Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Curtis Joseph/Alyn McCauley
Original Date of Completion: May 2002
Revisions Completed: January 2003
Disclaimer: Don't own them, will one day. This is a work of fiction from my demented little mind, so please don't sue me.
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CuJo's POV
I hate goal lights. There is no worse sight to me in the entire world. Especially when it's turning on behind me. Because that tells me that I blew it, that I didn't do my job. And then there are times like tonight, where that stupid little light tells me that I just blew the playoffs yet again and it's time to head home for the summer. I tried harder than I ever have in my career. I pushed myself more in that game than I ever have. And the goal still got through. In what could be my last game as a Maple Leaf, I go out as a loser. It all seems fitting, somehow.
It's pretty obvious that the guys all blame me. They all come up and pat me on the back, tell me good game, but that's it. Other than that, I'm like the kid in 3rd grade with cooties that everyone avoids. I might get more upset about that if I didn't blame myself. I want to blame them. If Kaberle hadn't caused that turnover, O'Neill never would've scored, and OT never would've happened. But even knowing that, I can't blame anyone but myself. Maybe if I had just tried harder, trained more, hadn't been injured, something; we'd be headed to Raleigh right now instead of home for the rest of the season.
I don't make an attempt to leave, even though in this room, with all these stares, is the last place on earth I want to be. This could be my last day in this locker room, I guess I want to soak up as much of it as I can. Even if what I'm soaking up is not the greatest of all things. It's still here, this place. This place that I love. I don't know if I'm really ready to let that go yet.
I sit back in my locker and watch as everyone begins to clear out. I haven't spoken much since we got back to the room; no one even seems to notice. Not as if I really care. I don't feel like speaking right now. I'm just...I don't know what I am. Shocked, disappointed, in a perpetual state of "Fuck you, life." It seems like I've traveled down this road 1000 times before. We lose in the playoffs, I take all the blame, and get to listen to the media as they say the one thing I hate more than goal lights. "Curtis Joseph can't win the big one." Maybe they're right. Maybe I can't. No matter how hard I try, I always seem to come up short. No matter how great I may be, I'm always the reason we lose. But I guess that's just the way the world works. They don't commend good jobs, they condemn the bad ones.
After what seems like an eternity with just me and my thoughts, I notice almost everyone is gone. Slowly, I peel off my equipment, and start my walk toward the showers. As I approach, I see Alyn walking from the showers. We both freeze, and stare at each other, neither of us making a sound. The look of disappointment in his eyes is heartbreaking. He played so hard this year, especially in the playoffs. I know that he, along with everyone else looked to me to win this series, and I couldn't do it. As much as I try to hold back, I feel a tear slipping down my face. I turn away from him, and walk back to my locker. I refused to let him see me cry. I had no right to cry, it was all my fault. I'd given everyone hope when I'd won game five, then I'd let them down. Just like I'd done so many other times. "Curtis Joseph can't win the big one."
I dig furiously into my locker, pulling everything out and shoving it into my bag. I feel utterly ridiculous as my tears begin to increase, slipping heatedly down my cheeks. Thirty five years old and crying like a kid who lost his first junior game. I sigh in frustration with myself as I jam a piece of equipment into my bag. I was probably ruining so many things, shoving them into my bag like this, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I just wanted to get away, away from this place and be miserable and wallow in self pity. But just as I begin to zip the bag, I feel a hand touch my bare shoulder. Then another hand grazes slowly down my arm. As the hand reaches mine, icy fingers entwine with mine. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, but I know it won't last. My mind screams at me to pull away, but as his lips place soft kisses to my neck, the only thing I can manage is to quietly moan.
"Alyn, don't," I whispered, reaching back and caressing his cheek. "I don't..."
"Shh," He said lightly, placing a finger on my lips.
I craned my neck back, and our lips met. I want to push him away, but I can't. This has happened so many times, too many times, and each time I wind up hurt. But right now, I can't think about that. I can't think about anything except the way his lips felt on mine. All thoughts of the game were lost as his arms slipped around my waist, which is what he was going for. That was his sole purpose for these things, to take my mind from the game. I had a tendency to dwell on losses, especially big ones. It took a lot to get my mind away from the game, but Alyn could always manage. I'm not complaining though, because I know that sometimes I need that. And sometime is right now.
His lips slowly slipped from mine and traced sweet kisses down my jaw. I lean back, savoring the warmth created by our bare torsos. His lips found my neck, and he began to suck at it lightly.
"Let's go," I breathed, caressing his hair as his lips press torture against my neck.
"Okay,"
* * *
The ride to my apartment seemed unbearably long. The second we stepped through my door, Alyn pushed me against the door and pressed his lips roughly to mine. Our kisses took off in a fury of passion. Clothes were shed hurriedly as we walked back to my bedroom, our lips still locked together. By the time we reached my bedroom, a trail of clothes lay in our wake, and both of us stood in just our boxers.
