Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing/Characters: Jack Johnson/Drew Doughty, Sidney Crosby
Dedication: herwhereabouts, abby20, robi0688, early_afternoon and joolzie, thanks for all your support, feedback and encouragement. :D
Disclaimer: It's all lies!
Author's Notes: This is a sequel to Tangled Up in Blue and One Last Summer, but it's not necessary to read those fics to follow this one. This is set just after the ending of Tangled Up in Blue (1/8/11) when Jack signed a long contract extension with the Kings. Who are these guys?
Blue Moon, Part 2
I was woken up the next morning by Drew shaking me awake. At first I thought something was wrong, like the house was on fire something, so I went from half-asleep to fully awake pretty fast. Drew was sitting on the side of my bed in his plaid flannel boxers and he released my shoulders when he saw that I was up.
"What happened?" I asked, sitting up quickly, then regretting it as I felt my head start to throb. It wasn't too bad, though; I remembered chugging as much water as I could handle before I went to sleep.
"Nothing," he said, looking slightly concerned. "It's eleven. I figured I should wake you up so you don't miss practice."
"What? But I set my alarm." I reached over and grabbed my clock to look at it. It was set to go off at ten thirty and it was definitely on. "What the fuck."
Drew peered at it briefly and chuckled. "It's set for ten thirty PM, genius."
"Fuck," I grumbled, and he ruffled my hair. "Thanks for waking me up."
"Did you set that last night?" he asked as I got out of bed, wrapping a towel around my waist.
"I think so." I tried to think back to the night before and the first thing that came to mind was Drew's face, furious as I'd tried to explain myself. I looked over at him and his expression became serious; he looked away from me and my heart sank. "Drew, last night, I--"
"It's okay, you don't have to say anything," he said, cutting me off.
"No, I want to explain," I said. "I want you to know I was stupid and I wasn't thinking and I'm really sorry I hurt you, and I wish I could take it back. I didn't do it because I was attracted to her; I just--I was afraid that somebody would guess about me if I was never with girls, so I used to make myself to do it. And then it became easier over the years; it was something I'd learned to do. And going out with Greener..."
I sat down next to Drew, trying to read his expression and see if he understood. He was still serious, but he wasn't angry, and he nodded at me. "Yeah, I know what you guys used to do. Probably should have told you not to go, eh?"
"Yeah, I won't be going out with Greener again; not when it's just the two of us, anyway," I said, running my fingers through my hair.
Drew sighed, looking down at his hands. "I hate the idea of you being with anyone else. I imagined you kissing her and it made me so fucking angry. I want you all to myself." He looked back up at me. "I know it didn't mean anything, but it still pisses me off."
"I'm sorry," I said, and I leaned in to kiss him. "You know you're the only one I want, right?"
"I guess." He hesitated, then kissed me back. "It's just going to take a while to forget what you did."
I wrapped my arms around him, pressing soft kisses along his collarbone and pushed him down onto my bed, laying down on top of him. "Does this help?" I whispered into his ear, tugging gently on his lobe with my teeth.
"A little," he answered, running his hands down my back. He pulled my towel off, tossing it onto the floor, and grabbed my ass. "You're going to have to try a lot harder than this, though."
"How hard do I have to try?" I grinned, reaching to tug his boxers down and spread his legs apart. I thrust my hips against him, rubbing slowly to make him groan. Just hearing him was always such a turn on for me.
"That's a good start," he gasped, lifting his head to kiss me wetly. "I wasn't kidding, though. If you ever do that to me again, I'm going to fucking kill you."
"That's fair." I grabbed his cock, starting to jerk him off slowly and he closed his eyes. There wasn't much talking after that.
Things were different between us after that. We didn't fight, and we didn't talk again about what had happened, but he didn't seem as relaxed and happy as before when it was just the two of us together. We still talked and laughed and played video games together, and we still had sex and slept together in his bed at night, but he was more reserved - almost guarded - when we were together, and I didn't know what I could do to make things right.
We lost our next two games at home against the Maple Leafs and Blues. It was frustrating because we were playing hard but just not getting the goals. Drew and I had agreed that we weren't going to talk about our games when it was just the two of us. We wanted to minimize the effect that wins and losses had on our relationship and build something together that existed outside of our team.
It had worked out well, especially after games. It's good to have a short memory in hockey, and it was easier to forget when you spent the night arguing about whether french toast was an acceptable dinner, or attempting for the twentieth time to play Naked Twister long enough to finish a game without getting hopelessly distracted.
The night after the Blues game, Drew wanted to go to a new bar that had just opened near our place. We walked over together, talking about our plans for the All-Star Weekend.
"Cancun? Or Hawaii? What do you think?" Drew asked, sounding a little distracted.
