Chapter 2

Ethan’s heart did a little thump. Robert really was adorable sometimes, he thought to himself, then buried that thought deep down. It was fucking terrifying, just how much Robert was capable of making Ethan feel.

Ethan lifted a brow. His forefinger of the hand he was holding the glass in flicked out. He really was itching for a cig right now.

Instead, his eyes honed in on Robert’s mouth.

Ethan had an idea. He brought the rim of his glass to his lips, watching as Robert frowned at him.

Suddenly it didn’t feel too cold in his flat. Maybe it was the vodka, but his whole body felt on fire.

He let the liquid tip into his mouth, more than he usually would in a sip; then he leaned over, and with a free hand, brought two knuckles under Robert’s chin.

His mouth was already parted. His eyes were so dark, and Ethan suddenly felt dizzy. The alcohol burned on his tongue, but their lips were crashing together, and Ethan opened his mouth. Robert swallowed greedily. Ethan pushed his tongue into Robert’s mouth. Robert bucked forward, and Ethan could feel his erection against his hip.

When Ethan pulled away, Robert chased his mouth. His eyes were blown wide. His mouth was shiny. He didn’t seem too bothered by the sharp taste of the vodka. Ethan swiped his tongue over his bottom lip.

“More?” he asked, voice sounding rough even to his own ears.

And Robert gave this beautiful little nod, jerking toward him like he couldn’t control himself. His breath was ragged. Ethan wondered what was wrong with him; he wondered what was wrong with the both of them. He brought his glass to his lips, poured the liquid into his own mouth, and brought his lips to Robert’s again. He kept his eyes open, watched as Robert’s eyes fluttered shut. How he shivered under Ethan. Reveled in how he moaned.

They finished Ethan’s glass like that. Really, there wasn’t enough in it to make Ethan drunk—not even tipsy, but Robert was a lightweight. He was grabbing Ethan’s hips and kissing down his jaw, asking for more, and Ethan pressed his thigh against Robert’s length—he was already fully hard again.

Ethan laughed, teeth brushing Robert’s ear, and said no. He wanted something else, now.

He managed to put the glass on the side table, next to Robert’s phone.

As soon as his hands were free, Robert was crawling all over him, sucking wet kisses into the side of his neck—no teeth. He wouldn’t leave any marks. They were both so used to each other that they knew not to do that.

Robert’s mouth dragged along Ethan’s chest. Ethan could feel himself growing hard as well, pushing up against the fabric of his sweats. His normal refractory period was already pretty short for a man, but with Robert, it was something else.

When Robert’s mouth came over Ethan’s bulge, Ethan groaned. Robert was fucking perfect. Ethan had never met anyone who loved it as much as Robert did, who wanted it so much. He still remembers their first time; how sweet Robert had been, even though he hadn’t known what he was doing, had clumsily brought his lips over him, had been over-careful with his teeth, gagging a bit when the head touched the back of his throat. After half a decade, Robert had practically perfected the art of the blowjob, always doing it exactly as Ethan wanted, knowing exactly what Ethan liked. Ethan wondered if he did this with anyone else; if anyone else had ever had this wonderful mouth. He looked down.

“Fuck,” Ethan said, his hands flying down to Robert’s hair, thumbs curling around his ears, then coming down to brush his cheeks. He was burning. He looked so beautiful. “Look at you.”

Robert made a noise, wanting. He was still licking over the fabric, nuzzling his cheek against Ethan’s crotch, mouthing over him, and Ethan took pity on him and lifted his hips. Robert saw the gap and slipped his fingers under Ethan’s waistband, pulling the fabric down to his knees. But he was starved for it—so much that he didn’t bother pulling his sweats down completely. Robert pressed a kiss to the base of Ethan’s dick, hands coming under to cup Ethan’s balls, then licked a stripe up the length.

Ethan threw his head back, but quickly realized that was a mistake because he wanted to keep looking at Robert. **Kyle,** he thought to himself, but swallowed before he let it leave his mouth.

He breathed out, uneven, and sought to find English in his brain.

“Want to see you like this all the time,” he said, because he did. Because Kyle Robert looked like something from Ethan’s wet dreams. He always looked like that, even when they barely knew each other, even from their first meeting. He was running his mouth. He didn’t care. Not when Robert’s mouth was around him, when he was doing that thing with his tongue he knew Ethan loved, when he was doing that thing with his thumbs he knew Ethan loved, when he was groaning and humping the bed—because he loved this too. Ethan knew that there was very little that Robert loved more in the world than doing this. Maybe hockey, but was there anything else?

These thoughts were floating in the back of Ethan’s mind. They were Dangerous. They were fleeting, and that was good, because Ethan knew it would not be good to linger.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, switching to Norlandic, **you’re fucking beautiful,** he said, staring at the dark freckles mottling Robert’s cheeks, then bit his bottom lip hard so he wouldn’t say anything else.

Robert’s hands moved to Ethan’s hips, and he pulled off.

Ethan groaned and tried to bring Robert back down, but Robert resisted, and rested his cheek on the hard dip of Ethan’s hip bone.

“You can,” he said, then his eyes glanced to the side, “if you want.”

And Ethan had no idea what Robert was talking about.

“What?” he asked, with force and impatience, losing his composure. He wanted that mouth back.

Robert’s whole face was so flushed. His eyes were glazed over. He was red all the way up to his ears and down to his shoulders. Ethan had never seen anyone so beautiful.

“My phone,” Robert said, and Ethan still didn’t understand. “You can… if you want.”

The cogs in Ethan’s brain kept turning and turning, until they finally landed on what Robert was trying to say but was too embarrassed to say.

His hand found Robert’s cheek once he realized. He needed to hold onto something. He felt like he was about to pass out.

“Are you sure?” Ethan asked. He wasn’t sure if he said it in English or Norlandic.

Robert sucked in a breath. “It will—just for us,” he said, with a slight stutter, and really, Ethan should have said no. He knew Robert wasn’t someone who could hold his drinks. He knew Robert wasn’t the sort who thought things through. He knew that Robert, right now, wasn’t thinking straight—but neither was Ethan.

His eyes dragged over Robert: the pink sheen of his cheeks, the glassy look in his eyes, the way he was grinding against the bed, wanting it so bad, wanting it so much.

And Ethan found Robert’s phone on the side table, nearly knocking his glass over, and slid to open up the camera.

His hands were shaking as he pressed record. It took a while for the camera to focus.

He dragged his hand through Robert’s hair, making sure that his perfect mouth—his **face**—was in the shot, before pulling Robert all the way down.

Really, the video is barely a half-minute long.

At about ten seconds into the video, you can hear Robert groaning, can see the swell of his ass, and how he jerks against the bed, taking **someone** all the way down into his throat as he loses himself.

A few seconds after that, ragged breathing from above—but no words. Ethan had been too worked up to remember his words—any words, in either language.

On the plane, surrounded by all his teammates, Ethan watches the last few seconds of the video: his own hand burying in Robert’s hair, grabbing whatever he could, then yanking his head back.

The camera, once again, focuses on Robert’s face, as if there is any question about it, who it is.

Robert’s eyes meet the camera. His mouth opens to show white on his tongue. He draws it back into his mouth, then swallows.

A thumb pries his lips apart, fingers curling under his jaw.

Like a reflex, Robert’s mouth closes around the digit. He closes his eyes. He moans. The video cuts.