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They’re in the Kingfisher for post game drinks and, ostensibly, late birthday celebrations for Benny, but with gifts exchanged and the man of the hour tied up with the bartender, it’s become a bit of a free for all. Scott’s tucked into a booth, right up against the wall, Vaughny and Kip sat opposite him. Lewis, one of the newer Admirals is on the end of the bench, facing out to the rest of the room.
Carter has an arm half slung around Kip’s shoulder but his attention is elsewhere, yelling something barely intelligible to Huff and Laura at the end of the table, both of them somehow perched on the same stool.
Kip, apparently, takes this as an invitation to turn on Scott. He smiles across the table and gives an exaggerated look down at the triangle of skin exposed by Scott’s half unbuttoned shirt.
Then the toe of a boot moves up Scott’s calf from where their ankles had been interlocked, then a little further up to between Scott’s knees. Scott takes a sip of his cocktail, some dangerously drinkable concoction of Kyle’s, and tries to relax. He watches Kip shift lower in his seat, a would-be coy smirk on his face if it weren’t for the piña colada loosening it into a grin. With the extra reach Kip moves his foot to Scott’s inner thigh, and Scott has to fight against the warring urges to slam his legs shut and let them fall open.
Kip just blinks at him sweetly and wraps his lips around the straw in his own drink.
Scott chances a look at Carter who is still in conversation with the Huffs, and seemingly remaining oblivious to his seat neighbour’s activities. Scott downs the last mouthful of his drink and sets the glass on the table before spreading his knees, just a little. Kip’s mouth drops open slightly, the straw falling out. He moves past the moment quickly, reshaping his expression, and the look that takes over his face is so feral, so openly wanting Scott is certain someone will notice. The quick check he can’t help but make tells him no one is looking.
The touch moves further up Scott’s thigh, rubber sole dragging against denim. For a second he wishes Kip was in his loafers, easy to slip off unnoticed, to let Scott feel the warmth of Kip’s skin against his own, to give him something soft and malleable to rut against. A particularly loud hoot of laughter from the rookie barely an arm’s reach away startles him out of that thought.
Kip must feel the sudden tension in his thighs because he pulls back a little.
“Okay?” He mouths.
Scott nods, shrugs, gestures at the amount of people they’re surrounded by.
Kip reaches across the table for him, palm up. Scott takes his hand gratefully, squeezes once.
“I’m good,” he says after a second, quiet enough that it’s just for Kip’s ears. “You can- you can keep going.”
Kip keeps a hold of his hand and puts his foot up on Scott’s seat, just brushing over the front of his jeans. With the world a little fuzzy around the edges, skin already buzzing, it’s enough to make Scott’s next exhale shaky. Kip’s thumb strokes over Scott’s palm, soothing and then pressing down hard in the centre. The slight pain runs down his arm, tensing his body enough to shift his hips forward in his seat. He watches Kip’s eyes go dark, flitting down as if he can see Scott’s cock through the table hiding his crotch from Kip’s view.
Scott swallows, the room around them narrowing to the man in front of him and no one else. He has to bite his lip against a moan as he rolls his hips again, imagining himself getting off just on this. Just the ghost of pressure is enough to send a rush of blood down, hardening him in his jeans. He looks at Kip, feels his mouth start to form the shape of please, not entirely sure what he’s asking for. Kip’s gaze drops down to his lips, takes in Scott’s silent beg. The moment stretches around them, mutes the room into a faraway hum. In the muffled noise, he can feel himself falling into a headspace where he’ll do whatever Kip tells him to. If he asked, Scott would crawl under the table and kneel between his thighs, take whatever Kip feeds him.
Scott laughs disbelievingly at himself. He ducks his head down, looks at the ring of condensation left by his drink rather than the man undoing him.
When he straightens up, Kip seems to have shaken himself off a little, attention still heavy but gentled now – with a promise of later. He sits up, takes his foot down, and asks Scott about the charity dinner tomorrow, if his speech is ready. Scott has never cared less about a speech than in this moment but Carter tunes into the conversation then so he manages to put together some reasonable response.
