When Worlds Collide (2/2)
Aug. 8th, 2008 01:45 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
savvyfan.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
2minsforslashingTitle: When Worlds Collide (part 2 of 2)
Characters: Boston Bruins: Marc Savard, Vladimir Sobotka, Phil Kessel, Milan Lucic, David Krejci, Andrew Alberts, Zdeno Chara; Boston Red Sox: Clay Buchholz, Jacoby Ellsbury, Jon Lester, Josh Beckett, Manny Delcarmen
Rating: NC-17
Time: September 2008
Summary: After some of the Boston Bruins take batting practice and watch a game at Fenway Park, Kessel goes home with Lester and Beckett.
Author's note: Cross-posted to theboysofsummer
Disclaimer: Obviously fictional.
Characters: Boston Bruins: Marc Savard, Vladimir Sobotka, Phil Kessel, Milan Lucic, David Krejci, Andrew Alberts, Zdeno Chara; Boston Red Sox: Clay Buchholz, Jacoby Ellsbury, Jon Lester, Josh Beckett, Manny Delcarmen
Rating: NC-17
Time: September 2008
Summary: After some of the Boston Bruins take batting practice and watch a game at Fenway Park, Kessel goes home with Lester and Beckett.
Author's note: Cross-posted to theboysofsummer
Disclaimer: Obviously fictional.
After the game, a Red Sox win ("Isn't that our song?" Vladimir Sobotka asked as "Dirty Water" blared over Fenway Park's sound system. "It was theirs first," Andrew Alberts said.), the hockey players returned to their various digs in the North End. All except Phil Kessel, who disappeared in the vicinity of the Sox locker room.
Vladimir went home with Marc Savard, and Savvy spent the rest of the night attempting to kiss every square inch of Vladdie's body.
David Krejci and Milan Lucic went home to their shared apartment, and Krejci gave Lucic the most mind-blowing blow job the big wing had ever experienced. Which was saying something, because Krejci always gave Lucic mind-blowing blow jobs.
"You gotta show me how to do that," Milan said, once he'd regained the ability to speak.
"Do what?" Krejci asked.
"Fuckin' deep throat like that, man. How do you do it? Somebody teach you? "
David shook his head, then shrugged. "No. But if you want... you can practice on me." He grinned.
Lucic grinned back and got right to work.
Jacoby Ellsbury and Clay Buchholz went home to Jacoby's apartment, and Jacoby held Clay tight and wrapped his powerful legs around the young pitcher and screamed his name as Buchholz fucked him hard.
Andrew Alberts went home alone, popped on ESPN, and poured himself a glass of red wine.
And Kessel went home with Jon Lester to Josh Beckett's place, where all hell broke loose.
----------------------------------------
Savard waited anxiously for Kessel to arrive at practice the next morning and let out a sigh of relief when the young forward arrived, well before starting time, looking tired but none the worse for wear. "You OK?" he asked, as Phil dropped his equipment bag. "Fine," he replied with a grin. "Just... fuckin'... fine."
"Lunch at Krejci's place," Marc said, and Kes nodded. Dressing quickly, he popped his skates on and hustled out of the room. Savard followed as Phil glided onto the ice, where Zdeno Chara was skating, stretching his long legs. The young forward skated up to his captain, who leaned over to listen as Phil spoke quietly.
Savard watched, trying not to be obvious about it. Sobotka joined him. "What's going on?" the Czech asked.
"I think Phil's telling Chara about last night," Savard answered. As they watched, Chara nodded, then appeared to ask a pointed question. Kessel nodded emphatically; the big defenseman cuffed Kessel on the helmet, almost knocking him off his skates, and skated away. Phil skated over to Savvy and Vladdie, and Savard was glad to see that Kessel was smiling.
"Talk to you at noon," he said, then skated away, his blades flashing.
----------------------------------------
At Fenway Park, Buchholz paced anxiously in the outfield as Ellsbury took batting practice, waiting for Lester. "You're late!" he shouted, as the tall lefty finally jogged slowly out to join him. Lester raised his eyebrows. "You wanna hear about it or not?" he asked. "Hell yes," Clay said. "Well, hold your horses, 'cause we're waiting for Jacoby," Lester said. Buchholz groaned in frustration and turned to watch the guys taking BP. Finally, Ellsbury finished and trotted into the outfield.
