Page 27 of Drop the Gloves

Evan’s phone pinged while he was brushing his teeth. He ignored it until he was done, then nearly dropped it into the sink when he saw who’d texted him.

Barczyk

Curfews suck

Does coach do this often?

They’d had another curfew imposed on them, and Evan suspected they’d continue to for the rest of their California road trip.

Abernathy

Sometimes on the road yeah

Especially after we win

There was an incident a few years ago with some of the guys drinking too much

The first time you text me is to complain about curfew?

Evan, like a teenager, stared at his screen and held his breath waiting for a reply. Luckily, it came a few seconds later.

Barczyk

Nah the first time i’m texting you is to tell you i’m in room 329

Y’know

If you wanted practice

Evan walked numbly out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of his bed.

The murky future of whatever Barczyk had been hinting at back in Pittsburgh was finally here.

He’d purposely not thought about it too much so he wouldn’t freak himself out, and now the full weight of what Barczyk was saying fell on him.

His phone buzzed in his hand a minute later.

Barczyk

Or just hang out, no pressure

“Yeah, right,” Evan grumbled. Barczyk likely meant what he said, but Evan felt a metric shit ton of pressure.

He needed to clear this up. He needed to go tell Barczyk that he was straight.

The last time had been a mistake. Evan was confused and horny and they should stop the lessons because it was messing with Evan’s head.

Yes. These were the things that needed to happen so Evan could put this behind him before it derailed his entire season.

He would text Barczyk back a simple no thanks and not put himself in situations where he might give Barczyk the wrong impression. Any second, he’d type those two words and then put away his phone and go to bed, because they had a curfew and were traveling to San Francisco tomorrow.

But when Evan’s hand started moving, that wasn’t what he did.

Abernathy

I could use some practice

Be there in ten

* * *

Evan’s heart thundered in his ears. He was doing this. He was going to Barczyk’s hotel room to…

To what? It would probably be a repeat of what happened last time, though on a bed instead of a training mat. Fuck, why did he want this so badly? Why was he so fucking turned on when they weren’t even in the same room yet?

He shifted uneasily on his feet outside Barczyk’s door.

Last chance to turn back. If he chickened out, maybe he’d be so embarrassed he’d learn his lesson and get his dick under control.

He heard the elevator door open at the far end of the hall and recognized Doyle’s laughter.

Panicking, Evan knocked urgently on the door.

The laughter was getting louder, footsteps bringing his teammates closer and—

The door opened, and Evan almost fell forward. Strong arms pulled him inside, and the door closed behind him. Evan held his breath as the noise in the hallway grew louder before slowly growing quiet. Only after it was silent again did Evan let out a whoosh of air and turn around.

Barczyk stared at him, eyebrows drawn together and arms crossed over his chest. “You okay?”

“It was Doyle and some of the guys,” Evan whispered. Then he realized how ridiculous it was to whisper when they were safely in Barczyk’s hotel room. “Sorry, that was dumb.” He dragged a hand down his face and groaned into his palm.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re freaking out, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Really?” Evan peeked out from his hand, bewildered.

Barczyk shrugged. “Cute like a puppy is cute. Not, like, bangable cute.”

“Oh.” Was that a hint? “Sorry, I—“

“Geez, Abs.” Barczyk put a hand on his chest; Evan shut up. The gesture also made his dick stand at attention. What kind of magic powers did Barczyk have that did this to him? “Relax. And stop apologizing all the time.”

Evan started to apologize again but cut himself off in time. Instead, he clamped his mouth so tightly his jaw clicked and swallowed.

Barczyk’s hands came to rest on his shoulders; Evan leaned forward into the touch.

“Seriously, bro,” Barczyk said. “You good? For real, we can just chill. I’m not looking to give you an aneurysm. As much as I would love to get my hands on you”—Evan whimpered—“there are plenty of other ways to pass the time.”

“Uh huh.” Evan closed his eyes and shuddered.

He knew what he wanted. He didn’t understand why he wanted it, but he did.

Maybe this was something he needed to work out of his system.

Mind made up, he opened his eyes. “I’d uhm.

..your hands...you could...” He bit the inside of his cheek to get it together. “You should put your hands on me.”

“Thank God,” Barczyk said before going on his tiptoes to kiss him.

As soon as their lips met, Evan forgot everything he’d ever known.

