Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Kip Grady/Scott Hunter

Characters:

Kip Grady, Scott Hunter (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, bros helping each other out, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Felching, (the tag of shame), Idiots in Love

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-07 Words: 5,755 Chapters: 1/1

We Love A Challenge

Summary

All the same, Kip asks, “Never? There’s never been some secret fantasy you’ve acted out with someone? Locker room, Olympic stadium…”

Kip is uniquely positioned to make Scott’s fantasy come true. Backwards cap and all.

Notes

It’s a cool fall evening, and they’re lying in bed beneath the sheets, the central heating doing a pretty good job in the face of a cold wind that’s buffeting down the streets outside the apartment. Kip is curled into Scott’s side, his chin propped up on Scott’s chest, both of Scott’s arms curved around him, a hand tracing slow up his back. Kip drops a kiss to Scott’s pec. They’re not trying to get anything started—rather, they’ve just finished something, and will need to get up and shower sooner rather than later; Kip’s thighs are sticky with it. But for now they’re holding each other, glad to be back in each other’s orbit. It’s been three months since Kip came back. He’s not living here this time, and they’re working out some of the other, harder parts of their relationship. The sex, though…That had never been difficult the first time around, and it certainly isn’t now. Kip wriggles against Scott’s side, and receives a soft kiss to the top of his head. 

“Mmm, that was nice,” he says. 

“Mhmmm.” He can hear that Scott is drifting off, not quite asleep but not really awake either, the way he gets after a particularly vigorous round of fucking. 

He kisses at Scott’s chest again, and digs his fingers under Scott’s hips against the mattress. God, he’s so warm. Kip’s going to wake up sweating again if they sleep like this. Oh well. 

“I liked that thing you did with my leg,” Kip says, thankful for his pilates classes, still feeling the stretch in his hamstring. “Got any other hidden physiotherapy talents?” 

Scott laughs, a slow rumble. “Hmm, maybe.” 

Kip’s mind latches onto the idea. “We could role play next time. I’ll be the injured athlete and you be the sports massager. You can really work out all my kinks.” 

Scott laughs again, gripping at Kip’s back. “We could. You done a lot of that sort of thing before?” 

“What, role playing? Not really. What about you?”

“Nah,” Scott says, and there’s an undercurrent to it that Kip picks up: that Scott’s already playing a part every time he’s in public. 

All the same, he asks, “Never? There’s never been some secret fantasy you’ve acted out with someone? Locker room, Olympic stadium…”

“Smoothie shop walk-in fridge?” Scott offers. 

Kip snorts. “Um, no. It’s freezing in there.” 

“I’d keep you warm.” Scott kisses his forehead. 

“I trust you,” Kip says. “But seriously, now I want to know. What’s your fantasy role play? What would get you going?” 

He sits up a bit and looks Scott in the eyes; there’s a lot going on there. Adoration, which he knows means one of Scott’s fantasies is probably just them pretending to fuck on their wedding night. A playfulness that he could parse as Scott having everything he needs right here, and he’s heard that said enough times to almost, almost believe it. But there’s a hint of pink to his cheeks that’s telling him there’s something else. Something Scott hasn’t told him, but wants to, now that the opportunity is presenting itself. Scott’s always been pretty forthright about what he likes and what he wants from sex, so the fact that there’s something he’s been holding back…Kip is intrigued. 

“What is it?” he asks. “I wanna know.” 

Scott’s cheeks get a little pinker. “I don’t know, it’s kinda stupid.” 

“Impossible,” Kip avows. “Well, unless you’re secretly a furry, in which case that is kinda stupid, but I could probably bring myself to wear a tail if it helped to get you off.” 

Scott laughs out loud. “Jesus, I must spend way too much time on the internet, because I know exactly what you’re talking about. Um, no, it’s definitely not that.”

“Then what is it?” Kip asks. He gives Scott his best, biggest, pleading eyes. Scott is never going to be able to resist. 

