Keep Me Close chapter XVII- READ THIS PART SECOND

[revuko.livejournal.com]

Team: San Jose Sharks
Pairing: Joe Thornton/Evgeni Nabokov
Rating: NC-17 for language, situations, and all around darkness.

Summary: Not all in San Jose is sunny as the path to the Stanley Cup proves to be as difficult as ever; falling in love might be the simplest task on this year’s agenda.

Editor: Sherlockelly
Note: READ THIS PART SECOND. Once again, the chapter is too long.

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The denim is rough against Evgeni's rubbed-raw thighs. He pulls his dark-navy jeans up to his waist and slips the button through the clasp with trembling fingers. The metal teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of his crotch before he stretches his legs and pulls at the fabric bunching at his knees.

The locker room is void of people; the last to have walked through the exit was Joe once again. He had sent a fleeting glance to Evgeni before he left, but he did not say a thing. All he knew to say, he had already told Evgeni in the showers.

 

Evgeni pauses at the doorway, refusing to look back over his shoulder. He knows he has not left anything behind, for all the equipment was packed and is probably being loaded onto the plane at that very moment. Nothing is left, or forgotten, or wrong, but then why does he feel so lost?

 

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The back streets of Dallas are deserted by the time Evgeni leaves the American Airlines center. He pulls his phone from his back pocket, scoffing at the blank screen when he remembers that it is out of battery. Of course he forgot to charge it at the hotel, and of course the game took so fucking long. His shoulders slump and he glares with dead eyes at the grey pavement as he begins his search for a taxi.

 

The early morning chill tightens around his bones, weighing down his already exhausted limbs and making his movements sluggish. He stumbles on his feet when his eyes drift close, but he rights himself quickly and whips his head around in hopes of finding a cab to wave over.

 

No such luck. The streets are as dark as ever.

 

His lips purse in a grim line, and he crosses his arms over his shivering chest, the thin sweater doing nothing to save him from the brisk wind. Evgeni's heavy eyelids droop and his feet drag themselves forward mechanically before he can fall asleep on the spot.

 

He keeps his downcast gaze trained on the littered ground, mildly aware of how the street beneath him became dirtier. The fine hairs at the back of his neck prickle when the faint scuff of uneven footsteps reaches his ears. Evgeni shrugs off the sound with an aggravated growl and rights himself when he begins to lurch toward the building beside him. He is just so tired.

 

The stumbling steps grow louder and more frequent; Evgeni’s obscured mind barely has time to register the thought of becoming worried before a hand clasps over his mouth from behind.

 

Yelped swears in Evgeni's native tongue barely filter through the tight grasp over his face as he is pulled back into the hard chest of another. Evgeni struggles weakly, as the strain of the last few overtimes have taken a toll on his body already. He grapples at the vice-like arm over his head, but his blunt nails merely claw helplessly at the skin before the other hand shoots out to fist around his long fingers.

 

Fumes of alcohol make Evgeni’s head swim, as though it is not fogged enough already. His eyes flutter towards the back of his skull briefly, but a hot mouth is pressed up right against the shell of his ear and Evgeni renews his struggles.

 

A rumble passes through the body pressed flush against his, teeth scraping over his jaw line when the assailant hisses dangerously, “L-look who I found a-all by his…hisself,” a heavy slur drips from each of his growled words.

 

The slow tone crosses the line of predatory and each caress of the lips ghost over Evgeni’s skin, like fangs sinking deeper into his slowly decaying carcass. Ice-like dread fills his body, and Evgeni shivers violently despite himself.

 

The hand smothering Evgeni’s mouth clamps down harder, the fingers forcing his cheeks into the rows of his teeth, a wave of alarm washing over him at the same time. He yells weakly into the hand, jerking his head back and into the forehead of the other.

 

A surprised gasp from behind sends a fleeting feeling of pride ripple through Evgeni before his fingers are jerked painfully from their sockets, a gasp of his own escaping his lips.

 

“Bitch!”

 

Even at this inappropriate time, Evgeni finds it within himself to take offense to the man’s comment. His lips curl back in disgust, and he forces his jaw open, snapping it shut on the clawing fingers. They wriggle frantically against Evgeni’s tongue, the sweat stinging his taste buds like saltwater. But even through his grimace, he bites down harder.

 

“Fuck!”

 

The canines break through the rough flesh, hot blood seeping through the wounds and invading Evgeni’s mouth with a coppery flavor. It slides down his throat thickly when he jerks his head back again, ripping his fingers free from their bindings and lashing out, void of a sense of direction. His balled fist lands into the other man’s temple, effectively stunning him long enough for Evgeni to slip out of his hold.

 

Stumbling forward, Evgeni frantically shakes his head, fuzzy throughout the sudden attack. He propels himself shoulder first into the brick wall across from him, and a whine of pain rips from his raw throat. His vision wavers, the adrenaline escaping his body in waves and leaving him breathless against the cold wall. Falling over his own feet as he tries to flee, Evgeni chances a glimpse over his shoulder before he can right himself. Bewilderment is the first which floods Evgeni’s mind. Then he is scared for his life.

 

A very drunk Sean Avery glares heatedly back; his hand propped up against the alley wall twitches, blood gushing freely from definite bite marks between his thumb and forefinger.

 

Evgeni’s pause and dumbfounded stupor is enough time for the wild-eyed man on the other side of the alley to pounce, a bark of anger erupting from his snapping jaws, his teeth gleaming in the low moonlight. He blocks Evgeni’s escape with his lumbering body, and his hulking form shudders with each raspy breath. An indignant shriek flies from Evgeni’s open mouth, his feet scrambling to get away. He falls back and lands heavily into the side of a dumpster, the metal shell clanging sharply in his ears when he slides to the ground gracelessly.

