Company ~ Krejci/Savard ~ R
Jan. 15th, 2009 01:25 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
jennyagain.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
2minsforslashingTitle: Company
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jennyagain
Pairing: David Krejci/Marc Savard, Vladimir Sobotka (Boston Bruins)
Rating: hard R
Word Count: 1,475
Summary: Sobotka knows what Krejci and Savard need.
Disclaimer: The following is for entertainment purposes only. Real people, places, and things appear, but the work is complete fiction, and there is no intent to defame, insult, or slander. No money is being made. Any and all errors belong solely to me.
Notes:savvyfan taught me everything I know.
Company
David Krejci let himself into Marc Savard's place with Vladimir Sobotka's key.
It was late and Krejci had been to Providence to watch Sobotka play and now he was a little bit drunk - he'd left his car at home, walked the handful of blocks to Savard's place and taken a couple of good pulls from a hip flask on the way - and he was, as the locals said, wicked turned on.
It was dark in Savard's apartment, but Krejci had been there enough times - never like this, of course, but still - to know which door down the hallway was the bedroom he was looking for.
He pushed the door open, and quietly stepped into the room.
The blinds were only half closed, and the Boston night was fairly bright. Krejci could see Savard, asleep on his stomach, facing away from the door, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He was wearing boxers and a blue t-shirt, and the sheets were tangled around his legs.
Krejci was almost certain Savard could hear the thump of his racing heart from where he stood.
Savard stirred. "Vladdie?"
"Vladdie's in Providence, Savvy," Krejci answered, voice soft, taking a few steps toward the bed.
"Krech?" Savard sat up and turned towards him, rubbing his eyes and frowning at Krejci.
Krejci said nothing. Savard's pale skin looked so good in the moonlight, Krejci's hands itched to get on him: push his t-shirt up, over, and off of him, run his hands over Savard's strong shoulders and down his arms, grab those wrists and pin them over his head and kiss him, yeah, make Savard be quiet for once, quiet until he wanted it from Krejci and then was whimpering for it -
Savard interrupted. "Krech, how'd you get in here?" He didn't seem mad, just puzzled.
Krejci focused on slowing his spinning thoughts, focused on picking out the right words. "Vladdie's key. He gave it to me. He said you were lonely."
"You were in Providence tonight?"
Krejci nodded.
"Vladdie sent you here?"
Krejci nodded again.
"Huh," Savard said. Krejci looked at him, trying to read his face in the dim light. He'd never been very good at reading Savard, and here his desire had him off-balance, his need and the repetition of Vladdie's words to him in Providence after the game: "Go to Savvy, David. He's lonely." It was as close to permission as he was ever going to get, so Krejci had come back to Boston, let himself into Savard's apartment as bidden.
He hadn't thought much about what Savard might have to say about it.
He was about to find out, though.
Savard stood, came over to Krejci. They looked at each other for a long moment, not speaking, not touching; Krejci felt himself blush, embarrassed mostly by still not being able to read Savard's features and suddenly certain he was about to be shown the door and practice would be unbearably awkward for the next few days.
But then Savard had placed his hands on Krejci's hips and drawn them together. Krejci's pulse leapt as he felt Savard's cock, hard and trapped in his boxers, come into contact with his own, trapped in his own well-tailored dress pants. Krejci's hands moved swiftly to Savard's ass to help keep up that excellent friction. Savard's mouth moved to Krejci's ear. "That wicked boy," he said, hot and low, and then they were kissing.
They clutched at each other, mouths moving together frantically, and Krejci's mind was racing with every thought of want he'd ever had in Savard's direction: times in the dressing room he'd seen Savvy and Vladdie touching when they thought no one else was looking; times on the ice when Savvy had tried to check someone taller, stronger, bigger and succeeded; times after games when Savvy had come back into the dressing room, still all wet and with a towel slung low across his hips, running his mouth about something or other but Krejci was never listening, all he wanted then was to lick those droplets of water from Savvy's abs, his shoulders, the back of his neck.
