[Fic: Hockey RPS] Kiss me Hard Before you Go; Richards/Lecavalier; Lundqvist/Richards; NC-17
Okay, confession time ... This was where I was originally going to end the Hide the Night-verse, but quenchmysoul claimed she would be forced to stalk me forever if I left it this way. So, yeah ... this isn't the end. I promise.
However, I make no promises about having tissues handy.
Disclaimer: None of this is true. Any resemblance to existing places, and or names is entirely coincidental. No harm or offense intended. Title from the Lana Del Rey song, Summertime Sadness.
Notes: Covers the time after the Rangers Casino Night (Feb 28th), and the two away games against the Carolina Hurricanes and the Tampa Bay Lightning (March 1-2nd). Tenth in the Hide the Night-verse
Warnings: dirty talk, mutual masturbation, fingering, barebacking
Kiss me Hard Before you Go
past & present Brad Richards/Vince Lecavalier; Henrik Lundqvist/Brad Richards; NC-17
Does taking piece after piece of a person eventually make them whole?
Kiss me Hard Before you Go
Brad would be the first to admit it's hard to sleep through the night. Not because his body was sore; okay, maybe it was a bit of that. But, more because he could never seem to quiet his mind long enough, and push away all the memories of the past.
It was a weird feeling, being suspended in your subconscious. Brad thinks it is like limbo. The border between awake, and asleep haunting. It's usually when he's in this weird suspension does Vinny ever crop up. There's the easy, carefree memories. Him and Vinny first meeting in their dorm room at fourteen. The first time they fooled around. How they had stayed curled against each other afterwards, Vinny mumbling at him in broken French and English. The syllables of the words running together it made Brad dizzy and slightly euphoric.
He wanted to bottle the memory. Tuck it away in the deep, dark recesses of his heart. Far enough away that the only way he could ever retrieve it was to dream it up.
Sometimes he thinks the years he's spent with Vinny were like a dream. Some blissful, half-suspended, euphoric dream. He's spent countless times over the ten plus years he's known Vinny wishing, praying, hoping something would occur. Anything, really. Anything to tell him this had been a dream. Some far-reaching, half-assed attempt at his mind telling him it was okay, because it was all a dream. In a few moments, he would wake up. He'd still be the young, impressionable boy he had been when he first met Vinny at Athol Murray.
Brad goes over and over each moment in his mind. Each step he took. Every word he uttered to Vinny over the years. Every time their fingers just slightly touched. Every time he watched Vinny sit up on his side of the bed, watching the thin line of his spine disappear as he pulled up his boxers. Every time he reached out, fingers touching the delicate gold chain where the tiny, gold crucifix was.
The oddity of them being at a Catholic boarding school, and fucking was not lost on either of them. The tiny crucifix Vinny almost always wore a constant reminder of that.
"I don't think this is what either of our parents had in mind for us," Brad remarks, as Vinny climbs on top of him, sitting back on his heels, his cinnamon coloured eyes staring down at him.
"I don't think any teenager plans to have an ongoing sexual relationship with their roommate," Vinny says, he leans forward, his arms framing Brad's face.
The gold of the crucifix Vinny wears dangles over Brad's face. He gulps in an attempt to get the moisture back into his throat. "You sure 'bout this?"
"Pretty sure. I mean, y'know, there's only so much excitement to come from blowing you, and humping," Vinny replies.
Brad chuckles, and stares up at Vinny. "I don't …"
Vinny places a hand against Brad's lips. "Come on, Brad. We've already crossed as many lines as possible. What's one more?"
Brad has to concede defeat at that remark. Because, oh, hell, who was he kidding? Vinny was right. What was one more line?
"So, um … how do you wanna do this?" Brad asks.
"You're okay with this position? I mean, we could, I mean, you could get on your knees or somethin'."
Brad feels his stomach as it flip-flops, and a hot blush crosses his cheeks, and spreads across his chest.
"Look, stop fucking around, Vinny, and let's just get this over with."
Vinny chuckles. "Nice choice of words, Brad."
Brad watches as Vinny uncaps the bottle he seemed to produce from out of nowhere. Vinny coats his entire hand with the stuff, rubs the tips of his fingers together, and Brad feels his cock twitch.
Vinny slides down his body, and widens Brad's legs, as he settles between them.
Brad bites his bottom lip and squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the initial press of Vinny's index fingers against his hole. And, oh …
Vinny's voice breaks through his reverie. "Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, just …" Brad shifts against the sheets, and his eyes fly open, confronted with Vinny's concerned ones.
Vinny is hovering above him, leans down to kiss him. It's chaste, but it does distract Brad briefly. He groans softly as Vinny slides his finger back out of him.
"Brad …" Vinny's eyes are warm, full of concern.
"S'okay, Vinny," Brad mumbles. "Keep going."
"You want another?" Vinny asks, trying to hide his shock.
Brad just nods, and waits until he feels Vinny shift his position. He gasps and swears as Vinny slides in a second finger.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, Brad. I'm sorry." Vinny stiffens almost immediately. "We can stop."
