Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Chapter 27

drum roll please

“Thanks for coming, really,” he said sincerely as he grasped Marc’s hand and shook it firmly.

“Pretty big thing having them both home. We wouldn’t have missed it,” his quiet friend shrugged and then pulled Sid into a one armed male bonding kind of hug. “Félicitations à vous deux.” 

“Je vous remercie, vous deux, from both of us. Honestly...it was so good to have you here for this. It made it so much better,” he turned to wrap his arms around Vero. She felt slight, fragile, in his arms. 

“Ce sont les amis?” she replied brightly, though when he held her at arms’ length he could see the shimmer of unshed tears in her dark eyes. 

“Have you talked to legal at all?” he asked, looking from her strained smile to Marc’s more stoic one. 

“Don’t worry about us,” Vero trills, going up on tip toes to press her lips lightly against his cheeks. “Just have a wonderful Christmas with your new family.” 

“There has to be something we can do,” Sid pleads, desperate to erase the brave sadness from both of his friends’ eyes.  

“Yes, get back on the ice,” Marc chides with a smirk that is only partly playful. His gaze is on his girlfriend and Sid feels his gut wrench at the concern in Flower’s eyes. 

“I will, you know I will. I’ll be skating tomorrow probably. It’ll just take me a few days to get into a rhythm,” he promises earnestly and Flower’s smile grows by an inch. 

“Don’t rush and pull a groin, we’ve been doing just fine without you,” Flower smirks and something of his usual easy going demeanor begins to show. 

“I really appreciate you guys covering for me, I do,” Sid tells him genuinely. Marc nods and reaches out to clap his hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just worried you won’t be such a big deal now Nealer and Geno are taking care of things without you,” he teases and then takes his hand and reaches for his girlfriend’s. “Come on babe. Nous allons rentrer chez eux avant de Santa veint.” 

Sid watches them go, standing on the doorstep as his two friends walk, hand in hand through the lightly falling snow towards their car until the chill of the night air begins to make its way beneath his sweatshirt but he only turns to go inside once he watches the car back out of the drive, the beams from its headlights lighting up the night. Locking the door behind him he lets the silence of the empty house sink in and only then does he hear, very faintly, the sound of a lullaby being sung, very softly. 

Turning out the lights in the living room and pulling out the cord for the lights on the tree he turns to make his way up the stairs, padding nearly silently on stocking feet towards the newly finished nursery. From the top of the stairs he can hear the familiar lines of Frère Jacques being sung in a sweet, low voice. 

Rounding the corner he finds her in the dark, with her sun snuggled against her breast. He stands in the doorway, watching her slowly rocking. 

“It only seems real now,” she says in a voice that is only an octave above a whisper, “like I only really believe now that he’s mine.” She only looks up at him then and the slow smile that spreads across her face like honey over bread makes his heart skip a beat. “I’m sorry,” she adds, wrinkling up her nose, “I mean ours.” He tips his head to the side and shrugs. 

“Yours, ours, mine, same thing,” he agrees, crossing the floor to her side and dropping a soft, careful kiss to the top of his son’s head where it sticks out from the soft blanket she has him cradled in. She looks up at him, her gaze sweeping over his face and he can see the question in her eyes before she gives voice to it. “Just like this house is yours and mine. I don’t want you to worry about anything.” She drops her gaze but not before he can see her full lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Your father,” she whispers and he sighs, turning to the window and staring out at the softly falling snow.

“I know, I know I have to deal with him just...can’t it wait until the morning?” he asks, his hand curling into a fist. 

“It’s not like I’m in a hurry for him to come here and yell and threaten me,” she says quietly. He hears her get up out of the chair and turns to watch her gently place her burden into the cot. “But don’t you think they should know they have a grandchild?” she asks, her gaze still on their son, who yawns and then places as much of his tiny fist into his mouth as he can and begins to suck. He moves towards her, slips his arm around her waist and leans his chin on her shoulder.

“Maybe I’m just a fucking chicken shit,” he mumbles and presses an affectionate kiss to her cheek. 

“Well your father is kind of scary,” she agrees as she leans into him, “but I do want to give him that cheque back and I am kind of looking forward to the look on his face when I do,” she adds and he knows her well enough now that he doesn’t need to see her face to know that her lips are pulled up into a smirk and her dark eyes are sparkling with mischief.  “But you should tell them before you open the door in the morning. That’s not the right way for them to find out,” she adds in a more serious tone. He sighs and hangs his head. She’s right, he knows, but that doesn’t make the task any easier to face. 

“It’s late,” he points out, glancing up at the colourful whinnycoo clock on the wall. 

“So text your mom, just so they know what they’re walking into,” she insists and he heaves another sigh.

