Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Kip Grady/Scott Hunter

Characters:

Kip Grady, Scott Hunter (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Kip Grady loves Scott Hunter, Scott Hunter Loves Kip Grady, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch Kip Grady, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Kip Grady Needs a Hug, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Service Top Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Academia, Body Image, POV Scott Hunter (Game Changers)

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-23 Words: 4,638 Chapters: 1/1

known it for so many seasons

Summary

Kip is stressed. In fact, stressed is an understatement. There are levels of sheer terror in his eyes that Scott has never previously experienced outside of seeing his own face in the mirror during the last week of playoffs.

He is suddenly glad he never finished college, because writing a Master’s thesis seems to be the cruelest punishment any God of Academia has ever inflicted upon its faithful followers. (Well, so far – he kind of hopes for Kip’s sake that he changes his mind about going for a PhD.)

-
Kip works hard and gets spoiled :)

Notes

Hello, this touches on some body image issues and unhealthy views on bodies that I didn't quite know how to tag accurately. So if that might be a topic that makes you feel uncomfortable, please be cautious or maybe skip (ha) this one :)

Kip is stressed. In fact, stressed is an understatement. There are levels of sheer terror in his eyes that Scott has never previously experienced outside of seeing his own face in the mirror during the last week of playoffs.

He is suddenly glad he never finished college, because writing a Master’s thesis seems to be the cruelest punishment any God of Academia has ever inflicted upon its faithful followers. (Well, so far – he kind of hopes for the sake of Kip's sanity that he changes his mind about going for a PhD.)

First, Kip had claimed the little desk by the bedroom door. The growing piles of books and papers, as well as a daily-rotating collection of empty cans of energy drinks, dirty coffee mugs, and the occasional take-out container eventually migrated to the larger dining table.

When Scott came home from a three-day road trip last week, his apartment had evolved into looking like an unusually disorganized library.

Upon the absolute most gentle version of the question why Kip wasn’t at the actual library, he had given Scott a somewhat haunted look and shaken his head. “People.”

Fair enough. Slightly concerning for someone who usually goes out to study specifically to see the people he now avoids, but fair enough. Scott recognizes extreme circumstances when he sees them. Whatever Kip needs to get through the last few days of the season, uh, semester.

Despite all of Kip’s misery, which Scott would very much like to be over as soon as possible, he always does love that moment Kip finally turns in for the night. He shuffles to the bedroom exhausted, already half-asleep, and clings to Scott like a lifeline. He demands love with all of his tired body, and even if Scott kind of suspects he just wants the orgasms for a better sleep, well – ulterior motives are irrelevant here. If Kip wants to lie back, close his eyes, and be taken apart, then Scott is more than happy to do all the work.

What Scott also likes, what drives him a little bit wild actually, is Kip’s body in full academia mode. And that’s not just the glasses on at all times because staring at the screen wearing contacts for too long makes his eyes dry. Kip was extremely fit when they first met – always running from one job to the next, working off his frustrations in the gym between shifts. And Scott loved that, obviously.

But now, after a final semester of long hours in the library and spending the last few weeks sitting in the apartment and working on his laptop almost round the clock to meet his thesis deadline, there’s a bit of softness to him. He’s lost some muscle, and where Scott was used to running his tongue down the hard planes of his abs, he now meets nothing but lush skin. Kip’s ass, every bit as exceptional as it was when he was doing squats every day, is now somehow even more grabbable. When Scott spreads him open, fucks him slow and deep and kneads the plump flesh in his hands, and sometimes delivers a little slap to the curve of one cheek that makes Kip gasp in the most delightful way – he’s having the time of his life.

When he holds Kip at night, his hand finds his stomach, softly rubbing right below his belly button and playing with the trail of hair leading down. It’s also an excellent place to put his head, pillowed by just a little bit of padding now that is so, so exciting to him.

He would love Kip in any shape or form, obviously, but there’s definitely a bit of a thrill at the novelty of seeing him like this.