There was nothing besides Barczyk’s tongue, his mouth, his hands, his body.

Evan groaned as he tried to get closer, wrapping his arms around Barczyk and pulling him in tight as he could, as if it were possible for him to get under Barczyk’s skin the way he had with Evan.

Barczyk fit so perfectly against him, hard chest and solid muscle.

Evan slid a hand up Barczyk’s back, marveling at the broad shoulders before tangling his fingers in Barczyk’s hair.

He couldn’t say why he did it, but he closed his fist in the curls and tugged gently.

It sent a bolt of pleasure through him, this bit of control he could exert over Barczyk when normally it was Barczyk who was in charge.

He did it again, nudging Barczyk so he could deepen the kiss.

The third time, Barczyk broke the kiss and smiled against Evan’s lips. “You got a thing for my hair, huh?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. It was so satisfying in a primal way that he didn’t understand; he just knew he liked it. “Sor—“

Barczyk kissed him once, quickly, then bit his lip. Evan let out a surprised gasp.

“No apologies,” Barczyk scolded. They were so close, Evan could feel the words caressing his skin. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for here. If I don’t like something, I’ll tell you. You just do the same, ‘kay?”

He almost said sorry again, but he stopped himself. “Okay.”

The smile Barczyk rewarded him with was so bright Evan had to close his eyes.

He leaned down and stole another kiss, running his tongue along the gap where Barczyk’s tooth should be.

It was strange; all the things about Barczyk that had annoyed him before were what drew him in now.

He was drunk on it, the high of getting to take something from someone who was so confident and never gave an inch to anyone.

He backed Barczyk against the door, trapping him with his body as his tongue continued to claim. Their hips pressed together, hard cocks so close but kept apart by nothing more than a few layers of fabric.

“You know,” Barczyk said between kisses, “the bed would be more comfortable.”

“Mmm,” Evan hummed in agreement. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to put space between them, because that might let his doubts creep back in.

He wanted this too much, and letting a rational thought take hold might ruin the whole thing.

He was already haunted by what he wanted from Barczyk; he didn’t want to be haunted by what if’s too.

“C’mon, big guy.” He pushed Evan back, and he whined at the loss of contact.

It wasn’t far, and then Barczyk’s arms were wrapped around his neck.

There was a moment of pressure as Barczyk pulled himself up and wrapped his legs around Evan’s waist. Evan brought his hands up to steady him and realized he was now cupping Barczyk’s ass.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” Evan said to distract himself. He squeezed a hand experimentally; he liked the feel of taut muscle.

“Rude,” Barczyk said and started sucking on Evan’s neck. “I’m sturdy.”

“I think you mean dense.”

His head snapped back. “Me? I’m not the one choosing to have a conversation instead of getting off. Calling me dense.” Barczyk shook his head, and Evan had to admit, he had a point.

He carried Barczyk to the bed. The room was the same as Evan’s—like all hotel rooms, honestly; after all these years of travel, they’d long ago blurred together—and he used that familiarity to help steady his nerves.

He got to the bed and hesitated, unsure whether he was supposed to put Barczyk down or how to do it.

Never one to hesitate, Barczyk rocked backwards and dragged Evan down on top of him as they tumbled to the bed.

“Oof! Geez Louise, Abs. Giving me shit for being heavy like you don’t weigh a thousand pounds.”

“I do not—“

“Sorry, you’re Canadian. Let me convert it for you. A thousand kilograms.”

“Pounds and kilograms don’t have a one-to-one conversion—“

“Evan Abernathy.”

Evan shuddered, his stomach doing a weird somersault at hearing his actual name.

“My dick is really hard. Your dick is really hard. You’re on top of me in a huge bed with nowhere to be until tomorrow morning. Focus. You can teach me all about the metric system tomorrow, I promise, as long as you make me come first.”

Evan shuddered at the words. Yes, they’d gotten off together once already, but acknowledging it out loud with actual words was a lot different.

Make me come first did things to him. It made it about them, not just Evan, and Evan loved hearing it wasn’t a one-sided attraction.

Obviously it wasn’t, but hearing it made it real.

“I can focus,” Evan promised and kicked off his shoes like that proved it. Then he settled between Barczyk’s legs. All his attention went to that point of contact as he ground down a few times. His eyes fluttered shut, and he enjoyed the sensation and the simple, heady pleasure it brought him.