The Other Side of Winter Read online

  Alex tried to laugh, but nearly choked on it. “Soul, I hate being the odd one out.”

  Yelps and banter echoed over from the lake where a handful of guys had decided to dive off the wooden dock.

  Svenja watched them for a moment before turning back to Alex. “I don’t know if this helps you right now, but I think you might be just what Bengt needs.”

  “I . . . Thanks.” That had come a bit out of left field, but it felt good. Like having found an ally. “It does actually.”

  Svenja smiled that wide smile of hers and pointed a thumb over her shoulder to where Bengt was deep in conversation with his mother. “Talking of which, I’d better go rescue the kid. Don’t overthink it, enjoy the day,” she added, already walking away. Easy to see why Bengt was so close to her.

  Alex walked over to a group of wooden deck chairs that had been pushed together helter-skelter at the edge of the patio, pulled one out, and settled into it with his beer to watch the divers. While it was nice to hear that he was what Bengt needed, he didn’t see it. All he had to offer was floundering turmoil. How did anyone need that? He should have asked Svenja what she’d meant.

  “This sure is the good life, right?” Sören again.

  Loath to relinquish his precarious peace, Alex tried to ignore him, but Sören pulled out a chair for himself and sat with an exaggerated sigh, stretching both legs out in front of him. “Bit far away in the boonies, of course,” he continued. “I live in the city myself. Nice penthouse apartment overlooking the harbor. Large terrace, pool, and the use of a sailboat during the summer months.” He sounded like a real estate broker.

  When Alex didn’t answer, Sören turned to him with a look that was more than just expectant; it was predatory.

  “Enjoy,” Alex said as deadpan as he could.

  A slender arm appeared from behind the backrest of another chair, followed by a second one and an audible yawn. Freya unfolded herself from her curled-up position and came over to sit on the arm of Alex’s chair. “Don’t be so dense, love.” She draped one arm along the backrest and looked mock encouragingly at Sören. “Our friend here is trying to make you an offer.” There was enough of an edge to her voice to warn Alex, but he was still unprepared for what came next.

  “None of your business,” Sören said, before turning back to Alex. “She’s right though. I admire people who know which side their bread is buttered on.” His gaze swept Alex’s body from head to foot. “Not that that is all I admire.”

  What the . . .?

  “You wouldn’t have to do any more than you do here, just enjoy life and be around to fuck. I’ll even throw in a generous allowance.”

  Before he could catapult himself out of his seat, Freya’s strong grip pushed down on his shoulder. Her amused laughter surprised him enough to heed her pressure. Don’t make a scene. He didn’t mean it like it sounded.

  “You’re quite the asswipe, aren’t you, Sören?” she said conversationally. “And utterly clueless into the bargain. Does Halden have any idea what you’re up to?”

  Sören’s leer faltered. He threw her a look designed to incinerate her on the spot, but she didn’t seem to give a shit.

  She held her sunny smile until Sören got up and stormed off. Only the continued pressure on his shoulder told Alex how worked up she was herself. Then she took a deep breath and let him go. “What a jerk.” She turned to look at him. “You okay?”

  Alex didn’t trust himself to speak. Freya’s reaction said very clearly that it had been exactly what it had sounded like. A hooker. He’d been propositioned like a . . . a . . . chapero. It was more than just anger that made him feel like he needed to throw up.

  He did live here after all, rent-free, ate Bengt’s food, let him buy clothes, and in return? Just enjoy life and be around to fuck. His teeth hurt. He tried to relax, tried to keep any of it from showing in his face, but Freya must have seen something.

  She hunkered down in front of him and put her hands on his knees. “Promise me that you won’t let that creep spoil your day. That is not how anyone sees you, least of all Bengt.” She was insistent and sincere enough that he finally managed to get a grip on himself.

  “I guess,” he said. “So, drowning him in the lake is out of the question?”

  That made her laugh. “I doubt he’ll stick around.” She stood up and brushed some dirt from her knees, then nodded toward the divers. “Talking of the lake, fancy a swim?”

  “Sure.” A workout might be just what he needed right now. So he did what he did best, and buried what was troubling him so deep he could forget it was ever there. Or try to, anyway.