"No, no, no," Brad gasps as Vinny slides his fingers in and then out of him. "Fuck. I swear to God, Vinny, if you stop now, I'll …"
"S'just that … merde … I didn't think you'd be this - this tight - fuck, Brad, I don't -"
"Just … fuck, Vinny. Stop talking. Shit. Fuck. Don't you dare stop."
"I don't want to hurt -"
"Goddamnit, Vinny. I'm not made of fucking glass, okay. Just fucking do it, okay?"
As Vinny's fingers leave his body, Brad swore time stood still. Caught in that weird limbo. He hears as the foil on the small, square packet is ripped, and watches as Vinny slides the latex on with shaky hands.
He doesn't have much more time to think on anything, as Vinny coats the latex, and his length with lube. His eyes flick up to Brad, and he clears his throat before he scrambles towards him.
"Stop me if it's - if it's too much."
Brad nods, breath caught in his throat as Vinny widens his legs, his hands braced on Brad's hips, as the head of his cock rubs against his ass.
Brad squirms on the mattress, shifting his body into a better position. His head is a jumbled mess, right up until he feels the initial press of Vinny's cock. Vinny's biting his bottom lip, his face one of focused concentration as he eases inside Brad in agonizingly slow increments.
He can't think, doesn't dare move. Oh, fuck, why did it feel like he was being stretched from the inside out. It was just … he felt so incredibly … full. He couldn't stand it, and yet, he could not form the words to tell Vinny.
Vinny gasps, and brings his mouth to Brad's ear, as his hips bump against Brad's thighs.
"This is … Brad … you're just … fuck, Brad … I just -"
Brad digs his fingers into Vinny's back, and snaps his hips up against Vinny's. "You can move, Vinny."
Vinny grips Brad's shoulders with his hands, as he slides out, before pushing back in. Brad feels white hot pain slice through him at Vinny's movements. He's sure he bites through his bottom lip as Vinny continues his shallow thrusting.
White, hot lights explode behind his closed eyelids, burning hot and brilliant like a supernova. He doesn't want Vinny to stop, but he's not sure this burn, this pain is worth it.
"Brad," Vinny gasps, mouth pressed against his shoulder. teeth grazing the skin lightly. "Say something. Anything. Just …"
"More," Brad gasps. "Keep going." He still has his eyes closed, the burning sensation is beginning to dissipate the longer Vinny keeps moving. "Fuck, Vinny."
Vinny shifts, moves a bit off of Brad, and reaches between their bodies, and curls his hand around Brad's cock. He barely slides his hand all the way down Brad's length, before Brad comes, the knuckles of his right hand pressed against his mouth to stop from yelling out loud.
The way Brad convulses around him is enough to set Vinny off. He tumbles and falls into his own orgasm. Vinny collapses on top of Brad, the bones in his arms almost snapping apart like sticks of broken candy. He's dimly aware of Brad sliding his hand down his back, pushing the tremors out of him like the way the waves lap at a shoreline.
Eventually, Vinny slides from Brad's body. Brad moans softly at the loss of contact.
"You all right?"
Brad rolls onto his side, curling up against Vinny's side. The stiffness and aching finally setting in to his limbs. "Never better."
-x-
Brad spends the night after Casino Night ended staring up at the ceiling. He's not sure how long he stays awake, counting the ceiling tiles. They are perfect, and square. Stretching across all four walls.
He's not sure how many times he counts them, before he feels his bed shift.
Hank presses up against him, the cloth from his immaculately pressed dress pants sliding against his own.
Brad feels warm fingers curl around his, listens as his breath catches as Hank slides a hand down his chest, fingers undoing buttons as he goes.
"You should sleep," he whispers, kissing Brad's temple.
Brad laughs, and shivers slightly as the cool air kisses his bare skin. "So should you."
Hank's laugh sounds like sun warmed honey, coating Brad's skin, quieting his thoughts.
He lets his eyes slide to Hank's briefly. He looks every bit as handsome as he had that evening. Even slightly dishevelled, and relaxed, he still managed to take Brad's breath away.
This was just … Brad was not sure what he would call this. It had all the makings of some blissful, worn out dream. But it wasn't. He was most certainly not drowning in his subconscious. And, he was most certainly not in limbo. Because, if he was, shouldn't memories of Vinny be creeping up like a fog.
Brad's eyes flutter, as he fights with falling into a restless sleep.
"Brad," Hank's voice is calling to him through the fog.
Brad fights to stay awake, to stay with Hank's quiet, unassuming voice. He squeezes his hand, and is half-shocked to find Hank squeeze back.
"I can't …" he mumbles, eyes fluttering, before snapping open, bringing his ceiling back into focus. "I … Hank … Vinny … this isn't what my parents would have expected me to be doing here …"
"Shh," Hank whispers, pressing another kiss to Brad's temple, before his lips slide over Brad's eyelids. "Sleep."
"I can't sleep … too many …" Brad yawns, squeezes Hank's hand harder. "Hank … I … Le cœur a ses raisons."
"Shh," Hank repeats, hand sliding lower before undoing Brad's belt, button and lowering the zipper on his pants.