“She’ll be pissed that she didn’t get to shop for him,” he groans, thinking of the disappointed expression his mother will be wearing when she sees him. 

“Well you should have done it before. You’ve only got yourself to blame,” she points out, poking him in the ribs before reaching for the baby monitor and turning it toward the crib. “I’m going to have a shower and get ready for bed while you do that,” she adds, giving him a look that reminds him very much of his mother and then turning and leaning over the railing of the crib to run her fingertips tenderly over the soft wisps of dark hair. “Night, night sweet prince. Sweet dreams.” 

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The shower in the master bedroom is extravagant, she thinks as she stands beneath the rain shower and not just one of those shower wands either but an entire strip that runs from one side of the shower to the other so that it’s like you’re in a rain storm; a hot rain storm. There are lights that change colour too but she hasn’t turned those on. There are steam fittings and a waterfall setting but she is not using those either. The heat and water pressure alone is enough to relax all of her muscles. That and the sense of belonging she has felt since Vero picked her up from the hospital. 

His teammates never once made her feel like one of them and without exception they gushed over Simon and offered to babysit whenever she asked. Of course she knows that it’s easy for them to offer when they’re, in fact, out of town or playing half of every week but it’s the offers and the intent behind them that has her humming to herself as she reluctantly shuts off the water with her mother’s voice in the back of her hand reminding her about conserving and the water bill. Reaching for a towel she finds it already warm and buries her face in the plush softness, another luxury that a girl used to threadbare towels finds hard to get used to. 

With her hair wrapped in one towel and herself in another she digs for a pair of unworn pajamas reminding herself that she will have to do laundry in the morning when she hears his voice, soft, deep, almost a whisper. 

Reaching for the nearest thing, his dress shirt hung on the handle of the closet, she tip toes down the hallway.

He is standing over the crib, gently stroking the top of Simon’s head with a look of boyish wonder on his face but it is not the expression he is wearing for she has seen that look before. It is the words he saying that captivates her. 

“I wasn’t ready for this but God please bless this little guy, and help me keep him safe and sound. Bless both of his perfect tiny hands and feet, so he may stand tall and touch those around him. Let him hear and learn so that he may become wise. Bless his cute little mouth, so he will speak the truth. But most of all don’t forget to bless his parents too because God…seriously I don’t think I know what I’m doing her but I want to and please…please don’t let me let them both down.” Tears spring to her eyes as she watches Sid struggle not to cry, his big meaty hands banishing tears from his face before he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders and reaches up to turn on the mobile. “Fuckin’ shoulda fuckin’ known,” he sighs, shaking his head but smiling when it does not turn on. 

She is about to back pedal into the hallway as he turns to leave the nursery but then he stops and turns back and as she watches, he reaches for the clasp on the gold chain he wears around his thick neck and then he hangs the small cross from the mobile, right above their son’s head. He pauses there, his hand lying gently on the tiny boy’s stomach and then he turns. 

When he sees here there, standing in the doorway in nothing but his dress shirt the somewhat thoughtful and slightly bemused expression on his face is replaced first by puzzlement and then quickly that too is erased in favor of hunger, lust and need. He erases the gap between them in two strides and reaches for her face, cupping it in his massive hands before pressing his mouth demandingly over hers’. 

He kisses her with the same fierce protectiveness that he displays when protecting the puck in the danger zone around the net. His thick fingers dig into her cheeks so hard that she is certain his parents will be able to read his fingerprints on her skin in the morning. His tongue demands entrance to her mouth like an invading army breaching the walls of a castle and she gives up as if it’s been a long and hungry siege. 

Using his body like a battering ram he walks her into the wall behind her and flattens her against it. She stiffens, as her brain races back to that first, fateful night and his less than impressive performance. Sensing her sudden withdrawal, he reluctantly drags his mouth from hers’ and his gaze searches her face. 

“Do we still have to wait?” he asks breathlessly. She shakes her head. “Then…what?” he demands, his gaze dropping down to the button that is the only barrier between him and her breasts spilling free. 

“Last time…last time….” She bites down on her lower lip, unwilling to actually tell him how disappointing he was, to bruise an ego she now knows is more fragile than he lets on. The barely held in check aggression leaks from his fingers and, blowing out a breath, a hesitant smile tugs at the corners of his full mouth as he leans his forehead against hers and cups his hand around the back of her neck.

“Fuck, last time. I was a fucking asshole last time. I was a stupid, selfish fucking prick last time. You have to know…everything’s different now. You know that right? You know how I feel about you, right?” Her immediate reaction is to agree but a niggling little voice in the back of her head forces her to shake her head, no. His jaw clenches and with their immediate proximity she can hear his teeth grind together. His nostrils flare and she feels his grip on the back of her neck tighten. Her maternal instincts being in overdrive, she slides her hands up under his sweatshirt and tries to pull him close but he is as immovable as a boulder. “Christ…why am I scared?” he hisses through clenched teeth. 

