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Six years out of the closet. Six years with his name in the papers. Six years hiding a long-distance relationship from the old boys network of his employment. As these distances in his life shrink into one decision, Larry wonders if he's finally found a place to settle.

Edited by wellifimust and Psydrosis

Thumbnail art used under CC0 license.

Word count: 4,824

---

Larry gaped into the hypnotizing eyes of the tentative wolf. Behind the cleanly-kept fur, a wrinkle of tension danced in those fern green irises, the scent of which his fruity, overpriced cologne almost hid. He reached up to adjust his tie. The other wolf followed suit, along with the several other wolves behind him, who stretched innumerably into the distance before fading into the green soup of infinity.

A gruff, middle-aged marten raised his paw and cleared his throat behind Larry, followed by his own line of copies dressed in fancy tailored suits.

"We'll get your money, Larry," he grunted in his coastal drawl.

The jittery wolf turned around from the parallel mirrors to face him head-on.

"I know, Mark."

The elevator beeped as it eclipsed the fourth floor.

Mark crossed his arms and wore a sympathetic smile. "Doesn't matter what the press thinks you're worth! I've been there too. Rookie negotiations seem like a lot when you go pro, but once you're an all-star by the end of that contract..." he made a clicking noise with his tongue and waved a paw. "Just let me do the talking, all right?"

Larry turned his gaze back to the elevator's shining, impossibly clean steel walls. LED lights lined the edges of the ceiling, neatly illuminating the giant green-and-yellow logo of the Robforth Hydras on the floor. He looked back up to the elevator's display as they sped past the sixth floor.

He nodded at Mark and stuffed his paws in his pockets, imagining that he could be satisfied with just a paycheck, entirely divorced from his other desire.

That thought slipped away as Mark continued on. "And I get it. They love to show off their money; they want you to feel intimidated. That's why they brought us in rather than sending another offer. But you know what?" The experienced marten's eyes shone. "I've done this for a long time. You'll get a great deal with someone like me representin' you."

Eighth floor. Larry sighed inwardly. "So I've heard from your agency."

"Hell yeah you have! And, hey, if you don't get your terms? We walk right to free agency. Free agent, Larry Kline. Thirty-four goals in 2025. Parsa's got room--they'd sign you in a nanosecond if Robforth can't hold you."

Larry stared at himself in the mirror. "I'm not going to hick-ass Parsa. I wanna stay with the Hydras."

Mark grinned back. "Yeah, sure! But they don't need to know that. Just the threat of leaving is leverage! Come on, there are twenty-seven cities that wouldn't give a shit if their hockey phenom kisses boys sometimes."

The wolf still looked overwhelmed, as if Mark had plucked him off the street and pushed him into the fancy building, but the reassuring words stuck.

"Seriously. I tell this to all my clients," he stepped forward and watched Larry through the mirror. "Do you want money? Do you wanna realize the dignity of your value?"

Larry studied him back. "Of course I do."

"Then you're right at home, kid."

The elevator slowed upon the fourteenth floor, prompting the two to stand straight and brush off their fur.

Beyond open doors stood an office floored with immaculate white tile, reflective like the surface of ice, behind which a glass wall revealed the sharp skyline of Robforth under the June evening sun. Behind the desk sat a tall ferret and an old moose who stopped their conversation to regard Larry and Mark.

"Ah, Mr. Kline!" the ferret called, straightening the collar of her suit as she swivelled to face the pair. "And Mr. Silver, not a moment too late! Take a seat!"

Larry knew Josie Hall as the recently hired general manager of the Hydras. He caught the glance of Hugh, the owner of the team, who stared back with a frown.

An attentive Josie acknowledged their hesitance. "Oh, and I'm not sure if I mentioned...Hugh wanted to sit in on today, if that's fine with you two."

Mark raised his muzzle in surprise, then dropped it to stride forward and slide into one of the free chairs, crooking a finger at Larry to follow. "Of course," he said, nodding at the moose. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Wright."

Hugh grunted in agreement as each pair shook hands and took their places on either side of the desk.

