Into the Unknown (3/4) NC-17, co-authored with sheesusnat
-
The words stung because they were true. When I walked up to him tonight, it was exactly that. A competition, a battle. I had to win. I was obsessed with it, I always had been. That's what had spurred me on when he had my wrists held down, when he tried making me beg...I couldn't back down. I couldn't handle defeat.
He was right.
He wasn't angry now, not really. He just looked sad. Almost broken.
Fuck, and I did that to him.
"It isn't all fucking fun and games. For everyone that praises me, there's someone else who's complaining that I dive, that I whine. For every endorsement deal I sign, there are more people watching my every move, making sure I don't fuck up," there were perks to the fame, I couldn't deny it. But it wasn't all fun and games either.
"You can get away with going to a bar and having a cigarette. You can sneak off with someone. You get to be secretive, you get to hide, you get to be out of the public eye. There is always someone watching me. Christ, at this moment, there could very well be some fan or media type standing outside of this car waiting for us to come out so they can be the one to tell the story. That they were there when Sidney Crosby was caught naked with another guy."
"You could have a relationship, of some form. You'd have to hide it some, of course, because this world is too fucked up to accept anyone who doesn't follow the heterosexual stereotype that's the norm--but it wouldn't be like me. I can't do any of that normal shit. If I have someone with me at any time, it's speculated, examined."
I didn't know where all this was coming from, or why the fuck I was sharing it with him.
I wanted him to see it from my side. It wasn't all fucking sunshine and roses and happiness. It was also responsibility, and attention, and it was fucking stifling sometimes.
"Don't get me wrong, it's damn nice to have success, but sometimes it would be really fucking great to just go out and live a normal life for a few fucking hours."
-
I was surprised; I hadn't expected Sid to open up to me. I had expected taunting, smugness, maybe even just that mocking smirk--certainly not the frustrated entity before me who was running his fingers agitatedly through his hair. Without the cloud of bitterness, the fog of envy, the warped glass of hate through which I always viewed him, I saw a little of the helpless resentment in Sid that I'd felt so often myself. Knocked around by the currents of the media, sculpted by the expectations and needs of team management--so very different, we two were, yet still surprisingly alike. I felt a little more of the old rage I felt towards Sidney break off, washed away by waves of reluctant empathy.
I sucked another breath of smoke, studying his face contemplatively. He looked back at me with a hint of defiance, unrepentant, still challenging while trying to make me understand. Nervy bastard.
But, I understood. I understood very well.
'Now taste my world, Sid.'
Impulsively, irrationally, I leaned forward, slipping my hand behind Sid's neck and pulling him gently toward me; no longer the harsh actions used before. I pressed our mouths together and teased his lips apart, breathing smoke and nicotine into his mouth even as I sucked his tongue into mine; swallowing his gasp as he inhaled.
-
I'd never tried a cigarette in my life. I'd only smelled smoke in restaurants and bars--I never would've risked my career for nicotine. But at this moment, this taste of smoky sin and addiction was just what I needed.
I craved something that wasn't for the press, something that wasn't for an ad, something that wasn't going to be on a highlight reel or in a newspaper article. I wanted something for myself. I was sick of giving to everyone else, being everything to everyone. I wanted to be selfish.
I wanted to bury myself against him, I wanted the push and pull of the bickering and arguing, the deep and back thrusting of urgent, desperate, passionate sex. I didn't want this to just be one stupid little orgasm and then he went back to hating me. Fuck...I didn't like the idea that he hated me anyway.
I was sick of being proper. Sick of being under a microscope. Sick of every word and action being analyzed across Canada. Tonight I wanted to just let go and enjoy something simple and normal and real.
I slid my arms around Gilbert's neck and pulled him flush against me again, disregarding the smoldering butt between his fingers. I just needed to feel, and I couldn't remember anything recently that felt as good as he did.
-
Christ, if Sid wasn't careful I was going to end up putting my cigarette out on the back of his car seat.
But he didn't seem to want to be careful at all; didn't seem to care at all. He was suddenly pressed against me, pressed against my bare skin, his lips hungry for my own despite the flavor of smoke on my tongue. It was forceful but it was also needy, and he moaned a little into my mouth as I carded my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss; and I felt a little ache ease in my chest.
I pulled away long enough to tip Sidney's chin up with my fingertips, looking into wide, soulful hazel eyes.
"Do you have some place that has a bed?" I asked quietly.
-
Jesus, this was a risk. Letting him in like this was probably the stupidest thing I'd ever done. He hated me, I knew that much--he could use this against me so fucking easily if he wanted.
But at the moment I didn't care.
He wanted a bed. I wanted him. Simple enough.
"I need to get my clothes on," I rasped, my voice harsh with need--and with fear. "I'll drive us to my place."
I reluctantly disentangled myself from Gilbert's limbs and grabbed for my jeans. I slid into the soft, worn denim and climbed into the driver's seat, nodding for him to follow. As I started the Range Rover, I wondered what I was getting myself into. Why I was being so reckless.
Because I was sick of caring what everyone else thought.
I sped towards my house in the suburbs, wipers slashing back and forth through the rain trying to cover my windshield. The rain seemed fitting. The drive was made in silence, and a big part of me wondered if he was either plotting against me or if he'd changed his mind.
I was really hoping I was just being paranoid.
"We're here," I said when I pulled into my parking space, finally breaking the silence.
I waited for the rejection I was sure was coming.
-
Sidney Crosby nervous is not a sight that you see every day. Or every month, for that matter. Still, I would have felt bad taking advantage of it, so I leaned over and pulled the car keys from the ignition, tossing them into his lap.
