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Hockey RPS/Detroit Red Wings. | always-a-girl!Niklas Kronwall/Brad Stuart. | explicit sexual content. angst. angstporn. emotionporn. menstrual kink (possible squick, including blood, blood-tasting, and menstrual paraphernalia). body image issues. infidelity/infidelity!kink. explicit language. strong language. | NC-17 | 4714 words. | written for Porn Battle XV; prompt red. | Not affiliated with![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/3073311-17737/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
lostcoastlines's 'verse this time. | unbeta'd. | Stuie and Nik have sex while she's on her period.
Nik sneaks into the mens' locker room after practise and tugs Stuie aside as he's doing up the buttons on his pants.
"What?" Stuie asks, but Nik shushes him immediately.
"I have to talk to you," she whispers. "In private."
If Stuie thinks she's looking for a hookup or to plan one, he's dead wrong, and Nik is already sweating over the news she has to impart, her hands clammy, the divot at the base of her spine hot and wet.
Stuie cocks an eyebrow at her, curiously, but he doesn't ask her what's with the whole secrecy routine. He just nods once and turns away from her, deliberately, as if there's nothing in particular between them—which he has to do, because if anyone knew about Stuie and Nik, there would be hell to pay.
For that matter, there still might be. Nik wrings her hands together as she walks out of the mens' locker room again, trying not to appear too out of place.
It isn't like the women are exclusively prohibited in there or anything. This is a professional sport; nudity is expected and ignored as if it's unimportant. But for Nik and Stuie… it ceased to be unimportant, and now Nik is paying the price for it. She trods slowly down the hall and tries to act like she's carefree, happy practise went well, no worries other than their next game.
But she doesn't think she'll fool anyone who's actually paying attention.
As soon as she gets a safe distance away from the mens' locker room, she texts Stuie, asking him out to dinner. She does this fairly often, though she mixes it up sometimes who she goes out with, just to keep anyone from being too suspicious of her and Stuie spending so much time together.
No one needs to know how often they are at each other's places, though.
Stuie must have been already holding his phone, because he texts back immediately in the affirmative.
She replies asking him to meet her at her house, because she doesn't want to have this conversation anywhere they could be overheard—not here, at the Joe, and not at some restaurant or steakhouse, either.
Satisfied, she enter the womens' locker room and drops her phone in her bag, then zips up her lightweight hoodie and grabs for her car keys, slinging her duffle over her shoulder.
By the time she gets home, she fully expects Stuie to be waiting for her. He'll get there first, because she has to stop and do something on the way.
Sure enough, when she pulls into her driveway, Stuie's car is there, idling because while it's not precisely cold yet, it's a little chilly. She figures he's waiting in the car with the heater running.
He's still not really used to Michigan weather after spending so much time in California, which is something she never lets him hear the end of, considering he was born and grew up playing a winter sport in Canada.
Stuie must see her arrive in his rearview mirror, because the engine shuts off and he climbs out, looking worried. Nik only hopes that, by this point, no one has ever noticed how often his car is parked in her drive.
The media would definitely love to blare that all over the place, and that would be a problem. A huge problem—it might hurt the co-ed quality of the NHL. Might cause the commissioner to dial it back a notch and return it to being an exclusively men's domain.
And then Nik would be out of a job, and it would be her own fault for screwing it all up.
Nik lets Stuie into her house—they've discussed giving each other keys, but it's always seemed like such a bad idea, to have one more clue that could get them found out—and as soon as they are in the breezeway with the door closed, Stuie puts his hands on her shoulders and gently turns her around to face him.
"So what is all this about?" he asks. "Why all the cloak and dagger routine?"
"Can I at least get my hoodie off?" Nik asks grumpily. She likes having him here—usually. But tonight she's too wound up to really be able to enjoy it.
"Come on, what could be so bad?" Stuie quirks a smile at her, the kind that would generally make her laugh. He slides his hands from her shoulders down her back, pulling her in and lowering his head like he's going to kiss her.
So this is it, then. She can't let him kiss her again. She's going to have to tell him, before he drips his happy all over her and she swallows it behind her teeth because she doesn't want to ruin what they have.
Although, of course it is already ruined, and of course what they had could never be brought out into the light of day anyway.
"Stop," she says, and it comes out harsher than intended, like accidentally slipping the razor through the shaving cream and nicking yourself.
But it has the intended effect, though; Stuie stops all at once, his forehead creasing, as he looks at her. Like he's never seen her before.
"You've never said I couldn't kiss you before," he says slowly. He takes his hands off her, stuffs them into his jeans' pockets. "Are you breaking up with me?"
"Don't be silly," Nik says, and then watches his relief crumple into something else when she adds, "we're not together."
"That's not how I would have put it," Stuie says. "You're rewriting the script."
"I can't be together with a married man," Nik points out, with what she figures has to be obvious logic. From the expression on Stuie's face, though, he wants a better explanation. "Stuie. Don't be thick."
"Maybe I want to think of you as my girlfri—"
"Don't," Nik says. She tries to put everything she feels into her eyes, which he is definitely trying to read. "You have a wife in San José. And we both know this isn't serious." Except it's about to become serious, and way, way too real.
"So is that what this is about? You're upset about my wife?" Stuie slips his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to chew on it. It's goddamn distracting. So Nik stares over his shoulder, at the tea towel hanging on the rod by the sink in the kitchen, and forces herself to pry the words from her throat.
"That's not it. I'm… I'm late." She dares a look back at his face.
