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Having played in the NHL for eight years, Tommy knows when to concern himself with the off-ice actions of his teammates, and when not to. He’s also got a pretty decent handle on which rookies will make it past the first two months of top-tier hockey and who’ll be sent down to the AHL. He makes a point of being inclusive, inviting rookies to mid-air poker games when they’re flying to the next game or offering them a seat at his table if they’re looking around like they’re scared of choosing the wrong table at whatever hotel they’re staying in. Part of it is that he used to be an asshole, was part of the ever-existing clique pranking and hazing new teammates on his high school and college teams, and yes, even on his first NHL team. His therapist has helped him understand he was doing those things to hide his true self, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t an asshole. So, Tommy tries to not be one these days.
With Buckley, Tommy’s not needed to offer any tips on what headphones reduces background noises the best for their trips, or offer the empty seat next to him on the bus. Buck, as he’s called by the hockey world at large, takes care of himself, making friends with the younger guys, always there when a poker game or Mario Kart tournament starts, sitting himself down next to Diaz or Andersson without hesitation. He’s the same on the ice, throwing himself over the boards and hurtling toward the rival team’s goal, shouting for the puck, narrowly avoiding skating into tough-as-nails defensemen. He’s force of nature, both on and off the ice.
Unfortunately for Buckley, there’s no way he’ll stay on the team through the whole season. Though he has the speed and the passion, he doesn’t see the plays happen before they unfold, doesn’t take into account that other players might not act like he wants them to. Buck needs to have a better sense of the game, before he can consider himself a fully-fledged NHL player.
Of course, Tommy doesn’t mention any of this to Buck. Buck is living the dream, playing hockey professionally and hanging out with young guys on the team, the ones that sneak out when they play in New York and Toronto, the ones that their social media managers constantly warn and then berate for their thoughtless posts. As far as Tommy’s concerned, Buck’s just another rookie in a long line of rookies.
“Was I ever that young?” Chimney asks from where he’s sitting next to Tommy, getting changed after a hard-fought win against the Devils.
Tommy looks over at Buck and Diaz, slapping at each other with towels and loudly deciding on which bar to celebrate their win in, all while songs by whichever pop princess is the flavor of the month play from Diaz’ Bluetooth speaker.
“Going straight home, I take it?” Tommy asks of Chim, his best friend on the team.
“Casey got me in the boards good.” Chim touches his left side. “Can’t wait for an ice-pack.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling.” Tommy gently feels his own side, deciding that the tenderness isn’t anything to bother their physios about, an ice-pack and some rest will be more than enough.
Buck hollers on the other side of the room, making Tommy and Chim roll their eyes at each other.
“How long do you think he’ll last? Past November?” Chim asks, always looking for a bet. Chimney’s small for a hockey player, but he does have that eye for the game that the rookies lack, and he’s the team’s first line center for that reason, as well as his speed and diverse talents.
Tommy tilts his head, considers the exuberant rookie. He’s laughing and smiling but then, he should be pleased with his performance tonight. He got some good looks at the opposition goaltender, two shots ringing off the top bar of the goal. He brought a speed to the third line that meant he was put on the second shift by the third period’s one-man advantage.
“Past November, but not by much. Week before Christmas.” Tommy decides. He turns his attention back to Chimney. “Twenty bucks?”
“You’re on.”
**
In the following two weeks, they manage to win three games and lose two, which is a disappointing result, and it sucks that the two losses are at home. Coach Nash is still experimenting with the lines, trying to find the right line-up for regular game, penalty kill and overtime respectively. Tommy is on the first line, normally, but is by now pretty used to being shunted down to second line if someone else is having a good run, and doesn’t get too upset by it. Over the years, he’s gotten a lot better at not taking everything personally, it’s all for the best of the team. But when Nash puts him on the third line in late November, Tommy finds it difficult hiding his displeasure. Buck’s on the third line too, and they have trouble finding their rhythm all night. Buck’s always too far ahead of Tommy for him to get a decent pass to him, and Buck never obstructs the goalie like he should for Tommy to get a good shot from the blue line.
“S-sorry about, you know, n-not giving you enough options.” Buck mentions in the locker room afterwards.
“Yeah,” Tommy’s none too pleased with his game tonight, and Buck’s kinda sucked too. “Obstruct the goalie, not me.”
“Y-yeah.” Buck nods, face falling even more. He looks genuinely upset.
