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Post-Game Live, 1/1
Title: Post-Game Live

Fandom: NHL RPS

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Summary: "The post-game interviews are the same as always, Pierre Maguire standing a little too close for comfort- giving the best answers he can until he can get on the bike. He feels, more than sees Geno pass by, tapping him on the shoulder in farewell, and he knows to follow Geno home when he's done."

Length: 2400 wordsish

Warnings: boning, I'm still mad about the reffing in that game, etc

Notes: For The Hoyden who is great and needed to go to bed but I was like HEY I'M GOING TO STAY UP LATE MAKING BAD DECISIONS WHAT SHOULD I WRITE and lo. But like, tell me you didn't need to work off some post-game adrenaline after that game. (For reference, Pittsburgh versus Tampa Bay, 3/4/13. For further reference, game highlights.) Also, MK already said that I have to write a time stamp for this if/WHEN Sid gets a hat trick, so keep an eye on the box score.

Winning gets Sid hot. He's pretty sure that's a universal truth for pretty much anybody, or definitely anybody competitive enough to play sports professionally, at least. Winning at home is even better, the crowd lifting you up, and scoring at home is so good.

But Geno scoring- Geno scoring like that, highlight reel-worthy isn't enough to describe it- absolutely takes Sid's breath away.

It's like the nightmarish last week slides off his skin and he can move, really move again, and it's the easiest thing in the world to strip the puck right off Stamkos and get it to Tanger. And when Tanger sends it back, firing from his knees, Sid knows it'll go in the moment it leaves his stick. He can't hold it in, his fist swings, the celly flows right through him. He sails by the bench, each tap against his glove pushing his smile wider and wider.

There's an open spot next to Geno, who grins at him, wild and excited. Sid feels the same way, that thrumming adrenaline pushing him even closer to Geno, close enough so Geno can shout in his ear, "Fucking beautiful!"

"Couldn't let you have all the fun without me," Sid shouts back, the crowd still loud, the horn blaring one last time.

Dan calls up Geno's line, and Geno gives Sid a look so filthy his breath catches in his throat.

"Fun with you, later," Geno promises, going over the boards.

God, Sid is practically squirming on the bench.

"Gross," Kuni whines at him. "Save that shit for the bedroom."

"Pretty sure the rink is their bedroom," Duper says, laughing at his own terrible joke and they laugh around Sid.

"Shut up," Sid says, which has no effect on Duper's shit-eating grin.

"But you make such beautiful babies in there," Duper coos at him, nodding up at the scoreboard.

Sid knows he's grinning like an idiot, he just doesn't care.

It only gets worse when they pull Lindback and Geno pickpockets some Bolts to zip up the ice and- and passes to Nealsy, who fires it in for the empty netter. It's just everything he loves about Geno, his selflessness, his love for his teammates and he can't stop laughing as Cookie demands to know, teasing, why Geno didn't pass to him.

"I pass Cookie, you not score," Geno says, grinning and Sid actually snorts he's laughing so hard as Cookie shoves Geno over the boards.

There's a lot of bullshit at the end of the game- that ridiculous Stamkos goal that was high-sticking, fuck what the review said. He catches Flower on the ice after the goal, just to be sure he’s fine.

"Yes, Sid," Flower assures him, looking about as pissed as Sid feels. He continues to insult the majority of the state of Florida's ancestry in French, though, so Sid feels reasonably okay skating off to go get in the linesmen's faces.

On the bench, Geno looks livid. Sid figures it’s probably good that neither of them is likely to get another shift on- Geno only looks that furious when he’s about to go take a penalty for leveling someone who'd hit a Pen. The ridiculous .06 second puck drop doesn't really improve anyone's mood, but it lets Geno cool down a little and Sid glancing down the bench one last time before skating out to the tunnel.

The post-game interviews are the same as always, Pierre Maguire standing a little too close for comfort- giving the best answers he can until he can get on the bike. He feels, more than sees Geno pass by, tapping him on the shoulder in farewell, and he knows to follow Geno home when he's done. He finally is released from the cameras, the recorders ringing his face and he can just focus on the stinging ache in his muscles working itself out. The hot shower beats the last of the tension out of his body, just leaving him with the satisfaction of a body well used, exertion well rewarded.

