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Hockey AU Snippet.
This is set about twelve and a half years before the hockey-AU-in-progress, and comes directly after the events of May 3, 1983, in which Ray Kowalski first spoke to Benton Fraser.
This snippet is for, in no particular order,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brooklinegirl so she won't cry that I didn't write it after I told her about it and also because she said she'd make me cookies, heuradys in thanks for the ultra-appropriate icon(s), lynnmonster in thanks for the prezzies, and estrella30 as an early birthday present, if she's inclined to accept it. And, of course and as always, for iuliamentis, beta and hand-holder extraordinaire.
Kowalski/Gardino, NC-17, 2200-ish words.
Gardie had driven him home, after it turned out that neither of them could work their thumbs well enough to flip a coin for it. Ray was too protective of the Goat to drive like that and they both knew it, so after they'd finally given up on rescuing their nickel from the sidewalk, Gardie dragged Ray over to his bright red Malibu--nice enough, but not, in Ray's private opinion, in the same league as the GTO--and they got inside.
Along the way to Ray and Stella's place, laughing as Gardie whipped around corners and slid sideways from one lane to another, Ray rattled around like a penny in a box while Gardie anchored himself with the steering wheel. They took turns saying things like, "I can't wait to play some golf," and "Well, no more early practices for a while, thank God." It was easier to say now that they'd closed down the bar.
Gardie pulled up in a spot across the street from the building where Ray and Stella lived, where Stella was probably already asleep in a warm silky sprawl, alone in their bed with a textbook under her cheek. She had a lot of studying to do. If Ray went upstairs and crawled into bed beside her and woke her up, she'd only be annoyed--with him, maybe, or with herself for falling asleep. She'd move out to the couch, make another pot of coffee, reading fast to make up for the time she'd lost coming to his game, watching him lose. Wasted time. She should have stayed home, she could have caught it on TV. It wasn't like they hadn't both known how it would turn out.
So he'd have to be quiet, when he went upstairs. He'd have to ease the book carefully off the pillow, find the pen and pad of paper she'd have tucked under her arm, and move them, too, careful so her notes didn't get crumpled. And then he'd have to lie down, quietly, gently, on his side of the bed. She might roll over, then, if he hadn't woken her yet, and sleep against his side, and he'd have to be still and go to sleep, and when he woke up, it would be the first day of summer, and his season would be well and truly over.
Ray didn't know if his thumbs were working well enough, yet, to be that quiet, but then Gardie didn't seem to be in any hurry to kick him out of the car. Ray held his hands up in front of him, flexing his fingers one at a time until Gardie swatted his hands down, laughing. "What, Ko, you warming up? You gonna go upstairs to Stella and do something with those?"
Ray laughed back, startled into realizing that he didn't have to be quiet just yet, not here in the car with Gardie, and shoved back at his teammate's hands. "Nah, I thought I'd start a new career as a cat burglar. Whaddya think?"
Gardie didn't let go of his hands. Ray thought they were sort of arm-wrestling, but then he guessed they were really wrestling, because Gardie dragged him half across the seat, almost into his lap, and leaned down on Ray, pinning him in place with their arms and hands tangled together. "Nah," Gardie said, breathless, "You'd be wasted in a life of crime. Don't you know you're destined for hockey greatness?"
Ray pushed against Gardie's hold, and Gardie let up a little, letting Ray squirm closer, his shoulder hard up against Gardie's thigh, head in his lap. "Destined?" he muttered, letting his eyes shut. It wasn't that he was tired, just it had been a long day and his eyes were going scratchy, "Is this one of your college words again?"
Gardie snorted, and Ray smiled, because, okay, he knew what 'destined' meant. "Maybe it'd help if I said it in French, huh, Ko?"
"Oh, God, Gardie," Ray said, turning his face down against Gardie's jeans, "Please, don't. I'll do anything."
Gardie shifted beneath him and said, "Anything, huh?" Ray opened his eyes, not that there was much to see in a dark car with his head down, but then he didn't have to see. He could smell Gardie, sweat and sex and beer and the faint equipment-smell of street clothes that had been kept in a locker, and he could feel the hardness of tense muscle against his face, the heat of Gardie's crotch against his cheek. It was all as familiar as ice and sticks and pucks, and his own dick was already stirring in response, just like always. Ray never could say no to a teammate in need of blowing off steam after a game, even the very last game before summer.
Ray shook one hand free of the tangle of their fingers and raised it to Gardie's jeans, thumbing the button open. "Yeah," Ray agreed, "Anything. Just swear to me you won't say a word in French."
