Page 18 of Drop the Gloves

They went through punches. Barczyk threw words at him like ‘upper cut’ and ‘right hook’ and ‘haymaker.’ Evan didn’t bother trying to remember them, too focused on replicating the punches he demonstrated.

Admittedly, it was satisfying to hit something and put his full weight behind it.

He held back at first, not so much worried about hurting Barczyk but knocking him over.

When he proved he could absorb the hits, Evan let loose.

After the hit last season and his brief flirtation with the Injury Reserve, Evan had worried part of him might try to return the favor.

He couldn’t deny that he’d daydreamed about Barczyk getting his just desserts, and maybe even toyed with the idea of doing it himself.

Not that he would initiate anything, but the fantasy had satisfied him in a primal way.

Now that he had the opportunity to do something, all he worried about was his form.

By the end, he was sweating and panting. His body twitched as new muscle memories formed, and he was sure he’d dream about fighting tonight.

Squatting down to rest, Evan tried to catch his breath. His arms were exhausted, and sweat was pouring off him. “I’m gonna call it a day.”

“Nope.” He looked up and watched Barczyk take off the gloves and then offer them to him. “My turn. Call it payback, but I wanna get my reps in too.”

“Oh.” He took the sweaty gloves and stared at them. “What do I do exactly?”

Barczyk flexed his hands and bounced back and forth on his feet while he jabbed at the air. “Put ‘em on and hold ‘em up. It ain’t rocket science.”

Right. Evan put them on, trying not to think about how Barczyk’s hands had just been in them.

It felt intimate to share gear, even if it was borrowed/stolen.

Evan wouldn’t share hockey gloves or skates or hockey socks or literally anything except maybe a stick.

Now Barczyk’s clammy hands might as well be wrapped around his.

Evan ignored the desire for hand sanitizer. He’d have to shower after this anyway. Instead he held up his hands about eye level with Barczyk and waited.

Barczyk took one look at him and narrowed his eyes. “Seriously?”

“What?” he asked self-consciously. How had Evan managed to fuck up holding up a glove?

“What’s the average height of players in the league?” Barczyk asked.

“Uhh…”

“It’s 6’1. How tall am I?”

Not 6’1, that was for sure, but he didn’t want to say that out loud. “I feel like this is a trap.”

“Forget your delicate sensibilities, Abs. I’m 5’9. I can’t practice punching people my height when everyone’s got a couple of inches on me. I gotta practice hitting up, because there’s no one my size to fight. Look at you. What if I wanted to fight a giant?”

“Maybe don’t fight them?”

Barczyk ignored him. He nudged the gloves higher until he was satisfied with the height of his imaginary opponent, then got his fists up.

There was a moment when it looked like a switch turned, and he went from kind-of-annoying teammate to locked-in fighter.

It was like Evan wasn’t even there as blow after blow came.

It was a good thing Evan didn’t hold any illusions that he was good at this, because thirty seconds of absorbing Barczyk’s punches would’ve been enough to dispel that idea.

His speed and power were one thing, but his intensity was something else.

Honestly, it was kind of sexy.

Wait, no! Anyone would be sexy showing off this kind of competence. It’s not Barczyk that’s sexy. It’s his skill.

Evan didn’t feel much better after the clarification, because his dick was getting hard again and the proximity to Barczyk made it difficult to argue he wasn’t a factor. If he wasn’t attracted to Barczyk, then his body wouldn’t be reacting, right?

As his brain wobbled between ‘this is a problem’ and ‘this is normal,’ Barczyk went at it. When he abruptly stopped, Evan blinked back to awareness. Were they done? Already? Was he disappointed?

“Get rid of those.” Barczyk waved a hand at the gloves as he ran a hand through his mess of damp curls. His hair was darker when it was wet, with none of the slight blond twinge to it. “Ready for a big-boy fight?”

“Wh-what?” Evan froze with the left glove halfway off. He gulped.

“Don’t freak out on me.” Barczyk walked over to his duffel bag and pulled out two pairs of boxing gloves. “You’ve got massive hands, so hopefully they fit.”

“We’re going to fight?”

Barczyk held up the gloves. “No? It’s just practice. I mean, try not to let me slug you in the face, but I’m not going to whale on you or anything.” He paused. “No kidney shots. Those suck.”

As he traded one pair of padded gloves for another, Evan tried not to stare through the ridiculously enormous gap in Barczyk’s sleeves, revealing glimpses of his bare chest and stomach.

Evan’s mouth went dry when he spotted a bead of sweat running down his side.

Why the heck did Barczyk mutilate his shirt like that?

“Did you have brothers you fought with as a kid or something?” Evan asked, more to distract himself than anything else.

