Chapter Text
Jack was on the bench when the final buzzer went off, signaling the end of the third and final period. As he and the rest of the team filed onto the ice, a collective sigh of relief rippled down the line. The game had been close through all sixty minutes of play - the teams had gone tit for tat through the first two, going into the second intermission tied at two a piece, until Jack’s line had put another in late in the third. They had been playing short-handed for the last forty-five seconds of the game, the opposing team’s goalie having bolted for the bench in favor of an extra attacker, hoping to tie it up again and send the game to overtime.
But now, with the game over and a win in the books - a tight one, but a win nonetheless - the boys were all smiles once again. Jack skated idly in circles as sticktaps, heavy handed hugs, and sly waves into the stands were shared amongst his teammates. With a sharp bark from their captain - a hulking d-man with the nickname North who had to be too old for college nowadays - they lined up and tapped gloves with the other team, the standard issue good game and similar sentiments echoing down the line. The hometown crowd was alight with cheers as they gave one last wave to the stands in acknowledgment.
As much as Jack loved hockey, it was this part that he dreaded.
The feeling of being watched, like he was a household pet in a tank too small for him, there for the amusement of others and nothing more. Growing up skating on the frozen lakes and secluded outdoor rinks had been the place Jack had actually felt confident in himself for the first time. Playing for junior leagues where the audience was nothing more than overenthusiastic hockey parents was easy enough. But this? College hockey, in an actual stadium, where people paid money to watch them - him - play? That was an entirely different beast.
It was a relief to finally file down the tunnel to the lockers. As was the norm after wins, especially at home, the coach came in and gave a cryptic speech, commending the win but trying valiantly to keep everyone humble - a losing battle in the world of college hockey, Jack thought, where the star players already had NHL contracts lined up. North said a few words too, reminding everyone that even though it was a Saturday night and there was no practice or mandatory skate the next day, that they should still focus on getting a good night’s rest and being ready to go Monday morning.
Meaning don’t get so shit-faced that we see you on the news.
It was college, after all.
Jack took his time stripping down, wiping his equipment down methodically before shoving it haphazardly into his bag. His teammates were all rushing, eager to get out while the night was still young. Puck drop had been at eight tonight, and both teams had played clean, so the sixty minutes went fast: it wasn’t even 10:30, according to the clock on the wall.
“Gonna join us tonight, Frosty?”
Jack looked up automatically, fixing his face into something that approximated a grin, already knowing who he’d see. Aster - Bunny, to the team, insufferable roommate to Jack - stood before him, already in street clothes, heavy bag slung over his shoulder.
“God, did you even shower?” Jack quipped, wrinkling his nose.
Bunny laughed, tossing his head back. He swung his bag down to clip Jack’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over in the process. “Chicks dig the musk. You should try it sometime. Tonight?”
Jack fought to keep from rolling his eyes. The idea of Jack doing anything that the chicks would dig was laughable. “I’m just going home, Bunny. Maybe next time.”
“You’re no fun. What’s the point of playing college if you’re just gonna do school work and practice all the time? Live a little, Frosty boy!”
“Next time, I promise,” Jack vowed. “Next weekend home game, I’m there. Bring on the- the girls!”
He couldn’t quite get that last part out without a grimace, causing Bunny to laugh uproariously. He clapped Jack on the shoulder again - thankfully with his hand this time, and not an oversized bag of smelly hockey gear. “I’m’a hold you to that.”
“I’m sure you will. Get out of here, and take that musk with you.”
Bunny did leave, along with most of the rest of Jack’s teammates, rowdy and crowing about their goals, both on the ice and for the night ahead. A few of the other upperclassmen took their time like Jack, carefully cleaning their gear or making sure their laces weren’t frayed too badly or retaping a stick. Jack took a long cold shower, letting the water just run over his head for a few minutes. He always felt overheated after games - not from exertion, but from the feeling of eyes tracking his motions on the ice, on the bench, while he was drinking or adjusting his sweater…
It took another minute under the cold spray to calm back down fully again.
