Chapter 6 #2
“Good.” Finn’s hand slid higher. His fingers found the ridge of Evan’s cock through his slacks and pressed, a slow drag of pressure from base to tip, and Evan’s breath punched out of him.
His hips rocked up into Finn’s hand before he could stop them.
The dancer was right there. Three feet away.
Still moving. And Finn’s palm was grinding against Evan’s cock through his pants with an unhurried rhythm that matched the bass coming through the walls.
The dancer turned his back to them, giving them the couch.
Evan looked at Finn, this twenty-one-year-old with his sleeves rolled up and his hand on Evan’s cock and his mouth an inch from Evan’s jaw, and seventeen years were right there, present, accounted for, and none of it mattered because Finn’s fingers were working his belt open and Evan was letting him.
Evan kissed him.
Not carefully. Not testing. He took Finn’s face in both hands and kissed him on a couch in a strip club while a dancer performed three feet away and the bass shook the walls.
Finn made a sound against his mouth, surprised and hungry, and his hand came off Evan’s cock and gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer.
Evan’s tongue found Finn’s and the taste of whiskey was there and underneath it Finn himself, and Evan lost time.
Finn’s hand went back between Evan’s legs.
Got the belt the rest of the way open, got the zipper down, got his hand inside and wrapped around Evan’s cock, skin on skin.
Evan groaned into Finn’s mouth and his hips jerked up hard and Finn stroked him once, twice, his grip tight, his thumb swiping across the head, spreading the wet there.
The dancer was still performing. Evan could hear the music and the shift of the dancer’s body, and Finn’s fist was around his cock and his tongue was in Finn’s mouth and he was going to come in a VIP room in a strip club in Ferndale if Finn didn’t stop.
“Finn.” Evan broke the kiss. His breathing was wrecked. “If you don’t stop I’m going to—”
“I know.” Finn squeezed once more, his thumb pressing into the slit, and Evan’s vision went white at the edges. Then Finn pulled his hand out, slowly, his fingers trailing up Evan’s stomach, and brought his hand to his own mouth and licked his thumb clean. Held Evan’s gaze while he did it.
Evan stared at him. His cock was out, hard, leaking against his stomach, the belt undone, and he was sitting on a couch with his pants open in a room with a curtain and a dancer three feet away and Finn Holloway was licking his thumb and the careful part of his brain had not just lost the argument. It had left the building.
He got his belt done. Barely.
Finn’s lips were swollen and his breathing was wrecked and his own cock was straining against his jeans and his hand was still fisted in the front of Evan’s shirt.
“Car,” Finn said. “Now.”
The parking lot was cold, the night air sharp against Evan’s flushed skin. Their breath came visible under the streetlights. Finn was walking too fast, fishing his keys out of his pocket, and Evan followed him to the truck at the far end of the lot, half-hidden by a delivery van.
“You okay?” Finn threw it over his shoulder.
“I have no idea.”
“That’s a yes.”
Finn got the back door open. Evan followed him in.
The door slammed shut and the cold cut to nothing.
The back seat was cramped, the cab smelling like hockey tape and the pine air freshener swinging from the rearview.
Finn climbed onto his lap before Evan had finished sitting down, his knee pressing into the seat beside Evan’s thigh, his hands bracing on Evan’s shoulders.
“Hi,” Finn said, looking down at him.
“Hi.”
Finn kissed him, slower this time, his mouth tasting like whiskey, his thumb finding the hinge of Evan’s jaw.
Evan’s hands found his hips and pulled, and the friction of Finn settling onto him made Evan groan against his mouth.
Finn’s cock was hard against Evan’s stomach through the denim, and Evan palmed it, rubbing the heel of his hand against the ridge of it until Finn’s breath broke and his hips stuttered forward.
“Tell me what you want,” Finn said against his lips.
“You. I want you.”
“Specific.” Finn rolled his hips once, a grind that made Evan’s head drop back against the seat. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to ride me.”
Finn’s whole body reacted to that, a visible shudder that ran through his shoulders and down his spine. He reached back and dug through the center console, came up with a condom and a packet of lube, and the preparedness of it made Evan laugh, an actual laugh, surprised out of him.
“You planned this.”
“I planned for the possibility.” Finn was already working Evan’s belt open. “There’s a difference.”
“There’s not.”
“There’s a little bit of a difference.” He got Evan’s cock out and wrapped his hand around it and stroked once, firm, root to tip, and Evan’s laugh died in his throat.
Finn stroked him again, slower, his thumb circling the head, smearing the precome there, and Evan’s hands fisted in the seat cushion on either side of his thighs.
Finn shoved his own jeans down to his knees, which was as far as they’d go in the cramped back seat.
