CHAPTER 17- Strategy or intimate session

Liam walked out, the weight of Coach’s words still sitting heavy on his shoulders. The team had already left the arena, but he was lucky to catch them walking back to the dorm building, laughing carelessly as usual. Liam felt anything but relaxed.

He cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Boys, boys, boys. Wait up! Listen up for a second.”

The chatter died down. Heads turned toward him.

“I know I just told you guys to rest up and recover,” Liam started, keeping his captain voice steady and confident, “but I just got news from Coach. We’ve got a last-minute game in three days. It’s a charity showcase event. Impromptu, high visibility, scouts are apparently going to be there. Good opportunity for the organization.”

A collective groan went up from the quiet alleyway.

“Seriously?” Marcus complained, “I thought we had some breathing room before the real grind started.”

Big Mike leaned back against his locker. “Another short-notice one? My body is not ready.”

Fred shook his head with a laugh. “We’re never getting a full rest day, are we?”

Liam held up a hand, a small smile tugging at his lips despite everything. “I know, I know. But it’s for charity, and it’s good exposure. We play hard, look sharp, and represent the Wolves well.”

The guys grumbled a bit more, but they were used to this life. AHL hockey didn’t wait for anyone.

Then Liam dropped the real bomb.

“And here’s the fun part,” he said, tone dry. “We’re playing against the Shadow Reapers.”

The group went dead silent for half a second before erupting.

“No way,” Lee muttered.

Kowalski whistled low. “Thorne’s old team? That’s gonna be spicy.”

Marcus grinned, looking over at Raphael. “You ready to face your exes, man?”

Raphael, who had been quietly listening just shrugged with a small smirk. “Should be interesting.”

Liam waited for the noise to settle before continuing. “Alright, disperse for now. Rest up as much as you can. We’ll have strategy sessions starting tomorrow. Let’s use this as a good tune-up.”

The team started breaking off again, chatter picking up about the Reapers and the short timeline. Liam caught Raphael’s eye and jerked his head toward the corner.

“Thorne. A word.”

Raphael nodded and followed him out of the team's eat shot. The boys walked off. The moment they were alone, Liam crossed his arms, trying to keep his voice professional.

“Look,” Liam said, “I know they were your teammates. But we’re teammates now. Coach wants me and you to work on strategies together for this game. Tell me everything, weaknesses, tendencies, anything we can use against them. Play styles, what pisses them off, how they break out, whatever you’ve got.”

Raphael leaned against the wall, studying Liam for a moment. “Alright. We can do it at home tonight. I’ve got plenty of notes in my head. Some of those guys haven’t changed much since I left.”

Liam nodded, relieved that Raphael was being cooperative. “Good. We’ll set up the laptop when we get back. I want to be prepared.”

Raphael’s smirk returned, just a little. “You know I’ve got your back on this, Captain. Even if it means going against my old team.”

There was something in the way he said it, steady and loyal, it made Liam’s chest feel strangely tight. He pushed the feeling aside.

“Yeah,” Liam muttered. “Let’s just get it done.”

Liam pushed open the apartment door, the weight of the upcoming charity showcase game sitting heavy on his shoulders. Raphael followed him inside, both of them still in their post-practice clothes, gym bags slung over their shoulders. The familiar scent of the apartment, a mix of their body washes, protein powder, and the faint chill of the AC wrapped around them as the door clicked shut.

“Alright,” Liam said, keeping his voice brisk and professional. “Let’s get this set up. I want to go through as much as possible tonight.”

Raphael nodded, dropping his bag by the couch. “Sounds good. I’ll grab my laptop. I have some old notes and film clips from my time with them.”

They worked efficiently. Liam cleared the coffee table while Raphael set up his laptop and connected it to the TV. Soon the large screen lit up with game footage of the Shadow Reapers. They settled on the couch — not quite touching, but close enough in the small space that Liam was hyper-aware of every shift Raphael made.