And despite it all being the result of a very stressful time in his life, Scott feels a bit of satisfaction that he can at least help give Kip the basics to keep his body up and running, keep him as healthy as possible. He is eating. He is sleeping. He is having his shoulders and back rubbed whenever he wants. He is being coaxed into regular showers even if Scott sometimes has to stand in the hallway in nothing but a towel (or not even that) for a long time because Kip is just finishing that sentence real quick and will absolutely forget he was supposed to be doing something else if left to his own devices.

Kip has also stopped waxing his chest and hasn’t shaved his face in a week now and that – well. Scott can’t even think about it without losing his mind a little bit. He’s starting to see the appeal of the whole sexy lumberjack thing.

---

“Ugh, I feel all flabby,” Kip mutters one night and then turns over in Scott’s arms, effectively blocking access to any more of the lovely tummy rubs that Scott was so enjoying giving him a moment ago (and that Kip usually also enjoys).

He doesn’t quite catch what Kip grumbles into his chest after that, but it sounds something like squishy and fuzzy and terrible.

“No,” Scott says, feeling a faint sense of panic bubble up in his chest suddenly. “No, no, no.”

He isn’t finding the words for just how heavily he wants to protest that sentiment. His hand has landed on Kip’s waist when he turned over, and he would very much like to squeeze the adorable new little layer there, but recognizes it may not currently be well-received.

“You’re wonderful,” he ends up saying and feels Kip’s sigh, a warm exhale against his skin.

“I just want this to be over,” Kip says quietly. He sounds so groggy and Scott doesn’t want to push it right now, so he just holds him close, runs his hand up and down his back, and listens to his breathing even out into sleep.

---

Scott can’t stop thinking about it though. About Kip, who is working so hard every day and barely takes a break to breathe, being unhappy with himself through it all.

And not just doubting his academic abilities, which – he’s the smartest person in the world to Scott, but Scott doesn’t actually know a ton of smart people if he’s being honest, at least not the type of book smart that Kip is. So he understands if his reassurance to Kip isn’t going a very long way there.

But also unhappy with the effect it’s having on the way he looks, or wants to look. That topic, Scott is the world’s leading expert on. And in his very, very professional opinion, Kip looks like dessert.

So he brings it up over their morning coffee, one of the few moments Kip is awake and not yet engrossed in his work. But Kip more or less waves him off.

“Ugh, it’s just – you know how gay guys are, God forbid you have more than minus five percent body fat. I’ve maybe internalized that a little at some point.”

Scott feels his hackles rise a little bit. For one thing, no, he doesn’t know how gay guys are, at least not really. The thought of Kip feeling under so much pressure to look a certain way because the community that’s supposed to be his safe space expected it of him…it feels wrong to him.

“But you’re – I mean, you’re always healthy about it. I mean, you’re eating and you’re –”

“Scott, relax. I’m good,” Kip interrupts. “It wasn’t always healthy, mentally, I think? But I’m good now. I just – I like it. I like looking good, I like being strong. I could use feeling strong right now.”

He leans into Scott’s side and yawns. “Besides, you’re worried about me treating my body in a healthy way? Eh. Hilarious.”

Scott swallows. It’s different for him. His body is a tool, a means to an end. His body pays his bills and wins the Admirals their games. If he sometimes treats it like an unruly employee that needs to be disciplined, it’s because that’s what it is.

But Kip…

Kip should be comfortable. Kip shouldn’t be forgetting what it’s like not to be sore from a workout or an injury. He shouldn’t be punishing himself for not meeting arbitrary standards, especially when he’s currently working so hard on other things, arguably more important things.

Scott feels distressed suddenly, thinking he could ever have put that kind of pressure on Kip, too. Sure, he looks a certain way, as a result of his job. And it’s a nice byproduct that it happens to be a conventionally attractive look, because who doesn’t enjoy being attractive? But really, it’s about function. He probably wouldn’t be consuming the ungodly amounts of chicken and protein shakes his body demands of him to build muscle just for the aesthetic of it all.

