Rating: NC-17
Original Date of Completion: March 2003
Pairing: Rick Nash/Curtis Joseph
Disclaimer: I own them, and you can't have them. This is all fiction, conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. So yeah, don't sue me.
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Disk 2: Enemy Territory
Episode 1333-N
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The lights brighten slowly, the camera focused on the Confessional. Pulling away to a wide angle, the camera pans to its right, stopping as it reaches the couch. Natalyn lay on the red sofa, clad in flannel pajamas, glasses resting loosely on her face, a copy of Queen of the Damned in her hands. She coughs, and it's then she notices the camera, smiling at is as she removes her glasses. Reaching to the coffee table in front of her, she grabs a glass of orange juice, setting the book and her glasses in its place. She takes a quick drink of the juice, keeping the glass in her hand and clearing her throat.
"Pardon me my smutaholics if I'm not my usual peppy self," She spoke, her voice scratchy and weak. "I've got a bit of a cold this week, hence my beautiful attire," She continued, pulling at the fabric of her pajamas. "But don't feel bad for me, it's my own fault for attending Jeremy Roenick and Tony Amonte's reunion party," She stares away from the camera with a wistful grin before she coughs and snaps her focus back to the camera, taking a quick swig of her juice.
"That's not the story I have for you this week, however. This week's tale comes to us from a man who knows quite a bit about BJ's.." She turns to her left and grins, the camera changing angles. "The Blue Jackets, that is. We had a bet going here at Confessions on how long it would take us to get young #61 into our studio, and Marco my masseuse was glad to hear it didn't take us very long. Mr. Nash was quite willing to discuss this particular exploit, and for that we're quite glad."
She took another drink of her juice, setting it back on the coffee table this time and grinning forward, the camera changing angles once more. "Mr. Nash sets a record for us here at Confessions, the youngest man to ever step into the Confessional. For that simple fact, we've called this tale "More Than a Babyface." Believe me when I tell you my smutacholics, he may be young, but he knows what he likes, and just how to get it. And I know all of you know what YOU like, and you'll more than like this, trust me. So I suggest you take any breaks you may need now, because you're not going to want to miss a second of the action. And yes, you'll definitely want the lotion for this one. Enjoy."
The camera pans slowly to its left, stopping as it reaches the Confessional. The lights dim slowly, leaving the kiosk illuminated in a navy light. With a snap, the spotlight hits "The Chair." The screen goes quickly black before returning to light, Rick Nash seated in "The Chair."
He grins at the camera, scratching his chin and relaxing back. "My name is Rick Nash, and I have a confession to make,"
* * *
Goaltending is sexy. Even as a goal scorer I can admit that. There's just something about watching a guy stand voluntarily in front of the net, facing down 100 mile per hour shots, and making some miraculous save that gets my blood boiling. I've never been able to explain the appeal, I should hate goalies. After all, they are the ones that stop my shots. But, I've never really been able to hate them. At least not since puberty (save the jokes, it was YEARS ago. I'm not THAT young.) I don't know for sure where the attraction comes from, but I think being a Leafs fan during my questioning pubescent years had a whole lot to do with it. Because the Leafs had Cujo, and he was...well...really fucking hot.
Cujo might be the sexiest of all goalies, and I'm talking ON the ice here. Some of the saves makes defy the laws of physics. You think for sure he's beaten, and then boom he kicks a pad out or a glove and makes a save he really shouldn't be able to. I think what makes him so hot is he doesn't really have a style. You can't predict what he's going to do, because it’s never the same. He's completely and totally unconventional. That's hotness, plain and simple. And I think that's what bore my goalie attraction on-ice. Off ice...dude, have you seen his eyes? I didn't know blue came in that color. Besides all that, he's bendy. And call me a pervert, but a guy who can bend his legs like that grabs my attention any day. What? I'm 18, I'm allowed to have hormones. Unless of course, you ask Rusty, but we're not going to ask him. I have more fun that way. And Cujo just shut us out for the first time in my NHL career, so I deserve a little fun.
