(no subject)

[honeybee718.livejournal.com]

Title: Untitled (Cause I can’t think of one :P)
Characters: Sidney Crosby/Colby Armstrong
Word Count: 2492
Rating: NC-17, slash and a little swearing
Disclaimer: I don’t own these players, nor do I know their sexual preferences. The whole thing is a work of my imagination, my sick and twisted imagination ;)
Author’s Notes: I was listening to this song, and I think it’s too cute for words so I decided I just had to incorporate it into a fic somehow. The song being A Walk Through Hell by Say Anything, I highly recommend listening to it.

[edit] I wrote this like a month and a half ago, but never bothered posting it. So here we go ^.^

And if I could swim, I'd swim out to you in the ocean,
Swim out to where you were floating in the dark.
And if I was blessed, I'd walk on the water you're breathing,
To lend you some air for that heaving, sunken chest.

I looked across the room at him, head down, suffering silently as he always did after a loss. He was way too hard on himself, acting like every time we lost it was all his fault. His expectations were too high. I wished that sometimes he’d just let it go, but it wasn’t in his nature. He was in his own little world right now, where he punished himself and vowed to work harder next time. Tomorrow he’d be the first one at practice and the last one off the ice, pushing himself to ridiculous limits.

I walked over and sat on the dressing room bench beside him placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. “You played like a superstar tonight, but you can’t win a game on your own Sid. This is a team sport and we win and lose as a team.” He shrugged off my hand, choosing his silent brooding instead of allowing me to lift him out of his depression.

If I could I would take away the hurt he was feeling, even if it meant taking it on myself. I hated seeing him like this above anything. No matter what, next game I’m going to score a goal just for him and make damn sure we win that game. If I could but show him a fraction of the assistance he gives me, then maybe we could pull it together. It’s an honour to play beside him. But above all else, I’d do anything for him. I wish he knew that.

'Cause they chose you as the model for their empty little dreams,
With your new head and your legs spread like a filthy magazine.
And they hunt you, and they gut you, and you give in.

I walked by the press room, pausing as I saw him sitting behind the microphone. They were throwing questions at him left, right and centre and it was all he could do to get diplomatic answers out for all of them. The saviour of hockey wasn’t allowed to make mistakes in press conferences. He doesn’t want to be here, I can tell. He’s their poster boy and though he smiles for the camera, the smile fades after the flash.

They never ask me questions, but I wish they would if only to give him a break from all the media attention. He’s tired of it already, but he puts on a good game face. I want to yell at the reporters for putting him on the spot like they do, trying to make him uncomfortable, trying to make him say something he shouldn’t. The drama sells more papers, and it’s all they can do to catch him in some kind of scandal.

He flashes me a small smile as he sees me in the doorway, but the moment is quickly gone as he is bombarded with more questions and his face returns to its solemn expression. Responsibility weighs heavily on his young shoulders and it shows in his tired face. To them he’s just the next big thing, but they’ll toss him aside as soon as someone younger and better comes along. They don’t care about him. To me, he’s more. He’s special and I need him to know that.

And if I was brave, I'd climb up to you on the mountain,
They led you to drink from their fountain spouting lies.
And I'd slay the horrible beast they commissioned
To steer me away from my mission to your eyes.

The minute he hit the ice, I was already in motion to get to his side. Who cares if we were in the middle of a line change? That bastard hit him and he’s going to pay. I don’t usually fight, but if anyone messes with Sid they mess with me. Who cares if he’s twice my size? My stick and gloves are abandoned at centre ice behind me, as I skate up behind him. He’s standing over Sidney, almost in triumph. I can’t believe his fucking nerve! I’ll change that quickly though as I pull him into a head lock, the bigger man struggling under my arm. Sidney struggles to his feet, dizzy after the cross-check from behind into the end boards.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch him again! Got it?” I end each word with a punch to his upper body to let the meaning sink in further. He finally struggles loose and grabs on to the front of my jersey as we dance in circles, glaring angrily at one another. The referees hovering close by to break us up when we get tired. But I won’t tire, I need to teach this fucker a lesson. As I look over to see if Sid’s okay, he takes the opportunity to let his fist collide with my cheekbone, catching me off guard. The only glimpse I get of Sid is one of the trainer’s back as he bends over him, hauling him to his feet.

I slump against his arm after the hit, but my hold on his jersey is firm and I remain on my feet. He’s laughing at me now and it’s making me madder. He looks over at Sidney, now on his way slowly over to the bench with the assistance of the trainer, bent over with his arms on his legs, “Oh come on, I didn’t break him…yet. Then again I thought your girlfriend could take a bigger hit then that. He’s always acting so tough, but I guess there’s nothing to back that up after all, just a lot of talk.”

And I'd stand there, like a soldier, with my foot upon his chest,
With my grin spread, and my arms out, in my bloodstained Sunday's best,
And you'd hold me; I'd remind you who you are under their shell.

Teeth gritted I extend my arm into a right hook, feeling his chin connect with my knuckles. He seems dazed by the hit as though he wasn’t expecting me to be this much trouble, “Don’t talk about what you don’t know. He’s twice the man you’ll ever be!”

“Well what I do know is that next time I’m not going to miss…” he sneers up at me, but that’s going to be the last thing he does. Rage taking over, I deliver an uppercut to that laughing face of his, silencing him immediately. Followed quickly by a jab to the nose, he dodges but not fast enough and my fist collides with his cheek instead splitting it open. I take the opportunity of his imbalance to haul him down to the ice, continuing to punch every inch of him as long as I can before the refs haul me off of him.

