(fic) Pre-approved (In credit interlude)
Title: Pre-approved
Pairing: Boyd Devereaux / Sergei Fedorov
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fiction means I made the whole thing up.
previous chapters
Notes:Also, Sergei Fedorov / Darren McCarty, Dallas Drake & Paul Coffey & Sergei Fedorov, and Dallas Drake & Paul Coffey and Darren McCarty
Implied Alex Mogilny / Bryan McCabe
Sergei’s POV
Inconstant… arrogant… wimp… materialistic… pedophile… vain… not a team player… Yzerman forced to speak to Fedorov after training… one big distraction… immature… selfish… ego… worthless… gutless… heartless… heartless…
Heartless. I wake up. Boyd is sleeping on his side next to me. He shifts in his sleep his arm sliding from my chest to my waist as he rolls from his side to his tummy. His t-shirt bunches around his hips, Linkin Park, the fuck? Boyd needs new clothes. Still needs new clothes. When his face scrunches up in his sleep like that he looks about five. I rest my hand on his back running my palm up and down until he falls asleep properly again.
He is very young anyway. I can tell when he dreams, his fluttering eyelashes, his mouth slightly open, lips moving. I imagine if I put my ear to his lips I could hear what he was saying. Or the ocean.
How cruel I am. Boyd is not stupid. But he is young, thank you Igor, he is sweet thank you Brett, yes Steve he is fun. And Alex, Alex thinks he is good for me.
I watch Boyd sleep. He has had only one nightmare since he has been here. It surprised me, I carefully watched for a while but there have been none since. Igor could give anyone nightmares. Watching like he is going to strike and devour you. Boyd is terrified of him, I felt, I am not sure, protective of him. God I liked him clinging to me, following me, being within arms length. Almost as much as I liked having something that Igor did not. I push his hair off his face, rubbing his back when it looks like he might wake up again.
Aloof… trains separately… lonely shots on goal after practise… … missing from the morning skate…
I arrange him in a different way on the bed; he curls up a little sliding his hand under his head, pulling his arm out of my hand and putting it in front of his face. His nose twists up slightly as I run my hand along the top of his ass, and the petting doesn’t wake him. He can make himself very small on the bed. He is cold as well, I watch as the exposed skin on his lower back goose bumps a little bit.
He sighs softly when I run my hand under the black material of his boxers, suddenly I am not sure if I want him to be awake anyway.
“Noisy kitten”, Igor had called him. I wonder if I could get Boyd’s boxers off and be fucking him before he woke up. I am sure I could it would take all of three seconds - if I wanted to be cruel, but I find I do not.
Enigmatic… mercurial… petulant… unlikeable… difficult… time-consuming… can’t be counted on…
I look for something to distract me, ah but Boyd is here to distract me. I look around; the curtains have ties to hold them back. I never noticed that before, I wonder if they have always been like that. There is a tassel on the end. I turn back to Boyd.
Kitten I think, I wonder if he wants to play?
I roll off the bed, although Boyd tips forward a bit he settles down and doesn’t wake up. When I come back my weight causes him to fall forward against me. I use the tip of the tassel to tickle Boyd’s nose. He shakes his head and pulls away. I wait until he settles again. Then I do it again. It’s fun, but a repetitive game. I push his shirt up a bit, his skin is warm under my hands; I push his boxers down more. Nice, paler skin. I run my hand over the small of his back.
I trail the tassel over his lips. Kitten. Boyd doesn’t get the joke, that it was directed at me. A kitten Igor called me, because I purred; we were lovers of a sort. Still are, of a sort. I value him too much to ever totally give him up, despite his moods. Hasn’t he shaped a lot of what I am? My game, my personality.
Igor is half and half. Half in the old country half in this, half gay half straight, half in love with his wife half not. Half drunk half sober. He is dangerous only when you don’t know which half you are going to come up against.
Half effort… some of the blame for the loss… direct giveaway… defensive game has improved but still… penalty kill… overtime loss… really expect Federov to step up…
I stroke Boyd’s cheek, where his whiskers would be if he had any. I use the tassel to tease his lips, where his fangs would slip past his lips. He licks his lips and blows out to force the annoyance away. He finally puts his hand up to push it away and I grab his palm. I lick across the tips of his fingers; he has hockey player’s hands, guitar player’s hands, and no prickly kitten claws. Boyd has no teeth, no talons, and no natural defences.
A noisy kitten Igor said. Not cute or sweet or pretty, the things I have been in the past. My refusal to share annoyed him. I don’t know why I wouldn’t. I do actually because he is mine. I look down at Boyd.
More fully than any other person I have had before, Boyd is mine.
“You are not the person you once were.” Alex told me sadly, letting me know that I am less now than I was years ago.
But who wants to be the same person they were when then were young? Naïve, vulnerable, defenceless.
I wonder if Boyd felt Sasha’s eyes studying him. He was nervous, but then Boyd so often is. But he was a little off. I will blame Bryan’s hair.
“What the fuck is with that hairdo? I have to say Sasha I never imagined you with someone who looked like that.”
“He is threatening to dye it blue.” Alex laughs. “Why did they go to the bathroom at the same time? Are they powdering their noses?”
“Don’t tell me what kinky shit you two get up to.” I smirk at Alex; I have missed him being like this, humorous and open.
“I like him.” Alex finally says.
“Bryan? I would hope so.”
“Boyd, dear Sergei, I like Boyd.”
“As do I, dear Alex.”
Boyd mutters in his sleep and I am instantly tired. Of him? Of the burden of having a possession? I don’t know what I want to give him.
