11/??: MEANING - Dennis Wideman/Marc Savard

[holdeverysong.livejournal.com]

Title: Meaning
Author: geekintehpink 
Pairing/Characters: Marc Savard / Dennis Wideman.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Woo for porn...
Summary: Dennis and Marc making off-season plans.
Word Count: 1,905
Author's Notes: Thanks to honeybee718  and ovielove  for being awesome and pre-reading it for me, as usual. XD
Disclaimer: Don't own, didn't happen, don't sue. Kthxbai.

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten |

 

His eyes wander over the brochure, then up to yours like you have two heads. “So, let me get this straight, Denny...” he runs a hand through his hair and opens the page. “We just got through a rough, cold winter in Boston, and the weather here is starting to clear up...get warm. There are so many things we could do that can happen in the warm. Like golf. Swimming at beaches. Camping...and you want me to go to northern Sweden with you...into the snow...to go skiing? Explain this logic...”

“I don't ski...” you say with a small smirk on your face.

His eyebrow immediately goes up in curiosity. “Wait...but this mountain is famous for ski slopes...so why go there if you don't ski?” he asks you, and you realize, right then, how new he really is to this whole 'just the two of us' relationship thing. And that 'skiing' trips probably weren't in the repertoire of his old relationships. If you could call them that.

You chuckle. “Well, PJ offered up his cabin. I don't intend to go skiing, Marc. The cabin is about eight miles away from the ski slopes, in the woods...” you tell him with a grin. What you have planned...doesn't involve coats and hats and ski pants. It involves blankets and pillows and fireplaces. And no clothes at all. “And it would be...just us two. Alone...”

His other eyebrow joins the first, cocked in intrigue. “Oh...” he says with a slight laugh. “So, basically, we aren't going to ski?” he asks, his grin growing as you shake your head, telling him wordlessly that no, you're not going to ski. He nods in acceptance of your idea, reaching up and taking your hands in his and starting to walk backward to your bedroom, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door when he gets there. Well there. Looks like you're getting an early start on that vacation. Or at least one part of it.

You look at him as he leans forward, preparing to press his lips to yours. But you stop him. “Wait. Where is this coming from, huh? I didn't offer up the vacation in exchange for sex or anything...” you say with a small shrug. You didn't. You want to be with him. For the whole offseason, because then it won't seem so long. And you can worry together about the idea that, maybe, Chiarelli won't extend you a qualifying offer. You know, though, that you will accept anything, just to stay with him.

Shaking his head, he smiles at you. “No, I know. I just...kind of want to kick off the offseason in the right way. And what better way than to treat it like any other day?” he asks you with a smile. “We spent the whole rest of the year so far entangled together in one way or another, whether it be conversation or the bed. So...the way I see it...why should this be any—”

You don't let him get any other words out, because you know how Marc's brain can kind of ramble when he starts in on a subject. With a smile, you press your lips to his, cutting him off and backing him even farther into the room. You smile when you pull apart from the kiss, locking eyes with him. “Well, in my mind, there's nowhere better to be than entangled with you, whether it be in conversation or the bed...” you tell him with a grin, then press your lips to his again. Backing him all the way to the bed, you feel resistance from his legs hitting the foot of the mattress, and then you both go tumbling down onto the soft bed the both of you kicking your shoes off as soon as you hit.

Laying there, still kissing with all the fire of the first time your lips ever touched, you take turns removing one another's shirts, tossing the unwanted fabric to the floor so that now, your chests brushed. And his chest is readily available to your hungry palms and fingertips. It feels so amazing—and even that is an understatement. Every time with Marc feels like the first time all over again, and it makes you realize that the whole 'perfect love' thing does exist.

Moving your body down along his, you put your fingers hastily on the buttons to his jeans, opening it, as well as the zipper. You feel, beneath your hands, that he's ready, willing and able to do this, and you smirk a bit as you pull the heavy fabric from his skin, over his socked feet. Taking a second to remove those as well, you bite your lip. One more thing and he's all yours. And even though you've been here a million times before, unwrapping him still feels like you're unwrapping a gift. Like it should be done with care and precision or else he'll break. You're almost sure that it'll always feel like that. At least you hope. You crawl up his body to remove his boxers, but he stops you.

“You're still too dressed...” he growls, looking down at your jeans...and the tent that's pitched in the crotch area. “I think it's time to fix that...” he says, grabbing your shoulders and steering you down to the bed. And although he's smaller than you are, you don't even get the slightest indication of that fact now, because he has the capability to wrestle you to the bed effortlessly. Mostly because you don't fight him on it.

You feel his fingers brushing against a very, very sensitive part of your abdomen and you shiver a bit, the shaking sensation increasing about tenfold when he leans down and takes one of your nipples between is lips, lavishing it with his tongue's warm, wet attention. An unsteady groan escapes your lips and you're arching your back into the contact like the two of you have never done this before, and that reiterates the fact that, with him, every time feels like the first time.

His fingers move like a science over to the button and zipper of your jeans, mimicking the actions you had taken mere seconds ago and removing them slowly, making them join the increasingly large pile of clothes on the floor. Your socks quickly find their way there, too, and there the two of you are, boxer clad...and both equally hard. You grin at him and grab him around the waist, pulling him down to lock lips with you. He presses his hips to yours and you let out a shaky groan as your erections brush, leaving you with nothing but a slow, unsteady breath when it's finished.

You wrestle him (though you can't call it wrestling, since he just lets you do it, really) to his back, not once breaking the kiss. His arm shoots out to the bedside table, though he's still kissing you, and he fumbles around a bit, his hand hitting the on button on the alarm-clock-CD-player and turning it on, and when you hear Britney Spears' voice filling the room, you chuckle into the kiss. He does, too, all the while fighting the drawer open and producing a tube of lubricant and a condom. He puts them beside him on the bed, and you finally break the kiss, only to move down his body, sliding his boxers off and pulling yours off as well. “Love you, Marc...” you tell him softly.

