***
I paced nervously outside the hotel room door. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into.
Look, I don’t care who knows it, okay? I didn’t want to get into that fight. I mean, it was Jackman who started the whole thing. I was just trying to get out of Malt’s way. Then Barrett threw down his gloves, and, well, really the rest is blurry. Not so much blurry as fuzzy, I guess. Because I saw the rest of what happened through my jersey.
Yeah, I got my ass handed to me. I wasn’t even sure what to do. All I knew was that if I could hold onto his arms then he couldn’t hit me. .. as many times as he wanted to anyway. After the game Darren told me he was going to teach me how to fight. I looked at his face, battered and bruised, and pretty much just gulped.
//Umm… tell him no fucking way// I said to Igor. I understand a lot of what’s said to me, but I still have trouble sometimes speaking in English.
“What did he say?” Darren asked Igor.
“He said thank you very much, and when would you like to begin lessons,” replied Igor.
Don’t let that calm exterior and dignified manner fool you. That old man is pure evil.
As it was, though, I was sitting in the locker room, still trying to recover from the shock of what had happened, when I got my second shock of the day. Steve handed me a folded piece of paper with my name on it. He arched his eyebrow at me, the stitches between them doing a weird wriggle, and then walked away. Igor sat down next to me, and eyed the paper.
//What is that?// he asked.
//I don’t know// I answered. I opened up the piece of paper and began my slow and careful puzzling out of the meaning of the letters. Igor was more practiced than I so I didn’t mind that he read it over my shoulder. Evil or no, he still acted as my teacher and didn’t try to read it for me. He merely helped me when I struggled over a word. The letter said:
Dmitri,
In today’s game, our team may have gained two points, but we lost much more than that in the type of points that count toward sportsmanlike conduct. You were part of the cause for that, and you must be held accountable for your actions. Meet me in my hotel room tonight at 11pm. Do not be late.
--Steve
My eyes were wide as I looked at Igor.
//What’s going to happen now?//
//I guess you will find out// replied Igor unhelpfully. His eyes suggested he had an idea of what I was in for. Some team tradition, maybe? But he wasn’t telling. He merely smiled, got up, and walked away. Evil, I tell you.
So here I was, 10:58 pm and pacing outside my Captain’s room. ‘Held accountable for my actions.’ What the hell did that mean? And then there was the fact that I didn’t have Igor or Sergei or even Pavel there to help translate for me. My heart pounded even more. Damn Jackman. This was all his fault. Next time I see him on the ice I’m going to beat his ass and show him what Darren’s taught me… what a minute, what the fuck am I saying?! No, I’m not! I don’t want to learn to fight! He… I…
Oh God.
The door opened and I squeaked. I turned around slowly and there stood Steve. He wore pajama pants… and that was it. My heart pounded in a different way, and I took in the smooth flex of his muscles as he pushed the door all the way open.
Oh God, oh God, this is not helping my nervousness at ALL…
“It’s 11,” Steve said.
The sound of his voice snapped me out of my trance and I stopped staring at his chest. I dropped my eyes to the floor and nodded.
“You should have knocked,” Steve said. “Come in.”
I looked up and Steve stepped back, making room for me to enter.
Still saying nothing, I walked in to the room. I stood near the two beds uncertainly, not turning as Steve shut the door. He walked up behind me and I jumped again as he put his hand on my shoulder. He laughed a little, but not in a mean way. I turned around, and his eyes were amused but kind.
“Are you okay?” Steve asked.
“Yes,” I said, not convincingly at all. My face was surely telling the fact that I was scared to death. I cleared my throat. “Uh… why you ask me here?”
Steve looked at me calmly. “Our team looked bad today,” he said slowly, watching my face to see that I understood. “There was almost more fighting than playing. That isn’t what we’re about.”
I nodded. That was how it was in Russia. Some of my nervousness went away, well, retreated for now. I was still unsure of what was going to happen. I wasn’t familiar enough with the traditions in this country…
“You were a part of that fighting,” Steve continued.
“But, was not my fault-” I began. Steve held up his hand for silence.
“That doesn’t matter,” Steve said. “You were still involved, and you need to be punished.”
I gulped.
The nervousness was back in full force.
“Punished?”
“Yes,” said Steve. His eyes sparkled suddenly, though the rest of his face stayed calm. “You need to be spanked.”
Okay… now I know my English isn’t as good as I thought it was. Because I didn’t hear that right at all. At ALL.
Steve saw my confusion.
“You know what spanking is, Byk?”
I opened my mouth, and then shut it. I couldn’t find the words to tell Steve that yes, I knew it meant when parents hit their children in the ass for misbehaving. But, I also couldn’t find the words to tell him that sometimes the guys in the locker room talked about spanking, but that it must mean something else. Like, when Brendan was saying Sergei must be spanking it a lot more since his divorce, and Sergei got so mad Steve had to talk him out asking to be traded.
So, I just shook my head.
Steve didn’t say anything for a second. Then he said something I thought for sure I heard wrong, too.
“Why don’t you take off your shirt,” he said. Before I could ask for confirmation that that was indeed what he’d said, his fingers were at the waist of my pants. He slid them up against my stomach and pulled the shirt up with it. The sensation of his fingertips on my skin sent little bolts of electricity down into my groin, and I started to get hard. Somewhere in my rushing thoughts I wanted to find a way to hide this from Steve, but instead I raised my arms over my head so that he could get my shirt off. He smiled and looked at my chest, running his hand lightly over my skin. I shivered.
“Take off your shoes,” Steve said, and I didn’t argue. Especially because I could sit down when I did, and that would hide the strain in the front of my jeans. I took off my shoes, and after hesitating a bit I took off my socks too. Steve was sitting on the other bed watching me.
