As Beautiful as You: Romance, G
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Flickers of gold and red light played across the unmoving form that lay in my bed. Pale skin, strong shoulders, lashes resting against smooth cheeks; as I pulled on my clothes my eyes were unable to stray from that entrancing sight, drinking in the sight of him sleeping there, his head pillowed on his arms. I tried to keep my movements slow and precise-and more importantly, quiet-but Sergei was too light of a sleeper, and as I slid the tongue of my belt into a loop in my pants he stirred. His nose crinkled adorably, a small frown creasing his forehead as he tried to move backward in the bed; back into where I would normally be, resting against him, my arm tucked around his waist and my nose buried in that soft blond hair. When his back failed to hit my chest a little mumble escaped his lips, and, smiling, I crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed next to him.
Sergei’s skin was soft and warm beneath my touch as I stroked my fingers across his bare back, tracing the gentle curve of his spine. He was so tired lately-exhausted, even. While he loved the extra ice time and added weight of responsibility, playing defense took chunks and pieces out of him that playing forward didn’t. Rusty watched him, carefully, Ole-Kristian followed him around like a puppy watchdog and Hitch gauged down to the second how far and how long he could stretch himself. Because Sergei would, stretch-he’d reach and reach and spread himself so thin that there would be almost nothing left, and then he’d only push further, giving everything he had. Stubborn, gentle, determined and devoted, he unknowingly caused far more stress in the people that cared about him than we would all like-not that we’d ever stop taking care of him.
“Big baby,” I murmured under my breath, smiling affectionately. I carded my fingers through Sergei’s hair, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Sergei.”
He mumbled a little more, and I watched as those glorious pale blue eyes fluttered open, hazy and trusting in their incomprehension. Sergei blinked up at me, and as his gaze lighted on my face his lips turned up in a sleepy smile.
“Hey,” he whispered softly, his voice raspy from sleep. I brushed my knuckles against his cheek tenderly.
“Hey to you, too. How are you feeling?”
Sergei shifted, turning onto his side, wincing a little as he did so. He reached out and I slipped my hand into his, rubbing my thumb across the back.
“Sore,” he admitted, and I knew how much it meant to his stoic pride for him tell me that. I expressed my appreciation with another kiss, running my free hand over his bare shoulder.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too much lately. Try and rest, okay? Hitch gave you practice off, and that doesn’t mean you can go to the gym and run yourself to pieces there, either.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he promised glibly, eyes crinkling. I snorted and he struggled into a position vaguely resembling sitting, holding out his arms which I gladly slipped into. I pulled him close against me and stroked his back as he nuzzled against my shoulder, hissing softly with ache, sighing softly in contentment.
“You rest, okay?” I insisted more than asked, rubbing little circles against his skin. A little of my concern tinged my voice; I was too concerned, loved him too much, to let him get himself hurt with the reckless way he pushed himself. Sergei’s arms tightened around me and he nodded, into my chest.
“I will, Nikky,” he said softly, the sound muffled against my shirt. I pulled away to look into his eyes, seeing the honesty-the assent-in his gaze, and allowed a bit of relief to relax the tenseness in my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I murmured, kissing his forehead, brushing my lips against his skin. His hand slid behind my head and I allowed myself to be pulled down, to his mouth, his lips soft against mine as I inhaled the scent of him, tasting him; sleepily musky and completely Sergei, raw and exhilarating before the cologne he wore was able to mask it.
The clock in the living room chimed and I was forced to pull away, practice tugging at my attention. I stood regretfully, casting a long look at my lover as he lay back down on the bed with a barely perceptible grimace of pain, wanting no more than to blow off practice and slide back under the sheets with him and soothe away his ache. But that last time I did that I’d gotten summarily benched, and I did need to get in some practice between games. Sergei smiled at me, tiredness still in his eyes, and I absently pulled the sheets up his chest, tucking them around his shoulders as I was unable to refrain from stealing another kiss.
“I’ll be back later,” I promised needlessly, shouldering my bag. But Sergei still smiled at me, and I could see the weariness creeping up on him again as the soft bed cradled him in its embrace, daring him to keep from sleep.
“Hurry home,” he whispered. His eyelids were already closing, struggling to stay open as the intensity of activity he’d been putting his body under reminded him he needed rest. As I stood in the doorway the light of sunrise still filtered through the curtains, playing across that seraph of a human being, reminding me just how lucky I was.
“I will, Sergei,” I breathed, fervently; and then quietly slipped out the door.