Feeling awful for making Buck look that miserable, Tommy adds, “Sore loser, sorry. If Nash decides to keep us on the same line, we’ll work on things, yeah?”
“Yeah!” Buck brightens at that. “Uhm, a few of us are going out, we’ve got permission and everything. Flight’s not ‘til the morning and we’ve got two days before the next game. You-you wanna come with?”
Tommy once really enjoyed going out with a group of guys as young, talented and flush with cash as Buck is, taking over a bar and buying way too expensive champagne just because they could, and behave like asses against the waitstaff because no one was there to stop them. He doesn’t enjoy those nights out any longer.
“Got plans.” Tommy says by way of excuse. “See you on the bus to the airport.”
“For sure.” Buck smiles, making his way over to his spot next to Diaz.
**
Tommy wasn’t lying about having plans. He wasn’t more specific about them, because well, he doesn’t want anyone to know. Being in LA means meeting up with his old friend Hen and her wife Karen. For the past five years, since Tommy came out to them in an epic breakdown complete with tears, demeaning language about himself and a nonsensical tirade about Henrik Lundqvist, they’ve graciously acted as his beards at gay clubs when he’s in LA.
“If you get recognized, just say that you’re out with lesbian friends.” Hen had said the first time.
“Yeah, you can even say we surprised you with the bar and you didn’t wanna be rude by leaving.” Karen had added.
Tommy had disagreed, “I’ll say I want to go out with my friends and if that means a gay bar, so fucking be it. Because that’s the truth. Shit, are you sure you’re okay with this?”
Both women had insisted they didn’t mind being the scapegoats if needed, as long as it got Tommy to feel a little more like he was part of the community. Five years later, Tommy feels comfortable at the bars they usually go to, and their circle has expanded a tiny bit to include Hen’s co-worker Josh and his boyfriend Cameron. Tommy has gotten more used to letting his eyes wander, and appreciate, though he seldom joins the beautiful people on the dancefloor. He rarely hooks up with guys when they go out, but he’ll flirt a whole lot, and isn’t averse to buying drinks for the guys with the best pick-up lines.
On this particular night, his chaperone couples are arguing over whether Jennifer Coolidge is a gay or a lesbian icon, and Tommy’s nodding along, letting the playful debate play out as he watches the dancefloor, the place crowded on a Friday night. It’s gone past midnight, but there’s nothing crazy on the dancefloor yet, though a fair amount of guys are topless already and the DJ seems to be playing hit after hit judging by the whoops and hands that fly up in the air at certain points of the music. Tommy likes seeing so many people so happy, and he bops his head along to the beat. Maybe, if Josh bugs him enough and they do more shots, Tommy might brave the dancefloor tonight.
As he’s about to wave a bottle boy over, he pauses. He frowns, looking harder at the corner of the dancefloor nearest the bar. He’s pretty sure he knows one of the guys dancing over there, one who is holding hands with another guy and leaning down to talk in the guy’s ear.
“Tommy? You good?” Hen asks.
“Uh, yeah, just, uh… Bathroom break.” Tommy excuses himself, and heads in the opposite direction of the toilets. He doesn’t see his friends giving him a weird look, because he’s focused on what’s going on across the dancefloor. It’s dark and a little smokey in the venue so he can’t see for sure, but he feels more and more certain of what he’s seeing, and he feels more and more nauseous by that fact.
By the time Tommy reaches the two men, they are kissing one another, one of them with his hands up the other’s see-through shirt. Tommy practically rips Buck from the other man with an unexpectedly strong grip on his shoulder.
“What the – Tommy?” Buck asks, lips glistening and cheeks flushed.
“What the hell are you doing?” Tommy snarls.
Buck gives him a wide-eyed look, stutters for a moment but never really utters an actual word. Still, Tommy can tell Buck’s confusion is lessening by the second.
“Get the fuck out of here.” Tommy practically spits at the guy Buck was with. The guy leaves, giving Tommy an almighty glare but not challenging him any further.
Tommy grabs Buck by his slinky shirt and hauls him to the restroom, slamming him into a stall. “What the hell?”
“Dude! What the fuck is your problem?” Buck’s found his words now.
“My problem?” Tommy nearly yells at him, “You’re my problem! Making out with a guy? What the hell were you thinking?”
Buck’s face darkens, eyes furious. “You a homophobe? Newsflash, asshole, this is a gay bar!”
