Bienvenue à l'équipe
Apr. 21st, 2005 02:26 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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2minsforslashingTITLE: Bienvenue à l'équipe
AUTHOR: Jazzy
CHARACTERS: Martin Brodeur & Rick Nash + More WC Surprises
WORD COUNT: 833 Words
RATING: I have never written anything less than NC-17, why start now?
DISCLAIMER: Not real but IT SHOULD BE!
SUMMARY: Martin Brodeur gives Rick Nash a special welcome to Team Canada
Rick wandered into the practice rink, his bag thrown carelessly over his shoulder. The weight of it tugged his body to one side as he shifted it up higher on to his arm.
"Hello?" he called out loudly. His voice echoed through the dark, desolate rink and bounced off the ice, like a puck that hadn’t been frozen. Everything was fresh and new, untouched as if it had been sitting idly thorough the lockout, waiting for him.
He slowly strolled past the boards, trailing his fingertips over the glass, letting them drag leisurely over the well scuffed surface. He loved the grooves from the scratches and the cool glass against his skin. He just wanted to take it all in, the emptiness making him full again.
He suddenly felt himself trip over something causing him to bounce lightly, but regaining his balance and he reshifted the bag over his shoulder. His eyes drifted down to the goalie pad at his feet, which looked to be thrown hastily. His heart pounded in his chest nervously as he suddenly realized he wasn’t alone.
"Hey, you know, some of us are trying to get ready here," he heard a vaguely familiar voice call out to him. He whipped his head towards the sound and noticed Martin Brodeur sitting with a pair of skates between his feet. He leaned forward casually, as he rested his elbows on his knees, a bright smile slid across his face. Obviously, Martin was thoroughly amused at the fear he seemed to inject into the young hockey player.
"New here, petit?" Martin quizzed Rick as he continued to smile at him.
Rick sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and began to chew on it nervously. He could only muster up a small nod as he watched Martin get up, almost sluggish and make his way towards him. Rick drew in a sharp breath as Martin stopped inches from him but merely grinned as he leaned down to gather up the rest of his gear.
"I, um, I’m sorry." Rick mumbled, his voice timid.
"For what?" Martin pondered as he set his gear to the side but didn’t step away. He enjoyed the closeness of the youth in front of him.
"I didn’t know anyone was here. I can... I can go," he stammered in response and turned quickly on his heels, when he felt a hand grasp the back of his waistband, wrenching him back. He wanted to escape, to disappear into the darkness of the nearly empty rink but the cold hand against his skin, froze him.
Martin kissed the back his neck slowly, breathing warmly, the fog of his breath encircling Rick’s head. Rick’s eyes blinked closed, overtaken with the searing sensation against his skin. Martin didn’t need to turn him around. His arms wrapped hastily around Rick's waist. He pulled him back and started grinding his hips into Rick’s ass as Martin worked open his pants. Rick steadied himself against the icy boards, his palms flat against the glass, almost clawing at them as he yearned to have the goalie inside of him.
Rick’s pants came off in one swift motion. They puddled at his ankles and trapped his feet as they became tangled up in the fabric. He panted breathlessly, tense as he listened to the familiar sound of a belt opening behind him. He didn’t turn his head to watch, keeping his eyes squeezed shut as the sounds of fabric shifting and Martin’s hands wandered aimlessly over his skin. They caressed his hips and fingernails scraped across his skin and dug into him fiercely. Martin’s touch distracted Rick momentarily from the feel of his cock ferociously being forced into his ass. Rick cried out first in pain at the intrusion and in total pleasure, trying desperately to muffle the sound as it filled the rink.
Martin continued to pound into him, causing the boards to shake beneath Rick. Rick shivered lightly as he felt Martin take his cock into his hand and began to stroke him. They worked together, their bodies one steady rhythm as Martin continued to drill into him, his balls slamming hard against Rick’s ass. The sound of the skin slapping against each other, created an almost musical sound that as they both screamed out in unison, they didn’t hear the applause behind them.
"I hope I get a welcome like that," Dan Boyle exclaimed from across the room, still applauding. Rick panted breathlessly as the goalie slid away from him, flustered as he tried desperately to pull on his clothes. He tripped over himself and fell backwards into the bench, overtaken by Martin. Martin wiped Rick’s sweat and his own cum from himself. He drew his hand across the glass, frosted with steam as he tried unsuccessfully to clean it off, choosing instead to trace his tongue over his fingers.
