by me
Rating: high R, I suppose. I suck at this rating thing.
Disclaimer: Now, THIS one is fake.
Summary: Ilya and Dany have a nice hotel room in Toronto following
the game.
Notes: It's amazing how productive you can be in between the 2:30
game and the 7:00 game. England lost...but Go USA!!!!!
They sat on the end of the bed, side by side, staring at the
trophy. "Nice, I guess," Ilya finally said.
"It would've been yours. If you hadn't been hurt. You know that."
The Russian sighed and tore his eyes away, shrugging. "Ah, what does
it matter?"
"It doesn't."
Their eyes met. Ilya chuckled a little. "I like you wearing
tuxedo." Dany's eyes roved over Ilya's attire, still immaculate.
"You too," he smiled. "What are you doing for the rest of the
summer, Kovy?"
"Back home soon, I think. I am playing with my old team."
"How soon?"
"Very soon."
"You could stay with me."
"I would like to. But I have commitment to Spartak to play until
training camp starts."
Dany sighed and stood up, fingering the trophy on the table. "I
wish�" Ilya saw his fist clench. "Dammit, I wish you'd stay longer."
Slowly, Ilya stood and reached out for a brown curl. "Don't be mad
at me, Dany."
His resolve softening as soon as Ilya's fingers found their familiar
place in his hair, Heatley turned around. "I'm not mad at you. I'm
just�frustrated. Fuck the off-season, we don't need the rest."
Ilya smiled a little and used his hold in Dany's hair to pull him
closer and kiss him. Dany relaxed, registering all the familiar
sensations. The slight tug in his curls, not quite painful. His
body pressed against the familiar contours of his lover's. Ilya's
taste, as his mouth opened to Dany's insistence. Ilya moaned, deep
in his throat, sending a shiver through the Canadian's body. "I
think right now I like you better out of the tuxedo," he growled, his
fingers slipping out of Dany's hair to fumble with the shirt buttons.
Soon they were both undressed, and Ilya pushed Dany gently back onto
the bed. "I will make up to you having to leave so soon, yes?" His
eyes twinkled mischievously.
"Y-yes," Dany sighed. His smile growing, Ilya kissed his neck,
working his way down, thoroughly enjoying Dany's wiggling and moaning
along the way. Dany was already painfully hard by the time Ilya's
mouth got there. The Russian could tell how close Dany was, and
pulled away, causing a stream of cursing. "Please-"Dany finally
pleaded. "Come on, baby, I need you now."
Using pre-cum and spit as suitable lubrication, Ilya positioned
himself behind Dany. "Ok?"
He'd used his fingers some in earlier ministrations, and Dany
nodded. "Yeah, yeah."
It didn't take long. "Oh, fuck. Fuck." Dany sighed, breathing hard,
his head on Ilya's shoulder.
"Ok?"
"I love you."
"Goodnight, Dany. Love you, too."
Ignoring the mess and pulling the sheets over them both, Dany settled
down to sleep.