He rubs his face against the blanket on the bed. When he rolls back his face has smoothed out, the lines of irritation between his eyes have melted away. He tucks his hand under his cheek. I stroke his hair. I wonder if I could make him purr. I bet I could, I’ve made him scream and beg, in good and bad ways.
“You are not the person you once were.” As I replay the way he said that in my head. Is he sad? He is not the man he once was either, and better for it, we all grow up. So am I more or less than I once was? Better or worse?
Boyd sighs and edges closer to me in his sleep. I throw the tassel back toward the curtains. I don’t feel like being cruel today and I am sure if he woke up and saw it Boyd would get the wrong idea. Like I need to tie him up to keep him here anyway. He is hardly an alley cat, brought up on the mean streets of Seaforth, no Tomcat walking around the neighbourhood. A lap cat, Boyd is a house pet, petted and coddled, he won’t stray.
I watch him sleep some more. I like having him here. More than I thought I would. I like there being someone in the house again.
Boyd snuffles next to me. He is noisy. I get up and walk to the bathroom. Being with Alex always reminds me of the past in a way that being with Pavel never does. I always think of Alex as the collector of memories, if I want to remember exactly how something happened I go to him. He has been there for all the big decisions in my life, the ones I made and the moves I didn’t make.
I’ve trusted him with everything, but for the first time I think I am lying to him. “I like him to, dear Alex.” Do I? Or do I just not want to lie to Alex? I should have ended up with Alex I think. It has not escaped my notice that I like brunettes. But I could never come between him and Pavel, and then it was to late.
I walk into the bathroom; the blondes in my life have been half good and half disaster. Igor was good Anna is best forgotten.
I look I the mirror and wonder how do I like Boyd? As a distraction, as company, as a live body? In fifteen years I have mostly tried to avoid lying to Alex. He always knows, but he didn’t say anything last night. The lines around my eyes are deep. Made deeper by the late night and early morning. Dark pools swim under my iris’, little blood-red lines in the white radiate out from deep in my pupils. I squint in the mirror, why can you never tell what colour your own eyes are? I am sure they were once a paler, purer blue. Even my hair is darker now. Alex’s is grey at the sides; it suits him, distinguished touch around an inscrutable face.
But there is more to him now. Instead of just the amused calm I am accustomed to seeing on Alex there is an air of satisfaction that hovers around him. It is not smug or arrogant in anyway.
Happiness. My brain supplies the word for me. Alex is happy.
My skin is pasty this early in the morning, the flesh looking loose around my neck, god I hate getting old.
He was fractured the last time I saw him, he and Pavel had finally parted. He was cracked a little. Those two; after all this time. It shook my faith in relationships, well it would have had that faith not fled with Anna. I smile at myself noting the deeper lines around my mouth. But he seems so complete now. And being Alex he finds time to approve of Boyd through his haze of happiness.
But who doesn’t? My brother approves of Boyd. My accountant approves of Boyd, my agent is thrilled it is not someone who will run off with a Spanish gigolo and cause me to fire him. Darren approves of Boyd. Brett’s loathing of me is preferable to this Sergei love-in. I feel like I have lost my touch.
Why do they all love Boyd so much? Why is everyone so desperate for Boyd and I to be a happy ending? Steve thinks I will stay if Boyd is here. Darren wants everyone to be happy; Shanny wants Boyd to be protected. Boyd wants to be in love, I can see it in his eyes. Everyone wants a happy ending.
Except me.
Darren was when it changed. I don’t know what that moment was for Boyd. Brett I think, Brett or Dandy. That moment, when Boyd stood in the doorway, and reminded me of someone else.
“I don’t want to.” Boyd said. For a second it was a decade before, it was ten years ago. “Teach me how.” Darren said.
But they were totally different, Darren wanted to know how to win, how to come out on top. Boyd wanted, not the opposite, but something rather different. To be left alone? That is wrong as well. I think now that Boyd wanted someone to take care of him. Maybe I just want that, to imagine that Boyd meant something different, he wanted to crawl away under the bed where no one would hurt him. But the best he gets is me.
“You are not the person you once were.” Alex told me sadly, letting me know that I am less now than I was.
Poor Boyd.
Darren and I now have something else in common. We protect our lovers from others. But Darren protects his love as well. But we have both been Wings for life, we understand our role in the team, but even more we understand what the team is. How it is bigger than anyone. Darren only tried to change things once. He picked the wrong moment to be throwing punches. On your knees there is no way to build momentum to get power behind the swing, possibly you will get a lucky blow, but not a knock out punch.
“Show me how.” Darren is framed in the doorway of the bathroom. We are in a hotel, I don’t remember where. His eye is swelling and will soon be closed, he will miss the game tomorrow because of it. His hair was even more unruly then that it is now. Dark hair with pale skin.
“Show you what?” And I laugh at how I sound in my head. Heavy, peasant accent.
“Show me how to get them off. I know you know how.” He walks into the room a little, waiting at the end of the bed.
“Well? Sergei? I need some help here.” I smiled a bit, it was impressively quick learning from him. It had only taken Dallas and Paul one night to get him to accept the payback scheme inherent to life in the Wings. I didn’t see the fuss. I mean then and now, I have thought it was just a way of unifying the team. I agree with Igor, secrets bring you together.
Once you understand and accept it is easier. And it makes sense, I have seen teams that are in chaos, with no one knowing their place, their role, I still think that this way is better.
Scottie approved, so it has taken over the team a bit, Dave and Steve don’t as much, next year will be different, but not /so/ different.
“Get a towel.” I finally say to Darren, I do know what I am doing anyway, it’s being Russian you don’t make as much of a fuss about these things.