Raphael started the first clip, leaning forward slightly. “Okay, their top line — especially their new captain, Ramirez. He’s fast, but he has a habit of cutting inside too early on the rush. If we force him wide, we can clog the middle and pick off the pass.”

Liam watched the footage intently, nodding. “Good catch. I saw that in their last game tape too. What about their defense on the blue line?”

Raphael’s arm brushed against Liam’s as he reached for the remote to pause the video. Neither of them pulled away immediately. Raphael continued, voice calm and respectful. “Their D-core is solid. They play physical, but they overcommit on the pinch sometimes. If we can bait them with a quick dump-in and cycle the puck low, we can exploit the gaps behind them. They’re not as fast recovering as they think they are.”

Liam listened closely. There was no trash-talking, no bitterness in Raphael’s tone. He spoke about his old team with clear respect pointing out strengths as well as weaknesses, acknowledging good plays even while suggesting counters. It was professional. Insightful. The kind of analysis a real teammate and captain would give.

He’s good at this, Liam thought grudgingly. Really good.

As they continued, the proximity became impossible to ignore. Raphael leaned in to point at something on the screen, his shoulder pressing warmly against Liam’s. Their hands brushed when they both reached for the remote at the same time. Raphael’s fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary before he pulled back with a small, casual smile.

“Sorry,” Raphael murmured, but his voice had a low undertone that made Liam’s skin prickle.

“It’s fine,” Liam replied, voice tighter than he wanted. He shifted slightly, but the couch was small. Their thighs were almost touching now. Every time Raphael moved to explain a play, Liam felt the heat of his body, smelled the faint trace of his post-practice shower gel mixed with clean sweat.

Raphael paused the video again, turning his head to look at Liam directly. Their faces were close suddenly, closer than they needed to be for watching film. “See that? Right there on the power play. They always overload the left side. If we shade our defense that way and have you or me jump the passing lane…”

Liam nodded, forcing himself to focus on the screen instead of the way Raphael’s lips looked. Plump. “Yeah....yeah That could work. Good eye.” he said gulping.

They kept going like that for nearly an hour. Raphael’s explanations were thorough, balanced, and smart. He praised his old teammates’ habits even while showing how to counter them. Liam found himself nodding along, asking questions, contributing ideas. For the first time in days, working with Raphael felt… easy. Natural. Almost comfortable.

He’s not just a loud-mouthed tease, Liam thought. He actually knows the game. Respects it. Respects his old team.

That realization unsettled him more than the teasing ever had.

At one point, Raphael reached across Liam to grab a notebook from the table. His chest brushed Liam’s arm. Their faces were inches apart for a heartbeat as Raphael straightened. Liam caught the scent of his skin, the warmth radiating from his body. His pulse spiked.

Raphael didn’t move away immediately. His dark eyes flicked down to Liam’s mouth for the briefest second before returning to his eyes.

“You okay, Captain?” he asked quietly, voice lower than before. “You’ve gone quiet.”

Liam swallowed hard. “I’m fine. Just… thinking about the plays.”

Raphael’s smirk was small, but there. “Sure.”

The air between them felt thicker now. The strategy session had become something else — something heavier, more intimate. Their knees were touching. Raphael’s hand rested on the cushion close to Liam’s thigh. Every small movement sent a spark through Liam’s body that he desperately tried to ignore.

Raphael leaned in again to point at a new clip, his breath warm against Liam’s ear as he spoke. “Watch how they recover here. If we pressure them fast—”

Liam’s breath hitched. The memory of the wet dream flashed violently, Raphael’s moans, his hand on Raphael’s cock, the heat, the filth.

He jerked back slightly, heart pounding.

Raphael noticed. Of course he noticed.

His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little… flushed.”

Liam’s mouth went dry. The proximity, the warmth, the low timbre of Raphael’s voice — it was too much.

He opened his mouth to snap something back, but the words caught in his throat as Raphael’s fingers brushed lightly against his thigh.