Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Evan wasn’t a fan of the rink that hosted his and Pandora’s home club. The stadium was nice, used for hosting competitions and shows, but club ice was held in the practice rink, which existed as an attachment to the main facility. It was older, poorly insulated. Foggy in the summer, freezing in the winter. There was always a lingering smell that he couldn’t place. And the Zamboni driver - the only one there, as far as he could tell - was horrible at his job. 

They always got to the rink early to stretch and warm up, and Evan knew the Zamboni was out when he heard the scraping sound of the machine hitting the walls as it went around the outside corners. Every time the Zam drove off, without fail, there would be at least one strip of the ice that was missed completely. The ice was left patchy, grooved, and/or partially flooded, and the only sign of the driver would be the faint smell of cigarettes that lingered near the Zam doors just after he left. 

Evan was willing to suffer the ice conditions silently until the day he caught his toepick in a rut that should have been smoothed over, sending him on his knees and almost taking Pandora down in the process. With that, he limped off the ice and cornered the nearest employee he could find. 

“Where’s the Zam driver?” he demanded. The employee pointed to the snack stand, and Evan looked over to find a brown-haired man, around his age, sitting in the booth with his feet propped up on the counter and tattooed arms crossed over his chest. He appeared to be asleep. 

With as much dignity as he could manage with two blooming bruises on his knees, Evan hobbled over to the booth. When the man didn’t react to his arrival, he shoved his feet off the counter. The man’s eyes snapped open, and he flailed briefly to keep his balance in his chair. 

“Whafdijivf - what ?” he snapped, blinking rapidly. Now that he was upright, Evan could see a name tag reading 'Barty'.

Barty scrubbed at his eyes, then took in Evan glowering down at him. He straightened up quickly, running a hand through his hair. “...Hey.”

“You need to fix the ice.”

“Huh?”

“The ice,” Evan snapped. “I just tripped in a rut because you can’t be bothered to do your job correctly.”

“What’s your name?”

“Irrelevant.”

“I disagree.”

“Fix the ice and I’ll tell you.”

Barty didn’t hesitate before placing both hands on the counter and swinging himself over it, making Evan shift out of the way to avoid being kicked. He watched Barty jog across the lobby, and ten minutes later, he’d cleared everyone off the ice and was back in the seat of the Zamboni. Evan stood rinkside to watch his progress. 

Although the Zamboni still hit the walls, and there was still a small patch left untouched, the rest of the ice was shaved down before it was cleaned and water was laid down. Evan got on the ice before the Zamboni doors closed, skating in gentle curves to feel the now-smooth ice beneath him. He made his way over to where Barty was shoveling the snow deposit from the machine. “Evan.”

Barty’s head snapped up, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Pleasure to meet you, Evan.”

“Okay.” 

—

By the time Evan got off the ice, his knees were still sore, he was sweating, and all he wanted was to go home and shower. He said as much to Pandora before gathering up an armful of clothes and heading to the bathroom to change. His plans were rudely interrupted by Barty stopping him on his way.

With a hand on his chest to keep him from pushing past, Barty asked smoothly, “How was the ice?”

“Better,” Evan relented. “You still missed a spot. And I have bruises from your fuckup.”

Barty took a step closer, sucking in a breath. “Can I see them?”

“What.”

“I wanna see the bruises, Ev. C’mon.” He gripped the fabric of Evan’s shirt, and when Evan tried to take a step back, he tugged, bringing him closer again. “ Please .”

“I have to change.” Evan wrenched Barty’s hand off his shirt, side-stepping him to continue his way to the bathroom. 

He heard the door creak open while he was changing, and he stepped out of the stall to find Barty leaning against the wall across from the urinals, arms crossed. His eyes flicked down to Evan’s knees, now exposed by his shorts. 

“Pretty.”

Evan glanced down at his knees, bright red and beginning to swell now that they weren’t compressed by skating pants. “Can I go?”

