Under Different Circumstances

Hockey Tournament

Also known as, the chapter from hell. Also known as, sometimes I take my toaster in the bathtub. Also known as, I'm taking bets on how long you think it's going to take me to type this shit. Also known as, BLOODY HELL.

Disclaimer: Yo… buckle in man, buckle fucking in.

Rated M to be safe, for mentions of sex, intimate scenes, and language.

Under Different Circumstances

Hockey Tournament

Vincent Lambert was about ready to pummel something, or someone, if the game remained tied. The score was 1-1 and there were only two minutes left. It was Saturday, it was tournament weekend and Jean-Pierre was playing. It was enough to get him riled up.

About three or four weeks ago, Jean-Pierre had invited him to his hockey tournament. Vincent had accepted the invitation without hesitation and had looked forward to it. He had gone to every practice and had been proud of his husband's progress. Jean-Pierre's team was in the top three teams of the league and Vincent honestly thought they stood a chance for the finals. Then again, he could also have been biased, since it was his husband who was playing and there was the fact he found Jean-Pierre to be an extremely skilled player. In any event…

This was actually the third game of the day and there were two or three more after this one. At least, if anything, Jean-Pierre would be too tired, by the time they got home, to even think of attempting to back out of their special deal. The deal had been his idea and he thought for sure his lover wouldn't have agreed to it so easily, but Jean-Pierre surprised him into saying yes to it, almost immediately.

He personally thought it was a good deal, but he forgot to calculate how it would affect him as well and now he currently hated the side effects of the deal.

Last night, or more like last early morning, in the early hours of Friday morning, after a good hour or so that involved a lap dance, a strip tease and some serious love making, Vincent told Jean-Pierre that if they made it to the finals and won, he would get one hell of a surprise.

Jean-Pierre promised him he wouldn't be disappointed in the team and that they were in tip top shape. Vincent told him he couldn't wait for the tournament and that there was a condition with his ultimate surprise.

Jean-Pierre's curiosity was piqued and when he asked, Vincent whispered words that toppled his world upside down. There was to be no sort of intimate exchange between the two of them, until the finals were over. That meant no blowjob, hand job, foot job, strip, lap dance, penetration, sucking, touching, kissing, hugging, cuddling and everything else. It was the finals, or bust. Jean-Pierre had been silent at first and sworn to himself he would make it to the bloody finals and win. He agreed to the deal on the condition he could get one more kiss, before going to sleep.

Vincent agreed to it and it was the hungriest, most lustful kiss he ever experienced yet. Tomorrow would probably be ten times more intense, if they made it to the finals and won.

The intention behind this abstinence was to get Jean-Pierre to be as aggressive as possible and when Jean-Pierre got sexually frustrated, he was even more aggressive than usual on the ice. So far, his theory proved to be accurate. There was an edge to Jean-Pierre's playing and it was almost tangible. His whole demeanour changed.

In all this wonderful and careful planning, he didn't take into consideration the effect that seeing Jean-Pierre play had on him. His only compensation was that in the rules to the deal, while Jean-Pierre couldn't use any means to get rid of any frustrations, he could. It wasn't that he personally wanted to, but he had a funny feeling he would have to use his hand at some point later in the day. On the other hand, maybe he'd try his best to tough it up.

On top of all of this, he also carefully added things that would rile up Jean-Pierre even more. From posters, to dances, his best of all was probably the naked picture of him that he put in Jean-Pierre's bag that morning, cropped at just the right place to let Jean-Pierre crave for more. He added a message behind that simply read, "you'll get the rest if you win!" Maybe it was cruel from his part, but he was enjoying taunting Jean-Pierre.

The first two games went by quickly and other than one fight, Jean-Pierre got in, and the minor fall he took, Vincent found them both to be adrenaline rushing and exciting.

"Oh COME ON! What the fuck?! That should have been in!" He yelled as the end of the overtime period came and the score remained 1-1. If there was one thing he absolutely hated about hockey, it was the shootouts. He couldn't stand them, he hated them and they drove him insane.

He was sitting on the edge of his seat, as the coaches chose their five first players. Because on top of that, it was a series of five and then they did groups of one, if no team won. Jean-Pierre was the second to go and Vincent had his eyes on him. Neither of the first players on both teams had scored and the pressure was on.

Vincent watched, as Jean-Pierre skated past the line and headed straight for the goalkeeper. He gathered speed, momentum, and Vincent could easily recognise his lover's style of play. If he wasn't mistaken, Jean-Pierre would swerve to the left, at the very last second, before shooting the puck.

