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Zhenya is exhausted and stressed and more than a little grumpy when he meets the love of his life. The Penguins have just come off a long road trip where they lost more than won, including a dumpster-fire of a game against the Hurricanes the night before, which Zhenya spent most of in the locker room after getting into a massive fight near the end of the first period. Zhenya fell into bed last night around two in the morning. All he wants is to sleep half the day away, since his schedule is blessedly clear for once, but he has a “very important” meeting with the Penguins staff today at noon, which means he only gets about half the sleep he feels like his body needs. To cap it all off, his espresso machine decides to simply not work.After spending a good ten minutes smacking it around and swearing at it in Russian, Zhenya is forced to admit that beating up a piece of junk won’t make it a not-piece-of-junk. Irritated both by the fact that he doesn’t get his coffee and also because he’s going to be late to his meeting, Zhenya shoves himself into his car and decides to go get coffee from somewhere in the city. He knows it will only make him later to the meeting, but he doesn’t care. For one, he knows what the meeting is about, and a major part of him doesn’t give a damn about it. For another, it’s probably best for the wellbeing of everyone if he gets some coffee before sitting down to talk about his apparent over-aggression.So Zhenya drives toward the arena despite the fact he has no practice today, and he decides he’ll go anywhere as long as it isn’t Starbucks. He ends up on a neat, tidy little street with a nice-looking coffee shop called 87 Coffee, so he parks in front of it and sits at his wheel for a moment, rubbing his hands up and down his face in an attempt to wake himself up.He wishes he could be back in his bed sleeping. He wishes he could be anywhere but on his way to this damn meeting.Eventually, Zhenya drags himself out of his car. It’s raining, of course. He’s quick as he steps up onto the sidewalk, glowering up at the eaves of the building as they drop fat droplets onto his head. He tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and lets himself in, so focused on getting his temper under control that the smell of coffee and baking bread and vanilla is a shock.A pleasant shock, thankfully. Zhenya stands just inside the closed door for a moment, allowing the warmth of the coffee shop to wash over him. He inhales the rich scent of coffee and baked goods, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders as he exhales.87 Coffee is just as neat inside as it is out. It’s a good balance between minimalist and cozy, and there are tasteful lights strung across the ceiling that cast a warm golden glow on everything. It’s not very busy; the only patrons are a couple college students and a Dom-sub couple in the booths that line the right and left walls. The atmosphere is quiet and peaceful, and Zhenya lets that feeling bleed into his core, calming the frenetic stress that he’s been unknowingly harboring since his coach pulled him aside in the airport last night and told him they needed to have a meeting tomorrow.Zhenya’s scanning the menu when he sees the little jar meant for collecting tips in front of the register. There’s a familiar logo on it: a penguin holding a hockey stick. Zhenya sighs through his nose and hopes desperately that he won’t be recognized, even though he knows it’s a useless thought to have. He’s the captain of the Penguins, after all.Resolving to do his best not to snap at anyone who asks for a picture, Zhenya crosses the space to the front counter, which is empty of an employee. He waits in front of the register, already knowing what he’s going to order. As he waits, he tries not to let the stress creep back in.He’s going to be really late—unacceptably so, even by his standards—if he keeps standing here. He glances at the clock on the wall and decides he’ll stay and wait for someone to come take his order until the little seconds-hand gets to sixty again. The clock is Penguins-themed, too. There’s a cartoon penguin wearing a generic 00 jersey, and the hour and minute hands are its flippers. Zhenya watches as the tiny ticker that counts seconds moves up from 15 to 30 to 60. Time is up.Zhenya is just about to turn on his heel and drag himself to the stadium without coffee after all when the door to the back of the cafe bursts open. In a whirlwind of flustered apologies, Zhenya’s future husband comes flying out.He’s wearing a dark turtleneck and a black apron, and there’s powdered sugar blasted across the front of it. He’s got flour on his cheekbone and some in his hair, a few strands of which have escaped the hold of the gel he put in it to curve endearingly over his forehead. The tan skin of his face is tinged pink with flustered embarrassment. His eyes are bright and beautiful, already crinkled into an apologetic smile. He’s wearing a nametag that says, “Sid,” and he’s the most beautiful thing Zhenya’s ever seen.“I’m so sorry for making you wait, my usual guy in the back called in sick this morning and I didn’t plan very well, so I had about a dozen ovens going off at once, and the banana bread wasn’t ready yet, and it was just a disaster. But you probably don’t care about that. I’m so sorry, I hope you haven’t been standing here for very long,” the man says, breathless. He seems to realize he’s rambling, because he ducks his head a little, the pink on his cheekbones strengthening. Then he looks up at Zhenya through thick, dark eyelashes and asks, “What can I do for you?”Zhenya has forgotten his words.It’s not the same as when a reporter asks him a question after a tiring game and he can’t recall the English word for some stupid term. No; if someone asked Zhenya what day of the week it is, he wouldn’t even be able to answer them in Russian.Sid has a cute Canadian accent and a smile that makes Zhenya feel like there’s a flurry of snow in his stomach, fluttering around and freezing his chances of moving or thinking or processing. Sid’s eyes are liquid and brown and beautiful. Sid ducks his head in a way that he doesn’t seem to know is endearing and enticing and absolute murder on Zhenya’s protective Dom instincts.Because Sid is a sub. Zhenya has never been surer of a single thing.“Um, sir?” Sid asks. His smile has gone from apologetic to faintly amused, and Zhenya wishes he could take a picture so he could frame it and look at it every day, because how could something so beautiful be meant for him? “Sir? Hello?”“Hello,” Zhenya echoes, his brain coming back to him in small increments.Sid gives a little laugh. It’s the most beautiful thing Zhenya’s ever heard. “Hi,” Sid says. “Do you want some coffee, sir? You seem like you might need it.” And then he ducks his head again, dropping his gaze shyly to the counter before glancing up at Zhenya’s face again.“Coffee,” Zhenya says intelligently. “Yes.”That makes Sid laugh again. Zhenya would do anything to keep hearing that sound. “Okay, great,” Sid says. “Our selection is up there. We’re not Starbucks, but there’s some good variation.” Sid points up, toward the chalkboard Zhenya saw when he walked in. All the options are listed in neatly-written chalk. Zhenya wonders if Sid wrote them. He admires the round shape to the letters, the cute curve to the ends of the lowercase a’s and n’s.Good God, he needs to get himself together.“Black coffee,” he manages, grasping desperately at the thought when it returns to him. “Medium. Um, please.” His pronunciation of English words has abandoned him. Zhenya despairs of his chances of making a good first impression, or even an okay one.But Sid just smiles at him again, and it’s so warm and endearing that Zhenya can’t feel embarrassed when he’s so overcome with adoration. “Okay, a medium black coffee. To-go, I assume?”Zhenya nods dumbly. “Yes. Please.”Sid smiles at him, then grabs a white to-go cup from a nearby stack and scribbles something on it in permanent marker. “That should be ready soon, sir. You can sit over there while you wait, if you’d like.”Zhenya is just about to retreat to the booth Sid indicated when he remembers that he’s holding his wallet. “I pay,” he says, remembering. “Need to pay. How much?”Sid stops halfway through turning away from the register and blushes a deep pink. “Oh! Um, you don’t need to,” he says. “It’s my treat. You’re, um… You’re my favorite player.” Zhenya stares at him, shocked, but Sid merely ducks his head and glances discreetly to the left.On the wall, neatly framed and lit softly by the golden lights hanging from the ceiling, is a Malkin jersey. Zhenya, of course, didn’t see it on his way in.He protests the free coffee, but Sid is gently insistent. Eventually, Zhenya goes to sit down in the booth and thinks that Sid is the most polite, subtle fan he’s ever met. He’s still marveling at that, trying to discreetly watch as Sid easily and efficiently mans the gleaming machines behind the counter, when his phone begins to buzz in his pocket. Zhenya pulls it out and sees who it is, and about half his good feelings evaporate.“What,” he grumbles in Russian as soon as he answers.“Zhenya, where are you?” Seryozha asks. He doesn’t sound worried, so Zhenya figures Seryozha knows he’s intentionally late.“I’m getting coffee,” he says.“You’re half an hour late. They’ve got a representative from the NHL here, Zhenya, this doesn’t look good for the team—”“No, it doesn’t look good for me,” Zhenya argues. “It doesn’t reflect on the team, it reflects on me, and you’re worried about that because you know I’m already in trouble. Well, you can stop worrying. I don’t care that I’m in trouble. I don’t give a damn what they think.”Seryozha is silent on the other end for a moment. “You should care, Zhenya,” he eventually says. “You know how the league is about this stuff. They’re worried about your health—”“They’re worried about getting sued,” Zhenya argues, trying to keep his voice down. He knows there’s a very low likelihood anyone in this cafe will understand Russian, but he doesn’t want to disturb the calm, quiet atmosphere. “They don’t give a damn about my Dominant needs. They want me to stop getting in so many fights so that the newspapers stop writing so many articles about how much more aggressive I am and how they need to make sure their players’ needs are being met. I don’t care what they think or what the league is worried about.”Seryozha sighs. “They’re considering putting you on IR.”“They’ve been threatening that for months.”“Well, it’s serious this time.”“It was serious last week, and the month before that.”Zhenya feels a little bad for yelling at Seryozha; his friend and mentor just wants to help him. He’s so angry about this, though. The league doesn’t give a damn about him as long as he scores the points he’s supposed to and doesn’t do something stupid like step on someone’s neck or something. They definitely don’t care about his Dominant needs. They’re only pretending to care because they’re worried that Zhenya isn’t exercising his instincts, which is translating to blow-up fights like last night. And yes, perhaps there’s some validity to that—Zhenya can’t remember the last game he went through without getting into some kind of scuffle—but that doesn’t mean Zhenya has to like it.He hates being reminded that he’s not scening enough, because that’s just a reminder that he’s not good enough to find subs to scene with. Submissives see him and want him to hurt them, and Zhenya… Zhenya just can’t do that. He’s stopped trying to pick up at clubs or bars and has just settled on using the occasional professional service, where the subs are paid to like whatever it is he likes. He hates using those services, though. He just wishes—He cuts himself off before he can go there.Zhenya grudgingly promises Seryozha that he’ll be at the arena soon. He hangs up and heaves a quiet sigh, tucking his phone back into his pocket. A moment later, he senses the presence hovering politely at the edge of his awareness. When he looks up, he finds Sid standing patiently off to the side, holding the prepared to-go cup of coffee.For a split second, it strikes something deep within Zhenya, like a mallet against a heavy bronze bell. Sid looks so obedient standing there, waiting patiently for Zhenya to finish his conversation. Zhenya isn’t a Dom who loves service submission, but he can understand the appeal. And Sid looks… When he’s standing there patiently holding Zhenya’s coffee, he looks obedient and perfect and good.“Sorry,” Zhenya chokes out, praying his thoughts don’t show on his face. “Thank you.”Sid gifts him with that beautiful smile again. “No problem. Thank you so much for coming in. Have a good day, sir.”He hands Zhenya the coffee. As Zhenya goes to grab it, their fingers brush. Sid’s hands are warm, his fingers long and graceful. Both of them have big hands, but Zhenya’s pretty sure his are bigger. It takes a surprising amount of restraint to keep himself from attempting to see if that’s true. He scolds himself for the impulse; he doesn’t know this sub at all. He’s being a creep.Before he leaves, he fishes through his wallet for something to leave in the penguin tip jar. He has two twenties, a ten, and a couple fives. He pulls out a twenty and folds it up, slipping it into the jar when Sid is occupied wiping down his machines. Zhenya says goodbye, and then he leaves the restaurant and gets into his car. He takes a sip of the coffee he’s just secured, looks up into the rearview mirror, and has three sudden realizations.One, the coffee is the best he’s ever tasted. Two, he’s had a tuft of hair sticking out from the side of his head, likely since he woke up, and Sid definitely saw it. And three, the collar of his dress shirt is uneven, and he’s forgotten a tie.Zhenya thunks his forehead down on the steering wheel and groans.He’s aware of the time, of the fact that he has to go to that meeting that he’s about to be an hour late to, but he can’t muster the energy to reach up and start the car. He looks down at the coffee cup sitting innocently in the cupholder at his right hip and sees what Sid had scribbled onto it when he’d first picked it up.Mr. Malkin, it says. The handwriting is endearingly neat. Zhenya was right; the handwriting on the menu is Sid’s. The realization makes Zhenya’s heart flutter, which is a damn shame, because after he embarrassed himself like that, he’s not coming back to 87 Coffee ever again. Nope. Never.As Zhenya finally starts his car and pulls out of the parking lot, he knows that’s a lie.~>>>~It is, in fact, a lie.Zhenya wakes up early the next morning for practice and makes the unfortunate realization that his espresso machine hasn’t magically started working again overnight. He verbally abuses it some more, then puts on his coat and drags himself to the car to get coffee in the city again. He’s halfway to 87 Coffee before he remembers where he’s going, and then his mood dramatically improves.The sun is going to be out today, which is nice. It’s still cold, since it’s barely spring, but Zhenya is grateful for the faint warmth. He feels downright cheerful as he gets out of his car and walks to the entrance of 87 Coffee, and he stubbornly refuses to think about the reason.Inside, it’s just as warm and pleasant as before. It’s earlier than yesterday, so there’s no one but a young submissive sitting in the corner, sipping a mug of coffee and reading her book quietly. Sid is in the front of the cafe when Zhenya enters this time, adjusting something in the lit display case to the right of the register.“Good morning,” Zhenya greets when he walks up, perhaps a little louder than he intended.Sid jumps at the sound of his voice, smacking his skull against the edge of the display case with a dull thunk. “Ouch! Gosh, ow, sorry,” he says, straightening, one of his hands going to rub at the part of his head that he struck. It’s impressive that he’s kept from swearing, but given his Canadian accent, Zhenya isn’t surprised.“No, no, no need for sorry,” Zhenya rushes to say, horrified. “Is my sorry, I sorry, Sid. Didn’t mean to scare. Head okay? I sorry.” He reaches forward without thinking, one of his hands going to cover the hand Sid has pressed to the hurting part of his head.“No, no, it’s okay,” Sid reassures him, laughing a little. “It was my fault, I should have heard the bell over the door.” His face flushes slightly pink when he looks at Zhenya, and he admits, “I guess I was also surprised to hear your voice. I didn’t think you’d come back.”“Of course I come back,” Zhenya says without thinking. “Coffee here is best.”Sid blushes again, ducking his head a little. “Oh,” he says, his voice a little weak. “That’s… That’s great.”Zhenya realizes with a jolt that he’s still reaching over the counter, holding Sid’s hand cradled in his own. He thinks, faintly, that he was right yesterday; his hands are bigger than Sid’s. Much bigger. Sid’s hands are warm and soft and dwarfed by Zhenya’s, and Zhenya doesn’t know what to think of that.He lets go of Sid quickly, feeling a flush of his own rising to his face. He checked his reflection very carefully in the mirror before he came here, but apparently he’s capable of embarrassing himself even when he looks put-together.“Do you want the same thing as yesterday?” Sid asks, evidently attempting to recover his composure. “O-Or something different? There’s also some fresh muffins, Flower just made them a few minutes ago. Oh, but you must have a diet plan or something. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”Zhenya is oddly touched that Sid would think of something like that. “Is okay,” he says gently. “Not need for sorry. Food plan is not so strict, yes?” He grins at Sid like an idiot, and is thoroughly delighted when the submissive smiles back at him.“So you want a muffin, then?” Sid asks, his hands hovering over the surface of the tablet at the register.“Yes, sounds good,” Zhenya says. “And coffee, please. Same as before.”“Okay, perfect,” Sid says.He goes to grab the to-go cup again, and Zhenya remembers what he wrote yesterday. Before he can stop himself, he says, “Just Geno.”Sid looks up at him, eyes wide and dark through the sinful fan of his lashes. “I’m sorry?”“Geno,” Zhenya says, nodding at the cup. “No ‘Mr. Malkin’, make me sound old. Geno is good.” He grins at Sid again, hoping that the sub doesn’t think he’s mad about the cup from yesterday, hoping he doesn’t look too obviously infatuated, hoping the cilantro he had with his eggs this morning isn’t stuck in his teeth, hoping, hoping, hoping.Sid smiles, ducking his head shyly. “Okay,” he says, his voice a little softer than before. “Um… Your coffee will be ready soon, um, Geno.”Zhenya is absolutely delighted to hear his name on Sid’s lips. He likes the way Sid says it, likes the soft way he pronounces the “G”, the gentle way his mouth shapes the “o”. He’s got such full lips, so kissable. Such a pretty smile.Dear God, if Seryozha could see Zhenya now, he’d die of laughter.Zhenya insists on paying this time, despite Sid arguing that he left a large enough tip yesterday to cover several coffees. Zhenya gleefully leaves a tip just as large, then goes to sit down before he can do something stupid like stare at Sid some more. He discreetly watches the submissive as he makes the coffee while he’s sitting in the same spot as yesterday, appreciating the gentle flex of the muscles in Sid’s forearms, the competent way he handles the machines.Zhenya’s only staring a little bit when he notices the scars. Sid is wearing a normal gray T-shirt instead of a turtleneck like yesterday, and the beautiful column of his neck is visible. At the base of his throat, right where a collar would be, there is a thick ring of scars. Zhenya can’t see them very well from where he’s sitting, but the marks are unmistakable. Some of the lines are faded and softened by time, but others are thick and shiny because they’re new and whatever made them was horrible.Zhenya feels sick. He knows exactly what made them.Magnitogorsk wasn’t like America. Subs didn’t have as many people on their side in Zhenya’s hometown, and certainly not the leagues of doctors and lawyers and politicians that advocate for submissive rights like they do here. In Magnitogorsk, it was sometimes okay for a cruel Dom to jerk a submissive around by the collar. It was sometimes okay for them to pull so hard, and to be so cruel, that the collar left marks that would last for years and years.Zhenya suddenly doesn’t feel so warm and happy anymore. He forces himself to look away from the ring of scars around Sid’s throat and gazes at the wooden table before him instead, that sick feeling turning from one of horror to one of rage. He doesn’t know Sid very well—a tragedy—but the sub has seemed perfectly sweet, polite, and kind in the two interactions Zhenya has had with him. And even if he wasn’t that way, it still wouldn’t excuse the kind of treatment he must have received for those scars to be on his throat. Zhenya thinks of someone making Sid bleed like that, hurt like that, and something protective inside of him roars.It’s an absurd thing. Sid isn’t his. And yet, Zhenya almost wishes he was, if only so he could make absolutely sure no cruel Doms could touch him.He’s mostly gotten himself under control by the time Sid politely approaches him bearing a cup of to-go coffee and a paper bag presumably containing a muffin. Zhenya softens when he sees him, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Sid,” he says, taking the cup and the bag from the submissive. Their fingers brush yet again, and Zhenya’s heart flutters in his chest.He’s all the way in his car, sipping some of the delicious coffee, when he notices that the bag Sid gave him is a little too heavy and bulky. When he peeks inside, he finds a little blueberry scone tucked beside the cranberry muffin he’d ordered, a napkin wrapped neatly around it. When Zhenya pulls it out, he sees Sid’s handwriting in marker.
Good luck with your game tonight! I’ll be cheering you on. :)
~ Sid
Zhenya smacks his forehead on the steering wheel and groans for the second day in a row. He’s so screwed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You’re smiling.”Sidney glares at his best friend and co-owner, Flower, from where he’s working on shaping some dough for another batch of scones. “You sound so accusing,” he says. “Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m happy?”Flower narrows his eyes at him. “I want to know why you’re happy,” he says. “You haven’t smiled like that in forever.”Sidney scoffs, turning back over his work to avoid looking his friend in the eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “I’m happy all the time.”“Yeah, but this happy? This is new.”Sidney rolls his eyes and continues working, hoping Flower will leave it alone. The truth is, he isn’t sure the last time he felt like this. He knows it’s not just because of the good weather, though that’s definitely a part of it. The majority of his good mood, he knows, stems from…The back of Sidney’s right hand still tingles from when Geno Malkin had touched it. He’d cupped his whole hand around Sidney’s, his sweet dark eyes full of intense concern. His palm had been so big, and so warm, and so gentle holding Sidney’s beneath it. Whatever pain Sidney had been feeling from smacking his head into the display case had instantly evaporated. He’d been hot butter in the sun beneath the big, Russian Dominant’s focused gaze.He’d worried for a whole hour after Geno Malkin left about the scone and the message he’d left. He’d wondered if it was too obvious, if it revealed his stupid little crush too much. He’d eventually been forced to focus on something else because the breakfast rush had come in, and that had been a blessing. When everything was over and the last businessman had been sent out the door with a coffee cup in hand, Sidney had collapsed in one of the empty booths and decided that he couldn’t go back and change what he’d written on that napkin, so he might as well stop worrying so much about it.“Sid,” Flower says as Sidney’s putting the flour tub back where it belongs, “are you gonna tell me or not?”“Tell you what?” Sidney asks, knowing full well what his friend is talking about.Flower looks as if he knows that Sidney knows, if the bitchy expression on his face is anything to go by. “Are you gonna tell me who it is that has you all smiley and sunshine-and-roses?”Sidney frowns at him. “How do you know it’s a person?”“Because you’re telling me with your face,” Flower says.Sidney rolls his eyes. “I’m going to take my lunch break while there’s no one here,” he says, deciding that ignoring Flower is a good idea. It’ll get his friend off his back now, but he knows from experience Flower will just be extra hard on him later. Oh, well. That’s a problem for Future Sidney.“Sid! Don’t you dare run away from me. Sidney!” Flower calls to Sidney’s retreating back as Sid wipes off his hands and makes his way to the front of the cafe. A stream of angry French follows Sidney through the door that separates the kitchen from the dining area. Sidney grins a little, grateful that there aren’t any customers in the front, despite the very low likelihood that they’d understand French.He pulls out the lunch he’d brought with him and eats it quietly in his favorite corner of the cafe, right where the sun comes through the window and creates a shaft of golden warmth for him to sit in. He realizes kind of distantly that it’s the seat across from where Geno Malkin sits when he comes in. Or, well. The two times that he’s come in already.Sidney quietly hopes the hockey captain will come back. He knows it’s absurd to think, since Geno Malkin probably has places he likes to get coffee all around the city, but he can’t help remembering what the Dom had said that morning. Coffee here is best. He’d had an endearing little grin on his face while he’d said it, too. God, that grin is so dangerous.Sidney catches himself smiling and quickly shakes the expression away, chiding himself. As well as having a bunch of favorite coffee shops, Geno Malkin probably also has a bunch of pretty, perfect submissives vying for his attention. Sidney is literally nothing compared to them. He cringes at the mere thought of trying to get Geno Malkin’s attention in that way. It’s one thing to have his kink preference list laughed at by some random asshole in a bar. It’s a whole other thing for the Dom he’s presenting it to to be his favorite hockey team’s captain, his idol, and his longtime, secret crush.Yeah, no way. Sidney’s not even going to go there.He manages to duck Flower’s questions for the rest of the day. When they’ve gone through the motions of closing and Sidney’s locked the door to the cafe, he gets in his car and drives back to the little studio apartment he rents in the part of town that’s mostly made up of college students living off-campus. He putters around cleaning, taking a shower, doing laundry, and generally wasting time before the puck drop to start the Penguins game tonight. When it’s only half an hour until game-time, Sidney makes himself a small dinner and settles on the couch with a bowl of stir fry and the jersey Flower bought him for his nineteenth birthday a few years ago. It’s got the number 87 and his name across the back, a custom jersey that makes it look as if he plays for the team. Sidney loves it. The only thing better would be a Malkin jersey, which he has framed in the coffee shop.Sidney watches the game with more intensity than usual, his gaze fixed on Geno Malkin every time he’s on the screen. Malkin has a good game. He scores a goal and has another assist, and he doesn’t get into a single fight. The commentators make some snarky remark about how he’s not acting like himself, but Sidney’s privately glad. If Malkin doesn’t get into a violent fight, then he stays on the ice, and that means Sidney gets to see him.He knows he’s getting his hopes up—he knows he’s getting his hopes up—the next morning, when he gets out of bed and gets ready to go to work. Flower offers to take care of the front this morning, since Sidney’s been on a long streak of manning the register, but Sidney brushes him off. He makes some lame excuse about Flower being better at making macarons, which is the treat they’re featuring this week. He’s pretty sure Flower sees right through it, but despite the weird look his friend gives him, he doesn’t fight it.So Sidney finds himself standing at the register and staring at the parking lot, hoping to see a familiar Porsche pull in. As the morning passes, Sidney resigns himself to the fact that Geno Malkin probably just went somewhere else for coffee, if he went anywhere at all. Sidney was stupid to hope that the hockey captain would come back three days in a row, he doesn’t know what his past self was thinking…He’s clearing a pile of dishes from a booth in the corner when the bell over the door rings. He looks up as he’s finishing gathering the little pie plates and coffee mugs into his arms, then nearly drops the whole load of it when he sees who’s just come in.Geno Malkin is smiling at him, standing in the early afternoon sunlight like some kind of Greek god or something. He’s wearing a simple dark hoodie and a baseball cap, but he looks incredible. Sidney’s pretty sure he stares like a complete idiot for a solid thirty seconds before remembering his manners.He drops his gaze to the floor, where he admires Geno Malkin’s nice Converse. “Good morning, Mr. Mal—Geno. It’s… It’s so good to see you again!” He’s pretty sure the note of awed disbelief in his voice is obvious. He internally cringes, knowing someone like Geno Malkin is probably used to fanboys and finds them all somewhat annoying.“Good to see you too, Sid,” Geno says. His voice is warm and when Sidney dares to peek at his face, he sees a crooked, endearing smile. “How are things? Need help?”He gestures at the dishes Sidney’s still holding like an idiot. Sidney blinks, suddenly remembering who he is and what he’s doing. “Oh, no, no, that’s okay,” he rushes to say, taking an awkward step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—If you’ll excuse me, I can take your order in a second, I just need to take these—”Though it’s incredibly rude, he turns on his heel and flees to the kitchen, cheeks burning as he goes. He’s making a fool of himself in front of Geno Malkin again, and he hates it. He’s always been kind of an awkward guy, and he’s never really found a problem with it, but now he wants to stick his head underneath the soapy water of the sink and drown himself. He definitely doesn’t want to go back out there and face Geno again while his face is still likely flaming red.He goes back out there.Geno is waiting patiently beside the register, looking consideringly at the display case of treats set up for the day. Sidney tries not to seem too flustered as he steps up behind the counter, praying his hair and clothes look okay.“So sorry to keep you waiting,” he says, hurriedly tapping at the screen of his Ipad. The darn thing is old and clunky and slow, and it takes a moment for it to respond to his frantic touches. “What can I get for you? Another coffee?”“No need for sorry, Sid, is okay,” Geno says, and his deep voice is so soothing that Sidney can’t help but relax. He feels some of the tension seep from his shoulders, his lungs, the tight hold of his jaw. Geno smiles at him, and Sidney feels okay. “Had, um… muffin triangle, yesterday. Was good. What is word? Not muffin, other thing.”Sidney can’t help himself; he laughs. He knows it’s incredibly rude to laugh at a Dom—certainly something that Dylan would have punished him for—but he isn’t able to contain it. “A scone,” he says, laughing. “It’s called a scone. I’m… I’m glad you liked it.” He dares to glance at Geno’s face, almost worried the Dom will be angry that he laughed, and he finds Geno grinning widely at him.“Scone,” he says, looking at Sidney like he’s never been happier. “Yes, scone was good. Thank you for scone, Sid. Very sweet of you.”Sidney ducks his head, embarrassed. “It was the least I could do,” he mumbles. “You, um… You had a great game last night. It was super fun to watch.”Geno, if possible, brightens even more. “You watch?” he asks, sounding delighted. “See goal?”Sid laughs again, and this time, he feels a little less worried about Geno being mad at him. “Yeah, I watched. Your goal was awesome,” he says honestly. “The second period assist was a real beauty, too. The goalie didn’t even see it coming. And the pass to Gonchar for that pipe-shot was amazing! It was great. Fun to watch.” And then, because he’s stupid and already stumbling over himself with the bubbling excitement that comes with talking to Geno, he says, “I was glad you didn’t get into a fight. It was nice to watch you the whole game.”Almost immediately, he knows he’s said a bad thing. He cringes backward slightly, his body somehow anticipating a strike. Sidney braces himself, his gaze flying to Geno’s face on instinct—no matter how much Dylan tried to beat into him that looking Doms in the eye was bad, he’d never been able to help his innate need to know if a Dom was pleased with him or not, and the easiest way to read that was through their facial expression—and he sees… he sees…Geno doesn’t look angry. There’s something thoughtful on his face. His dark eyes are soft. “Yes,” he agrees. “Yes, was good I not fight.”Sidney blinks at him, startled and unsure if he can trust the Dominant’s lack of reaction. But Geno doesn’t suddenly get angry. Instead, he casts his gaze toward the display case once again, that thoughtful look still on his face.Sidney’s intensely grateful for the moment of reprieve from Geno’s intense gaze. He tries to collect himself, shoving the whole incident to the back of his mind to be dealt with later. When he finally regains control of his voice, it’s softer, way less confident than a couple minutes ago. “I’m sorry,” he starts with. “Did you, um… Did you still want that coffee?”“Yes,” Geno says. When his gaze returns to Sidney, his eyes are still soft. “Black coffee, please. And maybe little rainbow hamburgers? Look yummy.”It takes Sidney a minute to realize he’s talking about the macarons. “Oh,” he says, the realization startling a tiny laugh out of him. “Okay, I can get you some macarons. They’re really good; Flower’s a master at making them.”“Mac-a-rons,” Geno sounds out slowly. He gives Sidney that crooked, handsome grin again. “Yes, please.”Sidney’s smiling again when he eventually begins to make Geno’s order. He feels warm inside whenever he sneaks a glance to the side and sees that the tall Dom is sitting calmly in his usual spot in the booth on the right wall, tapping at something on his phone. Sidney likes looking at Geno during games, of course, but it’s really nice to see him without his jersey and helmet on. He’s so handsome, and he looks kinder and easier to approach without his bulky pads and tall skates. Thinking about him makes Sidney’s stomach do funny flip-flops.“Hey, ‘scuse me,” a voice says, startling Sidney out of his thoughts. “Can I get a refill?”There’s a Dom leaning against the counter, holding an empty black mug. He looks bored and maybe a little annoyed, as if he’d called for Sidney a couple times before finally catching his attention. He’s wearing an expensive suit of some kind that makes Sidney think he might be a businessman or a lawyer of some sort.“Sure, of course, sorry,” he hurries to say, setting aside the tongs he was going to use to gather some macarons for Geno. He takes the man’s mug from him and scrambles to remember the guy’s order. When he has it, he makes it quickly, very aware of the impatient way the man leans against the counter and taps his fingers against the wooden surface.He finishes the coffee and sets it aside to wipe up a small milk spill with a napkin, then carries the mug to the waiting Dom.“Here you g—oh, gosh!”Sidney holds the mug out at the same time as the man looks up and reaches for it. The angle is wrong, and the man’s hand ends up knocking into the side of the mug, sending hot coffee flying out of Sidney’s hands and all over him, his customer, and the tablet that he uses to take orders.“Fuck!” the guy shouts, hissing as the scalding liquid lands on his wrist and forearm. “Fuck, shit! God damn it, what the fuck are you doing?”Sidney’s throat closes up, which thankfully stifles the pained noise he was going to make at the feeling of the coffee burning him. “I-I-I’m sorry,” he manages, his voice far weaker than he’s ever let it be in public. “I didn’t—I’m so sorry, I didn’t see—”“Jesus, this is a brand new suit!” the Dom rages, turning furious eyes from the ruined sleeve of his suit to Sidney. The weight of his gaze makes the submissive’s knees physically tremble. “I’ve got a meeting in an hour, you incompetent asshole! What the fuck were you thinking?”Sidney gasps a little, trying to get air into his lungs. “I’m so sorry,” he says again, because that’s all he can seem to say. “I didn’t mean to, I-I didn’t see your hand…”It’s a weak excuse, and he knows it. The Dom seems to know it too, because he narrows cold blue eyes at Sidney, the sweat on his bald head gleaming under the lights strung across the ceiling. “I don’t have time for your Goddamn excuses,” he snaps, voice poisonous with the tone of a man who knows he’s speaking to someone inferior to him. “Get me a fucking napkin, for fuck’s sake! You’re lucky I don’t fucking sue you, that coffee could have hurt me—”“Enough,” a low, familiar voice says. There’s enough authority in it that the man stops talking mid-sentence, and Sidney stops moving mid-scramble for some napkins.Geno’s standing just a few feet away from the Dom with the coffee all over him, and there’s something intensely serious on his face. He looks… angry. He looks a little like he does when he’s skating down the ice on a breakaway, headed straight for the net: focused and a little mad, every ounce of his energy and attention narrowed into a single point.“Holy shit,” the Dom with the coffee on him says faintly. “Are you—?”“Think you should leave, now,” Geno says. His voice could be considered a growl. “Caused enough trouble today.”“What?” the Dom says, and then, stupidly, “Okay.”“Go,” Geno says. He points toward the door. The Dom turns on his heel as if he’s being controlled by a puppeteer and walks out.Without thinking, Sidney moves too. He unbends from his half-crouch behind the counter and takes a step toward the little door that will let him out from behind the register to the actual dining area of the cafe. He gets as far as lifting the moveable part of the counter to let himself through when a large, warm hand wraps around his left wrist in a grip that’s shockingly gentle.“Sid,” Geno says, and his voice is so much softer than it was just a few seconds ago. “You alright? Asshole is right, coffee hot. Burn you? You hurt?”“It was hot,” Sidney echoes weakly. “He’s gonna… He could sue me. He’s gonna sue me.”Geno must sense the slightly hysterical way his voice rises at the end, because he makes a soothing shushing noise. “No, no, no sue,” he says. “Not your fault. You have witness, yes? I witness, and woman over there witness. Is okay, Sid, no panic. Everything okay.”“Oh God,” Sidney says, unable to come up with anything else. His eyes are traitorously hot now. “I’m s-sorry.”“Shh, no sorry,” Geno says. “Have sink somewhere, hmm? Need cold water, arm looks like ouch.” He reaches out then, traces his fingertips lightly across the scalded skin of Sidney’s right forearm. Sidney flinches a little, his skin tingling beneath Geno’s touch.The pain brings him back, burns off the fog of panic in his head a little. Geno asked him a question. He needs to answer. “We have… We have a sink in the back,” he manages.“Good,” Geno says, and the single word, though meant in an entirely different context than Sidney wants, threatens to make his knees buckle. “You go into back, Sid. Go run arm under cold water, make ouch go away. Okay? Sid? Can do that?”“Yeah,” Sidney says weakly. “Yeah, I can do that.”Geno fixes him with a smile that’s so, so gentle and says, “Good. Go, I clean up.”The hand wrapped gently around Sidney’s left wrist directs him in a 180 degree turn and nudges him toward the door that leads to the back of the cafe. Numbly, Sid goes, his mind focused on one thing: do what Geno told him to do.“Sid?” Flower asks the moment the door opens. He’s elbow-deep in a massive bowl of cinnamon roll dough, but he looks worried. “I heard shouting from the front. Is everything okay?”Sidney goes to the sink, turns on the cold water, and sticks his arm underneath it. He hisses at the pain at first, then exhales shakily as the burning sensation gives way to soothing relief. “There was a customer,” he says, working through the molasses of his thoughts to answer Flower’s question. “He—I… I dropped coffee on him. It was an accident, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.”“Of course you didn’t,” Flower says. His voice is gentle now, soothing in a way that Sidney recognizes even with how messed up his head is. Flower is trying to comfort him, trying to divert the subshock that Sidney can feel at the edge of his senses. “You’re so good, Sidney, you work so hard to please the customers. It’s okay that you made a mistake. It was just a little one.”“He said he was gonna sue us,” Sidney says to the faucet, tears welling up in his eyes and choking his voice. “He was really mad at me.”“It’s okay, mon ami, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was just a simple mistake. You’re good,” Flower soothes. The praise isn’t as effective when it’s coming from another sub, but something small and crushed in Sidney’s chest loosens a little all the same. He wipes harshly at his face with his dry left hand, pulling his arm from beneath the stream of cold water a few seconds later. He’s got coffee all over him and his eyes are probably gonna get puffy now. He’s a mess.“I’ve gotta—There’s a big spill in the front, I’ve gotta get it—” Sidney says, but Flower shushes him. The French-Canadian has already shoved the dough back into the fridge and is nudging Sidney aside gently so he can wash his hands, chattering about Sidney finishing the drizzle on the macarons while he takes care of the front.Sidney’s grateful—relieved, actually—to let his friend go deal with the disaster he left on the counter. He’s pretty sure that if he sees the mug and the spilled coffee and everything, he might start crying all over again. He spends a minute collecting himself after Flower bustles through the door to the front, trying to get his hitching breathing under control. When his hands have stopped shaking so badly, Sidney goes to get the icing out of the fridge so he can drizzle the macarons like Flower suggested, wanting to make himself useful again.He forgets all about Geno until Flower comes back through the door about half an hour later wearing an odd look on his face.“Everything okay?” Sidney asks, praying the tremble in his voice isn’t as pronounced as he thinks it is.“Everything’s great. It’s empty for now. Beth left just a little bit ago, she wanted to make sure you were okay,” Flower says. “She told me a little about what happened; sounds like that guy was a real asshole.”“Yeah, well,” Sidney mutters, “it was my fault.”Flower doesn’t comment, though Sidney can see the disapproval on his face out of the corner of his eye. “Beth’s not the only one who was asking after you,” he says carefully, and that isn’t what Sidney was expecting.He has a moment of confusion before he remembers. The piping bag he’s holding falls to the counter with a slap. “Oh no,” Sidney says, horror flooding through him. “Oh no, Geno, I—Oh no, I forgot—I forgot to, no, I forgot to tell him—”“Easy, easy,” Flower coaxes, catching Sidney before he can stumble out to the front of the cafe. “I told you it was empty. Malkin left a little while ago, after I told him about a billion times that you were okay.”“Was he mad?” Sidney asks, terrified. “I never went back out, I never—” I never showed him that I obeyed his orders, he wants to say, absurdly.“He wasn’t mad,” Flower soothes. “He was just worried about you. Maybe a little mad at the guy, but not at you. He kept asking if your arm was okay.” There’s a pause, and then Flower raises an eyebrow and asks, “Is your arm okay?”“Yeah,” Sidney says, sagging with defeat and disappointment as he realizes he’s now thoroughly ruined any chances of Geno ever coming back here. “Yeah, my arm is fine.” It really is. The skin is still pink, but it’s just a little tender. He turns and goes back to where he was icing the macarons, dejected.“When were you gonna tell me that Evgeni Malkin’s been frequenting our cafe?” Flower asks from behind him.Sidney barely suppresses a groan. He’s too emotionally wrung out to deal with this right now. “Never,” he grumbles. God, he feels horrible. He should have gone out to talk to Geno. He never should have dropped that coffee in the first place.“Is he the reason you were all blushy and smiley yesterday?”“No, Flower,” Sidney snaps, maybe a little more forcefully than necessary.“Okay, okay, fine,” Flower says. He sounds like he knows exactly what Sidney’s thinking, and Sidney hates it. He wishes he could just go home and curl up in bed and cry a little bit. God, does he feel like crying right now.He stays, of course. He can’t leave Flower to run this place all by himself on a Friday, since that’s their busiest day. Sidney stays in the back, pumping out baked goods and cleaning, making sure everything is tidy and neat. The work soothes him a little, but it doesn’t help the gaping pit of self-hatred and shame that’s opened in his chest ever since the incident with the coffee. Every time he remembers that he just left Geno standing out there, the pit gets a little wider and deeper.He finally emerges from the back when they’re getting ready to close, frowning at the multitude of crumpled order-pad papers in the trashcan as he consolidates trash to take to the dumpster out back. “What’re all these for, Flower?” he asks, holding one of them up. “Why weren’t you using the—What happened to the Ipad?” There’s an empty space on the register where the Ipad used to sit.Flower, who’s in the middle of turning off the OPEN sign, winces. “It’s, um… It’s dead,” he says.“Dead?” Sidney asks, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”He understands just a split second before Flower says it. “The coffee,” Sidney’s fellow submissive says hesitantly. “It, uh… It doesn’t work. I think when the coffee spilled on it—”“I ruined the Ipad,” Sidney says numbly. “It doesn’t work because I screwed it up.”“I’m gonna take it into a tech store tomorrow to see if they can get it working again,” Flower says, trying to sound reassuring. He fails miserably, and Sidney’s pretty sure it’s because they both know there’s absolutely no way he’s going to salvage whatever’s left of the Ipad. “Until they can fix it, we’re just gonna have to take orders the old-school way.”“Right,” Sidney says flatly. “The old-school way.”And that moment, right then and there, is when he decides that he’s going out tonight.