16. Chapter 16
“Thank God,” Ethan said and pulled the door shut behind them, pressing Hank up against the wall of his empty hotel room.
Three key words in that phrase.
Empty.
Hotel room.
Hank let out a hysterical little laugh in the back of his throat, and Ethan wanted him even more because of it.
He and Hank had managed to sneak some time here or there—last night, while the party had gone on in Max’s apartment, they’d even snuck downstairs to his and Charlie’s place and had a very, very pleasant make-out session followed by an equally satisfying mutual handjob.
But everything felt rushed. Like they were always on a time deadline. Ethan knew Hank wasn’t entirely comfortable, and he wouldn’t ever want to do anything with Charlie in the apartment, so it had felt . . . not bad, because it couldn’t ever be bad with Hank, but still too quick.
Ethan wanted to slow down. Take their time. Give both of them a chance to experiment and explore.
And now, finally, they were gonna get the chance to do that. Because of Hank’s very empty hotel room.
“Yeah,” Hank agreed fervently, wrapping a big warm hand around Ethan’s neck and pulling him in. Their mouths met, and it was like a spark landing in a bunch of kindling.
Groaning, Ethan slanted his lips across Hank’s, kissing him desperately.
The travel day had been kind of long, and he’d tried to keep his distance the whole time, because while he didn’t really care if the team knew about them, he was letting Hank set the pace because he knew Hank was still uneasy and unsure about his place on the Bandits, after spending the first few months in Syracuse.
All the way up until this moment he’d wanted them to take their time—had been looking forward to it, in fact—but when Hank touched him, ninety-nine percent awe and certainty and one percent hesitation, like he couldn’t quite completely believe that this was happening and Ethan was his, control became a joke.
“Bed,” Hank panted in his mouth, like it was the same for him.
As they stumbled over to it, Hank tugging up his sweatshirt and then his T-shirt, his hands hot on his even hotter skin, Ethan let out a disbelieving laugh.
Hank pulled back, eyes already a little wild. “What is it?”
His mouth was right there, red and wet from Ethan’s mouth, and he really wanted to just kiss him again. So near, he could nearly taste it again.
“Just . . . I kept thinking we were gonna take our time,” Ethan said, tone hushed. “Nowhere we need to be, nobody’s coming looking for us for twelve-plus hours. No well-meaning captain. No brothers. Empty hotel room.”
Hank smiled. “You’ve been thinking about this.”
“You haven’t?”
“Didn’t say that,” Hank said, leaning in and brushing a tender kiss across Ethan’s mouth. Unbelievably, it inflamed him even more than their wild kisses from only a few minutes before.
Then he pushed him back against the mattress and tugged down his sweatpants. “Been thinking about a lot of things,” Hank murmured. He leaned in and Ethan felt his warmth breath against his skin, spreading across his abs. Then Hank raised himself up, and their mouths met again. Hot but easy.
Ethan tangled his fingers in Hank’s hair, tugging him closer, swallowing his little groan as his grip tightened.
“You like that?” Ethan asked breathlessly.
“I like everything,” Hank answered, voice full of naked honesty, and that was even more of a turn-on.
Though, truthfully, just about everything to do with Hank either already made Ethan hot, or was beginning to.
Ethan tugged harder, and the sound Hank made was deliriously good. They kissed again, Ethan found himself chasing after it. Searching for ways to get him to make it again.
If he bit at Hank’s bottom lip and tugged it between his teeth, he made it. If he dug his fingernails into his shoulders, he made it, too.
They’d made out before, but it had never felt like this before. Like whatever training wheels they’d been relying on had simply melted away, now nonexistent.
“Fuck,” Hank muttered, grinding against Ethan’s thigh with his hard dick. “I want you so fucking bad.”
“Ditto,” Ethan replied. “Come on, come on.” He reached down and palmed Hank’s cock. Loving the way it twitched against his touch.
But to Ethan’s surprise, Hank didn’t shuck his own sweatpants. Instead, he lifted his mouth from Ethan’s and shifted downwards, pulling the rest of Ethan’s clothes with him.
For a long moment, Hank just stared at him, hungry expression and eager eyes. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he muttered.
Like Ethan was his best dream and worst nightmare, all rolled up in one.
Well. Ethan got that. He’d suffered too. Was suffering now, if he was being honest.
“All yours,” Ethan admitted, trying not to squirm about it. Maybe it made him vulnerable, his feelings all laid bare, but then it wasn’t like any of them had been a secret before this.
He’d been down bad for Hank for awhile now.