“Ugh, fine,” Scott says, looking up at the ceiling. “No judging?” 

“No judging,” Kip confirms. 

Scott gives a little sigh, and squeezes Kip tight. “Okay. Here’s the fantasy. I’m at the gym—” Kip snorts, and Scott pinches him. “No laughing!”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, continue.” 

“Well. I’m at the gym,” he starts, pointedly, hands squeezing at Kip’s back. “And there’s a guy there who’s like, really hot, and obviously looks a lot like you. And he asks me to spot him, and he’s obviously straight, like, he talks about his girlfriend. But then we end up fucking on the gym mats.” 

Kip tucks his face into Scott’s armpit and tries to stop the smile that’s breaking out across his face. It’s just so cute. “So your fantasy is to fuck a gym bro?” 

“Um, a straight gym bro. Who can’t resist me. Like, maybe he’s a little curious. And we just…end up doing it right there in the gym.” 

“How long has this been your fantasy?” 

“Oh,” Scott sounds like he wasn’t expecting to have to answer this. “Honestly? A long time. Never in the team gym. Never with—that’s a separate thing. That’s not a place I could ever, ever go. But I think the first time I wanted to do that was in high school, when Vince Brooks asked me to spot him on the squat rack and I—like, I did it, I didn’t come in my pants or anything, but I sure jerked off thinking about that for a long time.” 

“Scott, that was like, fifteen years ago.” 

“Yeah, well, I haven’t exactly had a super ripped, super hot boyfriend to ask about it in that time.” 

“Who is this super ripped, super hot boyfriend?” Kip exclaims, sitting up and looking around in mock outrage. “I’ll fight him!” 

Scott tugs him back down, laughing. He kisses Kip’s lips, traces the curve of his cheekbone with a gentle finger. Kip stares at him, sees nothing but candour and trust in his eyes. 

“Okay,” Kip says. 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah. Come on, Hunter. Turn me.” 

A few days later they head down to the building’s gym. They go late at night, closing in on midnight, fairly confident that it’ll be empty at that hour. All the same, Scott turns the handle to lock the door once they’re inside. The gym is on the smaller side, more free weights than machines, a few treadmills and bikes, an elliptical. A cable cross machine hulks in one corner. The gym is on the basement level of the building, and the city street is visible through thin, strip-like windows that run along the top of the east wall. 

They’re dressed the part: Scott in his Under Armour shorts and compression top. Kip is in what he’s calling straight boy drag: he’s dug out a loose singlet with thin straps and deep armholes that expose most of his ribs and chest, and has borrowed a pair of Scott’s basketball shorts. (His own gym shorts had been vetoed as not straight enough, and Scott argued that “besides, I’ve already torn those off you at least twice before.”) He’s topped it off with an Admirals-branded snapback, which he’s wearing backwards. 

“Should I just…” Kip motions to the equipment. 

“Yeah, man,” Scott says, and Kip notices that he’s dropped his voice into his captain’s register. “I think most of the equipment’s free.” 

Kip really wants to make this good. Scott’s shared a long-held fantasy with him, and he’s determined to live up to it. He heads to the bench press and starts loading on weights. Scott’s setting the pins of the cable cross machine, but he’s watching in the mirror as Kip lies along the bench and lifts the bar out of the rack. 

“You need a spotter?” Scott asks, abandoning the pretence of the cable cross reps. Right, we’re just diving right in, Kip thinks. 

“Hey, yeah. Thanks, bro, that’d be awesome.” Kip tries to keep a lid on any smile that’s threatening to break out across his face. He butches up his tone a bit, and flexes his hands on the bar. “It’s tough when the gym’s quiet and I’m here alone.” 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here alone before,” Scott says as he walks over. “You’re usually here with some friends.” 

“Oh, yeah. Guys from my…” Kip gropes for the straightest answer possible. “Fantasy football league.” 