Jean-Pierre did just that and the goalie never saw it coming. Vincent leapt up in the air and cheered loudly with the others who were rooting for the Rebelles. He loved the way Jean-Pierre smirked as he skated off the ice. There was something absolutely sexy about it. There was pride, satisfaction and it just said "in your face".

The second player of the opposite team advanced and Jean-Pierre's goalie stopped it. For a moment, it seemed the Rebelles were going to win, but on the last shot, they missed and the other team made it. He felt everything crumble around him.

The Vikings were ecstatic since they won, but the others weren't as happy. Their disappointment was evident in their faces, as they went to shake hands. The only satisfaction and hope Vincent had was that the Rebelles had seven points and that brought them to third place. Seeing as only the top four teams went to the semi-finals, so far all was well, but they couldn't afford to lose another game.

Vincent sighed, as he rolled up a poster he made, put his discarded sweater back on and went to wait for his player. At least Jean-Pierre played well. He went to sit with the others who came to see the team play and who personally knew some of the players. They exchanged a few words together and when the Rebelles came out, they decided to grab lunch together, since their next game was in an hour and a half.

When he saw Jean-Pierre walk out, he was about to go and greet him as he normally did, but he then recalled his plan and stopped himself. Their lack of interaction made some of the other players raise their eyebrows in question, but they didn't say anything about it.

The team and their significant others made their way to the cafeteria to get lunch. Vincent packed them a lunch so Jean-Pierre ended up having the leftover meat tortellini and a handful of fries that he stole from François' dish, while Vincent used last night's chicken to make himself a sandwich. The Rebelles worried even more when Jean-Pierre sat on one end of the bench and Vincent sat between Claude and Guillaume, who were a good seven to eight inches taller than him, and weighed more than he could ever weigh, even if he was wet and wearing a body suit.

Jean-Pierre found it amusing since Vincent had a lighter build and, while sitting between the two, he looked even scrawnier than he really was.

"Is… is everything alright between the two of you?" Hélène, François' wife, asked Vincent, a while later, when everyone noticed that Jean-Pierre was too engrossed in his food and that Vincent was deep into conversation with Nicholas.

"Oh, yeah, everything is fine." He smiled, but the ones around him didn't seem convinced. By now, the majority of the team knew how Vincent could get during a game, they found him yelling profanities, and his little victory dances to be quite entertaining. They were also used to Jean-Pierre showing off for him and that when they won a game, no matter how many times coach Morissette tried to stop him, Vincent always made it a point to get to the ice to tackle Jean-Pierre in order to congratulate him. The lack of most of this had the team worried.

"You two seem… tense…" He had to agree that the tension between them was palatable with a knife, but it was a good tension.

"Ah well, in that case, have you heard of… Lysistrata?" He whispered and smirked at them, as some of the women gasped and nodded and some shook their heads.

"I'll say nothing more." Hélène laughed and shook her head.

"I should have thought of that. You're one cruel man, Vincent." She said with a smile. Vincent knew she meant it as a joke.

"Oh, I know, but it'll be worth it in the end." The implied fact being that it'd be worth it for both the Rebelles and for him if they won. He turned around and smiled innocently at Jean-Pierre, who simply fumed at him. They finished lunch and then the team had to see the coach, while the others waited in the lobby a moment longer, before going back to their seats.

When the fourth game started, Jean-Pierre was trying his best to focus on the task. He was finding it difficult, when his brain kept on going back to his teaser of a husband. Vincent spent most of the second and third game giving him come hither looks and when he removed his shirt, during the first game, to reveal that not only did he have face paint, but also "chest paint" that said "TREMBLAY #24" with a heart beside it. How he managed not to smudge it was beyond him.

Then there was also that fight, which he may, or may not, have started on purpose after some jackass tripped him and called him a fag. Sure the team got a penalty, and yes his lip bled for a bit, but his team actually ended up scoring and the only thing wrong with his lip now was that it was missing Vincent's.

He was anxiously waiting for the ref to start the game, when he heard catcalls and whistling coming from the crowd and from most of his teammates. He was almost afraid to turn around and see who was causing all of this.

"Aye, Tremblay, j'pense ton chum veut t'voir."/ "Hey, Tremblay, I think your boyfriend wants to see you." Bertrand told him with a chuckle. Jean-Pierre groaned, already fearing what he might find Vincent doing. He slowly turned around and indeed, regretted it.