“Come here,” he said softly. Who could argue with that? I stood up and moved over to him, and he stood up too. When he did, my eyes widened and though I tried not to, I stared at the front of his pajama pants. They were tenting out.
Oh my God, Steve Yzerman and I are in a hotel room half naked together and we’re both hard. So basically this is what happens when you get into a fight, the fantasies you jerk off to come true? Well then God bless the NHL.
Steve didn’t mind my staring apparently, and he stepped almost close enough to press against me. His arm snaked around my back and held me, and his other hand drifted down to… oh God…
I whimpered and pressed forward against his hand. I was so hard it hurt, and if I hadn’t lost all command of English at that moment I would have begged him to unzip my pants for me. Instead, his hand stopped stroking me and went behind me to touch my… oh my God, is he really touching my-
Suddenly I squeaked as I felt the force of his hand hitting my ass. Steve grinned up at me.
“That is spanking, Byk,” said Steve. “It’s a form of punishment, and with adults it can be fun. And you do need to be punished. Don’t you agree?”
He spanked me again. The blow was just hard enough to sting, and more importantly it made my cock rub against the front of my pants. I found a word at last and I moaned it out.
“Yes!”
Steve smiled and granted my wish by unzipping my pants. He undid the button and pulled my pants down, and my boxers after. My cock was finally freed, and was so hard it almost touched my stomach. I stepped out of my clothing and then shyly reached for Steve’s waist. I started to pull his pants down, though I had to pull them away from his body to get them from around his cock first. He didn’t object, and as he stepped from them I couldn’t help but stare at him.
He was beautiful, bruises under his eyes and all. The marks on his face only accentuated the beauty of his features. He was even more beautiful naked than when he was clothed. Of course I knew that from the times I’d sneaked looks at him in the showers, but I’d never seen him hard before. I reached down to stroke myself without thinking about it.
“Not yet,” Steve said, a little breathlessly. “You need to be punished first.”
He sat down on the bed, and pulled me down with him. Using just his hands, he guided me to how he wanted me to be. I straddled him, my knees bent and on either side of his thighs. The insides of my legs pressed up against his hips, and as he adjusted us our cocks rubbed together. My heart pounded and I desperately resisted the urge to keep rubbing. Steve used one hand to hold my hip, and reached around with the other.
He began to spank me, keeping a steady rhythm. I cried out a little each time, not from pain but with the sharp bolt of pleasure I got from the stinging hits. Of course it helped that as he spanked me my cock was pushed forward to rub his. Soon we were both crying out.
He groaned and spanked me harder, and I whimpered a little at the increased pain on my already stinging ass, but I found that I didn’t mind in the slightest. I threw my head back.
//Oh my God, oh fuck, Stevie// I moaned.
Though the only thing I said in his language was his name, the point seemed to come across.
“Bad boy,” Steve muttered, now rubbing my ass in between each hit. “Do you… understand… what you did… wrong?”
I smiled, and with each spanking I accentuated the movement of my hips. I ground my cock against his, leaned into the next hit, and then ground against him again. “Yes, Steve.”
Steve’s mouth dropped open and he began to pant from our efforts. “And do you… Oh, fuck… promise to behave… better?”
I was panting too. “Uh… yes, Steve.”
“Great,” Steve said in a voice that cracked. He wrapped his arms around me and lay on his back, pulling me with him. He crushed his lips to mine and I kissed him like I was drowning and he was oxygen. We didn’t even have a semblance of rhythm as we each rubbed our body up against the other. Steve shut his eyes and moaned words that didn’t make sense to my ears, but made all the sense in the world to my cock, and I could feel that I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. I clutched him, and as his cock arched roughly against mine I lost it. I cried out and felt all the world rush away in the sound of my blood pounding in my head, and as I came I felt hot cum against my stomach that I know wasn’t mine.
Steve’s cock went through its final spurts as I lay against him, helpless to move. I listened to his breathing return to normal as he absently stroked by back. Finally a little nervousness snuck in through my haze of pleasure as I realized I couldn’t stay.
“Umm… Steve?”
“Yeah?” His tired, contented voice made me shiver.
“I go back now… have to, uh… pack.”
“Yeah, we leave pretty early,” Steve said. “Hang on a sec.”
He got up and carefully walked into the bathroom. He came back a few minutes later somewhat cleaned up, with a towel in his hands. I cleaned up as best as I could, and then got dressed.
I stood staring at him, as he lay back down onto the bed. I think if I was shocked by what had happened earlier today, you could safely say I was stunned senseless now. I wasn’t in love with him, exactly… I did love him but it was more of a respect and admiration type of love. He wasn’t going to be my boyfriend , but we had definitely shared something that I would never forget.
I just didn’t have the words to tell him this. So I told him that.
“I do not have the words…”
Steve grinned. “Going to behave better?”
I grinned too. “Yes Steve.”
As I left the room, I felt bad. For the first time in my career as an athlete, I had lied to my captain. I hurried along the hallway until I found the room I was looking for. I banged on the door, waited for an impatient second, and then banged again.
Finally he opened it. Darren stood blinking, his curls in disarray. His voice croaked in the just-woken-up kind of way.
“Byk? Do you know what time it is? What the fuck do you want?”
“Teach me,” I said firmly.
He blinked again. “Teach you what?”
“Fighting,” I said.
“You… what, NOW?”
“Yes, NOW.”
He spat some curse words at me and slammed the door.
“Tomorrow!” I shouted.
“Fuck you!” he yelled back. “Why don’t you ask Joey?”
“Good idea!” I yelled, and took off down the hallway.
***