By the time he returned to the locker room, hair still dripping and a towel fastened tight around his hips, everyone was gone. Atop his bag was a singular piece of chocolate, which he knew to be courtesy of North. The man was made of sweets, Jack was sure of it. He was like the team’s protective and terrifyingly Russian older brother.
Now that the lockers were empty, Jack made quick work of the rest of his routine. Clean boxers and soft sweatpants went on. He added a team hoodie that was one size too big - it was clearly Bunny’s, having somehow made it into his bag. Frowning at the feeling, Jack pulled on a pair of socks and his ancient Chuck Taylors - he preferred to be barefoot when he could, but the walk across the parking lot would be dark and cold, and Jack didn’t quite like his chances of making it to his car unscathed.
He flicked the lights out behind him and made sure the door was latched before making his way towards the side exit of the rink, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He could hear voices echoing in the hallways from the stadium workers and lingering fans, but Jack made it outside and into the cold before he ran into anyone. The walk across the lot was equally quiet - Jack had parked on the far side of the lot, near the edge of the trees. There were a few cars here and there, all clustered close to the main entrance.
As Jack got closer to his car, he realized that not all of the cars in the lot were parked up front - and that not all the cars in the lot were cars.
Three spaces down from his beat-up Volkswagen was a motorcycle, though Jack didn’t see the rider anywhere. A helmet was perched on the seat, both inky black in the dark night. Jack could see the streetlights reflecting in the glossy paint.
Jack did not consider himself a car guy in the slightest, and truth be told, he knew nothing about motorcycles. But, even he could tell that this one was well cared for, expensive, and fast.
The bike kept his attention even as he unlocked his car and tossed his bag in the backseat. So much so, in fact, that when a voice came from the edge of the trees, Jack jumped nearly a foot in the air.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jack nearly shouted, catching himself on his back door and saving himself from the utter humiliation of eating shit in an empty parking lot. “What the fuck, man?” Jack whirled towards the voice once his balance was steady - he had always been more graceful on ice than on solid ground - and saw a lone figure stepping into the glow of the streetlights. “You can’t just do that to someone. What if I had a gun?”
The man laughed, sounding not even the slightest bit sorry. “Sorry, I thought you’d already seen me.”
Jack squinted in the man’s direction. Even illuminated by the pale yellow light of the streetlight above them, he was hard to make out, blending in with the shadows behind him. Jack realized that the man was wearing all black, from head to toe.
“You’re dressed like a fucking reaper,” he replied. “Not exactly an outfit that stands out in the - you know - pitch fucking black.”
“You curse a lot.”
“I’m a hockey player, it comes with the job title. What are you even doing out here? Game’s over.”
The man took another step forward, letting the light fall on his face. A face that Jack instantly clocked as a) unfamiliar and b) the kind of handsome that was actually annoying and made Jack’s mouth go dry. He was Jack’s age - early twenties, probably another college student - with dark hair pushed out of his face and a wicked grin. Jack saw now that the dark clothes he was wearing were really just leather and padding - riding clothes, presumably.
Duh, Jack thought.
“I was waiting for the lot to clear out so I could practice my leans,” the man said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This lot is good for it because all the streetlights are at the edge. I didn’t realize there’d be a game tonight, though. I wouldn’t’ve come if I had - I have a, ah, prior arrangement at 11:30.”
Jack glanced at his phone, seeing 10:57pm light up the darkness. “I’ll get out of your way then.”
“Well, wait, no, hold on,” he said, taking another step forward. “You’re pretty cute.”
“I- what?”
Jack was sure he had heard the man wrong.
“It’s not every day that you run into a cute boy in an empty parking lot.” So he hadn’t heard wrong at all. “It’d be dumb to let the opportunity slip by.” The man’s eyes were intent on Jack, that grin still on his lips. He had taken another step forward, fully onto the pavement of the lot now, but still left plenty of room between them. “So. Come here often?”
