summer don't know me no more.
Title: Summer don't know me no more.
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 four of four season themed chapters.
Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer
Comments: Thanks to nofaves , dedicated to more_unknown, finally done. Wooo!
My summers never felt exactly right. The sudden absence of having to worry about hockey every day made me feel like my life lacked something substantial outside of the sport I loved. I would wake up in the morning and feel like I was grasping into nothingness to find what I should be thinking of. The huge blank spaces were just the lack of having to care about the most important thing in my life. Nothing had a damn thing to do with whatever part of me had escaped to the other side of the world for the summer. It had been like this before. I couldn’t assign him credit he didn’t deserve.
I went out. I got drunk. I took girls home some nights. It was exactly like it had been the summer before, except it wasn’t. Nothing felt right. No one felt right. I was thinking too much about what I was doing and any amount of trying harder was only going to hurt. I just had to let it happen.
My favorite place always attracted enough girls that knew who I was to make it easy. I just had to wait for the right one. A few times I considered trying to see if a guy would come home with me but I never had the nerve and I didn’t need a scandal finding its way to anyone who mattered. And I didn’t need any reminders of what I had gone through that season in those people I was fucking at random.
I don’t know why I thought hockey was what I was missing. I wasn’t losing any sleep over dropping out in the first round of playoffs; I just didn’t want some guy’s stubble reminding me of Petr’s skin against mine. I hadn’t paid attention to myself and the way I felt all year, I had just let everything happen like I would never be responsible for investing myself in it. I had become a different person without even noticing. I didn’t even know who the fuck I was.
It wasn’t any sort of special night when things changed. I went to the same club I always did, maybe a little early, and started working on getting rid of any inhibitions I might hang onto while sober. I was far gone enough to agree when a girl led me to dance. I was drunk enough to follow her outside. Drunk enough to invite her back to my place.
I normally didn’t invite anyone back to my place. It just wasn’t smart or safe, but I had mostly given up. I just needed something to distract me from my own head. Every time I breathed I could smell him on me still, like he had only left minutes ago. I still kept telling myself that it wasn’t a problem. It wasn’t a problem. Wasn’t a problem. The girl looked at me sideways while talking off her shirt. I must have said something out loud. “You okay?” I nodded, wishing she hadn’t spoken. I just tried to keep her quiet by keeping my mouth on hers.
After a while she reached her hands down and started trying to get my pants off. I knew immediately what she was thinking; a year ago I wouldn’t have. I was familiar with that slow, deliberate removal of my belt from all its loops. What, were they all in a fucking club or something? It was almost movement for movement. Less personal but reminiscent of what I remembered so well. When she looked down at me with a smile, I felt sick. “You wanna try-“
“Get the fuck out of my house.” I didn’t even have to stomach to listen to her finish. She looked blankly at me for a second, but started gathering her clothes when I started screaming about how serious I was. I might have called her some things I’d regret saying to a woman. I didn’t care. I couldn’t stand the sight of her, the thought of her, the reasons she was in my house and the things those reasons meant. She slammed the door behind her on the way out. I didn’t care in the slightest, just curled up in a ball and tried to go to sleep, my pants still on, belt buckle digging into my skin.
I had a meeting at Mellon Arena in the early afternoon the next day. I had forgotten to set an alarm and woke up late, grabbing the first suit I saw and throwing it on without showering. Looking in the bathroom mirror, I wanted to die. It was my best suit, a custom Valentino I had bought on impulse because I thought dropping two grand on one article of clothing was a great way to express my happiness for my contract renewal. An expensive suit is supposed to make you look good. Instead it was just managing to show me up. I was unshaven. My hair was dull and limp from not being washed. My eyes were bloodshot. I looked like a Wall Street businessman straight from a back alley after a three day coke binge. I headed out the door. I laughed at the sudden, fleeting thought that he would be there. Hilarious. It would take the worst luck in the world.
Staalsy was there near the office door, and laughed when he saw me. “Rough night?” I grinned and made a noise that answered nothing. It was enough for him. I glanced over towards the back wall of the hallway for whatever reason and realized who he had been talking to. I did a double take. Worst luck in the world. Petr saw straight through me. I had never been so shamed by the look on someone’s face, his smug smile letting me know exactly how funny he thought it was that I was so fucked up inside. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to give myself to him. I didn’t know what I wanted. I stared at my feet as I walked into the office.
