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2minsforslashingTitle: Say
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
geekintehpink
Fandom: NHL > Boston Bruins
Characters: Glen Murray/Marc Savard, mentions of past Marc Savard/Ilya Kovalchuk
Word Count: 1,676
Rating: NC17
Take out of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so called problems
Better put them in quotations
Say what you need to say
Walkin like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you’d be better off instead
If you could only say what you need to say
I felt his hand on my arm, and I looked up at him sadly. I could tell that he saw right through me. I had tried to tell both he and myself that I was okay. Tried to convince him that the fact that Ilya had punched me in the face for really no reason, and that the fans who used to love everything that I was and everything that they thought I would be...booed me every single time I touched the puck were both okay. That they weren't making me want to explode into a mess of tears on my bed as we sat together, after the loss to New Jersey. Yeah, it was a day later, and I was still focused on it. I stared at the newspaper from the previous day, that I'd bought in the airport in Atlanta, and frowned. Calling me the play prior to the altercation between Ilya and myself 'stupid on my behalf' and 'the reason why I hadn't been resigned.' And what Ilya had said...I don't think I had ever expected it from him. 'You know you're expendable to him, right? He'll only leave you. Just like Samantha did. Just like I did. No one will ever love you, Savard.'
When I told Glen that, I think he looked like he was going to explode. I'd only ever seen him that mad on the ice before, but it only lasted a second, before he put his arms around me and told me that, no, he was never going anywhere and Ilya Kovalchuk was a monumental idiot for ever letting me go. But that he was thankful for it, because he was never giving me up. And that he loved me. And that, no, I wasn't even close to being expendable to him. Reminding me that if he lost me, he didn't feel like he would want to go on. And finishing by telling me once more that Ilya Kovalchuk was an idiot, and that he would make it his own personal mission to break the Russian bastard's nose the next time we played them. And, though it was very catty of me, I couldn't help but smile at that concept. I did as a good lover should and told him that it wasn't necessary. But when he insisted, I sort of caved and told him to go ahead.
But, God. It was still eating at me. Had been all through the game against the Devils, to be honest. I could usually separate my personal life from my career, but God, there was this piece of my mind, even after I scored and Glen nearly lifted me from the ice, that was doubting. Not doubting us. Never would I doubt us. The would could be caving in around me, there could be nothing left and I would still believe in us. But, I was doubting me. Doubting that I was good for Glen. Doubting that I actually did as much good for him as he always told me I did. He loved me, yes. And God, I was grateful for that. Wouldn't trade it for all the money in the world, which, I guess, was the remnants of my selfishness that Glen had all but destroyed rearing it's ugly head once again. But at the same time, I wished that I could be better. I wished that I could be worthy of the love that Glen Murray endlessly showered me with.
I sat on my bed, the TV on in the background (mostly for some background noise—I wasn't even really sure what was on there, really), but that newspaper article in front of me, when I felt the bed shift behind me and Glen's arms snaking their way around my waist. “Are you still looking at that?” he asked me with a sad, concerned look on his face as he caught sight of the picture of Ilya and I having an altercation in black and white newsprint. I turned and looked at him, to see the frown spreading across his face and his eyebrows furrowing in a mix of what I figured to be concern and frustration. “Marc. Listen,” he whispered, nodding for me to move back toward the headboard of the bed with him. I did what I was told, looking at him and wondering exactly what it was he had in mind to say, or do, or whatever. What I did know, though, was that whatever he said, I would do. “What he said to you? What they said about you? None of it is true.”
I sighed and glanced at the window. “I don't know...” I said, feeling Glen's hand on my face, steering me back in his direction. I didn't want to look at him as I said this, but...he wanted me to, so...I would suck it up. For him. I looked into his eyes and bit my lip. “If I'm so...good, so right for you,” I paused to take in a breath, not realizing how close to tears I had been. I didn't want to explode into tears in front of him, only because, no, he didn't deserve that. So, I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down at my hands again. “I mean...why do I feel like I'm bringing you down? You're...lying to Katie for me, you're lying to your kids for me...you're...promising me things that you don't know will ever come true...and...God...I just...I want to be better. I want to be...”
“Stop...” he said, putting his hand on my cheek and putting his forehead against mine. “Just stop. See, this is why you need me...and why I need you...” he whispered to me, running a hand over my barely-growing-hair (which I vowed to him to grow back, because he already missed it). “I need you because, well, for starters, I love you. But also because you have this way of making me feel like I'm...an important person. Like I...am better than I actually am. It feels nice to feel loved like that...” he whispered. “And...you need me because the world has a way of making you feel like you're not as good as you actually are. Like you're a bad person. And, God that kills me...” he pulled me to him, like I was a kid. I had to admit, it was a nice feeling, being cradled, loved and cared for. “You're not a bad person, Marc. I wish I could make you see that. You're not 'expendable' or whatever Ilya said. You're not. If I lost you? I wouldn't want to be.”