Josie shined her professional smile at the pair, reaching down and snatching a stapled booklet of paper. "All right then, let's get down to business. First, some background on our current offer..."

As Josie dug into legal jargon, Larry's eyes flicked to where the sun gleamed along the curves of Hugh's antlers, reminding him of somebody else.

---

-Three years prior-

Basil rubbed a finger over the broken ridge of his antler tip, a sharded nub above which a slap shot from a few weeks ago clipped him. The other arm lay under his neck as he stared up at the muted glow of lamplight cast into silky rays along the ceiling of his apartment. With a tired lift of his head, he glanced over at Larry, who tapped his fingers idly against his laptop keyboard.

"Thanks for stopping by, dear," Basil remarked, catching the wolf's attention. "I'm glad you're on break. Er--rather than dealing with one, that is."

Larry snorted at Basil, glancing down at the cast cocooning the deer's leg. "It's a good thing I came to watch you today, huh?"

Basil raised an eyebrow and squinted. "What, to watch me get clobbered?"

"Nah, so you wouldn't be alone now," Larry cleared his throat and stared back at his laptop. "Besides, we're in town next week, so it's better that it happened now! I would've felt like shit if I scored a hat-trick on you guys in the same game you got hurt."

Basil took a moment to think through that. "What, and give your team more validation about trading me?"

Larry hesitated. Letting that question hang, he tapped quickly at his keyboard, pulling up a page of his schedule and sifting through it. "Our next game after that's in February. Hopefully you'll be back by then." He looked up and grinned. "'Cause only then will your Angels have a shot at playoff contention."

The tired deer let his head roll back on the pillow, though he puffed out his chest a bit. "Slow down, Mr. Prodigy. They basically picked me out of a bargain bin."

Larry nodded gravely. "And yet you're still their only good player. That's how bad they are." He cowered as he scrambled to block a soaring pillow.

"Big talk for a team six points down on us!" Basil leaned up on his arm, smirking, though the face started to waver into a wince. "Not even in a playoff spot, huh?"

The younger wolf held up a paw. "It's a tough division! With four months left to play, at that!" Larry closed out the page and shut his laptop. He picked it up and carried it over to his suitcase beside Basil's bed. "I hope we both make it. I'd love to play you in front of a full crowd for once."

Basil lay back down, admiring Larry. "I doubt they'd play me against you. I'm just the guy they throw in for nine minutes every other game, but you're..." he slowly turned back to the ceiling. "You." He flinched as a wolf dropped elbow-first onto the mattress beside him.

"Babe," Larry murmured, lovingly caressing the deer's face, "shut up."

He met Basil's muzzle in a kiss. When the surprise wore off, Basil wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him further in. In the moment of intimacy Larry found his paw creeping down toward Basil's crotch.

"Christ!" he grunted, pulling away. "I think the painkillers wore off."

A startled Larry paused, then moved the paw to rub through his partner's neck fur. "Mmm, sorry." He scratched through his own fur sheepishly. "That bad?"

Basil reclined and sighed, then shot Larry a slanted look. "Didn't you see me fall?"

"Yeah, but you skated off."

He scoffed. "Sure, on the shoulders of two bears." Staring into the ceiling beyond Larry, he scratched his head. "Team staff did some basic treatment, but it still fucked up my back."

Feeling the conversation stalling, without much he could do beyond offer neck rubs, Larry noticed the underlying scent of adrenaline, diluted under the array of unfamiliar smells in Basil's home. He realized that he hardly knew the place, which made him regret the mismatched dates of their team schedules pushing them apart. At the same time, the scent of Basil's stress reminded him of his balled fists as he watched his partner get hit from the stands.

"Mmm. Fuckin' dirty play that was," snarled Larry, snapping the silence. "I'm gonna knock the shit out of that guy."

Basil poked a paw into the wolf's chest fur, drawing his look back. "Only if they play you against him. Don't try to knock his teeth out from the other bench."

"I'll ask Coach. Tell him I have a score to settle."

"He'd take it from a twenty-three year old on a rookie contract? Maybe if you made seven figures."

"He'd listen to anyone if they told him it'd help them score goals."

