Gravity
Title: Gravity
Rating; Warnings: NC-17. Sssmmmuuuttt
Pairing: Max Talbot / Petr Sykora
Disclaimer: If this is true...I really don't even think I want a part in it.
Part three of four season themed chapters.
Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer
Comments: Thanks to nofaves , dedicated to more_unknown, blahblahblah. Enjoy.
Maybe we were overreacting by celebrating a win as generally unimportant as this one. Our points offered us security enough to not have to worry about falling too hard in the rankings if we messed up, settling us in around fourth or fifth seed depending on the night. After that the point difference was dramatic and the last few spots were a dogfight of teams we were used to being a part of, not watching. It wasn’t even a division win, and I knew we were taking away some much needed points from the Leafs. Rumor was that Toskala was being shopped around and we certainly didn’t help his cause any, even if he was hung up to dry by his defensemen.
Point is, there was no reason to be as happy as we were. Maybe for once everyone’s lives were going right beyond the ice and it all just clicked together, making us think that a five game streak was the best thing to ever happen in the world. Maybe we were just happy to be coasting for once, not having to rip our fans’ hearts out with every loss, making them wonder if we would have another mid-season bounce back. Being consistent was a nice change. We all spent more time together on off days. We laughed more in the locker room. And on this particular night, we went out after the game to celebrate; not in our usual places with our usual cliques, but all of us together.
It was dimly lit and semi-formal but I don’t think they much minded our rowdiness, a place that stays open until two can’t help but understand a midnight crowd’s behavior. Not to mention we were running up a small fortune on the tab and Sid was at the table, so we could have started chucking our steaks at one another and no one would have said a damn thing.
Petr sat a ways down the long table from me, huddled together with Serge and Geno, laughing about something or other, ignoring my somewhat frequent glances. I was trying to focus on Kris’s story so that the jokes I made about it could be better, but the wine was creating a buzz that made it hard to do anything but smile stupidly at everyone, letting the overall feeling seep into me. I caught a lot of other guys doing the same, veering off from conversation and just smiling absentmindedly at the group. You’d have sworn the season was over and the cup was at the head of the table, we were such content bastards.
Aside from the mystery of why the team was so at ease, I couldn’t figure out where the feeling was coming from in me. My life was nothing to brag about. I lived alone, my points were a little low, I had nothing really important to speak of asides from what I had going on with Petr. Looking down the table to try and catch his eye for the hundredth time in the night, still failing, I gathered that must be what it was. Petr made me feel wanted, not needed. I wasn’t sure that I had ever felt that before, that I had ever felt sought after, like I was some sort of nightly conquest. It empowered me in a strange, paradoxical sort of way. I could have said no to every new encounter. I could have easily walked away, but I never did. Looking to each of the guys with my same smile on their faces, I wondered if their reasons were as twisted as my own, or if I had won that particular contest.
Of course, as soon as I convinced myself I had won Petr finally met my eyes across the table and grinned. I would have to settle for second.
We stayed until the lights were turned down even further and the waitresses stopped refilling our drinks and checking back with us, switching languages, stealing food from one another’s plates, exchanging rumors we had heard from our own grossly unreliable sources, just enjoying ourselves. Eventually we had to make our way to the parking lot, where the air was warm enough to stand around our cars in light jackets, laughing about whatever, continuing the conversations we had been having inside as guys slowly made their ways to their cars, reluctant to let the night end. In the end it was just the two of us, leaning against my car, staring at nothing in particular.
The air around me was still humming with anticipation and I wasn’t ready in the slightest to call it a night. I remembered the distinct feeling of going home after a high school hockey game, the sudden drop of energy leaving so much negative space around you, just wishing you had taken your friend up on his dare to go smash mailboxes rather than playing it responsible and heading home. I looked over to Petr and wondered if he felt the same way. When he noticed I was looking at him, I nodded towards the car. “Coming home with me?” I tried not to sound too hopeful.
He just smiled and walked to his car. “I’ll meet you there.
The ride home was quick and when I made it out of the car Petr was on me, hands pulling at my sides as I walked towards the door, trying to lean over my shoulder and get at my neck before I could even open the door. I tried to focus and get it open quickly, not knowing exactly what he was doing. Even if it was nearly 4 a.m, we were still just off Carson. Not exactly a safe place to start necking on a doorstep, let alone the one where every fan knew I lived. I got over it quickly once the door was shut behind us and I could turn around to meet his lips.
