Chapter 1
It's possible Roman might have slightly lost control over his plans for Ethan Brennan staying over at his house for the first time.
This happens approximately the moment Brennan gets on his lap and reaches for his cock, so he thinks it's probably pretty understandable.
He's not sure exactly what prompted this, what about curling up together on the couch got Brennan so turned on so quickly, but his brief moment of confusion is infinitely less important than the pleasure of Brennan's hand on him, so he decides he can puzzle it out later.
Brennan's mouth is open, smearing damp half-kisses across his face, and he chases his mouth with only half of his focus, managing to catch him in a kiss only a couple of times before Brennan pulls away again, like he can't focus enough to commit to kissing despite wanting it.
Roman, who is
also
still spinning a bit mentally over going zero to a hundred in approximately five seconds, can relate.
"You gonna come for me, Vasiliev?" Brennan asks, and Roman can't help the way it sends him lurching even closer to the edge, Brennan on top of him, confident and in control, taking the lead for once in a rare little taste of something that feels dangerously good.
"Fucking make me," he manages to grit out, trying and mostly failing to not flex his hips up into the pleasure, trying not to do anything to risk Brennan's sinfully-good grip, trying to be a good participant in Brennan's experiment, trying to make sure Brennan doesn't get frustrated at something not going the way he wants.
He's fun to frustrate, of course, to tease and cajole and wind up, but Roman knows by now that Brennan's first attempt at something is never the time to play with it, to risk knocking his feet out from under him and making him shy away from trying again.
And Roman would really,
like him to try this again.
In light of how good it feels, Roman considers that he could probably feel a little embarrassed about how little he'd actually thought about the "having sex" component of things when he'd prepared for today.
He'd had half-formed fantasies and plans about getting Brennan to ride him after their last round of sexting had reminded him of how long it had been since he'd last gotten to enjoy it, but that was about where his planning had ended.
It hadn't seemed necessary, really.
Of everything between them, sex has always been the easiest piece.
It's everything
that had felt up in the air.
Roman had played with the idea a few times, proposing staying over with each other.
At Champions Cup last year they'd even been on the same floor at the hotel, and it had
been a temptation then, how easy it would be to stay the night and still both be back to where they should be the next morning.
He'd even thought Brennan might propose it, had noticed him lingering
a bit when the sex was over, and llya had fucked it up by pushing before Brennan had decided for himself, his teasing, "You want something else?" spooking him into bolting instead of serving as an opener for him to ask to stay the way Roman had intended it.
Since then, he's had a bit of time to refine his strategy.
(To a degree that's going to be humiliating if anyone finds out about it, frankly.)
He'd known Brennan wouldn't stay over if it risked missing even optional practice, so he'd picked a day there wouldn't be any.
He'd known Brennan's mind would probably spin out too quickly if Roman had sprung it on him when he first got here, so he'd waited until he was sated and relaxed from pleasure (well, as relaxed as Brennan
ever
manages to get).
He'd known Brennan wouldn't take the bait if he didn't think Roman really meant it, so he'd teased and coaxed and kissed until it was clear he wanted it, too.
Everything else from there had fallen into place pretty neatly.
"Fuck, Sh-" The name is cut off when Brennan's mouth happens to find his again, unknowingly swallowing his own name before pulling back to pant, breath heavy and humid.
"Fuck,"
he agrees, still trembling slightly the same way Roman is in the aftermath, the muscles of his thighs relaxing slowly until Roman is holding up most of his weight on his lap.
He doesn't mind.
"You always are turned on by hockey like this?" He teases when he has the breath to do it.
"Fuck you," Brennan says back, but his head still drops to rest on Roman's shoulder, and when Roman wraps a hesitant arm around him, holding him up, holding him
closer,
Brennan just nudges his face to rest against the side of his neck.
They sit together in the background noise of the low hum of the game on the television until the mess between them starts cooling and prompts Brennan back into motion, pulling away and pressing Roman back down by his shoulder when he moves to follow, bringing Roman–who ended up with the majority of it on his stomach thanks to the angle they were both sitting at–a damp cloth in a rare reversal of their usual dynamic.
Another new thing, Roman thinks, wiping himself clean as Brennan wanders off in search of another for himself.
Another new thing that Roman likes very, very much.
Ethan wouldn't say that he's
settled
into the newness of staying over at Vasiliev's house, per se, but the longer it happens, the less it scratches at him.
Unexpectedly, it's finding a box of tampons in Vasiliev's linen closet while looking for a washcloth for himself–the one he handed Vasiliev was the last on the shelf, so it's a justified nosiness–that serves to settle him the most.
It doesn't seem like the kind of thing that would be on hand just for any hook-ups who might need it, even if Vasiliev is the kind of thoughtful in bed that doesn't make the idea
impossible.
It seems like the kind of thing that would be around for someone who stays for longer than a couple of hours at a time, someone who would be here long enough to get a surprise period but comfortable enough to remain afterwards.
Someone like the girl in Glenport that Roman mentioned earlier.
Ethan can't stop the stupid and irrational little flicker of jealousy it prompts in him, this piece of a woman's life left in Vasiliev's like of
it would be there, but he gets hold of himself quickly.
Old friends from Valdoria, Roman had said, and apparently friends comfortable with each other enough that she would keep a stash of tampons at Vasiliev's house just in case.
That makes sense, Ethan considers.
It also tells him that he's not the only fuckbuddy who's been invited to stay before, which is strangely reassuring and also offers a hint about why Vasiliev has been so nonchalant about all of this.
It still feels new, of course, but that's because it
new for Ethan, the first time their schedules happen to have aligned in a way that made it possible.
He'd been trying to make guesses about the motivation behind it, trying to read what it means, but maybe it means for him the same thing it means for the woman whose tampons these are: when possible, Vasiliev doesn't mind his hook-ups staying the night.
It doesn't mean anything more than the fact that Vasiliev just isn't particularly protective of his space, that he doesn't mind someone he's sleeping with lingering if nothing else comes up.
After all, he and his friend in Glenport aren't committed, and Roman had even said he might find someone else to sleep with, something that Ethan refuses to think about any further after remembering it because it makes him feel something that is very stupid and pointless.
"You are planning to rob me or what?" He hears Vasiliev call, and he can't help but smile slightly even as he rolls his eyes, closing the door to the linen closet and feeling strangely lighter than when he opened it, reassured that he's just trying to read into a blank page, that today doesn't mean anything more than Vasiliev doesn't mind him being around, which is strangely flattering.
"I don't know," he calls back.
"Don't Valdorians like diamonds and fur and stuff?
Where should I start looking if I want to know what my options are?"
He hears Vasiliev laugh, and it makes him smile.
When he joins him in the living room once more, Vasiliev tugs him down to lean against him again.
Ethan goes easier this time, settling into it, knowing it doesn't mean anything other than the fact that he just happens to be the closest warm body, the person on Vasiliev's roster who filled today's slot.
(And if he feels a little flicker of something almost sad when the realization settles on him, well.)
(He has Vasiliev's abs under his hand as a convenient distraction.)
It turns out that Ethan Brennan is a clingy sleeper.