“Nice. What are you pressing today?

“Oh, um.” He’d just sort of loaded the bar on autopilot, and hadn’t really thought about it. He makes a quick mental calculation and blanches. “Two-twenty?” He’s not warmed up enough for this.

“Wow, you’re pretty strong,” Scott says. He stands at the top of the bench, right by Kip’s head. Kip has a view up one leg of Scott’s shorts. 

God, he could just sit on my face right now, he thinks, before shaking himself out of it. Not straight thoughts. He wraps his hands around the bar and lifts it out of the rack. 

“Thanks, man,” he says instead, picking up the thread of Scott’s compliment. “My girlfriend thinks I’m pretty strong, too.” 

“Oh yeah? Does she lift, too?” 

Kip lowers the bar, Scott’s hands trailing just beside his, ready to help if needed. It’s not like this part of it is new; they often spot one another while working out. But it feels different this time.

“No. She’s not into sport. She’s an investment banker.” 

“Sounds hot.” 

Kip closes his eyes and breathes slowly through his nose. Do. Not. Start. Laughing.

He does another rep with the bar, squeezing his pecs together on the lift. He knows he’s made a good outfit choice by the way Scott is staring at his chest. 

“How’s my form?” he asks.

“Great,” Scott says, and Kip sees him swallow. “Maybe you don’t even need a spotter.” 

“Oh no, you should stay. I kind of like having you there, I appreciate the help. But, if you’ve got a few minutes…oh, I don’t want to interrupt your pump, bro, sorry.” 

“No, no. It’s cool. What do you need?” 

Kip racks the bar and sits up. His shirt is sticking to his abs slightly, and he peels it away, watching Scott track the movement. “Could you take a look at my barbell squat? I think I had some misalignment with my hips, my knee keeps flaring out.” 

Scott licks his lips unconsciously—a small pink flick of his tongue. Kip leans back on the bench, looking up at him through his eyelashes. 

“I can do that,” Scott says. 

“Great!” Kip claps his hands on his knees and stands up, heading over to the squat rack. He ducks under the bar, resting it across the back of his shoulders. Scott steps in behind him, and places his hands lightly on Kip’s hips. 

“Woah, you’re getting a bit close there, buddy,” Kip says, but he catches Scott’s eyes in the mirror, keeping the tease in his look. 

“I’m just helping you get your form right,” Scott says, his thumbs trailing lightly over the waistband of Kip’s shorts. And it feels a little electric, a little stupid and dangerous, having his attention like this. “Lean back into my hands when you squat.” 

Kip straightens to lift the bar off the rack, and then hinges his hips back. Scott squats with him, guiding him, hands firm on his hips, Kip’s ass brushing against Scott’s crotch and—yeah. Okay. He feels his cheeks flush, as he pushes out of the squat, Scott rising with him. Their eyes catch in the mirror again, and he feels a stirring of arousal low in his gut. 

“You sure this is okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Scott says. “You can squat deeper. I’ve got you.” 

He does another couple of reps, Scott’s hands warm on his hips, guiding him lower, the heat of Scott’s body hovering just behind his own. All right, yeah, this is sexy. Probably just the anticipation, knowing what’s coming. But also partially seeing Scott like this: athletic, competent, guiding him with intent. 

After a few reps, he reracks the bar. 

“The problem is your hips, you’re right,” Scott says, even though they both know that Kip’s form is textbook perfect. “You’re tilting your pelvis at the top of your range of motion.” 

Scott brings his hand around to the front of Kip’s belly, his hand large and warm across his abs at the waistband of his shorts. His pinky strokes just lightly at the fabric, right over Kip’s pubic bone. The touch is light, but unmistakeable. Kip’s eyes flutter shut. The loose fabric of the basketball shorts is a tease, not helpful at all. 

“So,” Scott’s voice is low, right by his ear, and Kip shivers. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”

“Oh, um. Yeah. I do.” Kip opens his eyes again and struggles to refocus. 

