2008 Pronfest, Day Three: Stolen Kisses Are The Sweetest
Title: Stolen Kisses Are The Sweetest
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jordan Staal/Sidney Crosby (Pittsburgh Penguins)
Disclaimer: Real? Ha. Mine? Ha-ha.
Day Three: Stolen Kisses Are The Sweetest
From the moment Jordan steps into the locker room, Erik can tell that there’s going to be trouble. He knows Sidney, recognizes that look he gets. Sidney’s on the prowl (again), and Jordan Staal is anything but safe.
When Jordan is introduced (by Mario, hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly), Sidney is cold. He’s arrogant. He’s the obnoxious little shit he pretends to be from time to time, which really, really makes Erik want to slap him so hard he sees stars. Honestly. Can he not see how nervous (scared) Jordan is?
That day, after practice, when the whole team is gathered at Mario’s for a get-together, Erik corners Sidney.
“You want him,” he says bluntly, ignoring the beer his distinctly under-aged teammate is holding.
Smirking, Sidney tips the bottle to him in mock-salute. “Very good, Erik,” he drawls. “You’ve got eyes.”
“And I know you,” Erik adds, raising an eyebrow. “How drunk are you?”
“Not nearly drunk enough,” he chuckles. “I’m considering going after something harder, though, so expect that condition to change.”
Erik watches him for a moment, silent, a little angry at his teammate. Finally, he sighs and extends a hand. “Gimme your keys, Sid,” he says calmly.
Laughing, Sidney holds his arms away from his body and wiggles his hips. “Come and get them yourself, Eeee-rik,” he teases.
Rolling his eyes, Erik sets down his Coke and throws an arm around Sidney, yanking him close so he can’t dance away. “You are entirely too dumb for your own good,” he tells him, thrusting his hand into his back pocket. No keys. He tries the other.
Sidney laughs, dropping his head against his shoulder. “Not dumb,” he giggles. “Drunk. Horny. The most luckless bastard in the world.”
“There’re some who’d disagree with that assessment,” Erik says lightly, steeling himself to start digging through Sidney’s front pockets.
“But I am,” Sidney informs him seriously. “He hates me, Erik.”
“Because you acted like an arrogant bastard, Sid,” Erik tells him, drawing the keys out. “Give him time to get to know you. And be nicer.”
“I wanted to,” Sidney whines, holding on to his teammate’s shirt. “I did, really! But…I…I don’t know…”
Erik sighs. “Just give him time, Sid,” he says, suddenly tired. “And do me a favour?”
“Hmmm?” Sidney asks.
“Don’t even think of driving yourself home like this.”
Sidney grinned. Leaning forward, he pressed a fast, wet kiss to Erik’s lips. “Okay, Crush!”
Erik just rolls his eyes as he leaves. Goddamn that kid. He shakes his head, sticking Sidney’s keys in his pocket with a mental note to leave them with Mario. Or Nathalie. Neither one of them will let Sidney drive home, he knows that much. He also decides to let slip Sidney’s little secret to Mario. If anyone can help Jordan understand that Sidney doesn’t really hate him, that Sidney’s just gayer than fuck and has absolutely no concept of relationships, it’ll be him.
“Erik!” Stephanie cries, beaming up at him from her seat on a stool in the kitchen.
“Hey, Stephie,” he says, smiling at her. “Where’s your dad? I need to talk to him.”
“Let me guess,” she says. “It’s about Sidney, right?”
“Too smart for your own good,” Erik laughs. “Yeah. It’s about the Dork.”
“Dad’s in the den,” Stephanie answers. “They’re all playing Mario Cart, and I think Dad’s afraid they’re gonna destroy the house.”
Laughing, Erik nods his thanks to her and heads to the den. Sure enough, about ten of his teammates are crowded together, either playing or watching the game be played. Mario leans against a wall, talking quietly with Sergei. Every once in a while, Sergei leans forward and says something to Evgeni, who responds in Russian.