"So, get out."
The tension during the drive over had been palpable, his nervousness evident in the way his hands gripped the steering wheel and the straight set of his back. I didn't really know what his problem was--'I just fucked you, Sid, it's a little late for intimacy issues'--but I was willing to ease up my usual acerbic personality for him. I wanted somewhere warm and dry and preferably that didn't risk the chance of me hitting my head, and I wanted some time. I wanted time to explore this softer, more hesitant side of Sidney Crosby, the side that I'd doggedly pretended didn't exist in my pursuit to hate him. I was tired of hating him. I was tired of a lot of things, and what I wanted right now was a warm bed and a warm body and something slow and languid with no hate or pain involved.
I grabbed my jacket, holding it over my head as I climbed out of the car. There was just a beat of hesitation before Sid followed, and I was too damn cold and fast getting soaked to pay any attention to his uncertainties right now. I jogged toward his house with my jacket covering me, correctly assuming he would follow; grumbling as he fumbled in the dark for his key.
-
The rain felt good on my overheated skin, cooling and relaxing me. I didn't need to be nervous, I just had to take this slow and see what would come of it. I told myself the same things over and over, but it did little to ease my nervousness.
I'd played for tens of thousands of people, I'd given press conferences, I'd done commercials, but the idea of opening myself up like this to someone--not just someone, to Gilbert--had me completely unnerved. I unlocked the door to my place and held it for him to follow me, ignoring the urge to just end this, to play it safe, to stick with the cautious.
Tonight was all about shutting that voice up.
"I'll get you a towel," I said quietly, staring at the ground and fidgeting with the edge of my shirt. He was soaked--his clothes clung to him like skin--and if I was going to resist him for more than three minutes, he would need to dry off.
-
I nodded, a little taken aback by this new, quietly subdued Sidney, and as he went to retrieve something for me to dry off with I looked around, taking in his home. Personal space is different for different people--Rick's house, for instance, is almost sterile but for the bedroom and game room, a veritable museum of his awards and accomplishments that he dislikes living in; whereas Rusty's is homey and cluttered, full of junk that only has order in his mind, mementos and personal affects scattered everywhere. Sid seemed to take after my fellow Canadian teammate more; there were trophies and medals in a glass case, framed certificates on the walls, photos of him with legends all around. I wondered if he was similar to Rick in that his family pressured him to be reminded of all those events, wanting to see his fame whenever they visited. I thought about asking but Sid seemed too withdrawn right now to talk.
He came back with a white fluffy towel and silently handed it to me, waiting as I dried off. I'd left my coat on a hanger by the door but the rest of my clothes were soaked through as well, and I peeled myself out of my jeans, tugging my shirt over my head. When I glanced up Sidney was watching me, quietly, and I paused.
"You don't have to be afraid of me," I blurted, suddenly. I didn't even quite know why I said it; Sid could hold his own if I tried to fight him. But somehow I got the feeling it wasn't physically that he was intimidated.
-
I stopped short at his words and hesitantly glanced up at him. The sudden exclamation seemed odd, given the way the night had started, and the situation surrounding our volatile relationship over the last few years.
I couldn't keep the smile from my lips. It wasn't mocking, it wasn't a smirk. It was just a smile. Unexpected amusement was good for breaking tension. "I know that, I guess," I admitted, and found myself watching him dry off. It was hard not to watch him.
His words had relaxed me somewhat, but I was still on edge. Not so much now because I worried about him using it against me, he seemed to be trustworthy on that front. The fear now was deeper, far more my own problem than his. I wasn't used to this. The times with Erik and Jordan were fun, carefree, sex for the sake of sex.
This had become something far more than that in a very short period of time. This was certainly not just a one night stand--at least, I was beginning to hope it wasn't.
And if he was going to blurt something out, well then so was I. "I don't do this," I explained, glancing up to meet Gilbert's eyes. "I don't just pick guys up and bring them home. I'm not...I'm not some big slut or anything."
I still didn't know if he would believe me, or if he would even care. But I wanted him to know.
-
I paused in the act of rubbing my hair with the towel, looking at Sid in surprise. He seemed so unsure of himself, almost...vulnerable.
I wrapped the towel around my waist, tugging off my rain-dampened boxers once it was firmly secure, feeling oddly caught in a sense of propriety in this new situation. I tossed them atop the pile of my other clothes on the tiled floor near the door before walking toward Sidney. I moved calmly, assuredly, and he didn't move away as I stepped close. I slid my arms around him, feeling him trembling a little from the coolness of his wet clothes, and pressed my lips against the side of his jaw.
"I didn't think that you were a slut," I said quietly, stroking his back in an attempt at reassurance. "I didn't...I don't know what I thought. I guess I just never thought about it." A smile touched my lips. "And I don't just go out with every guy I meet at a bar, either. I'm not taking this lightly either, Sid. This is something new for both of us, I think."
-
This was definitely something new. Something unexpected, and ultimately, something that had me completely freaked out. And I didn't like that feeling. I didn't like the uncertainty. But it was a reassurance to know he didn't do this often...and that he didn't assume that I did.
Everything had changed quickly--it had quickly gone from something rough and angry and competitive to something entirely different. Tentative, awkward.
His arms felt good around me, his lips on my jaw felt even better. Part of me wanted just the purely physical. I wanted to let him hold me and touch me, let him make me moan and writhe until he had to leave in the morning. Part of me wanted to shove him away because I knew he was leaving in the morning. I didn't want to be left with something to crave.
