(fic) In Credit (1/6)
Title: In Credit (1/6)
Pairing: Boyd Devereaux / Sergei Fedorov
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fiction means I made the whole thing up
Chrissy wrote hegemony about the red wings and I intended this to be a short tag, but it rather took on a life of it's own.
It is a weird situation to be in. I am digging the puck out of the corner and suddenly I am grabbed and yanked away. There is a crash, and Sergei is in the penalty box for slashing Guerin across the throat.
It was the re-play on the jumbotron that showed me what happened. Sergei had pulled me out of the way, just preventing me from being smashed from behind into the boards; then he had turned around and got his stick up on Guerin’s neck. He had to be assisted off the ice and I slumped down on the end of the bench considering trying to hide behind the back up goalie.
And here is my strange dilemma. Can it be that I would prefer to be checked face first into the glass, risking another concussion and the end of my career, rather than owe Sergei anything?
I wonder what would happen if I simply said thanks and bumped fists like they do in other teams. What if I left it at that?
I am still wondering this when Sergei stands behind me in the locker room, the wet, sweaty, clammy essence of him surrounding me.
“Room 216”. It is all he says. It is enough. It is the world’s shortest death sentence.
I am wondering, “what if I don’t go to him” in the shower. I wonder “what if” as I hear Pavel and Henrik’s soft voices consoling me. I wonder “what if” in the elevator with Dandy babbling in my ear and holding onto my hand.
I am still deep in thought when I walk through the carpet to his room, I have come to no conclusion knocking on his door, my brain is swirling, when I step into his room and I hear his voice saying ‘come here’ and I freeze and I say in a rush “but-I-don’t-want-to.”
Sergei is leaning back against the wall, his long legs stretched across the bed, half in and half out of shadow. And he laughs and that surprises me.
“Why not?” Sergei leans forward and looks at me, one eyebrow quirked in question.
“It’s, horrible-and-degrading-I-can’t-do-this.” He is the wrong person to pick to have this breakdown around. I know it. I wonder how Brett would react if I had said this to him.
“What is?” Sergei sounds genuinely surprised by what I have said.
I go on blindly, he can only knock me out once. “I don’t want to be passed around. I don’t want to have everyone’s hands on me. It’s horrible. And… And I’m sick of it.” I finish lamely. Then I wait.
And I wait.
And Sergei does not say anything.
I feel sweat trickle down the back of my neck and my hairline prickle.
“Come here.” And there is such a note of casual authority in his voice that I feel compelled to obey.
“Sit down.” And I do, perching on the edge of the bed as far away from him as I can get.
He laughs out loud at this and crawls down the bed and sits right next to me, I flinch away I am expecting, I don’t know, a blow, but it is instead Sergei’s arm around my waist that I feel, stopping me from falling off the bed. He laughs again.
“Come up the bed.” And he sniggers, but he doesn’t seem upset. I think he is just going to ignore what I said. I feel about three feet tall and ten years old. He has dismissed my outburst, and I still have to, to do this anyway.
Sergei sits on the pillows, elevated above me. “That is an interesting proposition Boyd. Especially from you, although you have been here for a while now; I’ll think about it.”
I stare at him. Think about what?
“But don’t you have something to do first?” And Sergei leans back against the wall. I crawl forward and bend down over him. He doesn’t make any move to touch me, for which I am profoundly grateful. He comes quickly, and I shimmy down the bed with my hand over my mouth.
Sergei looks at me in amusement.” Aren’t you going to clean this up?”
I do, doing the zip back up, trying to move quickly, feeling him burning the inside of my mouth.
Sergei grabs my arm when I try to pull away. “Was there anything else you wanted to say?”
And I shake my head frantically, feeling him dribble out of the corner of my mouth. Sergei holds my jaw slapping my hand away when I try to grab at him.
“Swallow.” He says. And squeezes his hand harder on my jaw.
“Now.” And his fingers stretch up to squeeze my cheeks. “Boyd?” and my name is a warning. I feel more of him spilling out of the corners of my mouth and I do. Swallow what is left in my mouth down.
“Good boy.” And Sergei leans down so he is level with my mouth. “I’m offended.” And he laps at my face, “I like the way I taste.”
Sergei licks across my lips, and sucking my bottom lip into his mouth he kisses me. I think, ‘this is the first time he has done anything like this’ as he is sliding his tongue in my mouth. Just when I gasp into the kiss, just when I lean forward, he bites down on my bottom lip and I feel the flesh give way under his teeth.