I didn’t hear anything that was said in the meeting. For the twenty minutes I was there I heard nothing. I knew what it was, I had been in the same meeting before. My place on the team. The year’s expectations. Something about passion. Whatever. When I was done, I practically ran from the room, wanting to get to my car before he could get more than a glimpse of me looking like this again. I didn’t know what I wanted to say to him or what he wanted to say to me, but either way I wanted to at least look acceptable while it was happening.
He wasn’t in the hall when I walked out. He must have left at the same time that Jordan did, which was a relief. It concerned me that I couldn’t stand in the same room as him anymore. At the end of the season, after he left that night, we just acted as though nothing had ever happened. Day in and day out it was easier but over the summer, left alone to think about nothing but my own mistakes and my own misjudgments, I couldn’t even look him in the eye. How was I supposed to play on a team with him? How could I do anything but hide in the next room like to coward I was?
I walked out to my car and tried to just push it all out of my mind. I had already started the engine and was ready to back out when I noticed the paper under my windshield wiper. I got out of the car with a heavy feeling in my chest.
I’ll be over at eight. Take a fucking shower.
It was a wonder I didn’t die on the way back, as fast as I was going. I had plenty of time but still rushed, getting home, showering, getting dressed. When I sat down on my bed to take a minute to gather my thoughts, it was only 6:30. Somehow, even though I would have sworn that there was no way I was going to even relax in the next few hours, I woke up to my cell phone ringing, curled up on top of my comforter, not even remembering laying down. I reached over to answer it but got there too late, bringing it lazily to my face to try and read the time. 8:26. One missed call. Petr. The pounding on my door had already started.
I reluctantly got up and walked downstairs, opening the door to a bemused Petr. “Rough night?” He walked in past me and I shut the door, turning to look at him. He was already mocking me.
I nodded. “You know, nothing out of the usual. Picked up some girl, just anoth-“
“Stop.” He glared at me, and my mouth just hung open in mid sentence. I had wanted to get to him like he had gotten to me earlier in the day but I wasn’t talented enough to do it with just a look. He didn’t want to hear my attempts at getting even. “Don’t fuck around here, Max. This is important.” I nodded in agreement, the feelings all coming back to me. Submission, desire, control, and something else. Something else that I was much more afraid of than any of those other things.
He walked towards me, not giving even the slightest hesitation before placing a hand at the back of my neck and pulling me towards him, my eyes closing instinctively as I leaned into the kiss, the one I had recalled so many times in fear I’d never feel it again. I hadn’t had time to prepare for the last one and it had killed me daily, that I would forget that exact taste, that I wouldn’t remember if he preferred to claim my bottom lip or top, all because I hadn’t had the foresight to record every detail in my mind that last night. It was worry without cause; I had never forgotten a detail. But feeling his breath soft against my mouth, his tongue running against my lips, the tenderness and the commanding, it was all something I could never replay vividly enough even if I never let a single detail slip. It had to be real.
I sighed a breath of relief, half-moaning everything I had been carrying around with me out into his mouth. I felt everything I had built up breaking down as I moved to be closer to him, put my arms around him, pressed my body against him. But he firmly pulled my hands off, parting our lips and backing away to look at me from an oddly removed distance. I felt lost. Was this the last time? I hadn’t been prepared for it again, I would need another chance.
“Max, do you want this?” His voice grounded me. I realized that this wasn’t another goodbye, this was my chance to keep him. I felt myself nodding dumbly, nothing behind it. He rolled his eyes. “Not right now. I mean…do you want this for good. For as long as we can keep it good, at least.”
I felt that familiar wave of uncertainty crashing over me and couldn’t help but take a step back. Wrong move. He shook his head a little, smiled in a way that made me feel ashamed and shifted as though he were going to move, eyes already focused past me towards the door. “No, stop.” I tried not to let my voice crack and failed. “It just…it confuses me that you love me. I’m not sure why you do. ”
He shook his head firmly. “I just do. It doesn’t matter why.” He paused for a moment and watched me fidget uncomfortably. “Max, this summer was awful for me and I knew it was awful for you too, which only made it worse. I need to know if you’re in this or if you aren’t, for sure, for good. I’ve been waiting for you. I can’t wait for you anymore. This matters to me. More than anything has in a very long time.” He looked for my reaction and saw the stunned look on my face. He almost laughed. “You think that you aren’t worth it, but you are.”