Mario looks up as Erik enters the room. “Crush,” he says, smiling. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Erik responds, smiling at the two men. “Listen, um, Mario, Sid’s a little…”
“Please tell me he’s not already three sheets to the wind,” the older man groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.
Erik shakes his head. “Not quite, but he’s bound and determined to get there. I snagged his keys.” He holds them out to Mario, who takes them. “Also. He’s…well, that whole thing with Jordan this morning…”
Mario smiles bitterly. “Let me guess. It’s exactly what I thought it was?”
Erik nods.
Mario sighs, muttering something under his breath. “Thanks, Erik,” he sighs. “I’ll keep him here tonight, have a little talk with him…and probably do my best to explain to Jordan without freaking him out…”
“Good luck with that,” Erik mutters.
----
“I di’n’t mean to be…” Sidney mumbles.
“I know, Sid, I know,” Mario soothes him. “And I’ll make sure that Jordan knows that, too, okay? Now, you just go to sleep.”
He waits patiently, soothing Sidney and doing his best to convince the drunken teen to just go to sleep. Sidney, when drunk, tends to angst over every little thing to anyone who will listen. Unfortunately, that someone almost always happens to be either Erik or Mario.
“Bu’ Jord’n…” Sidney slurs. “He’s…mad a’ me. An’ry. Don’ li’e me.”
Mario rolls his eyes. “It’s ‘cause you were a right bastard today, Sid,” he says. “But in the morning, he’ll realize you’re just as human as the rest of us, and I guarantee you that he will not envy you your hangover. Alright? Now go to sleep!”
Sidney opens his mouth protest.
Mario rolls his eyes to the ceiling, preparing to have to deal with more of Sidney’s self-searching angst. When he looks down, however, Sidney’s fast asleep, mouth still open. Getting up and leaving, Mario closes the door. Sidney sure can snore.
----
The next morning, Sidney is absolutely miserable when he stumbles down into the kitchen. Nathalie says nothing, just cocks an eyebrow and places two Advil beside his bowl. Sidney scoops them up gratefully, knocking them back with water.
Somehow, the fact that Jordan Staal is seated to his left does not register.
At least, not until he’s about half way through his Lucky Charms, anyway. That’s when the blond hair and pale face attached to the large hand that reaches across for orange juice connects in his mind. It’s all Sidney can do to keep from spraying milk and half-eaten cereal across the table.
Jordan Staal-mostly asleep, definitely not a morning person, dressed only in his boxers Jordan Staal-is right beside him at the table. And god if he doesn’t look good all sleep-mussed and half-naked.
For a long, long moment, Sidney contemplates pounding his throbbing head against the table.
----
Erik laughs, listening to Sidney rant and rave about Jordan.
“And he trots around all half-naked and wet and goddamn it, Erik, I can’t handle it!” Sidney whines, head on folded arms. “I mean, one of these days, I’m gonna snap, go crazy. Jump his bones in the locker room or something.”
Erik laughs again. Sidney, hopeless in the throes of want, is amusing as hell. “Are you sure he wouldn’t like that?” he asks. “After all, he stalks you almost as much as you stalk him!”
“I don’t stalk him!” Sidney protests.
Erik just raises an eyebrow.
“Really, I don’t! I…alright, fuck, I stalk him,” Sidney groans. “What can I do, Erik?”
“Well…” Erik says slowly. “There is that little soiree Mario’s hosting tonight. Rather than getting drunk off your ass, corner him.”
“And if he’s less than willing?” Sidney asks acerbically.
Erik grins. “Pretend you’re drunk. He’s seen you get completely trashed enough that he’d believe it.”
Sidney scowls.
----
“Wait, what?” Jordan asks, staring, confused, at his teammate. Sidney’s behaviour confuses him so badly. One second, he’s cold and vicious, the next, whenever he thinks Jordan’s not looking, he’s looking at him, eyeing him.
Sidney sighs. “I like you. That’s why I’ve been acting like a berk.” He lowers his eyes to the decking beneath their feet. “I think you’re hot.”