This fun wasn't going to be easy though, and I knew that. I decided on the ice, watching him make some of those saves, that I wanted Cujo tonight. But after he got the shut out, I strangely wanted him even more. If the team can't score on him, I damn sure can with him, I guess. I'm young and hot, how could he resist? Easily, I suppose, since the Wings never stayed overnight in Columbus. But I'm sure whoever decided that Columbus should get a team didn't take into accord that I might one day want to seduce Detroit's goalie. He should've though, that would make this all so much simpler. As it is now I'm going to play the autograph seeking kid routine, and hope he gets, and is receiving of whatever hint I might throw his way. If not...well...Wait, who am I kidding? No one has EVER resisted that. Like I said, I'm young and hot. And I already know he goes for that kind of thing, those Central Division goalies have a better grapevine than some Vineyards, and Marc and JF don't talk exactly quiet.
Anyway, back to my fun seeking. My plan wasn't very elaborate. All I was going to do was stand outside their locker room until he came out, then ask him for an autograph. It was simple enough, but it worked before. With his captain, in fact. There was the convenience of the press box for that, though. This time I had no such luxury. But damn, that was a fun time...
"Oh, I'm sorry," The voice sounded as the person bumped into me.
Smooth Rick, real smooth. I knew before I even turned around that Cujo had been the one to bump into me. I daydream for a second and completely blow the opening I had planned. Although...this might work out even better. I would seem less desperate this way. He'd initiated contact, literally. All I had to do now was turn on the charm and the rest would work itself out. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.
"That's okay," I said brightly, flashing a smile bordering on just this side of a grin. "A legend like you can run into me any day,"
He smiled modestly and cinched his bag on his shoulder. "I'm hardly a legend,"
Modesty is so hot. Especially when it's coming from someone with those eyes. Wow, they're even better up close. And I swear he looks almost like he's blushing. It's like he knew just what to do to make me want to maul him right then and there. I'm telling you, all he needed to do was scuff his foot, or make a glove save and I'd be all over him like a cheap puckbunny.
"You are in my eyes, and in the eyes of most of the world," I spoke with a smile. "When I wanted to be a goalie as a kid, I wanted to be just like you,"
He laughed and again cinched his bag on his shoulder. "As a kid? That was what, a month ago?” He teased, amusement evident in his eyes.
I grinned. "Yep. Golly gee Mr. Joseph, it sure is exciting to meet you. I can't wait to go to school tomorrow and tell all my friends at recess on the monkey bars how I got to beet Cujo!" I rambled, doing my best to mimic an excited child, even adding a little bounce at the end for effect.
He stared at me briefly before I flashed a cheesy grin and he roared in laughter. It took not time at all for his laughter to infect me, and I exploded into giggles. This was fun, but it wasn't in my plans. Of course, I didn't plan for him to mock my age either. But I learned early in the season that guys were going to mock my age, and it was easier to just play along and mock myself than object. But that might actually be good in this case. Now I could ask for an autograph and not look like a complete freak. Though it's possible that asking a guy who just shut your team out, and who is technically a big rival for an autograph at all makes you a big freak. I don't really care though. This was something I'd wanted for a good four years now. Tonight that want increased, and I knew I had to run with it. The autograph part was just my innocent approach to getting what I wanted. Though really, getting his actual autograph would be pretty cool.
"I'm not really that exciting, I think your friends will be disappointed," He laughed, wiping tears from his eyes.
"Oh no, they'll be really excited," I giggled, nodding my head. "But they might not believe me. I think I need proof, say in autograph form,"
I flashed an innocent smile and scuffed my foot lightly on the floor. I felt a brief moment of shame for the way I was acting, but that passed immediately as a grin swept across his face. He walked a few steps down the hall, stopping at a table outside the visitors locker room. He sat his bag down on the table and began digging through it, finally producing a white snow hat. He held it out toward me, and excitedly I grabbed it from him. What? I'm allowed to be excited. It's not every day Cujo gives me a hat. I would've settled for a piece of paper, or marker on my chest...