Carter must add something funny because Kip starts laughing. Scott thinks he joins in fast enough to look engaged.
Engaged, he is not. Surely, they’ve stayed long enough for it to be deemed socially acceptable if they leave now. His perhaps mindreader of a husband checks his watch just as Scott considers faking a headache.
“You feeling ready to head home, babe?”
Scott nods mutely, before he notices Carter’s curious head tilt at the silence. Scott clears his throat.
“Uh yeah, think so. I’m getting too old for all this partying,” he jokes, grasping at the tongue-in-cheek self depreciation to distract from whatever is written across his face.
“Whatever you say, Cap,” Carter agrees easily, though Scott is sure he catches him throwing Kip a wink.
Scott chooses to ignore that, for his own sanity.
—
The blast of cold air is welcome as they step out of the bar. Scott watches Kip order a cab one handed. He hadn’t let go of Scott’s hand since they’d extracted themselves from the booth. Ride now procured, he squeezes his fingers around Scott’s knuckles and pulls him to stand closer, both facing out into the road.
“Three minutes,” he says.
Scott hums his acknowledgement.
“I can’t wait to get home,” Kip continues, the conversational tone rendered pointless when he leans up to Scott’s ear and adds, “can’t wait to hear what you were thinking about in there, what you would have let me do if Carter wasn’t there.”
“Uh-” Scott starts. A flurry of thoughts offer themselves up.
“You’d have let me keep touching you until you spilled in your pants,” Kip continues, voice hushed. “Wouldn’t you, Daddy?”
And Kip’s looking up at him, eyes wide like he doesn’t know exactly what that does to Scott. His brain hiccups, yoyo-ing between wanting to get on his knees for Kip, to let his beautiful husband take the reins, and stepping into the role of Daddy, taming the brat that spent the last half hour teasing him in a bar full of his colleagues.
So Scott doesn’t have a response other than turning his body to face Kip and kissing him square on the mouth, both hands gripping his jaw harder than strictly necessary. Kip’s lips are cold against Scott’s own. They open as soon as Scott runs his tongue between them and Kip’s breath is hot, tasting of pineapple and booze, and Scott wants more than he can have on this street corner in the two minutes before their cab.
Kip pulls back first, panting a little, breath visible in the streetlight.
“Someone’s impatient,” he murmurs, pressing the heel of his hand into Scott’s cock, hidden between their bodies. The rough denim seam drags against him through the fabric of his boxers and he grabs onto Kip’s waist before his knees buckle or something equally embarrassing.
The cab pulls up before Scott can string a sentence together and he lets himself be guided into the back, Kip’s fingers intertwined with his own.They sit with the middle seat empty between them, sober enough to not give the driver a show, but Kip leans in enough to keep a hand on Scott’s thigh for the journey.
Scott is, however, tipsy enough to give the elevator cameras an eyeful as soon as the doors slide shut. For the duration of the eight stories they have to climb, Scott pushes Kip against the back wall and kisses him, already more tongue and teeth than lips. He doesn’t know whether the swoop in his stomach is from the alcohol or the floor rising beneath him, or just the sheer physical need for his husband. Scott’s hands move from Kip’s waist to his jaw to his shoulders and back to his waist, scrabbling to push his shirt up and feel skin. He hears himself whine as Kip's hips buck into his. The soft ding of their arrival chimes as Scott closes his teeth around Kip’s ear lobe, pulling a choked off gasp from his mouth.
—
They make it into the apartment somehow, Scott’s hands unsteady as he turns the key in the lock.
“Bedroom,” he says, lips against Kip’s neck as he kicks the door shut behind them.
Kip moans in agreement, walking backwards and pulling Scott with him. By the time Kip’s calves hit the bed, Scott’s shirt is mostly unbuttoned and his jacket is off. He pulls Kip’s tee off over his head and reaches for his mouth again.
Kip giggles, pushing Scott back gently.
“I’m not sure I trust either of us to multitask without causing some kind of injury right now,” he says, hands resting on Scott’s heaving chest.