Jordan blinks, struck dumb. “Oh. Um. Wow.”
“Yeah, knew this was a bad idea,” Sidney sighs. “I’m outta here. Just…don’t tell anyone, okay? I mean, the team knows and all, but…”
Jordan laughs, a short bark of sound. “Don’t…” he says. “Don’t go.”
Sidney pauses.
Jordan smiles weakly. “You mean all this time I coulda been out?”
Sidney turns.
Jordan’s smile grows. “And I could have been doing this?”
Stepping up, closing the gap between them, he captures Sidney’s lips in a hot, messy kiss.
Sidney thinks his brains are melting out his ears. Surely this can’t be happening. No way. There’s just no…
“Oh, god, right there,” he moans, tightening his fingers in Jordan’s hair. Anything to keep him right there on his throat, nipping and sucking and oh, god, oh, god, oh, god…
“What if…” Jordan pants, still nibbling Sidney’s skin, “what if someone comes out here?”
“They won’t,” Sidney groans, thrusting against his body. “I locked the door…”
“Glass door,” Jordan reminds him, thrusting back, swallowing the groan. He wants this, he really does. God, does it feel good.
“Let them watch,” Sidney breathes against his ear, working his shirt off. “You shy or something, Staal?”
“Fuck, no,” Jordan decides, pushing his shirt off quickly and starting to work on Sidney’s fly. “God…get these off. Now.”
“Aye, aye,” Sidney agrees. In seconds, his pants are gone and he’s got his hands working on the buttons on Jordan’s jeans. He’s got them open almost as quickly as he got his own pants off, one hand thrust inside the younger teen’s boxers.
“Jesus fuck!” Jordan groans, thrusting reflexively up into Sidney’s hand. Weaving his own hand through Sidney’s messy curls, he drags the superstar forward, kissing him like a starving man.
Sidney gives into the eager kiss, wanting this just as badly as Jordan. God, but it’s been entirely too long since he’s touched someone like this, since he’s felt another man beneath his body like this. And besides, Jordan kisses like he plays, all passion and fire and hunger to please.
Before Sidney can even think of anything else, Jordan’s sliding down his body, kissing his bare skin as he goes.
“J…Jordan,” Sidney stammers, mouth suddenly dry, eyes suddenly wider than ever before.
“Shhh,” Jordan whispers against his hipbone. Not waiting from a response from his teammate, he quickly sucks Sidney’s cock into his mouth, one hand already stilling his instinctive thrust. He takes his time, kissing, sucking, licking, and generally driving Sidney crazy.
Sidney’s fingers scrabble against the wall as he does his damned best to fight the urge to thrust into Jordan’s mouth. Jordan’s hot, wet, glorious mouth. God, but that boy is good at this…damned good… “Fuck!”
Jordan smirks around Sidney’s cock. He knows he’s good at this, thank you very much. Not nearly the innocent virgin he pretends to be, but still not quite the slut he knows Sidney to be, Jordan nevertheless is aware of his relative talents. Hockey is one of them, of course. Sucking dick is another. Strange how life works out.
“Oh, fuck, Jordan, fuck…shit, Jordan!” Sidney groans, his hands tightening in that blond hair. Startling how soft it is between his fingers, really. Not that that’s the feeling he’s thinking of right now. No, he’s thinking of Jordan’s tongue curling around him like… “Jesus, Jordan! Close!”
Jordan grins. Breathing in deeply, he quickly swallows Sidney all the way down, letting him feel his throat moving around him as he hums. That’s all it takes for Sidney to come, groaning Jordan’s name into the dark night air, fingers clenching almost painfully in his hair.
Swallowing the cum in his mouth and licking his lips clean, Jordan slides up Sidney’s body, smirking like the cat that got the canary. Or the cream. Whatever. Still smirking, he leans in and kisses Sidney, letting the superstar taste himself on his tongue. He swallows Sidney’s weak moans, even as he closes his eyes, Sidney’s warm hand having just curled around his own aching hardness.
