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“Holy fuck,” Dylan moaned. He’d moaned before during sex, but this was the first time Henri was worried someone else might hear them. “Fuck, gimme more.”

“Slowly, mon chou. Patience.” Henri did his best to do just that, pushing in an inch and waiting before he pulled back only to push in a little deeper. This wasn’t just about a good dicking down. Henri had a responsibility here as the first man to fuck Dylan. He would do everything in his power to make it good for him. Only when he’d bottomed out did he allow himself the luxury of truly appreciating the moment, of feeling it.

It felt like heaven.

“Hen.”

Henri had buried his face against Dylan’s neck, eliminating one sense so he could revel in the others, but Dylan pulled his face so their foreheads rested together once more.

“You still with me?” Dylan asked.

Henri closed his eyes and swallowed down the words threatening to burst out. Who could believe a love confession during sex? Henri wouldn’t, couldn’t do that. He nodded and only blinked his eyes open when he was certain it was true.

“I’m here. Sorry. You feel…” He might die from how good Dylan felt. The only thing better than being buried inside Dylan was when Dylan had his mouth on him. Or was fucking him. Or kissing him. Or would wrap around him before they fell asleep.

I am so fucking screwed.

“You feel good too,” Dylan whispered. “Like, a lot. It’s…a lot. But I like it.” He swallowed. “Do you…?”

Henri couldn’t help it; he laughed. “Dylan. I’m dying here trying not to fuck you senseless, and you’re worried I’m not enjoying myself.” He pulled out only halfway and slowly pushed back in. It worked: Dylan choked out a groan, and his eyes rolled back in his head. They didn’t say anything after that.

The pace was agonizing, but Henri was insistent. He wouldn’t rush. He wanted them both to savor this. It was a reward, right? Something special. Something rare. Something Henri couldn’t allow himself to get used to.

“Hen,” Dylan pleaded.

And just like that, the time to cherish was gone. It was time to take care of his boyfriend.

He experimented with different angles and speeds and rhythms, only to learn that Dylan loved them all. He was as vocally enthusiastic about hard and slow as he was about fast and chaotic. No matter what Henri did, Dylan was mesmerized, his gaze falling from Henri’s face to where their bodies met. His glassy, pupil-blown eyes fixed on where Henri’s dick was disappearing into him again and again, and he barely blinked. He was transfixed, and Henri was mesmerized by how much Dylan loved taking it.

He nudged Dylan’s hand and urged him to jerk himself off. “Will you come for me, Dylan?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” His legs wrapped tightly around Henri. His cheeks were flushed. Henri nosed his beard and kissed the corner of his lips, and that was what set Dylan off. He clenched around Henri, and Henri could feel come hitting his chest. Better yet, he could hear Dylan’s gasps and that guttural noise he often made when he came.

“Tu es si beau,” Henri said. You’re so beautiful.

If you were the last thing I saw before I died, I’d die happy.

“Hen.” He sounded so fucked out, looked so fucked out, Henri wanted to devour him. “Come, please.”

When he did a few thrusts later, his vision briefly blacked out. He went numb down to his toes, felt the orgasm rock through him like a blindside hit. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes because of how good this was. Even with his barely functioning, blissed-out brain, he knew it wasn’t just the sex. He was, thankfully, too blissed out to be scared about that.

He was vaguely aware of Dylan moving. The rough hotel towel irritated his sensitive skin before he was tucked against Dylan's body.

“Fuck me again in the morning,” Dylan said around a yawn. “I don’t even care if I’m awake.”

“I’ll wake you up first,” Henri mumbled. He doubted it would be an issue. They’d both be out until noon, if not later. Henri certainly didn’t plan on moving until he was too hungry to stay put. It’d be an impossible thing, to force himself to pack and get on his flight tomorrow. For the first time, it didn’t feel like he was going to his home but away from it.

Opposite sides of the country, he thought sadly as Dylan’s breathing deepened and his arm over Henri grew heavy. Same country, at least. Only a week. Less than.

He pulled Dylan closer so that he was draped across Henri more than the blankets. How many more nights like this did they have?

But we have this one, he consoled himself.

CHAPTER 56

abqturkeysnhl (January 31, 2024): Before we head into the All-Star Break, here’s a look at where the Turkeys stand!

All-Star Break: Western Conference Standings