He slicked his fingers and reached behind himself, bracing his other hand on Evan’s shoulder, and Evan watched his face change as he worked himself open.
His lips parted. His brow drew tight. His breath went short and shallow, and he bit the inside of his lower lip when he found the right angle, and the look on his face was the filthiest thing Evan had ever seen.
Better than the dancer. Better than the booth.
Finn Holloway with his fingers inside himself and his eyes locked on Evan’s and his cock hard and wet against his own stomach.
“Let me,” Evan said. He reached between them and added a finger alongside Finn’s, pushing in to the knuckle, and the sound Finn made, low and broken, echoed in the cab.
Evan curled his finger and pressed, and Finn’s whole body jolted, his forehead dropping to Evan’s shoulder, his breath coming in ragged bursts against Evan’s neck.
“Again,” Finn said. “Fuck, again.”
Evan pressed again, harder, and Finn clenched around his finger and rocked back onto it and made a sound that was going to live in Evan’s head for a very long time.
“Enough.” Finn’s voice was wrecked. He pulled Evan’s hand free and rolled the condom down Evan’s cock, slicked him, and lined up. The head of Evan’s cock pressed against him and Finn held there, breathing hard, his thighs braced on either side of Evan’s hips.
“Slow,” Evan said.
Finn sank down. Not slow. Steady, his jaw tight, his thighs shaking, taking inch after inch until he was seated fully on Evan’s cock, his ass flush against Evan’s thighs.
The heat of him was unreal, tight and slick, and Evan’s hands gripped his waist and his head dropped back against the seat and every thought he’d ever had about consequence and caution and seventeen years went out of his head.
“Fuck.” Finn’s voice against his mouth. His forehead pressed against Evan’s. His chest heaving. “You feel…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He started to move instead.
Evan looked up at him. Finn above him in the cramped cab, the fogged windows behind him, his shirt hanging open, the muscles of his stomach clenching with each roll of his hips.
His cock was hard between them, curving up toward his navel, bouncing with each movement.
His hands were braced on the seat back above Evan’s shoulders and his biceps flexed as he lifted himself and sank back down, and the angle was impossible and perfect, and the sound of their bodies meeting was obscene in the small space.
Evan thrust up to meet him and Finn gasped, his head tipping back, his throat exposed.
Evan put his mouth there and tasted salt, felt Finn’s pulse hammering under his tongue.
Finn’s pace picked up, his hips snapping faster, riding Evan’s cock with a rhythm that was desperate and greedy, and the truck rocked on its suspension and the windows were completely opaque and Evan could hear nothing but their breathing and the wet slap of skin and the creak of the seat under their combined weight.
“Harder,” Finn said. “Come on, fuck me harder.”
Evan planted his feet on the floor and drove up into him.
Finn’s head cracked against the ceiling and he swore and they both laughed, breathless and stupid, and Evan gripped his hips and pulled him down harder and Finn took it and asked for more.
His cock bounced between them, leaking against Evan’s stomach, and Evan wrapped a hand around it and stroked in time with his thrusts.
Finn went incoherent, his words dissolving into sounds, half Evan’s name and half nothing, and his thighs were shaking and his stomach muscles were pulled tight and his whole body was clenching around Evan’s cock.
“I’m close,” Finn said. “Evan, I’m close.”
“Come for me.”
Finn came, spilling hot and thick over Evan’s fist, his whole body clamping down, the clench of him so intense that Evan’s vision narrowed to a point.
Evan thrust up into him twice more and came with his face buried in Finn’s throat, groaning against his skin, his hips stuttering through it, Finn’s pulse beating against his lips.
They stayed. Finn’s forehead dropped to Evan’s shoulder. The windows were completely opaque, the parking lot erased. The cab smelled like sweat and sex and pine. Evan’s hand found the back of Finn’s neck and his thumb traced the tendon there and neither of them spoke.
“You kissed me,” Finn said into his shoulder. “In there. In front of people.”
Evan’s thumb kept moving. “I know.”
“You didn’t even hesitate.”
“I know.”
Finn lifted his head. His hair was everywhere. His shirt was hanging open. His eyes were searching Evan’s face, and whatever he found there made his mouth soften.
Neither of them said anything else about it.
The drive back was quiet, the highway empty, Finn’s hand resting on the console between them. Evan watched the road and felt the absence of panic. He kept waiting for it, the cold rush of consequence, the list reassembling itself.
It didn’t come.
Finn dropped him at his car two blocks from his house. Evan got out and stood in the night air, which was sharp and clean and nothing like the inside of that truck.
“Get home safe,” Finn said through the open window.
“You too.”
He drove the two blocks and parked in the driveway and sat with the engine off and his hands on the wheel. His mouth tasted like whiskey. His shirt smelled like Finn.