As he turns around I admire his back. Paul I decide, because of the even spacing and depth of the lash marks. Amazing I think, against his skin, red and white, Detroit’s colours.
“Come here.” I say in my mind; “sit on the end of the bed.”
Darren does waiting for the trick I suppose, but I slide onto my knees in front of him.
“It depends on the guy, if he wants you to undress him or what he prefers. Paul”, I look up at him under my eyelashes catching the shudder at Coffey’s name, “Paul will want you to undress him.”
“Start like this.” I run my hand along his dick, a few times until he begins to get hard. “They know what you are there, it doesn’t take log to get anyone erect.
“Then this”, as I lick the top of his dick, hearing him gasp a bit. “Keep using you hand to get him harder,” and I do what I describe, licking down his length then stroking with my hand.
“Do it like this,” I suck the top of his dick into my mouth. I open my lips a little wider around the tip, “don’t try and take the whole thing”, my lips bump against him as I speak, “just go down a far as you can without gagging. Leave you hand there so he can’t force your head down.” I look up again, “but he may anyway.”
I bob down on him a few times. “If your mouth gets sore you can start to lick him again.” I let Darren slide out of my mouth as tease under the side of his cock. I keep my voice bland, but I can still remember everything about that night; the taste of him in my mouth, the sound of his breathing, the tiny scars on his knuckles.
“Use you hands.” I stroke under his cock, brushing my fingers over his balls. I look up again, both his eyes are closed and his hands are grabbing at the blanket on the bed.
“Or this, or this….” Darren is not paying to much attention to me now, “when you feel him start to swell up in your mouth, like you are…” I pull my mouth of him jerking him harder, “you can suck on the tip really hard, you can shift your mouth faster, use you hands, depends on him, depends on you.”
I lean forward again and flicker my tongue across the tip of his dick, collecting the come in my hands.
I dry my hands on the towel as he flops back on the bed.
“Thank you.” He finally says.
“You’re welcome.” I reply. “Now me.”
He sighs on the bed. “Payback Darren,” I say softly. He didn’t understand then the power that you can have even on your knees; it is just a matter of waiting your turn.
He finally gets up and I turned him around touching the wounds on his back. Paul hadn’t broken the skin once, and they would fade mostly by morning.
“Do they hurt?”
Darren shrugs, and then winces as it pulls the flesh tighter. “A bit. Not really.” I smile at his bravado, I bet they really hurt, I wonder what else they feel like.
Without meaning to I lean down and kiss one of the lines. Darren shakes a bit and pulls away. “Don’t try to be nice and make it better Sergei.”
I don’t correct him. I wasn’t trying to be nice. I wanted to pull him back and kiss the skin again, feel the heat against my lips, under my tongue, the tight swollen flesh reminding me of someone’s cock.
I feel the cool hardness of the mirror against my forehead as I lean forward. I have seen Boyd look at the three of them, with longing, with fury, he does not know my role in their past, doesn’t not know how Darren trusts me to room with one of his loves, even if Draper is seldom in the room. I have looked at Darren a lot myself in the past ten years. It was two before three. I can’t recall if Boyd was here for that. They were already lovers, Kris and Kirk, a bit separate from the team, an affair that was respected by most people. They invited Darren in. He had always been a bit aloof and alone; he had never really shaken his reputation for trying to buck the system.
He was so grateful for that, he repaid them a thousand times. I remember his shy delight when he told me; I think that is the only time I have ever seen him blush. His love for them is a physical thing, it surrounds them like a bubble, and theirs back. Alex had some of this around him this evening.
Poor Boyd. He wants that. Or something like that. Or something other than this. I think we have both been watching the grind line too much. I am sure there was more between him and Dandy, just as I am sure there isn’t anymore. Boyd can’t hide anything with those eyes.
Kitten eyes, he is too easy to distract, his eyes catch the bright shiny object, and don’t recognise the trap behind it. He is backed into a corner before he has a chance to hide under the bed or the table.
Darren learned pretty damm quick. Afterwards we lay back on the bed, him on his stomach, he let me touch his back, not understanding my fascination, not realising my motivations were not making him feel better. But he has liked me since that day. I would laugh, under any other circumstance I am sure I would laugh. We didn’t talk about what happened to him with Paul and Dallas, not straight away. We talked about Russia, and the Red Army barracks, and with me kissing the lines on his back again Darren explained the fighters code to me.
“Sergei?” Boyd walked into the bathroom rubbing his eyes. I hate memory lane I should have fucked him.
“Good morning, kitten.” I smile at his scowl.
“Don’t call me that.” He tries to scowl again and spoils the effect by yawning.
“Sorry killer.” He rolls his eyes at me. I laugh at him, his dark hair, pale skin, Canadian, eyes half closed, Darren or something like that. I pull him toward me, so he is standing behind me, his chest pressed to my back. God I am so hard. Boyd holds me up even as he drapes himself over me. I guide his hand down to my dick.
I reach my arm back, over my shoulder, around his neck, pulling his head down to my shoulder. I use my other hand on him, the same easy rhythm he is using on me.
“Close your eyes.” I whisper and he does. I watch him in the mirror without him looking at me.
“Go faster,” he mumbles against my neck and I smile. He would not have said that a month ago. Even if you are hiding under the bed you can be enticed out with cat-treats.
“You to.” He does, I do, he comes just before me, I feel him hot in my palm, sticky across the small of my back, and his chest bumps into my back with every breath, faster than before.