~>>>~Sidney almost never goes out to clubs, and he’s done so even less after breaking up with Dylan. He usually hates them. Most of them are full of loud music, humid air, drunk people, and Dominants who think he’s a ridiculous, prissy brat because he doesn’t like being hit.But Sidney’s not here to have a good time. Sidney’s here because this is a punishment, and punishments are supposed to be the opposite of fun.There are a couple ways he can punish himself, and he’s relied on them throughout the years when his will to scene with Dominants has been pretty much zero. He can go without a meal, or force himself to stand under freezing water in the shower for a set period of time, or make himself to walk to work, which includes waking up hours earlier than he usually does and always sucks more at the end of the day after a long shift than at the beginning of it. Those are all good options for self-punishment, but they only work for minor grievances—when Sidney snaps at a customer because he’s tired and they’re being rude, maybe. Or when he messes up an order. Little things that are definitely important, but aren’t huge mistakes in the grand scheme of things.Today, though, with the spilled coffee and the ruined Ipad and Geno… Today is a mistake that warrants something drastic.The club is called The Fifth Deadly Sin, and it’s about as high-quality as it sounds. The bouncer at the door isn’t even checking IDs, and Sidney sees some patrons that definitely look like they could be under eighteen once he’s waved inside. It’s hot and humid and it stinks of sweat, cigarettes, and the faint skunk-smell of weed. Sidney makes his slow way through the crowd, past the dance floor of writhing bodies, toward the bar set up on the right side of the room.It’s pretty dark everywhere, the strobe lights flashing in a way that makes Sidney dizzy, but the bar is a little more well-lit. The bartender is a haughty-looking woman with bright pink hair, a nose ring, and an arch to her eyebrows that tells Sidney she’s not impressed with him in the slightest. He figures he looks more than a little out of place in his jeans and Henley when he’s surrounded by so many people wearing leather.“What do you want?” she shouts at him over the pounding bass.“Just some water, please,” he calls back. She looks disgusted, but she gets him a glass of flat, warm water. Sidney drinks it despite the off-taste, trying to wet his parched throat.He never has to wait long when he’s in clubs like these. If he leans against the bar invitingly and tilts his head a certain way, the propositions come to him in a steady flow. Sidney’s not stupid enough to think it’s because anyone finds him attractive; no, the Doms that leer at him and ask if they can exchange kink preference sheets are more attracted to the guilty, defeated look on his face than anything else. Maybe some of them see the ugly ring of scars around his neck and know that he’s going to be easier to manipulate than another, less-damaged sub might be.Sidney waves off the first few propositions, mostly because they’re from Dommes and he’s looking for someone who can throw him around. The fourth or so offer is from a man who’s tall, dark-haired, and has a crooked nose. He’s a little skinny, his limbs angular and his wrists bony, but Sidney’s stomach flips at the resemblance. He immediately rejects the man’s offer, feeling sick at the thought of letting a Dom who looks even remotely like… like a certain someone punish him in the way he’s looking for.The Dom he ends up going for is short, stocky, and blond. He shouts over the music that his name is Jack, not that either of them care. He gives Sidney a look that makes the submissive feel dirty and asks, “So, what’re you looking for tonight?”Sidney ducks his head, tilting his neck in a way that he knows communicates his submission. “I messed up today,” he says honestly. “I was hoping you could…” He trails off, pretending the music drowned him out. He can’t make himself say it. His throat feels too tight.The Dom, Jack, curls his lip in a sickening imitation of a smile. “Oh, I think you and I are gonna get along just fine, babe,” he says, his eyes gleaming. “Come on, lemme show you to the back.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zhenya loses all hope of Seryozha not noticing anything when the man invites him to get lunch with him after practice. Zhenya agrees, reluctant only because he knows that Seryozha is going to grill him on what the hell has him so upbeat lately.When they sit down at the small, secluded sandwich place that they like to go to sometimes, though, the first thing Seryozha says is, “You’ve been behaving on the ice, Zhenya. I’m glad to see it.”Zhenya raises his eyebrows, wondering for a moment if he heard Seryozha correctly. “Thank you,” he says.Seryozha nods thoughtfully. “The league is pleased, if their lack of meddling means anything. I don’t know what you’ve been doing to keep your temper under control, but it seems to be working.” He narrows his sharp, beady eyes at Zhenya then, and Zhenya knows it’s coming. “What have you been doing? I’m curious to know what method is so effective that you’ve managed to turn your attitude around completely within a week.”“What, you don’t think I’m capable of introspection?” Zhenya asks, rolling his eyes.Seryozha isn’t fooled. “It’s a sub,” he decides. “Who?”“Why would I tell you?”“Because I’m your best friend.”“You are not.” That’s a lie.“I am and you know it,” Seryozha says. Zhenya wants to smack him.“There’s no sub,” he says, which is also kind of a lie. “I’m not scening with anyone new.”He gets a slight break when the waitress appears to deliver their food. They thank her in English, then go back to conversing in Russian. “So you’re not scening with someone?” Seryozha asks, narrowing his eyes at Zhenya. “What have you been doing, then? It’s not just in games that you’re better-behaved, Zhenya. You skate around in practice with a stupid smile on your face like you’re a child with his first crush.”“That’s not true,” Zhenya grumbles.“It is,” Seryozha says, smugly confident. “I want to know who has you acting like a love-struck puppy.”“Well,” Zhenya says petulantly, “you don’t get to know.” He realizes, even as he says it, that he’s basically admitting that Seryozha is right.He resigns himself to the man’s smug delight and the knowledge that Seryozha won’t leave him alone until he figures out who it is that Zhenya’s infatuated with. He was like this with Anya, the submissive Zhenya was last scening with regularly, though when he met her he wasn’t all that impressed. Zhenya sees why, in hindsight; they just weren’t a good match. Anya was a good woman, and a good submissive, but she didn’t give Zhenya what he needed. Seryozha, the bastard, had seen that right from the start.Zhenya wonders what his friend would think of Sid.The thought opens a floodgate of other thoughts, mostly centering around the disaster from yesterday. Zhenya thinks of that asshole that was yelling at Sid, and of the wide-eyed, frightened way the sub had been acting, and his stomach clenches with concern and rage once again. He’d had a magazine interview this morning and they’d provided him with coffee, so he hadn’t had the excuse he’d needed to go to 87 Coffee today. He thinks, somewhat childishly, that the coffee the studio provided was nowhere near as good as the coffee at Sid’s cafe.He wishes he could have gone in and checked on Sid. The other sub that had come into the front after he’d sent Sid to the kitchen, Flower, had reassured him that Sid was going to be fine. He’d had a worried crease to his eyebrows, though, and Zhenya’s concerned that means he was lying, or not altogether sure that Sid really will be alright. Zhenya knows it’s more than just the burn from the hot coffee; Sid had been on the edge of subshock, if not in the beginning stages of it. Subshock, which was like subdrop but without subspace beforehand, could be dangerous if the affected sub was left uncared for. Zhenya bites down on the protective instincts that rise up at the mere thought of that happening to Sid.“Oh, you’re going to be insufferable for the next few weeks,” Seryozha sighs, with the exasperation of a man who’s been trying to get Zhenya’s attention for a while now. “Look at you, starry-eyed and drooling. Good God.”“I’m not insufferable,” Zhenya grumbles.“You’re in love, and that’s worse,” Seryozha says.“I’m not.” He… might be.“Just you wait and see, Zhenya,” Seryozha says. “You’ll prove your own idiocy to yourself before you ever believe it from me.”Zhenya changes the subject to Seryozha’s wife and their children, and thankfully, his friend allows it. That’s the last they talk about Zhenya’s love life for the rest of the afternoon.It’s nearing four o’clock when Zhenya gets in his car to drive home. He kind of half-realizes that he’s in the neighborhood for 87 Coffee as he’s starting the engine, and before he can stop himself, he’s pulling out his phone to check if the cafe is still open. To his delight, he finds that it’s open until five in the afternoon. He has enough time to drop off the item in the bag he’s had since yesterday evening, when he’d impulsively gone out to a nearby mall and acted on a stupid, Dominant instinct to provide.Praying Sid will be there when he arrives, Zhenya makes his way through afternoon traffic to 87 Coffee. At this time in the afternoon, there aren’t any cars in the parking lot aside from a couple parked near the corner that Zhenya’s pretty sure belong to Sid and Flower. He parks and grabs the bag from his passenger seat, trying to keep his pace normal and unhurried as he makes his way to the door of the cafe.There’s no one behind the register when he gets there, but he knows that doesn’t mean anything. While Zhenya waits for someone to appear from the back, he scans the walls of the cafe, really taking in the decorations for the first time.There’s the penguin wall clock, of course, as well as a flag with the Penguins’ logo and a gradient black-to-yellow behind it. There’s also a flag that’s slashed diagonally, separating the American side on top and the Canadian side on the bottom. Zhenya squints at a smaller, framed picture of what looks to be a junior Canadian hockey team and is surprised to see Sid kneeling in the center, Flower a few people to the left and behind him. He hadn’t known Sid played hockey.Zhenya’s still thinking about Sid playing hockey, about seeing Sid skating on the ice, when the door to the kitchen opens. Zhenya looks up hopefully, a smile already on his face, and feels something in him deflate in disappointment at the sight of the other sub, Flower.“Oh, hi,” Flower says, looking surprised to see him. “Um… Can I help you? Oh, wait, you must be here for Sid. He’s not here. He’s sick today.” He looks genuinely apologetic as he says it. Zhenya hopes his disappointment isn’t too visible on his face.“Sid is okay?” he asks, coming closer to the register. “Arm okay?” He knows it’s not really his place to ask, but he can’t help himself. He can barely keep himself from asking if Sid’s okay emotionally, too, if his almost-subshock is taken care of.“Sid’s okay,” Flower promises, an odd look on his face. He seems… contemplative. Assessing, perhaps, as he looks Zhenya up and down. “He’s sorry he didn’t come talk to you yesterday. He felt really bad about it.”“No, no need for sorry,” Zhenya says, shaking his head. “I’m just worry, know coffee was hot and… and Dom was asshole. Glad to hear Sid is okay.”“Thanks for asking about him,” Flower says, his face softening a little. “I’ll tell him you were here. He’s gonna be sad he missed you.” He smiles a little, evidently fond of his fellow sub, then asks, “Can I get you anything? We’re out of the macarons and scones at this time of day, but I think I still have a couple muffins in the back somewhere.”“Oh, no, is okay,” Zhenya says, knowing he really shouldn’t make a habit of eating sweet treats every day. Maybe just when Sid is here. “Just came to see if Sid is okay. Oh, and to give this! Almost forgot.”He holds up the brown paper bag with the logo “BEST BUY” printed across it, setting it carefully on the counter in front of Flower. The logo must mean something to the sub, because his eyes widen and his face shifts into an expression of disbelief even before he looks into the bag.“Merde,” he says under his breath, which Zhenya is pretty sure is a curse. “Did you really—? You didn’t have to… Holy shit.” He pulls out the brand-new tablet that Zhenya bought yesterday, holding the shiny box like it’s a precious jewel.“Ask lady who work there, she say it best,” Zhenya explains. “She confuse that I ask about work for coffee shop, but is okay. She still say it work best. I, um… I don’t know. I hope is good?”Flower looks up at him, eyes wide with disbelief and awe. “Yeah, this is amazing, I—Thank you so much, man. This is incredible. You… You really didn’t have to.”“Is fine,” Zhenya says uncomfortably. “I have lots of money, nothing to spend it on. Why not on help coffee place that makes best coffee?” And has Sid, he doesn’t say. Sid is half the reason this place is good.“This is incredible,” Flower says. He’s smiling now, the disbelief and shock giving way to genuine happiness. “Sid’s gonna be so happy. Thank you so much.”“Welcome,” Zhenya says, smiling too. He only wishes Sid was here, so he could have given it to Sid……but it doesn’t matter, because he’s not giving it to Sid as a courting gift or anything. That’s not what this is. This is just him trying to be nice. He’s just trying to do something good for a small business, and part of him is genuinely glad that Flower is so happy. He’s glad he could help.Flower tries to give him a free muffin or something, looking a little dazed still. Zhenya politely declines and asks only that Flower make sure Sid is okay. He’s backing toward the door, getting ready to leave, when Flower suddenly says, “You should come in again tomorrow, at the same time.”“Tomorrow?” Zhenya asks, unsure of what Flower means.“Yeah, tomorrow. It’s always slow on Sundays, and at this time of day, there’s no one around,” Flower says, gesturing around the empty dining room to prove his point. “Sid’ll definitely be here. You could probably talk to him, if you, y’know, if you wanted.” He hesitates, then adds, “I think he’d really like that. If you came in and talked to him, I mean.”Zhenya thinks about what he has to do tomorrow, praying that whatever he has in the afternoon is something he can cancel. He has morning skate, of course, and then he promised some of the guys he would go work out with them afterward, but he can always push that to earlier…“Yes,” he says, a little too rushed and excited. “Yes, okay. I come in tomorrow, too.”“Great,” Flower says, grinning. “Sid’s gonna talk your ear off. He’s really—” He stops himself, clamping his mouth shut as if he can physically keep the words from coming out. After a moment, he says, “He likes when you come in. You’re, uh… You’re his favorite player.”“Yes,” Zhenya says, fond. “He tell me. He very polite.”“Yeah, real polite,” Flower agrees, looking strangely amused. “I won’t tell him you’re coming in. You can make it a surprise. He’ll love that.”Zhenya agrees, excited at the thought. He leaves 87 Coffee with a smile on his face and his mind overtaken by thoughts about tomorrow. He wonders if he should bring a gift for Sid. He doesn’t know why that thought crosses his mind, but he wonders all the same. Flowers, maybe? But no, that would be too obvious, too direct. He can think of something. He will think of something. It will make up for Sid not being here today.Satisfied, Zhenya drives home smiling and decides that maybe Seryozha is right about him being in love, and maybe it isn’t so bad after all.~>>>~87 Coffee is empty at four o’clock on a Sunday, just like Flower said it would be. Zhenya is nervous when he walks in. He’s grateful to see that there isn’t anyone in the booths on the walls or the tables set in various places throughout the dining area. Standing alone at the front, munching peacefully on a pale blue macaron, is Sid.He jerks up when Zhenya arrives, covering his mouth with his hand and hurrying to put his macaron on a napkin and out of sight. “Geno!” he says, sounding excited and very surprised. “You’re here! I thought you weren’t gonna come in, it’s so late…”“Too late?” Zhenya asks, suddenly worried.Sid shakes his head quickly, his hand still covering his mouth as he attempts to chew his macaron. “Not too late,” he manages. “There’s still an hour until we close.”Zhenya smiles, relieved. “Okay, good,” he says. “Is okay that you eat, Sid, no need to hide. Mac-a-rons good, yes?”Sid hesitates, then swallows his bite and gives Zhenya a small, shy smile. “Yeah, they’re pretty good. Did you want to try one? I never got them for you after… after…” After the incident a few days ago, Zhenya knows he means. There’s guilt on his pretty face, guilt that shouldn’t be there.Zhenya says, gently, “No need for sorry, Sid. Arm okay? Feel okay?” He taps his right forearm, nearly forgetting about the small paper bag he’s holding in his hand.“Yeah, it feels great. Thanks for asking,” Sid says, ducking his head and blushing a little. His arm is covered by the dark hoodie he’s wearing. Zhenya wishes he could see the skin there, because the last time he saw it, it was cherry red and burnt, but he knows it isn’t his place to ask.“Have present for you,” Zhenya says instead, wanting to make Sid smile again. He means the thing he has in the bag he’s holding, but Sid’s eyes widen and his gaze drops down to the new, gleaming tablet set up beside him.“Oh, yeah, I saw! I’m so sorry, I-I swear I didn’t forget,” Sid says, stammering a little. “Thank you so much for the new tablet, Flower told me you—It was—It was really kind of you. You really didn’t need to do that.”Zhenya feels a flush of his own rising his cheeks. “Is fine,” he says, waving the gratitude away. “I feel bad, just watch while asshole Dom yell at you. Want to help.”Sid blushes, his gaze dropping to the counter once again. “You definitely helped. You, um… I guess I should thank you for that, too. God, I’m so ungrateful, I’m sorry. Thank you for the Ipad, and thank you for the help a couple days ago, too. You’re really too kind, Mr. Malkin.”“Just Geno,” Zhenya reminds him gently, and then, “You not ungrateful Sid. Not true.” It’s an ugly word, especially when used to describe someone as beautiful and kind as Sid.Zhenya’s stopped just in front of the counter by now, close enough to see the little metal nametag pinned to the apron Sid has on over his hoodie. It’s a soft hoodie, a little big on him, and it looks adorable. Zhenya wants to cuddle Sid into his chest and hold him there forever. He dismisses the thought with difficulty, stomach twisting with a combination of pleasure and shame.“I have other gift for you,” Zhenya says, hoping Sid will smile or maybe even laugh when he sees it. “Your friend, Flower, tell me yesterday to come in. So I come, and I bring something for you.” He realizes immediately how that sounds, so he hurries to add, “For coffee shop.”He sets the little paper bag on the counter and steps back, letting Sid peer at it in surprise. He glances at Zhenya uncertainly, as if he isn’t sure it’s for him. When the Dom gives him a reassuring smile, Sid reaches to pull the white tissue paper out of the bag, revealing what’s inside.“Oh, he’s so cute!” Sid exclaims, reaching in and pulling out the stuffed penguin Zhenya found in the team shop. “This is adorable, Geno, thank you so much.”“Can hold your tip jar,” Zhenya says. “People give lots of money to cute penguin.” He sees the moment Sid spots the little hockey jersey the penguin is wearing and says sheepishly, “Malkin jersey only one left. No one want Malkin penguin, I’m guess.”“That’s not true,” Sid says immediately. “They probably made double the Malkin penguins because they knew they’d sell so well. Anyway, I like the Malkin penguin. We can call him Little Geno.” Then he sets Little Geno down on the counter and tucks the tip jar between his stubby legs, adjusting his flippers so it looks like he’s cradling the jar to his chest. Zhenya would like to hold Sid like that. He’d cuddle Sid against him like Sid was as precious as the tip jar is to Little Geno.“Is cute,” Zhenya says. He’s looking at the bright, delighted smile spread across Sid’s face, though the penguin is cute too.“He’s really cute,” Sid gushes. He looks so happy, and though the sky is cloudy outside, Zhenya feels as if the full brilliance of the summer sun is shining inside the cafe. “Thank you so much, Geno. I love him.”Zhenya grins at him. Privately, he thinks that making Sid happy is a euphoria not unlike raising the Cup above his head.Sid asks him to stay and talk, and Zhenya can’t possibly say no. He protests when Sid makes him some free coffee, but the sub won’t hear any of it. Zhenya knows Sid is shy and maybe a little afraid of arguing with a Dom, so it’s endlessly endearing when the sub gets stubborn about doing Zhenya a kindness. Sid makes the coffee and brings over a little plate loaded with macarons. He’s limping, Zhenya realizes, as if it hurts to move. He wants desperately to ask if Sid is alright, but he doesn’t want to scare the sub away by asking. Instead, Zhenya tells him seriously that he won’t be able to eat all of the macarons he’s brought, which means Sid needs to help him. Sid—who slid into the booth seat stiffly and sat down as if it pained him greatly—ducks his head, smiling at the table, and agrees to eat a few.“I see picture on wall,” Zhenya says, nodding behind him where the picture of Sid and Flower hangs, framed. “You play hockey?”Sid smiles, looking a little wistful. “Yeah, I’ve played hockey since I was a little kid. I got a pretty bad concussion when I was sixteen, though, and I couldn’t play for a year or two. It really screwed things up. I was hoping to play in the NHL, but I kinda missed my window.”“Sorry,” Zhenya says, frowning. “Is sad.”Sid shrugs. “It’s been a while. I’ve made my peace with it. This place is my purpose now, and I love what I do.” He smiles fondly around the empty cafe, then returns his gaze to Geno and laughs a little. “It’s kinda funny to think, though: if I’d made it, maybe we’d be playing together.”“Yes,” Zhenya says faintly. He thinks of the stories his mama told him when he was young, of a Dom and a sub who fall in love in lifetime after lifetime, always finding each other somehow. He wonders, for an absurd moment, if that’s how it is with Sid. They hadn’t found each other in the NHL, but somehow, fate had still brought them together.They talk some more, and the longer and longer the conversation goes on, the more and more Zhenya despairs of his chances of ever getting over Sid. What started as a brief infatuation has become a full-blown crush, and it’s only been a little more than a week. Sid is cute and funny and has a beautiful smile. He looks at Zhenya like Zhenya is more than just a good hockey player. He listens to what Zhenya has to say, and he’s heart-achingly patient when it comes to Zhenya’s bad English. Zhenya’s always been a little shy when it comes to asking for help with his bad vocabulary and worse grammar, but with Sid, he feels none of his usual anxiety.“I put bread in… in… what is it called?” he asks in the middle of a story about a prank Seryozha pulled on him, miming pushing the tab of a toaster down.“A toaster?” Sid asks, knowing what Zhenya’s talking about immediately.“Yes, yes, toaster. Thank you,” Zhenya says. “I put bread in toaster and go do other thing, maybe make egg, or wash dishes. And Seryozha turn dial all the way up, yes? So toast burn very badly, and I’m start to smell burning. Then alarm goes off, beep-beep in the ceiling.”“Oh no,” Sid laughs.“Have to clear out whole hotel floor,” Zhenya says, shaking his head at the memory. “Team very mad. I’m very mad, mad at Seryozha. But he just laugh, say is tradition for veteran to prank rookie. He very mean.”“He sounds mean,” Sid agrees, but he’s smiling and Zhenya knows it’s partially at him. He doesn’t mind. He’d make a fool of himself any day if it means he gets to hear the honking sound Sid makes when a laugh is startled out of him.The door to the back of the cafe opens suddenly, and Flower pokes his head out. “Sid?” he calls. “When you’re done with your date, can you come help me clean up in the back? I don’t think anyone’s gonna come in in the last ten minutes, so I’m gonna call it.”“It’s not a—Alright, fine!” Sid calls back, his cheeks turning pink. He turns to look at Zhenya, apologetic. “I’m sorry, I can’t leave him to clean up all by himself. Thank you so much for talking with me, I know you’re probably really busy.”“Not busy,” Zhenya assures, because he isn’t sure how to casually say that Sid is the brightest, most exciting part of his day. “Go help friend. Want me to help too?”Sid looks flustered and vaguely horrified at the thought. “No, no, you don’t have to do that!” he says. “It’s… It’s really nice of you to offer, thank you, but Flower and I can handle it. Thank you.”“Of course,” Zhenya says. He stands, going to help Sid take the mug and plate back to the front counter, and then he remembers what he needed to say before he left. “Team is flying out to Dallas tomorrow, going to be gone for few days. You watch games?”Sid pauses, giving Zhenya a smile that’s warm enough to melt all the snow in Siberia. “Yeah, of course I’ll watch,” he promises. “We can talk about all the awesome goals you’re gonna score when you come back.”Zhenya beams. “Yes, we do. Team go to Arizona afterward, then come home. I see you afterward, yes?”“Okay,” Sid says. He’s still smiling. Zhenya takes a mental picture, wishing he had a real one to take with him on their road trip. “See you soon, Geno. Good luck with all your games!”Geno says goodbye, then leaves. For the rest of the day, until he climbs into bed at night, he doesn’t think his smile leaves his face.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Little Geno comes home with Sidney every night, though he tells no one. He’s pretty sure Flower knows, since Flower comes and helps to set up in the morning. He must see that their resident tip jar guardian is missing before Sidney has a chance to put him back, but Flower doesn’t ever say anything, so Sidney doesn’t either.He’s glad his friend doesn’t ask him about it, because then he’d be forced to actually think. He’d have to think about how warm he feels every time he sees the penguin, about how he sometimes holds it close and imagines he can smell something like cologne, about how he curls around it after a particularly horrible nightmare in the dark of his room and cries in simultaneous shame and relief, ashamed of how weak he is, but so, so grateful for the comforting presence of something, even if it’s just a little stuffed penguin.Sidney and Little Geno watch all the Penguins games together. Sidney’s still the only one actually cheering aloud whenever Geno or someone else makes a goal, but he likes to imagine Little Geno is cheering the team on too.The Penguins have three road games. They win two and lose one. Geno scores four goals in total, and it’s amazing.Sidney’s bursting to talk to him the day he’s back in Pittsburgh, but Geno doesn’t come by for his morning coffee. Sidney tries not to be too disappointed, figuring Geno’s probably tired from his flight back home the night before. He tells himself that Geno will probably come in tomorrow, or maybe the day after. Sidney ignores the dark, nasty part of his mind that whispers that maybe Geno just forgot about him already.Geno comes in at four in the afternoon a few hours later, carrying a present with a neat white ribbon and grinning hugely. The only customers in the cafe are a group of kids sitting in a corner booth, murmuring quietly about a group project they must be doing for school. Geno must see them, because his “Sid!” is hushed, though still enthusiastic.Sidney laughs and straightens from where he was leaning on the counter. “Geno!” he says, equally as excited. “It’s so good to see you again! You played great!”“I get goals, Sid,” Geno says, grinning widely at him. “You see?”“I saw all of them,” Sidney promises. “I watched every game. That one in Arizona was crazy! I didn’t think it was gonna go in!”Geno shrugs, looking somewhat sheepish. “Was lucky it got past pads,” he says, referring to the way the puck had just barely slipped through the space between the Arizona goaltender’s arm and torso. “Not skill, just luck.”“What are you talking about?” Sidney dares to tease. “That was all skill.”Geno laughs, delighted and maybe a little bashful. He sets the box down on the counter in front of Sidney, saying, “I got you gift. Saw it in airport and thought you might like.”Sidney blushes, looking at the box. It’s pretty big, about as large as the cash register and wrapped in light yellow paper, a white ribbon tied neatly around it. “I don’t know what to say,” he tells Geno honestly, ducking his head a little. “You’re so sweet, Geno, you didn’t have to…”“Wanted to,” Geno says simply. “Open, yes? See if you like.”Sidney smiles and unties the bow gently, hoping Geno can’t see the way his fingers tremble ever-so-slightly. When he’s untied the box, he lifts the lid of it gently, bending over the edge to see what’s inside.It’s a box of macarons, colored red, white, and blue. There’s also a box beneath that, which states in bold letters that it contains prickly pear gummies from Arizona. Sidney sucks in a breath at the flood of warmth and joy that crashes through him, his face flushing bright red. “Oh my gosh,” he says weakly. “Thank you so much, Geno. This is amazing. I love… I love candy.” He laughs, shaking his head. When was the last time he actually ate candy, let alone candy that someone else had bought for him? It feels like years ago.“Pear gummies good, but mac-ar-ons maybe not,” Geno says, smiling. “Macarons here are better, probably.”“I bet they’re delicious. Do you want to try some with me?” Sidney asks without thinking. Then he looks at the Penguins hoodie Geno’s wearing, and he remembers, “Oh, you’re probably busy. Sorry, I should have thought of that, I don’t know what I was thinking.”“No need for sorry, Sid,” Geno says. His voice is soothing, gentle. “I’m have lots of time to talk. You busy? I’m not want to take up time.”“No, there’s… there’s nothing going on.” Sidney waves his hand at the quiet cafe. The kids in the corner have stopped talking and are now staring at Geno, but they likely won’t need anything from Sidney for a while. Gathering his courage, Sidney suggests, “Maybe we could sit in our usual spot and you could tell me about the trip?”Geno seems to like that. Sidney takes his box of candy to the table with him and hesitantly pulls out his macarons, wanting to make good on his offer to share them with Geno. He winces as he sits down, the whip-marks from a week ago only partially healed, and prays Geno doesn’t see it as the Russian Dom slides into the seat across from him.He’s barely sat down before one of the kids appears hesitantly from the far corner of the restaurant, looking as if she might turn around and flee at any moment. “Um, excuse me?” she says timidly. “I just, um… Sorry to bother you, Mr. Malkin and Mr. Crosby, but my friends and I were wondering… We were wondering if we could get a picture? Um, with you?”Geno’s smile is kind, and it makes Sidney’s stomach flutter. “Of course,” he says. He turns to glance at Sidney questioningly and asks, “Is okay?”“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Sidney says, shocked that Geno would even consider asking him. Geno beams at him, then gets up to pose with the kids, who’ve all scrambled out of the nearby booth and nearly trip over themselves in an effort to get selfies. Sidney, seeing the awkwardness of the attempt to fit six people into one selfie, offers, “I could take it for you, if you want?”He ends up with Billy’s phone, which he uses to take several endearing pictures of the kids and Geno. He knows Billy from the multiple times the boy has come into the cafe, enough to know his coffee order by heart. Billy gives him a huge smile when Sidney hands his phone back and says, “Thanks, Mr. Crosby! I didn’t know you and Evgeni Malkin were dating, that’s, like, so cool!”He’s scampered back to the corner booth with his friends before Sidney can correct him. When he turns to Geno, he finds the Penguins captain smiling broadly at him. “Thanks for take picture, Sid,” he says. “You best.”Sidney’s pretty sure the blush that lights up his face then could be seen from space.~>>>~Sidney is still thinking about what Billy said as he helps Flower close up the cafe an hour and a half later. Geno left about fifteen minutes ago, giving Sidney an endearing, crooked smile as he went. When he was gone, the whole cafe had seemed to lose a little light and warmth. Sid had stood at the front counter for a long time, staring at Little Geno, the tip jar with a new twenty-dollar bill in it, the shiny tablet on top of the cash register, and the yellow gift box Geno had brought him sitting beside it.Sidney thinks about those things now, as he tosses bags of garbage into the dumpster behind the cafe. His whole body twinges with pain every time he stretches to heave the heavy trash bags into the large bin. It’s a reminder of the punishment he’d endured a week ago, a reminder of who he is at his core: a bad submissive.Despite what his previous Dominant might think, Sidney isn’t stupid. He knows it’s odd that Geno’s come in several times in the past few weeks, and that he’s brought a gift with him many of those times. The Ipad might seem like the most damning gift, since it’s the most expensive, but Sidney thinks about the candy from today and he isn’t so sure. Geno said he saw that candy in the airport and thought of Sidney. But why was he thinking of Sidney in the first place? Why would he look at candy and have Sidney’s image come to mind?Sidney isn’t sure, but he’s got an idea. He’s not narcissistic—at least, he hopes he’s not—but he’s also not blind. He sees the warmth in Geno’s smile, the brightness in his eyes. He knows Geno is a busy man, despite what he says. He’s probably got a thousand better things to do than sit in a coffee shop and talk to some random fan, but he stays for hours and talks to Sidney.That isn’t really a problem, Sidney’s decided. It’s not the problem. The problem isn’t that Geno seems to like him, though Sidney still can’t fathom why that is. He can’t control what Geno is attracted to, so being upset about that is just a waste of energy.No, the problem—as always—is Sidney. Because Sidney likes Geno. And the stupid, stupid, crushed little part of him that was shattered when Dylan threw him away has begun to fill with the first beginnings of fragile hope once again.But Sidney has no right to be hopeful. He has no right to hope or even wish for anything. Because Geno can never, ever be his. Sidney won’t let that happen.He tries to think of someone like Geno, who’s good and strong and handsome and kind, being stuck with something like Sidney, who is barely better than the scum that lines the inside of the dumpster he’s heaving trash into. The thought makes him sick. It’s the human equivalent of taking a beautiful, expensive, white fur coat and dragging it through a puddle of mud and filth. Sidney can’t stand the thought of it.So why is there that horrible, awful, stubborn little seedling of hope growing inside him?He thinks it’s because of Geno, because he’s not good enough to take responsibility for what’s probably his own fault. He blames Geno for being kind and generous, for talking softly and touching Sidney gently, for being the first Dominant to be directly, persistently kind to him in over a decade. Sidney’s only seen him a handful of times in the grand scheme of things, but he’s so pathetic and so desperate for affection that it doesn’t matter. Something inside of him has begun to crave Geno without his knowledge, without his consent.He knows, even before he gets back from throwing the trash away, that he needs to do something about that. The only thing that he can think of to get through to his submissive brain—which is where the problem is, where the little seedling has taken root—is punishment.There’s a strategy to punishing himself. Sidney can’t just go to a club every time he messes up in a week, since that’s not only time-consuming, but also bad for the cafe. If he’s too hurt to even walk around, he can’t properly serve his customers. It’s not fair to Flower, either. So Sidney saves the club and the beatings that he can get there for special occasions, when he’s been especially bad. That means that everything else, all the little mistakes he makes throughout the day that warrant a punishment, are his own to correct.He’s got several different methods. He doesn’t cut himself, because that’s self-harm, but he does other things. Today, as he drives home, he sees that a downpour has started outside and he decides to take advantage of it. It’s still early spring in Pittsburgh, which means it’s still cold. There’s wind, too, which makes it worse. It’s the perfect combination.Sidney gets to his apartment, pulls off his jacket and the sweater he has on underneath, turns around, and walks right back out the front door again. He immediately shivers as he steps outside, the wind slicing straight through the thin black T-shirt he’s wearing. He shakily pulls out his phone and sets a timer for an hour, then begins walking through the parking lot toward the park a few blocks away.When he and Dylan were in a relationship, Dylan would sometimes make him stand outside for an indeterminate amount of time. It was usually either very cold or very hot, though not so much so that Sidney might pass out or freeze to death. The goal was to make him less of a headache for his Dom, not more of one. So Dylan would put him outside for an hour or two, and then he’d maybe take away Sidney’s dinner for the night.Sidney can’t just stand outside his apartment building in the rain, since that would look weird. So he walks, wearing only his jeans and shirt, and he tries not to look too miserable as he makes his way toward the park and then in slow, shivering laps around it. As he walks, he reflects on what he did wrong, trying to map out ways he can be better.He needs to get it out of his head that Geno is seriously interested in him. He knows he’s not the ugliest guy, and maybe Geno hasn’t seen the ring of scars around his neck, so he supposes it’s possible the Dom thinks he’s somewhat attractive. But that’s probably going to disappear after a little bit; Geno is probably surrounded by beautiful submissives every day who are very interested in him. Sidney thinks of all the reporters and celebrities and other people Geno must meet when he’s playing hockey, and he knows he doesn’t hold a candle to any of them.Geno will eventually lose interest in him. Sidney just needs to keep himself in check until then, to minimize the damage that will be done when Geno eventually realizes he’s not good enough.He reminds himself of all the reasons Geno doesn’t really want him as he walks around the park. He hears Dylan’s voice echo in his head while he trudges through the freezing rain, hissing insults and flaying the soft, vulnerable insecurities he has. He’s barely a submissive. He can’t take pain, he cries when he’s yelled at, and he’s a wimp when it comes to punishments like this. He’s good for nothing but what he can do in bed, and he’s not even good at that.By the time Sidney’s phone begins to buzz as the timer goes, his fingers are so stiff and numb he can barely turn it off. His cheeks are wet with more than just the icy rain pouring down from the skies, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never stop shivering. Ice has settled into his core, into the very center of him. He makes his slow, freezing way back to his apartment building, grateful that at least the healing lashes on his back and behind are numbed enough to barely be felt.At the beginning of their relationship, Dylan would hold him after his punishments, letting Sidney cling to him and nearly make himself pass out begging for forgiveness through his sobs. Dylan’s desire to coddle Sidney after punishments quickly deteriorated, though. Near the end, he wouldn’t even acknowledge Sidney afterward. Sidney pretends, as he drags himself into his empty apartment and shakily closes the door behind himself, that this is still a time when he was good enough for comfort afterward. He pretends his imaginary Dom, the one who made him walk around outside, forgives him now and is willing to let him be warm once again.Sidney can’t turn the water to hot in the shower for fear of actually hurting himself. The lukewarm water still burns, but he endures it. He works stiff, numb fingers through his hair, trying to get the tears that started a little while ago to stop.He didn’t bring Little Geno home from the cafe tonight, since he doesn’t deserve that luxury. He decided that Little Geno should probably stay at the cafe for as long as it takes the real Geno to lose interest in him, because Sidney is too weak to dissociate the comfort he gets from the stuffed penguin from his feelings for the Dom that gave it to him. Sidney is all alone when he stiffly climbs out of the shower and drags himself into bed. He doesn’t allow himself an extra blanket, but he does curl up into a tight ball beneath the one he already has, squeezing his eyes shut and imagining there’s a Dom holding him, soothing the shivers that have settled into his bones.The thought is nice, a reprieve from the echoes of Dylan’s voice in his head. He thinks about how the Dom’s big, warm hands would trail up and down his spine, maybe. He thinks of someone pressing a single kiss to his hair and telling him that he’s forgiven, shushing him gently instead of telling him harshly to stop crying. Sidney knows the kindness is more than he deserves, but he’s weak and broken and he wants. He wants his imaginary Dom to cradle him close. He wants his imaginary Dom to tell him he’s good, that he did well, maybe even that he’s the best, like Geno said—Sidney is a failure.He clenches his jaw tightly and feels tears of shame and despair slip past his eyelids as he realizes the horrible truth that’s only just now setting in: the punishment didn’t work. He’s thinking of Geno again, and it’s worse. He’s thinking of Geno holding him. He’s thinking of Geno as his Dom. The message didn’t get through to his submissive brain. The punishment didn’t work.The realization is crushing. Sidney’s been in subshock enough times to know what it feels like, and he doesn’t fight as the hazy fog settles over his mind. He’s glad he’s curled up in bed at home instead of going into subshock in the middle of his cafe, right in front of Geno. He’s glad, because there’s no one else around to see him cry.And with no one around, no one to pretend to be good for, Sidney’s able to give into his weakness. So in the darkness of his bedroom, curled into a shivering ball beneath his blankets, Sidney Crosby closes his eyes and cries himself to sleep.~>>>~The feelings Sidney has for Geno don’t go away.If anything, they only intensify. The Dominant doesn’t stop coming to visit the cafe. He comes almost every day when he’s not on the road, even if it’s just in the morning for a to-go cup of coffee before practice. But more often than not, Geno comes in an hour or so before they close, when there’s no one around and Sidney has nothing he can do to distract himself from his inability to overcome his own weakness, his own need to be close to the Dom.Once or twice, Geno brings another Penguins player, Sergei Gonchar. Gonchar is perfectly polite to Sidney, but Sidney can feel his observing gaze whenever he thinks Sidney isn’t looking. Sidney always feels hyper-aware of himself whenever Gonchar comes in, as if he needs to impress the man somehow. He thankfully doesn’t do something stupid like spilling coffee all over a customer again, but he also knows he’s not the most impressive specimen of submissive.Sidney wonders, whenever Gonchar and Geno leave, why he feels like he needs to impress Geno’s friend. Maybe it’s because he’s another player on Sidney’s favorite hockey team. Or maybe it’s because of the mentor-like way he treats Geno, the way Geno defers to him despite being the captain, the way Sidney always feels like Gonchar is assessing him for his value and potential.Meanwhile, Sidney falls deeper and deeper into a spiral of self-hatred and shame. He feels elated whenever he’s around Geno, but he’s sick with guilt after every encounter. Flower asks him hesitantly, at one point, if everything is okay. When Sidney asks why he would ask that, Flower shrugs and says too-casually, “You just seem a little down these days, is all. It’s kind of a stark contrast to how happy and smiley you were a couple weeks ago.”Sidney doesn’t remember what he said to that, but he’s pretty sure it didn’t convince his friend that he was fine.Which he is. He’s fine. He just needs to wait until Geno isn’t attracted to him anymore, and then he can go through the grieving process of his heart being broken yet again, and then he can go back to normal. Except there’s one problem: Geno doesn’t seem to be losing interest.Every time he comes to see Sidney, he gives Sidney his full, undivided attention the entire time they talk, even when Sidney’s just asking him if he wants to order a muffin with his usual black coffee. When they’re talking and someone inevitably recognizes him and wants a picture or an autograph, Geno asks Sidney if it’s okay that he take a break from their conversation, as if Sidney has a right to Geno’s time in the first place.Sidney catches Geno looking at him sometimes, something warm and soft in his dark eyes. He sees the way Geno’s face lights up when he sees Sidney, either when he first walks into the cafe or when Flower fetches Sidney from where he’s working in the kitchen. Geno leans in when he’s sitting in that booth with Sidney, looking genuinely interested in what Sidney has to say, looking as if he might die of happiness whenever he manages to make Sidney laugh really hard.It would be better, Sidney thinks, if Geno just looked at him like he wanted to pin him to the nearest surface and fuck him. That would make more sense in Sidney’s mind. If Geno wanted him for nothing but sex, Sidney would be able to understand. But he never gets that feeling from Geno, and that forces him to consider the idea that maybe Geno is attracted to something else about Sidney, something more than just his body.He can’t, for the life of him, fathom what it is.Sidney does his best to bully the submissive part of his brain into not being so in love. He goes to the club three times in two weeks, each time finding a Dominant that punishes him badly enough that he can’t think of anything but the pain in his body for a couple days. Flower’s wife, Vero, comes in and helps at the cafe because Sidney needs to call in sick so many times. The first and last time that happens, Sidney’s so nauseous with guilt that he tells himself he’ll come into the cafe the morning after a scene at the club no matter how awful he feels.It’s precisely one of those mornings, when the subdrop from the night before still has Sidney in a vice-grip and his back and upper shoulders are on fire because of the caning he received, that everything changes. Sidney’s been feeling horrible all day, barely able to keep the kitchen running while Flower takes care of the customers in the front. It’s late in the day when his fellow sub pokes his head into the back, looking worried.“Sid?” he asks.Sidney’s been staring at the same pan of brownies for ten minutes, trying to work up the will to grab the white chocolate drizzle that’s sitting on the top shelf above him. His head raises sluggishly and he blinks at his friend. “Yeah?”“Malkin’s here,” Flower says. “Should I, um… Should I send him away?”If Sidney was smarter, he’d say yes. He would apologize to Geno and say that he was busy the next time he sees him, but he would let Flower send the Dom away today, while he’s still such a wreck from his scene the night before. If Sidney was smarter, and maybe stronger in willpower, he’d say yes.But Sidney is neither smart nor strong, so he says, “No, don’t do that. Is it busy right now?” He glances at the clock as he says it and realizes they only have half an hour until closing.“No one’s out there,” Flower says.“I’ll go talk to him,” Sidney decides. He hesitates, then asks, “Can you get the icing down for me? I was just gonna finish the decorations on these brownies.”Flower looks, for half a second, like he wants to say something. Sidney’s never explicitly told him what he does when he goes to the club, but he’s pretty sure Flower knows. A sub isn’t as sensitive to another sub in subdrop as a Dominant might be, but they can still sense it. Flower can probably tell Sidney’s struggling.He doesn’t say anything, though. He just lets Sidney limp out to the front of the cafe, where Geno is waiting.The Dom is standing in front of the register, wearing a sharp gray suit and a hopeful smile. He’s also holding a small bouquet of spring flowers, the petals a play of red and pink and yellow against the handsome gray of Geno’s clothes.