Open Ice Hit (The Sin Bin Book 2)

Tommy pulled his buzzing phone from his pocket.

Zed: Vicki said your pr invited us to bayside rescue and u organized it? tru?

Tommy wasn’t surprised Vicki had come up with some excuse as to why he was going to the rescue with Tommy. What he was surprised about was that he’d told Zed at all—that he was actually going to go through with seeing Tommy outside the ice or the increasingly confusing sex they were having.

Tommy: yep u in?

Zed: hell yeah. u know V was invited tho? i can tell him not to come

Tommy: sall good the more the merrier

Zed: copy see u there then

Tommy snorted at Zed’s thoughtfulness, amused and touched in equal measure. Tommy wasn’t glad about the accident that had torn Zed’s ACL, obviously, but he was definitely grateful it had brought Zed and him closer.

At least if Vicki ended up pussying out on the Bayside Rescue visit, he’d be able to spend some time with Zed as well as Kevin and Davesh, probably.

God knew those three were connected at the dick.

Tommy texted the details of the event to Vicki anyway, trying not to hope for anything. It wasn’t like there was a legitimate reason for him to want to spend time with Vicki—the guy was a total dick, hot one second and cold the next. If Tommy didn’t know better, he’d think Vicki was as conflicted as Tommy about this whole thing, but the guy was too much of an ice prince to feel much. He probably had the capacity for one point five emotions a day and spent it all on indignant anger.

Seeing as how Tommy didn’t have his marine biology degree yet, he was always tasked with visitor interface—handing out informative flyers, answering questions about the animals, guiding people around. It was oddly fun, honestly. It wasn’t often he got to rave and babble about what he was studying. Not to say he wouldn’t pet some turtles if given the chance—their shells were surprisingly sensitive, and they always appreciated a good scratch—but he’d settle for just helping the rescue center out.

“There’s the ugly sod,” a voice said to his right.

Tommy turned, his pulse jumping when he saw Zed, Davesh, Kevin, and Vicki approaching. Zed was grinning at his own joke, but Tommy’s eyes were caught on Vicki. He looked unfairly good in jeans and a black t-shirt, his usual frown in place and slightly crooked nose throwing a shadow on his upper lip.

“Oh. Hey, guys.”

Davesh raised his eyebrows. “Why does he sound surprised? Zed, if this is a prank, I swear to God…”

Zed threw his hands in the air. “Why is everything always my fault? He knew we were coming—right Tom-Tom?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, yeah, I knew. I just…Never mind.” Tommy patted himself on the back for being the most awkward motherfucker on the planet. There wasn’t even a reason to be nervous. So what if Vicki had actually turned up? It didn’t mean anything. He probably just really liked turtles because who the fuck didn’t? They were cute as fuck with their little beak mouths and the whole nearly extinct thing. Or, like, manta rays. Those fuckers were cool as shit.

Zed eyed him suspiciously. “Do you have a concussion? You know you need to report those things.”

“I’m not concussed, you dick.”

“Yeah,” Vicki chipped in, his deep voice an electric shot down Tommy’s spine. “I’m pretty sure he’s just like that.”

Tommy was about to chirp back when Zed threw Vicki a genuinely annoyed look. “Dude, come on. What did we say?”

Vicki crossed his arms over his chest, practically pouting. “I’m not being mean,” he muttered. “It was just a joke.”

“Yeah, well, keep your jokes to yourself. No fighting at charity events.”

“You can’t boss me around. I’m the one who invited you,” Vicki complained.

“Pretty sure it was Sea Dogs PR who invited me. Actually, why did they contact you instead of Henny or something?”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Now he asks.”

“Wait. What am I missing here?” Zed gave Vicki a suspicious look.

Tommy jumped in before the situation could deteriorate further. “You guys want me to show you what we’re doing or what?”

Everybody but Zed nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Okay. So, let me take you to Rhonda. She’ll explain everything.”

By pure coincidence and in no way because Tommy had been ranting that morning about Vicki and what a handsome dicknoodle he was, Tommy and Vicki got paired together. The other three were sent to hand out maps and take tickets for the 4-D movie playing for kids while Vicki helped Tommy hand out flyers about how to further help environmental causes and different marine species from Florida up through the East Coast.

“So, uh…” Tommy started. “You like the sea?”

Vicki side-eyed him. “Haven’t been around it much.”

“Doesn’t Sweden have a massive coast?”

“I don’t live in Sweden.”

“Psh. What do you even do during the summer? Fucking go to the Bahamas, dude.”