“What’s she like?” Scott’s looking at him in the mirror, his hand still resting low on Kip’s stomach. 

Kip wracks his brain for a straight answer to this question. “She’s got great tits,” he says. He sees Scott bite his lip, desperately trying not to break. He throws him a bone. “Do you have a girlfriend?” 

“Oh, no,” Scott says, gathering himself. “I’m gay.” 

“Oh. That’s cool, bro. Say, do you mind spotting me on a couple more exercises?” 

They move through a few more sets on the free weights. Kip is starting to wonder if part of the fantasy is just doing an actual, complete workout. But there’s something undeniably hot about it—again, probably just because everything Scott does is hot. And he’s everywhere, while Kip is working out: running his hands along Kip’s shoulders while he’s doing lateral raises; guiding his core steady while he does weighted lunges; touching lightly at his elbow and then guiding his back straight during bicep curls. 

“So, I always see gay guys in the gym here, and they’re, like, super ripped,” Kip says. He’s not going to elaborate on how he can tell these theoretical gym-goers are gay, but…whatever, he’s starting to get horny now. “What’s the secret?”

“Well, you gotta look good for all the other hardbodies out there,” Scott says, his tone light but his eyes getting darker in the mirror. 

“Do I look good to you?” Kip asks. 

“I mean, yeah, but you’re straight. But man to man, yeah, you look pretty good.” Their eyes catch again, and he watches as Scott’s big, warm hand curves around his stomach again, fingers splayed over his abs. “Keep your core tight on these bicep curls. Don’t rock back.”  

Kip is doing no such thing, but he does lean back, back into the heat of Scott’s body right behind him, just for a second. And, god, Scott is more than half-hard behind him, he can feel it. Jesus, why is this so hot?

They move on to a deadlift, Scott getting up close, his hands on Kip’s hips again, guiding him as he lowers the bar and and hinges his ass back into Scott’s crotch, feels him hard behind him, moving with him, their eyes dark when they meet in the mirror, Kip sweating lightly now from the workout and also just from the weight of Scott’s gaze. He can feel himself getting hard, too, and has no idea how to hide it in the loose basketball shorts that he’s now starting to tent. He puts the bar down and tries to discreetly adjust his erection, tucking his cock into the waistband of the shorts. Not helpful. He goes and grabs his water bottle and takes a long drink, willing his dick to chill out, because he doesn’t need Scott to see, doesn’t need him to know how affected by this he is, because—oh. He realises, a little belatedly, how caught up in the fantasy he is. 

“You okay, buddy?” Scott asks, picture of innocence. 

“Yeah, dude,” Kip breathes. “Just tense. Think I’m sleeping funny on my shoulder or something.” 

Scott comes closer again. “Can I?” He motions for Kip to turn around. He does, facing the mirror again, and Scott places his hands on Kip’s shoulders, thumbs pressing firm into the muscle. Kip almost buckles, it feels so good. 

“You’re carrying a lot of tension in your traps,” Scott says, thumbs kneading. “I can help you release it, if you want?” 

“You sure, bro?” Kip asks, voice a little husky. 

“Yeah, of course.” Scott moves his thumbs along the tops of Kip’s shoulders, pressing and massaging. Kip’s head drops back, a small moan of relief slipping out of his throat. Scott works at his shoulders, across the top of his scapulae. “Jesus, you’re tight,” he murmurs, voice low, and Kip shivers—he can’t help it, Scott is just inherently too fucking sexy, and he’s heard him say that before in other circumstances which are now getting all cross-wired in his brain because he feels his cock pulse in his shorts at the words. He closes his eyes.

Scott’s hands continue their journey down Kips back, kneading the muscle, working into the flesh along his lats, his lower back, then around to his sides, his obliques, his hips. Scott’s fingers brush against his erection, and Kip moans a little, and then catches himself, opening his eyes again to see Scott staring at him in the mirror, pleased eyes glittering. 

