(fic) In Credit (4/6)
Title: In Credit (4/6)
Pairing: Boyd Devereaux / Sergei Fedorov
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fiction means I made the whole thing up.
previous chapters
Something weird happens in the game. With Cheli and Nick in the penalty box Dandy and I are on the ice at the same time. It kind of happens in slow motion. Marchment shoves Dandy into the boards from behind, and before I can think I cross check him in the back, and he is face first in the glass. As he slides down to the ice and I’m tugged to the penalty box by linesmen eager to not let the Sharks rip me limb from limb, Dandy mouth ‘thank you’ at me. He’s ok, but Marchment is a bit wobbly going off the ice.
Nick moves over to make room for me on the bench and punches me on the arm. “Good job.”
It is later after we have showered when I am talking to Dandy in the dressing room that Chris slaps me on the back and laughs.
“Good thing Dandy always rooms alone, y’know? You going to pay him a visit?”
I think I blush as Cheli slaps me on the back again and laughs. “Yes but why does Dandy room alone?” I say trying to smile and pointing at Sergei. I look at Dandy and he has frozen to the bench.
Before I can anything to him he bolts out of the room.
And that rings through my head all evening. I go back to Sergei’s room and we have sex and even Sergei can sense I am not into it.
“What?” Sergei shoves my hands away from his cock. “Why so fucking pissy Boyd?”
“What if I had wanted pay back from Dandy?”
Sergei looks at me for a long time. His eyes are the same colour, he doesn’t change expression, but they narrow, if nothing else I don’t have to bull shit around him. “No.” he finally says.
I stare back. “Why?”
“No Boyd, if I don’t get him, you don’t either.”
We look at each other for a long time. And then I lean over and kiss him. “I don’t really want him anyway,” I say and he rolls over on top of me. And we finish what we started and we sleep.
In the morning Sergei is washing his face in the mirror and I stand behind him. “What?”
I look at him and leaning forward kiss him on the back of his neck. He keeps his eyes on me in the mirror I can feel him watching, and I kiss his neck again, slightly higher, moving toward his hairline. I bite the skin lightly, not marking it, no pressure. I feel his head tilt backwards and I see my hands slide up around his waist, running across the front of his chest, collecting up the water drops that spilled on him.
I breathe on his skin and lick and bite my way around his neck until I reach his ear.
I turn on the hot water tap and run my hands under it a few times so they are warm and slide them down him. I kneel down in front of Sergei and slide him into my throat and soon I feel him come and I climb back up him. I kiss back around his body and back around his neck and when I look into the mirror again the steam from the hot tap has misted it over.
“What was that?” he finally asks.
“I don’t want to share anymore.” And I can’t see anything except the bright white cleanness of the bathroom lights.
“What?” He asks.
“I don’t want to ask about other players, and I don’t want to imagine you with other players, especially members of the Red Wings. I want it to be you and me and no one else.”
And it is very quite and still for a second. Sergei turns around slowly in my arms. I feel his hand over my eyes and his breath on my lips.
“I don’t believe you Boyd.” He whispers and leaves the bathroom.
“I hate that you fuck other people in the team.”
Sergei is getting changed and looks up at me in the doorway. “Well I believe that, but why bring it up with that song and dance routine? What difference does it make?”
I consider my answer. “It looks weird.”
“So fucking what?”
“Don’t go after them? Please?
“Why not?”
I can’t tell him, he should know should know what it feels like.
“I don’t want you to.” I try
“Good for you.” Sergei crosses his arms and looks at me. “Well?”
“You wouldn’t like it.” I finally say lamely.
“I don’t have to do it.” And Sergei reminds me it is late and we have to leave soon for practise. He plays that evening and gets a goal and I play about 10 minutes and am total shit.
That night we are back at his house, and this time I definitely don’t encourage him when he holds my hands down, and it doesn’t really matter cause I don’t think he really cares who is in bed with him.
I remember this way from before though. Sergei shoves me onto the bed and I am too close to the headboard and I crack my head on it when I land, and I can feel blood on the side of my face. But it is ok because it makes things dull and fuzzy. So I can pretend a little bit that I can’t feel Sergei’s hands on my throat digging into me. And I look up at him and see the tightness around his jaw and I try to touch his face and I open my mouth, but he puts his hand over my lips.
And the only thing he says is “be silent” and I try. He leaves his hand across my mouth and I look up at him through the glass of my tears, he looks down at me and leaning over turns off the light. I wish I could have told him to get lube on the way. And truthfully it doesn’t start that badly. He bites my neck and it starts slowly, but then, I whimper, or moan or something and Sergei growls low in his through, and then I just don’t really remember what happened.
