Chapter 3
He flinched when he heard a key in the front door, staring at Luc wide eyed.
They froze for a long moment, wordlessly debating whether to step into the hallway facing the front door and tell Wes they were there, when they heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing.
Luc shook his head at Connor, and Connor panicked.
He tiptoed out of the kitchen and waved Luc over to the hallway on the right, pointing to the bedrooms.
"We gotta hide," he hissed.
Luc nodded, grabbing Connor and running into the furthest bedroom down the hall.
It wasn't until they were inside that Connor realised –
"This is the
master
you fucking idiot," Connor hissed, panicked.
They looked around, unsure of what to do, grimacing at the low murmuring coming from the main part of the house.
Connor could feel panic rising as the noise got closer, grabbing Luc and yanking him into the huge walk in closet, praying that Wes and Rose would fuck on the couch or something.
"Fuck," Luc whispered as the bedroom door opened, squeezing his eyes shut and sitting on the floor behind the door, making himself small, as the sounds of kissing and clothes hitting the floor became unmistakable.
Connor shushed him, plastering himself to the opposite wall and bringing his knees up to his chest, trying to plan his next move.
They were
terrible
friends.
They should have called or texted Wes.
They could have said
hey, we swung by for a drink!
And Wes could have told them to beat it, or he could have said
cool, Rose's in town, you can meet her!
Instead, they had broken into his house, hid in his closet and were listening to Wes about to have sex.
and
sex
didn't sound right together, but in a weird way, Connor was glad to know that Wes was having sex.
The guy was wound so fucking tight that he was just glad to get confirmation that he had an outlet.
"Jesus Christ," Wes murmured, clear as a bell through the doors.
"A week is too fucking long."
Connor felt all his blood drain out of his body when he realised the closet door was ajar, light coming through.
Luc thankfully didn't seem to realise it, resting against his knees, still curled into a ball.
Connor kept his eyes down as he tried to think about an exit strategy, about how to get out undetected –
"Needy fucking slut," a deep, heavily accented voice replied to him.
Luc sat straight up, his eyes locking with Connor's.
They knew that voice.
They knew that Russian accent.
That voice had been chirping at them relentlessly for nearly a decade.
"Andrei," Wes
begged.
Andrei.
Andrei Sokolov.
Connor blinked, sure that the bewildered expression Luc was wearing matched his own.
Wes Calloway
was kissing
Andrei Sokolov
right now?
He looked around the closet, decidedly not looking through the crack in the door that faced the bed, and paid attention.
The closet was clearly split into two.
On one side, where Luc was curled up, were the familiar plain black and navy suits Connor had seen Wes in over the years.
Linen shirts, soft sweatpants, fleece sweaters, Hikers lined up underneath the clothes.
On the other side above Connor, everything was black, slightly more high end.
Silk shirts, Runner sweaters, shiny black boots on a shoe rack by the door.
"Luc," Connor mouthed, waving to get his attention and pointing to the clothes.
Luc looked around, his jaw dropping.
Just then, Wes let out a moan so loud, Connor actually recoiled away from the door.
The door doesn't shut properly, I need to get the contractor back,
Connor remembers Wes saying when he moved in. Sure enough, the door was ajar by nearly two inches.
He was scared to look through the crack.
He knew if he saw for sure that it was Sokolov, if he got confirmation that it was really him, he'd never be able to look him or Wes in the eye again.
Connor had heard Sokolov call him a
fucking slut
What kind of fucking asshole spoke to someone they were about to have sex with that way?
But Wes – their Wes, was currently kissing Andrei Sokolov, in a house that he had allowed Sokolov to keep some of his things.
Their Wes
moaned
when Sokolov called him a fucking slut.
Their Wes
was begging for Sokolov's dick right now.
Connor shook his head as he thought about it, his stomach dropping at how much this all seemed to make sense now.
The clothes in the closet.
Wes and Ivy Thompson two years ago.
Seattle.
"Sokolov is Seattle Rose," he breathed.
Luc's face fell as he stared at him.
"No," he mouthed.
Connor nodded, his jaw clenched.
They were silent as the kissing in the bedroom sounded more intense, Wes moaning and Sokolov panting.
Connor flinched as Sokolov said something in Russian, shaking his head at how fucking rude he was.
He fucking hated this guy.
He was always such a fucking dick, and now he was saying something to Wes that he couldn't even fucking understand in an
intimate
moment –
Connor's jaw dropped as Wes said something back to Sokolov
in Russian
Sokolov laughed, muttering something back in Russian again that made Wes laugh in response.
Connor chanced a look up at Luc, who was shaking his head, his face pale.
"We have to get out of here," Luc mouthed.
They absolutely did.
They couldn't stay in here and listen to Wes –
"Oh my god," Wes moaned, breathy and low.
Connor pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to think.
They needed to get the fuck out of here.
They couldn't sit here and listen to Wes and Sokolov fucking.
Fucking.
Wes was fucking
Sokolov.
Connor didn't understand how this happened.
How the fuck these two had fallen into bed together, let alone seemed to be sharing a life together somehow.
Connor leaned against the wall, thinking about it.
Seattle Rose.
Sokolov was from Seattle.
Wes had always been in a better mood when they played the Minutemen – even Connor had noticed that over the years.
Years.
It had to have been years.
Sokolov moved to Ottawa.
Fucking Ottawa.
Had he moved for Wes?
Had they waited out Sokolov's contract so they could be together?
No, that didn't make any sense.
Sokolov had always been a ladies man.
Sure, it seemed like he'd calmed down a lot over the last two years, but...
He flinched when Wes cried out.
Connor's eyes followed the noise instinctively, looking through the crack in the door –
He could see the bed.
Fuck, he could see Wes and Sokolov.
Connor looked over at Luc, grateful that he had his head tucked against his knees, and couldn't see Connor watching Wes.
Thank god.
At least Connor would be able to keep an eye on them and make sure they had a chance to try and hide if they came towards the closet.
But judging by the looks of them, they wouldn't be moving for a while.
Wes was naked, flat on his stomach as Sokolov loomed over him, fully dressed, pressing kisses down his spine.
Connor frowned; there was something about the way Sokolov was lording over him that Connor didn't like.
As if he was forcing Wes to cower beneath him or something.
Wes and Sokolov were pretty much the same size, so there was something...off, about the way Sokolov made Wes defer to him.
It made Connor wonder what exactly was between the two of them as Sokolov manhandled Wes roughly, forcing his arms behind his back and spreading his legs, knocking them apart with his knee.
Connor watched as Sokolov moved further down Wes's body, averting his eyes so he didn't see anything he wasn't supposed to; this was too intimate to look at, Wes laying there open and ready like that.
He knew Wes was a good looking man.
He'd seen him naked at least five times a week every week for the last eight years; he was no stranger to Wes's body.
But he had never
looked
before.
He watched Sokolov stare at Wes, his hands running reverently down his bare back, groping at his ass, moving down his thighs, pinching softly before grazing down his calves before coming back up.
Wes looked like he was in heaven as he arched his hips up.
Sokolov moved fast, slapping his ass
hard
as Wes moaned.