 

Exhaustion grips him even now, as Avery slinks forward like an animal stalking its prey, the same glint of hunger in his bright eyes. Evgeni whimpers when he is caught in the look, shrinking back into the cold barrier pressing into his curled spine. His hands fly about him, in search of something, anything, to defend himself with. He is scared, but in no means is he helpless.

 

If only he could believe the softly spoken words in the back of his mind.

 

Only empty plastic bottles and old newspapers lay forgotten on the dirty alley floor, and Evgeni shudders when his hands cradle up to his chest empty handed. He tries to scramble to his feet, but his legs refuse to carry his weight, from fatigue or fear, he did not know.

 

A gravely chuckle worms its way into Evgeni’s ears, making him flinch at the dreadful sound. Each heavy tread forward sent Evgeni scrambling helplessly backwards, his knees pulling up to his chest, his cowering form almost as small as he feels.

 

“Heh.. y-ya know what, N-Nabokov?” He slows his advances and shakes his head, a deceiving smile playing on his tightly stretched lips. Evgeni glances up to the man’s face, trying to maintain a furious glare, but he bites down his sharp words when he sees an opening to Avery’s right.

 

It is strange playing the other position. He is a goaltender; he is the one who covers all possible slots, to keep everything from passing him. A rush of hot adrenaline fills his limbs at the chance to exploit Avery’s unprotected blocker-side.

 

Pushing from the dank ground, the goaltender darts toward the space between Avery’s raised arm and bent leg. His fingers scrape against the ground desperately; his skin splits open and out flows the same red life that oozes from the other’s hand. An arrogant snort follows his frantic movements, and Avery moves to grab Evgeni by the arm, but he manages to slip out of the talons reaching for him.

The humoring chuckle turns into an infuriated cry when the lithe man pulls his arm away before Avery can get a grip around the bicep. “I was a-asking ya a q-question, faggot!”

 

The voice in Evgeni’s head grows stronger with an accomplished laugh. ‘I won’t answer it then, asshole!’

 

But Evgeni’s mirth is short lived. He dodges through Avery’s waving arms, the soft yellow light from the street beckoning him closer. One step further and the back of his sweater his caught in the claw of the beast. He is wrenched down from the momentum, and he ends up landing on his back, his arms twisting painfully beneath him.

 

He stares up with wide eyes; the outline of Avery’s straining face hovers above him, the dusty grey sky creating a misplaced halo around his head. He leans down and Evgeni knows that he is trapped.

 

“Ya los’ me a-a lot o’ money today, N-Nabokov. I-I didn’ need ta come down ’ere a-and watch you fuckers lose… Ya lost me a lot of m-money.” His teeth are bared by the time he is crouched over Evgeni’s frozen face. His eyes, though upside down, still manage to stab Evgeni’s wavering hope of escape.

 

He swallows, and stares pointedly at the sliver of grey sky over Avery’s shoulder. “S-so?” His voice comes out less confident than how it sounded in his head.

 

A breathy laugh puffs into Evgeni’s hair, and his face his taken roughly around the ears, Avery’s fingers digging into dip under his jawbone. “So? S-so I’ve had a really fucking bad day. I d-didn’t need ta lose h-half a million ’cause of ya goddamn Sharks t-today either,” Each word punctuated with his anger, quiet and dangerous.

 

The grip on his ears twists, a surprised gasp ripping from Evgeni’s dry throat.

 

Grey sky blurs in his vision and tears surge to the front of his eyes. Panic urges him to struggle, but he can barely fist his hand; the power to move has left him. Blinking his eyes rapidly, the tears recede, but the feeling of helplessness remains ever heavy on Evgeni’s mind.

 

“W-why are you dhoing this?” he questions through a sharp whimper.

 

The hands leave Evgeni’s ears and snake under the thin fabric of his sweater, the nails tearing at the pulsing skin mercilessly. Avery brings his face lower, the smirk inches away from Evgeni’s eyes. He cannot help but stare it, for all the sky is covered and all he can see is his fear. The thin lips begin move, each syllable sending a pang of horror rattling through Evgeni’s tired bones.

 

“ ’Cause I wanna hear ya scream.”

 

Nails claw at Evgeni’s heaving chest; the man’s lips opening wide and engulfing Evgeni’s whole, his fangs sinking into the flesh and drawing blood.

 

Evgeni cannot help but scream.

 

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Tears were streaming down Evgeni’s face by the time he jolted himself awake. He sobbed loudly, the suppressed memories invading his thoughts and creeping into the edges of his vision.

 

Something shifted behind him, and Evgeni did not stop himself from tensing at the movement. An arm tightened around his naked waist and Joe’s soft voice cut through his nightmares. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Evgeni clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, nodding purposefully at the quiet words. He twisted in Joe’s reassuring embrace, wrapping his left arm around the sturdy shoulders and tangling his right hand into the soft curls at the base of his skull. The warm body heat of another traveled up the length of Evgeni’s body as he buried his face into the crook of Joe’s neck, slightly reassured when the arms around his waist hugged them closer together.

 

 

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To be continued

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Ah! I’m so sorry for this very late update! I never knew how much a sex scene could take out of you, but here I am, more than a week overdue.

 

This is another long chapter, so I hope it shows that I have not forgotten about these two, even if one is currently sick/hurt again -_-

 

 

Comments

[revuko.livejournal.com]

Yeah, Nabby should never be hurt :( Unfortunately that's the case again right now -_-
He needs to stop breaking, but you know that Joe is making him soup (and sexing him up) so he can get better soon.
Haha and the emotions, I had no idea how that was going to turn out, so I'm relieved that you like it!