Archive of Our Own

At first glance, the station looked like every other house Tommy had ever walked into; concrete floors buffed to a dull shine, the familiar scent of cleaning solution layered over engine oil and something metallic, a fire engine parked with mathematical precision beside an ambulance polished to the point of vanity. There was an upper level running along three walls, likely the usual combination of kitchen, bunks, and that strange domestic space firefighters always managed to build in the middle of chaos, and in the far corner, a gym area had been carved out with free weights and a squat rack that had seen enthusiastic use.

On the second look, however, the details shifted.

One bay door, set slightly apart from the rest, was wider and taller, more like a barn door. Parked near that door was a vehicle that was neither an engine nor an ambulance. It was longer with a rear ramp and interior padding visible through the open side panel. 

And next to the standard cluster of human firefighters moving through morning checks and coffee rituals were people who were not entirely human.

A woman near the lockers stretched her shoulders and folded a pair of dark wings carefully against her back, the feathers glossy. Across the bay, someone with unmistakably green skin leaned against the engine while scrolling through a tablet, looking bored in a way that transcended species. Near the staircase, a firefighter with sharply pointed ears argued good-naturedly with a paramedic about inventory sheets.

Tommy had expected this. Magical beings existed; five percent of the population, give or take. You did not often run into them in daily life unless you sought them out or worked in specific sectors. He had flown medevac for a fae child once, had coordinated wildfire containment with a water elemental who had refused to step inside a helicopter, and he had grown up in Los Angeles long enough that nothing truly surprised him anymore.

Still, walking into a space where they were visibly present in a large number felt different than passing someone on the street.

He found that he was not tense or cautious, just curious. He would only be here a handful of shifts while one of their co-workers recovered from a sprained ankle, a temporary reassignment that had come with a polite email and a thick attachment labeled Supernatural Unit Orientation, but he had accepted before finishing the document.

He liked new things, and he loved to learn. 

He rounded the nose of the fire engine, scanning for signage that might point him toward the captain's office, and collided with something solid.

The impact would have sent him flat on his back if not for the firm hand that closed around his shoulder with impressive speed, steadying him before gravity could complete its argument.

"Careful," a warm voice said, threaded with laughter that suggested the warning was habitual rather than critical.

Tommy steadied himself, registered first the width of a chest under a standard-issue LAFD shirt stretched across thick muscles, and then he looked up.

Broad shoulders tapered into a strong neck, sunlight catching in hair the color of honey. A mouth with pink lips curved in amusement, blue eyes that were bright and alive and very, very focused, a pink birthmark over one of them.

And below that human torso, attached seamlessly, was a powerful light brown horse body, built for speed rather than brute heaviness, the muscle along the flank shifting as weight redistributed. The shoulder came up to roughly five feet; from there the human half rose another two and a half, which meant that even standing at his full six foot two, Tommy was looking up a noticeable distance.

The centaur had been laughing at something someone off to the side had said and had chosen precisely the same moment to step forward.

Tommy adjusted his balance, looked up into those very blue eyes, and let appreciation settle plainly across his features.

"Well," he said, dry and thoughtful as if evaluating, "they weren't kidding about this station being special."

He let one corner of his mouth tilt upward and, because why not, gave a small, deliberate wink.

The centaur blinked, clearly not expecting that particular response, and something like a flush crept up along his round cheeks, faint but visible. For a heartbeat, he just looked at Tommy, as if recalibrating something internally. Then his mouth curved slowly, mischief replacing surprise.

"Special, huh," he repeated, tasting the word as if deciding whether he liked it.

Tommy extended his hand without hesitation. "Tommy Kinard. I'm helping out until your colleague feels better."

The centaur glanced at the offered hand, then back at Tommy's face, and reached out. His grip was warm, firm without being crushing, the calluses along his palm familiar in a way that suggested he used his hands a lot.

"Evan Buckley," he said.

Someone to his left made a soft, pointed coughing sound.

Evan rolled his eyes, faint color creeping into his cheeks just slightly. "Right," he said, a touch sheepish. "And this is my friend Henrietta. We call her Hen."

Tommy shifted his gaze to the woman beside him and smiled easily. "Nice to meet you."

Hen returned the look with assessing calm. Up close, her eyes were unmistakable, the irises a rich brown but the pupils narrow and vertical, catching light in a way that was distinctly feline. It did not make her expression less warm; if anything, it added an undercurrent of sharp intelligence.

"Welcome to the circus," she said, tone pleasant and utterly unapologetic.

Tommy laughed softly. "I've worked at AirOps long enough. I doubt you can surprise me."

Evan made a low, interested sound at that, something between a hum and a chuckle.

"That sounds like a challenge," he said.

Tommy met his gaze again, holding it just long enough to make the air feel slightly heavier. "I try not to issue those lightly."

There was an ease in the exchange that felt unexpected and immediate, as if they had stepped into the middle of a conversation rather than the beginning. Tommy was aware, distantly, of the scale difference, of the faint scent of the soap the department provided, and something distinctly warm that clung to Evan's skin.

He found that he liked it all a lot.

"I'm actually looking for the captain's office," he said, forcing himself to remember that he had been in motion before nearly walking into seven and a half feet of distraction.

Evan lifted his chin toward the staircase along the far wall. "Up there, second door on the right. If you hit the kitchen, you've gone too far."

"Good to know."

Tommy hesitated for half a second, then reached out almost absently and let his fingers close around Evan's forearm, giving a small, appreciative squeeze.

"Thanks," he added, tone just shy of playful.

The muscle under his hand flexed, whether from the contact or something else entirely, he could not be sure. Evan's gaze dropped briefly to where Tommy was touching him, then rose again, and the grin that followed was unmistakably mischievous.

"Anytime," he said, and there was something in the way he said it that suggested the word carried more possibilities than directional assistance.

Hen made another soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh.

Tommy let his hand fall away slowly, resisting the urge to glance back immediately as he stepped around the impressive curve of Evan's equine body. He mounted the stairs, pulse steady but a little quicker than baseline, and allowed himself a small smile as he reached the landing.

This was going to be interesting.

Captain Nash turned out to be exactly what Tommy expected and slightly more than he anticipated, steady-eyed with the kind of grounded presence that suggested very little rattled him anymore. He shook Tommy's hand firmly, studied him for half a beat as if measuring not just skill set but temperament, and then nodded once in quiet approval.

"Appreciate you stepping in," he said, already gesturing toward the far side of the bay. "We run like any other house in this city, just with a few adjustments."

The tour was efficient but thorough.