There was his husband wearing his other jersey, which fell loosely on his frame, and this time, it was the pants that were discarded. Jean-Pierre swallowed thickly, as Vincent leaned against the Plexiglas and waved at him. He was wearing the tightest and shortest shorts Jean-Pierre ever saw him wear and he did not miss the obvious bulge that was right there.

Vincent smirked at him and motioned for him to come to him. Jean-Pierre looked at his team, who was laughing their asses off, and skated to the younger man. When he got there, he removed his helmet and Vincent leaned closer to the Plexiglas.

"Tu m'scores un but, chéri?"/ "You'll score me a goal, love?" Jean-Pierre would have liked nothing more to take him in his arms, but he simply nodded his head vigorously.

"TREMBLAY! QUÉSSÉ TU FAIS?!"/"TREMBLAY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Jean-Pierre spun around quickly and found his coach yelling at him. He gave an apologetic smile and returned to his place, however Vincent didn't like getting his little moment interrupted by the coach.

"TREMBLAY! J't'ai dit que j'voulais pas de distractions! Dit à ton crisse de mari de s'rhabiller! Câlice, on peut tu avoir une game qui à d'l'allure?!"/ "TREMBLAY! I said I didn't want any distractions! Tell your fucking husband to dress himself up! Christ, can't we have one single normal game?!" Claude and Xavier were leaning on each other laughing, clutching their stomachs, with tears in their eyes, while Éric was on the floor, banging the ice.

"Aye Morissette, tu vas m'laisser encourager mon mari comme bon me semble, crisse!"/ "Hey Morissette, you're gonna let me cheer my husband the way I want to, Christ!"

"Tu distrais mes joueurs!"/ "You're distracting my players!"

"J'ai l'droit des distraire! Y sont fucking bon anyways. Ça va rien changer!"/ "I'm allowed to distract them! They're fucking good anyways. It won't change anything!" Jean-Pierre hid himself behind Nicholas, while the rest of the team kept on hollering in laughter.

"Ostie… ton mari est fucking drôle man… amène le plus souvent, Morissette 'é rendu mauve… y va exploser!"/ "Jesus… your husband is fucking hilarious man… bring him more often, Morissette is purple in the face… he's gonna explode!" Claude breathed out between laughs.

"Ugh, on peut tu juste commencer la fucking game?!"/ "Ugh, can we just start the fucking game?!" Jean-Pierre finally snapped. The ref blew the whistle and the game was on.

It was pure madness. Jean-Pierre was even more aggressive than he had been before and within the first five minutes he had scored twice. Vincent was beyond himself, as he cheered loudly. He could tell that his little plan was working and he was glad.

"C'EST ÇA, JEAN, VAS-Y!"/ "THAT'S IT, JEAN, GO!" He yelled loudly. By now, he had put up more posters on the Plexiglas. So far, there was one that said "Numéro 24 is the best!" another that said "#24 is my #1!" and his favourite amongst them was one which said "Remember our deal Tremblay!" on one side and "It's the finals or nothing!" on the other.

The game went by quickly and before everyone knew it, it was over and it was another victory for the Rebelles. They crushed the other team 5-0 and it was thrilling.

When the last game of the day came about, it was late in the evening and it was obvious that many wanted to go home. The day had been long for all of them. When Jean-Pierre came out, after having showered, and making sure his eyebrow would be okay, after another fight, Vincent drove them straight home.

Vincent warmed them up the last of the leftovers and they ate in relative silence. Jean-Pierre was looking for nothing but to crash and sleep and Vincent couldn't really blame him for that. Once they finished eating, Jean-Pierre went to change into his pyjamas, and by the time Vincent went upstairs, he was out like a light.

He was glad, really, because it would make sleeping that much easier. However, as much as Jean-Pierre would never admit to it, the fact remained he was one who liked to cuddle. Jean-Pierre was known to grab on to him and snuggle up. He would always burry his face in the crook of his neck and nuzzle it, sighing deeply. Vincent didn't really mind, for he thought it to be cute, but tonight wouldn't do.

He grabbed as many pillows as he could possibly find and made a barrier, in the center of the bed, because even though Jean-Pierre was the one who cuddled, he himself was feeling the strain of the day and the temptation of taking his husband, while he slept, was there.

