“Hey,” Finn said.
“Hey.” Evan stopped three feet away. “Good game.”
“Yeah.” Finn’s gaze held his. “You watching?”
“I’m always watching. It’s my job.”
Something worked in Finn’s jaw. Then Finn pushed off the truck and opened the rear entrance. Didn’t look at Evan. Climbed in and left it open behind him.
Evan stood in the empty lot with the board under his arm and the building behind him and the custodial vehicles near the far entrance and the security camera mounted above the side exit that he knew from memory covered the entrance but not this section of the lot. He had checked.
Evan set the clipboard on the hood of the truck. Got in. Pulled the entrance shut.
The cab was freezing. Finn was already on him, his knee pressing into the seat beside Evan’s thigh, his fists gripping the lapels of Evan’s coat, pulling him close. Finn kissed him with no preamble, his lips chilled from the night air and then hot underneath, and Evan’s palms found Finn’s waist on reflex.
Finn pulled away an inch. “Tell me you weren’t watching me the whole game.”
“I wasn’t watching you the whole game.”
“Liar.” Finn kissed him again, rougher, his teeth catching Evan’s lower lip, and Finn was already at Evan’s belt, working the buckle with the same focus he gave the ice. Evan was hard before Finn got the zipper down.
Finn shoved his own jeans to his knees. Reached into his bag on the floor and came up with a packet of slick. Evan would have laughed if Finn’s fist hadn’t already been on Evan’s cock, slicking him with efficient strokes that made Evan’s head drop into the seat.
“You keep those in your bag.”
“I keep a lot of things in my bag.” Finn worked himself open fast, two slick fingers behind him, his jaw tight, his breath catching on each push. Evan watched Finn’s face change in the dim cab, his lips parting, his brow drawing tight, and reached between them to add a finger alongside Finn’s. Finn’s waist rocked onto it and the noise he made filled the truck.
“Enough.” Finn pulled Evan’s fist free, swung his leg over, and sank down onto Evan’s cock in one motion. His jaw locked and his thighs shook on either side of Evan’s waist. He took every inch and his breath punched out of him and his fists gripped the headrest behind Evan’s head and he started thrusting.
Fast. Hard. The intensity Finn brought to the ice transferred directly, his waist snapping in a rhythm that was urgent and greedy, his gaze locked on Evan’s face, his breath coming in short bursts. The truck rocked on its suspension. Frost was already forming on the windshield from the inside, their breath fogging the glass, and Evan gripped Finn’s waist and met him on every downstroke, driving up into him.
“You made that pass,” Evan said near Finn’s lips. “The no-look. Both scouts were writing.”
“I know.” Finn rolled down, grinding, and the angle made both of them groan. “I could hear you not breathing from the bench.”
“You couldn’t hear me from the bench.”
“I could.” Finn’s fists tightened on the headrest. His pace picked up, his thighs flexing, his cock hard and leaking between them. “I always know where you are in the building, Evan. I’ve known since sophomore year.”
Evan looked up at him. Finn above him in the cramped cab, his shirt rucked up to his ribs, the muscles of his stomach clenching with each roll. His cock curved up between them, flushed and wet at the tip, bouncing with each thrust. His jaw was set and his gaze was locked on Evan’s and there was something behind it that Evan couldn’t name, a fierceness that went past the post-game adrenaline into territory Evan didn’t recognize.
Evan wrapped his fist around Finn’s cock and stroked in time. Finn’s head dropped forward, his forehead pressing to Evan’s, his breath going ragged. Evan’s other palm slid up Finn’s spine under the rucked-up shirt, tracing each vertebra as Finn rode him. The wet noises between them were loud in the small space, the slap of skin and the creak of the seat and Finn’s breathing fracturing into sounds that were half Evan’s name and half nothing.
Finn’s rhythm went uneven, his thighs shaking. Evan gripped his waist and held him in place and drove up into him harder, and Finn’s spine arched and his lips fell open and the noise that came out of him echoed off the fogged glass.
“I’m close,” Finn said. His voice cracked on the second word.
“Come for me.”
Finn came, spilling over Evan’s fist and onto his stomach, his whole body clenching around Evan’s cock. The clench was too much. Evan buried himself deep and came with his face in Finn’sthroat, groaning into his skin, his waist stuttering through it, Finn’s pulse hammering under his lips.
They stayed. Finn’s forehead on Evan’s shoulder. Their breathing leveling. The frost on the windshield thickening. Evan found the nape of Finn’s neck and his thumb traced the tendon there, and Finn was motionless in a way that Evan read as the post-game comedown, the adrenaline burning off, the body settling after effort.
Finn lifted his head. Looked at Evan. His gaze was flat and his face was flushed and his lips were swollen from kissing. His expression was doing something Evan couldn’t parse. Not the post-game glow. Not the cocky grin. His lips opened, closed. Then Finn kissed Evan once more, softer than anything that had come before it, barely a touch, the pressure of it more question than statement. Then Finn climbed off Evan’s lap.
They cleaned up without speaking. Finn pulled his jeans up, zipped his coat. Evan refastened his belt and retrieved the clipboard from the hood of the truck where the night air had already fogged the metal underneath it.
“Goodnight,” Finn said.