“Do I make you feel like –” 

“Scott,” Kip interrupts again. “No. It’s – it’s really not about you.” Kip tilts his head to the side and shrugs.

Scott takes it all in. It’s not about him. He ignores that. He will make it about himself. He will do whatever it takes to show Kip that he is absolutely perfect, no matter what. He will not let up until Kip believes it. There is nothing for him to fix? He will fix it anyway.

“Look, it’s really not that deep. Sitting on a chair hunched over a laptop for twelve hours a day isn’t gonna make anyone’s body feel good. I just need to finish this and touch some grass and I’ll feel better.”

Kip gives him a questioning look that seems suspiciously like are you even listening? and Scott shakes himself back into the moment.

He takes Kip’s almost empty mug out of his hands and puts it aside, crowding him against the counter, caged in by Scott’s arms.

“How many hours?”

“Seventy-five,” Kip dutifully replies, the timer in his head ticking at all times. Twelve PM on Friday can’t come soon enough for either of them.

“That’s…I can’t think of anything sexy with that number. Unless you want seventy-five orgasms.”

Kip laughs and then kisses him, sweet and full of promise. “I mean, I do, but not all of them on Friday.”

He extricates himself from Scott’s arms and walks over to the table, pulling out his chair to sit down for some more work. Scott comes to stand behind him when he’s settled in and leans down, wrapping his arms around Kip’s shoulders again. The daily cuddle quota has not been met yet. A man cannot survive on sleepy sex and coffee-flavored kisses alone, especially if there are so few of them.

“What’s on the agenda today?” He puts his chin on Kip’s shoulder.

“Mostly footnotes. Also not sexy.”

“Close enough to feet though. I could probably work with that, if absolutely nothing else is available.”

“Please do not.” Kip presses a kiss to his cheek and then logs into his laptop. Time for Scott to go find something else to do unless he wants to risk being murdered for breaking Kip’s focus.

---

By the time Thursday evening rolls around, the countdown slowly approaching single digits, Scott has to admit defeat on his mission.

Every night, he’s poured all of his love into drowsy, exhausted Kip. Testifying his devotion with every touch, pledging his entire heart and soul to him with every kiss. It has not made him less exhausted. It has not eased his worries about his schoolwork. And though they haven’t talked about it again, Scott knows it hasn’t changed the way Kip currently feels about himself, because – some things really are not about Scott. Even if it’s hard to believe and harder to accept. (Kip sent him that meme once, shocked and appalled the world doesn’t revolve around me, and Scott was only slightly offended.)

However, Scott isn’t one to give up so easily. Just because he can’t fix everything, doesn’t mean he can’t die trying. Also, if he continues to be gently discouraged from resting his hand on Kip’s lower belly when he’s spooning him in bed, he actually is going to die. That newly soft and lovely little place that nobody knows about but Scott, and Kip has squirmed away from him twice now because he was feeling too awkward about it. Unacceptable. Every part of him, every single inch must be loved, and Scott wants to love this one in particular.

He has learned some important lessons in his life though (that he never follows, but maybe it’s not too late for personal growth): Sometimes, pushing something doesn’t work. Not every problem requires sinking your teeth into it and shaking it – though if Scott thinks about sinking his teeth into any part of Kip, he will get distracted very, very fast.

Focus, brain! Okay. Personal growth – he can dial it down. He can just be there and quietly offer support and make sure Kip is feeling good and safe and taken care of, without meddling too obviously. Just like he does with his studies. He can’t retroactively fix art history for Kip (if it needs fixing; unclear), he can’t fix all of academia for him (which definitely does need fixing), but he can bring him coffee and hold him and care for him and make sure he doesn’t need to worry about anything else.

---

Kip presses the upload button at precisely 10:26 on Friday morning while Scott stands beside him and holds his free hand for moral support.

