Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Original Male Character/Original Male Character

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Ryan Carmichael, Brad Hammersmith, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Original Characters

Additional Tags:

Ilya's Merry Band of Boneheads, Good Friend Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, The Boston Raiders are Pure of Heart and Dumb of Ass, Maybe not entirely pure of heart in this one. Because of the, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Crack, No Spoilers for Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Post-Episode 6, Humor, Dumb Hockey Boys

Language:

English

Series:

Part 3 of SnailMail33 Cinematic Universe, Part 3 of SnailyMaily HR fics

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-26 Words: 4,521 Chapters: 1/1

Gay Hockey Magic

Summary

It sure seems like being gay makes you good at hockey. At least, it seems to win you Stanley Cups. To two young Raiders, this seems like too good of a trade to miss.

Two (OC) Raiders take a few of Roz's jokes a little too literally and conclude that gay hockey magic wins you Stanley Cups. The only problem is, they're up against the Admirals in the first round of the playoffs. In a battle of gayness, they're going to have to take matters into their own hands. Or mouths. Whatever dude. Don't make it weird.

Notes

Woohoo we're back with the Boston Boneheads! (thanks SilverSidhe for that one)

If you're new to the SMCU, don't worry! You don't need to read the other entries first. All you need to know is hollanov were outed in late 2017 and the Boston Raiders are dumb as a pile of rocks but trying their best.

If you're not new, welcome back! Just to flag, this entry is explicit because of the attempts at summoning gay hockey magic. I wouldn't necessarily expect smut - not to yuck anyone's yum, I just wouldn’t expect to get off to this nonsense - but it is definitely 18+

Most of the players are OCs, or might as well be, as there are so few details about the Boston Roster in canon. I’ve used familiar names where possible and will keep things consistent within this series :) Also I know the show doesn’t have the rights but in my universe it’s called the Stanley Cup, sue me.

As before, warning for some potentially borderline homophobic/sexist language. They are dumb jocks. It's nothing particularly heavy and is not malicious.

April 2018

The Boston Raiders had gathered in their regular sports bar to watch Edmonton and Anaheim kick off the first round of the playoffs. The team was itching with anticipation for their own game against the Admirals in two nights’ time. They had been sternly instructed to keep the drinking to a minimum but that was doing little to dampen their spirits – for some of the younger players, it would be their first time skating out onto MLH playoff ice.

It looked like Edmonton would take the first game, up two by the end of the second, so attention had drifted from the game to daring to speculate about their own chances at a cup this year.

“There’s no feeling like it boys. It’s better than any orgasm you’ll ever have, even once your balls drop,” Hammersmith says to Daniels and Miller, the two rookie wingers.

“Hey, don’t talk shit about Carmy Jr”, Carmy shot back, “he gets more action than your wrinkly old ass.”

“Yeah fuck you Hammy, you’re just jealous our knees still work,” Daniels chipped in. Vintinner, the towering young defenceman, clapped him on the shoulder in support.

Hammersmith continued, undeterred, “I don’t think I slept for 4 days.”

“I didn’t know you could count that high,” Roz muttered.

“God, raising that cup above your head. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.” Hammersmith was staring into the middle distance with a wistful glazed look.

“He’s not wrong,” Marleau agreed. “I can’t imagine what it would feel like a second time.”

“You will not have to imagine for long,” Roz declared, “we are bringing it home this year boys.”

“Fuck yeah Cap,” Hammersmith agreed, snapping out of his trance. Their booth lit up with affirmative grunts and hoots, fists banging on the table.

“Do you think we’ve got a good chance this year? For real?” Daniels asked earnestly.

“Little Danny you will be a champion soon,” Roz assured him. “We play like we have been playing since New Year and it is ours. Then I will kiss my boyfriend on centre ice and show Hunter how it is supposed to be done.”

Marleau laughed and smacked Roz hard on the shoulder. “Too fucking right bro,” he confirmed.