“Want some help with that, too?” he asks. 

Kip breathes out. “Just bros helping bros, right?” 

“Yeah, man. Like I said, you’ve got a lot of tension.” 

“Yeah, okay then. Fuck.” 

He watches as Scott grips the length of his hard-on through the basketball shorts, the fabric a rough tease, his big hand pumping him slowly. 

“Oh, shit,” Kip breathes, watching as Scott’s hand speeds up a little. “Oh, god, that’s definitely helping. Fuck, that feels good.” 

Scott’s other hand slowly slides down to cup Kip’s balls through the loose fabric. He hooks his chin over Kip’s shoulder to watch in the mirror as he strokes him. It feels kind of obscene, maybe just because they’re doing this is somewhat in public. It’s not like they haven’t fucked in front of a mirror before, but this has a different tenor to it; a tension that’s new and exciting. Kip feels his breathing speed up, his cock dampening the fabric under Scott’s hand. 

“Wait, wait,” he says. Scott stops the movement of his hand but keeps his thumb rubbing over the head of Kip’s cock, slow and teasing. Kip catches his eyes. “Maybe there’s something else you can help me with?” 

“Oh yeah?” Scott looks interested. “What do you need?” 

“I’ve got a tight adductor,” Kip says. “Can you help me stretch it out?” 

Scott grins, dark and pleased. “Sure. Get down on the mat.” 

Kip lies supine on the mat, his dick achingly hard in his shorts. Scott goes down below him, runs his hand up Kip’s calf, then under his hamstring. He leans in close, Kip’s leg braced on his chest, his arms bracketing Kip’s sides as he presses forward, stretching the back and inside of Kip’s thigh. Kip turns and catches sight of them in the mirror again: Scott over him, arms flexed, hulking. God, he’s so hot.

“This feel good?” Scott asks. 

“Fuck, yeah, man. I knew you’d be good at stretching me out.” 

Scott closes his eyes, and rubs his cheek against the coarse hair of Kip’s calf where it’s braced against his shoulder. It’s a small concession to desire, a slipping of the mask. Kip isn’t sure how to take it further. He knows what he wants, but Scott seems reluctant to ask, is letting him take the lead. And then he gets it: Scott doesn’t want to push for it, that’s not the fantasy. He wants to turn Kip. He needs Kip to ask. 

“Can I tell you something? Like, bro to gay bro?” Kip asks. 

“Yeah, of course.” Scott’s eyes fix on him again. 

“Sometimes when I jerk off, I…” He pretends to be bashful, wanting to play the part. “Sometimes I touch my own ass.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. Like, I thought it must be good if you guys do it.” 

Scott laughs. “Yeah, it’s pretty good. Did you like it?” 

“I don’t think I did it right,” Kip says, and Scott leans further on his thigh, pushing his legs just a little apart. Kip’s cock is still hard, not losing interest in the slightest. “And you…you’ve been so helpful with my workout, and you’ve got such good hands. Maybe you could show me how to do it right?” 

“You want me to help you out,” Scott says, testing. 

“Yeah, fuck. Can you? You’re just, like, really hot.” Kip laughs a little, playing at nervous. 

“I can do that,” Scott says. “If you’re sure your girlfriend won’t mind?” 

“I just won’t tell her. It’s cool. It’s just two bros at the gym.” 

“Bro code,” Scott nods. “I’m familiar.” And then he’s leaning back and sliding Kip’s basketball shorts down over his hips, all the way off his legs, tossing them aside. 

“Wait,” Kip says. “I think we might need—”

“Oh, way ahead of you.” Scott reaches into his own pocket and pulls out a small bottle of lube. “Don’t worry. Like I said, I’ve got you.” 