"Now tell us," Buchholz demanded. "And don't leave anything out."
Lester smirked. "Well, we walked to Beckett's place, and I could tell Kessel was nervous. Even though he kept walking behind me to check out my ass."
"How do you know he was doing that?" Ellsbury asked.
"Because he said so," Lester replied. "He kept dropping back, then walking up and whispering in my ear, telling me what a great ass I had, and how much he wanted to fuck it."
"And did he?" Buchholz asked.
"I'm gettin' to that. Geez, stop interrupting."
"Sorry," Clay replied. "Go on."
"We got to Beckett's building, and then, in the elevator...."
Kessel couldn't hold himself back any longer; as the elevator doors closed, he closed in on Lester, shoving the pitcher against the wall, slipping his hands around his waist to grab that magnificent posterier, clamping his lips on Lester's throat. Jon's head dropped back and he thrust his hips forward in response. Beckett watched in amusement. "You guys gonna fuck right here?" he asked. "And I thought I was impatient." Lester just grinned at him, his eyes in half slits as he enjoyed the feel of Kessel's mouth sucking at his neck, those hands digging into his ass.
The elevator halted; Kessel tore himself away, breathing hard, and followed Beckett down the hall. Lester stepped through the door of the apartment behind the hockey player and threw his arms around him, holding him tight, as Beckett turned and enveloped him from the front, clamping his lips down on Kessel's and shoving his tongue into the young forward's mouth.
"It was a fuckin' unreal feeling," Kessel said, as Savard, Sobotka, Lucic and Krejci listened, eyes wide. "Lester's cock hard as a fuckin' rock against my ass, Beckett's got his hand on my cock, his fuckin' tongue down my throat - I thought I was gonna fuckin' come right there. And then..."
Lester slid his hands down, undid Kessel's belt buckle, unsnapped his jeans and slipped his hand inside. He gripped the hockey player's cock, then reached down with his long fingers and scooped up his testicle. That's right, only one, he thought, remembering Kessel's well-publicized cancer battle. Something else we have in common. He smiled against Phil's neck, then felt Beckett's hand shove in over his own, squeezing hard, drawing a yelp from Kessel. "Let him go, Jon," Beckett ordered, withdrawing his hand. "Bedroom's that way," the big pitcher said, and Kessel obeyed his gesture, pausing only to shuck his jeans before heading for the bedroom in his jockey shorts.
Beckett grinned at Lester and followed.
"Kessel's on the bed when we get there," Lester continued. "He's naked - the guy moves fast. But you know Josh - he's throwing his clothes off and gettin' on top of him before I could get my shoes off. And then the fight started."
"Fight?" Ellsbury asked.
Beckett tried to pin Kessel's wrists to the bed, but the young hockey player moved too fast; he wrapped his arms around the big pitcher and flipped over, catching Beckett by surprise. Their bodies flailed; Kessel's leg somehow flew up in the air and caught the bedside lamp; Lester leaped forward and caught it before it hit the floor, then moved the bedstand away from the bed and the two thrashing bodies.
"Fight?" Savard asked. "What the hell were you fighting about?"
Kessel rolled his eyes. "What do you think, Savvy?"
Krejci started to laugh. "You wanted to top!"
Kessel grinned and nodded. "Hell, yeah. I wanted to fuck that big smug bastard! MAN! I wanted him so fuckin' bad!"
Realization slowly dawned in Savvy's brain. I really am an idiot, he thought. "You never get to top now, do you?"
Krejci was laughing harder. "With Chara?" He spoke in Czech to Sobotka, who snorted and shook his head. "Nobody fucks Zdeno," Vladdie said. Milan looked intrigued. Krejci kicked him in the ankle. "Ow!" Lucic winced. "What's that for?"
"Don't even think about it!" David said. Milan blushed. "I wasn't!" Then he laughed. "Not really, anyway."
"So you're trying to top him," Savard turned back to Kessel, who nodded, picked up a water bottle and drank deeply. "Yeah, I was trying. But he was fighting like a bastard."
The two athletes tried furiously to catch each other's wrists as their hips shoved together. Beckett was swearing under his breath, while Kessel appeared to be trying to fight back laughter. Lester just watched, not daring to venture near. Finally Beckett looked at him, exasperated. "You gonna help me?" "No," Jon said, breaking into uncontrollable giggles.
