(no subject)
Interrupted 1/?
by Elise
nc17
Ryan Miller
Buffalo Sabres
It was a nice contrast, his warm hand wiping off the cool condensation of the bathroom mirror. Ryan saw his eyes come into focus, and as much as he wouldn't say it aloud, they looked tired. Ryan scrubbed the mirror harder, revealing more of himself, and foolishly thinking he could wipe the tired look from his eyes. He sighed, inspecting himself. He was a top goalie. Elite, they called him. This was supposedly the body of an elite athlete.
He watched as a bead of water dripped down his long hair, slipping down his cheek and over his lips. He moved to lick it away, but the bead dripped lower, down his neck and chest. Licking his lips anyway, Ryan brought a hand down his chest. He had worked so hard over the summer, to have better arms, a better chest. His fingers strummed his abdominal muscles, like they were guitar strings, or piano keys. He felt his stomach clench a bit, eyes darkening slightly. He needed to relax, Ryan thought, He needed to take it easy. So much of the year was based on him mentally taking it easy, keeping his energy up. He wanted to keep going, but the familiar doubts and anxiety were returning. It was so familiar, that Ryan almost found comfort in it, albeit a false friend.
Ryan's eyes fluttered shut and he dipped his hand lower, pressing one hand against the wall, steadying himself. Letting out a sigh, Ryan followed the trail of hair down, his hand circling himself. He just needed to let go for one moment, alone in the bathroom, where no one could see him. He needed to lose a little control. Ryan began to move his hand, small barely audible noises coming from his mouth.
Peace interrupted, Ryan's head snapped up at the sound of someone knocking on the door. Patty Lalime's voice floated through, his small accent stronger now that they were on road trip in Montreal. "Calisse... you've been in there for hours. Let a fellow goalie get clean!"
Ryan remained frozen, this time his eyes glaring. His jaw set and his hand dropped away from his body. Ryan grabbed a towel, opening the bathroom door. Patty smiled, arms crossed. He was in only a towel, carrying a louffa. "Did I interrupt something?" Patty said, smirking.
"It's all yours, Lalime." Ryan said grumpily, pushing past his roommate.
Patty nodded a thanks, shutting the door behind him, only to yell back about using all the hot water. Ryan flung himself onto the bed, his muscles once again tense. He grabbed the pillow, placing it over his head.
He curled on his side, glaring at the wall, too lazy to be bothered to dress. Ryan curled his arms around his body, trying to stop himself from over thinking. He just wanted to shut off for a bit, not think about the loss last night, or his ever growing feelings of inadequacy. Ryan moved his hands down, thinking to finish what he had started. Ryan moved onto his back, eyes shut. He could hear the shower running, knowing he had some time. Slowly, the goal tender slid his towel off to the side, it draping over his leg. Ryan smiled softly, his toes curling as he spread his legs slowly, every movement deliberate. Ryan grasped onto himself again, beginning to stroke. "Tabernac... Perhaps you should room alone. Do you miss your girlfriend that much?"
Ryan's eyes flew open and turned into himself, throwing the towel over his body. Ryan pushed himself up, looking over his shoulder, back at an amused Patty. "I don't have a girlfriend."
"Boyfriend?" Patty said, wiggling his eyebrows as he walked by Ryan to grab the shampoo he had forgotten.
Ryan glared, "Go shower."
"I don't know. You might need to be supervised." Patty said, laughing, "I was hoping for a quick shower. How long do you need?"
Feeling his face turn red, Ryan turned back over and said, "Leave me alone, Lalime."
The older goalie rolled his eyes and walked over, sitting on Ryan's bed. "Ryan, it's ok to want to touch yourself."
"I am not having this conversation."
"It's healthy even," Patty continued, "You should work off some of that stress."
Ryan curled up more so, tucking his knees to his chest. "I am not stressed."
"Ryan, if you want, you can stay in tonight, and I'll find somewhere else..." Patty said, voice dropping a level.
"Stop it!" Ryan hissed, anger lacing his words, "Just stop it."
Sighing, Patty stood up and said, "Alright. I'm dropping it. I mean it though, Ryan, you're too stressed out."
"My problem, not yours." Ryan muttered, thinking idly that he wished for an earthquake to happen and a large chasm swallowing him and his red right hand.
Patty sighed, dismayed that Ryan flinched and pulled away when he moved to touch his leg in support. "Ryan, come on... you can talk to me."
Ryan shook slightly, not responding. He pulled as much of the sheets and blankets over his body, trying to conceal himself. "Is this about the game?" Patty tried again.
Fed up, Ryan stood up, reaching for his sweat pants, slipping them on. He grabbed a hoody and his wallet and hissed, "Leave me alone, Lalime. I am fine. Don't wait up."
Sadly, Patty watched Ryan leave. He walked to the door, seeing the frustrated number one walk away, head down, hands shoved in the hoody pocket. Patty walked to his phone, calling a teammate. Patty said, in french, "Go downstairs, ok? Ryan is upset and perhaps you should talk to him... Maybe he is just lonely, I don't know. He's crabby. Thanks, Pommers."