Fuck, marker.
"Do you have something for me to sign it with?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dammit. I knew things were going a little too easy. How could I forget a marker? That was a vital part to the plan. Now I either looked really stupid, or really really obvious in my intentions. It's not like I was planning on being all that coy when push came to shove, but still. This was an unwanted variant in my plan. I had to improvise now, and I generally wasn't good with that. Think Rick, think.
Oh man, I don't know if thinking is really that smart when I get thoughts like this. I don't honestly know if even I could say what popped into my head here. I guess there is only one way to find out. And at least if I do say it, I'll know without a doubt if he's interested or not. There are only two possible reactions to what I'm about to say. Hysterical laughter is NOT the one I'm going for.
"I was hoping for something more than a hat," I spoke hesitantly, scuffing my foot again. "Maybe a..." I bit my lip. "Stick?"
My body tingled with nervousness while awaiting his reaction. Thankfully it was only a brief feeling, as the reaction I'd hoped for quickly occurred, in the form of a devilish smirk and a nod of the head.
"I think I can handle that," He grinned and scratched his chin. "I’ve got a really nice stick," He ran his tongue slowly along his lips. "In the bus,"
From there, everything is a bit blurry. Not as if there needed to be a vivid image. All that matters is after that I wound up on the Wings bus, sitting in Cujo's lap with my arms around his neck, and kissing him with all the energy I had. It was just the kind of kiss I loved, rough, passionate, and drenched with desire. I could feel how much he wanted me (In more ways than one) and I loved it. Knowing someone wants you is an awesome feeling. Even more so when that someone is a guy you've fantasized about for years, and dreamed about being able to do this with. And especially when it's with a guy whose packing what Cujo is beneath these dress pants. Sitting in his lap served more purposes than just making kissing easier, let me tell you. It was a bit of a scouting mission. And let's just say I liked what I saw. Or felt, actually. Seeing was next on my mind.
Breaking our kiss, I pulled away and stared at him with a grin. His eyes were clouded with desire, the usually vibrant blue an almost smoke color. Even though the color had changed, they lost none of their intensity, boring into me as I stood and went to work on the buttons of my shirt. A mischievous grin spread across his face as I shrugged off the fabric, dropping it onto the seat beside him. Reaching forward, he tucked a finger into a belt loop and pulled me back to him. I gasped as his lips found my stomach, planting soft kisses down my abs as he slid slowly from his seat. He looked up at me with a smirk as he slipped my hands into his hair, and quickly he unfastened my jeans. Torturously he pulled the zipper down, his fingers brushing lightly against my rapidly hardening cock. By the time he'd even worked the zipper fully down my dick strained painfully against the flannel of my boxers, and my body trembled in anticipation.
He grazed his hand appreciatively against the tent in my boxers, squeezing gently the head of my dick. I moaned softly at the feeling, garnering a snicker from him, coupled with another squeeze.
"Like that?" He asked, his voice deep and...drenched in sex, for lack of a better description.
"It's not bad," I gasped as his fingers slipped past the opening of my boxers and caressed at my dick.
He snickered and wrapped his hand around my dick, coaxing a moan from me as his fingers glided silkily along the shaft. His hands felt rough against my smooth flesh, providing the perfect friction and drawing a moan from me with each movement. My hands returned to his hair, brushing it softly as his hand continued its work. I was lost quickly in the feelings, enjoying the gentle pleasure in silence broken only by my occasional moans. There was one big thought running around in my head, and it was one that brought a grin to my face. Cujo was jerking me off. How fucking hot is that? I wasn't just jerking off TO him anymore. It might take me a while to get over that, if I didn't have much more important thoughts spring to mind as I felt him slowly push my boxers down. He pulled his hand from my dick as he eased the flannel over it, and I couldn't stop a small whimper at the loss of contact. He stared up at me with a smirk as he quickly reestablished contact, picking up right where he left off with his gentle strokes.
