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Summer Depression

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Nolan tries to ignore the stuff that makes him ache for TK - the 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner left in the shower caddy, the camo hoodie left slung over the back of the desk chair. TK's been gone longer than a couple of days before, and they survived. It's fine.

Besides, he has things to do. He'll play next season. There is always an asterisk there, when other people talk about it - "if you're healthy" - but Nolan is sure this time. He has to get back in shape, eat right, take his meds, meditate, anything to get back to playing. That's enough to fill his days.

Nolan avoids watching hockey. He watched one game and found himself actively rooting for the Flyers to lose, for TK to be back soon, so he has to stop. Stops talking to TK, too. He'll get a call when they're done, whatever the outcome is.

His phone never rings.

Nolan stares at it. Wills it to. Wants it to be TK calling him to say, "Be home soon." But nothing. He tries not to think about it.

It's 12:30 am and Nolan's watching TikToks when he hears the struggle of a key in the lock of their front door. He's pushing himself up off the couch, heart suddenly racing.

"TK," Nolan breathes, struggling to untangle himself from the fluffy blanket that's wrapped around him as TK elbows his way in.

Dazedly, Nolan takes stock without even realizing he's doing it. No bruises, not that he can see. No limping. He hasn't trimmed his beard since the last time he was here, Nolan can tell - he watched him do it. He looks exhausted, but that's to be expected. He wasn't sent home because he got hurt, which means they've been eliminated.

"The phone didn't ring," Nolan says. "I didn't know you were comin'."

"Can you take this?" TK says, and Nolan does, heart in his throat. TK's duffel.

"Gimmie the other one, too" he offers, and lets TK load him down with the lighter pack of clothes and stuff, too, carries them off to the bedroom, where it's dark and the AC unit is blowing on high.

When he emerges, TK's leaning back against the wall, rubbing his face. His hair is a mess, too-long just like his beard. He's probably aches like a son of a bitch, Nolan realizes, and needs to get a good night's sleep in something other than hotel bed.

"Kevins coming, too," he says, sensing - or just hearing - Nolan back in his orbit.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course," says Nolan, trying hard not to sound as desperate as he feels.

Kevin does come, says hi and quickly disappears to his bedroom under threats of violence if they're loud enough to wake him.

TK reaches out, gets fingers into Nolan's hair and ruffles it gently, hand heavy, and Nolan almost busts inside, can't keep himself from breathing like TK's hand is on his dick and not just his head. He looks up at TK almost reluctantly, not sure if he's being pathetically obvious or not. TK can probably read his mind.

TK's smiling at him, though. He's got bags under his eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders, but it's a smile.

"I'm starving. You got any food?"

Nolan doesn't want to say no to TK, not even about this.

"I've got broccoli," he says lamely.

"Ok, put your shoes on," TK says, taking him by the shoulder. "Let's get some actual food. And then we can sleep."

The car smells so much like TK, a smell that Nolan's room had lost after just a couple of hours but that Nolan's covered in now. The radio's off, so all he can hear is the car and TK's breaths and his own heartbeat, and the silence between them is half comfortable and half nerve-wracking. At least, for Nolan. He's half-hard in his jeans. He can't help it. TK being right there when Nolan had no idea he was even going to get in tonight is just so much to take in. He wasn't prepared. He doesn't have a grip on himself.

"Something you want to tell me?" TK asks, out of nowhere, jerking Nolan out of an awkward squirm.

"No." comes out of his mouth.

"No," TK repeats.

"No, nothing."

"Hm," TK grunts at him, and no one can pack a punch in a single noise like TK can. Half a minute later, TK's turning the wheel, pulling off into a dark alley. The car goes into park and the lights cut off, leaving them in relative darkness. The feeling cutting through Nolan is sharply on edge between so busted, in trouble now and maybe?

"You need something, Patty?" TK asks, flat-out, giving him this measuring look.

All Nolan can do is flush red and look down.

"Need takin' care of, don't you?" TK says, and Nolan can't read his voice, can't tell if TK's pissed at him for ignoring him for weeks. He should be, probably.

"Open the glovebox," TK says, and Nolan does, still straddling the feeling of being in trouble. On top of the usual hundred receipts, there's a travel-size tube of KY, lit up yellow by the light in the box, and it practically slides off the pile and into his hand, like a little present for him.