“I hike.”

Tommy looked at him, waiting for more, but that was all Vicki seemed willing to share about his secret off-season plans. “O-kay. You should go to the Caribbean coast, dude. I always go and help out at the beaches where turtles hatch—it’s a fucking trip. Survivor turtles, remember? They’re so fucking tiny, you have no idea. They use this little tooth thing to break the shell and take ages digging themselves out, wait until night to surface, and—bam. Holy fuck. Hundreds of turtles.”

Vicki frowned at him slightly as if he couldn’t quite understand what Tommy was saying. “And how does you being there even help? I thought hatchlings were in danger of being eaten in the first weeks of life, not right after—”

“Okay, first of all, the turtles are lucky to hatch with my vibes around. That’s an amazing experience for them. Second, there are a shit ton of predators that wanna snatch up the little baby turtles before they get to the shore. Get it together, eh.”

Vicki looked vaguely amused. “You spend a lot of time thinking about turtles, huh?”

“I mean, it’s really fucking cool. Like, marine biology in general. The number of weird fucking species, of fucking smart species. We have a North Atlantic octopus here. Bud looks cool as fuck, has these little horns over his eyes, short little arms.”

Tommy glanced at Vicki, checking to make sure he wasn’t ignoring him, but Vicki’s piercing eyes were drilling holes into his face.

“And the females are hard-fucking-core. Like, when they have babies, they protect all their eggs to the point of starving themselves. And then they die, and you’re probably thinking it’s the whole not eating thing that does it but actually, when the baby octopuses hatch, the mom’s cells just start dying? Like cell suicide. Just like that. And I’m telling you, they’re so fucking smart—smarter than us. They’re fucking wily, like, they plot sneaky shit out.”

Vicki had a small smile on his face as if it were despite himself. “I mean, smarter than you for sure.”

“Fuck you. You think you can squeeze through a tiny little hole and walk around the halls of the rescue center looking for food?”

“I’m actually pretty good at squeezing into tight holes.”

Tommy opened his mouth, ready to chirp back, when the meaning of Vicki’s words hit him. The sudden image of Tommy bent over his kitchen table burned through him, leaving the taste in his mouth thick and smoky as he cackled. “Wow. You know there are children around, right?”

“Yeah, there’s one right in front of me,” he retorted, looking pointedly at Tommy.

“Considering the tight holes you’ve been in, that’s pretty sick, man.”

Vicki wrinkled his nose. “You’re disgusting.”

“I’m disgusting? You just—oh, hey there, buddy! Aw, man, cool shirt.” Tommy grinned at the kid that had stopped in front of him, a tiny thing with dark skin and curly hair.

The kid gave him a wide, gap-toothed smile. “It’s a basking shark.”

“Sure is, bud. Look at that mouth. You think you can open yours as wide?”

Tommy and the boy both stretched their mouths.

The kid’s parents laughed from behind him. “He’s obsessed with sharks. I was wondering about the one you have here—how did it end up here? Simon wanted to know.”

Tommy crouched in front of Simon. “So you know what puts sharks in danger?”

“Yeah, people. We suck,” Simon said happily. The dad tsked, rolling his eyes, but didn’t interrupt.

“Right. So our shark, Finny, got caught in fishing nets and got injured. His right pectoral fin got semidetached, and his tail got punctured, so he was brought here because we have the facilities to rehabilitate larger sea animals. Places in Florida and on the West Coast tend to do a really good job with seals and sea turtles.”

Simon nodded soberly. “I have a shark tooth. My dad says he fought a shark and pulled it out of his mouth, but I saw him find it on the beach.”

Tommy pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. “I don’t know, bud. Your dad looks like he could take on a shark. Your mom probably helped, though.”

“No, he found it on the beach,” Simon said with finality.

“All right, I believe you.” Tommy shared amused glances with Simon’s parents as they thanked him and walked off.

“Cute kid, huh?” Tommy asked Vicki.

“You were good with him.”

Tommy gasped loudly. “Did you just…compliment me?”

“And by good with him, I meant you’re mentally the same age.”

“And there it is.”

Vicki shrugged, but Tommy could see the smile pressing the corners of his eyes.

They were interrupted by a group of twentysomethings. Tommy watched from the corner of his eye as a woman smiled cheekily at Vicki. There was something unbearably hot about how cool and collected Vicki was in the face of a hot girl flirting with him, even as something weird and unpleasant twisted in his stomach.

Vicki nodded at Tommy. “I would ask him about that. I’m new here.”

