(no subject)
Title: Glance (First part of a series of..idk)
Author: slasher48 /
bad_bad_books
Rating: This one's not NC-17....yet. R for sexual references and things like that :)
Pairing: Sid/Alex
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and they own each other. Fast. And hard. xD...(not really, they own themselves, and the NHL owns them, but they MIGHT own each other fast and hard lol)
Yes, yes, my darlings, after a long wait, I'm back with a story that is old, but NEW to you :D. The ones I am supposed to be writing are a little bit of on hiatus right now...idk for how long...at least past Saturday 'cause..Projekt Revolution :)
A glance across a crowded room filled with reporters and players speaks volumes.
He swears you and he are only friendly rivals and civil acquaintances but that one glance says different. That glance holds obvious want and subtle promise of naughty dreams come true if you were to feel the same.
Of course...you could be imagining that glance. Wouldn't be the first time you've drifted into dreamland and imagined him telling you he's fallen as hard for you as you have for him.
Something in the back of your mind says no, though, no this is real, this one hint he might actually feel something for you isn't fabricated by your overactive imagination helped along by a healthy dose of wishful thinking.
You have to suppress an excited squeal every time he does it, biting your lip to stop a dopey grin.
The day he licks his lips while he gives you The Glance, however, you can't bite back the squeak of shocked delight.
Marc-Andre hears you and turns to you with a cocked eyebrow. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?", he asks and you blush, turning your eyes to the floor and scuffing at it with your sneaker.
"Nothing," you mumble, cursing the effect he always has on you. But despite your annoyance at your submission, you can't help but want to go and talk to him, to find out what that wicked tongue sliding across the pink mound of flesh meant.
You've never been one to resist impulse, have you? With a surprisingly graceful movement, you stride over to him, your mind a maelstrom of urgent questions and possible witty icebreakers. You're about an inch away from him when he looks up from where he's watching himself twirl a finger around the rim of his wine glass, his eyes pinning you in place like nails have suddenly appeared from the sole of your shoe to the floor.
His eyes are peculiarly triumphant, like he's been waiting for you, and for a second you wonder if he knows how you feel about him. "Yes?", he asks and the smug grin on his face puts a blush on yours.
"H-hi, Alex," you murmur under your breath, still unable to move as you fight to break your gaze from his. You're barely coherent. Isn't he supposed to be the one who finds English difficult?
"'Lo, Sidney," he says, perfectly calm and collected, as though he doesn't want you, barely cares who he's speaking to at all. A dreadful moment passes where you wonder yet again if you hadn't imagined that glance, and what's more, his tongue passing over his lips like he wanted to taste yours.
"How are you?" Ah, finally, a perfectly intelligible phrase from your mouth. You notice the corners of his mouth turn up and ponder the thought he may be actually impressed you managed it.
"Fine, I guess. You?" Oh no, this one will require thought. You chew your lip for a moment, responses flicking through your mind like so many restless fireflies.
"I'm alright," you finally come up with, smiling with relief. His eyes linger on your mouth stretched with the grin and The Glance comes your way again, this time not to your eyes, but to your lips. He licks his again and you sigh, watching his just as intently as he's watching yours.
Unfortunately for your finally pale again cheeks, your eyes both move up at the same time. They meet and your face immediately goes pink as you quickly look away. The only reason you don't run is because you've caught him staring just as he has caught you; that shows promise.
His eyes sweep around the room and his grin makes you want to grin with him as he notes all of his teammates have gone. "'M a little tired, Sid. Continue talking in my room?"
His room. HIS ROOM! You're nodding before you've fully finished hearing the question, observing his eyes twinkle with mischief and his grin grow wider. He sets his glass down on a nearby cart and grasps your arm just tightly enough to make sure you can't run.
Not that'd you'd want to. No, running is definitely the last thing on your mind as he tugs you out of the room and up the stairs to his hotel suite, looking back every other minute to make sure you're still dying of anticipation and anxiety and nodding with a satisfied smirk when he finds yes, you still are.
He pushes you through the open door and follows you in as you stumble backwards into his coffee table and sit down hard on what feels like a remote of some sort. You pull the object out from under you and toss it behind you onto the couch, looking up at him with a sort of awe and a great amount of lust as he towers over you more than usual with his intimidating stature.
He turns away from you to close the door, and it's then you allow yourself a soft little smile. He's setting you up for something you've only dreamed of, you're sure of it.
Your suspicions are confirmed when he latches the door and pivots to face you once again; The Glance has turned into The Stare and it makes you want to shiver, the emotion in his eyes that can only be defined as lust.
He stalks toward you, The Stare growing more and more intense and you gulp.
Reaching the table you're perched on, his hands land on either side of your hips, flat against the wood, and he leans in, his eyes slowly closing...
***
Don't kill me yet, there is more to come, prolly in a few days, it's written, I just wanna make you sweat a little bit ;)
Comments are the milk to my cookies, aka things I love SO MUCH....make me happy and gimme some, pwease?