He pulls his head back slightly, I feel my lip split further and I force myself to stay still and be silent.
Sergei lets go of my arms and holds me in place by not letting go of my lip. I feel him unzip my pants and slide his hand down the front of them.
It is weirdly like someone else is doing this to me. I can feel two things, Sergei’s teeth on my mouth and someone else’s hands on my dick. Dandy’s maybe, or someone else back in Edmonton or Hamilton or Kitchener. I am hard in his hand, he has an easy rhythm, I gasp when he opens his teeth and lets me go, and I let my head fall back as he nuzzles the side of my neck. I can feel the blood dribbling down my chin as his hand moves faster and his grip gets harder.
I can smell his aftershave, spicy and overpowering and I know exactly where I am.
He is not biting my neck hard enough to break the skin, just to bruise it, and he lets go after a second to lick there instead. I tilt my head to the side without thinking and whimper when I come, because I don’t know what happens next. And I hate not knowing what memory box to put this in, not knowing how to justify it, or how to deal with it, or how to tell Dandy and Pavel what happened. This is the first time I have even been on a bed with Sergei. I hate that he is acting differently and I don’t know why. I hate that he jerked me off and I hate that I came.
Sergei smirks at me. “Lean your head back.” I do and he holds his dripping hand over me, “clean me off.”
And I do, the taste of him, and me, and blood in my mouth, as I suck at his fingers.
“I’ll consider what you suggested Boyd.” He says finally, wiping his hand on my cheek. “You can go now.”
And like that I am dismissed. I stumble back to my room and throw up before finally getting into bed, my head is spinning but even so the day and the game catch up with me and I am asleep in seconds.
When I wake up Dandy is in the bed with me, the bruises on his face mostly healed, the thick welts on his chest still visible. He catches my eye.
“How is your lip? Sergei really did a number on it huh? What about the rest of you?”
But when Dandy tugs the blanket down I only have marks from the game on me.
“What happened?”
“He was tired, he just wanted me to get it over with.” I don’t mention the strange conversation, I don’t say that Sergei made me come, that sometimes his hands were almost gentle.
“You’ve caught all the breaks lately Boyd.” Dandy smiles at how silly it is to think only having your lip split open is a lucky save and we both get ready for the day.
The throbbing against my mouth is a constant reminder. It pulses and I see Sergei, it beats, and I feel his hands on me.
I am lost in music, the bass from the song taking on the rhythm of throbbing in my lip, or vice versa, when Sergei sits down next to me on the plane on the flight home to Detroit.
“Boyd.” He pulls the headphones off.
I gape at him. “Sergei, sorry, it was up loud.”
He raises one eyebrow. “I know I could hear it from here. It sounded god-awful. I’ve considered what you suggested last night.” He goes on.
“Oh, right.” I still don’t entirely know what I suggested.
“I like the idea.” I nod at him saying this. “I like the idea of having someone around. I think we can be useful to each other.”
And it is simple as that. When we land at the airport Sergei smiles at me when I go to my car. “Come with me.” He says, he gestures to my car carelessly. “I’ll have someone get that for you.”
I follow him from a distance, trailing behind getting further and further back. Sergei waits for a second beside his car then rolls his eyes when he sees me standing five feet away.
“Boyd? Are you going to stand there all night?”
Brett is watching us as he is walking to his own car.
“Boyd? You need a ride home?” He stands just to the side of me, closer to Sergei.
“No Brett.” Sergei’s low drawl is a lot closer, and I don’t know why it scares me to see the way he walks toward Brett and I standing there. “He doesn’t need anything from you. Boyd, come on.”
I don’t know why I go, I kind of still wonder what I have asked for. I nod toward Brett and follow Sergei to his car. We aren’t even half way to his place before the ground rules are laid down.
I could say we work out the rules of our agreement. But really it is he talks, I listen. I listen to what has to be the most cold-blooded person who I have ever met. Not even cold-blooded, less warmth than a snake, he is a not even living thing. Like a stone or something.
But I listen, just listen and wonder if this would be worse than what has been happening already.
At its root it’s simple really. Even though I’ll keep my apartment in my name Sergei will pay for it, and I’ll move in with him. There are certain things I have to do and certain things I don’t. I am not to answer the phone, many of his friends only speak Russian. I’m not to talk about our agreement to anyone else in the team; I am to be within contact all the times.
