All Chapters of PUCKING MY ROOMMATE : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The locker room smelled like sweat, icy gel, and adrenaline. Liam Lannister sat on the bench, lacing his skates with sharp, precise tugs, jaw tight as he listened to the distant roar of the crowd filtering through the tunnel.Frostbite Wolves versus Shadow Reapers. The biggest rivalry in the league this season. And of course, that dude was on the other side.“Thorne’s been running his mouth again in the press,” his right winger, Marcus, said with a grin. “Called us soft. Said he’s gonna make the captain his bitch tonight.”A couple of the guys laughed. Liam’s mouth twitched into a smirk, but there was no humor in it.“Let him talk,” Liam muttered, standing up and rolling his shoulders. At 6’3 feet and two hundred and fifteen pounds of pure hockey muscle, he wasn’t worried about Raphael Thorne’s bullshit. “He plays loud because he knows he can’t win quiet.” One of the rookies snorted. “Guy’s a fucking fairy with that pretty face and all that teasing. Who does he think he is?”Liam’s l

Liam’s eyes snapped open at 4:07 AM, the same time his internal alarm had gone off for years. The room was still dark, the city outside the window quiet except for the occasional distant hum of traffic. He lay there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, before the weight of the new reality settled over him like a bad hangover.Raphael Thorne was in his room. In his space. Breathing the same air.Liam turned his head slightly. The other bed held a large, sleeping form under the covers. Raphael hadn’t moved much. Good. The less interaction, the better.He slipped out of bed quietly, feet hitting the cold floor. He dressed in the dark in his compression shorts, sweats, hoodie, and his favorite training shoes. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth, splashed water on his face, and ran a quick mental checklist for the day’s practice. Drills. Line chemistry. Power play setups. All the things he needed to stay sharp as captain.When he stepped back into the bedroom, Raphael was stil

The bass thumped through the walls of The Icehouse, the team’s favorite upscale club downtown. Neon blue and white lights pulsed across the crowded dance floor, reflecting off glass tables and mirrored columns like shards of ice. The Wolves had reserved the entire VIP section — bottle service flowing freely, private leather booths arranged in a loose circle, and a bouncer stationed at the entrance to keep the regular crowd out. Laughter and shouts already filled the air. This wasn’t just a night out. It was Raphael Thorne’s official welcome party, and the boys were determined to make it memorable.Liam knew he had to come out to show team spirit and bonding or else he'd look like a bitter and sulking captain who couldn't accept that his rival had become the golden boy of his team.Liam sat slumped in the corner of the largest booth, nursing what had to be his fourth whiskey. The glass felt slick in his palm from condensation and nerves. Around him, the team was loud and loose, shoutin

Liam was still smirking down at his phone when Raphael walked into the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless as usual, sweatpants slung dangerously low on his hips.“Morning,” Raphael said, voice low and rough with sleep. He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “How are you feeling after last night? You were pretty drunk.”Liam didn’t look up and he didn't answer. He kept scrolling aimlessly through his phone, jaw locked tight, refusing to acknowledge the man standing a few feet away.Raphael took a long drink, his eyes trained on Liam. He tried again. “You see the Advil I left on your nightstand? You probably have a massive hangover. If the headache’s bad, I can grab it for you—”“Stay in your lane, dude,” Liam snapped, finally glaring up at him with pure venom. “I don’t want anything from you.”Raphael paused, eyebrows raised. “I’m just trying to look out for you, man—”“You shouldn’t!” Liam cut him off, voice rising sharply. “What you should do is fucking keep your distance a

The whistle sliced through the frigid air of the practice rink, but Liam Lannister barely heard it. His skates felt heavy, his stick like a foreign object in his hands. A few days had passed since the absolute disaster with Chloe, yet the humiliation refused to loosen its grip. Every time he closed his fucking eyes, he saw flashes of that night. At this point he'd probably replayed the ear scene a million unhealthy times.He lined up for the next drill, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Focus, damn it. This is practice. This is what you do.The puck came his way from Marcus, it was a clean hard pass he would normally control without thinking. Today, it bounced awkwardly off his blade and skittered away toward the boards.“Shit,” Liam muttered under his breath, skating after it half-heartedly.“I’d rather fuck you instead, pretty boy.”The words Raphael had thrown at him that night kept slamming into his brain like a bad but addictive porno.The way he'd said it was so effortless, conf