Page 161 of No Line Change

Dylan made a face. “The skating coaches would beg to disagree. Felt like I was back in elementary school when they’d pick the kid who had no fucking clue what was going on and use them as an example.”

“You’re not that bad.”

“But you agree I’m not that good at skating?”

“If your legs are sore from mohawks, then maybe.” When Henri kissed Dylan, he tasted sweet. “Can we go to bed?”

“It’s like four in the afternoon.”

“So?”

Dylan chuckled. “Sure, Hen.”

turkeytalk (March 8, 2024): Despite rumors that teams were sniffing around trying to acquire players like Baptiste, Duffy, and Walsh, the Turkeys make no moves this trade deadline. I think we can all breathe a sigh of relief here.

↪ gobblegoals: a little disappointed we didn’t pick anyone up (did anyone else see that russell trade to ohio?? omg that would’ve been huge for us), but I think we’ve got a solid team. no need to mess with something that’s working

Krzysztofek (March 2024)

I hope you’re happy

Dylan

I am pretty happy yes

Thanks for your help

You still gonna be happy if this costs the team a cup?

It would’ve lost this team their captain

Some things are more important

Than the Stanley Cup?

Yeah

Even in hockey, some things are more important than that

Would you really have left if they’d traded him or were you just bluffing?

I’m glad we don’t have to find out

luc-henri-sourit (March 17, 2024): Look at all these beautiful smiles from their Florida road trip!! I told you, two weeks post trade deadline and he would be again

CHAPTER 63

Dylan was straddling Henri. They had a precious three days in Albuquerque before another road trip took them to the east coast, and Dylan had decided this was the perfect time for Henri to fuck him again.

“Please,” he’d whined and whined. “We’ve only done it twice. Hen…”

Henri had heaved a fake sigh and pretended to consider. “I suppose⁠—”

And Dylan had tackled him to the sofa in delight. They hadn’t moved much since then, kissing for nearly an hour before Dylan had fished out a bottle of lube from somewhere.

“Want me to or—?” Dylan asked.

“Together,” Henri offered, though soon he’d taken over. The angle was too awkward for Dylan to reach properly, and it made him too tense. After Dylan had worked himself with one finger, Henri had swatted his hand away. Now he was slowly fucking two fingers into Dylan, scissoring gently and trying to graze his prostate every few strokes. Just enough to tease, not enough to hurry things.