Stuie's uncomprehending expression makes Nik want to bash her brains out on the kitchen sink. He has three kids, for Christ's sake. Admittedly one of them is only a step-kid, but it's not like he doesn't know how this shit works.
God, what did Melissa say to him when she was pregnant? Hey, guess what! You're going to be a daddy?
"My period," Nik says, with particular emphasis. "It's late."
Stuie blanches so white it's almost like he's the colour of fresh, clean snow.
"Shit." Stuie rubs his hands down his face, then meets her eyes again. "Shit."
Now, red is blooming on the centers of his cheeks, making him look feverish.
"You can say that again," Nik says. "Oh wait, you already did." Then she hates herself for the humour, because it's obvious Stuie is no longer in any pleasant frame of mind.
"What are we going to do?" Stuie asks in a shocked whisper.
Nik shrugs helplessly. "I don't know. I really don't know."
"Nik, this can't—"
"I know, it can't come out," Nik interrupts, "your wife and all that."
"Fuck my wife," Stuie says, this time shocking her. "The game," he finishes. "You have to play. If you go down now, you burn almost an entire season."
"I'd be more worried about your wife, honestly," Nik says dryly.
"It's not like she's going to find out way back in San José," Stuie points out. But he's not thinking straight.
"Stuie, if I say I'm pregnant—" she stumbles over the word "—people will eventually figure out who the daddy is. And then there will be no place where your wife is far enough away not to find out. Well, maybe Yemen. But still."
His colour disappears right from his face again. Nik thinks maybe he's going to pass out this time. And why should she blame him? After all, it's not like they can have a child together. It just. It can't happen. It should never have happened—and she's on the Pill, and he's always used a condom. She doesn't really know how it defeated two methods of birth control and happened, but she's reasonably sure she's pregnant.
"Nikki," Stuie says, but instead of reacting with disgust like she expected, he gathers her up in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I don't want you to think what you're thinking."
"You mean, that you can't have kids with me? That you never wanted this affair to go this far?" Nik's ironic tone must get to him because he sets her apart from him again so he can gaze into her eyes.
She hates that he's got such a romantic look on his face as he holds her.
"No," Stuie says. "But—"
"I'll have to do it," Nik says bracingly, making the decision for both of them, so he won't have to be part of it—so he won't have to feel guilty about it. "I'll just, I don't know. Maybe I can take a trip out of the country and get it done there."
"What?" Stuie's gone blank again, confused. "You'll do what? No." Now his eyes clear and he actually shakes her, just a little. "No."
"It has to be this way," Nik says. "You said it yourself, I'd burn an entire season. And probably also the playoffs!"
"I won't let you," Stuie says. "I-It's mine, too, and I can't let you just… you know. No. Nikki, you've always wanted kids. Anyone with eyes knows that. What if this is your best chance?"
"You mean my only chance?" Nik puts her hands on his chest and shoves him backwards. He barely even moves. She grinds her teeth hard enough to hear them click together. "Don't be a fucking cunt, Stu, it's not like I'll never have a real relationship. When this one is over. Which actually, you're right. It is." She inhales her courage on a deep breath and says, "Get out of my house."
"You're breaking up with me because I won't let you have an abortion?" Stuie sounds completely flabbergasted.
"No," Nik replies. "I'm breaking up with you because it has to happen so that if I come out to the coach as pregnant, you won't be implicated in the ensuing shitstorm. And that can't happen."
"Nik, please," Stuie says, and she must be hormonal or something, because she might have punched him if he'd said "Nikki" again. "Try to be rational—"
"No, you know what? I don't think… I don't think you're being rational. Do you want this whole stupid affair to be exposed?"
"Of course not, but… Nik, I want to be a part of this. I don't want you to have to go through it alone."
"Oh, please. I can handle this fine, thank you very much. I only told you because—" but then Nik stops and holds herself very still.
From Stuie's face, his features concerned, she knows he's wondering what just happened.
"Oh my God," Nik cries, relief pouring out of her. "I'll be right back!"
Pushing past Stuie into the house proper, she hears him padding after her in what is likely confusion.
But he stops at the bathroom door like he's a vampire that has to be invited in—and yes, he does, Nik thinks darkly—and she slams it in his face.
When she pulls down her pants and her underwear, she could literally kiss… Babcock, maybe, in relief and happiness.
The bright red blood on the cotton panel of her underwear might be ruining her favourite pair, but between the splotch there and the cranky, irritable way she's felt, she's reasonably sure she's having her period—thank God—and not, after all, pregnant.
Still, she has to be sure, so she unwraps the pregnancy test she had stashed in her pocket—that she picked up on the way home from the Joe—and prepares to use it.
Some minutes later, Nik is ready to run around her house naked doing some kind of grateful interpretive dance to thank the heavens—and possibly also the hockey gods—that she is definitively not pregnant.
She settles for a tampon, washes her hands, and throws open the door—following that up with throwing herself into Stuie's arms. So she's being emotional. So what. She's allowed.
She literally climbs him like a tree, wrapping her legs around his waist and surprising him so that he stumbles backward a little, but his arms do come around her to hold her up. It's a good thing she's petite.
"I thought—" Stuie's lips twist down. "Did you miscarry or something? You're too happy."
"Nope!" She lathers kisses on his face and jaw and poor tortured lips. "I'm not pregnant! I got my period. Finally."
"Not… not pregnant?"
Does he sound almost… disappointed? Nik leans back and studies him.
"I'd almost think you're sad about this," she accuses softly.