Jesus, what the hell was happening to me? Since when was I indecisive like this? I was already going to crave him, that was a fact, after the sex in my car. So why not enjoy myself while I had the chance?
When I finally spoke, my voice was closer to normal. Still guarded, but more confident, less nervous. "Well then...let's find out exactly what this is."
-
I nodded, agreeing. I wasn't quite sure how this had changed so fast, but it wasn't entirely bad; and I found, with a little surprise, that it wasn't even unwelcome. The chance to get to hold someone, to touch them, to be touched; deeper than even just physical boundaries. I never let my guard down, not even with my teammates, and the fact that I was with the person I once considered the bane of my existence...
It didn't make sense.
But I think the whole night was far beyond making any sense now.
I dropped my hands to the waist of Sidney's jeans, one hand opening his fly while the other slipped beneath the material to cup the curve of his ass, rubbing gently, touching softly. I helped divest him of his clothes for the second time that night, throwing them in the same general direction as my own, and pressed close, keeping in contact, pressing our bodies together. His skin was chill from the rain but beneath that thin epidermal layer he was heat, warm, alive.
"Which way's your bedroom?" I murmured.
-
If I'd wanted to resist him, it was far too late for that. Bare skin on bare skin, damp from the rain, with nothing but a layer of terrycloth between us, was too much to resist.
"Bedroom is this way," I explained, nodding my head to the right and leading him toward the stairs. I stayed close to him, mostly because I enjoyed feeling him so close.
I was tempted to leave the light off when we got to my bedroom. I wasn't sure I wanted him to be able to see me. I'm not sure I wanted to see him. Just more to miss, more to remember. But I couldn't exactly leave him in the dark, so I flipped the switch as we went inside.
My room was messy, the bed unmade, a pile of laundry in the corner. Not many people saw my bedroom, so I never bothered. Gilbert didn't seem to notice. He stripped out of the towel around his hips, and then he used it to dry me off fully.
"So, uh. Here we are," I said lamely, because I wasn't sure what else to say. What could I say? "Okay, we're here, you can be inside me again now."
Not the best option.
So instead, I just crawled onto the bed and patted the mattress next to me. It was up to him to decide whether he was ready for this or not.
-
I studied Sidney's face as I followed him to the bed, leaning one knee on the edge. He was still uncertain, still wary, still shy, and I didn't know if it was me or him that was the problem, but either way I could only control one of those factors. So I slid onto the bed beside him, stretching out, shifting so that our bodies fit together as we lay on our sides and I threaded my fingers in his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
"I want," I murmured softly, kissing his neck, "to touch you everywhere. I want," I kissed his chest open-mouthed, swiping the tip of my tongue over his nipple, "to taste you everywhere. I want to be inside of you. I want you, Sidney..."
I rolled him onto his back and followed a meandering line down his chest, nuzzling and licking, kissing and tasting as I lay between his legs. I rested my cheek against his stomach, looking up at him steadily.
"I won't do this unless you're okay with it, Sid. Not this part. Before was...before. If you don't want me here...I'll go. Just say the words."
My heart was beating a rapid tattoo against my ribcage, and I wondered why I suddenly felt as if my whole world was hanging on his response.
-
This was not supposed to happen. This was not what I had in mind when I approached him at the bar. I wanted to prove a point, I wanted to show him I could beat him, that I could win. I never expected to end up tangled with him in bed, his eyes watching mine while his head rested on my abs.
I didn't mean to hesitate, and the pause turned his eyes from steady blue to cloudy, and he started to fidget. Before he could move I slid a hand into his hair, threading my fingers through the short strands.
"I want you here, Gilbert," I said quietly. I was nervous, yes, but I was never one to let being scared stop me. I could handle this. I'd proven to him that I could handle him, and now I had to prove it to myself.
-
I nodded, my chin bumping against his skin, an irrational wave of relief coursing through me. I didn't want to leave, not yet. Maybe not even sometime soon, though I knew that would be impossible. The Jackets left tomorrow for a west coast swing, the Penguins for Canada...
But, no. This wasn't the place for thoughts about hockey. We had enough of it in our lives already--enough that it consumed us both, some times. This was about me, about him, about us; about this bizarre newfound connection, startlingly live and strong between us. My enemy was now--not my friend, not necessarily, but something less than an enemy. Less than a foe, more than a lover--a complement? A balance? Even so much as a mirror image, at times. I'd never encountered this powerful of an affinity before, especially not from such an unlikely source. It brought new, staggering, almost frightening possibilities with it.
Was Sidney Crosby the person that might actually complete me?
I ducked my head and averted my eyes, suddenly unable to meet that penetrating gaze.
"I'm glad," I admitted to him softly.
-
He was hiding again, not literally, but he did the same thing in the car. Looked away, kept his eyes so that I couldn't look into them. I wondered exactly what he was thinking.
Was he as freaked out by this as I was?
"Stop thinking," I said quietly. "Stop thinking and act."
I had to follow my own advice, so I did exactly that. I wanted to kiss him. So I tugged his hair, gently, lightly, just enough to guide him back up my body so he was laying against me. I pulled him in close, stomach to stomach, chest to chest.
"Stop hiding," I finally whispered just before pressing my lips to his.
-
Sidney's lips were some unheard level of sin and I couldn't have tried to resist, even if I'd wanted to. I gave into their softness, their sweetness, losing myself in their gentle warmth. My body followed what he said even if my mind was still uncertain, my hand dropping to his waist, rubbing up and down his side. As the kiss deepened, our tongues tangling together, my other hand slipped under his back, supporting him as he arched against me. I didn't want to leave his mouth but there was so much more of him to explore, and only with reluctance did I pull away, the both of us panting for air.