That was what broke me. It wasn’t the words, so much, but the way he had said them; as though he believed them. And he was right, I didn’t feel worth it. I had never been told that I was, nor had I been given any reason to come to the conclusion myself, not with anyone. Hearing someone say it and mean it was so staggering. I stared at him, mouth agape for just a moment before lunging at him from across the room. Put both hands on the back of his head, twisted my fingers through his hair, pulled him towards me as our mouths came crashing together in the middle. He responded immediately, gripping me at the hips, pushing me back into the wall, knocking the wind from me ever so slightly. He moved one hand to my face, the rough pads of his fingers scratching my skin.
We eagerly pawed at one another, my hands traveling down his back, him grinding into my hips, his breath in hot gasps against my mouth. I parted just long enough to get out the words “I fucking love you, Petr.” He immediately pressed me into the wall with all his force and covered my mouth with his, unashamed in his passion as he ran his hands roughly down my sides before grabbing my hips firmly and pulling me towards him before turning me towards the staircase.
It was a repeat of our last night together, the hopeless scramble from stair to stair, only this time the going was even slower. Every time we made progress I was awkwardly on my back, his hand sliding up under my shirt, kissing me in desperation, sliding back down with no way to balance on the carpeted stairs. He lifted my t-shirt and my undershirt up over my head at once, throwing them over the railing, trying to get his hands and mouth on every inch of exposed skin as I could only grip the stair beneath me to keep from slipping. Eventually he gave up. He grabbed me around the forearm and jerked me upwards and I scrambled to gain balance and follow him the rest of the way up.
We didn’t even stop in the hallway, didn’t stop anywhere until he pushed me back onto the bed. He threw off his own shirt before crawling onto me, his skin warm against mine as his mouth found my skin again. I bit my lip to suppress surprised gasps, trying to remain the smallest bit composed as he rediscovered my most sensitive spots, their exact locations and reaction they would elicit. The things that had been forgotten because I was too afraid, allowing all of his maps of my body to be bleached away by the summer. The spot just below my ear, he reclaimed it. The grooves above my collar bone, his territory.
He reached down unbutton my jeans and I lifted my hips to help him slide them off. He did it slowly, less eagerly than I had thought he would. When I was finally naked he looked over me as though he were trying to remember something. He absentmindedly ran a hand up my side and then looked me in the eye and smiled. He lunged in to kiss me, now as eager as I expected him to be. He pressed his tongue into my mouth fervently as we worked together to free him of rest of his clothes.
He wrapped his arms behind me, pulling me close to him as we lay face to face, our bodies hot against one another. He wrapped one leg over my side, grinding into me and growling into our kiss, biting my lip maybe a little too hard. I responded by rocking my hips back into him, making myself gasp unexpectedly at the pressure. I wanted to move forward, I wanted more, I wanted to feel him inside of me. “Petr,” I barely got out as he pressed against me. He grinned and looked up a little, looking around the room. He frowned and propped himself up on one arm, straining to see the room. I was confused for a second, but then understood. “Tie, over there. On the floor.” The grin returned to his face as he rolled over to the edge of the bed, reaching down to grab my hundred dollar tie off of the floor from where I had thrown it earlier. Maybe it would end up being worth that much after all.
He swiftly bound my wrists above my head and I immediately remembered the feeling of powerlessness. More importantly, though, as he found his way on top of me and kissed at my throat, I remembered how much I trusted him. I closed my eyes and focused on the wetness of his mouth on chest, my shoulders, back to my lips. He held lightly at my hips as he settled between my legs, where he paused for too long, leaving me panting in anticipation. “Petr…please…”
He laughed in that way I hadn’t heard in too long, that deep chuckle dripping with power and, somehow, lust. “Max…you’re going to have to beg for it.”
I tried to press against him, but he stayed just far enough away. So I did what he asked. I pleaded with him, at first in English, and then when he began to trail his tongue down my chest, in whatever language I could reach at first, a mix of English and French words asking for one thing. I felt the vibrations of his laughter against my skin, and just when I thought I was going to break, he grabbed my hips more firmly and thrust into me. I screamed out, having forgot the exact feeling of him inside of me, and pressed back against him. He lowered himself to me, letting loose a sigh that told me he had missed it as much as I had.