Nash explained the custom transport vehicle had been designed in collaboration with the department's supernatural liaison, accounting for weight distribution, hoof traction, and emergency stabilization for a centaur. It could also be reconfigured if they ever had to transport another large-bodied victim.

The gear lockers were where the differences became more obvious. Modified turnout coats with wing slits. Custom gloves reinforced for claws rather than fingernails. Helmets with adjustable interiors to accommodate horns, ears, or slightly altered skull structures. 

"We don't separate teams by species," Nash said, leading him past the barn door at the rear of the station, which was clearly Evan's space. It was surprisingly homey, a high counter and work bench, a heavy-duty couch along the wall, a futon to sleep on at the other, and an attached bathroom. "Everyone here qualifies on the same standards. We just make sure they have what they need to meet them."

Tommy nodded slowly as he took it in. He could appreciate that Evan had a personal area that actually fit him, the high ceiling and reinforced furniture making it clear someone had put real thought into how a centaur firefighter might live and work comfortably. Still, something about it sat a little crooked in his chest.

"I appreciate that the department and the station accommodate the special needs for their supernatural unit," Tommy said carefully, glancing around once more before looking back at Nash. "But… isn't a separate area like this kind of isolating for Firefighter Buckley from the others?"

Nash nodded immediately, as if he had heard the concern before.

"I see how it might come across like that," he admitted. "But I promise you, that's not the intention."

He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe as he continued.

"We've got a special seating space for Buck at the table upstairs so he can eat with the rest of us, and there's a futon in the common room as well. He hangs out there most of the day when the shift is active." Nash gave a small shrug. "Problem is, the ceiling height upstairs is pretty low for him. He ends up crouching a lot when he moves around up there."

Tommy winced slightly at the mental image.

"So during the day, when everyone's moving around and socializing, he's usually upstairs with the rest of us," Nash continued. "But when the shift winds down and people start settling in, it's honestly just easier for him to stay down here where he can actually stand and move normally."

He gestured lightly toward the space again.

"Right now, this, attaching a separate room for him on the groundfloor, is the best solution we could manage when he joined the station three years ago. But the department's already working on the next step. They're planning to build three more fully inclusive stations over the next few years, designed from the ground up to accommodate different supernatural physiologies. We've got a few recruits in the training program already who are also taller than humans, so it's becoming a real priority."

Tommy let out a low whistle.

"Well," he said, impressed despite himself, "that's actually pretty damn great to hear."

Nash grinned.

"We're getting there," he said. "Slowly, maybe, but it's progress."

Tommy nodded again, feeling some of the earlier unease settle. If nothing else, it sounded like the department was at least trying to build something better. He was about to ask another question when the alarm bell shattered the quiet, sharp and immediate. The bay erupted into motion.

Humans and non-humans alike moved with practiced coordination, turnout gear pulled on mid-stride, helmets snapped into place, gloves tugged tight. Tommy slid into his gear automatically, muscle memory taking over, the rhythm of emergency response familiar enough to settle his pulse even as adrenaline threaded through it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Evan in motion.

The transformation from relaxed flirt to focused responder was subtle but complete. The heavy transport vehicle's ramp lowered with a hydraulic hiss, and Evan moved up it with a fluid power that made the mechanism almost redundant, hooves striking the reinforced flooring in controlled, resonant beats. Even at speed, there was nothing clumsy about him. He was precision layered over strength, long legs eating distance without wasted effort.

Tommy forced himself to look away before he stared.

He climbed into the engine with the others, settling into the seat beside Hen, who offered him a quick, assessing glance as the truck roared to life.

"Try not to get distracted," she said mildly.

"By what?" Tommy asked, buckling in.

Her lips twitched. "Exactly."

The drive was short. A minor car pileup at an intersection, three vehicles involved, one overturned, no fire yet, but fluids were leaking, and traffic was snarled.

They disembarked in a practiced spread.

Tommy fell into step easily, coordinating with the paramedics, assessing injuries, and communicating with Nash. He had done this for years; crisis was not new, and bodies in motion under pressure were something he understood instinctively.

Still, his gaze wandered from time to time, and he noticed the way Evan approached the overturned car, bracing his front legs and lowering his center of gravity before using the strength of his hindquarters to stabilize the chassis while another firefighter crawled inside to reach the trapped driver. He noticed the flex along powerful flanks as weight shifted, the careful angle of hooves to avoid crushing debris that might worsen the situation. He noticed how the sunlight caught on his fur, sweat dampening it slightly.

Tommy realized, with faint irritation at himself, that he had been watching for several seconds without processing anything the person next to him had just said.

He snapped his attention back to the patient in front of him, focusing on vitals, on calm reassurances, on the steady work of extrication. It did not help that when Evan finally stepped back from the vehicle, dust streaked along the powerful line of his equine body, he caught Tommy looking.

Their eyes met across the chaos.

Evan's mouth curved just slightly, not enough to be inappropriate, just enough to say I see you.

Tommy's pulse kicked once in acknowledgment before he forced himself back into the task at hand.

They cleared the scene efficiently. Minor injuries, nothing catastrophic. By the time they returned to the station, traffic had resumed and the afternoon light had softened into something warmer.

Back in the bay, gear was shed, equipment checked, and reset.

Tommy made it a point not to retreat into himself or hover awkwardly near the truck. If he was going to be here, even temporarily, he wanted to understand the people he was working beside. He asked questions, genuine ones, Ria about wing maintenance during shifts, Milos about how he managed hydration of his green skin under turnout gear, Rash about whether the pointed ears made helmets uncomfortable during long shifts.

No one seemed put off. If anything, there was an ease in answering him, an appreciation for curiosity without condescension.

He found himself genuinely engaged, listening to stories about mishaps, about the first time someone's claws had accidentally shredded standard-issue gloves, about the trial and error of adapting a human-built system to a more varied workforce.

And then Evan stepped back into the circle, having finished his own inspection, and leaned one broad shoulder casually against a support beam.

"You interrogating everyone equally," he asked lightly, "Am I next on the list?"

Tommy turned toward him, folding his arms loosely. "I prefer the term informed conversation."

There was that spark again, easy and bright.

"So," Tommy continued, letting his gaze drift deliberately along the impressive stretch of him before returning to his face, "how does someone end up in the fire department when half the job involves doorways built for people under seven feet tall?"

A low laugh rumbled out of Evan's chest. "You'd be surprised what I can kick through. Helps a lot."

"I don't doubt that for a second."

Their coworkers drifted away gradually, the circle thinning until it was just the two of them, Tommy sitting in an armchair and Evan on his futon.

"You're always this curious?" Evan asked, tone softer now, less public.

"I like to learn, especially about things I find interesting. Or someone I find interesting..."