He hastily pushed into me, grinning into my mouth, laughing a little as he reached up to unbutton my shirt, still under my sports coat. I smiled back, our teeth awkwardly clashing together for a split second before he pressed back into my mouth. His taste and his smell had become so familiar, so comfortable, but on any given night his actions were still so unpredictable. I never knew what I could get away with. I moved to drive him against the wall by the staircase, and he let me, raising his leg slightly to push against my crotch. I ground back into it with an instinctive growl, followed by a laugh.
We fumbled up the stairs, growing more desperate to reach the bedroom. It was hard not to stumble as he forced me out of my sports coat, throwing it carelessly down the steps. I managed his off as well, tossing it in the same fashion but losing balance. He steadied me with his arms and smiled, grabbing my hand and pulling me up the last few steps, stopping at the top to get rid of my shirt, which fluttered through the air and settled somewhere mid-staircase.
We finally made it into the room, where he walked me backwards towards the bed until the back of my knees awkwardly hit the mattress edge, causing him to come crashing down on top of me, not letting the impact deter him for a minute as we scrambled backwards to get more comfortable. I managed to get his shirt off, and he all but ripped my undershirt to get rid of it. I didn’t have a chance to get at his, he tore it off over his own head and threw it across the room, looking down at me hungrily, hair all askew, with that grin I had come to love.
I laughed at him and used my strength to flip him over, something that I usually wouldn’t do, but he was being especially playful. He smirked and bit by shoulder, struggling to overtake me again. Of course he managed, half because of his own strength and half because I wanted him to anyway. He leaned down close to me, scratching the skin of my neck and chest with his stubble, his skin warm and his breath even warmer, our smiles fading into something else as he regained control.
He bowed his head down to meet my lips again, and I responded hungrily, the need to get closer to him growing more frantic. I reached down to undo his belt, which I figured he would be using on me soon anyway, but he pushed my hands away, grabbing them together at my wrists and pinning them over my head. Holding them down firmly with one hand, he continued to kiss me. He managed to undo my own belt with his free hand but couldn’t free me of my slacks without both, so he momentarily released me, but not without giving me a look that demanded I not move. He swiftly pulled my remaining clothes off and tossed them to the floor, followed shortly by his own.
He settled back on top of me, his skin unfamiliarly cold for just a moment before our bodies readjusted. He ran his hands along my sides in what seemed like admiration, looking at me with a strange smile before placing his hand back at my wrists and using the other to adjust himself before thrusting into me, my vision temporarily replaced by the blinding white mix of pain and pleasure I had come to recognize at the beginning of every encounter we had.
As I adjusted to his pace he ran his mouth along my skin, stopping to make the soft gasps and groans I was so familiar with, and to meet my eyes momentarily when I made those sounds myself. His free hand was snaked behind me, running along my lower back, pulling me closer to him as he kissed my chest and rhythmically moved against me.
After one particularly pronounced gasp he removed his hand from my wrists and instead placed it on my face, pulling me in as he breathed heavily into my mouth. Although not used to the gestures of closeness, I was grateful to have my own hands free to grasp onto him. We grabbed at one another helplessly, as though we couldn’t get quite as close as we wanted to be to one another, bodies slick with sweat and moving methodically to the sounds of our own labored breathing and grunting. I felt myself getting close to the edge and let him know by clawing into his back and raising my hips to meet him. He took the cue that he could let himself get closer, and we both threw ourselves into it, heading for the same finish.
I came first, the blinding light returning as I felt my whole body shiver and let out a low groan of effort. He quickly followed, collapsing onto my chest with a moan, ignoring the mess we had created and panting heavily, trying to catch his breath. He reached up to run a hand through my hair as we lay there in silence, and I recognized that this had been a first. A first at what I wasn’t sure, but it was nothing like what we had done before. I didn’t know what to feel about it.
Eventually shifting off of me, Peter laid his head on my chest and lightly kissed me, making me lazily squirm with ticklishness. He looked up at me and grinned, laughing quietly before saying “I love you.”
That was it. It had been the first time he didn’t just fuck me. I felt my cheeks get warm, making the rest of my body feel unfamiliarly cold under his skin. He shifted, his mouth pulling downwards at the corners slightly. I opened my mouth to say something, anything. Couldn’t. He made a noise, half sigh, half groan, and I just stared at him, trying to put all of the pieces together. Petr, the one who pinned me down, tied me up, made me beg. The one who never gave in, the one who fucked me without caring, did shameless things to me. He had not only made love to me, he was in love with me. My theory of being wanted and not needed was over. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.