"Maybe I should be the one asking for your autograph," He murmured, leaning close enough for me to feel his breath on my dick. "You've got quite the stick here,"
I snickered at his lame joke, gasping as his tongue flicked against the head of my shaft. "And I'm still a growing boy," I laughed somewhat nervously, my breath hitching in my throat.
He didn't reply with words, instead with actions, slipping his lips slowly around the head of my dick. I moaned quietly, clenching my hand in his hair; no one had ever been able to take all of me like that, it was an exciting new feeling. I felt him snicker around my dick, sucking more of me into his mouth until I felt my balls rest on his chin. I drew a sharp breath from the feeling, releasing it with a slow sigh and leaning against the seat behind me.
He began to bob his head, sliding torturously slowly down my shaft before pulling back up even slower. It took only seconds of that to drive me wild, my body tingling with each motion. I began to thrust gently into his mouth, and to my surprise he didn't impede my actions, instead just stopped his own and let me take things at my own pace. My thrusts were gentle, but the suction he kept on my dick made them all the more intense. There was probably no way for them not to be intense, since who he was was still lingering in the back of my head. This was a long time fantasy I never thought would come true, and now that it was it was beyond anything I could've ever imagined. I don't know if he was just that good with his mouth, or if the fantasy in my head made it so great, but it's only been five minutes and already I can feel my orgasm bubbling. Too bad I can't enjoy that feeling just yet.
Reluctantly, I pushed him away, whimpering as he lightly dragged his teeth. He stared up at me with a grin, wiping the side of his mouth with his thumb. I smiled, and knelt down next to him, slipping my arms immediately around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Our lips met eagerly, clashing messily as my hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. My hands glided eagerly along the buttons, pulling them apart until I felt his heaving chest beneath my fingertips. His tongue snaked its way into my mouth as I pushed the fabric from his chest, running my hands tentatively along his sinewy torso. He moaned as my fingers brushed against a nipple, breaking our kiss and bringing his lips to my neck. He sucked softly at the skin there, biting down gently with each tug I made to the tiny nub. My hands tired of his nipples quickly; there was another part of his anatomy I wanted in my hands. Trekking lower, my fingers stopped just at his waistband as he trapped an earlobe between his teeth, sucking at it in a not-so-gentle way. A shiver coursed down my spine, and I collapsed against him from the feeling, garnering a soft snicker for my actions.
"I think I found a weakness," He whispered, tracing his tongue along my ear.
I suppressed another shiver, and bringing my hand to his crotch squeezed his dick through the thin fabric of his dress pants. "I think I found that stick you promised," I murmured in return, unfastening the button on his pants.
He laughed softly as I worked the zipper down, teasing him the same way he'd done me. "I've been meaning to give you that. That is, if you still want it,"
The zipper out of my way, I tucked my fingers into the waistband of his boxers and began pushing them slowly down. "I do, more than ever,"
He grinned and reached down to his pants, stopping me in my attempts to remove them. I stared at him quizzically as he dug in his pockets, obviously searching for something. My questions were answered as he pulled a condom from his pants and held it up with a victorious smirk.
"Good. I'll even wrap it for you,"
I grinned and placed a quick peck to his lips before he stood. My hands were instantly on his waist, and quickly I pushed both pants and boxers from his hips. In a stunning display of flexibility (which is so hot, by the way) he stretched his leg onto the seat in front of him and slid his pants the remaining way off. I swallowed hard at the sight, absently brushing my fingers against a nipple. He smirked at me as he knelt down next to me, batting my hand from my nipple and replacing it with his tongue. I moaned, then whimpered as his tongue was replaced with his teeth and he bit gently on and around my nipple. My world was clouding quickly with pleasure from his actions, but on thought continued to dance in my head. I wanted him inside me, and I wanted it now. The time for teasing had passed, I wanted my stick; I couldn't handle much more teasing without exploding anyway.