Vincent settled down moments later and everything went well for an hour or so, but then Jean-Pierre's arm broke through the pillows and found his own arm. Vincent moved away, but Jean-Pierre was persistent. He would have none of that, so he grabbed his own pillow and went to his den. At least that way, there wouldn't be any accidental exchanges of affections.

The following morning was an early one. Vincent woke up before Jean-Pierre and went to start on breakfast. He made hearty foods that would give them both a decent dose of energy. He brewed them a good, strong pot of coffee and once everything was ready on the table, he went to their bedroom to wake up his lover.

That proved to be quite the task, since Jean-Pierre was not a morning person and slept like a rock. He poked, shoved, yanked the blankets off and the only thing it did was make the older man curl up into a little ball and groan. Vincent went to get the water spritzer and started spraying Jean-Pierre, until he finally got some sort of answer out of him.

"Allez, up you get! I didn't spend all my time making breakfast for nothing!"

"Mnnnngh!..." Vincent took a pillow and hit Jean-Pierre's head repeatedly.

"Câlice, oké, oké, j'me lève…"/ "Christ, okay, okay, I'm up…" He turned around in bed and Vincent wasn't fooled.

"Oi! Now!" He pushed his husband off the bed and felt no regret at the sight. None. Right… maybe.

"Tu fais chier…"/ "You're annoying…"

"Moi aussi je t'aime, allez, j'ai fait du café."/ "Love you too, come on, I made coffee." He waited until Jean-Pierre was up and then they both made their way to the kitchen. Jean-Pierre piled up a little bit of everything on his plate and mumbled a soft thanks, when Vincent handed him a cup of Joe. Even though the breakfast potatoes had too many spices, the toast was a tad burnt and the eggs were a bit too runny for his liking, he ate every morsel with gusto.

Once they finished, Jean-Pierre went to change and when they were both dressed and ready, Vincent drove them back to the arena.

The last of the qualification games went well, with the Rebelles defeating the other team five to one and the wait for the semi-finals was long. At least the team made it to the semi-finals. When those came, they were a breeze as well and Vincent took out more posters and was entertaining Jean-Pierre, as much as the crowd, with his dances and his energetic cheering. Perhaps the easy wins diluted them into thinking the finals would be a piece of cake, or maybe the team was simply running out of steam, but when it came to the last game, they didn't have an easy start.

They were playing against the Tempêtes, and even though they defeated them yesterday with ease, they were currently losing 1-0 so far and there were five minutes left to the first period.

"COME ON JEAN, YOU CAN DO IT!" Vincent yelled when he saw that his husband had the puck and was barrelling down the ice. He was something to be feared, Vincent thought to himself, when Jean-Pierre became like that on the ice. He was nothing but energy. Vincent was about to jump up with the rest of the Rebelles fans and cheer when Jean-Pierre took his shot, but somehow, the goalie stopped it.

"What the fuck was that? How the fuck did he stop that?" Josée and Hélène, who were sitting beside him, exchanged amused glances, as Vincent started badmouthing the other team yet again. It was a miracle he wasn't kicked out yet, but they suspected that Vincent bribed the security guard. Not that they minded, but Morissette did.

When the first period ended and the Tempêtes were still leading 1-0. Vincent was nervous and even though there were still forty minutes left to the game, he could tell that the Rebelles weren't playing as well as they had during the rest of the tournament.

The second period started just as slowly and even though they had their fair share of shots, the Tempêtes were outshooting them and outrunning them by a lot. The first six minutes were painful to watch, but then two things almost happened simultaneously. First, the Tempêtes scored again. Second, Morissette took Jean-Pierre off. Vincent flipped. And he wasn't the only one, but he was the most vocal one.

"Tu m'niaises-tu? C'est quoi ton crisse de problème, Morissette? Pourquoi tu m'l'as enlevé, han?! C'est Jean qui va vous faire gagner! Qu'ess tu fais à m'l'enl'ver?!"/ "Are you kidding me? What's your fucking problem, Morissette? Why did you take him off, eh?! Jean's the one who's going to make you win! What are you doing, taking him off?!" He yelled, banging on the Plexiglas.

"Alors on voit un premier retrait pour le joueur 24 des Rebelles et les fans ne semblent pas être content de la décision de l'entraineur, qui vient de retirer deux de ses meilleur joueurs. On espère bien qu'il sait ce qu'il fait."/ "And this is a first break given for player 24 of the Rebelles and fans don't seem pleased with the coach's decision, who just removed two of his best players. We hope he knows what he's doing." The announcer said over the loudspeakers.