The drive to Geno's from Consol isn't really that different than driving back to his own house, but he feels good, bone-deep and his fingers tap happily on the steering wheel, the pavement under the tires the only other sound. The game is still buzzing, humming along under his skin and Sid knows he won't be able to come down for hours, still. The foot not on the accelerator taps restlessly, running over the best parts of the game play in his mind, lingering on Geno's goal, his promise as he headed back out on the ice. His foot bounces faster.

The lights are on in the hall when Sid walks in, Jeffrey's tags clinking as he pads into the hallway to greet Sid, affectionate headbutts against the knees of Sid's jeans, nudging his head in under Sid's hand until Sid pets him, scratching just under his ears. He can hear the tap running in the kitchen, and heads in to find Geno filling up a second glass.

"For you," Geno offers, stepping right into Sid's space to hand him the glass.

"Thanks," Sid says, being careful to drink slowly when all he wants to do is drain it in one go, mouth suddenly dry.

"Still point leader," Geno tells him with a little grin. "Keep lead until I ready to take, yes?"

Sid laughs, putting his glass down so he has his hands free to tug Geno even closer, wrapping his hands in Geno's impossibly soft henley. And even though Sid knows Geno passed every test they threw at him, saw him on the ice tonight- jesus, did he see him- he can't help but be a little hesitant, a little timid in the way he pulls Geno down to kiss him.

"Not going to break, Sid," Geno promises him, low, tipping Sid's head back, bending to kiss under Sid's jaw. Geno scrapes his teeth there, just barely grazing over the skin and Sid's hands clutch at Geno, greedy, hard. "Not want careful."

But Sid was the one holding his breath every time Geno was skating behind the goal, was in on the boards fighting for possession, so he pushes down on the urge to come as close as he can to literally climbing Geno and settles for dragging Geno back up to his mouth to kiss.

His best intentions are tested when Geno licks into his mouth, wet and aggressive, pushing past all of Sid's reservations, crowding him up against the counter. Geno reaches down to palm Sid's ass with both hands, slipping lower to nudge Sid's legs apart, letting Geno press even closer.

"I skate whole game, assist, goal. Can handle making you come," Geno whispers into Sid's ear, kissing down his neck. "What else I do prove ready?"

Sid can't resist teasing him, giddy on winning, on having Geno under his hands again after too long, and says, "You could have scored two."

Geno huffs out a little laugh, leaning back to give Sid a look equal parts sexy and ridiculous. "Come here, I score again."

Sid has to laugh, pushing Geno's face away with a playful shove, fingers lingering against his cheek. "Glove save," he suggests, but he shivers when Geno turns his face into Sid's hand and kisses his palm instead.

"Maybe I get rebound attempt," Geno says, catching Sid's hand and kisses down to the sensitive skin on the inside of Sid's wrist, mouth open and hot, eyes dark and focused.

Sid gives up. "Geno," he says, breathy and desperate to be touched, to take everything pushed just under the surface and lose it all in the press of Geno's body against his.

"What Sid want, I give," Geno assures him, just as confident as he is on the ice, just as determined.

Sid's knees feel weak and unwilling to cooperate, but he says insistently, "Bedroom, Geno.”

Geno lets Sid's hand go so he can cup Sid's face, kiss him deep and promising. "Yes," he agrees.

They fumble like teenagers all the way there, unwilling to let go for more than five seconds before getting their hands on each other again, catching in belt loops, wrapping around hips to pull flush. They also manage to lose a few items of clothing on the way there, impatient for skin on skin, but it's Geno's long, clever fingers that have him naked within moments of clearing the bedroom threshold, shivering for a moment in the chill of the house at night.

"Sid has to tell me what he wants," Geno says, seemingly content to run his hands over Sid's shoulders, down his chest.

"I want you to be naked already," Sid grumbles, fussing with the button fly of Geno's jeans. Sid swears they weren't meant to be undone by another person, but watching Geno do them up in the morning is something he never gets tired of, so. He finally gets them off, Geno stepping out of them easily, letting Sid tuck his fingertips in the elastic waistband of Geno's boxer briefs.

"Can give Sid choices, if need help," Geno offers calmly, although he's arching into the hand Sid is slipping lower, wrapping around the base of Geno's dick. "Lots of thoughts about Sid tonight."

Sid groans, his eyes fluttering shut involuntarily, trying to breathe through the spike of heat that sends through him. "Yeah?" he asks, dragging his thumb across the head of Geno's dick in retaliation.