“Hell yeah we’re gonna make this league so gay,” Carmy piped up.

“We? Carmy you have something to tell us?” Roz asked.

“Fuck off,” Carmy spluttered, “I’m literally married to a woman.”

Roz did not look convinced. “Whatever you say Carmy. You need more blowjob tips, do not ask me, I am busy winning the Stanley cup.” The rookies laughed as Carmy scowled into his drink. “Anyway, this league has been gay since 2014, is nothing new.”

“What do you mean?” Hammersmith asked, looking puzzled.

“Holy shit,” Marleau gasped, learning what an epiphany was. Gradually it spread around the booth, every pair of eyes lighting up as they collectively realised what Roz had implied. Well, almost every pair of eyes.

“Wait, what? What’s going on?” Carmy asked.

“Every team that has won the cup since 2014 has been captained by a gay player,” Connors filled him in.

“I’m bisexual,” Roz reminded him.

“Yeah, or that,” Connors corrected.

It finally hit Carmy’s prefrontal cortex and his eyes widened. “Holy shit!”

“Yes Carmy, glad to see you have caught up,” Roz teased.

“Does that mean if a team wins the cup their captain turns gay?” Carmy asked.

“What the fuck Carmy?” Marleau muttered, bewildered.

“Bro you need to get checked for concussion again,” Connors chuckled, elbowing his linemate in the ribs.

“Dude, it’s like you didn’t even listen to Hunter’s MVP speech at all,” Hammersmith added.

“I can assure you at least two of us were gay before we won a cup,” said Roz, smirking. Marleau glanced his way, surprised, but remained silent.

“What? None of you think this is some hockey magic?” Carmy insisted.

“Maybe that’s why Roz likes women and Hollander doesn’t: you know, because he’s won twice, double the magic. Roz you better enjoy tits as much as you can before the final,” teased Connors.

“Fuck you Connors,” Roz snapped, “my boyfriend has beautiful tits. And I will have just as many cups as him soon.” After a pregnant pause, he added, “And I will still like women too. What the fuck? ‘Hockey magic’ is not turning anyone gay.”

“Okay, whatever. It just seems like a crazy coincidence, that’s all,” Carmy conceded.

“Maybe it’s the gayness that’s getting you cups?” Hammersmith suggested, chuckling to himself.

“Yes. Sucking dick makes you better at hockey. Is just a fact.” Roz stated plainly.

“Fuck off Cap! How’s that any less crazy than ‘hockey magic’?” Carmy asked, annoyed.

“Because it’s true?” Roz challenged. His teammates shook their heads, unconvinced. “What? You don’t believe me? Then why did Hollander forget how to play when that evil blue woman tried to turn him straight?”

“Dude you played like shit then too,” Connors jibed, “you can’t blame Rose Landry every time you have an off day.”

“Yes, I played like shit! Because I was not sucking his dick! It was stuck somewhere in Rose fucking Landry!” Roz cried, gesticulating madly.

“Roz, I love you bro, but you have to move on from that,” said Marleau gently.

“You fucking move on,” Roz grumbled. “Anyway, it proves my point. The gayer you are, the better you are at hockey. Even old man Hunter could win a cup after he got a much younger much hotter boyfriend. Is ‘gay hockey magic’.”

“Gay hockey magic,” Connors muttered, chuckling.

“Well, thanks for taking one for the team cap,” Hammersmith teased, raising his glass to his captain.

“Do we need to fly Hollander in for the finals or…?” Marleau asked.

Roz ignored them both and raised his own glass. “To sucking dick and winning the fucking Stanley cup.” His slightly befuddled teammates tentatively raised their glasses to drink to their captain’s bizarre toast.

Tomorrow was game day. Daniels was going to step out onto MLH playoffs ice for the first time in front of a sold out New York crowd. Like most of the team, he had opted for an early night, trying to get good rest in before the brutal schedule ahead of them. But the mix of nerves and excitement bubbling in his stomach had thwarted any plans to sleep.