"I can't believe he just did that!" Vincent yelled, slumping back into his seat.

"Morissette is special that way…" Josée started off, while she rubbed her swollen belly.

"But why is he removing Jean?! And… ugh! I hate him! Him and his stupid obsession with switching players around."

"In his mind it must have made sense… somehow…" Hélène added. Vincent kept on watching the game bitterly. It just wasn't the same without his man on the ice.

Jean-Pierre was kept off the ice for the rest of the second period and Vincent was not the only one who found it unfair. He could tell that Jean-Pierre was itching to go back on and he couldn't really blame him. The team clearly needed him. Before the third period started, Morissette called a team huddle and even though Vincent couldn't hear everything the other man was saying, he could tell the man meant business. Finally, when the referee blew his whistle, Vincent was more than pleased to see Jean-Pierre return to the ice.

He was more than ready to go and see Morissette when Jean-Pierre scored the first goal for the Rebelles, three minutes after being put back in, but he decided to continue cheering for his lover instead.

"Richard fait la passe à Leduc, Leduc l'envoi à Boucher, Boucher à Tremblay, Tremblay tire et – c'est intercepté par Shaughnessy qui avance vers Thérien, mais c'est intercepté par Thibault et une belle passe à Tremblay. Tremblay à Boucher, Boucher, Leduc, Leduc, Tremblay qui va passer derrière le filet et envoyer à Boucher qui va faire un tire et – oh! Intercepté par le gardien."/ "Richard passes to Leduc, Leduc sends it to Boucher, Boucher to Tremblay, Tremblay shoots and – it's intercepted by Shaughnessy who speeds up towards Thérien, but it's intercepted by Thibault and a nice pass to Tremblay. Tremblay to Boucher, Boucher, Leduc, Leduc, Tremblay who passes behind the net and sends it to Boucher, who takes a shot and – oh! Intercepted by the goalie." Vincent couldn't stand, or sit still, as he kept looking from the game to the clock. Time was running out and the Rebelles were still down by one point. Jean-Pierre must have taken at least a dozen or so shots on goal, but so far, only one of them went in.

"Et Tremblay à la rondelle! Il s'avance sur le gardien, les défenseurs sont derrière lui, il tire et c'est le but! C'est 2-2 pour les Rebelles! Une excellente remontée avec plus de six minutes à la manche."/ "And Tremblay has the puck! He's advancing towards the goalier, the defensemen are behind him, he shoots and he scores! It's 2-2 for the Rebelles! What an excellent comeback with little more than six minutes left to the period."

Six minutes. That left plenty of time for either of the two teams, preferably the Rebelles, to score again. Vincent wasn't even sure if what he was saying made any more sense, but he knew for certain that he did not want the last game to go into shootouts.

Unfortunately, within the last minutes, no one scored and the game went into overtime. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, as they waited with batted breaths to see who would be crowned the victor. It took nine minutes and twenty seconds for someone to score and luckily, it was the team Vincent rooted for.

Jean-Pierre tried to score with no success and when he came to try again, the puck stirred to the side and Éric put it in. It was maddening. They had won! Vincent was yelling as loudly as he could, jumping in the air, but he was also extremely proud of his husband.

The medals awarded and the group pictures taken, Jean-Pierre left with his team for the locker rooms. They were nothing but an exuberant bunch, as they yelled and cheered upon entering the room.

"Party chez nous à soir! À part pour Tremblay qui doit aller s'faire son mari! Mais on l'pardonne, y l'mérite!"/ "Party at my house tonight! Except for Tremblay who has to do his husband! But we forgive him, he deserves it!" Guillaume yelled loudly.

"Ta yeule."/ "Shut up."

"Ouais, yé t'en manque là. Faudrait pas trop l'faire attendre."/ "Yeah, he's in withdrawal. We shouldn't make him wait too long." Claude snickered.

"Ta yeule."/ "Shut up."

"Pense pas trop à nous là. On voudrait pas qu'tu sois trop excité."/ "Don't think about us too much. We wouldn't want you to be too excited." Xavier added.

"Ta yeule."/ "Shut up."

"Ouais demain c'est lundi. Va pas t'coucher trop tard, là."/ "Yeah, tomorrow is Monday. Don't go to bed too late, now." François said.

"Ta yeule!"/ "Shut up!" He called back from the showers.

"Checker le ben aller. Ya quelqu'un d'pressé."/ "Look at him go. Someone's in a hurry." Éric said as Jean-Pierre came out of the shower half dressed.

