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Coming After Me

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“...and, Sid, you have a special request. Canadian Connect asked you for a photo for their calendar.” Jen says at the end of what Sid privately calls her debrief session, the second day of the annual media tour. Sid, feeling an old hand at this, is happy that Geno came along. They each have obligations to both the Penguins and their countries, with the inaugural World Cup of Hockey just announced. Geno does not share in Sid’s relief.

“It's a little unusual for you, but I think it will be good to diversify yourself,” Jen continues to say, and Sid, not wanting to give Jen the impression that he hadn't been paying attention, nods along.

“Just tell me where and when I need to be there?”

“Always,” Jen says, tapping away at her iPad. “Okay, let's get going.”

Sid turns to Geno to let him lead the way, and catches the tail end of an expression that on his face that Sid has only ever seen when Geno is trying to follow an unorganized question from the media, and is trying to come up with a thoughtful answer. It is there and gone before Sid could really ponder why Geno would be making that face.

“You first, Sid,” Geno gestures Sid along in front of him. “Not a good time to change routine.”

He says this with a grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and Sid helplessly smiles back and leads the way out of the lobby to their first appointment of the day.


Sid kicks himself as he listens to the photographer outline how he would like the photoshoot to go. He should have listed to Jen when she described what is so different about what they were looking for, because he probably wouldn’t have agreed.

It’s not exactly the ESPN Body edition, but it is certainly more...revealing than what Sid had anticipated. He tells himself that this is for a good cause, and it’s not like Sid is shy of his body.

It’s just that Geno decided to come along, and lurks just outside of the pool of the lights. Sid, hyper aware of that fact, fidgets with the edge of his hockey pants, wishing for a shirt...or even pockets, to hide his fingers that won’t keep still. The photographer wants Sid bare everywhere else, then to pose with some frankly beautiful wooden sticks in the locker room of the small rink they set up for the shoot. Sid and the sticks are oiled to a nice glisten, highlighting the contours of Sid’s muscles and the fine grain in the sticks.

Sid always feels a bit foolish at first under the focus of a lense, but the photographer, Alex, is engaging and enthusiastic when Sid gives him what he’s looking for. The atmosphere evolves to one playful and relaxed. It becomes only Alex’s direction and praise, and his body’s reactions, and nothing else. He’s like this on the ice or in the gym with a trainer, too. Soon enough, Alex calls for a break and a wardrobe change.

Both of which bring Sid back to reality and the fact that Geno has been watching Sid all this time. Sid smiles at him, and tries to get a read on what Geno maybe thinking. His eyes are intense, but it’s like he’s not really seeing Sid right now. Almost like he’s looking right through him, seeing the breadth and depth of Sid, but still contemplating what that means.

On edge, Sid startles when Alex claps him on the shoulder to get his attention, breaking the connection between them. Sid turns his mind back to the task at hand, hoping to finish quickly, only to pause, as Alex explains that he would like Sid in his skates, in his briefs and a scarf, with a stick, on the ice.

Fortifying himself, he moves to take of his pants and lace up his skates. He has a feeling he is never going to live this day, or these photos, down. This is chirping material for years. Even with the uncomfortable attire and the potential teasing from the team, he couldn’t help feel like he is walking the edge of something - new, or unexpected. He catches himself holding his breath through the last few photographs, holding Geno’s gaze as he watches, steadily, from the bench of the rink.

Sid wants to show off. The intensity of Geno’s attention ignites something like his competitive spirit in his chest. He falls into each pose, meeting Geno’s gaze in a coy glance when Alex suggests something that displays the strength in his arms and back. When Alex suggests a move that emphasizes the muscles in his thighs and ass, he pushes it just a bit further.

Sid feels Geno’s regard like a physical touch almost. He’s not sure what changed for Geno, but he’s always had a strong reaction to Geno physically, which molded into a solid understanding and supportive friendship. Sid’s wondered if they could have been more, as their chemistry buzzes between them on and off the ice, but there never seemed to be a chance to explore that.

Now, as he’s thanked by Alex and the rest of the photography team when they wrap, signing autographs and posing for selfies, Geno moves close to Sid, just inside his personal bubble, not close enough to touch, but near enough to feel his presence, heavy and hot with possibility.