Jared was right. Stolen kisses really are the sweetest.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jordan Staal/Sidney Crosby (Pittsburgh Penguins)
Disclaimer: Real? Ha. Mine? Ha-ha.
Day Three: Stolen Kisses Are The Sweetest
From the moment Jordan steps into the locker room, Erik can tell that there’s going to be trouble. He knows Sidney, recognizes that look he gets. Sidney’s on the prowl (again), and Jordan Staal is anything but safe.
When Jordan is introduced (by Mario, hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly), Sidney is cold. He’s arrogant. He’s the obnoxious little shit he pretends to be from time to time, which really, really makes Erik want to slap him so hard he sees stars. Honestly. Can he not see how nervous (scared) Jordan is?
That day, after practice, when the whole team is gathered at Mario’s for a get-together, Erik corners Sidney.
“You want him,” he says bluntly, ignoring the beer his distinctly under-aged teammate is holding.
Smirking, Sidney tips the bottle to him in mock-salute. “Very good, Erik,” he drawls. “You’ve got eyes.”
“And I know you,” Erik adds, raising an eyebrow. “How drunk are you?”
“Not nearly drunk enough,” he chuckles. “I’m considering going after something harder, though, so expect that condition to change.”
Erik watches him for a moment, silent, a little angry at his teammate. Finally, he sighs and extends a hand. “Gimme your keys, Sid,” he says calmly.
Laughing, Sidney holds his arms away from his body and wiggles his hips. “Come and get them yourself, Eeee-rik,” he teases.
Rolling his eyes, Erik sets down his Coke and throws an arm around Sidney, yanking him close so he can’t dance away. “You are entirely too dumb for your own good,” he tells him, thrusting his hand into his back pocket. No keys. He tries the other.
Sidney laughs, dropping his head against his shoulder. “Not dumb,” he giggles. “Drunk. Horny. The most luckless bastard in the world.”
“There’re some who’d disagree with that assessment,” Erik says lightly, steeling himself to start digging through Sidney’s front pockets.
“But I am,” Sidney informs him seriously. “He hates me, Erik.”
“Because you acted like an arrogant bastard, Sid,” Erik tells him, drawing the keys out. “Give him time to get to know you. And be nicer.”
“I wanted to,” Sidney whines, holding on to his teammate’s shirt. “I did, really! But…I…I don’t know…”
Erik sighs. “Just give him time, Sid,” he says, suddenly tired. “And do me a favour?”
“Hmmm?” Sidney asks.
“Don’t even think of driving yourself home like this.”
Sidney grinned. Leaning forward, he pressed a fast, wet kiss to Erik’s lips. “Okay, Crush!”
Erik just rolls his eyes as he leaves. Goddamn that kid. He shakes his head, sticking Sidney’s keys in his pocket with a mental note to leave them with Mario. Or Nathalie. Neither one of them will let Sidney drive home, he knows that much. He also decides to let slip Sidney’s little secret to Mario. If anyone can help Jordan understand that Sidney doesn’t really hate him, that Sidney’s just gayer than fuck and has absolutely no concept of relationships, it’ll be him.
“Erik!” Stephanie cries, beaming up at him from her seat on a stool in the kitchen.
“Hey, Stephie,” he says, smiling at her. “Where’s your dad? I need to talk to him.”
“Let me guess,” she says. “It’s about Sidney, right?”
“Too smart for your own good,” Erik laughs. “Yeah. It’s about the Dork.”
“Dad’s in the den,” Stephanie answers. “They’re all playing Mario Cart, and I think Dad’s afraid they’re gonna destroy the house.”
Laughing, Erik nods his thanks to her and heads to the den. Sure enough, about ten of his teammates are crowded together, either playing or watching the game be played. Mario leans against a wall, talking quietly with Sergei. Every once in a while, Sergei leans forward and says something to Evgeni, who responds in Russian.
