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Hayden is completely fine that Shane is gay. He really is. So totally cool about it. He absolutely hasn’t thought about it every day since he found out. And it doesn’t make his stomach churn in a way that feels like it could be disgust but… probably… isn’t…?
It actually hasn’t affected their gameplay together. And that’s the most important thing. Hayden is Shane’s left wing, and they’re first line, so they have to gel. Of course, Rozanov is Shane’s right wing, which is a whole other issue that is probably affecting their gameplay – but if it is, it’s affecting it in a good way. Because Shane, apparently, is gay for Ilya Rozanov specifically.
Hayden doesn’t get it.
From day one their first year at McGill, Shane and Rozanov were butting heads. They were both centers, both fighting for first string even as rookies. Hayden thought Shane hated Rozanov. The way they compete against each other and bicker during training. The way they tease and kick at each other under the table during team meals. The way they’re always pushing and shoving and always up in each other’s faces.
Even when Rozanov moved to Shane’s right wing, sometime during second year, after Shane’s usual right wing, Gill Comeau, flunked out of school, nothing changed. You’d think working together so closely, being on the same line, playing such god-tier level hockey together that it’s hard to believe they’re still at college level, would have maybe loosened them up to each other. But it didn’t. They still fought and argued all the time.
Hayden was so sure Shane hated Rozanov.
But then a few weeks ago, Hayden came home from a long weekend early and walked into their shared bedroom at the HOH (House Of Hockey: the frat house they all live in) to find Rozanov with his head buried between Shane’s legs, and a look of wild abandon on Shane’s face that Hayden cannot seem to scrub from his brain.
And it turns out; they never really hated each other. It’s all been fucking foreplay. They’ve been sucking and fucking each other all over campus, keeping it a secret from the team.
Not so much of a secret now, though. At least, not from Hayden.
Walking in on them once has apparently given them permission to use Shane and Hayden’s shared room whenever they like. Which means Hayden now walks into his own room with his hand raised up to block out whatever may or may not be going on on the twin bed across the room.
And, sure, yeah, probably Hayden should start knocking before entering his room. But it’s his room! And Rozanov probably wouldn’t stop anyways. He seems to get a perverse sort of pleasure out of Hayden’s discomfort. So now Hayden is just dealing with the reality that every time he walks into his bedroom it might be to the sight and sounds of his best friend getting laid out by a man Hayden is starting to think of as his worst enemy.
Why the fuck did it have to be Rozanov, anyway?
That’s what Hayden really doesn’t get. Like, yeah, sure the guy’s good looking. His arms are crazy. Everyone knows that. And he’s got that stubble thing going on that makes him look like a sexy cowboy. If Shane’s into that. Hayden doesn’t know. Shane’s got nice smooth skin. He always keeps up with his daily shave and skin routine. You’d think that’s what he’d like, more than the stubble. Hayden keeps his cheeks smooth and he thinks it’s probably nicer to rub smooth against smooth than to rub smooth against rough. But whatever! It’s not his relationship.
Or whatever the fuck they are.
He can’t really get a straight answer out of Shane.
Are they something? Are they nothing?
Who fucking knows.
That’s not the point. The point is: why Rozanov? Shane could have any guy he wants. Like, literally anyone. He’s fucking Shane Hollander! Star center that brought McGill the University Cup two years running, and they’re working on a third. Handsome and strong and weirdly funny and literally the best at hockey anyone’s ever seen at the college level. He could make guys gay. If he wanted someone, Hayden is sure they’d turn gay for him.
But no. Shane’s not-dating a Russian asshole instead.
One who keeps leaving hickeys just under the collar of his shirt so Hayden can see them when they’re changing. Who then turns around and joins the other guys in teasing Shane for having some wild, puck bunny girl that’s trying to mark territory.
Hayden wishes Shane could hate Rozanov.
The walk up to his room after Tuesday’s class is brutal. Tuesdays are so long and so boring. They don’t have practice on Tuesdays so Hayden loaded up on classes, which on the one hand is smart because you get a lot of the schoolwork out of the way in one go, but on the other hand is stupid because it leaves him tired, head spinning from trying to cram all that knowledge into such a small, cramped space.
Hayden lifts one hand as he enters his room, covering Shane’s side of the room. He peeks through his fingers and for once there’s no one there. Hallelujah! It’s a miracle! A Tuesday without seeing his two linemates wrapped up around each other, bickering over whether they should leave or if Hayden should go and let them finish.
