Heated Rivalry

Ilya glanced up so see Cliff Marlow’s face peeking over the seat in front of him. Cliff was a year younger than him, a bit of an idiot, and probably Ilya’s best friend.

“You will move here?”“No. It’s just an investment, or whatever. And I thought it could be a safe place to...meet.”Hollander was damn cute when he was embarrassed.“Did you buy a building so we would have somewhere to fuck, Hollander?”

“Starving for it, yes, Hollander?” Ilya slid forward, positioning his body closer to Hollander’s face. To his mouth. Hollander’s chest was heaving beneath him, and he glared up at Ilya with dark, intense eyes. “Is okay,” Ilya said soothingly. He tapped the head of his cock against Hollander’s lips. “You can. Take it.”“I hate you.”“Yes. I know. Show me.”

He sent a text. Having a good time?There. That was cool and casual. Just a friendly “Hey, we’re both at the Olympics! Fun, right? Also, are you in jail?”

“Well?” Rozanov said.“Well what?”He gestured to the floor. “Are you not going to suck my dick?”Shane’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you! Why don’t you suck mine?”“Hmm.” He traced a finger over Shane’s clenched jaw—so gently it made Shane close his eyes and part his lips involuntarily. “Maybe ask nice.”

“Shouldn’t we—I mean. There are windows.” There were a lot of windows.“We are on the sixteenth floor.”“Yeah, but...”

Shane didn’t know if Rozanov was saying something encouraging, or reverent. Or maybe he was calling Shane a slut. Shane felt a little slutty, in that moment. He felt wild.

Shane left. He realized, when he was back in his room, that they hadn’t even kissed. He also realized, with horror, that he regretted that.

“Seriously!” Hayden continued. “My ego can’t take it, man! It’s like being friends with the damn sun or something. Wait—do I have all of the kids? How many kids are here?”“Three. Ruby is hiding behind you.”“Okay.” Hayden exhaled. “I can’t believe we’re having another one.”“You sure it’s just one?”Hayden’s eyes were pure terror. “Don’t even joke, Hollander.”

Shane couldn’t think of a single reason why they needed to talk to each other anyway. Not anymore. Not when Rozanov was sucking on his tongue and sliding Shane’s shirt up his chest.