The girl looked disappointed at the brush-off but persevered. “Oh, yeah? You started working here?”

“Volunteering.”

“Oh, that’s so cool. What do you do, then? Like, for work?”

Vicki hesitated for a few seconds. “I’m in entertainment.”

The girl raised her eyebrows. “Like an actor?”

“No.”

The girl waited for a further explanation, frowning when nothing was forthcoming. Tommy took pity on her—he’d been on the receiving end of Vicki’s stone face, and it wasn’t fun.

“He’s actually a clown. Like, for events. He’s actually really good. Highly requested at parties for six-to-ten-year-olds.”

The girl glanced between Tommy and Vicki as the rest of her friends looked like they were trying really hard not to laugh. “Oh. Um. That’s cool.”

Tommy ignored the way Vicki was glaring a hole into the side of his face. “Yep. You guys need anything else?”

“Um, no, we’re good. Thanks.”

Vicki waited until they were out of sight before speaking up. “Really, Tremblay?”

“Hey, if the shoe fits.” He nodded to Vicki’s admittedly rather large feet.

“You’re a bonehead.”

Tommy shrugged, humming the circus song before laughing when Vicki shoved him.

It turned out Vicki wasn’t terrible company, even when they weren’t fucking. The best part of the day, though, was when Rhonda arrived with a pack of what had to be eight-to-nine-year-olds in tow. “Scout trip. Make sure they don’t destroy anything,” Rhonda said under her breath before disappearing.

Joke was on her because Tommy loved kids. What he wasn’t expecting, though, was Vicki to be so good with them.

Tommy grinned at the two rather harried-looking troop leaders. “How can we help?”

“Okay, so—everybody, listen up! This is—”

“Oh my God, that’s Tommy Tremblay,” one little girl said, pointing right at Tommy. All the kids seemed to perk up, their manic, weekend-excursion energy focusing on Tommy.

Another of the children gasped. “And Noah Viklund. Don’t you two hate each other?”

Vicki and Tommy exchanged a look, Tommy laughing awkwardly. “Um…”

Most of the group was looking around in confusion, obviously unsure who Tommy and Vicki were. They all clamored for autographs, though, which seemed to settle them and their difficult questions enough for the troop leader to regain some control.

“Okay, as exciting as that was, there are some equally exciting creatures in these tanks we can learn about,” the woman who had introduced herself as Mrs. Jane said, her dark skin gleaming in the glowing lights of the tanks, her long hair braided with colored thread. “Mr. Tommy and Mr. Noah are here to help but not do the work for you, okay?”

There was a chorus of Okays, the kids crowding around Tommy and Vicki, sheets of questions grasped securely in their little hands. Tommy tried his best to help out without giving all the answers away, pointing to where the information could be found, trying to draw them into how fucking cool this topic could be.

As hard as he tried, though, Tommy couldn’t help but be distracted by Vicki, who had settled his six-three frame on the floor, surrounded by a ring of children as they all tried to figure out the questions together.

“Mr. Vicki, do stingrays sting?”

Vicki looked decidedly panicked for a second. “Uh. Well. Let’s see what the plaque says,” he suggested. “Can you read it with me?”

It became obvious the kid had more trouble reading than her peers, her little, pale face going bright red as she sounded out the words. Vicki jumped in quickly, not taking over but matching her pace as one of his thick fingers followed the words on the plaque.

“What do you think?” Vicki asked when they finished reading.

“Stingrays are freaking scary. I say freaking instead of fucking because I get into trouble if I say that. My mom also told me to say sugar instead of shit.”

Vicki was wide-eyed, lips twitching as he obviously tried not to laugh. “That’s, um, that’s a good idea. The stingray, though—”

“Definitely stings.”

Vicki gave her a high five. “Gold star, kid.”

Tommy tried not to fucking melt at how gentle Vicki was with them, how he’d guide them to the right information to answer each question instead of just answering for them. How his face had gone unbearably soft, his smile open and abundant.

Tommy felt a seed of something terrible and dangerous being planted in his heart.

It was later than Tommy realized when Rhonda came to get them, the kids having moved on to a different section. “You’re free, boys. The other three have about ten minutes left.”

“Thanks, Ron. How’s the pup?”

“She’s doing a lot better. Took care of the parasites, and luckily, her neck isn’t infected. Still scared shitless, though.”

“I’m not surprised. Fuck, people fucking suck, huh?” Tommy said, remembering what Simon had said.