The relief is a little tempered by the fact that now Hayden doesn’t know where Shane is. Not that he’s Shane’s mother or anything. But the man keeps to a pretty strict schedule, so unaccounted time is a little worrying. But no. It’s not Hayden’s problem. Shane is a grown ass man. Capable of taking care of himself.
Hayden’s had a long day, and now he gets his room to himself, sex-free. He deserves a treat.
He bounces down the stairs to the kitchen, where he finds Cliff and Connors (the second line’s left and right wings) pouring bag after bag of microwave popcorn into a massive pot.
“Sup, guys?” Hayden asks, opening the snacks cupboard, then the fridge, then the freezer, before he remembers the box of creamsicles he hid in the downstairs deepfreeze.
“Mighty Ducks marathon, brother,” Cliff says. “You in?”
“We’ve got popcorn!” Connors adds, like Hayden couldn’t see that for himself. Connors is the type of guy where it’s impossible to tell if he’s an idiot, or if he’s actually incredibly smart but finds it funny to act like an idiot. Cliff is just an idiot.
“I’m good. I’ve got papers to write.”
“Damn, man. That’s why I’m a science major. You don’t gotta write shit.”
Hayden just hums in response – he’s had this conversation with at least half of the guys on the team at this point, like History is somehow the hard subject over shit like biochem. He bounces his way down the back stairs into the basement, and he stops at the bottom of the stairs – he could swear he just heard something down here.
The HOH basement is one of those places that’s creepy, but so lived-in that it stops being creepy. Until you’re down here alone, that is. Then it’s all dark and creepy, and full of noises and maybe bugs.
It’s a huge basement. Half-finished, which means it’s got bare concrete floors with a ratty rug thrown over, and three of the four walls have drywall. The fourth has old bedsheets-turned-curtains hiding the open framework and the ancient washer and dryer. It’s got two old but massive couches, a ping-pong table, a line of empty bottles that Shane keeps meticulously organized by size between party-night and recycling-day. And, of course, it has the massive 80 inch tv, with all the various game systems hooked up to it.
Hayden walks along the back of the bigger couch and turns over to the door in the corner. This room is probably the creepiest in the whole house (except maybe the wall-less horror of the “laundry room”). It’s a tiny closet, made smaller by the water heater, the half-sized deepfreeze, and a built-in shelf that was originally made to store bottles of pickles and has been co-opted to hold three decades worth of VHS porn, with a few DVDs scattered in from the 2000s and 2010s. It’s got a dirty, disgusting little square window that lets in barely any light, and a single lightbulb with a pull string to turn it on.
It’s horrifying. If there was ever a place to get serial killed, it’s here.
But, it has creamsicles.
And, apparently, gay men.
(Or a gay man and a bisexual man).
Naturally, Hayden opens the closet door to find Ilya leaning back against the deepfreeze, Shane practically climbing him as they lick into each other’s mouths in the dark. Their shirts are twisted and pulled in all directions, and their jeans are clearly unzipped and pulled down just enough for them to rut against each other.
Which… that isn’t even something Hayden had considered before that gay guys would do. But it probably feels really good, doesn’t it?
“Hayden,” Shane says, and his voice is all breathless. All warm and sensual. And it knocks whatever lecture Hayden was just about to make straight out of his head.
“I… you…” Hayden can feel his mouth working in useless circles as he tries to work his way through a sentence. Ilya is grinning and laughing at him, and it makes Hayden furious. “Are you guys fucking serious, right now?”
And then, before anyone else can say anything, Hayden hears it. Marlow and Connor, stomping their way down the stairs. They’re singing the Might Ducks theme song, even though that’s for the cartoon and not the movie. But that’s not the problem. The problem is they’re coming down right now and Shane and Ilya have their pants half-off, rubbing their dicks together like idiots.
Hayden doesn’t think.
He really, really doesn’t think.
He just moves, stepping into the tiny, cramped, eerie closet and shutting the door behind him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ilya asks in an urgent whisper. He clearly heard the others coming too.
“Cliff and Connors are right there,” Hayden points aggressively, shifting in the tight space.
Fuck, this place is smaller than he realized. With the door shut, there is barely room for the three of them, and Hayden’s shoulder digs into the porn shelf uncomfortably. He’s been trying to take it easy on that shoulder too.
“Here,” he whispers, mostly to Shane, and they shuffle and shift until they’re comfortable.
