untitled kinkmeme fill: Zherdev/Fedorov/Dubinsky, NC-17
In his defense, Brandon had tried.
He’d stopped groping Nik after goals, and he no longer draped himself all over him when they were on the bench. He’d even cleaned up his act away from the cameras, on long bus or plane rides when he’d used to snuggle up to Nik and pass out on his shoulder. He very purposefully and carefully ceased and desisted, deciding that whatever helpless puppy-pining he had been doing in order to get Nikolai’s attention would best be stopped-in the interest of keeping Brandon’s limbs attached.
Brandon had tried.
Nikolai, on the other hand, had done no such thing.
“Nikky,” Brandon groaned as his back hit the bed. He sprawled across the hotel sheets, Nik’s knees on either side of his hips, a hot mouth sucking at his collarbone; his shirt lying somewhere between the bed and door. His recollection of the past couple hours was hazy, obscured by booze-they may have been just a little teeny bit shitfaced-and later he would blame that for the reason that the little warning bells in the back of his mind were conspicuously quiet. Not even when Nik grabbed his wrists, winding his tie around them and pressing them above his head, did Brandon manage to grasp the situation. All he could focus on was Nikolai’s hands, far too nimble for the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, working at the front of his pants.
It was when the water turned off in the bathroom that Brandon not only realized that the water had been on, but that someone else was there.
“Nikky!” he hissed, trying to squirm away. But Nik would have none of it, slapping his hand down on Brandon’s bare stomach, pinning him in place as his lips continued their teasing exploration of Brandon’s neck. And Brandon could have heeded him, could have lost himself in the rocking of their hips together, of Nikolai’s warm mouth-but then the bathroom door opened, and an icy chill flooded his veins as Sergei stepped out into the bedroom.
The Russian forward was wearing only a loose pair of sweatpants, slung low around his hips, and was using a towel to dry his hair. As he caught sight of the two of them-with Brandon lying utterly still, barely daring to breathe as though if he was quiet enough Sergei might not notice him-one eyebrow arched up.
“I see you found your toy, Nikolai.”
Brandon stared at him, dumbfounded. He’d expected irritation, anger, maybe some threatened dismemberment-not the amused quirk of Sergei’s lips. He gaped as Nikolai looked back over his shoulder at his older lover, a wicked grin on the Ukrainian’s face.
“Yes. Play now, hm?”
Sergei sighed, but a playful smile danced around his mouth, as though this was an old exchange, an old argument. He waved a hand carelessly.
“He’s your plaything. Far be it from me to tell you what to do with your toys.”
Brandon opened his mouth to protest-didn’t he have any say in this?-but the answer to that question was apparently ‘no’, as Nikolai’s mouth dropped back to his skin, trailing down Brandon’s chest, and all the blood seemed to rush from his head in an attempt to follow. He cast a wordless, pleading look at Sergei.
Who rolled his eyes.
“Nikolai did not…appreciate my previous intervention,” Sergei explained carefully. Nikolai snorted, somewhere in the vicinity of Brandon’s belly button, expressing just how he felt about that. Sergei shot his lover an irritated look, but when his gaze met Brandon’s again there was only fond amusement. “Apparently he’s become rather fond of you.”
Brandon blinked.
“Reall-ohh…” The question died on his lips as Nik’s hand shoved down the open fly of his pants, sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers. Fingers curled firmly around his cock as Nikolai shot him a smug smirk. His eyes were half-lidded, dark, and Brandon could only work his mouth noiselessly as he arched into that steady touch.
Through the haze of lust, Brandon was distantly aware of Nikolai wriggling out of his clothing; it was a little hard to concentrate with the deft hand twisting around his dick, slick with his own precome. He lifted his hips on Nik’s command, moaning in relief as pants and boxers were yanked down his hips, tangling around his ankles. It was when Nik lowered his mouth to the head of Brandon’s cock that he finally had to cry out: a wail of relief and need punched from his lungs.
In a flash, Sergei was at his side; knee resting on the bed, his hand clapped over Brandon’s mouth.
