Rating: R
Original Date of Completion: August 2002
Disclaimer: I don't own him. This is fake, conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. There are things of a questionable nature here, including violence and mentions of sexual abuse. I in no way condone any of it, it's all fiction. That means that you can't sue me. Read ahead at your own discretion.
Note: ~ ~ ~ indicates a dream.
**************
~ ~ ~
"How could you Alyn? Teresa! Of all the fucking people in the world!"
Trish screamed and pushed against Alyn's chest. Anger bubbled in Alyn's blood, but he fought with himself to keep calm. He deserved everything she could give him. All of the times he'd cheated on her, he'd never flaunted it in her face. It had never been with a woman who would even have the opportunity. Random women on road trips, never anyone at home. But this time, it had been at home. And worst of all, it hadn't been a random woman. It had been her friend. Her best friend since childhood. He could stoop no lower than that.
"How could you worthless son-of-a-bitch?" Trish screamed again, punching Alyn in the chest. "My best fucking friend!" She punched his chest again. "Why didn't you just go with Krista, then you could fuck my family, and be a child molester, just like your fucking father!"
In an instant, Alyn grasped Trish by the arms and shook her. She screamed at him and squirmed in his grasp. He tightened his grip and shook her again.
"Look at me you fucking bitch!" Alyn screamed, digging his fingers into Trish's arms. "You can say whatever the fuck you want to me, just leave my fucking father out of this!"
"Let me go, you fucking bastard!" Trish screamed, breaking free from Alyn’s grip.
She burst away from him, but he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around as she reached the stairs. In a surge of reflex, Trish drew her fist back and thrust it into Alyn's face, connecting directly in the eye. Almost instantly, Alyn grabbed Trish by the arm and laid an open palm across her face. He released her arm, and the force of the blow caused Trish to go tumbling down the stairs. Alyn's eyes widened in horror as he watched her hit stair after stair, landing in a limp heap at the bottom of the stairs, clutching her right arm to her body.....
~ ~ ~
Like so many other nights, I awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. I rolled over in bed and fumbled with the lamp, struggling to turn it on. When I succeeded, I inched up the bed and rested against the headboard. I blotted away the sweat with a sheet and glanced over at the alarm clock. 1:42 A.M. I'd only been asleep for 20 minutes, and yet I was able to relive that entire horrible incident. Ever since that day at her house, I'd been reliving everything I'd ever done to Trish. Every time a memory would pass, I'd reach up and touch my nose, wincing at the pain it caused. I deserved to have a broken nose after all I'd done to her. But my actions against her weren't even what got me the broken nose. It was what I'd done to Curtis. And for that, I deserved more than a broken nose.
The stair incident wasn't just the worst thing I ever did to Trish. That was the worst thing I'd ever done in my life, period. But what I'd done to Curtis, that just affirmed my place in Hell. An entire year I'd used him, and left him. I'd strung him along for an entire year, knowing full well I'd only hurt him again. For a while there, he avoided me, and I thought it was over. I thought maybe my evil would cease, and I could get back to a normal life. But then I'd seen him in the locker room that night. He looked so hurt, so destroyed, I don't know what came over me. I wished now that whatever it was had stayed dormant. We'd all be a lot better off right now.
I sighed and slid back down the bed and flipped onto my side. I hissed as my nose came in contact with the pillow, and adjusted so my arm lay beneath my head. I closed my eyes and forced myself back to sleep.
~ ~ ~
Alyn couldn't explain the course of events. They'd lost to Montreal, Curtis had been violently depressed, and now he sat alone next to him in the locker room, trying his best to comfort him. The same Curtis that only months before had given him three stitches in the back of his head and damaged vocal cords from choking him in the locker room. Alyn was willing to forget that, after all, he'd deserved it with what he'd done to Trish. But he couldn't explain why he felt the need to be the one to comfort Curtis. Out of all the guys on the team, he was the least close with their goalie. In fact, Alyn was almost positive Curtis hated his very being. But when he saw him, kicking everything in sight, then slumping down in front of his locker, he got a strange need to comfort him. And he'd been doing just that for the past hour. Well, at least, trying to do that.
"Hey, stop beating yourself up over this one. We didn't play good enough to win, it's not your fault," Alyn spoke, resting his hand on Curtis' shoulder.
Curtis sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. "I'm just sick of always costing this team victories. I should just go to Atlanta, at least people would expect me to lose there,"
"Hey," Alyn almost shouted, kneeling in front of Curtis. "You're one of the best goalies ever. I don't know what it would take for me to prove that to you, but if I have to kill Hasek and steal his Vezinas, I will,"
Curtis chuckled lightly and swabbed away more tears. He smiled down at Alyn and patted him on the shoulder.