Brad doesn't fight it as he lets Hank slide his dress pants down and off. "You don't … you don't …"
"Don't talk anymore, Brad," Hank says. "Sleep." He presses another kiss against Brad's temple, and curls his arm around Brad's form. "Jag tror att jag älskar dig."
"You'll never tell me what it means," Brad mumbles, still fighting with staying awake.
"I will," Hank whispers. "Sleep, now, Brad."
Brad wants to argue, but his limbs are boneless, and he slowly lets sleep claim him. He's sure Hank covers his mouth with his own right before he falls into a restless sleep.
Hank sleeps beside him that night, curled on his side, arm draped over Brad's form. His face pressed into the curve of Brad's shoulder.
Brad wakes up once in the night, not because of his past memories haunting him, but because he's not sure if this was real. If it was really Hank pressed against his side, head half-concealed by his hair and the sheets.
He feels warm, and he lets Hank hold him. He doesn't dream of Vinny for the rest of the night.
-x-
Their next game on March 1st is scheduled to be in North Carolina. Part of a two game road trip. Back to back games. One in North Carolina, the next one in Tampa.
They both don't speak of it on their sleepless flight to North Carolina. Brad's not quite sure if he could bring himself to bring up the subject. He knows it must be on Hank's mind.
Instead, he is silent on the plane ride, and laughs silently at his teammates antics. He tries to sleep. Dozes off here and there, but always wakes, thoughts of Vinny floating through his mind.
Brad scrolls through the texts on his phone, reads through Vinny's, and feels his chest tighten when his eyes land on the simple words: March 2nd.
He tucks his phone away, and glances over to where he sees Hank eyeing him silently.
They land in Raleigh, and for the most part, it's uneventful. He spends the night before the game wrapped up in Hank's sheets. Keeps waiting.
He's not too sure what it is he's waiting for.
He thinks it might be the dreams. He wants to believe it's the dreams he's waiting for. Some way for him to get a firm grasp on reality.
So, he waits until he finally dozes off. He waits for the dreams to haunt him. To hold him suspended in limbo.
They never do.
Brad wakes on game day, with his hand stretched out. Hank lays next to him, fingers just touching the tips of his.
Hank eventually gets up and heads for the bathroom. He leaves the door ajar, the light spilling into the hallway.
Brad shuffles after him, and gets lost in the steam from the shower, as Hank pulls him into the stall.
It's messy, and perfect. The kind of things all good porno's are made of. Hank has his hands tangled in Brad's hair as Brad kneels in front of him, lips stretched around Hank's cock.
Hank's nails scrape over the wet tiles, eyes closed as he comes apart in Brad's mouth.
-x-
They pick up another two points, and move on to Tampa.
It's late when they arrive in Tampa. He is too tired to wander off to Hank's room, but he does slip his spare room key into Hank's pocket.
Their eyes meet, and Brad just shrugs before he makes his way off to his room.
He falls asleep almost as soon as his face hits the pillow.
The dreams catch up to him that night. He wakes up multiple times in the night; a shaking, shivering mess. He gasps for air, squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the images, the visions.
Brad wonders how long he can go on like this.
He picks up his phone, and before he knows what he's doing he's listening to his phone ring in the silence.
"I know," comes the simple reply.
"After practice," Brad breathes, before he clicks his phone off.
He spends the next couple hours suspended in limbo. Brad reaches a hand out sometime during the night, hoping his hand will touch Hank's familiar fingertips. He comes up empty every time.
-x-
Their practice goes by relatively quickly, and before Brad can blink, he's stepping out of the shower, and crossing to his stall to get his gear together.
He checks his messages. Sees the lone text from Vinny. It rocks him to the core.
It's a simple text, but Brad still finds he is rushing to exit the arena.
He turns when he's at the door to the locker room, feeling like someone was watching him. Sure enough, Hank is watching him, eyes speculative, and … was that hurt?
Brad wants to tell him it'll be okay, but he finds he can't even bring his eyes to silently communicate that thought, before he slips from the room.
The drive to Davis Island is faster than he anticipated, and before long, he is standing on Vinny's doorstep, breathless, and dizzy.
Vinny pulls him inside. Brad's shoes and socks are kicked off by the time Vinny's knees come up against his couch.
"Where is everyone?" Brad asks, straddling Vinny's lap.
"Caroline … fuck, Brad," Vinny gasps as Brad cups him through his jeans. "Caroline took the kids out for the day."
"Did you ask her to?"
Vinny relaxes as Brad slides his mouth over his, coaxing his lips apart with his tongue.
"How'd practice go?" Vinny asks, avoiding Brad's question.
"Long," Brad replies, pressing their foreheads together. "How long are you out of the lineup for?"
"Indefinitely," Vinny says, and reaches his hands up to get Brad's dress shirt untucked and unbuttoned.
Their breathing is shallow and uneven. Brad has his eyes closed, blunt nails raking over Vinny's chest.
"Miss me?" Vinny whispers, a teasing lilt to his tone.
"Always," Brad replies.
"Really?"
"Really," Brad agrees.
"Even when you're with Henrik?"
