The heat of the room was nothing compared to the hot hands that ran up and down Sidney’s sides. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the hotel room, whilst outside the sun was rising over the Nashville skyline illuminating the city in pinks and orange. Dirty Russian was whispered into his ear and a cock stretched Sidney wide. They’d won, the second time in two years. But this was something else. Sidney had never thought he would want something as much as he wanted the Stanley Cup. The Stanley Cup was something he had worked for his entire life. But having Geno thrusting into him from behind, hot breath teasing his neck and sloppy kisses and bites tasting his skin, was Sidney’s deepest darkest desire.
They had been celebrating loudly. The entire team ecstatic at the win, as they should be. The floor of their dressing room at the Predators arena was filthy, covered in spilled booze and stray pizza. The party had followed them out of the arena, the team taking over the bar at the hotel. They couldn’t go out and celebrate around the town like they would if they’d won in Pittsburgh, but the hotel offered them a level of protection; they were at less risk of being on the receiving end of abuse from Predators fans.
They drunk the bar dry, the party flowing into the early hours of the morning. Sidney had rose on unsteady feet, wobbling around where Flower and Murray snored on the floor, the Stanley Cup cuddled between them. Kessel had already taken a photo of the two goalies, and when he was more sober Sidney would ask for that picture to be sent to him. The other side of the bar was bouncing, half of the team dancing like they were possessed. Sidney had stumbled over, tipping his head back when Geno danced over to him. Champagne was pored down his front, only a small dribble landing in his mouth. Sidney grinned up at the Russian, wet and stick and with eyes glazed over from the drink. Geno was in a similar state, his cheeks red from the alcohol and the dancing. Sidney didn’t know when the night changed; one minute he was pressed up close to Geno on the dancefloor, and the next he was lying naked on his stomach with a hot body pushed against his.
It should have been nothing more than a drunk one-night stand; the next day they woke up in the early afternoon in the same bed. Wrapped in stained sheets, Sidney had shared a hungover look with Geno. They sheets were pooled at their hips, exposing their bare chests and the subtle tease of hipbones. Geno merely shrugged, offering a smile before rolling over and quickly falling back to sleep. With Geno’s back facing him, Sidney could see the red scratches that spread down the Russians shoulders and back.
Resisting the urge to pull the sheets up with him, Sidney rose from the bed, embarrassment colouring his cheeks red as he waddled naked across the room. Hiding in the bathroom, he saw for the first time the scattering of bites and purple bruises that covered his throat. Dried cum was flaking on his stomach and on his inner thighs, leaving Sidney grimacing. The shower called from him, and Sidney was answering that call. The water down his back, washing away the evidence of his sex life, leaving only his bruises as a reminder. Sidney let his eyes droop closed as he ducked his head underneath the spray.
“Use all hot water, I share.” Sleepy words were whispered next to Sidney’s ear. Sidney jolted his eyes open, jumping at the hand that pushed at his hip, urging him out from underneath the shower spray. Geno didn’t seem to care as he shook his head under the hot water. The shower wasn’t designed for two hockey players, Sidney felt like he was being surrounded by Geno.
After the shower, Sidney and Geno separated as if nothing had happened the night before. They joined the rest of the team on the flight back to Pittsburgh, joining in with the flowing alcohol that fuelled the short flight. The party continued as the team debarked the plane, the celebration leaving the following days mixed together in a haze of drunken memories and embarrassing photos. After that first night, Sidney and Geno danced and partied like crazy, but they didn’t end up entwined in sheets again.
The second time they had sex, Sidney was drunk again. It was the night of the NHL Awards, and he had fought tears when the camera panned on his face as he watched Marc Andre Fleury waltz on stage, accepting a jersey for a different team. He was losing one of his best friends to a team on the other side of the country; he was no longer going to be able to drag his best friend down to the rink and take numerous shots on goal whenever they were in a bad mood. He wouldn’t be able to head over to the Fleury house for dinner and spend most of the evening playing tea party with Flower’s two little girls. He wouldn't be able to see his best friend every single day for nine months of the year.
Once the cameras had been turned off, leaving the players to the free bar, Sidney drank like he was a dehydrated fish. Flower had forced a smile on his face for a few moments as he sat down next to him. The smile only lasted a few moments before it fell away, revealing Flower’s distraught face, matching Sidney’s. Flower joined him in his depressing drinking for a few hours before Vero came to escort him to bed before they could create a scene by crying on each other’s shoulders. Geno appeared at his shoulder, his hand coming to rest on the middle of Sidney’s back.
“Sad night.” Sidney nodded at Geno’s words, throwing the rest of his drink down his throat. “Time for bed.” Geno continued, hovering by his side until Sidney dipped his head in agreement. He allowed himself to be led out of the bar in Vegas. The entire hotel had been taken over by hockey players, and it felt like every step they took they had someone else pop up, wanting to talk to them. By the time they got up to the twelve floor and stopped outside of Sidney’s hotel room, the alcohol and the sadness had Sidney desperate for company.
Sidney awoke in an empty bed, the smell of sex still perfumed the room and once again his thighs were stained with cum. Geno was gone from the room, and the darkness coming from the bathroom told Sidney that he wasn’t just using the toilet. Sidney dragged over the pillow from the other side of the bed, burying his nose in the soft fabric. The faint scent of Geno’s aftershave clung to the pillow. Sidney felt empty inside, and he felt ashamed. He stayed lying in the soiled sheets, the pillow he held in his arms growing damp as he quietly sobbed.