  It was way past midnight by the time they’d helped Tomas pack up his stuff. Bengt had carried it to the car with him while Alex had gone around the patio with a compost bag, picking up paper plates, skewers, and corn husks.

  “Too bad I missed the diving competition,” Bengt said behind him. His hands were warm on Alex’s neck and along his shoulders.

  For a heartbeat Alex gave in and relaxed against him, leaned into the warmth of his body. So very tempting to just let go. And so very impossible.

  He threw a, “Race you,” over his shoulder and took off toward the lake, hopping out of his pants as he went. They’d felt awkward in the water earlier; he wasn’t used to swimming in his clothes, but no way had he been going to risk a public hard-on. Even though, or maybe exactly because, some of the other guys had gone skinny.

  He dove off the dock, prepared for the shock of cold water against his skin, but still coming up gasping. The lake was different from the ocean, calm and sweet, but water had always been his friend. For as long as he could think back, it had hidden him, sheltered him, carried him, allowed him to work out until he was tired, and ultimately washed away his anger and frustration.

  With a mighty splash, Bengt dove in beside him and made a grasp for his arm, but Alex easily evaded him. He started swimming toward the middle in a bright lane of moonlight, exulting in the feel of the element against his skin. Bengt was a good enough swimmer, but nobody could hope to catch Alex in the water. He laughed with the sheer exuberance of it, the sound echoing across the surface. He changed direction to swim circles around Bengt, who soon gave up the chase and just turned to watch him, a big appreciative grin on his face.

  “Just wait until you get out,” Bengt said.

  “Oh yeah? What if I stay in the lake forever?” But he had to get out soon; the nights were quite chilly, and the water didn’t hold the memory of the sun for long. He could feel the cold seep under his skin. Everything good had a line beyond which it became lethal. Lazily he swam toward Bengt and let himself be caught in the circle of those well-muscled arms and a kiss that pulled both of them under water until they broke apart and came up gasping and laughing.

  Alex backstroked to shore and heaved himself up on the dock. He was pushing the water out of his hair when Bengt reached the dock.

  “You’re too slow, old man,” he mocked to get rid of the sudden lump in his throat.

  With a roar Bengt surged up, grabbed Alex’s ass, and threw himself backward, pulling Alex back in on top of him. Tussling and sputtering, they made it into waist-deep water. Suddenly Alex wasn’t cold at all anymore. He stood pinned with his shoulders against the side of the dock, hands trapped behind his back, Bengt’s naked body warm and slick against his skin. Against his cock.

  Biting down on a groan, Alex let his head fall back, felt Bengt’s lips and teeth on his throat, on his nipples, his stomach. Then his hands were free, and Bengt slid under water. The shock of sudden heat around his cock, of tongue against the sensitive skin. Madonna!

  Sputtering, Bengt came back up, sliding along Alex’s body, again trapping him against the wood. “I want you,” he gasped, “to fuck me.” He made an effort to catch his breath, then added, “Please.”

  No! Yes! Alex felt as breathless as Bengt sounded. Wanted him closer than just skin on skin. But did he want that? Yes!

  Bengt braced himself against the dock,
his back muscles tense and glistening in the moonlight. Alex swallowed hard, felt his brain cells shut down one by one. “How?” he got out.

  “Just do it,” Bengt hissed. “You won’t hurt me.”

  Alex turned and slid his hands under water along Bengt’s hips, pulled himself close against his ass, his cock a perfect fit along the crack. Just that small movement arced like electricity across his nerve endings. He felt Bengt shift to widen his stance. Bengt’s whispered, “Please”—simultaneous invitation and demand—turned into a long hiss when Alex slid his thumb across Bengt’s ass cheek and past the ring of muscle, feeling his way. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Bengt’s back, trying to concentrate on gently guiding himself in, when his whole body screamed at him to just slam forward. This was much tighter than he’d imagined. How could this not hurt?

  With an impatient moan, Bengt rocked back, nearly knocking Alex on his ass with both the motion and the sudden tight heat. Alex’s brain shut down for good, as his body started moving of its own volition. The muscles in Bengt’s back and legs worked in tandem as Bengt picked up his rhythm.

