[hockey rps, andrew yogan/christian thomas, r, 1349 words)
The NHL lockout has unintended consequences. Written for pass_shoot_porn for the prompt bright lights, big city, which. um. This started out being very inspired by that, and then veered wildly out of control at some point. sorry. Writing this pairing because, really. Title from 'As Sure as I'm Down' by the Swingin' Utters.
*note: Christian Thomas' dad is Steve Thomas, who played in the NHL for almost 20 years. not for the Rangers, but, whatever.
Training camp isn't exactly what Andy had hoped for, what he'd busted his ass for in rehab all summer. He can't complain, not really, because he's enough of a realist to know his chances of making the Rangers had been slim this year. But he can't help feeling robbed of a chance, even if it had been nothing more than getting the Rangers to keep an extra eye on him.
He doesn't tell any of the other guys this, not even if some of them might feel the same way. He can see the disappointment in Kreider's face every time he looks at the logo in the locker room, can see the frustration in the set of Borky's shoulders that he'll probably spend another season in Hartford.
Christian's the only one who seems genuinely happy to be there, but then again, Andy can count on one hand the number of times he's seen Christian mad or upset. Certainly not now, coming off the ice into the locker room, big grin on his face. He's saying something over his shoulder to Mac, but he sees Andy sitting at his locker, and the grin doubles, almost blinding in brightness.
"Are you still moping?" he asks, and Andy scowls, elbows him away when Christian tries for a hip check.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Christian doesn't say anything, just rolls his eyes. He strips his jersey off, and Andy concentrates on the logo on the floor, wonders if the one in the MSG locker room looks the same, wonders when he'll ever find out.
He looks up when Christian bumps his shoulder. "C'mon, get cleaned up. I'm taking you out."
Christian is already halfway out the door, and he looks back to shake his head. "It's a surprise."
Andy frowns, and then looks at Mac. He shrugs, but he does a lousy job of keeping from smiling. "Don't ask me. You guys never tell me shit."
Andy flips him off, then strips out of his practice gear and heads for the showers.
They're in the city. Andy can tell that much, even blindfolded. He'd tried to sneak a glance a few minutes ago, but Christian had smacked his hand. "Stop it. I'm leaving you on the side of the road if you ruin the surprise."
A few more turns, then the car stops and Christian speaks to someone. A guard, Andy guesses, who tells Christian to drive through and park over there. "Stay here a sec," Christian says, and the door slams before Andy can answer. His fingers scratch along his thighs, and he's tempted to try for a peek again, but then his door is opening and Christian says, "C'mon, I'll lead you."
"This is fucking ridiculous," but he lets Christian take a hold of his arm, lets him lead him...uphill, Andy thinks. The sounds of the city fade away, and he realizes they've gone into a building, footsteps echoing on concrete floor.
Then he's stepping on carpet, and Christian leads him a little farther, then tells him to sit. "Okay, you can take the blindfold off now."
He does, but it still takes him a few moments to process where they are. He looks around, at the stalls, at the floor. "You took me to a locker room?" Christian's smile falters a little, and Andy wants to kick himself. "I mean, it's cool, fuck, it's the Rangers', but...why? And how did you get us in here?"
"My dad talked to some people." Christian shrugs, then sits next to him, leg bumping into Andy's. "You're not the only one who'd rather be here than Hartford."
Andy had forgotten how well Christian can read him, how quickly he can cut through all of Andy's bullshit. He shrugs. "Yeah, well who wouldn't? Hartford's lame."
Christian's warm against his side, and it's too easy to put an arm around his shoulders, pull him closer. Andy looks around the locker room. It's weird sitting there, especially when it's so empty and quiet. None of the stalls have nameplates. He cranes his head up to look at the one he's sitting at. "I wonder whose stall this was."
Christian stands, and Andy's about to tell him there's no nameplate, but Christian isn't looking for that. He's looking down at Andy, and the expression on his face is familiar, one that sets off a spark deep in Andy's gut.
"Whose locker do you want it to be?" Christian's voice is low, and Andy isn't sure he heard him correctly.
"I mean," and Christian steps between Andy's legs, "I know you have that thing for Callahan."
"Liar. I've seen you watching his Youtube vids."
Andy feels his cheeks heat up, and he's tempted to push Christian away. Then Christian is on his knees, and Andy might not be the brightest kid, but he's not a complete idiot.
"I'm just sayin'," Christian continues. His hands slide up Andy's thighs, spreading them, and Andy is suddenly aware of how very hard he is. "If this was Callahan's stall, it'd be kind of hot if I blew you while you were sitting in it."
Andy's mouth goes dry, and he has to take a moment to find his voice. Part of him actually thinks it might be a little disrespectful, but, "fuck, yes," he says anyways, hands scrambling to get his jeans open.
Christian smacks his hands out of the way, and Andy leans back, lets him do all the work. His jeans and shorts get yanked down past his hips, then Christian gets a hand on him.
"Fuck!" Andy jerks up into Christian's grip and is pushed back down for his effort.
"Hold still." Which Andy is sure he could do easily, at until Christian leans forward and takes his cockhead into his mouth. And, fuck, he'd spent all summer jerking off to the memory of Christian's mouth on him, but it had never even been close to the reality. Perfect damp warmth, tongue flicking at the ridge of his crown, at his slit, and Andy swears again before fisting a hand in Christian's hair.
Christian hums at that, and, christ, Andy can't help but thrust into his mouth, can't help but tug Christian down further on his dick.
And Christian lets him, lets Andy fuck up into his mouth, just moans some more when Andy's dick pushes in more. His hands curl around Andy's hips but he doesn't stop him, does nothing but suck Andy in further, until Andy can feel soft give of Christian's throat. "Fuck," he says, hands buried in Christian's hair, dick buried in his mouth.
Christian looks up at him, eyes watering, lips stretched red and wide. Andy's breath catches in his throat, and he starts to pull away, but Christian grunts and, slowly, sinks his head down further, until Andy can feel his nose press against his skin.
"Shit, I'm-- fuck." Christian finally backs off, just a little, just enough that Andy still comes in his mouth. Christian licks him clean, then sits back, coughing a little.
"Sorry," Andy says. "I didn't mean," and he waves his hand, gesturing at Christian's head.
Christian gives him a look, the you dumbass look that Andy got to know so well last year. "I was pretty okay with it."
"uh, yeah," and Andy finally notices that Christian's fly is undone, and there is a pretty unmistakeable stain on the front of his jeans. "Shut up," Christian says, standing up. He grimaces, then wipes his hand on Andy's shirt.
"Hey! Not cool!"
"It's the least you owe me."
Christian's glaring at him, but Andy can see the hints of a smile in the corners of his mouth. He looks around the Rangers' locker room, realizes he feels more at ease, more relaxed than he has since training camp began. He's happier.
He gets to his feet, zips up, then steps into Christian's space. Christian looks up, and Andy knocks their foreheads together, then kisses him. "C'mon, let's get out of here, and I'll pay you in full."
thank you for reading!