," Jannik finally blurts out.
Cory can't help the scoff that bubbles up from his throat. "No I didn't." He runs a hand through his hair. "I let the team down."
"No-one blames you, Cory."
"I didn't say they did."
"You didn't have to."
Cory eyes Jannik speculatively. Watches as he stands up to his full height and crosses the floor to him, and places his hands on his shoulders. His palms are warm, and Cory feels the warmth as it spreads through his system. He feels as Jannik's hand slides down his chest to where Cory's shirt is tucked into his pants. Cory's shirt is untucked soon after, and he feels his breath catch as Jannik's nimble fingers undo the buttons.
When Cory's shirt is hanging open on his shoulders, Jannik presses his hand to his chest.
"You don't have to carry the weight of the team, Cory." Jannik moves his hand and slides Cory's shirt down his arms. "It's a team thing. We all carry a part of the load."
Cory catches Jannik's wrist in his hand, and their eyes meet. Blue touching blue. "Stay the night," Cory whispers before he can stop himself.
Jannik nods, before he leans in and lets his lips meet Cory's. Cory releases his hand and feels as it runs down to his belt. There's a click as Jannik gets Cory's belt undone, and the rasp of his zipper, before Jannik's hand touches him.
Cory doesn't think about the loss for the rest of the night.
-»«-
The flight back from Nashville after game six has Cory and Jannik sitting next to each other. They haven't had a chance to talk about Chicago, or the two nights in Nashville during this round. It's a weird arrangement. But, it's something they can't bring themselves to talk about.
Cory's spent much of his time on the bench, watching Luongo as he plays in top form. Jannik knows it affects him, despite Cory saying the opposite. Jannik knows Cory better than most people, and he's not sure if it's because of the nights they spend together, or from just watching him over the course of their season. But, whatever it is, he knows Cory is affected by not playing. He nudges Cory's foot, and waits until Cory turns his head. Jannik lets his eyes meet Cory's, reading what his eyes are communicating with every blink.
Cory eventually nods his head in silent agreement.
They touch down in Vancouver, just as the sun dips below the horizon. The sky a swirl of pastel pink and sherbet orange blinks at their back as they climb into a cab. Cory gives the driver his address.
Wordlessly, they exit the cab after signing autographs for their driver, and leaving him a hefty tip.
Cory leads him up to his apartment, not bothering to check if Jannik follows him to the bathroom.
He stands in front of his mirror, and watches as Jannik's hands slide his suit jacket off, and his fingers unbutton buttons and lower zippers. Cory's eyes flutter close as Jannik's hand fans across his chest, and slowly slides down his abs, and past the waistband of Cory's pants. He lets his other hand comb through Cory's fiery strands, lets Cory grip his wrist, before turning his hand, so he can press a kiss against his palm. Jannik watches as Cory's tongue darts out to lick at his palm, and the webbing between his fingers.
Eventually, Cory threads his fingers into Jannik's hair and presses his lips to his, gasping out when Jannik eventually closes his fist around his cock. Cory arches his back, trying desperately to create more friction between his cock and Jannik's hand. He's rewarded with Jannik sliding his hand along his flesh. He's aware of Jannik pressing his chin into the curve where neck meets shoulder.
"I like watching you like this," Jannik whispers. "I like watching what I do to you."
Cory whimpers and grips the sink with his free hand. "Please … Jannik …"
"You like when I touch you like this, Cory?" Jannik moves his hand, and smirks at the way Cory's hips twitch, and his grip tightens on the counter. Cory's knuckles are white, his bottom lip kiss swollen and red from the way he's biting it.
"Oh, Jesus fuck," Cory moans, leaning his head forward.
"Y'know this is all I could think about doing to you on the plane," Jannik whispers, letting his other hand slide up Cory's chest, before he presses against Cory's neck, bringing him back to lean against Jannik's clothed torso. He bites Cory's ear, and listens at the gasp Cory makes. "All I could think about after that night in Chicago."
"I … I … I thought about this in Nashville," Cory chokes out, before he slams their mouths together. A messy clash of teeth and lips and tongue, that make Cory dizzy. The combination of want and need combining until Cory's dizzy with it.
It doesn't take long before Cory feels his cock twitch in Jannik's palm, and his hand threaded in Jannik's hair tightens, and he breaks their kiss to gasp out he's close.
"Come for me, Cory," Jannik whispers against his ear, licking the lobe, his eyes watching Cory's expression in the mirror. Cory's eyes snap open as the pressure in his belly finally spills over; his eyes - the colour a mirror image of Jannik's - meet Jannik's in the mirror, and seeing as Jannik's hand glides over his dick is what does it. Cory grips Jannik's hip with his free hand and comes in a thick, white hot streak that coats Jannik's hand, Cory's stomach and sink basin.
Cory's a quivering mess by then, hair damp and dishevelled, come drying on his stomach as Jannik steps away from him and sheds his clothes. Cory hears as his shower is turned on, and he's being pulled into the stall by Jannik.