"I was afraid if I got too close, I'd get a foot in the nuts," Lester said. "Beckett looked like he was trying to land a hundred-pound Chinook. Best to just stand clear."
Beckett had a significant size advantage, but Kessel was a lot stronger than he appeared. Is this a hockey player or a fuckin' wildcat? Beckett thought. Finally Kessel snaked his hand down between Beckett's legs and grabbed his cock in an iron grip, effectively freezing the pitcher. The frantic action halted but for their heaving chests. Kessel grinned, then slowly slid down Beckett's body and took that massive cock into his mouth. Josh groaned and dropped his head back.
"Yeah, big fuckin' cock," Kessel said, licking his lips. "Not as big as Zee, y'know, but still - one of the biggest I've ever seen. And he sure liked gettin' it sucked."
"Who doesn't?" Savard murmured, shifting in his seat at the thought of Kessel's magic tongue.
"Man, I fuckin' had him," Phil said. "I was gonna suck him off good, then nail him."
"What happened?" Lucic asked.
"Lester," Kessel made a face. "Sniffed me out, the bastard."
Beckett was lying on his back, eyes closed, moaning in ecstacy as Kessel, on his hands and knees between Beckett's legs, licked first his shaft, then his balls, then engulfed most of the pitcher's cock in his warm mouth. After Chara's huge dick, Beckett was almost easy to swallow as Kessel relaxed his throat muscles and let him slide down his throat. His own cock throbbed and grew even harder at the tangy taste of Beckett's precome and the sound of his cries.
Lester, still standing a safe distance away, watched, his eyes narrowing. Shedding his own clothes at last, he crawled under Kessel and took the hockey player's swollen shaft into his mouth. Kessel cried out, his voice filled with a raw mixture of passion and frustration.
"I could see exactly what he was doing," Lester said. "He was gonna suck off Josh and then shove his cock into Josh's ass. Sneaky little bastard." He chuckled.
What had been a fight now turned into a race, but Kessel was overmatched and outnumbered. His eyes rolled back in his head as Lester worked him over, sliding a finger into his own mouth, then slipping his big hands around Kessel's ass and pushing the moistened digit into Kes's opening. Phil shuddered and momentarily lost his focus on Beckett's cock; that was all it took as Lester rapidly worked him into a climax. Josh lifted his head and looked down as Phil threw his own head back and cried out, his cock emptying itself down Lester's throat.
"Gotta give him credit," Kessel said. "He was fuckin' amazing. And the next thing I knew, Beckett was hauling me up the bed and climbing on top of me, and I couldn't even begin to fight him off this time."
Beckett shoved Kessel's legs open, his mind roaring with desire as he filled his eyes with the well-muscled young wildcat. "Gimme a condom," he hissed at Lester, who hurridly complied; Phil was starting to recover and stir on the bed. But he visibly relaxed at the word "condom" and seemed to surrender himself, lifting his feet up and beckoning, wanton: "Do it, Beckett. Fuck me."
"And did he ever," Lester said, shaking his head. "Never seen anything like it. Kessel's screaming bloody murder, asking Josh if that's all he's got, can't you fuck any harder, Beckett slamming him so hard I thought he was gonna kill him... man. Almost made me fuckin' come, just watching."
The big pitcher pounded into the hockey player, sweat dripping from his face, growling deep in his throat as Kessel clawed at him, spurring him on with screams and howls and obscene commands. Finally Beckett's body stiffened and jerked as his orgasm hit in great waves, and he squeezed Kessel so tight and bit at him so hard and filled him with such fervor that the young Bruin had to fight to breathe.
A long post-orgasmic shudder rocked both of them for several long moments, and then Beckett pulled out and staggered to his feet. He wobbled off into the bathroom, leaving Kessel puddled on the bed, his chest heaving.
"Lester was standing there, staring at me," Kessel said. "I thought for sure he was going to fuck me too. I sure as hell wasn't gonna stop him. At that point, I couldn't do a damn thing. I was fuckin' wasted."
"But he didn't?" Savard asked. "Why not?"
"He had something else in mind..."