Luckily, his room-mate, Vintinner, was feeling much the same. They had opted for lying on their twin beds vaguely watching Montreal lead in game one against Toronto on the shitty hotel TV.

“Do you think Roz was joking last night?” Vinny asked.

“About what?”

“The ‘gay hockey magic’ or whatever.”

“What that being gay makes you better at hockey?” Daniels asked, incredulous.

“Yeah.”

Daniels paused for second to consider. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“Like he’s not wrong about Hollander playing like shit when he was with Rose Landry, I checked the stats.”

“Seriously? And Cap too?” Daniels hadn’t considered the possibility that this could actually be real.

“Yeah, I mean, their numbers are still good compared to most players, but by their standards it was bad.”

“Holy shit,” They stewed for a few minutes, Hollander putting the nail in Toronto’s coffin with his third point of the night. “Fuck I always knew he had some kind of magic going on,” Daniels muttered.

“You being a Roz fanboy again Danny?”

“Fuck off,” Danny shot back. “I just – well I guess I never had a chance at following in Roz’s footsteps anyway,” he finished dejectedly.

“Aww dude don’t be like that, you’re a great player. That assist against Tampa? Beauty.”

“Thanks Vinny.”

“Literally no one can play like Roz,” Vinny continued gently, “he’s one of a kind.”

“Yeah…”

“But no one can play like Cole Daniels either.”

“You big sop.” Danny snorted. “I’m literally a fourth line winger there’s like a hundred Cole Daniels.”

“Fair point,” Vinny conceded.

“I know it’s dumb, I just always looked up to him,” Daniels admitted.

“Yeah, it’s crazy. Like, we’re on the same team as Ilya fucking Rozanov. The Ilya fucking Rozanov.”

“Fucking wild man.”

“We bring this thing home like he said, and our names will be on the cup under his.”

“Fuuuck dude. Do you really think we’re gonna win it?”

“I mean, we’ve got the gay hockey magic on our side. That means it’s like a 1 in 3 chance right?”

Daniels chuckled, and then stopped abruptly. “Fuck. Round one is against the Admirals.”

“What? You just realised?”

Daniels propped himself up on his elbow, twisting round to face his teammate. “They’ve got the gay hockey magic too!” Daniels exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his free hand. “Just as much as us! Probably more!”

“Bro you can’t say that! Cap said Scott Hunter isn’t any more gay than him. Carmy tried to say that and Cap called him ‘biphobic’, which doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

“Fuck – no that’s not what I meant.”

“What’s the problem then?” Vinny asked. “We’ve got a gay, they’ve got a gay. We just have to play better hockey. Easy.”

“I mean – that!” Daniels pointed at the TV.

“What? Of course the Metros are winning, they’re gayer than Toronto. We’ve already been over this.”

“No. Hollander.” Daniels insisted.

“Yeah exactly. What about him?” Vinny looked puzzled.

“He’s in fucking Montreal. And we’re in New York.”

“Yeah?”

“How the fuck is Cap supposed to suck his dick when he’s 300 fucking miles away?” Daniels cried.

“Ah shit, you’re right.” Vinny covered his face in his hands to hide his distress. “Fuck. We have less gay hockey magic.”

“We’re fucked dude.” Daniels collapsed back onto his twin bed, the excitement for tomorrow now completely displaced by an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

“Don’t say shit like that. Maybe if Cap’s watching the game that counts,” Vinny tried to reason.

“What? You think that counts as much as whatever Hunter is up to right now? With his boyfriend that fucking goes to his fucking games?”

“Fuck.” Vinny was starting to look a little anxious. “We’re fucked.”

“Do you think we should text Cap. Tell him to call Hollander after the game or something?”

“Bro I’m not texting him that.”

“Fuck.”

“Maybe…”

“What?”

“Maybe we could be a bit gayer? Try and bump up our score a bit?” Vinny suggested.