"Ta yeule!"/ "Shut up!" Jean-Pierre quickly gathered his stuff, finished getting dressed and headed out, trying to walk as casually as possible.

"Bonne soirée là, Tremblay."/ "Good night now, Tremblay." Nicholas winked at him, while the others erupted into loud laughs and Jean-Pierre flipped them the bird, heading out.

When he got to the lobby, many congratulated him and he tried to navigate through them as quickly as possible, while looking for Vincent. Josée put him out of his misery and pointed the younger man out to him. He made his way to his partner and when he got there, Vincent smiled brightly at him, as he dropped his bag to the floor and opened up his arms to let Vincent hug him tightly.

It felt so good. It felt absolutely wonderful to feel his husband wrap his arms around his body and hold him close. Jean-Pierre buried his face into Vincent's hair and hummed the scent of the younger man's shampoo. How he had missed all of this.

"Congrats, mon amour…"/ "Congrats, my love…" Vincent murmured from the folds of his arms.

"Merci, j'espère que tu té pas trop enmerdé."/ "Thanks, I hope you weren't too bored." Jean-Pierre chuckled, kissing his lover's hairline. He was allowed to do it now.

"Of course not. T'étais autre chose sur la glace…"/ "… You were something else on the ice…" Jean-Pierre smiled and pecked his nose. Vincent raised his face ever so slightly and the older man's lips landed on his. How he had missed those lips. The kiss hardly remained innocent for long and Vincent was more than happy to comply when Jean-Pierre deepened it.

Vincent let the older man lead the kiss and moulded his lips against Jean-Pierre's. It was hungry, it was needy and he moaned, as he tangled his hands into Jean-Pierre's hair.

"Ça m'a manqué… tu m'as manqué…"/ "I missed this… I missed you…" Jean-Pierre whispered against his lips, when he momentarily pulled back. Vincent replied by bringing their lips back together.

"Aye Tremblay, rend toi à' maison au moins! Tu vas avoir plus d'intimité!"/ "Hey Tremblay, get home at least! You'll have more privacy!" Claude hollered, as he passed by the door, with Éric and Xavier. The three men laughed as Jean-Pierre and Vincent broke away.

"J'vous enmerde."/ "Go to hell." He called back to them. Vincent giggled, taking Jean-Pierre's bag and opening the door.

"Allez, viens, on va aller à la maison."/ "Come on, let's go home." Vincent drove them home and he let his husband open up, while he took the bag out of the car.

Jean-Pierre found a large banner, which said "BRAVO JEAN! REBELLES #1!" He smiled, putting his jacket away and stepped out of the entrance. Monsieur trotted up to him and he laughed when he saw the scarf that said "BRAVO!" tied around his neck. Jean-Pierre couldn't help but smile at Vincent when he walked in.

"Toi là… té autre chose, mon cœur."/ "You… you're really something else, my love." He gathered Vincent in his arms and hugged him tightly, as he twirled him around for a moment.

"C'est rien…"/ "It's nothing…"

"Merci pour tout, Vincent… ça m'rends heureux."/ "Thanks for everything, Vincent… it makes me happy."

"Va dans la cuisine, ya quelque chose sur la table pour toi."/ "Go in the kitchen, there's something for you on the table." Jean-Pierre let him go and went to see what was in the kitchen. He found a large bouquet of lilies with a ribbon around it that said "Félicitations Jean!" He chuckled as he hummed the flowers and then went back to find Vincent.

"Chuis content qu'vous avez gagnés… ça l'aurait été awkward sinon…"/ "I'm glad you won… it would have been awkward if you hadn't…"

"Ouais, j'm'en allais justement dire. Mais tu sais, les fleurs… t'étais pas obligé… une fleur sur ta très splendide tour du CN aurait été amplement suffisant… mon cœur…"/ "Yeah, I was about to say. But you know, the flowers… you didn't have to… one flower on your very splendid CN tower would have been more than sufficient… my love…" Jean-Pierre whispered in his ear, before nibbling on his earlobe. Vincent moaned and took his lover's hand, heading to their bedroom. When they got to it, Vincent let go of Jean-Pierre's hand and made his way to the bed, shedding his pants and sitting on it with his legs spread wide, in order to give Jean-Pierre a very nice view.