Mario looks up as Erik enters the room. “Crush,” he says, smiling. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Erik responds, smiling at the two men. “Listen, um, Mario, Sid’s a little…”
“Please tell me he’s not already three sheets to the wind,” the older man groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.
Erik shakes his head. “Not quite, but he’s bound and determined to get there. I snagged his keys.” He holds them out to Mario, who takes them. “Also. He’s…well, that whole thing with Jordan this morning…”
Mario smiles bitterly. “Let me guess. It’s exactly what I thought it was?”
Erik nods.
Mario sighs, muttering something under his breath. “Thanks, Erik,” he sighs. “I’ll keep him here tonight, have a little talk with him…and probably do my best to explain to Jordan without freaking him out…”
“Good luck with that,” Erik mutters.
----
“I di’n’t mean to be…” Sidney mumbles.
“I know, Sid, I know,” Mario soothes him. “And I’ll make sure that Jordan knows that, too, okay? Now, you just go to sleep.”
He waits patiently, soothing Sidney and doing his best to convince the drunken teen to just go to sleep. Sidney, when drunk, tends to angst over every little thing to anyone who will listen. Unfortunately, that someone almost always happens to be either Erik or Mario.
“Bu’ Jord’n…” Sidney slurs. “He’s…mad a’ me. An’ry. Don’ li’e me.”
Mario rolls his eyes. “It’s ‘cause you were a right bastard today, Sid,” he says. “But in the morning, he’ll realize you’re just as human as the rest of us, and I guarantee you that he will not envy you your hangover. Alright? Now go to sleep!”
Sidney opens his mouth protest.
Mario rolls his eyes to the ceiling, preparing to have to deal with more of Sidney’s self-searching angst. When he looks down, however, Sidney’s fast asleep, mouth still open. Getting up and leaving, Mario closes the door. Sidney sure can snore.
----
The next morning, Sidney is absolutely miserable when he stumbles down into the kitchen. Nathalie says nothing, just cocks an eyebrow and places two Advil beside his bowl. Sidney scoops them up gratefully, knocking them back with water.
Somehow, the fact that Jordan Staal is seated to his left does not register.
At least, not until he’s about half way through his Lucky Charms, anyway. That’s when the blond hair and pale face attached to the large hand that reaches across for orange juice connects in his mind. It’s all Sidney can do to keep from spraying milk and half-eaten cereal across the table.
Jordan Staal-mostly asleep, definitely not a morning person, dressed only in his boxers Jordan Staal-is right beside him at the table. And god if he doesn’t look good all sleep-mussed and half-naked.
For a long, long moment, Sidney contemplates pounding his throbbing head against the table.
----
Erik laughs, listening to Sidney rant and rave about Jordan.
“And he trots around all half-naked and wet and goddamn it, Erik, I can’t handle it!” Sidney whines, head on folded arms. “I mean, one of these days, I’m gonna snap, go crazy. Jump his bones in the locker room or something.”
Erik laughs again. Sidney, hopeless in the throes of want, is amusing as hell. “Are you sure he wouldn’t like that?” he asks. “After all, he stalks you almost as much as you stalk him!”
“I don’t stalk him!” Sidney protests.
Erik just raises an eyebrow.
“Really, I don’t! I…alright, fuck, I stalk him,” Sidney groans. “What can I do, Erik?”
“Well…” Erik says slowly. “There is that little soiree Mario’s hosting tonight. Rather than getting drunk off your ass, corner him.”
“And if he’s less than willing?” Sidney asks acerbically.
Erik grins. “Pretend you’re drunk. He’s seen you get completely trashed enough that he’d believe it.”
Sidney scowls.
----
“Wait, what?” Jordan asks, staring, confused, at his teammate. Sidney’s behaviour confuses him so badly. One second, he’s cold and vicious, the next, whenever he thinks Jordan’s not looking, he’s looking at him, eyeing him.
Sidney sighs. “I like you. That’s why I’ve been acting like a berk.” He lowers his eyes to the decking beneath their feet. “I think you’re hot.”
Jordan blinks, struck dumb. “Oh. Um. Wow.”