"I think I'm going home, actually," I said, putting my hands in my pockets. "Do you want to come with me?"
"Michigan in winter? Oh boy!" he said with unnecessarily sarcastic enthusiasm.
"I want to spend some time with my family. And don't knock Michigan. It's nice to be somewhere that has a real winter. You know, as long as I'm not there for too long." I grinned and he smiled back at me, looking more like the Drew from before that night out with Greener.
"Well, have fun. Simmer was trying to get some guys to go to Hawaii with him; I'm thinking of joining him," he said, and I was tempted to change my mind.
"Just don't do anything too stupid while you're there, okay? I want you to come back in one piece. And don't let Simmer take any compromising pictures of you," I warned.
"Jack, I lived with the guy. He wallpapered my room with photos of me in--" Drew paused, looking embarrassed. "You know what? You don't really need to know what was in those photos."
I smiled and said nothing, making a mental note to ask Simmer about them.
We reached the bar and I held the door open for Drew. It had an interesting exterior; the wall was covered with old, weathered wooden boards, giving the place a look that was halfway between Wild West and cosy cabin in the woods. There was a lot more wood inside: the bar and tables and chairs were all made of nice, warm wood, and the same wooden boards that covered the outside wall framed the shelves behind the bartender. I had a good feeling about the place.
The bar was packed even though it was a Thursday night and I had to squeeze my way through to the bar while Drew went to look for an empty table. I finally reached the counter and tried to get the attention of the bartender. When I got a good look at his face, I had a very strong feeling that I'd seen him somewhere before, and that he made me feel a little uneasy. He glanced my way and I obviously didn't have the same effect on him because he smiled and came over, ignoring the row of waving hands at the counter.
"Didn't think I'd run into you here," he said, and his voice made everything click into place. He was a bartender at a gay bar I'd gone to a few times. I hadn't been there in over a year and I would have been completely surprised that he remembered me except for the fact that I'd slept with him once.
"Yeah, same here," I said, shouting a little so I could be heard. "You're not at Twelve anymore?"
"Nah, I had a little disagreement with management." He didn't seem inclined to elaborate and I wasn't surprised; from what I remembered of him, he was charming but definitely had a disagreeable side.
"You have a good memory; I haven't seen you in a year," I said. A guy a few feet away yelled "hey!" impatiently, but Ben - at least I think that was his name - ignored him.
"I'm good with faces," he said casually, then leaned in to my ear so he wouldn't have to shout. "And other things. I get off in a couple of hours, if you're interested in testing my memory some more."
I smiled and said, "Sorry, I'm here with someone."
He shrugged and placed his hands on the edge of the bar. "In that case, what can I get you?"
I ordered a couple of beers and gave Ben a big tip, then looked around to find Drew. He was sitting down at a table pretty near the bar and he didn't look very happy.
I handed Drew his beer and as soon as I sat down, he asked, "Were you flirting with the bartender?"
"Yeah, how do you think I got our drinks so fast?" I was a little irritated by the tone of his voice, but I was also feeling a little guilty, which made me even more irritated because I knew that I had nothing to be guilty about and shouldn't have been feeling that way.
He stared at me, unsmiling, his eyes glinting darkly in the dim light. "Next time, I'd rather just wait."
I rolled my eyes. "I know him okay? He used to bartend at Twelve."
"You haven't been there in a long time so you must have made a really good impression on him," Drew said sarcastically. "Unless you never stopped going."
I knew what he was implying and it made me angry. I hadn't gone to Twelve or any of the other gay bars I used to frequent since I'd been with Drew and I hadn't missed them at all. I hated that he thought that I was lying to him about something like that.
"I haven't been there in over a year and you know that." I tried to keep my annoyance out of my voice, but I didn't quite succeed.
"Really? Because he seemed to be very friendly to you. You must have done something to stick in his mind." He wasn't even trying to hide the tone of accusation in his voice, and I bristled.
"You want to know why he remembers me? That's what you want to know? He remembers me because I fucked him. Is that what you wanted to hear?" I glared back, almost challenging him.
"Fuck you!" Drew looked as angry as I'd ever seen him, and he got up and stormed past me to the exit. I let him go and drained half of my beer, slamming my glass angrily on the table. As pissed off as I was, though, I couldn't just let him leave like that, so I went after him, running down the street to catch up.
I found him two blocks away, walking briskly along the sidewalk. He turned around at the sound of my footsteps, then started walking away faster when he saw me.
"Hey!" I yelled, falling into step with him as I reached as his side. "Hey, slow down."
Drew ignored me and refused to even look at me, staring straight ahead in stony silence as he charged ahead. I kept pace with him, waiting for him to cool down a little so I could talk to him, but he never did, and he still hadn't said a word to me when we reached our front door.
