Page 28 of Drop the Gloves

Them, he remembered when Barczyk groaned and rolled his hips up.

Evan opened his eyes and took in the man beneath him.

The light-brown curls collecting around his ears, the lust-blown hazel eyes watching him lazily, the slight bruise under one of them from when he’d been punched by Walker, plush pink lips inviting him in. ..

He took the invitation, leaning down to kiss Barczyk again. There was a taste to him, some small remnants of whatever he’d had after the game, and Evan chased it. Wanted every little bit of Barczyk he could steal for himself, because maybe if he took enough, he wouldn’t need anymore.

“This is fun and all,” Barczyk said, breaking away and making Evan grunt in frustration. “But I wanna touch you this time. Could we...?”

Evan blinked as he pieced together what Barczyk meant.

No more clothes in the way. That was...that’d be.

..too intense? No, that wasn’t the issue.

It’d be too intimate. It was already hard to wrap his brain around what they’d been doing, this intense, gay desire he’d never felt before.

But with their clothes still on, he could at least downplay it.

“C’mon.” Barczyk rolled them over so they lay side by side, facing each other. He reached a hand between them, his fingers brushing along Evan’s dick through his shorts. Evan’s toes curled in his socks because, fuck, that was good. “I’ll make it good for you, promise.”

A shaky laugh escaped. He didn’t doubt it, but he was pretty sure there’d be no coming back from Barczyk’s hand wrapped around his dick. He both dreaded and craved doing the same for Barczyk. Bit by bit, it seemed like Evan was wandering farther away from who he thought he was.

Or maybe closer to who I actually am, he thought.

Fucking absurd.

Yeah right. I’m not secretly a guy who wants to jerk off Riley Barczyk.

Except Barczyk was tracing the hem of his shorts and watching him patiently. When Evan stole a glimpse down and saw Barczyk’s erection straining against his sweatpants, he couldn’t deny that he maybe was a guy who wanted to jerk off Riley Barczyk.

“Please,” Evan managed and was immediately rewarded with Barczyk taking a firmer hold of him through his shorts. A few light strokes that made Evan almost swallow his tongue, it felt so good. “Oh, fuck.”

“Told you.” Then his hand was gone, and Evan wanted to die.

He’d never been so turned on in his whole life—there was no way he could stop now—but Barczyk started wiggling his sweatpants and boxers down, nodding for Evan to do the same.

Pushing down his shorts and briefs wasn’t enough distraction from seeing Barczyk’s dick, hard and needy, for the first time.

He licked his lips and, without any conscious thought, reached out and wrapped his hand around the shaft.

Barczyk bit his lip, failing to stifle the deep groan that escaped, and mirrored Evan.

When Evan drew his thumb up the silky skin, reveling in the hardness and the way Barczyk’s dick jerked in his hand, Barczyk did the same thing to him.

Evan ran his thumb through the pre-come gathering at the tip and gasped as Barczyk did as well.

Encouraged, Evan gave a tentative stroke and was rewarded when Barczyk stroked him too.

“As fast and as hard as you want,” Barczyk whispered. “You’re in charge, big guy. Whatever you want.”

The control helped him ease into the moment.

He moved his hand, exploring how he could work different sounds out of Barczyk while learning what he wanted.

And it was ridiculously arousing to have even this small amount of power over Barczyk, a man who didn’t follow the rules or listen to anyone but was letting Evan control him.

Barczyk seemed to enjoy giving that control to Evan.

Soon, desire took over. Evan had drawn things out as long as he could, but he was too close to the edge to keep the slow, tentative pace they’d been enjoying.

Tightening his grip, he started going faster.

Barczyk matched him, and they locked eyes.

A silent understanding passed between them: it wasn’t follow the leader anymore; it was a race to get the other off first.

Evan was so keyed up and Barczyk clearly had the advantage of experience—the way he could change the pressure of his grip and tease at Evan’s slit while never losing his rhythm was a testament to his expertise—but Evan was eager to prove himself.

And not above cheating. He used his free hand to grab Barczyk by the back of his neck and draw his lips close.