Scott folds Kip’s leg, pressing it up, baring him. Kip looks in the mirror at Scott’s strong hand on his knee, the other hand flicking the lube open with a deft thumb, Scott shuffling closer now. Kip can see his own cheeks are red, his cap knocked a little askew. He has a moment where the fantasy takes him under, and he wonders why he’s being so easy for this guy, how this man can be so competent and so attractive that Kip will just spread his legs like this and invite him in. 

“I’m gonna go slow,” Scott murmurs, his voice low, like he doesn’t want to spook Kip. 

“Do it,” Kip breathes. “I want your fingers in me.” 

Scott smirks, like he knows that Kip is losing it a little, but he doesn’t say anything. He just slides one long, slick finger past Kip’s rim, into the tight clench of him. And they’ve done this a hundred times or more, so Scott is unerring in his accuracy, crooking his finger and pressing his face against Kip’s knee—not quite a kiss but something soft and irrepressible. 

“Oh, shit,” Kip moans, remembering the role. “Whoa, what was that?” 

“That’s your P-spot,” Scott says, which is a distressingly bro-y way of referring to a prostate that Kip hopes to never hear again. “It’s like a G-spot for dudes.”

“God, I can never find that thing, my girlfriend is always complaining.” 

Scott curls his finger and strokes inside, until Kip’s gasping. “Does that feel good?” 

“Fuck, yeah,” Kip breathes. “Maybe I should try harder to pleasure my girlfriend. I’ve probably been really centred on my own orgasm, because that’s what I’ve internalised from heteronormative media.” 

Scott pinches the side of his knee. Kip looks at him and sees that he’s trying not to laugh. 

“Maybe I can show you some tricks,” Scott says, spiralling with his fingertip in a way that has Kip seeing stars. 

“Fuck, I don’t know if I want to go back to her now,” Kip moans. “Not if you can do this to me.” 

It seems to be the right thing to say, Scott giving a soft groan and sliding a second finger inside. Kip relaxes back into the mat as Scott thoroughly works him open. He’s so fucking hard, and Scott keeps staring at him with big, dark eyes and kissing his knee, sometimes stroking his cock with light fingertips, just to keep him on edge. 

“Oh, god,” Kip moans as Scott presses his thumb behind his balls, like he knows Kip likes it. “God, can you fuck me? Sco—dude, please, I need to know what it’s like.” 

“Are you sure?” Scott asks, hand flat over Kip’s abs, thumb stroking over the trail of hair below his navel. 

“Yeah, I mean,” Kip bites his lip. “It’s not gay, right?” 

“Oh yeah,” Scott says, voice light. “I mean, it’d be gay if you fucked me. But not if I fuck you. And I’m gay, I should know.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kip agrees, even though that makes absolutely no fucking sense, but he really just wants Scott in him like yesterday. He leans into the illogic. “Like how it’d be gay if my girlfriend pegged me, but not if I fuck her. Totally.” 

“That’s…right,” Scott tries.

Kip watches as Scott slips his shirt off and pulls his own shorts down, enough to free his cock, which stands red-tipped and weeping, furiously hard. He’s not going to last long, Kip can tell. He can also tell that this is really, really going to be worth it. And that maybe Scott deserves just a little bit of torment before he can get to the finish line.

“Wait, wait,” Kip says. “Let me see your dick, dude.” 

Scott stops, and Kip gets up onto his knees, drawing Scott towards him. 

“Shit, you’re huge, man,” Kip says. He looks up at Scott through his lashes, licks his bottom lip. “I’ve kind of wondered what it’s like to…you know.” 

“To what?” Scott’s voice is a dark burr. 

“To suck a dick,” Kip says. He bites his lip, then wraps his hand around Scott’s hard-on. “Can I try?” 

“Uh, yeah, yes.” Scott swallows, and Kip’s eyes track the movement. 

Kip leans forward and opens his mouth, his tongue darting out to lap at the precome gathered at the head. Then he slides the tip between his lips, sucking lightly. He hears Scott sigh, and then feels hands rest on the top of his head, on the stupid snapback that he’s still wearing. He pulls back. “Sorry if I’m not very good at this,” he says, smiling bashfully. 

