I'm probably going to have a terrible time getting out of bed tomorrow morning, but at the moment, I can't even begin to think about pain or surgery or medications. I'm sitting in my living room, staring at the silver deity taking up most of the space on my coffee table. Lord Stanley's Cup, in all of its glory, is mine again.

            The phone rang, startling me back to reality, "Steeevieee...." a very drunk voice called from the other end.

            "Hi again, Fishy. Why hasn't Cheli hidden the phone from you yet?"

            "I'm sorry Stevie," he replied, sounding dejected, "I just wanted to say hi again. I love you, Stevie."

            "I love you too, but why don't you go and celebrate with Cheli? You don't want him to get lonely."

            Fischer giggled, "Okay, Stevie. Me and Cheli will have fun. And tell you all about it tomorrow. I love you, Stevie."

            "Good night, Fish," I answered, laughing, then hung up the phone, only to have it ring as soon as it was on its cradle again--Fishy was going to die. "Didn't you just say you were going to go and have all kinds of naughty fun with Cheli??"

            "Well...the thought has crossed my mind..."

            Heat flushed across my face, "Oh, hi Bren. Sorry about that. Fishy has called me every 5 minutes for the last hour. I was hoping that Cheli would have had him distracted by now."

            "Don't feel bad, Dandy and Boyd have taken turns calling me. It’s become pretty apparent that trying to sleep is going to be pretty futile tonight. Are you up to company?"

            "Sure, Lisa and Isabella are sleeping--or trying to, anyways. I'm just sitting here staring. I'm not going to be real entertaining," I answered, hearing footsteps on the stairs. "I'll see you whenever you get here."

            Lisa sat down next to me, "You have insane teammates, you do realize that, don't you?"

            "I'm all too aware," I told her with a smile as the phone rang again. "Yeah?"

            "We won the Cup. We won the Cup. We won the Cup," Boyd chanted in my ear.

            Lisa rolled her eyes, and Isabella appeared in the doorway.

            "Boyd, its kind of late..."

            "But we won."

            "But my daughter's trying to sleep. Go call Fishy. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear from you."

            "Okay Stevie. I love you."

            "Good night," I finished, hanging up the phone, "Hi sweetie," I said, lifting my daughter to sit on my lap.

            "Daddy, your cup is really pretty," she told me, curling up against my chest. She started falling asleep, but was awoken when the doorbell rang.

            Lisa disappeared, then came back, a clean-shaven Brendan Shanahan trailing her. "Steve, Izzy and I need to get some sleep. We'll go over to Katherine's, and turn off all of the phones. That way, you boys can celebrate, and we can have some peace and quiet."

            "I'll carry her out to the car, Bren, and I'll be back in a few minutes," I said, following Lisa to the garage.

            She kissed me before she left, "Have a good time tonight. You deserve it."

            I watched them leave, then went back into the house, stopping in the kitchen. "Do you want something to eat, Bren?" I yelled, opening the refrigerator.

            "Whatever you're having."

            "Damn healthy food," I muttered, closing the door and heading for the lazy Susan. "Ah ha..." I grabbed the jar and two spoons, then walked back to the living room.

            I didn't make it much past the doorway.

            Brendan was sitting on my couch, wearing his gold medal and a smile, with the Cup on the floor between his legs, blocking the view of his crotch. "Ooo, " he said softly, "marshmallow cream. Sticky."

            I blinked a few times, taking in the sight of him, reflecting on the night a few months before, when he and I had celebrated the medal that adorned his neck. We'd never talked about it, and I hadn't expected it to happen again.

            But I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

            "Very sticky. And sweet. Want some?" I asked, sitting down next to him. I scooped some onto one of the spoons, then fed it to him. His lips closed over it, then he licked it clean. "More?"

            He nodded, and I fed him more. "Yum," he moaned, running his tongue over his lips. Then he took some of the cream on his fingertip, offering it to me. I wrapped me mouth around his index finger, sucking away the stickiness until his eyes rolled back in his head and emitted a growl. I leaned over and took off his medal, laying it in the Cup, then I spread more of the cream across his bottom lip. We met eyes, and then I kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip for a moment, then opening my mouth so that he could explore inside. His tongue swirled around my own, then grazed across the tops of my teeth. His hands were on my chest, unbuttoning my shirt as fast as his trembling fingers could. Then I was in his arms, skin touching skin, his mouth kissing across my right shoulder, his breath tickling me.

            After a few minutes, I broke away to stand up, then unzipped my pants. The look in his eyes nearly made me come, it was so intense and full of desire. I dropped them to the ground, then kicked them away, and he leaned closer, running a finger along the elastic band of my boxers, never taking his eyes from mine. I helped him ease them off, then I pushed him away, only to then straddle him, sitting on his firm thighs. His hands slid towards my cock, but I stopped him, "No, no, no. Snack-time isn't quite over yet."

            I dipped my finger into the marshmallow, then swiped it across his collarbone, then smiled lasciviously at him, one eyebrow raised. Then I leaned down, my tongue lapping up everything I'd just smeared on him, lingering there longer than necessary. I could feel his hardness pressing against me from below, but I kept teasing, putting some cream on each of his nipples, then sucking them clean again.

            "That's more than enough for you," he declared, taking the jar from me, then laying me on the couch, my legs on either side of his hips. He covered two fingers with the cream, then put the jar on the coffee table. "Its my turn."

            He took the base of my hardened shaft in one hand, then started applying the sweet concoction to the head of my penis, mixing it with the moisture that had gathered there. Then he licked his fingers, and grinned down at me, "Damn, no cherries..." He shrugged, then leaned over me, glancing up to meet my eyes just as his lips met my cock. I shuddered with the sensation of the warmth of his mouth over my sensitized skin, digging my fingers into his shoulders, grasping at his short hair, moaning his name. He took me deep into his throat, sliding his tongue along the underside of my hard length, almost bringing me to orgasm, until I stopped him, gasping for air.

            "No, I...I want you to...I want you to come with me..."

            Agonizingly slowly, he pulled me out of his mouth, then reached for his jacket, pulling out a small tube. He squeezed some out, preparing himself as quickly as possible, and before long, he had my legs wrapped around his waist, positioned at my opening, just waiting for me to give him the word that I was ready. I gave him a reassuring smile, and he started to enter me. He was even larger than I'd remembered, but it was a fullness that I thoroughly enjoyed, and I was panting and begging for him to hurry. He started thrusting, and then reached between our bodies to grasp my cock, matching it to the timing of his hips, until I was a blubbering mass of sweat and muttered curses. We came in perfect harmony, with him spurting into me as I exploded into his hand. He cleaned me off, then wiped my come from his own body, licking it off of his fingers, then collapsed against me.

            "How in the hell did we have the energy for that?" he asked, resting his head on my chest.

            I laughed lightly, letting my fingers dance along his spine, then answered simply, "Sugar-high. From our little snack."