His hands settled on my shoulders, a careful, gentle, non-pressuring weight as I moved down his body with lips and tongue. Sucking at the rapid-beating pulse at his neck, trailing my tongue down his throat, spending ample time lapping and suckling his nipples as he gasped. His fingers flexed against my skin as I moved lower still, nuzzling a wet path across his belly, his abdomen, until I reached short dark curls and a cock that was already stirring again. I'd said before that I wanted to touch him everywhere, to taste him everywhere, and none of it had been a lie.
This wasn't like the forceful time in the car. This wasn't him grabbing me, wasn't me grabbing him, wasn't a fight for dominance in any way. It was just him, and me, acting upon my desires.
My eyes slid shut and my hands rubbed gently against his thighs as I closed my lips around the head of his cock.
-
Gilbert's mouth felt even better than it had in the car. Now he was moving slowly, his tongue gliding over my skin, his lips wide around my shaft. I fisted my hands in his hair again, not as tightly as before, but still firm. I needed to hold on, I needed something to keep me grounded.
He felt so goddamn good. His hands were just a bit rough as they worked over my hips, down over my thighs. I wanted more, I needed more, but right now I couldn't get my mouth to work to ask. I could barely even make any coherent sounds, save for a few curse words.
"Fucking hell," I muttered, bucking up off the bed to meet him. I wasn't trying to force him, but I couldn't stay still. I was overwhelmed by the whole evening, the sudden change between us, the attraction to him that I couldn't get rid of, the desperate need to keep him here, with me, as long as possible.
"Gil...stop," I gasped, pulling him up off of my cock. I didn't want to come. I didn't want to end this yet. I didn't want to just keep receiving--it was my turn to give.
-
I couldn't remember how long it had been since I had been so intimate with someone. I had sex, sure, but it was always one night, one time, gone in the morning--or even before the come had been washed off. It was always a release; a mindless discharge of the tension that came with being in the NHL, on a struggling team, in a role you hadn't expected. 'Health sex', as Rusty once laughingly put it, though the term did hold meaning. Sex for the sake of pleasure, no intimacy involved. There was a certain agreeable quality of such encounters, no worrying about emotions or hurting or complications--but it was empty, lacking.
It wasn't what I wanted.
I was losing myself in the musky scent of Sidney, in his taste, in the feel of him writhing beneath me; in the sounds of want and desire that were pouring from his lips. Mostly unintelligible, maybe a few curses, but I wasn't really paying attention as all of my concentration was placed on the slide of his cock past my lips--the pulse of him hot against my tongue. I was losing myself in the closeness that we both felt so unsure about, and even though it frightened me...it was also one of the most fulfilling emotions I'd had in a long time.
"Gil...stop."
I froze instantly, a shot of fear running down my spine. Sidney pulled me off his cock and I immediately backed off, sitting up, looking at him wide-eyed.
"What? What's the matter? What did I do?"
I didn't know why how he felt was suddenly all-consumingly important to me, but it was. And I was damn scared that I had done something horribly wrong. That somehow, I had misread him; that I had severed this intimacy before it really took hold.
And I wasn't ready to leave him.
-
Oh hell, now I freaked him out even worse. The look of panic in Gilbert's eyes surprised me...and I couldn't stop a smile from curling my lips. He was terrified, just as scared as I was. And somehow, that made it better. It took some of my fear away.
My lips curled on one side, and I brushed a hand through his hair, fondly, a caress that probably said more than I wanted it to. "Relax, Gilbert," I told him with a soft chuckle. "I just don't want you doing all the work."
I pulled him up to meet me and kissed him gently. "Now lay back and shut up a minute, eh?"
It was my turn to taste, to kiss and lick and nibble. My turn to explore. I straddled Gilbert's hips as before, but this time I didn't immediately sink down onto him. I leaned down to him and started to slowly discover him. He had stubble on his jaw, and I liked the feel of it rubbing over my cheek. I pressed my lips to the skin just below his earlobe, nuzzled the soft flesh there, felt the rapid beat of his pulse against my tongue when I let it dart out over his throat.
I followed the line of his collarbone down, teeth grazing over the ridge. My hands roamed his shoulders, down his arms, squeezing at his biceps and then back up to his chest. He was slim, smaller than I was, but it made him no less sexy. He was lithe and toned, a body still in transition from youth to adult. My lips continued their journey over his sternum, his pectorals, my tongue darting and swirling over hardened nipples.
He was already groaning and cursing, one hand fisted in my hair while the other squeezed at my shoulder, nails digging into my skin. He wanted me to go faster, but I was nothing if not stubborn, even in a moment like this.
"I'm getting there," I promised softly, while I pressed a kiss to his stomach. "Be patient."
-
Patient? Patient? How could I be patient with that tongue working me over, those lips, those hands? I wanted him so badly, needed him so badly...
But his voice was so gentle; his touches, so tender.
And I just wanted to trust him. I ached to trust him. Ached to trust someone, someone who didn't have ulterior motives or even no motives at all--someone who was interested in me, for me, not for what I could offer them; be it skills or just pleasure for one night.
So I swallowed hard, nodding, not trusting myself to speak. I couldn't help but press up against him with a whimper, aching for him to touch me, aching to feel; to feel him. But I tried to keep a hold of myself.
I was willing to do anything Sidney Crosby told me to, and somehow that wasn't such a bizarre circumstance anymore.