Lester approached the bed as Kessel finally brought his breathing back under control. "Want some water?" he asked, picking up the bottle Josh usually left on the bedstand. Kessel accepted gratefully, and Lester sat down next to him as he drank. "You live here too?" Kessel asked. Jon shook his head. "Naw. But I do spend a lot of time here." Kessel nodded in understanding. "He's fuckin' amazing," he said, taking another swig. "Yup," Lester agreed. Then he leaned over and kissed Kessel gently, licking at his swollen lips. "You're not so bad yourself," he whispered. "Did you forget what you said you were going to do to my ass?"
"Holy shit," Buchholz said. "So you let him fuck you?"
"Well, yeah," Lester said. "Felt I owed it to him, almost. Know what I mean?"
Buchholz nodded. "So how was he?"
Lester grinned. "A better top than a bottom. I ain't fuckin' kiddin.'"
"Holy shit," Clay said.
Lester was frankly surprised that Beckett's bedroom hadn't been incinerated, because he felt sure he'd just experienced spontaneous combustion. Somehow he'd ended up upside down, his head inches off the floor, gasping for air, as a panting Kessel crawled back up from the floor and yanked Lester's boneless body back up onto the bed. They lay side by side, feeling the sweat dry on their bodies. Kessel started to giggle. "I can't fuckin' believe I've got practice tomorow." Lester covered his face with his hands. "I can't fuckin' believe I've got to PITCH tomorrow."
"Sorry," Kessel said, stifling his laughter. "Hope I didn't take too much out of you." "S'OK," Lester said, rolling over and kissing the hockey player on the lips. "It was unreal." Kessel kissed him back, then got up and dressed quickly, following the trail of his clothes. He reappeared briefly in the bedroom door and grinned. "Say bye to Beckett for me," he said, and then he was gone.
"Fuckin' A, Kes," Savard said. "You sure you didn't make all this up?"
Kessel looked offended. "No way, Savvy. Ask Chara if you want - I told him everything."
"You did not. You didn't have time," Savard said.
"Well, I gave him the short version. The important stuff."
"Use protection!" Lucic and Krejci said, almost together. They laughed.
"I just think it's nice to know we're not the only athletes in Boston who have secrets," Savard said. He raised his water bottle. "Here's to the brotherhood." His teammates toasted back, drinking deeply.
----------------------------------------
Jacoby and Clay. Vladimir and Marc. Milan and David. Jon, Josh and Phil. All had their particular rendezvous that particular night. And meanwhile, Andrew Alberts sat alone in his North End apartment, watching SportsCenter and drinking wine. Until the front door buzzer went off. Alberts punched at it. "Yeah?"
"It's me!"
"C'mon up." He buzzed the front door open, then went to his apartment door, listening for footsteps on the stairs. Hearing them, he opened the door and grinned. "About fuckin' time you got here."
Manny Delcarmen stepped inside. "About fuckin' time YOU got here," he said. "Where the hell you been all summer?" He grabbed at Andrew's close-cropped hair, pulled him in for a hard kiss, and kicked the door shut behind him.
Vladimir went home with Marc Savard, and Savvy spent the rest of the night attempting to kiss every square inch of Vladdie's body.
David Krejci and Milan Lucic went home to their shared apartment, and Krejci gave Lucic the most mind-blowing blow job the big wing had ever experienced. Which was saying something, because Krejci always gave Lucic mind-blowing blow jobs.
"You gotta show me how to do that," Milan said, once he'd regained the ability to speak.
"Do what?" Krejci asked.
"Fuckin' deep throat like that, man. How do you do it? Somebody teach you? "
David shook his head, then shrugged. "No. But if you want... you can practice on me." He grinned.
Lucic grinned back and got right to work.
Jacoby Ellsbury and Clay Buchholz went home to Jacoby's apartment, and Jacoby held Clay tight and wrapped his powerful legs around the young pitcher and screamed his name as Buchholz fucked him hard.
Andrew Alberts went home alone, popped on ESPN, and poured himself a glass of red wine.
And Kessel went home with Jon Lester to Josh Beckett's place, where all hell broke loose.
----------------------------------------
Savard waited anxiously for Kessel to arrive at practice the next morning and let out a sigh of relief when the young forward arrived, well before starting time, looking tired but none the worse for wear. "You OK?" he asked, as Phil dropped his equipment bag. "Fine," he replied with a grin. "Just... fuckin'... fine."