"No, of course not," Stuie says. "I understand how bad it would have been, for us, and for right now. But still. Don't you want kids, Nikki? I could have sworn you did."
"Yes, of course," she replies, showering him with more kisses. "Someday. With a nice man I can settle down with, yes." She's not really thinking until he pulls back from her, sets her down on her feet.
"Not with me, then," he says, and his throat is dry; she hears it click as he swallows.
"Stuie, come on, you know that can't happen."
"Maybe I still wish it could," he says stiffly, and Nik thinks she insulted him without meaning to. She struck some kind of nerve, anyway.
"Well, it can't." Nik examines him. "Unless you're planning to get a divorce or something. You're still married." She puts her hand on her hip and levels on him her best glare. "And it's fucked up to be talking about me having your kids. You have kids, Stuie."
Stuie's mouth tilts down and he gives her what can best be described as puppy dog eyes. She refuses to be swayed.
"I know I do. It doesn't change the fact that… it would make you happy, wouldn't it, Nikki? To have a baby?"
Nik sighs. "Yes, it would make me happy someday. It would probably even make me happy if it was yours. Because I love you. Of course. But it's not going to happen. You know that." She takes in a cleansing breath. "Stuie, we're going to have to be more careful from now on. We can't risk me getting pregnant for real."
"Let's start now," Stuie suggests, a sudden wicked gleam in his eye, as if he's trying to forget she both admitted to loving him and refused to entertain having his baby in the same sentence.
"Now?" Nik feels her eyebrows climb into her hairline. "You want to fuck me… now? While I'm all icky and gross?"
Stuie pushes a tendril of hair off her forehead. "I don't care about that."
"You will when your dick gets all covered in blood," Nik says bluntly.
Stuie shrugs. "I was going to wear a condom anyway. Besides, I really don't mind it. Melissa and I—" he trails off, suddenly looking everywhere but at her.
Nik grinds her teeth again. "Did you fuck her on her period?" she asks, feeling awfully possessive of someone who will never, ever belong to her.
"No!" Stuie's eyes land on her face again; they soften. "No, it was just that I've lived with a woman, I know all about these things."
"I bet," Nik says, but in her traitorous little heart, her blackened, size-of-a-pea heart, she wants to one-up Melissa in something. Melissa will always have been there first—will always have had his love first.
But fuck it, she won't be able to lay claim to this.
This is going to be something that is theirs, just between them.
"All right," Nik agrees, easily. She goes up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "But just remember, you asked for this."
Stuie's face is a little flushed, and he's getting steadily more red as her words sink in. Nik thinks maybe he's regretting his impulsive suggestion, until he starts kissing her back, almost violently, tearing at her clothes with his hands.
Nik pushes him back a little. "Hey, watch the clothes, these are some of my favourites."
Stuie stops pawing her briefly to bite at his lower lips until they are obscenely swollen in combination with that and her kisses.
She is beginning to think maybe Stuie likes the idea of this more than he should.
Nik gives herself a mental shake. It's not the first time she'll have had sex on her period, but those other times were because she and her partner were both super-horny, not because either of them actually had a thing… and Nik is starting to suspect Stuie has a thing.
She wonders what he would think of the fact that she's only ever done this before with a strap-on, on a woman. She hopes he wouldn't be one of those guys whose eyes get suddenly wide like dinner plates and you can just tell he's getting off on it.
"Let me get a towel," Nik says, "so we don't mess up my bed."
Stuie obliges her by letting her go, and as she turns away from him she fleetingly caresses his obvious erection in his jeans.
She lays the towel down on the bed, on top of the comforter, and then stands awkwardly next to the bed, unsure of how to proceed. If she were having normal sex, she'd just grab Stuie and yank him on top of her—unless she was feeling frisky, and then she'd shove him down onto the bed and take charge herself.
Stuie solves her problem by coming up to her and kissing her on the top of her head.
"Are you okay?" he asks, and Nik nods.
"I uh, I have a tampon in…" she stutters. "Let me just—"
"No," Stuie says, and he actually picks her up and lays her down on the bed, so gently it's like he's forgotten the hard checks she can dish out, the painful hits she takes herself. It's like Stuie thinks all of a sudden she'll break—and she's not even pregnant after all! "I'll take it out."
"Don't pull too hard," Nik says nervously. She knows from experience that pulling too hard fucking hurts.
But she should have known better. Should have trusted Stuie more, because he slowly slides her underpants down her legs and off.
He grasps the little string hanging out from between her lower lips and tugs on it, little by little, very gently.
He doesn't gasp or look horrified or disgusted when he's holding it in his hand. He just wraps it up in a tissue from her nightstand and throws it in the trash basket.
And then he starts throwing his clothes off like a man possessed, until she's staring at his muscled chest and his taut thighs and dear God, she never quite gets used to the sight of his cock when it's aroused—all because of her. She still doesn't really know what he sees in her, but he never seems to have any trouble getting aroused by her body—so she just tries to roll with it.
He grabs for his jeans before they fall off the bed, shuffling around in the pocket for his wallet. This time, they are definitely going to use a condom—Nik had a pregnancy scare once when she was a teenager in Sweden, and her mom had pointed out that it wasn't ever completely safe to have unprotected sex, even when on her period—which is what she'd done back then.
"Okay?" Stuie asks again, and Nik gives him a small, tremulous smile. She is okay, but she's a little nervous in a way she normally isn't. Ordinarily she'd just spread her legs for him.
But she can feel the blood dripping slowly down her slit, and she blushes probably as red as the blood. She's afraid if she spreads her legs too wide, it will just gush all over everything.