"Alors, tu viens mon champion?"/ "You coming, my champion?" Jean-Pierre needed no more prompting than that, as he took a few, long strides, before crawling over to Vincent and pinned the younger man's arms above his head. Jean-Pierre wasted no time in starting to nip at Vincent's neck, leaving hot kisses, as he trailed down from the crook of his neck to his jaw line. He brought his other hand under Vincent's shirt and let his nails graze the skin ever so slightly, as his fingers traveled upwards to rub against his nipples.

Vincent moaned loudly at the feel and tried to wiggle his hands out of his lover's grasp, but Jean-Pierre had a grip of steel on them.

"J'ai pas été très gentil ces derniers jours…"/ "I wasn't very nice these last days…" Vincent said, as Jean-Pierre let go of his hands momentarily, in order to peel his shirt off and lavish his chest with wet kisses. His words were accentuated with little whimpers and pleas. Jean-Pierre guided his hands so that they rested on his shoulders.

"Enlève."/ "Remove." He said. Vincent complied and pulled off his lover's shirt. Jean-Pierre then took one of Vincent's hands and let it brush against his own chest. Vincent could feel him shiver in pleasure and after a while, he no longer needed the older man to guide him. Vincent knew how much Jean-Pierre liked touch and let his hands wander freely on the other's body.

Vincent enjoyed the little sounds that came out of his husband's mouth and he was more than glad to comply when Jean-Pierre took his hand, brought it to his crotch and told Vincent to touch him. Knowing how much Jean-Pierre enjoyed it, he made it his job to apply varying pressure, to retract when necessary, to rub the tip when Jean-Pierre groaned and to squeeze at irregular intervals.

He only stopped when Jean-Pierre pulled him flush against him and rubbed himself against his own arousal. It didn't take Jean-Pierre that much longer to pull down Vincent's briefs and he paused for a moment to admire the rather magnificent view.

For around Vincent's shaft, there was a simple, blue ribbon tied around it. Jean-Pierre looked at it and his smirk grew even more, his eyes even more dilated with lust. Vincent felt a shiver run down his spine and he nearly lost it when Jean-Pierre licked his lips and lowered himself, in order to "unwrap" his prize with his teeth.

Jean-Pierre made it his point to graze his teeth against the warm flesh, in a teasing way, before taking one side of the ribbon between his teeth and pulling on it to undo the bow. He then used the ribbon to tickle Vincent and smirked up to him when the younger man squirmed. He didn't bother pulling his hair back and let it brush against Vincent's body, enjoying the way his lover reacted.

"Jean … tu vas m'le f-faire payer ou quoi…?"/ "Jean … you're gonna make me pay or what…?

"Peut-être bien…"/ "Maybe…" He took one of Vincent's legs and started kissing from the sole of his foot up, before coming to a stop at his lover's groin. He turned his head to the side ever so and without any warning to Vincent, he took the him into his mouth, enjoying the loud gasp that came with it.

He knew his husband loved it when he did this. He sucked lightly, twirling his tongue around the tip and didn't mind adding more pressure when Vincent bucked into his mouth. However, his master plan wasn't to have Vincent cum inside of his mouth. Therefore, just as his husband was starting to enjoy himself, Jean-Pierre let him slide out of his mouth.

"Prêt pour ton champion, mon cœur...?"/ "Ready for your champion, my love…?" Vincent nodded and he opened the bedside drawer to take out the necessary items. He then passed them on to Jean-Pierre, who started diligently preparing him, for what would come next.

"Vincent… je t'aime mon coeur… merci pour tout…"/ "Vincent… I love you… thanks for everything…" Jean-Pierre murmured afterwards, between kisses, as he tried to catch his breath. He turned around to get a better look of his husband and held him close.

"T'es mon mari, c'est normal que j'fasse ça… et moi aussi je t'aime, mon champion."/ "You're my husband, it's normal that I do this… and I love you too, my champion." Jean-Pierre smiled and he was about to suggest a nice shower together, when they were both startled by something very loud.

"Réponds… Tremblay…. Répoooooooonnnnnnnddddddssssssssssss!"/ "Answer… Tremblay… Answeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr!" Vincent let out a yelp, as Jean-Pierre stopped kissing him and tried to locate the sound of the noise. He eventually realised it was his cell phone that was making the ruckus and that it was in his long ago discarded pants.

He got up from his warm bed and went to retrieve the aforementioned garment, which was thrown in some corner of the room. He fished out his phone and saw he had a new text message. He wondered who could possibly text him, but the mystery only lasted for about 0.0001 seconds, for when he saw whom it was from, he groaned. The message was quite typical from the receiver.