As they lead me off to the penalty box I take a glance at the bench to see them stitching up a nasty cut above Sidney’s left eyebrow where the boards clipped him. He smiles gratefully to me from under the trainer’s arm and I return the smile. I get a five minute fighting major, but it’s all worth it. I’d sit the whole game out if it meant protecting Sid.

I'd walk through hell for you, let it burn right through my shoes
These soles are useless without you
Through hell for you, let the torturing ensue;
My soul is useless without you...

Outside the locker room, he catches my arm and grabbing my hands leads me quickly up to one of the suites which lays dark and abandoned after the game. The cut above his eyebrow is swollen and red, it’s angry looking but the trainers in Pittsburgh are good and it won’t leave any lasting mark to his beautiful face. He runs a callused thumb over the giant purple bruise that’s already appearing over my cheek bone, a small cut just above the bone. I wince, even at his gentle touch, and he leans forward and kisses it gently. His lips though rough from tonight’s game, seem softer to me than anything else.

“Better?”

“Always.”

And if they send a whirlwind, I'd hug it like a harmless little tree.
Or an earthquake, I'd calm it, and I'd bring you back to me.
And I'd hold you in my weak arms like a first born.

I moved in closer to him, longing for our bodies to be touching as much as possible. Our hips connecting, as my lips caressed his, trying desperately to remove any pain he might have after tonight’s game. He melts into my touch, as he always does, needing someone to take care of him in his weakened state. I love being that person. He’s a born leader on and off the ice, but at the end of the day he just wants someone to hold him. I know him better than he thinks.

My hands untucks his shirt from his pants, leaving one hand splayed on his stomach while the other works on unbuttoning his shirt. His skin is hot under my palm, soft and clean after his shower. I continue to nurse his injuries with my mouth, now soothing the tense muscles in his neck. He moans softly resting his forehead on my shoulder as I run my hand slowly up his chest, savouring each sensation, loving the fact that it’s with me that he unwinds.

As I let his shirt slide off his broad shoulders and on to the floor he begins working on me, first loosening my tie and tossing it to the side before beginning to unbutton my shirt. Kissing every inch of my skin as it becomes visible with each movement of his hands. The air from the arena is cool on my skin, which is getting increasingly hotter under his lips (oh those lips) as they make their way down my torso, all over me. He straightens up as my shirt is discarded and we resume our kissing, simultaneously undoing each other’s pants. Not needing to look down, just working on touch with nimble hands, and not wanting to let our lips part from one another.

I had no problem giving him everything that I have, because it was all for him anyways. We’re both naked now, and I run my hands over the defined muscles of his abdomen and chest. His front teeth dig into his plump bottom lip, as he grins down at my hands. He captures one of them mid-way through its descent and brings it up to his mouth, laying an open mouthed kiss on my palm, letting his tongue taste my skin. The contrast of its soft, warm surface against my hand, callused from my stick, makes me groan.

His mouth takes one of my fingers into his mouth, and then he slowly pulls it back out again, letting the underside of my finger graze down the centre of his tongue. That devilishly charming smile back in place, he moves my hand down, directing me to exactly what he wants. I lean down planting warm kisses on his neck, as I let my finger push into his entrance. He moans arching his back, pushing his chest into me and relaxing his muscles in that fabulous ass of his. As I feel the tension subside, I add another one and then another one. Stretching him out sufficiently for me, I pull a condom out of the back pocket of my pants on the floor, glad that it was lubricated seeing as we didn’t have any with us.

I'd walk through hell for you, let it burn right through my shoes,
These soles are useless without you
Through hell for you, let the torturing ensue;
My soul is useless without you...

Sid pulls it from my hands and rips the package open with his teeth, keeping eye contact the whole time as he slowly rolls it onto my hardening cock. I let out an mmm of pleasure at the contact of his hands on my member even through the latex. He grins turning around and placing his palms against the wall, sticking his butt out tauntingly. I walk up behind him, wrapping one arm around his chest and using my other hand to guide myself into him gently. I let out a groan of pleasure as I slide into him, he’s so tight, unlike any other guy I’ve fucked.

I see him bite down on his lip again, suppressing a cry of ecstasy and that just makes me want him all the more. I let my other hand come around his side slowly, running down his hip and thigh and then sliding slowly back up to his own erection. He let’s one of his hands come down on top of my hand, helping me get him off as I thrust into him from behind, letting my tongue lick his jaw line.

We were close now, both of us, it only took a couple more thrusts for me to fill the condom inside of him. I squeezed my hand firmly on his cock in my orgasm and felt his juices all over my hand soon after. I leaned against him, panting heavily and hugging him close to me. After recovering some of my breath, I pulled out of him, and threw the condom in the trash. Spotting a chair I go over and collapse into it letting my head fall back onto the chair, completely exhausted after the game and our post-game workout. He came over and sat on my lap, leaning back into me and resting his head in the crook where my neck meets my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him, sighing happily as he intertwined his fingers in mine.

“So are you going to beat up every guy that touches me?”

“If I have to. Besides,” I squeezed him tightly, “no one’s allowed to touch you but me.”

“Is that so?” he nuzzled his head further into my shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Damn straight.” I leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the forehead, “Well we better go. Mario’s going to be wondering where you’ve got to. We don’t want to worry him.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He got up and I groaned at the loss of body contact and heat. He grinned over at me as he pulled his boxers back on, throwing mine at me.

He looked over at me, lust filling those gorgeous brown eyes once more, “What would you say if I called Mario and told him I wasn’t coming home tonight?”

“I’d say that I’m ready for round two if you are…”

Now I've walked through hell for you.
What's an adventurer to do,
But rest these feet at home with you?