“Hi, Geno,” Sidney says, unable to keep the happiness from his voice. “Don’t you have a game tonight?”“Yes, game tonight,” Geno confirms, nodding. “I’m want to see you before. I’m see pretty flowers on drive here, think they look nice on counter. Little Geno like, yes?” He holds them out, and Sidney, unable to think of anything else to do, takes them.“They’re beautiful, G,” he says, unconsciously using the nickname he’d given Geno an untold amount of time ago. “Thank you, I—Little Geno is gonna love them, yeah. They make the place look like spring.”Geno grins happily at him. “Glad you like,” he says. He seems hesitant, as if he’s anticipating saying something that he isn’t sure will be well-received. After a moment, he says, “I’m want to ask, Sid… Have plans next Wednesday? At night?”Sidney stares at him. “N-No,” he stammers. Inside his head, his rational brain is screaming at his instinctual brain that this is not what it looks like. “No, I don’t have any plans. A-Aside from watching you, of course. Don’t you have a game next Wednesday?”Geno’s grin turns a little bashful, a little shy. “Yes. I’m ask because I have tickets,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket. He pulls out two slips of paper, which Sidney takes with wide eyes. He finds himself looking down at two tickets to the Penguins game against the Islanders, the glossy cardstock perfectly unbent and unmarred. Geno explains, “For you and Flower. If you want to come see Penguins play at stadium.”Sidney is shocked by Geno’s generosity and thoughtfulness once again. He thought after the first few times he’d get used to it, but apparently not. “This is—I don’t even know what to say, G,” he manages. “Thank you so much. You’re… You’re really too kind.”“All players get tickets to give to family, friends,” Geno explains. “I’m never have people to give tickets to. I’m have Sid and Flower now.” He grins at Sidney, and Sidney’s heart does a little flutter.“That’s awesome,” he says weakly. “Thank you, Geno. Really, this is amazing. And I… I’m glad you think I’m your friend. Flower, too. He’s gonna be thrilled.”Geno’s pleased expression shifts to a shy one again. “Maybe you stay after game? I’m probably have to talk to reporters, but won’t take long. I can see you, maybe? After?”Sidney stares at him, uncomprehending.Geno seems to take his silence the wrong way, because he hurries to say, “Not if busy, not have to do if busy. I’m sorry, not think before I say.”“No, I-I… I would love to, G,” Sidney says weakly. “I really would, I’d love to see you after your game. B-But I thought you’d be busy? With your team and… and whoever you meet up with after games?” A pretty sub of some kind, probably. Isn’t that what most hockey players do, if they don’t have a spouse and a family to go home to afterward?Geno frowns, seeming a little confused. “I’m sorry,” he says, “maybe is my bad English. You don’t want to see after, because… you think I busy?”“Yeah.”“With team?”“Yeah, and with… Never mind.”Geno’s frown deepens a little more. “Not busy,” he tells Sidney. “Have to talk to team, yes, but only take little bit. After talk to team and reporters, want to talk to you! But if Sid is busy, I’m understand.”Sidney cannot wrap his head around why Geno would want to talk to him after a game. He could talk to literally anyone else. Why Sidney?But he’s stupid and weak, so he says, “I’d love that, G. This sounds like an amazing experience. Thank you so much for the tickets.”Geno leaves looking extremely pleased, a fact which comforts Sidney as he sags against the front counter. Flower must hear the bell ring over the door, because he emerges from the kitchen just as Geno’s Porsche is pulling out of the parking lot. “Isn’t there a game tonight?” he asks.“Yeah, he just… He just wanted to see me before it,” Sidney says, dazed.“Were the flowers for you?”“Yeah.”The flowers are sitting in a small, neat vase next to Little Geno. Sidney absentmindedly adjusts them so they aren’t brushing the penguin’s head, then goes back to staring out the front windows at the place where Geno’s car was parked.“What’s that?” Flower asks. A moment later, he’s pushing into Sidney’s space, gently tugging the tickets from the other sub’s hand. Sidney watches him do it, the warmth of Flower’s proximity soothing against his skin.Sidney realizes, with a jolt, that he doesn’t feel as heavy and sad as he did before Geno showed up. His back still hurts horribly, and his limbs still feel like they’re filled with lead, but his whole body is somehow lighter. The future doesn’t seem as bleak as it did an hour ago.“Merde, are these tickets to a Penguins game?” Flower exclaims, pulling Sidney from his stupor. “Did Geno just give these to you?”“Yeah,” Sidney says. “There’s one for me and one for you. It’s the Wednesday game.”“Holy shit,” Flower says, swearing in English this time. “I’m gonna—I’ve gotta—Wow. These are for an executive suite, Sid. I’ve gotta… Vero’s not gonna believe this.”“He told me the players get free tickets,” Sidney says faintly. “But… I don’t think they give executive tickets out for free to anyone.”“He probably paid for these, yeah,” Flower agrees, shaking his head. “That’s insanely generous. How the hell are we gonna thank him?”Sidney limps over to a stool next to the coffee machines that is currently propping up a broom. He nudges the broom aside and collapses onto the stool, his legs about as sturdy as jelly. He feels faint, like his head is full of helium. He can’t really wrap his head around the situation, and the lingering subdrop is only half to blame.“He wants me to stay and meet him after the game,” he tells Flower weakly. “I asked him if he wouldn’t be out with the team and whatever pretty submissive that manages to catch his attention, and he said he just wanted to see me.”“Sid,” Flower says, in the grave tone of a friend getting ready to smack another friend over the head with a stick, “you are the pretty submissive.”Sidney blinks at him.Flower’s face contorts with an unholy amount of helpless frustration for a moment before smoothing out into a resigned expression. He sighs. “Sid, I know your self-esteem is practically in China—”“What?”“—because it’s so far underground it’s on the other side of the planet, but you can’t seriously be that blind. Geno is practically in love with you.”“Flower, stop,” Sidney says, horrified.“He is! I’m sick of pretending he’s just a friend!” Flower cries. “He brings you presents and talks to you for hours and looks at you like you hung the Goddamn moon! He’s head over heels.”“Evgeni Malkin isn’t in love with me,” Sidney snaps. He wishes he wasn’t so beat up right now so he could just storm out of the cafe in a huff. Stiff as he is right now, it would probably take a pathetic five minutes for him to make it all the way to the car.“If Geno wasn’t Evgeni Malkin,” Flower says, his eyes bright and intense, “would you think he’s maybe just a little, tiny, teeny-weeny bit interested in you?”Sidney opens his mouth to respond, then closes it.“If Geno wasn’t Evgeni Malkin, would you think that he’s maybe even a lot interested in you?” Flower gestures aggressively at the flowers, at Little Geno, at the Ipad that costs about as much as the cafe makes in a week.Sidney stays silent.“Sid,” Flower sighs.“Flower,” Sidney says quietly, “Geno is Evgeni Malkin.”“Why does that matter?”“Because he’s Evgeni Malkin,” Sidney says, pointing at the jersey framed on the wall behind Flower. “He’s the captain of a professional hockey team. He’s got hundreds of thousands of adoring fans. He’s rich and talented and handsome, and apparently he’s also kind and generous and funny, too. He’s literally every submissive’s wet dream. He has his pick of anyone. Why the hell would he like me?”There’s a stunned silence. Flower’s face falls, and Sidney’s heart hurts at how sad his friend looks.“Sidney,” Flower says gently. “Mon ami. You are the kindest, sweetest, most loving person I know, aside from perhaps my wife. Any Dominant worth their salt would be elated to call you theirs. Geno seems to be smart enough to realize that.”“Flower—” Sidney begins, grimacing.“No, listen,” Flower says firmly. “You know what’s elevated my respect for Geno the most in these past couple months? It isn’t how nice he is to his fans and to us, it isn’t that he’s super generous and thoughtful; it’s that he saw you once and recognized how good you are. He came in once and saw you, and he knew you were worth everything. He had the self-respect and self-awareness to recognize that he was attracted to you, and then he pursued you with what is somehow the sweetest and also the most obvious attempt at courting I have ever seen.”For a long, long moment, Sidney can’t find any words to respond to that. “So… You’re saying I should stay after the game?” he finally asks, his voice small with uncertainty.Flower exhales, long and slow. “Yes, Sidney,” he says. “You should stay after the game.”He thankfully doesn’t try to talk to Sidney about Wednesday any more after that. They close up the cafe in companionable silence.As they’re both heading to their separate cars for the night, Flower says suddenly, “Do you need someone to put cream on your back?”Sidney stares at him, one foot on the curb, one foot on the parking lot asphalt. “What?”“Your back,” Flower repeats. “You’ve been moving around like an old man all day. Do you need someone to put numbing cream on your back for you? We can go back in and do it in the bathroom, if you don’t want to come all the way to my house.”Sidney freezes, his throat closing up. “N-No, no, that’s okay. Thanks for offering, Flower. Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow.”Before his friend can say anything else, Sidney turns and limps as fast as he can to his car. He gets inside it and sits there for a moment, breathing quickly, panic zipping through him at the thought of Flower seeing the marks that still gash across his back from last night. He’d worn an extra shirt under his black hoodie this morning, just in case the wounds bled through.He knows what Flower would think if he saw them. He knows Flower would be horrified. He hates that he understands why Flower wouldn’t like it; the Dom who’d given the marks to him hadn’t taken care of him at all, not before, not during, and certainly not after. Sidney isn’t sure he’s ever actually used numbing cream in his life. Dylan certainly hadn’t owned it.He wonders, because his brain is a traitor, if Geno would put numbing cream on him after he beat him. Probably, he figures. Geno’s the kind of good, perfect Dom that features in movies and romance books. Which is why the whole concept of the Penguins ticket tucked safely into Sidney’s pocket is insane.He drives home in a daze. He’s all the way up the stairs to his level of the apartment building when he realizes that along with his bag and his keys, he’s holding Little Geno in his hands. The stuffed penguin smiles up at him in the low light from the setting sun, the numbers on his little Malkin jersey gently reflecting light with each minute tremble of Sidney’s hand.He brings you presents and talks to you for hours and looks at you like you hung the Goddamn moon! Flower’s voice cries in his mind. He’s head over heels.Sidney looks down at Little Geno, and Little Geno smiles back. Sidney slips a hand into his right pocket and runs his fingertips over the smooth cardstock of the ticket tucked away in there. He closes his eyes, presses Little Geno’s beak to his forehead, and heaves a deep, deep sigh.And just for that one small moment, Sidney lets himself believe. Bonus: Concept for Little Geno (minus the Malkin jersey)!
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Would you just fucking sit still?”Seryozha sounds as if he’s been at the end of his rope for a while now, which Zhenya understands. Second intermission is almost over, and though they’re beating the Islanders by four goals, it’s still been a long game. Zhenya is looking forward to taking a hot shower afterward and then going up to the suites to see Sid.His heart does a little flip-flop of happiness at the thought. He’s forgotten a few times, during the intensity of the game, why he’s so excited about afterward. Every time he remembers, he feels like he could float off the ice and into the air, like a happy cloud.“Zhenya,” Seryozha snaps, “for God’s sake. Why are you so jumpy today?”“Not jumpy,” Zhenya grumbles in English, stilling the incessant bouncing of his knee. “Just excite for third. I’m get hat trick, you see.”He had a rough first period, which he firmly believes is simply because he was nervous about Sid watching. During the second period, he was on fire. He has two goals, and he’s hoping for a third. Wouldn’t that be amazing? A hat trick at home, with Sid watching from somewhere in the stadium…“I bet Geno’s gonna see a girl after this,” Tanger teases, leaning casually on his stick in front of Seryozha and Zhenya’s stalls. “That’s the look of a man who’s gonna get some tail after this game is over.”“No tail,” Zhenya says, frowning. “No girl.”“Right, okay. A male sub, then,” Tanger corrects.Zhenya can’t lie. He looks away, feeling his cheeks heat a little when some of the guys around them hoot. Seryozha asks in Russian, “Is it that pretty one from the coffee shop?”Zhenya glares at him. It’s the only answer Seryozha needs, if the faintly smug look on his face is anything to go by. None of the others understood Seryozha’s question, but they must sense the intention, because they make more noise. Zhenya waves his hands at them in irritation, saying, “Get ready for game. Only little bit now before we back on ice. Need to finish this.”That last part is more for himself than for his team. It’s easy to get caught up in fantasies about seeing Sid after the game, but he needs to keep his mind on hockey if he doesn’t want to be meeting the sub with his tail between his legs because they let the Islanders come back and win it somehow. Zhenya seriously doubts that will happen, but it’s a horrifying thought all the same. His Dominant instincts cringe at the thought of losing on his own home turf while trying to impress the submissive he invited to watch.That’s a path he doesn’t want to travel down, in his mind. Sid isn’t his. For all intents and purposes, the sub is simply a guest that Zhenya invited to the game. A friend. And despite how much his instincts wish it was a different situation, Sid doesn’t know his intentions, and it’s therefore unfair for Zhenya to walk around acting like he invited Sid here on a date.Right now, at least. Later, he can maybe make his intentions more clear. And then perhaps it will be okay for him to let his Dominant instincts loose just a tiny bit.Zhenya remembers the ring of scars around Sid’s neck, and he reminds himself that he needs to be slow and smart. This is not a breakaway, a scramble down the ice to see if he can get the puck into some random hole in the goaltender’s defense. This is a shootout shot, a slow, methodical attempt at a goal. He’s confident that he can make something beautiful of this if he tries. He just needs to be patient.Thankfully, when they get back on the ice, Zhenya’s able to focus again. He doesn’t score a hat trick, much to his disappointment, but he manages to assist a goal for Tanger, which is impressive enough that he’s satisfied with the night’s performance. He ducks the media scrum hovering in the hallways outside the players’ area and hurries through his post-game ritual, forcing himself to take time to stretch properly so he isn’t in pain tomorrow.When he finishes with everything he needs, he says goodbye to the players lingering in the locker room, pretending not to hear them talking about the bar they’re going to after the game. Zhenya knows this arena well enough to be aware of the least populated hallways on the way to the executive suites. He’s spotted by only two people on his way to see Sid: a brother and sister standing next to their father, who is facing the other way and talking on his cell phone. The boy can’t be more than seven, and the girl not that much older. They both stare wide-eyed as Zhenya hurries past. He winks at them and puts a finger to his lips as he goes.His heart is pounding by the time he gets to the executive suite that he reserved for Sid and Flower. He nods at the security guard standing in the hallway, then knocks on the suite door. He spends about ten seconds praying he has the right one and that Sid actually did stay after the game, and then the door is opening and Sid is smiling at him from inside the room.“Sid!” Zhenya exclaims, unable to help himself.“Geno!” Sid says, an equal amount of enthusiasm in his voice. He steps back, letting Zhenya enter the room.The suite is spacious and clean, a smaller one meant for four people. The walls are a neutral cream color, and the back wall is an open-air view of the rink thirty or so rows below. The view is impressive.Sid is the only one in the suite, which is endearingly clean. The only sign anyone was in here at all is the bag set on one of the armchairs and the trash in the trashcan next to the counter on the left wall. Zhenya wasn’t expecting Sid to make a mess, but it’s clear the sub tried to keep everything neat, and for some reason that makes Zhenya’s heart twist with affection.He turns to Sid as the sub closes the door behind him, asking, “Your friend, Flower?”“He left just a little bit ago,” Sid says. For some reason, that makes him blush. “He’s gotta open the cafe tomorrow.”“Not you?” Zhenya asks, glancing at the clock. “Is late. Need sleep, Sid?”“No, I’m, um… I’m gonna go in a little later in the morning,” Sid says, blushing even more. “Flower didn’t want me feeling pressured to, um… To leave early.”Zhenya understands. He thinks, if Flower were here, that he’d hug him with gratitude.Sid is moving around him, gracefully slipping past Zhenya so he can walk over to one of the armchairs. He picks up a bouquet of purple and yellow flowers that Zhenya failed to notice before and walks back over, presenting them shyly to Geno. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, but I figured this was okay. You played really well, G. It was so much fun to watch everything in person.”“Thank you, Sid,” Zhenya says, touched. “I’m never have flowers after game before. You so sweet.” He’s seen other players being met with their partners and a bouquet of flowers after many games, especially big games like conference finals and Stanley Cup wins. He’s never imagined what it feels like to receive flowers of his own, but it makes him feel special and appreciated.Without thinking, he reaches out and wraps his arms around Sid, pulling the sub close to his body. He hugs his teammates all the time, which he uses as an excuse for his thoughtless attempt at physical affection. Sid freezes up in his arms, enough that Zhenya almost lets go, but then the sub relaxes a little and brings his own arms up to hug Zhenya back. And oh, this is a euphoria even better than winning a game by a landslide at home, even better than getting a hat trick in his own stadium. This is that floating feeling he was imagining earlier.Sid is shorter than him by about four inches, which means his head is level with Zhenya’s shoulder when they hug. He’s not slender or frail by any means; beneath the Penguins jersey he’s wearing, Zhenya feels lean, supple muscle. But Sid is smaller than him all the same, and Zhenya’s Dominant instincts roar like fire fed by gasoline. He barely resists the urge to pull Sid even closer against him, to bend the submissive’s spine gently, supporting the tilt of his body with just his hands and arms. Zhenya doesn’t do that, but he does tuck his chin over Sid’s shoulder, inhaling the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.Letting Sid go is like tearing away a part of himself, but Zhenya forces himself to do it before he makes the situation awkward. When Sid steps back, face bright red, shy smile directed straight at the floor, Zhenya knows he needs to say something to dispel the slight tension that’s settled between them. He looks out the open back wall, searching for something to talk about, and finds it in an instant.“I’m score first goal and look the wrong way,” Zhenya realizes, looking down at the rink. When he’d scored his first goal, he’d made a point of grinning up at the ring of executive suites on the side of the arena he’d thought Sid was on. Apparently, he’d had his directions completely turned around.Sid laughs his beautiful, silly laugh. “I saw you on the Jumbotron, don’t worry,” he promises. “Flower and I were shouting ourselves hoarse. I think the people in the suites next to us thought we were insane.”“Not insane,” Zhenya assures him, grinning at the thought. “Just having good time. You have fun, Sid? Have good view?”“Yeah, the view was incredible. This whole suite was incredible, G. Thank you so much for treating us,” Sid says.“Only best for Sid,” Zhenya says. He must be feeling impulsive tonight, because he asks, “You eat yet, Sid?”“They had some snacks in the bar,” Sid says.“Yes, but dinner?”“Oh. Um, no, not really. Flower and I ate before we came here, but that was hours ago.”Zhenya grins, praying what he’s about to say next won’t scare Sid off. “Maybe want to go get something to eat with me?” he suggests, grateful he manages to sound so casual despite how hard his heart is beating. “I’m know good place nearby, is hopefully not so busy after game is over.”Sid is smart enough to know what Zhenya’s asking. Zhenya sees the unsure way he ducks his head and casts his gaze toward the empty rink visible through the open back wall. He looks so shy and so uncertain that for a horrible moment, Zhenya’s sure he’s going to get rejected.But then Sid gives him a little smile and says, “That sounds amazing, G. You’re sure you don’t have somewhere to be?”“Nowhere I’m want to be more,” Zhenya promises.The shy, delighted smile he gets for that is better than anything hockey can ever give him.~>>>~The restaurant Zhenya takes Sid to is relatively small and secluded, classy enough that Zhenya doesn’t look out of place in his suit but casual enough that Sid, in his nice jeans and Penguins jersey, doesn’t look underdressed.Zhenya gets a table in the back. The staff recognize him, since he comes in with some of the other players every month or so. The woman that leads them both to their table gives Sid a sweet smile when she sees him, shooting Zhenya an approving glance as she leaves them with the menus. She’s a switch, so Zhenya doesn’t feel unnaturally possessive, but he can’t help but preen at the knowledge that of all the places Sid is sitting in this restaurant, he’s right across from Zhenya, looking at him with soft, shining eyes.Zhenya had decided on the drive over that he would use this dinner as an excuse to get to know Sid better. He knows of the sub’s past very little, and he’s curious. When they’ve had time to decide on what they want to eat, Zhenya asks Sid where the name for his cafe came from.“My birthday is August 7, 1987,” Sid explains. “87 is my lucky number. It was the only thing I carried with me when my dream to play in the NHL became my dream to run a really good coffee shop. Well, that and the team photo.”“Your hockey number is 87,” Zhenya remembers, nodding.“Yeah,” Sid says, smiling. “Flower came into the picture a few years after I started the cafe. He didn’t mind that the name was so… me, even though he basically helped me build up the entire menu with recipes from scratch.”“Why Flower not play NHL?” Zhenya asks.Sid laughs. “He fell in love. I’ve never seen a guy so driven toward one thing switch passions so quickly, but it was like he went from loving hockey to loving Vero overnight. He was good, but he wasn’t, like, incredible. So he decided to retire super early and join me at the cafe so he could have more time with his wife.”Zhenya nods, thinking that he knows a little about what Flower must have been thinking. He doesn’t think he could give up the Penguins if this thing with Sid works out—hockey is already far too ingrained in his life by now—but he knows some of his priorities would shift. He’d become every bit the veteran who leaves bars early and has long calls with family before the game. He considers that kind of a future, and he’s surprised at the excitement he feels at the prospect.“Have Canadian accent,” Zhenya says. “Why cafe not in Canada?”Sid hums, a little tension entering the line of his shoulders. He fiddles with his napkin for a moment before replying, “My parents and I need some space every now and then,” he says. “I go back and see them most summers, since my sister still lives in Cole Harbor, but after I got hurt and I missed my chance, things kinda… deteriorated. They put a lot into me playing in the NHL, y’know? And now I’m just a coffee guy.”“Now you best coffee guy in Pittsburgh,” Zhenya counters, indignant. “Also best brownie guy. And best macaron guy.”Sid laughs at that, the tension in his shoulders all but disappearing. “What, you don’t think I’m the best muffin guy, too?”“Yes, yes, Sid is best at everything,” Zhenya hurries to agree, nodding. “And coffee, I mention before? Coffee best I ever have.”Sid ducks his head, grinning at the tablecloth. “I’m glad you think so. The secret is good beans.”“Good beans,” Zhenya echoes. “Okay, I’m remember. After retire, I’m open other coffee shop, steal all your customers. I’m use your secret to have good coffee too.”It’s absolutely ridiculous, since he doesn’t know the first thing about making coffee, let alone running a coffee shop. But it’s ridiculous enough to make Sid laugh his honking laugh, and Zhenya would do anything to hear that laugh.“Or you could just come work for me,” Sid says, laughing. He seems to realize a moment later how that sounds—a sub telling a Dom to work for him—because his face falls and that beautiful smile fades into a nervous expression. “I mean, I don’t—”“I be very bad employee,” Zhenya warns him gently, cutting off the apology he knows is coming. “On ice, I’m grace, like swan. Off ice I’m like bull, knock things over and make big mess.”That brings the smile back to Sid’s face. “You would be a great employee, G. All the Penguins fans in Pittsburgh would come into 87 Coffee every day to see you.” He hesitates, then adds, “Also, um, it’s ‘graceful.’ You’re graceful like a swan?”“Yes, thank you,” Zhenya says sincerely. “I’m graceful like a swan.”Sid grins at him. “Yeah.”The food arrives soon after. The restaurant they’re at specializes in fancy pasta, so that’s what they have. Sid has pasta with a white sauce and some chicken, and Zhenya has something similar but with pasta that is shaped like a cockle shell instead of little bowties. The sound Sid makes when he takes a bite makes Zhenya grin. “Good?” he asks.“So good,” Sid replies, wide-eyed. “I think I’ve heard of this place before, but I didn’t know their food was so delicious!”Zhenya smiles, pleased. Something primal inside of him is glad that Sid likes the restaurant he brought him to. He thinks of the Russian place he and Seryozha adore, and he tries to imagine bringing Sid there. Seryozha would throw a fit, because that’s their special spot, but Zhenya thinks he’d get over it.As Zhenya and Sid eat, they talk. The conversation is easy and fun, and Zhenya wonders when the last time he’s had such a good time talking to someone was, especially while in English. He gets frustrated with the extra effort of carrying a conversation when he’s not speaking in his native language sometimes, but with Sid, it never crosses his mind that he’s awkward or that he’s saying the wrong thing. Somehow, Sid just seems to understand. When Zhenya is the one who doesn’t understand, Sid patiently explains or rewords what he’s trying to say. It’s easy. It’s fun.Gradually, Zhenya becomes aware of Sid’s right hand on the table next to his own. Zhenya’s still got a few shells of pasta left, which he’s eating while he listens to Sid talk about the time he fell through the ice while pond-skating with his sister when he was a kid. Sid finished his pasta a few minutes ago, and now his right hand is resting casually on the table just a little past his plate. Zhenya’s left hand is sitting right beside it, so close Zhenya almost believes he can feel the heat radiating off of Sid’s skin.He tries not to glance at their proximity as he listens to Sid’s story. He has to fight to keep his gaze on Sid’s face when Sid reaches for his glass of water, takes a drink, and accidentally brushes Zhenya’s hand when he puts his own back on the table. Zhenya thinks, absurdly, that if he just acts like nothing’s happening, Sid won’t notice. It’s irrational, but he can’t help thinking it.Then he extends his pinky finger a little, brushing the edge of it against the soft skin of Sid’s thumb. It’s a minute enough movement that it could be brushed off as a twitch, but Zhenya’s pretty sure Sid knows.A moment later, Sid’s thumb brushes the tip of his ring finger. Sid doesn’t falter telling his story, but Zhenya swears he can see a slight blush on the sub’s face in the low light of the restaurant. Zhenya takes the final bite of his pasta and moves more dramatically this time, ghosting the tips of his pinkie and ring fingers across the back of Sid’s knuckles.It sounds as if Sid’s breath catches a little, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. A moment later, emboldened by the small smile curving Sid’s lips as he recalls how upset he was to lose his hat in the lake, Zhenya moves his whole hand to cover Sid’s.Sid’s hand flinches a little, as if Sid wasn’t expecting the touch. But a moment later he stills, and when Zhenya’s fingers curl over the edge of his palm, Sid’s fingers shift inward a little to squeeze Zhenya’s fingertips gently. Zhenya fights to keep a giant grin from spreading on his face, trying to remain as calm and unaffected as Sid was before.Sid falters a little in his story when Zhenya covers his hand, hesitating for a moment. “You got new hat?” Zhenya prompts, smiling gently at the sub.Sid laughs weakly, his shaky voice evening out as he continues talking. “Yeah, yeah, I got a new hat. I think Taylor was so scared that I was gonna drown or something that she didn’t even tease me about it for, like, a month afterward. She does now, obviously, but I think I really scared her. She didn’t want to go pond-skating for a little while after that.”Thankfully, Zhenya’s able to think of a pond-skating incident of his own to keep the conversation going, and after that, there’s no more danger of it becoming awkward. He and Sid continue to hold hands until the waitress comes to clear the plates and give them the bill. Sid gently extracts his hand from Zhenya’s then, going to pull out his wallet to try to pay for the dinner.“No,” Zhenya says to him, serious as death. “I’m pay.” He hands the waitress his card, ignoring the amused curve to her lips as she turns away. Sid, who had frozen when Zhenya had told him no, blinks.“Geno, you can’t just pay for the whole dinner—”“Can.”“—after treating me and Flower to a game! You could at least let me pay for half—”“No.”“—if not all of it. I can’t even begin to imagine how much I owe you after all you do for me and Flower and the cafe—”“None.”Sid stops, looking at Zhenya as if he might explode or pass out or something. “I don’t like you doing things for me and me not doing things for you in return,” he says weakly.“We friends,” Zhenya reminds him. More than that, perhaps, if their hand-holding had been any indication.“That’s not a very equal friendship,” Sid says, quiet.“Is,” Zhenya argues. “I’m pay for tickets, and you give me someone to see after game, flowers and pretty smile and hug and feel-good feelings. And I’m pay for dinner, and you give me pretty smile again, and funny laugh and good stories.”“That’s not—” Sid begins, sounding as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “G, that’s not… That stuff isn’t valuable.”“Valuable to me,” Zhenya says seriously. “Precious. I’m have best night ever tonight, Sid. Happier than when I win game.”Sid covers his face with his hands. “That’s… I don’t know what to say,” he mumbles into his palms.“Not need to say,” Zhenya assures him.“No, no, I do.” Sid emerges from behind his hands and gives Zhenya a shaky smile. “Thank you, Geno. Thank you so much for your generosity. I had an amazing night tonight.”Zhenya grins at him. “I’m glad,” he says. “Now need to get you home and to bed so you not tired tomorrow, yes?”After he gets his card back, he walks Sid to where his car is parked in the parking lot. He wants to put his hand on the small of Sid’s back as they walk, but he doesn’t want to seem possessive or domineering. For Zhenya, it would be a protective gesture, affectionate, but he knows Sid might take it another way. So he merely stays close to Sid’s left shoulder and keeps an eye out for cars as they walk.When they get to Sid’s car, Sid turns to him suddenly. Zhenya’s still close behind him, so he finds himself right in front of Sid, so close the sub has to tilt his head to meet Zhenya’s eyes.“Thank you for dinner and the tickets, Geno,” Sid says softly. “You’re amazing.”“Better than before you know me?” Zhenya teases.Sid laughs, his breath ghosting soft and warm over Zhenya’s throat. “I thought you were an amazing player before you came into 87 Coffee,” he says. His voice is still quiet, like he’s telling a secret. “Now I know you’re an amazing person, too.”And Zhenya’s heart just… melts. He reaches out, needing to do something, and finds his hand cradling Sid’s face. The sub stares at him, his eyes wide, and for a moment, neither of them dare to breathe. They stand there in that parking lot looking at each other for a small eternity, nothing but the two of them and the golden glow of the streetlight nearby. Their breath mingles in the cool night air.Then Sid’s exhale shudders out of him, and his eyelashes flutter shut, and he tilts his head into Zhenya’s palm. Zhenya strokes a thumb over Sid’s cheekbone once, then leans in to press a light kiss to the warm, soft skin.“Goodnight, Sid,” he whispers.Sid’s eyes open, and he looks up at Zhenya with that soft, dark gaze that could bring Zhenya to his knees. “Goodnight, Geno,” he says quietly.As he watches Sid drive away, Zhenya is reminded of going window-shopping with his mama in Magnitogorsk when he was a child. They were only there to look and sometimes to touch, both of them admiring the beautiful clothes and shoes even though they knew they didn’t have the money to buy them. Zhenya remembers envisioning himself wearing the clothes that he saw, remembers rubbing his fingertips over rich fabric and imagining it all over his skin.As Zhenya drives home that night still thinking of Sid, he can’t help but reflect that he has enough money to buy all the shoes and clothes he wants now. And as he drives and thinks and remembers, he feels himself start to hope that maybe someday, he can have Sid too.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sidney drives home from dinner with Geno in a daze. His whole body feels warm and light, the exact opposite of how he felt only a few days ago, when he was caught in the throes of subdrop. He can still feel the warmth and weight of Geno’s hand on his skin, cradling his face like he’s something precious.Sidney isn’t sure how or when he gets home. All he knows is that he finds himself standing in his living area at some point, staring blankly at the low lamp that he left on over the stove, the only source of light in the dark apartment.He wants to touch his cheek. He wants to run his fingertips over the place Geno put his hand, his lips. He wants to make sure the skin is real, that it belongs to him, but he doesn’t want to ruin the phantom imprint of the Dom’s touch. So he stands there, unmoving, caught between two conflicting desires like a shell caught in the push and pull of the waves. When he finally does move, he knows exactly what he’s going to do.Sidney doesn’t touch his own face. Instead, he walks mechanically through the living space toward his couch, weaving around the small table and chairs set up near the center of the room. His couch is a squashy, comfortable piece of junk that he and Flower nearly broke their backs hauling away from a yard sale. It’s made of cracked red leather, but Sidney put a cover over it that makes it soft to the touch.He comes to a stop just in front of the couch, staring down at the two wide cushions that make up the sitting space. He grabs one of the gray throw pillows set haphazardly in the corners and sets it at the edge of one of the cushions, then slowly, slowly sinks to his knees beside it. Sidney turns his head to the left and rests it on the throw pillow, the breath leaving his lungs in a soft sigh as his head sinks into the soft give of the pillow.Sidney closes his eyes and breathes, imagining the pillow is Geno’s thigh.He’s done this before, but usually only when he feels disconnected from his body in a way that only a scene can fix. Sidney’s scenes with Doms at the club aren’t actual scenes, they’re punishments. For him to scene, to really float away into that soft headspace that makes him feel settled into his bones, he can’t have the pain and tears and terror that the scenes at the club give him. Instead, he needs this: softness and quiet, the memory of gentle hands on his skin.For a while after he broke up with Dylan, the time he spent kneeling included fantasies of his ex-Dom when he was gentler and more loving. Sidney knows that those fantasies usually featured Dylan being kinder than he ever would have really been, but it helped comfort him, so he doesn’t regret them. As time passed and his understanding of the abusive nature of his relationship with Dylan evolved, the Dom he imagined kneeling for became a faceless shadow, a generic Dominant who Sidney imagines holding him close and safe, whispering to him about how good he is.Tonight, that shadowy person has a face. Tonight, the praises the Dom whispers are in accented, broken English, and the hands that Sidney imagines in his hair and on his face are large, long-fingered, and impossibly gentle. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut and imagines how Geno cradled his face in that parking lot, holding him like he was something worthy of being touched gently. Sidney’s fantasies aren’t tinged with the bittersweet ache of wanting something he can’t have, this time; in this soft, quiet, in-between space on his knees, he feels as if he’s just waiting, tiding himself over until Geno can give him the real thing.Sidney kneels for an untold amount of time. When his body’s heaviness becomes the weight of sleep instead of the anchored feeling of subspace, he forces himself to push unsteadily off his knees. He’s too wobbly to make it to his bed, so he ends up flopping gracelessly onto the couch, body still tingling with the lingering pleasure of subspace. He uses the cushion he was resting his head on as a pillow and tugs one of the folded blankets off the back of the couch, barely bothering to unfold it over himself before laying back down.It doesn’t take long before he’s floating off to sleep, body loose and relaxed, happier than he’s been in years.~>>>~“We didn’t have sex.”Flower scrunches his nose at Sidney, which is kind of comical, because he’s somehow got a smear of brownie batter on his nose and he’s only succeeded in making it messier. “I didn’t need to know that.”“You were looking at me,” Sidney grumbles, the floury dough he’s handling slapping on the counter as he drops it a little carelessly. “I know what you were thinking, so I was just answering your question. We didn’t have sex.”“Well, what did you do?” Flower asks. “You told me you fell asleep around midnight.”“We…” Sidney trails off, suddenly unsure. He feels, absurdly, as if he’s going to ruin the memory of last night if he speaks it in the light of day.“You…?” Flower prompts. “You’re starting to make me think you really did have sex, Sid.”“We didn’t,” Sidney says, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. “We just… He took me to dinner. We talked.”“Oh,” Flower says. “So it went like that.”“Like what?” Sidney demands, annoyed that Flower somehow sounds even more smug than before.“Nothing, nothing. I should have known Malkin would be more classy,” Flower says. When he sees Sidney’s expression, he rolls his eyes. “He took you on a date, Sid.”“That wasn’t a date.”“Did he ask you to dinner or did you ask him?”“He asked.”“And did he pay?”“…He insisted.”“Was it a classy place with candles and low lighting and good wine?”God, Sidney wishes he could smack that smug look off of Flower’s face. He glares down at the dough he’s kneading instead, grumpily adding a little more flour where it’s starting to stick. “There weren’t any candles.” He pointedly does not think about the fact that they held hands for a good fifteen minutes near the end.“Mmhmm,” Flower hums. “Still sounds like a date to me. What happened after?”Sidney feels his face heat, both at the memory of the parking lot and of the time he spent kneeling afterward, thinking of Geno’s hands on his skin. He decides the dough’s been worked enough and tosses it back in its bowl to rise for a couple hours, turning his back to Flower so his friend doesn’t see the blush heating his cheeks.“Sid,” Flower says demandingly. “Sid! What happened after?”“Nothing,” Sidney mumbles to the interior of the fridge.“Something definitely happened. Did he hug you? Oh my God, did you kiss?”“You sound like a teenage girl,” Sidney snaps.“You’re acting like one,” Flower shoots back. “He did, didn’t he? Was it on the lips?”“God, Flower, you’re so bad,” Sidney groans. “Yes, he kissed me, if you really need to know. On the cheek.”“Yes!” Flower crows victoriously. “Now you can’t deny that he’s into you! Oh, this is awesome. Totally worth suffering through Vero messing up the cupcakes this morning.”Sidney huffs, too fond of his friend to stay irritated with him for long. “It was nice,” he admits, grabbing a broom to sweep up the flour dusted on the floor so Flower can’t see the small smile on his face. “She didn’t mess up the cupcakes that bad. They look fine.”“They’re supposed to be frogs and they look like Oscar the Grouch.”“They have character.”A ringing sound comes from the front before Flower can bash his wife’s cupcakes any further. The two subs share a glance, before Flower gives Sidney a mischievous grin and says, “Better go see who it is. I’m busy with these brownies.”“You’ve been busy with those brownies for the past half hour,” Sidney grumbles, but he hurries through washing his hands and slips out to the front of the cafe.It’s Geno, of course. Sidney was kind of expecting him to come in, but to have those expectations confirmed is a fantastic feeling. Geno is wearing another suit, this one dark blue and sinful where it sits on his broad shoulders. He grins broadly when he sees Sidney. “Hi, Sid!” he greets. “I’m have meeting soon, and then flight to Edmonton tonight, but wanted to see you before. Having good day?”“Yeah, my day’s been awesome, G. Thanks for asking,” Sidney says, unable to help the giant grin that spreads across his own face. Better now that you’re here, he doesn’t dare to say. “How about you? Did you, um… Did you sleep okay?”“Yes, sleep very well,” Geno says. Sidney tries valiantly not to blush. “I’m come in to ask, before I’m lose, um, what is word? Brave?”“Courage,” Sidney supplies.“Yes, courage. I’m ask before lose courage,” Geno says. “Want to have lunch after I’m come back from road trip? Good place across river, I’m want to take you there. But only if not busy.”Sounds like a date to me, Flower’s voice echoes in Sidney’s head. He ducks his head, looking down at the tiles beneath his feet.This is definitely a date. Even Sidney isn’t dumb enough to think it isn’t. The question isn’t what this is, it’s if Sidney will let it happen. And though the scared, cowardly part of him wants to reject Geno, to thank him and tell him that he’s better off courting some other, normal sub, the selfish part of Sidney doesn’t want to say that at all. He doesn’t want Geno bringing flowers and gifts to some other sub. He wants to feel Geno’s hand on his face again, his lips on his skin. And that part of himself that he thought was irreparably broken after Dylan threw him away is filled with that horrible, traitorous hope again, the hope that maybe this time, it will be different.Sidney says, “That sounds amazing, G. You’ll let me pay this time, won’t you?”“No,” Geno says cheerfully, grinning.Sidney shakes his head at the Dom, fighting to make his face serious. “You’ve gotta let me pay, G.”“Think of place we can go after we done with eat lunch,” Geno suggests. “You think of, I let you pay. Is okay?”Sidney knows that’s all the bargaining the Dom will let him have. He feels himself smile, something warm and pleased curling inside him. “Yeah, fine. It’s a deal,” he says.Geno’s grin only gets bigger. “Deal,” he agrees. “I’m come back in a week, bring ketchup chips with me. You like?”Sidney tips his head back and laughs. “Yeah, I love ketchup chips. I always forget they don’t make them in the States.”“I’m bring some back for you,” Geno promises. Before Sidney can protest that Geno doesn’t need to bring him anything, the Dom steps back toward the exit of the cafe and says, “See you soon, Sid!”Sidney returns his cute little wave. “See you soon, G. I’ll be watching your games. Good luck!”He watches as Geno turns and leaves the cafe, then as the Dominant drives away. It’s a little after the rumble of Geno’s car dies away that the teenager that was sitting at one of the tables near the door looks back at Sid and says, “Holy shit. Some of my friends were saying the guy who owns 87 Coffee was dating Geno Malkin, but I thought they were just fucking with me.”“Oh boy,” Sidney sighs. “Is that a rumor that’s going around?”“Yeah, like crazy. Everyone at Allderdice is talking about it,” the kid says.Sidney hangs his head. “Great.”“It’s fine, Mr. Crosby. I think everyone’s mostly just happy to hear you’re dating someone,” the kid tells him. “This is, like, our favorite coffee place.”“I thought you all went to Starbucks,” Sidney says.“The guy at Starbucks is mean. You’re cool,” the teenager says matter-of-factly. “I’m not surprised Geno Malkin likes you. You’re really nice.” And then he goes back to sipping his hot chocolate and scrolling on his phone, like that was a totally normal conversation that people have every day.Sidney can’t just collapse into the nearest chair in front of the kid, so he wanders into the back and collapses into a chair back there, putting his face in his hands. “Did he kiss you again?” Flower asks from the counter across the kitchen.“No,” Sidney mumbles into his palms. “He asked me to lunch.”“Today?”“After he gets back from his road trip.”“Great!”“Apparently all the kids at Allderdice are discussing my love life, too,” Sidney says. “The kid out front saw Geno and told me after he left that everyone is talking about us dating. I guess they noticed the last time Geno was in here.”“Kind of hard not to notice the captain of the Penguins looking at your local coffee shop owner like he’s some kind of religious figure,” Flower says. “You’re not upset about the rumor thing, are you?”“No,” Sidney decides after a moment of thought. “I just don’t want it to affect Geno in a bad way. And I don’t really want a bunch of reporters in here if they get wind that Geno likes to come get coffee at this one place.”