That’s a lie; I remember everything over and over.
I can break it down to a series of pictures. I see the inside of Sergei’s hand. I see the curl of his fingers. I see him passing me a glass when his hand comes toward my face.
I see him fussing over my clothes when he rips the buttons of my shirt. And I try to make my mind blank, like I used to make my mind blank, and I imagine the grind line spending the night together celebrating Kris’ goal. But then I remember I never had any luck making my brain go quiet, and that is how I got here in the first place. And I feel Sergei‘s hands pinching the skin on my chest, and I open my eyes and look at his face.
It is better the devil you know.
And what really gets me is how he looks like a mask. Like there is a plastic skin over his face and he has retreated somewhere else as well, like he isn’t doing this to me, like it is someone else. I am happier thinking we are both really somewhere and someone else.
And when Sergei tugs my head down I think instead of Brett’s soft fingers in my hair. And although it could be the feeling of Sergei inside me, instead I have the sensation of Dandy’s body on mine. Then I imagine Sergei is Fedor, or he’s Steve, and he’s anyone in the world. I break him down into little pieces.
And he shoves me away, pulls out and rolls over. I hear how his breath is too fast in his throat and I wait a bit. He gets up and walks out of the room slamming the door, and I hear him walk down the stairs. When I hear the door to the living room slam I finally lean over and turn on the light.
When I pull my head up I make Rorschach images out of the red liquid there. A guitar and a hockey stick, of course. A fountain of water.
In a dream I pull my hands out of the remains of my shirt that Sergei used to keep them in place and stumble to the bathroom.
His shirt I remind myself. Not the blue one, another one he got that day.
When I see myself in the mirror it seems like the last few months haven’t happened at all. I can see the slight line of his fingers on the base of my neck, and I go up counting injuries. Cut lip, like I got high sticked in the face. The mark under my eye is the same, easily explained away.
I shake my head so my scalp settles back from where he grabbed my hair, and I burst into tears. Because I’m supposed to go hide under the blankets like Dandy, and then Mathieu would pull me out from under the covers, and then I get to make love to him, like he did to me, and then fly back to Detroit and hide in my apartment.
But I don’t have an apartment anymore. Well I do, but instead I have to get back into bed with Sergei and I can’t have a shower. Then I decide that I can. And I do, until all the hot water is gone.
When I sneak back into the bedroom Sergei is back, and asleep, and to my surprise I fall asleep as well.
“Wake up.” I roll over and Sergei is standing beside the bed. It is light outside. He is dressed and standing looking down at me, holding coffee in his hand.
“You missed training.”
“How late is it?”
“Two o’clock.”
“Holy shit.” I lean over to the phone, “I have to call Dave…”
I wince as I get up. Sergei looks at me as I put my feet on the carpet. He puts his hand on my shoulder, holding me down.
“I told him you had the flu.” He passes me the coffee and disappears. I drink it without thinking and it burns against the raw skin of my lip.
Sergei returns, holding a washcloth and I am very still indeed. As he bends down to touch my face I grab his hand.
“What are you doing?” And he transfers the cloth to his other hand and cleans under my eyes.
“You have dried blood on your face.”
“I want to go home.” I say finally. Sergei raises one eyebrow. He touches the bottom of my jaw with the tip of his finger, getting me to lift my head. I do and I feel him wiping at the bite on my neck.
“You are home.” He replies.
“You have got to be joking.” I put my hand up and Sergei takes my wrist and puts my hand back down on my lap.
“Where’s your other home?” I look at Sergei. “Didn’t you get everything you wanted from there? Isn’t it all here now?” He goes on. “What is it you need for this to be home?”
“I wasn’t scared in my home.”
“Scared of me?” Sergei looks puzzled. “Don’t be.” Sergei replies softly. “I won’t do that again. I’m sorry, I lost control.”
And I look in his eyes because he’s staring right at me, but I don’t know him well enough to read his expression. And really what could I say to that. I could agree I suppose. I could shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t believe you.” I whisper. But Sergei continues on; taking my other hand he slides my watch off my wrist.
“I am sorry about that.” He holds it up and the face is cracked.
He kneels so he is between my legs and traces the marks on my face. When he leans forward I can feel his hair tickling under my chin and I feel his tongue lick around the outside of the little bruises on my chest. Finally he drags the flat of his hands down my chest and across the front of my legs until he reaches my knees, then he pushes my legs apart and runs his hands up the inside of my thighs.
