***
Sergei Fedorov leaned back against the pillows of his hotel bed, blinking as sunlight woke him from his half-doze. Yawning, he stretched his naked body that still ached from the effort of winning the night before. It had been a good night for the team, but not a good night for sleep. As he woke up yet again this morning, his thoughts continued much in the same way they had when he tried to fall asleep the first time.
The scene which had played itself out the night before was very familiar. He, standing somewhat uncomfortably in front of a lot of lights, a lot of cameras, with a lot of microphones in his face. Questions fired off on his game, his team, his salary, his future. And, of course, on her.
“Sergei, if you don’t mind…” they always began. Of course he didn’t mind. Why should he? It was only his sex life being continually shoved onto the front page. Where was she, how were they doing, what did she think about the finals, would she be attending any of the games? He tried to answer as innocently as possible, knowing that whatever he said, they would all walk away having drawn the same conclusions. That he and Anna were still fucking, and wasn’t he the luckiest man on the planet?
Well, yes, as a matter of fact, he was. But it wasn’t his token appearances with the blonde tennis player that made him so.
“Sergei, where the hell is my trimmer? You haven’t been using it again, have you?”
Sergei rolled his eyes. How could such a capable leader, a future Hall of Famer, be so unorganized?
“I have my own trimmer, why would I use yours?”
“So where is it?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know? Why don’t you check your bag?”
“Because that would make sense,” came the sarcastic reply, as Steve emerged from the bathroom.
Sergei rolled onto his side to observe the captain of the Red Wings search his luggage for his errant trimmer. Steve was fresh from the shower, his hair wet and slicked back. He wore only his boxers and the elaborate wrap that was holding his knee in semi-playable condition. A small frown crossed Sergei’s face as he watched Steve try to move without pain. It was hard enough for him to walk, let alone play, yet he never slacked on his share of ice time, never complained, never gave less than 110 percent. Seeing this not only on the ice, but in the unguarded moments when Steve winced in pain at the slightest touch, made him feel less than good about the pettiness he had shown in his playing during the last few years. In fact, reflecting on his past childishness made him feel like shit. Never again, he promised himself.
“Ah ha! Found it!” Steve held up the trimmer in triumph, turning to grin at Sergei. The grin faded when he saw his serious expression. “What is it?”
Sergei’s brow cleared immediately. “Nothing. How’s your knee this morning?”
Steve shook his head. “I’m fine. Stop worrying about me. You wanna shower?”
“In a minute,” Sergei’s eyes wandered over Steve’s body. Last night they had been far too tired to do much besides a few caresses, a few kisses before they fell asleep. Sergei had slept badly, waking up every hour or so with the same issues on his mind. Namely, when he was going to stop living his life as a lie. When he was going to admit that he was using a very famous woman as a beard, and though she was being very kind about the whole thing, it was getting harder to hold the veneer together. Especially since she was being more insistent on dating men actually interested in her. Especially also since he was having sex with another man every chance he got. A man who was married, with children of his own, despite the fact that his desires obviously tended in other directions. And to top it all off, it wasn’t just any man.
This last reflection would cause him to turn to that man, laying naked next to him. He would watch him sleep, his chest rising and falling evenly, his face cleared of the intensity it so often displayed. Steve always looked so peaceful as he slept. The sight would inevitably soothe Sergei back into sleep… at least for another hour or so.
This morning, however, the sight of Steve’s body was not soothing Sergei. In fact, it was doing quite the opposite. His eyes took on a heated glow as they drifted over his muscled chest, stomach, down to the boxers riding low on his narrow waist. This was not lost on Steve, who grinned again, wickedly this time.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked with an arch look.
Sergei leaned back against the bed, hands behind his head, smiling that drowsy smile that always made Steve catch his breath. Tired blue eyes locked onto brown.
“Maybe,” he replied evenly. One of his hands moved from behind his head and slid down beneath the blanket and sheets, and there it continued to move. The smooth motion of his arm made it clear exactly what his hand was doing beneath those sheets.
Despite a supreme effort, Steve’s smug expression began to vanish. A hot flush ran through his whole body, and his breath ran deep into his lungs. Sergei, of course, wore the same lazy, careless smile. Here was a man with complete control, Steve thought ruefully. Countless sports announcers had said the same without realizing how true it was. Even when jacking off, Fedorov was unshakable.
Sergei lay there, strong arm muscles flexing as he slowly stroked his dick, thoroughly enjoying the effect it was having not only on himself, but on the man who inspired it. Steve stood flushed, mouth open slightly as his breathing grew heavy, his gaze focused on the hidden motion of Sergei’s hand. Now it was his turn to grin wickedly.
“Can I help YOU with something? I don’t know about your knee, but you definitely have some swelling in other areas.”
Steve glanced down to see that his cock was now tenting out the front of his boxers. Sergei’s expression had now changed, but into one of amusement. Steve gave him a half-serious scowl.
“Fuck you.”
“Now that’s an idea. Come here.”
Steve limped slightly over to the bed, sighing as he sat down. “You know, I’m supposed to be the one with the authority here.”
Sergei flipped the blankets and sheets to the side, exposing his naked body and his other hand, still wrapped around his erection. He smiled.
“You are my Captain and I would skate through fire for you,” he said. Despite his expression, he was completely serious. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t order you around in bed. So take off those boxers.”
“Yes, sir,” said Steve wryly, sliding to his feet. He put his fingers into the waistband pushed the boxers down, revealing the pale tops of his hips. Suddenly he stopped and went to the front, pulling out his boxers and inching them down. Sergei kept the same placid smile, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of impatience as only the very tip of Steve’s dick came into view. Steve grinned and pulled the boxers down even more slowly.
“You told me to take them off. That’s what I’m doing.”
Sergei kept the same smile. “Faster.”