“I- that… what are you even talking about? Of course I come here often. I just said I play hockey. What do you fucking think?”
The man laughed, a full, genuine sound. Jack smiled despite himself. “Sorry, I knew that. I’m usually smoother than this. Can I try again?”
“Are you asking for permission to flirt with me?”
“Well, yeah. If you’re not… I mean, you can tell me to fuck off. It certainly seems to be in your vocabulary.”
The thought was tempting, and Jack almost, almost did. But there was something in the intense way the man was watching him, the edge to his voice, the easy smile. Something that set a fire low in Jack’s gut and made an answering grin spread across his face.
“I’m Jack,” he said, thrusting one hand out before he could think better of it.
“Hiccup,” the man responded, shaking his outstretched hand once, the skin of his hand masked by a leather glove. “Does that mean I get a second shot?”
“That means that you have-” Jack paused, glancing at his phone again, “-thirty-one minutes until your prior arrangement. I’m not going to tell you how to use them.”
The wicked grin came creeping back. “Then I’ll ask what a pretty boy like you is doing here in sweatpants, instead of out at the bars? I’m sure that’s where your teammates went.”
Jack took the opportunity to close the back door of the car and lean against the side of it, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried to school the flush creeping across his face. He watched as Hiccup’s eyes flicked down to follow the movement, then settled back on his face. “I’m not one for crowds,” he said simply. It was true enough - this hot stranger didn’t need to know the nitty-gritty details of Jack’s aversion to being watched, to being seen.
Though, in the glow of the streetlights, Jack was finding that he didn’t mind this heavy gaze very much.
“What about you? Got someone waiting for you at a bar somewhere?” he continued, testing the waters.
Hiccup snorted, shaking his head immediately. “No way. Besides, even if I did, we’ve got thirty minutes.”
“Hm. Twenty-nine now, actually.”
“Oh, well, in that case…” Hiccup took another step forward, closing the distance between them. He carefully leaned a hip against Jack’s car, mimicking his stance.
Up close, Jack was nearly a whole head shorter than Hiccup. Jack knew he wasn’t tall - the amount of guys on the ice that thought they could push him around told him as much - but he rarely felt it so acutely as then. Now that the distance was gone and Jack’s eyes had fully adjusted, he saw the freckles splattered across Hiccup’s face, continuing below the high collar of his jacket. He was all sharp angles and tight leather and Jack thought he might’ve been drooling a little bit.
“See something you like?”
Jack snapped his eyes back up to Hiccup’s, another flush rushing across his face, turning his ears hot. “Maybe.” He was going for cool and cryptic, but he had the distinct feeling that it came across closer to breathless and terribly, terribly obvious. “And if I do?”
What was actually wrong with him?
“I’d say that you should get a closer look.”
Before Jack could think better of it, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, grabbing a handful of leather and yanking. He tilted up onto his toes to close the last of the gap and crushed his lips against Hiccup’s, just to say he had. With what seemed like a practiced precision, Hiccup tilted his head, slotting their faces together better and kissing back almost lazily. Jack felt hands settle on his hips, holding in tightly in place. It was all he could do to keep from groaning into the kiss, feeling like his bones were melting.
With a subtle step forward, Hiccup was turning them, pressing Jack’s back against the car and crowding into his space. He widened his stance to keep his balance, and Hiccup took clear advantage of it, shifting again to press a leg between his thighs. Jack was already half hard, and the delicious pressure did rip a moan from his throat this time.
“You make pretty noises,” Hiccup panted, pulling back an inch. “I wonder what you’d sound like while getting your dick sucked.”
The filthy words went straight to Jack’s cock, making him almost painfully hard. Hiccup moved his mouth to the side of Jack’s jaw, ducking his head further to kiss along the line there, then down his neck. Jack let his head tilt back, mouth falling open with a huff as Hiccup sucked at the sensitive skin below his ear. Jack pressed his hips forward, grinding against Hiccup’s thigh. He felt the hard length against his hip twitch, making Hiccup hum into Jack’s neck, biting down just a bit harder.
