Puck Me Hard のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 119

Dorian's P.O.VCoach O’Rourke stepped into the locker room, and like a pack of obedient wolves, the entire team snapped to attention. Helmets off, skates half-laced, conversations midair, it didn't matter what we were all doing, we all quieted and gave the man our attention. "Good to see all your ugly mugs again," Coach said, voice booming like thunder. His gruff tone was the same as always, but there was warmth in it now. The kind of warmth that came after a hard-earned victory."First off, congratulations, boys. You did it and made this school proud. Hell, you made me proud," he said, sweeping a look across the room like a general addressing his soldiers. “That championship win last semester wasn’t just luck. It was your sweat, your blood, your effort. You came together. You bled for one another. That was real teamwork."A few of the boys whooped, clapping sticks against benches, but Coach raised a hand and they fell silent again."But..." His voice lowered a pitch, just enough to

Dorian – First-Person POVNoah didn’t tell me he was back in Minnesota.He didn’t text, didn’t call, didn’t even like one of my stupid stories on Instagram. And yeah, maybe that shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did. But it did. It fucking did.I’d waited four days since our last message—four days since we’d crossed lines we both knew weren’t just digital. He sent me a video. I sent one back. And then… silence.So, yeah, I was pissed.At him. At myself. At this whole... whatever the hell we were doing.But all that anger snapped like brittle ice the moment Coach called me into his office after practice and casually said, “You know Noah Carter’s the reason the NHL scout came to look at you, right?”I remember blinking. Thought I misheard. Thought maybe he was talking about someone else.But no. Coach kept going, oblivious to the way my chest had caved in, like a puck had just been shot through it point-blank.“He recommended you. Told the guy you were more than worth a look. Sai

Dorian's first P.O.VAt my words, Noah whimpered and it didn't take long before I felt him stiffen as he came hard in his pants. His whole whole body convulsed, mouth falling open in a breathless moan. It was up there in the hottest things I've ever seen from Noah Carter.I didn’t stop touching him until he cried out from being oversensitive and begging me to stop touching him. When I pulled my hand away from him, Noah sagged against the wall, blinking blearily.“Fuck,” he whispered, bobbing his throat as he swallowed hard.The sight of his Adam's apple sliding up and down his throat sent heat pulsing through me and I groaned, painfully hard myself.I needed to fucking taste him.Gritting my teeth, I slipped my hand under his waistband and dipped my fingers into the sticky mess he'd made in his boxers. Then I brought my fingers to my mouth. I slowly sucked them clean, making sure he saw.He made a noise I couldn’t name, bucking weakly against the wall. His face was flushed and sweaty,

Dorian’s POVMy fucking knees wouldn’t stop bouncing. Tap, tap, tap, like they had a mind of their own. I sat hunched forward on the bench in the locker room, whilst placing my elbows on thighs as my palms sweated through the fabric of my pants. I hadn’t been this tense since the dinner we had after Noah’s stage play two weeks ago.Jesus. That night had been the most awkward night of my fucking life.Everyone at that table had known something was wrong. The tension between Noah and me had been thick enough to cut with a steak knife. Every time I caught his eye, he’d look away. Every time Jaxon's dad said something loud and proud, I watched Noah flinch and force a smile. I felt like a bastard for ruining what was supposed to be his big night, but I didn’t regret what I’d said. Someone had to say it.But it sill didn’t mean it hadn’t haunted the fuck out of me since.A loud whistle snapped me out of the memory and I sat up straighter. Coach O'Rourke was standing in the middle of the r

NOAH I got Dorian’s text three days ago. It’d sat there like a live wire in my inbox, marked as unread but already buzzing in my chest. The stupid little preview line haunted me every time I opened my phone: “Hey. I got you a ticket for the game. You don’t have to reply. Just come if you want. Please.” Then it was followed up with "No pressure." No pressure. Right. I had half a mind to delete the damn thing altogether and stay at the apartment, crawl back into bed and keep nursing the wall I’d been trying to rebuild between us. You know, patch up the cracks, re-fortify the wall id desperately started stacking between us, brick by self hating brick. It had seemed like wiser choice, hell even logical. After all, I hadn't stopped him from leaving after that dinner and tell him I was keeping him at arms length to protect him. It was easier to let him believe that I still hadn't forgiven him because the Dorian I knew would give up fucking hockey if it meant to be with me. But… not go