Sid feels every part of him reaching back to Geno, not willing to let their potential go.


The intensity builds between them as they bundle together in the back of the van on the way to their hotel. Sid aches with each inch between them. He feels Geno’s eyes heavy on him, in a heady, exhilarating way, every meter down the road.

An eternity passes in seconds, and it’s inevitable when they disembark, for Geno’s hand to tuck around Sid’s bicep, and lead him through the lobby and up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. They reach Geno’s room before Sid can really form a sentence.

Geno pushes him through the door, letting it fall closed behind them, the slam of door louder in the dark stillness of the room. Sid is breathing hard, like he does on the ice, and he takes a deep inhale to calm himself. He stares at Geno, their eyes locked. The gravity of who they are and that they are here together, makes the moment thin and stretch, before it finally snaps.

Geno’s long arms let him reach Sid first, his big hands cradling Sid’s head, his fingers curling into his hair to hold him at just the right angle as Geno leans down and covers Sid’s mouth with his own. Sid is already straining for him, just getting on his tiptoes, when their mouths connect.

Sid lets out a soft sound, and if he had breath, it might have been too loud between them. With Geno urging his mouth to open, his moan is swallowed up when their tongues slide together. A shiver runs from his head, down his spine, tingly warmth following swiftly after.

His hands grip Geno’s jacket, bunching the material as he pulls Geno closer. The pants Geno is wearing do nothing to hide his arousal, and Sid lets out another embarrassing noise when Geno takes the opportunity to rub his hard cock into the cut of Sid's hip.

Geno’s hands move from where they had been sort of running through his hair, to grabbing a hold of Sid's hips in a sure grip, bringing them together in slow, long thrusts.

Jesus Christ, Sid feels like he is already close to the edge. His own cock is throbbing in his underwear, his slacks far too tight. He doesn't want to come in his pants, so he releases Geno's shirt and smoothes his hands down to the hem, so he can slip is fingers beneath and tease his fingers along the band of Geno's boxer briefs that were peeking out from the top of his slacks.

Keeping his touches light, it was almost too much for even Sid, but as soon as Geno made a frustrated sound, he let his fingers delve under boxers and trousers to grip Geno's bare ass in a good grasp.

They both gasp into each other's mouths as Sid squeezes.

“Bed?” Sid asks, completely undone and not caring about how wrecked his voice sounds. He just wants Geno naked and he wants to be naked and he wants to feel their skin together. As soon as possible.

Geno grunts out his assent, already stripping off his shirt. He tugs at Sid’s buttons, almost popping a few clean off, all while getting Sid turned in his arms, so that Geno presses all along his back, leading them toward the bed. Sid’s knees bump the edge, and Geno finishes undoing the last button, allowing the shirt to fall open, and Geno’s hand to find his skin.

They stand there for a moment, catching their breath and letting the frantic feelings mellow a bit. Sid tips his head a bit to the side and Geno trails his mouth, open and wet, down his neck to kiss and suck at the muscle leading to his shoulder. Geno pulls at his shirt, and it falls to catch at his elbows, leaving his chest and upper back bare and exposed.

Geno pulls them closer still, arms going around Sid’s waist, a grumbly groan leaving him when his cock rubs up along Sid’s ass.

Sid moans and moves with Geno, pushing his ass back into Geno. They move together until their need ramps up again, and Geno and Sid reach for Sid’s belt at the same time. Sid pushes him away, working the buckle, then button and zip, before turning in Geno’s arms and start undoing Geno’s slacks and rushes to push them and his bowers down together, letting Geno’s cock to bob free.

Sid frames Geno’s dick with his hands for a few moments, carding through Geno’s pubic hair. He loves the look of Geno. He’s never taken the time to simply look and appreciate all that Geno has to offer. He’s long and uncut, and Sid just wants to get his hands - fuck, or his mouth - on him.

He wastes no time, curling his right hand around Geno’s shaft, just below the head, taking the time to just gently squeeze for a second, take in the feel of Geno in his hand, the play of Geno’s foreskin as it slides over the head, the softness of his skin, and the vulneral pulse of the veins. Sid lets out another moan at the weight in his hand and also feeling Geno shove his own slacks and boxers all the way down, his big hands following the curve of Sid’s ass. He grabs a solid hold in each hand, squeezing and lifting, parting Sid’s cheaks, letting Geno’s fingers to smooth up and over his hole in a quick, fleeting touch, before he moves that hand around to take Sid’s dick in hand.