“Oh my God,” Kip groans, his shoulders dropping and his body tipping to the side in his chair, slumping against Scott. “I’m free. It’s done.”

“You did it, baby.” Scott leans down to kiss him and Kip responds more energetically than he has in days. He gets to his feet, pushes the chair out of the way with one foot and then immediately sinks to his knees in front of Scott, a wicked smile on his face.

Scott’s breath catches in his throat when Kip pulls his sweatpants down and takes him into his mouth.

While he still has enough brain function left for it, Scott carefully pushes the laptop out of the way and then leans back against the edge of the table, one steadying hand on the back of the chair beside him and one cupping Kip’s face.

Kip sucks him like he’s been waiting for it all morning, and Scott would swear he can physically feel all of his blood rushing south way too fast as he grows hard in Kip’s mouth.

He scratches his nails against the coarse hair covering Kip’s cheek and jaw and Kip makes a low throaty noise in response. (Scott really hopes he won’t shave for a while. He wants beard burn all over his body.)

Kip brings his hands up to Scott’s hips, pinning him against the edge of the table as he takes him deep, and Scott is practically seeing stars.

There’s a frantic quality to the way Kip is devouring him, wet and messy; the sounds he makes as low and raw as if he is the one with his cock down someone’s throat. His fingers press into Scott’s skin hard, nails digging in a little, and it’s making him feel shaky and owned and amazing.

Scott gets close way too fast and he knows Kip can feel it in the way the muscles in his thighs are straining and his fingers bury themselves in Kip’s hair, messing up his curls.

“Fuck, babe. Oh my God.” Scott is breathing hard, stomach clenching, and Kip – pulls off.

He sits back on his haunches and gazes up at Scott for a moment, looking very satisfied with himself, and then pulls Scott’s sweats back up.

“What –”

“Shh,” Kip says and gets to his feet. He kisses Scott, filthy and full of tongue, his hand slipping between them to cover the bulge in his pants.

Scott makes a helpless noise and pushes forward into the touch, the way Kip rubs him too dulled by the thick fabric between them, but he was so close before –  

“Like this. Come on.” Kip whispers the words against the skin of Scott’s throat and then bites down, pressing his hand against him harder.

“I – I’m –”

“Yes.” Kip sounds hungry. “Make a mess. Come all over yourself.”

“Oh Jesus fuck,” Scott manages to say and then he’s spilling in his underwear, hips pumping forward into Kip’s hand and panting wetly against the side of his face.

He’s still shaking even when he’s done and Kip wraps both arms around him, letting Scott lean against him and whisper sweet nothings into the crook of his neck for a bit.

He kisses Scott’s temple and then steps back, his eyes dropping to the wet patch right by Scott’s crotch.

“Look at that,” Kip says. “Art.”

He pats Scott’s hip and presses one more quick kiss to his lips before turning around to trod off to the bedroom. “I’m gonna go sleep for like fourteen hours now.”

“Okay,” Scott says, his voice a little high and strangled. “I’m uh – I’m gonna change my pants before practice.”

Kip just laughs. The menace.

---

Kip maybe doesn’t sleep for fourteen hours, but when Scott comes back from practice, he is still on the bed, passed out cold right where he left him earlier. He’s lying on his front, head pillowed on one arm. Scott really does try not to be a creep about it, but Kip’s ass in this position looks like he urgently needs press his entire face into it. Which he reassures himself is actually a perfectly normal thought to have, especially after the send-off Kip gave him earlier.

While Kip still sleeps, Scott gets everything ready for the rest of the evening. There’s a bottle of white wine in the fridge that he thinks Kip will like. He loves light and fruity flavors and absolutely does not need to know that the recommendation the guy at the shop made to Scott based on that information cost 200 dollars. They’re celebrating. He wanted something special.