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Flickers of gold and red light played across the unmoving form that lay in my bed. Pale skin, strong shoulders, lashes resting against smooth cheeks; as I pulled on my clothes my eyes were unable to stray from that entrancing sight, drinking in the sight of him sleeping there, his head pillowed on his arms. I tried to keep my movements slow and precise-and more importantly, quiet-but Sergei was too light of a sleeper, and as I slid the tongue of my belt into a loop in my pants he stirred. His nose crinkled adorably, a small frown creasing his forehead as he tried to move backward in the bed; back into where I would normally be, resting against him, my arm tucked around his waist and my nose buried in that soft blond hair. When his back failed to hit my chest a little mumble escaped his lips, and, smiling, I crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed next to him.
Sergei’s skin was soft and warm beneath my touch as I stroked my fingers across his bare back, tracing the gentle curve of his spine. He was so tired lately-exhausted, even. While he loved the extra ice time and added weight of responsibility, playing defense took chunks and pieces out of him that playing forward didn’t. Rusty watched him, carefully, Ole-Kristian followed him around like a puppy watchdog and Hitch gauged down to the second how far and how long he could stretch himself. Because Sergei would, stretch-he’d reach and reach and spread himself so thin that there would be almost nothing left, and then he’d only push further, giving everything he had. Stubborn, gentle, determined and devoted, he unknowingly caused far more stress in the people that cared about him than we would all like-not that we’d ever stop taking care of him.
“Big baby,” I murmured under my breath, smiling affectionately. I carded my fingers through Sergei’s hair, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Sergei.”
He mumbled a little more, and I watched as those glorious pale blue eyes fluttered open, hazy and trusting in their incomprehension. Sergei blinked up at me, and as his gaze lighted on my face his lips turned up in a sleepy smile.
“Hey,” he whispered softly, his voice raspy from sleep. I brushed my knuckles against his cheek tenderly.
“Hey to you, too. How are you feeling?”
Sergei shifted, turning onto his side, wincing a little as he did so. He reached out and I slipped my hand into his, rubbing my thumb across the back.
“Sore,” he admitted, and I knew how much it meant to his stoic pride for him tell me that. I expressed my appreciation with another kiss, running my free hand over his bare shoulder.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too much lately. Try and rest, okay? Hitch gave you practice off, and that doesn’t mean you can go to the gym and run yourself to pieces there, either.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he promised glibly, eyes crinkling. I snorted and he struggled into a position vaguely resembling sitting, holding out his arms which I gladly slipped into. I pulled him close against me and stroked his back as he nuzzled against my shoulder, hissing softly with ache, sighing softly in contentment.
“You rest, okay?” I insisted more than asked, rubbing little circles against his skin. A little of my concern tinged my voice; I was too concerned, loved him too much, to let him get himself hurt with the reckless way he pushed himself. Sergei’s arms tightened around me and he nodded, into my chest.
“I will, Nikky,” he said softly, the sound muffled against my shirt. I pulled away to look into his eyes, seeing the honesty-the assent-in his gaze, and allowed a bit of relief to relax the tenseness in my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I murmured, kissing his forehead, brushing my lips against his skin. His hand slid behind my head and I allowed myself to be pulled down, to his mouth, his lips soft against mine as I inhaled the scent of him, tasting him; sleepily musky and completely Sergei, raw and exhilarating before the cologne he wore was able to mask it.
The clock in the living room chimed and I was forced to pull away, practice tugging at my attention. I stood regretfully, casting a long look at my lover as he lay back down on the bed with a barely perceptible grimace of pain, wanting no more than to blow off practice and slide back under the sheets with him and soothe away his ache. But that last time I did that I’d gotten summarily benched, and I did need to get in some practice between games. Sergei smiled at me, tiredness still in his eyes, and I absently pulled the sheets up his chest, tucking them around his shoulders as I was unable to refrain from stealing another kiss.
“I’ll be back later,” I promised needlessly, shouldering my bag. But Sergei still smiled at me, and I could see the weariness creeping up on him again as the soft bed cradled him in its embrace, daring him to keep from sleep.
“Hurry home,” he whispered. His eyelids were already closing, struggling to stay open as the intensity of activity he’d been putting his body under reminded him he needed rest. As I stood in the doorway the light of sunrise still filtered through the curtains, playing across that seraph of a human being, reminding me just how lucky I was.
“I will, Sergei,” I breathed, fervently; and then quietly slipped out the door.
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