Everything else is oddly unspoken, like it should be obvious. He’s going to fuck me and I’m going to let him.
When Sergei passes me his phone all I can think is ‘the devil you know’. I follow his instructions and programme the number to my cell in. He gives me the number to his phone as well.
“Don’t turn that off.” He points at my cell. “You never know when I might need to get in touch with you.”
I still don’t know what exactly it is I am supposed to do when he gets in touch with me.
“I’ll let Brendan and Steve know as well, so you don’t have to bother them. They can tell the other guys what’s up.” Sergei finishes as we pull into his driveway.
“Ok.” I say. ‘The guys.’ He doesn’t mean the rookies of course, or the kids, he means the other veterans like him.
‘The devil you know’ I say to myself.
“I’ll get you a key.” Sergei says not really paying attention to me as we go into the house.
I am struck again, as I was the first time I cam here that this doesn’t not look as much like a house as it does a show place. I could never be comfortable here. It’s fucking dark as well, and only a few degrees warmer than it was outside.
“You’ll want to move some of you things in, I guess.” Sergei says and motions towards a wall unit. “Most of them should fit in there, if there is anything you have to have with you let me know, just don’t move anything around. I’m gonna have a shower.”
I stop him from leaving, “umm Sergei?” He turns to face me, looking but not saying anything, “I don’t have any clothes or anything; I have to pick some up.”
Sergei takes out his wallet and slides a slim disc out of it. “This is the security override for the Porsche. Be here when I wake up.”
I just stare at him and it. “Christ.” Sergei fishes a couple of hundred dollar bills out of his wallet. “Take a taxi and don’t take all night.”
I walk over and pick up the money. I call a taxi company. I am back when Sergei wakes up. I feel him step into the kitchen behind me while I try to figure out how to work his coffee machine.
“Don’t you have any instant?” I finally ask.
“You swore.” Sergei says and smiles; standing behind me he shows me how to work the machine, his arms around my waist. He smells sleepy, with slightly sour breath, he must have slept with wet hair because it has a musty smell, like when you don’t let it dry properly.
“How do you like it?” Sergei smiles, and I feel his hands move up to around my throat, “black” he says in my ear, tugging my head back, not yet tightening his hands around my neck. “No sugar.” He licks at the bruise on my neck that he made last night.
That I should have been able to guess for myself.
He sits down on the couch his head lolling back, I hover in the doorway, I don’t want to sit in the other room, but I piled some clothes on the other chair, because I didn’t know what else to do with them.
“Put them in the spare room, next to mine.” Sergei waves at the clothes on the chair.
I nod. “I don’t know which room that is.”
Sergei laughs suddenly. “I guess you need the tour. Come with me.”
I follow him up the stairs and look over his shoulder when he stops by an open door. I should have guessed this was his; it’s huge, dominated by the bed in the middle.
“Since we’re here…” Sergei tugs me into the room and pushes me back onto the bed.
And then I discover several things: one Sergei is horny when he wakes up after a nap, which is why I was supposed to be there.
And two, that this is nothing like the soft gasping and moaning that I have envied from Kris, and Kirk, and Darren’s room. Because this really hurts.
The third is that Sergei isn’t as nasty as he has been at other times. “I better not find you with anyone else.” It is the last thing he says before he shoves me face-first into the pillow. He does not offer to be similarly faithful. I did not expect him to. Chris isn’t and he actually loves Brett, I think. Brett isn’t either and I know he loves Chris.
But Sergei doesn’t punch me, or use his belt, because, well I don’t know why, just because, but he doesn’t. I think it is because I am a permanent part of his life now, and that is something he does to junior players, not to me. That is the best part of this. No feeling of leather across my back, no backhand across the face.
That is when I discover the best part of hotels. You can’t scream in hotel rooms, because that would attract attention. However, in a private residence, with thick walls, in nice neighbourhood, with tree lined sections set far apart from each other, you can scream as loud as you like and no one will hear you at all.
So I learn a lot today, I learn that people on my team, Detroit whom I grew up watching, players whom I grew up idolising, can actually own people entirely. I learned that I never have to walk down a hallway to anyone’s room ever again. I learned Sergei’s cell-phone number and how he likes his coffee.