"Oh, so that's why they dumped me," Basil snorted, "I thought it was because I was gay."

"I'm out to them," Larry maintained. "They haven't traded me yet."

Basil studied him. "Yeah? And what if you told them about us?"

Larry scooched off of his elbow and lay in the crook of his boyfriend's arm, feeling down Basil's chest with a paw. "I don't know. I'm not sure I should, yet."

"Their bloated contract rules aren't ready for it. Their diversity support is a publicity stunt." Basil shook his head. "I don't think I've got long left in this league on this leg."

Larry shut his eyes and let his snout slide under Basil's. That statement sounded hopeless...scary...but comforting in some abstract way.

"I don't need to make millions or win a cup. I've still got you. That's all I need."

---

"And, counting both salary and signing bonuses, that's where we've landed at our decisive offer of thirty million over five years."

The final number shook Larry back into the moment, watching Josie as she slid the paper across the desk to Mark.

"Six million a year?" Mark gasped at the front page. "Six. Actual. Million? For a first line scorer?"

Larry knew the bewilderment was well-rehearsed. The room stood silent as the marten carried on with his performance.

"That's nickels on your last offer!" he spat in disgust.

Josie stared back at the marten neutrally. "We raised it by a quarter-million. And, remember--" she raised her paw to Mark's incoming protest, "this offer now has the term your client requested."

Larry frowned. "Didn't we ask for six years?"

Mark flashed him a dark look and waved a dismissive paw under the table. "Uh, no. Your outlook's much better coming off a deal at thirty-one years old than thirty-two. That's how the market works. But, despite the condition we agreed upon--" the marten froze, shutting his muzzle as the big moose across opened his.

"We can't fit you higher than six million in our current situation," he asserted, gaze trained on Larry, "and you can't expect more if you want to be a Hydra next season."

Josie side-eyed Hugh with an arched eyebrow and a twitch in her whiskers. That face relaxed the second Larry caught it, and before Hugh did.

"Thirty-four goals," Mark's higher voice cut back in, "thirty-four! That's elite. Burnett scored thirty-five last season, and he makes ten mil. Know how many he scored the year before?" The marten held up a paw and wiggled all of his fingers. "Five fewer than our strikingly talented wolf over here!"

Scorn crept onto Hugh's face as the fur on his neck stood up. "Burnett scored twenty more assists than Kline last year. He's better without the puck, too. Much more defensively-responsible player, if you ask the press."

Larry's ear flicked. Mark dropped his palm on the desk.

"That's the media! Burnett signed that three years ago! Market value's gone way up on goal scoring wingers!" Mark glanced between Hugh and Josie, as if pleading to both of them. "And, look, Grera signed Wilczek to seven-and-a-half last week. His shot's maybe half as good as Larry's on a good day! And Larry's only twenty-six!"

"Well, that's Grera," Josie shot back with a huff, as if she were conceding some level of her role by choosing to argue. "That was a gross overpayment on their part. The Hydras organization realizes that winning requires fitting in necessary pieces--like Mr. Kline over here--on reasonable deals. If we paid you according to the market, we simply would not have room for all of our unique selection of talent."

Mark snorted. "What, so you'll keep him here by jipping him every step of the way? Mr. Kline made it clear that he'll take his services to free agency if necessary!"

"By fitting him under the league's salary cap!" Hugh snarked. "We'd throw everything at him if we could, but any more and we lose space for next year, with Duch, Gateau, and Ross expiring." He peered sternly back at Larry. "And we all know Ross is one of the best passers in the sport."

Larry faltered into a distracted nod, brooding over the topic he actually wanted to address. Hugh's muzzle lifted halfway into a smirk.

"The real question is, Larry," Hugh spoke with newfound stability, smoothing his fur out on his neck, "do you want to be a Hydra next year?"

He held his muzzle still. Of course he wanted to stay for Basil. He swallowed against Hugh's gaze and found Mark's similarly critical eyes.

"I'm...not afraid to talk to other teams come the first of July," Larry answered finally, attempting to sell it with a stoic face. Mark nodded emphatically.