“You’re doing great,” Scott says. “If you relax a little, you can probably take me deeper.” 

Kip opens his mouth again and lets Scott’s cock slide over his tongue, relaxes his jaw and lets Scott hold his head still, lets him push inside. He opens his throat and takes Scott right to the back, his eyes watering. He looks up and Scott is staring down at him, eyes wide and slack-jawed. Kip grips Scott’s thighs and urges him on, and Scott thrusts forward, just a little, Kip swallowing around him. 

“Shit,” Scott breathes, turning to look in the mirror. Kip can’t see it, but he has an idea of what they look like right now: him on his knees, Scott gripping his head as Scott’s thick cock disappears past his lips. The mirror is right there. The view must be good, because Scott’s speeding up a little now, but Kip’s not ready for this to be over. He taps on Scott’s thigh until he pulls back, letting Kip breathe again. 

“Did I do it right?” he asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah, bro. That was great.” Scott’s thighs are trembling, just a little. He’s really not going to last much longer. 

“You wanna fuck me now?” Kip asks. He lies back against the mat again, and Scott follows him, crawling over him so that he’s braced over Kip’s body again. He leans up on his elbow and runs a hand down Scott’s bicep. “You’re so strong, though. Can you…be gentle? I’ve never done this before.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Scott says, smile dark. “You’re a big guy. You can take it.” 

Scott grasps Kip’s knees and pushes his legs up and apart, and then slicks his own cock with lube, eyes closing slightly at the sensation. He crowds in close, and reaches an arm around Kip’s shoulders, propping his head up. He adjusts the backwards cap so that it’s on properly, having been knocked askew. 

“You don’t want to lose your hat,” he murmurs. 

Kip realises that he’s still wearing his sneakers, his tube socks pulled up. He looks like he’s in a porno, Built hunk gets railed by trainer or something, and then he wonders if there’s something like that in Scott’s search history, if it’s bookmarked somewhere. He hasn’t asked. He wants to, now. He hopes the real thing is even better.

Scott starts to press in, and Kip lets out a soft whine at the stretch and the fullness of him. 

“You’ve got it,” Scott murmurs, holding Kip close still, but his head turning to watch them in the mirror. “You can take it, big guy.” 

“Oh god,” Kip moans, and it’s not even put on now, it’s just so real. “Yeah, give it to me. Please.” 

He looks too, sees his legs up around Scott’s waist, sees the way Scott moves against him when he moves inside him, the roll of Scott’s body, the movement of muscle in his back, his glutes. Jesus, he’s so strong, and his cock is so perfect inside. Scott kisses at Kip’s neck, then grips the back of his thigh, holding his leg up and open. Kip watches, sees the power of it, the tan of Scott’s hand against the pale skin of his own leg, the ease with which he holds him. 

“Jesus,” he moans, unbidden, unable to look away. He tries not to look at his own face, but he catches Scott’s eyes when he turns to look again, too. Scott’s mouth hangs open, his eyes dark and pupils blown as he watches the confluence of their bodies in the mirror. 

Scott hoists Kip’s leg higher and then rucks his tank up, paws at Kip’s abs, fucks him harder, reaches down to wrap his hand around Kip’s aching cock, and Kip can see that, too, the pink head slipping past the circle of Scott’s fingers. Scott leans back on his knees and tugs Kip into his lap, holds his hips up and fucks him hard, keeps stroking him. Kip cries out at the pleasure of it, spiking now, electric along his spine. 

“Oh, fuck, yes, fuck me,” he calls out, and he sees his mouth form the words, no shame in it, just desperation for what he wants, for what Scott wants to give him. Scott groans and pulls Kip in closer, throws one of Kip’s ankles over his shoulder and takes Kip’s weight against him. 

“Are you gonna come in me?” Kip asks, breathless. 