“Of me? I can’t imagine…,” she begins only to flinch when his other hand leaves her hip and plants itself in the wall beside her head. 

“I love you...am in love with you.” He blows out a breath as if he’s just been punched in the stomach. When his gaze lifts to hold hers, there is naked fear in his gold bronze eyes. A tiny thrill runs through her veins as she realizes that all of the power has suddenly shifted and she suddenly holds Sidney Crosby’s heart in her hands. 

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She offers her mouth and he takes it, gently, hesitantly and it assuages some of his fear, but does not erase it. Turning his face from hers’ he asks the question that makes his voice break as he does. 

“Do you…I mean, can you…after everything, can you feel the same?” He feels her hand cup his cheek and then her lips follow, pressing softly to the corner of his mouth. 

“Stupid boy, I’ve loved Sidney Crosby since I was sixteen years old,” she whispers, kissing his cheek, the corner of his jaw. 

“But that’s…,” he begins to object but words fail him when he turns to see her smiling beatifically at him.

“Now I love the father of my child,” she adds, her fingertips trailing fire down his neck as she leans in to press a soft kiss to his lips made immobile by surprise. Groaning he presses the full length and width of his body against hers, crushing her against the wall. “Oh Sidney,” she gasps as he grinds his urgent need against the top of her thigh. 

“I have to have you…now,” he moans into her neck, biting and licking his way down to her collarbone. He feels her fingers dig into his hair, the pressure of her hands guiding him to that button that, once popped open, releases the soft swell of her breast to his questing mouth. Her skin is sweet and fragrant from the shower, still warm as his lips move over the pale mound of her breast to the ripe, dark berry of her nipple. “Is it…is this okay?” he asks, cupping the heaviness of her breast in his hand. 

“I don’t know,” she replies honestly, her eyes glazed over, her jaw slack. Tenderly, cautiously he flicks her nipple with the tip of his tongue. She drags in a ragged breath. He waits to see if she will stop him but instead she hooks her leg around the back of his thigh and digs her nails into his scalp, so, gently he closes his lips around her nipple and sucks it into his mouth. She gasps and tips her head back, revealing the long pale line of her throat. Kissing his way up it he captures her lips again and slides his hand down over her hip and onto her ass, pulling her against him, grinding his erection against her stomach. 

She is still soft there, her body yielding to his eagerness, not quite like the cute little body she had before but he is no less impatient to have her, to be inside of her. He could have her there and then, but he won’t. It isn’t right. Not with a California King sized bed a few steps away. 

Reaching for her hand he laces his fingers with hers and leads her down the hallway, to the end of the bed and then reaches to undo that last button on the dress shirt but her hand covers his and she looks up at the light over their heads. He opens his mouth to tell her that she shouldn’t be insecure but decides against it and goes to turn off the light instead. When he turns back around she is under the blanket, his shirt in a ball on the floor.

Her eyes follow him as he tugs the sweatshirt over his head and tosses it behind him, her gaze dropping to his jeans as he undoes the button and unzips the fly. Her eyes suddenly rise to meet his when he wriggles out of his boxer briefs, her eyes wide, as if she hasn’t seen what he has to offer. He climbs into the bed beside her, diving under the covers and fitting his body neatly along hers’. He will need to take his time. As much as he wants to forego the preliminaries and get straight to the main event he reminds himself that she is not just another girl, she is his, to have and to hold and besides that, he’s promised that this time will be different. 

To prove his point he begins again at her mouth, ignoring the painful ache in his balls, and kisses, nibbles, licks and bites his way back down to her breasts, paying special attention to the little sighs, whimpers and cries she emits to guide him and then, with his lips locked around one nipple he slides his hand between her thighs. He barely brushes his fingertips over her mound when she jerks beneath him. Startled, he rises above her, searching her face for a sign of pain and then, finding none, slips his fingers into her damp folds. 

“Ooooh god,” she moans and digs her fingernails deep into his shoulders. He has always been worried about carrying bed time battle scars into the dressing room. Tonight’s he will wear with pride. 

“You like that baby?” he asks, watching her bite down on her bottom lip as he strokes her clit, slow, lazy circles that make her squirm. 