"Lunch at Krejci's place," Marc said, and Kes nodded. Dressing quickly, he popped his skates on and hustled out of the room. Savard followed as Phil glided onto the ice, where Zdeno Chara was skating, stretching his long legs. The young forward skated up to his captain, who leaned over to listen as Phil spoke quietly.
Savard watched, trying not to be obvious about it. Sobotka joined him. "What's going on?" the Czech asked.
"I think Phil's telling Chara about last night," Savard answered. As they watched, Chara nodded, then appeared to ask a pointed question. Kessel nodded emphatically; the big defenseman cuffed Kessel on the helmet, almost knocking him off his skates, and skated away. Phil skated over to Savvy and Vladdie, and Savard was glad to see that Kessel was smiling.
"Talk to you at noon," he said, then skated away, his blades flashing.
----------------------------------------
At Fenway Park, Buchholz paced anxiously in the outfield as Ellsbury took batting practice, waiting for Lester. "You're late!" he shouted, as the tall lefty finally jogged slowly out to join him. Lester raised his eyebrows. "You wanna hear about it or not?" he asked. "Hell yes," Clay said. "Well, hold your horses, 'cause we're waiting for Jacoby," Lester said. Buchholz groaned in frustration and turned to watch the guys taking BP. Finally, Ellsbury finished and trotted into the outfield.
"Now tell us," Buchholz demanded. "And don't leave anything out."
Lester smirked. "Well, we walked to Beckett's place, and I could tell Kessel was nervous. Even though he kept walking behind me to check out my ass."
"How do you know he was doing that?" Ellsbury asked.
"Because he said so," Lester replied. "He kept dropping back, then walking up and whispering in my ear, telling me what a great ass I had, and how much he wanted to fuck it."
"And did he?" Buchholz asked.
"I'm gettin' to that. Geez, stop interrupting."
"Sorry," Clay replied. "Go on."
"We got to Beckett's building, and then, in the elevator...."
Kessel couldn't hold himself back any longer; as the elevator doors closed, he closed in on Lester, shoving the pitcher against the wall, slipping his hands around his waist to grab that magnificent posterier, clamping his lips on Lester's throat. Jon's head dropped back and he thrust his hips forward in response. Beckett watched in amusement. "You guys gonna fuck right here?" he asked. "And I thought I was impatient." Lester just grinned at him, his eyes in half slits as he enjoyed the feel of Kessel's mouth sucking at his neck, those hands digging into his ass.
The elevator halted; Kessel tore himself away, breathing hard, and followed Beckett down the hall. Lester stepped through the door of the apartment behind the hockey player and threw his arms around him, holding him tight, as Beckett turned and enveloped him from the front, clamping his lips down on Kessel's and shoving his tongue into the young forward's mouth.
"It was a fuckin' unreal feeling," Kessel said, as Savard, Sobotka, Lucic and Krejci listened, eyes wide. "Lester's cock hard as a fuckin' rock against my ass, Beckett's got his hand on my cock, his fuckin' tongue down my throat - I thought I was gonna fuckin' come right there. And then..."
Lester slid his hands down, undid Kessel's belt buckle, unsnapped his jeans and slipped his hand inside. He gripped the hockey player's cock, then reached down with his long fingers and scooped up his testicle. That's right, only one, he thought, remembering Kessel's well-publicized cancer battle. Something else we have in common. He smiled against Phil's neck, then felt Beckett's hand shove in over his own, squeezing hard, drawing a yelp from Kessel. "Let him go, Jon," Beckett ordered, withdrawing his hand. "Bedroom's that way," the big pitcher said, and Kessel obeyed his gesture, pausing only to shuck his jeans before heading for the bedroom in his jockey shorts.
Beckett grinned at Lester and followed.
"Kessel's on the bed when we get there," Lester continued. "He's naked - the guy moves fast. But you know Josh - he's throwing his clothes off and gettin' on top of him before I could get my shoes off. And then the fight started."
"Fight?" Ellsbury asked.
Beckett tried to pin Kessel's wrists to the bed, but the young hockey player moved too fast; he wrapped his arms around the big pitcher and flipped over, catching Beckett by surprise. Their bodies flailed; Kessel's leg somehow flew up in the air and caught the bedside lamp; Lester leaped forward and caught it before it hit the floor, then moved the bedstand away from the bed and the two thrashing bodies.