“Yeah, knew this was a bad idea,” Sidney sighs. “I’m outta here. Just…don’t tell anyone, okay? I mean, the team knows and all, but…”
Jordan laughs, a short bark of sound. “Don’t…” he says. “Don’t go.”
Sidney pauses.
Jordan smiles weakly. “You mean all this time I coulda been out?”
Sidney turns.
Jordan’s smile grows. “And I could have been doing this?”
Stepping up, closing the gap between them, he captures Sidney’s lips in a hot, messy kiss.
Sidney thinks his brains are melting out his ears. Surely this can’t be happening. No way. There’s just no…
“Oh, god, right there,” he moans, tightening his fingers in Jordan’s hair. Anything to keep him right there on his throat, nipping and sucking and oh, god, oh, god, oh, god…
“What if…” Jordan pants, still nibbling Sidney’s skin, “what if someone comes out here?”
“They won’t,” Sidney groans, thrusting against his body. “I locked the door…”
“Glass door,” Jordan reminds him, thrusting back, swallowing the groan. He wants this, he really does. God, does it feel good.
“Let them watch,” Sidney breathes against his ear, working his shirt off. “You shy or something, Staal?”
“Fuck, no,” Jordan decides, pushing his shirt off quickly and starting to work on Sidney’s fly. “God…get these off. Now.”
“Aye, aye,” Sidney agrees. In seconds, his pants are gone and he’s got his hands working on the buttons on Jordan’s jeans. He’s got them open almost as quickly as he got his own pants off, one hand thrust inside the younger teen’s boxers.
“Jesus fuck!” Jordan groans, thrusting reflexively up into Sidney’s hand. Weaving his own hand through Sidney’s messy curls, he drags the superstar forward, kissing him like a starving man.
Sidney gives into the eager kiss, wanting this just as badly as Jordan. God, but it’s been entirely too long since he’s touched someone like this, since he’s felt another man beneath his body like this. And besides, Jordan kisses like he plays, all passion and fire and hunger to please.
Before Sidney can even think of anything else, Jordan’s sliding down his body, kissing his bare skin as he goes.
“J…Jordan,” Sidney stammers, mouth suddenly dry, eyes suddenly wider than ever before.
“Shhh,” Jordan whispers against his hipbone. Not waiting from a response from his teammate, he quickly sucks Sidney’s cock into his mouth, one hand already stilling his instinctive thrust. He takes his time, kissing, sucking, licking, and generally driving Sidney crazy.
Sidney’s fingers scrabble against the wall as he does his damned best to fight the urge to thrust into Jordan’s mouth. Jordan’s hot, wet, glorious mouth. God, but that boy is good at this…damned good… “Fuck!”
Jordan smirks around Sidney’s cock. He knows he’s good at this, thank you very much. Not nearly the innocent virgin he pretends to be, but still not quite the slut he knows Sidney to be, Jordan nevertheless is aware of his relative talents. Hockey is one of them, of course. Sucking dick is another. Strange how life works out.
“Oh, fuck, Jordan, fuck…shit, Jordan!” Sidney groans, his hands tightening in that blond hair. Startling how soft it is between his fingers, really. Not that that’s the feeling he’s thinking of right now. No, he’s thinking of Jordan’s tongue curling around him like… “Jesus, Jordan! Close!”
Jordan grins. Breathing in deeply, he quickly swallows Sidney all the way down, letting him feel his throat moving around him as he hums. That’s all it takes for Sidney to come, groaning Jordan’s name into the dark night air, fingers clenching almost painfully in his hair.
Swallowing the cum in his mouth and licking his lips clean, Jordan slides up Sidney’s body, smirking like the cat that got the canary. Or the cream. Whatever. Still smirking, he leans in and kisses Sidney, letting the superstar taste himself on his tongue. He swallows Sidney’s weak moans, even as he closes his eyes, Sidney’s warm hand having just curled around his own aching hardness.
Jared was right. Stolen kisses really are the sweetest.