Except…
Comfortable means Hayden is half-sitting on the porn shelf, one shelf propped just under his ass, another pressing under his shoulder blades, and another at the base of his neck. Shane is in front of him, still half-wrapped around Rozanov. There’s only an inch, maybe two, of space between Shane’s back and Hayden’s chest. The distance so small that he can feel the heat radiating off of Shane.
“Oh, yeah, this is a great idea,” Ilya whispers sarcastically.
“Shhh,” Shane’s voice is low but sharp. “Shut up.” He’s being so quiet, even Hayden has to strain to hear him. “If we get caught, so help me.”
Rozanov leans forward so he can whisper in Shane’s ear, but his eyes catch on Hayden’s and burn into him. “So, we don’t get caught. We stay quiet.” There’s a pause, and something shivers through Shane. Hayden can feel it. “You can be quiet, can’t you, Hollander?”
Hayden is aware that they were hard together when he came into the room. Too aware.
Like his body is attuned to the heat of Shane’s body and can’t stop thinking about what’s making it so hot. What they were doing here before. Kissing. Rubbing against each other.
It must feel really good. It always feels good when Hayden rubs up on a girl when they hook up. Having two dicks rubbing together… that would… that would probably be really good. And oh god! Hayden needs to stop thinking about this now, because now he’s getting warm.
And he’s so stupid. Walking into this. Why did he come in here? Why did he shut himself in and not out?
Fuck, did Cliff and Connors see him come down here? He can’t remember. Are they wondering where he is?
Outside, Hayden hears the squeak of the couch settling under their weight, and the little chime of an Xbox turning on. So yeah, probably no, they’re not missing him. Not thinking about him.
That’s a relief.
Hayden sighs and he watches the small hairs on the back of Shane’s neck move. Shane twitches a little, like he wants to look back at Hayden, but he can’t. And Hayden feels the space between them stretch as Shane leans forward, into Rozanov. Trying to give Hayden more space, probably. Trying not to make it uncomfortable.
Only, moving closer makes Rozanov light up with an evil kind of shark’s grin, and Hayden knows – knows – that Rozanov rubs himself against Shane again. He can see it in Rozanov’s hazel eyes, hear it in the hitch in Shane’s breath, feel it in the tension that chokes out the room.
Hayden’s heart pounds. He tries to tell himself it’s not hot. It’s not hot.
But it is.
And fuck, it’s even hotter when Shane moves.
It’s a subtle little thing. Just a little shift of his hips. Something Hayden probably shouldn’t even be able to see in the shitty dim light coming in from the gross and dirty window, but he’s so, so focused on what they’re doing. There’s no way Hayden could miss it. It almost makes him want to turn the light on. Even though that would be insanity. If they do, they’ll be caught.
They really can’t be caught. Not like this. Not all three of them.
Yeah, maybe Shane and Rozanov could be explained. Two of them in a room with hard cocks and unzipped jeans. It could be curiosity. It could be a dare. They’ve all heard stories about other hockey teams playing gay chicken on the road.
But three of them?
Three of them hard and all pushed together?
They’re not coming back from this.
And yes. Three of them are hard. Hayden can’t help it, okay? It’s like… biological. Never mind that no one’s actually touching him right now, because they’re all so close they might as well be. And Shane just swallowed a little noise, and Ilya is fucking staring into Hayden’s soul, and Hayden doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.
His heart is fucking pounding like he just came off a long shift on the ice.
He can smell Shane from here too. The fancy seaweed shampoo he uses. The clean smell of his laundry detergent. Shane always smells good. Of course he does, he’s very conscious of hygiene. He makes Hayden conscious of it too. Hayden’s cleaner now, after three-ish years of being Shane’s roommate, than he ever was growing up. When you live with someone who smells good all the time, it makes you want to smell good back.
Rozanov’s hand strokes down Shane’s back and Shane shivers, pressing closer, and swallowing another soft noise.
Hayden’s mouth falls open. He just… he has to breathe through his mouth right now. It’s the only way to make oxygen happen, all right? But Rozanov clocks it. He clocks it, and his gaze travels down Hayden’s body. They’re too close together for Rozanov to see Hayden’s hard-on. They must be. But when his hazel eyes flash back up to Hayden’s, it’s like he knows.