I drop my hand off his neck and he lifts his head up and smiles at me sleepily in the mirror. I grasp his wet hand in mine and lift them both to his lips, watching his pink tongue licking at them, leaning over more heavily against me to get what is sliding down my wrist. His tongue hits my pulse point there.
I squeeze his hand and pull my fingers free. Boyd leans over me again, his arm around my waist, his wet hand next to my thigh.
“Aren’t you tired?” he props his chin on my shoulder. “It’s not even seven.”
“Go back to bed then.”
“Not tired.” He spoils the effect by yawning again.
“Sure you’re not.”
“I’m a mess, so are you.” He rubs the lower part of his body against my ass and the front of his boxers sticks to my skin. “Why are you up? Do we have an early skate?”
“Lets clean up.” I pull out of his arms and turn the shower on. Boyd has started to pull his shirt off when I grab him and shove him under the spray, thank god the shower unit isn’t over a bath you actually step down, and it’s big enough for both of us.
“Hey!” his outraged yelp makes me snicker. “What did you do that for?”
“I’m trying to ruin that t-shirt.”
“It’ll take more than water Sergei, it isn’t like your stuff.”
“What do you mean?” I look at him genuinely confused. “I’m not wearing anything in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Not that,” Boyd pulls a face, “I meant even your t-shirts are dry clean only.”
I watch Boyd struggle out of his clothes. When I touch him his skin is already hot from the water.
Whitehot… reckless… streak… scoring… Fedorov… a lot to prove… show me how… show me how… I don’t want to do this…
“What do you want?” I blurt out over the memories in my head.
“What?” Boyd finally throws his shirt on the floor and tugs his boxers off.
“Nothing. Shhh.” I kiss Boyd, pressing him against the wall. Steve and Brendan I think. Shanny and his devotion to the captain, Darren and his twin devotions, Alex and Pavel trying to make it work for fourteen years and a million miles, dark hair and pale skin.
Darren thinks I protected him that is why he approves of Boyd and I. The next night I went to Paul’s room, and asked him to show me what he knew. And I alternated that year between Paul’s bed and Darren’s.
Darren thinks it was to spare him. I kiss Boyd harder; I turn him around so the droplets of water beat onto his back. It was for me, I wanted to know how Paul did it, so I could do it to other people. I grab Boyd’s shoulders to pull him closer and the skin is so hot it could be melting. I squeeze him tighter, ignoring his mewling.
Paul and Dallas were good teachers in that regard. I became their project for a while, they were my project. They never bothered Darren again, because the lesson had been learned, but Darren thought it was because of me.
He is grateful, he loves me like a brother, and he trusts me with Boyd. I hold Boyd under the spray, catching his breath in my mouth, kissing him harder, climbing into his mouth.
“Sergei…. Sergei… too hot…” it finally gets through my brain what he is saying. I turn the water down and turn Boyd around again. He gasps when he comes into contact with the tile wall.
“Sorry.” I offer as sincerely as I can. “It’s a bit warm.” Boyd arches an eyebrow at me, gasping, but I can see he is hard as well. “Oh calm down, it wasn’t that bad. What can I do to make it up to you?”
It’s best to only ask questions when you already know the answers.
Boyd watches for a heartbeat watching me, he leans away from me wearily even as he says; “you could use your mouth.”
I smirk and kneel down in front of him, cat-treats. Boyd gasps as I lick down him, the old lessons running though my head. His fingers scrabble against the walls of the bathroom. I open my mouth wider, letting the water pour in, filling my mouth with hot liquid of another sort, taking the taste of Boyd away.
Boyd carefully kneels down next to me, he opens his mouth, but I put my hand over it.
“Don’t say anything.” He nods and sits back watching me wash him, not saying anything as I carefully make sure every part of him is clean, the pads of his paws, the soft skin of his flanks, him returning the favour when I am done. I turn the water off.
“Shit.”
“What?” Boyd’s voice is very soft.
“No towels. Wait a minute.”
When I get back Boyd is shivering from the cold air coming from the bedroom, shaking water off himself; squeezing it out of his hair. I wrap the towel around him, feeling him lean against me, like a kitten curling into the last patch of sunlight. He yawns again. God he’s heavy.
“Bed.” I say and drag him back to the bedroom.
He doesn’t say anything just rolls up into a ball and drops off. I leave my hand on his back and watch him sleep.
I don’t want… what do you want… I don’t want…. What do you want…
I want to go to sleep. I lean over Boyd and shove him onto his stomach. “Wake up. Boyd? Wake up.”
He mutters and shifts under me. “Pass me the lube if you want it,” I say louder, I tug the towel off his lower body.
“Sergei?” he is still asleep. “Ok.” He rolls over and climbs onto my lap. I pause for a second as he drapes his legs over my hips and licks at the side of my neck.
“I have to buy more”, he babbles at me.” I need to go and get some things…” I tune him out; dammit we are not having a conversation about shopping when I am just going to use him. I want to believe it is his weight keeping me on the bed, his wet hair weighting us down, why I can grab a belt, or hold him down, or shove him off me.
I put my hands on Boyd’s neck, my thumbs against the soft skin under his neck. I rest them there and Boyd leans his head back to offer me access.
My muscles lock with the effort not to teach him a lesson, don’t show weakness don’t offer it up.
I think of Paul and how after I had been with him I would cling to Darren, feeling the shivers from his work wrack both our bodies, as Darren didn’t get it, didn’t understand that I wanted it night after night after night.
Boyd falls asleep against my shoulder and I lay him down on the bed. He rolls against me, scrubbing his face to shove the hair off it. He makes a soft contented sigh as he nestles against me, as I catch him and tug him closer. A breathy moan. Like he is purring.
End.
