Savard's Choice (2/4)

[savvyfan.livejournal.com]

Title: Savard's Choice (2/4)
Characters/Pairings: Vladimir Sobotka/Marc Savard; David Krejci/Milan Lucic; Phil Kessel; Shawn Thornton; Erin Thornton
Rating: NC-17
Time: Training camp 2008
Summary: Part 2 of a series; Vladimir dreams; the Bruins party; Milan gets excited; Marc gets some bad news.
Disclaimer: Absolutely fictional. 

 

"Vladimir..." Strong arms around his ribs. Warm breath on the back of his neck, lips, tongue, teeth, kissing, licking, biting. Hard cock slipping into his ass, filling him, hitting the sweet spot. Hips pumping.  "Vladimir. My Vladimir."  He clutched at Savvy's arms, tensing his body, shoving backwards against the thrusts. Marc shuddered, his cock releasing; he cried out, calling Vladimir's name, his Canadian accent making it sweetly exotic to Sobotka's ears. My Vladimir.  I love you, Vladimir thought, the words forming in his mind in perfect English. He bit his lip, holding the words back before they could break past his lips. His thoughts downshifted into Czech, cresting into a wave that beat fruitlessly against a barrier in his brain. I love you. I'm yours. I'd do anything for you, because I know you love me too. You do, don't you? He felt Savard falling into sleep behind him, his body twitching as he slipped away, and closed his eyes.  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Garden was empty as he skated onto the ice, the lights dim. "Is anyone here?" he called, skating around the smooth surface, looking for his teammates. Fright was starting to steal into his mind. Why was he all alone?  "I'm here, Vladimir," a voice called.  It was Chara, standing alone at the blue line. Vladimir skated over. "What's going on, Zee? Where is everybody?" "You're dreaming, little one," the big defenseman said. "Don't be afraid." "I'm not afraid," Sobotka said, looking around at the dark, empty seats. OK, so I'm dreaming. Nothing's going to hurt me. Nothing can hurt me. Just a dream. He heard a dripping noise, and looked back at his captain. "Zee, you're bleeding." Blood was dropping from Chara's gloveless hands, puddling on the ice.  "Don't be afraid," he repeated, his eyes boring into Sobotka's.  "Vladdie, what are you doing?" David Krejci skated by, helmetless, his hair blowing in the breeze. "Come on, what are you waiting for? Come on!" He turned and skated toward the far boards, disappearing into the darkness. "Come on!"  Sobotka tried to follow - it seemed imperative that he follow - but he couldn't move. He looked down. His skate blades were broken, jagged ends digging into the ice. He was trapped.  "Vladimir!" another call, from the Bruins bench. It was Savvy. He was on his knees, calling over the boards. "Vladdie, help me! I can't find it!" He disappeared behind the boards. Sobotka looked at his skates. The laces were looped and tied in an impossible series of knots. He'd never be able to untie them. He looked helplessly at Chara, who just shook his head and smiled as a cut opened up over his eye and blood started running down his face. Another cry came from behind the boards. Vladimir dropped to his hands and knees and crawled across the ice, pulling himself up to look into the Boston bench. "Marc? Marc!"  Savard was crawling behind the boards, his head under the bench, throwing water bottles, broken sticks, rolls of tape, discarded gloves into the air. "Vladdie, I can't find it! Goddammit! Goddammit!"   "What, Marc, what?" What the hell was he looking for?  "You know!" Savard turned and glared at him. "You know what I'm looking for! YOU KNOW!"  "I don't know! I don't!" Sobotka shouted. Marc started banging his head on the bench, shouting in frustration. "Stop, Marc, stop!" Vladimir cried. "You'll hurt yourself! STOP!" Savard's forehead was bleeding. Vladimir reached out to him, but his hands reached right through Marc's body, closing on thin air, as the Garden dissolved into nothingness....   Falling. A sense of falling. Empty. Air. Gone.  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Vladimir awoke with a start. He felt a strong arm around him, holding him close. Even breathing behind him. Savard hadn't woken up. Sobotka sighed in relief. He was getting better. His dreams weren't waking him in screaming fits anymore.  Unfortunately, they were still as vivid and as insane as ever. And exhausting. Hard to rest, he thought, when you spend your dreams running around like a lunatic. He closed his eyes and prayed for dreamlesses. This time, thankfully, the prayer was answered. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  A day off halfway through the Bruins' tough training camp was worth celebrating. Practically the whole team met at a popular Boston nightspot. Sobotka was one of the stars of the night, simply because he'd turned 21 over the summer. He could finally drink legally, and his teammates delighted in buying him liquor. Too much liquor, he thought, as he started to sway on his stool. Better put a cork in it, Sobotka, he thought, and giggled to himself. OK that's it, you've had enough.  He looked out on the dance floor, focusing his attention on Milan Lucic and David Krejci. David was getting almost as much attention, but it wasn't because of a landmark birthday; rather, it was his companion. He was dancing with a stunningly beautiful blond girl, garnering envious glances and outright covetous stares from many of his teammates. Lucic had also attracted a girl, not unattractive, but she only spurred looks of amusement because of her short stature as Lucic towered over her. They were slow dancing; Milan rested his cheek on top of her head. His eyes were closed and he had a half-smile on his face.  