The NHL Is Rife With Narratives
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“Here.” Will says, unsure what makes him think of it, and he thrusts his hand out in front of Macklin’s face. Mack looks confused, at first, and then it’s like he gains abrupt clarity, because he grabs the proffered arm with both hands reverently, tightly. He pulls it to his mouth and lets Will’s muscle and sinew coated in hot skin part his lips as he presses his sealed mouth against him. Will wants to prompt him, to yell ‘bite down, damnit!’ but as his patience runs out, Mack opens his jaws and sinks his teeth in, in, in. It’s not the light nips he’s taken before, not the playful way he’s dined on Will in the past. This is a real bite, a genuinely painful and sharp sensation deep in the tissue and muscle lining Will’s arm.
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Macklin has a biting thing. Then he just plain has a thing for Will. Will is amenable.
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- Part 1 of The NHL Is Rife With Narratives
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Some kids grew up half in love with Sidney Crosby. Others, perhaps the younger players, favored McDavid. But Connor’d never wavered. Kane- five-foot-ten, fast and sharp, first round draft pick to Chicago during a cup drought- had always been his hero. His idol. And the man he was supposed to follow in the too-grand footsteps of.
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Patrick Kane hates him. And that’s a hard pill to swallow for a kid who grew up idolizing PK88.
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The kid hero worships him, and Patrick couldn’t care less. He’s got enough on his plate, begging for Jonny to forgive him and let him go home- that arbitrary place that is wherever his old captain happens to be.
Series
- Part 2 of The NHL Is Rife With Narratives