Flyers Fic, "Rewards" Richie, Coburn, Knuble, Powe and Metro

[exigencyexit.livejournal.com]

Title: "Rewards" Richie, Coburn, Knuble, Powe and Metro
By: exigencyexit 
Fandom: NHL
Team(s): Philadelphia Flyers
Pairing(s): Mike Richards/Claude Giroux, Braydon Coburn/Mike Knuble, mentions of Darroll Powe/?? and Glen Metropolit/??
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: So fake. Not true. Entertainment purposes only.
Warnings: Smut. Language.
Summary: Rewards for the game on Thursday, February 19, 2009.
Credit: To the boys, great goal scoring! And tinydancermags cause this series hates loves us.
Author's Notes: Don't think just because you don't see his name above doesn't mean he isn't in this.  ENJOY! *Not edited.

Richie/Claude

There was a certain excitement floating around in Mike Richards' head, and anyone who looked carefully could see it spilling through his eyes. It was more than the excitement of a little boy on Christmas morning, or the excitement of buying your first car, or even the excitement of hearing "I love you" for the first time from your soul mate. It was that excitement of making one of the biggest accomplishments in his fucking life: Proving he was indeed a captain.

A career high five points in one game. Two goals, his sixth shortie and an empty netter, and three beautiful assists. Everyone wanted to talk to him. Everyone wanted to know what he was thinking, feeling, saying, maybe even fucking hearing at that exact moment. And Mike didn't care. He took it in. He absorbed every wave of emotion that rushed through his body, and he didn't care what he looked like because he was grinning like a madman as about half a dozen microphones were shoved in his face.

He didn't have many nights like that one. The amazing, feel-good-about-yourself game. The game were he can take all the attention away, even if he didn't score the winning goal or knock out the toughest guy on the opposing team. Mike Richards was just fucking there and everybody wanted to be him at that exact moment.

Everything plus everything else made Claude Giroux about ten times more nervous when he approached his captain.

"Hey, uh, Richie?"

Mike turned around and looked at the rookie. His face was flustered, eyes a little wide, and Mike was sure Claude was up to something.

"What's up?"

"Can I ask for a favor?"  Mike nodded his head, continued to button his shirt. "Can you give me a ride home?"

Mike had never been to Claude's place before. It was a small apartment for one, maybe a little too small, but extremely neat and clean. Mike seemed surprised at how a guy's place could look like that. Did the rookie have a maid? Mike sure did.

Claude led the way around the apartment, pass the living room and into the kitchen.  "You want a drink?"

"Sure, a bottle of water?"

Claude got two bottles out and handed one to Mike. He opened his own and took a couple big gulps, washing away a little bit of the nerves that were going about eighty mph at the moment.

"You got a nice place."

"Thanks."

There was a comfortable silence between them, or at least MIke thought so, and when Claude placed his bottle of water on the counter, the captain suddenly found himself pressed between a warm body and a granite counter. Mike looked at Claude, eyes leveled exactly, their chests almost touching, a leg slowly slipping in between Mike's own two...The captain placed the water bottle on the counter and moved his hands to grab Claude's hips. The tension was rising, the sexual, nervous, dry-mouth tension that was feeding off both of them.

"You uh, you got two goals tonight."

It was probably a glint in the young rookie's eyes, or maybe it was the bulge that was pressing against Mike's right thigh, but whatever it was, the captain pulled Claude close and started to kiss him.  Claude kissed back, welcoming the anxious tongue pushing through his lips, sucking on it and teasing it with his own. The rookie wrapped his arms around Mike's neck, resting them comfortably, settling into an everyday casualness in going about kissing his teammate. There was nothing to think about it, as Mike enjoyed kissing him very much, but the room was getting hotter and the captain was sure he needed to take his pants off before his dick popped right through them.

