Brian remembers exactly how it all came about, but he still can’t quite believe that it's happening.
The two of them were in some nondescript Ottawa bar with the bulk of Teams Alfredsson and Chara, and he knows it probably took the better part of an hour for the two of them to get here- here being making out on Brian's hotel bed- but it seems like only minutes. Brian's pretty sure they didn't trip and make out where there were any cameras, but he's more confident in the fact that they were already making out in the cab on the way back to the hotel.
"Did you say something?" Jon says. He blinks at Brian, looks at him expectantly. Brian shakes his head. Jon smiles at him, small and fleeting, and Brian puts a hand on the nape of his neck and pulls him back down to kiss him, dirty and open-mouthed, licking into his mouth and swallowing the urgent, needy sounds he was making.
When they pull apart, Jon just looks at Brian, his mouth slick and red. Brian watches that mouth form the words, "Can I blow you?" and for a minute, he doesn't know how to react.
His hips jerk up when Jon repeats the question though, palming Brian through his jeans and Brian says, "I thought we were leading up to that, actually."
Jon laughs and sits up so he can pull his shirt over his head. Brian tries to do the same thing, but he doesn't sit up far enough and his arms end up trapped by his shirt. He tries to wiggle out of it, but Jon stops him with a hand on his arm.
"Is that uncomfortable for you?" Jon asks, almost a little too formally, given the whole situation.
Brian makes a face, but something about Jon's tone makes him say, "No, it's fine."
Jon gives him a measuring look, like he doesn't really believe Brian, so Brian says, "I said it's fine." It comes out a little louder than he wanted, but Jon's eyes get darker when he says it. He reaches down with one hand and tweaks one of Brian's nipples. Brian gasps and his hips jerk up, his dick looking for friction.
"I think someone mentioned something about blowing me?" Brian says, trying to keep his voice even and casual. Jon gives him another one of those small smiles before bending down and licking the nipple he'd just pinched.
"I'm leading up to that," Jon says, his mouth so close to Brian's skin that he can feel the words being said, as well as hear them.
Brian's about to shoot back that maybe he can get to it a little faster when Jon finally undoes the front of Brian's jeans and mouths at his cock through the fabric of his boxers.
"Fuck," Brian says, trying to keep his hips from jerking up. Jon looks up at him and tugs at the waistband of Brian's boxers so he can pull them off, along with Brian's pants. He keeps looking up at Brian as he takes the head of Brian's dick into his mouth, tonguing at the slit.
Jon keeps an arm over Brian's hips as he carefully moves his mouth inch by excruciating inch down Brian's dick. He keeps his other hand on the base of Brian's dick, covering what he can't get with his mouth.
Brian's glad of the arm across his hips when Jon pulls off, because he can't help but arch up and try to follow the wet warmth of Jon's mouth. Jon jerks him off, gathering the spit and precome with his fingers and using it to make everything slicker. His hand is warm around Brian's dick, and his grip on Brian is tight and sure.
Brian had his eyes closed, but when he opens them, it's to the sight of Jon sucking one of his fingers into his mouth, getting it wet. He bends down again to take Brian's dick into his mouth, and his eyes don't leave Brian's as he carefully probes Brian's cleft with the finger he just had in his mouth, running it lightly over the pucker of Brian's hole.
Brian moans, and his legs fall even further apart. Jon pulls off, looking a little shocked, and Brian gives him a weak grin.
"I don't mind," Brian says. "If you wanted to." He wouldn’t mind getting fucked by Jon either, but it wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do. He can’t help but think about it though, about Jon pushing his legs up and apart and just driving into him.
He can’t have that tonight though. So this will have to be enough. Jon does something with his tongue just then that makes Brian think, crazily, that whatever Jon’s doing is more than enough to take the edge off.
"Okay," Jon says, his voice sounding a little hoarse and scratchy. He takes Brian's dick back into his mouth and sucks at it even harder, taking a little more of it in his mouth every time. Brian can feel Jon's finger pressing against his hole, and he makes himself relax as Jon presses it deeper, works it in. He looks up at Brian as he curls his finger towards him, and Brian can't help but groan, driving his cock even deeper into Jon's mouth. Jon just takes it, moving his head faster and faster.
It's almost too much- Jon's finger brushing over that spot again and again, his warm, wet mouth sucking on Brian's dick. Brian can feel his orgasm building, feels how close it is, and he tries to get his voice to work.
"I'm close," he warns Jon, but Jon just moves his mouth even faster, doesn't pull off or pull back, and Brian comes with a groan, spilling into Jon's mouth. Jon's throat works as he tries to get it all, but his mouth is damp and slick with cum and spit as he pulls back.
Jon gets the front of his jeans open and pushes his pants and boxers down just enough so he can get his dick out. Brian struggles to sit up so he can get his shirt off. His arms feel numb from being held in the same position for so long. He rubs at them to get some of the blood flowing back in them, and when he looks at Jon, Jon's just staring at him, jerking himself off.
"Come here," he says, laying back down and opening his mouth.