But Stuie's biting his lips so hard, one and then the other, that they are puffy and rich with blood too. In a way, it's a little bit like symmetry.
"Okay, well." Stuie smiles at her, and because his lips are swollen, Nik wants to laugh a little. But only because of how badly she wants to kiss them. She's often noticed Stuie bites his lips during games, which leads to interesting post-game interviews, but she likes being one of the few people who knows how much he does it during sex.
And that thought makes her throb down below, makes her wish she wasn't on her period so that he could bite—carefully—at her lips.
Stuie can't always read her mind, though, so he doesn't do something… well, gross… and start eating her out or anything. She doesn't really want to make that pun, thank you very much.
Stuie rolls the condom down his ready and willing cock, and Nik takes a deep breath and tries to prepare herself mentally like she does before every big game. This is just one more test that she is sure she can pass.
And if she can get over the slight weirdness of doing this with Stuie, she'll probably enjoy herself quite a lot.
She opens her thighs, and Stuie lets out a little gasp, a thread of his voice in it, and sucks on his lower lip. He nudges up against her with the head of his cock, and they both jerk when he enters her.
Nik can tell from the look on Stuie's face that he never would have realised how slippery blood is—that it would make such a good lubricant. He looks awed.
He slides all the way into her like they were meant to fit together, his cock bumping up against her cervix, and then they both lie there for a moment, panting.
She reaches up with one hand, and runs it through his hair first, then down along his cheek and stubbled jaw and finally traces his muscles as she works her way down his chest.
Eventually, her hand is at the upside-down vee of his groin, and without missing a beat, she fits her hand in between them, touching her own lips and the small bit of his shaft left unsheathed by her cunt.
She knows she's going to have bloody fingers, but it seems irrelevant now, and Stuie's eyes look sleepy as he drinks her in, his own hands still planted on the bed.
But then he moves one of them, grazes her side with it, then over her stomach—Nik winces a little, does he really have to do that—and then upwards, until he's got his palm cupped beneath her breast. He's not really holding it so much as letting it rest on his curved palm.
She shifts underneath him, jostling them both and leading to the feeling of blood seeping out of her even though Stuie's filling her up pretty effectively.
"Stuie," she says. He looks downright drunk. "Stu. Brad."
At this his eyes refocus a bit and he meets her eyes, his hand still under her breast, his thumb swiping back and forth across her nipple.
"You have to fuck me now," she reminds him, as if maybe he's forgotten how this whole thing works. Plus maybe then he'll stop playing with her nipple, which makes her feel a little… unsettled.
She likes it, yes, but it just serves as another reminder of things about her body she doesn't like.
Stuie licks his lower lip, long and slow, and then, before she knows what he's doing, he's moving, stroking her from the inside out, and it feels delicious—it eases some of the ache in her lower parts from her period.
"Stuie," she says, "faster. Hard." The cramps are starting to hit, and if he fucks her hard enough, they'll subside a little, and when she comes, it will relax everything to the point where nothing really hurts anymore.
"I'll hurt you," Stuie says, sounding unsure of himself. It's true that they've never really fucked hard and fast—he's too gentle, sometimes—but right now, that's exactly what she needs. What she craves.
"No." Nik squirms under him. "You won't. Fuck me, Stuie, come on. I can't wait all day."
She can tell the first time he withdraws at all, not just because she can feel his cock slipping out of her, but because of his startled little noise when he sees the blood.
"Are you all right?" she asks, concerned, but Stuie raises his eyes to her, and they are shining.
"This is weird," he starts, and Nik covers her face with her hands.
"I'm sorry—"
"No, not like that," Stuie hurries to explain. "It's like, the proof that you could have my baby. It's hot. I mean." He's blushing to the roots of his hair now, when Nik peeks through her fingers.
"Stop talking!" she orders. "Now, Stuie. Now."
As if he's really listening—and not just fascinated by the blood on the condom—he pounds into her, and it's wonderful, just what she needs—hard enough to send her body scootching up the bed.
Stuie grasps her hips tightly in his hands and the next powerful stroke grinds against everything good inside and yet her body doesn't move any closer to the headboard with the possibility of giving her a concussion.
Nik can hear the sounds they're making, that she's making, really; the slurping of the blood as it coats the condom every time he jams his cock in and out. She finds herself counting the thrusts and timing her breath to them, and in fact, the thought of the blood—of her fertility—is hot. She reaches between them again and, on one of the times Stuie's sliding free, she wraps her hand around the length of him and holds on, feeling the red, slippery fluid soak her palm.
Stuie grunts with desire at that and she can feel his hard dick twitch and throb under her hand.
"Nikki," he says, and she lets go. She brings her hand to her face until she can see the mess she made, can smell the earthiness of it, and before she really thinks about it she licks the pads of her fingers.
Stuie drives into her so forcefully it almost pushes all the breath from her body and he groans, head thrown back, tendons standing out on his neck as his back arches, and she feels his cock spasm inside her as he comes.
This is slightly unfair, that he didn't wait for her, but Nik plasters her wet, messy, bloody hand to her torso—better that than the sheets—and waits for him to take care of her; which he does as soon as he comes down a little.
His finger and thumb encircle her clit and begin to rub, and in only moments the wave of pleasure is sweeping over her, clenching her muscles, pulsing in her clit and outwards throughout her body, and Stuie's actually still buried in her bloody cunt as she comes all over them both.
Stuie finally tugs his cock free—her lips cling to him a bit as he pulls away—and then he surveys the mess they've made.