“What the fuck Vinny?”

“Like maybe we could use the rainbow tape. Or paint our nails or something?” he explained.

“Huh.” That could work. “My cousin has a gay friend who puts glitter on his face, maybe we could try that? And he drinks a lot of iced frappes too maybe that would work?”

“Iced frappes? I thought they can’t have dairy?”

“What? Who?” Daniels asked.

“The gays!”

“Dude, Roz has a protein shake literally every day are you dumb or something?” Danny looked at his teammate incredulously. How were they ever going to hijack the gay hockey magic when this is what he had to work with?

“Maybe it’s because he’s bisexual,” Vinny tried to defend himself. “We could swap to soy milk just to be safe?”

“Vinny. I’m not giving up cheese, I’d rather lose to the fucking Admirals.”

“Fuck.” Vinny sighed.

“I don’t think that would work anyway,” Daniels concluded.

“What? The milk thing?”

“No – any of it. Roz doesn’t do any of that shit.”

“He uses pride tape,” Vinny pointed out.

“Only on pride night, not when he won the cup.”

“Yeah – fuck!”

“Look, we’ve got to think of something that Roz, Hollander and Hunter all do, that other players don’t do,” Daniels reasoned, “something they were doing back when they won their cups.”

They both sat in silence for a while, cogs slowly creaking round in their brains as they stared at the ceiling for inspiration.

Vinny broke the silence. “Dude, I think we’re just gonna have to go full gay.”

“What?” Daniels swallowed.

“For the gay hockey magic. I think we have to suck a dick.”

“Fuck.” Danny had reached a similar conclusion after the ceiling had failed to give him any viable alternative suggestions. “I think you’re right.”

After a cavernous moment of silence, Vinny quietly asked the ceiling, “do you want to?”

Daniels gulped. He assumed the question was directed to him. “Are you serious? Like, you would?”

“I’d fuck my dead grandma if it would win us the fucking Stanley Cup.”

“Vinny you’re disgusting.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who’s offering to suck your dick,” Vinny joked, sitting up to face him.

“Fuck you dude,” Daniels chuckled, shuffling himself further up the his bed to sit against the headboard.

“I’m serious.” Vinny insisted, determination in his eyes. “I can’t promise to enjoy it but I’d give it a go. How hard can it be?”

“You want to suck my dick? Like now?” A Stanley Cup is a Stanley Cup. Of course Danny would do whatever it takes to achieve his childhood dream. But this wasn’t exactly what he expected. And his dick wasn’t exactly on board yet either.

“Look I’ll try anything if it will get our names on that cup,” Vinny said. “You wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know, maybe!” Danny exclaimed. He pulled himself up off his bed and sat down next to Vinny heavily. “So how does this work? Like how do we make the gay magic thing happen?” He asked the floor.

“I don’t know Danny, I’ve never done it before!” Vinny shot back.

“Maybe… maybe we could just – I don’t know – we could jerk each other off?” he blurted out.

“Do you think that’s gay enough?”

“Sounds pretty fucking gay to me Vinny.”

“Yeah just – I mean – just because Cap was talking about sucking dick. Do you think he meant it? Like that’s what you have to do to get the magic to work?” Vinny asked him, a hint of horror creeping in.

“I don’t know Vinny, I’m not a fucking dick wizard!” Danny exclaimed.

“Maybe – should we try and get hard? I don’t want to suck anything if it’s all soft and shit.”

“Fuck. Okay. Don’t watch.”

“What? I can suck your dick but I can’t look at it?” Vinny asked, incredulous.

“You don’t have to look at it for the spell to work, asshole.” Danny shoved him with his shoulder. “Just watch the game or something.”

Daniels pulled open his pants and slipped a hand into his boxer shorts to try and wake up his flaccid dick. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vinny stick a hand straight down under his sweatpants and start fumbling around. On the TV, the Metros were confidently killing Toronto’s power play.