(But there is another part of In Credit).
next
Pairing: Boyd Devereaux / Sergei Fedorov
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Fiction means I made the whole thing up.
previous chapters
Notes:Also, Sergei Fedorov / Darren McCarty, Dallas Drake & Paul Coffey & Sergei Fedorov, and Dallas Drake & Paul Coffey and Darren McCarty
Implied Alex Mogilny / Bryan McCabe
Sergei’s POV
Inconstant… arrogant… wimp… materialistic… pedophile… vain… not a team player… Yzerman forced to speak to Fedorov after training… one big distraction… immature… selfish… ego… worthless… gutless… heartless… heartless…
Heartless. I wake up. Boyd is sleeping on his side next to me. He shifts in his sleep his arm sliding from my chest to my waist as he rolls from his side to his tummy. His t-shirt bunches around his hips, Linkin Park, the fuck? Boyd needs new clothes. Still needs new clothes. When his face scrunches up in his sleep like that he looks about five. I rest my hand on his back running my palm up and down until he falls asleep properly again.
He is very young anyway. I can tell when he dreams, his fluttering eyelashes, his mouth slightly open, lips moving. I imagine if I put my ear to his lips I could hear what he was saying. Or the ocean.
How cruel I am. Boyd is not stupid. But he is young, thank you Igor, he is sweet thank you Brett, yes Steve he is fun. And Alex, Alex thinks he is good for me.
I watch Boyd sleep. He has had only one nightmare since he has been here. It surprised me, I carefully watched for a while but there have been none since. Igor could give anyone nightmares. Watching like he is going to strike and devour you. Boyd is terrified of him, I felt, I am not sure, protective of him. God I liked him clinging to me, following me, being within arms length. Almost as much as I liked having something that Igor did not. I push his hair off his face, rubbing his back when it looks like he might wake up again.
Aloof… trains separately… lonely shots on goal after practise… … missing from the morning skate…
I arrange him in a different way on the bed; he curls up a little sliding his hand under his head, pulling his arm out of my hand and putting it in front of his face. His nose twists up slightly as I run my hand along the top of his ass, and the petting doesn’t wake him. He can make himself very small on the bed. He is cold as well, I watch as the exposed skin on his lower back goose bumps a little bit.
He sighs softly when I run my hand under the black material of his boxers, suddenly I am not sure if I want him to be awake anyway.
“Noisy kitten”, Igor had called him. I wonder if I could get Boyd’s boxers off and be fucking him before he woke up. I am sure I could it would take all of three seconds - if I wanted to be cruel, but I find I do not.
Enigmatic… mercurial… petulant… unlikeable… difficult… time-consuming… can’t be counted on…
I look for something to distract me, ah but Boyd is here to distract me. I look around; the curtains have ties to hold them back. I never noticed that before, I wonder if they have always been like that. There is a tassel on the end. I turn back to Boyd.
Kitten I think, I wonder if he wants to play?
I roll off the bed, although Boyd tips forward a bit he settles down and doesn’t wake up. When I come back my weight causes him to fall forward against me. I use the tip of the tassel to tickle Boyd’s nose. He shakes his head and pulls away. I wait until he settles again. Then I do it again. It’s fun, but a repetitive game. I push his shirt up a bit, his skin is warm under my hands; I push his boxers down more. Nice, paler skin. I run my hand over the small of his back.
I trail the tassel over his lips. Kitten. Boyd doesn’t get the joke, that it was directed at me. A kitten Igor called me, because I purred; we were lovers of a sort. Still are, of a sort. I value him too much to ever totally give him up, despite his moods. Hasn’t he shaped a lot of what I am? My game, my personality.
Igor is half and half. Half in the old country half in this, half gay half straight, half in love with his wife half not. Half drunk half sober. He is dangerous only when you don’t know which half you are going to come up against.
Half effort… some of the blame for the loss… direct giveaway… defensive game has improved but still… penalty kill… overtime loss… really expect Federov to step up…
I stroke Boyd’s cheek, where his whiskers would be if he had any. I use the tassel to tease his lips, where his fangs would slip past his lips. He licks his lips and blows out to force the annoyance away. He finally puts his hand up to push it away and I grab his palm. I lick across the tips of his fingers; he has hockey player’s hands, guitar player’s hands, and no prickly kitten claws. Boyd has no teeth, no talons, and no natural defences.
A noisy kitten Igor said. Not cute or sweet or pretty, the things I have been in the past. My refusal to share annoyed him. I don’t know why I wouldn’t. I do actually because he is mine. I look down at Boyd.
More fully than any other person I have had before, Boyd is mine.
“You are not the person you once were.” Alex told me sadly, letting me know that I am less now than I was years ago.
But who wants to be the same person they were when then were young? Naïve, vulnerable, defenceless.
I wonder if Boyd felt Sasha’s eyes studying him. He was nervous, but then Boyd so often is. But he was a little off. I will blame Bryan’s hair.
“What the fuck is with that hairdo? I have to say Sasha I never imagined you with someone who looked like that.”
“He is threatening to dye it blue.” Alex laughs. “Why did they go to the bathroom at the same time? Are they powdering their noses?”
“Don’t tell me what kinky shit you two get up to.” I smirk at Alex; I have missed him being like this, humorous and open.
“I like him.” Alex finally says.
“Bryan? I would hope so.”
“Boyd, dear Sergei, I like Boyd.”
“As do I, dear Alex.”
Boyd mutters in his sleep and I am instantly tired. Of him? Of the burden of having a possession? I don’t know what I want to give him.