"Teeks," he whispers.

"Right here, right now, Nolan," TK says firmly, and Nolan hears it like an order and permission at once and bolts into action, rustling his t-shirt up and out of the way and scrabbling to get his jeans undone. He's so embarrassingly hard in them, so humiliated that TK can tell how bad he wants to get fucked just seeing him, smelling him, being around him again.

"What about condoms?" he asks, 'cause usually they're careful not to make a mess.

But TK just looks at him. "No condoms this time."

Oh my fucking God.

Nolan's jeans end up in the footwell, but he's barely got his boxer-briefs off and they hang around one knee as he crawls up onto TK's lap, self-conscious and dying for it, for TK to be balls-deep in him. His fingers are almost useless as they dig at TK's belt. No one could want TK's dick as bad as he does.

"Hurry up, c'mon," TK says roughly, and grabs at Nolan's hips with controlling hands, keeping him from backing up against the steering wheel. "Get my cock in you, baby. I know what you need."

His hands slide back and grab Nolan's ass cheeks, opening them up lewdly, and Nolan's body wants to buck in orgasm right then and there, even as he gets TK's zipper down in a frenzy and tugs and pulls at the wide-open fabric, digs his fingers in to find TK's cock. He can feel it, hot with blood and hardening for him.

There's a cold, wet, slippery shock, then - TK's finger, wet with lube and sliding over his hole. Nolan yelps, half in surprise and half just because he can't believe this, that TK's going to let him get fucked out where anyone could find them, in the car, in the middle of the night. When TK's finger thrusts insistently up into his ass, it just feels fucking sexy.

"You're ready for it," TK says, not even a question.

"Yeah," Nolan garbles, dying. TK doesn't even know how ready he is, especially to feel everything bare inside him.

"What are you going to do, Nolan?"

"Get your dick in me," he responds deliriously, "get fucked..."

TK's finger-fucking him, now, and sometimes, that would be more than enough, would get Nolan off all over the sheets, TK just fingering him up the ass.

"That's right. Gonna ride it, Patty. Right here on top of me. You hear me?"

"Yes, yeah. Please."

"Gonna be quick?" TK asks, and Nolan knows they have to be - that it probably will be, they haven't gotten to fuck in what feels like so long.

"It'll be a quickie," Nolan promises, and hears TK's rasp of a laugh.

"Yeah, it will be. Got a big load I've been savin' up for you," TK's voice is going dark, nasty, and Nolan can't help it, he shudders relentlessly, halfway to coming at the tone, let alone the mere idea of TK's cum touching him up inside for real. "Sit on my dick, bud."

TK's cock opens him up like a finger, two fingers, three fingers can't, feels too big and kinda scary, but Nolan sinks to the root of it, slick inside and hanging onto TK's shoulders.

"There you go," TK whispers, and their cheeks rasp together momentarily. "Fuck yourself on it, babe. Make it good."

Nolan whimpers, grinds himself wetly, his own dick rubbing up under TK's shirt against the trail of dark hair under his navel, and TK puts arms around him, keeps him from flying off the handle. It's overwhelming. Too much. TK's dick inside him, TK underneath him and all around him, TK with him and taking care of him. Nolan explodes so quick, too soon, not even fully adjusted to the feeling of his ass being opened and filled, and he comes up TK's stomach in a feverish haze, creaming bare, hot, sweaty skin.

"Shit, Nolan," TK whispers, and grabs at the back of Nolan's neck, fingernails scratching through the scruff of hair there. Nolan's body spasms without his permission; his breath hiccoughs. He kicks his hips into gear again, sliding himself along TK's dick, the noise of their sweat and his own cum between them sloppy-wet.

"Do it, do it," he begs, forehead tucked between TK's neck and shoulder. "Oh, God, please. Want your load in me for real..."

"Fuck, gonna come in your ass," TK says, and it sounds like a threat, so low and mean like TK can sound sometimes.

"Yeah, yeah, do it," Nolan begs, and squishes pathetically as TK locks him down with both arms and does it, shoots off in him. It's so surreal, knowing his dick is bare. TK fills him up for real for the first time, and it's so much that it slips out somehow, is pushed out by TK's dick as it pulses.

He doesn't have to say anything. TK's hand slides down his spine, dips low to stop it, and Nolan doesn't hesitate to open his mouth for it.

TK can definitely read his mind.