NHL 32

“It’s a relief. If you’re tired, I won’t hold you up for long. Actually, the truth is, I have something to give you.”

As Dylan fastened his seatbelt and started the ignition, a deep engine roar was heard. The car body slowly eased out of the parking lot. When faced with the pitch-black night street, Dylan said.

“Do you remember? You borrowed and used my gear last time.”

Gear? Joeon recalled the protective gear, helmet, and hockey stick he had worn on the day they practiced together at his mansion.

“Ah… when we practiced?”

“It was uncomfortable being in someone else’s gear, right?”

Joeon, who caught the underlying meaning contained in the short question, quietly bit his lip.

“It was fine… it seems you like gifting people things.”

Dylan drove the car to the parking lot. The distance between the stadium and the condo was only one block, making it so close that one had to wonder why he even brought the car.

“This much is nothing. A gift for you is not a waste at all.”

The car stopped in the parking lot located in the deepest part of the condo.

“Then shall we go?”

Having gotten out of the car, the two of them moved quickly, riding the elevator from the lowest floor to the top floor of the building. Perhaps because it was close to midnight, they reached their destination without any stops. As if conscious of the sealed space with no one else around, Dylan pretended to look up at the electronic board where the numbers were changing while quietly moving his hand to tap the back of Joeon’s hand.

Joeon turned his head to look at him, but Dylan’s gaze was still fixed on some random place. Meanwhile, his hand approached more boldly, weaving his fingers through Joeon’s to interlace them. His flushed cheeks twitched uncontrollably.

Soon, the elevator reached the penthouse (PH) floor, and the doors opened. There was no one in the hallway, and the two men’s footsteps were silently imprinted onto the thickly laid beige carpet.

Walking to the end of the hallway and standing in front of the corner unit door, Dylan took out his key habitually. As he inserted it into the keyhole and turned it to unlock the door, he suddenly hesitated, holding the doorknob and saying, “Ah!”

When Joeon looked up at him with a puzzled gaze, Dylan turned his head to meet Joeon’s eyes quietly. His slightly parted lips changed shape with a faint movement. He was muttering to himself.

“…Huh? What was that?”

Joeon, who had been quietly observing the shape his lips were making, realized what he was doing; his face reddened as he overlapped his hand on top of Dylan’s, pressed down on the doorknob, and opened the door.

“Let’s just go in already.”

The door, which had opened just enough for the two of them to enter, slammed shut with a thud the moment it let the host and the guest inside. Dylan’s voice, mixed with laughter, counted the remaining numbers.

“Seven, eight.”

“…Stop it.”

“Nine.”

Dylan wrapped his arms around Joeon’s waist.

“Ten.”

Lips, trembling with bewilderment, were instantly overlapped. Pushed back by Dylan, who was devouring his mouth, Joeon stumbled backward, reached the living room, and slipped on the rug.

His body, losing its balance, landed softly on the plush sofa. At the moment of the thud, a deep scent of shampoo wafted from Dylan’s swaying hair. A subtle fragrance emanated from his face and his entire body where they touched. While intoxicated by his scent, his coat was pushed up to his waist.

A hand that had burrowed into the collar to wrap around his inner shoulder brushed down his upper arm, letting the outer garment fall away. The muffler he had wrapped around his neck got caught on his heels.

“Wait, ugh….”

Joeon’s palm pushed against Dylan’s chest, and only then was a distance created between them. Licking his moist lips with the tip of his tongue, Dylan steadied his breathing. The night view illuminated the dark interior, where not even the lights had been properly turned on. The firefly-like lights were etched perfectly onto his sculpted face.

“W-wait just a minute. Was this why you dragged me here so stubbornly?”

“Well, half of it, yes.”

He answered with a shameless, smiling face. Joeon couldn’t hate him, knowing that he had been desperate to touch him the whole way home.

“…You could at least give me a tour of the house.”

“Ah, the order. Right. Should we do that first?”