I closed my eyes...and let myself go.
-
The words stung because they were true. When I walked up to him tonight, it was exactly that. A competition, a battle. I had to win. I was obsessed with it, I always had been. That's what had spurred me on when he had my wrists held down, when he tried making me beg...I couldn't back down. I couldn't handle defeat.
He was right.
He wasn't angry now, not really. He just looked sad. Almost broken.
Fuck, and I did that to him.
"It isn't all fucking fun and games. For everyone that praises me, there's someone else who's complaining that I dive, that I whine. For every endorsement deal I sign, there are more people watching my every move, making sure I don't fuck up," there were perks to the fame, I couldn't deny it. But it wasn't all fun and games either.
"You can get away with going to a bar and having a cigarette. You can sneak off with someone. You get to be secretive, you get to hide, you get to be out of the public eye. There is always someone watching me. Christ, at this moment, there could very well be some fan or media type standing outside of this car waiting for us to come out so they can be the one to tell the story. That they were there when Sidney Crosby was caught naked with another guy."
"You could have a relationship, of some form. You'd have to hide it some, of course, because this world is too fucked up to accept anyone who doesn't follow the heterosexual stereotype that's the norm--but it wouldn't be like me. I can't do any of that normal shit. If I have someone with me at any time, it's speculated, examined."
I didn't know where all this was coming from, or why the fuck I was sharing it with him.
I wanted him to see it from my side. It wasn't all fucking sunshine and roses and happiness. It was also responsibility, and attention, and it was fucking stifling sometimes.
"Don't get me wrong, it's damn nice to have success, but sometimes it would be really fucking great to just go out and live a normal life for a few fucking hours."
-
I was surprised; I hadn't expected Sid to open up to me. I had expected taunting, smugness, maybe even just that mocking smirk--certainly not the frustrated entity before me who was running his fingers agitatedly through his hair. Without the cloud of bitterness, the fog of envy, the warped glass of hate through which I always viewed him, I saw a little of the helpless resentment in Sid that I'd felt so often myself. Knocked around by the currents of the media, sculpted by the expectations and needs of team management--so very different, we two were, yet still surprisingly alike. I felt a little more of the old rage I felt towards Sidney break off, washed away by waves of reluctant empathy.
I sucked another breath of smoke, studying his face contemplatively. He looked back at me with a hint of defiance, unrepentant, still challenging while trying to make me understand. Nervy bastard.
But, I understood. I understood very well.
'Now taste my world, Sid.'
Impulsively, irrationally, I leaned forward, slipping my hand behind Sid's neck and pulling him gently toward me; no longer the harsh actions used before. I pressed our mouths together and teased his lips apart, breathing smoke and nicotine into his mouth even as I sucked his tongue into mine; swallowing his gasp as he inhaled.
-
I'd never tried a cigarette in my life. I'd only smelled smoke in restaurants and bars--I never would've risked my career for nicotine. But at this moment, this taste of smoky sin and addiction was just what I needed.
I craved something that wasn't for the press, something that wasn't for an ad, something that wasn't going to be on a highlight reel or in a newspaper article. I wanted something for myself. I was sick of giving to everyone else, being everything to everyone. I wanted to be selfish.
I wanted to bury myself against him, I wanted the push and pull of the bickering and arguing, the deep and back thrusting of urgent, desperate, passionate sex. I didn't want this to just be one stupid little orgasm and then he went back to hating me. Fuck...I didn't like the idea that he hated me anyway.
I was sick of being proper. Sick of being under a microscope. Sick of every word and action being analyzed across Canada. Tonight I wanted to just let go and enjoy something simple and normal and real.
I slid my arms around Gilbert's neck and pulled him flush against me again, disregarding the smoldering butt between his fingers. I just needed to feel, and I couldn't remember anything recently that felt as good as he did.
-
Christ, if Sid wasn't careful I was going to end up putting my cigarette out on the back of his car seat.
But he didn't seem to want to be careful at all; didn't seem to care at all. He was suddenly pressed against me, pressed against my bare skin, his lips hungry for my own despite the flavor of smoke on my tongue. It was forceful but it was also needy, and he moaned a little into my mouth as I carded my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss; and I felt a little ache ease in my chest.
I pulled away long enough to tip Sidney's chin up with my fingertips, looking into wide, soulful hazel eyes.
"Do you have some place that has a bed?" I asked quietly.
-
Jesus, this was a risk. Letting him in like this was probably the stupidest thing I'd ever done. He hated me, I knew that much--he could use this against me so fucking easily if he wanted.
But at the moment I didn't care.
He wanted a bed. I wanted him. Simple enough.
"I need to get my clothes on," I rasped, my voice harsh with need--and with fear. "I'll drive us to my place."
I reluctantly disentangled myself from Gilbert's limbs and grabbed for my jeans. I slid into the soft, worn denim and climbed into the driver's seat, nodding for him to follow. As I started the Range Rover, I wondered what I was getting myself into. Why I was being so reckless.
Because I was sick of caring what everyone else thought.
I sped towards my house in the suburbs, wipers slashing back and forth through the rain trying to cover my windshield. The rain seemed fitting. The drive was made in silence, and a big part of me wondered if he was either plotting against me or if he'd changed his mind.
I was really hoping I was just being paranoid.
"We're here," I said when I pulled into my parking space, finally breaking the silence.
I waited for the rejection I was sure was coming.
-
Sidney Crosby nervous is not a sight that you see every day. Or every month, for that matter. Still, I would have felt bad taking advantage of it, so I leaned over and pulled the car keys from the ignition, tossing them into his lap.
