Pucking Around With The Captain Novels & Stories

He taunted them with his eerie voice. Captain tapped Smart’s fingers while snorting. “How about we find our seat as well? We have a long night, don’t we?” He brushed his clean butt and got ready to bend his knee. “Shall we?” Smart also did the same. “Oho, the floor.” Black could not believe her eyes. “This gotta be so good.” White cheered at her side. “What kind of tea do they bring? Seems piping hot.” Mad Hyena was also amused. Placing his arms on top of his lap, Captain calculated everything and rearranged the structure of his sentence so he did not have to repeat the offense. His heart couldn’t hold it much longer if he had to repeat it twice.

"Well, well. Look who decided to show up," Derek sneered, leaning back against his locker with his arms crossed over his chest. He was our starting left wing, a guy with more money than sense and a mouth that never knew when to stop, and he was looking at me with a cruel, ugly smirk. "I was starting to think you'd be too sore to walk today, Vane. Tell me, when the captain's bending you over the training table, does he give you extra ice time, or do you just drop to your knees for the thrill of it?"

said the captain, who has come to address us. “What Dawson has done today should not repeat itself amongst any of the champion. None of you have the right to attack Alpha Kieran. No one!” He yelled and turned to look at my direction. “Wipe away that smile on your face woman!” He yelled and my face changed into a frown. The captain approached me and stared into my eyes for a moment, while I looked away from him. “I saw what you did” I turned to look at him and a smirk came to his face.

What the fuck was going on here? I looked up at the captain, desperate to throw a million questions at him. Desperate to understand. But we hit another wave and my stomach lurched, causing me to dry heave again. He'd been smirking though. His arms folded across his chest while he watched me with a mixture of disapproval and smug satisfaction. What an asshole. "Lemme... Lemme off," I whispered, my voice weak and hoarse. The captain's smirk widened. “Sorry, lass, that’s not how this works.”

Pollux holds up his phone showing a video of a twerking dog instead. She stifles a laugh and rolls her eyes, "Whatever." She then starts heading towards the table but was stopped by a hand tugging at her shirt, "Hold it! Okay for real this time, look, I'm the new captain of the soccer team!" "For real?" Her eyes widened, "Congrats dude! You deserve it." "Aha, I like to think that but our team captain was actually injured so he decided to quit and the title was passed onto me." He rubs his nape, "I mean I'm happy, but I wish I didn't get the title for such a lame reason like that."

It was almost like what I see Cole doing, but this one seemed worse. Everyone here seemed to be on something that I couldn’t understand, something so harsh, so extreme. Before I could stare again, Cole rubs my hands. “Stop staring, pumpkin. They might ask you to join them if you don’t keep your eyes off.” I swallowed the lump in my throat as I turned back to look at a unfazed Cole. The only thing going through my head was thinking about how the son of the city’s most famous hockey player finds himself in a place like this.

He assured me then he placed his hand on my thigh as he pulled out of the packing lot. “Are you okay with Mason being the captain? At least for now?” I asked as he drove. “I don't like it but I have no problems with it” He said and I gave his hand a little reassuring squeeze. “You'll do great” I assured him and he sighed. “Let's hope so.” ~ “Zander, can you stop?” I asked as we walked into the hockey rink. “What am I doing wrong?” He asked and I flashed him a dead pan look.

"Last night was... a mistake," Alexander said. He walked over to the bed, picking up his watch. His hands were shaking slightly. "It was the adrenaline. The stress. I had too much to drink." "You were sober, Alex," Oliver corrected him gently. "We both were." "Don't call me that," Alexander snapped. He finally looked Oliver in the eye. "I am the captain of the New York Glaciers. I have a reputation. I have sponsors. I can't... I can't do this."

A bead of sweat could drop from my body, and I'd fucking hear it. Great. Abso-fucking-lutely awesome. And once again, I'm stunned and stuck to the spot. Like a fucking deer. ~ "Hey, slowpoke." The guy with the blonde hair and green eyes from before slaps my padded shoulder as we skate out. "I'm not slow." I snort, already annoyed. What's wrong with that prick of a captain? And I still don't know his stupid name. Another dark-haired guy peels the blonde-haired guy's hand off me.

LUKE’S P.O.V Vincent is pacing up and down the locker room like a wild animal, yelling at anyone who needs to be yelled at. He’s been the captain for the whole of senior year, so we're pretty much used to this. It’s far better to hear than coach’s yelling, who’s stuck upstairs with the scouts. Vincent has stepped into full captain mode. Guys are slumped on benches, chests heaving, towels draped over their heads. We’re up by eight, but you’d think we were down twenty in the second half. But my mind is somewhere else entirely.