"Well," Evan said, adjusting so he was angled more fully toward Tommy, "good thing you're here for a few shifts, then."

Tommy felt the corner of his mouth lift.

Good thing indeed.

From the second shift on, Tommy made a quiet, entirely transparent decision. He rode in Evan's transport vehicle whenever logistics allowed it.

Officially, it made sense. He needed to familiarize himself with all operational protocols, and that included understanding how the modified vehicle was handled in traffic, how to coordinate larger-bodied responders.

Unofficially, he liked sitting where he could see Evan.

The passenger seat in the front gave him the perfect angle. He would turn halfway around in it, one arm draped casually over the backrest, speaking easily with Monty, the driver, while still keeping Evan in his line of sight, sitting in the reinforced rear compartment. The layout allowed for conversation without shouting, and before long the rides to and from calls became something he actively looked forward to.

Evan was, as it turned out, infuriatingly interesting.

He was funny without trying too hard, the kind of person who could drop an absurd observation into a serious conversation and make it land perfectly. He was also a relentless consumer of information.

"You read nonfiction for fun," Tommy said one afternoon, the late sun washing everything in gold.

Evan shrugged, a ripple of muscle shifting along his flank as he adjusted his sitting against the vehicle's wall. "Biographies. History. Science. Anything that explains how something works."

"That explains the way you argued about hydraulic pressure yesterday."

"I was right."

"You were annoyingly right."

A grin spread across Evan's face. "Thank you."

Tommy shook his head, amused. "So what, you just sit up at night reading about structural engineering?"

"Sometimes," Evan admitted, looking only mildly sheepish. "Or I'll start a documentary and then end up researching the topic for three hours because they left something out."

"Sounds like you've got a solid collection of fun facts."

"I do."

Tommy studied him for a moment, watching the way enthusiasm lit him from the inside when he talked about something that interested him. It was not performative. It was not designed to impress. It was simply there, bright and unfiltered.

"You should come with me to trivia night sometime," Tommy said casually. "I go most Thursdays when I'm not on shift."

Evan blinked, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into unmistakable pleasure. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. We could use someone who knows obscure historical disasters."

"That is a very specific category?"

"You'd be shocked how often it comes up."

Monty made a noise that was suspiciously like a suppressed laugh.

Evan's smile widened. "Yeah. I'd like that." Then, after a beat, lighter but not entirely joking, "Wouldn't mind meeting up after your stint here is over."

Tommy held his gaze, letting the implication hang comfortably between them.

"That so?" he asked.

Evan shifted his weight again, the movement small but betraying a thread of nerves under the confidence. "Yeah."

Monty finally rolled his eyes openly. "You two realize I can hear this, right?"

Evan did not break eye contact. "You don't have to listen."

"I don't," Monty replied, shaking his head with a smile. "But it's more entertaining this way."

The rides became their own rhythm after that. Easy conversations about books, about flying, about why certain myths persisted in a world where you could just talk to the supernatural beings around you. Sometimes they argued gently about facts. Sometimes they sat in companionable quiet, the hum of the engine and the city noise filling the space without discomfort.

On scene, they did not always work side by side. The unit split where needed, and Tommy focused on whatever the situation demanded from him.

But when they did end up in the same bubble, it was seamless.

Once, during a warehouse alarm that turned out to be more smoke than flame, a section of shelving had collapsed in a back storage room, trapping a worker beneath a tangle of metal and splintered wood. The space was narrow, cluttered, not designed for someone Evan's size, but he approached it without hesitation.

"I'll stabilize," he said, voice steady, already positioning himself at the threshold.

Tommy assessed the layout quickly. "If you brace there, I can crawl in from this side."

Evan's blue eyes flicked to his face for half a second, checking alignment, then he nodded. "On you."

He planted his front hooves carefully, angled his hindquarters to anchor against the concrete, and lowered his body just enough to take the weight of the sagging structure. The muscles along his shoulders tightened.

Tommy slipped past him, acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body, of how close his own shoulder brushed against Evan's flank in the cramped space.

"Stable?" Tommy asked quietly.

"Got it," Evan replied, breath even but deeper now with exertion.

Tommy trusted that answer completely.

They worked in concentration, minimal words, efficient movements. When the worker was freed and guided out, Evan eased the shelving back down with careful precision, avoiding further damage.

Outside, under clearer air, Tommy caught himself staring again.

It was not just the strength, though that was undeniably compelling. It was the awareness behind it, the way Evan seemed to calculate angles and force and human fragility all at once, as if his body and mind were always running parallel equations.

He had to remind himself more than once to look away from the long line of Evan's legs when he walked, from the flex of strong forearms as he adjusted equipment, from the way sweat traced a path down his neck after heavy lifting.

Focus, he told himself sternly.

He was here to work.

Back at the bay, though, professionalism relaxed into something lighter.

The flirting became a constant undercurrent, never crossing into anything inappropriate, but present enough that everyone within a ten-foot radius was aware of it.

Tommy discovered he enjoyed making Evan blush.

It was not difficult. A well-timed compliment, a deliberate look held half a second longer than necessary, a murmured "impressive" when Evan lifted something that would have required two humans. The flush would bloom along his cheekbones, creeping down his neck, and Tommy found the sight satisfying.

The problem, or perhaps the equalizer, was that Evan gave as good as he got.

Their conversations were not explicit, but the charge was unmistakable. It threaded through shared glances and casual touches, through the way Evan sometimes lowered himself slightly when speaking to Tommy so their faces aligned more easily, through the way Tommy's hand would rest briefly against a warm shoulder before he remembered himself.

He could not deny the attraction.

It was there, steady and growing, no longer just about physicality. He liked the way Evan listened when he talked. He liked the way Evan asked questions that dug a little deeper than surface level, as if he were cataloging Tommy the same way he cataloged facts in late-night research spirals.

He wondered, occasionally, whether this was simply how Evan interacted with everyone. Maybe he was just a natural flirt, bright and warm with the whole world. But when Evan looked at him, really looked at him, there was a focus there that did not feel generic. 

Still, Tommy kept the boundaries clear in his own mind. He was here temporarily. He was a guest in this house. Nothing could happen while he was here, not if he wanted to keep things to the LAFD rules.

Flirting, though, was safe. Flirting was fun.

And when he eventually rotated back to Harbor, back to his regular schedule and familiar faces, there was nothing stopping him from sending a message to ask Evan for a date.

By the time Tommy's last shift rolled around, the station no longer felt like someone else's house. He knew which cabinet stuck if you pulled it too fast, which coffee mug belonged to whom, which stretch of floor near Evan's room creaked faintly under uneven weight. Two weeks was not long in the grand scheme of anything, but it was apparently long enough to build habit.