Scott also got massage oil and watched a couple of videos about what areas to focus on that are typically tense after working at a desk for too long. He bought candles, bath salts that smell like an entire Lush store, and picked out a playlist. He is so ready to turn Kip into the most relaxed and pleasant-smelling version of himself, and then fuck every remaining ounce of stress and self-doubt out of him. (The massage oil doubles as lube, because clearly Scott is not the first person to have that idea.)

When everything is ready, he wakes Kip with – he would like to say just sweet kisses to his face, but in truth it’s also a hand on his ass because Scott can’t help himself. Kip makes a pleased little noise and pushes back into his touch, wiggling his ass back and forth before he even opens his eyes.

“Hi”, he says, sounding a little hoarse with sleep. “You’re back.”

“Good nap?”

“Mhmmyeah,” Kip says. He rolls over onto his back and stretches his arms out over his head, sighing at the way it must loosen his muscles. “I had a very interesting dream.”

Scott laughs and leans over Kip to kiss him, one knee propped up on the bed. “Wasn’t a dream, baby.”

“Huh. No, it wasn’t.”

Scott almost lets himself be convinced to just get into bed with Kip, because the way he starts kissing his neck and slipping his hands under his hoodie is very, very persuasive. Kip’s brain, finally emptied of footnotes and deadlines, seems to be extremely single-focused.

“Don’t distract me from my mission,” Scott says, “you’re getting spoiled first.”

“Am I?” Kip asks, his tongue wet and eager right beneath Scott’s ear, making a pleasant shiver run all the way down his spine.

“Yes, because you worked hard and –”

Scott realizes his mistake before Kip can even fully mouth the word hard back at him with raised eyebrows.

“Okay, no more games,” he says firmly, and enjoys the way that tone of voice makes Kip’s eyes darken a little bit, like it always does. “I’m gonna need you naked in the tub in five minutes sharp.”

“That is not a problem at all,” Kip replies breezily. Good.

---

Half an hour later finds Kip covered in foam, wineglass in hand and a plate of fruit next to him, looking like one of the more tasteful paintings of Roman baths that Scott sometimes sees in his books.   

“This is the best,” he groans when Scott massages shampoo into his hair, tipping his head back against the edge of the tub.

“You deserve it,” Scott says quietly. You deserve everything, he thinks.

---

The massage oil smells like sandalwood and cinnamon, rich and warm, and it almost feels like they’re in an actual spa somewhere, not just their bedroom.

Kip is lying on his front, already pliant and boneless before Scott even properly touches him, the heat of the bath still clinging to him.

The noises he makes when Scott starts digging his fingers into the tight muscles of his shoulders probably aren’t intentionally suggestive, but – well. It must feel pretty good.

Kip hisses when Scott finds a particularly tense spot and he presses in until the tender sounds of discomfort turn into pleasure, into right there and ohh fuck.

Scott works his way down Kip’s back, his touch lighter on his sides and then forceful again on his lower back, producing more lovely noises and a little bit of squirming.

Any sort of medical benefit to the massage is long forgotten by the time he reaches Kip’s ass. Scott has been half-hard since he washed Kip’s hair in the tub, and touching him like this, Kip’s reaction to it, got him all the way there really fucking quickly.

Kip takes a noisy breath when Scott dribbles the oil over his ass, generously smearing it everywhere until it’s dripping down onto the towel Kip is lying on. He starts slow, running his hands over the swell of Kip’s ass, kneading his glutes and squeezing the flesh until Kip is moaning and pressing back against him.

“Please,” Kip says quietly and Scott drops a kiss onto his lower back and then spreads him open and eats him like a feast.

He has Kip panting and begging for more within the first minute, trembling heat of spit and oil under his tongue as Scott licks into him; it’s sloppy, it’s messy, and he feels like he’d never even need to breathe again if he could just be doing this forever.

His hand is sure and steady when he presses a finger inside a moment later, easy with how relaxed Kip already is. There’s a sense of satisfaction to it, the way Kip is so warm and willing under his hands, under his mouth, so ready to receive all the love and pleasure Scott wants to give him.