Geno hums, pleased. "Maybe Sid ride me- but Sid always too much tease, I have to finish, yes? Flip us, fuck Sid into bed," Geno suggests and Sid makes a weak noise at the image that provides him with. "Or since I'm score, Sid on his hands, knees? I do work."

Sid's mouth drops open on a wordless sigh of agreement, a greedy little, "ah," of sheer want.

Geno's smile turns sly with satisfaction. "Yes, Sid wants," he says, bending down to kiss Sid, as Sid tries to shove Geno's boxers down. "Get on bed."

Sid goes, lying down on his stomach, knowing Geno will arrange him however Geno wants him, anyway. It means he misses seeing Geno get fully undressed, but it's not like he hasn't seen Geno naked plenty of times, or won't continue to see him naked for a long time, if Sid has his way. He can, however, watch Geno walk around to the bedside table, apparently unhurried, pulling out the lube and a condom. Sid feels the bed dip under Geno's added weight, shivers as Geno's hands run over his back, smoothing over the skin up to Sid's shoulders, pushing in just a little.

Sid feels himself relax into it. "I didn't know I was getting a massage, too," Sid teases.

"You need two goals before I fuck you and give massage," Geno chirps right back.

"What do I get for a hat trick?" Sid can't help but ask.

"Get hat trick, find out," Geno says, pressing a kiss in the dip of Sid's back.

Yeah, and people thought he needed the points race to be motivated to score. "I'm holding you to that," Sid says, because even without knowing what it'll be, he knows he wants it.

"Sid hold me to anything he want," Geno says, and Sid can hear the click of the cap on the lube.

Geno pulls Sid’s hips up until his knees are supporting his weight, legs spread wide and vulnerable, but Sid trusts Geno, trusts him implicitly, and Geno has never taken advantage of that trust. Geno's fingers are slick and hot under the chill of the lube, and Sid never gets tired of the way it feels, Geno murmuring the whole time in English and snatches of Russian. Sometimes it's nonsense about how beautiful Sid is, how perfect he is, but tonight it's all a steady, low stream of encouragement, as if Sid needs to be encouraged to let Geno finger him open and ready.

Sid is desperate, begging for it, by the time Geno decides Sid is ready, the tear of the foil loud when the only other sound is Sid's breath panting in and out, harsh in the silence.

Geno's hand is huge on his hip, holding him still, before asking, "Sid?" checking to make sure he's okay.

"Come on," Sid demands, and Geno pushes in, slow but unrelenting, until he bottoms out, buried all the way in. "Geno, c'mon, please."

Geno must be as desperate as Sid, because he doesn't tease, he just fucks into Sid, steady and even, and good, so fucking good. Sid tries to push back into it, but he can't get any leverage on the slippery sheets, hands skidding against the fabric. He stretches into it, just reaching the headboard, palm flat against the wood, letting him push back to meet Geno's hips and fuck, it's even better. It's unbearably good, Sid wants it to last forever, but he can feel his orgasm just there, waiting for him to take it. He can't get a hand free though, and his cock brushes against the sheets on a particularly deep thrust and Sid thinks he'll die if someone doesn't touch him, right that second.

"Geno," Sid full-on whines, sucking in a startled breath as Geno slams in, just right.

"Have you," Geno promises, wrapping a hand around Sid's dick, the other still firm on his hip and Sid can't do anything but breathe into it. "Get you there."

Sid comes so hard he just shakes apart, knees giving out underneath himself, sinking to the mattress. He thinks Geno is pulling out for a second, but before he can protest, Geno just slides back in deep a few more time before he groans and slumps over Sid, warm and heavy.

They lie there for longer than is probably comfortable, but Sid feels boneless and easy, content to be covered by Geno, content when Geno cleans them up, content when Geno rolls him over out of the wet spot, tucking him in close.

"I'm glad you're back," Sid says, even though Geno knows that already. It bears repeating.

"Me too," Geno says with a happy-sounding sigh, his face buried in Sid's neck.

"I'm still not gonna let you win the scoring race, though," Sid says and smiles when Geno laughs into Sid's shoulder.

"Try stop me," Geno says, kissing Sid's collarbone.

Sid can't help but smile wider. "You're on."

Yo dawg, why don't you comment on the dw. Because you can do that. And I want you to do that. Right here. http://twentysomething.dreamwidth.org/31056.html?mode=reply <3.

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