The last call came in late afternoon, when the light outside had softened and the air carried that quiet lull that often preceded dinner. Family of three. Hiking trail in one of the larger parks on the outskirts of the city. Slipped down a steep hillside, unable to climb back up. Possible fractures. Five-year-old involved.

They drove as far as terrain allowed before gravel gave way to narrow dirt path and then to something barely wide enough for boots. Captain Nash surveyed the incline ahead, jaw set in quiet calculation.

"Okay," he said, turning slightly. "Buck, Ria, Miles, you're the fastest. You go first. We'll follow with gear. Five minutes, maybe less. You can handle that?"

Three nods.

Ria's wings unfurled with a soft rush of displaced air, feathers catching the slanted sunlight before she launched upward in a powerful sweep. Miles, a satyr, adjusted the straps of his pack and set off immediately, hooved legs navigating uneven ground with effortless balance.

And then Evan moved.

Tommy had seen him run before, but something about this terrain, the natural slope and scattered rock, made the motion even more striking. Long, strong legs carried him upward in fluid strides, hooves finding purchase without hesitation. His human half leaned forward slightly, balanced and precise, hands occasionally brushing against tree trunks for stability.

He was fast. He was beautiful.

Tommy forced himself into motion, following with the rest of the team, gear slung over shoulders, boots slipping slightly on loose dirt where hooves had not.

They reached the site not long after.

Ria had already lifted the boy to a safer ledge above the worst of the incline, wings beating steadily as she reassured him in a calm, bright voice. The child clung to her carefully, eyes wide but dry.

Below, Miles had navigated down to where the parents were stranded, his compact, powerful build giving him a stability humans rarely had on terrain like this. He was fitting a harness around the father's torso with practiced efficiency.

And Evan stood braced near the edge, one hand gripping a rescue rope that ran taut down the slope, anchoring the system with his own body weight and strength.

He looked up briefly when Tommy approached, a quick flicker of acknowledgment before returning his focus to the line.

"Father's got possible rib fractures," Miles called. "Mother's leg is definitely broken."

"Copy," Nash answered, already directing the rest of them into position.

It unfolded more smoothly than anyone had anticipated. The angle was steep but manageable, the ground firm enough to secure lines. One by one, the parents were stabilized, lifted with controlled coordination, and brought up to the main trail.

The boy, now sitting on a flat patch of earth near Ria, watched everything with solemn concentration.

By the time the parents were secured on a stretcher and assessed, both were in pain but stable. The father tried to downplay his breathing discomfort. The mother clenched her jaw against the obvious agony of her leg.

They began discussing the safest way to get everyone back down to the vehicles. It would be slow going with two injured adults, even with manpower.

Evan shifted slightly, glancing toward the boy.

"Hey," he said, voice easy but carrying enough to draw attention. "The kid can just ride on my back."

There was a brief, almost imperceptible pause among the team, Tommy noticed it immediately.

Captain Nash looked at him carefully. "You sure?"

Evan nodded once, calm and unbothered. "Yeah. It's okay. That way, you all can focus on carrying the parents. Faster and safer."

The hesitation lingered for half a heartbeat longer, then Cap gave a short nod. "All right."

Evan turned his attention fully to the boy. He stepped forward slowly and then bent his front legs, lowering himself down so that his shoulders dipped, reducing the height difference significantly. His voice softened as he spoke.

"Hey, buddy," he said gently. "You want a ride? I promise I've got good balance."

The boy stared at him for a second, taking in the size, the unfamiliar shape. Then, for the first time since they had arrived, he smiled. A small, tentative thing at first, then brighter.

The boy nodded immediately.

Tommy stepped forward without being asked, instinctively moving to help. He crouched beside Evan's shoulder, guiding the child carefully, hands steady as he lifted him up and settled him just behind Evan's withers, where the curve of muscle provided a natural seat.

"Hold onto his jacket," Tommy advised softly, adjusting the boy's small hands. "He won't let you fall."

Evan glanced back briefly, just enough to catch Tommy's eye.

"I won't," he said, and the words felt heavier than the situation required.

They began the descent slowly.

The parents were carried with coordinated care, Miles and two others supporting the mother's stretcher, Cap and two others managing the father.

Evan moved at a deliberate pace, careful of loose stones, body subtly adjusting with every shift of the boy's weight. One hand remained lightly braced behind the child, not gripping, just present.

The boy giggled once when they hit a smoother stretch.

Tommy walked slightly behind and to the side, close enough to intervene if necessary, though it quickly became clear that there would be no need. Seven and a half feet of controlled strength, carrying something small and fragile with effortless gentleness.

By the time they reached the vehicles, the boy was chattering quietly about how fast they had gone.

The parents were loaded into the ambulance, reassured again and again that their son was unhurt. The mother reached for him immediately, and he scrambled into the rig beside her without hesitation.

Evan stepped back as the doors closed, brushing a hand absently along his flank as if shaking off tension.

Tommy found that the look the team had exchanged earlier was still echoing in his mind. Back at the station, once equipment was stowed and reports were underway, he sidled up beside Hen near the lockers.

"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly.

She glanced at him sideways. "That depends."

"Why did everyone look like that when Evan offered to carry the kid?"

Hen's expression shifted, not defensive but thoughtful.

"Centaurs," she said slowly, "don't like being treated like horses. Just because they share similarities and certain needs does not mean they are the same. Historically, that has not gone well for them."

Tommy absorbed that.

"They don't let people ride them," she continued. "It's… Vulnerable."

"So that was…"

"A big deal," Hen finished. "Buck probably did it because he loves kids. Always has."

Tommy watched Evan across the bay, where he was laughing at something Miles had said, completely at ease. The image of him lowering himself carefully, of his voice softening for the boy, replayed in vivid detail.

Something warm settled under Tommy's ribs.

He told himself he should head upstairs with the others now, that it was late and he should catch some sleep, but when the crew began drifting up toward the bunks in loose clusters, voices lowered and steps heavy with fatigue, he found himself turning the other way.

Evan was already moving toward the his section of the bay, the barn-style door partially open. Tommy's gaze followed the familiar line of him, the powerful ripple of Evan's chestnut coat under the station lights, the steady roll of muscle beneath skin that had carried weight all day without complaint.

And then he saw it.

Not dramatic, but there was a hitch, a slight unevenness in his gait, a subtle falter in the rhythm of those long, confident strides. A stumble that did not belong on a creature that graceful.

Tommy's brow furrowed before he had fully registered the thought. He followed.

