Andre walks in on something he couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams.

John’s fingers press inside, cool against Dylan’s tongue, the inside of his cheek. John’s skin tastes like beer, and Dylan doesn’t know why he’s letting this happen, but he just – is. John’s other hand is on his forehead now, and Dylan slowly wraps his lips around the fingers in his mouth.

This all felt so familiar to Justin. Inspired by it wrecks who it pleases by addandsubtract.

The NHL draft entry class of 2006 are the new best and brightest, and they have to do what the best and brightest have always done: go to an isolated swamp in the Canadian wilderness, let the hockey gods have their way with them, and incubate the next generation of gods in their bellies.

As part of the CBA all players who sign a ELC are required to grow tentacles. Nate's not really that sure why, and mostly he just wishes the damn things would behave. Although he does kind of like the ways they misbehave. He doesn't get why Jo has to make such a big deal out of it. (It's basically just tentacle porn)

Every player must spend a little time offering their body to the will of the gods.

"I just wanna see it," Noah says.

He’d been trying for ages not to go down this route, to ignore his instincts telling him this one, this one is perfect

Connor knows what happens during the offseason.