“Sure. I’ve got an older brother and two sisters, and, yeah, we fought all the time. Ma said it was like WrestleMania 24/7 until we moved out. Now she misses the chaos.” He gave Evan a once-over. “Only child, right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Kind of.” He knocked his fists together a few times. “This does kind of make it hard to practice dropping your gloves and pulling up the other person’s jersey. I’ll have to figure that out for next time.”

“Next time—?” Evan barely got the words out before Barczyk was swinging at him.

He knew Barczyk was pulling his punches, but it didn’t make it any easier to stop him.

Evan spent the next minute scrambling to block and dodge before he finally managed to throw a few punches.

The first few went so wide, Barczyk didn’t need to dodge them, but after he found his stride, they got better.

Once again, he was reminded of dancing, moving back and forth to try to hit the other guy.

An intense dance where Evan was still learning the steps and Barczyk could probably do this blindfolded with an arm tied behind his back.

…that was pretty much what it would be like to fight with your jersey pulled over your head, so Barczyk really could do that.

They went at it for a few minutes, then stopped for a water break. After Barczyk critiqued his form, they started all over. Rinse and repeat several times over.

“Last round,” Barczyk eventually announced. “We've gotta hit the showers before we go to Dalty’s mixer thingy.”

“Think I’ll actually hit you this time?”

“You’ve hit me a couple of times.” When Evan shot him a skeptical look, Barczyk laughed and said, “Okay, you’ve grazed me a couple of times.

Problem is you’re getting too close. You've got the reach, so use it. You can start swinging earlier than I can. You should be making contact before I can throw my first punch.”

Fair point, though it wouldn’t help as much against people his own size.

But as they squared up again, Evan decided if he could just land one decent shot on Barczyk, this whole thing would be worth it.

They circled each other for a few steps before Evan thought, to hell with waiting around, and stepped just outside of Barczyk’s reach.

He jabbed and grazed Barczyk’s chest before he jumped out of the way.

“You can’t jump away on the ice,” Evan said as he followed, trying to press his advantage.

“I can skate away. It’s similar.”

And that’s when it happened. While Barczyk was running his mouth, Evan took him by surprise and got him square in the jaw.

Both their eyes went wide. Evan worried Barczyk might be pissed or embarrassed, but instead his face stretched wide in a grin and he pounced.

Evan squawked as he toppled backward onto the mat with Barczyk on top of him.

At first he thought Barczyk was attacking him as he punched at Evan’s ribs, but none of it hurt.

“Abs, you son of a gun!” Barczyk said, hitting him the whole time. “That would’ve been a KO on the ice. Fuck yeah, bro!”

Soon Evan was laughing along with him, enjoying the thrill of the moment.

It was unfortunate that it took him a few seconds to properly process their compromising position, with Barczyk sitting right on his pelvis.

His full weight was pushing down on Evan, his crotch pressed against Evan’s lower abdomen so that he could continue his barrage of playful punches.

Evan’s body had already reacted before he’d noticed, and the effect was only amplified now that he felt his hardening cock straining towards Barczyk’s ass.

“Hey, quit it,” Evan said, voice thick and a little desperate. He tried to squirm away, out from under Barczyk and away to safety, but it only made things worse. He knew the exact second Barczyk noticed Evan’s half-hard dick, because he stopped his joking assault.

“I, uhm…” Evan had no idea what to say. “Sorry, it’s—”

His lame attempt at an apology was cut off by a sharp gasp as Barczyk sat back on his thighs, his ass pressing even more firmly against Evan’s groin.

“Sorry?” Barczyk raised an eyebrow and then looked down his own torso. Evan followed his gaze and landed on Barczyk’s slowly hardening cock, in no way hidden beneath his spandex shorts.

And fuck, Evan was bizarrely tempted to reach out and touch—

Panic choked him, and he lay there frozen and silent and terrified.

“ ’S okay,” Barczyk said and jumped up. He winked at Evan before he turned his back and started packing up the boxing equipment. “Never happened.”

“Uhh…” Evan sat up, using his knees to shield his crotch as he tried to regain control of his body. “Yeah. Thanks. Really, I’m sorry—”

“Never happened,” Barczyk repeated. It was maybe the strangest part of the afternoon that Evan believed him.

Not just that he wouldn’t bring it up, but that it would have zero impact on how he interacted with Evan from here on out.

“I’m gonna put this bag by my stall and hit the showers.

Put the gloves in before you head out. I gotta drop these off at my apartment building so I don’t get, like, fined or whatever.

I’ll meet you at the bar with the guys?”

“Okay,” Evan said. He watched Barczyk go, with no sign of discomfort or shame in his light step. The bastard whistled as he hit the gym door, I’m Walking on Sunshine ringing out through the empty gym until the door swung shut behind him.

Even sitting on the ground, he felt so off-balance he couldn’t stand up yet. He definitely couldn’t walk out of here to face Barczyk; he’d have to wait until Barczyk had had enough time to disappear into the showers before he fled.