Well apparently this was what I needed to get out of MY writer's block...
Pairing: Erik Christensen/Sidney Crosby, mentions of Ryan Whitney/Brooks Orpik, Ty Conklin, Ryan Malone
Disclaimer: As much as I wish Erik Christensen and Sidney Crosby were chained to my bed right now, sadly, I do not own any of these fine young men and I don’t know an iota of what occurs in their personal lives. Only in my dreams J
“FUCK!” I yelped as I flapped my hand back and forth, cringing at the pain as a red welt started to rise on my palm. Five bucks said Whits heard that next door in his place, if he’s not too busy fucking Brooksy. Some days I’m glad Whits turned me onto this apartment while my house is being finished, but the jokes get old sometimes… and if he saw me with a burn from ironing a table cloth…
But why the fuck am I bothering ironing a table cloth? Since when do I even use a table cloth? Since when do I even use an iron?
Oh yeah, since I asked him over for dinner tonite. Valentine’s Day. Dinner for two. Perfect night.
Well as perfect as it can get when you’re cooking dinner for Sidney fucking Crosby.
I swore under my breath again as I tried to iron out the last wrinkle, looking at the clock. About 90 minutes till Sid got here, and I wanted everything to be perfect.
I’m not a sappy guy – face it, my idea of a romantic evening is listening to Slayer while strumming on my guitar with someone special listening. I don’t do roses, or boxes of chocolate – give me a few Hershey’s with almonds and I’m a happy Crusher. So yeah, a candle-lit dinner, not exactly my expertise.
Finally finished. I put the final touches on the table – a couple of candles I borrowed from Max’s seduction junction, and a table cloth I picked up at the mall. The nice plates that I never used that mom got me when I moved here seem more appropriate than Chinet. I checked on the alfredo sauce that was simmering on the stove, adding in a bit more garlic powder before running into the bedroom. Nothing too dressy, just khakis and a white dress shirt, stick some gel in my hair to try to tame the ‘hawk I’m trying to grow back in.
I hear a knock on the door and yell “Come in,” figuring it to be Whits or Ty, since Conks is renting in the same complex I am right now. What I didn’t expect was a nervous Sid the Kid, leaning on a cane.
“You’re early,” I said, looking down with a smirk. Leave it to the kid. And damn, he looks good, in a black dress shirt and black slacks – wonder if he got those custom made too, he’ll never live that down.
“Yeah, Bugsy had someplace to be, so he dropped me off early. Told him we were hanging out and playing NHL08. Something smells good,” Sid said with a grin. Poor guy still can’t drive with the ankle. He still has his hand behind his back.
“C’mon into the kitchen, dinner’s almost ready,” I said, flipping on some Metallica. “Hope you don’t mind my cooking music.”
Sid laughed and followed me through the living room. As I was stirring the pasta, I heard his cane clunk against the wall and felt an hand on my arm.
“Hey, thanks for doing this,” I heard him say huskily. I turned around and there he was, sheepishly holding out a red rose and two Hershey’s bars – my favorites. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
I blushed as I took the tokens and squeezed his hand. “Now come on Sid, ditch the Romeo and Juliet crap.” I winked at him wish a slight blush. Damn, why does he always make me do that!
I finished up dinner and tossed Sid a lighter to light the candles. It cast a somewhat romantic light on the room, which was kinda odd, but it worked for us. Conversation flowed easily over dinner, just as it had on our few previous dates. But this was the first time he tasted my cooking, a well-kept secret only Whits, Brooksy and Conks knew about, as I took on most of the Sunday dinner cooking for the guys.
About halfway through the meal, I heard a tiny moan slip out of Sid’s lips as he closed his eyes.
“What?” I said, curious and a bit cocky. I know I’m a good cook.
“Just… damn Crusher, this is good!”
“Don’t think that’s the only time you’re going to moan tonight, if I have my way,” I said with a cocky smirk.
We finished the rest of our dinner with a few furtive glances but rather quickly. He offered to do the dishes while I put the food away and cleaned off the table. I finished first and leaned back to check out the man bent over my sink. God, I just wanted to pin him down and have my way with that ass. It’s so tight, I just want to see what it feels like wrapped around my cock…
I shake my head and remind myself that it’s still early “down boy,” I think to myself. I bite my lip and run a hand through my hair – Sid noticed the ‘hawk earlier, he always liked it when I had it last season – and cross the kitchen in two steps. Grabbing a handful of his hair, I pull Sid’s face around until I’m looking down into his chocolate eyes. He gives me a surprised look and I see firey passion in his eyes and I know there’s a good chance Whits won’t be the only one screaming tonite.
I roughly kiss Sid’s mouth, pulling his hair slightly as his arms wrap around me. I bite his bottom lip and feel him grind against my thigh. I let out a guttural moan as I plunge my tongue into his mouth and reach down to grab that perfect ass. We probably stood there for about 10 minutes, grinding and grabbing and making out like two teenagers before I broke away.
As Sid caught his breath, I let my hand trail down his body and said “So, let’s see if you’ve got the horizontal moves to back up the vertical ones, eh Sid?”
To Be Continued…
Yes, I’m evil, but if people like this one, I’ll come back with the NC-17 rated Part two.