Their next move together is heavier. More dramatic. Rozanov rubs himself so hard against Shane that it nearly pushes him back against Hayden. The way Shane’s breath catches in his throat afterwards feels like it sucks the air out of the room. Right out of Hayden’s own lungs.
Fuck! Hayden is so hard. He’s so warm. And Shane’s body is so close.
So fucking tempting, oh my god!
“Rozanov,” Shane hisses a soft warning. But his fingers clench over Rozanov’s chest.
There’s nowhere really to go, but at the same time, probably there’s space. Probably there’s a way to fit themselves in this room that isn’t – this. It’s just Hayden’s brain can’t come up with anything right now. Fuck, the only thing he can come up with is pulling Shane back. Getting him out of Ilya’s grasp and into Hayden’s.
But no.
No.
Fucking no! They’re best friends. Roommates. Linemates. Teammates.
They can’t. Hayden can’t.
“I think you like it,” Rozanov says, quiet as anything. And again, he says it in Shane’s ear, but looking dead into Hayden’s eyes. “Hmm?”
His hand lifts from Shane’s waist and he takes Shane by the chin, tilting and turning him up until they’re looking at each other. And Hayden feels that clench in his stomach. That roiling feeling that’s like disgust but isn’t. Rozanov always does this. He’s always grabbing at Shane. Pulling him. Pushing him. Grabbing his chin and moving him whenever he likes. Hayden hates it.
Hates watching Rozanov pull Shane into a kiss that Hayden can’t quite see but can feel how deep it is. Can hear the breathless gasp, the swallowed moans, the wet touch of tongues and lips. They rock together again, dangerously close. And then Rozanov’s eyes catch back on Hayden’s, still kissing Shane, and he pushes them both back against Hayden.
Shane’s soft, hot ass touches Hayden first. Right where he shouldn’t. Right where Hayden doesn’t want it. Right where Hayden fucking needs it. Then Shane’s back hits his chest. A warm, bright line marking it’s way up Hayden’s body. Their legs press, down to Hayden’s knees, and it’s almost like Shane is sitting on him.
Hayden gasps. Shane gasps. Rozanov grins.
Rozanov pulls out of the kiss, and Shane moves to follow; Hayden’s hands act without any thought or permission from his own brain, and they clutch at Shane’s hips, holding them together.
Shane gasps again. Hayden can imagine his dropped jaw, his surprised eyes. But then he pushes back. Shifts just a little so Hayden slides perfectly between two fat cheeks. Shane has such a fat ass – they all talk about it.
“Fuck.” Hayden can’t help saying it. His fingers tighten around Shane’s hips; his head drops to Shane’s shoulder because he’s too weak to hold it up. Too weak to resist the heat of Shane’s body. Too weak to look Rozanov in the eye and know that Rozanov knows.
What he knows, Hayden can’t even conceive of. But surely Rozanov knows it.
There’s movement. Rozanov presses back in against Shane, Hayden can feel him against the back of his fingers. Rozanov grinds a circle that echoes through Shane’s body and into Hayden’s.
“Fuck.” This time Hayden just mouths the word against the cotton of Shane’s shirt.
Shane and Rozanov are kissing again, and Hayden is just hanging on for dear life while his cock pulses between Shane’s cheeks.
The world is pivoting all around Hayden. All around this room. Restructuring itself just out of Hayden’s line of sight. Just outside this door, Cliff and Connors are watching the god damned Mighty Ducks like absolutely nothing has changed. But everything has changed.
Hayden curls his hips and rubs his cock against Shane in time with Rozanov’s next grind and he can feel Shane’s whole body relax into it. Leaning back, draping himself over Hayden’s chest. Sinking into it. Kissing Rozanov and pressing against them both.
It’s permission, Hayden realizes. Like a shock to the heart. Encouragement.
Biting his tongue to keep from groaning, Hayden adjusts his grip on Shane’s hips, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt to touch the bare skin at the top of his opened jeans. He pulls Shane back and grinds himself forward, delighting in the perfect friction of their bodies. In the way it pushes Shane up against Rozanov. Showing him he’s not the only one who can push Shane like this. Not anymore.
More swallowed moans from Shane. He’s so fucking noisy. But Hayden already knew that from all the times he’s walked in on them. And from those quiet nights when Shane asks, “you asleep?” and Hayden doesn’t answer, and he lays and listens to Shane pull himself apart.
Hayden presses his mouth to Shane’s shoulder. Opens and just holds his teeth there, over the firm line of muscle.