Unlike his agreeable tone, Dylan’s eyes seemed to be still enjoying the lingering feeling of the kiss they had just shared.

“Come this way. I’ll show you the house. Not that there’s much to see. First, here is the living room, that is the kitchen, and over there is the bathroom.”

Dylan, having risen to his feet, took Joeon’s hand. He showed him the kitchen and the living room in turn—places they had passed by while occupied with kissing.

Here and there, Joeon saw the clothes and shoes that the quick-handed Dylan had stripped off and thrown away as he entered the house. Nothing else registered in Joeon’s eyes. Even if he were asked to explain the structure of the house, he couldn’t remember a single thing.

“And this is the bedroom.”

When he opened the door located at the very end, a large bed sitting in the middle of the spacious room caught his eye. Other than the bedside drawer, there was nothing that could even be called furniture. It was a room that was kept too clean, with barely a trace of daily life. The fact that he didn’t spend much time in the condo could be felt from the trivial traces.

“It’s clean. It smells like you.”

Through the window outside the bedroom, the brilliantly shining tower came into view. The moment he cast his gaze there for a moment, his body was pushed onto the bedding, covered in a deep blue color matching his team’s uniform, which resembled the color of the sky at twilight. Joeon’s mind scattered dizzily into the host’s scent that permeated every corner.

“Does it smell good?”

Dylan asked, raising one knee onto the bed and provocatively matching their eye level. His hand cupped Joeon’s cheek. He felt hot body temperature through his palm. The heat of being still inspired by his sense of victory was full in his eyes and in the blood vessels running throughout his body.

“Very.”

The reason it hadn’t cooled down, even though a long time had passed since the game ended, was because his game hadn’t finished yet. His final period was Joeon.

“I want my scent to sink deep into you, too.”

His chest rose and fell heavily as he followed his labored breath at the blatant seduction. Joeon did not avoid Dylan’s gaze.

“…Then do it.”

Dylan widened his eyes before laughing with his eyes turning into half-moons. The palm of his hand, which had moved from his cheek to his neck, followed the pulsating blood. Then, he pressed down firmly over his racing heart.

Even with the light pressure, Joeon’s body tilted backward. Instead of saying anything more, Joeon reached out his arms, wrapped them around Dylan’s neck, and squeezed his eyes shut.

The unfamiliar touch burrowing inside his clothes traveled over his skin, creating frictional heat. His lips followed the traces of his fingers, kissing Joeon’s navel, abs, and chest. The touch and kisses were so affectionate that emotion blossomed in every place he passed. Dylan’s gaze lingered for a long time on Joeon’s face, which changed every moment.

“Does this, feel good?”

Dylan asked, nibbling on his nipple, which had popped out due to exposure to the air, with his lips. His large palm, resting on the other side of his chest, struggled to gather that which could not be caught.

“…Ah!”

The brow that had been furrowed as if in denial every time he asked a question created a deep trench the moment he bit his nipple with his teeth. The tip of his tongue tickled his slick and soft skin. Goosebumps rose all over him. His nipple, which had become sensitive and swollen from being scratched by his nails, was sucked into his mouth. Dylan made a slurping sound as he sucked on Joeon’s sensitive chest.

“Ah, it hurts. It hurts. If you bite, ugh….”

“Here, I can train this to be sensitive, too.”

Joeon sat up just his upper body and wrapped his palms around the head of Dylan, who had buried his face in his chest. His disheveled blonde hair slipped between his fingers. When he lightly tugged his hair to pull it back, Dylan’s face, with his eyebrows crumpled, came into direct view.

“I said it hurts.”

“Sorry. Has it already become sensitive?”

As if Joeon’s provocation was satisfying for some reason, Dylan’s glossy lips wore a crooked smile. Joeon wrapped his legs around Dylan’s waist and, putting his weight into it, flipped his body over to pin him down. In an instant, their eye levels were reversed.