More Than I Can Say

Rating: NC-17 for mildly graphic sex.

Original Date of Completion: May 2004

Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did. This is all fiction, conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. That means it's fake and you can't sue me.

Note: This is my response to the Hockey fandom Remix Challenge. I remixed the fic The Nearness of You by Natalie

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You're both ends of the rainbow
My colors and my pot of gold
I love you with a love untold
More than I can say

You are the song of every bird
You are the poet's every word
Every artist's picture
Every writer's play

You are the glow in every night
You are the warmth in each sunrise
Makes no difference how I try
It's more than I can say...

Dolly Parton "More Than I Can Say"
Used Without Permission

I stared at myself in the mirror, smoothing out a small tuft of hair, and inside my head I could hear my little girl's voice saying "you still look old, dad." Like always, that brought a smile to my face, but this time I found myself staring into the mirror and wondering maybe if she was right. Thinning hair, bags under my eyes, laugh lines, how old AM I, anyway? Sometimes I think too old, especially on nights like this. Standing there in a tux, an hour removed from yet another hockey game, waiting to meet my 25-year-old lover, 35 suddenly seemed like 60. But it always did in such moments. It wasn’t until I was with him, in his arms, that I felt young again.

I overanalyzed things too much, I knew that, but it never stopped me. I couldn't help but think in these moments, secluded away from everything, by myself, waiting to meet him. It was usually thoughts that were best left unthought, but it was hard to fight them back. There was always something that reminded me that when he was my daughter's age, I was in that same position, getting dressed after another grueling game, but on the very team then that he played for now. Watching him tonight, it was almost as if I were watching myself. At times when I closed my eyes, I could still see the Blue Note on my chest; I could still remember what it felt like to play there, all the happiness it brought me, all the pain that it caused. I could see that in him; I could see the glow radiate from him with every big save, and the anger that bubbled with each goal, regardless of its quality. On paper, in person, our careers were remarkably similar, with the only difference being length. One could argue a case on that was why we fit, and maybe they were right. I don't really know though, because we've never been anything I could really explain.

From the moment that I met him, there was just this feeling, this almost epiphany that told me he was the one I was meant for. I remembered that day so clearly; seeing his smile, hearing his shy, quiet laugh when he asked for an autograph, shaking his hand after I'd signed HIS Blues jersey. All of it remained so vivid in my mind, because at the time it was so intense, every touch, every feeling was heightened like I was on some kind of stoned out trip. And I knew right then that it was just "it", kismet. I've never stopped feeling that way when I'm with him since that very day. It was just the times we were apart when I thought, when I wondered if it was right or wrong. But it only lasted until I was with him, because when I was with him, everything else just slipped away. There were no competing hockey games, no wins nor losses, no teammates to congratulate or comfort after a game, there wasn't even a hotel to meet him at. Nothing else existed when we were together, there was just him and me, and paradise.

A quick glance at my wristwatch told me it was 10:53, seven minutes until paradise returns. I gave one last look into the mirror, smiling faintly at myself, a sure sign that my questioning time has passed. As predictable as my questioning is, its departure is even more so; simple memories of his smile, of his kiss, of him are enough to chase the thoughts away. As I slipped from the bathroom, into the living area of our rented suite, lighting the candles sitting on the coffee table, my heart raced with excitement, with the realization that soon I'd be again in his arms. And when he knocked, my heart skipped a beat, and I had to stop myself from running to the door. Drawing a deep breath, I forced my excitement down, clenching my hands into fists before walking to the door. I pulled it open in a flash, not wanting to delay in seeing the sight I knew would be there. Standing there in a charcoal suit, he stood fidgeting, his hands jammed in the pockets of his jacket, his eyes bright and smiling; he was just as excited as I was. I smiled brightly, and took a step forward, reaching for his hand.

"Brent," I murmured as our fingers entwined.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot, and in a moment he was leaning into me, wrapping his arms tightly around my shoulders.

"Curtis," He breathed as I hugged back, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

We could've stood like that for eternity and I never would've known the difference. It had been so long since I'd held him, since he'd held me, that I never wanted to move from that very spot. The faint smell of his cologne graced his neck, but beneath it all there was still him, a scent that like any sight I've described chased the world away. I could feel more and more of it slipping away each time he whispered name; by the time the last breath hit my ear, paradise had returned, and there was nothing but him and me, standing in the moonlight, with the flickering shadows of the candles dancing over us. It was a perfect scene for this, New Year's, our first together.

I turned my head from his neck, glancing out the window a few feet away, smiling as my eyes took in the moonlight. It almost seemed like the moon was right outside our window, and I was thankful for that; it seemed like a perfect edition to paradise, the only thing that could possibly make him more beautiful.

I pulled away from him with a soft whimpering, guiding his questioning eyes with a small smile toward the window. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I whispered, nodding my head in the direction of the window.

His eyes never left mine, not even a sideways glance out the window, but he replied with no hesitation. "Beautiful," He murmured in agreement, sending my eyes to the carpet and a faint blush across my cheeks.

No matter how often he said it, I could never hear that word in reference to me without blushing like a teenager on my first date. I'd heard those words countless times before, but coming from him it was like I was 16 again, back at Keswick Pond in my dad’s old Bonneville. Although in reality I was nearly 36, in a hotel suite in a whole other country than where I grew up. But with my heart racing the way it was, my cheeks pink and burning, my palms sweating just slightly, I could barely tell the difference between me and that 16-year-old boy. I guess it all goes back to what I said in the beginning; he made me feel young again, even with just speaking one tiny word.