He nibbled at his lower lip, pulled at his curls, pressed their foreheads together and wouldn’t let Barczyk regain any ground he’d taken.

He pushed up onto his shoulder so he could look down at Barczyk, giving the illusion that he was trapped.

Evan didn’t say anything, but the message was clear: I’m in charge, you’re here for me, and that’s that.

Never in Evan’s life had he thought he was so possessive, but he felt it in every stroke, in every kiss he stole.

He wasn’t used to taking advantage of his size like this, using it to exert his will.

Was this what Barczyk felt on the ice when he tricked other people into fighting him?

And why was Barczyk giving in so easily to him?

It was hot, whatever the reason, and Evan wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to give up the thrill of feeling in charge.

Barczyk came first, warm come coating Evan’s hand.

It was satisfying, having won, but he didn’t have long to enjoy the upper hand: Barczyk let go of Evan’s dick and took his wet hand.

He wrapped Evan’s fingers around his cock and guided him through jerking himself off, Barczyk’s come easing the way.

And like that, Evan’s handle of the situation dissolved because fuck fuck fuck—

When he came, it was like a tidal wave crashing over him.

It stole his breath—thankfully, because he had no idea what kind of noises he would’ve made otherwise.

As he lay there, Barczyk milking him through the aftershocks until he’d started to grow soft and his heart had almost found a normal rhythm, he wondered how Barczyk always managed to turn the tables on him.

He collapsed back down on his shoulder, mindful to avoid their come but not willing to go too far yet; he liked Barczyk’s heat, felt calmed by his presence even as some small piece of him freaked out about what it meant that he had Barczyk’s come on him.

Why Barczyk?

He enjoyed a few long minutes of blissful silence when his brain shut off and let him relax.

Then he blinked, and his mind was flooded with coherent thought again.

He still didn’t want to move, to burst the bubble they were cocooned in.

If time kept going, they’d have to leave this moment.

Then there’d be questions and consequences.

But it couldn’t last forever. Barczyk was watching him with hooded eyes like he was about to fall asleep, and Evan wasn’t equipped to handle the intimacy of sharing a bed. Sex was enough of a mess; they shouldn’t complicate things more than they already had.

“You look so dumb with that mustache,” Evan blurted out. It was the first coherent thought he could latch onto. He’d been surprised that it hadn’t felt any different kissing Barczyk with the mustache, but that was probably more about Evan having a beard than anything else.

Barczyk blinked awake.

“I look great,” Barczyk said, and suddenly they were no longer convenient lovers but teammates. Evan thought that was the end of it, and he was glad that they’d shifted back to their usual selves without any awkwardness in between, but a moment later came a quiet, “You really don’t like it?”

Guilt rolled through him. “Not my thing,” he said, not wanting to be a dick. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. What the fuck did it matter to him if his linemate grew a stupid mustache? “Do you care if I don’t like it?”

Barczyk shrugged, though he seemed more shut off than he’d been a few seconds ago. “Not really.” It was the first time Evan had ever thought he’d been able to hear a crack in Barczyk’s bravado.

“It suits you,” Evan said and meant it. He wanted to lean in and kiss Barczyk, but he held back.

He didn’t know what they did, but kissing after they’d come felt like a bad idea.

Like they’d firmly switched back to teammates from whatever they’d been for the last hour, and he didn’t want to get his wires crossed trying to go back.

Barczyk considered this. “It suits me, but you don’t like it.”

Evan went pale. “Shit, no. That’s not—“

“Don’t worry, I’m just fucking with you.” Barczyk pushed off the bed. In the five steps it took him to get to the bathroom, he’d kicked off his joggers and boxers, and tossed aside his shirt. “I’m gonna shower,” he said, pausing in the doorway to wink at Evan. “You’re always getting me dirty.”

Evan stared after him long after Barczyk had disappeared and the water started running.

Once Barczyk started singing Mambo No. 5, Evan decided that was his cue to leave.

He cleaned himself up as best he could, then escaped back to his room for his own shower and a night of wondering if this had been worth it at all.