Now, Vladdie had said he could. Everything he'd wanted, he could have.
Hunger took over, and, without breaking their kiss, Krejci walked Savard back over to the bed. "Off," he said, pulling at Savard's t-shirt. Savard obliged, pulled off his in-the-way clothing then sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Krejci.
"You too, of course," Savard said, and he reached forward, tugged the hem of Krejci's shirt from his pants. Savard helped with the buttons, and Krejci made quick work of everything else. After he kicked away his pants, Krejci turned back to where Savard sat and stood between Savard's spread knees.
"Thank you, Vladdie," Savard breathed as he reached out to run his hands over Krejci's cock.
Krejci groaned aloud at that first touch, suddenly desperate to have all of Savard be his, and right that moment. "Savvy," he said, "need you. Now."
Savard got the message - not hard to understand - and he scooted back on the bed. Krejci swooped in, pinned Savard's wrists about his head just like in his fantasy and moaned again as Savard wriggled underneath him, sharp hip bones bumping and bruising together as their cocks touched and rubbed against each other. Savard thrust his hips up, moaning into their kiss, and Krejci's teeth found Savard's lip.
"Vladdie," Savard mumbled against Krejci's mouth, and Krejci bit down, not hard, but the coppery taste of the slightest bit of blood followed. Krejci didn't mind Sobotka's name hanging between them. In fact, he liked having him there like this, thought it fitting since he'd made this happen.
Krejci broke the kiss, licked his way down Savard's torso, dipping his tongue into his navel before kneeling between his thighs. The head of Savard's cock was like velvet under the first swipe of his tongue. Then Krejci took Savard all the way in, and Savard's fingers tangled in Krejci's damp hair and Krejci worked Savard over, wondering a little bit whether or not Savard was remembering he was getting blown by Krejci and not Sobotka. Truth was it didn't matter to Krejci; he had Savard's cock in his mouth and he was making the most of the moment (and thanking Sobotka for it).
Savard tried to warn him when his climax was imminent, but Krejci was lost to the world so the first pulse of Savard's orgasm surprised him. He swooped back in, though, having missed that first moment, and he swallowed down the rest as Savard mumbled incoherently about Czechs being the end of him.
In the moments that followed, Krejci was watching Savard's face when his eyes opened, blue and beautiful and just a bit glazed over, and then Savard was sitting up again and he was wrapping one hand around the back of Krejci's neck and the other around Krejci's aching cock and Krejci was unable to do anything expect thrust shallowly against the sweet pressure of Savard's fingers and moan when his thumb moved softly over the tip.
"You like that," Savard said, breaking their kiss and doing it again, watching Krejci's face. "Vladdie likes that, too."
"Want," said Krejci, "want." Eyes closed in bliss, Krejci lifted his chin, exposing his neck. Savard took advantage, lips and teeth moving along Krejci's neck and shoulder, nipping at the pale skin. "Want you and Vladdie," Krejci hissed as Savard bit down hard.
"He wants you, too," Savard said quietly, moving his hand quicker, swiping his slick thumb over the head of Krejci's cock more often. "He wants you and I want you and - God - " Krejci cut Savard off with a keening whimper and his hand joined Savard's on his cock and then Krejci was coming, hot spurts landing on Savard's wrist and stomach and the bedclothes.
"Krech, Krech, Krech," Savard said, kissing Krejci hard again, his hands moving to Krejci's ass. Then Krejci broke the kiss, breathed "Savvy," and let their foreheads rest together as his fingertips moved lightly over Savard's hips. They waited there together, each catching his breath.
"Thank you, Vladdie," Krejci said, echoing Savard's thought from earlier.
Savard laughed softly, getting up from the bed. "You wanna stay, Krech?"
Krejci didn't answer right away. Looking down at his hands, he didn't think Sobotka's offer of keeping Savard company meant staying the night, as tempting as it was.
"No, no I'll go."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Dressed and walking home through the chilly winter night in Boston, Krejci thought about what Savard had said.