Jon gets it immediately. He doesn't even stop to ask if Brian's sure, just straddles his shoulders and angles his hips so he can work his cock into Brian's waiting mouth. Brian gets his hands on Jon's hips, digs his thumbs into the grooves of his hipbones, and Jon moans, bracing his arms against the headboard so he has leverage when he works his cock even deeper into Brian's mouth.
It doesn't take him that long, and the sound Jon makes when he comes is enough to make Brian wish he could get hard again that quickly. He can't swallow all of Jon's cum, but he does his best, and what he can't get he catches with the fingers he brings to his mouth after Jon flops down beside him.
They lie side by side for a while. Brian feels warm and drowsy- he knows he should go take a shower, but he can't seem to get himself to stand up just yet. Beside him, Jon stirs.
"I better go," Jon says, stretching a little before getting to his feet and pulling his jeans up. There are marks on his collarbone that are purpling already. "But this was fun."
"Yeah," Brian says. He runs a hand over his stomach, making a face at how sticky it feels. "Good luck tomorrow, eh?"
"Thanks," Jon says, sitting down on the bed so he can pull his shoes on. "You too."
They don't say anything else- the next two days pass in a blur. Jon's a hit at the skills competition, and Brian lets in twelve goals at the game. He'd feel worse about it, but it doesn't count anyway, and he gets some great saves in.
And then it's back to St. Louis, to the slog and success of the regular season. They're far enough into the season to know who has a good shot at making it into the post-season, and Brian always gets a little shock when he looks at where the Blues are in the standings.
They win. And keep on winning. And then they're in the running for the President's Trophy, and they lose that to the Canucks but Brian can't worry too much about that, because they're going to the motherfucking playoffs.
Jaro's set to start, of course, but then he gets injured in Game 2, against the fucking Sharks, and then it falls on Brian to get his team through the first round. It takes them five games, but they do it, and they're one step closer to the Cup.
And then the fucking semi-finals come up. They lose one game after another, and then it's the last period of Game 4, with the clock counting down, and then it's over.
There's a weird, ashy taste in Brian's mouth when he skates over to join the handshake line. When he gets to Jon, he says, "Congratulations, bud. You did good."
Jon looks a little dazed, like he just got hit over the head, but when Brian grips his hand, it's like he collects himself. "Thanks," he says quietly. And then he adds, even lower, so Brian has to strain to hear over the noise of the crowd and their respective teammates, "Do you want to come over later?"
Brian licks his lips, and despite this whole wash of a series, grins.
"Gonna make it up to me?" he says, pulling Jon in for a quick hug so it doesn't look too suspicious that their handshake is taking too long.
"Something like that," Jon says, a little breathlessly.
There are a million things Brian has to do before they fly back to St. Louis tomorrow. But he can probably leave whatever bar the team decides to close down tonight a little earlier than the rest of the boys.
They've got time.
“Confident, aren’t you?” Brian says, laughing a little, but not meanly. “Your dick’s no Stanley Cup, Jon.”
Jon smiles at him then, small and fleeting. “How about my ass though?”
“Eh, we’ll see,” Brian says. "I'll see you later then.”
"Looking forward to it," Jon says, his lips all but up against Brian's ear.
Brian suddenly becomes aware of the cameras and curious glances trained on them, so he steps back and lets go of Jon, who nods once before skating away to join the rest of his teammates, who are in a celebratory knot.
"What was that about?" David asks Brian, when he skates over to the bench.
Brian shrugs. "Just wishing him luck for the next round. We got close over All-Star Weekend."
David gives him a look. "Close, huh?"
Brian rolls his eyes and taps David on the shin with his stick. "Yeah, close. Now are you gonna get a move on?"
David's mouth twitches. "Right, okay. Have fun tonight."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Brian says.
"Yeah, have fun tonight, Ells," TJ says, clambering over the boards behind Brian. He taps his stick against Brian's pads and dashes past him to the locker room.
David gives him a conspiratory look when the rest of the guys file past them for fistbumps and helmet taps.
"Do you need condoms?" he says finally. "Because TJ always carries too much in his bag."
"How do you even know this?" Brian asks.
David shrugs. "So do you want 'em or not? Because the best time to steal some is when he's in the shower."
"Oh my god," Brian says. "And no, thanks, I think I'm good."
David shrugs again. "Suit yourself." His face grows a little less stern, and he says, "You were great out there, Ells."
Brian swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. "I wasn't," he says honestly. "But thanks."
David smiles at him and gives him a stick tap before heading towards the locker room.
Brian glances back at the ice, at the Kings still clumped together at the far end. Most of the fans have filed out, but there are a few die-hard fans still shouting and screaming their support.
Brian grips his stick tighter in his hand. It was a good run, he thinks. It could've ended better, but it was a good fucking run.
Tomorrow he'll be on a plane back to St. Louis, for exit interviews and locker clean-ups and talks with the brass. And then to Wisconsin for the summer, spending time with his family and chilling out around his house. Nothing feels further away than next season, but Brian knows that summer will pass quicker than he thinks it will.
But before all that he has tonight.
He glances at Jon, who has one of the rookies hanging off his neck, talking a mile a minute to him, and smiles.
He has tonight. That'll have to be enough.