“Yeah,” Hank agreed, his voice cracking, exposing his own matching vulnerabilities. Then he leaned in and Ethan let out a surprised gasp as his mouth, hot and wet, closed over the head of his cock.
Hank lifted his eyes to his. “Never done this before,” he admitted. And he’d been right; maybe Ethan had stripped away his outer walls, but Hank kept matching him, layer for layer.
“You’re doing great so far,” Ethan said, full of longing and hunger. He’d imagined this, sure, but hadn’t let himself really conceptualize of it happening because they were both new to this.
Hank raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You gonna tell me just how good?”
Ethan nodded eagerly, groaning as Hank’s mouth enveloped him again.
It wasn’t perfect. Hank sucked a dick in a very Hank-like way.
Being careful and deliberate, not necessarily losing himself, but applying himself in a very methodical way.
Like he had a checklist in his head, and he was trying every single trick he’d read in whatever Cosmo or Wiki article he’d pulled up as research.
But none of that really mattered. It was actually even more of a turn-on because it was such a Hank way to suck a dick. Nobody else would do it this way, and arousal rose, white-hot and demanding, at the thought that it was him. That he was doing it.
“You can—with my hair,” Hank said when he lifted his head.
Ethan had known he’d liked that, but the knowledge that he was asking for it sent another molten pulse through him.
And it rose even hotter when his hands found Hank’s hair and tugged, Hank groaning around his cock.
One moment, one lick, one wet slide at a time, Ethan could feel Hank begin to abandon his meticulous approach, losing himself to it.
Ethan, who’d been on the edge from practically the first moment he’d realized what Hank wanted to do, began to pant.
Babble nonsense. Shit he might be embarrassed about later, but there was something sacred and special about this bed and its space.
A judgment-free zone. Like anything was allowed.
“Fuck, fuck, feels so good,” Ethan rambled. His fingers tightened in Hank’s hair. Wanting to pull him off before he came, because that seemed like the polite thing to do, even though nothing about this seemed particularly polite.
But Hank wouldn’t go, and Ethan fell right into his orgasm like that, right down Hank’s throat. The pleasure took on a brighter, sharper edge, knowing that Hank had wanted it, that he’d asked for it.
Damn, his guy was so fucking hot.
Hank panted into his stomach, and this time when he pulled, he came, pliant and easy, and Ethan kissed him. Groaning a little at the taste of himself against Hank’s tongue.
Never would’ve dreamed that was hot, either, but again, Hank was slowly, inexorably redefining what hot was, one moment at a time.
“I got you,” Ethan promised as Hank ground against his hand, Ethan feeling a wet patch against his fingertips.
Also hot.
Goddamn.
“Tell me it turned you on,” Ethan demanded—didn’t ask.
Hank just stared at him, pupils blown and eyes huge. He nodded.
“Fuck,” Ethan said and shoved his sweatpants and his underwear down. He couldn’t wait a moment longer.
“I’m . . . I’m so close,” Hank warned, breath heaving, but Ethan didn’t listen. Didn’t care. He leaned in, wrapping his hand around the base of Hank’s dick and licked the head. Felt it jump against his tongue.
“Oh God,” Hank declared unsteadily. “You gotta—you gotta—”
Ethan didn’t hear what else he had to do, because he was too busy losing himself in the taste and the weight of Hank’s cock. He’d never done this before, either, but he’d fantasized about it enough times it only felt like reality blooming out of his daydreams.
It didn’t take very long, and Ethan was already planning—plotting, really—the next time he could get his mouth on Hank’s dick, when suddenly Hank’s hands were digging into his hair, firm against his scalp. And fuck, if Hank was going to swallow, then Ethan was too.
He took Hank as deep as he could and felt Hank’s whole body tighten and then release.
It was a little messy, maybe, but he liked it anyway.
Thought that maybe he could make it neater next time, but then when he lifted his head and saw Hank watching him wipe his mouth, he realized that maybe he shouldn’t.
“Shit, that was so good,” Hank said and pulled him down, Ethan curling into him.
“Ten-out-of-ten stars, no notes,” Ethan murmured, exhaling as Hank’s hands stroked through his hair.
“I think I’m gonna love road trips,” Hank agreed.
“You think?” Ethan teased.
Hank just laughed. “Maybe I want to collect some additional evidence.”
And Ethan wasn’t ever going to disagree with that sentiment. He lifted his head and kissed Hank.
“And maybe this time, we’ll take our time,” Ethan suggested, but from the way his body was already stirring, he didn’t know if they had the patience for that, yet.
Still, the night was young.