I also learned that if I scream and beg a little bit Sergei will stop and get lube. Which makes it, if not better, than at least easier.
part two
Pairing: Boyd Devereaux / Sergei Fedorov
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fiction means I made the whole thing up
Chrissy wrote hegemony about the red wings and I intended this to be a short tag, but it rather took on a life of it's own.
It is a weird situation to be in. I am digging the puck out of the corner and suddenly I am grabbed and yanked away. There is a crash, and Sergei is in the penalty box for slashing Guerin across the throat.
It was the re-play on the jumbotron that showed me what happened. Sergei had pulled me out of the way, just preventing me from being smashed from behind into the boards; then he had turned around and got his stick up on Guerin’s neck. He had to be assisted off the ice and I slumped down on the end of the bench considering trying to hide behind the back up goalie.
And here is my strange dilemma. Can it be that I would prefer to be checked face first into the glass, risking another concussion and the end of my career, rather than owe Sergei anything?
I wonder what would happen if I simply said thanks and bumped fists like they do in other teams. What if I left it at that?
I am still wondering this when Sergei stands behind me in the locker room, the wet, sweaty, clammy essence of him surrounding me.
“Room 216”. It is all he says. It is enough. It is the world’s shortest death sentence.
I am wondering, “what if I don’t go to him” in the shower. I wonder “what if” as I hear Pavel and Henrik’s soft voices consoling me. I wonder “what if” in the elevator with Dandy babbling in my ear and holding onto my hand.
I am still deep in thought when I walk through the carpet to his room, I have come to no conclusion knocking on his door, my brain is swirling, when I step into his room and I hear his voice saying ‘come here’ and I freeze and I say in a rush “but-I-don’t-want-to.”
Sergei is leaning back against the wall, his long legs stretched across the bed, half in and half out of shadow. And he laughs and that surprises me.
“Why not?” Sergei leans forward and looks at me, one eyebrow quirked in question.
“It’s, horrible-and-degrading-I-can’t-do-this.” He is the wrong person to pick to have this breakdown around. I know it. I wonder how Brett would react if I had said this to him.
“What is?” Sergei sounds genuinely surprised by what I have said.
I go on blindly, he can only knock me out once. “I don’t want to be passed around. I don’t want to have everyone’s hands on me. It’s horrible. And… And I’m sick of it.” I finish lamely. Then I wait.
And I wait.
And Sergei does not say anything.
I feel sweat trickle down the back of my neck and my hairline prickle.
“Come here.” And there is such a note of casual authority in his voice that I feel compelled to obey.
“Sit down.” And I do, perching on the edge of the bed as far away from him as I can get.
He laughs out loud at this and crawls down the bed and sits right next to me, I flinch away I am expecting, I don’t know, a blow, but it is instead Sergei’s arm around my waist that I feel, stopping me from falling off the bed. He laughs again.
“Come up the bed.” And he sniggers, but he doesn’t seem upset. I think he is just going to ignore what I said. I feel about three feet tall and ten years old. He has dismissed my outburst, and I still have to, to do this anyway.
Sergei sits on the pillows, elevated above me. “That is an interesting proposition Boyd. Especially from you, although you have been here for a while now; I’ll think about it.”
I stare at him. Think about what?
“But don’t you have something to do first?” And Sergei leans back against the wall. I crawl forward and bend down over him. He doesn’t make any move to touch me, for which I am profoundly grateful. He comes quickly, and I shimmy down the bed with my hand over my mouth.
Sergei looks at me in amusement.” Aren’t you going to clean this up?”
I do, doing the zip back up, trying to move quickly, feeling him burning the inside of my mouth.
Sergei grabs my arm when I try to pull away. “Was there anything else you wanted to say?”
And I shake my head frantically, feeling him dribble out of the corner of my mouth. Sergei holds my jaw slapping my hand away when I try to grab at him.
“Swallow.” He says. And squeezes his hand harder on my jaw.
“Now.” And his fingers stretch up to squeeze my cheeks. “Boyd?” and my name is a warning. I feel more of him spilling out of the corners of my mouth and I do. Swallow what is left in my mouth down.
“Good boy.” And Sergei leans down so he is level with my mouth. “I’m offended.” And he laps at my face, “I like the way I taste.”
Sergei licks across my lips, and sucking my bottom lip into his mouth he kisses me. I think, ‘this is the first time he has done anything like this’ as he is sliding his tongue in my mouth. Just when I gasp into the kiss, just when I lean forward, he bites down on my bottom lip and I feel the flesh give way under his teeth.