“Oh fuck,” he muttered, his voice breathy.
“Tell me more, pretty boy.”
He didn’t get the chance to, because Hiccup pulled back up and fastened his lips to Jack’s again, cutting off any sounds he would’ve made. Jack didn’t make a habit out of making out with strangers in empty parking lots, but if it was always like this, then he thought he might try doing it more. It was hot and wet and Hiccup’s hands were all over him and Jack was going to combust and shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.
If he was going to explode, he might as well make a show out of it.
Jack still had a hand gripping the front of Hiccup’s jacket. He raised the other to wind into his hair, securing Hiccup’s face to his. A light tug on the roots of his hair had Hiccup moaning into Jack’s mouth, so he did it again, pulling harder.
Hiccup followed the tug, pulling back a few inches to stare at Jack with pupils blown wide and a kiss reddened mouth, hanging open in a pant. Jack could feel his own chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.
“Can I…?” Hiccup asked, breathless.
“Whatever you want,” Jack replied immediately, relaxing his hands. Just keep touching me.
When Hiccup pulled away further, Jack wanted to protest, regretting his words. But, he didn’t go far, dropping to his knees before Jack.
“Oh.”
Hiccup cast another wicked grin up at Jack through his lashes, his fingers making quick work of the drawstring at his waist. He eased Jack’s sweatpants down a few inches, taking his boxers with them and exposing his cock to the cold air. Jack realized that the gloves he was wearing weren’t actually full gloves, the leather cutting off to leave his fingertips bare. The edge between warm skin and rough leather as Hiccup wrapped his hand around Jack’s length was intoxicating. His fingers flexed against the car door, grabbing at nothing as he swallowed another moan.
When Hiccup swept his thumb over the head of his cock, squeezing lightly, Jack’s body curled forward involuntarily. He had to grab Hiccup’s shoulder to keep from tipping over.
“That’s it,” Hiccup encouraged, voice rough.
He leaned forward until just the head of his cock was resting on his tongue, eyes never leaving Jack’s. It was obscene, the sight of Hiccup on his knees, looking up through his lashes, broad shoulders and wet lips and cocky eyes, egging Jack on.
If Jack had any less self-control than he actually possessed, he would’ve cum from just the sight.
As it was, he had to clench his muscles tight, fighting off the wave of pleasure that threatened to spill over. Hiccup seemed to understand, because he shifted his hand to squeeze gently at the base of his cock, helping to force the feeling back.
When Jack was able to take a shaky breath, Hiccup took it as a go-ahead, leaning forward to take more of Jack’s length in his mouth, wrenching a string of words from Jack’s. Around the wet heat of Hiccup’s mouth, Jack couldn’t find the space to be embarrassed about the nonsense he was saying.
“Oh god, you’re s-so fucking- mouth is so hot I’m - ah - fuck, Hiccup, you’re-” Jack trailed off, letting the words fracture into sounds. He was pretty sure the meaning still got across, if the enthusiasm with which Hiccup’s head continued bobbing was any indication.
Jack moved his hand from Hiccup’s shoulder back to his hair, gripping the roots lightly, still letting Hiccup set the pace. The hum in Hiccup’s throat sent another wave of pleasure through Jack, making his toes curl.
“I can’t- oh fuck, don’t stop, I’m- oh-“
A tightening of his fingers in Hiccup’s hair was all the warning Jack could manage before he was cumming, spilling into Hiccup’s mouth with a broken moan. He watched with shaking fingers as Hiccup swallowed around him, then pulled off of him, saliva and cum dripping down his chin. Despite the mess, he was grinning up at Jack, eyes bright.
