“Someone could walk in.”
“The hallway’s empty. We’ll hear anyone coming.” Finn pulled him closer instead of letting him retreat.
“That’s not—”
Finn kissed him again. Evan stopped arguing.
Evan’s thigh pushed between Finn’s legs, and Finn ground down on it without apology, chasing the friction, while Evan’s teeth found the side of his neck. Scraped over his pulse point. Finn tipped his head back and let himself make noise, a groan that came from somewhere below his ribs, because Evan’s teeth on his skin was worth every rule they were breaking.
Evan’s hand came up to the side of Finn’s face, thumb at his jaw, tilting his head to get at the line of his throat. The tenderness of it cracked something in Finn that he hadn’t expected. He’d imagined this as desperate, hard, two people crashing into each other. And it was, it was all of that, but Evan’s thumb tracing his jawline while his teeth worked the tendon in his neck was something else entirely. Something that said I’ve thought about this too, and I’ve thought about it carefully.
Finn’s hips rolled on instinct. The friction was maddening and not enough and perfect, and every time he pressed forward Evan pressed back, and the rhythm they found was the kind of thing that happened between bodies that had been orbiting each other long enough to know the gravitational pull by heart.
“You’ve been driving me crazy.” Evan’s voice low and ruined at his throat. “For years. Do you have any idea—”
“Yes.” Finn arched into him. “I’ve been doing it on purpose.”
Evan pulled back far enough to look at him. His eyes had gone nearly black in the dim light of the projector, his lips red, his hair wrecked from Finn’s fingers. Collar askew, chest heaving, a flush climbing up his throat past the loosened tie.
“You’re impossible.”
“You like it.”
Finn pressed forward until Evan’s exhale went ragged.
“I shouldn’t.”
Evan’s fingers dug harder into Finn’s hips.
“But you do.”
Evan kissed him instead of answering, and Finn took that for what it was.
Finn got Evan’s shirt untucked and ran his palms over the bare skin of Evan’s stomach. Warm. The muscles tensed under his touch, then released, and Finn felt the release like a lock turning. He traced the trail of hair below Evan’s navel, followed it down with his fingertips, worked Evan’s belt undone with hands that were steadier than they had any right to be. The button of his slacks. The zipper. Finn tugged everything down just enough and wrapped his hand around him, and the sound Evan made at the contact ricocheted through every nerve Finn had.
Evan was hard and already leaking, and Finn held him there for a moment, just his hand, just the heat and weight of him, because he wanted to remember this. The exact second before. The way Evan’s stomach caved in on a breath and his head dropped back and his fingers curled into Finn’s shoulder like he was the only solid thing in the room.
Finn looked up at him once, holding his gaze, and dropped to his knees.
“Finn—”
“Shh.” Finn wrapped his hand around the base and leaned in close. Evan shuddered from his shoulders all the way down his spine, his head tipping back into the wall. “Let me.”
Finn took him into his mouth.
The sound Evan made was half curse, half Finn’s name, cracked down the middle, and it hit Finn behind the navel and lodged there. Evan shook above him, one hand braced on the wall, the other fisting in Finn’s hair. Finn groaned around him, the vibration running through them both, and he hadn’t planned on that. Hadn’t planned on how it felt to be on his knees for someone he’d spent years wanting, the industrial carpet rough against his shins, and everything narrowed to the taste of Evan’s skin and the weight of him on Finn’s tongue and Evan’s grip in his hair shaking.
Finn had been on his knees before. In dorm rooms, in apartments, once in a car with the seat pushed back and the steering wheel digging into his shoulder blade. He knew what he was doing. But those had been bodies and heat and the uncomplicated mechanics of getting someone off, and this was Evan with his spine pressed against the wall and his thigh trembling under Finn’s palm and a groan caught in his throat that he clearly hadn’t meant to let out. Finn could feel the restraint in him, the years of it, and every time Evan’s hips stuttered forward and then caught, Finn wanted to drag him past it.
Finn rewarded the fist in his hair by taking more, setting a rhythm, eyes up. He learned the map of Evan’s responses as he went: the hitch in his breathing when Finn flattened his tongue on the upstroke, the way his thigh locked when Finn took him deeper, the exhale that punched out of him when Finn pulled back and let the cool air hit where his lips had been. The flush on Evan’s neck had spread to his chest. His collarbones were visible where Finn had dragged the shirt open, and the tendons in hisforearm stood out where his palm braced the plaster. He looked like a man coming apart at the seams while trying very hard to hold the stitching together.
Finn hollowed his cheeks and took him to the back of his throat, and Evan’s entire body bowed forward over him, one hand leaving the wall to cup the back of Finn’s head like something precious, like something he couldn’t believe he was being allowed to touch. The gentleness of it made Finn’s eyes sting. He swallowed around him and Evan swore, breathless, and the gentleness turned into a fist and Finn liked that better. Liked the honesty of it. Liked that Evan couldn’t hold the careful version of himself together with Finn’s mouth on him.
“Fuck. Finn.” Evan’s hips jerked forward, then caught. White-knuckling it. Finn reached up, grabbed Evan’s hip, and pulled him forward. Permission. Evan groaned and started thrusting, and Finn relaxed his jaw and let him, tasting salt, Evan’s thighs trembling on either side of him. The fist in his hair tightened past comfort and into something that made Finn’s own cock ache behind his zipper. He palmed himself through his jeans without thinking about it, just pressure, just enough to keep from losing his mind, and Evan looked down and saw it and made a noise that Finn was going to hear in his sleep for the next month.
Evan was close. Finn could feel it in his faltering rhythm, his breathing going to pieces above him. Finn pulled back enough to swirl his tongue, and every muscle in Evan’s body locked at once.
Footsteps in the hallway.