"Who says …" Brad's voice trails off, as he gets up to undress. Vinny is naked by the time Brad comes back to him.
"It's okay, Brad," Vinny says, tone reassuring, as he comes up with a small bottle of lube, and tosses it to him.
"You prepared for this." Brad straddles VInny's thighs, reaches around behind him with two slick fingers, and slips them inside. He sighs, and lets his eyes flutter close.
Vinny watches Brad intently, running a hand down his thigh, silently encouraging him. "Don't stop," he urges, reaching a hand out to curl around Brad's cock.
Brad jumps slightly at the contact, and moans out Vinny's name. "God, Vinny, keep doing that."
"You like it when I touch you while you fuck yourself open for me?"
"Oh … fuck," Brad gasps, eyes blinking rapidly, his fingers dipping into the small space between his ass. "Don't stop, Vinny. Please, don't."
"Do you like fucking yourself for Henrik?" Vinny asks. "Does he like to watch?"
"Oh, Jesus shit, Vinny," Brad gasps, the fingers from his free hand digging into Vinny's shoulder in an effort to keep his balance.
Vinny continues to slide his hand over Brad's dick in a familiar fashion. "Come on, Brad … don't hold back for me." He nips at Brad's shoulder, runs his free hand over Brad's thighs, and up his chest.
Brad nips at Vinny's index finger, and sucks it into his mouth in a hot, wet drawing pull.
"You want me to come?" he gasps, throwing his head back.
"Yes," Vinny hisses, working Brad's cock faster. "Come for me. I want to see you as you come."
Brad slides his fingers free, grasps the base of Vinny's cock, before he sinks down onto him with a gasp, biting his bottom lip. "Vinny …" he chokes out.
"You're holding back, Brad," Vinny says, yanking Brad's cock. "Come on, Brad. Let go. Don't fight it. Come for me."
Brad places his hands on Vinny's chest as he rises and falls on Vinny's cock. "Make me come, Vinny. Please."
Vinny lets Brad set the pace, as he snaps his hips up, his other hand twisting on Brad's cock.
"Oh, fuck, yes, just like that …" Brad gasps, and writhes above Vinny. "God, shit … I've missed you."
"You'd better have fucking missed me," Vinny growls, as he snaps his hips up one more time, and comes.
Brad comes apart in Vinny's hand soon after, coating both their stomachs in white, hot, sticky heat.
They collapse against the couch soon after, sweaty, and boneless. Vinny holds Brad against him, mouth pressed to his ear.
"Le cœur a ses raisons," he whispers over and over against Brad's ear.
"Que la raison ne connaît pas," Brad responds.
-x-
Brad makes it back to his hotel room with time to spare. They have to leave for the arena in about an hour. He gets his door unlocked, and stumbles slightly when he sees Hank standing by the window, his back to him.
"Tampa's sunsets are beautiful," Hank remarks, as he hears the door being shut behind Brad.
"They are," Brad agrees.
He stands rooted to his spot by the bed, unable to move.
Eventually, Hank turns, and crosses the floor to him. He curls his index finger and thumb under Brad's chin, and tilts it up to him.
"Brad," he starts, "when you look at me, who do you see?"
Brad gulps. "I don't … I don't know what you mean."
Hank sighs, and presses a kiss to Brad's forehead, and rests his chin against the crown of Brad's head.
"I kept hoping … I kept thinking I could take bits and pieces of you. Hoping eventually, all the bits and pieces would be enough to make you whole. But, it's never going to be enough."
"Hank, it's -"
"Let me finish," Hank orders. "I kept thinking over time all the pieces would be enough to make you whole again, but it's not enough. I'm not enough. You're always going to be this broken, and no matter how many pieces I keep taking, or you keep giving, it's never going to be enough."
"Hank," Brad whispers, curling an arm around Hank's waist.
Hank steps away slightly. "Which is why this is the hardest thing I will ever have to say to you."
Brad lets his hand fall away from Hank, an icy feeling shooting through his system. "Hank, I -"
Hank presses a finger to Brad's lips, effectively silencing him. "I care about you too much to watch you destroy yourself like this."
"Are you -"
"And, I can't stand by knowing I'm partially responsible for why you're like this."
"Hank, this is -"
Hank presses his lips to Brad's, squeezing his eyes shut, in an attempt to stave off the tears.
"You're ending this," Brad chokes out.
When Hank pulls back, he traces Brad's jaw with his finger. "People should know when they're conquered," he whispers cryptically against Brad's lips.
Brad swallows heavily, listens to the silence in his hotel room. The silence is deafening. He can hear Hank as he breathes in slowly, can smell his cologne as Hank moves his head slightly. Hank curls his hand around the crown of Brad's head, and pulls him into his arms.
Brad feels his skin tingle from the dying rays of Tampa's sun as they filter in through the window. He hears Hank sigh, and press a kiss to his hair, before he steps away from him.
"What do you mean by that?" Brad finally manages to choke out.
Hank smiles sadly, before he turns and walks towards the door. Just before he exits Brad's room, he turns to him. "If you have to ask me that, Brad, you'll never know." He hesitates for a beat, before he says, "You know where to find me."
