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“Ah, yes. They are doing well, but I think you can beat them. You have looked very good this season, ti-loup.”

His father always said that, too kind and too proud of his NHL son to have anything negative to say. Well, nothing negative about Henri. He’d had some choice words about the coaches and media over the years. This time, Henri was inclined to agree. He had looked pretty good this season.

“I like this team,” he admitted. The tip of the iceberg, but safe. “I fit in well, I think.”

“You do. The commentators talk about it. Even they are saying you are the perfect fit between Everett and Novak. It’s nice that the Turkeys see you’re good enough for the top line. Those other teams, they gave you nothing to work with and got annoyed there were no results.”

Again, Henri agreed. The Reapers had tried him as a top-six forward, but when he didn’t gel with their established players, they moved him lower and lower. He was too fast to be on a third or fourth line. No one could keep up with him, and somehow that had always been his fault.

“They’re my favorite linemates. I hope I can play with them longer.”

“The Turkeys would be fools not to re-sign you. Though they will have to wait to see how the season ends, I suspect. If they make the playoffs, you should be able to ask for a better contract.”

Henri would love nothing more. A contract with a no-trade clause, or at least a limited-trade clause. Security he’d never had. Permission to finally call Albuquerque home.

“We’ll see how it goes,” he deflected. “How are you doing? Any snow yet?”

They talked. Mostly it was his father, happily babbling on and only expecting Henri to mumble agreement or a question every so often. It pleased his father to talk, and it pleased Henri to listen. Like when he was a child, listening to bedtime stories until he fell asleep. He almost did fall asleep, comfortable on Dylan’s sofa.

When his papa let him go, Henri smiled and yawned lazily as he said goodbye. Maybe he would nap. Let the comfort of an impending trip home lull him under…

Whether or not he actually fell asleep, he blinked his eyes open and saw Dylan leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway, arms crossed and bed-head begging for someone to run their hands through his hair. Henri’s cock stirred in interest. More so when he saw Dylan was still naked and half-hard.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up,” Dylan said, and Henri’s stomach dropped. After all his assurances that he wouldn’t be another Sokolov, only to ruin it the first morning.

Panick swelled and tried to claw its way out. “Dylan, I⁠—”

“I didn’t think you’d left,” Dylan said. “I mean, maybe for a second. But your clothes were still on the floor. You don’t seem like the type to drive around naked.” His gaze obviously drifted down Henri’s body. “Or in underwear.”

He huffed a relieved laugh. “Sorry,” he said and meant it. He held up his phone. “My dad.”

“I know.” He had that same pleased expression that seemed to be reserved only for Henri these days. “Or I assumed. The French and all that.”

Henri felt suddenly exposed. He spread his arms in invitation, and immediately Dylan crossed the space. Dylan all but fell onto him, straddling his waist and kissing him. Naked.

“Why do you like it when I speak French so much?” Henri asked, then repeated the question in French. Dylan shuddered, and Henri could feel the goosebumps that prickled along his arms.

“It’s so fucking hot. How am I supposed to explain why? The sun is hot. The sky is blue. Hockey is the best sport on Earth. Sure, someone has answers to these questions, but it’s smarter people than me.”

It was rare to find someone so openly admiring of him. It wasn’t just the accent, though perhaps that was the most obvious. He saw the way Dylan got lost in his eyes. Had seen the appreciative way he’d drunk in Henri’s body as he’d undressed and climbed into bed last night. There was no doubting Dylan’s attraction, not now that he felt free to show it.

“You are very sexy yourself,” Henri said between kisses. He felt powerful, having Dylan fucking Everett admire him, and he wanted to return some fraction of that feeling. “I love when your hair shines so bright it’s almost red, and your eyes are so blue I feel like I’m swimming in them. And you’re so strong. I’ve never met someone so talented but so kind. Everyone knows you, but you make a point of knowing everyone else as well.”

Each point was punctuated by their lips meeting, each kiss more drawn out than the last until they were rutting against each other on the sofa. There was so much more Henri could say, all the ways Dylan had captivated him, but words failed him. He gripped Dylan’s biceps and stared down, his clothed dick straining against the fabric while Dylan’s bare one leaked pre-come all over Henri.

It was good but not enough, and soon he reached between them to wiggle just enough of the fabric down to free his poor cock. Then his hand was wrapped around them both, the delicious slide of their skin, the pressure of his hand as he jerked them off.

“Lemme…” Dylan buried his face in Henri’s neck and sucked a bruise right where his jaw met his neck. One of his favorite spots, still tender from the last time he’d marked Henri only a few days ago. He put his hand over Henri’s and together they rocked into their fists and grunted so that obscene sounds echoed off the walls. Henri came first, but Dylan didn’t let go. Ran his finger through his come and used it to jerk himself off harder until a few strokes later he was spent too.

“Oh fuck,” Dylan cursed. “Fuck, Henri…” Gravity pulled him down onto the sofa, and his strong arms pulled Henri with him. “Holy shit.”

“Oui,” Henri agreed, dazed. He was so light-headed, the orgasm better than most he’d had in the past few years (except for the last few weeks with Dylan, of course), and he couldn’t account for it. They hadn’t gone farther than hands and mouths, Henri’s hints at letting Dylan fuck him going completely unheeded. Was this enough for Dylan? All he wanted and needed, or was he going slow on purpose?

If Henri weren’t covered in both their come and being actively squished by Dylan, he might ask. As it was, he caught his breath and decided other things took priority.

“Shower and food?” He ran a hand up Dylan’s naked thigh and enjoyed the full-body shudder it elicited.

An opened-mouth kiss on his cheek. “I’ll follow you anywhere you wanna go.”