  Every nerve ended in his cock, the friction along its full length sending wave after wave of raw energy through his body. He bit his lip trying to hold back, but with Bengt anything but passive, he didn’t stand a chance. He barely managed to swallow a shout when he came. Fighting for control, he collapsed against Bengt’s back and, finally allowing his legs to fold, slid to his knees in the water. “Holy shit.”

  Bengt turned around a little stiffly. “Not what you expected?”

  Alex shook his head. He held out his hand, and Bengt pulled him up against his body, still as hard as Alex felt limp.

  “Bed.” Bengt climbed out of the water and pulled Alex along in his arms. Alex was happy to just lean on him and be led. He felt as if every bone in his body had been liquefied, and if Bengt had slung him over his shoulder, he wouldn’t even have protested. His body tried to hang on to the sensations, but his brain already started jabbering again. Why had Bengt asked for this? It couldn’t possibly not have hurt. Had he just wanted to do Alex a favor? But there’d been that Please.

  Back inside the house, Bengt disappeared for a quick shower. Alex burrowed under the duvet to keep the shivers at bay. He lay staring at the ceiling for a while, reflecting on all the firsts in this new life until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, and his muscles relaxed one by one. By the time Bengt joined him, he was three-quarters asleep. He leaned his back against the warmth of the body spooning him, the don’t dull enough for once to ignore. Bengt’s lips on his hair and a warm hand on his chest.

  There was something he’d wanted to ask.

  When he opened his eyes, the sun was streaming in through the window, painting bright patterns on the covers.

  Bengt lay on his stomach, hugging his pillow, one knee drawn up, the muscles in his back just barely moving with the even rhythm of his breathing. Alex gently pulled the blanket off his legs, content for a while to admire that powerful body at rest. Reveling in the fact that he could. That, though it still felt forbidden, he didn’t have to lock it away anymore.

  He started to trace the line of a thigh, ran his hand over Bengt’s ass, the memory of last night sending his blood south. He brushed the hair away from Bengt’s shoulders and skimmed his lips across the soft fuzz at the nape of his neck. The resulting sharp intake of breath made him smile. “Busted.”

  Bengt turned in his arms, blue eyes still clouded with sleep, the lazy overhead stretch of his arm bringing every chest muscle into sudden sharp definition.

  “You get me all worked up,” Alex said.

  “You didn’t say that when I came to bed last night.”

  Alex felt himself blush. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “I can always take my revenge now.”

  Faster than seemed possible with Bengt barely awake, Alex found himself on his back, hands pinned against the pillow, straddled by a hundred and seventy-five kilos of Skanian muscle. When he struggled to free his hands, Bengt let go, but leaned in for a kiss, letting Alex know that he wasn’t the least bit sleepy anymore. Well, he wasn’t the only one.

  That kiss curled Alex’s toes and set his skin on fire. Bengt’s weight across his middle only added fuel. Alex buried his hands in Bengt’s hair, not wanting the kiss to end, but at the same time feeling himself unraveling. Fighting for purchase, wanting more. He tried to arch into Bengt, jockeying for more friction, until Bengt said, half-laughing, half-breathless, “What’s with all the squirming?”

  “It . . . I . . . It’s not enough,” Alex gasped, trying to sort through the sensations. Trying to shut down the alarm that had gone off in his brain.

  Bengt’s gaze grew more intent. “You want a repeat of last night?”

  Did he? As worked up as he already was, he wouldn’t be able to hold it together. And he needed to. But maybe . . . “What does it feel like?”

  “What does what feel like?” Bengt asked, still with that same focus, but wary now.

  Alex hesitated, trying to clear his head. Wanting to let go, screw control. Needing desperately to hold on to it.

  “Having a cock up your ass?”

  Alex nodded.

  “Well, you know what fingers feel like.”

  He was bloody unlikely to ever forget, and cursed that strangled feeling in his throat.

  “And?” Bengt brushed his thumb across Alex’s mouth, then gently pulled Alex’s lower lip between his teeth, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. He turned the mock bite into a slow, messy kiss that tingled in Alex’s thighs and ass. “Do you like it?” he whispered.