Scott acquiesces, stepping back and shrugging the top half of his suit off onto the floor, shoving down his pants to join them. When he looks up, Kip is naked and stroking his cock slowly while he watches Scott undress. Scott feels owned by it, possessed under Kip’s gaze and stupidly mesmerised by the movement of his hand.
Before Scott can ask, Kip swallows and speaks.
“Want you to fuck me, Daddy,” he says, voice softly commanding and Scott feels it rush over his body, rippling out into shivers.
“Y- yeah whatever you want, baby.”
“Hard, I want to feel it tomorrow,” Kip adds, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his hands.
Scott, towering over him, looks down at Kip. He feels every bit of his size, tall and built and every last perfectly defined muscle there to give Kip what he needs. In this moment, it feels like the best thing hockey has ever given him, given them – something to make Kip feel good, to make himself feel good.
“Okay,” he agrees.
“Thank you,” Kip says sweetly and kisses Scott on the stomach.
Scott should be thanking him, should never stop saying thank you for as long as he lives. There aren’t the words in his mind, as overtaken as it is with need, to tell his husband how grateful he is, how much he wants to worship him. He can show it, though.
Kip lies down on his back and spreads his legs, never once taking his eyes off Scott, seemingly endeared by his silence. Scott finds the lube in their bedside table and tosses it onto the bed. He kneels between Kip’s thighs and looks up the bed to meet Kip’s gaze. It holds Scott so carefully. Just like back at the bar, he feels entirely peeled back, exposed – in a trance.
Asking hands reach for him and he goes willingly, folding himself into Kip’s arms and further into being known. He lets his weight rest on Kip, loving the happy sigh it pulls out of him as he finds his mouth again. Kip takes the lead, follows the seam of Scott’s lips with his tongue until Scott lets him in. Scott might love kissing Kip more than anything else in the world, he thinks – the soft groans that he can feel on his lips physically, the easy laughter when their teeth clack together, the rock of their hips as Scott presses him into the bed.
Kip’s cock sliding against his own is the perfect side of overstimulating as Kip nips his bottom lip. He wants to be overwhelmed, just a little.
“Can I take care of you now? Is that okay?” Scott asks, pulling back.
“Yeah,” Kip breathes. “Please, Daddy.”
Scott feels something settle, the waves of desperation in his chest calming now knows what Kip’s asking for. It’s new, letting Kip call the shots while he calls Scott daddy and he finds himself having to rewrite the role in real time, to unwrap the layers of dominance until he finds the core.
He wants to look after Kip and he wants Kip to feel wholly and completely safe.
“I love you so fucking much,” is what he says out loud.
“I love you too,” Kip replies, hushed.
Settling back on his knees, he lifts Kip’s leg up and presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh. He bites down gently until Kip whines, asks for more. Scott obliges, well aware and very content with the fact he’s at Kip’s beck and call for tonight. He sinks his teeth in deeper until he makes a mark, then traces his mouth further up Kip’s thigh, sighing happily at the feeling of hair against his jaw. Kip whines again, muscles tensing under Scott’s tongue as he reaches the soft skin just before his cock.
He repeats the same journey along Kip’s other leg, nipping and sucking, getting lost in the taste of his husband – warm and perfectly familiar, a little sweaty from the bar. Still, it’s not enough.
“Can I eat you out? Please?”
It’s not something he has to ask, not really, but he wants Kip to tell him, wants to be given permission, to put all the power so explicitly in Kip’s hands. And, hearing Kip want it feels good.
“Yeah, yes.”
When he reaches Kip’s crotch again, he pushes his legs apart and leans down, pools saliva on his tongue. He licks over Kip’s hole, feels the vibration of his own moan on the hot skin there. He scrapes his playoff beard over Kip, loving the red tenderness it will leave. Kip gasps at the sensation, thighs clenching around Scott’s head. He dips the end of his tongue inside Kip, fucking him with it shallowly until he can’t separate his own groans from Kip’s.
“Daddy.”
He lets up.
Kip breathes in deeply as Scott leans his head against his thigh, watching the rise and fall of his chest.
“Want your fingers now.”