I start to shake, but I don’t know if it is shivering or if it is terror. But he kisses the inside of my knees. And I wiggle a bit on the bed because it almost tickles, and when he motions me to move back on the bed I do, and he climbs over on top of me.
And because he has never done this before I don’t know what kind of walls to bring up, and it is almost like my mind goes blank, as all I can concentrate on is the tight feeling of his mouth around my dick. And it’s wet and warm. I didn’t even really feel this, or do this when Dandy and I… Edmonton I think clearly, this was last done to me in Edmonton. And them everything is starry and hazy.
“Boyd?” Sergei’s breath is on my face as he kisses me, and I taste the salt and copper of me on his tongue. “We have to go in a few minutes.” And I nod and get off the bed and have another shower, Sergei doesn’t comment when I am late. He is already changed, and then I think he never took his clothes off.
On the way to the Joe he talks about Russia, how Pskov is having some kind of anniversary and I nod and leave the window down so I can feel the snowy air from outside on my face. I think it settles as frost on my lips, and it is cool and soothing, censoring all feeling. When Sergei closes the window I open it again. He rolls his eyes but leaves it alone.
He turns the radio on low when I don’t respond to him and doesn’t say anything else on the trip to the arena. But when I get out of the car I still reach out to him and we walk in holding hands.
We make it to the Joe on time and Sergei scores three goals. I am in the press box with Max and he stares at the bruises on my face. I ignore him and chatter to Steve. It is close to babbling. It is really way to hot in here and I feel the skin on my face get tighter and start to contract around my skull. By the third period I am afraid that if I keep talking the skin around my lips will crack open and split across my face.
Max asks me a question, but it is like it he is talking about the wrong speed and instead of answering I stare at him. He is a long way away. I turn around when I hear Steve’s voice and I’m surprised he is right there, because he sounded a long way away as well. Steve talks to me softly; he brushes the hair of my forehead and tells me quietly that I have a fever. I nod. He rubs the back of my hand and asks me if I want to go home. I shake my head and tell him I’ll wait for Sergei.
Steve smiles. “I’m sure Sergei wouldn’t mind if you left early. I open my mouth to say something, but then Steve asks, “Did you fall over?” And he touches the mark on my temple.
“No” I say back. “I walked into the door last night.” And Steve shakes his head and says being sick can affect your balance. And I mean to nod and agree with him, but my head feels like it is about to float off my neck so I just stare at him.
He tells me to at least wait in the locker room where it is not so crowded. Max comes with me. When we reach the entrance he makes a show of holding the door open for me. Then he stands against one wall and I stand against another. Although we look at each other we don’t say anything at all. When the team start to filter in at the end of the period I slip off to the trainers room to get aspirin.
But I play the next night and score. When I wake up the next morning Sergei is in the shower and there is a box on the bed next to me. It has a gold watch in it. Much more expensive than the one he broke. The card in the box says ‘no one else.’ I join him in the shower and the water washes the taste and the smell and the sweat away and isn’t so bad at all.
The next morning it is me that is up first, I need to get some things at town and I spend an idle half day errand running, the Wings actually have two weeks in Detroit, and there is no rush to do anything before I have to catch a plane to somewhere.
Sergei calls me when I am in the HMV store. I meet him in the car park.
“Who’s your agent again?” He asks as soon as I get in the car.
“Curran. Why?”
“I fired mine.” And he starts laughing.
I stare at him. “Are you serious?” he nods and laughs more, peeling out of the car park, going way over the speed limit, giggling to himself, and I can’t help it, I laugh back.
“Why?”
“They suck.” Sergei is still sniggering over the steering wheel. “And I felt like a change, and really why not?”
“What’s changed?”
“I’ll be a free agent, I’ve never really had that before. Hence the summons to join the captain.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Sergei turns to me at the red light, his eyes are a little bit glassy, and his smile is slightly maniacal.
“Dinner with Stevie tonight, where he says how much the team needs me, and how I have to sign my contract.”
“They do.”
“Thank you cheerleader Boyd.” But Sergei doesn’t sound scathing, and he’s still smiling. He touches my face for a second, running his finger down my neck and then the light changes colour.
“I still haven’t decided what I want.” Sergei is only half concentrating on the road so I am glad it is not to busy.
“Do you mean money?”
“No.” He thinks for second. “I’m just not sure what else I want.” I smile uncertainly at that and Sergie laughs. “You probably wouldn’t understand.”
“No.” I reply and on the drive to Sergei’s house we both occasionally catch each other’s eye and start laughing like fools.