-x-
Brad supposes the loss to Tampa Bay that night was bound to happen.
It still doesn't stop the tightening in his chest, or the dreams that chase him for most of the night.
However, I make no promises about having tissues handy.
Disclaimer: None of this is true. Any resemblance to existing places, and or names is entirely coincidental. No harm or offense intended. Title from the Lana Del Rey song, Summertime Sadness.
Notes: Covers the time after the Rangers Casino Night (Feb 28th), and the two away games against the Carolina Hurricanes and the Tampa Bay Lightning (March 1-2nd). Tenth in the Hide the Night-verse
Warnings: dirty talk, mutual masturbation, fingering, barebacking
Kiss me Hard Before you Go
past & present Brad Richards/Vince Lecavalier; Henrik Lundqvist/Brad Richards; NC-17
Does taking piece after piece of a person eventually make them whole?
Kiss me Hard Before you Go
Brad would be the first to admit it's hard to sleep through the night. Not because his body was sore; okay, maybe it was a bit of that. But, more because he could never seem to quiet his mind long enough, and push away all the memories of the past.
It was a weird feeling, being suspended in your subconscious. Brad thinks it is like limbo. The border between awake, and asleep haunting. It's usually when he's in this weird suspension does Vinny ever crop up. There's the easy, carefree memories. Him and Vinny first meeting in their dorm room at fourteen. The first time they fooled around. How they had stayed curled against each other afterwards, Vinny mumbling at him in broken French and English. The syllables of the words running together it made Brad dizzy and slightly euphoric.
He wanted to bottle the memory. Tuck it away in the deep, dark recesses of his heart. Far enough away that the only way he could ever retrieve it was to dream it up.
Sometimes he thinks the years he's spent with Vinny were like a dream. Some blissful, half-suspended, euphoric dream. He's spent countless times over the ten plus years he's known Vinny wishing, praying, hoping something would occur. Anything, really. Anything to tell him this had been a dream. Some far-reaching, half-assed attempt at his mind telling him it was okay, because it was all a dream. In a few moments, he would wake up. He'd still be the young, impressionable boy he had been when he first met Vinny at Athol Murray.
Brad goes over and over each moment in his mind. Each step he took. Every word he uttered to Vinny over the years. Every time their fingers just slightly touched. Every time he watched Vinny sit up on his side of the bed, watching the thin line of his spine disappear as he pulled up his boxers. Every time he reached out, fingers touching the delicate gold chain where the tiny, gold crucifix was.
The oddity of them being at a Catholic boarding school, and fucking was not lost on either of them. The tiny crucifix Vinny almost always wore a constant reminder of that.
"I don't think this is what either of our parents had in mind for us," Brad remarks, as Vinny climbs on top of him, sitting back on his heels, his cinnamon coloured eyes staring down at him.
"I don't think any teenager plans to have an ongoing sexual relationship with their roommate," Vinny says, he leans forward, his arms framing Brad's face.
The gold of the crucifix Vinny wears dangles over Brad's face. He gulps in an attempt to get the moisture back into his throat. "You sure 'bout this?"
"Pretty sure. I mean, y'know, there's only so much excitement to come from blowing you, and humping," Vinny replies.
Brad chuckles, and stares up at Vinny. "I don't …"
Vinny places a hand against Brad's lips. "Come on, Brad. We've already crossed as many lines as possible. What's one more?"
Brad has to concede defeat at that remark. Because, oh, hell, who was he kidding? Vinny was right. What was one more line?
"So, um … how do you wanna do this?" Brad asks.
"You're okay with this position? I mean, we could, I mean, you could get on your knees or somethin'."
Brad feels his stomach as it flip-flops, and a hot blush crosses his cheeks, and spreads across his chest.
"Look, stop fucking around, Vinny, and let's just get this over with."
Vinny chuckles. "Nice choice of words, Brad."
Brad watches as Vinny uncaps the bottle he seemed to produce from out of nowhere. Vinny coats his entire hand with the stuff, rubs the tips of his fingers together, and Brad feels his cock twitch.
Vinny slides down his body, and widens Brad's legs, as he settles between them.
Brad bites his bottom lip and squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the initial press of Vinny's index fingers against his hole. And, oh …
Vinny's voice breaks through his reverie. "Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, just …" Brad shifts against the sheets, and his eyes fly open, confronted with Vinny's concerned ones.
Vinny is hovering above him, leans down to kiss him. It's chaste, but it does distract Brad briefly. He groans softly as Vinny slides his finger back out of him.
"Brad …" Vinny's eyes are warm, full of concern.
"S'okay, Vinny," Brad mumbles. "Keep going."
"You want another?" Vinny asks, trying to hide his shock.
Brad just nods, and waits until he feels Vinny shift his position. He gasps and swears as Vinny slides in a second finger.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, Brad. I'm sorry." Vinny stiffens almost immediately. "We can stop."
"No, no, no," Brad gasps as Vinny slides his fingers in and then out of him. "Fuck. I swear to God, Vinny, if you stop now, I'll …"
"S'just that … merde … I didn't think you'd be this - this tight - fuck, Brad, I don't -"
"Just … fuck, Vinny. Stop talking. Shit. Fuck. Don't you dare stop."