Somehow, though, it all seems worth it.
END.
Hockey RPS/Detroit Red Wings. | always-a-girl!Niklas Kronwall/Brad Stuart. | explicit sexual content. angst. angstporn. emotionporn. menstrual kink (possible squick, including blood, blood-tasting, and menstrual paraphernalia). body image issues. infidelity/infidelity!kink. explicit language. strong language. | NC-17 | 4714 words. | written for Porn Battle XV; prompt red. | Not affiliated with
Nik sneaks into the mens' locker room after practise and tugs Stuie aside as he's doing up the buttons on his pants.
"What?" Stuie asks, but Nik shushes him immediately.
"I have to talk to you," she whispers. "In private."
If Stuie thinks she's looking for a hookup or to plan one, he's dead wrong, and Nik is already sweating over the news she has to impart, her hands clammy, the divot at the base of her spine hot and wet.
Stuie cocks an eyebrow at her, curiously, but he doesn't ask her what's with the whole secrecy routine. He just nods once and turns away from her, deliberately, as if there's nothing in particular between them—which he has to do, because if anyone knew about Stuie and Nik, there would be hell to pay.
For that matter, there still might be. Nik wrings her hands together as she walks out of the mens' locker room again, trying not to appear too out of place.
It isn't like the women are exclusively prohibited in there or anything. This is a professional sport; nudity is expected and ignored as if it's unimportant. But for Nik and Stuie… it ceased to be unimportant, and now Nik is paying the price for it. She trods slowly down the hall and tries to act like she's carefree, happy practise went well, no worries other than their next game.
But she doesn't think she'll fool anyone who's actually paying attention.
As soon as she gets a safe distance away from the mens' locker room, she texts Stuie, asking him out to dinner. She does this fairly often, though she mixes it up sometimes who she goes out with, just to keep anyone from being too suspicious of her and Stuie spending so much time together.
No one needs to know how often they are at each other's places, though.
Stuie must have been already holding his phone, because he texts back immediately in the affirmative.
She replies asking him to meet her at her house, because she doesn't want to have this conversation anywhere they could be overheard—not here, at the Joe, and not at some restaurant or steakhouse, either.
Satisfied, she enter the womens' locker room and drops her phone in her bag, then zips up her lightweight hoodie and grabs for her car keys, slinging her duffle over her shoulder.
By the time she gets home, she fully expects Stuie to be waiting for her. He'll get there first, because she has to stop and do something on the way.
Sure enough, when she pulls into her driveway, Stuie's car is there, idling because while it's not precisely cold yet, it's a little chilly. She figures he's waiting in the car with the heater running.
He's still not really used to Michigan weather after spending so much time in California, which is something she never lets him hear the end of, considering he was born and grew up playing a winter sport in Canada.
Stuie must see her arrive in his rearview mirror, because the engine shuts off and he climbs out, looking worried. Nik only hopes that, by this point, no one has ever noticed how often his car is parked in her drive.
The media would definitely love to blare that all over the place, and that would be a problem. A huge problem—it might hurt the co-ed quality of the NHL. Might cause the commissioner to dial it back a notch and return it to being an exclusively men's domain.
And then Nik would be out of a job, and it would be her own fault for screwing it all up.
Nik lets Stuie into her house—they've discussed giving each other keys, but it's always seemed like such a bad idea, to have one more clue that could get them found out—and as soon as they are in the breezeway with the door closed, Stuie puts his hands on her shoulders and gently turns her around to face him.
"So what is all this about?" he asks. "Why all the cloak and dagger routine?"
"Can I at least get my hoodie off?" Nik asks grumpily. She likes having him here—usually. But tonight she's too wound up to really be able to enjoy it.
"Come on, what could be so bad?" Stuie quirks a smile at her, the kind that would generally make her laugh. He slides his hands from her shoulders down her back, pulling her in and lowering his head like he's going to kiss her.
So this is it, then. She can't let him kiss her again. She's going to have to tell him, before he drips his happy all over her and she swallows it behind her teeth because she doesn't want to ruin what they have.
Although, of course it is already ruined, and of course what they had could never be brought out into the light of day anyway.
"Stop," she says, and it comes out harsher than intended, like accidentally slipping the razor through the shaving cream and nicking yourself.
But it has the intended effect, though; Stuie stops all at once, his forehead creasing, as he looks at her. Like he's never seen her before.
"You've never said I couldn't kiss you before," he says slowly. He takes his hands off her, stuffs them into his jeans' pockets. "Are you breaking up with me?"
"Don't be silly," Nik says, and then watches his relief crumple into something else when she adds, "we're not together."
"That's not how I would have put it," Stuie says. "You're rewriting the script."
"I can't be together with a married man," Nik points out, with what she figures has to be obvious logic. From the expression on Stuie's face, though, he wants a better explanation. "Stuie. Don't be thick."
"Maybe I want to think of you as my girlfri—"
"Don't," Nik says. She tries to put everything she feels into her eyes, which he is definitely trying to read. "You have a wife in San José. And we both know this isn't serious." Except it's about to become serious, and way, way too real.
"So is that what this is about? You're upset about my wife?" Stuie slips his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to chew on it. It's goddamn distracting. So Nik stares over his shoulder, at the tea towel hanging on the rod by the sink in the kitchen, and forces herself to pry the words from her throat.
"That's not it. I'm… I'm late." She dares a look back at his face.
Stuie's uncomprehending expression makes Nik want to bash her brains out on the kitchen sink. He has three kids, for Christ's sake. Admittedly one of them is only a step-kid, but it's not like he doesn't know how this shit works.