It was Danny’s turn to break to silence this time. “Do you think we have to swallow to get the gay hockey powers?” he asked, trying to push down the disgust that tried to creep in at the thought.

“I don’t know, what’s gayer?” Vinny asked. “Do you think Roz would swallow?”

“There’s no way Roz is a spitter!” Daniels let out a short laugh before he cut himself off. “Fuck. Yeah, well – I guess we know what that means.”

“Shit,” Vinny agreed.

“You better eat a lot of pineapple bro,” Daniels joked.

“Fuck you dude! Like yours would be any better. I bet yours tastes like fucking Jaegerbombs.”

“Fuck you!” Daniels shoved Vinny’s shoulder with his free hand, the other still trying to gently coax his cock into something resembling an erection. “To be fair, it probably would have at New Years,” he conceded.

“Hell yeah bro. Sick night.”

“Banged the hottest chick I’ve ever seen that night bro.”

“Yeah and you haven’t shut up about it since,” Vinny complained.

“She had the peachiest ass, ugh it was crazy,” Danny pined. His dick was finally starting to get the message, thank fuck.

“Dude we’re supposed to be gaying it up! Stop thinking about girls’ asses.” Vinny shot Danny an annoyed look.

“Oh fuck, sorry.” Danny tried to cleanse his mind of any thoughts of the New Years party. And that thing for St Patrick’s day. And the club night for Hammersmith’s birthday last week. She had been an absolute rocket. Tiny little sparkly dress winking at him from across the dance floor. Fuck that was hot. Shit! Stop thinking about hot women Danny!

“If we lose to the Admirals, it better not be because you couldn’t stop thinking about ass.”

“Shit!” Danny was furiously trying to scrub his brain of any women he had ever seen whilst jerking himself under his boxers. This gay magic thing was getting all his wires crossed. Anything for the Stanley Cup. “Maybe if we think about boy ass we can cancel it out,” he suggested.

“Dude, that’s so smart. I’ll help,” Vinny agreed. For a few moments, there was quiet, punctuated only by the noise of the game continuing on the TV and the soft rustle of skin against fabric.

“I’ve gotta be honest bro, I don’t think I’ll be able to get off if I’m thinking about man butt,” Danny admitted.

“Yeah, Marley’s hairy ass crack is a one-way ticket to soft-dick-ville,” Vinny agreed.

Danny laughed. “Why the fuck would you think about Marley?”

“I don’t know, I saw him in the showers this morning. Who am I supposed to think about?" Vinny seemed offended. "Who were you thinking about?”

“Honestly I was a little stuck trying to think of someone. Should we google ‘hot man butt’ or something?” Danny suggested.

“I don’t know, not on the hotel Wi-Fi dude.” Vinny let out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit, sorry, I’m going soft again now. Maybe man butt was a bad idea.” Little Danny was normally a lot more responsive. It’s like his own penis didn’t want him to win the Stanley Cup or something. What a dick.

“Why are you saying sorry dude don’t be weird. What do gay dudes think about? Like dick or something?”

“I don’t know bro, I’m not gay,” Danny said irritably, desperately trying to recover the semi he had worked up to earlier without the aid of the hot women this time.

“Maybe we could ask. Shit, do you think Roz would reply if I text him?” Vinny asked.

Danny laughed at the ridiculous suggestion. “Dude he’s probably jerking it to his boyfriend bagging three points.”

Vinny snorted in response.

A rare idea landed in Danny’s mind and he gasped. “Wait, do you think that could work?”

“What dude?” Vinny asked.

“Thinking about hockey. Like that’s not exactly gay but it’s not not gay. Like do you think that would ruin the gay magic?”

Vinny looked at him, eyes wide. “Bro you’re so smart. Fuck yeah.”

“Okay. I’m gonna imagine we’re playing the Admirals tomorrow,” Danny started, now attempting to psychically push blood down into his dick.

