Page 41 of Drop the Gloves

Barczyk

Come over?

Abernathy

I’m not good company right now

Barczyk

You need to unwind

I saw you in a post-game interview after the otters

You looked like you either needed to go five rounds in a ring or get laid

Lucky for you I’m happy to help with both

Abernathy

I’m fine

Proud of himself for resisting temptation for once this goddamned season, Evan was about to head to bed to toss and turn for a few hours, when instead of getting another text message, his phone rang.

He stared at Barczyk’s name on the screen, willing himself to let it go to voicemail. He cracked after five seconds.

“I said I’m—“

“Evan.”

That shut him up.

“Come fuck me,” Barczyk said. “I’m hard, I’m open, and I’m waiting for someone to tire me out.”

Evan swallowed so loudly he was sure Barczyk could hear it.

“I didn’t do anything to earn it,” he said. Not because it wasn’t tempting, but that was what they did, right? All these scenarios to make it okay. Evan needed to practice fighting, or he was learning how to give blowjobs, or he’d won a bet. That was their relationship.

Wasn’t it?

“Earn it?” Barczyk’s breathy chuckle had Evan reaching for his dick. That sound should be illegal. “I’m sure I can think of a thing or two.”

Evan wavered. He couldn’t remember why he’d been against this, why he’d been trying to put space between them when Barczyk was whispering in his ear that he wanted Evan.

“You got other plans, that’s fine,” Barczyk said. “But if you’re just sitting at your place doing nothing, I promise I can show you a good time.”

“I—”

“I’m willing to beg. On my knees, on my back, however you want me, I’ll beg. Evan, please.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“The door’s unlocked.”

* * *

“Why do you taste like peanut butter?” Evan said between kisses.

“I got hungry. Sue me.” He held Evan at arm’s length for a moment. “Riley, remember?”

Evan nodded, blushing because not only had he needed the reminder, but Barczyk knew it. “Get on the bed, Riley.”

Riley hadn’t been kidding about being open and ready.

When he climbed onto his bed, ass up, his hole glistened with lube.

On his hands and knees, Riley looked beautiful, and Evan forgot his own bullshit long enough to marvel at him.

Russell and the Otters could have their stupid win; Evan was the one who got to have this.

And yeah, he didn’t win a bet this time, but he’d earn it later. He’d keep Riley out of a fight, or he’d score a game winner, or he’d kill a penalty. He’d prove he was worth Riley or the Riveters or anyone having faith in him.

His knees were about to buckle, so he climbed onto the bed behind Riley.

Evan held his hips, like the gentle touch would help him calm himself down.

He took his time with the condom and lube, then with lining himself up.

His body screamed for him to do it already, to push inside and take what they both wanted.

Enjoy the time together and figure his shit out later and all that.

“C’mon, Ev. I’m dying here. How long are you gonna—fuuuck,” he hissed as Evan pressed the tip of his cock against his hole and put just the barest pressure.

“You said you’d beg,” Evan said. Big words, considering he didn’t have much restraint left, but hearing Riley’s voice was one of the weird kinks he’d picked up lately.

“Please, for the love of God, get your dick in me. Fill me up. It’s a waste of your dick and my ass not to have the two together, so please, please, please fix that.”

Riley could probably talk forever and not get tired, but Evan couldn’t hold out any longer.

It was a different experience from last time when Riley had controlled the pace.

Evan tried to mirror the slow, gradual push.

He watched as he buried his length inch by glorious inch, sometimes stopping or pulling out a little.

Riley’s legs trembled, so Evan tried to bear his weight until he’d finally bottomed out.

He stayed like that, flush against Riley’s ass and holding him close.

A perfect moment.

The rest of the night was like an out-of-body experience.

He fucked into Riley as hard as he dared, and all he could think of was their sparring matches.

This was way better, and he didn’t have to hide his arousal, wasn’t embarrassed when Riley took himself in hand and jerked off to the rhythm Evan set.

He felt Riley clench around him as he came, saw the come stain the sheets, and couldn’t tell if the moans were his or Riley’s.

His own orgasm barely registered, because as much as it was a release, it only brought with it a few moments of peace before all his doubts and confusion returned.

What was he doing here? Why did he keep digging himself deeper into this mess when he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing?

He stared up at Riley’s ceiling like it held the answers he needed.

Harsh truths or easy outs, he just needed a direction.

“Hey.” Riley kissed him, and it kept some of the panic at bay. “Go clean up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

It helped having someone tell him what to do.

He waited until Riley had disappeared before he hid in the bathroom.

A shower sounded great, but he was scared of what thoughts would slip in.

He grabbed a washcloth and did his best not to look in the mirror.

Back in his sweats and the old Team Canada shirt he’d worn over, he lingered in the bedroom.

There was definitely more personality here than in his hotel room.

There were movie posters on the wall and a shelf that was nothing but framed photos.

There weren’t any of the awards, trophies, and memorabilia hockey players usually collected (Evan was no exception—his ‘office’ was just piles of pucks he’d been given throughout his career in the NHL, plus a bunch of medals and trophies he’d gotten as a kid that his mom insisted he box up and take with him), and Evan kind of liked that.

Riley Barczyk as a person, not a hockey player.

But Evan couldn’t hide in here forever, and unless he was going to climb out the window, he had to face Riley eventually.

Riley. Barczyk. Barzy. Were these different people? Barzy, his teammate who helped him work on his game. Riley, the guy he was fucking.

Barczyk, the asshole who hurt him last season.

It seemed easier to believe they were different than one and the same. It also made one less thing for Evan to unpack in his head. Maybe I’m gay was enough of a challenge without adding, I really like sex with Barczyk.

Riley was kind of great, though. A sentiment that landed heavily as he stepped into the living area and found Barczyk at his kitchen island, plating a tower of sandwiches.

It looked like a whole loaf of bread had been sacrificed for this meal, and there were two protein shakes waiting on the smooth marble next to the plate.

“I’m starving,” Riley said, sucking jam off his finger.

He was in a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else, just his bare skin and that gold chain and a mess of curls.

It looked like he hadn’t cut his hair since he arrived in Pittsburgh, less mohawk now and more mess.

Evan wanted to see it get longer and longer.

“Hope you like PB Riley let him. “I’m the best, Abs. I’ll convince you one of these days.”

Evan wasn’t sure which possibility he dreaded more: that Riley would try and fail, or that he’d already succeeded.