Hesitant still to leave his presence, I took quick bounds over to the table, snatching up two flutes of champagne. He smiled at me as I brought them back over, handing him one and smiling in return, before clinking our glasses together. "Happy New Year," I spoke, taking a quick sip of the bubbly liquid.

"Happy New Year." He replied, taking a quick sip himself, his eyes staying on mine.

As I stared there into the misty blue of his eyes, I quickly realized no more words were needed. There always came a point in these moments were words no longer sufficed, where everything we had to say to each other was said in silence, with just a glance or a smile. Standing there in that moment, my eyes scanning his face; the excitement in his eyes, the small contented smile on his lips mirroring my own features, I could read any and everything that I needed to know. He loved me. And I loved him just as much.

Smiling shyly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I nearly moaned into the kiss, reveling in the sensations that even this small touch sent through me. I had been without him so long, unable to feel, to taste his lips on mine, feeling him now reminded me of the withdrawl I'd suffered, and made me never want to separate. The kiss deepened easily as I threaded my fingers into his hair, brushing them slowly through the silken locks, garnering a softly shiver from him. His arms slipped around my waist as our tongues touched, pulling me closer to him with a soft moan. In time, our bodies shifted, sliding together perfectly, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, hips to hips. He whispered into the kiss, his voice so soft and gasping I couldn't make out his words, opting instead to just nod as I pushed his jacket from his shoulders, dropping it carelessly onto the floor. Words and thoughts were fleeing quickly from my head, their unneccessity making easy their departure. In such a moment, I operated solely on feeling, on emotion, on the knowledge of him that was forever burned into my soul. I knew what he liked, just as he did I, and giving it to him required no more thought than what it took to unbutton a shirt.

In these moments, we both operated on some form of auto pilot. His hands, usually so steady were trembling fiercely and he began slowly to remove my tie, dropping it to my feet as my own hands traveled easily along the buttons of his shirt. Our kiss finally separated, we stared into each other's eyes, another silent conversation being shared. 'Need you', 'want you' were the only words we spoke, both statements being answered with a touch of skin; his hand pressing to my chest while he unbuttoned my shirt, my thumb running over his cheek. Again our bodies shifted together, my breath hitched in my throat as skin met skin. His hands traveled along my back, doing away with my shirt and springing goosebumps to my flesh. I shivered slightly from that feeling, smiling up at him before I pressed my lips gently to his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut and he took a deep breath before refocusing his eyes on me, and I slipped back into drowning in the oceanic blue with recognition of one tiny statement.

I love you. My own eyes returned the declaration, repeated doubly by the soft smile gracing my lips. Of any words we shared, spoken or otherwise, voice was unneeded most for those three. From the very beginning they'd been evident in just a look, or a touch, they were feelings that we both felt were more than we could say. That was why we rarely said them, why we wouldn't say them now, opting instead for silence as we moved to the bed, and slowly, gently tumbled together.

Our lips met again for a slow, deep kiss, our hands roving across each other's skin. He arched into my touch as my fingertips slid over his stomach, to the waist of his slacks. Easily I tugged the button free, separating the zipper as I pulled them from his hips and let them drop to the floor. My own pants soon followed, landing in a heap atop his as my hands caressed up his legs. He whimpered at the touch, stretching out against me whilst I crawled up the bed and brought my lips once more to his.

This kiss however was just a short, fleeting touch before my lips traveled along his jaw, to his throat. My teeth scraped gently over the faintly stubbled skin, over his adam's apple, before my lips took over at his collarbone, pressing soft, featherlight kisses all along it. He whimpered and writhed as my mouth continued its trek, moving down his chest, to his stomach. My tongue traced along the outline of his abs as my hands began to push down his boxers, his hips lifting up in assistance. I tossed them away with ease, then went to work on my own shorts, dipping my tongue into his navel as I slid them down. Dropping them to the floor, I completed the trail of clothes that had started at the window, and finally took a moment to stare, to savor the sight of him before me, knowing it could be a long time before I saw it again.

He was beautiful, every inch of him. His skin slicked slightly with sweat, shining dimly in the low light, his strong, powerful chest heaving with each breath, his hands clenched in the sheets tightly in the sheets to steady his shaking hands, the length of him twitching and throbbing as I curled my fingers around him. He whimpered softly as my hand squeezed gently around him, then slowly I took him into my mouth. His fingers slipped into my hair, brushing through it softly as I worked quickly lower, wanting, needing more of him. He shivered as I reached the hilt, his hand clenching lightly in my hair, tugging me up just slightly. I glanced up at him as I began to slowly pull back, and more words were shared in the heated desire radiating from his eyes. These weren't unlike any others we'd shared tonight, just more impassioned, more carnal, more urgent. And just like all the others, these words, this look on his face made me feel young. Just more so than the rest, more so than anything I'd ever encountered. Love is a powerful thing, but with lust its all consuming.

I pulled away from him hesitantly, before moving back up his body and reuniting our lips. As we kissed, slow at first, then deeper, I shifted my body to hover over him. Slowly, carefully I took him into me, wiggling down gradually against the impeding hold of his hands on my hips. I reached the hilt with a gasp, and as quickly as that I slipped away from the world, falling, melting into him. Each feeling, each jolt of pleasure was earth shaking, seeming to last for all of eternity. And even as the clock beside us turned to midnight, ushering a new year into our lives, it was like time stood still, like the world turned off specially for us. We became one in these moments, melding together in our pleasure, losing ourselves in each other. It was perfection, euphoria, nirvana, so much more than any thought, any word could ever convey. It was a feeling unlike any other I had ever felt, even with him. But just like all the others, it was more than I can say.

But fortunately, I didn't have to say it.

He knew.

END

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