I watch the two of them in action that night. Sergei casually mentions he is ‘thinking of changing agents’, Steve recommends his. Sergei demurs, saying he needs to think things through carefully. When Steve asks why he wants to change Sergei instead talks about how he is catching up with Alex in a few days.
He say’s that we, and here he turned to me, are all having dinner together when the Leafs come to town, how Alex has met someone. He says how happy Alex is with his fresh start. And Stevie looks like he is boiling.
In his own effort to change the subject Steve asks if I have gotten over my flu, which causes Lisa to fuss and ask me if I am drinking enough liquids. She even turns to Sergei to make sure he is taking care of me.
“Of course.” Sergei replies, smiling sweetly at her.
“Well, at least there is depth if you have to miss any games.” Steve says.
And because I do not want to spend another evening in the press box I say; ‘Alex really seems to like Canada’. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sergei hide a smirk in his drink.
“Does he?” Steve asks through his teeth.
“Yes.” I say meanly. “He said it is just the place for a new beginning.”
“Really?” Steve asks, looking at Sergei as he is talking to me. Sergei is looking at the wine list very intently.
“Uh -huh.” I say brightly. “He really likes Pat. What was he like at the Olympics?”
And Stevie half answers my question, trying to catch Sergei’s eye, but Sergei is engrossed in talking about his dinner choices with Lisa.
“Pat picked up players he liked at the Olympics, like Beflour.” I smile. “Maybe he will make an offer for you Stevie, aren’t you going to be an unrestricted free agent?” And we all laugh. “Like Sergei?” I say when it dies down. And Steve smiles tightly. And Sergei squeezes my hand, and leans over and kisses me on the cheek.
Steve finally gets Sergei’s attention after we order. But when he asks about the summer, obviously leading up to Sergei signing a new contract, Sergei instead mentions that he and I are going to be in Russia for part of the summer and Steve’s smile changes from one of tightness to genuine pleasure. I look down at my plate feeling the humour I felt at playing Steve flow out of me in a whoosh.
I smile, excuse myself and go into the bathroom and throw up.
When I come back to the table I pick at diner finally complaining I feel unwell. Sergei walks me out and puts me in a taxi.
I hear Lisa whisper, “that’s so sweet” to Steve as we walk out and him laugh and say; “he will be worse than Darren with Kris and Kirk.”
And I wonder who makes more money out of the three of them, and who pays for the taxis?
Sergei comes back a couple of hours after me.
I don’t even jump when I feel him sit behind me and take the headphones off one ear. He drops his head down next to mine; listening for a bit before he shakes his head.
“The Dear’s?” He reads off the cover.
“They’re from Montreal.” I protest, “they’re pretty good.”
“When are going to listen to grown ups music?” When he smiles the little lines at the sides of his eyes are more apparent, I turn half around and touch them with my finger, I wonder if they are from staring into the sun or, squinting on the ice, or if they are even from smiling.
“So when did Alex tell you he liked Canada?” Sergei snickers.
“Ummm, I’m a little bit psychic?” I offer, laughing as well.
I wiggle around so I am facing him and lean into him. After a second I feel him hug me back, and we sit there for a while, and I close my eyes and imagine that this is like the grind line. That we will be as bad as them, instead of this being a bad idea.
“How was the rest of dinner?”
“Fun.” Sergei laughs. “I will probably resign with the Wings, but one of my bonus’ has to be watching Stevie squirm and get aggravated.”
“That’s mean.” I laugh. “Steve is the captain you should make Sean squirm or something.”
“You don’t like Sean?” Sergei sounds like he is only half paying attention picking through the CDs I brought the other day.
“He’s a bully.” I say, not thinking anything off it. “And he is nosey, he’s always snooping around interfering, like Max the other night.”
“Max?”
I look up. “Oh it’s nothing, he was just being annoying when I was trying to talk to Steve during the game.”
“I see.” Sergei kisses me. “Are you really sick?”
“A bit, I was sleeping but I got up to listen to this.” I lie.
Sergei laughs and pulls me up the stairs. There are new sheets on the bed, which I did disturb, and the room is well lit, I won’t let him turn the light out and it is really slow and it feels indistinct and anytime and blurry in all the good ways, and I think that the grind light fight about all kinds of stuff, like over who sits where in the taxi and who rides with Darren on his motorbike, and I drift of to sleep with Sergei softly talking in my ear about what Russia is like in the summer.