"He wants you, too; he wants you and I want you and -"
Krejci wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but he was pretty sure he knew what would happen next in his dreams.
Author:
jennyagainPairing: David Krejci/Marc Savard, Vladimir Sobotka (Boston Bruins)
Rating: hard R
Word Count: 1,475
Summary: Sobotka knows what Krejci and Savard need.
Disclaimer: The following is for entertainment purposes only. Real people, places, and things appear, but the work is complete fiction, and there is no intent to defame, insult, or slander. No money is being made. Any and all errors belong solely to me.
Notes:
savvyfan taught me everything I know.Company
David Krejci let himself into Marc Savard's place with Vladimir Sobotka's key.
It was late and Krejci had been to Providence to watch Sobotka play and now he was a little bit drunk - he'd left his car at home, walked the handful of blocks to Savard's place and taken a couple of good pulls from a hip flask on the way - and he was, as the locals said, wicked turned on.
It was dark in Savard's apartment, but Krejci had been there enough times - never like this, of course, but still - to know which door down the hallway was the bedroom he was looking for.
He pushed the door open, and quietly stepped into the room.
The blinds were only half closed, and the Boston night was fairly bright. Krejci could see Savard, asleep on his stomach, facing away from the door, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He was wearing boxers and a blue t-shirt, and the sheets were tangled around his legs.
Krejci was almost certain Savard could hear the thump of his racing heart from where he stood.
Savard stirred. "Vladdie?"
"Vladdie's in Providence, Savvy," Krejci answered, voice soft, taking a few steps toward the bed.
"Krech?" Savard sat up and turned towards him, rubbing his eyes and frowning at Krejci.
Krejci said nothing. Savard's pale skin looked so good in the moonlight, Krejci's hands itched to get on him: push his t-shirt up, over, and off of him, run his hands over Savard's strong shoulders and down his arms, grab those wrists and pin them over his head and kiss him, yeah, make Savard be quiet for once, quiet until he wanted it from Krejci and then was whimpering for it -
Savard interrupted. "Krech, how'd you get in here?" He didn't seem mad, just puzzled.
Krejci focused on slowing his spinning thoughts, focused on picking out the right words. "Vladdie's key. He gave it to me. He said you were lonely."
"You were in Providence tonight?"
Krejci nodded.
"Vladdie sent you here?"
Krejci nodded again.
"Huh," Savard said. Krejci looked at him, trying to read his face in the dim light. He'd never been very good at reading Savard, and here his desire had him off-balance, his need and the repetition of Vladdie's words to him in Providence after the game: "Go to Savvy, David. He's lonely." It was as close to permission as he was ever going to get, so Krejci had come back to Boston, let himself into Savard's apartment as bidden.
He hadn't thought much about what Savard might have to say about it.
He was about to find out, though.
Savard stood, came over to Krejci. They looked at each other for a long moment, not speaking, not touching; Krejci felt himself blush, embarrassed mostly by still not being able to read Savard's features and suddenly certain he was about to be shown the door and practice would be unbearably awkward for the next few days.
But then Savard had placed his hands on Krejci's hips and drawn them together. Krejci's pulse leapt as he felt Savard's cock, hard and trapped in his boxers, come into contact with his own, trapped in his own well-tailored dress pants. Krejci's hands moved swiftly to Savard's ass to help keep up that excellent friction. Savard's mouth moved to Krejci's ear. "That wicked boy," he said, hot and low, and then they were kissing.
They clutched at each other, mouths moving together frantically, and Krejci's mind was racing with every thought of want he'd ever had in Savard's direction: times in the dressing room he'd seen Savvy and Vladdie touching when they thought no one else was looking; times on the ice when Savvy had tried to check someone taller, stronger, bigger and succeeded; times after games when Savvy had come back into the dressing room, still all wet and with a towel slung low across his hips, running his mouth about something or other but Krejci was never listening, all he wanted then was to lick those droplets of water from Savvy's abs, his shoulders, the back of his neck.
Now, Vladdie had said he could. Everything he'd wanted, he could have.