Inside the room, the air felt warmer, quieter, edged with the faint scent of Evan. He had just reached for something near the wall when he seemed to sense the movement behind him and turned.

He looked faintly surprised to see Tommy standing there.

"You're not heading up? You must be tired, it's late," he asked, one eyebrow lifting, though his tone held more curiosity than dismissal.

Tommy leaned a shoulder lightly against the wooden partition, letting the door swing shut behind him with a soft thud. "Maybe later," he said easily. "I wanted to talk to you for a minute, if you're up to it."

Evan's expression softened almost immediately. "Sure."

For a second Tommy studied him in the warm light, helmet gone, honey-colored curls slightly flattened and rumpled, a faint flush still high on his cheeks from exertion and the lingering aftermath of the call.

"I just wanted to say," Tommy began, choosing his words carefully, "that I really admire what you did out there. With the kid."

Evan blinked once, clearly not expecting that direction.

"It wasn't…" he started, then hesitated. "It wasn't a big deal."

Tommy shook his head gently. "I talked to Hen. I think I understand a little what that meant for you. Letting him ride on you like that." His voice softened without losing steadiness. "It was generous. And kind."

A faint, unmistakable blush crept higher along Evan's cheekbones, and he looked away for a moment, as if the ground near his hooves had suddenly become deeply interesting.

"He was scared," Evan said, almost dismissively. "It helped."

"It did," Tommy agreed. "You made him feel safe."

Evan shifted his weight absently as if brushing off the attention, and that was when Tommy saw it again, clearer now in the confined space. The right hind leg trembled just slightly before settling, an involuntary twitch that did not match the rest of his controlled posture.

"You're limping," he said quietly. "I saw it when you walked in here."

Evan stilled.

For a brief second he did not respond, then his human torso twisted back, glancing over his shoulder as if he could visually assess the damage. His curls fell forward into his forehead.

"It's just a tweak," he said after a moment. "Pulled something a little on the way down. It's nothing."

Tommy pushed away from the wall and closed the space between them.

"Let me see?"

Evan's gaze snapped back to his face. "You don't have to," he said.

"I want to."

Tommy did not wait for a second protest and instead stepped closer, letting his hands settle first in a slow, reassuring stroke along the broad plane of Evan's flank.

His palm glided over warm, sleek skin, following the powerful curve downward, tracing the natural line of muscle until he reached the thick column of the hind leg. Up close, the sheer size of him was almost overwhelming; heat radiated steadily through the fine coat, the muscle beneath dense and responsive even under gentle pressure.

Tommy crouched beside the massive line of that leg, his shoulder brushing lightly against Evan's side as he positioned himself. His hand moved with careful deliberation, sliding down toward the fetlock, assessing tension, mapping where the strain had settled.

"Lift for me," he murmured, his voice low and steady.

There was a brief hesitation, then Evan obeyed.

The shift in balance was subtle but unmistakable as he transferred weight to the other three legs. His breath caught softly when Tommy guided the lifted limb back, resting it against his own thigh. Tommy's back was turned partially toward Evan's front.

The weight of the leg against him was solid, grounding. Tommy adjusted his grip and began to work.

His thumbs pressed into the fascia along the lower tendon, firm and rhythmic, not punishing but purposeful, moving in slow circles before dragging upward in measured strokes. The muscle reacted immediately under his touch, tightening, then slowly yielding as heat built beneath his hands.

Evan made a sound, low and unfiltered. Not loud, but deep enough that Tommy felt it as much as heard it, the vibration carrying through the contact point between them.

"Tell me if it hurts," Tommy said quietly, though he did not ease up.

Evan exhaled slowly. "Yeah," 

Tommy continued, adjusting pressure instinctively, finding the exact line where tension knotted hardest and lingering there just long enough to coax it into release. He felt the moment it shifted, the subtle tremor that signaled muscle letting go.

When he was satisfied with the lower portion, he guided the leg carefully back down to the floor, his hand lingering for half a second at the pastern before withdrawing.

He rose slowly, turning to face Evan's side.

Up close like this, he could see the faint sheen of sweat along the curve of his belly, the steady rise and fall of breath that had grown just slightly heavier. The powerful slope of the upper hind leg was within reach, and Tommy let his hands settle there without hesitation, fingers spreading wide to encompass as much as he could.

The fur was soft, the heat deep.

He dug his thumbs into the thick muscle at the thigh, working inward toward the junction where tension pooled between leg and body. His other hand braced along the outside, stabilizing, guiding, feeling the way the muscle tightened under pressure before slowly, slowly easing.

Evan's breathing changed.

It grew more uneven, a little heavier, a faint edge of sound slipping free when Tommy hit a particularly stubborn knot. The leg twitched once, not in withdrawal but in reaction, and Tommy adjusted immediately, slowing the motion, then pressing again with careful insistence.

"You like that?" he asked quietly, not teasing, just curious.

Evan swallowed, the sound audible in the stillness of the stable. "It helps," he said, though the words came slightly breathless.

Tommy's hand slid higher, following the line of muscle toward the inner thigh, where the skin felt warmer, more sensitive. He moved deliberately, aware that this territory edged closer to something else, but he tried to keep his touch and thoughts professional, grounding it in purpose even as the air between them heated.

He found the cramped muscle tucked high between thigh and belly and pressed into it with focused care, his other hand steady along the outer curve to keep balance.

Evan's reaction was immediate, a sharper inhale, a small, involuntary sound that was half strain and half relief, followed by a long exhale that seemed to empty him out completely.

Tommy felt the tension shift under his palms. The tightness began to unravel, not all at once but gradually, muscle softening as heat and pressure did their work. Evan's breathing settled into a heavy rhythm, and when the worst of the strain finally gave way, the leg beneath Tommy's hands steadied.

He felt it before he saw it.

A subtle change beneath his hands, the rhythm of Evan's body shifting from simple relief into something else. The muscles under his palms tightened in a different pattern now. And then there was movement in the corner of his eyes.

There was a shift beneath Evan's barrel as the heavy, slick weight of his cock dropped from its sheath.

Oh, wow, Tommy thought. There's a reason for the phrase hung like a horse.

Evan sucked in a sharp breath, the sound edged with mortification as he tried to sidestep away, hooves scraping lightly against the floor.

"Tommy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

Well, that would not do, Tommy decided.

He stepped around him instead, closing the distance, and when he reached Evan's front he felt the full scale of him in a way he had not before. Up close like this, framed by the breadth of his chest and the height of him, Tommy had to tilt his head back to meet those blown wide blue eyes.

For the first time in his life, he felt small. And the realization sent a sharp, thrilling heat straight through him.