“Tell me about it. Goddamn sick. Anyway, sorry, I gotta rush back to the office, but thanks for the help, honey”

“Any time.”

“And, hey. How ’bout you beat these guys next time you’re on the ice?”

“You fucking bet.”

Vicki just rolled his eyes when Tommy poked his tongue out at him, Rhonda walking away with a laugh.

Tommy rocked back on the heels of his feet. “Didn’t know you were so good with kids, dude.”

Vicki shrugged. “Work with a peewee team most years.”

“Oh shit, really? Damn, I should get into that. Those are the under twelves, right? I volunteered with the under eights once, and it was sick.”

“Those kids are cute.”

Tommy scrunched up his nose, laughing softly. “It’s so weird to hear you use the word cute.”

Vicki scoffed. “Why?”

“Dunno. I don’t mean anything bad by it. I just…you know. You come off as kind of a tough guy, a little? I mean, maybe that’s just me.”

Vicki was frowning, looking a little taken aback, and Tommy had to wonder if he didn’t realize how he came across. If maybe the reality was a lot more vulnerable than he let on.

Tommy decided to change the subject. “So. You want the unofficial tour, or…?”

Vicki stared at him for a moment before almost physically shaking himself out of the conversation, smirk appearing on his face. “What, you gonna suck me off in the bathroom?” Apparently, Vicki could bounce back to his dickish self in under five seconds.

Tommy choked on his spit, which was pretty appropriate because, well…“No, you fucking animal. Let’s go look at the turtles.”

Tommy walked off, confident Vicki would follow. They stopped in front of the leatherback enclosure, Tommy pointing at the rectangle of hard brushes.

“See those? The turtles can walk through that and scratch their shells. They love that.”

“To get clean?”

“Nah, they can feel it.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. Cool, right?”

“Okay, yes, Tommy, this stuff’s actually really interesting.”

Tommy hooted loudly, making Vicki take a step away as if refusing to be associated with him.

“You gotta have a thing you like that way. Come on.”

Vicki was looking at the enclosure, but Tommy could see the murky reflection of his face on the glass, the way his eyebrows dipped, mouth going flat.

There was a long, tense silence that Tommy was itching to break, but Vicki finally spoke.

“I have hockey.”

“Fair enough.” Honestly, judging by the tension now lining Vicki’s shoulders, Tommy was just happy he wasn’t being told to fuck off.

Even more surprising, Vicki kept talking. “I’ve always loved hiking. I guess I imagined myself as a hiking guard when I was younger if hockey didn’t work out. Something out in nature, away from…the main cities, you know. The politics of it.”

“Right,” Tommy said, even though Tommy had never thought about one place being more political than another.

“Don’t know if my legs will be healthy enough to do that when I retire, though.”

“They’ll have mechanical legs for sale when you retire. You’ll be able to jump up the mountains like a grasshopper, no problem.”

Vicki finally turned to look at him, an amused tilt to his expression. “Are you suggesting I amputate my legs?”

“No, man, come on. They, like…latch onto your real legs. Like exoskeletons.”

“Oh, of course. My mistake,” Vicki drawled.

Tommy laughed, staring back, getting caught suddenly in the sharp, harmless look in Vicki’s eyes. It was like a rubber band stretching between them, tension and fear rising as Tommy waited for it to snap.

“So,” Tommy blurted, having to cut the tension. “I, uh…It’s cool that you came to volunteer. Wasn’t really sure if you were gonna, you know. Show up.”

Vicki shrugged, confident expression wavering for a split second. “For the good of the turtles.”

“Right,” Tommy snorted. “The turtles.”

They watched each other again, more carefully this time, feeling out the foreign, franticless pull between them.

Tommy shook his head a little. It was bad enough he’d invited Vicki to the sanctuary. Whatever the fuck was going on with his galloping heart just then, it had to stop.

“Come on, let’s go find the guys,” Tommy said, taking a step back.

Vicki looked briefly startled as if awoken from something, but his expression settled quickly into his familiar, neutral mask. “Okay.”

They found the three others gaping at the manta rays, one of which was plastered against the glass, a child tapping at it softly.

Zed turned to them, grinning. “Look at that one—it’s you, V.”

Tommy snorted loudly as he spotted the grumpy-looking ray peering up at them from the sandy bottom.

Vicki shoved his shoulder into Zed’s. “That one on the glass is you. Look at it. Not a single thought in its tiny little head.”

“You have no idea how many thoughts I have in my head. I have at least three per hour.”