We found a rhythm quickly and lost ourselves in it. I found myself making sounds I forgot I could, remembered the slight whimpering noise he made into my ear when he had forgot himself. At some point he found my lips again, kissing me briefly between thrusts and gasps to catch his breath. I was helpless but to let him do what he pleased, and everything he did was exactly what I wanted. His hands gripped against my waist, and I knew that I would have to hide the bruises in the preseason practice the next week. I realized, however, that by then I would have plenty more bruises to explain.
I tried to find his mouth between my panting, tried to be closer to him. I could tell by the heat building in my stomach that I didn’t have much longer, couldn’t hang onto that rhythm without coming sooner rather than later. Between our heavy breathing and increasingly loud groaning, Petr whispered “I love you” just after our lips had parted in a hurried kiss.
I wasn’t sure if he had even meant to say it, or if he had just been thinking it and it came out inadvertently in the moment. I didn’t care, didn’t hesitate to respond “I love you” back. That seemed to be the final encouragement he needed as his thrusts became faster and he let out a deep moan and raked his fingernails down my sides, more marks I could worry about later. I came before he did, quivering through my orgasm as he continued to rock against me, whispering a few words in what must have been Czech before crying out my name and collapsing onto me, gasping heavily.
We laid there for a few moments, trying to regain our breath. Eventually he looked up and kissed me lightly on the lips before rolling off to the side of me and stretching out tiredly. I looked over at him and smiled stupidly, too happy to do anything else. I loved him. And for once I loved someone for all of the right reasons. The trust, the respect, the way they made me feel. I wanted him and I needed him. Maybe it didn’t have to be one or the other. “I’m in it for good.” I said, just wanting to say something positive.
He nodded and grinned lazily. “I know. I’m in it for good too.” He leaned over and kissed me again. I looked up at my wrists and then to him, waiting for him to let me go so I could hold him as we drifted off like the perfect couple we were. He laughed at me and shook his head. “I’m not fucking done with you here, Max. We’re not done until I say we are.”
Right. Well, perfect to me at least.
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 four of four season themed chapters.
Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer
Comments: Thanks to nofaves , dedicated to more_unknown, finally done. Wooo!
My summers never felt exactly right. The sudden absence of having to worry about hockey every day made me feel like my life lacked something substantial outside of the sport I loved. I would wake up in the morning and feel like I was grasping into nothingness to find what I should be thinking of. The huge blank spaces were just the lack of having to care about the most important thing in my life. Nothing had a damn thing to do with whatever part of me had escaped to the other side of the world for the summer. It had been like this before. I couldn’t assign him credit he didn’t deserve.
I went out. I got drunk. I took girls home some nights. It was exactly like it had been the summer before, except it wasn’t. Nothing felt right. No one felt right. I was thinking too much about what I was doing and any amount of trying harder was only going to hurt. I just had to let it happen.
My favorite place always attracted enough girls that knew who I was to make it easy. I just had to wait for the right one. A few times I considered trying to see if a guy would come home with me but I never had the nerve and I didn’t need a scandal finding its way to anyone who mattered. And I didn’t need any reminders of what I had gone through that season in those people I was fucking at random.
I don’t know why I thought hockey was what I was missing. I wasn’t losing any sleep over dropping out in the first round of playoffs; I just didn’t want some guy’s stubble reminding me of Petr’s skin against mine. I hadn’t paid attention to myself and the way I felt all year, I had just let everything happen like I would never be responsible for investing myself in it. I had become a different person without even noticing. I didn’t even know who the fuck I was.
It wasn’t any sort of special night when things changed. I went to the same club I always did, maybe a little early, and started working on getting rid of any inhibitions I might hang onto while sober. I was far gone enough to agree when a girl led me to dance. I was drunk enough to follow her outside. Drunk enough to invite her back to my place.
I normally didn’t invite anyone back to my place. It just wasn’t smart or safe, but I had mostly given up. I just needed something to distract me from my own head. Every time I breathed I could smell him on me still, like he had only left minutes ago. I still kept telling myself that it wasn’t a problem. It wasn’t a problem. Wasn’t a problem. The girl looked at me sideways while talking off her shirt. I must have said something out loud. “You okay?” I nodded, wishing she hadn’t spoken. I just tried to keep her quiet by keeping my mouth on hers.