“Fuck. MLH playoffs. Nothing like it.” Vinny added, dreamily.

“And coach calls us out for a shift,” he continued.

“Ugh yeah dude, keep going.”

“And we hop the boards…” Danny gulped. His dick was finally starting to get the memo. “And skate out in front of all the fans.”

“Feller’s holding the puck near our goal line,” Vinny continued. “I draw Vaughn in so he can pass it to Hammy down the middle.” Danny could feel Vinny’s arm increase in pace.

“Yeah…” Danny takes over again. “He sweeps it up through the neutral zone and then we’re over the line, three against two.”

“Fuck dude, this is actually working.”

“Hammy passes left to scramble their defence and I get ready to receive.”

“Me and Feller push up and I man the centre as he covers left.”

“It’s a quick dummy and then it’s passed back to Hammy who’s got his slapshot wound up and ready.”

“Fuck dude.”

“But Andersson blocks it.”

“Shit.”

“But I’m ready for the rebound.”

“Oh fuck let’s go.” Vinny’s arm is moving furiously now.

“But I don’t take the shot.”

“No?”

“No. I fake to draw Andersson across. And then I send it back to you bro.”

“Oh fuck.”

“And you slam it into the back of the net.”

“Oh fuck.” Vinny dropped to his knees and turned to Daniels, looking up from between his thighs, face flushed but determined. “You wanna do this?”

“Shit dude – uhh fuck,” Daniels managed, fumbling his boxers out of the way to pull out his dick.

Vinny looked at his teammate’s erection and took a controlled breath, like he was grounding himself before a penalty shot. “Tell me about how we’re gonna win the cup.” He closed his eyes and shoved Danny’s dick in his mouth.

“Oh fuck dude.” Danny lent back on his hands and closed his own eyes, trying desperately to just enjoy the hot wet feeling around his cock and not think about who was responsible for it. Vinny had started bobbing his head against his shaft, taking a respectable portion of his length into his mouth. He prodded him on his thigh a few times, snapping Danny out of his stupor. “Shit dude. Ugh. We’re in the Stanley Cup finals,” Danny started, and Vinny hummed around him, pleased he’d got the message. “Game five against San Francisco. On home ice.”

Danny gasped as Vinny’s tongue licked around his tip. “Oh fuck Vinny! You sure this is your first time?” Vinny smacked his thigh and scowled in response, but didn’t break his rhythm.

Danny struggled on, “We’re already up three games and the – fuck! – the clock is running down on the third period. They’ve tried everything to come back in the third but – hhmmm – we’re 3-2 up and they can’t get anything past us.” Vinny moaned around him. “Ah – there’s only a few seconds left and you and Feller are on the ice. You’re blocking and intercepting everything they try, and Zee’s on fire in the goal. There might as well be a brick wall in front of the net.” Vinny picked up the pace, his tongue dragging against the bottom of Danny’s shaft. “Oh fuck that feels good.”

Danny was breathing heavily now, his body reacting the only way it knew how to the sensations. Vinny tapped his thigh again, urging him to continue. “Oh fuck!” Danny managed. “You – you block one last shot from Hunter and the clock hits 0. We fucking won the Stanley Cup.” Vinny moaned again. “Everyone jumps the boards and all the fans are screaming – fuck – it sounds like – ah fuck – it sounds like the whole of Boston is screaming our names – fuck – no, the whole world. And – ,” the image was getting a little garbled now, “ – and we lift the cup over our heads. It’s got our names on it Vinny, our fucking names.” Vinny moaned around him again. “We lift it up and show the whole arena. And they’re screaming at us – ahh fuck – they’re shouting our names. We’re fucking champions – oh, fuck! Fuck Vinny, I’m gonna – ”

Danny moaned as he shot his load right down his teammate’s throat. Vinny didn’t give him more than a second to recover. He was up on his feet in a flash and pulled Danny’s head towards him. Danny opened his eyes to see Vinny’s hard cock dripping precum a few inches from his face. Still in his post-nut haze, Danny pushed down any icky feelings that might have been flaring, and took the dick into his mouth before he could think too hard about it.