“Don’t worry about it.” I couldn’t tell what he meant by it. My ears were ringing and I was getting annoyed with myself for being so flustered. It was just the last thing I saw coming. Maybe it shouldn’t have been. Obviously it shouldn’t have been. He moved away, lying next to me without touching me. I could tell that he was unusually still, but then again, so was I. After a few minutes, he just said “wow.” I didn’t know what that meant either. I made an effort to try and look over to him, but couldn’t force myself to look him in the eye. “This is really bothering you, huh?”
I waited for him to go on. He didn’t. I had to say something. “I don’t…” I stopped again, tried to think of something to say that would make him stop giving me that smile he had put on, that smile that just said ‘I knew this would happen’ or ‘Un-fucking-believable’ or something more complex that I didn’t understand. “I don’t understand.” That was all I could come up with. I deserved what came next.
He didn’t say anything back, just kept that smile on his face, sighed and shook his head before standing up and reaching for his boxers on the floor, quickly pulling them on and then scanning the room for his pants. I just watched. I couldn’t do anything. Didn’t know what I wanted to do. He had to walk next to me to grab his undershirt from the floor. When he stood back up he looked at me and raised his eyebrows for a second and then leaned down to kiss me. I watched him, not shutting my eyes as his fluttered shut. He lingered for a second, and I could feel him holding his breath. When he pulled away he walked towards the door. “I can’t be a part of this if you can’t understand what is going on, Max.”
I heard the door shut and his car engine start, but didn’t understand any of it. Eventually I decided I had to get up, had to take a shower so I could get his smell off of me, clear my head. Try to understand where things had gone beyond my grasp. How could he love me? How could I justify loving him?
The sudden quiet of the house made me feel something that I did understand. It started in my stomach and crawled up into my limbs as I could hear the hardwood creaking under my feet in the hallway. The feeling only got worse when I saw the dress shirts on the stairs, the blazers in the foyer, still lying where we had carelessly tossed them, before I knew everything was about to crash down like this. I knew at once he had done it on purpose. It was a static reminder of the moment I had let myself love him without worrying about it, before I had to admit it to myself. I wondered for a minute if he knew how hard that image would hit me, and then realized that of course he did. The people you love are the people who know how to hurt you the most.
So I decided not to love him.
Rating; Warnings: NC-17. Sssmmmuuuttt
Pairing: Max Talbot / Petr Sykora
Disclaimer: If this is true...I really don't even think I want a part in it.
Part three of four season themed chapters.
Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer
Comments: Thanks to nofaves , dedicated to more_unknown, blahblahblah. Enjoy.
Maybe we were overreacting by celebrating a win as generally unimportant as this one. Our points offered us security enough to not have to worry about falling too hard in the rankings if we messed up, settling us in around fourth or fifth seed depending on the night. After that the point difference was dramatic and the last few spots were a dogfight of teams we were used to being a part of, not watching. It wasn’t even a division win, and I knew we were taking away some much needed points from the Leafs. Rumor was that Toskala was being shopped around and we certainly didn’t help his cause any, even if he was hung up to dry by his defensemen.
Point is, there was no reason to be as happy as we were. Maybe for once everyone’s lives were going right beyond the ice and it all just clicked together, making us think that a five game streak was the best thing to ever happen in the world. Maybe we were just happy to be coasting for once, not having to rip our fans’ hearts out with every loss, making them wonder if we would have another mid-season bounce back. Being consistent was a nice change. We all spent more time together on off days. We laughed more in the locker room. And on this particular night, we went out after the game to celebrate; not in our usual places with our usual cliques, but all of us together.
It was dimly lit and semi-formal but I don’t think they much minded our rowdiness, a place that stays open until two can’t help but understand a midnight crowd’s behavior. Not to mention we were running up a small fortune on the tab and Sid was at the table, so we could have started chucking our steaks at one another and no one would have said a damn thing.
Petr sat a ways down the long table from me, huddled together with Serge and Geno, laughing about something or other, ignoring my somewhat frequent glances. I was trying to focus on Kris’s story so that the jokes I made about it could be better, but the wine was creating a buzz that made it hard to do anything but smile stupidly at everyone, letting the overall feeling seep into me. I caught a lot of other guys doing the same, veering off from conversation and just smiling absentmindedly at the group. You’d have sworn the season was over and the cup was at the head of the table, we were such content bastards.