“We’ll deal with it, if that even happens,” Flower says confidently. “Now can you come watch these candy melts? I need to go replace some of the stock in the front.”Sidney gets up to do just that, and then the lunch rush comes in soon after. He doesn’t think about Geno much after that.Sidney loses himself in work for the next week or so, putting his energy into getting ready for a miniature event with the local high school choir that 87 Coffee has agreed to cater. The work helps to distract him from the thought of everything going on with Geno. Sidney still watches the Penguins games every time they’re on, Little Geno tucked firmly into his side as they sit on the couch and watch it together, but that’s the most he thinks about hockey and hockey players.By the time Geno comes back from his road trip in Canada, Sidney’s only thought a little bit about the impending date. Geno comes in for some morning coffee before practice the day after he gets back to the States, drops off three bags of ketchup chips, and asks if Sidney is free at noon the following day. Sidney says yes, then goes into the back to tell Flower that Vero will need to come in tomorrow. Flower agrees while munching gleefully on one of the bags of chips Geno dropped off.The next day, Sidney finds himself waiting anxiously behind the counter of the restaurant, cleaning things he’s already cleaned twice before to give himself something to do. Vero’s already in the back, getting gently teased by her sub about the horrible job she’s doing icing the cake pops. Sidney is still wearing his apron to protect the nice gray Henley and jeans he put on, but he’s got his bag and he’s ready to go. The penguin clock on the wall announces that it’s three minutes to noon.Two minutes past, a familiar Porsche pulls into the mostly-empty parking lot. Geno had asked yesterday if Sidney would allow him to drive them both to the restaurant, and Sidney had agreed. He almost wishes he hadn’t now, because he’s nervous and he isn’t sure how he’s going to keep up a conversation during the drive.He needn’t have worried, of course.Geno’s grinning and happy when he comes inside to greet Sidney. He insists on holding the door for Sidney to climb into the car, and the moment he closes the driver’s side door behind himself, he’s starting up an easy conversation that they carry all the way to the restaurant.“Seryozha love this place, is his favorite,” Geno tells Sidney on the way there. “He will be mad I take you, but he live. He take his dates sometimes too, so is not just me.”“Is Seryozha… Gonchar?” Sidney asks, wincing a little at his pronunciation.“Yes, Sergei Gonchar,” Geno confirms. “I’m call him Seryozha, because we friends.”Perhaps the fact that Gonchar and Geno—two Russians through and through—like going to this restaurant should have been an indicator of what kind of place it would be. Still, Sidney is surprised when Geno pulls up in front of a small, cozy-looking restaurant with a name written in Cyrillic symbols.Geno parks, turns off the car, turns to Sidney, and says, “Stay.” His eyes are playful and he’s smiling. There’s not a hint of Dominance in his tone.But as Geno climbs out of the car and walks around the hood to Sidney’s side, Sidney doesn’t move a muscle. He turns his head to watch Geno as he moves, obviously, but he doesn’t shift an inch. He barely breathes.When the Dom opens his door, he sees that Sidney hasn’t moved, and he beams. “Good,” he says. Again, there’s no weight behind the word, but Sidney feels it settle into his bones anyway. It’s like swallowing hot soup on an icy winter day; he can physically feel the warmth as it travels through his body, spreading from his chest to his stomach, along his limbs to the tips of his fingers and toes.Sidney prays Geno can’t tell he’s trembling a little as he unbuckles his seatbelt. The Dom reaches for his hand to help him out of the car like some Victorian-era gentleman, and Sidney’s knees wobble slightly. He fights the urge to press into Geno when he’s standing fully, giving the Dom a flustered smile when they’re both standing in the parking lot, the spring sun shining blindingly overhead.“Don’t be overwhelm when we inside,” Geno tells him. “People know me because I’m come so much with Seryozha. I tell them you don’t know Russian, okay?”“Okay,” Sidney says.He’s glad Geno gave him that slight warning, because when they enter the restaurant, it’s like half the staff descends upon them. The girl at the front squeals the moment she sees Geno and comes around the podium she’s standing at to hug him. She says something over her shoulder, then speaks to Geno in rapidfire, welcoming Russian. She must have announced that Geno had arrived or something, because a whole group of girls suddenly appears, Doms and subs and switches alike, and greets them joyfully.Sidney has no idea what anyone is saying, but one of the older girls pinches his cheek when she sees him, saying something to Geno that makes the Dom blush. Sidney isn’t scared of them, per say, but he definitely sticks close to Geno and asks quietly, “What’s going on?”“Haven’t come in for long time,” Geno tells him. “I’m know owners and owners’ daughters. Nice people.”“They seem nice,” Sidney says, smiling hesitantly at the youngest girl, who looks like she’s about fifteen and is staring at him like he’s some incredible specimen of creature she’s never seen before.They’re seated at a table in the far corner. When they sit, an old woman comes out of the back kitchen and smiles when she sees Geno, hugging him. They talk a little in Russian, and then she says in English for Sidney’s benefit, “Welcome, we’re so glad you’re here. I’m sorry if the girls startled you, they miss Zhenya very much. I see they forgot to bring you a menu. Would you like one?”“Is okay,” Geno says, before Sidney can answer. He looks a little shyly at Sidney and asks, “Well… Is okay? You can have whatever you want, Sid, but I, um…”“You wanted to order for me,” Sidney realizes, a little touched. He knows he should feel annoyed, maybe, or worried that Geno is trying to take control. Instead, he gets the same feeling he got in the parking lot when Geno told him to stay in the car: warm, soft, and, strangely, a little safe.“Yes,” Geno says sheepishly. “Is okay? Can get menu, if you not want.”“That’s fine, Geno,” Sidney tells him gently. “I trust you to choose something good.” That was evidently the right thing to say, because Geno grins hugely at him. Smiling shyly back, Sidney turns to the woman standing beside their table and says as politely as he can, “I don’t need a menu, ma’am, thank you.”She says something to Geno that Sidney can’t understand, her tone approving. Whatever she said must be something meaningful, because Geno turns bright red as he responds. Sidney waits until she’s turned around and walked back toward the kitchen before asking what she said.“Anya tell me… She tell me I make good choice,” Geno says, looking down at the table and then up at Sidney shyly.Sidney isn’t sure what to do with that, so he blurts, “What did you say?”Geno looks even more embarrassed. “I… agreed,” he admits.Now they’re both blushing.Sidney is full of conflicting feelings. His rational mind is telling him he should be offended, maybe, that he’s being discussed without his knowledge or understanding. It’s like the parking lot and the whole thing with Geno ordering for him, though; even though he knows he should feel some way, how he really feels is way different. And, if he’s being honest, way better.He focuses on those good feelings as he and Geno begin to talk about Geno’s latest road trip and how business has been at the cafe for the past month or so. When his relationship with Dylan had ended, Flower had had multiple serious conversations with him about the true nature of the dynamic he’d had with his ex-Dom. Flower had helped Sidney realize that Dylan hadn’t treated him very well at all.How did you feel, Sid? he’d asked every time Sidney had tried to defend something Dylan had done. How did that make you feel? I don’t give a damn about what you think you should have felt. When he beat you, you felt like shit, didn’t you? And afterward, when he didn’t take care of you… you felt like crap then, too, right? When Sidney had eventually admitted that he was right, his friend had demanded which was more important: how he was supposed to feel about those things, or how he actually felt.Sidney thinks about that while he talks to Geno. Geno makes him feel happy and fluttery on the inside, like a cloud of butterflies has taken up residence in his stomach. When Geno does things that lean more toward Dominance—like when he’d held Sidney’s face, or when he’d told Sidney to stay in the car, or when he’d offered to order for him—it makes Sidney feel warm in a different way. It’s the same feeling he gets when he’s tucked into bed at night, the covers pulled tight around him in a protective cocoon.It’s a good feeling, Sidney decides. It’s a feeling he wants to keep.He gets it again when Geno orders for them and the food comes out, an array of different dishes that Sidney’s never seen before. Geno pushes the red soup toward him first, urging him to try it. Sidney takes a spoon and tries borscht for the first time in his life, and when he tells Geno that he loves it, Geno preens in a way that makes Sidney feel simultaneously amused and affectionate.The rest of their lunch goes that way. Sidney doesn’t like all the foods he tries, but he likes most of them, and he really does love the borscht. He lets Geno pay for the meal without a fight. As he watches the Dom give his credit card to the waitress, Sidney has a new realization: Geno is paying the bill because he brought Sidney to this restaurant, this place that he comes to often and could be considered his territory. Geno paying for their food is just another way the Dom is expressing his dynamic, albeit in a very gentle, very subtle manner.It means a lot that he’s willing to let Sidney pay the bill on their next outing, in that context. Sidney reminds himself to be extra grateful.After lunch, Geno and Sidney say goodbye to the staff. The owner, Anya, tells Sidney to his face that she hopes he comes in again. Her gaze drifts to Geno after she speaks, and Sidney understands what she means. He blushes and promises that he will.Geno opens the car door for him again. When he goes around to his side and settles in behind the wheel, he turns to Sidney and asks, “What you want to do now, Sid?”“I thought of a place we could go that might be fun,” Sidney says, remembering the thinking he was doing earlier this morning while waiting anxiously for noon. “It’s a beautiful day out, and it’s warmer than usual, so it might be fun to go to the park? And walk around? Or do you think you’ll get recognized?”Geno laughs a little. “Maybe, but probably no,” he says. “I’m keep hood up and put on glasses, like vampire. Which park? Where I drive?”Sidney gives him directions, satisfied that Geno won’t be unwilling to walk around with him in public. It only takes them fifteen minutes to get from the restaurant to the park Sidney wanted to go to. When they get there, Sidney sees the bunches of people walking around enjoying the spring sunshine and has second thoughts.“Are you, um… Are you sure about this?” he asks Geno before the Dom can get out of the car.Geno pauses in the action of unbuckling his seatbelt, turning to look at Sidney in the passenger seat. “Sure about… park?”“Yeah. Are you sure about wanting to walk around?” Sidney asks. He eyes the people and gulps. “It’s pretty busy.”“Yes,” Geno says, sounding a little lost. “Is bad? Not want to go, Sid?”“No, I still want to go,” Sidney hurries to assure. “I’m just… I wasn’t sure if you wanted to, y’know… If you wanted to be seen with, um, me.”It takes a second for his meaning to register with Geno. When it does, the Dom’s eyes widen with understanding, then soften with something like sadness. “Why I’m not want to be seen with you?” he asks Sidney, his voice gentle. “I’m not understand, Sid. Maybe is my bad English. You not want people to know we’re…” He trails off, as if he’s unsure how to categorize what exactly they are.Sidney doesn’t know either. “That’s half my point,” he says, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t… I’m not even sure what we’re doing here, like, the two of us. And the last thing I want to do is bring bad media attention down on you or something, since people might see us walking around and get the wrong idea—”“What is wrong idea?” Geno asks, still gentle. When Sidney doesn’t answer him, he says, “What I’m think is this: I’m walk around on sunny day with pretty sub, maybe see funny goose, wave to nice dogs. People see, they think, ‘Wow, Geno Malkin so lucky to be with such pretty sub.’ And is true, because I am.”Sidney never knew how deeply being called something as simple as “pretty” could affect him. He can’t look Geno in the eye right now, so he looks at his lap. The shade pattern from a nearby tree plays across the dark jeans he’s wearing, the tight clench of his hands. “What do you mean when you’re ‘with’ me?” he asks, unable to help himself. “Is this… Are you just being nice so I’ll sleep with you? Because if that’s the case, you don’t have to waste so much time and money and stuff. I wouldn’t say no to you.” He’s surprised to find that it’s the truth, but only because up until this point, he’s barely let himself think of being with Geno at all, let alone in that way.“No, no, is not what I want,” Geno says, with such ferocity that it startles Sidney into looking at him. “I mean, I’m want… I’m want that. Want very badly. But is not only thing I want. I want to take you to eat, and see you after game, and come into coffee shop and give you present. I’m want to hold hand in park and walk around. I’m not… not… ugh, what is word? Stupid English…” He trails off, frustrated, and says something in Russian that Sidney doesn’t understand.“Here,” Sidney says, reaching for his phone. It’s the only thing he can really think to do, after a confession like that. He pulls up Google Translate and watches Geno’s face shift from frustration to relief as he recognizes the screen.“Thank you, thank you, smart Sid,” Geno praises, reaching for Sid’s phone. He types something into the Russian side of the translator and hands the phone back to Sidney.The translation is “ashamed.”“I’m not ashamed of you,” Geno says quietly. “I’m want whatever you want to give.”Sidney’s throat closes up, because how can he tell Geno that what he wants is everything? How can he tell Geno that the crushed little part of his soul has slowly been brought back to life through all the kind, sweet little interactions he and Geno have had, and that because it’s back, Sidney is starting to yearn again for the first time in years? He wants everything Geno was talking about. He wants all that and more.“I… I don’t know what to say, G,” Sidney whispers, honest. His voice is as choked as his throat feels.“Is okay,” Geno says, so gentle and so, so understanding. “Not need to know, not now. For today, maybe just walk with me? Make me lucky Dom who gets to hold hand of sweet, good sub like you?”Sidney can’t help it; his eyes heat at the words. Sweet and good. Geno thinks he’s sweet and good.“Okay,” he says, his voice tiny. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”Geno leans across the car then, over the center console, and presses a soft kiss to Sidney’s temple. “Stay,” he says gently.Sidney stays. Geno comes around and opens the car door for him. His hands, when he reaches to help Sidney out of the seat, are warm and gentle. Sidney looks up at him as he gets out, murmuring a quiet thanks. He wants to lean up and return the kiss Geno gave him in the car, but there are a lot of people around now, and he isn’t sure if Geno would want that. So he just gives the Dom a small smile and leans into him a little, hoping it conveys his gratitude.Geno doesn’t pull his hood over his head, but he does put on a pair of sunglasses. He also grabs Sidney’s hand as they step onto the sidewalk meandering through the spacious green park, confident and unwavering. Sidney takes comfort in that confidence, squeezing Geno’s hand a little. Geno squeezes back, giving Sidney a big, happy grin.It takes a while for them to start talking. They mostly walk through the park in comfortable silence for the first ten minutes or so, basking in the novelty of being so close. Geno’s hand is big and warm, and Sidney revels in the feeling of the Dom’s skin on his. It sends tingles of happiness up the entire length of his spine.There are indeed geese, as well as dogs. Geno points them out to Sidney and they laugh. Geno seems to find the geese particularly funny when they’re sitting down. “Where do legs go?” he asks Sidney, laughing. “Legs are there, and then when goose sit, they gone.” His delight makes Sidney laugh, too. He’s never thought about geese that way before.There’s a truck selling shaved ice, like Sidney thought there would be. He tugs Geno over and gets them two cherry ones. “You’ve gotta get the red ones, or else your mouth is gonna be blue for hours,” he explains to Geno. “Taylor and I learned that the hard way the day she graduated junior high. We got shaved ice before the ceremony, and then her tongue was green in the pictures.” He grins at the memory.Geno doesn’t argue, either with the flavor choice or the fact that Sidney pays. He squints at the paper cone when he gets it, saying, “Looks like ice on rink.”“Yeah, this stuff is good because they make the shavings so fine,” Sidney explains. “It tastes better, in my opinion.”Geno nods thoughtfully. “Thank you for color ice, Sid,” he says. Then he unceremoniously takes a chomp out of the ball of cherry-red shaved ice sitting on top of his paper cone. Sidney laughs at his wince when the coldness strikes his teeth. Geno gives him his best closed-mouth grin.They continue walking with their shaved ice, the spring sun warm on their faces. Geno has to eat with his left hand, since he insists on holding Sidney’s with his right. It’s a little messier, but he doesn’t seem to care. Sidney’s inner submissive is thrilled with the development. He feels like he wants to shout for joy at the knowledge that Geno is not only willing to hold his hand, but wants to.A few people stare, but there aren’t as many as Sidney thought there would be. Maybe Geno’s sunglasses are a good disguise, or maybe people just don’t notice as much as Sidney thought they did. No one comes up and asks for autographs or pictures, thankfully. Sidney wouldn’t object to handing Geno over for that, but he’s glad it doesn’t happen.The sun starts to set about an hour after they get to the park, so they do one more lap around the sidewalk belt and head for the car. As they’re getting close, Geno squeezes Sidney’s hand and turns to look at him, eyes crinkled into a sweet smile. “Thank you for today, Sid,” he says sincerely. “I’m have most fun. Was very good time.”“I had a lot of fun too, G. Thank you for lunch,” Sidney says, squeezing the Dom’s hand right back.Geno drives him back to the cafe, and when they get there, it’s just past closing time. The parking lot is empty. There’s no one around to see as Geno leans over the center console again, this time grabbing Sidney’s chin gently with his hand.“Is okay?” he asks softly, his breath ghosting across Sidney’s lips. Sidney responds by being the first to lean in.The kiss is chaste, gentle. It doesn’t last for more than a few seconds, but Sidney’s head is ringing and his heart is pounding when he pulls away. Geno’s fingers are so big where they grasp his chin, the Dom’s touch gentle as ever. Geno looks at him with something intensely affectionate in his dark eyes before wishing him a good night.“Oh, look who’s back,” Flower says when Sidney stumbles into the back of the cafe in a daze. “Just in time to help me with the last of clean-up. Did you have fun?”“Flower,” Sidney says dazedly. “I think I’m in love.”“Oh good,” Flower says dryly. “Now everyone is on the same page.”“Why do you always know how I feel before I do?” Sidney asks him.“Because you’ve got it written all over your pretty, stupid face,” Flower says affectionately. “Now stop daydreaming about your Prince Charming and come help me take the trash out. It’s time for us to go home.” Bonus (unnecessary but hilarious) image of a goose sitting down, just for Geno:
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zhenya is on top of the world.He tells Seryozha everything on the plane ride to the West Coast two days later, his friend grudgingly listening as Zhenya recounts every detail of his date with Sid in the park. He’s offended when Zhenya mentions that he took Sid to the restaurant they like going to together, but he isn’t as mad about it as Zhenya expected.“I’m glad you’ve finally found someone to get your head on straight,” Seryozha says gruffly. “It’s about time.”And that’s when Zhenya realizes he’s gone fourteen games without starting a single fight. He’s also scored more goals this season than he had the entirety of the last one, and they haven’t even gotten to the playoffs yet. It seems management was right, as much as Zhenya hates to admit it: interacting with a submissive and exercising his Dominant instincts does make him a better player.Despite that, he only scores one goal in the three games that they have against various teams on the other coast of the U.S. Zhenya doesn’t feel discouraged, though; their playoff chances are looking good, and he’s got Sid waiting for him when he comes back to Pittsburgh. They’ve got a homestand coming up, which means he’ll be able to invite Sid to at least one of the games. He hopes dearly that the sub will be able to attend.“Hey, Cap, are you ever gonna bring this Sidney we’ve been hearing about around? Maybe for family skate?” Tanger asks on the flight home. “We’d love to meet her.”“Sidney is he, and he’s shy,” Zhenya says gruffly. He sees the way some of the rookies and younger players are listening in, so he softens his voice and says, “Maybe someday soon.”He thinks about that on the flight home. Sid would be shy, certainly, but he’d probably get along really well with the guys on the team. And he’s played hockey before, so he won’t have to worry about not being able to skate well. Zhenya smiles a little, preening at the thought of his sub skating better than some of his teammates.He thinks he’s right to hold off on introducing Sid to more than Seryozha. He doesn’t want to scare the sub off, and someone bold and slightly insensitive like Tanger might certainly do that. He knows Sid could probably handle it, but Zhenya doesn’t want to put him under unnecessary stress. So when he invites Sid to their second home game, he doesn’t tell his team about his plans afterward, choosing to keep it like a precious little secret.“Flower can’t come,” Sid tells him when Zhenya communicates his desire for Sid to come to the game. “He says he’s getting old and he can’t stay up that late, but I think he just wants to spend time with Vero. They’re trying for another baby.”“Is okay,” Zhenya says. “I’m have you all to myself after the game, yes?” He delights in the furious blush he gets for that.It’s a good plan, until the Goddamn Oilers spoil everything by winning 3-2. Zhenya doesn’t score, and he’s pretty frustrated afterward. He hit the post twice, but he didn’t get another chance to shoot after the second time. The game, despite how close the score was, was a bit of a mess. The locker room is subdued when they pile in for their post-game cleanup.Zhenya almost forgets that Sid is there until he’s stuffing all his gear in his bag and he sees the Penguins scarf he’d bought earlier that day. He’d remembered Sid complaining about the recent cold spell that had descended upon the city, winter’s last gasp before spring completely took hold, and he’d seen the new inventory they were putting up in the team shop. Zhenya had spotted the 71 on the end of the black-and-yellow striped scarf and snagged it without thinking, barely looking the dumbstruck cashier in the eyes as he’d paid.Zhenya feels far less elated as he pulls out his phone to figure out where Sid is now that the game is over. He half expects Sid to have texted him that he’s heading home—because why would Sid want to talk to him after he’s played like he just did?—but instead he finds a text congratulating him on his game and telling him that Sid is waiting near player parking.It’s unfair of Zhenya to send Sid home just because he’s feeling bad about the loss. He says a quick goodbye to the team and leaves with his bag slung over his shoulder, tired and a little dejected. He isn’t sure how he’ll find Sid, even if there aren’t many places he could be, but he needn’t have worried. The sub is waiting for him right as he leaves the stadium, standing just beside a row of cars that belong to the coaches and trainers.“Hi, G!” Sid says when he sees Zhenya coming. In the golden lights of the lamps set up around the parking lot, he looks beautiful. His dark hair is gleaming softly with the light mist that’s falling, he’s got a dark coat drawn up tight around his shoulders, and his nose and cheeks are endearingly pinked by the cold night air. He’s smiling at Zhenya like they just won 7-0 instead of losing a rather disastrous game at home.“Hello, Sid,” Zhenya greets, affectionate despite the loss weighing on him.Sid must be able to tell he’s not feeling great, because his joyful smile softens. “You played really well, G,” he assures Zhenya. “You stayed composed the whole time. Letang wouldn’t have scored that second goal if you hadn’t been keeping the way clear for him.”Zhenya is reminded, for the thousandth time, why he adores the sub standing in front of him. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, trying out one of the pet names he looked up a couple weeks ago. He’d gone on a late-night dive into American culture and endearments, and that had been one that he’d latched onto. It’s a good one, if the way the pink on Sid’s cheeks strengthens is any indication.“Can I hug you?” Sid asks, holding his arms out questioningly. He looks so soft, so endearingly concerned about Zhenya, that Zhenya doesn’t think even the cruelest, coldest person in the world could deny him.He sets his bag down on the damp asphalt and draws Sid in against his chest, exhaling softly as the sub melts into his hold. It’s a longer hug than the first one they shared in that executive suite the first game Sid came to; there’s something exponentially more intimate, more meaningful. The first hug was tentative, an initiation, an introduction. This one is like coming home. It’s warm and comforting, soothing the Dominant instincts Zhenya hadn’t even known were riled up inside him.He’d been feeling so ashamed, he realizes. Ashamed of losing after inviting Sid to watch him. It’s the same reason he was so happy they won the first time, except turned sour. Instead of being proud of winning on his home turf with his pretty sub watching, he’s ashamed because he lost.But Sid doesn’t care. Sid thinks he played well. And he still thinks Zhenya is worthy of his attention and affection, if this hug is anything to judge by. He’s hugging Zhenya tightly, the side of his face pressed sweetly to the juncture of Zhenya’s shoulder and collarbone, and Zhenya knows the hug is purely to comfort him after the loss.Zhenya presses a kiss to the top of Sid’s head, overcome by adoration. “Thank you, Sid,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “I’m feel much better.”Sid doesn’t let him go. He nuzzles his head in a little against Zhenya’s body, humming softly. “I’m glad,” he says. “I really am proud of you, G. You played great tonight, even though it wasn’t your best. You’re gonna kill ‘em next time.”Zhenya squeezes him tightly against his chest, rocking them gently side to side. He wants to pull Sid into him, into the protective curve of his ribcage, where he can keep him safe. Sid is too good and kind for this world. Beneath the cradle of Zhenya’s right hand on the back of Sid’s neck, the worst of the sub’s collar scars sit. It makes Zhenya apoplectic with rage to think of someone hurting Sid like that.He nudges his nose down, into the soft strands of Sid’s damp hair, and whispers, “I love you,” in Russian.“Are you gonna be okay?” Sid asks, pulling away a little so he can peer up at Zhenya in concern. “D’you wanna go somewhere so we can talk or something?”“I’m be alright,” Zhenya promises, hoping the slight dampness of his eyes isn’t visible in the dimness of the parking lot. “I have gift for you. Want to see?”“G, you don’t have to keep getting me things,” Sid laughs, his eyes crinkling in that delighted way that Zhenya loves. Zhenya bends down to unzip his bag, fishing around until he finds the bag with the scarf tucked neatly inside.“I’m want to,” Zhenya tells him sincerely. “Plus, not want you to be cold.”Sid grins in delight as he pulls the scarf out of the bag. He unfolds the length of it and smiles at Zhenya gratefully. “Thank you, G. You’re so sweet.” He looks at the scarf happily, then seems to recognize the number stitched into the ends of it. “It’s… It’s yours.”For the first time, Zhenya realizes how that might seem.The scarf has his number on it. It’s impossible to miss. It’s his number, him, and he wants Sid not only to wear it, but to wear it around his neck. It’s… It’s the kind of thing that could be taken as a claim, if Sid or someone else chose to see it that way. It looks intentional. It looks possessive.Zhenya thinks, for about ten seconds, that he’s just ruined one of the best things to ever happen to him.Then Sid swallows roughly and puts the scarf up to his neck, wrapping it carefully around his throat once, then twice, leaving one end to dangle over his shoulder and the other to rest on his front. The black 71 on the square of white at the end is clearly visible.“I love it,” Sid says quietly.“Are you sure?” Zhenya asks when he finally gets his voice back. “I’m not think when I buy, Sid, not think about how… how it might look. I’m sorry, swear I didn’t know—”“I love it,” Sid repeats, his voice just a little stronger than before. “It… It covers up my scars.”Zhenya falls silent.He… isn’t quite sure how Sid feels about the thick ring of scars that sits like a phantom collar around his neck. It’s obvious enough that when Sid wears a normal shirt, anyone looking at him can’t miss it. Zhenya knows that Sid often opts to cover the scars up—beneath the collar of dress shirts, under turtlenecks, or hidden by big hoodies that cover the lower part of his neck—but he also knows that there are days where Sid wears the scars very visibly. He’s never tried to ask the sub about them, and Sid has never offered information. This is the first time the sub has even mentioned them.But he’s mentioning them. And the meaning behind what he says nearly brings Zhenya to his knees.“You don’t need to cover up scars,” he gets out when he finds his words again. His voice breaks halfway through, a ghost of a whisper. “But if you want, I’m cover and… and protect. Keep safe.” He likes to think of himself—of the scarf he gifted Sid, bearing his number—protecting the soft curve of the sub’s throat. Keeping Sid safe from someone who might want to hurt him that badly again.Zhenya knows, right then and there in that misty, dim parking lot, that he wants to collar Sidney Crosby. He wants to make the sub his, if not because he adores him more than anything in the world, then because he wants to keep the world from hurting him ever again.Saying goodbye to Sid is hard, but Zhenya comforts himself with the knowledge that his scarf is wrapped around the sub’s neck, keeping him safe. He kisses Sid before he lets him go, long and hard on the lips. Sid looks a little dazed when they part, but there’s a happy smile on his pretty face that makes Zhenya’s heart sing. He promises to come in to 87 Coffee tomorrow afternoon and talk. Then he drives home thinking of where he’ll take Sid next, what they might do for their second—or fourth? Zhenya doesn’t know anymore—date.When he falls asleep that night, his thoughts are on Sid and his beautiful smile, the loss earlier that night long forgotten.~>>>~The Penguins make the playoffs, and while Zhenya would like nothing more than to focus solely on Sid every day, he’s forced to admit that his attention needs to be on the team.Sid, of course, is incredibly supportive of that. “Do whatever you need to do,” he tells Zhenya fiercely when Zhenya admits he probably won’t be able to come in for a week or so, needing to focus on winning their series against the Flyers. “I’ll be cheering for you from the stands. Flower and Vero and I are going to Game 2. Go and win, okay? I know you guys are gonna do great.”And they do. They win the first two games, and Zhenya is incredibly grateful. It goes to overtime in Game 2, when Sid and Flower and Vero are in the stands, but they manage to come away with a win. Zhenya doesn’t have time to see Sid afterward, too busy falling exhaustedly into bed with the promise of a flight to Philadelphia tomorrow so they can play Game 3. He wakes up the next morning to a long paragraph of Sid’s thoughts on the game, congratulatory and incredibly sweet. Zhenya rides that high all the way until they lose 3-6 in the next game, and then he’s forced to focus on the series once again.It’s after they win the series 4-2 that Zhenya gets himself in trouble. There’s about half a week of rest for the Penguins while their next opponents—whoever wins the matchup between the Capitals and the Rangers—play Game 7. During that period, Zhenya catches up on the time he’s missed with Sid as much as he can between practices and hours spent in the trainer’s room keeping his body physically ready.Trouble comes when he’s scribbling a play he’s watched the Capitals run on a napkin while he waits for Sid to deal with a group of customers that came in while they were talking. Zhenya is wrapped up in trying to figure out how the screen works when the center is in a different position than he usually sees them, and Sid is at the counter taking the order of a tall, blond Dominant wearing a puffer jacket and hiking boots.“What the hell happened to your neck?” the man asks, but Zhenya doesn’t hear. He’s too busy drawing out dotted lines on the napkin, trying not to tear the delicate paper with the tip of one of the ballpoint pens from the cup on 87 Coffee’s front counter.“I—That’s none of your business,” Sid responds, but his voice is weak.“Someone really did a number on you,” the guy laughs, sounding almost amused. “Jesus, what the hell did you do to piss your Dom off that badly? That’s a hell of a mark.”“Sir, I-I’d like it if you stopped talking about that, please,” Sid says, voice shaking. “If you can’t be civil, the door is right behind you.”“You’re a bratty one. I can see why your Dom would treat you like a rabid dog,” the Dom laughs. He says, “Let me see,” and then there’s a muffled thump as Sid smacks his hand away.The backhand the Dom lands on Sid’s cheek rings, cutting straight through the gentle murmur of the people in the cafe.Zhenya looks up as Sid stumbles back, hitting the counter behind him and sending a jar of spoons rattling across the surface. The Dom who hit him looks enraged, the pale skin of his face splotchy with red fury.Zhenya doesn’t even feel himself stand up. All he knows is that he’s suddenly across the space in less than a second, mere feet away from the bastard that just hit his sub, his Sid. He winds back without a single thought for the consequences and lands a brutal strike on the side of the man’s head, sending him careening to the ground.“You motherfucker!” Zhenya roars, following him down. He ends up straddling the unsuspecting Dom’s body, landing punch after punch on his vulnerable neck and face. Language becomes blurry, Zhenya reverting to Russian without meaning to. “I’ll fucking kill you! How dare you fucking touch him, you bastard piece of shit?!”Someone screams. The Dom beneath Zhenya gives a shout of pain. Zhenya sees blood soon, and the flare of crimson is barely enough to make him pull back. He fists bloody hands in the Dom’s collar and shakes him violently with all his strength, roaring expletives in his face.“Geno! Geno!” Zhenya hears, and then someone is tugging desperately at his left arm, trying to pull him off the Dom on the ground. He very nearly swings at that person too, but then he turns and sees Sid’s wide-eyed, terrified face right beside him, a single trail of blood trickling down his cheek from where the slap broke skin. “Geno,” he begs, voice thick with the tears that are pooling in his beautiful brown eyes. “Geno, please. Let him go, you’re gonna kill him!”Zhenya isn’t going to kill the bastard—he hasn’t even come close to doing that level of damage yet—but the man’s face looks pretty ugly right now. It’s covered in blood and already beginning to swell at the left eye. He’s bawling his eyes out too, like he’s a child. When Sid succeeds in dragging Zhenya off of him, he curls up into a ball and uses his arms to shield his face.Flower must have heard the commotion, because he comes storming out of the back in the next instant. Zhenya is reminded that Flower once wore goalie pads when he sees the thunderous, protective expression that crosses the sub’s face at the sight of the situation in the front of the cafe.“Get him to the kitchen,” he tells Zhenya, nodding at Sid. “I’ll take care of all this.” He begins to attempt to talk one of the nearby customers down from calling the cops, none-too-subtly kicking the blond Dom on the floor as he passes him. Zhenya wants to beat the bastard again, but he knows that Sid is more important, so he gathers himself and stands up, tugging Sid with him. Sid has started crying in earnest now, his breathing hitching and panicked and far too fast, but he leads the way to the kitchen when Zhenya directs him that way.The quiet calm of the kitchen is a relief. Zhenya shuts the door firmly behind them, wishing there was a lock. He ignores the commotion he still hears on the other side and turns to Sid, who is standing in the middle of the space with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, half-doubled over with the effort to breathe through the panic that must be choking him.“Sid—” Zhenya says, his previous all-consuming rage morphing into intense concern in less than a second.“I’m sorry,” Sid sobs, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”When Zhenya reaches for him, he stumbles back, throwing an arm out to keep himself from falling to the ground as he trips over his own feet. Zhenya freezes, his blood going cold at the sight of his Sid backing away from him because he’s scared.“Is okay, Sid,” he tries, wishing desperately that his English was better, that he knew all the right words to pull Sid out of his downward spiral. “Shh, Sid, no cry. Is okay, sweetheart. No need for sorry, is not your sorry. Not your fault.”“No, no, no,” Sid is crying. He backs up against a large metal thing that Zhenya thinks is a refrigerator and slides down it toward the floor, curling his arms protectively over his neck and face. “No, no, I c-can’t—I don’t—I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry—”“Shhh,” Zhenya soothes, crouching down on the floor. He tries to make himself seem as small as possible, tucking his limbs in against his body. “You’re okay, Sid. Everything is okay. No need for cry, no need for sorry. Please, sweetheart…”“You’re g-gonna get in trouble,” Sid sobs into his hands. “They’re gonna get you in trouble and it’ll be all my fault!” His voice breaks on another wrenching sob, and he brings his knees up even tighter against his chest.“Not trouble, no trouble,” Zhenya tries to reassure him, daring to shift just a foot or so closer. “Is not your fault, Sid, you did nothing wrong. Is asshole Dom’s fault, he’s hurt you.”“I sh-shouldn’t’ve talked back,” Sid sobs, almost as if he doesn’t hear Zhenya. “I shouldn’t have b-been bad.”Zhenya’s heart cracks open, welling with simultaneous rage and despair. He wants to kill the motherfucker that hurt Sid so badly, wants to feel the way the man’s skull gives way beneath his fists. But even more than that, he wants to cradle Sid against him, hold him safe and protected in his arms. He wants to make this better. He wants to fix this.“Sid, I’m touch?” Zhenya asks, more than a little desperation coloring his tone. “Please, sweetheart, I’m want to help. I’m touch, please? I won’t hurt you, I promise.”Sid doesn’t seem to hear him. His breath is still going far too quickly, hitching with wrenching, heartbreaking sobs. Zhenya doesn’t think the sub can hear him. He can physically feel Sid’s subshock on the edge of his perception, like a faint ringing in his ears that he just can’t quite pin down.He takes the chance and reaches out, because this situation can’t get much worse than it already is.Sid full-body flinches when Zhenya touches him, but Zhenya perseveres through the agony he feels and keeps his hand on Sid’s shoulder. When the sub doesn’t try to get away from him, Zhenya sits down beside him with his back to the giant refrigerator and tugs Sid slowly, gently into his lap.“Shh, shh, you safe, you safe, Sid,” Zhenya whispers, wrapping his arms slowly and firmly around the submissive’s back, pulling him in close. “I’m not hurt. Just want to take care, see? Just want to take care of my Sid. My good Sid, my sweet boy. Not want to hurt. Shh, sweetheart, you safe.”Sid curls into him and sobs, shaking so hard he shakes Zhenya too. Zhenya reaches up and cups his hand gently around the back of Sid’s neck, protecting the vulnerable base of his skull. The action makes the sub flinch initially, then prompts him to melt into Zhenya’s chest like Zhenya’s arms are the last safe refuge in the world. Zhenya holds him close and tight, murmuring soft words into his hair in a mixture of Russian and English.Sid is straddling his lap, pressed so tight against him Zhenya can feel every slight hitch of his breathing. The position might have been arousing if this was a different situation, but it’s so far from that right now that Zhenya’s heart aches. He closes his eyes against the hot tears that want to well up at Sid’s pain, telling himself that this is not the time. He doesn’t deserve to cry; this is partially his fault. He was sitting right there. He could have averted this disaster, kept that bastard from hurting Sid, if he’d just been paying attention.The thick ring of scars sits just below Zhenya’s right palm, simultaneously rough and smooth against his fingertips. He remembers his determination a few weeks ago to never let anyone hurt Sid again. His failure makes him feel sick with guilt.The only way he can fix this in a way that will let him live with himself is if he takes care of Sid like he deserves. Zhenya puts his self-loathing aside for now and focuses on calming Sid down, taking deep, exaggerated breaths to encourage the sub’s hyperventilating to slow. For a long time, it doesn’t seem like it’s working, because Sid is too wrapped up in his drop to notice. But Zhenya is persistent and gentle, and slowly Sid’s breathing starts to calm, his sobbing becoming less intense, fading slowly, slowly into sad little sniffles.“Good boy, my good boy,” Zhenya murmurs, not bothering to be careful with his possessive pronouns. “Such a good boy, Sid, so sweet, so good. Shh, baby, you safe now. Is okay. Everything is okay.”The door to the kitchen opens suddenly, and Zhenya sits bolt upright, ready to fucking kill whoever is coming back here. Sid whimpers at the sudden movement, curling into Zhenya’s arms even more. It’s a relief that the person is just Flower, who looks harried and frustrated, but relieved to see the two of them.“How is he?” he asks Zhenya.“Scared,” Zhenya grits out, forcing himself not to treat Flower with the protective hostility still raging inside him; Flower, of all people, will have Sid’s best interest in mind. “What happen?”“I sent everyone home and closed the cafe,” Flower tells him. “One of the customers called the cops before I could get to her, but they were pretty understanding when I explained what had happened. Betty, one of our regulars, saw the whole thing. She gave a statement and we have a camera trained at the front counter in case someone tries to rob us, so I think we’re gonna be okay.” You’re gonna be okay, is what he doesn’t say. Zhenya doesn’t even bother feeling relieved. He would have gladly done it all over again, even if it meant going to jail or whatever other consequences they might throw at him.“Asshole Dom,” he grits out, tightening his hold on Sid just a little. “What happen to him?”“He went with the cops,” Flower says. He blows out a breath, leaning back against the door. “He probably needs medical attention. I don’t know what that means legally-speaking, but the damage… It was pretty bad.”“Good,” Zhenya growls.Flower nods at him appreciatively. His gaze drops from Zhenya’s face to Sid, who’s still curled in his arms, and he asks, “Is he, like, with it? Or is he in subshock?”“Subshock,” Zhenya says, petting gently at Sid’s hair and nudging the sub out from where he’s hiding against Zhenya’s neck. Sid’s eyes are closed and his face is faintly lined with pain. He’s definitely not coherent.Flower nods. “Okay. I’ll get his stuff and bring him back to my place. I’ve already called Vero—”“No,” Zhenya snaps, fierce enough that Sid whimpers a little. “Sid stays with me.”“Geno, my wife is a Dom,” Flower says soothingly. “She can take care of him—”“No,” Zhenya bites out. “Sid stays with me.”His agitation must rouse Sid, because the sub shifts against his chest, curling in tighter. He buries his face against Zhenya’s throat and says quietly, “Geno,” dragging out the vowels in a way that breaks Zhenya’s heart.“Geno…,” Flower echoes uncertainly, looking conflicted.“He’s want to stay with me,” Zhenya says fiercely. “I’m take care. Sid stays with me.”“Are you stable enough to take care of him?” Flower asks bluntly. “Think for a minute, Geno. Do you seriously think you’re the best option for Sid right now?”Zhenya doesn’t have to think, but he does, because he wants to prove to Flower that he cares. “I’m know how to take care,” he says, his voice a little calmer than before. “Sid trust me. Sid trust you too, and maybe wife, but Sid trust me. Sid trust me to keep safe.” And I failed, an ugly part of his brain reminds him. He shakes it away aggressively. He’ll make it better. He won’t let it happen again.Flower, thankfully, seems to see that logic. “Sid,” he says, raising his voice a little. “Sidney, do you want to stay with Geno? Or do you want to come home with me?”The sub must be aware enough to process the words, because he gives a heartbreaking whine and curls his hands into the front of Zhenya’s hoodie. “Geno,” he sniffles. “P-Please don’t go. Please. I’ll be good, promise.”“You are good,” Zhenya whispers to him, seeing the pained look that passes across Flower’s face. “You so good, Sid. Such a good boy for me.”The words seem to settle Sid. He curls ever tighter against Zhenya’s chest, face pressed against the Dom’s throat once again. Zhenya looks challengingly at Flower, who has stopped looking determined and now just looks heartbroken and sad.“You better take care of him,” he says, the roughness of his voice giving him away. “You better do your absolute damndest to make sure he’s okay.”“I’m try damndest,” Zhenya promises. “I love Sid.”It’s the first time he’s admitted that out loud in a language Sid understands. Maybe Sid doesn’t hear him now, or maybe he does. Either way, the gravity of what Zhenya just said must show on his face, because Flower’s expression softens with understanding. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Okay. I’ll go get his stuff and put it in his car. You need to take him home.”“Where Sid live?” Zhenya asks.“I’ll write the address down,” Flower promises. Then he goes back to the front of the cafe, leaving Zhenya relieved and grateful.When they’ve sat there for a little while longer, he shifts, wincing at the way his lower body has fallen asleep. He’ll be stiff in Game 1 of the next series, but he couldn’t care any less. Right now, his whole focus is zeroed in on the little hitches in Sid’s breathing, the way the sub’s hands curl tighter in his jacket when he moves, as if he’s afraid of Zhenya pulling away from him.“Shh, Sid, is okay,” Zhenya soothes. “I’m want to take you home now. We go back to your place, I’m feed you chocolate and Gatorade and cuddle you in blanket, yes? Sound good?”Sid doesn’t respond, but he whines a little when Zhenya tries to gently shift him off his lap. It takes a lot of coaxing and talking to get them both off the floor. Zhenya spots a coat he’s seen Sid wearing before and grabs it from the rack, tucking it tightly around the sub. Sid is still deep in drop, though he’s coherent enough to follow Zhenya obediently to the front of the cafe and out to the parking lot, where Flower is throwing Sid’s bag into the backseat of his car.