It was big. Felt much bigger inside than it had looked outside. Danny pushed his jaw as wide as it would go and tried to wrap his lips around the shaft, like he was eating a gross fleshy popsicle. Vinny grabbed two handfuls of his hair, and thrust into his mouth, grunting wildly. “We’re fucking – hhrruh – champions Danny – hhmm – names on the fucking cup.” Danny felt Vinny’s cock twitch against his throat. Vinny let out a load groan and with one last thrust, suddenly there were hot streaks of fluid filling Danny’s mouth. Fuck this was gay.

After a second, Vinny pulled out and collapsed back onto Danny’s bed. They were both breathing heavily. Before he had a chance to freak out about it, Danny swallowed, and then promptly winced at the taste.

Vinny started laughing, causing his softening dick to dance around between his legs. “Fuck dude.”

Danny grinned up at his old friend, the ceiling. “Yeah, fuck.”

“That was gay as shit.”

Danny tucked his dick back into his boxers and collapsed back onto the bed. “Do you think it worked?”

“I don’t know. Did you think we’d start glowing or something?” Vinny teased.

“Fuck, I hope it worked.”

“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow bro.”

“Yeah I guess.”

“Ugh dude is it weird as fuck to get off to that?” Vinny asked.

“What?”

“To winning the cup I mean,” he clarified.

“I don’t know. I bet we’re not the only ones who’ve done it.” Danny pondered.

Vinny chuckled, “yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Cap and Hollander are fucking obsessed, I bet they’ve probably fucked the actual cup,” Danny joked.

“Eww gross!”

“Hey! Don’t be homophobic! We’re supposed to be gay now dude. You’ll ruin the magic!”

“Fuck off dude, I’m not homophobic! I just sucked you off! I just don’t want to think about Cap fucking the cup, that’s nasty.”

“Not Hollander though?” Danny chided. At that second, the man in question apparently scored his second goal of the night. Danny hoped his gay hockey magic would work as well as that.

“What?” Vinny asked, confused.

“It’s not gross to think about him fucking the cup?”

“I mean…” Vinny started. “If I had to fuck a dude he wouldn’t be a bad option,” he confessed with a nervous chuckle.

“What the fuck dude?” Danny exclaimed. “You know the WAGs are off limits, don’t let Cap hear you talking about his … guy like that. He’ll fucking murder you.”

“Okay, okay. It’s not like I actually want to fuck him dude.”

“And fuck you Vinny! You wouldn’t say me? I just sucked you off!”

“What? He’s a fucking model! Don’t tell me you haven’t seen those Speedo ads.” Vinny’s laughter started to soften as he asked, “you’re not jealous are you?”

“Your fucking cum is inside me and you’re talking about fucking Shane Hollander that’s fucked up bro!” Danny grumbled.

“Gay as shit too,” Vinny concluded.

“Man, this magic shit better work.”

“Yeah, we’d better fucking win tomorrow,” Vinny agreed. “New York won’t know what hit them,” he finished, rising to his feet (his dick now safely tucked out of sight, Danny noted). “I’m gonna brush my teeth again you taste like shit bro.”

“Fuck you dude,” Danny shot back, getting up to follow him. “But yeah me too. You taste like old avocado,” he said, pretending to retch.

“Ew that’s nasty dude,” said Vinny, grinning back at him. “But pretty accurate,” he conceded. “How do chicks do this shit?”

“Yeah maybe I should start eating more pineapple.”

“What for? I don’t think it works if you’re only getting blown in your dreams,” Vinny teased.

“Fuck you, asshole!”

“You’ve got a point though. I kind of feel bad for all the chicks who’ve sucked me off now,” Vinny admitted.

“I felt bad for them already,” Danny teased, sniggering.

“Oh, fuck you too!”