"Don't," Tommy said quietly.

His hand lifted almost without conscious thought, fingers settling against Evan's arm before sliding upward along firm muscle. He had to rise onto his toes to reach properly, and that fact alone did something wild and unfamiliar to his pulse; he had never been the smaller one, never the one stretching upward, and he found he liked it far more than he thought.

"I'm not exactly unaffected," he added, his voice lower now, and his lips lifting in a teasing smirk.

Evan's gaze dipped to Tommy's crotch, where the outline of his hard cock pressed against his pants, before lifting again. The air between them felt electric.

"Don't apologize," Tommy murmured, stepping even closer. His fingers slid into the warm thickness of Evan's hair at the base of his neck, anchoring there. "Come here."

Evan's front legs bent slightly, lowering his height so their faces aligned more easily. Even then, Tommy had to lean upward, one hand braced at Evan's jaw, thumb brushing along the edge of his cheek.

When their mouths met, it was not tentative. It was everything that had been building for two weeks of lingering glances, flirtations carried just to the edge and then pulled back.

Tommy kissed him like he had been wanting for weeks and Evan answered immediately, a low sound spilling from him that was part moan, part whine, the vibration of it resonating through his chest and into Tommy's body where they were pressed close. The kiss turned hungry within seconds, mouths parting, tongues brushing and then sliding together.

Tommy made a rough sound in the back of his throat, his grip tightening slightly in Evan's hair as he deepened the kiss, tasting heat and something uniquely Evan. Evan's hands found him in return, large and warm at Tommy's waist and shoulder, drawing him closer.

There was only the press of mouths, the glide of tongues finally meeting without restraint, the sharp inhale when teeth grazed lower lip, the answering hum of approval that followed.

Tommy pulled back only an inch, just enough that their lips were no longer touching, though their breath still mingled between them. His thumb traced slowly along Evan's jawline, feeling the faint scrape of stubble beneath warm skin.

"I need you to understand something," Tommy said, his voice rough but steady. "This isn't just because I'm off rotation tomorrow. I've wanted you since the first shift I pulled here. All of you." His mouth curved slightly, softening the intensity of the confession. "But not just for one night. I wanted to ask you out. Take you on a date. See if we could become something."

For a second, Evan just stared at him, blue eyes wide and bright in the dim light, and then his face split into a devastating, boyish grin that made Tommy's stomach flip.

"Good," Evan breathed. "Because I'm not sure I could let you leave that easily." His hands tightened slightly where they rested on Tommy's hips. "I really like you, Tommy. I want to explore what we could become."

The words settled between them, warm and sure.

Tommy's answering grin was quick and fierce, and then he leaned in again, kissing Evan with renewed hunger. Their mouths met hard, teeth grazing, tongues sliding together in a slow, deliberate sweep that felt like a claiming.

Evan made a soft, helpless sound against his lips, a breathy moan. Tommy answered with a low, approving hum, his hands sliding from Evan's neck down over broad shoulders, fingers digging slightly into muscle as if to anchor himself.

Before Tommy could even process the shift, Evan's grip changed, and his hands slid fully beneath Tommy's thighs and the small whimper that escaped Tommy surprised them both. There was a surge of strength so effortless it stole the air from Tommy's lungs, and suddenly he was lifted, hoisted upward as if he weighed nothing at all.

A startled laugh broke from him as his legs wrapped instinctively around Evan's waist. His chest pressed against Evan's, heart hammering, and he felt the power in the arms holding him there, steady and unshaking.

It was intoxicating, the ease with which Evan carried him. The fact that he could.

Tommy's fingers tightened, and he kissed him again, deep and slow, but not less hungry, savoring the heat of Evan's mouth, the way his lips parted willingly, the way his breath hitched each time Tommy's tongue traced along the seam of them.

Evan crossed the room in only a few steps, hooves steady against the concrete, and set Tommy down on the edge of the high reinforced workbench that ran along one wall. The surface was solid beneath him, cool through his clothes, a sharp contrast to the warmth surrounding him.

Evan stepped in immediately, large hands sliding to Tommy's knees.

He spread them wider, guiding Tommy's legs apart so he could wedge himself between them. The sheer scale of him filled the space, chest rising and falling a little faster now, eyes darkened with want.

Tommy swallowed, pulse racing, and let his hands travel downward this time, over Evan's shoulders, along his chest, feeling the defined muscle under his palms. 

"You look very pleased with yourself," Tommy murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Evan leaned in, bracing one arm beside Tommy's hip, the other sliding around his waist again to pull him closer to the edge. His mouth brushed along Tommy's jaw, then down the line of his throat, kissing, open and warm.

"I am," Evan admitted against his skin.

Tommy's head tipped back involuntarily, exposing more of his throat, and the soft sound that left him this time was not laughter but something thinner. His hands moved again, one tangling in Evan's curls, the other gripping at his shoulder as Evan's lips returned to his neck.

Evan's fingers flexed against Tommy's hips, thumbs stroking along the sensitive dip just above the waistband of his pants, and each deliberate touch drew another small, needy sound from Tommy's throat.

There was strength everywhere, in the arms holding him steady, in the body pressing him back against the bench, in the controlled restraint Evan was clearly clinging to.

"God, Evan," Tommy breathed, his voice rough with it, his hands sliding over the broad warmth of the centaur's chest as if he could not quite get enough of touching him. "I want you so bad."

Evan's answering smile was soft and a little teasing, but no less bright. "Me too."

Tommy's fingers hooked into the collar of Evan's shirt and gave it a tug. "Off," he said, a breathless laugh slipping into the word. "Why are you still wearing clothes. I need to see all of you."

Evan huffed out an amused breath but did not argue. His hands crossed to the hem of the department shirt, and he pulled it up and over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside somewhere behind him.

Tommy stared.

He had known Evan was strong, but seeing him like this was something else entirely.

His chest was broad and solid, the muscles defined without looking forced, the kind of strength built from long shifts and hard work. Faint hair scattered across the tattooed skin, disappearing where the human half of him met the powerful chestnut coat below. Tommy's gaze followed that line instinctively, drawn to the seamless shift from man to equine body. 

"Wow," Tommy said softly, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face. "Yeah. I was right."

Evan tilted his head. "About what?"

"That you're unfairly attractive."

The laugh that escaped Evan was warm and a little shy, though the look in his eyes had turned darker.

"Your turn," he said, reaching for the hem of Tommy's shirt with a boyish, expectant grin. "Not letting you keep all the secrets."