“Exactly!” Tommy spreads his arms out as wide as the toilet stall allows him. “So you can’t fucking hook up with guys here!”
“What? That’s exactly what I can do!” Buck steps closer to him, brushing their chests together in a much more angry and violent way than he was pressing up against the guy on the dancefloor.
Tommy takes a breath, trying to calm down but failing miserably, “Listen to me. You are now an NHL player. You can’t fucking be seen dancing with a guy at a gay bar. Someone sees you, someone takes your picture, and all hell breaks loose. There’s a reason there’s not an openly gay player, no matter how much they say hockey is for everyone.”
Buck blinks at him, tilts his head. “Wait. You… you’re gay?”
Tommy crosses his arms, glares at Buck. Part of him is impressed Buck’s clocked him, part of him worries that he has some tell he needs to tone down lest others start drawing the same conclusion. But then, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised that Buck worked it out, considering their current location.
“Wow.” Buck says under his breath, anger dissipating from his face and stance. “I never would’ve…”
“Look, you can come to places like this if you are smart and discreet and have plausible deniability.” Tommy pokes Buck’s left pectoral through the flimsy fabric as he grits out, “But you cannot grind on guys on the dancefloor.”
Buck raises an eyebrow, smirking almost lewdly at him, “Oh, you like telling me what to do?”
Tommy huffs, folding his arms again, if for nothing else than to stop himself from putting more than his finger on Buck’s chest. “Nice try.”
“Come on, you ruined my fun out there.” Buck is treading a very fine line between sounding petulant and flirtatious. It’s kind of impressive how even now he has every bit of the self-assuredness he has in the changing room, embodying the clichéd young guy with too much bravado. Buck tilts his hips towards Tommy, “You owe me.”
Tommy looks the younger man up and down. He should shut this down immediately. He shouldn’t be enticed by the surprisingly lithe body, the collections of tattoos visible through the flimsy fabric of Buck’s shirt. He’s young, younger than Tommy usually goes for. But he’s tall and obviously strong.
“Toilet hookups aren’t my style.” Tommy says, eyes on Buck’s hips, so tantalizingly close to his own.
Buck must follow Tommy’s line of sight, because he presses up against him, a hand on Tommy’s hip as he whispers into his ear, “Are you sure?”
Tommy moans despite himself. He roughly grabs Buck by the neck and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s hard and messy, and not that pleasurable, not until Tommy’s first burst of need is sated. He wasn’t aware that he felt any type of way for Buck, but his cock is already hardening and apparently he has a huge thing for muscle boys in see-through shirts, especially ones he knows are good at hockey and have an attitude he’d love to spank out of him.
Buck’s the one to slow the kiss down, to make it something more enjoyable, using his tongue to both chase and entice. Tommy pulls him in, snaking his arms around his waist, while Buck pretty much gropes his entire body. Their knees keep bumping into each other as they sway around in the small space, crashing into the stall’s walls from time to time.
They kiss for long minutes, but when Buck reaches for his belt, Tommy pulls away, “No, not, not fucking here.”
Buck looks kiss-drunk, lips red and pouty, eyes blown wide. He looks like someone Tommy would very much like to fuck.
With a hand on Tommy’s wrist, Buck says hoarsely, “At the hotel? You got a single, right?”
Tommy really, really should say no. He’s already let this gone too far, he’s going to regret this so much. He’s messed around with teammates before and it has always imploded messily. The thumping bass from the music playing on the dancefloor accompanies his burgeoning headache.
“Please,” Buck leans in to whisper against his mouth when Tommy’s silence drags on, “…daddy.”
Tommy moans. “Come on.”
**
Tommy is not so turned on that he’s suddenly a complete idiot, just a minor one. Case in point, he does not hold Buck’s hand as they make their way out of the bar, and he makes Buck sit all the way over on the other side of the backseat in the taxi back to the hotel. Throughout the whole thing he keeps his eyes on Buck, who in turn keeps running his hands over his neck or down his thighs. Near the end of the taxi ride Buck starts brushing his hand over his groin, his mouth falling open while he stares at Tommy. Tommy kind of hates him for it, but also loves how he’s going to make him pay.
One of the team’s security staff is in the hotel lobby, but he’s only there to make sure over-zealous fans don’t cause any trouble, so he just nods at Tommy and Buck. The only thing he’ll know is that they arrived back at the same time, not where they were or who with. Tommy makes sure there’s at least an arm’s length of space between them in the hotel elevator, even though no one steps into the carriage with them. When they step off at the eighth floor, it’s empty and quiet. Tommy is torn between relief and anxiety because now the decision really is his, and his alone. If someone’s going to stop this, it has to be him.