“Here’s his keys,” he says, handing them to Zhenya. He looks over his friend one last time, then tries to level a fierce glare at Zhenya. “You take care of him, yeah? I’m dead serious, Malkin. I don’t care how awesome you are; if you fuck this up, I’ll throw you off the roof of the Mellon skyscraper.”“If I’m mess up,” Zhenya tells him solemnly, “I’m throw myself off.” He takes the keys.It’s nearly impossible to detach Sid from him when it’s time to bundle the sub into the car, but Zhenya finds a little friend in the passenger seat that helps. He pushes Little Geno into Sid’s arms and hopes the penguin will soothe him as he hurries around to the driver’s side of the car, muttering fervent prayers that everything will turn out alright.The drive home, thankfully, is easy. Sid’s crying has slowed and he’s just staring blankly ahead now, quiet and sad. He hugs Little Geno to his chest like a lifeline. Zhenya keeps his right hand on Sid’s thigh as much as he can while navigating to the sub’s apartment, which is about a ten minute drive away. Sitting like he is in the driver’s seat, Zhenya can’t see the cut on Sid’s face or the bruise he knows is forming. When he parks the car in front of an apartment complex and gets out to help Sid out of his side of the car, the swelling bruise on the sub’s right cheek is starkly visible. Zhenya prays it doesn’t hurt too badly. He feels sick at the mere sight of it.Sid’s home turns out to be a tidy, if cramped, studio apartment. Everything is one room except for the bathroom, which is a separate little space. Zhenya tugs Sid in that direction after he finishes locking the door of the apartment firmly.One of the lights is out in the bathroom, so it’s a little dimmer and softer than Zhenya was anticipating. He gently helps Sid up onto the counter, then rummages around the sub’s bathroom cabinets until he finds a First Aid kit.There’s also another kit that Zhenya finds before the First Aid one. It’s a small metal box that contains an unused pot of numbing cream, several rolls of bandages, and a needle and thread for stitches. There’s what looks to be several packets of the cheap sugar found in diners for coffee. Zhenya realizes, with a sickening jolt, that this is a rudimentary aftercare kit. He eyes the needle and thread and feels as if he might throw up.Sid is staring blankly at the back wall when Zhenya eventually straightens, holding the First Aid kit. His lifeless brown eyes flick to Zhenya’s face when the Dom gets close, though there’s little recognition in his gaze. It breaks Zhenya’s heart to see him like this. It’s worse than that one time he went in just before giving Sid tickets to the first game he went to, when Sid was limping and more than a little out of it with subdrop. Zhenya hadn’t known him well enough back then to offer help. He’s grateful—so, so grateful—that he’s allowed to take care of Sid now.He reaches for Sid’s face, braving the flinch he gets in return. When he cups his hand gently against Sid’s left cheek, the sub leans sweetly into his palm, eyelashes fluttering shut. Zhenya lets him rest there for a moment, throat tight. He scans his gaze over the swelling bruise on Sid’s right cheek. The cut where the Dom broke skin has congealed by now, though there’s still a faint path of dried blood trailing down Sid’s cheek. If Zhenya looks close enough, he can see the imprint of the ring the man must have been wearing, a little square mark against the soft, bruising skin of Sid’s cheek.He feels so angry. Zhenya isn’t sure he’s ever been more furious in his life. He’s angry with the Dom for hurting Sid, he’s angry with himself for letting it happen, and he’s angry with the world for creating someone as sweet and pure as Sid and then letting him be hurt and abused like he has been.Zhenya tugs the hand towel off its holder and wets it in the sink, waiting until the water has run warm before soaking the edge. He gently dabs at Sid’s cut, shushing the sub gently when he instinctively flinches at the pain. Zhenya finds himself humming a lullaby his mama used to sing when he was a child, filling the soft space of the bathroom with more sound than the hurt, broken hitch of Sid’s breathing.When the cut is clean, Zhenya gently smoothes a bandage over it, then follows it with a featherlight kiss. Sid exhales and leans forward, into his chest, and Zhenya finds himself holding his sweet, trembling sub once again.He reaches up to curl his hand around the back of Sid’s neck again, this time finding the courage to rub the tips of his fingers ever so gently against the ring of scars there. It’s wider than a traditional collar might have been, a little bigger than the width of two of Zhenya’s fingers. There are many layers of scars, old ones and new ones, some of them smooth and some of them ragged, like the skin had torn multiple times before finally being allowed to heal.“You are so beautiful,” Zhenya tells Sid in whispered Russian, “and so strong. I’m sorry someone hurt you like this. I’m sorry I let someone hurt you again today.”Sid is half-asleep on his chest, lulled into a soft daze. Zhenya gently helps him down from the counter, then decides he can clean up later. He guides Sid out to the main room once again, helping him stumble over to the soft bed tucked into the corner.“I’m go to your kitchen, see what you have to eat and drink,” Zhenya tells Sid, sitting him down on the edge of the bed and kneeling to unlace his shoes. “You sit here like good boy and hold Little Geno, yes? He keep you company, keep you safe, okay?” He reaches for where he tucked Little Geno into the large pocket of his hoodie and pushes him into Sid’s arms, watching as the sub cuddles the stuffed penguin to his chest the moment he has his hands on him.Zhenya stands, expecting that to be the end of it, and is surprised when Sid lets out a low whine. “Geno,” he manages, looking at Geno with a heartbreakingly desperate expression.“Is okay, Sid,” Zhenya soothes, kneeling back down in front of the sub. “I’m not go far. Just to kitchen. Is over there, see?” He points to where the kitchen area is set against the far wall.Sid doesn’t look where he points. “Don’t go,” he begs, reaching out to curl a hand into the sleeve of Zhenya’s hoodie. “Please, I-I’ll be good, I promise, I promise—”“Shh, I’m know, is okay,” Zhenya says gently. “You good boy, Sid, so good. No need for worry, baby, I’m come back.”“No,” Sid says, his pretty brown eyes welling with tears. “Please, Geno, please…”“Sid,” Zhenya exhales, heart feeling as if it’s coming apart in his chest. “Is okay, sweetheart, no need for cry.” He reaches out and draws the sub into his chest, trying desperately to figure out how he’s going to get Sid something to eat and drink when he’s so upset at the thought of Zhenya leaving.His answer comes when Sid nuzzles his face into his neck, burying his nose in the fold of fabric made by the hood of Zhenya’s sweatshirt. Zhenya holds him for a few minutes, then pulls away and tugs at the front of his hoodie. “You want to wear?” he asks Sid, watching the way the sub’s eyes narrow a little in thought. “I’m put on for you, wrap you up all nice and warm. I’m just wash yesterday, smell good.”Sid doesn’t respond, but he seems curious. Zhenya tugs the hoodie up over his head and directs Sid to raise his arms. It’s a bit of a process to get the hoodie fitted comfortably on Sid, but the sub is cooperative. When Zhenya finishes, Sid is swallowed by the big black Metallurg sweater.Something warm stirs in Zhenya’s gut at the sight of Sid wearing his clothes. The hoodie is a little roomy on him, which means it’s definitely big on Sid. It makes the sub look small and soft and protected, and Zhenya adores it.He kisses Sid on the forehead and replaces Little Geno in his hands where the penguin was displaced. “I’m be right back,” he promises. “Can watch me, look.” He grins playfully at Sid as he backs away from the bed, relieved when the sub only looks back at him, something like the ghost of a smile curving the edges of his mouth.Zhenya is lightning fast as he rummages through Sid’s kitchen. He finds no Gatorade and no water bottles in the sub’s fridge, but he does find some rootbeer that he snags, as well as a cup and a straw. There’s no chocolate either, but Zhenya makes do with a chocolate-chip granola bar. He fills a cup with water from the fridge and carries everything back over to the bed, making a mental note to buy Sid some chocolate the next time he sees some. There are specialty shops in parts of downtown that he can look for.He ends up situating himself on the bed with his back against the headboard, Sid sitting between his legs. He alternates between giving the sub sips of water and soda, grinning at the surprised expression on Sid’s face when the rootbeer hits his tongue. Zhenya drinks a little for himself, knowing that after the events of today, he’s at risk for a potential drop too.That risk is rapidly decreasing the longer he holds Sid, though. He cuddles the sub against his chest and remembers fantasizing about it months ago, when he first gave Little Geno to Sid. He smiles at the thought of how elated his past self would be at the knowledge of what he’s doing right now. The delight is tempered slightly by the knowledge that Sid is currently in subshock and maybe not thinking clearly, but Zhenya tries not to let it ruin his quiet, grateful enjoyment of his proximity with the sweet submissive.Sid starts to get seriously sleepy about halfway through the granola bar Zhenya feeds to him. Zhenya coaxes him to finish the cup of water, then leans over to set everything on the nearby nightstand. “Such a good boy, Sid,” he praises, gently manhandling the sub into a laying-down position. “You so good for me, sweetheart. Such a good sub.”Sid makes a happy grumbling noise at that and immediately latches onto Zhenya when Zhenya lays down. He’s probably warm in the Metallurg hoodie, but Zhenya still draws the covers up over both of them, creating a little cocoon of safety.“Stay,” Sid murmurs, curling into Zhenya’s chest and closing his eyes.“I’m stay, baby,” Zhenya promises. He told some of the guys he’d go out to dinner with them tonight to discuss some plays, but he already knows that won’t happen. He pushes all thoughts of external things away as he curls up around Sid protectively beneath the blankets, his own eyes slipping closed.Within minutes, sleep claims him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sidney wakes up warm and comfortable.He floats in the feeling for a little while, luxuriating in the sensation of being safe and content. When he’s eventually pulled from the fuzzy comfort of his not-thoughts, it’s because he shifts his head on the pillow and his right cheek twinges with pain.As he scrunches his eyes in discomfort, the memories come trickling back like coffee through an espresso machine. He remembers the blond Dom from the cafe, the one who’d reached for him as if he was going to touch his scars. Sidney remembers smacking the man’s hand away instinctively, and then feeling familiar pain flash across the right side of his face as the Dom backhanded him. And then… then Geno had been there, dark and violent and unspeakably furious.Sidney shivers at the memory of Geno’s expression while he’d been beating that Dom on the floor. He’d looked murderous. He’d looked ready to kill.When Sidney opens his eyes, he finds that same murderous face right in front of his own, looking far less threatening and angry than the last time Sidney saw him. Geno’s expression is the slack peace of sleep, his mouth parted ever so slightly, his beautiful dark eyelashes spread across his cheekbones. He looks adorable. He looks nothing like he had in the cafe.For a moment, Sidney just marvels at how handsome the Dominant holding him is. It’s all he can think of, until his brain finally processes the position they’re in.Sidney’s laying on his right side, his right cheek on the pillow. Geno’s curled around him, one big, heavy leg thrown over Sidney’s, his right arm holding Sidney to his chest in a loose cradle. He’s snoring softly, but when Sidney tries to shift and put a little distance between them, Geno grumbles in his sleep and tightens his hold ever so slightly. Sidney has to be careful and slow when shifting enough to free the uncomfortable lump stuck between his right arm and the mattress.He discovers that the lump is Little Geno, looking a little rumpled but not otherwise worse for wear. Sidney’s cheeks heat at the thought of Geno giving him the penguin while they’d nodded off. He wonders dazedly what happened.Sidney can’t recall much. He knows he dropped hard once they got to the kitchen, which means his memories are vague and confusing. He thinks he remembers sitting in his bathroom with Geno in front of him. He knows he was in his car at some point, but in the passenger seat. Geno must have driven him home.The Dom shifts a little in his sleep, rousing slowly. Sidney lays there quietly, letting Geno wake up. He doesn’t know quite what to do with himself—if he should pull away or stay put—but he figures he can do whatever Geno wants when the Dom gets his wits about him.It takes a while. Sidney figures Geno is finally awake when he feels the Dom’s hand curl around the back of his neck, a thumb swiping gently at the baby hairs at the base of his skull.“Hi, G,” Sidney rasps quietly.“Hello, Sid,” Geno replies. He sounds content, peaceful. “How you feel? Good now, or still bad?”Sidney can’t quite meet Geno’s peering look of concern. “I feel fine,” he says, resisting the urge to bury his face in the Dom’s neck. “Humiliated, but I’ll live.”“Why humiliated?” Geno asks, sounding as if he’s frowning. A quick glance upward confirms that he is. “Is nothing to be ashame of, Sid.”“You’re just saying that to be nice,” Sidney mumbles.“Not,” Geno tells him. When Sidney doesn’t respond, he asks gently, “What you feeling, Sid? Tell me what thoughts are in pretty head.”Sidney is only mildly annoyed that it’s so easy for Geno to make him blush. “I just made a big scene,” he says, figuring he might as well try to explain himself. “I didn’t mean to, I just… freaked out. I really didn’t mean to be so dramatic. But I did, and it’s all a big mess now.” He cringes at the thought of what consequences might come down on Geno for what he did in the cafe. Will the NHL suspend him or something? He feels sick at the thought.“Not your fault is mess,” Geno tells him firmly. “You defend yourself, yes? You not just hit Dom for fun?”“Of course not.”“Then is not your fault,” Geno says, nodding decisively. “Is fault of asshole Dom, not you. No need for ashame because of what happen, Sid. You do everything good.”Sidney buries his face halfway into the pillow, unable to handle being given such an easy out. It feels like Geno is still just saying that to be nice. The easiness of the situation feels like a trick, like a wooden plank he puts his trust in just for it to give way beneath his feet when he least expects it.“He was asking about my scars,” Sidney mumbles, the ugly, marred skin in question tingling beneath the warmth of the palm Geno has wrapped around the back of his neck. “I didn’t want him to touch me, so I just… reacted. I shouldn’t have smacked him. I should’ve taken a step back or something.”“No,” Geno says, the fierceness in his voice surprising Sidney. “No, you do right thing. Motherfucker has no right to touch you, no right to talk about things like scars. Is not his business. You have right to hit him, slap him, whatever. Is not your fault.”Sidney can feel the anger thrumming through the Dom curled around him. Somewhere deep inside him, he knows that Geno isn’t mad at him. The thought fills him with a warm sort of comfort, along with an urge to soothe Geno’s agitation. He acts on the impulse without thinking, nuzzling his nose gently against the warm hollow of Geno’s neck. The Dom tenses for a moment, surprised, then relaxes, the tension leaving his body with the deep exhale he releases.Sidney closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Geno curled around him, the Dom’s hand on the back of his neck. Geno’s fingers are moving ever so slightly, the soft pads of his fingertips running gently over the bumpy ring of scars carved into Sidney’s skin.“My old Dom collared me about a month after we got together,” Sidney finds himself saying. He keeps his eyes closed as he speaks. Maybe the peace of his current surroundings will help him face the chaos of his past. “I was pretty young and stupid, and I was still upset about not making the NHL and stressed about starting the cafe. He kinda took advantage of that, I think. I was, like, nineteen, and he was almost thirty.”Geno grunts, sounding upset, but doesn’t say anything.“He was nice at first,” Sidney says quietly. “When we scened, I felt like I was actually capable of doing something right for once, y’know? Even if… Even if it wasn’t what I wanted, it made him happy, and that—that was enough. But then he started getting meaner, and more distant, and it stopped feeling so nice. I guess the beginning of the end was the collar, though. I should have known it wasn’t gonna be good when he got the collar.”“Collar is big,” Geno murmurs, still running featherlight fingertips over the scars on Sidney’s neck. “Wide.”“Yeah,” Sidney agrees, surprised that Geno noticed. “He bought me, uh… He bought me a dog collar.”“What?” Geno says, the single word rife with fury.“It was a collar for dogs,” Sidney says, his voice getting smaller as he remembers. “Like, for the mean ones. Pitbulls and mastiffs. And I guess… I guess that was why what that guy in the cafe said upset me so much. He said m-my Dom must have treated me like a rabid dog.”Geno doesn’t say anything, but he pulls Sidney close to him and presses a soft kiss to the top of his head. Sidney luxuriates in the comfort, letting it stabilize the shaky, aching part of him that he’s slowly bringing to the light for the first time in years.“My Dom would jerk me around by the, um, the ring in the front,” Sidney says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It hurt. It hurt really bad. Sometimes I would—I would wake up and barely be able to move my neck, because he strained it by yanking on it too hard and the cuts the collar made hurt so bad.”Geno’s voice is wrecked and broken and so, so sad when he says, “Sid…”“I didn’t know how bad it was—everything, I mean—until I took the collar off one day to shower and happened to glance at myself in the mirror.” Sidney swallows the bile that threatens to rise at the memory. “The leather had cracked and was all jagged and stuff on the inside, and it had made all these awful lines. But I guess what really got me was the scars. I-I already had so many…” He trails off as his throat closes up at the thought. His neck had been so red, so covered in marks and lines, some of them months old. He’d been horrified at the sight. It had made him so sick he’d vomited his lunch in the sink. “That really shook me, I think. I didn’t put the collar back on. When I went to go talk to D-Dylan about it, he just looked at me and told me he wanted to end our agreement. I-I think he knew I was gonna end things, and he wanted to do it first.”“How long?” Geno asks, his voice a rough, furious whisper. “How long he hurt you?”“We were together for about two and a half years,” Sidney recalls. “I want to say he only started hurting me about a year into it, but I… I know that’s a lie.” Flower helped him realize that. Many, many talks with his friend had gotten Sidney to realize that his relationship with Dylan had been bad from the beginning. From the first time he bought the dog collar, to be certain.“I’m so glad,” Geno says quietly, “that you not with him anymore. Sid… Hearing story, hearing what asshole did to you… Makes my blood like fire. I’m want to rip him apart with my bare hands.” His voice trembles with quiet conviction. Sidney remembers the look on his face when he’d been beating that Dom from the cafe, and he believes Geno 100%.“You don’t have to do that,” Sidney says quietly, nuzzling at Geno’s neck to soothe him. “I’m okay now. I don’t think… Even if I saw Dylan again, I don’t think I’d let him touch me.” Maybe. Or maybe he’d freeze up like a coward. Sidney doesn’t like to think about what he might do if Dylan ever came into his life again.“I’m not let,” Geno says fiercely. “I kill him before he come near you.” He stews on that for a moment, then says a minute later, in a voice soft with guilt, “I’m sorry I’m let asshole from earlier hurt you, Sid.”“What?” Sidney asks, shocked. “That wasn’t your fault, G.”“I was sit right there, right few feet away,” Geno says, his voice full of anguish. “I was looking at napkin, at stupid, stupid play. Not pay attention. Not see fucker when he try to put his hands on you.”“That wasn’t your fault,” Sidney repeats, gentler this time. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t my fault, and it wasn’t yours, either. It was neither of our faults.”Geno doesn’t seem satisfied with that, but he reluctantly agrees, “Neither faults.”Sidney cuddles into him, content to let it be for now.~>>>~They scratch Geno from Game 1 against the Capitals, and Sidney has a full-on panic attack in the Dom’s arms when Geno comes to tell him about it.Geno was as gentle as he could be when he broke the news to Sidney, but it didn’t matter. Sidney didn’t care what excuse the Penguins gave for Geno’s “personal reasons” for being scratched: he and most of Pittsburgh knew it was because of the events at the cafe the past week.“League is just being careful, is not for long time,” Geno tells Sidney after he manages to calm him down. They’re sitting on the couch in Sidney’s apartment, Sidney practically curled up in Geno’s lap despite not deserving the comfort the Dom is generously giving him.“It’s all my fault,” Sidney sniffles, a pathetic echo of what he’d been crying about earlier.“Not your fault,” Geno tells him firmly. “Is just league being dumb. Next game I’m play. They just being careful, avoiding bad media.”Sidney still feels sick with guilt as he watches Game 1 of the series between the Penguins and the Capitals. He feels worse after the Penguins lose, even if it’s just by one point. Geno is at the game, since he has to be with his team, but he calls Sidney afterward and talks him down from the ledge of subdrop that Sidney hadn’t known he’d been hovering on. Sidney falls asleep that night with Little Geno held tightly in his arms, Geno’s orders for him to drink a glass of water and go to bed with the stuffed penguin echoing gently in his ears.Just like Geno said, he’s back on the starting lineup for Game 2. Sidney calls him beforehand, feeling much better now that he knows Geno isn’t being punished for the mess Sidney started in the first place. At the end of the call, Geno tells Sidney to wish him luck. “Blow me kiss over phone,” he tells Sidney teasingly. “I’m catch it on my mouth, then go out and get hat trick just for you.”Sidney laughs and obeys, mock-seriously telling Geno that he better get those three goals.Geno, incredibly, does get a hat trick. So does Alexander Ovechkin, unfortunately, and Geno’s impressive performance isn’t enough to help the Penguins win the game, which they lose 3-4. Sidney’s still pretty euphoric afterward, even if it means the Penguins are down 0-2 in the series.They make up for it in the next five games, defeating the Capitals 4-3. When Sidney goes to meet Geno at the airport after the Penguins win the seventh game in Washington, Geno pulls him into a backbending, head-spinning kiss right there in the terminal. “Shh, we hurry to car now,” the Dom says with a grin, herding a dazed Sidney through the crowd toward the exit of the airport. “Not want team to see, harass Sid when realize who you are.”They get to where Sidney parked in the nearby lot and have their first makeout session right there in the front seat, Geno half over the center console as he pins Sidney to the seat and kisses him silly. It takes a while for them to actually get the car started. Sidney’s dangerously distracted while he drives, but he manages to get to his own apartment without causing any accidents.“I’m just want to stay and sleep,” Geno says when Sidney asks shyly if he wants to stay the night with him. “I’m want scene, Sid, of course I’m want, but in future. Tonight, we both tired, and is better for cuddle and sleep than for sex. Is okay?”Sidney agrees, relieved that he can put off the anxiety-filled thought of their first scene together until sometime in the future. He’s intensely grateful that he can just put on a sleep shirt and some boxers and curl up in Geno’s arms, the Dom big and warm and comforting against him, making Sidney’s sheets smell like his pine deodorant and cedar aftershave.It’s these moments that Sidney tries to memorize every detail of, in case he never gets to experience them ever again. He already knows that when the other shoe eventually drops and Geno realizes what a bad sub he is, the ending of whatever this gentle little thing they have between them will be ten times more devastating than when he and Dylan broke up. Sidney isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to watch a Penguins game again. When Geno throws him away, how will he be able to look around 87 Coffee anymore, with its Malkin jersey and new tablet and Little Geno guarding the tip jar?Sidney doesn’t like to think about that, so he wraps himself in delusion for a little while longer. He cuddles into Geno’s arms and lets the Dom hold him as tightly as he wants, pretending as he drifts off to sleep that he can have this forever, that nights like these will never end.Geno comes over to Sidney’s apartment a lot more during the playoffs. He spends the night a couple times, curling around Sidney in the sub’s bed and holding him like a giant, grumbly octopus all night. Sidney loves those times the best. He especially likes when he wakes up before Geno, when he can see the Dom’s slack, sleeping face and think about how much he loves him.A few times, they make out on the couch. Sidney always feels like he’s standing in the middle of a hurricane when he’s kissing Geno; so many sensations are pulling him in different directions, and he just stays where he is, feeling them all and kissing back as desperately as he can. Sidney loves it. Geno kisses him like no one ever has before. He always holds Sidney in some way when he does it, whether he’s cradling Sidney’s face or cupping the back of his neck or molding Sidney’s body to his own with just a hand on the small of the submissive’s back. It makes Sidney feel consumed and desired and safe. It’s intoxicating.There’s a five-day break between the end of the series between the Capitals and the Penguins and the start of the Eastern Conference Final, which features the Carolina Hurricanes as the Penguins’ next opponents. Geno spends a lot of that time training and getting the various aches and pains of his body treated, but he also takes Sidney on two dates. One of them is to a spring lantern festival that Sidney absolutely adores, and another is to the park again. They get ice cream this time, and Sidney about dies with laughter when Geno manages to get ice cream right between his eyebrows, a dollop of pink strawberry right on his forehead. When Sidney finally regains his breathing from laughing so hard, he finds Geno looking at him with so much fondness and affection that it’s hard to breathe all over again.The afternoon before Game 1 of the series against the Hurricanes, Geno comes over to Sidney’s apartment after the cafe closes and cuddles with him on the couch. They’re watching some meaningless cooking show, but Sidney knows neither of them are really paying attention to the TV. Geno is thinking deeply about something, and Sidney is focused on the nervous energy that seems to be thrumming through the Dominant like lightning.“Nervous?” he asks finally, when the TV is muted for the commercial break. He’s got his head pillowed on Geno’s chest, the Dom’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. At his question, Geno tenses a little.“No,” he says. “Why you ask?”“You feel tense,” Sidney says, nuzzling his head into Geno’s chest a little to soothe him. “I can tell you’re thinking really hard.”It takes a moment before Geno admits, “Maybe little bit. Not nervous, just… Hmm. Maybe nervous.”Sidney hides his smile, not wanting Geno to think he’s laughing at him. “That’s okay. I think I’d be nervous too. But you don’t have to be; you’re gonna do amazing. You’ve been playing great up until now, why would that change?”“Is just lots of… oh, what is stupid word? Lots of weight? On me?” Geno tries.“Expectations? Pressure?” Sidney suggests.That earns him a kiss to the top of his head. “Yes, thank you, sweetheart. Pressure. I’m feel pressure now, is heavy and kind of distract. I’m not want to mess up. Want to lead my team to Cup.”Sidney remembers that Geno is still a young captain. If he wins—when he wins—he’ll be one of the youngest captains to ever win the Cup. He understands how that can be a lot of pressure. “Can I help in any way?” he asks, tilting his head up to look at Geno. “I can massage your shoulder? Or… Or I could kneel? I-If you wanted?”He didn’t mean to make that suggestion, but he doesn’t take it back. Kneeling, whether to soothe a Dom or a sub, is intimate. It’s something that collared pairs usually do, though Sidney had never knelt for Dylan in that way. He’d knelt in the context of other scenes, but not just to kneel. He won’t really know what he’s doing if he were to try, but he would make his best attempt if Geno wanted that. He’d do anything for Geno.Geno looks surprised, momentarily, and then his gaze softens with that adoring affection that makes Sidney squirm whenever he sees it directed at him. “You so sweet, baby,” he murmurs, squeezing his arm tight around Sidney’s shoulders. “You not have to, if you not want.”“I want to,” Sidney says before he can stop himself. He forces himself to hold Geno’s eye contact, even if what he really wants is to sink into the couch cushions and disappear forever. “I-I want to help. I want to help you feel better.”Geno looks so soft, so adoring. Sidney has never been looked at like that by anyone before. He doesn’t think he ever will be again.“Okay,” the Dominant whispers, his voice raspy. “Will you kneel, Sid? For me?”“Yes, Geno,” Sidney breathes out. “Always.”He pulls gently out of the Dominant’s hold and slides off the couch, heartbeat spiking with slight anxiety as he realizes he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing. He goes with it anyway, kneeling down right next to Geno’s feet, on his left side. Before he can really try to settle in, he feels Geno pulling on him a little, tugging him as if he wants him to get up again.The hurt noise Sidney tries to hold back must make it out of his throat, because Geno shushes him. “Shh, is okay, baby. I’m just want pillow, yes? For your knees.” He shows Sidney the throw pillow he’s holding, and an unfair amount of relief floods Sidney at the realization that Geno isn’t rejecting him. He moves, letting the Dom put the pillow right between his legs instead of next to them. Sidney recognizes the position, and he feels a little uncertain as he shuffles onto the pillow, ending up right in between Geno’s big, strong legs. Does Geno… want Sidney to give him a blowjob? Sidney won’t refuse, but he hadn’t known this was the direction they were going.But Geno puts a gentle hand on the top of Sidney’s head and directs him to rest on his left thigh, and Sidney realizes Geno just wants him to kneel there. He exhales, a whole bunch of tension flooding out of him. He should have known Geno wouldn’t do something like that. That was a Dylan thing, and if there’s one thing Sidney’s learned in the past four months, it’s that Geno is nothing like Dylan.Sidney closes his eyes, reminding himself that he’s supposed to be good for Geno. He feels the Dom’s hand settle in his hair and begin to pet through it, and he makes a happy noise in the back of his throat. Geno’s thigh muscles flex beneath his head, but otherwise, the Dom doesn’t move. Sidney sinks into the feeling of kneeling safe and protected between the Dom’s legs, letting his mind float. This is better than kneeling next to Geno. With the Dom’s big strong thighs boxing him in, Sidney feels safe and surrounded. The sound of the TV dims to a meaningless buzz as his head fills with soft cotton fluff. Sidney luxuriates in it, unsure why he’s suddenly feeling this way but not complaining about it in the slightest. It feels a little bit like when Vero directs him through making a dish for dinner, when Sidney can kind of sink into her commands, but this feeling is much more intense. Sidney likes it. He loses himself in it for a little while, floating away on a happy mental cloud.Time must pass. Sidney doesn’t think he falls asleep, but he knows that he isn’t entirely aware of himself. At some point, the hand petting soothingly in his hair slows to a stop and he hears Geno’s voice coming to him as if he’s underwater, “Sid, baby, time to come up now. Come on, sweet boy. Come back.”Sidney makes a sad humming noise, nudging his head into the cradle of Geno’s palm. He wants Geno to keep petting him. Why did he stop?Geno’s laugh vibrates through him. “Sweet boy, is time to come up now. I know, is sad. Come on, baby, up.” He tugs at Sidney gently, pulling the sub up off the ground so Sidney can settle clumsily in his lap. Any instability Sidney was feeling at being pulled off his knees is immediately soothed by Geno’s big, strong arms coming to wrap around his back and pull him into a warm hug. Sidney makes a happy noise, his inhibitions loose and almost nonexistent. Geno laughs again, affectionate and amused.Sidney wants to drift off into that fuzzy place in his head again, but now that he’s not on his knees, his awareness is starting to come back. He remembers Geno telling him that it’s time to come up, and assumes that means he needs to return to reality. He swims through the sweet molasses of his thoughts, languidly attempting to return his consciousness to his physical body.“Good boy,” Geno is saying, his words soft and reverent. “Such sweet boy, such good sub for me. So responsive. I’m so honor, sweetheart. Honor that you trust me like that.”Sidney blinks his eyes open, focusing them on the coat hung up near the door of his apartment. It’s Geno’s coat, he realizes. He studies the details of it, making himself compare the differences between his coat and Geno’s until he feels a little more settled in his body. When he can recall what words are, he pulls away from the Dom’s chest slowly, blinking at Geno’s smiling face.“Hi,” he says. His voice is quiet and raspy.“Hi, Sid,” Geno says affectionately. “How you feel? Knees don’t hurt?”Sidney checks, shifting as much as he can where he’s straddling Geno’s lap. “They feel fine. Great, actually,” he manages to say. “That pillow was a great idea.”Geno’s content expression clouds slightly, his brows pulling in a little. “What you mean?” he asks, smoothing a hand over Sidney’s hair and down to cup the back of his neck.Sidney leans into the sensation, speaking before he can think through his words. “Whenever I knelt before, my knees hurt pretty bad, especially if I wasn’t on carpet. I’ve never needed a kneeling pillow, and I’ve never thought of just using a normal one.”“Is not question of need, baby,” Geno tells him, sounding a little sad. “You just have. Is not safe for knees without pillow. I’m buy you one, is not good—I not even think about, should have talked to you.” He shakes his head at the protest Sid tries to mount, guilt flitting across his face. “Should have talked before scene. I put you down without talk to you about anything, about limits and word and anything.”“Geno—”“I’m bad Dom.”“Geno. You’re not a bad Dom,” Sidney says sharply. “I didn’t even know that was a scene.”Geno shrugs, looking sheepish. “You went down. Is kind of scene.”“I just wanted to help you calm down,” Sidney reminds him. “Do you feel better?”Geno hesitates, then nods. “Feel much better,” he tells Sidney. “But I’m not want to start scene without talk just because I’m feel bad, Sid, is bad Dom thing to do—”“You’re not a bad Dom,” Sidney repeats. “I’m glad you feel better; that was the whole reason I offered. If I went down a little, well… that was just me being needy. I’m sorry if that upset you.”“No, no, is not how I’m think,” Geno hurries to say. The hand cradling the back of Sidney’s neck slips to the front of his face, tilting his chin up so he can look Geno in the eyes. “You not needy, Sid. And if you are, then is good thing. I’m… I’m amaze, at how you just go down, just when kneeling for me. Is big trust thing for you to do. Makes me feel honor. Understand?”When he puts it that way, Sidney… Yeah, he can kind of understand. “Yeah,” Sidney admits, a tad shy. Geno’s eyes are so intense, so serious. Despite that, his thumb is gentle when it sweeps over the fading bruise on his right cheek, featherlight and tender.“I’m honor that you feel safe enough with me to go down,” Geno tells him gently. “I’m just ashame that I don’t talk to you about it before. But is okay, because wasn’t planned. Neither of us ready. Is just nice thing, thing that happen suddenly. Next time we scene, we talk, okay?”“Yeah,” Sidney agrees. “Okay.” He sinks into the feeling of knowing he helped Geno calm down, letting the success run like warm water over his skin. He didn’t know subspace could feel like that, but when he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure that was exactly where his mind went. It was nothing like the anxiety-filled, knife’s-edge sort of space he goes to when he’s scening with Doms from the club or with Dylan. It was soft and pleasurable. Safe.They cuddle for a while, Sidney straddling Geno’s lap, Geno holding him close to his chest. Sidney revels in the feeling of the Dom breathing easily and calmly beneath him, not an ounce of tension in his body. Geno eventually gets up so he can get some water and chocolate for Sidney, which he insists upon even though they didn’t do anything even close to strenuous. Sidney lets the Dom feed him chocolate because he knows it makes Geno happy, absurd as that is. Sidney didn’t think there could be anyone in the world who would enjoy taking care of him, but he can’t deny that Geno definitely likes it. The Russian Dom gets a certain content smile on his face when he’s feeding Sidney chocolates by hand or holding the water cup while Sidney sips through a straw. It’s raw and honest and purely happy, and even Sidney’s brain can’t twist it any way other than the truth: Geno likes to take care of him.When they eventually part so Geno can drive home—they’ve both agreed that on nights before games, Geno needs to go back to his own place—Sidney feels brave enough to nuzzle his face into Geno’s neck and say quietly, “If you ever need to, um, calm down again, you can always ask. I… I’d be happy to kneel for you whenever you need or… or want.”Geno presses a kiss to the side of Sidney’s neck. “Thank you, Sid,” he says, quiet and grateful. “I’m remember.”Sidney walks him to the door and waits as Geno puts on his coat. Geno kisses him goodnight, warm and sweet, then promises to call before the game tomorrow. Sidney closes the door behind him when he leaves, then leans up against it to steady his shaky legs, wondering when the Dom of his dreams suddenly became his.He climbs into bed that night with Little Geno tucked into his arms, intent on falling asleep so he can wake up early and try a new recipe for danishes he and Flower found. As he tries to fall asleep, however, he finds that he feels strangely restless. He rolls around in bed, breathing in the faint scent of Geno impressed upon the sheets. The smell that he associates with the Dom makes him feel warm, but not in the usual way. Sidney’s skin feels sensitive. When he rolls over onto his stomach in an attempt to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in, he sucks in a soft breath as his half-hard cock rubs up against the mattress.Oh.Sidney’s eyes open in the dark. He lays there for a moment, his thumping heartbeat the only sound in his ears, his apartment quiet. He hesitantly rolls his hips, grinding his cock against the bed, and whines softly at the pleasure that flashes through him.Okay. Okay, so that’s how this is going.Sidney shifts in the bed, moving more to the right, which has become Geno’s “side” whenever he sleeps over. Sidney buries his face in Geno’s pillow and rolls his hips against the mattress again, groaning aloud at the feeling that floods his core. With Geno’s pine scent in his nose and the covers wrapped warm around him, Sidney’s in heaven. He grinds his hips into the bed again, and then again, setting up a slow, pleasurable rhythm that makes his heart beat steadily at the base of his throat and his breath come in little panting gasps. Sidney buries his nose in Geno’s pillow and inhales the faint scent of his Dom, eyes fluttering shut as he moans softly into the darkness.He thinks about the accidental scene earlier, where he’d knelt between Geno’s legs. He’s never been between a Dom’s legs like that without the situation being sexual. And though Geno had never once taken it in that direction, Sidney can’t help but make the comparisons now. His mouth physically waters at the thought of sucking Geno off in a similar position. He wonders if the Dom would fuck his face, or if he’d let Sidney do what he wants. He wonders if Geno would tangle his long fingers in Sidney’s hair, or if he’d cup the back of his neck in that possessive, protective way he does. The thought makes Sidney’s cock throb. He gets a particularly good angle against the mattress and bites his lip to stifle his moan, pleasurable heat filling his core.It’s been a long time since Sidney had the urge to jerk off. With thoughts of Geno in his head and the scent of the Dom’s aftershave in his nose, it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for Sidney to work himself to climax. He flips over and shoves a hand down his boxers at some point, panting into the darkness of his apartment as he strokes himself to completion in his underwear like he’s a teenage boy again.When Sidney comes, it’s to the thought of Geno whispering in his ear, commanding the orgasm from him. Sidney isn’t very aware of himself as he gives into the pull of euphoric pleasure, but he’s pretty sure he cries the Dom’s name when he comes.He’s left panting and sticky beneath the covers. It takes a while for him to come down from the high of his orgasm, to work up the will to leave the comfortable cocoon of the bed so he can clean himself up. When he does, there’s a slight tinge of shame to the memory of what he just did. It’s not the shame of jerking off to Geno, or even the shame that sometimes comes with orgasming without a Dominant’s permission; this time, Sidney’s just embarrassed he came in his boxers like a newly-presented sub just figuring out his sexual urges for the first time.Aside from that small embarrassment, Sidney feels loose with lingering pleasure. He flops into bed and tugs Little Geno in against his chest contentedly when he’s all clean, snuggling into the covers and breathing deeply so he can catch as much of Geno’s scent as possible. He falls asleep with a smile on his face and his body thrumming with happiness, his mind full of thoughts of Geno.~>>>~Geno comes in for morning coffee on his way to the stadium the next day. He doesn’t stay long, but he promises Sidney again that he’ll call before the game, a half hour or so before the cafe closes. Sidney sends him off with an encouraging note scribbled on the napkin wrapped around Geno’s coffee cup, smiling like an idiot.The rest of the day goes slowly. Sidney is excited for the game tonight, which he and Flower and Vero will be watching at the couple’s house. Vero’s already teasing that she and Flower will be the third wheels for once, since Sidney’s focus on Penguins games has only increased since he and Geno started dating.There’s about an hour until close when a middle-aged woman strides in wearing a smart blue suit and holding a notebook. Sidney thinks she’s just one of the many businesspeople who come in for lunchtime coffee when he greets her, right up until she comes to a stop at the front counter and asks him earnestly, “Are you Sidney Crosby?”Sidney blinks. “Um, yes?” he says uncertainly.“My name is Laura Burks,” the woman says, holding out her hand. Unsure what else to do, Sidney shakes it. “I’m a reporter for a local newspaper that focuses mostly on sports and such things. Do you have time for a short interview?”Sidney’s brain, apparently, has completely shut down. “I’m sorry,” he manages, sure he sounds like an absolute idiot. “I don’t… I don’t think I understand.”Laura Burks looks a little sheepish. “Of course, my apologies. There’s a rumor going around, as I’m sure you know, that you and a certain hockey player are dating. I’d love to talk to you about that, if you’re available.” She looks around the empty cafe, as if to highlight the fact that there’s no reason for Sidney not to be available.Sidney’s brain is still malfunctioning, though. He’s still stuck on the hockey player part. “Wait,” he says stupidly. “You’re talking about Geno?”Laura’s eyes light up. “That’s the one!” she says, giving him a knowing wink. “Word around town is that Mr. Malkin has been spending a lot of time around this particular coffee shop, and it doesn’t take long to figure out why that might be.”Sidney stares at her. “I… I’m sorry?”“You two were seen out and about recently,” Laura tells him, and Sidney recalls that he and Geno went to that park and got ice cream a couple days ago. “All the gossip rags are talking about it, of course, but my newspaper wants the truth straight from the source. So, do you think I can ask you a few questions, Mr. Crosby?”Sidney finally, finally comprehends what she’s asking. “N-No, no,” he says, mildly horrified. The day he’s feared for a while now has finally come, apparently. “No, that’s not—No, I’m sorry. I don’t want to answer any questions.”Laura’s excited look drops into one of concealed disappointment. To her credit, she takes the rejection very professionally. “That’s perfectly alright, Mr. Crosby,” she says, giving him a winning smile. “I’ll leave you with my card in case you change your mind. Have a nice day.”She gives him a glossy cardstock business card and leaves soon after. Sidney watches her go. When her car is out of sight, he rips the business card into tiny pieces and dumps them shakily in the trash can.Sidney feels off-kilter for the rest of the day. It must be evident on his phone call with Geno, because only five or so minutes in, the Dom asks gently, “Everything okay, Sid? Can hear thoughts spinning in pretty head from all the way over here.”Sidney’s never been able to lie to Geno. “Well, a reporter came in today and tried to ask me some questions,” he admits quietly, fiddling with the napkin at the booth he’s sitting in. It’s their booth, the one they always sit in whenever Geno is here. Sidney imagines the Dom sitting across from him, big and smiling and happy, and he feels himself relax a little.“Questions?” Geno asks.“Yeah. About, um… About us.”“Ah.” Geno doesn’t sound surprised. “What did reporter ask?”Sidney folds the napkin one-handed, absentmindedly making a paper origami frog. “I don’t know. I didn’t answer them.” He hesitates, then admits, “I was scared I was gonna say the wrong thing. I know you don’t really want anyone to know that we’re together, so I figured it would just be better to not say anything.”“Is not true, I’m not want no one to know,” Geno says, sounding a little indignant. “Of course I’m want people to know pretty Sidney Crosby is my sub. What you talking about, Sid?”Sidney blushes. “I meant, like, your team,” he says weakly. “I just—I don’t know, G. I just didn’t think I should answer the questions. I didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing.”