Scott relocates the lube, squeezes some onto his hand to warm it before touching Kip. The first circle of his rim comes with a whine from Kip. Pushing one finger in slowly, Scott watches Kip’s face go hazy with pleasure, an almost relaxed smile taking over. He keeps it gentle to start with, waiting until Kip asks for more.
“You can go faster,” Kip says, hooking his heels around Scott’s waist.
Scott does, pressing in with another finger when Kip tells him to, shifting to find the spot that will make him whimper on every stroke. He’s so gorgeously responsive, even more talkative than usual, telling him how good it feels, how good Scott is – a sex-drunk and tipsy train of thought Scott follows every word of, like a devotee. He feels Kip relax around him, rocking to fuck himself on Scott’s fingers.
“Okay, okay. I’m ready,” Kip says.
“Yeah?”
“Yes, Daddy,” he says, deliberate and sure and Scott feels his cock twitch at the want in Kip’s tone. “Now, come on.”
He pulls his fingers out, wiping them quickly on the sheets, and steadies his hands on the mattress as he lines himself up with Kip. He has to think about something else other than how Kip is going to feel around him, something other than the demand in Kip’s voice, so he doesn’t come as soon as he pushes in.
Kip’s legs are around Scott’s back again, pulling him closer and Scott lets it happen, groaning as he sinks fully into Kip. The heat of Kip is so much, the way he’s clenching around Scott’s cock enough to undo him. There’s a soft furrow between Kip’s brows as he gets used to the sensation. He’s gripping the side of the bed, knuckles white as he clutches the sheets between his fingers. Scott watches them loosen, feels Kip soften beneath him as they breathe together.
“Okay?”
Kip nods, urging him to start moving with the heels on the small of Scott’s back.
He pulls out, and pushes back in, watching carefully for any signs of discomfort on Kip’s face. All he sees, hovering over his husband, are pink cheeks and swollen lips, parted and bitten red. He sets a gentle rhythm, savouring the closeness, the feeling, the flutter of Kip’s eyelashes every time Scott does something right.
“Tell me what you were thinking about before,” Kip says.
“Hmm?”
“When you were rutting against my shoe,” Kip says, all matter-of-fact and Scott feels his face heat at the memory. “What were you imagining?”
“Um, being on my knees,” Scott starts, needing a second to find the words. “Under the table with uh-”
Kip’s moaned fuck urges Scott on.
“With your cock in my mouth, f- for everyone to see.”
“That you’re mine?” Kip asks, hand on Scott’s jaw. “My Daddy?”
“Yes.”
A pleased smirk takes over Kip’s face and Scott groans, forever amazed by being Kip’s anything. Scott finds the angle that makes Kip shiver, replaces the smirk with a whimper
At Kip’s faster, Scott speeds up, feeling the strain in his thighs and core. He knows he’ll feel it tomorrow morning, the familiar ache of his body well used. Every yeah, please like that making it more worth it than any game, any win. The lights of New York flare through the windows, blurring the edges of his vision, and Scott tucks himself into Kip’s neck. The soft darkness is easier on Scott’s swimming head, the smell of Kip grounding against the overwhelming sensation of everything else. Kip starts talking to him then, soft lines of praise, cut off and whimpered with every move of Scott’s hips.
“Feels so good,” he sighs. “You’re so- fuck so good to me, Daddy. Always so good.”
Scott nods, not trusting himself with words for the minute. One of Kip’s hands comes to cup the back of Scott’s neck, warm and big and holding. Maybe it’s the tequila shot still flowing in his bloodstream, or the way he can hear, feel every one of Kip’s stuttered breaths. Maybe it’s the soft scrape of Kip’s nails over the nape of his neck, but there are tears pooling on his lower lashes and his voice catches before he can say anything. He slows his movement, focuses on pressing as much of his body against Kip’s as he can. He trails a knuckle down Kip’s flank.
When the wave passes, he lifts his head to kiss Kip again, sees his face soften and his eyebrows push together.
“Hey,” Kip says quietly, brushing a thumb under Scott’s eye, collecting the tear threatening to fall.
Scott presses his lips to Kip’s palm and smiles.
“You’re just- I love you.”