God, what did Melissa say to him when she was pregnant? Hey, guess what! You're going to be a daddy?
"My period," Nik says, with particular emphasis. "It's late."
Stuie blanches so white it's almost like he's the colour of fresh, clean snow.
"Shit." Stuie rubs his hands down his face, then meets her eyes again. "Shit."
Now, red is blooming on the centers of his cheeks, making him look feverish.
"You can say that again," Nik says. "Oh wait, you already did." Then she hates herself for the humour, because it's obvious Stuie is no longer in any pleasant frame of mind.
"What are we going to do?" Stuie asks in a shocked whisper.
Nik shrugs helplessly. "I don't know. I really don't know."
"Nik, this can't—"
"I know, it can't come out," Nik interrupts, "your wife and all that."
"Fuck my wife," Stuie says, this time shocking her. "The game," he finishes. "You have to play. If you go down now, you burn almost an entire season."
"I'd be more worried about your wife, honestly," Nik says dryly.
"It's not like she's going to find out way back in San José," Stuie points out. But he's not thinking straight.
"Stuie, if I say I'm pregnant—" she stumbles over the word "—people will eventually figure out who the daddy is. And then there will be no place where your wife is far enough away not to find out. Well, maybe Yemen. But still."
His colour disappears right from his face again. Nik thinks maybe he's going to pass out this time. And why should she blame him? After all, it's not like they can have a child together. It just. It can't happen. It should never have happened—and she's on the Pill, and he's always used a condom. She doesn't really know how it defeated two methods of birth control and happened, but she's reasonably sure she's pregnant.
"Nikki," Stuie says, but instead of reacting with disgust like she expected, he gathers her up in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I don't want you to think what you're thinking."
"You mean, that you can't have kids with me? That you never wanted this affair to go this far?" Nik's ironic tone must get to him because he sets her apart from him again so he can gaze into her eyes.
She hates that he's got such a romantic look on his face as he holds her.
"No," Stuie says. "But—"
"I'll have to do it," Nik says bracingly, making the decision for both of them, so he won't have to be part of it—so he won't have to feel guilty about it. "I'll just, I don't know. Maybe I can take a trip out of the country and get it done there."
"What?" Stuie's gone blank again, confused. "You'll do what? No." Now his eyes clear and he actually shakes her, just a little. "No."
"It has to be this way," Nik says. "You said it yourself, I'd burn an entire season. And probably also the playoffs!"
"I won't let you," Stuie says. "I-It's mine, too, and I can't let you just… you know. No. Nikki, you've always wanted kids. Anyone with eyes knows that. What if this is your best chance?"
"You mean my only chance?" Nik puts her hands on his chest and shoves him backwards. He barely even moves. She grinds her teeth hard enough to hear them click together. "Don't be a fucking cunt, Stu, it's not like I'll never have a real relationship. When this one is over. Which actually, you're right. It is." She inhales her courage on a deep breath and says, "Get out of my house."
"You're breaking up with me because I won't let you have an abortion?" Stuie sounds completely flabbergasted.
"No," Nik replies. "I'm breaking up with you because it has to happen so that if I come out to the coach as pregnant, you won't be implicated in the ensuing shitstorm. And that can't happen."
"Nik, please," Stuie says, and she must be hormonal or something, because she might have punched him if he'd said "Nikki" again. "Try to be rational—"
"No, you know what? I don't think… I don't think you're being rational. Do you want this whole stupid affair to be exposed?"
"Of course not, but… Nik, I want to be a part of this. I don't want you to have to go through it alone."
"Oh, please. I can handle this fine, thank you very much. I only told you because—" but then Nik stops and holds herself very still.
From Stuie's face, his features concerned, she knows he's wondering what just happened.
"Oh my God," Nik cries, relief pouring out of her. "I'll be right back!"
Pushing past Stuie into the house proper, she hears him padding after her in what is likely confusion.
But he stops at the bathroom door like he's a vampire that has to be invited in—and yes, he does, Nik thinks darkly—and she slams it in his face.
When she pulls down her pants and her underwear, she could literally kiss… Babcock, maybe, in relief and happiness.
The bright red blood on the cotton panel of her underwear might be ruining her favourite pair, but between the splotch there and the cranky, irritable way she's felt, she's reasonably sure she's having her period—thank God—and not, after all, pregnant.
Still, she has to be sure, so she unwraps the pregnancy test she had stashed in her pocket—that she picked up on the way home from the Joe—and prepares to use it.
Some minutes later, Nik is ready to run around her house naked doing some kind of grateful interpretive dance to thank the heavens—and possibly also the hockey gods—that she is definitively not pregnant.
She settles for a tampon, washes her hands, and throws open the door—following that up with throwing herself into Stuie's arms. So she's being emotional. So what. She's allowed.
She literally climbs him like a tree, wrapping her legs around his waist and surprising him so that he stumbles backward a little, but his arms do come around her to hold her up. It's a good thing she's petite.
"I thought—" Stuie's lips twist down. "Did you miscarry or something? You're too happy."
"Nope!" She lathers kisses on his face and jaw and poor tortured lips. "I'm not pregnant! I got my period. Finally."
"Not… not pregnant?"
Does he sound almost… disappointed? Nik leans back and studies him.
"I'd almost think you're sad about this," she accuses softly.
"No, of course not," Stuie says. "I understand how bad it would have been, for us, and for right now. But still. Don't you want kids, Nikki? I could have sworn you did."