Hanging up, Patty sighed and moved back to the bathroom, hoping it was just embarrassment over being caught and nothing else.
by Elise
nc17
Ryan Miller
Buffalo Sabres
It was a nice contrast, his warm hand wiping off the cool condensation of the bathroom mirror. Ryan saw his eyes come into focus, and as much as he wouldn't say it aloud, they looked tired. Ryan scrubbed the mirror harder, revealing more of himself, and foolishly thinking he could wipe the tired look from his eyes. He sighed, inspecting himself. He was a top goalie. Elite, they called him. This was supposedly the body of an elite athlete.
He watched as a bead of water dripped down his long hair, slipping down his cheek and over his lips. He moved to lick it away, but the bead dripped lower, down his neck and chest. Licking his lips anyway, Ryan brought a hand down his chest. He had worked so hard over the summer, to have better arms, a better chest. His fingers strummed his abdominal muscles, like they were guitar strings, or piano keys. He felt his stomach clench a bit, eyes darkening slightly. He needed to relax, Ryan thought, He needed to take it easy. So much of the year was based on him mentally taking it easy, keeping his energy up. He wanted to keep going, but the familiar doubts and anxiety were returning. It was so familiar, that Ryan almost found comfort in it, albeit a false friend.
Ryan's eyes fluttered shut and he dipped his hand lower, pressing one hand against the wall, steadying himself. Letting out a sigh, Ryan followed the trail of hair down, his hand circling himself. He just needed to let go for one moment, alone in the bathroom, where no one could see him. He needed to lose a little control. Ryan began to move his hand, small barely audible noises coming from his mouth.
Peace interrupted, Ryan's head snapped up at the sound of someone knocking on the door. Patty Lalime's voice floated through, his small accent stronger now that they were on road trip in Montreal. "Calisse... you've been in there for hours. Let a fellow goalie get clean!"
Ryan remained frozen, this time his eyes glaring. His jaw set and his hand dropped away from his body. Ryan grabbed a towel, opening the bathroom door. Patty smiled, arms crossed. He was in only a towel, carrying a louffa. "Did I interrupt something?" Patty said, smirking.
"It's all yours, Lalime." Ryan said grumpily, pushing past his roommate.
Patty nodded a thanks, shutting the door behind him, only to yell back about using all the hot water. Ryan flung himself onto the bed, his muscles once again tense. He grabbed the pillow, placing it over his head.
He curled on his side, glaring at the wall, too lazy to be bothered to dress. Ryan curled his arms around his body, trying to stop himself from over thinking. He just wanted to shut off for a bit, not think about the loss last night, or his ever growing feelings of inadequacy. Ryan moved his hands down, thinking to finish what he had started. Ryan moved onto his back, eyes shut. He could hear the shower running, knowing he had some time. Slowly, the goal tender slid his towel off to the side, it draping over his leg. Ryan smiled softly, his toes curling as he spread his legs slowly, every movement deliberate. Ryan grasped onto himself again, beginning to stroke. "Tabernac... Perhaps you should room alone. Do you miss your girlfriend that much?"
Ryan's eyes flew open and turned into himself, throwing the towel over his body. Ryan pushed himself up, looking over his shoulder, back at an amused Patty. "I don't have a girlfriend."
"Boyfriend?" Patty said, wiggling his eyebrows as he walked by Ryan to grab the shampoo he had forgotten.
Ryan glared, "Go shower."
"I don't know. You might need to be supervised." Patty said, laughing, "I was hoping for a quick shower. How long do you need?"
Feeling his face turn red, Ryan turned back over and said, "Leave me alone, Lalime."
The older goalie rolled his eyes and walked over, sitting on Ryan's bed. "Ryan, it's ok to want to touch yourself."
"I am not having this conversation."
"It's healthy even," Patty continued, "You should work off some of that stress."
Ryan curled up more so, tucking his knees to his chest. "I am not stressed."
"Ryan, if you want, you can stay in tonight, and I'll find somewhere else..." Patty said, voice dropping a level.
"Stop it!" Ryan hissed, anger lacing his words, "Just stop it."
Sighing, Patty stood up and said, "Alright. I'm dropping it. I mean it though, Ryan, you're too stressed out."
"My problem, not yours." Ryan muttered, thinking idly that he wished for an earthquake to happen and a large chasm swallowing him and his red right hand.
Patty sighed, dismayed that Ryan flinched and pulled away when he moved to touch his leg in support. "Ryan, come on... you can talk to me."
Ryan shook slightly, not responding. He pulled as much of the sheets and blankets over his body, trying to conceal himself. "Is this about the game?" Patty tried again.
Fed up, Ryan stood up, reaching for his sweat pants, slipping them on. He grabbed a hoody and his wallet and hissed, "Leave me alone, Lalime. I am fine. Don't wait up."
Sadly, Patty watched Ryan leave. He walked to the door, seeing the frustrated number one walk away, head down, hands shoved in the hoody pocket. Patty walked to his phone, calling a teammate. Patty said, in french, "Go downstairs, ok? Ryan is upset and perhaps you should talk to him... Maybe he is just lonely, I don't know. He's crabby. Thanks, Pommers."
Hanging up, Patty sighed and moved back to the bathroom, hoping it was just embarrassment over being caught and nothing else.