Hunger took over, and, without breaking their kiss, Krejci walked Savard back over to the bed. "Off," he said, pulling at Savard's t-shirt. Savard obliged, pulled off his in-the-way clothing then sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Krejci.
"You too, of course," Savard said, and he reached forward, tugged the hem of Krejci's shirt from his pants. Savard helped with the buttons, and Krejci made quick work of everything else. After he kicked away his pants, Krejci turned back to where Savard sat and stood between Savard's spread knees.
"Thank you, Vladdie," Savard breathed as he reached out to run his hands over Krejci's cock.
Krejci groaned aloud at that first touch, suddenly desperate to have all of Savard be his, and right that moment. "Savvy," he said, "need you. Now."
Savard got the message - not hard to understand - and he scooted back on the bed. Krejci swooped in, pinned Savard's wrists about his head just like in his fantasy and moaned again as Savard wriggled underneath him, sharp hip bones bumping and bruising together as their cocks touched and rubbed against each other. Savard thrust his hips up, moaning into their kiss, and Krejci's teeth found Savard's lip.
"Vladdie," Savard mumbled against Krejci's mouth, and Krejci bit down, not hard, but the coppery taste of the slightest bit of blood followed. Krejci didn't mind Sobotka's name hanging between them. In fact, he liked having him there like this, thought it fitting since he'd made this happen.
Krejci broke the kiss, licked his way down Savard's torso, dipping his tongue into his navel before kneeling between his thighs. The head of Savard's cock was like velvet under the first swipe of his tongue. Then Krejci took Savard all the way in, and Savard's fingers tangled in Krejci's damp hair and Krejci worked Savard over, wondering a little bit whether or not Savard was remembering he was getting blown by Krejci and not Sobotka. Truth was it didn't matter to Krejci; he had Savard's cock in his mouth and he was making the most of the moment (and thanking Sobotka for it).
Savard tried to warn him when his climax was imminent, but Krejci was lost to the world so the first pulse of Savard's orgasm surprised him. He swooped back in, though, having missed that first moment, and he swallowed down the rest as Savard mumbled incoherently about Czechs being the end of him.
In the moments that followed, Krejci was watching Savard's face when his eyes opened, blue and beautiful and just a bit glazed over, and then Savard was sitting up again and he was wrapping one hand around the back of Krejci's neck and the other around Krejci's aching cock and Krejci was unable to do anything expect thrust shallowly against the sweet pressure of Savard's fingers and moan when his thumb moved softly over the tip.
"You like that," Savard said, breaking their kiss and doing it again, watching Krejci's face. "Vladdie likes that, too."
"Want," said Krejci, "want." Eyes closed in bliss, Krejci lifted his chin, exposing his neck. Savard took advantage, lips and teeth moving along Krejci's neck and shoulder, nipping at the pale skin. "Want you and Vladdie," Krejci hissed as Savard bit down hard.
"He wants you, too," Savard said quietly, moving his hand quicker, swiping his slick thumb over the head of Krejci's cock more often. "He wants you and I want you and - God - " Krejci cut Savard off with a keening whimper and his hand joined Savard's on his cock and then Krejci was coming, hot spurts landing on Savard's wrist and stomach and the bedclothes.
"Krech, Krech, Krech," Savard said, kissing Krejci hard again, his hands moving to Krejci's ass. Then Krejci broke the kiss, breathed "Savvy," and let their foreheads rest together as his fingertips moved lightly over Savard's hips. They waited there together, each catching his breath.
"Thank you, Vladdie," Krejci said, echoing Savard's thought from earlier.
Savard laughed softly, getting up from the bed. "You wanna stay, Krech?"
Krejci didn't answer right away. Looking down at his hands, he didn't think Sobotka's offer of keeping Savard company meant staying the night, as tempting as it was.
"No, no I'll go."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Dressed and walking home through the chilly winter night in Boston, Krejci thought about what Savard had said.
"He wants you, too; he wants you and I want you and -"
Krejci wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but he was pretty sure he knew what would happen next in his dreams.
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