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"Sid," Geno said, jogging down the stairs two days later. "You not like jizz. Is like shoes thing, or like chunky peanut butter thing?" Sidney had strong feelings about his shoes, but he grudgingly acknowledged that manufacturers continued to issue updated models every few months, so his running shoes were never quite the same even though he always bought the same brand and style. Chunky peanut butter, on the other hand, was inviolate. You did not fuck with the chunky peanut butter.
Or, as I titled the document, Jizz: a love story.
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Bookmarked by bugparts
11 Apr 2024
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Then one day an amazing thing happened. Sidney went to practice and there was a new player there.
Bookmarked by bugparts
04 Mar 2024
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Sid’s expression turns inward for a moment. When he meets Zhenya’s eyes again his face is still bright red, but he looks determined too.
“Well, I guess I owe you,” he says. “I mean, I got a picture of you this evening. So.”
Bookmarked by bugparts
01 Mar 2024
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It wasn’t the prospect of pain that frightened him. Zhenya was a hockey player: he was used to pain, even to violence. But this wasn’t like a fight on the ice—tempers boiling over, hot rage spilling out everywhere—cathartic, necessary, even if it got him sent down the tunnel. This was different. There was nothing here to push back against, no way to assert his own will. In a little while Crosby would come to him, and Zhenya would open the door and let him in. Crosby would feed from him, taking what he wanted from Zhenya’s body.
And then they would be bound.
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Bookmarked by bugparts
21 Feb 2024
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Sid and pain medication have never gotten along. He can handle the numbing shots in the athletic trainer’s room with a stiff upper lip, but something about pills hits him upside the head. When a puck snaps his jaw and breaks his teeth, he gets the good meds.
The good meds have him setting his sights on Geno.
Bookmarked by bugparts
18 Jan 2024