"So, get out."
The tension during the drive over had been palpable, his nervousness evident in the way his hands gripped the steering wheel and the straight set of his back. I didn't really know what his problem was--'I just fucked you, Sid, it's a little late for intimacy issues'--but I was willing to ease up my usual acerbic personality for him. I wanted somewhere warm and dry and preferably that didn't risk the chance of me hitting my head, and I wanted some time. I wanted time to explore this softer, more hesitant side of Sidney Crosby, the side that I'd doggedly pretended didn't exist in my pursuit to hate him. I was tired of hating him. I was tired of a lot of things, and what I wanted right now was a warm bed and a warm body and something slow and languid with no hate or pain involved.
I grabbed my jacket, holding it over my head as I climbed out of the car. There was just a beat of hesitation before Sid followed, and I was too damn cold and fast getting soaked to pay any attention to his uncertainties right now. I jogged toward his house with my jacket covering me, correctly assuming he would follow; grumbling as he fumbled in the dark for his key.
-
The rain felt good on my overheated skin, cooling and relaxing me. I didn't need to be nervous, I just had to take this slow and see what would come of it. I told myself the same things over and over, but it did little to ease my nervousness.
I'd played for tens of thousands of people, I'd given press conferences, I'd done commercials, but the idea of opening myself up like this to someone--not just someone, to Gilbert--had me completely unnerved. I unlocked the door to my place and held it for him to follow me, ignoring the urge to just end this, to play it safe, to stick with the cautious.
Tonight was all about shutting that voice up.
"I'll get you a towel," I said quietly, staring at the ground and fidgeting with the edge of my shirt. He was soaked--his clothes clung to him like skin--and if I was going to resist him for more than three minutes, he would need to dry off.
-
I nodded, a little taken aback by this new, quietly subdued Sidney, and as he went to retrieve something for me to dry off with I looked around, taking in his home. Personal space is different for different people--Rick's house, for instance, is almost sterile but for the bedroom and game room, a veritable museum of his awards and accomplishments that he dislikes living in; whereas Rusty's is homey and cluttered, full of junk that only has order in his mind, mementos and personal affects scattered everywhere. Sid seemed to take after my fellow Canadian teammate more; there were trophies and medals in a glass case, framed certificates on the walls, photos of him with legends all around. I wondered if he was similar to Rick in that his family pressured him to be reminded of all those events, wanting to see his fame whenever they visited. I thought about asking but Sid seemed too withdrawn right now to talk.
He came back with a white fluffy towel and silently handed it to me, waiting as I dried off. I'd left my coat on a hanger by the door but the rest of my clothes were soaked through as well, and I peeled myself out of my jeans, tugging my shirt over my head. When I glanced up Sidney was watching me, quietly, and I paused.
"You don't have to be afraid of me," I blurted, suddenly. I didn't even quite know why I said it; Sid could hold his own if I tried to fight him. But somehow I got the feeling it wasn't physically that he was intimidated.
-
I stopped short at his words and hesitantly glanced up at him. The sudden exclamation seemed odd, given the way the night had started, and the situation surrounding our volatile relationship over the last few years.
I couldn't keep the smile from my lips. It wasn't mocking, it wasn't a smirk. It was just a smile. Unexpected amusement was good for breaking tension. "I know that, I guess," I admitted, and found myself watching him dry off. It was hard not to watch him.
His words had relaxed me somewhat, but I was still on edge. Not so much now because I worried about him using it against me, he seemed to be trustworthy on that front. The fear now was deeper, far more my own problem than his. I wasn't used to this. The times with Erik and Jordan were fun, carefree, sex for the sake of sex.
This had become something far more than that in a very short period of time. This was certainly not just a one night stand--at least, I was beginning to hope it wasn't.
And if he was going to blurt something out, well then so was I. "I don't do this," I explained, glancing up to meet Gilbert's eyes. "I don't just pick guys up and bring them home. I'm not...I'm not some big slut or anything."
I still didn't know if he would believe me, or if he would even care. But I wanted him to know.
-
I paused in the act of rubbing my hair with the towel, looking at Sid in surprise. He seemed so unsure of himself, almost...vulnerable.
I wrapped the towel around my waist, tugging off my rain-dampened boxers once it was firmly secure, feeling oddly caught in a sense of propriety in this new situation. I tossed them atop the pile of my other clothes on the tiled floor near the door before walking toward Sidney. I moved calmly, assuredly, and he didn't move away as I stepped close. I slid my arms around him, feeling him trembling a little from the coolness of his wet clothes, and pressed my lips against the side of his jaw.
"I didn't think that you were a slut," I said quietly, stroking his back in an attempt at reassurance. "I didn't...I don't know what I thought. I guess I just never thought about it." A smile touched my lips. "And I don't just go out with every guy I meet at a bar, either. I'm not taking this lightly either, Sid. This is something new for both of us, I think."
-
This was definitely something new. Something unexpected, and ultimately, something that had me completely freaked out. And I didn't like that feeling. I didn't like the uncertainty. But it was a reassurance to know he didn't do this often...and that he didn't assume that I did.
Everything had changed quickly--it had quickly gone from something rough and angry and competitive to something entirely different. Tentative, awkward.
His arms felt good around me, his lips on my jaw felt even better. Part of me wanted just the purely physical. I wanted to let him hold me and touch me, let him make me moan and writhe until he had to leave in the morning. Part of me wanted to shove him away because I knew he was leaving in the morning. I didn't want to be left with something to crave.