Scott grunts in response, lost to it, sweat streaking his brow. He’s stopped stroking Kip’s cock, just chasing his own pleasure now, but it doesn’t matter. Kip feels his own orgasm building anyway as Scott nails him just right inside, pleasure mounting hot and bright. 

“Come in me,” Kip pleads, gripping Scott’s forearms, feeling the muscle flex beneath his fingers. “Fuck me, fuck me, I want it, god. Scott!” 

Just like that, Kip comes, spurting hot and milky over his own belly. Scott groans, hips stuttering deep, cock pulsing where Kip can feel it, feel him coming wet and hot inside. 

They breathe. Scott drags his eyes open, looking at Kip beneath him, wrecked and painted. He pulls two fingers through the come on Kip’s stomach and then lifts his hand to Kip’s mouth. 

“Protein shot,” he says. “If you’re aiming for hypertrophy.” 

Kip sucks Scott’s fingers into his mouth, licking at the salty digits, feeling Scott pulse where he’s still inside him. Scott’s eyes are dark on him still, one hand still holding Kip’s thigh. He pulls his cock out, and Kip sucks hard at Scott’s fingers so he doesn’t whine at the sensation, the emptiness. Scott draws his fingers away, trailing wet down Kip’s chin, his neck, his chest. 

“Good workout,” he says, his voice raw. 

“Yeah,” Kip breathes. “Fuck, dude. Can I get your number? Like, if you wanted to work out again sometime?” 

Scott considers him: his stained abs, his parted thighs, the place between his legs that aches, that’s leaking come even now. Scott licks his lips, and then says, “No, you’ve got a girlfriend, that wouldn’t be cool. But maybe I can give you something else to remember me by.” 

He dives back down between Kip’s thighs, hands holding him open, and licks over Kip’s hole, following the taste of himself, tongue diving in. Scott groans, and the sound of it reverberates through Kip’s body, and he shouts as Scott seals his mouth around his rim and sucks, then returns to lick him again, broad strokes of his tongue chasing every drop of spend. 

“Jesus Christ,” Kip breathes. He can feel himself starting to get aroused again, but he is utterly wrung out. He tugs at Scott’s hair, and Scott whines, trying to pull back between Kip’s thighs. “Baby, you gotta stop or I’m going to black out,” Kip laughs. 

“Maybe that’s what I want,” Scott murmurs, but he concedes, moving back to kiss down the inside of Kip’s thigh instead. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

“Was that good?” Kip asks.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” 

“Babe, I was ready to come in my shorts the minute you picked up the weights.” 

Kip laughs, and lets Scott pull him up to his feet. They rearrange their clothes, and Kip finally takes off the hat. He looks down at the sweat-stained mat. “Ugh, we really need to clean up in here. We didn’t think this through.” 

They find the antibacterial spray and the wipes and thoroughly wipe the mat down, and then Scott has a minor panic and rolls the mat up anyway. “I think we just need to take this with us. We should have brought our own.” 

Kip hums. “Next time, let’s do that.” 

Scott smiles at him, brilliant and bashful. “Next time?” 

“Well, that’s the way to achieve results in the gym, you see.” Kip leans up and kisses his cheek, then squeezes his bicep appreciatively. “Consistency. Showing up. Putting in the work.” 

“Oh, I’ll put in the work,” Scott growls, biting at Kip’s neck. 

Kip laughs, pushing him away. “I’m gross, I need a shower. C’mon.” 

“Okay, bro,” Scott says. 

“Hey, next time?” 

Scott raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, next time,” Kip laughs. “Maybe I’ll come find you at the gym again. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I…I think I might be gay, or at least gay for you. But you’ll have to fuck me again so I can be sure.” 

Scott grins, relief and happiness. He’s seen. He’s known. 

“Sounds good,” he says. “I knew I could turn you.” 

Kip slaps him on the ass as they leave the gym together. Just bros being bros.