[Hockey RPS - Illicit Contact - Drew Miller/Ryan Miller - NC-17]

[annabeth.livejournal.com]

Illicit Contact
Hockey RPS/Detroit Red Wings [Buffalo Sabres]. | Drew Miller/Ryan Miller. | incest. angst. | 892 words. | NC-17. | unbeta'd. | written ostensibly for mistokath13, but mostly because I was teasing her. :P


Illicit Contact

"You can't pretend like it didn't happen," Drew accuses softly. Ryan isn't looking at him; he's staring at his goalie pads.

"You shouldn't be in here," his brother says. And of course it's true; Drew isn't really supposed to be hanging out in the visitors' locker room, with the opposing team, even if their goalie is his brother.

The problem is, Drew just can't get the image out of his mind.

"I mean it," he says. He jostles Ryan's shoulder, and the strange jolt that goes through his body makes him freeze momentarily, just staring wide-eyed at Ryan.

"Please," Ryan says. All that confidence he has on the ice is gone--Drew hasn't seen him this vulnerable in a long time. "Just drop it, Drew, seriously."

But now there's something here. Something that makes Drew's scalp prickle. His heart is beating a strange, uneven tattoo against his breastbone and his face feels flushed and hot, and he can't--doesn't want to--explain it.

The problem is, when he meets his brother's eyes, something dark is coiled in them. Drew is afraid to ask; he's afraid to trace this line of the conversation to where it's going, but somehow, he can't stop the words that pour next from his mouth.

"I can't act like it didn't happen," he says a little desperately, "that I didn't see you with your tongue in another guy's mouth. I saw it, Ry. How do I forget something like that?"

"You just do," Ryan says, and his voice sounds just as desperate. He's sweating in his gear, and he's leaning towards Drew, and he just... there's no way... but he's leaning in too.

He's remembering the way Ryan looked: gorgeous and rumpled. Sex was a good look on him; Drew swallows hard and tries to put that thought out of his mind.

But Ryan's still staring at him with perspiration at his temples, dampening his hair. Drew finds himself wondering if he'd look like this after sex, and the thought causes him to blush, hard.

"That's just it," Drew murmurs. "I can't."

Later, he won't be able to say who leaned the rest of the way in first. Won't be able to differentiate between whose intentions were whose, but suddenly, as if there's no interim moment between staring at Ryan and their lips touching, he's kissing his brother.

It doesn't feel quite like he's expecting, if you can say he'd considered it before it happened, which he hadn't.

But it doesn't feel like it's wrong, or gross; Drew closes his eyes and loses himself in the kiss. At first, he pretends it's someone else--a girl, one he likes. And then he's picturing Eaves and wondering what that would be like...

But by the time his hands are running feverishly through Ryan's hair, he knows just exactly who he's kissing and he's loving it.

The illicitness is getting to him. The fact that his brother is stupidly hot is getting to him. It's all getting to him, making his body flush with arousal, tightening his cock inside his cup, which is pretty uncomfortable, but not enough for him to pull back.

And Ryan is kissing back just as enthusiastically, his hands gripping Drew's shoulders, then sliding down his back. There's too much damn gear in the way, Drew thinks a little breathlessly as his brother rucks up his jersey and fumbles his hands underneath all the padding and undershirts until he's touching hot, bare skin.

Drew curls his fingers until Ryan's hair is clamped between them and jerks on the sweaty strands. Ryan's mouth falls open a little, full lower lip sliding easily into Drew's mouth, and he makes a panting, strangled noise as Drew tugs on his hair again, this time angling his head, so that he can get even closer.

Ryan moves with him, and their tongues tangle up, lips sliding hot and slick together, and Drew hears a panted moan and he just can't distinguish anymore who's making what sounds.

He tightens his fingers and drags Ryan even closer. The kiss has gone beyond searching and deep and is now frantic, desperate; he just can't get enough, like being thirsty and drinking gulp after gulp of water--kissing Ryan is just...

He slips back just a little and breathes hard, and he opens his eyes, and his brother is crazy-sweaty now, his hands still planted warm and rough on Drew's bare back, beneath all of his gear.

Ryan is flushed, breathing just as hard, and he's staring at Drew.

"That didn't happen," he says hoarsely. "Not because... not because I want you to feel bad, but because... this is not the place. You know? It never happened."

Drew nods, but his heart lurches. How can...? He already wants Ryan closer again. Already needs Ryan's lips under his again. He untangles his hands from Ryan's hair. He doesn't want to stop touching him, though.

No, he wants to strip him out of all that goalie gear and throw him backwards onto his hotel bed and...

Drew shakes his head, scattering the scorching-hot images.

"Never happened," he agrees, and gets up. He tries to straighten his jersey and pads even as he slips out of the locker room, trying to go unnoticed.

But his cup is still uncomfortable and rough against his aching erection.

fin.