Tommy lifted his arms willingly, letting Evan tug the shirt up and off him. The fabric barely hit the ground before Evan's gaze dropped to Tommy's chest, lingering in a way that made heat bloom low in his stomach. A small, almost whiny sound slipped from Evan's throat, soft but unmistakably appreciative.

Tommy laughed breathlessly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Evan did not leave much time for further commentary. His mouth found Tommy's chest almost immediately, pressing a warm kiss just below his collarbone before trailing lower and biting his nipple. The sensation made Tommy suck in a sharp breath, his hands sliding back into Evan's curls as instinctively as breathing.

Tommy leaned back slightly against the workbench, his shoulders and the back of his head pressing against the cool wall behind him so Evan had room to move. Evan seemed to appreciate the invitation, his mouth wandering slowly across Tommy's chest, kissing and lingering, as if he had all the time in the world.

Tommy's back arched under the attention, a quiet sound slipping from him before he could stop it.

Their bodies pressed closer together, the solid line where Evan's human torso met the powerful equine half creating a firm point of contact that Tommy could not ignore. He shifted forward instinctively, chasing the warmth, and the friction sent a sharp spark of sensation through him that made his breath hitch as he started to frot against Evan.

"Evan…" he murmured, the name escaping half as a warning, half as a plea.

Evan answered with a low, rumbling sound that vibrated pleasantly through Tommy's chest where their bodies met, one hand sliding up to steady him by the waist while the other settled high on his thigh. 

Evan lifted his head slowly, his eyes dark and focused.

"Let me make you feel good," he murmured.

His hand rested high on Tommy's thigh, his thumb pressing lightly into the crease where leg met hip, the gesture unmistakable.

"Yes," he breathed, the word leaving him almost immediately. His fingers tightened briefly in Evan's hair before sliding down to cup the back of his neck. "Yeah, babe. Please."

The grin that spread across Evan's face was bright and a little triumphant, like a cat that had just been offered a favorite treat.

He crouched so he could reach Tommy's boots first, hands moving with surprising gentleness as he loosened them and slid them off one by one, setting them aside. The socks followed, then his fingers moved to Tommy's waistband, pausing there just long enough for Tommy to meet his eyes again.

Tommy only nodded, his breath already unsteady as anticipation curled low in his stomach.

Evan's smile softened again as he helped him the rest of the way out of his pants and briefs, movements slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second of the moment. And the way he looked at Tommy made it very clear he liked what he saw.

Evan shifted his weight, lowering himself gradually, the powerful front legs bending until he was between Tommy's legs. The movement itself was graceful despite his size, controlled strength flowing through muscle and bone as he settled into the new position.

Tommy felt his pulse jump at the sight.

Because now Evan was there, right between his knees, broad shoulders framed by Tommy's spread legs, his gaze lifted with an intensity that made heat curl low in Tommy's stomach.

"Comfortable?" Evan asked quietly, his voice warm with amusement.

Tommy huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. "How could I not be?"

Evan's answering grin was slow and pleased, clearly enjoying the effect he was having.

His hands slid back to Tommy's hips, large palms warm and steady as they settled there. One thumb traced a line along the curve of Tommy's waist while the other hand drifted lower, fingers curling briefly against the back of his thigh.

Then Evan leaned forward, and Tommy's breath caught.

The first kiss landed just above Tommy's knee, soft and almost reverent, his lips warm against skin that had suddenly become far too sensitive. Another followed a little higher, then another, each one unhurried, deliberate, as if Evan was mapping the path upward with patient attention.

Tommy let out a shaky exhale, his head tipping back slightly against the wall.

"Evan," he murmured, half warning, half encouragement.

Evan only hummed quietly in response, the sound vibrating faintly against Tommy's thigh as he continued his slow ascent. His hand shifted to Tommy's hip now, fingers spreading wide, guiding him a little closer to the edge of the bench. The other hand slid behind him, nudging the leg over his shoulder, then resting firmly against the curve of Tommy's ass, holding him steady, holding him exactly where he wanted him.

"Oh fuck," Tommy breathed, the sound leaving him before he could stop it.

When Evan finally wrapped his plush, pink lips around the head of Tommy's cock, he cried out in relief. His fingers found Evan's curls almost instinctively, sliding into the thick strands as if he needed an anchor. Tommy braced his other hand against the edge of the wooden workbench, his knuckles whitening slightly, as a slow, steady sensation began to build.

Evan started to suckle lightly, playing with his tongue along the spongy flesh, before bobbing his head and sucking him off in earnest.

"Evan, babe, yes, exactly like that..." Tommy panted, his heart rate increasing.

Every shift of Evan's mouth sent sparks racing along Tommy's nerves.

Tommy tried to stay composed, but Evan was just so good that he found himself getting closer embarrassingly fast. 

"Fuck, Evan..."

Evan pulled out every trick he knew, rolling his tongue and bobbing his head in a steady rhythm. To catch his breath, he released Tommy, only to kiss along the shaft with his soft lips and run his tongue along the vein on the underside before resuming to suck at the head again.

Evan made a real mess of him, saliva running down his shaft and into his crack. One of Evan's hands sneaked down and started to rub in light circles around Tommy's entrance, teasing but not penetrating.

Tommy was a wreck, gasping for breath and sweat dripping down his body as waves of heat spread from his crotch throughout his entire body.

This might actually be the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

The pressure built gradually but fast, each sensation stacking on top of the last until Tommy felt stretched tight. His breathing grew uneven, little sounds slipping out between clenched teeth as he tried and failed to stay quiet.

"Evan, I'm going to…" he gasped, trying to warn Evan in case he wanted to pull off.

Evan answered with a low sound of encouragement, something pleased and warm that vibrated through Tommy's cock, and pressed just a bit harder into Tommy's entrance, the muscle finally giving way, and his finger entering him.

That did it; the tension wound tighter until it suddenly snapped.

His release hit him bright and overwhelming, a surge of white hot electricity racing through his body and stealing the air straight from his lungs. Tommy's back arched instinctively, his grip tightening in Evan's hair as the sensation rolled through him in wave after wave.

For a few seconds, there was nothing but that rushing brightness, the echo of pleasure ringing through him like thunder after lightning.

When the world slowly settled back into place, Tommy slumped slightly against the wall, chest rising and falling as he tried to remember how breathing worked.

His fingers were still tangled in Evan's curls. They slid out reluctantly, though his palm lingered against the back of his neck for a second.

Evan released him then and looked up at him smugly, but his face was a total mess of saliva and Tommy's come. Tommy grinned and pulled him closer.

"My turn to make you feel good," he said.

Evan stood up at that, the motion drawing Tommy's attention back to the impressive height of him. For a second, the centaur looked almost shy, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted his weight.