They kiss, mouths open and tongues coming together clumsy and sloppy, every breath panting between them. Sid groans long and loud when Geno moves his hand up and twists over the head of his dick, the frenulum catching a bit on Geno’s thumb. His body goes tight with the sharp spike of pleasure, and he pulls back to look at Geno.

Geno’s heavy lidded eyes stare back at him, like he can’t look anywhere else. Sid’s hands leave Geno’s dick to grip his hips, and Geno’s hand keeps a steady rise and fall, up and down Sid’s dick, slowly drawing him nearer to the edge.

Sid still wants Geno’s dick in his mouth. He grips Geno’s hips hard in warning, before pushing Geno to the bed. Geno reluctantly lets go of Sid’s dick, but not allowing his hands to leave Sid’s body at all, if he can help it.

Sid pushes Geno back against the pillows and crawls on hands and knees up Geno to kiss him hard on his mouth, letting his tongue to taste every bit of Geno’s mouth he could. He lets himself linger, content with the taste and feel of Geno beneath him. Geno doesn’t let him go for long, though, because his quick and steady hands find his erection again.

They both moan when Sid instictivly thrusts down into Geno’s hand, his belly rubbing against Geno’s dick. Sid changes tact, kissing down the center of Geno’s chest, dipping his tongue into Geno’s naval, before running his nose through Geno’s curls, dislodging Geno’s hands as he went. They settle in his hair, curling around to cradle his head as he takes a deep breath of Geno’s scent.

He doesn’t dally, taking Geno in hand, pumping a few times before letting his tongue run around the head of Geno’s dick, slipping beneath his foreskin, watching and feeling it pull back, leaving the head exposed to Sid’s mouth. He let it sink between his lips, keeping them tight around Geno’s dick, going slowly to savor the taste and so when his lips drop off the head to close around the shaft under the frenulum, Geno feels every movement, the building anticipation. The groan that leaves his mouth is almost a shout, and Sid can’t help but smirk around his mouthful.

Geno responds by tightening his hand in Sid’s hair and thrusting up a bit into Sid’s mouth. He sucks hard, taking in as much as he can, bobbing his head a few times, getting Geno’s dick wet with his tongue curling around Geno’s cock, before pulling back to lavish attention to just the head.

Geno’s throws his head back, groaning out a Russian curse everytime Sid changes rhythm. Sid finally got the measure of what Geno likes and sets into giving Geno as much pleasure as possible. Geno wasn’t as far gone as he seemed though, pulling Sid off of himself for a moment as Sid reaches for his own dick to get himself off.

“Sid,” Geno pants, his voice deep and rough. “Let me take care of you, like how you do for me?”

Sid moans at the thought, closing his eyes and letting his forehead drop to rest and the crease of Geno’s groin and thigh. He nods, before setting back into the pace he set, working to give Geno the best orgasm he could manage.

Sid loves every moment. The bunching of Geno’s quad muscles as he holds himself back from fucking into Sid’s throat, unable to hold back the hitching thrusts as he gets closer. The way Geno’s hands flex in his hair as he flicks the tip of his tongue into the slit at the tip of his dick send shivers down Sid’s spine, and he feels his own cock jerk and the head get wet and sticky from his precome with each noise Geno makes.

Soon and yet not soon enough, Geno falls over into his climax, and Sid pulls back to allow just the head of Geno’s dick lay on his tongue, letting his hand pump each spurt of come into his mouth, swallowing when it was just too much. He pulls back to lick his lips and then the last few drops gathering at the crown of Geno’s cock.

“Siiid,” Geno groans, grasping Sid under his arms, and pulling him up to his face to kiss Sid’s cheeks, nose, and eyelids, before dipping his tongue into Sid’s mouth, lapping at the taste of himself there.

Sid startles himself with the sound that comes out of him when Geno’s hand closes around Sid’s dick. He grips firm and starts an easy pace that brings Sid’s arousal to a sharp peak, but doesn’t let him fall over to the other side.