Our lips separated as we entered the bedroom, but our bodies stayed pressed together. As contact was lost, he pushed me softly back onto the bed. I watched with anticipation as he slid his boxers from his waist, bringing his gorgeous body to full view. I watched intently as he crawled slowly up the bed. Muscles danced with each movement, sweat dripping down his tight frame. His lips met mine, and his scent overtook me, soap and sweat mingling to form a smell I could describe only as Alyn. As usual, he kissed me with soft, passionate kisses while his hand traveled down my body. I shuddered as he made contact with my nipple. He massaged it lightly between his fingertips, as his tongue begged entrance into my mouth. I submitted, and felt his tongue writhe softly against mine. His hand began to travel lower, making light circles around my bellybutton. I grazed my fingers lightly across his back, coaxing a shiver for my efforts. When his hand found the waistband of my boxers, he pulled his lips from mine. He smiled down at me, and brushed a piece of hair from my forehead.
"You played a great game," He said sweetly, staring into my eyes.
"Shh, no hockey talk," I whispered, putting a finger to his lips and shaking my head. "Make me forget,"
He only nodded, then brought his lips back to mine. His hand quickly snaked its way down my body and beneath the waistband of my boxers. I moaned out quietly as his hand wrapped around me. Our kiss separated and I arched my hips from the bed, long enough for Alyn to push my boxers down. I kicked them to the floor, and he placed himself between my legs. I wrapped my legs around his waist and cupping his face in my hands pulled his lips back to me. We kissed for only seconds before he took his lips from mine, and stared down into my eyes.
"You are so beautiful," He spoke softly, tracing a finger down my chest. "I don't want you to go,"
The caring in his voice makes me weak, but still in the back of my mind I wonder if it's fake. We'd slept together enumerable times, and each time I'd wake up the next morning alone. I'd watch him at night slip quietly out of bed, gather his things then sneak out of my apartment. Then, there would be no mention of anything until the next time he got horny, or the next time I played a bad game. I always hated myself for letting him do it to me. But I guess I always thought, hoped that one day it wouldn't happen. That one day I'd wake up and he'd actually be there in the morning. That one day he'd love me the way I loved him. That was the whole reason why I allowed him to do the things he did. I loved him, as much as I didn’t want to.
"Let's not think about that," I said quietly, entwining my fingers in his. "Let's just enjoy right now," I said quietly, entwining my fingers in his.
He leaned down and kissed me again as I felt his cock press at my opening. Never in all the times we'd been together had we used lube, or protection of any kind. I don't advocate that at all, but we both look at it like it's too late now. I bite my lip as he enters me, sliding inch after inch inside of me until he's fully sheathed. He waits briefly for me to adjust, then starts a gentle thrusting motion. It takes only seconds for him to find my prostate, sending shocks straight through me. He begins to hit it with each thrust, making me moan out loudly and clench around his dick. He reaches around and begins to jerk my cock while his lips find my neck. Suddenly, I'm totally at peace. There was no loss, no playoffs, no Maple Leafs. Just me and Alyn, and the amazing feelings circulating between us. I could think of nothing but the feelings coursing through my body as Alyn thrust into me. As I felt him nearing release, I took a step, and spoke words I never thought I would, knowing deep down I wouldn't hear them in return.
"I love you, Alyn,"
Instantly, his eyes connect with mine, and I think I may've made a mistake. But it was something I had to say. I couldn't face the possibility of this being our last night together and not tell him. He stares deep into my eyes as he continues to thrust into me. I try to turn my head, and close my eyes, to get back to thinking about only the pleasure. But Alyn brings his hand to my chin, and pulls my eyes back to his. My eyes only open briefly before they flutter closed, and I moan out lightly as I feel my orgasm approaching. Alyn drives his lips onto mine, and I feel his release hit my insides. He thrusts into me twice more then collapses against me. He continues jerking me only seconds longer before I erupt between us.
Alyn hisses as he slides from inside me, and immediately goes to work lapping up my cum. I lay motionless on the bed, my eyes still closed tightly. The feeling of peace is gone, and I'm cursing myself again for letting Alyn use me yet again. I tell my mind vehemently to shut up, and turn onto my side. I feel Alyn crawl up beside me, and drape his arm across my chest. As fake as it is, I enjoy this feeling. I cuddle back against him, and let out a sigh. Our fingers intertwine, and he plants a soft kiss to my temple.
"I love you, too," He whispers, cuddling up against me.
I'm stunned speechless. I want to say something in return, but I just can't find the words. I guess I don't need to. To hear him say it put me right back in that feeling of complete peace. There was nothing again, no hockey, no feeling used, nothing. Just Alyn and I, alone in the world. I close my eyes, and let myself drift off, Alyn's words ringing in my ears.
* * *
I wake up the next morning, and pat the bed beside me. As always, it's empty, and I can almost feel my heart shatter. I sigh as I sit up on the bed. I knew it was too good to be true. Alyn could never love me, and I knew that. But somehow I managed to trick myself into thinking that he felt the same way. Hearing the words had all but cemented those thoughts. But then I woke up, and everything was the same as it always was. I'm left like I was so many times. Alone. Completely, and totally alone.
TBC
© 2002 Triple X
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