"Yes, of course," she replies, showering him with more kisses. "Someday. With a nice man I can settle down with, yes." She's not really thinking until he pulls back from her, sets her down on her feet.
"Not with me, then," he says, and his throat is dry; she hears it click as he swallows.
"Stuie, come on, you know that can't happen."
"Maybe I still wish it could," he says stiffly, and Nik thinks she insulted him without meaning to. She struck some kind of nerve, anyway.
"Well, it can't." Nik examines him. "Unless you're planning to get a divorce or something. You're still married." She puts her hand on her hip and levels on him her best glare. "And it's fucked up to be talking about me having your kids. You have kids, Stuie."
Stuie's mouth tilts down and he gives her what can best be described as puppy dog eyes. She refuses to be swayed.
"I know I do. It doesn't change the fact that… it would make you happy, wouldn't it, Nikki? To have a baby?"
Nik sighs. "Yes, it would make me happy someday. It would probably even make me happy if it was yours. Because I love you. Of course. But it's not going to happen. You know that." She takes in a cleansing breath. "Stuie, we're going to have to be more careful from now on. We can't risk me getting pregnant for real."
"Let's start now," Stuie suggests, a sudden wicked gleam in his eye, as if he's trying to forget she both admitted to loving him and refused to entertain having his baby in the same sentence.
"Now?" Nik feels her eyebrows climb into her hairline. "You want to fuck me… now? While I'm all icky and gross?"
Stuie pushes a tendril of hair off her forehead. "I don't care about that."
"You will when your dick gets all covered in blood," Nik says bluntly.
Stuie shrugs. "I was going to wear a condom anyway. Besides, I really don't mind it. Melissa and I—" he trails off, suddenly looking everywhere but at her.
Nik grinds her teeth again. "Did you fuck her on her period?" she asks, feeling awfully possessive of someone who will never, ever belong to her.
"No!" Stuie's eyes land on her face again; they soften. "No, it was just that I've lived with a woman, I know all about these things."
"I bet," Nik says, but in her traitorous little heart, her blackened, size-of-a-pea heart, she wants to one-up Melissa in something. Melissa will always have been there first—will always have had his love first.
But fuck it, she won't be able to lay claim to this.
This is going to be something that is theirs, just between them.
"All right," Nik agrees, easily. She goes up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "But just remember, you asked for this."
Stuie's face is a little flushed, and he's getting steadily more red as her words sink in. Nik thinks maybe he's regretting his impulsive suggestion, until he starts kissing her back, almost violently, tearing at her clothes with his hands.
Nik pushes him back a little. "Hey, watch the clothes, these are some of my favourites."
Stuie stops pawing her briefly to bite at his lower lips until they are obscenely swollen in combination with that and her kisses.
She is beginning to think maybe Stuie likes the idea of this more than he should.
Nik gives herself a mental shake. It's not the first time she'll have had sex on her period, but those other times were because she and her partner were both super-horny, not because either of them actually had a thing… and Nik is starting to suspect Stuie has a thing.
She wonders what he would think of the fact that she's only ever done this before with a strap-on, on a woman. She hopes he wouldn't be one of those guys whose eyes get suddenly wide like dinner plates and you can just tell he's getting off on it.
"Let me get a towel," Nik says, "so we don't mess up my bed."
Stuie obliges her by letting her go, and as she turns away from him she fleetingly caresses his obvious erection in his jeans.
She lays the towel down on the bed, on top of the comforter, and then stands awkwardly next to the bed, unsure of how to proceed. If she were having normal sex, she'd just grab Stuie and yank him on top of her—unless she was feeling frisky, and then she'd shove him down onto the bed and take charge herself.
Stuie solves her problem by coming up to her and kissing her on the top of her head.
"Are you okay?" he asks, and Nik nods.
"I uh, I have a tampon in…" she stutters. "Let me just—"
"No," Stuie says, and he actually picks her up and lays her down on the bed, so gently it's like he's forgotten the hard checks she can dish out, the painful hits she takes herself. It's like Stuie thinks all of a sudden she'll break—and she's not even pregnant after all! "I'll take it out."
"Don't pull too hard," Nik says nervously. She knows from experience that pulling too hard fucking hurts.
But she should have known better. Should have trusted Stuie more, because he slowly slides her underpants down her legs and off.
He grasps the little string hanging out from between her lower lips and tugs on it, little by little, very gently.
He doesn't gasp or look horrified or disgusted when he's holding it in his hand. He just wraps it up in a tissue from her nightstand and throws it in the trash basket.
And then he starts throwing his clothes off like a man possessed, until she's staring at his muscled chest and his taut thighs and dear God, she never quite gets used to the sight of his cock when it's aroused—all because of her. She still doesn't really know what he sees in her, but he never seems to have any trouble getting aroused by her body—so she just tries to roll with it.
He grabs for his jeans before they fall off the bed, shuffling around in the pocket for his wallet. This time, they are definitely going to use a condom—Nik had a pregnancy scare once when she was a teenager in Sweden, and her mom had pointed out that it wasn't ever completely safe to have unprotected sex, even when on her period—which is what she'd done back then.
"Okay?" Stuie asks again, and Nik gives him a small, tremulous smile. She is okay, but she's a little nervous in a way she normally isn't. Ordinarily she'd just spread her legs for him.
But she can feel the blood dripping slowly down her slit, and she blushes probably as red as the blood. She's afraid if she spreads her legs too wide, it will just gush all over everything.