“Shh,” he murmured, seeming to be completely unaware of just how sinful Nikolai’s tongue was. Brandon stared at the Russian player in glazed incomprehension. How was he supposed to be quiet with that tormenting him? Nevermind the fact that that it was Nikky, the not-so-secret focus of Brandon’s fantasies for the past seven months.
Sergei raised an eyebrow at Brandon’s helplessly pleading look.
“We could gag you,” he suggested.
“Ooh, that’s an idea,” Nikolai murmured. His lips were reddened, slick, and Brandon’s eyes could have rolled back in his head for both the idea and the debauched sight of Nik between his legs. He let out a muffled noise of protest as Nik pulled away from his cock, whining against Sergei’s hand; barely noticing that he was trying to reach for his linemate until Sergei’s free hand dropped down on his bound wrists, pressing them back against the pillows. He pressed up with his hips, trying to gain some kind of friction, but Nik had him firmly pinned as he straddled Brandon’s legs.
It took a few, dazed seconds for him to fully comprehend why Nikolai was slicking his fingers with lube; understanding only dawning when Nik reached back, stretching himself open with a growling hiss. Brandon swallowed hard, neck straining as he kept his gaze solely on Nik: who was already hard himself, and who presented as some kind of dark god of lust and temptation as he rocked back onto his own fingers.
When he finally deemed himself ready, when he positioned himself over Brandon’s achingly hard cock, Brandon could have sworn half his brain cells died as he watched Nikolai sink down onto him. He couldn’t breathe, throat closed and his entire body arching off the bed to meet Nikolai, keening softly into Sergei’s hand as his dick was enveloped in tight, slick heat. He struggled to keep from shoving up as Nik settled, hands dropping against his chest, leaning against him as he sucked in harsh rasps of air.
“God, Dubi,” he moaned.
The sound of his name on Nik’s lips was almost enough to make Brandon come right then.
Then Nik started moving, first little rolls of his hips, and Brandon’s brain shut down completely. He pressed up, held down only by Nikolai’s weight on his hips and Sergei’s hands on his wrists and mouth. His head fell back against the pillow, eyes wide and unseeing as Sergei looked down at him in amusement.
“I think you’ve broken your toy, Nikky.”
Nikolai’s only reply was a low groan, and Brandon mumbled something incoherently in the negative. He stared up at Sergei, mind fogged, drowning in sensation. A brief moment of clarity pierced the haze; enough to have him moving his head over, out from under Sergei’s hand so he could press his lips, open-mouthed, against the tented front of Sergei’s sweatpants.
Nik let out a shaky curse.
“Fuck, that’s-” he lapsed off into a string of Russian that Brandon couldn’t have understood even if he’d had full usage of his brain, but which had Sergei hissing in something that might have been agreement. Brandon licked his lips, leaning back enough so that Sergei could push his sweats down around his knees; diving back in as soon as his cock was free. Because Brandon wasn’t clueless-he knew just how much Nikolai adored his elder lover. If it had come down to it, if Sergei had said no, this would never have happened. Brandon never would have been able to see Nikky like this, to touch and taste Nik like this-and he knew it.
And, yeah, so maybe he’d grown up watching Sergei tear up the league in Detroit. So maybe there was just a little bit of hero-worship on that end. But just a little-and Brandon would never admit it; especially not to Nikolai. The smug bastard would totally use it against him.
Said smug bastard was in the process of coming completely unraveled, his fingers digging into Brandon’s chest as his hips worked, an unending stream of low groans and hissed swears falling from his lips. His head was thrown back in wanton, reckless abandon, sweat gleaming on tan skin as he panted for air. The soft slap of skin on skin was punctuated by their moans, by their gasps, and caught in a haze of lust and heat, Brandon couldn’t hang on any longer. Sergei’s cock fell from his lips as he slammed his head back against the pillows; spine curving in a smooth bow as he came hard, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He felt more than heard Nikolai’s rumbling growl; toes curling against the mattress as Nik rode him out through the aftershocks of orgasm, clenching around him and digging fingernail-sized gouges into his shoulders as he found his own completion.