"Bed, now." Mike took control now and Claude kept their contact as they made their way to the bedroom. Just as small as everyone room, and just as neat, the bed sheets soon became messed up and Mike pushed Claude to the bed and fell on top of him.  The kissing was more eager now, hands racing to pull off clothes and get them out of the way. Claude sat up and the captain had his shirt off, pulling off his own, and then skin-on-skin contact and Mike was in heaven. 

The admiration they had for each other could be seen on their faces. Claude, an admiration for his captain to be such a great leader. Mike, an admiration for Claude to be able to exceed his expectations and play like he should. But at that very moment, while Mike was tearing of the rookie's pants, the admiration was nothing but a sexual desire to simply fuck and be fucked. Inside the bedroom, it was just a reward and Mike fucking deserved it.

Claude was just about naked, wearing only his socks, and Mike's pants were off and pushed to the side on the bed.  A little frustration washed over the rookie, his erection in Mike's face as the captain was kissing his inner thighs. One kiss, two kisses, three kisses...and then Mike took the rookie's cock in his mouth, and Claude was no longer frustrated but then mouth wide open and moaning, perched on his elbows as he looked down at Mike.

"Richie, you're - Ah fuck....You're supposed to fuck me, your reward, not mine..." Claude remembered his reward all too well, that mouth doing just about the same thing as it did last time. He wanted to keep enjoying it, but Claude wasn't greedy on the ice and nor was he in bed.

"Oh trust me," Mike said, face pulled back now and eyes looking up at Claude. "I'm gonna fuck you." He slid two hands up the rookie's thighs, making his squirm.  Mike smirked a little as he kissed his way his stomach, chest, throat, neck, and when he reached Claude's lips the rookie pulled him down to grind their crotches together.

"Mmm, then fuckin' do it now." Claude's breath was hot in Mike's ear, demanding and horny and about ready to do it for the captain if it didn't happen soon.

"Lube?"

"Nightstand to the left, top drawer."

Mike moved off of Claude and went searching through the drawer. He found the bottle, next to a couple condoms, after grabbing both items he was back on the bed. Claude had moved, getting on his hands and knees, and the captain was almost tempted on telling him to move. Mike would admit it, his favorite position was when he could make eye contact with his lover. Nothing really turned him on more than that.

He was moaning and pushing back on nothing, and Claude almost yelped when he felt two lubed fingers enter him. They curled, twisted, turned, grazing over pleasure spots that almost sent Claude over the edge. A third finger entered him next, three stretching him, and then they were gone.

"Oh, Richie..." Claude arched his back when he felt Mike's tip, and then stilled himself to allow the captain to slowly enter him. Claude wasn't exactly the one to get some very often, and when you throw in Mike's size, it makes for a very uncomfortable situation at first. 

"You're so fuckin' tight."

"Fuck me, Richie."

"You sure you're ready?"

"I said, fuck me." It was obvious that nervousness that Claude held before, back in the locker room and maybe a little in kitchen, was gone.

Mike started to thrust in and out of Claude, pulling out slowly, slamming back in. He drew out cries of pleasure from the rookie, moans and grunts from his own mouth, and they were both saying each others names. The bed creaked a little, Claude more worried about being pounded into then nosey neighbors. He was a hockey player; it was expected of him anyway.

"Oh fuck, you feel so good..." The captain continued to thrust into Claude, claiming his reward on the young rookie, feeling everything he can run through his body like an electric shock. He was feeling great, that natural high from earlier adding to all the extra pleasure. But that contact, the eye contact Mike craved, wasn't there and he needed it, needed it to come.

Mike pulled out and stayed out, Claude growling a little too loudly when everything suddenly stopped.

"What the - " The rookie was on his back, legs in the air, and Mike found his way in between those legs to continue his assault on Claude's ass. He made that eye contact, picked up the speed, and soon his orgasm was right there, in his face, crashing into him and semen was spilling out into the condom. He was touching himself, eyes fixated on Mike, watching the mouth drop open as his pretty neck was exposed and hands grasped his ankles just a little harder than he should had. Claude was pretty sure that was the hottest thing ever, and just as Mike dropped his head to breathe out the remains of his orgasm, the rookie was coming all over his hand, a little spilling out onto his chest.  He had screamed Mike's name, and then was pulling the captain towards him with sticky hands.