"Well, you know we couldn't force you to stay," rehearsed a phonily positive Josie, producing the next copy of the contract and handing it to Larry. "The offer's on the table. Read it back over, review the terms, and feel free to inform us over the phone whether you still have some concerns." She looked between them warily. "Given that your existing concerns have all been discussed today?"

Mark nodded instinctively, as if Josie simply reset the past four minutes of terrible injustice he felt. Then, he paused and turned to Larry inquisitively.

Larry measured the vigilant ferret and the disgruntled moose. There was one thing he could ask for, but...

"One thing, I think," Larry said, trying to stall through the silence long enough to make up his mind

As Josie and Hugh watched him attentively, his glance flew back up to the moose's antlers.

"I understand that a contract like this grows only more team-friendly as, uh, revenue boosts the salary cap." He recited the wording Mark first used to explain the system. "For stability's sake, I want to extend my no-trade clause to exclude more teams."

Hugh straightened his back with a jolt, but shrunk back when Josie raised her paw and smiled at the wolf. "The clause in our current offer covers every team in a city whose culture we suspect might encourage local homophobic attention. This exempts you from potential trades to those teams without your explicit consent. We may review the cities we selected here, if you would like to give this matter immediate attention.

Larry shook his head. "I saw the teams on the last contract. I want to cover some more." He measured his next words carefully. "I've decided that I don't want to play for any team outside of this division."

Mark's bewildered look was, this time, completely genuine. Josie's surprise appeared modest, but Hugh wasn't so enthralled.

"You'd pick Mes before Orlin?" the moose questioned. "You'd seriously play for a division rival before a championship team?"

Larry's ears fell. He scratched the back of his neck, looking from the moose to the bay out the window. "I...I like the area."

Josie came at him with a more calculated approach. "The cap will rise with the league's soaring revenue. As soon as we lock up Ross, our playoff window should stay open for three, four more years minimum. There's a reason we acquired you from the Heroes, Larry. We can ensure you your name will not come up in trade negotiations as long as you remain a valuable piece of our organization."

Larry fixed her with his most diligent nod. "I'd like that in writing, then, please."

His agent flew in at the sign of first blood, smacking his paws on the desk as if he were collecting a bargaining chip. "You heard the wolf! If we don't get this, we're moving to seven, minimum! Otherwise? July first?" He shot up his thumb and pointed to the doorway. "He's walkin' straight to Ordonville!"

"Hefty demand for six million against the cap," Hugh grunted. "What's it for? Just buy a house or something?"

Larry hesitated. He could stick to half-truths.

"New boyfriend," he replied sincerely. "And...I want him to know I'll stick around."

Josie met Hugh's eyes, then turned them back to the wolf, contemplative. "We'll consider it in our next offer."

---

"Well, that didn't go well!"

Mark dragged his feet beside Larry as the two strode out into a shaded parking lot, the building behind hiding them from the warm, setting sunlight.

Larry hooked a finger in his tie and started to pry it loose. "It went okay. I don't really care about squeezing out more money if I can still play in September."

"Mmm. But it adds up. Point-two-five over five? That's uh..." the marten flicked his head back and forth. "That's over a million more on one contract! You'll play until, what, your mid-thirties? Late-thirties, if you pray to the injury gods? Sometimes it happens earlier, and that's why it's good to sit on everything you can. I'm sure you wanna build a life with that, uh..." Mark tapped Larry on the arm. "That new boy toy you got! Congrats on that, kid! I'd love to meet 'im!"

Larry looked the other way. "Thanks."

"And if you really want the money? We can hold out a bit. We've got some contenders in this division. The Varmints would take you for eight! They've got a strong young core. Butler? Brown? Drosis? You'd slot right in up front."

The two stopped when they got to Larry's car. The wolf nodded at him as he rummaged for his keys.

"You'd do well in other markets," Mark offered. "Local media's tough here. Don't listen to those talking heads on TV. You'd best get away from them anyway."

"I like being a Hydra," said Larry, "but thanks for the guidance."