"Fight?" Savard asked. "What the hell were you fighting about?"
Kessel rolled his eyes. "What do you think, Savvy?"
Krejci started to laugh. "You wanted to top!"
Kessel grinned and nodded. "Hell, yeah. I wanted to fuck that big smug bastard! MAN! I wanted him so fuckin' bad!"
Realization slowly dawned in Savvy's brain. I really am an idiot, he thought. "You never get to top now, do you?"
Krejci was laughing harder. "With Chara?" He spoke in Czech to Sobotka, who snorted and shook his head. "Nobody fucks Zdeno," Vladdie said. Milan looked intrigued. Krejci kicked him in the ankle. "Ow!" Lucic winced. "What's that for?"
"Don't even think about it!" David said. Milan blushed. "I wasn't!" Then he laughed. "Not really, anyway."
"So you're trying to top him," Savard turned back to Kessel, who nodded, picked up a water bottle and drank deeply. "Yeah, I was trying. But he was fighting like a bastard."
The two athletes tried furiously to catch each other's wrists as their hips shoved together. Beckett was swearing under his breath, while Kessel appeared to be trying to fight back laughter. Lester just watched, not daring to venture near. Finally Beckett looked at him, exasperated. "You gonna help me?" "No," Jon said, breaking into uncontrollable giggles.
"I was afraid if I got too close, I'd get a foot in the nuts," Lester said. "Beckett looked like he was trying to land a hundred-pound Chinook. Best to just stand clear."
Beckett had a significant size advantage, but Kessel was a lot stronger than he appeared. Is this a hockey player or a fuckin' wildcat? Beckett thought. Finally Kessel snaked his hand down between Beckett's legs and grabbed his cock in an iron grip, effectively freezing the pitcher. The frantic action halted but for their heaving chests. Kessel grinned, then slowly slid down Beckett's body and took that massive cock into his mouth. Josh groaned and dropped his head back.
"Yeah, big fuckin' cock," Kessel said, licking his lips. "Not as big as Zee, y'know, but still - one of the biggest I've ever seen. And he sure liked gettin' it sucked."
"Who doesn't?" Savard murmured, shifting in his seat at the thought of Kessel's magic tongue.
"Man, I fuckin' had him," Phil said. "I was gonna suck him off good, then nail him."
"What happened?" Lucic asked.
"Lester," Kessel made a face. "Sniffed me out, the bastard."
Beckett was lying on his back, eyes closed, moaning in ecstacy as Kessel, on his hands and knees between Beckett's legs, licked first his shaft, then his balls, then engulfed most of the pitcher's cock in his warm mouth. After Chara's huge dick, Beckett was almost easy to swallow as Kessel relaxed his throat muscles and let him slide down his throat. His own cock throbbed and grew even harder at the tangy taste of Beckett's precome and the sound of his cries.
Lester, still standing a safe distance away, watched, his eyes narrowing. Shedding his own clothes at last, he crawled under Kessel and took the hockey player's swollen shaft into his mouth. Kessel cried out, his voice filled with a raw mixture of passion and frustration.
"I could see exactly what he was doing," Lester said. "He was gonna suck off Josh and then shove his cock into Josh's ass. Sneaky little bastard." He chuckled.
What had been a fight now turned into a race, but Kessel was overmatched and outnumbered. His eyes rolled back in his head as Lester worked him over, sliding a finger into his own mouth, then slipping his big hands around Kessel's ass and pushing the moistened digit into Kes's opening. Phil shuddered and momentarily lost his focus on Beckett's cock; that was all it took as Lester rapidly worked him into a climax. Josh lifted his head and looked down as Phil threw his own head back and cried out, his cock emptying itself down Lester's throat.
"Gotta give him credit," Kessel said. "He was fuckin' amazing. And the next thing I knew, Beckett was hauling me up the bed and climbing on top of me, and I couldn't even begin to fight him off this time."
Beckett shoved Kessel's legs open, his mind roaring with desire as he filled his eyes with the well-muscled young wildcat. "Gimme a condom," he hissed at Lester, who hurridly complied; Phil was starting to recover and stir on the bed. But he visibly relaxed at the word "condom" and seemed to surrender himself, lifting his feet up and beckoning, wanton: "Do it, Beckett. Fuck me."