"I don't want to hurt -"
"Goddamnit, Vinny. I'm not made of fucking glass, okay. Just fucking do it, okay?"
As Vinny's fingers leave his body, Brad swore time stood still. Caught in that weird limbo. He hears as the foil on the small, square packet is ripped, and watches as Vinny slides the latex on with shaky hands.
He doesn't have much more time to think on anything, as Vinny coats the latex, and his length with lube. His eyes flick up to Brad, and he clears his throat before he scrambles towards him.
"Stop me if it's - if it's too much."
Brad nods, breath caught in his throat as Vinny widens his legs, his hands braced on Brad's hips, as the head of his cock rubs against his ass.
Brad squirms on the mattress, shifting his body into a better position. His head is a jumbled mess, right up until he feels the initial press of Vinny's cock. Vinny's biting his bottom lip, his face one of focused concentration as he eases inside Brad in agonizingly slow increments.
He can't think, doesn't dare move. Oh, fuck, why did it feel like he was being stretched from the inside out. It was just … he felt so incredibly … full. He couldn't stand it, and yet, he could not form the words to tell Vinny.
Vinny gasps, and brings his mouth to Brad's ear, as his hips bump against Brad's thighs.
"This is … Brad … you're just … fuck, Brad … I just -"
Brad digs his fingers into Vinny's back, and snaps his hips up against Vinny's. "You can move, Vinny."
Vinny grips Brad's shoulders with his hands, as he slides out, before pushing back in. Brad feels white hot pain slice through him at Vinny's movements. He's sure he bites through his bottom lip as Vinny continues his shallow thrusting.
White, hot lights explode behind his closed eyelids, burning hot and brilliant like a supernova. He doesn't want Vinny to stop, but he's not sure this burn, this pain is worth it.
"Brad," Vinny gasps, mouth pressed against his shoulder. teeth grazing the skin lightly. "Say something. Anything. Just …"
"More," Brad gasps. "Keep going." He still has his eyes closed, the burning sensation is beginning to dissipate the longer Vinny keeps moving. "Fuck, Vinny."
Vinny shifts, moves a bit off of Brad, and reaches between their bodies, and curls his hand around Brad's cock. He barely slides his hand all the way down Brad's length, before Brad comes, the knuckles of his right hand pressed against his mouth to stop from yelling out loud.
The way Brad convulses around him is enough to set Vinny off. He tumbles and falls into his own orgasm. Vinny collapses on top of Brad, the bones in his arms almost snapping apart like sticks of broken candy. He's dimly aware of Brad sliding his hand down his back, pushing the tremors out of him like the way the waves lap at a shoreline.
Eventually, Vinny slides from Brad's body. Brad moans softly at the loss of contact.
"You all right?"
Brad rolls onto his side, curling up against Vinny's side. The stiffness and aching finally setting in to his limbs. "Never better."
-x-
Brad spends the night after Casino Night ended staring up at the ceiling. He's not sure how long he stays awake, counting the ceiling tiles. They are perfect, and square. Stretching across all four walls.
He's not sure how many times he counts them, before he feels his bed shift.
Hank presses up against him, the cloth from his immaculately pressed dress pants sliding against his own.
Brad feels warm fingers curl around his, listens as his breath catches as Hank slides a hand down his chest, fingers undoing buttons as he goes.
"You should sleep," he whispers, kissing Brad's temple.
Brad laughs, and shivers slightly as the cool air kisses his bare skin. "So should you."
Hank's laugh sounds like sun warmed honey, coating Brad's skin, quieting his thoughts.
He lets his eyes slide to Hank's briefly. He looks every bit as handsome as he had that evening. Even slightly dishevelled, and relaxed, he still managed to take Brad's breath away.
This was just … Brad was not sure what he would call this. It had all the makings of some blissful, worn out dream. But it wasn't. He was most certainly not drowning in his subconscious. And, he was most certainly not in limbo. Because, if he was, shouldn't memories of Vinny be creeping up like a fog.
Brad's eyes flutter, as he fights with falling into a restless sleep.
"Brad," Hank's voice is calling to him through the fog.
Brad fights to stay awake, to stay with Hank's quiet, unassuming voice. He squeezes his hand, and is half-shocked to find Hank squeeze back.
"I can't …" he mumbles, eyes fluttering, before snapping open, bringing his ceiling back into focus. "I … Hank … Vinny … this isn't what my parents would have expected me to be doing here …"
"Shh," Hank whispers, pressing another kiss to Brad's temple, before his lips slide over Brad's eyelids. "Sleep."
"I can't sleep … too many …" Brad yawns, squeezes Hank's hand harder. "Hank … I … Le cœur a ses raisons."
"Shh," Hank repeats, hand sliding lower before undoing Brad's belt, button and lowering the zipper on his pants.
Brad doesn't fight it as he lets Hank slide his dress pants down and off. "You don't … you don't …"
"Don't talk anymore, Brad," Hank says. "Sleep." He presses another kiss against Brad's temple, and curls his arm around Brad's form. "Jag tror att jag älskar dig."