Steve corners me after the team meeting. Sergei is smirking at me over Steve’s head as he talks to Dave Lewis. I pretend I don’t know what Steve is talking about and finally make my escape when Brett distracts him.
next
Pairing: Boyd Devereaux / Sergei Fedorov
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fiction means I made the whole thing up.
previous chapters
Something weird happens in the game. With Cheli and Nick in the penalty box Dandy and I are on the ice at the same time. It kind of happens in slow motion. Marchment shoves Dandy into the boards from behind, and before I can think I cross check him in the back, and he is face first in the glass. As he slides down to the ice and I’m tugged to the penalty box by linesmen eager to not let the Sharks rip me limb from limb, Dandy mouth ‘thank you’ at me. He’s ok, but Marchment is a bit wobbly going off the ice.
Nick moves over to make room for me on the bench and punches me on the arm. “Good job.”
It is later after we have showered when I am talking to Dandy in the dressing room that Chris slaps me on the back and laughs.
“Good thing Dandy always rooms alone, y’know? You going to pay him a visit?”
I think I blush as Cheli slaps me on the back again and laughs. “Yes but why does Dandy room alone?” I say trying to smile and pointing at Sergei. I look at Dandy and he has frozen to the bench.
Before I can anything to him he bolts out of the room.
And that rings through my head all evening. I go back to Sergei’s room and we have sex and even Sergei can sense I am not into it.
“What?” Sergei shoves my hands away from his cock. “Why so fucking pissy Boyd?”
“What if I had wanted pay back from Dandy?”
Sergei looks at me for a long time. His eyes are the same colour, he doesn’t change expression, but they narrow, if nothing else I don’t have to bull shit around him. “No.” he finally says.
I stare back. “Why?”
“No Boyd, if I don’t get him, you don’t either.”
We look at each other for a long time. And then I lean over and kiss him. “I don’t really want him anyway,” I say and he rolls over on top of me. And we finish what we started and we sleep.
In the morning Sergei is washing his face in the mirror and I stand behind him. “What?”
I look at him and leaning forward kiss him on the back of his neck. He keeps his eyes on me in the mirror I can feel him watching, and I kiss his neck again, slightly higher, moving toward his hairline. I bite the skin lightly, not marking it, no pressure. I feel his head tilt backwards and I see my hands slide up around his waist, running across the front of his chest, collecting up the water drops that spilled on him.
I breathe on his skin and lick and bite my way around his neck until I reach his ear.
I turn on the hot water tap and run my hands under it a few times so they are warm and slide them down him. I kneel down in front of Sergei and slide him into my throat and soon I feel him come and I climb back up him. I kiss back around his body and back around his neck and when I look into the mirror again the steam from the hot tap has misted it over.
“What was that?” he finally asks.
“I don’t want to share anymore.” And I can’t see anything except the bright white cleanness of the bathroom lights.
“What?” He asks.
“I don’t want to ask about other players, and I don’t want to imagine you with other players, especially members of the Red Wings. I want it to be you and me and no one else.”
And it is very quite and still for a second. Sergei turns around slowly in my arms. I feel his hand over my eyes and his breath on my lips.
“I don’t believe you Boyd.” He whispers and leaves the bathroom.
“I hate that you fuck other people in the team.”
Sergei is getting changed and looks up at me in the doorway. “Well I believe that, but why bring it up with that song and dance routine? What difference does it make?”
I consider my answer. “It looks weird.”
“So fucking what?”
“Don’t go after them? Please?
“Why not?”
I can’t tell him, he should know should know what it feels like.
“I don’t want you to.” I try
“Good for you.” Sergei crosses his arms and looks at me. “Well?”
“You wouldn’t like it.” I finally say lamely.
“I don’t have to do it.” And Sergei reminds me it is late and we have to leave soon for practise. He plays that evening and gets a goal and I play about 10 minutes and am total shit.
That night we are back at his house, and this time I definitely don’t encourage him when he holds my hands down, and it doesn’t really matter cause I don’t think he really cares who is in bed with him.
I remember this way from before though. Sergei shoves me onto the bed and I am too close to the headboard and I crack my head on it when I land, and I can feel blood on the side of my face. But it is ok because it makes things dull and fuzzy. So I can pretend a little bit that I can’t feel Sergei’s hands on my throat digging into me. And I look up at him and see the tightness around his jaw and I try to touch his face and I open my mouth, but he puts his hand over my lips.
And the only thing he says is “be silent” and I try. He leaves his hand across my mouth and I look up at him through the glass of my tears, he looks down at me and leaning over turns off the light. I wish I could have told him to get lube on the way. And truthfully it doesn’t start that badly. He bites my neck and it starts slowly, but then, I whimper, or moan or something and Sergei growls low in his through, and then I just don’t really remember what happened.