Jesus, what the hell was happening to me? Since when was I indecisive like this? I was already going to crave him, that was a fact, after the sex in my car. So why not enjoy myself while I had the chance?
When I finally spoke, my voice was closer to normal. Still guarded, but more confident, less nervous. "Well then...let's find out exactly what this is."
-
I nodded, agreeing. I wasn't quite sure how this had changed so fast, but it wasn't entirely bad; and I found, with a little surprise, that it wasn't even unwelcome. The chance to get to hold someone, to touch them, to be touched; deeper than even just physical boundaries. I never let my guard down, not even with my teammates, and the fact that I was with the person I once considered the bane of my existence...
It didn't make sense.
But I think the whole night was far beyond making any sense now.
I dropped my hands to the waist of Sidney's jeans, one hand opening his fly while the other slipped beneath the material to cup the curve of his ass, rubbing gently, touching softly. I helped divest him of his clothes for the second time that night, throwing them in the same general direction as my own, and pressed close, keeping in contact, pressing our bodies together. His skin was chill from the rain but beneath that thin epidermal layer he was heat, warm, alive.
"Which way's your bedroom?" I murmured.
-
If I'd wanted to resist him, it was far too late for that. Bare skin on bare skin, damp from the rain, with nothing but a layer of terrycloth between us, was too much to resist.
"Bedroom is this way," I explained, nodding my head to the right and leading him toward the stairs. I stayed close to him, mostly because I enjoyed feeling him so close.
I was tempted to leave the light off when we got to my bedroom. I wasn't sure I wanted him to be able to see me. I'm not sure I wanted to see him. Just more to miss, more to remember. But I couldn't exactly leave him in the dark, so I flipped the switch as we went inside.
My room was messy, the bed unmade, a pile of laundry in the corner. Not many people saw my bedroom, so I never bothered. Gilbert didn't seem to notice. He stripped out of the towel around his hips, and then he used it to dry me off fully.
"So, uh. Here we are," I said lamely, because I wasn't sure what else to say. What could I say? "Okay, we're here, you can be inside me again now."
Not the best option.
So instead, I just crawled onto the bed and patted the mattress next to me. It was up to him to decide whether he was ready for this or not.
-
I studied Sidney's face as I followed him to the bed, leaning one knee on the edge. He was still uncertain, still wary, still shy, and I didn't know if it was me or him that was the problem, but either way I could only control one of those factors. So I slid onto the bed beside him, stretching out, shifting so that our bodies fit together as we lay on our sides and I threaded my fingers in his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
"I want," I murmured softly, kissing his neck, "to touch you everywhere. I want," I kissed his chest open-mouthed, swiping the tip of my tongue over his nipple, "to taste you everywhere. I want to be inside of you. I want you, Sidney..."
I rolled him onto his back and followed a meandering line down his chest, nuzzling and licking, kissing and tasting as I lay between his legs. I rested my cheek against his stomach, looking up at him steadily.
"I won't do this unless you're okay with it, Sid. Not this part. Before was...before. If you don't want me here...I'll go. Just say the words."
My heart was beating a rapid tattoo against my ribcage, and I wondered why I suddenly felt as if my whole world was hanging on his response.
-
This was not supposed to happen. This was not what I had in mind when I approached him at the bar. I wanted to prove a point, I wanted to show him I could beat him, that I could win. I never expected to end up tangled with him in bed, his eyes watching mine while his head rested on my abs.
I didn't mean to hesitate, and the pause turned his eyes from steady blue to cloudy, and he started to fidget. Before he could move I slid a hand into his hair, threading my fingers through the short strands.
"I want you here, Gilbert," I said quietly. I was nervous, yes, but I was never one to let being scared stop me. I could handle this. I'd proven to him that I could handle him, and now I had to prove it to myself.
-
I nodded, my chin bumping against his skin, an irrational wave of relief coursing through me. I didn't want to leave, not yet. Maybe not even sometime soon, though I knew that would be impossible. The Jackets left tomorrow for a west coast swing, the Penguins for Canada...
But, no. This wasn't the place for thoughts about hockey. We had enough of it in our lives already--enough that it consumed us both, some times. This was about me, about him, about us; about this bizarre newfound connection, startlingly live and strong between us. My enemy was now--not my friend, not necessarily, but something less than an enemy. Less than a foe, more than a lover--a complement? A balance? Even so much as a mirror image, at times. I'd never encountered this powerful of an affinity before, especially not from such an unlikely source. It brought new, staggering, almost frightening possibilities with it.
Was Sidney Crosby the person that might actually complete me?
I ducked my head and averted my eyes, suddenly unable to meet that penetrating gaze.
"I'm glad," I admitted to him softly.
-
He was hiding again, not literally, but he did the same thing in the car. Looked away, kept his eyes so that I couldn't look into them. I wondered exactly what he was thinking.
Was he as freaked out by this as I was?
"Stop thinking," I said quietly. "Stop thinking and act."
I had to follow my own advice, so I did exactly that. I wanted to kiss him. So I tugged his hair, gently, lightly, just enough to guide him back up my body so he was laying against me. I pulled him in close, stomach to stomach, chest to chest.
"Stop hiding," I finally whispered just before pressing my lips to his.
-
Sidney's lips were some unheard level of sin and I couldn't have tried to resist, even if I'd wanted to. I gave into their softness, their sweetness, losing myself in their gentle warmth. My body followed what he said even if my mind was still uncertain, my hand dropping to his waist, rubbing up and down his side. As the kiss deepened, our tongues tangling together, my other hand slipped under his back, supporting him as he arched against me. I didn't want to leave his mouth but there was so much more of him to explore, and only with reluctance did I pull away, the both of us panting for air.