“I figured out who you are,” Barty said, in lieu of an actual response. He pushed himself off the wall and came to stand in front of Evan, fixing him with a leering grin. Evan shuffled back until his back hit the edge of the stall. Now that he was out of his skates, they were just about eye to eye.

“I don’t care.”

“Evan Rosier, national ice dance competitor. Found your picture on the club website, watched some videos of your performances.”

“And?”

Barty sighed deeply, reaching up to cage Evan in place with his arms. “And you’re pretty .” He turned his head to stick his nose in Evan’s hair and inhale deeply. Evan ducked underneath his arm to step away. 

“Leave me alone.”

“Oh, give me a chance , Rosie, please?” Barty whined, turning on his heel. Evan didn’t respond, simply pushed through the door without looking back. 

—

“How’s the ice, princess?”

Evan looked over from where he was stretching, one foot resting on the boards just above hip-height while he faced away from it to stretch his spiral. Barty stood at the entrance to the players box, eyeing Evan’s position from behind with a grin. Evan twisted to face him, leaving his foot on the wall. 

“You didn’t miss any spots today.” He reached forward to loop his fingers carefully around his blade and pulled his leg up into a 180 stretch, relishing in the feeling of Barty’s eyes tracking the movement. 

“Yeah, just for you,” Barty said, preening. Evan rolled his eyes, leaning into the stretch before straightening up and lowering his foot. He was prevented from skating off when Barty’s hand clamped down over his. “Feel free to thank me.”

“For doing your job?” Evan twisted his wrist to try and pull his hand away, but Barty’s nails bit in, keeping him in place. He leaned in with a grin, but when Pandora appeared at Evan’s shoulder, Barty jerked back, pulling the offending hand away. Evan pulled his own hand back, running his fingers over the indents that Barty’s nails had left. 

“Who’s your friend?” Pandora asked, eyes flicking between the two of them. 

“Not my friend,” Evan responded, pushing away. Pandora arched an eyebrow at him as he passed her, and he shook his head slightly. But as he turned the corner and glanced back, he found Pandora and Barty engaged in a quiet conversation.

—

“What did you talk to Barty about?”

Pandora looked over from where she was unlacing her skates. “He likes you.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual."

Pandora snorted, tugging her skate off and straightening up. “Have you given him a chance?”

“Not planning on it.”

“But you think he’s attractive.”

Evan paused where he was zipping up his skate bag for just a second too long before shaking his head and leaning down to grab his change of clothes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hm.”

Evan huffed, standing and tucking his clothes under his arm. He was halfway down the hallway leading to the bathrooms when he heard footsteps behind him. He came to a dead stop, and heard a small oof as Barty ran directly into his back. 

“Are we doing this again?” Evan asked tiredly, turning on his heel. Barty simply shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. 

“Up to you, Rosie.” Pandora must have blabbed about his so-called "control issues" to Barty then, Evan thought. 

With a sigh, Evan cast his gaze around the empty hallway, eyes landing on the door marked “family restroom”. He shoved past Barty to walk over and try the door, and upon finding it open, gave him a pointed look. “Come on.”

Barty nearly tripped over himself running through the door, and Evan was quick to follow him in before slamming the door shut behind him and locking it.

Chapter Text

“Stay.” Barty froze where he stood just inside the bathroom, watching as Evan brushed past him. Evan shoved his clothes into Barty’s chest. “Hold those.”

Barty mindlessly wrapped his arms around the proffered bundle of clothing and watched silently, eyes wide, as Evan stripped quickly and methodically, folding the clothes and setting them on the corner of the sink before turning to face Barty. Although he seemed concerningly thin upon first glance, Barty could now see he was all lean muscle. 

Once he was stripped down to fitted black briefs and socks, Evan closed the gap between them, reaching out to shove Barty against the door. He winced at the feel of his bruises hitting the rough rubber floor when he dropped to his knees, and heard a sharp intake of breath above him. Barty was watching him intently, arms still cradling the armful of clothes.