He pulls his head back slightly, I feel my lip split further and I force myself to stay still and be silent.
Sergei lets go of my arms and holds me in place by not letting go of my lip. I feel him unzip my pants and slide his hand down the front of them.
It is weirdly like someone else is doing this to me. I can feel two things, Sergei’s teeth on my mouth and someone else’s hands on my dick. Dandy’s maybe, or someone else back in Edmonton or Hamilton or Kitchener. I am hard in his hand, he has an easy rhythm, I gasp when he opens his teeth and lets me go, and I let my head fall back as he nuzzles the side of my neck. I can feel the blood dribbling down my chin as his hand moves faster and his grip gets harder.
I can smell his aftershave, spicy and overpowering and I know exactly where I am.
He is not biting my neck hard enough to break the skin, just to bruise it, and he lets go after a second to lick there instead. I tilt my head to the side without thinking and whimper when I come, because I don’t know what happens next. And I hate not knowing what memory box to put this in, not knowing how to justify it, or how to deal with it, or how to tell Dandy and Pavel what happened. This is the first time I have even been on a bed with Sergei. I hate that he is acting differently and I don’t know why. I hate that he jerked me off and I hate that I came.
Sergei smirks at me. “Lean your head back.” I do and he holds his dripping hand over me, “clean me off.”
And I do, the taste of him, and me, and blood in my mouth, as I suck at his fingers.
“I’ll consider what you suggested Boyd.” He says finally, wiping his hand on my cheek. “You can go now.”
And like that I am dismissed. I stumble back to my room and throw up before finally getting into bed, my head is spinning but even so the day and the game catch up with me and I am asleep in seconds.
When I wake up Dandy is in the bed with me, the bruises on his face mostly healed, the thick welts on his chest still visible. He catches my eye.
“How is your lip? Sergei really did a number on it huh? What about the rest of you?”
But when Dandy tugs the blanket down I only have marks from the game on me.
“What happened?”
“He was tired, he just wanted me to get it over with.” I don’t mention the strange conversation, I don’t say that Sergei made me come, that sometimes his hands were almost gentle.
“You’ve caught all the breaks lately Boyd.” Dandy smiles at how silly it is to think only having your lip split open is a lucky save and we both get ready for the day.
The throbbing against my mouth is a constant reminder. It pulses and I see Sergei, it beats, and I feel his hands on me.
I am lost in music, the bass from the song taking on the rhythm of throbbing in my lip, or vice versa, when Sergei sits down next to me on the plane on the flight home to Detroit.
“Boyd.” He pulls the headphones off.
I gape at him. “Sergei, sorry, it was up loud.”
He raises one eyebrow. “I know I could hear it from here. It sounded god-awful. I’ve considered what you suggested last night.” He goes on.
“Oh, right.” I still don’t entirely know what I suggested.
“I like the idea.” I nod at him saying this. “I like the idea of having someone around. I think we can be useful to each other.”
And it is simple as that. When we land at the airport Sergei smiles at me when I go to my car. “Come with me.” He says, he gestures to my car carelessly. “I’ll have someone get that for you.”
I follow him from a distance, trailing behind getting further and further back. Sergei waits for a second beside his car then rolls his eyes when he sees me standing five feet away.
“Boyd? Are you going to stand there all night?”
Brett is watching us as he is walking to his own car.
“Boyd? You need a ride home?” He stands just to the side of me, closer to Sergei.
“No Brett.” Sergei’s low drawl is a lot closer, and I don’t know why it scares me to see the way he walks toward Brett and I standing there. “He doesn’t need anything from you. Boyd, come on.”
I don’t know why I go, I kind of still wonder what I have asked for. I nod toward Brett and follow Sergei to his car. We aren’t even half way to his place before the ground rules are laid down.
I could say we work out the rules of our agreement. But really it is he talks, I listen. I listen to what has to be the most cold-blooded person who I have ever met. Not even cold-blooded, less warmth than a snake, he is a not even living thing. Like a stone or something.
But I listen, just listen and wonder if this would be worse than what has been happening already.
At its root it’s simple really. Even though I’ll keep my apartment in my name Sergei will pay for it, and I’ll move in with him. There are certain things I have to do and certain things I don’t. I am not to answer the phone, many of his friends only speak Russian. I’m not to talk about our agreement to anyone else in the team; I am to be within contact all the times.