Mark sprang past him, shooting his client a finger gun as he walked past the car. "It's what you pay me for, kid! I'll get back to you tonight!"

With a wave, Larry popped open the door and slid into the driver's seat. He leaned his elbow on the wheel, strung a paw through his head fur, and sighed. He couldn't keep going on like this.

---

-One year prior-

The two-handed grip around Larry's head tightened, not quite to the point of pain, but brimming with tension. Working under the constraints of the hands, Larry let them guide him slowly along the penis before he pulled himself away.

A string of saliva married his muzzle to the glans. He looked up to a reclining Basil as he stretched his back and rubbed circles into the suited deer's thighs.

"Tough first day, huh?" he smiled, taking care to massage along the long-sore leg tissue that his boyfriend often complained about.

Basil, softened into a daze, snapped back to attention. "What? Oh, yeah." He put on a stoic face. "Don't worry, they said I'd fit in. I know what I signed up for."

Larry rested a paw back on his cock, amusingly making him tense up again. "You did fit in on camera! You look even better in a broadcasting studio than you did on skates!"

Basil shivered as Larry stroked him with tantalizing slowness. "Mmh! Must've looked real good for you to bend me over before...I could even undress..."

The wolf drank in the sight of his lover lying back, tailored elegantly with perfectly groomed fur, trouser fly open to reveal the wet dick in Larry's paw that threatened to shoot over Basil's dress shirt. The sports-retired deer was only thirty-three, yet his joints felt stiff in Larry's paws after years of nagging injuries he played through. His face looked older than ever on top of the weight he added in the quick transition between lifestyles. Larry saw it as a feature to tease, rather than a turn-off.

"Even better, you're covering the Hydras," Larry growled. "Means I've got you waiting at home for me every night. Especially if I sign here again."

"Even better when I can talk about how good you are on TV?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should be overly critical." He meant for that to come out as a joke, but a moment of thought evolved that idea into a shrugging option. "Might make it less obvious that we fuck."

The aroused deer now looked tentative. "Even if it hurt your standing with the fanbase?"

"Might give me reason to play better. Might even give me reason to play rougher." Larry eyed him provocatively as he squeezed the shaft and let go.

Basil lay back submissively, affecting helplessness: his wordless cue to proceed. His recently-fallen antlers made him look even more passive to the hungry wolf.

"Pants off," Larry urged, "and legs over my shoulders. Remember this whenever they ask you to critique my shot."

---

Larry tapped the wheel as he pulled onto his home street. The monotonous voices of two sports radio hosts--Basil's co-workers, and ones the deer didn't like at that--droned on about the Hydras' outstanding contracts. He hadn't been paying much attention; his dress pants felt tight against his erection. That pressure didn't leave as he pulled into the driveway, glancing at Basil's car while he parked next to it in his garage. With a bounce in his tail, he burst through the laundry room door.

"You better be jerking off already!" Larry called to the house, shaking off his shoes, "'Cause I'm ready to--"

Basil stood at the kitchen sink, bulky thighs naked beneath a shirt and jockstrap. He smirked over his shoulder. "How'd the negotiation go?"

Larry was up behind him in two paces, wrapping his arms around the buck while he rinsed off the last pan. "Fine. They're going six million at the highest. Owner said I don't play defense."

Basil dried his paws, nudging a kitchen stool away and swaying his bare ass against Larry's crotch. "Oh yeah? He hear that on TV?"

"Dunno." Larry squeezed his boyfriend. "Seems like you're willing to claim responsibility for it, though."

"Depends. Would it help you get off if I did?"

"You'd help me get off either way. Would it help you to know I'm demanding the Hydras can't trade me out of the division?"

"They'll go for that?"

"Not sure. But I'd rather live with you than squeeze out money for status." Larry stared at him with veracity. "And I'm gonna tell the team that I'm dating you."

Basil's hazel eyes widened. He turned his muzzle away and chuckled. "Here I was lubed up to celebrate a new contract with you," he revelled, twisting back around and shuffling his rear against Larry through the hug. "But that might be the most romantic thing you've ever done."