His hands settled on my shoulders, a careful, gentle, non-pressuring weight as I moved down his body with lips and tongue. Sucking at the rapid-beating pulse at his neck, trailing my tongue down his throat, spending ample time lapping and suckling his nipples as he gasped. His fingers flexed against my skin as I moved lower still, nuzzling a wet path across his belly, his abdomen, until I reached short dark curls and a cock that was already stirring again. I'd said before that I wanted to touch him everywhere, to taste him everywhere, and none of it had been a lie.
This wasn't like the forceful time in the car. This wasn't him grabbing me, wasn't me grabbing him, wasn't a fight for dominance in any way. It was just him, and me, acting upon my desires.
My eyes slid shut and my hands rubbed gently against his thighs as I closed my lips around the head of his cock.
-
Gilbert's mouth felt even better than it had in the car. Now he was moving slowly, his tongue gliding over my skin, his lips wide around my shaft. I fisted my hands in his hair again, not as tightly as before, but still firm. I needed to hold on, I needed something to keep me grounded.
He felt so goddamn good. His hands were just a bit rough as they worked over my hips, down over my thighs. I wanted more, I needed more, but right now I couldn't get my mouth to work to ask. I could barely even make any coherent sounds, save for a few curse words.
"Fucking hell," I muttered, bucking up off the bed to meet him. I wasn't trying to force him, but I couldn't stay still. I was overwhelmed by the whole evening, the sudden change between us, the attraction to him that I couldn't get rid of, the desperate need to keep him here, with me, as long as possible.
"Gil...stop," I gasped, pulling him up off of my cock. I didn't want to come. I didn't want to end this yet. I didn't want to just keep receiving--it was my turn to give.
-
I couldn't remember how long it had been since I had been so intimate with someone. I had sex, sure, but it was always one night, one time, gone in the morning--or even before the come had been washed off. It was always a release; a mindless discharge of the tension that came with being in the NHL, on a struggling team, in a role you hadn't expected. 'Health sex', as Rusty once laughingly put it, though the term did hold meaning. Sex for the sake of pleasure, no intimacy involved. There was a certain agreeable quality of such encounters, no worrying about emotions or hurting or complications--but it was empty, lacking.
It wasn't what I wanted.
I was losing myself in the musky scent of Sidney, in his taste, in the feel of him writhing beneath me; in the sounds of want and desire that were pouring from his lips. Mostly unintelligible, maybe a few curses, but I wasn't really paying attention as all of my concentration was placed on the slide of his cock past my lips--the pulse of him hot against my tongue. I was losing myself in the closeness that we both felt so unsure about, and even though it frightened me...it was also one of the most fulfilling emotions I'd had in a long time.
"Gil...stop."
I froze instantly, a shot of fear running down my spine. Sidney pulled me off his cock and I immediately backed off, sitting up, looking at him wide-eyed.
"What? What's the matter? What did I do?"
I didn't know why how he felt was suddenly all-consumingly important to me, but it was. And I was damn scared that I had done something horribly wrong. That somehow, I had misread him; that I had severed this intimacy before it really took hold.
And I wasn't ready to leave him.
-
Oh hell, now I freaked him out even worse. The look of panic in Gilbert's eyes surprised me...and I couldn't stop a smile from curling my lips. He was terrified, just as scared as I was. And somehow, that made it better. It took some of my fear away.
My lips curled on one side, and I brushed a hand through his hair, fondly, a caress that probably said more than I wanted it to. "Relax, Gilbert," I told him with a soft chuckle. "I just don't want you doing all the work."
I pulled him up to meet me and kissed him gently. "Now lay back and shut up a minute, eh?"
It was my turn to taste, to kiss and lick and nibble. My turn to explore. I straddled Gilbert's hips as before, but this time I didn't immediately sink down onto him. I leaned down to him and started to slowly discover him. He had stubble on his jaw, and I liked the feel of it rubbing over my cheek. I pressed my lips to the skin just below his earlobe, nuzzled the soft flesh there, felt the rapid beat of his pulse against my tongue when I let it dart out over his throat.
I followed the line of his collarbone down, teeth grazing over the ridge. My hands roamed his shoulders, down his arms, squeezing at his biceps and then back up to his chest. He was slim, smaller than I was, but it made him no less sexy. He was lithe and toned, a body still in transition from youth to adult. My lips continued their journey over his sternum, his pectorals, my tongue darting and swirling over hardened nipples.
He was already groaning and cursing, one hand fisted in my hair while the other squeezed at my shoulder, nails digging into my skin. He wanted me to go faster, but I was nothing if not stubborn, even in a moment like this.
"I'm getting there," I promised softly, while I pressed a kiss to his stomach. "Be patient."
-
Patient? Patient? How could I be patient with that tongue working me over, those lips, those hands? I wanted him so badly, needed him so badly...
But his voice was so gentle; his touches, so tender.
And I just wanted to trust him. I ached to trust him. Ached to trust someone, someone who didn't have ulterior motives or even no motives at all--someone who was interested in me, for me, not for what I could offer them; be it skills or just pleasure for one night.
So I swallowed hard, nodding, not trusting myself to speak. I couldn't help but press up against him with a whimper, aching for him to touch me, aching to feel; to feel him. But I tried to keep a hold of myself.
I was willing to do anything Sidney Crosby told me to, and somehow that wasn't such a bizarre circumstance anymore.
I closed my eyes...and let myself go.
-