Pushing him back against the seat, I straddled his hips and snatched the condom from his hands before he knew what hit him. He simply grinned as I tore the wrapper open and pulled the latex from its package. He laid his head back on the seat, resting it on his hands as I slowly rolled the condom onto his dripping shaft. A slow hiss was all the noise he made, until the condom reached the hilt. I was greeted then with a growl as he pulled me closer to him. My lips found his neck, and I showed him the power of my mouth as I positioned myself over his shaft. With no preparation, I knew I was in for some pain, but frankly I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel him, badly. There was no one person I'd ever fantasized more about. This was my first gay fantasy coming true. Only difference being, in the fantasy we were in a much kinkier and a much-more-flexibility-needed position. After all, all of this started because he was sexy at his position on-ice. It's just a bonus that he's really fucking hot off-ice too.
I bit my lip to stifle a cry as I slid down his dick. His hand traveled to my neck, and he massaged it gently as I wriggled on his shaft, trying to adjust. I knew when the chill shot down my spine that I'd hit the right spot, and with a grin I began to slowly ride him. Any pain or discomfort that might've occurred disappeared with each rise and fall, his cock tapping my prostate each time. His hands roamed along my chest, tugging roughly at my nipples as our lips reunited. I moaned from the quick jolt of pleasure/pain coming from my chest, clenching my muscles around him and squeezing a loud moan from him. Our lips clashed in a sloppy kiss, tongues writhing passionately together, teeth jarring, hands roaming freely along each other's skin. I bit down on his bottom lip as his hand wrapped around my dick, making him growl and squeeze around my shaft. I squeaked in pleasure, my head lolling back as he began to slowly jerk my cock.
Moans filled the air, mostly mine from the dual pleasure shooting through me. But he was definitely enjoying himself, as he began to thrust into me as I rode. It couldn't have lasted for much more than five minutes from that, but it felt like a blissful eternity. He bit down on my shoulder as he reached orgasm, making me shiver and clench my muscles around him. A loud moan fled from his lips, and he thrust up one final time, lifting me slightly from the ground in the process and making me think to myself "What incredible leg strength." But that thought was lost immediately as orgasm took me over, and I exploded onto his chest with a gasp, burying my head in the crook of his neck.
I began to kiss at his neck as I came down from orgasm, garnering a quiet giggle from him for my troubles. I made no attempts to remove myself from his shaft; he was still rock hard inside me, and dammit it felt good. And he certainly wasn't complaining about it and his hand danced along the back of my neck, finally stopping and nestling in my hair. He pulled me gently from his neck, and pushed his lips onto mine. It was a small, simple kiss, but it sucked what energy may've remained in my body by the time it ended. I yawned as I lifted myself from his shaft, and returned my head to his neck. He placed a soft kiss to my shoulder and sighed.
"You were amazing, kid," He whispered, tracing his finger along my spine.
I shivered, giggling as I leaned back away from him. "And I'm still a growing boy," I said with a smirk. "Imagine me in couple years,"
He bit his lip and wrapped his hand back around my dick. "In a couple years, I think I'll be the one asking for a stick."
* * *
"And that was that," Rick Nash grinned at the camera, resting his hands behind his head. "We cleaned up, and went our separate ways. I really did get a stick from him, though. And while I was leaving their bus, I bumped into Luc Robitaille. And well, who couldn't use a stick from the all-time lead scorer for left wings..."
The screen flashes green and Natalyn reappears on the couch, covered in a pink blanket. She turns her head toward the camera and smiles, clutching the blanket in her hands.
"Who couldn't use a stick from Lucky Luc indeed?" She giggled, coughing at the finish of her statement. "I know I wouldn't mind one, and Mr. Nash sure did seem happy with his. Unfortunately though, that story will have to wait for another day, as I've drank my Nyquil already, and we're out of time for this week. So until next week my smutaholics, I'm Natalyn Moore and this has been Confessions. Good night,"
She reaches behind her and shuts off the lamp, the scene going dark except for a distant light to the left. The camera pans quickly in that direction, stopping at the light, glowing around the Confessional. The lights begin to slowly dim until the screen is pitch black, and the closing credits begin to scroll.
END Episode 1333 "More Than a Babyface"
© 2003 Triple X
Back to Disk 2
"More Than a Babyface"