Davesh nodded. “Four if he’s horny.”

“Oh.” Zed shook his head. “No, no—that’s not counting thoughts of you and Kevin. Those are in the hundreds.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Thanks, babe.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s go get something to eat, yeah?”

Tommy, always one to show up Brooklyn, took them to Warung Selasa, calling ahead so the two tables inside the Indonesian grocery store were available for some homemade food that fed the soul.

The spice-rich smell of the place hit Tommy as soon as he stepped in, the yellow tables waiting for them in the corner. The owners and chefs—a married couple who had immigrated to America more than thirty years ago—greeted and sat them, waving their hands in mock disapproval at Tommy’s guests.

“How you bring these here? My food will make them win,” Dewi said, a wide smile on her face. Tommy knew she’d barely heard of hockey before Schmidty had found the joint and shown the little eatery to the rest of the team.

“They threatened me with bodily harm unless I took them to the best food in Queens.”

“Ah, then you are in the right place.”

Davesh peered at the shelves of goods curiously. “Can I look around?”

“Yes, of course,” Dewi said, leading him deeper into the shop, Kevin and Zed trotting after him.

Tommy grinned. “I knew he’d like this place.”

Vicki nodded. “He cooks a lot.”

“Yeah, dude, I know. I go to their house plenty.”

“Yeah, I figured. Really ingratiated yourself during the summer, huh?”

Tommy pursed his lips, the words lancing through him. It wasn’t that he’d expected Vicki to be civil all day, but his body had obviously been lulled into a false sense of comfort. “Can you not be an ass for like one more hour? I know it’s a strain for you, but how about you put a little work into it, eh?”

Vicki’s expression darkened, a heavy cloud passing over his features. Luckily for all involved, though, whatever retort he had prepared was cut short by the owners’ son coming with some water.

“Thanks, man. We’ll take a bit of everything from the week’s menu.”

“Sure thing. Ricky coming?”

“Nah, sorry. Think he had some media thing or something…a podcast maybe.”

“No prob. I won’t quadruple the order then.”

Tommy snorted. “I dunno. I think Zed over there can put away more than his share.” They turn to look at the man in question who was, for some reason, balancing a bag of rice on his head.

Vicki laughed under his breath. “Please don’t get us banned from another place.”

Zed put the bag down, sticking his tongue out at them. “I’ve never gotten kicked out of a place in my whole entire life. You’re the one who got us kicked out of that strip club in Vegas.”

“That guy was being fucking inappropriate. I just stepped in.”

“Yeah, with your fists. I mean, I’m not throwing shade, man—nothing but respect over here.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Vicki. “This sounds like a story.”

“Not really. Guy was being inappropriate. I told him to stop. Forcefully.”

Tommy was grudgingly impressed. “Okay, tough guy. I’ll keep that in mind next time I chirp you.”

“Like your weak chirps would get me going.”

“They literally did last season, though. Remember that time in the playoffs you almost punched me?”

Tommy regretted the words as soon as he said them. The last thing he wanted to do was bring up last season’s bullshit.

Instead of going into a rage like usual, though, Vicki just rolled his eyes. “I mean, I’m not arguing with the fact that you’re annoying.”

“Thanks, pal. I appreciate it.”

By the time their food arrived, Zed, Davesh, and Kevin had sat back down with a couple of bags of dried goods under the table. Tommy watched silently as Vicki and Davesh made sure everybody had food, passing the plates around.

“Davesh, chill and have some of this,” Vicki ordered, scooping some of the tilapia with spicy mango sauce onto Davesh’s plate.

“Zine beh-sechel,” Zed told his plate. “Fuck, this is good.”

“You’re lucky these people don’t know Yiddish,” Vicki admonished.

“It was a compliment.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Tommy managed to swallow before asking Vicki, “You know Yiddish?”

“A little, for Zed. Won’t know when he’s insulting me otherwise.”

“Lies,” Davesh said. “You learned it to make sure he felt included, you softie. This guy’s a total sap, you have no idea. Henny and him are the ones who teach the rookies the basics of sign language—or the stuff we use in the locker room, anyway.”

Vicki scoffed. “It’s not a big deal. Family is family.”

“Found family, anyway. The blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb, huh?”

Tommy blinked. “Wait. I thought that saying meant the literal opposite.”

“People don’t know what they’re talking about.” Zed said confidently.

Tommy nodded. “I thought you were close to your fam, though?”

“Yeah, but…not everybody is, you know. And that’s okay. You find family on the way, and that can be even more valuable—the people you choose. Who choose you.”