He rubs his face against the blanket on the bed. When he rolls back his face has smoothed out, the lines of irritation between his eyes have melted away. He tucks his hand under his cheek. I stroke his hair. I wonder if I could make him purr. I bet I could, I’ve made him scream and beg, in good and bad ways.
“You are not the person you once were.” As I replay the way he said that in my head. Is he sad? He is not the man he once was either, and better for it, we all grow up. So am I more or less than I once was? Better or worse?
Boyd sighs and edges closer to me in his sleep. I throw the tassel back toward the curtains. I don’t feel like being cruel today and I am sure if he woke up and saw it Boyd would get the wrong idea. Like I need to tie him up to keep him here anyway. He is hardly an alley cat, brought up on the mean streets of Seaforth, no Tomcat walking around the neighbourhood. A lap cat, Boyd is a house pet, petted and coddled, he won’t stray.
I watch him sleep some more. I like having him here. More than I thought I would. I like there being someone in the house again.
Boyd snuffles next to me. He is noisy. I get up and walk to the bathroom. Being with Alex always reminds me of the past in a way that being with Pavel never does. I always think of Alex as the collector of memories, if I want to remember exactly how something happened I go to him. He has been there for all the big decisions in my life, the ones I made and the moves I didn’t make.
I’ve trusted him with everything, but for the first time I think I am lying to him. “I like him to, dear Alex.” Do I? Or do I just not want to lie to Alex? I should have ended up with Alex I think. It has not escaped my notice that I like brunettes. But I could never come between him and Pavel, and then it was to late.
I walk into the bathroom; the blondes in my life have been half good and half disaster. Igor was good Anna is best forgotten.
I look I the mirror and wonder how do I like Boyd? As a distraction, as company, as a live body? In fifteen years I have mostly tried to avoid lying to Alex. He always knows, but he didn’t say anything last night. The lines around my eyes are deep. Made deeper by the late night and early morning. Dark pools swim under my iris’, little blood-red lines in the white radiate out from deep in my pupils. I squint in the mirror, why can you never tell what colour your own eyes are? I am sure they were once a paler, purer blue. Even my hair is darker now. Alex’s is grey at the sides; it suits him, distinguished touch around an inscrutable face.
But there is more to him now. Instead of just the amused calm I am accustomed to seeing on Alex there is an air of satisfaction that hovers around him. It is not smug or arrogant in anyway.
Happiness. My brain supplies the word for me. Alex is happy.
My skin is pasty this early in the morning, the flesh looking loose around my neck, god I hate getting old.
He was fractured the last time I saw him, he and Pavel had finally parted. He was cracked a little. Those two; after all this time. It shook my faith in relationships, well it would have had that faith not fled with Anna. I smile at myself noting the deeper lines around my mouth. But he seems so complete now. And being Alex he finds time to approve of Boyd through his haze of happiness.
But who doesn’t? My brother approves of Boyd. My accountant approves of Boyd, my agent is thrilled it is not someone who will run off with a Spanish gigolo and cause me to fire him. Darren approves of Boyd. Brett’s loathing of me is preferable to this Sergei love-in. I feel like I have lost my touch.
Why do they all love Boyd so much? Why is everyone so desperate for Boyd and I to be a happy ending? Steve thinks I will stay if Boyd is here. Darren wants everyone to be happy; Shanny wants Boyd to be protected. Boyd wants to be in love, I can see it in his eyes. Everyone wants a happy ending.
Except me.
Darren was when it changed. I don’t know what that moment was for Boyd. Brett I think, Brett or Dandy. That moment, when Boyd stood in the doorway, and reminded me of someone else.
“I don’t want to.” Boyd said. For a second it was a decade before, it was ten years ago. “Teach me how.” Darren said.
But they were totally different, Darren wanted to know how to win, how to come out on top. Boyd wanted, not the opposite, but something rather different. To be left alone? That is wrong as well. I think now that Boyd wanted someone to take care of him. Maybe I just want that, to imagine that Boyd meant something different, he wanted to crawl away under the bed where no one would hurt him. But the best he gets is me.
“You are not the person you once were.” Alex told me sadly, letting me know that I am less now than I was.
Poor Boyd.
Darren and I now have something else in common. We protect our lovers from others. But Darren protects his love as well. But we have both been Wings for life, we understand our role in the team, but even more we understand what the team is. How it is bigger than anyone. Darren only tried to change things once. He picked the wrong moment to be throwing punches. On your knees there is no way to build momentum to get power behind the swing, possibly you will get a lucky blow, but not a knock out punch.
“Show me how.” Darren is framed in the doorway of the bathroom. We are in a hotel, I don’t remember where. His eye is swelling and will soon be closed, he will miss the game tomorrow because of it. His hair was even more unruly then that it is now. Dark hair with pale skin.
“Show you what?” And I laugh at how I sound in my head. Heavy, peasant accent.
“Show me how to get them off. I know you know how.” He walks into the room a little, waiting at the end of the bed.
“Well? Sergei? I need some help here.” I smiled a bit, it was impressively quick learning from him. It had only taken Dallas and Paul one night to get him to accept the payback scheme inherent to life in the Wings. I didn’t see the fuss. I mean then and now, I have thought it was just a way of unifying the team. I agree with Igor, secrets bring you together.
Once you understand and accept it is easier. And it makes sense, I have seen teams that are in chaos, with no one knowing their place, their role, I still think that this way is better.
Scottie approved, so it has taken over the team a bit, Dave and Steve don’t as much, next year will be different, but not /so/ different.
“Get a towel.” I finally say to Darren, I do know what I am doing anyway, it’s being Russian you don’t make as much of a fuss about these things.