"AILLE LE GRAND, ON ESPERE TE PAS TROP OCCUPE AHAHAHAHAHA (;(; HOPE YOU GOT LAID GOOD TONIGHT! HAVE FUN! En passant, c'est Guillaume qui a fait l'enregistrement de la tres splendide voix de Claudette, pis c'est Xavier qui a kidnappe ton phone et c'est l'illustre Francois qui l'a installee pass Xav est trop con pour ca. ON T'AIME FORT! Rebelles for the win! Xav, Fran, Clau et Guill."/ "HEY BIG GUY, WE HOPE YOU'RE NOT TOO BUSY AHAHAHAHAHA (;(; HOPE YOU GOT LAID GOOD TONIGHT! HAVE FUN! By the way, it's Guillaume who recorded Claudette's wonderful voice, Xavier who kidnapped your phone and the wonderful François who installed it bcs Xav is too stupid for that. WE LOVE YOU! Rebelles for the win! Xav, Fran, Clau and Guill." Jean-Pierre flopped down besides Vincent and buried his face in his lover's shoulder.

"Qu'ess y'a?"/ "What's wrong?" Vincent asked.

"Gang de mongoles…"/ "Bunch of wackos…" He answered, half amused, as he handed his phone to Vincent so that he could see. Vincent laughed loudly, once he read the message.

"J'peux tu répondre?"/ "Can I answer?" He asked.

"Sure, amuse toi."/ "Sure, have fun." Jean-Pierre made himself comfortable, as Vincent stuck out his lip in concentration and thought of a clever reply. Jean-Pierre watched with a lazy eye, as his husband typed away and he felt oddly at peace.

"C'tu good ça?"/ "Is this good?" He finally asked, a few seconds later. Jean-Pierre stopped drawing imaginary circles on Vincent's stomach and took his phone to read the message.

"Ouais, c'tait fucking hot. C'tait chaud pis Vincent etait chaud et dur en crisse. V'nir en lui pendant qu'y crie mon nom devrait etre ma prochaine sonnerie d'telephone. En tout cas, chu chanceux qu'Vincent fait du yoga pis qu'y s'garde en forme… ca rend tout encore plus nice, if you know what i mean (; surtout, hesitez pas a m'envoyer dautres messages a soir… ptetre on vous fras un ptit video la prochaine fois. Et en passant, chsavais pas qu'claudette était rendue une femme. Pourtant quand j'lai vu s'changer yavait dlair ben detre un homme… pis jpensais quon était une equipe de gars… bonne nuit les gars (; mon fun vient que dcommencer ehehehe

Jean et Vincent

-xx-"/

"Yeah, it was fucking hot. It was hot and Vincent was hot and hard as hell. Coming in him while he yells my name should be my next ringtone. Anyways, I'm lucky that Vincent does yoga and that he keeps himself in shape… it makes everything nicer, if you know what I mean (; Also, don't hesitate to send me other messages tonight… maybe we'll make you a little video next time. By the way, I didn't know that Claudette is a woman. When I saw him change, he seemed like a man… thought it was a man's team… good night guys (; my fun just started eheheh

Jean and Vincent

-xx-"

Jean-Pierre couldn't help but laugh at the message, as he nodded in approval, made a modification or two and then sent it off.

"Excellent, c'est mieux d'leur clouer l'bec pass j'ai pas encore fini avec toi!"/ "Excellent, it better shut them up 'cause I'm not done with you!" Jean-Pierre shut his phone off and put it on his bedside table, before pulling Vincent to him and assaulting his lips yet again.

"Tant mieux, j'allais être déçu si c'tait juste ça ta leçon."/ "Good, 'cause I woulda been disappointed if that was all there was to your lesson." Vincent smirked and Jean-Pierre bit on a sensitive part of his neck, before licking it.

"Non, mon cœur, j'ai l'intention d'rattraper tout le temps perdu d'la fin d'semaine."/ "No, my love, my intention is to catch up on all our lost time from this weekend." And that, Jean-Pierre made sure he did.

OWARI 37

DANS MON CUL VIEUX CHAPITRE LONG!

Oietjo kewlrj oklewr

I do accept anonymous reviews.

Started writing: February 11th 2011, 9:57am

Finished writing: February 23rd 2011, 12:48am

Started typing: March 13th 2011, 10:45pm

Finished typing: March 14th 2011, 9:21pm