PS-Marc said "What's that?" hehe
Author: slasher48 /
bad_bad_books
Rating: This one's not NC-17....yet. R for sexual references and things like that :)
Pairing: Sid/Alex
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and they own each other. Fast. And hard. xD...(not really, they own themselves, and the NHL owns them, but they MIGHT own each other fast and hard lol)
Yes, yes, my darlings, after a long wait, I'm back with a story that is old, but NEW to you :D. The ones I am supposed to be writing are a little bit of on hiatus right now...idk for how long...at least past Saturday 'cause..Projekt Revolution :)
A glance across a crowded room filled with reporters and players speaks volumes.
He swears you and he are only friendly rivals and civil acquaintances but that one glance says different. That glance holds obvious want and subtle promise of naughty dreams come true if you were to feel the same.
Of course...you could be imagining that glance. Wouldn't be the first time you've drifted into dreamland and imagined him telling you he's fallen as hard for you as you have for him.
Something in the back of your mind says no, though, no this is real, this one hint he might actually feel something for you isn't fabricated by your overactive imagination helped along by a healthy dose of wishful thinking.
You have to suppress an excited squeal every time he does it, biting your lip to stop a dopey grin.
The day he licks his lips while he gives you The Glance, however, you can't bite back the squeak of shocked delight.
Marc-Andre hears you and turns to you with a cocked eyebrow. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?", he asks and you blush, turning your eyes to the floor and scuffing at it with your sneaker.
"Nothing," you mumble, cursing the effect he always has on you. But despite your annoyance at your submission, you can't help but want to go and talk to him, to find out what that wicked tongue sliding across the pink mound of flesh meant.
You've never been one to resist impulse, have you? With a surprisingly graceful movement, you stride over to him, your mind a maelstrom of urgent questions and possible witty icebreakers. You're about an inch away from him when he looks up from where he's watching himself twirl a finger around the rim of his wine glass, his eyes pinning you in place like nails have suddenly appeared from the sole of your shoe to the floor.
His eyes are peculiarly triumphant, like he's been waiting for you, and for a second you wonder if he knows how you feel about him. "Yes?", he asks and the smug grin on his face puts a blush on yours.
"H-hi, Alex," you murmur under your breath, still unable to move as you fight to break your gaze from his. You're barely coherent. Isn't he supposed to be the one who finds English difficult?
"'Lo, Sidney," he says, perfectly calm and collected, as though he doesn't want you, barely cares who he's speaking to at all. A dreadful moment passes where you wonder yet again if you hadn't imagined that glance, and what's more, his tongue passing over his lips like he wanted to taste yours.
"How are you?" Ah, finally, a perfectly intelligible phrase from your mouth. You notice the corners of his mouth turn up and ponder the thought he may be actually impressed you managed it.
"Fine, I guess. You?" Oh no, this one will require thought. You chew your lip for a moment, responses flicking through your mind like so many restless fireflies.
"I'm alright," you finally come up with, smiling with relief. His eyes linger on your mouth stretched with the grin and The Glance comes your way again, this time not to your eyes, but to your lips. He licks his again and you sigh, watching his just as intently as he's watching yours.
Unfortunately for your finally pale again cheeks, your eyes both move up at the same time. They meet and your face immediately goes pink as you quickly look away. The only reason you don't run is because you've caught him staring just as he has caught you; that shows promise.
His eyes sweep around the room and his grin makes you want to grin with him as he notes all of his teammates have gone. "'M a little tired, Sid. Continue talking in my room?"
His room. HIS ROOM! You're nodding before you've fully finished hearing the question, observing his eyes twinkle with mischief and his grin grow wider. He sets his glass down on a nearby cart and grasps your arm just tightly enough to make sure you can't run.
Not that'd you'd want to. No, running is definitely the last thing on your mind as he tugs you out of the room and up the stairs to his hotel suite, looking back every other minute to make sure you're still dying of anticipation and anxiety and nodding with a satisfied smirk when he finds yes, you still are.
He pushes you through the open door and follows you in as you stumble backwards into his coffee table and sit down hard on what feels like a remote of some sort. You pull the object out from under you and toss it behind you onto the couch, looking up at him with a sort of awe and a great amount of lust as he towers over you more than usual with his intimidating stature.
He turns away from you to close the door, and it's then you allow yourself a soft little smile. He's setting you up for something you've only dreamed of, you're sure of it.
Your suspicions are confirmed when he latches the door and pivots to face you once again; The Glance has turned into The Stare and it makes you want to shiver, the emotion in his eyes that can only be defined as lust.
He stalks toward you, The Stare growing more and more intense and you gulp.
Reaching the table you're perched on, his hands land on either side of your hips, flat against the wood, and he leans in, his eyes slowly closing...
***
Don't kill me yet, there is more to come, prolly in a few days, it's written, I just wanna make you sweat a little bit ;)
Comments are the milk to my cookies, aka things I love SO MUCH....make me happy and gimme some, pwease?
PS-Marc said "What's that?" hehe