He opens him up with his tongue and fingers until Kip is nothing but a shaking, pleading mess, but Scott doesn’t give him a second to breathe. Because Kip needs to know, needs to really feel it, how much Scott wants him. Scott needs him out of his mind with it, doesn’t want any room left in his head for any thought other than this, them, here, now.

The air feels hot and heavy between them and Scott’s hands slip on oil-sticky skin when he pulls Kip up onto his hands and knees. He folds himself over his upper body, covering him and wrapping himself around Kip as much as he can, pressing his face into the back of his neck.

“I’m so fucking crazy for you,” Scott whispers to him, and Kip whimpers, high and needy and ready when he starts pushing inside him.

He wants to say more than that, tell Kip how proud he is of him, how lucky he still feels every day to have him, but it’s – it’s not for right now, not when his body is so much louder than his brain, with how viscerally he wants Kip.

Scott drives into him, and it’s all instinct from here on out. Their bodies know each other well and they seek each other out almost automatically at this point, following the constant draw between them, to touch, to love, to own, and it’s just a matter of letting it happen now.

The room fills with the sounds of their heavy breathing, curated soundtrack to the evening long forgotten and replaced by skin pounding against skin, loud and wet and obscene.

Scott’s thoughts have collapsed into a circle, a pendulum, swinging around them both and singing more, more, more; echoing in his bones, his heart, his gut. It still feels reckless sometimes, the way he gets lost in it, allows himself to love and want and have so freely. (As if he ever had a choice.)

Kip is meeting his thrusts, pushing back against him, his breath knocked out of him in a helpless sound each time Scott pushes deep. He’s burning up under Scott’s hands, his body straining and struggling, every movement of his hips telling Scott please, please, close.

His hand is still slick with oil when he wraps it around Kip, easing the slide of his fingers, and he slows his hips while he strokes him off, because he knows he won’t last otherwise. Not through the way Kip moans and shakes beneath him, full-body tremors that Scott soaks up into himself, feeling every breath with Kip, bathing in the moment like Kip did in the tub earlier. Decadent.

Scott keeps fucking into him slowly but purposefully, drawing out the very last of it like he can make it go on forever, with Kip breathless and malleable underneath him, shivering through his aftershocks.   

When he comes, it builds and crashes like a slow wave that consumes him whole and Scott clutches Kip’s body to his chest, pushing into him, filling him up.

---

They’re both slow and quiet after, gentle with each other in an almost reverent way. Kip trails his fingers up and down Scott’s forearm in barely-there touches, their legs tangled together and eyes roaming each other’s faces. Kip is smiling, looking like the weight of the entire world finally came off his shoulders.

“Feel appropriately spoiled and relaxed?” Scott asks and Kip nods, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m gonna want like three whole days of this after I finish my dissertation, just so you know,” he says thoughtfully and Scott thinks maybe he shouldn’t have helped him forget his academic suffering quite this quickly, if that’s what his mind is on already.

“You’re very high maintenance,” Scott replies earnestly and Kip sticks his tongue out at him, which – given how close their faces are, he just kind of ends up licking Scott’s nose.

“I think you’re up for the job though,” Kip says. “You’ve shown some exceptional commitment to the cause.”

“For better or worse, through playoffs and PhDs.”

---

After going back to the gym for the first time, Kip comes home happy. Scott can practically smell the pump on him (or maybe just his sweat), and the thrill of being pushed back against the wall in the foyer and kissed within an inch of his life has his stomach feeling a little funny in the very best way.

He can tell Kip is feeling good about himself after getting his blood pumping, feeling strong again. It’s in the way he pushes Scott around just a little, pins him down on the bed and puts all his weight on him without second thought. The way he fucks him into the mattress until Scott’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Told you,” Kip says afterwards, breathless and gorgeous. “Just needed to touch grass.”