That’s a lie; I remember everything over and over.
I can break it down to a series of pictures. I see the inside of Sergei’s hand. I see the curl of his fingers. I see him passing me a glass when his hand comes toward my face.
I see him fussing over my clothes when he rips the buttons of my shirt. And I try to make my mind blank, like I used to make my mind blank, and I imagine the grind line spending the night together celebrating Kris’ goal. But then I remember I never had any luck making my brain go quiet, and that is how I got here in the first place. And I feel Sergei‘s hands pinching the skin on my chest, and I open my eyes and look at his face.
It is better the devil you know.
And what really gets me is how he looks like a mask. Like there is a plastic skin over his face and he has retreated somewhere else as well, like he isn’t doing this to me, like it is someone else. I am happier thinking we are both really somewhere and someone else.
And when Sergei tugs my head down I think instead of Brett’s soft fingers in my hair. And although it could be the feeling of Sergei inside me, instead I have the sensation of Dandy’s body on mine. Then I imagine Sergei is Fedor, or he’s Steve, and he’s anyone in the world. I break him down into little pieces.
And he shoves me away, pulls out and rolls over. I hear how his breath is too fast in his throat and I wait a bit. He gets up and walks out of the room slamming the door, and I hear him walk down the stairs. When I hear the door to the living room slam I finally lean over and turn on the light.
When I pull my head up I make Rorschach images out of the red liquid there. A guitar and a hockey stick, of course. A fountain of water.
In a dream I pull my hands out of the remains of my shirt that Sergei used to keep them in place and stumble to the bathroom.
His shirt I remind myself. Not the blue one, another one he got that day.
When I see myself in the mirror it seems like the last few months haven’t happened at all. I can see the slight line of his fingers on the base of my neck, and I go up counting injuries. Cut lip, like I got high sticked in the face. The mark under my eye is the same, easily explained away.
I shake my head so my scalp settles back from where he grabbed my hair, and I burst into tears. Because I’m supposed to go hide under the blankets like Dandy, and then Mathieu would pull me out from under the covers, and then I get to make love to him, like he did to me, and then fly back to Detroit and hide in my apartment.
But I don’t have an apartment anymore. Well I do, but instead I have to get back into bed with Sergei and I can’t have a shower. Then I decide that I can. And I do, until all the hot water is gone.
When I sneak back into the bedroom Sergei is back, and asleep, and to my surprise I fall asleep as well.
“Wake up.” I roll over and Sergei is standing beside the bed. It is light outside. He is dressed and standing looking down at me, holding coffee in his hand.
“You missed training.”
“How late is it?”
“Two o’clock.”
“Holy shit.” I lean over to the phone, “I have to call Dave…”
I wince as I get up. Sergei looks at me as I put my feet on the carpet. He puts his hand on my shoulder, holding me down.
“I told him you had the flu.” He passes me the coffee and disappears. I drink it without thinking and it burns against the raw skin of my lip.
Sergei returns, holding a washcloth and I am very still indeed. As he bends down to touch my face I grab his hand.
“What are you doing?” And he transfers the cloth to his other hand and cleans under my eyes.
“You have dried blood on your face.”
“I want to go home.” I say finally. Sergei raises one eyebrow. He touches the bottom of my jaw with the tip of his finger, getting me to lift my head. I do and I feel him wiping at the bite on my neck.
“You are home.” He replies.
“You have got to be joking.” I put my hand up and Sergei takes my wrist and puts my hand back down on my lap.
“Where’s your other home?” I look at Sergei. “Didn’t you get everything you wanted from there? Isn’t it all here now?” He goes on. “What is it you need for this to be home?”
“I wasn’t scared in my home.”
“Scared of me?” Sergei looks puzzled. “Don’t be.” Sergei replies softly. “I won’t do that again. I’m sorry, I lost control.”
And I look in his eyes because he’s staring right at me, but I don’t know him well enough to read his expression. And really what could I say to that. I could agree I suppose. I could shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t believe you.” I whisper. But Sergei continues on; taking my other hand he slides my watch off my wrist.
“I am sorry about that.” He holds it up and the face is cracked.
He kneels so he is between my legs and traces the marks on my face. When he leans forward I can feel his hair tickling under my chin and I feel his tongue lick around the outside of the little bruises on my chest. Finally he drags the flat of his hands down my chest and across the front of my legs until he reaches my knees, then he pushes my legs apart and runs his hands up the inside of my thighs.