I watched him unlock the door and resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to talk to him the next day. I wasn't angry anymore, I just wanted to fix things and have them go back to the way they were before. I wished I could make him understand that he was the only person I wanted to be with, and I wished I could make him trust me again.
I followed him inside and we went upstairs together silently. I went into my bedroom and when I turned around to turn the light on and close the door, Drew pressed his hand against it, keeping it open. He still looked angry, but there was something else in his eyes, and before I could say anything, he stepped into the room, grabbed my shirt and jerked me towards him, kissing me hungrily.
I was so stunned that I just stood there for a while, not responding to him at all. I didn't know what had prompted the change in his behavior but after the shock wore off I started kissing him back, giving in to his greedy mouth and insistent hands.
We both stripped down and he leaned against me, pushing me back onto the bed with his arms wrapped around my body so he fell with me. Something felt a little off; Drew was almost never this urgent with me. He liked things to build up slowly--I was the one who was impatient. The last time he'd even been close to anything like this was when he visited me at home in Michigan and it had been a month since we'd fucked. I felt his cock hard against my belly, and then I stopped thinking, spreading my legs so he could shift down a little. He pressed kisses down along my neck as I tilted my head back and he licked the base of my throat slowly, making me shiver.
I closed my eyes as he kissed along my jaw and he whispered in my ear, "You're mine."
He reached down and wrapped his fingers around my cock, squeezing it so hard it hurt a little. He started sliding his hand slowly up and down along my shaft and said, a little louder this time, "I want to hear you say it, Jack."
"Mmm?" I asked, concentrating on the feeling of his hand on me, maddeningly slow, not really wanting him to speed up.
"You're mine," he repeated. "I want to fucking hear you say it."
Drew stopped moving his hand and I opened my eyes. His face was illuminated only by the street light outside my window and I could only see edges and lines, making him look dead serious. He was waiting for something, waiting for me.
"I'm yours," I said, and I kissed him softly, lingering a little.
His expression didn't change and he reached over to the nightstand, getting the lube out of the drawer. He squeezed some onto his hand and reached down between my legs to slick me up. I spread my legs further apart, expecting to feel him press his fingers inside me, but he withdrew his hand. I looked down to see what he was doing, then I felt his cock against me and he pushed inside me with a rough thrust.
"Ow!" I cried out, more out of shock than pain. "Drew, not that hard."
It seemed like he hadn't heard me because he thrust even harder into me, and this time it really did hurt. I looked up at his face but he wasn't looking at me, he was looking down at my ass.
"Stop!" I growled, gritting my teeth and I knew that he definitely heard me that time, but he just grabbed hold of my hips and slammed his cock deeper inside, and I was barely able to control myself from screaming.
"Get the fuck off me!" I hissed, and I put my hands on his chest and shoved him hard off me. I got up off the bed, still burning with pain, and glared at him, half furious and half in disbelief at what he'd done. "What the fuck are you doing?"
He looked back at me, clearly shaken, and he was obviously out of whatever state he'd been in earlier. He was wide-eyed as he answered, "I don't know. Oh God, I'm so sorry."
"Fuck," I said, putting my arm out against the wall to steady myself as I waited for the pain to subside. I hadn't hurt that bad since the first few times I had sex. Drew got up off the bed and put his hand on my shoulder tentatively, but I grabbed his arm and pushed it away angrily. "Don't fucking touch me! Get out!"
He didn't leave, though; he just stood there looking apologetic and concerned. His shoulders were slumped, and there was no trace of the anger he'd been possessed by earlier.
"What the fuck was that about? You're pissed off? I hurt you so you want to hurt me? Is that it?" I punched the wall, partly so I didn't punch him and partly so the pain in my knuckles would take my focus away from my other, deeper pain.
"I kept picturing you with him--the bartender," he said quietly.
I scowled at him, exasperated. "That happened before we were ever together."
He widened his eyes in surprise, then dropped his gaze to the ground, looking ashamed. "I... I assumed that..."
"You assumed that I cheated on you?" I shook my head. "I chose to be with you, Drew. I thought I was happy before, but you showed me that things could be better. You know how hard it was for me to change my life, and I did it to be with you. I would never throw that away by cheating on you."
"But you almost did with that girl." He sighed, slipping his hand around my waist and I let him do it. "And maybe next time you won't stop. And I keep thinking about that."
"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? When are you going to forgive me?" I walked over to the bed and sat down, wincing. "Because obviously you haven't yet."
"When I can believe that you won't do it again," he said, looking hurt and helpless.
"I don't know what else I can do to make you believe me." I stared at the floor, not liking what I was about to say. "I'm going to move back to my old place tomorrow. I hope it's easier for you to figure things out without me around."
"I'm really sorry," he said, and I couldn't tell if he was sorry about hurting me, or sorry that he couldn't forgive me.