Aside from the mystery of why the team was so at ease, I couldn’t figure out where the feeling was coming from in me. My life was nothing to brag about. I lived alone, my points were a little low, I had nothing really important to speak of asides from what I had going on with Petr. Looking down the table to try and catch his eye for the hundredth time in the night, still failing, I gathered that must be what it was. Petr made me feel wanted, not needed. I wasn’t sure that I had ever felt that before, that I had ever felt sought after, like I was some sort of nightly conquest. It empowered me in a strange, paradoxical sort of way. I could have said no to every new encounter. I could have easily walked away, but I never did. Looking to each of the guys with my same smile on their faces, I wondered if their reasons were as twisted as my own, or if I had won that particular contest.
Of course, as soon as I convinced myself I had won Petr finally met my eyes across the table and grinned. I would have to settle for second.
We stayed until the lights were turned down even further and the waitresses stopped refilling our drinks and checking back with us, switching languages, stealing food from one another’s plates, exchanging rumors we had heard from our own grossly unreliable sources, just enjoying ourselves. Eventually we had to make our way to the parking lot, where the air was warm enough to stand around our cars in light jackets, laughing about whatever, continuing the conversations we had been having inside as guys slowly made their ways to their cars, reluctant to let the night end. In the end it was just the two of us, leaning against my car, staring at nothing in particular.
The air around me was still humming with anticipation and I wasn’t ready in the slightest to call it a night. I remembered the distinct feeling of going home after a high school hockey game, the sudden drop of energy leaving so much negative space around you, just wishing you had taken your friend up on his dare to go smash mailboxes rather than playing it responsible and heading home. I looked over to Petr and wondered if he felt the same way. When he noticed I was looking at him, I nodded towards the car. “Coming home with me?” I tried not to sound too hopeful.
He just smiled and walked to his car. “I’ll meet you there.
The ride home was quick and when I made it out of the car Petr was on me, hands pulling at my sides as I walked towards the door, trying to lean over my shoulder and get at my neck before I could even open the door. I tried to focus and get it open quickly, not knowing exactly what he was doing. Even if it was nearly 4 a.m, we were still just off Carson. Not exactly a safe place to start necking on a doorstep, let alone the one where every fan knew I lived. I got over it quickly once the door was shut behind us and I could turn around to meet his lips.
He hastily pushed into me, grinning into my mouth, laughing a little as he reached up to unbutton my shirt, still under my sports coat. I smiled back, our teeth awkwardly clashing together for a split second before he pressed back into my mouth. His taste and his smell had become so familiar, so comfortable, but on any given night his actions were still so unpredictable. I never knew what I could get away with. I moved to drive him against the wall by the staircase, and he let me, raising his leg slightly to push against my crotch. I ground back into it with an instinctive growl, followed by a laugh.
We fumbled up the stairs, growing more desperate to reach the bedroom. It was hard not to stumble as he forced me out of my sports coat, throwing it carelessly down the steps. I managed his off as well, tossing it in the same fashion but losing balance. He steadied me with his arms and smiled, grabbing my hand and pulling me up the last few steps, stopping at the top to get rid of my shirt, which fluttered through the air and settled somewhere mid-staircase.
We finally made it into the room, where he walked me backwards towards the bed until the back of my knees awkwardly hit the mattress edge, causing him to come crashing down on top of me, not letting the impact deter him for a minute as we scrambled backwards to get more comfortable. I managed to get his shirt off, and he all but ripped my undershirt to get rid of it. I didn’t have a chance to get at his, he tore it off over his own head and threw it across the room, looking down at me hungrily, hair all askew, with that grin I had come to love.
I laughed at him and used my strength to flip him over, something that I usually wouldn’t do, but he was being especially playful. He smirked and bit by shoulder, struggling to overtake me again. Of course he managed, half because of his own strength and half because I wanted him to anyway. He leaned down close to me, scratching the skin of my neck and chest with his stubble, his skin warm and his breath even warmer, our smiles fading into something else as he regained control.
He bowed his head down to meet my lips again, and I responded hungrily, the need to get closer to him growing more frantic. I reached down to undo his belt, which I figured he would be using on me soon anyway, but he pushed my hands away, grabbing them together at my wrists and pinning them over my head. Holding them down firmly with one hand, he continued to kiss me. He managed to undo my own belt with his free hand but couldn’t free me of my slacks without both, so he momentarily released me, but not without giving me a look that demanded I not move. He swiftly pulled my remaining clothes off and tossed them to the floor, followed shortly by his own.