"And did he ever," Lester said, shaking his head. "Never seen anything like it. Kessel's screaming bloody murder, asking Josh if that's all he's got, can't you fuck any harder, Beckett slamming him so hard I thought he was gonna kill him... man. Almost made me fuckin' come, just watching."
The big pitcher pounded into the hockey player, sweat dripping from his face, growling deep in his throat as Kessel clawed at him, spurring him on with screams and howls and obscene commands. Finally Beckett's body stiffened and jerked as his orgasm hit in great waves, and he squeezed Kessel so tight and bit at him so hard and filled him with such fervor that the young Bruin had to fight to breathe.
A long post-orgasmic shudder rocked both of them for several long moments, and then Beckett pulled out and staggered to his feet. He wobbled off into the bathroom, leaving Kessel puddled on the bed, his chest heaving.
"Lester was standing there, staring at me," Kessel said. "I thought for sure he was going to fuck me too. I sure as hell wasn't gonna stop him. At that point, I couldn't do a damn thing. I was fuckin' wasted."
"But he didn't?" Savard asked. "Why not?"
"He had something else in mind..."
Lester approached the bed as Kessel finally brought his breathing back under control. "Want some water?" he asked, picking up the bottle Josh usually left on the bedstand. Kessel accepted gratefully, and Lester sat down next to him as he drank. "You live here too?" Kessel asked. Jon shook his head. "Naw. But I do spend a lot of time here." Kessel nodded in understanding. "He's fuckin' amazing," he said, taking another swig. "Yup," Lester agreed. Then he leaned over and kissed Kessel gently, licking at his swollen lips. "You're not so bad yourself," he whispered. "Did you forget what you said you were going to do to my ass?"
"Holy shit," Buchholz said. "So you let him fuck you?"
"Well, yeah," Lester said. "Felt I owed it to him, almost. Know what I mean?"
Buchholz nodded. "So how was he?"
Lester grinned. "A better top than a bottom. I ain't fuckin' kiddin.'"
"Holy shit," Clay said.
Lester was frankly surprised that Beckett's bedroom hadn't been incinerated, because he felt sure he'd just experienced spontaneous combustion. Somehow he'd ended up upside down, his head inches off the floor, gasping for air, as a panting Kessel crawled back up from the floor and yanked Lester's boneless body back up onto the bed. They lay side by side, feeling the sweat dry on their bodies. Kessel started to giggle. "I can't fuckin' believe I've got practice tomorow." Lester covered his face with his hands. "I can't fuckin' believe I've got to PITCH tomorrow."
"Sorry," Kessel said, stifling his laughter. "Hope I didn't take too much out of you." "S'OK," Lester said, rolling over and kissing the hockey player on the lips. "It was unreal." Kessel kissed him back, then got up and dressed quickly, following the trail of his clothes. He reappeared briefly in the bedroom door and grinned. "Say bye to Beckett for me," he said, and then he was gone.
"Fuckin' A, Kes," Savard said. "You sure you didn't make all this up?"
Kessel looked offended. "No way, Savvy. Ask Chara if you want - I told him everything."
"You did not. You didn't have time," Savard said.
"Well, I gave him the short version. The important stuff."
"Use protection!" Lucic and Krejci said, almost together. They laughed.
"I just think it's nice to know we're not the only athletes in Boston who have secrets," Savard said. He raised his water bottle. "Here's to the brotherhood." His teammates toasted back, drinking deeply.
----------------------------------------
Jacoby and Clay. Vladimir and Marc. Milan and David. Jon, Josh and Phil. All had their particular rendezvous that particular night. And meanwhile, Andrew Alberts sat alone in his North End apartment, watching SportsCenter and drinking wine. Until the front door buzzer went off. Alberts punched at it. "Yeah?"
"It's me!"
"C'mon up." He buzzed the front door open, then went to his apartment door, listening for footsteps on the stairs. Hearing them, he opened the door and grinned. "About fuckin' time you got here."
Manny Delcarmen stepped inside. "About fuckin' time YOU got here," he said. "Where the hell you been all summer?" He grabbed at Andrew's close-cropped hair, pulled him in for a hard kiss, and kicked the door shut behind him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}