I start to shake, but I don’t know if it is shivering or if it is terror. But he kisses the inside of my knees. And I wiggle a bit on the bed because it almost tickles, and when he motions me to move back on the bed I do, and he climbs over on top of me.
And because he has never done this before I don’t know what kind of walls to bring up, and it is almost like my mind goes blank, as all I can concentrate on is the tight feeling of his mouth around my dick. And it’s wet and warm. I didn’t even really feel this, or do this when Dandy and I… Edmonton I think clearly, this was last done to me in Edmonton. And them everything is starry and hazy.
“Boyd?” Sergei’s breath is on my face as he kisses me, and I taste the salt and copper of me on his tongue. “We have to go in a few minutes.” And I nod and get off the bed and have another shower, Sergei doesn’t comment when I am late. He is already changed, and then I think he never took his clothes off.
On the way to the Joe he talks about Russia, how Pskov is having some kind of anniversary and I nod and leave the window down so I can feel the snowy air from outside on my face. I think it settles as frost on my lips, and it is cool and soothing, censoring all feeling. When Sergei closes the window I open it again. He rolls his eyes but leaves it alone.
He turns the radio on low when I don’t respond to him and doesn’t say anything else on the trip to the arena. But when I get out of the car I still reach out to him and we walk in holding hands.
We make it to the Joe on time and Sergei scores three goals. I am in the press box with Max and he stares at the bruises on my face. I ignore him and chatter to Steve. It is close to babbling. It is really way to hot in here and I feel the skin on my face get tighter and start to contract around my skull. By the third period I am afraid that if I keep talking the skin around my lips will crack open and split across my face.
Max asks me a question, but it is like it he is talking about the wrong speed and instead of answering I stare at him. He is a long way away. I turn around when I hear Steve’s voice and I’m surprised he is right there, because he sounded a long way away as well. Steve talks to me softly; he brushes the hair of my forehead and tells me quietly that I have a fever. I nod. He rubs the back of my hand and asks me if I want to go home. I shake my head and tell him I’ll wait for Sergei.
Steve smiles. “I’m sure Sergei wouldn’t mind if you left early. I open my mouth to say something, but then Steve asks, “Did you fall over?” And he touches the mark on my temple.
“No” I say back. “I walked into the door last night.” And Steve shakes his head and says being sick can affect your balance. And I mean to nod and agree with him, but my head feels like it is about to float off my neck so I just stare at him.
He tells me to at least wait in the locker room where it is not so crowded. Max comes with me. When we reach the entrance he makes a show of holding the door open for me. Then he stands against one wall and I stand against another. Although we look at each other we don’t say anything at all. When the team start to filter in at the end of the period I slip off to the trainers room to get aspirin.
But I play the next night and score. When I wake up the next morning Sergei is in the shower and there is a box on the bed next to me. It has a gold watch in it. Much more expensive than the one he broke. The card in the box says ‘no one else.’ I join him in the shower and the water washes the taste and the smell and the sweat away and isn’t so bad at all.
The next morning it is me that is up first, I need to get some things at town and I spend an idle half day errand running, the Wings actually have two weeks in Detroit, and there is no rush to do anything before I have to catch a plane to somewhere.
Sergei calls me when I am in the HMV store. I meet him in the car park.
“Who’s your agent again?” He asks as soon as I get in the car.
“Curran. Why?”
“I fired mine.” And he starts laughing.
I stare at him. “Are you serious?” he nods and laughs more, peeling out of the car park, going way over the speed limit, giggling to himself, and I can’t help it, I laugh back.
“Why?”
“They suck.” Sergei is still sniggering over the steering wheel. “And I felt like a change, and really why not?”
“What’s changed?”
“I’ll be a free agent, I’ve never really had that before. Hence the summons to join the captain.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Sergei turns to me at the red light, his eyes are a little bit glassy, and his smile is slightly maniacal.
“Dinner with Stevie tonight, where he says how much the team needs me, and how I have to sign my contract.”
“They do.”
“Thank you cheerleader Boyd.” But Sergei doesn’t sound scathing, and he’s still smiling. He touches my face for a second, running his finger down my neck and then the light changes colour.
“I still haven’t decided what I want.” Sergei is only half concentrating on the road so I am glad it is not to busy.
“Do you mean money?”
“No.” He thinks for second. “I’m just not sure what else I want.” I smile uncertainly at that and Sergie laughs. “You probably wouldn’t understand.”
“No.” I reply and on the drive to Sergei’s house we both occasionally catch each other’s eye and start laughing like fools.