"You don't have to," Evan said, glancing down at him with a slightly awkward smile. "I mean… my anatomy is different, I know I'm too much…"

Tommy snorted softly before Evan could continue.

"Yeah you are… a lot," he agreed grinning, already sliding off the edge of the workbench. "But I'm a fast learner."

He punctuated the statement with a wink.

Before Evan could argue again, Tommy leaned up and kissed him, quick and warm, and his own taste on Evan's mouth made something pleased and a little feral curl in his chest.

Tommy squeezed his arm once, then stepped back and lowered himself to his knees on the floor.

For a second, Evan simply stared at him, eyes wide.

"Tommy…"

"Relax," Tommy said lightly, shuffling a little forward. "I told you I'd figure it out."

Up close like this, the sheer scale of Evan's body surrounded him, the powerful equine frame towering above, while the warmth of him seemed to radiate down into the small space Tommy occupied. It was different, undeniably so, but not as alien as Evan seemed to think.

He had a little fling with a Naga a year ago, and he had figured that out as well, this was not so different.

Tommy rested one hand lightly against Evan's belly for balance, his palm sliding over the sleek chestnut coat. The fur was soft beneath his fingers, warm, and the muscle beneath it shifted subtly at his touch.

He leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss against the curve of Evan's belly.

Evan made a soft, startled sound above him.

"See?" Tommy murmured, his breath brushing warm across sensitive skin as he moved again. "Not that complicated."

He let his hands move forward, caressing the skin lower on his belly, closer to where his very big, hard cock was still dropped from the sheath. Evan was clearly aroused; precum dripped from the tip, making everything slick.

He's really massive, Tommy thought. He had no idea how he could fit Evan's cock anywhere, but the thought alone made Tommy shiver. Yes, he would really like to get him inside his ass one day, but he clearly needed to work up to it.

Carefully, Tommy reached out and took Evan into his hand. He could barely close his fist around it; there was still a small gap between his thumb and finger.

Above him, Evan's breathing had gone uneven.

One of his hands braced against the wall, fingers splayed wide as if he needed the support, while the other dragged through his curls. The floor echoed faintly with the restless scrape of hooves as he struggled to stay still.

"Tommy, please, I need…" Evan's voice wavered somewhere between a laugh and a moan.

Tommy hummed softly in response, clearly pleased with the effect he was having. He adjusted his position slightly, settling in more comfortably as he continued to jerk Evan off, guided by the reactions Evan could not seem to hide.

The sounds above him grew deeper, rougher. Evan's hooves scraped again against the concrete floor, a sharp sound as his front legs shifted with the involuntary tension building through his body. His forehead eventually pressed against the cool wall, shoulders tight, breath hitching in uneven bursts.

Then Tommy leaned forward and licked the head. The texture was no different from that of a human cock, and the taste of his come was similar.

Motivated anew by the moans Evan made, Tommy took a deep breath, opened his mouth wide, and took in as much as he could.

Evan moaned and gasped, repeating Tommy's name like a prayer as Tommy teased the tip with his tongue, continuing to stroke the long shaft with both hands.

Tommy lost track of time.

There was something intensely satisfying about it, about drawing those sounds from Evan, about feeling the powerful body above him react to every shift of attention. The muscles along Evan's belly trembled, the warm strength of him alive and responsive in a way that sent a rush of pride straight through Tommy's chest.

He put real effort into it, settling in more firmly on his knees, adjusting his grip whenever Evan's reactions told him something worked, playing with his tongue a bit more when Evan moaned loudly. It was different from what he was used to, sure, but not impossibly so, and the longer it went on the more instinct took over.

And honestly, Tommy was enjoying it immensely, the sounds Evan was making alone were almost enough to drive him wild.

If he had been a few years younger, he thought hazily, he might already be ready for round two himself just from hearing the way Evan said his name.

"Oh my God, Tommy," Evan groaned above him, voice rough and breathless. "That's… God, that's so good… please…"

The plea sent a thrill through Tommy. He answered with a low hum of approval, clearly pleased with himself as he continued, focusing on getting more of him into his mouth, gagging a little.

Evan's composure was beginning to crack.

Tommy could feel the change.

The trembling started first, subtle at the beginning, then spreading through Evan's body in small shivers that he clearly tried to suppress. A soft keening sound slipped from his throat, quiet but unmistakably needy, and his hips shifted forward before he seemed to catch himself and pull back again.

He was trying to hold off, trying not to hurt Tommy.

It was sweet, but not what Tommy wanted, what he could take.

"Evan, come on, use my mouth," Tommy murmured in encouragement, his voice rough and cracking.

Above him, Evan sucked in a shaky breath.

"I…" His voice broke off into a groan before he managed again, strained now with the effort of restraint. "Tommy… I'm getting close."

"Yeah, babe, give it to me" he said softly, steady and sure. "Just let go. I've got you."

Evan's control finally cracked with a low, helpless sound that rumbled through the room as he started to thrust into Tommys mouth, still careful but more relaxed. Tommy sighed and moaned as his mouth was finally filled, used in a way he craved, his eyes watering from the lack of air.

A moment later, the tension broke.

The release ran through Evan's entire frame, the tremor traveling visibly through muscle and breath as he clung to the wall for balance, his voice breaking into a breathless laugh of disbelief as a wave of come filled Tommy's mouth. There was so much that he couldn't swallow it all, it ran down his chin and dripped onto his chest.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved, just breathing in gulps of fresh air.

Then Evan carefully straightened, reaching down to pull Tommy back to his feet with gentleness. The moment Tommy was upright again, Evan kissed him.

The kiss was softer this time, lingering, though no less warm.

"Wow," Evan said when they finally separated, still looking a little dazed. "That was fucking hot."

Tommy laughed quietly. "Yeah."

Evan glanced down at Tommy, who must have clearly looked like a mess, disheveled and come soaked, then snorted.

"We're really dirty now."

Tommy followed his gaze and had to admit he had a point. Between the floor, sweat, saliva, and their come, they were definitely past the point of pretending otherwise.

"Well," Evan said, an amused glint returning to his eyes, "good thing I have my own shower back here."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, that familiar crooked grin appearing again.

"Lead the way," he said, already following Evan toward the small bathroom at the back of the area.

They stepped into the wide tiled shower together, Evan reaching past Tommy to turn the water on until warm steam began to curl through the room, and as the spray finally rained down over them both, they stood there for a moment simply soaking, smiling a little stupidly at each other through damp curls and tired eyes. 

Tommy felt a quiet, hopeful certainty settle somewhere deep in his chest that whatever this was between them, he really hoped it would be only the beginning of so much more.