Tommy’s room is five doors down. He pulls out his card, taps it against the lock sensor.
“Quiet. You can come in, if you’re quiet.” Tommy holds the door open.
Buck brushes up against him as he makes his way inside. “I promise to be good.”
Tommy already knows that Buck will definitely not be good. He does a quick check of the corridor to make sure no one saw Buck enter, then locks the door and turns to rest against it.
It’s a small room, even for a single. The queen-size bed takes up most of the room, and Buck has settled himself on the edge of it. He’s resting back on his hands, long legs spread wide. Tommy glances at his crotch and thinks he can spot a bulge. His own hard-on isn’t so prominent, but he’s certain that won’t be the case for long.
“Come on.” Buck gestures for him.
Tommy sheds his jacket and toes his boots off. Buck is inspired and kicks his sneakers off, them landing somewhere closer to the door. Tommy looks at them, then up at Buck. The younger man smirks at him and pats the space next to him the mattress. Tommy comes willingly, without hesitation. He considers saying something, but Buck takes the opportunity away by kissing him hard. They’re flat on the bed within seconds, Buck on top of Tommy. He’s grinding into Tommy’s hip in a way that has Tommy’s cock hardening again, all the pent-up desire from their earlier encounter rushing back.
The kisses are deeper than at the club, Buck using less force but more desire somehow. Tommy lets himself follow Buck’s lead for the moment, luxuriating in how eager the younger man is, how quickly he’s started panting and moaning. Tommy really hopes Buck’s as good in bed as his actions imply.
That godawful shirt is still barely concealing Buck’s chest, and Tommy finally gets to pull it out of Buck’s jeans, feeling his back with his hands. He moans at the feel of Buck’s warm skin, the defined muscles there. The great thing about hooking up with hockey players is how fit they are. He presses Buck down against him, and they both stutter for a moment, knees and elbows banging into each other as they shudder with desire.
Tommy laughs, shamelessly running his hands over Buck’s naked chest, “Look at you.”
“Look at you,” Buck shoots back, taking one of Tommy’s hands and bringing it up to his mouth.
Tommys stares with ever darkening eyes as Buck licks and kisses his fingers. He pushes his dick up against Buck’s groin. Buck lets out a very pleased sigh, and they start rocking together. Just as Buck’s eyes fall shut in bliss, Tommy snatches his hand back, and stills his hips.
“Huh?” Buck blinks up at him.
“You don’t get to decide how this goes.”
“Wh-what?” Buck looks so confused, it’s actually cute. “Don’t get to – ooh, is this payback from earlier? Don’t like being teased?”
“No, I don’t.” Tommy says, pleased with how even his voice sounds. “Not by rookies like you.”
“Well,” Buck leans back down, a challenge in his eyes, "daddy, I don’t like being told what to do.”
Tommy gives him a considering look, “See, I think you do. I think you like receiving orders, but only so that you can fight them.”
Buck laughs, “Maybe.”
“Hmm.” Tommy surprises them both by pulling Buck in for a kiss, tongue roughly pushing past Buck’s lips. He lets his desire decide what happens, which means he’s soon struggled his way out of both his shirt and his jeans.
He moves them up to the top of the bed, resting his head against the pillows as Buck starts kissing his chest. He puts his hands in Buck’s short hair, wonders what it would feel like without the styling gel. His dick is pressing up against Buck’s hard body, and it feels fantastic, but when Buck gets nearer to his cock, Tommy roughly tugs on his hair and pulls him up.
“Not tonight, baby. You don’t get to suck daddy’s dick tonight.”
“What?” Buck looks at him with even more bewilderment than before. “But I–”
“You have to earn it, Evan. I don’t let just anyone suck me.”
Evan shudders. “Say that again.”
“Evan?” Tommy says in surprise. The way Evan reacts to the name is fucking awesome. “All you gotta do is do as I say and I’ll call you Evan all night.”
Evan touches himself, rubbing over the bulge in his jeans. But when he moves to unbuckle his belt, Tommy stops him with a hand on his wrist.
“No.”
“No?” Evan bites his lip, rubs a finger over Tommys left nipple, “Please?”
“Nope.”