Krejci and the blond girl made a stunning pair, Vladimir thought. They were almost equal in height. His hands were barely visible beneath her glorious mane as he rested them on the small of her back. Her hands were entwined in his long brown hair; as Sobotka watched, she reached up and kissed Krejci, pressing her body close to his.  Further down the bar, Shawn Thornton watched the tableau on the dance floor and snorted laughter. "What's so funny, Shawn?" his wife asked, looking at the floor. "Krejci," he replied. "That girl has no idea that he's a fa-, that he's gay. Is she in for a surprise."  Erin looked closer. "Wow, she's beautiful. I don't know, Shawn. David might be tempted to switch sides for a night. She's almost enough to make me switch sides." "Erin!" Shawn was aghast. She laughed. "Don't get any ideas, you! Seriously, though, it's not unheard of, you know. I mean, guys like David hopping over the fence now and then." He shook his head. "How do you know such things?" "I'm a woman of the world, honey, don't you know that?" she laughed again. "Hey, I read a lot."  The song ended and the two players, and their companions, returned to a table. The girls excused themselves. Milan leaned over to Krejci, his eyes dancing.  "So, what d'ya think?" he asked.  "About what?" Krejci replied.  "The girl, dumbass, the girl! You wanna take her home?" David looked dumbfounded. "I can't do that, Milan. What about us?" "What about us? You're not going to marry her, are you? Geez, I'd love to see you fuck her. What a fucking turn-on that would be." Krejci shook his head. "Milan, this is impossible."  "Why? You looked like you were enjoying that. Don't you want her?" "Milan, I've never fucked a girl!" It was Lucic's turn to be dumbfounded. "Never?" "No, never! I never wanted to! I... oh shit. Here they come." Milan turned. The smaller girl smiled and bent to kiss him, then stood up abruptly and grabbed at her backside, pulling out a cell phone. "Oh hell, duty calls," she said. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a pen and a slip of paper. "Here's my number," she said, scribbling. "Call me sometime, OK?" she handed the paper to Lucic, who stuck it in his pocket, and hurried out the door. Speechless, Milan turned to David and the blond girl. She shrugged and smiled at him. "You guys share an apartment, right?" she asked. Lucic nodded. "How 'bout we go back to your place?" Krejci shook his head. "That's not fair to Milan," he said.  "Sure it is," she said. "I'll do both of you." Lucic's eyes widened. Krejci's jaw dropped. He turned to Milan, grabbed his arm, then turned back to his female companion. "Could you excuse us for a minute?" he asked, summoning all the charm he could muster. She smiled. "Sure." "Perfect! This is perfect!" Lucic was practically hopping in his seat. "Jesus, this is a dream come true! I've gotta be dreaming! Don't wake me up!"  "Milan, this is insane! This can't happen!"  "Why the hell not?"  "Because I don't want her! I want you! Can't you get that through your thick skull?" "David, that's why it's so perfect! You can have me, and her, both at the same time! It's just a roll in the hay, nothing more - you've done that before, haven't you? Look - you told me I was the only person you've ever loved. That's not going to change. I'm still yours. You're still mine." Krejci wavered, glancing back at the girl.  "Look, OK, David, if this is freaking you out so much, forget it. Tell her no." The young Czech looked at his teammate. "You mean that?" "Yes, I do. I'd give up a night with the most beautiful girl I've ever seen for you. You fucking asshole. Yes, I would." Milan stared into his eyes, his face dead serious. "We're still exclusive?" Krejci asked.  "Hell yes," Lucic said.  "OK," David said. "Let's do it."  He held up a finger. "You just have to promise me one thing."  "What's that?" "Don't get too intimate with me in front of her. Remember where we are. This is Boston - everyone knows us. A menage a trois isn't going to upset anyone. A menage a trois with us fucking each other would be earth-shattering. I'm serious about this, Milan. OK?" "OK, OK," Lucic said. He started to turn back to the girl, but something at the bar caught his attention. "Uh oh," he said. "I thought... I thought you said Vladimir and Marc were exclusive too."  "They are," Krejci said. "That's what Vladdie said." Lucic pointed. Krejci looked, and turned pale.  Phil Kessel was sitting on a bar stool next to Sobotka, leaning over, whispering to him. As the two players watched, he put a hand up as if to cup it around Vladimir's ear, but he didn't do a very good job of it, and they could see his tongue slip inside. Vladdie shuddered and smiled.  "Shit, he's drunk," Krejci said. He looked around the club. "Where the hell is Savvy?" "I dunno," Lucic said. "He was here a while ago." He looked back at the girl, who smiled and raised her eyebrows. "It's not a big deal," Milan said. "They'll work it out. C'mon, let's go."  ___________________________________________________ Marc Savard was outside the nightclub at that moment, shouting into his cell phone. "What the hell are you talking about? You can't do this! You can't fucking do this! I am their father! You have no right! No legal right!" He paused, listening, horror-stricken. "What? Who? Who? I have a right to know who's spreading lies about me! Yes, lies! I am not! I AM NOT! Jesus Christ! Don't hang up! Shit! Don't hang up! Goddammit!" He slammed the phone shut and shoved it in his pocket, a real, physical pain wracking his body. My kids, he thought. I can't. I can't lose them. I can't lose my kids. I can't. God, please, don't let me lose my kids. He clutched at his ribcage, feeling cracks ripping through his heart. Blindly, he walked off alone and disappeared into the darkness.