He pushes Jannik against the wall of the shower, letting the water stream down their lithe forms, as he slides to his knees in front of him. "I also thought about doing this to you," Cory breathes, taking Jannik's cock in his hand, and runs his tongue along the underside of his dick.
The water runs cold long before they manage to get clean.
They lie on their backs on Cory's bed. Cory's hands half-outstretched, like he wants to reach for Jannik's, but deciding at the last moment that that would be far too intimate for what it is they're doing; whatever the fuck that is. Jannik has his hands tucked under his head, a towel draped across his hips. He stares at the ceiling as the sounds of Vancouver flit past them, and listens as Cory's breathing turns normal.
"So," Cory starts, "you want to talk about this?"
"What's there to talk about?"
Cory contemplates this question silently. The very loaded question hangs in the air between them. A vast canyon neither wants to take the first step towards.
They settle for laying next to each other, enjoying the silence between them. Cory looks over to Jannik, noticing he has his eyes closed, feigning sleep. He wants to shake him, reach out and run a hand through his hair, watching as the strands slide through his fingers like flax. He wants to ask Jannik what this all means. But, he knows he won't.
Cory is the first one to break the silence. "Jill's in town next week."
Jannik knows what that means. For the week they have to just be teammates. He nods.
"Western Conference Finals here we come," Jannik murmurs.
-»«-
They don't spend much time together after winning the Western Conference final. Cory heads back to Boston to visit his family and friends, and Jannik spends their time before the Stanley Cup final with Karen. He gets an occasional text from Cory. He replies to every one.
-»«-
There's not much to say between them after game seven. They sit in the player's room after their defeat, waiting for the go ahead that it's okay to leave. Karen's been texting him constantly, but he can't bear to text her back. He looks up from his cell phone screen, just in time to catch Cory's eye. He puts his phone away, his thoughts only for Cory in that moment.
"Come home with me," Cory's eyes seem to say.
When they finally leave Rogers Arena, Jannik climbs into his car and drives to Cory's, knowing the route off by heart now.
They fall into each other as soon as Cory gets his door unlocked. Their clothes are strewn around the small space, which makes them late for Juice's birthday dinner. The rest of their team is too preoccupied with watching the streets of Vancouver burn to notice their late arrival.
-»«-
"I bought a ticket to Denmark," Cory says, as they sit on the same park bench they had sat on before the Stanley Cup run began. "I'll be there in mid-July."
Jannik stares out at the water, his eyes shielded from the sun by his sunglasses. "You still want that tour?"
"Of course."
-»«-
Cory rolls over in the crisp linen of the sheets, fumbles for an alarm clock that is not there.
Outside, he can hear Herlev as it comes to life. The hard morning light cutting jagged lines across the sheets. The burgeoning sounds of traffic; car horns as they toot, the rattle of bikes as they make their way down the cobbled streets, the sounds of children as they giggle and run down the streets. Cory doesn't move for a moment. The air around him is warm, but mild; so unlike Boston in the midst of summer.
He hears steps, and the bed dipping as Jannik sits down next to him.
"You awake?"
Cory opens his eyes, and looks up at him. Jannik's hair is sleep mussed, but his blue eyes are bright and alive.
"Coffee's in the kitchen," Jannik says. "You have enough time for breakfast and coffee before you head for the airport?"
"Yeah, my flight's not until -"
Cory stops abruptly, taking in Jannik's side profile. Jannik doesn't say anything, just watches Cory intently, his fingers carding through his hair don't falter. Jannik looks so vulnerable in that instant, it makes Cory's chest ache, and he realizes there's no other place he would rather be at that moment than here. In Jannik's small apartment, in this foreign city. His suitcase is packed, it feels as if the three weeks he's spent in Denmark have flown by, but really, Cory can't bring himself to get up from the bed.
"What time's your flight?" Jannik asks finally, looking down at Cory.
"I -" Cory blinks, finally understanding why he was so afraid to answer Jannik's question about what it was they were doing. All those months they spent together. All those times Cory had Jannik's cock in his mouth, and his in Jannik's had been building up to this moment. "I don't want to leave."
Jannik laughs. "Okay, I'll go get you your coffee and do you want toast?"
Cory grabs his hand. "No, I mean, I don't want to leave Denmark just yet." He lets his fingers run across Jannik's knuckles. "Can I stay here for a bit longer?"
Jannik hesitates briefly. "What is it we're doing here, Cory?"
Cory doesn't falter this time. "I think you know."
His lips twitch in barely contained amusement. "Maybe. But, maybe I want you to spell it out for me."
"You've never wanted that before," Cory says.
Jannik trails a hand down Cory's cheek, and leans in, nuzzling his nose against Cory's cheek. "People change."
"Apparently," Cory breathes. "So is that a yes?"
"It is."
-»«-