Mike pulled out and fell onto the bed, moving his jeans away from underneath Claude. The two started to kiss lazily, hands carelessly roaming each other, as the sex aroma was set to start dying down.

Inside the back right pocket of Mike's jeans, his very expensive trustworthy phone had, at some point after Claude was thrown onto his back, made a call to the last number the captain dialed. The phone number just so happened to belong to a certain left winger who, as bad luck would have, heard the entire half of the action going on between Mike and Claude. A bitter laugh as he heard the panting when it was over, and Scottie was pretty sure he had the best blackmail against both of them.


Cobie/Knubie

The locker room was just about empty when Scottie approached Mike Knuble.

"Nice work out there, Mikey."

Knuble looked up from where he stood in front of his own private space. His eyes connected with Scottie's, maybe doubted the younger man for a second. "Thanks." He looked away and went about to minding his own business. The media had just had their way with him and Knuble was looking to get out of that locker room fast. 

"So, I hear you got a think for young, tall, and dark-haired men."

"Who says that?" Knuble's head shot back up and he was again looking at Scottie.

"Jonesy."

"You know about that?"

"I know about everything."

Knuble closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. Why did he even bother to ask. "Oh my god..."

"Think you'll let me fuck you?"

"Get two goals, and maybe I will."

Scottie raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Ooh, exciting."

"Is there something you want, Uppy?" Knuble was getting a little bored, maybe a litlte annoyed with the conversation.

"Yeah, actually, there is." Scottie moved in a little closer to Knuble, certainly invading his personal space at that point. He was stilling grinning, the look in his eyes changing slightly, and Knuble wasn't so sure what he was doing.  "You got a goal today and so you get a reward. Sound familiar?" Of course it did. Knuble was a top goal scorer. That had to be his third or fourth goal since this whole rewards thing broke out, and Scottie already ont he giving side of one of them.

"Are you..."

"No, I am not. But, he will." Scottie's eyes drifted over to the other side. Knuble followed them and watched them land on a tall defenseman.

"Cobie?"

Braydon Coburn sat on a bench, packing stick supplies into a dufflebag. He seemed zoned out, completely out of tune with what was happening around him. His hair was still wet from his shower, pieces sticking up oddly, some slicked back, and his lips were pressed tightly closed in concentration. There was something about his movements that Knuble suddenly found attractive. Damn Scottie, how he always had to point out the finer things in life.

"How's that gonna happen?"

"He's into you, Mikey. I talked to him earlier."

"You what?!"

"Trust me, it's nothing more than anything sexual. He's got a girlfriend, don't forget." Scottie stepped closer to Knuble, and while the veteran had three inches on the winger, Scottie was still able to make him shudder when that hot breath hit his ear..."Come on, Mikey, you both deserve a reward. It'll be hot, doing each other, I can watch..."

At that exact moment, Braydon picked his head up and looked at them. The next minute were somewhat of a blur to Mike Knuble, as he felt what was maybe a push from Scottie, a tug from Braydon, and then fingers playing with the button on his pants then those same fingers wrapping around his cock. A mouth engulfed him, sucked him, teased him; made him come and muffle a moan behind his left hand. And then it was Braydon on the bench again, although duffle bag was set aside and Knuble wasn't too sure how he got on his own knees quickly but he did. Braydon's fingers were running through his hair, tugging gently, and soon the defenseman was coming and Knuble, despite what he told Randy, found himself swallowing every drop.

Both disheveled, they looked at Scottie. He was nowhere to be found.


Darroll Powe and Glen Metropolit both received their rewards that night as well. About four different blow jobs and a good round of sex and the boys were pretty confident in themselves for a repeat the next game.  The sytsem was becoming very effective. If only it could become a little more effective for other players...If only.