"Alright," he smiled slyly; his tongue slid absentmindedly between the seam of his lips as he licked them predatorily, "You’re next, petit..."
AUTHOR: Jazzy
CHARACTERS: Martin Brodeur & Rick Nash + More WC Surprises
WORD COUNT: 833 Words
RATING: I have never written anything less than NC-17, why start now?
DISCLAIMER: Not real but IT SHOULD BE!
SUMMARY: Martin Brodeur gives Rick Nash a special welcome to Team Canada
Rick wandered into the practice rink, his bag thrown carelessly over his shoulder. The weight of it tugged his body to one side as he shifted it up higher on to his arm.
"Hello?" he called out loudly. His voice echoed through the dark, desolate rink and bounced off the ice, like a puck that hadn’t been frozen. Everything was fresh and new, untouched as if it had been sitting idly thorough the lockout, waiting for him.
He slowly strolled past the boards, trailing his fingertips over the glass, letting them drag leisurely over the well scuffed surface. He loved the grooves from the scratches and the cool glass against his skin. He just wanted to take it all in, the emptiness making him full again.
He suddenly felt himself trip over something causing him to bounce lightly, but regaining his balance and he reshifted the bag over his shoulder. His eyes drifted down to the goalie pad at his feet, which looked to be thrown hastily. His heart pounded in his chest nervously as he suddenly realized he wasn’t alone.
"Hey, you know, some of us are trying to get ready here," he heard a vaguely familiar voice call out to him. He whipped his head towards the sound and noticed Martin Brodeur sitting with a pair of skates between his feet. He leaned forward casually, as he rested his elbows on his knees, a bright smile slid across his face. Obviously, Martin was thoroughly amused at the fear he seemed to inject into the young hockey player.
"New here, petit?" Martin quizzed Rick as he continued to smile at him.
Rick sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and began to chew on it nervously. He could only muster up a small nod as he watched Martin get up, almost sluggish and make his way towards him. Rick drew in a sharp breath as Martin stopped inches from him but merely grinned as he leaned down to gather up the rest of his gear.
"I, um, I’m sorry." Rick mumbled, his voice timid.
"For what?" Martin pondered as he set his gear to the side but didn’t step away. He enjoyed the closeness of the youth in front of him.
"I didn’t know anyone was here. I can... I can go," he stammered in response and turned quickly on his heels, when he felt a hand grasp the back of his waistband, wrenching him back. He wanted to escape, to disappear into the darkness of the nearly empty rink but the cold hand against his skin, froze him.
Martin kissed the back his neck slowly, breathing warmly, the fog of his breath encircling Rick’s head. Rick’s eyes blinked closed, overtaken with the searing sensation against his skin. Martin didn’t need to turn him around. His arms wrapped hastily around Rick's waist. He pulled him back and started grinding his hips into Rick’s ass as Martin worked open his pants. Rick steadied himself against the icy boards, his palms flat against the glass, almost clawing at them as he yearned to have the goalie inside of him.
Rick’s pants came off in one swift motion. They puddled at his ankles and trapped his feet as they became tangled up in the fabric. He panted breathlessly, tense as he listened to the familiar sound of a belt opening behind him. He didn’t turn his head to watch, keeping his eyes squeezed shut as the sounds of fabric shifting and Martin’s hands wandered aimlessly over his skin. They caressed his hips and fingernails scraped across his skin and dug into him fiercely. Martin’s touch distracted Rick momentarily from the feel of his cock ferociously being forced into his ass. Rick cried out first in pain at the intrusion and in total pleasure, trying desperately to muffle the sound as it filled the rink.
Martin continued to pound into him, causing the boards to shake beneath Rick. Rick shivered lightly as he felt Martin take his cock into his hand and began to stroke him. They worked together, their bodies one steady rhythm as Martin continued to drill into him, his balls slamming hard against Rick’s ass. The sound of the skin slapping against each other, created an almost musical sound that as they both screamed out in unison, they didn’t hear the applause behind them.
"I hope I get a welcome like that," Dan Boyle exclaimed from across the room, still applauding. Rick panted breathlessly as the goalie slid away from him, flustered as he tried desperately to pull on his clothes. He tripped over himself and fell backwards into the bench, overtaken by Martin. Martin wiped Rick’s sweat and his own cum from himself. He drew his hand across the glass, frosted with steam as he tried unsuccessfully to clean it off, choosing instead to trace his tongue over his fingers.
"Alright," he smiled slyly; his tongue slid absentmindedly between the seam of his lips as he licked them predatorily, "You’re next, petit..."
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