"Je promets," Gardie said, passably, but Ray left his jeans half unzipped and pushed himself up on one arm, bracing with a hand on Gardie's thigh and pulling his legs under him.
"Now, see, that was not buddies," Ray said, tapping his finger on Gardie's nose and only missing a little, "You're going to have to find some way to make it up to me, or I might never speak to you again in any language."
Gardie's hand cupped Ray's hard-on through his jeans, and Ray couldn't resist pushing into that warmth and pressure, catching his breath as he shifted onto his knees. "Damn," Gardie said, a little breathless himself, "I was afraid it was going to be something like that."
Ray grinned, flash-quick, and Gardie grinned back just the same, sudden and bright, teeth shining white from the uneven darkness of his beard. Gardie's fingers were quick, too, one hand sliding between Ray's legs, cupping his balls in the way that made Ray shift his legs wider, heat shooting through his belly, while Gardie's other hand worked on the zipper. Ray shifted--steadying his knees on the seat, rolling his hips under Gardie's hands, just a little, mindful of the zip--and leaned back against the dash.
It was weird the things you could get used to, but he knew just how to bend himself and where to rest his arms, one across the steering column and one on the dash. Ray arched his back to push his hips forward, resting his head against the glass, and looked up through the windshield at the sky. He could see their building out of the corner of his eye, and it made his heart beat fast, but Stella would be sleeping by now, sleeping or studying, dead to the world either way, and their apartment was on the other side anyhow. No lake views for rookies.
Gardie dragged Ray's pants down, clumsy and quick, and Ray gasped when the cool air touched his skin, Gardie's knuckles skimming down his thighs. He lifted his head, stealing a quick glance out at the dark quiet street before focusing on Gardie's shadowed face, smile swallowed into concentration. Gardie's hands, more careful now, slid Ray's shorts down after his jeans.
Gardie just looked for a minute, at Ray's dick standing up waiting, and Ray kept as still as he could and watched Gardie. He knew what Gardie was waiting for, trying to decide, mouth or hand. Ray lifted his arm from the steering wheel and reached out, setting his fingertips against Gardie's jaw and ruffling the curls of his beard. Gardie grinned again, shifting his cheek against Ray's fingers, and took the hint, curling his hand around Ray's dick, settling the other on Ray's hip to steady him.
Ray let his head fall back, shivering all over at Gardie's grip on him. Really fucking weird, what you could get used to, but after three years playing together, he and Gardie had gotten so making do was still pretty damn good. Gardie stroked him quickly, and Ray flattened his fingers against Gardie's cheek, his thumb slipping between Gardie's lips. Gardie bit down gently, his tongue against the pad of Ray's thumb, and Ray could feel Gardie's quick breath rush over his skin. He risked a glance down, through his eyelashes, to find Gardie watching his face. Gardie winked, and closed his lips around Ray's thumb, and Ray's hips jerked. He made a noise that never got further than, "Ga--" and just had time to register that there was no hand on his hip before he was coming into the towel that Gardie had pulled out from under the seat.
Gardie dropped the towel, and his hands on Ray's hips guided him down as his legs went rubbery, til he was lying across the seat again, half in Gardie's lap. Gardie had unzipped his own pants the rest of the way, at some point, and his dick strained against his boxers in the gap. Ray tugged his thumb free of Gardie's mouth, and ran it down the outline of Gardie's hard-on, leaving a wet streak on the garish plaid cloth, soft with washing.
Gardie shifted in his seat, though he couldn't really lift up with Ray lying on his legs. Ray used both hands to push Gardie's jeans down the best he could, too impatient to try very hard, and too lazy to sit up. Boxers went next, careful of the elastic, and then Ray ran his thumb up the underside of Gardie's dick, and Gardie gasped above him. Ray looked up, but Gardie was staring out the window, his head turned, jaw clenched. Gardie's hand settled on Ray's hip, holding tight, and Ray, watching Gardie as he did it, lowered his head and licked.
Gardie's hips jerked, bouncing Ray off-target, and his head turned so Ray could see him grinning as he gasped, trying to glare and failing miserably. "Showoff," Gardie said.
"Bien sûr," Ray said, against the head of Gardie's dick, and then his mouth followed his breath, and Gardie's head went up again, banging against the headrest. Ray grinned, as much as he could with his mouth full, and closed his eyes. He jerked Gardie with one hand as he sucked, and it didn't take long before Gardie's gasps turned choked, and his hand clenched, bruising-tight, on Ray's hip. Split second decision, and Ray relaxed his throat and pushed lower as Gardie came in his mouth. He nearly managed it--he was better at it than Gardie--but a stray thrust caught him off-guard, and he pulled off, choking, and wound up with come on his face.