As he turns around I admire his back. Paul I decide, because of the even spacing and depth of the lash marks. Amazing I think, against his skin, red and white, Detroit’s colours.
“Come here.” I say in my mind; “sit on the end of the bed.”
Darren does waiting for the trick I suppose, but I slide onto my knees in front of him.
“It depends on the guy, if he wants you to undress him or what he prefers. Paul”, I look up at him under my eyelashes catching the shudder at Coffey’s name, “Paul will want you to undress him.”
“Start like this.” I run my hand along his dick, a few times until he begins to get hard. “They know what you are there, it doesn’t take log to get anyone erect.
“Then this”, as I lick the top of his dick, hearing him gasp a bit. “Keep using you hand to get him harder,” and I do what I describe, licking down his length then stroking with my hand.
“Do it like this,” I suck the top of his dick into my mouth. I open my lips a little wider around the tip, “don’t try and take the whole thing”, my lips bump against him as I speak, “just go down a far as you can without gagging. Leave you hand there so he can’t force your head down.” I look up again, “but he may anyway.”
I bob down on him a few times. “If your mouth gets sore you can start to lick him again.” I let Darren slide out of my mouth as tease under the side of his cock. I keep my voice bland, but I can still remember everything about that night; the taste of him in my mouth, the sound of his breathing, the tiny scars on his knuckles.
“Use you hands.” I stroke under his cock, brushing my fingers over his balls. I look up again, both his eyes are closed and his hands are grabbing at the blanket on the bed.
“Or this, or this….” Darren is not paying to much attention to me now, “when you feel him start to swell up in your mouth, like you are…” I pull my mouth of him jerking him harder, “you can suck on the tip really hard, you can shift your mouth faster, use you hands, depends on him, depends on you.”
I lean forward again and flicker my tongue across the tip of his dick, collecting the come in my hands.
I dry my hands on the towel as he flops back on the bed.
“Thank you.” He finally says.
“You’re welcome.” I reply. “Now me.”
He sighs on the bed. “Payback Darren,” I say softly. He didn’t understand then the power that you can have even on your knees; it is just a matter of waiting your turn.
He finally gets up and I turned him around touching the wounds on his back. Paul hadn’t broken the skin once, and they would fade mostly by morning.
“Do they hurt?”
Darren shrugs, and then winces as it pulls the flesh tighter. “A bit. Not really.” I smile at his bravado, I bet they really hurt, I wonder what else they feel like.
Without meaning to I lean down and kiss one of the lines. Darren shakes a bit and pulls away. “Don’t try to be nice and make it better Sergei.”
I don’t correct him. I wasn’t trying to be nice. I wanted to pull him back and kiss the skin again, feel the heat against my lips, under my tongue, the tight swollen flesh reminding me of someone’s cock.
I feel the cool hardness of the mirror against my forehead as I lean forward. I have seen Boyd look at the three of them, with longing, with fury, he does not know my role in their past, doesn’t not know how Darren trusts me to room with one of his loves, even if Draper is seldom in the room. I have looked at Darren a lot myself in the past ten years. It was two before three. I can’t recall if Boyd was here for that. They were already lovers, Kris and Kirk, a bit separate from the team, an affair that was respected by most people. They invited Darren in. He had always been a bit aloof and alone; he had never really shaken his reputation for trying to buck the system.
He was so grateful for that, he repaid them a thousand times. I remember his shy delight when he told me; I think that is the only time I have ever seen him blush. His love for them is a physical thing, it surrounds them like a bubble, and theirs back. Alex had some of this around him this evening.
Poor Boyd. He wants that. Or something like that. Or something other than this. I think we have both been watching the grind line too much. I am sure there was more between him and Dandy, just as I am sure there isn’t anymore. Boyd can’t hide anything with those eyes.
Kitten eyes, he is too easy to distract, his eyes catch the bright shiny object, and don’t recognise the trap behind it. He is backed into a corner before he has a chance to hide under the bed or the table.
Darren learned pretty damm quick. Afterwards we lay back on the bed, him on his stomach, he let me touch his back, not understanding my fascination, not realising my motivations were not making him feel better. But he has liked me since that day. I would laugh, under any other circumstance I am sure I would laugh. We didn’t talk about what happened to him with Paul and Dallas, not straight away. We talked about Russia, and the Red Army barracks, and with me kissing the lines on his back again Darren explained the fighters code to me.
“Sergei?” Boyd walked into the bathroom rubbing his eyes. I hate memory lane I should have fucked him.
“Good morning, kitten.” I smile at his scowl.
“Don’t call me that.” He tries to scowl again and spoils the effect by yawning.
“Sorry killer.” He rolls his eyes at me. I laugh at him, his dark hair, pale skin, Canadian, eyes half closed, Darren or something like that. I pull him toward me, so he is standing behind me, his chest pressed to my back. God I am so hard. Boyd holds me up even as he drapes himself over me. I guide his hand down to my dick.
I reach my arm back, over my shoulder, around his neck, pulling his head down to my shoulder. I use my other hand on him, the same easy rhythm he is using on me.
“Close your eyes.” I whisper and he does. I watch him in the mirror without him looking at me.
“Go faster,” he mumbles against my neck and I smile. He would not have said that a month ago. Even if you are hiding under the bed you can be enticed out with cat-treats.
“You to.” He does, I do, he comes just before me, I feel him hot in my palm, sticky across the small of my back, and his chest bumps into my back with every breath, faster than before.
I drop my hand off his neck and he lifts his head up and smiles at me sleepily in the mirror. I grasp his wet hand in mine and lift them both to his lips, watching his pink tongue licking at them, leaning over more heavily against me to get what is sliding down my wrist. His tongue hits my pulse point there.