“That was not part of the agreement… sir.”
As Steve spoke, the boxers continued to slide off his body. He turned, so that when the boxers finally slid down to the floor, his ass was toward Sergei. Despite the game of being immobile, he let out his breath in a rush. Steve had a great ass, there was no denying it. Smooth, muscled, firm… Sergei licked his lower lip. His hand lost its lazy motion and he began to jack off in earnest.
Steve turned, now stroking his own dick. His other hand drifted down to his balls and fondled them gently. He groaned lightly as he took in the view of Sergei lying on his back, eyes glazed as he masturbated. His face remained calm, but the quickness in the rise and fall of his chest revealed that he was not quite as in control as he would like to be. Both men stood, each heightening his own desire as he watched the other. But who would make the move? A small test of wills, like it always was between the two, each stubborn in his own way. Somehow, Steve had a feeling who would win. The same one who always seemed to.
“Damn you,” Steve breathed. He climbed into bed and pressed his body up against Sergei, wrapping his arms around his neck. Sergei’s arms went around to Steve’s back and pulled him even closer. They kissed hungrily, familiar kisses that left each breathless. Steve buried his face in Sergei’s neck, pressing his dick against him. Sergei groaned low in his chest, and reached an arm down to hook around Steve’s thigh, pulling their groins tight against one another. Too late he remembered.
Steve let out a small cry as a lancet of pain shot through his knee. Immediately he was on his back, and Sergei leaned above him, propped up with one hand. His careless expression was swept away, replaced by one of concern.
“Steve, I forgot, I’m sorry,” he said, the words running into each other. His hand reached out to push Steve’s hair back off his face, not quite knowing how to comfort him. Steve angrily sucked in his breath.
“It’s bad enough that my game is affected,” he said through gritted teeth, “but it’s almost worse that I can’t-”
“Steve,” Sergei cut him off. “Stop. Let me make you feel better.”
With that, he moved up off the bed and went to his bag, digging through it until he found what he was looking for. He came back to the bed with the bottle of lube, and kneeled between Steve’s legs as he opened it.
As the pain faded back to the usual dull throb, Steve gave Sergei a tight smile. “We haven’t done more than blowjobs in awhile.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Sergei replied, his voice uneven as he rubbed the lube onto his cock, which was now straining for release. “But I think I can avoid that, if I’m-”
“Careful?” Steve finished the sentence, grinning. “You’re the most careful man I know.” He squirmed, anticipating the pleasure he knew was coming. His hand moved to his dick again, stroking more urgently this time. “Sergei, I need you.”
Tossing the bottle aside, Sergei placed one hand beneath Steve’s ass. “Raise up,” he said softly.
Bracing himself with his shoulders, Steve pushed his hips up off the bed, moving his knee as little as possible. Carefully, as promised, Sergei placed his dick at Steve’s entrance. Slowly, he pushed his way inside. Steve gasped as pain mixed with pleasure.
“You… ok?” Sergei panted, fighting the urge to thrust himself in to the hilt.
“Uh-huh,” Steve breathed. He was still masturbating, jerking quickly. His head lay back, and he watched Sergei with lidded eyes. “Keep going.”
Sergei needed no encouragement. He continued to push into his gasping lover until finally his dick was fully inside of him. On his knees, he held Steve up by the hips and began to thrust, slowly and smoothly.
“Oh God,” Sergei moaned, bowing his head and pushing in even deeper. Moments later, he could tell that his dick had pressed up against the right spot, the sweet spot. Steve cried out, thrusting his hips into Sergei, trying to take even more.
“Don’t,” Sergei muttered, opening his eyes. “Your knee…”
“Fuck that,” Steve shot back. But he obeyed, keeping his leg still.
Gripping Steve’s ass, Sergei moved faster, but still tightly controlled. He rocked slightly to hit Steve’s prostate with every thrust. His body’s aches and pains were forgotten as he worked. Sweat began to flow from the effort of giving Steve every pleasure he could without hurting him, and holding him up at the same time. Gradually, the familiar tingling sensation began to build up behind his cock, encased hotly within Steve.
Steve’s world at that moment contained nothing but the sensations flowing through his body. His knee, his team, everything faded away until he was only aware of Sergei’s cock pressing into him, and his hand stroking his own with the same frantic rhythm. He turned his head from side to side, his breath came hard from his open mouth and his back arched.
“Serg..”
With a harsh groan, he came, spurting the hot white fluid into streaks across his stomach and chest. He shuddered, exhaling in soft cries. “Serg,… oh God…”
Every measure of control Sergei possessed deserted him then, and he lost every semblance of rhythm. Desperate for release, he thrust strongly, with purpose.
“Steve!” he cried, as he came deep within him. His whole body rocked with the spasms of his orgasm as he held Steve against him. After a few more thrusts, the kind that sent sharp, almost unbearable pleasure through his body, Sergei withdrew. He gently set Steve down onto the bed, and then collapsed down beside him. Steve lay panting, then grinned and shifted.
“I guess now I got to sleep in the wet spot, huh,” he said breathlessly.
Sergei laughed. “Sleep? It’s gotta be past eleven.”
“We have a whole day off,” Steve said, slowly sitting up. He stood and moved as quickly as his leg would allow to the bathroom and went about cleaning himself up. “If I had known this was how you wanted to spend it, I wouldn’t have gotten up so early to shower. But I wanted to let you have the bed to yourself for a little while. I know you haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
He returned to the bed after a minute or so and slid beneath the sheets next to Sergei. “So how do you want to spend our day…”
His voice trailed off as he realized that Sergei was asleep, a smile on his face. Steve laughed softly, ruefully, and lay down to watch him. Sergei, for once, looked entirely peaceful as he slept. Steve stroked him gently and hoped he’d sleep deep and long.
***