"You'll never tell me what it means," Brad mumbles, still fighting with staying awake.
"I will," Hank whispers. "Sleep, now, Brad."
Brad wants to argue, but his limbs are boneless, and he slowly lets sleep claim him. He's sure Hank covers his mouth with his own right before he falls into a restless sleep.
Hank sleeps beside him that night, curled on his side, arm draped over Brad's form. His face pressed into the curve of Brad's shoulder.
Brad wakes up once in the night, not because of his past memories haunting him, but because he's not sure if this was real. If it was really Hank pressed against his side, head half-concealed by his hair and the sheets.
He feels warm, and he lets Hank hold him. He doesn't dream of Vinny for the rest of the night.
-x-
Their next game on March 1st is scheduled to be in North Carolina. Part of a two game road trip. Back to back games. One in North Carolina, the next one in Tampa.
They both don't speak of it on their sleepless flight to North Carolina. Brad's not quite sure if he could bring himself to bring up the subject. He knows it must be on Hank's mind.
Instead, he is silent on the plane ride, and laughs silently at his teammates antics. He tries to sleep. Dozes off here and there, but always wakes, thoughts of Vinny floating through his mind.
Brad scrolls through the texts on his phone, reads through Vinny's, and feels his chest tighten when his eyes land on the simple words: March 2nd.
He tucks his phone away, and glances over to where he sees Hank eyeing him silently.
They land in Raleigh, and for the most part, it's uneventful. He spends the night before the game wrapped up in Hank's sheets. Keeps waiting.
He's not too sure what it is he's waiting for.
He thinks it might be the dreams. He wants to believe it's the dreams he's waiting for. Some way for him to get a firm grasp on reality.
So, he waits until he finally dozes off. He waits for the dreams to haunt him. To hold him suspended in limbo.
They never do.
Brad wakes on game day, with his hand stretched out. Hank lays next to him, fingers just touching the tips of his.
Hank eventually gets up and heads for the bathroom. He leaves the door ajar, the light spilling into the hallway.
Brad shuffles after him, and gets lost in the steam from the shower, as Hank pulls him into the stall.
It's messy, and perfect. The kind of things all good porno's are made of. Hank has his hands tangled in Brad's hair as Brad kneels in front of him, lips stretched around Hank's cock.
Hank's nails scrape over the wet tiles, eyes closed as he comes apart in Brad's mouth.
-x-
They pick up another two points, and move on to Tampa.
It's late when they arrive in Tampa. He is too tired to wander off to Hank's room, but he does slip his spare room key into Hank's pocket.
Their eyes meet, and Brad just shrugs before he makes his way off to his room.
He falls asleep almost as soon as his face hits the pillow.
The dreams catch up to him that night. He wakes up multiple times in the night; a shaking, shivering mess. He gasps for air, squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the images, the visions.
Brad wonders how long he can go on like this.
He picks up his phone, and before he knows what he's doing he's listening to his phone ring in the silence.
"I know," comes the simple reply.
"After practice," Brad breathes, before he clicks his phone off.
He spends the next couple hours suspended in limbo. Brad reaches a hand out sometime during the night, hoping his hand will touch Hank's familiar fingertips. He comes up empty every time.
-x-
Their practice goes by relatively quickly, and before Brad can blink, he's stepping out of the shower, and crossing to his stall to get his gear together.
He checks his messages. Sees the lone text from Vinny. It rocks him to the core.
It's a simple text, but Brad still finds he is rushing to exit the arena.
He turns when he's at the door to the locker room, feeling like someone was watching him. Sure enough, Hank is watching him, eyes speculative, and … was that hurt?
Brad wants to tell him it'll be okay, but he finds he can't even bring his eyes to silently communicate that thought, before he slips from the room.
The drive to Davis Island is faster than he anticipated, and before long, he is standing on Vinny's doorstep, breathless, and dizzy.
Vinny pulls him inside. Brad's shoes and socks are kicked off by the time Vinny's knees come up against his couch.
"Where is everyone?" Brad asks, straddling Vinny's lap.
"Caroline … fuck, Brad," Vinny gasps as Brad cups him through his jeans. "Caroline took the kids out for the day."
"Did you ask her to?"
Vinny relaxes as Brad slides his mouth over his, coaxing his lips apart with his tongue.
"How'd practice go?" Vinny asks, avoiding Brad's question.
"Long," Brad replies, pressing their foreheads together. "How long are you out of the lineup for?"
"Indefinitely," Vinny says, and reaches his hands up to get Brad's dress shirt untucked and unbuttoned.
Their breathing is shallow and uneven. Brad has his eyes closed, blunt nails raking over Vinny's chest.
"Miss me?" Vinny whispers, a teasing lilt to his tone.
"Always," Brad replies.
"Really?"
"Really," Brad agrees.
"Even when you're with Henrik?"
"Who says …" Brad's voice trails off, as he gets up to undress. Vinny is naked by the time Brad comes back to him.
"It's okay, Brad," Vinny says, tone reassuring, as he comes up with a small bottle of lube, and tosses it to him.