Everything else is oddly unspoken, like it should be obvious. He’s going to fuck me and I’m going to let him.
When Sergei passes me his phone all I can think is ‘the devil you know’. I follow his instructions and programme the number to my cell in. He gives me the number to his phone as well.
“Don’t turn that off.” He points at my cell. “You never know when I might need to get in touch with you.”
I still don’t know what exactly it is I am supposed to do when he gets in touch with me.
“I’ll let Brendan and Steve know as well, so you don’t have to bother them. They can tell the other guys what’s up.” Sergei finishes as we pull into his driveway.
“Ok.” I say. ‘The guys.’ He doesn’t mean the rookies of course, or the kids, he means the other veterans like him.
‘The devil you know’ I say to myself.
“I’ll get you a key.” Sergei says not really paying attention to me as we go into the house.
I am struck again, as I was the first time I cam here that this doesn’t not look as much like a house as it does a show place. I could never be comfortable here. It’s fucking dark as well, and only a few degrees warmer than it was outside.
“You’ll want to move some of you things in, I guess.” Sergei says and motions towards a wall unit. “Most of them should fit in there, if there is anything you have to have with you let me know, just don’t move anything around. I’m gonna have a shower.”
I stop him from leaving, “umm Sergei?” He turns to face me, looking but not saying anything, “I don’t have any clothes or anything; I have to pick some up.”
Sergei takes out his wallet and slides a slim disc out of it. “This is the security override for the Porsche. Be here when I wake up.”
I just stare at him and it. “Christ.” Sergei fishes a couple of hundred dollar bills out of his wallet. “Take a taxi and don’t take all night.”
I walk over and pick up the money. I call a taxi company. I am back when Sergei wakes up. I feel him step into the kitchen behind me while I try to figure out how to work his coffee machine.
“Don’t you have any instant?” I finally ask.
“You swore.” Sergei says and smiles; standing behind me he shows me how to work the machine, his arms around my waist. He smells sleepy, with slightly sour breath, he must have slept with wet hair because it has a musty smell, like when you don’t let it dry properly.
“How do you like it?” Sergei smiles, and I feel his hands move up to around my throat, “black” he says in my ear, tugging my head back, not yet tightening his hands around my neck. “No sugar.” He licks at the bruise on my neck that he made last night.
That I should have been able to guess for myself.
He sits down on the couch his head lolling back, I hover in the doorway, I don’t want to sit in the other room, but I piled some clothes on the other chair, because I didn’t know what else to do with them.
“Put them in the spare room, next to mine.” Sergei waves at the clothes on the chair.
I nod. “I don’t know which room that is.”
Sergei laughs suddenly. “I guess you need the tour. Come with me.”
I follow him up the stairs and look over his shoulder when he stops by an open door. I should have guessed this was his; it’s huge, dominated by the bed in the middle.
“Since we’re here…” Sergei tugs me into the room and pushes me back onto the bed.
And then I discover several things: one Sergei is horny when he wakes up after a nap, which is why I was supposed to be there.
And two, that this is nothing like the soft gasping and moaning that I have envied from Kris, and Kirk, and Darren’s room. Because this really hurts.
The third is that Sergei isn’t as nasty as he has been at other times. “I better not find you with anyone else.” It is the last thing he says before he shoves me face-first into the pillow. He does not offer to be similarly faithful. I did not expect him to. Chris isn’t and he actually loves Brett, I think. Brett isn’t either and I know he loves Chris.
But Sergei doesn’t punch me, or use his belt, because, well I don’t know why, just because, but he doesn’t. I think it is because I am a permanent part of his life now, and that is something he does to junior players, not to me. That is the best part of this. No feeling of leather across my back, no backhand across the face.
That is when I discover the best part of hotels. You can’t scream in hotel rooms, because that would attract attention. However, in a private residence, with thick walls, in nice neighbourhood, with tree lined sections set far apart from each other, you can scream as loud as you like and no one will hear you at all.
So I learn a lot today, I learn that people on my team, Detroit whom I grew up watching, players whom I grew up idolising, can actually own people entirely. I learned that I never have to walk down a hallway to anyone’s room ever again. I learned Sergei’s cell-phone number and how he likes his coffee.
I also learned that if I scream and beg a little bit Sergei will stop and get lube. Which makes it, if not better, than at least easier.
part two