“But daddy,” Evan nips at Tommys lips, “I want to get off.”
“Maybe, after you’ve gotten me off.”
Evan takes that for the challenge it is, scooting back so he can work his hand into Tommy’s briefs and pull his dick out. Tommy rises onto his elbows watching as Evan strokes him, using spit as his only lube. He looks so hot sitting there in his lap with his tattooed and muscled chest on display, tight jeans hiding his lower body. He looks like an American dream boy and Tommy has always, always had a thing for the James Dean-type.
Evan’s hand is firm and large, and forms a perfect hole for Tommy to fuck up into. He watches as his straining head moves in and out of the fist, imagines how tight Evan’s hole would be.
“Tighter, baby.” Tommy grunts out.
Evan does as asked, speeding his strokes at the same time. “You’re so hot, I can’t believe I get to do this, so fucking hot.”
“Doing so good.” Tommy awkwardly sits up, using all his core muscles to stay up without any back support. He pulls Evan to him, starts licking along his neck. Evan’s smell of sweat, sex and aftershave fills Tommy’s nose and it makes him lose control, beads of precum seeping out of his dick.
Shifting on top of Tommy, Evan finds a position that lets him lean into Tommy while still rubbing him off. Tommy gets his arms around the other man, shoving his hands down the back of Evan’s very tight jeans.
“Fuck, daddy, feels so good on my ass.” Evan mutters, moving into Tommy’s hands.
“Focus on stroking me, Evan.”
Evan shivers, but his hand doesn’t falter. Tommy comes not long after, whispering sweet nothings into Evan’s ear. Evan’s hand is covered in Tommy’s jizz and it’s a sight Tommy will jerk off to for a long time.
“Now me.” Evan says once Tommy’s come back from his orgasm and regained some brain function, “I wanna come now, daddy.”
Tommy pulls his hands away from Evan’s very nicely shaped ass. He shuffles to the side, motions for Evan to settle against the headboard of the bed. As Evan gets into position, Tommy pulls his briefs off, leaving himself completely naked in front of Evan.
Evan puts a hand on his belt, “Please?”
“Nope. You can jerk off, I want you to. But the jeans stays on, and zipper stays up.”
Evan squeezes himself to release some pressure. He fiddles with his belt again.
“I said no.”
“I don’t have to do what you tell me to.”
“You do if you want a repeat.”
Evan stops short. Then he wiggles his hand down inside his pants, shifting around on the bed until he finds an angle that lets him hold most of his dick. The bulge was quite prominent before, but now it’s obscene. At Tommy’s nod, Evan starts to move his hand.
It’s like one of Tommy’s fantasies come true, a hand disappearing into a guy’s underwear, doing all kinds of forbidden things. It’s definitely a kink of his, wearing clothes while getting off. And Evan does it so beautifully, intoxicatingly. One hand is down his pants, the other plays with a nipple. He moans and writhes as he touches himself.
“Quiet, Evan, remember.”
Evan lets out a frustrated sigh, “What do I get?”
“You think you deserve something?”
“I’m being such,” Evan grunts as his hips fly off the mattress, “a good boy.”
Tommy huffs out a laugh, “Well, I suppose I can give you something.” He rolls over, presenting his ass to Evan. He folds one leg up, putting his hole on display. He watches over his shoulder, sees Evan staring at his ass. “Maybe one day, Evan.”
“Oh fuck, oh daddy, Tommy.” Evan moans, though he whispers the last word, Tommy’s name spoken with something akin to reverence.
Evan’s orgasm is a beautiful thing to witness, his mouth falling open, his eyes closing then open wide, his chest heaving. Tommy waits for a moment or two before crawling over to him, kissing him hard.
**
They laze about for a while, before Evan sighs and heaves himself out of bed. He goes into the bathroom to assumably clean himself off. He comes back out and reaches for his shirt, cringing when he smells it. When he’s patted himself down to make sure he has his phone and the keycard to the room he for some reason chooses to share with Diaz, Evan meets Tommy’s eyes. They share a silent look for a beat, neither of them moving to speak. In the end, Evan lets out a confusingly cute huff of laughter, salutes Tommy and sails out of the room.
**
Evan gets sent down two games later. Tommy isn’t surprised, but he hopes the kid will be okay. Coach Nash moved Evan to another line, again, so there hasn’t really been any need to talk shop, and except for a few knowing glances, they’ve not interacted at all, both carrying on as business as usual.