Boneless, sated, Brandon couldn’t find the energy to move as Nikolai slumped against him, seemingly having the same problem. But Nik was nothing if not thorough. He pulled himself off of Brandon with a wet sound that had them both groaning, and crawled up the bed so he could attend to Sergei, who still half-knelt right next to Brandon’s head. Brandon didn’t even have the strength to move away, so he lay there, eyes huge with the proximity, as Nik leaned down to take his lover’s length into his mouth.
Nikolai smirked at him, eyes not leaving Brandon’s as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Sergei’s cock, tongue laving long strokes from the grip of his fingers all the way back up to the tip. Brandon stared back, entranced, utterly captivated by the display. He kept his gaze locked with Nik’s until it was broken by Sergei’s fingers twining in Nikolai’s hair, guiding him firmly where he wanted him. It didn’t take long: just a few more twists of Nik’s wrist, a few hard sucks, and Sergei was coming with a growl. Nikolai swallowed around him, taking it all, and Brandon was sure as hell that image would be burned into his brain for a long time.
As soon as Sergei was done, Nik sat back up, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, the other reaching up to loosen the tie around Brandon’s wrists. He’d almost forgotten about it. He watched, dazed, as Nik grabbed for some of the tissues in the box next to the bed, wiping off the mess on his chest and abdomen. It was a strangely intimate gesture, and Brandon found himself ducking his head, lowering his eyes.
He nearly jumped as Sergei stretched out on the bed with a sated sigh-and he did jump when Nikolai flopped down next to him. A tanned arm draped itself across his chest, a leg crooking over his hip as Nik turned him into a glorified teddy bear. Not that Brandon particularly minded, but…
“What..?”
“Shh,” Sergei murmured. Nikolai’s mumbling voice joined his lover’s, breath ghosting across Brandon’s collarbone.
“Go ‘t sleep Dubi. Talk later.”
And that seemed to be that. Brandon blinked for a moment, startled by the turn of events. But Nikky was curled up against him, happy and pliant, and he would never find it in his heart to question that.
So Brandon simply bent his neck, and dropped a kiss atop Nikky’s tousled hair.
He’d stopped groping Nik after goals, and he no longer draped himself all over him when they were on the bench. He’d even cleaned up his act away from the cameras, on long bus or plane rides when he’d used to snuggle up to Nik and pass out on his shoulder. He very purposefully and carefully ceased and desisted, deciding that whatever helpless puppy-pining he had been doing in order to get Nikolai’s attention would best be stopped-in the interest of keeping Brandon’s limbs attached.
Brandon had tried.
Nikolai, on the other hand, had done no such thing.
“Nikky,” Brandon groaned as his back hit the bed. He sprawled across the hotel sheets, Nik’s knees on either side of his hips, a hot mouth sucking at his collarbone; his shirt lying somewhere between the bed and door. His recollection of the past couple hours was hazy, obscured by booze-they may have been just a little teeny bit shitfaced-and later he would blame that for the reason that the little warning bells in the back of his mind were conspicuously quiet. Not even when Nik grabbed his wrists, winding his tie around them and pressing them above his head, did Brandon manage to grasp the situation. All he could focus on was Nikolai’s hands, far too nimble for the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, working at the front of his pants.
It was when the water turned off in the bathroom that Brandon not only realized that the water had been on, but that someone else was there.
“Nikky!” he hissed, trying to squirm away. But Nik would have none of it, slapping his hand down on Brandon’s bare stomach, pinning him in place as his lips continued their teasing exploration of Brandon’s neck. And Brandon could have heeded him, could have lost himself in the rocking of their hips together, of Nikolai’s warm mouth-but then the bathroom door opened, and an icy chill flooded his veins as Sergei stepped out into the bedroom.
The Russian forward was wearing only a loose pair of sweatpants, slung low around his hips, and was using a towel to dry his hair. As he caught sight of the two of them-with Brandon lying utterly still, barely daring to breathe as though if he was quiet enough Sergei might not notice him-one eyebrow arched up.
“I see you found your toy, Nikolai.”