He settled back on top of me, his skin unfamiliarly cold for just a moment before our bodies readjusted. He ran his hands along my sides in what seemed like admiration, looking at me with a strange smile before placing his hand back at my wrists and using the other to adjust himself before thrusting into me, my vision temporarily replaced by the blinding white mix of pain and pleasure I had come to recognize at the beginning of every encounter we had.
As I adjusted to his pace he ran his mouth along my skin, stopping to make the soft gasps and groans I was so familiar with, and to meet my eyes momentarily when I made those sounds myself. His free hand was snaked behind me, running along my lower back, pulling me closer to him as he kissed my chest and rhythmically moved against me.
After one particularly pronounced gasp he removed his hand from my wrists and instead placed it on my face, pulling me in as he breathed heavily into my mouth. Although not used to the gestures of closeness, I was grateful to have my own hands free to grasp onto him. We grabbed at one another helplessly, as though we couldn’t get quite as close as we wanted to be to one another, bodies slick with sweat and moving methodically to the sounds of our own labored breathing and grunting. I felt myself getting close to the edge and let him know by clawing into his back and raising my hips to meet him. He took the cue that he could let himself get closer, and we both threw ourselves into it, heading for the same finish.
I came first, the blinding light returning as I felt my whole body shiver and let out a low groan of effort. He quickly followed, collapsing onto my chest with a moan, ignoring the mess we had created and panting heavily, trying to catch his breath. He reached up to run a hand through my hair as we lay there in silence, and I recognized that this had been a first. A first at what I wasn’t sure, but it was nothing like what we had done before. I didn’t know what to feel about it.
Eventually shifting off of me, Peter laid his head on my chest and lightly kissed me, making me lazily squirm with ticklishness. He looked up at me and grinned, laughing quietly before saying “I love you.”
That was it. It had been the first time he didn’t just fuck me. I felt my cheeks get warm, making the rest of my body feel unfamiliarly cold under his skin. He shifted, his mouth pulling downwards at the corners slightly. I opened my mouth to say something, anything. Couldn’t. He made a noise, half sigh, half groan, and I just stared at him, trying to put all of the pieces together. Petr, the one who pinned me down, tied me up, made me beg. The one who never gave in, the one who fucked me without caring, did shameless things to me. He had not only made love to me, he was in love with me. My theory of being wanted and not needed was over. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.
“Don’t worry about it.” I couldn’t tell what he meant by it. My ears were ringing and I was getting annoyed with myself for being so flustered. It was just the last thing I saw coming. Maybe it shouldn’t have been. Obviously it shouldn’t have been. He moved away, lying next to me without touching me. I could tell that he was unusually still, but then again, so was I. After a few minutes, he just said “wow.” I didn’t know what that meant either. I made an effort to try and look over to him, but couldn’t force myself to look him in the eye. “This is really bothering you, huh?”
I waited for him to go on. He didn’t. I had to say something. “I don’t…” I stopped again, tried to think of something to say that would make him stop giving me that smile he had put on, that smile that just said ‘I knew this would happen’ or ‘Un-fucking-believable’ or something more complex that I didn’t understand. “I don’t understand.” That was all I could come up with. I deserved what came next.
He didn’t say anything back, just kept that smile on his face, sighed and shook his head before standing up and reaching for his boxers on the floor, quickly pulling them on and then scanning the room for his pants. I just watched. I couldn’t do anything. Didn’t know what I wanted to do. He had to walk next to me to grab his undershirt from the floor. When he stood back up he looked at me and raised his eyebrows for a second and then leaned down to kiss me. I watched him, not shutting my eyes as his fluttered shut. He lingered for a second, and I could feel him holding his breath. When he pulled away he walked towards the door. “I can’t be a part of this if you can’t understand what is going on, Max.”
I heard the door shut and his car engine start, but didn’t understand any of it. Eventually I decided I had to get up, had to take a shower so I could get his smell off of me, clear my head. Try to understand where things had gone beyond my grasp. How could he love me? How could I justify loving him?
The sudden quiet of the house made me feel something that I did understand. It started in my stomach and crawled up into my limbs as I could hear the hardwood creaking under my feet in the hallway. The feeling only got worse when I saw the dress shirts on the stairs, the blazers in the foyer, still lying where we had carelessly tossed them, before I knew everything was about to crash down like this. I knew at once he had done it on purpose. It was a static reminder of the moment I had let myself love him without worrying about it, before I had to admit it to myself. I wondered for a minute if he knew how hard that image would hit me, and then realized that of course he did. The people you love are the people who know how to hurt you the most.
So I decided not to love him.