“Oh god, harder, yes, there,” she cries out as the small of her back arches up off the mattress. Using the pads of two fingers he follows her whispered commands and presses down on her joy button, moving his fingertips in a tight hard circle that makes her thighs quiver. “Mmmmm oh fuck yeah,” she sighs, twisting and writhing beneath him as he lowers his mouth to lick his way around her dark areola. Sliding his hand down he pushes two fingers up inside of her, probing for that spot that will make her cry out for him. She gasps and he stops, pressing on that spot again. She cries out, her nails dig a furrow in his back and as he watches, milk leaks from her nipples. 

Curious, he licks the few drops from her breast. It’s warm and sweet and as his lips close around her nipple a few more drops leak out. Realizing that she might think this is crossing the line he rolls his eyes up to meet hers only to find them closed and her top teeth embedded into her bottom lip. 

“You…like that?” he asks, sliding up to nuzzle her neck, bite down on her earlobe.

“One of the nurses said something about a love hormone or something,” she mutters and turns to curl her body into his. “Makes you want to be held,” she adds, walking her fingers up his chest before meeting his gaze. 

“Is that…all you want to do?” he asks, hoping and praying she will give the answer he wants. 

“No,” she purrs, offering her mouth again, which he takes as he rolls her beneath him. He settles himself between her thighs and she reaches down to guide him to her entrance. Holding his breath he stays there, though it takes every last drop of his will power not to immediately shove himself balls deep inside of her. “Do it,” she whispers, a husky edge to her voice. 

“Sure?” he asks while every muscle in his body strains to stay there, to hold back his inner beast. 

“Fuck me Crosby,” she growls and it is such a departure from the usually sweet girl he has come to know that his balls tighten, his inner beast growls and he loses that hard fought control and slams his cock home. 
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It is nothing like the first time. He is not the selfish self centered bastard that fucked her like she was nothing better than a blow up doll. Now he holds her close while his body rocks against hers, his cock buried deep within her and he whispers her name into her neck. He is like an anaconda, his huge, muscular body coiled so tight around her that she nearly cannot catch her breath. 

“Yes baby,” he whispers, as she locks her ankles behind his massive thighs, “yes like that.” 

“Harder,” she hisses, her nails digging into his ass, begging him to fuck her deeper. Like the professional athlete he is, he responds immediately, redoubling his efforts, his body like a piston in a massive diesel engine, his hips slamming against hers, pinning her to the bed. 

“Oh Jessssssuusss,” he moans into the curve of her neck. “God Fern…oh god baby.” She arches her back, pressing her body up against his, wanting to be even closer. He moans again and reaches down between them, his fingers searching for and finding her clit, pressing against it, rubbing it hard and fast. “Cum…cum for me,” he whispers urgently. 

“Close,” she moans, meeting him thrust for thrust, her body zinging with electricity, her own breathing quick and sharp in her own ears. 

“Do it baby,” he whispers, rubbing her clit like he’s trying to shine up a car, “I wanna feel you fucking cum all over my cock.” Dirty words coming out of those full, pink lips make her shudder and she lets herself go, her fingernails dragging up from the middle of his ass to his shoulders while she screams his name. He gasps, his body going still, his head buried in her neck. She can hear him pant, short sharp breaths and then his head tips back and he roars like a lion. His body jerks with each spasm of his cock as his balls empty inside of her and then he collapses, his full weight on top of her. “Fucking wow,” he moans and then rolls to the side and pulls her into him, wrapping his body around hers. “Better?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Better,” she agrees and snuggles into him, pulling his arms tighter around herself, a cocoon of muscle and warm skin. 

“Merry Christmas Fern,” he adds, nuzzling the top of her head, “I’m so glad to have you and Simon home. Best present ever,” he adds. 

“This was good too,” she sighs, closes her eyes and lets her limp relaxed muscles, the soft luxurious sheets and the heat of his body drag her down into sleep.  

13 comments:

  1. another great update :) does this mean his parents make an appearance next chapter? that should be interesting! cannot wait for that!

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  2. loved this. can't wait to see how the parents react....well, his dad specifically.

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  3. Great chapter, but was this chapter a combined effort with another fan-fic writer?

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  4. Le sigh!! Breathless at the end of that chapter. He did get off pretty easy here but has to deal with the parents the next day so we'll cut him some slack. Hope he turns on the romance (wine, music, dinner, dancing ,etc...) next time. Can't wait to see them reacting with Simon. Very precious.

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  5. amazing! :) I cant wait for next with Sid's parents

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  6. SID and FERN sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!! haha. great, amazing, breathtaking. just wow. bring on the crosbys next!

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  7. This comment has been removed by the author.

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    Replies
    1. If you've read Chapter 6 it was explained there

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  8. Is it too soon to say...can't wait any longer? This story is captivating and just a little addictive! 28..

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  9. my sentiments exactly. hoping for an update today....*fingers crossed*

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