They’re working together now. All three of them. Pushing and pulling and grinding.
It feels terrific. Fan-fucking-tastic!
Hayden’s going to blow his load any minute – except no he’s not because there’s no way he’s not lasting as long as Rozanov. That bastard. He’d rather die, chop his fucking dick off and pickle it, than come first.
Shane breaks his kiss with Rozanov, throwing his head back onto Hayden’s shoulders. It tempts Hayden into looking up. Into catching a glimpse of Shane with his jaw hung open and his eyes rolled back. They’re close like this. Close enough to rub their cheeks together. Feel how soft Shane’s skin is against Hayden’s.
Rozanov is close too. Hayden can taste his breath just like he can taste Shane’s. Like they must both be able to taste his. They’re all panting together. Breathing heavy and heated. It’s steamy between them. And so hot. Shane’s body is on fire against Hayden’s. And Rozanov’s scorches the back of his fingers.
Shane rolls his head on Hayden’s shoulder, turning so he can look at Hayden with his heavy-lidded eyes. He looks to Hayden, then down to his lips, then back up, nodding in question. In offer.
It would be stupid to do it.
Stupider to refuse.
And Hayden might be the biggest idiot in the world, but he’s not that stupid. He presses his lips to Shane’s. They’re warm and firm. And even with all that’s going on around them, between their three bodies, Shane kisses with skill and precision. Like everything else he does. He opens and lets Hayden lick in deeper.
It’s so hot. And a little bit playful.
And then Rozanov is there, pressing in so close that Hayden can feel the scrape of his stubble along Hayden’s jaw (and damn it, it does feel incredible, the fucker!). He nips along Shane’s jaw, then leans and sucks a mark onto Shane’s neck.
God. Shane moans into Hayden’s mouth.
Fucking moans!
It tastes delicious.
Feels even better to lick it from Shane’s lips.
Christ, Hayden is so close to blowing his load in his pants. He’s fucking dripping. Leaking with it. And they have to be close too. Fuck, they had started before Hayden even stepped into the room.
Still, Hayden refuses to come first. Which means he really needs Shane to come. Or Rozanov – but Hayden isn’t brave enough to try anything on him. But Shane? Hayden would do a lot of things right now if it would make Shane come while their lips are still locked together. He wants to swallow each and every one of Shane’s moans as he comes in his boxer briefs.
You see, last week sometime (it was a Wednesday. Wednesday night after practice. While Hayden was studying for a midterm) Rozanov had Shane pinned to the bed while Shane was pretending to study for his own midterm. The two of them thought they were being sneaky as they made out together behind Hayden. Not realizing he could see everything they were doing in the reflection of his computer screen.
Not realizing he could see exactly how Rozanov was toying with Shane’s nipples, making Shane swallow down those same moans, driving Shane mad, until they finally snuck off somewhere to finish each other off in peace. Leaving Hayden feeling cranky, with his dick in his hand and not a single piece of midterm information in his brain.
Turns out, Hayden did learn something that day. And now he puts it to good use, slipping one hand up under Shane’s shirt.
Shane squeaks when Hayden finds his nipple.
Rozanov shushes him, placing a light hand over Shane’s throat like a reminder to be quiet. While Hayden brushes his nipple with a thumb and does his absolute best to make Shane make that noise again.
The heat between the three of them turns exponential now. Rozanov sucks hungrily at Shane’s neck. Their hips become frantic. All three of them rushing now. Pushing.
Now Rozanov is biting back moans, and fuck, why is that so sexy?
Shane’s every breath has a hint of a whine in it now, and Hayden devours each and every one.
He can feel how close they are. Like the orgasm is in the room and pressing down on all of them. Blanketing them.
Shane comes first. He gasps and then stops breathing for a second while his body pulses between them.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Rozanov murmurs, curling his hips in a frantic last ditch effort before he stills and jerks himself against Shane’s leg.
Hayden lets himself go immediately after. He’s been holding his own orgasm back by sheer spite and willpower, and once that’s gone, so is he. He empties himself into his pants, giving Shane one last, deep kiss. Letting Shane swallow Hayden’s moans this time.
They all collapse onto Hayden, weighing him down so the shelves behind him pinch uncomfortably on his back and neck, but Hayden, honestly, doesn’t give a shit. They’re all panting together. Coming down from the high. Shane has this blissed out look in his eyes, lips still damp with Hayden’s spit. Rozanov looks cum-dumb, staring at Shane like he has the answers to the universe written in his freckles. Hayden… Hayden doesn’t know what he’s doing or what he looks like right now. His brain is completely offline. But he’s still got a hand under Shane’s shirt, trapped between Shane and Rozanov now.