“You not able to do wrong thing, because there is no wrong thing,” Geno tells him gently. “I’m not want team to see you because I’m know they harass you. Seryozha is calm, but others—Tanger and Talbot and others—are loud and annoying. Is only reason I’m hide you from them, Sid. I’m not ashame.”“I know you’re not,” Sidney soothes, despite the instinctive part of him that wonders if Geno is just lying to make him feel better. They’ve had this conversation a couple times before, and each time Geno seems upset at the thought of Sidney thinking he’s ashamed of them. “I just—It would kill me if I said something that brought you bad media attention, G. You know I hate that.”“Yes,” Geno agrees, sounding fondly exasperated. “Even though I’m tell you that you bring nothing but good things to me.” He sighs dramatically over the phone. Sidney, for his part, is trying not to explode with the happiness that sentence just brought him. “Is okay that you didn’t answer. If you not want to have questions, then no questions. If you do, is okay to talk about, as long as is respectful, yes? And Sid is always respectful, always my good boy.”Sidney blushes so hard he gets dizzy. “Yeah, G,” he croaks. “Okay.”“I’m have to go now, baby, team needs me. But I’m call you after, if I have time?” Geno suggests.“Don’t worry about it, I know you’ll be tired. I’ll be at Vero and Flower’s, anyway,” Sidney tells him. “Just… Come in and see me tomorrow?”“Yes, I see my Sid tomorrow,” Geno decides. “Bye, sweetheart. See you on TV.”Sidney laughs. Geno tries to wave at the camera once a game when he knows Sidney is watching. Sometimes it works and the cameras show it, but most times they’re focused somewhere else. Still, it makes Sidney feel warm to know that Geno is thinking of him during the game, even when all his thoughts should be on hockey instead. “Bye, G,” he says affectionately. “Good luck tonight!”He almost says “I love you” at the end. Almost.The watch party at Flower and Vero’s is a blast, especially since they win. Sidney ends up falling asleep there, since he’s tired and he doesn’t want to drive home. He sees Geno the next morning and makes sure to tell him all about how well he played. He knows the Dom has plenty of people congratulating him on his play, but he can’t help but think Geno is genuinely excited when Sidney tells him about all the things he did well in the game the night before.Three days later, the Penguins play again. Geno gets a hat trick, and when he scores it, he looks right at the camera and does a ridiculous arm-waving celebration. Sidney—sitting at home with Little Geno halfway falling off the couch from where he was jostled when Sidney jumped up to celebrate—knows the giant grin on Geno’s face is partially just for him. He calls Geno after the game despite how tired they both are and tells him how impressed he is. Geno teases that he’s laying the flattery on thick just to make him feel good, but he sounds bashful and delighted. Sidney’s heart feels like it’s going to burst with affection.The series only gets better after that. The Penguins go to Carolina and win the conference with two decisive wins. Sidney is almost as elated as if he was on the ice when he drives to the airport at nearly two in the morning to meet Geno. That happy, floating feeling only increases when he sees the overjoyed expression on Geno’s face when he spots Sidney waiting in the airport.It’s not very cold out, but Sidney’s wearing Geno’s scarf anyway. He holds his arms out as Geno hurries over, laughing as the Dom barrels into him and sweeps him gently off his feet for a split second before putting him back down. “You won!” Sidney cheers. They’re the only two people in the airport who are happy and awake at this hour, and it feels as if they’re in their own little world.“We won,” Geno agrees, beaming. “And you here! Is so late, Sid, three hours and then you get up for cafe.”“Vero’s helping Flower open,” Sidney says, pleased that Geno cares so much. “I’ll get to sleep in a little.”Before Geno can respond, they hear an excited, “Hey! Geno, is that Sidney?”Some of Geno’s teammates are making their way toward the exit of the airport, and they’ve spotted Geno. Kris Letang—who Sidney recognizes from TV but has never seen in real life—looks delighted.“Time to go,” Geno mutters, laughing a little as he begins to herd Sidney toward the exit. He calls over his shoulder, “Goodnight! See you in practice tomorrow!”“Malkin!” one of the guys calls. “You fucker! Introduce us to your sub!”Sidney manages to duck under Geno’s arm so he can give them a shy wave, not wanting to seem standoffish. The guys all wave aggressively back at him, Letang making as if he’s going to chase after them. He ends up letting them go, allowing Geno to complete his escape successfully into the cool night air outside the airport. Sidney laughs as the Dom drags him over to the parking lot. “My car’s over there,” he says, trying to push Geno in the right direction. “When are you gonna let them meet me? I swear they won’t scare me away.”“Not at two in the morning in airport,” Geno tells him, which is fair.They talk about the game on the ride home. Geno doesn’t seem tired at all, which is only a little surprising to Sidney. The team had opted to take a red-eye back to Pittsburgh so they could spend one more day at home before preparing for the final series to determine who would win the Stanley Cup. Geno is acting as if he hasn’t just finished playing an entire hockey game. Sidney supposes that he, too, feels pretty energized for a guy that got up almost twenty-four hours ago.The energy lasts until they get to Sidney’s apartment. Geno says he needs to shower before climbing into Sidney’s bed, so he goes to do it. Sidney crawls into bed with the intention of waiting up for Geno, but by the time the Dom comes out of the bathroom smelling of Sidney’s shampoo, the sub is almost asleep. Geno carefully climbs into bed beside him and pulls him into a warm, still-slightly-damp hug.“Goodnight, Sid,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Sidney’s head. Sidney’s pretty sure he follows it up with something in Russian, or maybe his brain is just too tired to understand. Either way, Geno mumbles something Sidney can’t quite catch, and then his breath evens out as he falls asleep. Sidney follows him not long after.Geno has some celebrating to do for the next day or so, but he makes time to come visit Sidney at the cafe. They go back to Sidney’s apartment afterward and spend time cuddling on the couch, just enjoying each other’s presence.“I’m take you back to my house one day,” Geno tells Sidney, petting a hand through his hair. “Feel bad, we always here. Is farther from cafe, but still.”“I’d love to see it, G,” Sidney tells him. “You don’t have to feel bad, though. I like being here, too.” He tilts his head up so he can smile at Geno, which earns him an adoring smile in return.“You so beautiful,” Geno murmurs, leaning down to kiss Sidney on the lips. The kiss, which starts out as chaste and sweet, quickly devolves into something hotter and hungrier. Sidney shifts from where he’s leaning up against Geno’s side, straddling the Dom’s lap instead. Geno groans as Sidney’s weight settles across his thighs, one of his big hands going to cup Sidney’s ass, the other coming up to gently push the sub’s face away from his own. “Wait, Sid, wait. Need to talk—talk before.”“Geno,” Sid groans, thunking their foreheads together. “Talking is the last thing we need to do right now.”Geno laughs, sounding a little breathless. “I’m just want to make sure I don’t hurt you,” he tells Sid, giving him a sweet, earnest look. “I’m want scene very badly, but want to make sure we… what is saying? We in same page?”“On the same page,” Sidney tells him. He ignores the spike of anxiety that goes through him at the realization that this is it, they’re really gonna try to start a scene. What if he tells me he wants to negotiate so he can hit me or something? Sidney can’t help but wonder. I don’t own any impact stuff, but that doesn’t matter. What if he uses his belt? He tries not to cringe at the thought.“Yes, on the same page,” Geno is saying, completely oblivious to what’s going on in Sidney’s head. “Just want to be on the same page. Kissing is okay with you, I’m know. What about hands?”“Hands?” Sidney asks, confused.The hand on Sidney’s ass squeezes ever so slightly, and a pulse of heat thrums through him. “Hands,” Geno repeats, his gaze dark with want. “Hands in hair, on face, in mouth. Hands on pretty, pretty body. Is okay?”Sidney isn’t sure he can breathe right now. “Yeah,” he gets out, barely a whisper. “Yeah, that’s okay.”Geno gives him a dark, teasing smile that should come with its own warning label. “How about mouth?” he asks.“Yes, Geno,” Sidney gasps, arching a little when Geno’s hand slides from his ass up the small of his back, toward the bend of his spine. “Y-Yes, that’s—that’s good.”“Mmm, yes,” Geno agrees. “Very good.”Sidney whines a little, sucking in a breath as he shifts forward and feels his hard cock nudge against where Geno’s is trapped in the Dom’s jeans. He thinks about his fantasies from a few nights ago, when he’d imagined kneeling between Geno’s legs and sucking him off. The desire returns to him so fiercely that he nearly chokes with it, his cock throbbing in his pants at the thought.“Geno,” Sidney breathes, making sure to lighten his voice, make it soft and sweet like he knows Doms love. “Geno, can I—can I please suck your cock?” The groan Geno lets out at that is almost inhuman. Sidney can’t help smiling as he looks at the Dom through his lashes as best he can. “I can make it good, I promise.”“You always good,” Geno says roughly. “Always my good Sid.” He pulls Sidney into a fierce, claiming kiss that wipes the sub’s brain of everything but the thought ricocheting around his skull: I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good—Sidney has rarely been good for a Dom before. He’s tried—he tries every time—but he’s rarely been deemed worthy of that praise. And being not only good, but being good for Geno? It’s a high like nothing he’s ever felt before.He only remembers his mission to suck Geno’s cock when the Dom finally has to stop kissing him so they can both breathe. As they gasp for air, their breaths mingling, Sidney nudges gently against Geno’s hands so he can begin to slide off his lap.Before, his desire to suck Geno’s cock was purely selfish; he wanted to have it in his mouth, and he wanted it as soon as possible. Now, Sidney aches with the need to show Geno that he can be his good Sid, that he can keep being good. That he can be better.Geno lets out a low sound as Sidney slides down, slipping gracefully to his knees between the Dom’s legs. “Pillow, Sid,” Geno reminds him, his voice rough with want and need. Sidney blushes and takes the pillow the Dom hands him, marveling that even in the depths of lust, Geno is making sure he’s taken care of.“Please, Geno?” he asks again once he’s on his knees for the Dom. The position makes something primal and deeply submissive within him shake with pure ecstasy.“Yes, Sid,” Geno says roughly, “anything you want. You think about before? When kneel for me before game, you think about?”“Only a little,” Sidney admits, not wanting Geno to think he was intentionally trying to dirty a scene that was meant to be purely for comfort. “I-I mostly thought about it afterward.”Geno hums, a deep rumble low in his throat. Sidney feels as if that vibration travels all the way to the very core of his own body, making the breath shiver in his lungs. “I’m think about,” Geno tells him, leaning forward so he can look at Sidney with dark, dark eyes. “I’m think about your pretty face, pretty lips. You want to suck me, Sid?”He runs the pad of his thumb over Sidney’s lips, tracing the way they part when Sidney gives a breathless, “Yes.”“My good boy,” Geno murmurs. “What is word, Sid? Safe word?”It takes Sidney’s brain a minute to come back online long enough for him to say, “Halifax.” Some people might think it’s weird that his safeword is associated with his hometown, but Sidney’s away from Cole Harbour so much that the thought of it fills him with a kind of comfort, the sensation of a safe-haven that he can rely on.Geno smiles when Sidney tells him his safeword, then says, “My word is jelly.”Sidney can’t help himself; he giggles. It’s a startled burst of laughter, one that he quickly tries to stifle, horrified that he just laughed at Geno’s safeword. The Dom, unbelievably, is looking at him with a wide grin. “Is okay, Sid,” he says, running his thumb over Sidney’s lips before the sub can start apologizing. “I know is funny. I like jelly. I like bad, low-money stuff that they have in little white box with toast, makes teeth ache with so much sugar. Is remind me of Magnitogorsk.”“Yours is about your home, too,” Sidney realizes.Geno’s smile softens. “Yes,” he agrees. “But is still funny. No need to quiet pretty, silly laugh.”“Okay,” Sidney says, a little shy. “Jelly.”“Yes,” Geno says. “And Halifax. I’m remember. You still want scene?”And all of a sudden, Sidney remembers his mission to give Geno the best blowjob he’s ever had. “Yeah,” he’s quick to say. “Please.”If there’s one thing Sidney is grateful to Dylan for, it’s that the Dom taught him how to suck cock. Before Dylan, Sidney had had no idea there was a technique to it, little tricks and movements with his tongue that he could use to make a Dom go crazy. Some of Sidney’s worst memories are of messing up his lessons with Dylan, since the Dom could jerk on his neck with the collar so much, but some of his best memories are from succeeding in those lessons, too. Sidney thinks the best he ever felt during their scenes was when he finished a particularly satisfying blowjob and Dylan leaned back with a content, vaguely stupefied look on his face.Sidney thinks about that as he settles between Geno’s legs, determined to impress his new Dom. He starts by leaning forward and running his nose along the inseam of the Dom’s jeans, trailing slowly up to the growing bulge of Geno’s hardening cock. Geno doesn’t try to take control of him or rush him. He just watches what Sidney does with dark, hungry eyes. His hands, instead of trying to tangle in Sidney’s hair or jerk him around by the neck, remain resting on the armrest of the couch and his left thigh. Though the position is relaxed, Geno looks anything but.Sidney meets the Dom’s gaze as he grabs Geno’s zipper between his teeth and tugs it downward as slowly and smoothly as he can manage. He swears he sees Geno’s pupils literally expand, but it might just be a trick of the light. The Dom makes a low noise in his throat as Sidney nuzzles at the boxer-clad bulge the open front of the jeans reveal, his hand clenching and unclenching on the armrest of the couch, as if he’s struggling to control himself. The sight makes Sidney want to wiggle with excitement, but he forces himself to keep still. He needs to do this right.He gets Geno’s cock out of the confines of his underwear and proceeds to use every trick he can think of to make this the best blowjob he can manage. To his shock, Geno is incredibly responsive. The Dom groans when Sidney so much as nuzzles his inner thigh, and he grunts in shocked pleasure when Sidney finally wraps his mouth around the head of his cock. Sidney revels in the various noises and reactions he manages to draw out of Geno, the satisfaction settling warm and heavy around him.He feels floaty as he sucks gently at the tip of Geno’s cock, working his way slowly down the hot, throbbing length of it. He’s boxed in by Geno’s long, powerful legs, the Dom’s cock held in his mouth, Geno’s pleasured groans echoing in his ears. Sidney’s whole body shivers with delight when Geno tips his head back and moans to the ceiling as Sidney works the head of his cock into the back of his throat and then swallows. Sidney absolutely loves knowing that he can please the Dom with something as simple as this. This is true happiness. This is true ecstasy.Maybe if I make this really good, Sidney thinks as he works his way up to deepthroating Geno’s cock, eyes welling with involuntary tears, if it’s really good, it will be good enough for the scene. Maybe if this is satisfying, he won’t want to hit me, or at least, only a little. I hope so. The thought of Geno inevitably wanting to hit him makes the happy, fuzzy feeling in his head go away a little, but Sidney tells himself not to be a baby. He agreed to this scene. He knew—even if it was way in the back of his mind where he could sort of ignore it—that by getting into this relationship with Geno, he was opening himself up to disappointing the Dom when the truth of his preferences came out.I pretended I liked to be hit for months with Dylan, Sidney thinks. Maybe if I work extra hard this time, I can savor this for longer.The thought satisfies him enough for that happy, floaty haze to return to his mind. He focuses back on choking himself on Geno’s cock, heart soaring ever higher with each groan of pleasure he draws out of the Dom.“So good, Sid,” Geno chokes out, his voice taut with strain. “Feel… so good. Such a good boy, so—ah—so good.”Sidney hums gently, pleased, and feels tingles of happy pleasure run down his spine when Geno moans loudly at the vibration around his cock. Taking the cues the Dom is giving him, Sidney hums again, repeating all the things Geno’s body has told him he likes best. He’s delighted when Geno’s hand twitches at his side, as if the Dom is restraining himself from tangling his hand in Sidney’s hair.“Sid,” Geno pants as Sidney swallows once around his cock, then pulls off for a moment so he can get some air. “Sid, need to come soon.”“Yes,” Sidney rasps, his voice absolutely wrecked from having Geno’s cock down his throat. “Yes, Geno, please…”Geno makes a noise that’s halfway between a growl and a moan. “Want me to come in throat or on face, Sid?” he asks. “Choose. If not good options, tell me.”Sidney sucks in a breath, stifling a whimper at the thought of either option. His cock, which is rock hard and has been neglected this whole time, throbs where it’s confined in his jeans. He has to close his eyes to keep himself under control, to keep himself from coming at the sight of Geno looking at him like he wants to eat him. “Whatever you want,” he gets out, voice breathless and wrecked. “Whatever you want, Geno, please.”“I’m want you to choose,” Geno tells him. “You such a good boy for me, Sid. Deserve a reward. But first, I’m want you to choose.”Sidney can’t help himself; he keens at that. He’s never been told he’s good before, never even thought he could ever be good enough to earn a reward. He’s always been a mediocre sub, behaving just well enough to keep his Dom happy at most—or at least, to keep his Dom from being angry with him, which Sidney counts as “happy.” But this… A reward… Geno really must be pleased with him. And if Sidney’s first ever reward is getting to choose how Geno comes, he’ll take it in a heartbeat.“In my mouth, Geno, please,” Sidney begs. They’re both good options, but he aches at the thought of Geno’s come inside him, of the Dom thinking he’s so good that he’s earned that kind of a privilege. Sidney has a split second to worry that he’s overstepped, that he’s misunderstood what Geno meant about a reward, but then the Dom lets out a low groan.“Okay, good boy,” he says, panting a little. “I’m come in mouth. Better hurry, baby. You so hot, I’m not last much longer.”Sidney does not need to be told twice. He nearly chokes himself as he takes Geno’s cock back into his mouth, working slowly to get the Dom all the way down to the root. Geno tosses his head back and moans, hands clenching and unclenching where they rest tensely at his side. Taking his cue, Sidney gets to work trying as hard as he can to get Geno to come.It doesn’t take long; Geno must have been telling the truth about being close. Barely half a minute after letting Sidney decide where he’s going to come, Geno’s body locks up and he gives a choked shout of Sidney’s name, his cock pulsing where it sits in the sub’s mouth. Sidney blissfully swallows everything he can, eyelashes fluttering with pure happiness. He did that. He made Geno look like that, sound like that, feel like that. And if Geno is enjoying himself so much, then Sidney must be doing something right. He must be something like a good sub after all.Sidney holds Geno’s cock in his mouth obediently, sucking the Dominant gently through the aftershocks until Geno starts to show signs of overstimulation. Then Sidney just waits, floating on a happy cloud of victory, thinking that this was the best scene he’s ever had. He must be a little farther in his head than he thought, because Geno has to tug gently on his hair to get him to come back to reality.“Come up here, baby,” Geno is saying, sounding breathless and so, so proud. “Come here, come up, good boy.”Sidney wants to cry at that, at being called a good boy. It’s the kind of things Doms say in porn videos, or in cheesy romance movies. It’s not something Sidney ever thought he’d hear in a non-mocking tone. He cherishes the sound, the shape of the words, the feeling of them settling over him like a warm, weighted blanket. He thinks he could roll around in that feeling forever.He feels loose and liquid as Geno helps him off his knees. His body is light, like a feather. Sidney feels almost graceful as he straddles Geno’s lap, spreading his legs so they can fit around the Dom’s wide, powerful thighs. Geno looks up at him with a gaze that is hungry and dark. His hands settle possessively on Sid’s waist, and despite how gentle his smile is, Sidney can feel the intensity of his gaze. It makes him shiver to have such a strong Dominant giving him the entire force of his undivided attention. He wants to preen, to bare his neck submissively, to tell Geno in all the ways he can that the only thing he wants is to be good for him.“Is time for reward now, I think,” Geno murmurs, mouth curving into a small, pleased smile. “What am I do with you, baby, hmm? Such a good boy I have, such good sub.”The praise makes Sidney feel like the human version of a firework, but his mind catches on the first thing Geno said and the thought won’t leave him alone. “Reward?” he asks timidly. “I thought…” Hadn’t choosing where Geno would come been his reward? It was certainly good enough for Sidney.Geno tips his head a little to the side, as if he’s confused. “Yes, baby, reward for how good you be. What you want, hmm? What you think good boy like you deserve?”Sidney already got everything he needed, everything he wanted. This is already more than he deserves. “I thought I already got my reward, Geno,” he says uncertainly.“What is reward?” Geno asks, looking just as confused as Sidney feels. Perhaps he can tell that Sidney’s happy, floaty headspace is dissipating, because the hands on Sidney’s waist slide up to cradle his back, pulling him in close. Sidney feels protected, held. It settles something inside him, helps to drain some of the tension he hadn’t known he’d gathered.“Wasn’t my reward that I got to choose where you came?” Sidney asks, blushing a little at the memory.Geno looks surprised. “I’m not know Sid think is reward,” he says honestly. His gaze softens. “You very sweet boy, thinking that. But when I say reward, I mean thing that make you feel good, not me. Can be something I do, or way I make you come—”“I get to come?”Now they’re both staring at each other in surprise. Sidney remembers, somewhat randomly, a memory of Dylan slapping him for making eye-contact during a scene, remembers him spitting that you are lesser than me right now, a worm! You don’t get to look me in the eyes! But Geno doesn’t hit him, and Sidney can’t look away.“Yes,” Geno says after what feels like a small eternity. His voice is peculiarly soft. “Yes, you get to come.”“Oh.” Sidney’s voice is small. He can’t believe it.It’s not like he never gets off. He did it just a couple nights ago, thinking of Geno while he did. But coming in a scene is like being told he’s good; it seems nice, and Sidney’s certainly imagined it at times, but he’s never seriously thought he’d ever earn it. Now that he has it, he has no idea what to do with himself.Geno must sense his confusion, the floundering feeling that has taken over the majority of what was happy and floaty only a few minutes before. His face is gentle, his dark eyes soft. He says, soothingly, “Is okay, Sid. I’m show you this time, okay? Show you how good you are, how much you deserve nice reward. Maybe later we figure out special thing you want.”And that’s how Sidney finds himself spread out on his own bed, the material of his comforter soft beneath his bare body. When Geno tells him in a gentle voice to lay still, Sidney is completely at his mercy. He can do nothing but stare up at Geno with wide, wide eyes as the Dominant straddles him and bends at the waist so he can press soft, reverent kisses to Sidney’s face and neck.The kisses aren’t hot and heavy. They aren’t meant to incite anyone’s arousal, though Sidney’s body—traitor and beggar for soft, gentle things that it is—seems to find it arousing all the same. His cock stays achingly hard where it’s curved up against his stomach, brushing Geno’s shirt every so often as the Dom shifts to kiss a different part of Sidney’s face. Geno trails his lips across Sidney’s cheekbones, his lips, his forehead, his closed and trembling eyelids. He presses gentle kisses to Sidney’s throat, to the vulnerable pulse point that’s pounding with Sidney’s racing heart, to the tender skin stretched across his collarbones. Geno’s kisses trail down, down, lingering over Sidney’s nipples, stopping to pay special attention to the unprotected stretch of soft, soft skin that covers Sidney’s stomach.It’s here that Sidney can’t quite keep from moving. His limbs curl inward on instinct before he forces them back to where they’d been before, his stomach tensing with laughter. Geno’s stubble, minute as it is, tickles. When Sidney glances down to see if the Dom is angry with him for moving his arms, he sees Geno grinning up at him.“Tickly,” he observes, nuzzling his face purposefully into the soft, ticklish skin of Sidney’s stomach.“No,” Sidney laughs, half-pleading, half-denying. “St-Stop, G, I can’t keep my arms down.”Geno laughs against him, breath ghosting warm over Sidney’s stomach. It soothes Sidney before he even has a chance to panic about the fact that he just told a Dom to stop doing something in the middle of a scene. Geno either didn’t catch it, or he doesn’t care. For some reason beyond Sidney’s comprehension, he thinks it’s the latter.Geno stops tickling him, pressing gentle kisses to Sidney’s tummy as if in apology. Then he moves on, trailing lower and lower, until finally he’s blowing gently on the head of Sidney’s straining cock.Sidney’s breath catches in his throat, his teeth clenching shut to keep the words from escaping him. He wants to beg Geno to touch him, to help him relieve the aching pressure of his hard cock. He knows he can’t; he’s already getting to come, and he doesn’t want to come off as greedy by being a whiny, needy beggar.He doesn’t need to beg, in the end. Geno doesn’t torture him for long.Sidney’s gasp is loud and embarrassing when the Dom suddenly envelops the head of his cock in the hot, wet warmth of his mouth. “Geno,” Sid chokes out, body arching off the bed at the sensation. Geno’s right hand, which has wrapped comfortingly around his ankle, squeezes gently. It’s the only acknowledgment—or maybe warning—that Sidney gets before Geno begins to bob his head up and down the shaft of his aching cock, each time taking him a little deeper.The feeling is incredible. Sidney’s traded blowjobs with guys before, but not in a long time, and he certainly doesn’t remember it feeling like this. Geno’s tongue swirls in all the right ways around the head and shaft of his cock, each movement making warmth clench in Sidney’s gut.He focuses on that warmth, his attention narrowing down to only a few specific sensations. Sidney becomes very focused on the hot, wet mouth on his cock, the heat of the orgasm building in his gut, and the steadying curl of Geno’s hand on his ankle, which feels like the only thing keeping him tethered to earth right now. If it weren’t for that hand, Sidney thinks deliriously, he’d be floating somewhere in the stratosphere. His mind certainly seems to be detached from his body. He’s drifting around on a cloud of softness and pleasure, his only concerns in the world being staying right where Geno put him.It doesn’t take long for Sidney to get right to the edge. He barely manages a breathless, “G-Geno, Geno, p-please—” before he feels the hand on his ankle squeeze tightly. It feels like permission. It feels like release.Sidney lets go, and he feels the last of his consciousness float up, up, and away on a cloud of euphoria and ecstasy.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zhenya has dampness on his cheeks when he lays down with Sid on his chest. Sometime between the end of their scene and the quick clean-up he’d done afterward with the edge of Sid’s sheets, he’d started crying. He marvels at the realization as he tucks a blanket around himself and the pliant, soft submissive cradled to his chest. He didn’t know he could ever get to a point where he was so happy he cried, but apparently Sid is capable of making him feel that way.Zhenya isn’t really surprised. If anyone is special like that, it’s his Sid.“My Sid,” Zhenya murmurs into the dimming light of the apartment. He speaks in Russian, though he knows Sid is so deep in subspace he wouldn’t understand. Someone could probably blast a trumpet from across the room and it wouldn’t affect Sid at all, not that Zhenya would ever let something like that happen. He would rather die than disturb the gentle peace of subspace that Sid has fallen into, the beautiful gift he’s just given Zhenya. Because his subspace is a gift—one of the greatest a sub can give: a sign of deep, deep trust in the Dom that’s managed to guide them there, a tribute to said Dom’s ability to care for them properly. With Sid soft and pliant against his chest, Zhenya feels like the most powerful, most worthy man in the world.He’s coming down from his own headspace, a Dominant place in his mind that he’d gone to the moment Sid had gotten on his knees for him. Slowly, the sounds of the room filter back in, awareness returning to Zhenya in small increments. The whirring of the refrigerator becomes apparent, as does the sound of cars passing on the street outside the building. Zhenya hears the soft, even sound of Sid’s breathing, and his heart twists with untold warmth.There’s a dip in the submissive’s back, made by the curve of his spine and the swell of his ass. Zhenya puts his hand there, marveling at the feeling of the silky skin beneath the roughness of his palm. He lets his hand just rest there for a moment beneath the blankets, and then he begins to drag it slowly, slowly upward.The skin doesn’t stay smooth. About halfway up Sid’s back, right near the center of it, Zhenya finds the first scar. It’s small and barely noticeable, but Zhenya’s fingertips catch the slight, raised line all the same. He traces it gently, running along the mark that’s about the length of his pinky finger. Zhenya wonders what made it. He isn’t sure he wants to know.He moves on after a moment, his flat, spread hand spanning the warm skin of Sid’s back. He finds more scars just a little farther up, enough that it takes him several minutes to trace over them all. Some of them are thin like the first, but others are thicker and rougher. Bumpier. Zhenya thinks of painful, uneven healing, and his stomach twists with nausea. He pushes the feeling away, reminding himself that Sid is here with him now, safe and protected.He keeps that thought with him as his hand drifts farther up and finds the whip marks. They crowd thick and ragged on Sid’s right shoulderblade, as if the person who struck him was right-handed and didn’t have any concept of spacing out hits. Zhenya’s jaw works as he runs his fingertips gently, so gently, across the multitude of marks. When he presses tenderly into a twisted dip where the skin is thick and stiff with scar tissue, a little shiver runs through the sub in Zhenya’s arms. Zhenya hushes him, heart aching. “You safe, baby,” he murmurs into the quiet, speaking English so Sid will understand if even some part of him is listening. “I keep you safe, sweetheart. Never again.”He takes his fingertips away from that spot soon after. He can feel the old pain that pools in that little dip of scar tissue like rainwater in a depression of the road. He doesn’t want to disturb it. Not yet.Zhenya explores the rest of Sid’s back, running gentle hands over the less-scarred left side of the sub’s shoulders. He finds more thin scars as well as more marks that he thinks were made by hardcore pain implements, a cane or a whip or a belt. A belt with the buckle side, maybe. The thought makes Zhenya sick with rage.Around the edges of Sid’s ribcage, where he’d be able to reach easier, the wounds are a little neater. They’re accompanied by little markings that Zhenya realizes are from a needle and thread. He remembers the aftercare kit in Sid’s bathroom and tries not to think about his sub, shaking and sick with subdrop, sitting alone in his tiny bathroom while stitching up wounds a careless Dom inflicted on him. That nauseous, enraged feeling floods through Zhenya for the hundredth time. He cradles Sid close to his chest and soothes himself with the silent mantra in his head: Never again, never again, never again.Zhenya is still mapping the constellation of scars on Sid’s back when the sub begins to return from subspace. Zhenya feels him shift, head nuzzling against the warmth of the Dom’s chest. He coos softly at Sid as the sub awakes, the hand on his scarred back drifting upward to thread through his hair. “Hi, baby,” Zhenya greets, his voice soft and reverent. “You come back to me? Can hear me?”It takes a moment, but then Sid hums happily and says, “Genoooo.”Zhenya laughs quietly, heart bursting at the overstuffed seams with love. “Sweetheart. How you feel? Knees okay?”It’s maybe too complicated of a question, because Sid merely rubs his face happily against Zhenya’s chest and hums.“Okay, baby,” Zhenya says, trying not to laugh again. “You my good boy, you know? Such good boy for me, I’m so happy with you. So happy you mine.”It’s the right thing to say. Sid makes a pleased, shy noise, turning to hide his face in Zhenya’s chest. Zhenya keeps up the praise, mixing in gentle encouragements for the sub to come back to him, to return from whatever happy place he’d been in before. He’s patient, content to wait as long as Sid needs. About five or so minutes pass before Sid turns his head to gaze up at Zhenya with sweet, soft brown eyes, a little coherency visible now. “Hi,” he says quietly. His voice is still raspy and wrecked from the magnificent blowjob he gave Zhenya earlier, and it sends a bolt of heat shooting through Zhenya’s body.He pushes the arousal aside, knowing that right now is all about taking care of this beautiful sub that gave him so much. “Hi, baby,” Zhenya says. “How you feel? Can tell me if knees are good, now?”“My knees?” Sid asks, as if he forgot he has knees. “My knees are great. I feel great.” He grins dopily up at Zhenya, and Zhenya grins equally-as-dopily back.“So glad,” Zhenya tells him. “So happy to hear. Everything else good? No hurt?”“No,” Sid says, some more clarity returning to his pretty, pretty brown eyes. “We didn’t do anything real, so I’m fine. I feel amazing.”Zhenya doesn’t know what he means by “real,” but he figures it’s just his bad English or something. He ignores it and says instead, “Want to give you bath, but is too small in Sid’s tub. We both not fit.”Sid exhales, closing his eyes and resting his head against Zhenya’s chest again. “I know,” he says mournfully. “We wouldn’t fit in the shower if we tried to stand, either.”Zhenya hums, thinking longingly of the massive walk-in shower he has at home. “We try,” he suggests, knowing they need to get clean and not wanting to be apart from Sid yet. “Is okay? We try to fit in Sid’s shower?”Sid flashes him a small smile.They really don’t fit. Zhenya keeps knocking his elbows into the tile wall when he tries to move, and Sid is forced to squeeze right up against him if he wants to fit beneath the spray of hot water. It’s awkward and Zhenya loves it. He loves that Sid is so close to him, that to fit his arms into the space behind the shower curtain, he needs to keep them tucked tight around the sub’s shoulders. Sid seems to love it too, if the way he leans heavily into Zhenya is any indication. He tips his head into Zhenya’s chest and rests against him beneath the spray of warm water, looking as if there’s nowhere he’d rather be.Zhenya indulges himself by massaging shampoo into Sid’s hair. It’s a nightmare when they try to wash their bodies, since there’s barely any space for either of them to just stand together, but they make it work. Half an hour and a lot of cooling water later, Zhenya and Sid stumble out of the shower, Zhenya nearly slipping on the floor as he tries to make room for Sid in the tiny bathroom.Zhenya has to try to wear Sid’s clothes, and it’s a tragedy. The sub’s baggiest sweatpants are far too short on Zhenya’s legs, and his biggest shirt stretches across Zhenya’s shoulders. He laughs when he sees Zhenya standing awkwardly next to the bed, trying to coax the cuffs of the sweatpants down to cover his ankles with little success.“You look great,” Sid says, coming over to lean up against Zhenya for a hug. “You should wear my too-small clothes all the time.”Zhenya huffs, knowing he looks ridiculous. He kisses the top of Sid’s head anyway, enjoying the feeling of the sub in his arms. “If makes you happy,” he says, “I’m wear whatever you want. Even Flyers jersey.”That makes Sid laugh Zhenya’s favorite silly, honking laugh. Zhenya revels in it, grinning stupidly to himself as Sid giggles into his chest. “I don’t know if either of us would enjoy that,” Sid says. Zhenya hums in grateful agreement.Zhenya went shopping a few weeks ago and bought as much fancy chocolate as he could find, then found a nice saleswoman in one of the stores and paid her to arrange it all in a nice basket that he then gleefully presented to Sid. Sid has the basket sitting on his kitchen counter, right where Zhenya can snag one of the many boxes of chocolate to carry over to the bed for aftercare. He sits up against the headboard and spreads his legs, making a space between them for Sid to sit. He expects the sub to crawl right into his lap as quickly and easily as he’s been leaning up against Zhenya all afternoon, but Sid hesitates at the edge of the bed.“Sid,” Zhenya says, definitely not whining. “Come cuddle.”Sid gives a little laugh, but it sounds slightly strained. “I’ll cuddle you all day, G, but you… you don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. Or if you have stuff to do. This—We didn’t even do an intense scene. I’m pretty needy, but I don’t need you to baby me this much.”Zhenya frowns. “What you mean?” he asks, confused. He doesn’t like that Sid called himself needy. While it’s not necessarily a bad word, the way the sub had said it had made it feel… derogatory.Sid shrugs, looking less and less comfortable and happy, like he was before. “I just—I didn’t really do anything? Um… To earn it?”Zhenya stares. “Earn?” he echoes, deeply confused.He hates how Sid seems to shrink, curling in on himself, becoming the exact opposite of the loose, pleased sub he was just a few minutes ago. “I didn’t earn all this aftercare, G,” he says weakly. “You didn’t even hit me. Like, at all.”Zhenya’s brain is struggling to comprehend. “You didn’t… earn? Because I not hit?”“Yeah.”“You want me to hit?” Zhenya asks, a cold feeling suddenly washing over him. Sid had seemed so blissed out and happy, but what if Zhenya had just been missing something? Had the sub really not been as satisfied by the scene as he’d looked?But Sid looks horrified at his question. “N-No! I mean—Y-Yes, yes, I would… um. Yes. I would want you to hit me. If you—If you wanted to.”Zhenya saw that first, instinctive reaction. It ricochets in his mind as he asks, “But what you want, Sid? Want me to hit? Want me to hit in scene?”“Yeah,” Sid says, but it sounds shaky. “If you wanted to, G. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”They’re getting into territory where Sid feels like he needs to apologize, and that’s how Zhenya knows they’re going in the wrong direction. “I’m ask what you want, Sid,” he says gently. “Not what you think I want.”Sid looks lost. He looks horribly lost, standing there next to the bed, arms curled around his torso. Zhenya remembers the softness of the tummy concealed beneath the shirt Sid’s wearing, remembers the way it had tensed and vibrated with Sid’s laugh when the sub giggled at Zhenya’s tickling.Zhenya’s heart aches at the contrast, now. Sid looks small and scared. Zhenya would do anything to keep him from looking like that.He remembers the landscape of scars beneath his fingertips, the echoes of old wounds that Sid had had to bear alone. He uses that thought as fuel for the fire of his courage as he dares to say, “I’m not like to hit, Sid. Not much. Like to make subs happy more. More smile, less cry. If you want hit, I learn how. But I’m not know because… because I’m not like.”Sid stares at him with wide, wide eyes. He looks shocked. At least he doesn’t look scared. “You… don’t like hitting subs?”“No, not much,” Zhenya admits. He doesn’t think he’s ever explained this to anyone, even to himself. Certainly not to a sub he’s interested in. He’s always been worried about pushing them away by expressing the deep truth of his actual desires. Anna certainly hadn’t been impressed when he’d told her. “I’m not like when subs sad or hurt or cry. Is make me feel… how you say? Guilt? I’m feel guilt?”“Guilty,” Sid says. His voice is faint.“Yes. I’m feel guilty when I hit subs, make hurt. I like make happy and feel good much more,” Zhenya admits.Sid stares at him for a long moment. Zhenya feels like hiding, just a little, but he knows that’s the last thing he should do right now. He forces himself to be brave, to sit and face whatever judgment Sid passes on this admission Zhenya has made. He reminds himself that this conversation needed to happen eventually; best to have it happen now, to get it over with.For a long time, they just sit there, looking at each other. It’s nearly nighttime now, and though it’s fully springtime, it’s still kind of chilly in the apartment. Sid’s only wearing a pair of shorts and a baggy T-shirt. He starts to shiver a little, standing there next to the bed, and it only takes Zhenya a couple seconds to snap. “Come up, on bed,” he begs Sid, holding out a hand toward the sub. “Please, Sid? Look cold, I’m not like when you shake.”Sid moves robotically, as if he’s being controlled by something artificial. He doesn’t come and curl up in Zhenya’s arms, like Zhenya was hoping. Instead, he stops on his knees right between Zhenya’s legs, looking at the Dom with wide, wide brown eyes.“You don’t like inflicting pain in your scenes?” he asks, as if he needs to make sure. He sounds breathless, faint.“No,” Zhenya says. He reaches out, one hand hovering over Sid’s thigh. He doesn’t touch, not wanting to frighten Sid away. He has this peculiar feeling that Sid is fragile right now, finicky as a wounded animal; he’ll lash out or flee if Zhenya makes one wrong move.“I thought—” Sid’s voice seems to choke in his throat, as if someone has wrapped an invisible hand around it and is forcing the words to remain inside him. When he finds his voice again, it’s barely more than a whisper. “I thought all Doms liked pain.”“No, is not true,” Zhenya says, feeling an ache in his chest despite the fact that he’s often repeated these words to himself. “Some Doms like pain, some no. Same as some subs like pain, some less, and some no pain at all.”He expects Sid to pull away, to crinkle his nose in disgust at the realization that Zhenya is one of those weird, broken Doms that don’t like what’s considered “normal” for the dynamic. But Sid leans in, instead. He looks at Zhenya with wide, wide eyes, as if Zhenya holds the key to the universe.“Some subs don’t like pain at all?” he echoes, the question almost childish with hope.“No,” Zhenya says uncertainly. “Is a—a… how you say? A range?” He holds his hands out with about two feet between them, imagining a number line hanging in the air between his palms. “Some subs like all the pain, yes pain. But some like less, maybe hit with hand, or with soft flogger. And some like no pain, none. Is same with Doms and causing pain, yes?” That’s what he’s told himself all these years. It makes sense in theory, but it’s hard to remember when he’s just been rejected by some sub in a bar and called a “service top” in front of his teammates. After that happened once or twice, Zhenya just stopped asking. There was a reason the league was worried he wasn’t exercising his Dominant instincts enough before he met Sid.Sid still has that strange, agonizingly hopeful look on his face. He’s leaning into Zhenya’s space like he needs it to breathe. “What if… What if I’m… like that?” he asks, his voice still that ghostly whisper.“Like what, baby?” Zhenya asks gently. “I’m not understand.”It takes a long moment for Sid to whisper, “What if I… don’t like pain? A-At all?”And finally, like the first sign of gray in the eastern sky, understanding begins to dawn.“Oh, baby,” Zhenya says, voice soft with relief and pain. “Is okay. Is okay if you don’t like it. Is okay if I not like pain in scenes, either.” His eyes are hot. Sid’s face is blurry. “Means I perfect for you, and you perfect for me, yes?”Sid sort of collapses in against him, and maybe Zhenya was anticipating that, maybe he was expecting it the whole time, because he opens his arms and catches the sub easily against his chest. He holds him as the first dry, shuddering sob wracks through his body, squeezes him tight as his own eyes close and tears slip hot down his cheeks.“I don’t like it,” Sid sobs, sounding so, so relieved. “I d-don’t like it, Geno, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it—”Zhenya’s arms wrap tight around his back and shoulders, cradling the sub against his body. Zhenya can feel the ghost of thick scar tissue against his fingertips. “Is okay, sweetheart,” he says, his own voice little more than a sob too. “Is okay you not like. You my good boy, always my good boy.”Sid turns his head in against Zhenya’s chest and releases a sound that’s something like a sob and a wail. It’s a sound of pure pain, as if Sid is releasing years and years of pent-up agony in the form of a cry. When he speaks again, his voice is less devastated, less wrecked. He sounds sick with relief. “I th-thought I was gonna have to pretend,” he says into Zhenya’s shirt. “I thought I was gonna have t-to lie so I could k-keep you.”“No,” Zhenya says fiercely, squeezing him tight. The thought is so horrifying that he makes himself pull away, grabbing Sid’s face between his shaky hands so he can look the sub directly in the eyes. “You never lie to me, Sid, understand? Never. I’m not have lots of rules for relationship, but this is one. No lie. Not about scene or limits. Yes?”“Ok-kay, Geno,” Sid says, looking a little startled by the ferocity in Zhenya’s voice.“Promise,” Zhenya chokes out.Sid’s face crumples, softens. One of his hands reaches up to cover Zhenya’s where it cradles his cheek. “I-I promise, Geno,” he says sincerely. “I won’t lie. I swear.”Zhenya softens and he pulls Sid in against him, tucking him tight to his chest. Sid’s too-small shirt stretches across his shoulders. The clothes and sheets smell like Sid, Zhenya has his sub in his arms, and he has the realization that he won’t have to eventually admit that he won’t be enough for Sid, that he can’t be. He feels like Atlas if the world was lifted off his shoulders. His whole body is feather-light with relief, as if it might never know the weight of shame and fear ever again.