Ray managed to muster up a glare when Gardie snickered at him, and muttered, "Not buddies," at the same moment Gardie said, "See, that's what you get, Ko. Showing off." But when Ray raised one hand to try to wipe off his face--he could feel it, wet in his beard, that'd be a bitch--Gardie batted it away and used his thumb, licking it clean when he was done, and then running his fingers over Ray's scruffy cheek to make sure he'd got it all.
Ray closed his eyes, resting his head against Gardie's thigh. The whole car smelled like sex now, hot and damp, and as if Gardie had heard him think it, he heard the creak of the window rolling down. Then Gardie leaned across him to the glove box, popped it open and rummaged around. "Smoke?"
Ray nodded, muttered, "Bien sûr," again even though he never smoked during the season--but then it was barely the season anymore, was it?--and pulled his pants back up as Gardie sat back, tapping the pack down and finding matches. Ray opened his eyes at the sound of the match striking, to see Gardie with two cigarettes in his mouth, lighting them together off the match, tips flaring bright orange one after another. The sulfur smell and the smoke quickly cut the steamy atmosphere of the car, and then Gardie took one cigarette from his mouth and Ray parted his lips. Gardie snorted, tilting the cigarette in his mouth up with his teeth, but held the cigarette to Ray's mouth. Ray got the filter between his teeth and smiled, and Gardie shook his head and looked out the window again. Ray took a drag, and exhaled through his nose, and let his eyes close again as Gardie's hand settled on his chest, at the base of his throat. He kept breathing slowly, in through the cigarette, out through his nose, listening to Gardie do the same above him, Gardie's hand riding up and down on his chest.
The cigarette was tugged out of his mouth after a while, and he opened his eyes to watch Gardie hold it out the window, tap ash, and then put it back, looking down at Ray with something like amusement, but softened somehow. Because we're tired, Ray thought, and drunk. Ray smiled as Gardie put the cigarette back, and thought vaguely about sitting up as he took another drag. He really would have to get out of the car sometime. Summer was waiting, and Stella.
He closed his eyes again, and turned his head a little to rest his cheek against Gardie's thigh. He'd just finish his cigarette first, and then he'd go. Any minute now.
French translations:
Je promets: I promise.
Bien sûr: Of course.
This snippet is for, in no particular order,
brooklinegirl so she won't cry that I didn't write it after I told her about it and also because she said she'd make me cookies, heuradys in thanks for the ultra-appropriate icon(s), lynnmonster in thanks for the prezzies, and estrella30 as an early birthday present, if she's inclined to accept it. And, of course and as always, for iuliamentis, beta and hand-holder extraordinaire. Kowalski/Gardino, NC-17, 2200-ish words.
Gardie had driven him home, after it turned out that neither of them could work their thumbs well enough to flip a coin for it. Ray was too protective of the Goat to drive like that and they both knew it, so after they'd finally given up on rescuing their nickel from the sidewalk, Gardie dragged Ray over to his bright red Malibu--nice enough, but not, in Ray's private opinion, in the same league as the GTO--and they got inside.
Along the way to Ray and Stella's place, laughing as Gardie whipped around corners and slid sideways from one lane to another, Ray rattled around like a penny in a box while Gardie anchored himself with the steering wheel. They took turns saying things like, "I can't wait to play some golf," and "Well, no more early practices for a while, thank God." It was easier to say now that they'd closed down the bar.
Gardie pulled up in a spot across the street from the building where Ray and Stella lived, where Stella was probably already asleep in a warm silky sprawl, alone in their bed with a textbook under her cheek. She had a lot of studying to do. If Ray went upstairs and crawled into bed beside her and woke her up, she'd only be annoyed--with him, maybe, or with herself for falling asleep. She'd move out to the couch, make another pot of coffee, reading fast to make up for the time she'd lost coming to his game, watching him lose. Wasted time. She should have stayed home, she could have caught it on TV. It wasn't like they hadn't both known how it would turn out.
So he'd have to be quiet, when he went upstairs. He'd have to ease the book carefully off the pillow, find the pen and pad of paper she'd have tucked under her arm, and move them, too, careful so her notes didn't get crumpled. And then he'd have to lie down, quietly, gently, on his side of the bed. She might roll over, then, if he hadn't woken her yet, and sleep against his side, and he'd have to be still and go to sleep, and when he woke up, it would be the first day of summer, and his season would be well and truly over.