“Love you, too...” he says as he looks up at you, grabbing the condom and lube from beside him and opening the package. You wonder what he's doing, but you watch as he sits up, rolling it over your throbbing erection and squeezing some lubricant onto his palm, lubricating the rubber. “Fuck me, Dennis, please...”

Your body shakes at the sound of that word, and you nod, watching as he lays back down. You raise his hips from the bed and lock eyes with him, pressing against him and fully intending to take your time. But you can't—only because he doesn't give you the chance. He sinks down onto you, and you cry out at the feeling, your head dropping back and your eyes closing as you push into him all the way, until you're completely buried. You fit together like a glove on a hand, and you notice that he can tell it too, because when you open your eyes again, you see that he's pressed flush against you, trying to deepen the contact just a little more—though there's no farther to go.

Reaching to grasp his cock, you start to grind against him and stroke him off in opposing time, watching the pleasured look come to his face. God that look was enough to drive you the best type of crazy. You remove your hand and stretch his legs a bit so you can kiss him, and when you push forward, your chest brushes his cock. And...it looks like that sensation is new to him, because you don't think you've ever heard those noises coming from him before. Something of a moaning cry, and it's bringing you even closer to the brink.

He gasps, and you know that gasp as the sound he gives when you've found his prostate. You continue to try and hit that angle and listen to the cries he exudes, feeling your muscles tighten a bit. So fucking close. He gives off the cry of your name, that you know as the cry just before he comes, and you feel your chest and stomach coated with his release, which brings you the necessary push, and you're exploding with a cry of his name as well, then collapse into a heap on top of him. Laying there in the afterglow, you stare into his eyes and smile a little, your head on his shoulder as his legs leave your shoulders and his feet find the bed.

Pulling back slowly, your body wrought with a shudder at the aftershocks, you roll off of him. You smirk as you pull the condom off, tie it and toss it into the garbage bin beside the bed, grabbing some tissues and handing them to him. You take a couple for yourself too, and smirk as you clean your stomach and chest off, watching him do the same. “Gotta say...I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to high altitude sex...they say the thinner air enhances everything...”

“Enhanced? This...enhanced? God, I don't know if my body will be able to take it...” he chuckles as he leans over you and tosses the tissues into the garbage, pressing his lips to yours on the way back. Once his head hits the pillow again, he curls into you and pulls the blankets over your naked bodies, and you assume that it's time for your post-coital nap. Not that you're complaining.

“Love you, Marc...” you tell him again.

“Love you, too, Denny...” he replies, his voice sleepy and his eyes closed.

Also, as you look over at him like this, you realize that maybe this is what happiness means. And you can definitely deal with it. Ilya Kovalchuk, eat your heart out...you think with a smirk as you close your eyes and lean against the pillow a little more comfortably.

Hail to the light, that my baby's watches me.
In the darkness of the window,
I can hardly get to sleep.
Wish for the hour, that the night time soon shall pass.
And the morning dew will bring us,
to a day our souls can last.

Comments

[ovielove.livejournal.com]

Woo for porn indeed!

Guh...and did I mention guh??

Okay, so here's what I love about them - they're just so sweet and romantic even in the throes of, er, being together ;) It's lovely.

YUMMY. :P (Oh, and did I mention GUH?)

[holdeverysong.livejournal.com]

I believe you thought it was guh.

Thanks, dear. ILY. ♥

[honeybee718.livejournal.com]

I can't believe you've already written eleven of these!

As usual though, it was adorable and hot at the same time. How do you do that? It's not easy XD

I really love these two though :) And you of course. ♥

[holdeverysong.livejournal.com]

I must admit, I never thought I'd live to see the day that GlenandMarc weren't my OTP. But these guys just...mesh.

Thanks, my dear. I honestly don't know how I do that. Just happens.

ILY moar. ♥

[kaatiya.livejournal.com]

All this Thrasher-bashing has got to go! Come on! Ilya loves him some Savvy. Marc voluntarily left Atlanta!! ;-)

Now that I've defended Ilya's honor ... One small nit-picking critique:

"...looking forward to high altitude sex...they say the thicker air enhances everything..."
...the air is thinner at high altitudes, not thicker.

I like the sweetness between the two. It's always tough to find a balance. These are guys after all, but I think you do it nicely. So not too sweet is good.

*Had to edit. Typing this on a BlackBerry=typos galore!*

[holdeverysong.livejournal.com]

Hee...somehow I knew you'd comment on the Ilya thing. I know Savvy voluntarily left, but the way I see it...there are reasons and yeah...I haven't gotten into it yet but there's a lot of summer left to be had and a lot of time for their issues to come into the open...*tents fingers*

And yes. D'oh I knew that. Seeing as how I used to live in higher altitudes. *blushes and goes to edit*

Thanks very much. That's a huge compliment, by the way. And I'm very glad to hear that you liked it.

[capshockeygrl.livejournal.com]

This was very nice to wake up to this morning. :)

I can't wait to find out what happens over their summer!!

[holdeverysong.livejournal.com]

Thank you! XD

I'm looking forward to writing it too! =)

[offside.livejournal.com]

I agree with kaatiya; I really like the sweetness between them. I think it balances out nicely because it's not like OMG THEY'RE 15 YEAR OLD GIRLS OMOGOMGOG !!111

Sigh. The offseason really is too long :(

[holdeverysong.livejournal.com]

Thanks! They are boys after all. XD

It really is. =( I miss them already.

[slaveforbenji.livejournal.com]

*falls over and a loud THUD is heard*

I uh....... no words, brain scrambled.


HAWT!!!!!