I squeeze his hand and pull my fingers free. Boyd leans over me again, his arm around my waist, his wet hand next to my thigh.
“Aren’t you tired?” he props his chin on my shoulder. “It’s not even seven.”
“Go back to bed then.”
“Not tired.” He spoils the effect by yawning again.
“Sure you’re not.”
“I’m a mess, so are you.” He rubs the lower part of his body against my ass and the front of his boxers sticks to my skin. “Why are you up? Do we have an early skate?”
“Lets clean up.” I pull out of his arms and turn the shower on. Boyd has started to pull his shirt off when I grab him and shove him under the spray, thank god the shower unit isn’t over a bath you actually step down, and it’s big enough for both of us.
“Hey!” his outraged yelp makes me snicker. “What did you do that for?”
“I’m trying to ruin that t-shirt.”
“It’ll take more than water Sergei, it isn’t like your stuff.”
“What do you mean?” I look at him genuinely confused. “I’m not wearing anything in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Not that,” Boyd pulls a face, “I meant even your t-shirts are dry clean only.”
I watch Boyd struggle out of his clothes. When I touch him his skin is already hot from the water.
Whitehot… reckless… streak… scoring… Fedorov… a lot to prove… show me how… show me how… I don’t want to do this…
“What do you want?” I blurt out over the memories in my head.
“What?” Boyd finally throws his shirt on the floor and tugs his boxers off.
“Nothing. Shhh.” I kiss Boyd, pressing him against the wall. Steve and Brendan I think. Shanny and his devotion to the captain, Darren and his twin devotions, Alex and Pavel trying to make it work for fourteen years and a million miles, dark hair and pale skin.
Darren thinks I protected him that is why he approves of Boyd and I. The next night I went to Paul’s room, and asked him to show me what he knew. And I alternated that year between Paul’s bed and Darren’s.
Darren thinks it was to spare him. I kiss Boyd harder; I turn him around so the droplets of water beat onto his back. It was for me, I wanted to know how Paul did it, so I could do it to other people. I grab Boyd’s shoulders to pull him closer and the skin is so hot it could be melting. I squeeze him tighter, ignoring his mewling.
Paul and Dallas were good teachers in that regard. I became their project for a while, they were my project. They never bothered Darren again, because the lesson had been learned, but Darren thought it was because of me.
He is grateful, he loves me like a brother, and he trusts me with Boyd. I hold Boyd under the spray, catching his breath in my mouth, kissing him harder, climbing into his mouth.
“Sergei…. Sergei… too hot…” it finally gets through my brain what he is saying. I turn the water down and turn Boyd around again. He gasps when he comes into contact with the tile wall.
“Sorry.” I offer as sincerely as I can. “It’s a bit warm.” Boyd arches an eyebrow at me, gasping, but I can see he is hard as well. “Oh calm down, it wasn’t that bad. What can I do to make it up to you?”
It’s best to only ask questions when you already know the answers.
Boyd watches for a heartbeat watching me, he leans away from me wearily even as he says; “you could use your mouth.”
I smirk and kneel down in front of him, cat-treats. Boyd gasps as I lick down him, the old lessons running though my head. His fingers scrabble against the walls of the bathroom. I open my mouth wider, letting the water pour in, filling my mouth with hot liquid of another sort, taking the taste of Boyd away.
Boyd carefully kneels down next to me, he opens his mouth, but I put my hand over it.
“Don’t say anything.” He nods and sits back watching me wash him, not saying anything as I carefully make sure every part of him is clean, the pads of his paws, the soft skin of his flanks, him returning the favour when I am done. I turn the water off.
“Shit.”
“What?” Boyd’s voice is very soft.
“No towels. Wait a minute.”
When I get back Boyd is shivering from the cold air coming from the bedroom, shaking water off himself; squeezing it out of his hair. I wrap the towel around him, feeling him lean against me, like a kitten curling into the last patch of sunlight. He yawns again. God he’s heavy.
“Bed.” I say and drag him back to the bedroom.
He doesn’t say anything just rolls up into a ball and drops off. I leave my hand on his back and watch him sleep.
I don’t want… what do you want… I don’t want…. What do you want…
I want to go to sleep. I lean over Boyd and shove him onto his stomach. “Wake up. Boyd? Wake up.”
He mutters and shifts under me. “Pass me the lube if you want it,” I say louder, I tug the towel off his lower body.
“Sergei?” he is still asleep. “Ok.” He rolls over and climbs onto my lap. I pause for a second as he drapes his legs over my hips and licks at the side of my neck.
“I have to buy more”, he babbles at me.” I need to go and get some things…” I tune him out; dammit we are not having a conversation about shopping when I am just going to use him. I want to believe it is his weight keeping me on the bed, his wet hair weighting us down, why I can grab a belt, or hold him down, or shove him off me.
I put my hands on Boyd’s neck, my thumbs against the soft skin under his neck. I rest them there and Boyd leans his head back to offer me access.
My muscles lock with the effort not to teach him a lesson, don’t show weakness don’t offer it up.
I think of Paul and how after I had been with him I would cling to Darren, feeling the shivers from his work wrack both our bodies, as Darren didn’t get it, didn’t understand that I wanted it night after night after night.
Boyd falls asleep against my shoulder and I lay him down on the bed. He rolls against me, scrubbing his face to shove the hair off it. He makes a soft contented sigh as he nestles against me, as I catch him and tug him closer. A breathy moan. Like he is purring.
End.
(But there is another part of In Credit).
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