"Thanks, but it would take more than some stolen Vezinas to convince me. You can still kill him though, if you want to. Take out Patrick while you're at it," Curtis laughed, getting to his feet.
He extended a hand and pulled Alyn to his feet. Alyn clapped Curtis on the shoulder and let his hand rest on the small divot between his collarbone and his neck.
"You feeling better?" Alyn asked, tilting his head to one side.
"Not really," Curtis shrugged and tossed his bag onto his shoulder.
"Well, how 'bout this?"
Alyn leaned forward and pushed his lips onto Curtis'. His mind screamed for him to stop, but it was silenced immediately when he felt Curtis kiss back. He slipped his arms around Curtis' waist and pulled him closer, grinding his quickly hardening cock against the older man. Curtis whimpered lightly and slid his hands cautiously up Alyn's shirt. A shiver coursed through Alyn's body as Curtis' hands danced softly on his skin. When Curtis' hand grazed across Alyn's nipple, he knew instantly what was going to happen. He pulled back from Curtis and stared deep into those misty blue pools he called eyes.
"Let's go back to your place," Alyn breathed, softly caressing Curtis' arm.
"Okay," Curtis nodded.
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
Alyn took his mouth from Curtis and at Curtis' pleas, placed himself between his legs. Curtis whimpered as Alyn slid slowly into him, stopping when he reached the hilt. He brought his lips to Curtis' neck and began biting at it softly as he began to thrust into him. The feelings Alyn expected to have were nowhere to be found. All he could concentrate on was how amazing everything felt. This wasn't wrong, or evil, or anything he'd been told as a child. It was simply incredible.
But those feelings only lasted as long as the action. As he reached orgasm, Alyn leaned down and drove his lips to Curtis' But when the orgasm washed away, his original feelings came back with the new tide. He slid himself from Curtis and collapsed onto the bed. He grabbed a pillow, and just as he began to drift off, he felt Curtis drape an arm over him.
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
When he awoke hours later, he cringed when he saw who was laying next to him. Instead of some random puck bunny, it was the goalie for his hockey team. The male goalie. He got a sickening feeling as he remembered what he'd done. He feverishly shook his head, trying to erase the memory. He slipped quietly out of the bed and...
~ ~ ~
The phone blared next to my head, snapping me thankfully from my dreams. Groggily, I reached over and picked up the receiver. I brought it to my ear, and yawned instead of saying hello.
"Alyn?"
"Trish? S'that you?" I asked, struggling to sit up on the bed.
"Yeah, listen. We really need to talk," She replied, more serious than I'd heard her in a long time.
"I'll be at your place in 20 minutes," I responded quickly.
"Uh, about that. I'm in Cuba right now,"
"Cuba?"
"Cuba,"
"What, working for Fidel now?" I joked, wiping sleep from my eyes.
She giggled her light "not really funny" laugh, and wherever she was, I imagine she rolled her eyes at me. "I have one evil dictator boss, I don't need another, thank you,"
I snorted a laughed and reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp. I adjusted the pillow behind my back, and leaned more comfortably back against the headboard.
"So how are we supposed to talk if you're in Cuba?" I asked, scratching my chest.
"Promise not to freak out?"
"Maybe...." I replied apprehensively.
"You know the TSN studios on Creston?"
"Yeah...."
"Go there and they'll link you up with me, I've got to do it for a news special anyway, and they said you could talk to me before I went on with them. I go on with them at 6, so be there at like 4:30,"
"Um, okay. How'd you manage to do that?"
"I have connections, that's all I'm saying," Trish giggled, followed up by a string of curses when her phone fuzzed with static.
"Okay. I'll talk to you later then, I guess. But hey Trish?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for calling, you've saved me a lot of tossing and turning,"
"Four thirty, don't forget," She demanded
"Got ya. Later,"
"Bye bye,"
I hung the phone up and slid back down onto the pillow. I couldn't explain why she called, or why she was willing to go through so much trouble to talk to me. But then again, I couldn't explain a lot she did. I'm just glad she did it. I didn't have the faintest idea what to say to her, aside from apologizing for being such an asshole. God knows I haven't done that enough in the past few years. I didn't know if that would do any good, it hadn't really done a whole lot the last few hundred times. But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, I don't even know if Curtis was the reason she wanted to talk to me at all. The only thing I did know, was at least this conversation wouldn't end in another broken nose. Unless TSN has some REALLY high tech equipment....
TBC
© 2002 Triple X
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