After what feels like forever, Sid’s orgasm seems just out of reach. Sid appreciates Geno taking his time, but he’s feeling desperate now. Geno pulls back from nibbling at Sid’s ear when Sid tenses up more and thrusts harder into his fist. Reading him just as well in bed as he does on the ice, Geno guides Sid to straddle his chest and then kneel up to bring Sid’s cock up to his mouth. He wastes no time, taking half of Sid with the first bob of his head.

Geno looks up at Sid with hooded, hungry eyes, adjusting to every moan and hitch of Sid’s breath and hips to make the most sublime sexual experience Sid has had - that he could remember at the moment, anyway.

What felt unreachable seconds ago, comes swelteringly fast, and Sid catches the wave of heat and ecstasy when his release hits him. He doesn’t stay in the warmth of Geno’s mouth for long, oversensitivity catching up to him quickly. He slumps down to curl up half in Geno’s lap, his head settling on Geno’s shoulder.

It’s easy to sit there, cuddling in messy sheets with sweat slick skin slowly drying. Contentment hangs in the air, their breathing settling into a steady, mutual rhythm. Each moment that passes, Sid finds more and more excuses mentally to just not move, just stay with Geno in peaceful silence, this steadfast comfort. To think this was here all along? Sid pushes the thought aside for now, hoarding the feeling, holding it close for as long as he can have it.

He moves sometime later, needing to stretch out a bit, straighten out his back, and finds Geno nearly asleep, his head resting against Sid’s. He coaxes Geno to lay down with him. Sid likes to sleep on his back, and Geno sleepily fills in the space around Sid. His head nestles into Sid’s neck, sharing the pillow, one arm squirming under the pillow to prop up his head, He throws his other arm across Sid’s chest, his thigh filling the space between Sid’s.

Geno falls deeply asleep as soon as he is settled.

Sid holds Geno, allowing Geno’s warmth and presence send him into sleep shortly there after.


Sid wakes when Geno leaves the bed.


Sid’s voice barely can be heard, his mouth tacky from sleep. He clears his throat and tries again, lifting his head from the pillow.

He catches Geno coming back from the bathroom. He shuffles back toward the bed, not meeting Sid’s eyes. His jaw tenses and releases, his eyebrows pinched like they get in post game media. He sits on the edge of the bed, angled away from Sid into the empty, generic hotel room.

Sid purses his lips, trying to come up with a question - even a joke - to bring back that easy comfort that they had a few hours ago.

He comes up with a shy, quiet question that is simply, “Geno?” That’s all it comes down to for Sid right now anyway. Just Geno.

Geno finally meets Sid’s eyes. His voice thickens his words when they do come.

“Sid, what we doing here?”

Sid sucks a deep breath, taking a moment to really think about the intense photoshoot yesterday, the tension that gripped them on the ride to the hotel and up to the room, the fucking amazing sex. He takes in the afterglow they spent content and easy in each other’s arms.

In between one breath and the next, he examines their friendship, and what he wants to happen from this moment on. He doesn’t need to look hard. The answer is in front of him. He wants Geno like that, what they just did this evening, every day, for as long as he can have Geno. He needs to make sure he says the right thing.

“I thought we did what’s in our hearts,” he says, no idea how his words are so steady when his heart is beating so fast. He continues, “what we both want.”

Geno frowns.

“What about hockey? Do this - “ he gestures between them - “with hockey? Media?” Geno pauses, raising his voice when he carries on. “Russia not great with this, NHL not much better.”

“I don't care,” Sid says, voice horse with emotion. “You’re mine - at least, I want to belong to you, and want you to belong to me. I want to be the one to get butterflies when you say my name. I want to be the one making you happy; giving me that bashful look when I call you babe. Call me selfish, I don't even care anymore. Please.”

He shifts to be close to Geno, he can’t bear to be so far away for the rest of what he wants to say. He reaches out to Geno, a hand coming around to cradle Geno’s head, his thumb brushing Geno’s jaw.

“It’s our turn, G. This is our time. Let’s make it what we want.”

Geno smiles a little, leaning close and nudging his forehead against Sid’s.

“Want this Sid. I couldn’t stand you, posing like French girl yesterday. But Sid’s hockey always beautiful.”

He pulls back, grinning.

“But I’m best, you just say,” he growls out to Sid. “Sid only have the best, hmmm?”

Sid chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, G, only the best.”