After a while she reached her hands down and started trying to get my pants off. I knew immediately what she was thinking; a year ago I wouldn’t have. I was familiar with that slow, deliberate removal of my belt from all its loops. What, were they all in a fucking club or something? It was almost movement for movement. Less personal but reminiscent of what I remembered so well. When she looked down at me with a smile, I felt sick. “You wanna try-“
“Get the fuck out of my house.” I didn’t even have to stomach to listen to her finish. She looked blankly at me for a second, but started gathering her clothes when I started screaming about how serious I was. I might have called her some things I’d regret saying to a woman. I didn’t care. I couldn’t stand the sight of her, the thought of her, the reasons she was in my house and the things those reasons meant. She slammed the door behind her on the way out. I didn’t care in the slightest, just curled up in a ball and tried to go to sleep, my pants still on, belt buckle digging into my skin.
I had a meeting at Mellon Arena in the early afternoon the next day. I had forgotten to set an alarm and woke up late, grabbing the first suit I saw and throwing it on without showering. Looking in the bathroom mirror, I wanted to die. It was my best suit, a custom Valentino I had bought on impulse because I thought dropping two grand on one article of clothing was a great way to express my happiness for my contract renewal. An expensive suit is supposed to make you look good. Instead it was just managing to show me up. I was unshaven. My hair was dull and limp from not being washed. My eyes were bloodshot. I looked like a Wall Street businessman straight from a back alley after a three day coke binge. I headed out the door. I laughed at the sudden, fleeting thought that he would be there. Hilarious. It would take the worst luck in the world.
Staalsy was there near the office door, and laughed when he saw me. “Rough night?” I grinned and made a noise that answered nothing. It was enough for him. I glanced over towards the back wall of the hallway for whatever reason and realized who he had been talking to. I did a double take. Worst luck in the world. Petr saw straight through me. I had never been so shamed by the look on someone’s face, his smug smile letting me know exactly how funny he thought it was that I was so fucked up inside. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to give myself to him. I didn’t know what I wanted. I stared at my feet as I walked into the office.
I didn’t hear anything that was said in the meeting. For the twenty minutes I was there I heard nothing. I knew what it was, I had been in the same meeting before. My place on the team. The year’s expectations. Something about passion. Whatever. When I was done, I practically ran from the room, wanting to get to my car before he could get more than a glimpse of me looking like this again. I didn’t know what I wanted to say to him or what he wanted to say to me, but either way I wanted to at least look acceptable while it was happening.
He wasn’t in the hall when I walked out. He must have left at the same time that Jordan did, which was a relief. It concerned me that I couldn’t stand in the same room as him anymore. At the end of the season, after he left that night, we just acted as though nothing had ever happened. Day in and day out it was easier but over the summer, left alone to think about nothing but my own mistakes and my own misjudgments, I couldn’t even look him in the eye. How was I supposed to play on a team with him? How could I do anything but hide in the next room like to coward I was?
I walked out to my car and tried to just push it all out of my mind. I had already started the engine and was ready to back out when I noticed the paper under my windshield wiper. I got out of the car with a heavy feeling in my chest.
I’ll be over at eight. Take a fucking shower.
It was a wonder I didn’t die on the way back, as fast as I was going. I had plenty of time but still rushed, getting home, showering, getting dressed. When I sat down on my bed to take a minute to gather my thoughts, it was only 6:30. Somehow, even though I would have sworn that there was no way I was going to even relax in the next few hours, I woke up to my cell phone ringing, curled up on top of my comforter, not even remembering laying down. I reached over to answer it but got there too late, bringing it lazily to my face to try and read the time. 8:26. One missed call. Petr. The pounding on my door had already started.
I reluctantly got up and walked downstairs, opening the door to a bemused Petr. “Rough night?” He walked in past me and I shut the door, turning to look at him. He was already mocking me.
I nodded. “You know, nothing out of the usual. Picked up some girl, just anoth-“
“Stop.” He glared at me, and my mouth just hung open in mid sentence. I had wanted to get to him like he had gotten to me earlier in the day but I wasn’t talented enough to do it with just a look. He didn’t want to hear my attempts at getting even. “Don’t fuck around here, Max. This is important.” I nodded in agreement, the feelings all coming back to me. Submission, desire, control, and something else. Something else that I was much more afraid of than any of those other things.