Brandon stared at him, dumbfounded. He’d expected irritation, anger, maybe some threatened dismemberment-not the amused quirk of Sergei’s lips. He gaped as Nikolai looked back over his shoulder at his older lover, a wicked grin on the Ukrainian’s face.
“Yes. Play now, hm?”
Sergei sighed, but a playful smile danced around his mouth, as though this was an old exchange, an old argument. He waved a hand carelessly.
“He’s your plaything. Far be it from me to tell you what to do with your toys.”
Brandon opened his mouth to protest-didn’t he have any say in this?-but the answer to that question was apparently ‘no’, as Nikolai’s mouth dropped back to his skin, trailing down Brandon’s chest, and all the blood seemed to rush from his head in an attempt to follow. He cast a wordless, pleading look at Sergei.
Who rolled his eyes.
“Nikolai did not…appreciate my previous intervention,” Sergei explained carefully. Nikolai snorted, somewhere in the vicinity of Brandon’s belly button, expressing just how he felt about that. Sergei shot his lover an irritated look, but when his gaze met Brandon’s again there was only fond amusement. “Apparently he’s become rather fond of you.”
Brandon blinked.
“Reall-ohh…” The question died on his lips as Nik’s hand shoved down the open fly of his pants, sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers. Fingers curled firmly around his cock as Nikolai shot him a smug smirk. His eyes were half-lidded, dark, and Brandon could only work his mouth noiselessly as he arched into that steady touch.
Through the haze of lust, Brandon was distantly aware of Nikolai wriggling out of his clothing; it was a little hard to concentrate with the deft hand twisting around his dick, slick with his own precome. He lifted his hips on Nik’s command, moaning in relief as pants and boxers were yanked down his hips, tangling around his ankles. It was when Nik lowered his mouth to the head of Brandon’s cock that he finally had to cry out: a wail of relief and need punched from his lungs.
In a flash, Sergei was at his side; knee resting on the bed, his hand clapped over Brandon’s mouth.
“Shh,” he murmured, seeming to be completely unaware of just how sinful Nikolai’s tongue was. Brandon stared at the Russian player in glazed incomprehension. How was he supposed to be quiet with that tormenting him? Nevermind the fact that that it was Nikky, the not-so-secret focus of Brandon’s fantasies for the past seven months.
Sergei raised an eyebrow at Brandon’s helplessly pleading look.
“We could gag you,” he suggested.
“Ooh, that’s an idea,” Nikolai murmured. His lips were reddened, slick, and Brandon’s eyes could have rolled back in his head for both the idea and the debauched sight of Nik between his legs. He let out a muffled noise of protest as Nik pulled away from his cock, whining against Sergei’s hand; barely noticing that he was trying to reach for his linemate until Sergei’s free hand dropped down on his bound wrists, pressing them back against the pillows. He pressed up with his hips, trying to gain some kind of friction, but Nik had him firmly pinned as he straddled Brandon’s legs.
It took a few, dazed seconds for him to fully comprehend why Nikolai was slicking his fingers with lube; understanding only dawning when Nik reached back, stretching himself open with a growling hiss. Brandon swallowed hard, neck straining as he kept his gaze solely on Nik: who was already hard himself, and who presented as some kind of dark god of lust and temptation as he rocked back onto his own fingers.
When he finally deemed himself ready, when he positioned himself over Brandon’s achingly hard cock, Brandon could have sworn half his brain cells died as he watched Nikolai sink down onto him. He couldn’t breathe, throat closed and his entire body arching off the bed to meet Nikolai, keening softly into Sergei’s hand as his dick was enveloped in tight, slick heat. He struggled to keep from shoving up as Nik settled, hands dropping against his chest, leaning against him as he sucked in harsh rasps of air.
“God, Dubi,” he moaned.
The sound of his name on Nik’s lips was almost enough to make Brandon come right then.
Then Nik started moving, first little rolls of his hips, and Brandon’s brain shut down completely. He pressed up, held down only by Nikolai’s weight on his hips and Sergei’s hands on his wrists and mouth. His head fell back against the pillow, eyes wide and unseeing as Sergei looked down at him in amusement.
