Chapter 35
Dylon
I have no intention of leaving his body, but my dick doesn’t get the memo and eventually falls out with a gush of cum.
“I want it,” Lars demands, resurrecting my cock. “I’ve been deprived of nutrients and protein. Feed it to me.”
Holy kinky sexy man wants to eat my cum dripping out of his ass.
“Anything for you.” I scoop up a load, and he grips my wrist while sucking my fingers. I attack his mouth, desperate for the mix of our flavors.
His kiss becomes frantic, and his nails dig into my flesh.
“I love you.” He pulls back so he can see me fully.
“I know.” I grin and kiss the tip of his nose. “I was afraid it wasn’t possible, but you don’t do anything half-assed. I’ll love you until the day I die,” I vow.
“In like a hundred years.” Lars scowls.
“I’ve been thinking,” I pause, “about what it would be like to tell our friends.” He stiffens but I forge ahead. “All the reasons to stay quiet still exist, but I don’t want to hide us. But I won’t push you into anything.”
“Push me? This is new to you. I have been falling in love with you for a year, but we have only been together for a couple of months. Coming out changes everything.” His blue eyes reflect light like a bright summer sky.
“I’m not suggesting a formal presser like Jayce and announce it to the world. But Patrik and Trevor know, and we can count on them and Jayce to help us if the media or fan attention becomes too much. What do you think?” We’re on our sides facing each other, and my palm rests over his hammering pulse.
“When Patrik came out, I couldn’t imagine being as brave as him, but I understand. Knowing you love me makes me want to shout my feelings for you from the tallest building.”
“Good, because the team probably has an idea already since you went feral and refused to leave my side. It will be easier to explain. But…” I contemplate how to say this. “We should wait until after a win.”
“We definitely do not want a bunch of superstitious hockey players associating our relationship with losing.” A few clouds drift into the blue of his eyes. “I am afraid one of us will get traded.”
“Nope. We’re the dream team. When you, me, and Ace are on fire, no one can stop us and we win games. We keep winning, and it’s smooth sailing.” I float my hand in the air.
“Glad to have my boys back,” Ace says as we enter the locker room to everyone’s cheers. The energy and expectations are palpable, and I can’t wait to play.
“Ready, aim, fire.” I pretend to score a goal with my hockey stick.
“Should I sage you?” Benz asks Lars.
“Our fearless center has shaken off Germany and is ready to destroy Dallas,” I answer for him.
“Do not let him fool you. He has done an exorcism and burned sage. He almost set my hair on fire.” Lars grimaces, running a hand through his hair as if remembering.
The room is silent for a beat, and Benz says, “A joke. Haha. I get it.” And any doubts about the game die in peals of laughter.
The last week has been the best and worst. Lars loves me and we’re making a life together, but Doc wouldn’t clear him to play until tonight, so we haven’t been able to tell anyone about us.
Lars had to rebuild his stamina, but he owned yesterday’s practice and shredded our defenders. We need a W tonight. Everyone stepped up in our absence, but we lost two games when both Lars and I were out.
I’m dying to tell everyone so I can look at my man and not worry about what they think. That’s probably na?ve. Finn stopped by our apartment unannounced two days ago to discuss how the team has officially responded to the Daddy Drake’s Property shirt debacle, Lars getting ejected and fined for misconduct, and our coinciding illnesses. Speculation has gone wild, ranging from the truth that we’re in a relationship to the outlandish that we’re creating PR stunts to gain internet fame. As if we could fake sickness and get out of playing pro hockey.
Okay, maybe I manufactured an elevated temp, but it definitely wasn’t for media attention. It was to take care of the man I love.
Coach gives a speech, and it’s great up until he warns us not to get ejected from the game. The team shoots Lars nervous glances.
The crowd welcomes us with deafening screams and stomping.
Lars becomes Drake the Dragon, fluid and flying over the ice. Being in love strengthens our telepathic bond, and we connect on everything with Ace there to score or to take out a defender.
Lars has three men on him but stretches out and stays ahead of them to get a pass off to Ace. Ace shoots low, and it ricochets off the goalie’s leg pad, and my stick’s right there to fire it in over his shoulder.