Tommy hesitates but sends a ‘keep your head up’ to Evan after hearing the news and gets a winking smiley in return. It keeps him in a good mood for the rest of the day.
**
The season rumbles on as it always does, and Tommy keeps his injuries to a minimum, meaning he has a steady ten minutes plus of playing time per game. A whole bunch of the other guys aren’t so lucky, and their roster keeps changing depending on who is out with a fractured wrist, a pulled groin and even mental health issues. Of course, to the media it’s all undisclosed “upper body injuries”. Their season is pretty decent despite the setbacks, steadily gaining points in the standing thanks to winning in overtime and getting that extra point. Tommy, along with everyone else in the team and the fans, is annoyed they can’t win in regular time, but he feels good about getting there eventually.
**
By late February they have a shot at the playoffs but they’re gonna have to fight tooth and nails and win every point imaginable while the Devils and the Lightning need to lose as many points as possible. As a hockey player, Tommy is a statistics nerd by default and he spends the bus ride from the airport to the hotel in Tampa pouring over the remaining game schedule.
There’s a knock on the door to his hotel room about an hour after they check in, right as Tommy’s about to get his pre-game nap in.
“Evan.” Tommy says in complete surprise, feeling his heart race up.
Evan gives him a cheeky grin, sways on his feet, “Hey, daddy.”
Tommy sticks his head out, checking that no-one is in the hallway, “Don’t fucking say that!”
“You gonna punish me?” Evan asks, a glint in his eye as he makes his way inside Tommy’s room, not caring that he’s practically shoving Tommy to pass him.
“Well, fucking come on in, I guess.” Tommy mutters, mostly to himself. He locks the door, rests against it. “You get called up?”
“Yup. Coach reckons I can add a layer of speed and, I think the word was unpredictability, which I’m not entirely sure what he meant by, but I’ll take it.” Evan explains.
Tommy snorts, “I know exactly what he means.” He tilts his head, “So, you get called up, you arrive at the hotel, and the first thing you do is find me?”
“Well,” the change in Evan’s tone is instantaneous, “I haven’t had time to celebrate my callup yet. Had to rush to a flight, get a second flight, then a bus and yeah. Here I am.”
“Here you are.”
Tommy has thought about Evan in the past months, of course he has. Has both regretted their hookup, felt skeeved out by it starting in a club toilet, and has fondly, vividly remembered Evan’s wet mouth and enthusiasm. Evan’s one of the few teammates he’s screwed around with that Tommy hasn’t wished he’ll never see again. But that doesn’t mean he was ready to actually see him again.
“Were you… gonna take a nap?” Evan asks, nodding his head at Tommy’s sweatpants and ratty t-shirt. He likes napping on top of the covers, but he needs to stay warm.
“Yup.”
“Can I join you, or you want me to leave?”
Tommy knows what the answer should be, and what it will be. From the looks of it, Evan does to.
“You can stay if you’re gonna be a good boy.” Tommy says, already feeling himself chub up.
“You know I won’t be.” Evan replies, taking his hoodie off by pulling it over his head, the t-shirt underneath coming off with it.
“You’ve put on some muscle.” Tommy notes.
“Thanks for noticing.” Evan preens, showing off his biceps. “I work out.”
Tommy snorts, “Appreciated.”
Tommy makes it onto the bed first, Evan struggling to untie his shoes before standing at the edge of the bed. He doesn’t make a move, except to give Tommy an expectant look. Tommy hardens that little bit more, knowing that Evan is waiting for an instruction. Maybe he will be a good boy for Tommy.
“Come up here.” Tommy motions for him.
Evan doesn’t hesitate, scrambling onto the mattress and onto Tommy. “Hi, daddy.”
“Hi, Evan.” Tommy allows, because Evan is so cute, and warm, and in his lap.
With a shining smile, Evan leans in slowly, not pressing his lips to Tommy’s until it’s clear he’s not going to tell him ‘no’. Tommy folds his arms around Evan’s neck, kissing him back leisurely, without hurry. Tommy pulls him in closer and to his delight, Evan makes a humming noise.
“You wanted me, baby? You wanted daddy?” Tommy nips at Evan’s clean-shaven jaw.
“I did.” Evan whispers hotly, “Thought about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm.” Evan squirms in Tommy’s lap, his hand at the hem of Tommy’s shirt. “Can I take it off? Please?”
With a long-suffering sigh, Tommy says, “Fine.”