He walked towards me, not giving even the slightest hesitation before placing a hand at the back of my neck and pulling me towards him, my eyes closing instinctively as I leaned into the kiss, the one I had recalled so many times in fear I’d never feel it again. I hadn’t had time to prepare for the last one and it had killed me daily, that I would forget that exact taste, that I wouldn’t remember if he preferred to claim my bottom lip or top, all because I hadn’t had the foresight to record every detail in my mind that last night. It was worry without cause; I had never forgotten a detail. But feeling his breath soft against my mouth, his tongue running against my lips, the tenderness and the commanding, it was all something I could never replay vividly enough even if I never let a single detail slip. It had to be real.
I sighed a breath of relief, half-moaning everything I had been carrying around with me out into his mouth. I felt everything I had built up breaking down as I moved to be closer to him, put my arms around him, pressed my body against him. But he firmly pulled my hands off, parting our lips and backing away to look at me from an oddly removed distance. I felt lost. Was this the last time? I hadn’t been prepared for it again, I would need another chance.
“Max, do you want this?” His voice grounded me. I realized that this wasn’t another goodbye, this was my chance to keep him. I felt myself nodding dumbly, nothing behind it. He rolled his eyes. “Not right now. I mean…do you want this for good. For as long as we can keep it good, at least.”
I felt that familiar wave of uncertainty crashing over me and couldn’t help but take a step back. Wrong move. He shook his head a little, smiled in a way that made me feel ashamed and shifted as though he were going to move, eyes already focused past me towards the door. “No, stop.” I tried not to let my voice crack and failed. “It just…it confuses me that you love me. I’m not sure why you do. ”
He shook his head firmly. “I just do. It doesn’t matter why.” He paused for a moment and watched me fidget uncomfortably. “Max, this summer was awful for me and I knew it was awful for you too, which only made it worse. I need to know if you’re in this or if you aren’t, for sure, for good. I’ve been waiting for you. I can’t wait for you anymore. This matters to me. More than anything has in a very long time.” He looked for my reaction and saw the stunned look on my face. He almost laughed. “You think that you aren’t worth it, but you are.”
That was what broke me. It wasn’t the words, so much, but the way he had said them; as though he believed them. And he was right, I didn’t feel worth it. I had never been told that I was, nor had I been given any reason to come to the conclusion myself, not with anyone. Hearing someone say it and mean it was so staggering. I stared at him, mouth agape for just a moment before lunging at him from across the room. Put both hands on the back of his head, twisted my fingers through his hair, pulled him towards me as our mouths came crashing together in the middle. He responded immediately, gripping me at the hips, pushing me back into the wall, knocking the wind from me ever so slightly. He moved one hand to my face, the rough pads of his fingers scratching my skin.
We eagerly pawed at one another, my hands traveling down his back, him grinding into my hips, his breath in hot gasps against my mouth. I parted just long enough to get out the words “I fucking love you, Petr.” He immediately pressed me into the wall with all his force and covered my mouth with his, unashamed in his passion as he ran his hands roughly down my sides before grabbing my hips firmly and pulling me towards him before turning me towards the staircase.
It was a repeat of our last night together, the hopeless scramble from stair to stair, only this time the going was even slower. Every time we made progress I was awkwardly on my back, his hand sliding up under my shirt, kissing me in desperation, sliding back down with no way to balance on the carpeted stairs. He lifted my t-shirt and my undershirt up over my head at once, throwing them over the railing, trying to get his hands and mouth on every inch of exposed skin as I could only grip the stair beneath me to keep from slipping. Eventually he gave up. He grabbed me around the forearm and jerked me upwards and I scrambled to gain balance and follow him the rest of the way up.
We didn’t even stop in the hallway, didn’t stop anywhere until he pushed me back onto the bed. He threw off his own shirt before crawling onto me, his skin warm against mine as his mouth found my skin again. I bit my lip to suppress surprised gasps, trying to remain the smallest bit composed as he rediscovered my most sensitive spots, their exact locations and reaction they would elicit. The things that had been forgotten because I was too afraid, allowing all of his maps of my body to be bleached away by the summer. The spot just below my ear, he reclaimed it. The grooves above my collar bone, his territory.