Larry dropped his pants and underwear to his ankles. He felt the wetness of Basil's hole against the length of his shaft. "Would you be okay with it? Your viewers finding out you've been sucking my dick the whole time you've ragged on me?"

"Getting fucked by it," Basil corrected, "and it's not like they'd fire me for it. We worried about that when we came out."

Larry leaned down on Basil, pressing his muzzle close to the deer's short antlers, rubbing at his partner's sides as he pushed his tip into him. Basil let his held breath escape in a deep sigh.

"Hell yeah, dude," Larry muttered. "I sorta pushed you out then too, huh? This half-decade's felt like forever."

"Mhm." Basil spread an arm over the counter, balancing the other hand on its edge. "That's 'cause we spent so much of it apart."

The wolf closed his eyes as he buried his bone, tail flicking back and forth. After a moment, he dropped a paw to find Basil's, who grabbed his and held it as he found his rhythm over several minutes.

Each hump reflected itself in the squeeze of his paw, or the quiet grunts made in accommodation of his length. Feeling himself climbing up a peak, Larry reached down to rub Basil through his jockstrap. The favour returned itself in the tightening of Basil's hips. He quickened his pace, hardly losing a breath. For a wolf who ran every day and cut across ice rinks in seconds flat, the ability to shuttle his energy into someone felt powerful. That coordination carried him to his climax, encouraged by the passionate cries of his boyfriend.

Larry groaned involuntarily, shoving himself as far into Basil as his trembling legs could push him, leaning into the deer's back. His eyelids fluttered. He squeezed Basil's crotch.

He waited like that for a moment, savouring the feeling as it washed through him. Then, noticing how comfortable it was, he held that pose longer...and longer...

"Hey, um, you good, Lar?" Basil grumbled beneath him.

He tested his legs, leaning some weight on them until they stopped feeling like mush. "Yeah," he opened his eyes to find the glow over his shoulder, "veni."

The smile turned into a quiet laugh as Larry stood up and the older buck straightened his back. "Well, this position kills," he said, "so why don't you finish me from below?"

Basil slumped his knees onto the stool and climbed halfway up, resting his paws on the counter as Larry dropped his muzzle to clean up his own mess. Reaching a paw around Basil into his jockstrap, Larry worked him from both sides.

Larry thoroughly kissed his partner's ass until Basil tensed, too, and groaned as he spurted over his paw.

"Still got your shot, huh?" Larry murmured, lifting his muzzle.

Basil relaxed with a huff and glanced back. "Two years of retirement won't get me that easily."

Larry stood up while he helped Basil carefully step off the stool. Wrapping their arms around each other, their muzzles met in a kiss.

When they broke away, Basil nodded sharply. "I'm glad you're staying in Robforth, no matter what. I'm tired of having to un-fuck my back after flying three hours to see you."

Larry stood up on his toes to smirk down at the antlerless deer. "Then I'll make sure you only get fucked here, instead, where you don't have to walk around too much on your old buck legs."

Basil scowled and gave him a playful shove out of their hug. "I still walk to get to the office. And you'll be getting slower by the end of this contract. I'll make sure to point out that the next time I'm on air."

"Not if I tell the press we're dating. Then they'll know where you get that stick up your ass from."

Basil laughed before leaning in to peck Larry on the cheek. "Touché. All right, six million, stop thinking about your money and help me put on the mashed potatoes."

"Mhm," Larry answered, drifting away to the hallway, "just let me clean up and get changed."

"Sure thing."

As Larry slipped into the bedroom, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to find a solitary text from Mark, which he opened and scanned.

They'll only take your clause if you take less. That might mean 5 mil off the total.

Larry watched the text as it sat there, searing the number into his mind. What were those millions of dollars to him? Nothing he could quantify beyond an abstraction.

He turned his glance up to the mirror, studying his disheveled fur from his time with Basil. In the room, he caught the scent of Basil, which traced his glimpse to the bed they shared. And within those senses, a feeling caught in his throat: a desire to make his emotion public, to grasp onto every shred of it he could.

He focused back on his reflection, holding the confident eyes of the passionate wolf. In that moment, he realized that no decision had ever been easier.