Shane’s neck is right there. Right there, Hayden can feel the line of with his chin. And he turns and gives it a little kiss. Just because he can. Just because his brain isn’t online yet, and he can’t overthink anything.
They all just came together and it was – god! – it was fucking glorious.
Slowly, reality starts to reassert itself. Hayden starts the recognize the sounds of The Might Ducks coming from the other room. Feels the cold of the cement floor under his feet. Remembers how dark and fucking creepy this room is.
“Ew,” Shane whispers, shifting between them and pushing Rozanov back to give them space. “I’m all gross now.”
Rozanov smiles like he wants to laugh, then he steps back and jumps onto the deep freeze. Shane steps towards the door. And just like that, there’s so much fucking room in this closet for the three of them.
When did there get to be so much room in here?
It hits Hayden that it’s not just that he’s stupid. Not just that he apparently lacks all spatial awareness. But that he did this to himself. He made this happen. They all did. But Hayden, specifically, did.
Is Hayden…
Is Hayden fucking gay?
And while Hayden is still leaning against the porn shelf, having a full existential crisis, Shane and Rozanov are having a whispered argument about how they’re going to get out of here, while Rozanov taps on his phone.
“They’re watching a fucking movie, Rozanov,” Shane hisses. “I’m going to be stuck here for fucking hours with cum in my underwear. You asshole.”
“Is fine. You want me to make you hard again? You won’t care then.”
“I can’t fucking believe you. Why did I let you convince me downstairs would be safe? ‘Oh, nobody goes down there, Hollander, is a fucking Tuesday, no one will see.’ Fuck you.” Shane manages a shitty, whispered Russian accent which is actually pretty hilarious. Rozanov just rolls his eyes.
“Relax. Is fine. No body saw us.”
Shane throws a hand at Hayden that almost smacks him across the face.
“Doesn’t count.” Rozanov gives a shrug. “He liked it.” His hazel eyes shift back over to Hayden, inspecting him where he’s still breathless and dumb and sitting on the porn shelf. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“I wanted a creamsicle,” Hayden says dumbly.
Rozanov’s face breaks into a smile like Hayden’s just given him a gift. And then he laughs. Like a real, loud, belly laugh. Shane and Hayden both jump and try to shush him, Shane putting hands on Rozanov’s arms while Hayden just waves kind of uselessly in the background.
“Oh, relax,” Rozanov says, using his normal volume. “Listen.”
Silence falls in the room. For a second, Hayden doesn’t hear anything.
Then he realizes: he doesn’t hear anything.
Connors and Marlow aren’t out there. The movie is turned off.
“I texted them that I desperately need condoms ASAP, and go run to the Shoppers on the corner. We have probably ten minutes to get upstairs.”
“Fuck you.” Shane pushes Rozanov, hard, and spins from the room, buttoning his pants as he goes, while Rozanov just laughs on the deepfreeze.
“You still want creamsicle?” Rozanov asks, lifting his brow at Hayden.
All Hayden wants is a shower. A quiet place to jerk off. And maybe a fucking therapist.
He shakes his head.
“Come on.” Rozanov hops down and steers Hayden out the door, back up through the kitchen, and upstairs to the bedrooms with a hand on Hayden’s shoulder. All the doors upstairs are closed, and there’s no sign of Shane anywhere. Hayden stops just outside his and Shane’s doors and looks down, across the hall and down one is Rozanov and Marlow’s room.
Hayden doesn’t know why he’s pausing here. Why he’s looking at Rozanov’s door. Why he isn’t already in his own room and grabbing his shower kit.
But then Rozanov’s door opens and Shane’s blushing face peeks out at them. “Get in here,” he snaps, putting a sock on Rozanov’s doorknob.
Rozanov chuckles. He moves past Hayden with an easy confidence. Like this is just another Tuesday for him. Which, it probably is, the bastard. Rozanov spins, walking backward, to look at Hayden. “Coming?”
No.
Absolutely not.
Hayden has plans for a shower, and – oh! who the fuck is he kidding?
He jogs down the hallway, catching up to Rozanov and racing him in.
The door shuts behind them. And a click echoes in the empty hallway as the lock slides into place.