He reached down unbutton my jeans and I lifted my hips to help him slide them off. He did it slowly, less eagerly than I had thought he would. When I was finally naked he looked over me as though he were trying to remember something. He absentmindedly ran a hand up my side and then looked me in the eye and smiled. He lunged in to kiss me, now as eager as I expected him to be. He pressed his tongue into my mouth fervently as we worked together to free him of rest of his clothes.
He wrapped his arms behind me, pulling me close to him as we lay face to face, our bodies hot against one another. He wrapped one leg over my side, grinding into me and growling into our kiss, biting my lip maybe a little too hard. I responded by rocking my hips back into him, making myself gasp unexpectedly at the pressure. I wanted to move forward, I wanted more, I wanted to feel him inside of me. “Petr,” I barely got out as he pressed against me. He grinned and looked up a little, looking around the room. He frowned and propped himself up on one arm, straining to see the room. I was confused for a second, but then understood. “Tie, over there. On the floor.” The grin returned to his face as he rolled over to the edge of the bed, reaching down to grab my hundred dollar tie off of the floor from where I had thrown it earlier. Maybe it would end up being worth that much after all.
He swiftly bound my wrists above my head and I immediately remembered the feeling of powerlessness. More importantly, though, as he found his way on top of me and kissed at my throat, I remembered how much I trusted him. I closed my eyes and focused on the wetness of his mouth on chest, my shoulders, back to my lips. He held lightly at my hips as he settled between my legs, where he paused for too long, leaving me panting in anticipation. “Petr…please…”
He laughed in that way I hadn’t heard in too long, that deep chuckle dripping with power and, somehow, lust. “Max…you’re going to have to beg for it.”
I tried to press against him, but he stayed just far enough away. So I did what he asked. I pleaded with him, at first in English, and then when he began to trail his tongue down my chest, in whatever language I could reach at first, a mix of English and French words asking for one thing. I felt the vibrations of his laughter against my skin, and just when I thought I was going to break, he grabbed my hips more firmly and thrust into me. I screamed out, having forgot the exact feeling of him inside of me, and pressed back against him. He lowered himself to me, letting loose a sigh that told me he had missed it as much as I had.
We found a rhythm quickly and lost ourselves in it. I found myself making sounds I forgot I could, remembered the slight whimpering noise he made into my ear when he had forgot himself. At some point he found my lips again, kissing me briefly between thrusts and gasps to catch his breath. I was helpless but to let him do what he pleased, and everything he did was exactly what I wanted. His hands gripped against my waist, and I knew that I would have to hide the bruises in the preseason practice the next week. I realized, however, that by then I would have plenty more bruises to explain.
I tried to find his mouth between my panting, tried to be closer to him. I could tell by the heat building in my stomach that I didn’t have much longer, couldn’t hang onto that rhythm without coming sooner rather than later. Between our heavy breathing and increasingly loud groaning, Petr whispered “I love you” just after our lips had parted in a hurried kiss.
I wasn’t sure if he had even meant to say it, or if he had just been thinking it and it came out inadvertently in the moment. I didn’t care, didn’t hesitate to respond “I love you” back. That seemed to be the final encouragement he needed as his thrusts became faster and he let out a deep moan and raked his fingernails down my sides, more marks I could worry about later. I came before he did, quivering through my orgasm as he continued to rock against me, whispering a few words in what must have been Czech before crying out my name and collapsing onto me, gasping heavily.
We laid there for a few moments, trying to regain our breath. Eventually he looked up and kissed me lightly on the lips before rolling off to the side of me and stretching out tiredly. I looked over at him and smiled stupidly, too happy to do anything else. I loved him. And for once I loved someone for all of the right reasons. The trust, the respect, the way they made me feel. I wanted him and I needed him. Maybe it didn’t have to be one or the other. “I’m in it for good.” I said, just wanting to say something positive.
He nodded and grinned lazily. “I know. I’m in it for good too.” He leaned over and kissed me again. I looked up at my wrists and then to him, waiting for him to let me go so I could hold him as we drifted off like the perfect couple we were. He laughed at me and shook his head. “I’m not fucking done with you here, Max. We’re not done until I say we are.”
Right. Well, perfect to me at least.