I didn't need anymore words. I simply leaned down and pressed my lips to his, showing my gratitude in a way other than words. “Did you know...without you, I really wouldn't be able to find the motivation to get out of bed every day, Glen...I swear, you brought me out of whatever it was preventing me from being what I should be...I'm never giving you up. Ever...for anything...” I said, and it was all I had a chance to say before I felt my head being tugged down and his lips covering mine. “I don't ever want to remember how it feels to be without you...ever, Glen...” I whispered in his ear, as we maneuvered to the all-too-familiar position of making love while looking into one another's eyes. I put his legs over mine, removing both his pajama pants and my own, then reached over to my bedside table for the container of lubricant.
After the few seconds of anticipation and lubing myself up, I slid gently into him and tried as hard as I could not to make too much noise. “You feel so amazing...” I whispered, reaching my hands down to bring him off in rhythm with my motions. God, it was amazing how just being around Glen alone for a short amount of time could totally change my mood. Feeling the warmth of him surrounding me was like a drug. It filled my veins and made me want to cry with the pleasure it sent through me. As my movements got more heated, more jerky and less fluent, Glen's hands joined my own on his cock and he began to guide me along. I gasped for air and my eyes locked on his, watching as he began to pant, too. That, in itself, was almost enough to bring me off. And, with a few more gentle thrusts, that is exactly what it did. I felt it all release in a final cry of Glen's name, and within a couple more seconds, heard him cry out my own name and felt the warmth of his release coating my hands.
Gently extracting myself from him and crawling back up the short distance to the headboard of my bed, I collapsed to the bed next to him, the smile finally finding it's way back. When my breath finally came back, I glanced over at him. And when I thought I would be the first one to speak, I wasn't. It was him. “Marc, I want you to promise me something...”
Truth be told, I was willing to promise him absolutely anything. He deserved the moon. He deserved—God, so much more than I could give him. “Anything. Anything you need, Glen, I'll promise it...”
“I want you to promise me that you won't let Ilya's words bother you...” I told him. “I love you, and no matter what anyone tells me, I always will...” he whispered, not realizing, I don't think, exactly how much reassurance that gave me. I trusted his word, and the fact that he said that right then...it had the desired effect. It made Ilya's words seem...less important.
“I promise, Glen...” I said softly. And for the first time in a long time, I made a promise that I was almost sure I could keep.
Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for getting older
You better know that in the end its better to say to much
Than to never to say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
Why? Say what you need to say
Authors:
geekintehpinkFandom: NHL > Boston Bruins
Characters: Glen Murray/Marc Savard, mentions of past Marc Savard/Ilya Kovalchuk
Word Count: 1,676
Rating: NC17
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so called problems
Better put them in quotations
Say what you need to say
Walkin like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you’d be better off instead
If you could only say what you need to say
I felt his hand on my arm, and I looked up at him sadly. I could tell that he saw right through me. I had tried to tell both he and myself that I was okay. Tried to convince him that the fact that Ilya had punched me in the face for really no reason, and that the fans who used to love everything that I was and everything that they thought I would be...booed me every single time I touched the puck were both okay. That they weren't making me want to explode into a mess of tears on my bed as we sat together, after the loss to New Jersey. Yeah, it was a day later, and I was still focused on it. I stared at the newspaper from the previous day, that I'd bought in the airport in Atlanta, and frowned. Calling me the play prior to the altercation between Ilya and myself 'stupid on my behalf' and 'the reason why I hadn't been resigned.' And what Ilya had said...I don't think I had ever expected it from him. 'You know you're expendable to him, right? He'll only leave you. Just like Samantha did. Just like I did. No one will ever love you, Savard.'
When I told Glen that, I think he looked like he was going to explode. I'd only ever seen him that mad on the ice before, but it only lasted a second, before he put his arms around me and told me that, no, he was never going anywhere and Ilya Kovalchuk was a monumental idiot for ever letting me go. But that he was thankful for it, because he was never giving me up. And that he loved me. And that, no, I wasn't even close to being expendable to him. Reminding me that if he lost me, he didn't feel like he would want to go on. And finishing by telling me once more that Ilya Kovalchuk was an idiot, and that he would make it his own personal mission to break the Russian bastard's nose the next time we played them. And, though it was very catty of me, I couldn't help but smile at that concept. I did as a good lover should and told him that it wasn't necessary. But when he insisted, I sort of caved and told him to go ahead.
But, God. It was still eating at me. Had been all through the game against the Devils, to be honest. I could usually separate my personal life from my career, but God, there was this piece of my mind, even after I scored and Glen nearly lifted me from the ice, that was doubting. Not doubting us. Never would I doubt us. The would could be caving in around me, there could be nothing left and I would still believe in us. But, I was doubting me. Doubting that I was good for Glen. Doubting that I actually did as much good for him as he always told me I did. He loved me, yes. And God, I was grateful for that. Wouldn't trade it for all the money in the world, which, I guess, was the remnants of my selfishness that Glen had all but destroyed rearing it's ugly head once again. But at the same time, I wished that I could be better. I wished that I could be worthy of the love that Glen Murray endlessly showered me with.