  Fuck, yes, Alex wanted to say, but it came out as a low moan against Bengt’s lips.

  Bengt moved lower. “Extrapolate,” he murmured.

  Alex’s imagination went into overdrive. Bengt’s teeth on his nipples didn’t help at all. Every time his cock brushed against Bengt’s stomach he tried to arch up, but he was pinned. He knew he was squirming again, but couldn’t stop. “Please.” Had he said that out loud?

  Bengt rolled off him and hitched himself up on one elbow, watching him intently. “Please what?” he whispered. “What do you want?”

  He didn’t know what he wanted. That was the problem. Or rather he did, but didn’t dare.

  He turned onto his stomach. “I want . . .” he started, but his voice just died. He heard Bengt’s harsh intake of breath, felt his hand skim his buttock. Sweet Mother of God.

  “Alex.” Bengt’s voice sounded as if he had a cold. “I’m scared I’ll screw this up. Please, I need you to say it.”

  Bengt was scared? What about him? He was losing it. What Bengt was doing to him now was already eroding his defenses. How not to want more? Stop thinking. No, don’t!

  He needed some kind of anchor. It had to hurt, right? He needed it to hurt. That would ground him, keep him tethered. Pain was familiar. Not a friend, but he knew it, inside out. It couldn’t do anything to him it hadn’t already done. No surprises.

  He took a deep breath and charged ahead with the words Bengt had used earlier. “I want your cock up my ass.”

  Bengt’s groan ghosted across his skin. He buried his face in Alex’s hair. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, his voice muffled. “It’s for a good cause, after all.” He laughed, but it sounded hoarse.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just relax. The more relaxed you are, the better this is going to be.” Alex heard him rummage in his bedside drawer, then felt something oily drip on his back. Bengt spread out whatever it was with his hands and started to knead Alex’s muscles.

  Nonono, he didn’t want to relax. His body was strumming with need and trepidation. Madonna, that was good, though. Smelled good too.

  Bengt didn’t stop at his back. He massaged Alex’s arms and hands down to every individual finger, and how could that feel so incredible? Then he switched to the feet and moved his way up. By the time he’d made it to his thighs, A
lex’s muscles had all but turned to jelly, but the sheet felt rough against his cock.

  Bengt knelt between his legs, kneading the inside of his thighs. The slickness of the massage oil on his ass cheeks, in the crack, and on his balls. Alex’s moan came from somewhere deep down, where he hadn’t even known he had a voice. He spread his legs wider, felt a finger slide in, and pushed back against it, wanting more, wanting it to go . . . Madre de Dios. More fingers, but not enough, not deep enough. He pulled his knees up. The fingers disappeared. “No, don’t stop.”

  “Shhhh, patience.” Hands kneading his buttocks, spreading him wide. Bengt shifting his weight, then Bengt’s cock against his ass. Slick, insistent, but not pressing hard enough. Please. Finally Bengt pushed, and, yes, there was the burning and discomfort he’d expected, but also . . . He concentrated on the burn, and when the hunger for more threatened to drown him regardless, he rocked back hard, welcomed the sudden lance of pain, felt Bengt’s balls slap his ass, and heard Bengt’s breathless, “Hold it. I can’t . . . Gimme a second.”

  Alex trembled with the effort to stay still, felt the needy moan rise up his throat before it left his lips. Damn it.

  Then Bengt started to move again, slow and even. Alex caught his rhythm, bracing himself against the mattress. Bengt shifted his angle, and sweet pleasure flickered across Alex’s nerve endings like live flames racing down his thighs. And again. He grasped the sheets in both fists, trying to hold on to the pain alongside the arousal, but now he couldn’t tell them apart. Another slight shift, and his body was on fire, exquisite, agonizing, inescapable. He wasn’t quite there yet, but close, so close. Bengt held Alex’s hip with one hand, slid the other around him, and closed his fist around Alex’s cock.

  The touch annihilated him. His shout swallowed by the mattress, shudders running through his body. And then he didn’t know if it was his body racked by orgasm, or Bengt’s, or both.

  He lay there for a long time, oblivious of anything but Bengt’s reassuring weight against his back. Bengt’s heaving chest against his shoulders matching his own rasping breath.