He leaned over to the side to spit and wipe his mouth, and then Jack was pulling Hiccup back to his feet and kissing him, tasting himself on his tongue. He could feel Hiccup grin into the kiss, hands settling back on Jack’s hips easily. With a quick tug, Jack’s sweatpants were back up over his cock, making him twitch and gasp at the feeling of cloth on sensitive skin.
“I was right,” Hiccup mumbled against his lips. “You make gorgeous noises when your dick is getting sucked.”
“Mm,” Jack hummed, flushing again. “I bet I sound good sucking dick too. Want to find out?”
Hiccup grinned, but pulled away. He fished something from his back pocket - Jack realized it was his phone when the screen illuminated his face. His eyes were startlingly green, something Jack hadn’t noticed.
As quick as the grin came, it fell. “Ah, I’m gonna need to take a rain check on that one. I’ve gotta go.”
Jack peered over the edge of the phone to see 11:27pm situated over a screensaver of a black cat stretched out on a pile of blankets.
“Is your prior arrangement really that important?” Jack asked. It came out more whiny than he had intended.
Hiccup gave him a wistful smile that crooked up higher on one side. “Believe me, I wish I could stay. You’re, gods, you’re perfect. But really, I do have to go.” He glanced around for the first time, reminding Jack abruptly that they were in fact still in the parking lot of the rink. “Besides, we should probably get out of here before someone calls the cops on us for indecent exposure or something.”
He leaned in and gave Jack a quick peck on the lips before straightening fully. He tucked his phone back into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, already walking away.
“We should do this again sometime,” he called, throwing Jack another grin.
By the time Jack had pulled himself together enough to respond, the Hiccup was straddling the bike, adjusting himself with a grimace as it roared to life. It was loud enough to drown out any string of words Jack might’ve put together. He settled the black helmet over his head, completing the image of the biker in black that would surely feature in Jack’s fantasies for years.
Jack could do nothing more than watch dumbfounded as Hiccup carefully kicked the stand out of the way, revved the engine, and pealed out of the parking space. He half-turned in the seat to wave at Jack when he reached the edge of the lot, and then he was gone.
-
The ride home was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of Hiccup’s life. He was so hard that it was painful. Every bump and corner, he felt himself rubbing against the copious wet spot in his boxers. He couldn’t get home fast enough, backing his bike into his usual spot and killing the engine with practiced movements. Getting off the bike was another challenge, as were the stairs of his apartment building, but finally, finally he was inside. He locked the door behind him and leaned against it, palming himself through his pants and moaning like a teenager.
He managed to get his pants unbuckled and pushed down enough to get a hand around himself, jerking off with short, fast strokes. He was cumming into his fist in record time, the image of icy blue eyes and a pretty open mouth looking down at him, a cock heavy on his tongue.
“Gods,” he cursed, sighing as he relaxed against the door. As he pulled his hand out of his pants, an affronted meow met his ears.
Toothless materialized in the entryway, slinking out of the shadows in the way only black cats could manage. Judgmental green eyes blinked up at him.
“What? I’m here on time, aren’t I?”
The cat gave another chirp, weaving around Hiccup’s ankles, tail high. Hiccup kicked his boots off at the door and let himself be herded into the apartment by the cat at his feet, wincing at every step around the wetness in his boxers, a hundred times worse now and terribly sticky.
He was herded into the kitchen, where Toothless jumped up onto the counter expectantly. He butted his head against Hiccup’s hand as the man cracked open a can of wet food, breaking it up onto a plate with practiced ease. When Toothless was purring and eating on the counter, Hiccup retreated to his bedroom, intent on a hot shower. And, if the way his cock was still at half-mast was any indication, a few fantasy would be joining him there.
As much as he loved his cat, Hiccup had to admit that the codependency got a little inconvenient at times. Toothless had a precise sense of time, an affinity for a regular - and nocturnal - schedule, and scary retaliation tactics when he didn’t get his way. Meanwhile, Hiccup didn’t have even the smallest shred of the backbone needed to stand up to him.