When Barty started to reach down to help Evan undo his belt buckle, his hand was slapped away. “We’re doing this my way or I’m leaving,” Evan snapped, glaring up at him as he tugged the zipper down. “Don’t drop my clothes.”

“Yeah, okay,” Barty breathed, mouth hanging open as he clutched the clothing. 

He whimpered when Evan pulled his pants down just far enough to let his cock spring free, and Evan let out an aggravated sigh as he gripped him at the base. “And shut the fuck up.”

When Evan took Barty’s cock down his throat to the root in one go, Barty shoved his hand into his mouth to muffle the sound that threatened to crawl out. He did a miserable job of following Evan’s instructions, trying and failing to muffle small huffs of breath and grunts as Evan bobbed his head, hips twitching as he fought the urge to chase the feeling of wet heat enveloping him. 

When he let out an audible moan, Evan pulled off with a lewd pop and shoved himself to his feet. “What did I just say?” He demanded. Barty sheepishly removed his hand from his mouth, now marked with indents from where he’d sunk his teeth into flesh in an attempt to silence himself. 

He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could formulate the words, Evan snatched his t-shirt out of Barty’s arms, wadded it up, and used one hand to hold his mouth open while the other shoved the fabric in. 

Barty let out a small growl at this, reaching up to pull at the shirt, but Evan said sharply, as if he were reprimanding a dog, “ No .” Then he lowered himself again, wrapping his lips around the head of Barty’s cock. 

Barty, now aggravated, was quick to place one hand on Evan’s head and use his grip to shove Evan back onto his cock until his nose was pressed against Barty’s lower stomach, putting him eye-to-eye with the snake tattoo that stretched between his hip bones. Evan gagged at the sudden intrusion, pressing his hands against Barty’s hips and squirming against the hold, but Barty simply gripped him tighter to pull his head back before shoving his hips forward.

He set a steady pace, relishing the sound of Evan choking on every thrust, gagging when Barty’s cock hit the back of his throat. He kept up the rhythm just long enough for Evan to relax into it, watching tears well up in the corners of his eyes from the force, before he was pulling back and shoving Evan’s head away. 

Evan reeled back, coughing as he struggled to take in air. Barty could see where he was hard, straining against the confines of his briefs. With a scoff, he finally wrenched the t-shirt out of his mouth and tossed it aside. The shorts that he still held were tossed carelessly onto the edge of the sink. 

“Fuckin’ slut,” Barty spat, grabbing Evan’s hair again to tug him off his knees before shoving him backwards. Evan let out a grunt when his back hit the dirty floor, and Barty laughed at the wince on his face. “You think you’re too good to be laid out like a whore?”

He kicked off his pants before following Evan down, dropping to his knees between Evan’s legs and pulling his briefs off in one smooth motion. Evan yelped when Barty reached down and dug his thumbs into the red-purple bruises on his knees, now mottled by the rough texture of the floor, and Barty tsked. “What happened to bein’ quiet, Rosie?” He cooed, pushing Evan’s thighs apart. 

His eyes widened as he took in Evan’s range of motion, the outsides of his thighs coming to press against the floor on either side of him, legs bent. His cock, flushed with arousal, laid against his stomach. Barty took a deep breath to steady himself. He was brought back to focus when Evan reached up to pinch Barty in the arm. “Are you here to stretch me or fuck me?” He demanded. 

“Oh I’m gonna stretch somethin’ ,” Barty laughed. Evan growled in frustration and started trying to pull his legs from Barty’s grip. Barty could’ve watched the way Evan’s muscles flexed with the effort for hours, but he needed to get back on task. 

Leaning his weight on his hands where they rested on Evan’s thighs, Barty rose up on his knees and spat, the glob landing on Evan’s cheek, and Evan didn’t need to be directed before he opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out for Barty to spit again. This one landed directly on Evan’s tongue, and Barty lifted a hand to use two fingers to shove it down Evan’s throat. Evan sucked his fingers eagerly, swirling his tongue around them as he hooked his now-free leg around Barty’s waist and ground up against him. 