“I think you’ve broken your toy, Nikky.”
Nikolai’s only reply was a low groan, and Brandon mumbled something incoherently in the negative. He stared up at Sergei, mind fogged, drowning in sensation. A brief moment of clarity pierced the haze; enough to have him moving his head over, out from under Sergei’s hand so he could press his lips, open-mouthed, against the tented front of Sergei’s sweatpants.
Nik let out a shaky curse.
“Fuck, that’s-” he lapsed off into a string of Russian that Brandon couldn’t have understood even if he’d had full usage of his brain, but which had Sergei hissing in something that might have been agreement. Brandon licked his lips, leaning back enough so that Sergei could push his sweats down around his knees; diving back in as soon as his cock was free. Because Brandon wasn’t clueless-he knew just how much Nikolai adored his elder lover. If it had come down to it, if Sergei had said no, this would never have happened. Brandon never would have been able to see Nikky like this, to touch and taste Nik like this-and he knew it.
And, yeah, so maybe he’d grown up watching Sergei tear up the league in Detroit. So maybe there was just a little bit of hero-worship on that end. But just a little-and Brandon would never admit it; especially not to Nikolai. The smug bastard would totally use it against him.
Said smug bastard was in the process of coming completely unraveled, his fingers digging into Brandon’s chest as his hips worked, an unending stream of low groans and hissed swears falling from his lips. His head was thrown back in wanton, reckless abandon, sweat gleaming on tan skin as he panted for air. The soft slap of skin on skin was punctuated by their moans, by their gasps, and caught in a haze of lust and heat, Brandon couldn’t hang on any longer. Sergei’s cock fell from his lips as he slammed his head back against the pillows; spine curving in a smooth bow as he came hard, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He felt more than heard Nikolai’s rumbling growl; toes curling against the mattress as Nik rode him out through the aftershocks of orgasm, clenching around him and digging fingernail-sized gouges into his shoulders as he found his own completion.
Boneless, sated, Brandon couldn’t find the energy to move as Nikolai slumped against him, seemingly having the same problem. But Nik was nothing if not thorough. He pulled himself off of Brandon with a wet sound that had them both groaning, and crawled up the bed so he could attend to Sergei, who still half-knelt right next to Brandon’s head. Brandon didn’t even have the strength to move away, so he lay there, eyes huge with the proximity, as Nik leaned down to take his lover’s length into his mouth.
Nikolai smirked at him, eyes not leaving Brandon’s as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Sergei’s cock, tongue laving long strokes from the grip of his fingers all the way back up to the tip. Brandon stared back, entranced, utterly captivated by the display. He kept his gaze locked with Nik’s until it was broken by Sergei’s fingers twining in Nikolai’s hair, guiding him firmly where he wanted him. It didn’t take long: just a few more twists of Nik’s wrist, a few hard sucks, and Sergei was coming with a growl. Nikolai swallowed around him, taking it all, and Brandon was sure as hell that image would be burned into his brain for a long time.
As soon as Sergei was done, Nik sat back up, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, the other reaching up to loosen the tie around Brandon’s wrists. He’d almost forgotten about it. He watched, dazed, as Nik grabbed for some of the tissues in the box next to the bed, wiping off the mess on his chest and abdomen. It was a strangely intimate gesture, and Brandon found himself ducking his head, lowering his eyes.
He nearly jumped as Sergei stretched out on the bed with a sated sigh-and he did jump when Nikolai flopped down next to him. A tanned arm draped itself across his chest, a leg crooking over his hip as Nik turned him into a glorified teddy bear. Not that Brandon particularly minded, but…
“What..?”
“Shh,” Sergei murmured. Nikolai’s mumbling voice joined his lover’s, breath ghosting across Brandon’s collarbone.
“Go ‘t sleep Dubi. Talk later.”
And that seemed to be that. Brandon blinked for a moment, startled by the turn of events. But Nikky was curled up against him, happy and pliant, and he would never find it in his heart to question that.
So Brandon simply bent his neck, and dropped a kiss atop Nikky’s tousled hair.