Tommy glanced at Vicki, speared by the expression that flitted over his face—an old pain that lived deep where it was hard to reach it. “Yeah. And, I mean, it’d be pretty fucking sick for each hockey team to be a coven, huh?” he said, sensing the tension rising in Vicki.

“Hell yeah,” Zed said. “Casting spells on you motherfuckers.”

Kevin shook his head. “Pretty sure that would be illegal, even if we were covens. Like. You might as well take a gun out on the ice.”

“Sheesh, I was thinking of a butterfingers spell or something, ya psychopath.”

Tommy perked up. “Or, like, an easily breakable stick. A weak blade.”

“A really distracting smell all game.”

Vicki snorted. “Pretty sure we all smell pretty fucking bad on the regular.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kevin said. “I don’t stink.”

Davesh shared a look with Zed. “Babe…how do we tell you this…”

Vicki butted in, “You smell like an egg a dog pissed in and then left to cook in the sun.”

Tommy choked on his food as Kevin spluttered. “The hell I do!”

“At least he’s good at stopping pucks,” Davesh said sadly.

Zed nodded. “And his dick is—”

Vicki slapped a hand over his mouth. “If I hear about either one of your boyfriends’ dicks again, I’m cutting them off.”

Davesh squirmed in his seat. “Seems unfair.”

“You have no idea, Davesh. Seriously. No. Idea.”

Zed wiggled from under the hand. “You should count yourself lucky that I’m willing to share—”

“Nope. No dicks.”

“What? But you love dicks.”

Tommy laughed. “Pretty sure he loves ass more than dicks,” he joked unthinkingly. The other four men stared at him. “I mean…or so I’d guess. Based on his whole…anal retentive schtick.”

Zed pointed at Vicki. “He’s got you there.”

Vicki rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he grumbled, smiling when Davesh elbowed him playfully in the ribs.

It struck Tommy then how weird it was to see Vicki like that—good humored and loose, the hardness of hatred absent from his eyes.

And it wasn’t like Tommy was desperate to be liked by the guy. As he’d said before and would surely say again—fuck that guy.

But…still. It was hard not to soften at the love directed at Vicki—at the obvious friendship there, built not just on blind loyalty to a teammate but earned through whatever determination and steadfastness Vicki seemed to bestow on other people.

And if he never directed that side of himself at Tommy, so what? He’d have fun with the guy in bed, and then they’d part when they’d had enough of each other.

Which was the only reason Tommy was parked in Vicki’s building’s garage, stretched over the center console of his car, mouth around Vicki’s thick cock.

Vicki’s hand was gripping Tommy’s hair, keeping him in place as his hips rocked slowly. “Fuck, you’re good at that,” Vicki said in a low voice.

Tommy tried not to let the words get to him. Vicki didn’t mean anything by them. It was just heat-of-the-moment stuff.

Still, he shuddered as the blunt head of Vicki’s dick rubbed against his throat, cutting off his air as Vicki groaned above him.

The dark, still space in the car seemed so small. Almost…safe. A hole carved out so Tommy could let go, leaning against Vicki’s bare thighs and being stuffed full, drool dripping down his chin, everything messy, quiet, and uncomplicated.

Tommy could tell when Vicki was about to come—had become familiar with the way his thighs would shake a little, hips stuttering but not becoming more violent, until, with a long groan, Vicki spilled into Tommy’s throat.

It was fucking heady, the rush after such an intense blow job. That first lungful of air as Tommy pressed his face into Vicki’s thighs, cheeks wet with spit and come, Vicki’s hand almost gentle in his hair.

“Come up here,” Vicki ordered suddenly, not waiting for a reaction before he hauled Tommy onto his lap, unzipping Tommy’s jeans quickly and pulling his dick out.

Tommy whined as Vicki set a ruthless pace with his hand, sinking into a vicious kiss, Vicki licking into his mouth, sucking on his tongue, taking everything from him.

Tommy just let him have it. There was no point in fighting something he wanted just as badly.

It took no time at all for Tommy to come between them, shaking with how overwhelmingly quick it’d happened, Vicki ripping the pleasure out of him.

Tommy couldn’t help but slump forward, resting his forehead against Vicki’s shoulder. In a few seconds, Vicki would push him away, and he’d get cleaned up. Drive home alone. Forget about whatever the bizarre day was making him feel.

For now, though, he let himself have a single moment of Vicki’s warm, calm body, and didn’t think about anything else he might possibly want.