Barty groaned, rolling his hips down to meet Evan’s as he pumped his fingers deeper into his mouth. Evan wrapped his arms around Barty’s back, fisting at his shirt and pulling, making a muffled noise around Barty’s fingers - “sfhfrgt…ff…” he mumbled. 

Barty wrenched his fingers free with a laugh. “What was that?”

“Shirt. Off.” Evan repeated, pulling insistently at the fabric. Barty sat back on his heels to lift the shirt over his head. He gave Evan half a second to take in the nipple piercing and the tattoos that stretched across his chest and down his stomach before grabbing him by the hips and shoving up , forcing his hips off the floor and his legs overhead. 

Evan gasped at the motion, but let himself be bent, pushing himself further when Barty loosened his grip until his back was bent in a perfect C, his knees resting near his head. Barty let out a slightly frantic laugh at the position. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he muttered, running his hands up the back of Evan’s thighs, feeling him flex at the touch. 

He wasted no more time before spitting once, twice, on Evan’s exposed hole and shoving in two spit-slick fingers. Evan let out a low whine at the intrusion, legs jerking, and his hands flailed where they laid by his sides, grasping for Barty. 

Barty swatted the searching hands away as he dragged his fingers out before plunging them back in, eliciting a sob from Evan. “Hold your legs for me, baby,” he urged, and Evan reached up to grab at the backs of his knees, nails biting in the skin as Barty’s fingers picked up speed. 

When Barty paused and crooked his fingers, the guttural noise that Evan made told him he was hitting the right spot. Satisfied, Barty resumed his rhythm, hitting the same spot on every thrust. Evan was gasping, whining underneath him, his thighs trembling and his nails digging in to keep himself in place. “I can’t-” he wheezed. 

Barty slowed his pace, leaning forward to peek down at Evan’s face. His cheeks were bright red. “Can’t breathe,” Evan whined. His lungs were effectively being crushed by his position, to be fair, but Barty loathed the idea of him moving out of it. So he slapped his free hand over Evan’s mouth before continuing. 

He let another string of saliva drop down to where his fingers pressed into Evan’s hole and pulled them halfway out before pressing in again with a third digit. Evan made a strangled sound, and Barty buried his fingers deep to massage Evan’s prostate until Evan was panting loudly beneath his hand, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.  He  dragged his fingers out agonizingly slowly, watching as Evan’s hole clenched around nothing when they pulled free, before shoving them back in one go, laughing quietly at the muffled cry Evan let out. He repeated the motion a few times, listening to Evan get louder and watching as his thighs shook with the effort of keeping them in place, 

Barty finally yanked his fingers out to squeeze his own neglected cock, tugging at it to relieve some pressure while he watched Evan struggle to breathe. He hesitated when he realized that fucking Evan in this position would require him standing up, and with a sigh, he lifted his hand. “Turn around.”

Evan rolled over quickly to rest on his knees and stretch his arms in front of him, desperately sucking in air. When Barty’s hand came down sharply on his ass, his whole body jerked, his breathing interrupted. “Lemme see that arch,” Barty murmured, dragging a hand up Evan’s back to grab a fistful of blonde curls and yank his head up. 

Evan went willingly, his neck stretching as his back arched beautifully, leaving his ass on display. Four, five more times Barty’s hand came down, each slap echoing throughout the tiny bathroom. Once Evan’s ass was bright red, Barty squeezed it one last time before stretching his hand forward to cup it beneath Evan’s mouth. “Spit.” Evan obeyed, and Barty pulled back to use the spit to coat his cock before lining up with Evan’s fluttering hole and pressing in. 

“ Fuck ,” he hissed, as his hips came to press flush against Evan’s ass. “You feel like a fuckin’ dream, baby.” He pulled back and slammed back in, eliciting another delicious sound from Evan. 