So what if he spent half his life being bullied by a ten pound cat? Hiccup managed everything just fine.
Usually.
-
When Jack kicked the door to their apartment open, he was expecting all the lights to be off and the space to be silent. Instead, he found Bunny lounging on the couch, feet hooked over one of the arms, flipping through TV channels. He looked as surprised to see Jack as Jack was to see him.
“Are you just getting back from the rink?” Bunny asked, eyes wide. “Dude, your post-game rituals need some serious trimming.”
“I- um… yeah. What are you doing here?”
Jack was suddenly hyper aware of everything about his appearance: from the sweatpants he hadn’t bothered retying, to the small wet spot on them by the pocket that was rapidly drying into crust, to the redness that was undoubtedly on his face and his lips.
“Lost my ID, if you’ll believe it - no one’d let me in. I came back here to get my passport, but the couch was really comfortable.”
“Uh huh. What ever will the chicks do now?” Jack drawled, turning away from Bunny, towards the kitchen. The sooner he could retreat to his room, the better off he’d be.
“Hey, it’s still early. My passport is in my suitcase… I think… we can probably be out before 12:15, if you want to go.”
Bunny looked so hopeful that Jack had to laugh. “The only place I want to go to is bed, Bunny,” he insisted.
His head tilted back with a groan, bumping the back of the couch. “I don’t understand you, Frosty. You’ve got this whole-” Bunny waved a hand in Jack’s general direction, “-soft boy thing going for you, and you don’t even do anything with it. Do you know how many chicks would line up for you if you asked? You’ve got the fluffy hair, the athlete build, the shy-and-mysterious act down perfect, and you let it go to waste.”
Jack rolled his eyes, making sure Bunny saw it before he turned to the fridge, searching for something to drink. He settled on apple juice, drinking it from the bottle in front of the open door.
“He even drinks juice!” Bunny cried, throwing his hands up. “What more could a girl want?”
It was a struggle to get the mouthful of juice down without choking on it, but Jack managed. He put the bottle back in the fridge and looked for something to throw at his roommate: upon finding nothing - at least, nothing that wouldn’t cause damage to either Bunny or their apartment - Jack settled on his best scathing glare.
“You know that I don’t- I’m not looking for-”
Bunny cut him off with a sigh. “Yeah yeah, I know. You’re not looking for a relationship. You don’t want to hook up just to hook up. You say this every time.” Bunny stopped, seeming to do a double take at Jack before his face split into a grin. “Honestly mate, I’m just worried about you. Keeping the pipes flowing is an important biological process. It’s perfectly natur- hey, where are you going? Frosty, wait, we need to talk about this!”
Jack let the door to his room slam shut, locking it quickly behind him. He could hear Bunny still tossing teasing accusations at him through the door about broken pipes and clogs, but they eventually died down with a laugh and a softer alright, goodnight.
While Jack indeed had been trying to escape the bedroom talk with his hyperactive roommate, the real reason he had run was because he was very much in danger of laughing in Bunny’s face.
If Bunny had known where Jack had been for the last half hour, or the company that Jack kept in intimate settings - rather, the gender of that company - Jack was pretty sure he’d have an aneurysm.
It wasn’t that Jack kept his sexuality a secret: it was just that no one had asked outright. Everyone assumed that the quiet third line left-winger was straight, because he hadn’t done or said anything to indicate otherwise. On the flip side, of course, Jack hadn’t done anything to indicate that he was straight either. But, it was down to semantics at that point.
Jack went about his nighttime routine, switching to new boxers and sweatpants again and exchanging Bunny’s hoodie for an old t-shirt. He flopped down onto his bed, phone in hand and ready to spend another sleepless night watching videos or playing some mindless game. Instead, he was met with two texts, sent one after another in the time that Jack had been changing.
Bunny: nice hickey ;)
Bunny: knew you had it in you, frosty my boy