They end up groping each other for long minutes, Tommy feeling up Evan’s new muscles and Evan putting on a show for him. It’s clear that Evan loves how his body makes Tommy’s dick hard, and he is not ashamed of using that.
This time, Tommy lets Evan take off his pants, exposing a dick that is swollen, red and angry. Tommy’s mouth waters. His own dick fills out, straining dirtily against his sweats. He considers his next move.
“I’m not gonna blow you.” Tommy says. “Have to earn that.”
Evan’s pout is very, very cute. It turns into a pleased ‘oh’ as Tommy spits into his hand and puts it around Evan’s dick, pumping it once, twice to get a feel for it.
“So good, daddy.”
“Yeah? For me too, baby.” Tommy mutters, licking at Evan’s neck before looking down at his hand stroking Evan’s cock. Precum is gathering at the head, and fuck it, Tommy said he wasn’t going to blow him, but he can help himself to a little taste.
The desperate moan Evan lets out as Tommy licks over the very tip of his cock is downright scandalous, and delicious. He bucks up towards Tommy’s mouth, but Tommy moves away.
“No, that’s all you get. Taste good though.” Tommy licks his lips. Evan tackles him down on the pillows, pressing his tongue into Tommy’s mouth and tasting himself.
They grind into each other, hips bumping and rocking at an awkward and unrhythmic pace that nevertheless works for them once they stop trying to adjust it. Evan looks so happy above him, with flushed cheeks and shiny lips. He looks like he’s seconds away from laughing and/or coming. Tommy knows the feeling. His lips hurt from smiling, and not from any other activity, which is a sensation he’s never had during sex before.
“Tommy…” Evan whispers, “C-can I touch you?”
“Not yet, honey.” Tommy decides, because he likes how frustrated Evan gets when he’s told no. He must not be used to it, either in life or in bed, or both.
Tommy changes his position slightly, so that he’s lounging against the wall of pillows that are standard in hotels these days. Evan slides off him in the process, and he settles spread out next to Tommy. He watches with rapt attention as Tommy slides his hand into his sweats and starts stroking himself. His hand brushes up against the soft fabric with every stroke.
“That’s hot.” Evan says in a raspy voice. He’s jacking himself as he watches Tommy.
“Fuck it.” Tommy swears. He shoves his sweats down, managing to kick them off of one leg so he can swing that leg around Evan’s hips instead. Evan gets the hint and they end up side by side, stroking each other off as their cocks bump into each other and hands keep colliding. It’s uncoordinated and messy. Tommy loves it. He slaps Evan’s hand away, takes them both in his grip.
“Oh fuck, fuck, yes, daddy, that’s so good, jerk me off.” Evan babbles, kissing along Tommy’s collarbone as he hurtles towards completion.
“No marks.” Tommy mutters. Even so, Evan does mark him with his cum as he spills over Tommy’s hand and stomach. Tommy repays the favor by splattering most of Evan’s abs when he comes.
Evan runs his hand through the mess, giggles bubbling out of him easily. He takes some of Tommy’s cum and spreads it on Tommy’s abs, mixing it with his own. “You look pretty like that.”
Tommy huffs, but lets Evan paint him with his cum until it turns cold and crusty. He’s in dire need of a shower, but he is much too relaxed and cozy to get up. Besides, Evan’s in bed with him, why would he leave the bed now? Instead, he leans in for a kiss and Evan meets him with open lips and enticing little moans. Evan rolls over, pulls Tommy with him. Evan is still touching him, even if he isn’t playing with their cum anymore, and Tommy likes how strong and confident his hands feel on him.
“You’ve got a thing for clothed sex, huh?” Evan says a few minutes later.
“Yeah. You’ve got a thing for daddy.”
“When you’re the daddy? Absolutely.” Evan grins.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Yeah.” Evan agrees. “I could go back to being indiscreet at gay bars, if you want me to.”
Tommy grabs Evan’s hand, holds it tightly, “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Maybe you should let me touch you more next time. Fuck me on that big cock of yours. Make me take it in my throat. Just a few suggestions to keep me from being recognized somewhere I shouldn’t be.”
“This is going to end in tragedy.” Tommy mutters, yawning against Evan’s skin and finally getting that nap he was looking for.
**
It doesn’t end in tragedy. It doesn’t end at all. There are arguments and setbacks and dumb smiles and romantic gestures and so much more, but it never ends.