I sat on my bed, the TV on in the background (mostly for some background noise—I wasn't even really sure what was on there, really), but that newspaper article in front of me, when I felt the bed shift behind me and Glen's arms snaking their way around my waist. “Are you still looking at that?” he asked me with a sad, concerned look on his face as he caught sight of the picture of Ilya and I having an altercation in black and white newsprint. I turned and looked at him, to see the frown spreading across his face and his eyebrows furrowing in a mix of what I figured to be concern and frustration. “Marc. Listen,” he whispered, nodding for me to move back toward the headboard of the bed with him. I did what I was told, looking at him and wondering exactly what it was he had in mind to say, or do, or whatever. What I did know, though, was that whatever he said, I would do. “What he said to you? What they said about you? None of it is true.”
I sighed and glanced at the window. “I don't know...” I said, feeling Glen's hand on my face, steering me back in his direction. I didn't want to look at him as I said this, but...he wanted me to, so...I would suck it up. For him. I looked into his eyes and bit my lip. “If I'm so...good, so right for you,” I paused to take in a breath, not realizing how close to tears I had been. I didn't want to explode into tears in front of him, only because, no, he didn't deserve that. So, I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down at my hands again. “I mean...why do I feel like I'm bringing you down? You're...lying to Katie for me, you're lying to your kids for me...you're...promising me things that you don't know will ever come true...and...God...I just...I want to be better. I want to be...”
“Stop...” he said, putting his hand on my cheek and putting his forehead against mine. “Just stop. See, this is why you need me...and why I need you...” he whispered to me, running a hand over my barely-growing-hair (which I vowed to him to grow back, because he already missed it). “I need you because, well, for starters, I love you. But also because you have this way of making me feel like I'm...an important person. Like I...am better than I actually am. It feels nice to feel loved like that...” he whispered. “And...you need me because the world has a way of making you feel like you're not as good as you actually are. Like you're a bad person. And, God that kills me...” he pulled me to him, like I was a kid. I had to admit, it was a nice feeling, being cradled, loved and cared for. “You're not a bad person, Marc. I wish I could make you see that. You're not 'expendable' or whatever Ilya said. You're not. If I lost you? I wouldn't want to be.”
I didn't need anymore words. I simply leaned down and pressed my lips to his, showing my gratitude in a way other than words. “Did you know...without you, I really wouldn't be able to find the motivation to get out of bed every day, Glen...I swear, you brought me out of whatever it was preventing me from being what I should be...I'm never giving you up. Ever...for anything...” I said, and it was all I had a chance to say before I felt my head being tugged down and his lips covering mine. “I don't ever want to remember how it feels to be without you...ever, Glen...” I whispered in his ear, as we maneuvered to the all-too-familiar position of making love while looking into one another's eyes. I put his legs over mine, removing both his pajama pants and my own, then reached over to my bedside table for the container of lubricant.
After the few seconds of anticipation and lubing myself up, I slid gently into him and tried as hard as I could not to make too much noise. “You feel so amazing...” I whispered, reaching my hands down to bring him off in rhythm with my motions. God, it was amazing how just being around Glen alone for a short amount of time could totally change my mood. Feeling the warmth of him surrounding me was like a drug. It filled my veins and made me want to cry with the pleasure it sent through me. As my movements got more heated, more jerky and less fluent, Glen's hands joined my own on his cock and he began to guide me along. I gasped for air and my eyes locked on his, watching as he began to pant, too. That, in itself, was almost enough to bring me off. And, with a few more gentle thrusts, that is exactly what it did. I felt it all release in a final cry of Glen's name, and within a couple more seconds, heard him cry out my own name and felt the warmth of his release coating my hands.
Gently extracting myself from him and crawling back up the short distance to the headboard of my bed, I collapsed to the bed next to him, the smile finally finding it's way back. When my breath finally came back, I glanced over at him. And when I thought I would be the first one to speak, I wasn't. It was him. “Marc, I want you to promise me something...”
Truth be told, I was willing to promise him absolutely anything. He deserved the moon. He deserved—God, so much more than I could give him. “Anything. Anything you need, Glen, I'll promise it...”
“I want you to promise me that you won't let Ilya's words bother you...” I told him. “I love you, and no matter what anyone tells me, I always will...” he whispered, not realizing, I don't think, exactly how much reassurance that gave me. I trusted his word, and the fact that he said that right then...it had the desired effect. It made Ilya's words seem...less important.
“I promise, Glen...” I said softly. And for the first time in a long time, I made a promise that I was almost sure I could keep.
Have no fear for getting older
You better know that in the end its better to say to much
Than to never to say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
Why? Say what you need to say
lyrics by John Mayer
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Date: 2007-12-15 08:48 pm (UTC)LOVE IT!
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Date: 2007-12-15 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-15 08:55 pm (UTC)....<33333
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Date: 2007-12-15 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-15 09:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-15 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-16 04:21 pm (UTC)I cannot type. :( It's too early and your writing makes me incoherent. So I give you <3
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Date: 2007-12-16 06:56 pm (UTC)Aw, thank you, as always. ♥
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Date: 2008-05-12 10:10 am (UTC)