“I love you,” he tells Sid in Russian. “I love you so much. We’re going to be okay, baby. We’re going to be okay.”Hours later, as he lays with Sid still tucked in his arms, Zhenya drifts off to sleep thinking of collars.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The Stanley Cup Final series against the Red Wings begins just as May is turning to June and summer is beginning to set in. It’s a rematch of the Stanley Cup Finals from last year, so it seems everyone is extra chippy and extra eager to win. Sidney kisses Geno goodbye after driving him to the airport so he can fly to Detroit for the first two games. He hopes to pick up a victorious Geno three days later, but that’s not what happens; the Penguins lose both of the first games 1-3.Sidney kneels for Geno the next night. He can tell the Dom needs to settle, and he’s more than happy—elated, even—to be the one to help him calm down. It doesn’t seem to work as well as last time in easing Geno’s stress, but it works enough that Sidney feels somewhat successful.“You’ll win the next ones,” Sidney tells Geno firmly after the Dom expresses his anxiety about the two home games they have. “This is your year, G. I can feel it.”“Shh, Sid,” Geno teases gently, pressing a kiss to Sidney’s lips as if to silence him. “No jinx.”Sidney turns out to be right, despite Geno’s fears that he’ll jinx them. The Penguins win their next two games at home, tying the series 2-2. It’s a relief as much as it is a reason to celebrate and look toward the future with hope. Sidney’s started getting people coming in to talk to him about the game as if he was there at every single one, asking him about what he thinks of the Penguins’ performance. It’s way past the usual spirit the city shows whenever one of their teams is in the finals for a championship; it’s as if the rumor that Geno is coming around 87 Coffee more often has circulated past Allderdice High School and the journalism circles. There’s a slight increase in business, enough that Flower convinces Sidney to hire a couple high schoolers to help out in the front every now and then. Sidney is reluctant to choose some random teenager to help run his precious business, but they get two girls who are responsible and hardworking, and he feels a little better about it.The Penguins go to Detroit again in Game 5, which they lose horribly. It’s a 0-5 shutout. Geno doesn’t score any goals or get any assists, but he does get three different penalties. He tells Sidney he doesn’t need to come pick him up from the airport when the team comes back. Sidney, feeling a little hurt but trying to hide it behind reassurances that Geno will play well in the next game, stays home and rolls around in bed, wondering what he did wrong.He feels off-kilter, and it doesn’t help that Geno doesn’t come into the cafe for the next two days. When he comes in the day before Game 6, he seems distant and stressed. Sidney sits with him in the booth for a little while until it’s almost time to close, and then he offers to kneel for Geno again.“You could come back home with me,” he suggests tentatively. Geno is looking distantly out the window toward the trees that grow near the sidewalk outside. He hasn’t really looked at Sidney much the whole time he’s been here. “I could… I could help you calm down a little, if you wanted.”Geno is quiet for so long Sidney almost thinks he didn’t hear him. Finally, the Dom turns and looks at Sidney with something unreadable on his face and says, “No, is okay, Sid. I think I’m just go back home. Need to nap, maybe.”Sidney returns to his apartment feeling more than a little dejected. He tells himself he’s being ridiculous, since Geno clearly has a lot of pressure on him right now and it’s unfair for Sidney to expect him to want to be around all the time, especially the day before a big game. Still, Sidney can’t help the small part of him that had wanted to be the one to help Geno feel better. That’s my job, that part of him seems to cry. It’s the same part that quivers at the idea of Geno starting to pull away from him, maybe finally realizing how annoying and clingy Sidney is.He doesn’t sleep well that night. Geno doesn’t come in for coffee the next morning, which only makes Sidney feel worse.“Has Geno called you yet?” Flower asks him around closing time, when Sidney’s staring at his empty phone screen for no reason.“No,” Sidney says, with perhaps a touch more hostility than is necessary. “Why would you say that?”Flower raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on Sidney’s touchiness. “Just asking,” he says, wisely retreating to the kitchen. “He always calls you before games, I was just wondering.”He disappears before Sidney can think of a reply.Geno doesn’t end up calling him at all before the game starts. Sidney watches with a kind of nervous energy from his couch as the Red Wings attempt to win the Cup and the Penguins attempt to stay alive in the series. Sidney hasn’t taken Little Geno home for a week or so now, but he kind of wishes he could squeeze the stuffed penguin against him now, if only just to have someone to watch the game with.Sidney’s on the edge of his seat the whole game. Geno plays well, though he doesn’t score any goals. He gets a singular penalty, but he’s altogether more composed than Game 5. Sidney breathes a sigh of intense relief when the Penguins come away with a win at the end, dragging the series on to a Game 7.After the game, there’s a reporter who interviews Geno. She’s a sub, which Sidney can tell even through the TV screen. She’s got dark hair and brilliant blue eyes, and her perfectly-shaped mouth is lined with perfectly-applied lipstick. Her breasts look like they might fall out of her dress every time she leans over to direct her mic toward Geno’s mouth.“That was an incredible performance, Geno,” the reporter gushes. Sidney swears she bats her eyelashes at him. “Really, the crowd is just so impressed. Anything to say to us before going to Game 7 in Detroit?”Us, Sidney thinks with a snarl, glowering at the woman from his place on the couch. She says it like she wants Geno to say something directly to her.“Keep cheering, keep doing what you doing,” Geno says, smiling into the camera. “We love you guys.”Sidney turns the TV off, feeling unfairly bitter.Hours later, he’s just about to get ready for bed when he hears the knock at his door. He’s abandoned his phone at his charging station for most of the night, so he didn’t see the text from Geno asking if he’d still be awake. Sidney isn’t very surprised when he opens the door and sees Geno standing outside it, though, wearing a big grin.“Hey, G,” Sidney greets, trying for a welcoming smile. “Great game.”He keeps his gaze down as he lets the Dom in, hoping he can school his expression before Geno looks at him again. Sidney is still thinking about how pretty that reporter was, how nice she’d looked sitting next to Geno while interviewing him after the game.“You watch the game?” Geno asks him as he comes in. He’s still wearing his suit.“Yeah, of course,” Sidney says. He closes the door but doesn’t lock it. He doesn’t know why, but he has a feeling Geno won’t be staying the night.“Little Geno watch too?” Geno asks, looking around for the stuffed penguin.“He’s at the cafe tonight,” Sidney says. “I… forgot him.”Geno must hear the flatness to his tone, because he turns from where he’s been looking over the couch for Little Geno and frowns at Sidney, who’s still standing next to the door. “Everything okay, Sid?” Geno asks, brow furrowing with concern. Sidney almost, almost tells the Dom in a rational voice about what is bothering him.But he remembers the earnest way that reporter had leaned in toward Geno, the obvious way she’d flashed her pretty smile at him. And he feels the jealousy and bone-deep insecurity flare inside him like a magnesium-bright warning. “It’s great,” he lies through his teeth. “I’m great.”Geno’s frown only deepens. “Don’t seem great,” he says hesitantly. “You sad? Mad?”Sidney huffs, fighting the urge to cross his arms over his stomach like a child. “I saw your post-game interview,” he says, which probably sounds nonsensical to Geno. Sidney is too far past caring to try to explain. “The reporter was pretty. Have you talked to her before?”Geno blinks at him. “What?” he asks, sounding deeply confused. He must see something on Sidney’s face that he doesn’t like, because his face darkens with the beginnings of annoyance. “What you talking about, Sid?”“Nothing,” Sidney bites out, glaring a hole into the floor instead of looking at Geno.“No, is not nothing,” Geno says firmly. “Is something. You mad. What you mad about?”“I’m not mad about anything.”“You lying now.”“It’s fine, Geno,” Sidney bites out, the edges of his words razor-sharp. “I’m just being stupid.” Stupid like he’d been all week, hurting and pining and wondering why Geno was pushing him away.“Is something I did?” Geno guesses. “Is because of… of reporter? Is not fair, Sid. I’m not ask to be interview by her.”Yeah, Sidney knows that. He knows it’s unfair for him to be angry with Geno about that, even in the depths of his irrationality. But he’s still mad at Geno about other things, too, so he snaps, “No, Geno, that’s not the problem.”Geno’s expression shifts from one of annoyed confusion to one of defensive anger. “Then what is problem?” he demands. “I’m not understand, Sid.”“You’ve been pushing me away!” Sidney cries, feeling his internal frustration begin to boil over like a pot left unattended on the stove. The metaphorical soup hisses as it hits the red-hot burner. “I’ve been trying to support you all week, and you’ve just been cold and distant! And yeah, I get it, you’ve got a lot of pressure on you, but you could at least tell me you don’t feel like talking! You could at least tell me that it… that it isn’t my fault.”For a brief moment, Geno’s anger melts into guilt. “Sid—” he tries, evidently going for an apology.But Sidney isn’t ready for it. He’s mad, and he’s not smart enough to recognize that a lot of it is directed at himself. “No,” he snaps, cutting Geno off. “I don’t need an explanation. I know I’m annoying and clingy sometimes, but that isn’t an excuse to just suddenly ignore me for no reason. We worked through this earlier in the season, Geno! I knelt for you because you were stressed, and we had conversations when you just needed to just talk it out! And then all of a sudden there’s the big disaster in Game 5, and then you don’t want anything to do with me. You just pushed me away!”Sidney knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should stop. He knows, but he’s too stupid and too weak to keep the barrage of his emotions from flowing forth like water from a dam.“I wouldn’t have cared, either,” he says, voicing the dark, ugly truth with words poisoned by bitterness. “I wouldn’t have cared, except the first smile I see from you all week is directed at some sub on the TV screen. I just—You just—God! You could have at least told me you were getting sick of me instead of letting me figure it out by myself!”Geno’s been looking angrier and angrier the more Sidney shouts, but at that last statement, he looks kind of shocked. “Sid,” he says before Sidney can get going again. “I’m not… I’m not sick of you. I lo—I’m care about you. Losing game won’t change that.”“You could have fooled me,” Sidney spits. “How the hell do you know you care about me anyway, Geno? It doesn’t even make sense!”Geno’s face clouds with anger. “What you mean?” he demands. “What not make sense?”“Why you’d even want to be with me when you have so many pretty, talented subs around you!” Sidney’s voice cracks as he shouts. He barrels onward, hoping he can drown out the betrayal of his true insecurity by digging himself deeper in this grave he’s started. “All your other teammates are dating celebrities and TV personalities and stuff! You’re just slumming it with some random jerk who couldn’t cut it in the NHL, so now he has to run a stupid little coffee shop that’s only a step up from Starbucks!” Sidney stops, making a horrible connection in his head. “Is that why you don’t ever let me meet your teammates? Because you think I’ll embarrass you?”“No!” Geno shouts. He looks seriously mad now. “No, Sid, is not reason! Why you think you know what I want? Why you think you know what I thinking? How you know I want celebrity subs, or subs who interview after game?”“I don’t know, but it sure makes a lot more sense than why you’d ever want anything to do with me,” Sidney snaps. “God, Geno, at least that woman on TV would be able to stomach wearing your collar! I can’t even think about it without wanting to throw up!”Geno blinks, a look of pure hurt crossing his face. “You… not want to wear my collar?” he asks vulnerably.“I can’t!” Sidney cries, gesturing aggressively at the ugly, ugly scarring on his neck. “I’m damaged goods for the rest of my life, and not just because of these stupid scars. I’m screwed up in the head; you know that. I can’t wear a collar again, Geno, I can’t. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to wear another one, ever; I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give even that stupid, basic thing to you. And I’m just… I’m just so sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop! I’m sick of sitting around and waiting for you to get tired of playing Mr. Charity and screw off to go find some other sub who can be everything you want, everything that I can’t be!”Sidney’s words choke off with the sob that suddenly wants to fight its way out of his throat. He refuses to let it free, refuses to show that kind of weakness. He’s got his claws out right now. He’s a wounded animal, lashing out at hands that want to hurt and help alike, desperate to protect the last bits of his shredded heart.“That is most fucked up thing I’m ever hear,” Geno spits. The rage rolling off of him right now should be enough to make Sidney want to cower to the floor. Instead, it riles the submissive up even more. “I’m not… I’m not want to be Mr. Charity, Sid, what the fuck? You think I’m just spend time with you to—to feel good about me, or something?”“Maybe,” Sidney says poisonously.“Fuck you!” Geno cries, curling his hands into fists. “You really think so bad about me, about us? What the fuck?”“I don’t know what to think,” Sidney says, the final nail in this coffin he’s built himself. “I don’t think this ‘us’ should exist anymore.”“What the fuck?” Geno demands again. If Sidney was less wrapped up in his own rage, he’d hear the pure hurt hiding behind the thin, thin veil of Geno’s rage. “Fuck you, Sid. Fuck you for drag me along like this. Fuck you for think I’m some asshole who want to be nice just to feel good about me. I’m dumb hockey player, Sid, but I’m know what I want! I want you!” His voice cracks. “I… I did. I did want you. Now I guess I leave you alone, since you think only subs good for me are shallow actors and stupid reporters that shove fake boobs in my face.”It would be funny in any other situation, but it just makes Sidney feel sick. “I think you should leave,” he says quietly.Geno goes.Sidney doesn’t slam the door shut behind him, but he wants to. He locks it, then sags against the wood when his knees suddenly give out, the frenetic fury that carried him through the past fifteen minutes suddenly abandoning him fast enough to make him dizzy.“God,” Sidney whispers into the cool wood of the door he’s resting his forehead against. He feels bile rise in his throat. “Oh—God…”He scrambles to his feet and stumbles over to his kitchen just in time to throw up in the sink, his whole body convulsing as it brings up everything he’s eaten in the past four hours. Sidney’s crying by the end of it—shocked, horrified tears, the tears of someone who’s just witnessed a grisly accident and doesn’t know what to do with themselves.He doubles over the sink and sobs, head spinning. He wishes he could take it back. He wishes he could take it all back. He wishes—He needs—He almost stumbles over to his phone to call Geno so he can apologize, but he stops himself at the last second. He can’t call Geno right now, not when he’s about as unstable as a hydrogen bomb. Geno deserves an apology when Sidney is more put together. When Sidney isn’t two steps away from what’s likely going to be one of the worst subdrops of his life.So Sidney doesn’t go to his phone. Instead, he stumbles into the bathroom and gets into the shower still fully clothed, desperate to feel something other than the horrible, needling prickle of his body beginning to betray him. Sidney turns the water on as cold as he can get it, then sets it in an icy spray that rains down over his head, drenching him to the skin in less than five seconds.Sidney stands beneath the deluge of the shower and grips his hands against the guard rail on the side and shakes. He shakes with the frigid shivers that skitter across his skin, with the sobs that wrench through his chest, with the ice that seems to have taken up residence in the very cores of his bones.He just ruined everything. He just ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. He’s spent this whole time terrified of the moment Geno’s going to get tired of him and leave, and in the end, he’s the one who drove the Dom away with his own insecurity. It’s the sickest, most twisted version of a self-fulfilling prophecy Sidney’s ever heard of. He wants to vomit again, but he has nothing left to bring up. There’s nothing left inside him. He’s been hollowed out, scraped raw, everything good in his body dumped down the drain or taken out the door when Geno left.Sidney’s legs gave out at some point. He’s sitting on the floor of his shower now, curled up in a tiny, trembling ball beneath the icy deluge of water. It’s hard to breathe with the sobs wracking his chest and the water raining down on him and the guilt clamping down on his lungs and the weight coming down on his body and the pure sorrow that has burrowed beneath every inch of him, in between every atom that makes up his physical form.Sidney became spoiled, he knows. He got complacent. He got used to being filled up with the warm, golden love that Geno gave to him in unending amounts, and then he forgot how it felt to be hungry. Sidney remembers, now. He remembers what it’s like to be starving for affection, terrified of never being fed again. He knows, because he knows he’ll never meet another person like Geno. He won’t deserve another person like Geno. He’s ruined the one best thing he had, and he doesn’t deserve a second chance.He doesn’t know how long he sits beneath the icy spray of the shower, sobbing until his lungs feel raw and bloody. All he knows is that when he finally gets out, his voice is wrecked to ruin and he feels like he’ll never stop shivering. He strips out of his soaked, freezing clothes and pads through the apartment to get himself a dry set, trembling so badly he can barely get the drawers of his dresser open. He forces himself to clean up the mess he made, including the trail of water he left on the floor. Then, when everything is put back the way it was, Sidney lays down on the floor next to his bed and curls into a shivering ball, his burning eyes squeezed tightly shut.He can’t sleep in his bed. He doesn’t deserve it. He can’t… He can’t smell the faint imprint of Geno’s scent in his sheets. He can’t.So he lays on the floor.Sidney has no idea how long he lays there in the darkness, shivering and crying and running through the horrible argument in his head again and again. He thinks he must doze off, but maybe he lays awake all night, staring into the void beneath his bed and wishing it would swallow him whole. His alarm goes off at some point, just as the gray in the eastern sky is beginning to appear, outlining the furniture in his apartment in faint, ghostly shapes.Sidney gets up. He moves like a zombie that was beaten to death when it was alive, his body feeling crumpled and wrecked like the bottom car in a seven-car pileup on the freeway. His entire skin aches. The shivers that have burrowed into his bones haven’t gone away.Sidney moves through his morning routine mechanically. He doesn’t look himself in the eyes when he brushes his teeth. He bypasses the kitchen on his way out the door. He takes comfort in the pained twisting of his empty stomach, telling himself he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of the pain he’s feeling. He feels like he’ll never stop deserving it.It’s a miracle he gets to the cafe without causing an accident, or maybe it’s not. Sidney hasn’t wished for death since those first dark days after Dylan left him, but he’s familiar with the desire. He doesn’t push it away as he drags himself into the back kitchen of 87 Coffee, welcoming the feeling.Flower arrives a little later than usual. He seems to be on a different planet as he bustles in, cheerful as ever, completely oblivious to the tragedy Sidney caused last night.“Sorry, Vero and I got a little carried away saying goodbye,” the sub laughs. Normally Sidney would be rolling his eyes and telling him to spare the details, but Sidney says nothing. Maybe that’s what catches Flower’s attention, because a moment later, he asks, “Sid? You okay?”Sidney doesn’t even want to look at him, but he knows Flower deserves better than that. When he turns to face his friend and respond, though, no sound comes out.He lost his voice last night. Crying.Flower’s expression crumples, as if he knows, as if it’s painted all over Sidney’s face. Maybe it is. “Oh, Sid,” he says, sounding heartbroken. He comes forward, as if he’s going to sweep Sidney into a hug. Sidney takes a scrambling step back, knowing that if Flower touches him right now, he’ll fall apart like a shattered glass vase held together by pure willpower. Flower stops when Sidney flinches back, his face so, so sad. “Did you… Did something happen?”Sidney doesn’t bother to answer; he knows he won’t be able to. He just looks at Flower, and his friend’s eyes sadden even more.“Did you and Geno… Did you…?” Flower can’t seem to make himself say it. If Sidney was more than a walking corpse right now, he’d marvel at how devastated his friend sounds at the thought of him and Geno breaking up. Who knew Flower cared that much?But Sidney is only a husk of a thing with no voice and no insides. He just turns away.Because Flower is kinder than Sidney deserves, he takes care of the front of the restaurant. Sidney barely functions in the back kitchen. He moves mostly on autopilot, restocking things and pulling pre-prepared cookies and pans of brownies out of the ovens. When he isn’t working or cleaning or doing dishes, Sidney stares into space, his thoughts careening downward in an endless spiral. He wonders, distantly, what’s at the bottom of it.He’s not aware of the time. If he was to look at the clock over the back door, he’d know that about this time, Geno usually comes in for his morning coffee. If he was to look at the clock, he’d know that it’s near the time Geno would come in to talk if he didn’t come in for coffee in the morning. If Sidney was to look, he’d see that Geno is boarding the plane now, that Geno is landing in Detroit, that it’s almost time to close so he can go home and call Geno while the Dom gets set up in his hotel room.Sidney doesn’t look at the clock.Sidney is doing one last sweep of the closed front dining area when the phone on the counter rings. It’s so startling and so out of the ordinary that for a moment, all he can do is stare at it. Finally, Flower comes out of the back and grabs it, frowning as he lifts it to his ear.“Hello? This is 87 Coffee, we’re closed,” he says.Whatever he hears must be something meaningful, because his eyes widen. He glances at Sidney, then nods.“Sid, it’s for you,” he says a moment later, holding the phone out. Sidney stares at it uncomprehendingly for a long second, unable to get his limbs to move him forward so he can take it from Flower’s hand.His voice has apparently come back to him throughout the day, though it’s still raspy and barely there when he answers the phone, “This is Sidney Crosby.”“Sidney,” an accented voice says on the other end of the line. For a single heart-shattering moment, Sidney thinks it’s Geno. Then he realizes that the cadence is different, the voice gruffer. A moment later, the identity of the caller is confirmed. “This is Sergei Gonchar, Geno’s teammate. We need to talk.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zhenya is an absolute mess, and he knows it. He tries everything he can think of to pull himself from the dark void he sank into after arguing with Sidney the night before, but he can’t manage to lift the weight of agony and guilt from around his shoulders.This is all his fault. He’s ruined everything, and now he’ll probably never see Sidney again.He knows the team can tell something’s wrong, but none of them ask him about it. Zhenya is left pretty much alone on the flight to Detroit and the time spent settling into a hotel room afterward. He’s grateful that as the captain and a veteran on the team, he gets a room to himself. He spends most of his time going over old plays, trying to drown out the horrible chaos of his mind.Zhenya’s Dominant instincts are all over the place. He wants nothing more than to call Sid, or text him, or do something that will let the sub know he’s sorry. Sid said some horrible things during their argument, but Zhenya is the one who drove him to that place. He’d pushed Sidney away, treated him like trash instead of the blessing that he is. He’d been so wrapped up in his own bullshit that he’d forgotten the one good, stable thing he could go back to. And now Sid is gone.Zhenya doesn’t think the team knows what happened. Seryozha has a knowing look in his eyes whenever Zhenya can bear to meet his pitying glance, but he thankfully doesn’t tell anyone. Zhenya goes about his captain duties as well as he can manage, trying to be there for his team. Even though it feels like his whole world has fallen apart, they’re still mere days away from what might be one of the most important games of their lives. He needs to get his head on straight.The day of Game 7, Zhenya hands his phone to Seryozha. “Don’t let me have it until after the game,” he tells his friend. The other Dom looks at him pityingly.“Zhenya, maybe you should—”“No,” Zhenya says sharply. “Don’t let me have it.”He throws himself into his pre-game routine, hoping it will distract him from the awfulness that is the rest of his life.To some degree, it works. Zhenya loves hockey more than anything else—at least, he thought he did—and he’s living through the opportunity of a lifetime. He and his team have the chance to bring glory back home. He has the chance to really prove himself. He can’t squander that, no matter how much he wishes he could just throw himself beneath the wheels of the team bus.“You gonna be alright, G?” Tanger asks right before warmups are over, when they’re about to head back into the locker room to get mentally ready.“I’m be fine,” Zhenya promises. Though there’s conviction in his tone, he only half-believes it.He’s grateful he gave his phone to Seryozha, because he itches to call Sid. He wouldn’t even need to talk to the sub, he thinks. He would just need to call him and leave a message saying he’s sorry, that he’s not mad, that this is all his fault, not Sid’s. He just needs to know that Sid knows that. He’s aware of the sub’s horrific self-esteem, and half the thoughts that have been plaguing him since their argument are about what state he might have left Sid in. He’d nearly turned around on the drive back to his house that night, knowing somewhere deep in his soul that Sid was likely dropping right then.Seryozha has his phone, though, and he can’t call Sid to tell him he’s sorry, to ask if he’s alright, to beg that he take care of himself, even if he’s furious with Zhenya. Though Zhenya itches to ask his friend for his phone, he keeps himself from asking. He trusts his past self’s judgment. He can’t give in to weakness now.He steps out on the ice with his head only halfway in the game, and it shows. Zhenya’s playing better than he has the entire past couple of days, but that doesn’t mean he’s playing well. He makes passes and attempts goals, but his shots don’t line up correctly and most of his passes are ill-timed. He’s frustrated by the end of a scoreless first period, maybe more so than he has been since his argument with Sid.“Here,” Seryozha says, handing him his phone as they all decompress in the locker room as intermission starts.“No,” Zhenya says, trying to hand it back. “I shouldn’t have it.”“I think you should,” Seroyzha says, looking at him with wise dark eyes. “Figure your shit out, Zhenya. We’re going to need to come out swinging in the second, and we’re going to need you for that.”He turns away before Zhenya can argue. Zhenya wants to throw his phone across the room, or maybe bury it at the bottom of his gear bag and forget it exists, but before he can do either of those things, it lights up and starts to buzz. For one earth-stopping second, Zhenya thinks it’s Sid. Then he reads the caller ID and realizes it’s probably the only other person in the world he’d talk to right now.“Zhenya,” his mama says when he answers the call. Zhenya steps out of the locker room and into a small, secluded hallway outside for some privacy.“Mama,” Zhenya replies. He’s not very surprised to hear how rough his voice is; his throat feels as if it’s closed to the width of a straw.“What’s the matter, my boy?” Mama asks him. She doesn’t sound disappointed. She sounds concerned and maybe a little, genuinely curious. “You look so sad on the ice. You’re in the Cup game; you’ve been dreaming of this for years! Where’s your fire?”Zhenya knows what she’s thinking about. The last time he talked to her—early in the morning the day after he and the team won the series against the Hurricanes—he was elated. The memory of that phone call feels painful now, especially when compared to how Zhenya feels right this second.“I…” He trails off, trying to find the words to tell her that he’s just having a rough start, that he’ll have his fire back in the second, that everything is fine. He ends up saying, “I messed up, Mama. I messed up really badly. I don’t… I don’t think I can fix it.”She hums thoughtfully. “Is it Sidney?”Zhenya closes his eyes, ashamed of the hot tears that slip past his eyelashes. He called her from Sidney’s house that last time they talked. He’d just slipped out of the bed where he’d been holding Sidney in his arms, the sub warm and sleepy and so, so beautiful.“I hurt him, Mama,” Zhenya admits, ashamed. “I hurt him, and he… he got angry with me. I think I’ve been hurting him for a while without realizing it.” He remembers the look on Sidney’s face as he’d asked if Zhenya has kept him from meeting the team because he’s embarrassed of him. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to, Mama. I love him so much. But I hurt him and he’s angry with me and I—I don’t know if I’ll be able to fix it.”His mama hums again, sounding so calm in contrast to how badly Zhenya is falling apart. “Good things that are meant to last will last, Zhenya,” Mama tells him.Zhenya barely covers his mouth in time to stifle his sob. “Don’t say that, Mama,” he pleads. “Don’t—Sidney was a good thing. Sidney was the best thing.”“I know that, silly boy,” Mama says, sounding fond and maybe a little sad. “You didn’t hear me; you never do. Always listening but never hearing.” She laughs, and Zhenya can imagine the way she’s shaking her head right now. “I haven’t met Sidney, but I can tell from your stories that he’s a good sub. And you, you’re a good Dom. You’re just a little dense sometimes.”“Mama,” Zhenya pleads, self-aware enough to know he’s whining maybe just a little. “What are you saying?”“I’m saying that what you and Sidney have between you is special, Zhenya, and even though it seems bad right now, you should have more faith in that connection. You should have more faith in Sidney, and you should have more faith in yourself. Tell me right now that there’s absolutely no chance to fix it,” Mama says.Zhenya wants to say just that, but he forces himself to stop and really think about the situation. “I… I can try,” he admits. “I can try to fix it.”“And a chance to try is better than no chances at all,” Mama points out.Zhenya exhales, feeling something inside of him settle for the first time in days. “You’re very wise, Mama.”“I know,” she says contentedly. “You’re going to go out and win now, yes?”“Yes,” Zhenya says, feeling himself smile a little for the first time in what feels like an eternity. “Yes, I’m gonna go win.” He hears a door bang down the hall, and Seryozha sticks his head out, making a gesture that means Zhenya had better get back in the locker room soon. “I need to go now, Mama. I’ll talk to you soon.”She says goodbye to him and hangs up. He’s still smiling a little when he wipes his eyes and pulls the phone from his ear. He almost misses the little symbols on his lock screen that announce that he has a missed call and a voicemail.Frowning, Zhenya clicks on them. He really needs to go and get back to the team, but he clicks the symbols anyway. They tell him that the missed call and the voicemail are from Sidney.Zhenya shouldn’t open it. He has no idea what Sidney will be saying—it might be a two minute voicemail of him just yelling at Zhenya. If it is, it will unravel all the hard work Mama just put into calming Zhenya down and getting him to a good place in his head again. But Zhenya has never pretended to be smart or even self-preserving, so he opens the voicemail and puts it to his ear.“Hey, G,” Sidney’s voice says when the voicemail starts. He sounds… surprisingly good. Steady. Calm. “I know you’re probably getting ready for the game right now, but I hope you see this at some point. I wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry for what I said a couple nights ago. I-I know that won’t… I know it might not change anything, and that’s okay, but I wanted you to know that what I said wasn’t true. You’re an amazing person and an amazing Dom, and I’m grateful for all the time we’ve had together. You’ve got a heart of gold, G. All that stuff about… about Mr. Charity was wrong. That was a lie. It was me being stupid and insecure, and I’m so, so sorry I lashed out at you like that. You deserve so much better than me and my nonexistent ability to handle my emotions. I hope I haven’t caused you a lot of stress, but if that’s the case, I’m sorry—”“Zhenya!” Seryozha hisses from where he’s reappeared down the hall. “Let’s go!”Zhenya turns away from him, waving a hand to convey that he’s heard him and he understands. He hopes he turned fast enough to conceal the tears streaming down his face.“You’re an amazing player and an incredible leader, and if anyone has the ability to lead the Penguins to victory, it’s you,” Sid is saying. “I know you… I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but I-I’m proud of you, G. I really, really hope you guys win, not just because I’m a fan, but because I know how hard you work and how badly you want it, and if anyone deserves to hold the Cup over their head, it’s you. So I’ll wish you luck, and I’ll hope that you play your best and that the game will go well. Maybe, um… Maybe call me back? But only if you want. Um, yeah. Okay. Bye, G. Good luck in the game.”The voicemail ends. Zhenya is left standing in the hallway with tears sliding silently down his face, his chest exploding with a mixture of sadness and guilt and traitorous, tenuous hope.He has no time to call Sidney back now. He’ll have to do it after the game, when he has the space and emotional control to be as composed as he needs to be. His mama’s words echo in his ears as he turns and clunks back toward the locker room, rubbing furiously at his face to cover up the fact that he’s been crying his eyes out. He can fix this, he thinks. He can fix this.But first, he needs to win this game.Zhenya is locked in during the second period, and it translates in his play and that of the players around him. Less than two minutes in, Zhenya assists the first goal of the game, putting the Penguins ahead 1-0. Nearly four minutes later, they get another goal, putting them up 2-0. The whole team seems to suddenly be playing better, the puck passing from tape to tape, plays running smoothly, shots on goal coming closer and closer to going in. They don’t score again for the whole period, but there’s no question that they’re dominating.“Whatever the hell you did during first intermission,” Tanger says to Zhenya as they’re heading back to the locker room after the second period, “keep it the fuck up.”Zhenya merely nods. His phone is tucked into his gear bag now, silent and ignored. He’s gotten everything he needs out of it for now. He’s going to win this game, and then he’s going to fix the mess he made before it.Second intermission is spent going over plays and strategies to keep the 2-0 lead that they’ve acquired. The air in the locker room is electric, filled with the energy of a team full of young men who are a mere twenty minutes from achieving victory. Zhenya can practically taste the tension on his tongue. It reminds him why he loves this sport so much.The third period is more intense than any other period Zhenya thinks he’s ever played. The Red Wings retaliate within the first half of it, one of them managing to score a goal that sets the whole stadium alight. Zhenya shouts himself hoarse on the sidelines, encouraging his team to forget it, to focus on scoring again to widen their lead. He ignores the anxiety that’s taken up root inside him. Just ten more minutes, he tells himself. Ten minutes is an eternity.But the seconds on the game clock tick down, down, down. The Wings almost score several times, but the Penguins manage to hold them off each time. Zhenya doesn’t think he breathes in the last five minutes, especially when a Wings player breaks away and nearly scores a goal that ties the game.In the end, the clock runs out. The 2-1 score stays the same. The Penguins… The Penguins win.Zhenya feels dizzy as his teammates flood the ice, screaming with elation at their victory. His body doesn’t feel real as he’s enveloped in a crowd of bellowing, crying, laughing men. He thinks, distantly, that he should find a camera and smile at it and hope it’s the one on TV so Sid can see. His brain, somehow, is completely free of any thought other than: We won.The celebration feels surreal. Zhenya’s consciousness seems to float, as if he’s watching himself shout and laugh and hug various teammates and coaches from afar. The urge to look for one of the cameras stays with him throughout; he’s aware of his desire to see Sid, to share this moment with him, the entire time.He nearly drops the trophy when he gets to skate around with it, which would have been a story for the ages. He’s giddy when he returns to the crowd of his teammates and passes the trophy to the next player, his hands literally shaking with leftover adrenaline and elation. He always thought he would enjoy every second of winning the Cup, and he is enjoying it, but it feels like everything is passing in a blur. Before he knows it, families are being allowed onto the ice, his teammates laughing and crying as they hug parents and spouses and children alike.This is where Zhenya feels a little like he’s left on the outside, though he has plenty of teammates to congratulate and speak to. His family is all the way in Magnitogorsk, up early so they can watch the game on TV. He’ll call them after he manages to get back to the hotel, probably sometime tomorrow morning. For now, though, Zhenya has no one to celebrate with.At least, that’s what he thinks.It’s so loud on the ice that Zhenya doesn’t hear his name being called until the person shouting it is right up behind him. Zhenya is watching as one of his teammates lifts his young daughter into the air and tickles her with his beard, making the little girl shriek with laughter, when he feels a gentle tug at the right sleeve of his jersey. Zhenya turns, thinking there’s another teammate or coach to congratulate, and finds himself staring directly into Sidney Crosby’s sweet brown eyes, the corners of which are crinkled with the sub’s wide grin.“You won!” he cries.Zhenya’s mouth falls open. It’s lucky he’s spent nearly his whole life on ice skates, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to keep his balance otherwise. He reaches out numbly, unable to comprehend anything except his need to touch, to feel, to confirm that Sidney is real.His hands touch tangible clothes, the fabric of a mock Penguins jersey with an 87 on it. Zhenya’s hand curls around Sid’s left arm, his grip assuring him that Sidney is real, that he’s really, actually there.“Sid,” Zhenya breathes.Sid’s eyes crinkle even more as his smile widens. “Hey, G,” he says.“Sid,” Zhenya repeats, like an idiot. His voice is soft, barely audible, but it doesn’t matter. All the sound from around them has died away, leaving just the two of them standing on a bare ice rink, for all Zhenya’s perception receives. “Sid, how…? How…?”Sidney’s sweet smile softens, becoming shy. “One of your teammates talked to me the day you guys flew out to Detroit. He bought me a ticket to the game and convinced me that you would… that you would be okay with me coming.” He shifts a little, awkwardly shuffling the bouquet of flowers he’s holding in his arms. “I don’t—Geno, can you say something? I don’t… I don’t know what you’re thinking. Do you… not want me here? I can leave—”“No!” Zhenya cries, his grip tightening on Sid desperately. He quite literally cannot comprehend the luck that has befallen him, the chance to have two things he loves most in his arms in one night. His brain is still struggling to catch up. But he knows one thing with absolute certainty: he can’t let Sid go. Not again. “Sid, you—I can’t—I can’t believe you here.”It’s not the welcoming confirmation Sidney was asking him for, but the sub, smart as he is, seems to understand. That beautiful smile crinkles his eyes once again. “Of course I’m here, G,” he says gently. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to be here for your big night.”Zhenya is only mildly embarrassed when he bursts into tears right there. It’s humiliating because he knows there’s probably a lot of cameras trained on him, but he’s not surprised by his own reaction in the slightest. It feels as if all the emotions he’s been putting off for the last few days—or maybe it’s weeks, maybe it’s since this series started—have all come crashing down on him at once. He feels all of them in a tidal wave the size of a tsunami, a crushing wave of sadness and guilt and terror and elation and victory and relief. He does the only thing he can think to do; he yanks Sid into his arms and holds him tight, tight, impossibly tight. He feels like he’ll never let Sid go.Sid is so good, so perfect in Zhenya’s arms. His body is firm with the lean muscle he’s built of, but the way he molds into Zhenya’s body is so soft and so, so sweet. He’s shorter than Zhenya already, but when Zhenya’s on skates, he towers over Sid. Sid has to reach up to wrap his arms around Zhenya’s neck, which he does, letting Zhenya bend him in against his body and bury his face in his neck. Zhenya closes his eyes and inhales the sweet, familiar scent of Sid’s shampoo, something in his chest giving way at the soothing smell. He makes a sound that’s half-laugh and half-sob and says desperately, “I love you, Sid. I love you, I love you, I love you.”“Oh, G,” Sid says, his voice taut with emotion of his own. “I love you too. And I-I’m so sorry—”“No, no more sorry,” Zhenya says fiercely, pulling away from Sidney so he can look the sub in the eyes. “No more sorry. You already sorry enough on phone and I—I not want to hear you say sorry one more time.” He still needs to apologize too, needs to get on his knees and beg for Sid’s forgiveness if that’s what it takes. But right now, the only thing he can manage to do is hold Sid tight and pray the sub will stay with him long enough to let him earn his forgiveness.“You listened to my voicemail?” Sid asks, pulling away so he can discreetly wipe his eyes on his jersey. “You—You heard?”“I hear in intermission,” Zhenya tells him. “I’m talk to Mama, and then I hear Sid’s message. It change my whole brain, make me good at hockey again.”“I should have called you earlier,” Sid says, that terrible guilt crossing his pretty face again. “I shouldn’t have waited so long, but I wanted to let you cool off. I didn’t think that it might affect your game—”“No more sorry means sorry’s hidden in other words, too,” Zhenya says, pulling him into another hug. “I see your message at just best time, Sid. Everything… Everything perfect. Everything perfect.” He squeezes his eyes shut and remembers his mama’s words: Good things that are meant to last will last. He smiles at the memory. His mama really is wise.“Mr. Malkin!” Zhenya hears somewhere in his left ear, the first reminder that they’re still standing in the middle of a massive Stanley Cup celebration. “Mr. Malkin, do you think we can get a word from you about your thoughts on the win tonight?”“No, thank you,” Zhenya says, turning a little so he can shield Sid from the reporter. “Busy.” Then he pulls back and kisses Sid full on the lips, just like he’s been meaning to do ever since he first saw the sub standing behind him on the ice.Sidney laughs against his mouth, one of his hands coming up to tug sweetly at Zhenya’s hair. “You gotta talk to your fans, G,” he says, lips brushing against Zhenya’s as they pull away just far enough to breathe. “You’ve got so many now! You’re gonna be the most popular guy in Pittsburgh.”“Don’t care,” Zhenya murmurs. “Just want be with you.”He kisses Sid again.Zhenya has no idea how long it takes him to finally remember that he has obligations, but it’s a while. When he does, he sees that some of the team has gone back to the locker room for the post-game celebration. He knows he should follow, but…“You want to come with me?” he asks, nodding in the direction of the locker room. “Can come meet team.”The smile Sid gives him is impossibly sweet and gentle. “It’s okay, G. You’ve gotta celebrate with your guys, and you’ve gotta do it with just them,” he says, perfectly understanding. “I’ll have plenty of time to meet them back in Pittsburgh, won’t I?”“Yes,” Zhenya says firmly. “Yes, yes. I’m introduce you to team and take you to family skate and get you seat at every game, every game you want go to. I’m never make you feel like I’m want to hide you again, Sid. I’m not want to hide. I love you, Sid. You my pretty sub, my good boy.” He leans in and kisses Sid on the forehead long and firm, making absolutely sure that Sid understands him. Beneath his lips, he feels the heat of Sid’s adorable blush.“When we get home,” Sid reminds him, pushing the slightly-crumpled flower bouquet into Zhenya’s arms and nudging the Dom gently toward the locker room. “For now, just enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it.” He grins. Zhenya thinks that if anything, that sweet, crooked, gentle smile is the thing he fell in love with first.“Wait, Sid,” he says, just before Sid is about to turn away. “I’m need to ask—who is teammate that fly you here?”Sid smiles, glancing at something over Zhenya’s right shoulder. “Sergei Gonchar,” he says. “He told me he couldn’t slap you silly, so he was gonna have to talk some sense into me instead.”Zhenya turns and finds Seryozha standing halfway across the ice with his family, his wife tucked under his arm as he takes pictures next to the Cup. As if he can sense the eyes on him, Seryozha turns his head to meet Zhenya’s gaze. When he sees who’s standing in front of him, Seryozha merely gives Zhenya a smug half-smile and raises his eyebrows, almost as if he’s expecting something.Zhenya pulls Sid in against him and kisses him again, reminding himself that when all this is over, he’s going to get Seryozha a nice, expensive bottle of vodka.That kiss lasts for a long time, but Sid is the first one to pull away, laughing and blushing and looking like the most beautiful thing Zhenya’s ever seen. “Go on, Captain Malkin. You’ve got a team to celebrate with,” he laughs. “This is the best part of the night!”