Ray didn't know if his thumbs were working well enough, yet, to be that quiet, but then Gardie didn't seem to be in any hurry to kick him out of the car. Ray held his hands up in front of him, flexing his fingers one at a time until Gardie swatted his hands down, laughing. "What, Ko, you warming up? You gonna go upstairs to Stella and do something with those?"
Ray laughed back, startled into realizing that he didn't have to be quiet just yet, not here in the car with Gardie, and shoved back at his teammate's hands. "Nah, I thought I'd start a new career as a cat burglar. Whaddya think?"
Gardie didn't let go of his hands. Ray thought they were sort of arm-wrestling, but then he guessed they were really wrestling, because Gardie dragged him half across the seat, almost into his lap, and leaned down on Ray, pinning him in place with their arms and hands tangled together. "Nah," Gardie said, breathless, "You'd be wasted in a life of crime. Don't you know you're destined for hockey greatness?"
Ray pushed against Gardie's hold, and Gardie let up a little, letting Ray squirm closer, his shoulder hard up against Gardie's thigh, head in his lap. "Destined?" he muttered, letting his eyes shut. It wasn't that he was tired, just it had been a long day and his eyes were going scratchy, "Is this one of your college words again?"
Gardie snorted, and Ray smiled, because, okay, he knew what 'destined' meant. "Maybe it'd help if I said it in French, huh, Ko?"
"Oh, God, Gardie," Ray said, turning his face down against Gardie's jeans, "Please, don't. I'll do anything."
Gardie shifted beneath him and said, "Anything, huh?" Ray opened his eyes, not that there was much to see in a dark car with his head down, but then he didn't have to see. He could smell Gardie, sweat and sex and beer and the faint equipment-smell of street clothes that had been kept in a locker, and he could feel the hardness of tense muscle against his face, the heat of Gardie's crotch against his cheek. It was all as familiar as ice and sticks and pucks, and his own dick was already stirring in response, just like always. Ray never could say no to a teammate in need of blowing off steam after a game, even the very last game before summer.
Ray shook one hand free of the tangle of their fingers and raised it to Gardie's jeans, thumbing the button open. "Yeah," Ray agreed, "Anything. Just swear to me you won't say a word in French."
"Je promets," Gardie said, passably, but Ray left his jeans half unzipped and pushed himself up on one arm, bracing with a hand on Gardie's thigh and pulling his legs under him.
"Now, see, that was not buddies," Ray said, tapping his finger on Gardie's nose and only missing a little, "You're going to have to find some way to make it up to me, or I might never speak to you again in any language."
Gardie's hand cupped Ray's hard-on through his jeans, and Ray couldn't resist pushing into that warmth and pressure, catching his breath as he shifted onto his knees. "Damn," Gardie said, a little breathless himself, "I was afraid it was going to be something like that."
Ray grinned, flash-quick, and Gardie grinned back just the same, sudden and bright, teeth shining white from the uneven darkness of his beard. Gardie's fingers were quick, too, one hand sliding between Ray's legs, cupping his balls in the way that made Ray shift his legs wider, heat shooting through his belly, while Gardie's other hand worked on the zipper. Ray shifted--steadying his knees on the seat, rolling his hips under Gardie's hands, just a little, mindful of the zip--and leaned back against the dash.
It was weird the things you could get used to, but he knew just how to bend himself and where to rest his arms, one across the steering column and one on the dash. Ray arched his back to push his hips forward, resting his head against the glass, and looked up through the windshield at the sky. He could see their building out of the corner of his eye, and it made his heart beat fast, but Stella would be sleeping by now, sleeping or studying, dead to the world either way, and their apartment was on the other side anyhow. No lake views for rookies.
Gardie dragged Ray's pants down, clumsy and quick, and Ray gasped when the cool air touched his skin, Gardie's knuckles skimming down his thighs. He lifted his head, stealing a quick glance out at the dark quiet street before focusing on Gardie's shadowed face, smile swallowed into concentration. Gardie's hands, more careful now, slid Ray's shorts down after his jeans.
Gardie just looked for a minute, at Ray's dick standing up waiting, and Ray kept as still as he could and watched Gardie. He knew what Gardie was waiting for, trying to decide, mouth or hand. Ray lifted his arm from the steering wheel and reached out, setting his fingertips against Gardie's jaw and ruffling the curls of his beard. Gardie grinned again, shifting his cheek against Ray's fingers, and took the hint, curling his hand around Ray's dick, settling the other on Ray's hip to steady him.