Ace steals the puck before they can clear it and draws the defenders before dishing it to Lars for another score.
I’m flying high.
Nothing can stop us.
Dallas fights like the lions they are for the puck at every turn, and half the game is played against the boards. I don’t mind—they can’t win tonight. The home crowd carries us higher, helping us skate faster.
The game’s basically won with one minute left in the third period, and we’re up by three. We don’t let up, and there will be no miracles for the Lions tonight .
Coach sends Lars over the boards without me. It’s a privilege to watch him from the bench. He takes a dirty hit and yells to the ref, who signals to play on. They scuffle behind the goal, and the defender whacks Lars’s knee. The ref does nothing, and I’m screaming my head off.
Benz and Ace flank me like they think I’ll do something stupid and retaliate. The seconds tick down, and Lars takes a wide shot from outside. It bounces off the defender and drops in front of the goal. King taps it in with five seconds on the clock. On the ice, the Enforcers skate together for a celly.
One last face-off and we’ve won. Almost everyone has turned away from the game, both the team and fans celebrating the win. Lars gets in position, but his counterpart crosses the line before the puck drop, so the ref blows the whistle, but it’s too late. Lars doesn’t move for the puck because it’s a dead play and the opposing center barrels in and throws an elbow, hitting Lars with the force of his entire body weight.
His helmet flies off, and he hits the ice, unmoving. Most people remain unaware, but I’m on the ice, gloves already off since I wasn’t going in again. I tackle their center as he skates away from the neutral zone.
There’s a patch of red around a motionless Lars. The entire team finally realizes what’s happening and it’s mayhem. Whistles blow but they’re ignored.
I shove their center and skate through the protective circle around Lars. He blinks at me and swears in Swedish. “Dyl,” he croaks, and I drop to my knees in relief. He’s pissed off but fine.
He wipes his bloody nose with his glove while Grayson tries to examine him.
It takes a few minutes to assess penalties, and true to my nickname, the refs didn’t see me hit their center. Lucky.
After Gray gets Lars off the ice, we replay the last few seconds and win the game.
“I was worried,” I say to Lars in the training room.
Lars holds out his hand, and Grayson pretends not to notice. Once Gray declares Lars healthy since he hit the ice with his shoulder, not his head, we walk to the dressing room .
We nod, agreeing to tell the team, and bang the door open to loud music and celebrations. The media is still here so we have to wait.
My hands sweat as the reporters start to leave. “Hold up for a minute after the birds fly.” Some guys snicker because I call the press vultures and codename them birds. Gradually, everyone but the team leaves.
“Lucky strikes again.” Benz waggles his brows. “I knew you were gonna lose your shit.”
“You guys know Lars is the Enforcer here. He’s got our back, and I’ve got his.” I take a deep breath. “And now more than ever since he’s my boyfriend.” The reaction is mixed. Benz whoops, Ace claps along with a few other players, while some stand with their mouths open.
Liska smiles with a shrug, looking very smug.
Lars stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Any questions?”
“I knew it, bow-chicka-wow-wow.” Benz stands on the bench and dances to his sounds.
“He did suspect,” Griffin vouches.
“How long?” Ace asks. “I mean, before Germany?”
Before we can answer, one of our veteran defenders says, “Lucky, I thought you were straight.” It’s interesting because he didn’t think that about Lars.
“I got my head out of my ass and recognized my feelings for him,” I reply.
“And then you put something else in your ass.” Benz does a pelvic thrust.
“Baby Benz, that’s enough,” Liska scolds but winks.
“Don’t ‘Baby Benz,’ him. That’s uncalled for,” Griffin yells.
And just like that, our coming out turns into no big deal. Everyone goes about their business of showering and dressing for a night out.
A few guys come over to offer congrats, which, granted, I nabbed one of the NHL’s top bachelors, so it’s appropriate but hilarious, and some ask questions. Lars and I exchange grins before heading to the showers. All in all, it’s an uneventful announcement, and that makes me deliriously happy.