“No,” Zhenya disagrees, kissing him one last time on the forehead. “You the best part. You the best part of the night, for sure.”He goes off to celebrate the win with his team with the image of Sidney’s blushing, smiling, happy face permanently fixed in his memory.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sidney is curled up on the couch annotating a cookbook when Geno comes to him. He looks up from making notes about sugar substitutions in a muffin recipe he and Flower are thinking of using when he hears a knock on his door. It’s a familiar pattern, a playful series of five knocks, then three, then five again. Sid feels his cheeks ache with how quickly a large smile spreads across his face.He launches himself off his couch, tossing the cookbook aside without a single care for the pages getting bent or the fact that he’s only halfway through a written thought. Sidney nearly trips and falls on his hardwood entryway as he scrambles for the door. He’s laughing when he opens it, revealing a familiar handsome Dominant on the other side.“Hi, beautiful,” Geno greets, stepping into the apartment and sweeping Sidney into a one-armed hug. He kisses the sub briefly but deeply, then pulls back and grins at him. “You laugh for me? Think I’m look funny?”“No, I almost fell because I was running to come see you,” Sidney explains, laughing at the memory as he closes and locks the door. He turns to Geno and throws his arms around him, asking, “How are you, Mr. Conn Smythe Winner?”Geno makes a grumbling, bashful noise. “I’m good. Still surprise that I win trophy, I’m not expect.”“You’re the only one who was surprised, G,” Sidney laughs. He squeezes his Dom tight, so tight. “I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.”“Is big parade, big party,” Geno says. The Penguins returned to Pittsburgh a little while ago, and Geno’s been busy with interviews and celebrations ever since. It’s the end of a long day, and he sounds exhausted. “I’m tired. Just want to see my Sid.”Sidney can’t help his blush at that. It’s still such a big thing to think about, Geno seeing all those people and celebrities and fans and thinking through it all that the only person he wants to see is Sidney. Sidney still doesn’t trust that impossibility as truth, though he knows Geno wouldn’t lie to him.“You have me now,” he says, smiling. He’s only in a pair of shorts and a soft T-shirt, but he’s sure Geno doesn’t care.In fact, when the Dom looks him up and down, Sidney sees something like hunger in his dark eyes. “Yes,” he says slowly. “I’m have you now. Question is… What am I do with you?”Sidney swallows, a flicker of heat thrumming through his body. He hadn’t necessarily expected the night to go this direction, but he’s not complaining. “I don’t know,” he says, choosing his words carefully, trusting in his knowledge that Geno is safe, that Geno isn’t like Dylan. “It’s not like you’ve done anything significant in the last couple weeks. I’m not sure we have any reason to scene or do anything special.”Geno’s eyes darken, though his mouth twitches at Sidney’s teasing. “I’m not need reason to put my hands on you,” he says lowly, taking a step toward Sidney. Sidney backs up, up, his shoulders pressing back against the wall. Geno keeps coming, boxing him in, enveloping Sidney’s entire being in his presence. “What I do with you, Sid? Everyone think Geno Malkin is so lucky, have Cup and parade and shiny trophy. But they not know how lucky I am. They not know I’m have such pretty sub to call mine.”Sidney shivers at the possessive word of the last sentence. “I’m pretty sure they know, G,” he says, breathless as Geno leans in close to run the tip of his nose gently up and down the line of his throat. “Th-They must have seen the—ah—the p-picture.”There is A Picture going around the internet right now, along with all the images of the Penguins’ Stanley Cup win. It’s of Geno and Sidney standing on the ice kissing, and Sidney blushes every time he sees it. Geno has him bent slightly backward with how hard he’s kissing him, the long line of Sidney’s body pressed up against his own. He looks huge in his skates and pads, and Sidney… Sidney looks like he’s being kissed silly. He is being kissed silly. It makes the soft, submissive part of him squirm with pleasure every time he sees it.“Good,” Geno growls against his throat now. “I’m glad they know. You mine.”He claims Sidney’s mouth in a forceful, dominant kiss. It’s not painful like the kisses Dylan used to give Sidney when he was mad or wanted to make a point—Geno doesn’t bite his lip hard enough to make it bleed, nor does he make their teeth clack together—but there’s no questioning who’s in charge. Sidney melts into it, moaning softly when Geno presses him up against the wall with the firm, strong line of his body, boxing Sidney in and leaving him with no escape. There’s no way for Sidney to get out, but there’s also no way for anything else to get in; Sidney is completely surrounded and safe.It only makes him melt more. He whimpers a little when Geno’s knee bends up, the Dom’s thigh nudging between Sidney’s legs. It gives Sidney’s hardening cock something to rub up against, a feeling he hadn’t known he was craving until just now.Geno pulls back suddenly, leaving Sidney gasping a little, a string of spit connecting the two of them for a mere moment before it breaks. “I want to fuck you,” Geno tells Sidney roughly, his eyes dark, his voice wrecked with pure want. “Want to fuck you, make you mine. Sid is what I’m look forward to all day, all parade. You my best trophy.”“Oh, fuck,” Sidney whispers, the curse startled out of him by the wave of heat and desire that floods through him. Holy hell, does he get turned on by Geno calling him a… a trophy. Maybe he shouldn’t enjoy it as much as he does, but he can’t help the way his body instinctively leans into the Dom pressed against him, wordlessly begging for more.Geno doesn’t miss how much Sidney likes that, if the grin that spreads across his face is any indication. “Go lay down on bed,” he commands, pulling away from Sidney and tugging a low whine from the sub’s throat. “Take off clothes, show me pretty body. I’m want to see.”Sidney nearly trips over himself in his hurry to obey. He makes himself wait until he gets to his bed before he strips out of his clothes. Thank God the curtains are already shut from when he’d closed them earlier; he doesn’t think he would have enough patience to deal with them right now. He pauses to neatly fold his clothes where they sit on the floor at the foot of the bed, and then he climbs up onto the mattress, limbs shaky with anticipation.Geno isn’t behind him. He’s rummaging around in the kitchen, filling a glass with water, if Sidney’s ears are to be believed. Sidney lays down on the bed despite the way his instincts scream at how exposed he is, laid out and naked and vulnerable. I’m want to see, Geno told him. This is what his Dom wants, so it’s what Sidney will do.“Look at you,” Geno murmurs when he comes over, setting several things down on the nightstand. He climbs onto the bed slowly, his gaze traveling up and down Sidney’s body. Sidney forces himself not to curl into a ball beneath the scrutiny, though he wishes desperately that he could. Geno must sense the effort he’s making, because his face breaks into a wide, proud smile. “Such good boy, Sid. So beautiful for me, so good at listen.”The praise sends Sidney flying into that warm, fuzzy headspace where he feels like he could levitate if he really tried hard enough. He gives Geno a dopey grin as the Dom moves to straddle his hips, using his heavy, comforting weight to pin Sidney to the bed.“If I’m tell you to keep hands up here,” Geno says, gathering Sidney’s wrists and moving to stretch the sub’s arms up over his head, pinning them to the bed near the pillows, “you stay. Okay?”“Yes, Geno,” Sidney breathes out.Geno gives him a warm, proud smile. “Good boy,” he praises, running one fingertip over Sidney’s cheekbones as the sub blushes at the praise. “You tell me color, sweetheart. Color and safeword.”“Halifax,” Sidney manages. “Green, Geno.”Geno hums and kisses him. “Good boy. My word is jelly.” He grins against Sidney’s mouth as the sub giggles. He still thinks Geno’s word is funny, even though he hopes to never hear it during a scene.Sidney’s laughter quickly turns into a moan as Geno latches his mouth over the pulse point at his throat and sucks a deep, possessive mark. It’s over the scarred skin where Sidney’s previous collar once sat. The knowledge that Geno is covering Dylan’s marks with his own makes something inside of Sidney tremble like a feather in a hurricane.“Keep hands,” Geno reminds him, releasing the hold he has on Sidney’s wrists. Then he begins to suck a long line of hickeys down Sidney’s throat and chest, trailing kisses and little nips of his teeth all the way down the sub’s torso. Sidney gasps at each intimate touch, his chest heaving with each breath as Geno makes his slow, slow way downward.The Dom pauses at Sidney’s stomach, taking a moment to lay several gentle, featherlight kisses against the soft, soft skin there. There’s a scar just under Sidney’s ribcage where a Domme from the club went too deep with a knife before Sidney could stop her, years ago. Geno pays extra attention to the silvery edge of raised skin, nuzzling his nose gently against it and pressing light kisses to the sensitive scar. Sidney can’t see him very well from where he’s laying, but he almost thinks the Dom’s lips are shaping soundless words as they trace over his skin.Geno moves on after a long moment. Sidney has to fight to keep still as the Dom nuzzles against his inner thigh, teasing him with soft, light touches that are everywhere but where Sidney’s really aching for it.When Sidney can finally work up the courage to beg, he sounds wrecked and halfway taken-apart already. “Geno,” he pleads, shivering as the Dom’s amused exhale ghosts against his inner thighs. “Please, Geno… Please.”“Please what, Sid?” Geno murmurs, accented voice filled with dark satisfaction.In this fuzzy, warm headspace, Sidney isn’t as afraid of the consequences of his actions as he is when he’s thinking rationally. He barely hesitates before vocalizing what he wants, what his whole body is aching for. “Please fuck me,” he begs Geno, high-pitched and needy. “Please, Geno, please. I need it.”Doms don’t care about what you need, a voice says in his head, but it’s quickly dismissed. Sidney can’t even really register the thought before Geno is chuckling darkly, his breath blowing against Sidney’s hipbone. “How can I say no to such pretty sub, such good boy?” he wonders aloud. “Especially when sub is so sexy. So beautiful, Sid.” He follows the statement with the hint of his teeth against the ridge of Sidney’s hipbone, sending a jolt through the sub’s whole body. He shakes where he lays on the mattress, unsure how he can possibly stay where he is when he feels like he’s going out of his mind with need.In the end, Sidney is saved by the fact that Geno wants to fuck him as badly as Sidney wants to be fucked.“I’m think about this for days now,” Geno growls as he works his fingers inside Sidney after he gets tired of teasing. Sidney feels as if every inch of his body is taut with pleasure and delicious tension. Geno has stripped off his clothes and is kneeling naked and beautiful above him, looking like he wants to devour Sidney whole. “I’m think about after Cup win, think about fucking Sid on hotel bed. All my other teammates go out with wife and husband, or pick up pretty subs at bar. I’m sit there and think of my Sid, think of how much I’m want to be inside you.”Sidney cries out as Geno’s fingers brush against that sweet spot inside him, sending aching, delicious pleasure arching through him. It’s been a while since he’s been fucked—longer still since he’s been properly prepared beforehand—so Geno is taking his time. Sidney enjoys every second of it, his whole body alight with heat and pleasure.“Going to fuck you, baby,” Geno tells him when he’s managed to fit three fingers comfortably inside Sidney. “You keep hands where I put, yes? Be good boy for me.”“Yes, yes,” Sidney pants, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses his wrists against the bed. “Gonna be good for you. Gonna be good.”“Always good for me,” Geno croons, pulling his fingers free from the hot, tight clench of Sidney’s hole. Sidney hears the wet squeeze of a lube bottle, and his heart skips a beat in anticipation.He has to work to keep himself relaxed as Geno lines the head of his cock up with his entrance. The air is cool as Sidney sucks it into his lungs in shallow, hitching breaths. He’s pretty sure none of the oxygen actually enters his bloodstream, because he feels dizzy and breathless when Geno slowly, slowly slides all the way inside him. Sidney’s throat works out a soft, thready moan at the feeling of such fullness, of finally being as close and connected with Geno as he can possibly get.“Color, Sid?” Geno asks, sounding short of breath himself.“G-Green,” Sidney barely manages to get out. “G-Green—Oh, Geno—”He cuts off with a gasp as Geno pulls out of him slowly, then snaps his hips back in. It’s delicious and fulfilling and everything Sidney’s body has been craving. He arches his back and moans as Geno fucks into him again and again, starting up a slow, steady rhythm that takes Sidney apart piece by piece, atom by atom.He’s overcome with pleasure, with the knowledge that his body can feel so good even when he’s doing so little. He doesn’t have to fight and claw to keep his control during a scene with Geno like he does with other Doms. This headspace Sidney is floating in right now is like being spread out on a giant Alaskan king bed, softness stretching for miles around him, enough that he can roll around without ever fearing an edge that he might tumble off of. Scenes with Dylan were like teetering on a metal balancing beam, Sidney desperately attempting to keep the Dom happy the whole time. Scenes with Doms from the club were even worse—like trying to stay upright on a tightrope, with the knowledge that an ugly, ugly subdrop awaited him if he ended up losing his balance. With Geno, Sidney is safe. With Geno, he can let go and just feel.And feel he does. Every thrust Geno makes causes fire to erupt all over Sidney’s body, hot pleasure that coils tighter and tighter in his core. He’s barely aware of himself as he gets closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy, his breath coming in gasps, his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. All he can think of is Geno’s order to keep his hands pinned to the mattress above him. His arms are getting tired from his effort to keep them pressed down and still, and he wants nothing more than to reach down and run his hands over as much of Geno as he can reach, but he keeps his arms where they are. He needs to be good. He needs to be good for Geno.“G-Geno, please,” Sidney gasps as the Dom’s thrusts begin to speed up, hitting that sweet spot inside him almost every time. “Please, Geno, please—”Geno says something in Russian that Sidney can’t understand. The Dom’s face is as wrecked as Sidney feels, his hands running up and down Sidney’s sides in soothing, reverent strokes that are a complete contrast to the hard, heavy thrusts of his hips. Sidney arches into the touch, his breath catching as a wave of intense need flares through him.“Geno, please,” he begs, suddenly desperate. “I need to come, Geno, please, please, please let me, please—”“Come, baby,” Geno grits out, his hands coming to rest on Sidney’s hips so he can thrust particularly firmly into the submissive’s body. “My good boy, best prize I’m have. Come for me.”Sidney obeys only a second later, a cry ripping free from his throat as his orgasm washes over him. It’s euphoric and fulfilling and exactly what he needed, and he feels himself ascend into the very stratosphere of the safe, fuzzy headspace he’s been hovering in this whole time. He feels as if his mind comes free from his body, as if he’s floated up and out of the world, into a place where only pleasure and safety and intense, unbelievable happiness exist.It’s hard to tell how long Sidney floats in that happy place. It could be five minutes or five hours, for all he knows. At some point, he’s aware of the need to keep his arms pressed hard against the mattress despite the force that’s suddenly trying to tug them down. A moment later, a familiar voice, amused and affectionate, murmurs next to his ear, “Can put hands down, now, good boy. Is okay. You so good, so obey, such good boy for me.”The firm need to keep his arms above his head abates. Sidney sighs in relief as they’re guided down to lay comfortably at his sides, strong, capable fingers kneading the slight ache in the muscles away. He curls into the warmth that crowds his left side, inhaling happily when he finds the pine-and-cedar scent of his Dom nearby. This is heaven, he reflects. This is the happiest he’s ever been.This time, he doesn’t need to be guided down from subspace. He comes back to himself on his own, his awareness of his surroundings slowly, slowly filtering back in. He blinks his eyes open—he hadn’t known he’d closed them—and finds that he’s laying on Geno’s chest, a blanket pulled up over their waists, the Dom stroking a gentle line up and down the length of Sidney’s spine. His other hand is cupped around the back of Sidney’s neck. His fingertips are running gently back and forth across the thick scarring.“Ge-no,” Sidney slurs, nuzzling his nose into Geno’s chest. It vibrates with the chuckle that thrums through the Dom’s body.“Hi, Sid,” he says, sounding so, so in love. “How you feel?”“Good.” Sidney drags out the vowel like an idiot, grinning dopily up at Geno.The Dom grins back at him, his gaze impossibly soft. “I’m glad,” he says. “You my good boy, Sid. So good for me. Your arms okay? No pain?”Sidney hums. “Jus’ a little sore.” The position wasn’t strenuous in the slightest; not when compared to the positions he’s had to hold for Doms in the past. Geno is so gentle with him. He’s everything Sidney didn’t know he needed and wanted, everything he didn’t know he could have.“Is okay. I massage tomorrow,” Geno decides. “Was worth seeing my pretty Sid so stretched out. You so beautiful when you come, baby.”Sidney blushes hard, then jolts a little as Geno’s words jog his memory. “Did you come?” he asks, suddenly needing to know. There’s something like panic tickling at the very edges of his fuzzy headspace now, thorns in the soft fluff of his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I checked out without making sure—”“Shh, sweetheart, is okay,” Geno soothes, using the hand on the back of Sidney’s neck to push his head to rest on the Dom’s chest once again. “I come just after you. No need for scare, baby, you so good for me. Make me so happy, even without come. Okay?”Sidney isn’t sure he believes that, but he’s content to know Geno was taken care of, so he says, “Okay,” and snuggles in again.They spend a long time just cuddling with each other. The only source of light in the apartment is the lamp near the couch, so the atmosphere is soft and peaceful. Sidney is just beginning to feel drowsy when Geno says, “Sid, when I… when I’m say that you my prize, I’m not mean I own you. Not… Not like that.”Sidney blinks, looking up at the Dom. “I know that,” he says. “I didn’t think you actually considered me as, like, an object.”Geno looks relieved. “Good,” he says. “I’m own you because you my sub, but is same as you own me because I’m your Dom. But is not real own. Not like I’m own car or house or something.”“I know,” Sidney assures him. He smiles a little, feeling his cheeks heat ever so slightly. “And even if it was, just in the context of the scene… That would be kind of hot.”Geno gives him a knowing look. “My Sid like to be mine?” he asks, poking a gentle finger into Sidney’s side.Sidney giggles and moves away from the prodding. “Maybe a little,” he admits to Geno’s chest. “I… I like being your prize, or whatever. I like knowing you look forward to me.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “That doesn’t make any sense.”“Makes sense,” Geno assures him. “Is sweet. I’m so lucky, have such good, sweet sub who like being mine so much.”Now that Sidney’s brain is working just about normally again, his thoughts and memories are coming back. He remembers the argument they had, which feels impossibly long ago. He knows they need to address it at some point, and they will, but… “I do like being yours,” Sidney murmurs into Geno’s skin. “And I… What I said during our fight was only half true. I know it’s not gonna be easy for me to wear a collar again, but I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you.” I’d do anything for you, he doesn’t say, though he feels it deep in his soul. If Geno told him the only way they could be together was if Sidney wore a dog collar again, he would do it in a heartbeat.But Geno wouldn’t do that. The soul-deep knowledge comforts Sidney like nothing else. Geno wouldn’t do that because he loves him. Geno wants to take care of him.“We not need to get to that right away,” Geno says, his words slow and thoughtful, careful like the tracking sweep of his hand up and down Sidney’s bare back. “Is okay if you need time, Sid. Heal takes time. And if need years and years for able to wear collar, or if never able to wear it at all, is okay. I love you, and no collar is not change that. Okay?”Sidney closes his eyes, knowing Geno can feel the dampness of his tears against the skin of his chest. “Okay,” he whispers.“Time for chocolate and water now, I’m think,” Geno says, running a soothing hand through Sid’s hair. His tone takes on a teasing lilt that does nothing to mask the genuine truth in it as he says, “My favorite part of scene, when I’m get to take care of my Sid. If I spend rest of my life just cuddling Sid and feeding chocolate, I’m die a happy man.”Sidney laughs, because it’s funny. Beneath that laughter, though, he feels a surge of real, true happiness. Geno means what he’s saying. It makes him happy just to see Sidney happy; he doesn’t need Sidney to bend backward to do something he wants, he doesn’t demand more from Sidney than Sidney is able to give. He just wants a sub to take care of, a sub that he can coddle and spoil and love. For Geno, that’s enough.And for the first time ever, Sidney feels himself begin to believe that he, Sidney Crosby, is enough too.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The team goes out to lunch a few days later, and that’s when Zhenya decides to introduce them to Sid. It’s the last day for some of the players before they head back to their respective hometowns and countries, and the mood is celebratory and light. When Zhenya enters the small restaurant they rented for the afternoon with Sid tucked under his arm, he feels the energy in the room spike with amusing excitement. Zhenya’s teammates have been getting on him for not bringing Sid around, so he’s glad to finally make the introductions.“You’re crazy if you can put up with this guy,” Tanger says, knocking Zhenya on the shoulder and smiling as he shakes Sid’s hand. “You must have the patience of a saint!”“G’s not so bad,” Sid says, smiling shyly up at Zhenya. “He must save all his craziness for you guys.”“I finally understand why Geno’s always so enamored with whoever he’s talking to on the phone before games,” Talbot says as Zhenya and Sid sit down at the table the team is sitting at. “He’s always got this dreamy look on his face, you’d laugh if you saw it. He gets snappy if anyone interrupts him while he’s calling you. Isn’t that right, Olli?”Zhenya rolls his eyes. “I’m not yell at Olli so much,” he says. “But call with Sid is special. What is word in English? Holy?”“Sacred,” one of the other guys says.Sid ducks his head to hide the giant blush Zhenya knows has colored his cheeks. Zhenya puts an arm around him and leans back in his seat, a feeling of deep contentment settling over him.After the lunch is over and they’re driving home, Zhenya asks, “How was it? Not so bad, no?”“It was great,” Sid tells him. Even though Zhenya has his eyes on the road, he can tell the sub is smiling. “They’re all really nice. I was worried…” He trails off, but Zhenya knows what he was going to say.“Not need to worry, of course they like you. Just wait until I’m take you to family skate,” he says, laughing. “They really like you then.”They go home to Zhenya’s house this time. They’ve been staying there more often after they resolved their argument. It’s gotten to the point where Sid has a toothbrush and several changes of clothes in Zhenya’s room, a space for his shoes in the front hallway, and a couple of his chipped coffee mugs mixed in with Zhenya’s glasses. Zhenya loves that he can find little bits of Sid all over his apartment. He dreams of the day Sid will move in for good.Mama and Papa come to visit for a little while, when they can get the time. Zhenya makes sure to give Sid advance warning that they’re coming, as well as an invitation to come over anytime, should he want to meet Zhenya’s parents. To Zhenya’s delight, Sid asks if he can come over for dinner one night. The answer is an emphatic yes.Zhenya’s parents love Sid, which Zhenya knew would be the case. Mama pinches his cheeks and coos at him when she meets him, and even though Sid can’t understand a word she’s saying, he still blushes. Zhenya endures his papa’s gentle teasing and his mama’s reminders about all the ways he should treat such a good, sweet, pretty sub. Pull out his chair for him, Zhenya, and He made such a nice loaf of bread to go with dinner, Zhenya, why aren’t you kissing him? and His little cheeks are so cute, I don’t know how you keep from pinching them all the time. Zhenya knows they’re just telling him in their own way that they approve very much.“Maybe when you come back from Russia for the season in a couple months, you can stop by Cole Harbour and meet my family,” Sid suggests. Zhenya is surprised by the offer, because he knows Sid’s relationship with his parents is complicated. Sid shrugs when Zhenya voices his thoughts. “I don’t know if my dad will appreciate the irony of his hockey-failure of a son dating the best hockey player in the world, but I think he’ll be civil. They still love me, G, and they still want to be part of my life. They’re gonna want to meet the Dom I’ve been spending so much time with. Taylor is especially excited.”Zhenya agrees to work in a visit to Nova Scotia on his way back to the States at the end of the summer, if only so he can see his Sid smile.The time for Zhenya’s flight to take him back home for the summer months is only a week or so away when Zhenya takes Sid to dinner in a nice restaurant on the outer edges of downtown. It’s high-class enough that they both wear nice tuxedos. The way the slacks hug Sid’s ass makes Zhenya almost wish they could just skip the dinner altogether, but he knows this is important. He makes sure to keep the little box in his suit jacket tucked safely inside as he leads Sid into the restaurant.“Would the submissive gentleman like a kneeling pillow or a chair?” the waiter asks as she leads them to the table.“J-Just a chair, please,” Sid manages. He peeks at Zhenya uncertainly, and Zhenya gives him an encouraging smile.They end up in a quiet, dim corner of the restaurant, the low, golden lighting and the soft murmur of the other guests making everything seem incredibly intimate. Sid’s smile is beautiful as he looks around the place and says, “Wow, G, this place is awesome. What’s the occasion?”“I’m just want to take my pretty sub to pretty restaurant,” Zhenya says, which is half the truth. “Is a crime?”Sid laughs quietly, dropping his gaze shyly. “No, that’s not a crime. Thanks for taking me here, G. It’s beautiful.”It really is; the chandeliers that hang from the vaulted ceiling are crystalline and intricate, and the paneling on the walls is covered in paintings of gardens and forests. The wine is delicious, as is the food. It’s all so enjoyable that Zhenya almost forgets to be nervous about what he’s come here to do. He forces himself to stop thinking about it and just enjoy dinner with Sid, because otherwise, he’ll work himself into an anxious mess before the appetizers are even cleared from the table. Thankfully, it’s never been hard for him to immerse himself in a conversation with Sid. His sub is a master at easing his anxieties, even though Zhenya doubts Sid is even aware of it.The waiter has just disappeared after taking their dessert order when Zhenya decides it’s time. Hands shaking ever so slightly, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the small, slim box that’s been sitting buried beneath his socks for weeks now.“Sid,” he says quietly, heart swooping in his chest at the softness in the sub’s golden brown eyes.“G?” Sid asks, gently prompting.Zhenya slowly, carefully lays the box down on the table. The dark wood is stark against the cream tablecloth. The box sits innocently between their water glasses and silverware, simple but incredibly meaningful.Sid stares at it for a long time, his sweet brown eyes wide with something like shock and maybe awe.“Geno,” he breathes after what feels like a small eternity. “Is this…?”Zhenya makes himself reach out and slide the top off the box, revealing the two items inside. “One for now,” he says, his voice quiet and slightly ragged, “and one for future. If you want.”Inside the box is a small silver necklace with a charm on it, a number 71 that’s about as large as Zhenya’s thumbnail. The chain is simple and thin, discreet enough to be hidden beneath a shirt but elegant enough that Sid could be wearing it right now and it wouldn’t look out of place. Beneath it, laid out like fine art on a velvet pad, is a soft, black leather collar. It’s about the width of Zhenya’s finger, the material buttery soft and gleamingly gently in the candlelight. Zhenya made sure it would be comfortable when he got it. He put it on himself in the mirror, wearing it for a whole afternoon so he knew it wouldn’t chafe Sid’s skin if the sub wore it. It’s not a collar for a dog, it’s for a person. A treasured submissive.Sid’s eyes are glued to it, and for the life of him, Zhenya can’t tell what he’s thinking.“Sidney Crosby,” Zhenya says quietly, remembering the many times he listened to the robotic female voice pronounce the words again and again until he got them right. “Would you do me the honor of offering me your submission in exchange for my promise to take care of you as you deserve?”“Geno,” Sid breathes, his voice choked with the tears that shimmer in his pretty brown eyes. “Yes, Geno, I—Yes. Yes, yes, I-I accept. I will. I—” He cuts himself off, looking down at the contents of the box again. Some emotion is beginning to come through the shocked mask of his face: awe and amazement, overwhelmed incredulity, and a little terror, too. He’s the most beautiful thing Zhenya has ever seen.“Collar can wait until you ready,” Zhenya says quietly, gently. “But necklace… I’m put on you now? Is okay?”Sid looks up at him with eyes shining with gratitude and so, so much love. “Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, please.”Zhenya gets up and kneels in front of his sub, a display of trust and reverence. He takes the necklace carefully from the box, putting it carefully around Sid’s pretty neck. His big, clumsy fingers fumble with the clasp for a long moment, and when he curses under his breath, they both laugh a little. It’s awkward and imperfect and exactly what Zhenya wanted it to be. When he finally succeeds in clasping the necklace around Sid’s neck, he curves a hand around the sub’s jaw and kisses him gently.Dessert seems like a bad idea after that. All Zhenya wants to do is take Sid home and fuck him while he’s wearing nothing but that necklace, but he forces himself to wait until they’re out of the restaurant and back at his house before acting on those desires. The scene they have when they get home is hot and possessive and perfect. Afterward, laying in bed naked with Sid tucked against him, Zhenya kisses at the necklace resting against the sub’s neck and says, “I’m so lucky you mine.” He never thought, in all those nights he spent thinking about Sid… But now he’s here. He has everything he’s ever wanted.“I want to try wearing the collar for you,” Sid murmurs against him, his voice small, but determined. “I don’t know how well it will go, but I… I want to try.”“Okay, baby,” Zhenya says, kissing his temple. “Whenever you want. Maybe tomorrow, before we both sleep?”“Okay,” Sid agrees.They do try tomorrow. Sid sits on the couch next to Zhenya and opens the long, slim box again. It shakes a little where it’s held in his trembling hands. Zhenya sees and is the first to voice his second thoughts. “Maybe we not try yet?” he asks, praying he doesn’t sound condescending or patronizing or, God forbid, irritated. “Or maybe I’m go in other room? Cover my eyes?”“No, that’s—that’s okay, G,” Sid says, laughing shakily. “You don’t have to do that. Just… I’ll put it on, okay? Not… Not you? Not yet.”“Of course,” Zhenya agrees, fighting the urge to shift away so he can give Sid more space. “Whatever you need.”He proceeds to fold his hands neatly in his lap and then tuck them between his thighs. Sid, either emboldened by the action or simply ready to take the next step forward, reaches into the box and pulls the thin strip of leather out of its velvety confines.For a moment, it dangles in the air innocently, such a simple thing that carries so much invisible weight. Then Sid is lifting it shakily to the soft, scarred skin of his neck, his fingers trembling visibly as he attempts to pull it close around his throat and work the end through the buckle.It takes a long time, maybe five minutes or more. When Sid finally gets it right, he lets his hands drift shakily to his lap, his gaze fixed firmly on a point somewhere in front of him.“Sid,” Zhenya whispers, unable to help himself. He hates the way Sid flinches at his voice, but he continues, needing to speak. “Sid, it look… It look so good. So pretty, Sid.” And it does. The leather compliments Sid’s skin tone. The width is perfect, just thick enough that it’s obviously a collar, but thin enough that it sits elegantly around the slender, pretty curve of Sid’s throat. It looks beautiful. It’s Zhenya’s claim on his sub’s neck, and he’s never seen anything better.Without thinking—because he’s an absolute idiot—Zhenya reaches out to touch. He just wants to run his fingertips over the edge, where the soft leather meets Sid’s softer skin, but before he can get farther than a few inches, Sid flinches away from him.“N-No, no,” he yelps, scrambling away from Zhenya. Zhenya freezes, going absolutely still.For a long moment, they both stare at each other with wide eyes, Sid’s chest heaving with panicked breaths, Zhenya’s heart threatening to beat right through the cradle of his ribcage. Sid is staring at Zhenya like Zhenya has just told him he wants to carve his name into his back and is holding the knife to do so. It’s a terrible, horrible thing to witness.When they finally break that terrible standoff, Sid is the first to move. “I-I’m sorry, G,” he croaks, his body relaxing from its rigid, terrified position to something only slightly less frightened. “I-I don’t—”“I sorry, Sid, I so sorry,” Zhenya blurts, finding his voice. “I so sorry, I’m not think, try to touch when you not want, I’m sorry, I—”“It’s okay, it—it was my fault,” Sid says, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have d-done this, I can’t, I’m too screwed up—”“No,” Zhenya says firmly. “Not your fault. Please don’t… Please don’t take collar off? Yet? I’m sit here with hands under ass, be very still, I’m promise. We just sit here and you… you feel it there? Or—no, is my bad English, God damn it—”“G, it’s okay,” Sid says. The shaky, frightened quality of his voice tells Zhenya it most definitely is not okay. “You just… I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You want me t-to keep wearing it?”“Just for little bit,” Zhenya pleads, knowing he’s putting his foot in his mouth but too desperate to stop himself. “Just for two minute, maybe one. I’m not… I’m want you to take off if scare you, but if you can sit there, just for little bit…”Sid’s face is very pale. He’s still shaking, curled up on the far end of the couch with as much distance as he can get between himself and Zhenya. He’s clearly terrified, but he’s so, so good, and he says, “Okay, G. Whatever you want.”“Is not—Don’t think of how scary,” Zhenya pleads, wishing he could just say what he wants to say. Stupid English. Stupid past-Zhenya and his laziness when he was learning the language. “Think of feeling on neck. Is okay, Sid? Not too tight?”Sid swallows, the line of his throat bobbing. Despite how frightened he is, Zhenya still thinks he looks so, so beautiful in the collar. “N-No. Not too tight.”“Good, sweetheart,” Zhenya says, voice soft as feather down. “Is good. You able to breathe, no choke, no pain. No need for scare. Is okay. You’re okay.” When he sees the words sort of register on Sid’s face, some of the tension draining from the sub’s shoulders, Zhenya gives him a wide, encouraging smile. “You so good, baby, doing so good. No scare. You able to do it, baby, see? Is okay.”Sid swallows once, then again, and then again. Then he gives Zhenya a tiny, tiny smile. It’s the most beautiful thing Zhenya has ever seen. “I… I’m doing it. I’m okay.”“Yes,” Zhenya breathes, a wave of gratitude and reverence and utter amazement at how incredible his sub is flooding through him. “Yes, baby, you’re okay. Is just what I’m want you to see. You can take off now, Sid, when you want. I’m just want you to see that you can do it.”Sid’s eyes are suspiciously shiny when he takes the collar off himself. He puts it back into its box with such care Zhenya wants to start crying too. He does, when Sid puts the box down and immediately launches himself into Zhenya’s arms, shaking and trembling and still coming to Zhenya for comfort, even though he was terrified, even though it was Zhenya he was terrified of just a few seconds ago—“I love you so much,” Zhenya tells him in Russian, needing to get it out somehow. “I love you more than you will ever understand. You’re so beautiful, and so strong, and so, so giving. You give me so much, baby, so much of yourself. I love you, and I don’t know who decided I deserve someone as precious as you, but I swear I will spend the rest of my life thanking them if it means I can keep you by my side.”“G,” Sid murmurs, voice muffled where his face is pressed into Zhenya’s shoulder, “what are you saying?”Zhenya closes his eyes, a couple hot tears sliding down his face. “I’m say that I love you, baby,” he whispers into Sid’s hair. “I love you, and I’m so, so proud. So amaze that you mine.”They try again, once every night. Zhenya is careful to keep his hands to himself whenever Sid takes the collar out and puts it on his neck. Some nights, they make progress. Some nights Sid can put the collar on without his breathing picking up to hyperventilation-speeds. One night, he even wears it while making them dinner, his hands only a little shaky as he boils pasta and puts together a simple spaghetti sauce while Zhenya watches from a safe distance. Some nights, though, it feels as if they take a few steps back. Sid can’t even put the collar up to his neck one night, his throat already closed up if the sound of his wheezing breath is anything to go by. He curls up in Zhenya’s arms and cries for nearly an hour afterward, pushing away Zhenya’s verbal attempts to comfort him and sobbing that he’s broken, that Zhenya should just leave him because he’ll never be able to give him what he wants. That’s one of the worst nights, and it will haunt Zhenya for years to come.Thankfully, they don’t have a repeat of that night. Sid continues to make progress, little steps forward that make Zhenya’s heart sing with pride and love. And then, one night a few days before Zhenya is due to leave for Magnitogorsk, Sid puts the collar on with minimal shaking and whispers quietly, “I want you to try to touch it.”“Sid,” Zhenya says uncertainly, sure that both of them are remembering how badly that went the first time.“I-I want you to try,” Sid says, his voice shaky, but sure. “I know you want to. I trust you, G. I know you won’t hurt me. I just need my body to understand that, too.”“I’m not want to scare you,” Zhenya says. His voice closes to a hurt, choked whisper as he admits, “I hate when you scared of me. Is my most nightmare, Sid.”Sid’s eyes are soft and understanding. “I know, G, and I can’t promise I won’t be scared. But I want you to try. I want us to try. I think… I think I can do it.”And he truly does seem to want it, so Zhenya agrees to try. His hands are shaking almost as badly as Sid’s when they sit down only a few feet apart on the couch, Zhenya finally within reaching distance. He lets Sid sit there for a moment, settling into a slow, steady pattern of deep breathing. Then he says, “I’m touch you now. I’m go slow, okay? Say safeword if is too scary. What is word, Sid?”Sid looks a little surprised to hear him ask, but then his eyes flash with gratitude and he says, “Halifax. Thanks, G. That’s a good idea.”Zhenya nods. “Okay. I’m jelly.” He says it with intentionally bad grammar, a little flicker of joy fluttering through him as Sid’s mouth ticks upward in a tiny smile. “Okay, baby. I’m touch now. Remember word.”Then he slowly, slowly reaches out. He keeps his arm in front of Sid the whole time, right where the sub can see it. Zhenya perseveres through the terror that flashes through Sid’s eyes, the little ways the sub flinches away from him, the horrible tension that is taut throughout his whole body. Zhenya keeps going, because he trusts Sid to use his word, trusts his sub to know when he needs to stop. He keeps going, keeps going, and then he finds his fingertips brushing the edge of the collar, grazing the soft, soft skin of Sid’s throat.Sid flinches. Hard.“Sid—” Zhenya manages, keeping himself very, very still.“It’s okay,” Sid chokes out. His breath has taken on that tight, wheezing sound that comes when he’s panicking. He’s staring at Zhenya with wide, frightened eyes, like a rabbit trapped in a corner.“Shh, baby, is okay,” Zhenya soothes, forcing himself to focus on comforting his sub instead of on how awful he feels about scaring him. “You okay. Want me to stop touch? Or keep here?”“Just st-stay, just stay l-like that,” Sid whispers. He closes his eyes and swallows thickly. The soft bob of his throat nudges against Zhenya’s fingertips, a sensation that’s startlingly vulnerable.Zhenya understands why Sid is so scared. His neck is such a sensitive part of his body, where he swallows and speaks and breathes. The skin of his throat is so soft, so easily bruised or cut. The ring of scars on it is thick, layered with months and months of damage. Zhenya could engulf Sid’s entire throat with his hands, could cover up those scars and the fluttering pulse point and vulnerable Adam’s apple and soft, soft skin with just his palms. It’s such a huge display of trust for Sid to be allowing him near such a sensitive part of his body at all, let alone a place that has been hurt so badly and so often in the past.“Such good boy for me,” Zhenya whispers, reverent and awed. “So trust, so sweet. I’m so honor you let me touch you here, baby. You so brave, such good boy.”“G,” Sid gasps, his breath shuddering out of him. “You can… You can…”“Can what, baby?” Zhenya murmurs, gently, so gently.“You can m-move,” Sid tells him, his voice barely audible, barely more than a breath of air.Zhenya sucks in a quiet inhale through his teeth. When he moves, he does it achingly slowly, running his fingertips along the line where the collar meets Sid’s skin.“N-No, no, yellow,” Sid whimpers when Zhenya gets near the back of his neck, where the scarring is thickest. “J-Just—There.”“Okay, baby,” Zhenya soothes, moving his fingers back toward the front of Sid’s throat, where the sub feels safer. “Is okay. Thank you for tell me, you such good boy for me. You okay? Is okay?”Sid releases a long, shuddering exhale and says, “Y-Yeah, I think so. I’m—I’m green.”Zhenya’s cheeks ache with the smile that splits his face. “You doing so well, baby. This is so good, so much trust. I’m so honor to be able to touch here. Is such big honor.” He wants nothing more than to lean in and press a kiss to Sid’s throat, to feel the leather and skin beneath his lips, but he knows that would be too much. It’s okay. This is okay. If this right here is all that Sid could ever give him, Zhenya would be content.“You can—more,” Sid murmurs after a moment, reaching up with a shaking hand. He fits his fingers over Zhenya’s and presses down gently, encouraging the Dom to feel the full width of the collar on his throat, the soft, scarred skin that it sits on top of. When Sid breathes, Zhenya can feel it beneath his palm. His throat vibrates when he speaks, saying, “I’m okay. This is… it’s okay. Thank you, G. You’re amazing.”“No, you amazing,” Zhenya says, his words choking with the tears that have been waiting to come out for a while now. God, he’s such a crybaby. Sid makes him so emotional. “So proud, baby, so amaze at how good and brave you are. I’m so honor to have so much trust, so much trust of best, beautiful sub in world.”He leans in, going slow, allowing Sid plenty of time to pull away. The sub meets him in the middle instead, pressing their foreheads together so they can close their eyes and breathe each other in. Zhenya feels Sid’s every inhale and exhale beneath the palm of his right hand.Their scene that night is soft, so soft. Zhenya lays Sid out on the bed and kisses up and down his body, paying special attention to the scarred, bare skin of his throat. They hold each other close as Zhenya fucks Sid slowly, taking his time. Afterward, when they’re laying in a hot bath in Zhenya’s giant bathtub, Sid says, “Someday, I’m gonna be able to wear my collar during a scene.”“Not need to, baby,” Zhenya reminds him. “I’m not need more. You give me everything already.”“I want to,” Sid says. He doesn’t sound scared; he sounds determined. “I’m going to. Someday.”Zhenya closes his eyes and thanks all the higher powers he can think of for the man in his arms. “Okay, baby,” he whispers. “I’m wait as long as you need.”He has to go back home to Magnitogorsk a few days later, and it’s pain like he’s never experienced to say goodbye to Sid at the airport. Sid promises they can call every day, though; the night before, they’d laid out a timeline of the differences between Magnitogorsk and Nova Scotia, and they’d figured out the times of day they can call each other. They stick to that the entire summer, calling or at least texting once a day, and Zhenya is happier than he thought he’d be.When the summer is over, he flies out to Nova Scotia to spend a few days with Sid before they both go back to Pittsburgh. He meets Taylor and adores her, and he is well-received by Sid’s parents. Zhenya enjoys seeing Sid’s hometown and all his old friends, who—he’s delighted to find—all have funny, polite accents just like Sid.As the new hockey season starts, a new picture goes up on the wall of 87 Coffee. It sits just to the right of the team picture of Sidney and Flower on their junior hockey team, framed in a similar neat, dark rectangle of wood. It’s a picture of Geno holding up the Stanley Cup in front of his victorious team, a giant grin on his face. A picture below it appears soon after, this one of Geno kissing the life out of Sidney on the ice, the two of them absorbed in each other like they’re the only two people left on earth. And a couple years later, just to the left of that one, a small collage of pictures from Geno and Sidney’s collaring ceremony goes up. It features a photo of them leaning their foreheads against each other, eyes closed, Geno’s hand cupped gently against the side of Sidney’s neck, where an elegant leather collar sits.The collection of pictures on the wall is perfect—Well, maybe another Cup celebration or three would be nice. But for now, this will do.For now, this is everything they need.
The End.