“Love you too,” Kip whispers.
Then he stretches, arches his body into Scott and stares at where they meet, where Scott is inside him.
“Now, fuck me harder. I know you can, Daddy,” he says, biting his lip in a way that is almost entirely a joke but it still sends a rush of desire over Scott’s skin.
“Look at you,” he teases, squeezing Scott’s bicep with an amused grin when he notices the new pink in Scott’s cheeks.
Kip’s eyes go wide when Scott lifts his legs onto his shoulders, almost folding him in half. Scott preens a little as Kip’s face flushes and another delighted giggle slips out of him. His own strength being a tool that someone else commands is nothing new. But, Kip being the commander, Kip using Scott’s hours of training and discipline for his own pleasure is a privilege. He pushes back in, hard, punches a whimper out of Kip.
“Yeah fuck, like that.”
He does it again, and again, watching Kip’s head tip back, throat exposed and bobbing as he shakes out a moan. Kip splays his arms above his head, loosely gripping the pillow, letting Scott give it to him. He is totally wrapped up in Kip, physically, mentally – he doesn’t need anything more but he wants to give his best to Kip, so badly.
“Feels so good,” Kip praises. “I’m so fucking lucky.”
“Yeah, baby,” Scott says, sweat forming over his chest. “W-whatever you need.”
“Mm, I know.”
Scott presses forward, leans his weight until Kip’s gasping again, crying out when Scott fucks into him. He wants Kip loud, undone, utterly blissed out underneath Scott. The slap of their skin together sends jolts of electricity through Scott’s body. He can feel the heat pooling in his groin, the buzzing under his skin louder as Kip stares up at him, totally trusting and totally in control. He’s so close.
“I’m- can I come, baby? Inside you, please.”
Kip hums, considering.
“Not yet, Daddy” he says. “Make me- ah come first.”
Scott doesn’t know if he can.
“I- touch yourself,” he begs. “‘M not gonna last.”
He watches, hips stilling, as Kip reaches down and wraps a hand around himself.
“More,” Kip whispers.
Scott nods, so far gone he can only think about Kip Kip Kip – the head of his cock, flushed and shiny, and the stretch of his neck far back against the pillows. He thrusts in harder, only just aware of the sobbed begging spilling out his mouth – please please please. He can feel the muscles fluttering around his own cock as Kip jerks himself off. It's fast and messy, the slide of his palm wet with precum, and so gorgeous to watch.
“Daddy, oh fuck,” Kip half shouts as his body tenses, fist tight around himself.
Kip goes silent then, mouth open and eyes screwed shut, as he comes, clamping around Scott so hard it almost hurts. Scott follows within seconds, moaning at the extra pressure around his cock, burying himself inside Kip fully and finally letting go of the tension that had been building since the bar. His body twitches as he finishes emptying himself inside of Kip, helplessly jerking through the last waves of pleasure.
He breathes out shakily as his cock slips out. His eyes catch on the mess he’s made of Kip, lube and saliva and come. He can’t look away as it dribbles out, pools between Kip’s cheeks.
“Clean me up?” Kip murmurs and the tone of it doesn’t mean Scott should be fetching a wash cloth.
He shuffles down the bed clumsily, tongue on Kip before he can answer in words. The taste of his own release barely registers over the intimacy of licking it out of Kip. Kip squirms against Scott’s mouth, gasping and whining as he’s pushed into oversensitivity. He keeps going, soft rolls of his tongue until he can only taste Kip’s clean skin and his head is pushed back gently. Satisfied, Scott sits up and wipes his mouth carelessly.
He’s pulled into kissing Kip again and they stay like that for some time, mouths moving slowly together, hands sliding over sweat slick skin. As Kip’s sighs sound more and more like adorably suppressed yawns, Scott places a final lingering kiss on the side of his mouth and lies back down.
Kip immediately curls into him, mumbles something unintelligible and sweet sounding into Scott’s shoulder before passing out. Scott tightens his arm around Kip. He’ll get up and fill glasses of water for them both in a moment, close the blinds and plug their phones in, but for now he lies still. There’s no rush.