“How often you do this, huh?” Barty panted, as his thrusts slowly grew faster. “You fuckin’ your way through the whole rink? Lettin’ everyone dick you down in the bathrooms?”

“ No ,” Evan gasped. “Just you.” He reached down to grip his own cock and Barty grabbed his hand, slamming it back down on the floor as he plastered himself against Evan’s back. 

“ Liar ,” he whispered in Evan’s ear, laughing when he whined. “You’re a grade A slut.” He licked a stripe up Evan’s cheek before straightening up and grabbing Evan’s hips to pull him back to meet every thrust. 

“N- ah -never,” Evan managed, his head hanging down. 

“Never what? Never had dick this good?” Barty taunted, smacking Evan’s right asscheek again without slowing his hips. 

“Never fu- fuck - never fucked a- any- anyone,” Evan choked out. Barty froze, mid-thrust. 

“Say that again, Rosie.”

“Never fucked anyone. Just you.”

Barty’s mouth dropped open, and he slowly pushed the rest of the way in before freezing again. “One more time.”

Evan whimpered, wiggling his hips, and Barty smacked him on the hip. “Behave, or I’ll pull out and you can sort yourself out.”

“Liar,” Evan muttered. When Barty started pulling his hips back, he made a petulant noise. “ Fine .” He turned his head, resting his chin on his shoulder, to mutter, “You’re the first.”

Barty pushed out a harsh breath, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, took a deep breath. “Okay.” Then he reached forward to grab Evan by the back of the neck, shoved his face into the filthy floor, and pulled back to drive his hips forward, fucking Evan in a hard, frantic rhythm. 

Evan let loose with another round of choked moans on every thrust. “Gonna ruin you,” Barty grunted, digging his nails into Evan’s scalp while his other hand held a vice grip on his hip. “Gonna ruin you for any other dick.”

“ Please ,” Evan gasped, arching his back further, spreading his thighs wider. Barty lifted his hand from Evan’s hip to spit in his hand before reaching down to grasp Evan’s cock, stroking it in time with the movement of his hips. Evan let out a relieved sob at the pressure, pushing his hips back to meet Barty’s. 

Barty thrusts began to speed up as he felt himself nearing the edge, and his hand moved faster in turn. “Y’gotta come for me,” he breathed as he leaned forward again, the change in angle letting him consistently hit Evan’s spot. Evan garbled something incoherent as he clawed for purchase against the floor, face still pressed into the rough surface. “Shh,” Barty hushed him. “Come on, Rosie.”

He could feel Evan clenching around him as he neared his orgasm, and he kept a steady rhythm as he muttered nonsense, words of encouragement, terms of endearment, until Evan cried out, spilling over Barty’s hand as Barty worked him through it. Once he was spent, whimpering, Barty let go of his cock to place his hand on Evan’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he chased his own release, thrusts growing faster, more urgent. 

“‘S too much,” Evan whined, body limp from exhaustion, shaking from the overstimulation. He reached one hand blindly behind him to push at Barty. Barty simply lifted his hand from Evan’s head to grab the hand and twist it behind his back. “ Barty …”

 The sound of his name from Evan’s lips is what sent Barty over the edge. He slammed in one final time, spilling into Evan with a grunt, falling forward to press himself against Evan’s back as he rode out the aftershocks. Evan was boneless beneath him, panting, clenching mindlessly around Barty. 

Barty was allowed about five seconds to recover before Evan was shoving at him, grumbling, “Get off.” Barty straightened up with a sigh and gently pulled out, still panting. He watched his cum dribble out of Evan. 

He stayed on his knees, watching Evan with hazy eyes as he pushed himself to his feet with a wince. His knees were in an even worse state now, new bruises layered over the old. He limped over to the sink to grab his shorts, bending down to throw Barty’s pants at him on the way. 

They dressed in silence, and it wasn’t until Evan had a hand on the door that Barty said, “We should do this again.”

Evan turned over his shoulder to narrow his eyes at him. “Keep doing your job right, and we’ll see.”