"You prepared for this." Brad straddles VInny's thighs, reaches around behind him with two slick fingers, and slips them inside. He sighs, and lets his eyes flutter close.
Vinny watches Brad intently, running a hand down his thigh, silently encouraging him. "Don't stop," he urges, reaching a hand out to curl around Brad's cock.
Brad jumps slightly at the contact, and moans out Vinny's name. "God, Vinny, keep doing that."
"You like it when I touch you while you fuck yourself open for me?"
"Oh … fuck," Brad gasps, eyes blinking rapidly, his fingers dipping into the small space between his ass. "Don't stop, Vinny. Please, don't."
"Do you like fucking yourself for Henrik?" Vinny asks. "Does he like to watch?"
"Oh, Jesus shit, Vinny," Brad gasps, the fingers from his free hand digging into Vinny's shoulder in an effort to keep his balance.
Vinny continues to slide his hand over Brad's dick in a familiar fashion. "Come on, Brad … don't hold back for me." He nips at Brad's shoulder, runs his free hand over Brad's thighs, and up his chest.
Brad nips at Vinny's index finger, and sucks it into his mouth in a hot, wet drawing pull.
"You want me to come?" he gasps, throwing his head back.
"Yes," Vinny hisses, working Brad's cock faster. "Come for me. I want to see you as you come."
Brad slides his fingers free, grasps the base of Vinny's cock, before he sinks down onto him with a gasp, biting his bottom lip. "Vinny …" he chokes out.
"You're holding back, Brad," Vinny says, yanking Brad's cock. "Come on, Brad. Let go. Don't fight it. Come for me."
Brad places his hands on Vinny's chest as he rises and falls on Vinny's cock. "Make me come, Vinny. Please."
Vinny lets Brad set the pace, as he snaps his hips up, his other hand twisting on Brad's cock.
"Oh, fuck, yes, just like that …" Brad gasps, and writhes above Vinny. "God, shit … I've missed you."
"You'd better have fucking missed me," Vinny growls, as he snaps his hips up one more time, and comes.
Brad comes apart in Vinny's hand soon after, coating both their stomachs in white, hot, sticky heat.
They collapse against the couch soon after, sweaty, and boneless. Vinny holds Brad against him, mouth pressed to his ear.
"Le cœur a ses raisons," he whispers over and over against Brad's ear.
"Que la raison ne connaît pas," Brad responds.
-x-
Brad makes it back to his hotel room with time to spare. They have to leave for the arena in about an hour. He gets his door unlocked, and stumbles slightly when he sees Hank standing by the window, his back to him.
"Tampa's sunsets are beautiful," Hank remarks, as he hears the door being shut behind Brad.
"They are," Brad agrees.
He stands rooted to his spot by the bed, unable to move.
Eventually, Hank turns, and crosses the floor to him. He curls his index finger and thumb under Brad's chin, and tilts it up to him.
"Brad," he starts, "when you look at me, who do you see?"
Brad gulps. "I don't … I don't know what you mean."
Hank sighs, and presses a kiss to Brad's forehead, and rests his chin against the crown of Brad's head.
"I kept hoping … I kept thinking I could take bits and pieces of you. Hoping eventually, all the bits and pieces would be enough to make you whole. But, it's never going to be enough."
"Hank, it's -"
"Let me finish," Hank orders. "I kept thinking over time all the pieces would be enough to make you whole again, but it's not enough. I'm not enough. You're always going to be this broken, and no matter how many pieces I keep taking, or you keep giving, it's never going to be enough."
"Hank," Brad whispers, curling an arm around Hank's waist.
Hank steps away slightly. "Which is why this is the hardest thing I will ever have to say to you."
Brad lets his hand fall away from Hank, an icy feeling shooting through his system. "Hank, I -"
Hank presses a finger to Brad's lips, effectively silencing him. "I care about you too much to watch you destroy yourself like this."
"Are you -"
"And, I can't stand by knowing I'm partially responsible for why you're like this."
"Hank, this is -"
Hank presses his lips to Brad's, squeezing his eyes shut, in an attempt to stave off the tears.
"You're ending this," Brad chokes out.
When Hank pulls back, he traces Brad's jaw with his finger. "People should know when they're conquered," he whispers cryptically against Brad's lips.
Brad swallows heavily, listens to the silence in his hotel room. The silence is deafening. He can hear Hank as he breathes in slowly, can smell his cologne as Hank moves his head slightly. Hank curls his hand around the crown of Brad's head, and pulls him into his arms.
Brad feels his skin tingle from the dying rays of Tampa's sun as they filter in through the window. He hears Hank sigh, and press a kiss to his hair, before he steps away from him.
"What do you mean by that?" Brad finally manages to choke out.
Hank smiles sadly, before he turns and walks towards the door. Just before he exits Brad's room, he turns to him. "If you have to ask me that, Brad, you'll never know." He hesitates for a beat, before he says, "You know where to find me."
-x-
Brad supposes the loss to Tampa Bay that night was bound to happen.
It still doesn't stop the tightening in his chest, or the dreams that chase him for most of the night.