But Stuie's biting his lips so hard, one and then the other, that they are puffy and rich with blood too. In a way, it's a little bit like symmetry.
"Okay, well." Stuie smiles at her, and because his lips are swollen, Nik wants to laugh a little. But only because of how badly she wants to kiss them. She's often noticed Stuie bites his lips during games, which leads to interesting post-game interviews, but she likes being one of the few people who knows how much he does it during sex.
And that thought makes her throb down below, makes her wish she wasn't on her period so that he could bite—carefully—at her lips.
Stuie can't always read her mind, though, so he doesn't do something… well, gross… and start eating her out or anything. She doesn't really want to make that pun, thank you very much.
Stuie rolls the condom down his ready and willing cock, and Nik takes a deep breath and tries to prepare herself mentally like she does before every big game. This is just one more test that she is sure she can pass.
And if she can get over the slight weirdness of doing this with Stuie, she'll probably enjoy herself quite a lot.
She opens her thighs, and Stuie lets out a little gasp, a thread of his voice in it, and sucks on his lower lip. He nudges up against her with the head of his cock, and they both jerk when he enters her.
Nik can tell from the look on Stuie's face that he never would have realised how slippery blood is—that it would make such a good lubricant. He looks awed.
He slides all the way into her like they were meant to fit together, his cock bumping up against her cervix, and then they both lie there for a moment, panting.
She reaches up with one hand, and runs it through his hair first, then down along his cheek and stubbled jaw and finally traces his muscles as she works her way down his chest.
Eventually, her hand is at the upside-down vee of his groin, and without missing a beat, she fits her hand in between them, touching her own lips and the small bit of his shaft left unsheathed by her cunt.
She knows she's going to have bloody fingers, but it seems irrelevant now, and Stuie's eyes look sleepy as he drinks her in, his own hands still planted on the bed.
But then he moves one of them, grazes her side with it, then over her stomach—Nik winces a little, does he really have to do that—and then upwards, until he's got his palm cupped beneath her breast. He's not really holding it so much as letting it rest on his curved palm.
She shifts underneath him, jostling them both and leading to the feeling of blood seeping out of her even though Stuie's filling her up pretty effectively.
"Stuie," she says. He looks downright drunk. "Stu. Brad."
At this his eyes refocus a bit and he meets her eyes, his hand still under her breast, his thumb swiping back and forth across her nipple.
"You have to fuck me now," she reminds him, as if maybe he's forgotten how this whole thing works. Plus maybe then he'll stop playing with her nipple, which makes her feel a little… unsettled.
She likes it, yes, but it just serves as another reminder of things about her body she doesn't like.
Stuie licks his lower lip, long and slow, and then, before she knows what he's doing, he's moving, stroking her from the inside out, and it feels delicious—it eases some of the ache in her lower parts from her period.
"Stuie," she says, "faster. Hard." The cramps are starting to hit, and if he fucks her hard enough, they'll subside a little, and when she comes, it will relax everything to the point where nothing really hurts anymore.
"I'll hurt you," Stuie says, sounding unsure of himself. It's true that they've never really fucked hard and fast—he's too gentle, sometimes—but right now, that's exactly what she needs. What she craves.
"No." Nik squirms under him. "You won't. Fuck me, Stuie, come on. I can't wait all day."
She can tell the first time he withdraws at all, not just because she can feel his cock slipping out of her, but because of his startled little noise when he sees the blood.
"Are you all right?" she asks, concerned, but Stuie raises his eyes to her, and they are shining.
"This is weird," he starts, and Nik covers her face with her hands.
"I'm sorry—"
"No, not like that," Stuie hurries to explain. "It's like, the proof that you could have my baby. It's hot. I mean." He's blushing to the roots of his hair now, when Nik peeks through her fingers.
"Stop talking!" she orders. "Now, Stuie. Now."
As if he's really listening—and not just fascinated by the blood on the condom—he pounds into her, and it's wonderful, just what she needs—hard enough to send her body scootching up the bed.
Stuie grasps her hips tightly in his hands and the next powerful stroke grinds against everything good inside and yet her body doesn't move any closer to the headboard with the possibility of giving her a concussion.
Nik can hear the sounds they're making, that she's making, really; the slurping of the blood as it coats the condom every time he jams his cock in and out. She finds herself counting the thrusts and timing her breath to them, and in fact, the thought of the blood—of her fertility—is hot. She reaches between them again and, on one of the times Stuie's sliding free, she wraps her hand around the length of him and holds on, feeling the red, slippery fluid soak her palm.
Stuie grunts with desire at that and she can feel his hard dick twitch and throb under her hand.
"Nikki," he says, and she lets go. She brings her hand to her face until she can see the mess she made, can smell the earthiness of it, and before she really thinks about it she licks the pads of her fingers.
Stuie drives into her so forcefully it almost pushes all the breath from her body and he groans, head thrown back, tendons standing out on his neck as his back arches, and she feels his cock spasm inside her as he comes.
This is slightly unfair, that he didn't wait for her, but Nik plasters her wet, messy, bloody hand to her torso—better that than the sheets—and waits for him to take care of her; which he does as soon as he comes down a little.
His finger and thumb encircle her clit and begin to rub, and in only moments the wave of pleasure is sweeping over her, clenching her muscles, pulsing in her clit and outwards throughout her body, and Stuie's actually still buried in her bloody cunt as she comes all over them both.
Stuie finally tugs his cock free—her lips cling to him a bit as he pulls away—and then he surveys the mess they've made.
Somehow, though, it all seems worth it.
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