I watch the two of them in action that night. Sergei casually mentions he is ‘thinking of changing agents’, Steve recommends his. Sergei demurs, saying he needs to think things through carefully. When Steve asks why he wants to change Sergei instead talks about how he is catching up with Alex in a few days.
He say’s that we, and here he turned to me, are all having dinner together when the Leafs come to town, how Alex has met someone. He says how happy Alex is with his fresh start. And Stevie looks like he is boiling.
In his own effort to change the subject Steve asks if I have gotten over my flu, which causes Lisa to fuss and ask me if I am drinking enough liquids. She even turns to Sergei to make sure he is taking care of me.
“Of course.” Sergei replies, smiling sweetly at her.
“Well, at least there is depth if you have to miss any games.” Steve says.
And because I do not want to spend another evening in the press box I say; ‘Alex really seems to like Canada’. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sergei hide a smirk in his drink.
“Does he?” Steve asks through his teeth.
“Yes.” I say meanly. “He said it is just the place for a new beginning.”
“Really?” Steve asks, looking at Sergei as he is talking to me. Sergei is looking at the wine list very intently.
“Uh -huh.” I say brightly. “He really likes Pat. What was he like at the Olympics?”
And Stevie half answers my question, trying to catch Sergei’s eye, but Sergei is engrossed in talking about his dinner choices with Lisa.
“Pat picked up players he liked at the Olympics, like Beflour.” I smile. “Maybe he will make an offer for you Stevie, aren’t you going to be an unrestricted free agent?” And we all laugh. “Like Sergei?” I say when it dies down. And Steve smiles tightly. And Sergei squeezes my hand, and leans over and kisses me on the cheek.
Steve finally gets Sergei’s attention after we order. But when he asks about the summer, obviously leading up to Sergei signing a new contract, Sergei instead mentions that he and I are going to be in Russia for part of the summer and Steve’s smile changes from one of tightness to genuine pleasure. I look down at my plate feeling the humour I felt at playing Steve flow out of me in a whoosh.
I smile, excuse myself and go into the bathroom and throw up.
When I come back to the table I pick at diner finally complaining I feel unwell. Sergei walks me out and puts me in a taxi.
I hear Lisa whisper, “that’s so sweet” to Steve as we walk out and him laugh and say; “he will be worse than Darren with Kris and Kirk.”
And I wonder who makes more money out of the three of them, and who pays for the taxis?
Sergei comes back a couple of hours after me.
I don’t even jump when I feel him sit behind me and take the headphones off one ear. He drops his head down next to mine; listening for a bit before he shakes his head.
“The Dear’s?” He reads off the cover.
“They’re from Montreal.” I protest, “they’re pretty good.”
“When are going to listen to grown ups music?” When he smiles the little lines at the sides of his eyes are more apparent, I turn half around and touch them with my finger, I wonder if they are from staring into the sun or, squinting on the ice, or if they are even from smiling.
“So when did Alex tell you he liked Canada?” Sergei snickers.
“Ummm, I’m a little bit psychic?” I offer, laughing as well.
I wiggle around so I am facing him and lean into him. After a second I feel him hug me back, and we sit there for a while, and I close my eyes and imagine that this is like the grind line. That we will be as bad as them, instead of this being a bad idea.
“How was the rest of dinner?”
“Fun.” Sergei laughs. “I will probably resign with the Wings, but one of my bonus’ has to be watching Stevie squirm and get aggravated.”
“That’s mean.” I laugh. “Steve is the captain you should make Sean squirm or something.”
“You don’t like Sean?” Sergei sounds like he is only half paying attention picking through the CDs I brought the other day.
“He’s a bully.” I say, not thinking anything off it. “And he is nosey, he’s always snooping around interfering, like Max the other night.”
“Max?”
I look up. “Oh it’s nothing, he was just being annoying when I was trying to talk to Steve during the game.”
“I see.” Sergei kisses me. “Are you really sick?”
“A bit, I was sleeping but I got up to listen to this.” I lie.
Sergei laughs and pulls me up the stairs. There are new sheets on the bed, which I did disturb, and the room is well lit, I won’t let him turn the light out and it is really slow and it feels indistinct and anytime and blurry in all the good ways, and I think that the grind light fight about all kinds of stuff, like over who sits where in the taxi and who rides with Darren on his motorbike, and I drift of to sleep with Sergei softly talking in my ear about what Russia is like in the summer.
Steve corners me after the team meeting. Sergei is smirking at me over Steve’s head as he talks to Dave Lewis. I pretend I don’t know what Steve is talking about and finally make my escape when Brett distracts him.
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