Ray let his head fall back, shivering all over at Gardie's grip on him. Really fucking weird, what you could get used to, but after three years playing together, he and Gardie had gotten so making do was still pretty damn good. Gardie stroked him quickly, and Ray flattened his fingers against Gardie's cheek, his thumb slipping between Gardie's lips. Gardie bit down gently, his tongue against the pad of Ray's thumb, and Ray could feel Gardie's quick breath rush over his skin. He risked a glance down, through his eyelashes, to find Gardie watching his face. Gardie winked, and closed his lips around Ray's thumb, and Ray's hips jerked. He made a noise that never got further than, "Ga--" and just had time to register that there was no hand on his hip before he was coming into the towel that Gardie had pulled out from under the seat.
Gardie dropped the towel, and his hands on Ray's hips guided him down as his legs went rubbery, til he was lying across the seat again, half in Gardie's lap. Gardie had unzipped his own pants the rest of the way, at some point, and his dick strained against his boxers in the gap. Ray tugged his thumb free of Gardie's mouth, and ran it down the outline of Gardie's hard-on, leaving a wet streak on the garish plaid cloth, soft with washing.
Gardie shifted in his seat, though he couldn't really lift up with Ray lying on his legs. Ray used both hands to push Gardie's jeans down the best he could, too impatient to try very hard, and too lazy to sit up. Boxers went next, careful of the elastic, and then Ray ran his thumb up the underside of Gardie's dick, and Gardie gasped above him. Ray looked up, but Gardie was staring out the window, his head turned, jaw clenched. Gardie's hand settled on Ray's hip, holding tight, and Ray, watching Gardie as he did it, lowered his head and licked.
Gardie's hips jerked, bouncing Ray off-target, and his head turned so Ray could see him grinning as he gasped, trying to glare and failing miserably. "Showoff," Gardie said.
"Bien sûr," Ray said, against the head of Gardie's dick, and then his mouth followed his breath, and Gardie's head went up again, banging against the headrest. Ray grinned, as much as he could with his mouth full, and closed his eyes. He jerked Gardie with one hand as he sucked, and it didn't take long before Gardie's gasps turned choked, and his hand clenched, bruising-tight, on Ray's hip. Split second decision, and Ray relaxed his throat and pushed lower as Gardie came in his mouth. He nearly managed it--he was better at it than Gardie--but a stray thrust caught him off-guard, and he pulled off, choking, and wound up with come on his face.
Ray managed to muster up a glare when Gardie snickered at him, and muttered, "Not buddies," at the same moment Gardie said, "See, that's what you get, Ko. Showing off." But when Ray raised one hand to try to wipe off his face--he could feel it, wet in his beard, that'd be a bitch--Gardie batted it away and used his thumb, licking it clean when he was done, and then running his fingers over Ray's scruffy cheek to make sure he'd got it all.
Ray closed his eyes, resting his head against Gardie's thigh. The whole car smelled like sex now, hot and damp, and as if Gardie had heard him think it, he heard the creak of the window rolling down. Then Gardie leaned across him to the glove box, popped it open and rummaged around. "Smoke?"
Ray nodded, muttered, "Bien sûr," again even though he never smoked during the season--but then it was barely the season anymore, was it?--and pulled his pants back up as Gardie sat back, tapping the pack down and finding matches. Ray opened his eyes at the sound of the match striking, to see Gardie with two cigarettes in his mouth, lighting them together off the match, tips flaring bright orange one after another. The sulfur smell and the smoke quickly cut the steamy atmosphere of the car, and then Gardie took one cigarette from his mouth and Ray parted his lips. Gardie snorted, tilting the cigarette in his mouth up with his teeth, but held the cigarette to Ray's mouth. Ray got the filter between his teeth and smiled, and Gardie shook his head and looked out the window again. Ray took a drag, and exhaled through his nose, and let his eyes close again as Gardie's hand settled on his chest, at the base of his throat. He kept breathing slowly, in through the cigarette, out through his nose, listening to Gardie do the same above him, Gardie's hand riding up and down on his chest.
The cigarette was tugged out of his mouth after a while, and he opened his eyes to watch Gardie hold it out the window, tap ash, and then put it back, looking down at Ray with something like amusement, but softened somehow. Because we're tired, Ray thought, and drunk. Ray smiled as Gardie put the cigarette back, and thought vaguely about sitting up as he took another drag. He really would have to get out of the car sometime. Summer was waiting, and Stella.
He closed his eyes again, and turned his head a little to rest his cheek against Gardie's thigh. He'd just finish his cigarette first, and then he'd go. Any minute now.
French translations:
Je promets: I promise.
Bien sûr: Of course.